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It has been nearly six decades since the UN General Assembly adopted the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights popularly known as ICCPR. Article 19 of ICCPR states: “Everyone shall have the right to freedom of expression; this right shall include freedom to seek, receive and impart information and ideas of all kinds, regardless of frontiers, either orally, in writing or in print, in form of art, or through any other media of his choice.”

In Nepal’s case, the 1990 constitution, for the first time, recognized citizens’ right to demand information held by public agencies on matters of public importance. Actually, Nepal was ahead of other South Asian countries when it came to providing constitutional guarantee to Right to Information. Now, other South Asian countries are making a huge progress on RTI but Nepal is lagging behind. In Nepal, progressive constitutional provision remained largely unimplemented in the absence of a supportive law. Successive governments after 1990 did not pay any attention to formulate such legislation due to a lack of awareness about its importance for the effective functioning of the democracy.

The 2015 constitution further strengthened this right, stating that every citizen shall have the right to demand and receive information on any matter of personal and public interest, with exception of information legally designated as confidential. To support these constitutional guarantees, the Right to Information Act was enacted on 21 July 21 followed by the National Information Commission in 2009. Nepal now has both legal and institutional frameworks to protect people’s right to information. Yet, in practice, progress has been limited.

Government and non-governmental agencies, particularly the National Information Commission, have been active in raising awareness about the importance of RTI for democracy. Numerous training and seminars have been conducted, mainly targeting government officials. While these efforts have raised some awareness, they are often repetitive and ineffective. Nonetheless, journalists and activists have increasingly used RTI as a tool to expose corruption, which is a positive development.

The tendency to seek information from government bodies has grown, but it remains largely confined to activists and has yet to spread widely among ordinary citizens. Serious challenges continue to hinder effective implementation of the law. The most fundamental issue is the persistent failure to instill in political leaders and government officials that people have a right, not a privilege, to access information of public importance.  Political leaders rarely encourage transparency; instead, they often side with bureaucrats in suppressing information. In many cases, leaders have even instructed agencies to withhold information rather than disclose it.

There still is a mindset among the politicians and bureaucracy that granting or denying access to information is at their discretion. In reality, the law has clearly stated what type of information may be withheld. This includes information that jeopardizes sovereignty, integrity, national security, public peace and stability, or that interferes with criminal investigation, inquiry and prosecution, or sensitive economic, trade and monetary matters. Beyond these exceptions, government agencies are obligated to provide information without restrictions. Instead of adhering to the law, many government agencies impose unnecessary conditions with the deliberate intent of suppressing information. Politicians and officials alike fear that if full disclosure were made, their corruption and irregularities would be exposed.

As per the law, every public office should appoint an information officer. While such officers do exist in government offices, they are rarely empowered. Most lack access to the information they are meant to provide, leaving people empty-handed when they make requests. On paper, government agencies appear to comply with proactive disclosure requirements by publishing reports every three months. In reality, these documents do not reveal anything about actual activities. They are often little more than recycled introductions and lists of duties and responsibilities; reprinted again and again to create the illusion of transparency.

The National Information Commission cannot remain satisfied with this surface-level compliance. Its focus must go beyond repetitive training seasons for government officials. Instead, it should actively monitor the information that government agencies are making public and investigate misleading practices and demand that agencies change their current approach to proactive disclosure. The priority in earlier years was to ensure that agencies appointed information officers and began publishing regular reports. That phase has passed. Now, the challenge is to push for meaningful disclosure of substantive information. The government offices should stop reprinting empty profiles again and again, taking both the public and the Commission for granted.

Another vital component is that people are not aware about the importance of their rights and responsibilities of the government agencies. While publicity campaigns have informed people that an RTI law exists, very few people understand its details and how to use it effectively. Knowledge remains confined to a small circle of political leaders, activists and professionals working in the field. Even students do not have comprehensive knowledge about RTI even though RTI has been incorporated in the school and university curricula. Students know about the RTI only from a narrow examination perspective, with little understanding of its practical application.

The National Information Commission, which is tasked with ensuring implementation of this law, should change its working style. Going beyond its routine seminar and lectures, it should identify bottlenecks and directly confront agencies that are misleading the public by publishing background information while concealing what truly matters. As a journalist, I often visit the websites of government agencies to read their proactive disclosure documents to find new information about works accomplished by them. But they always disappoint me. The format provided by the National Information Commission for the proactive disclosure, which is focused on background and general information rather than the substantive information, itself is problematic. Similarly, it should explain why government agencies are not empowering the information officers to provide the information. Similarly, it should find out why two decades of awareness campaigns have failed to build genuine public understanding. It should study new ways to disseminate the information in the ever-changing information ecosystem.

In conclusion, politicians and government agencies have yet to internalize that the right to information is a cornerstone of democracy. Now, we have to move on to phase two of the implementation of RTI—one that ensures not just the existence of laws and institutions but their effective use as well. Most importantly, people must be able to seek information without fear.

At present, many hesitate to approach officials for information, worried that they might be targeted if they do so. With corruption at unprecedented levels, especially at the local level where political leaders and bureaucrats are often complicit, the culture of opacity still persists. Breaking this cycle will require stronger enforcement, fearless oversight and a genuine political commitment.

On a long flight to Kathmandu, the man next to me said, “So, you are a professor—what do you teach?” I smiled. If only academic life were that simple. Teaching is only one part of what I do. Many imagine professors spending most of their time in classrooms. The truth is far broader: we supervise students, review research papers, write proposals, organize conferences, design new courses, serve on committees and sometimes travel across continents to share ideas. Being an academic is not just a job. It is a way of living and learning. Teaching, research and service are woven together, each influencing the others. A student’s question might spark a research idea. Writing a paper might change how I teach. Organizing a conference might lead to collaborations that last years. The philosopher Martin Heidegger called this “worldhood.” 

Our actions don’t exist as isolated tasks, but as parts of a larger, meaningful whole. Reviewing a paper, mentoring a student, preparing a lecture or attending a conference are all connected threads in the same fabric of academic life. Each gains significance from its connection to the others. Our work flows together in a daily rhythm that shapes our identity as academics. Some days are smooth; others are a blur of deadlines, meetings and rejections. But the rewards are real: a student finally grasping a difficult idea, a paper being accepted, a collaboration taking root. Guiding students is among the most satisfying parts of my job.

Watching them grow, thinking critically and discovering new things is deeply rewarding. Every discussion, assignment and piece of feedback is an investment in the next generation—not just in their knowledge, but in their ability to question, explore and contribute to the world. Research is another core pillar. Writing papers, reading others’ work and debating ideas with colleagues all feed into a global conversation. When I attend a conference—whether in Asia, Europe or Africa—I’m not just presenting my work; I’m listening, exchanging perspectives and finding new questions to explore. 

Often, the most important moments happen outside formal sessions: a conversation over coffee, a hallway debate, a chance meeting that sparks an unexpected project. Travel is not just about sightseeing, but also about connecting ideas and people. Each trip adds new threads to the academic fabric—perspectives from different cultures, insights from other disciplines and friendships that outlast any single project.

Academic life is always forward-looking: the next paper to write, the next course to design, the next student to mentor. Our work builds on the knowledge of those before us, and future scholars will build on ours. A lecture is never just a lecture; it’s part of a long chain of learning. A research paper is part of an ongoing conversation. Mentoring a student helps shape the future of our academic community.

Yes, there are challenges—funding struggles, heavy workloads, administrative tangles—but the rewards outweigh them. The freedom to explore ideas, the joy of learning continuously and the chance to inspire others make this life fulfilling. Back in Norway, I still think about my recent guest lecture at Madan Bhandari University of Science and Technology (MBUST) in Nepal.

I noticed how eager students were to explore ways to relate their research to their own community’s challenges. Seeing them connect academic concepts to real-world problems reminded me of the true purpose of teaching: helping students think critically, apply knowledge, and make a difference in the communities they care about. So, when people ask what I do, I find it hard to give a short answer. Being a professor is not a list of duties. 

It is curiosity, dedication and connection. It is the privilege of being part of a community of thinkers and learners. Each lecture, paper, and conversation add to a larger journey. Academia is not just a career. It is a calling—one that shapes how we live, think and relate to the world. For those of us who have chosen it, the journey is filled with challenges, discoveries and every so often, moments that make it all worthwhile.

As a democracy, Nepal has state apparatuses to address the concerns of its people. Hospitals exist to treat ills and courts are there to provide remedy with judicial pills. However, neither courts nor hospitals can cure all ills with perfect judicial or medical pills. 

Of late, people seem to place great trust either in hospitals for health and long life, or in courts for accessing justice. The rising number of public interest litigations (PILs) and writs show that public faith in the judiciary has grown over the years. This is a positive sign as the judiciary is counted as the resort for availing justice. 

However, this also tells us something interesting that people often turn to courts with litigation because of failure of other branches of the state—the legislature and the executive—to meet the expectations of the people or for their gross failure in upholding the constitutional values. 

PIL 

The PIL refers to a legal proceeding initiated in a court poor to protect or enforce the rights or interests of the public or a particular segment of society. Unlike typical lawsuits, a PIL is filed not for personal gain but to seek justice on behalf of the public. 

The petitioner is not dominus litis in PIL cases. The Supreme Court of Nepal has passed a plethora of judgments while considering PIL suits. It’s generally the relaxation of locus standi. 

Articles 133 and 144 of the Constitution of Nepal empower the Supreme Court (SC) and the High Courts with extraordinary jurisdiction to issue necessary orders and writs. The decisions passed under PILs have played a dynamic role in advancing significant social and legal reforms over the years.

The case of Advocate Radhey Shyam Adhikari v the Office of the Prime Minister and the Council of Ministers and Others (NKP 2048 BS, Vol 12, Decision Number 4430) is considered as the first PIL case in Nepal where the SC held that petitioners need to have meaningful relations and substantial interest in the subject matter to file a PIL.

In the landmark case of Surendra Raj Pandey v Speaker of Gandaki Province and Others (080-WO-1175), the SC invalidated the Speaker’s decision to uphold the confidence vote secured by Chief Minister Khag Raj Adhikari, who had claimed support from 30 MLAs in a 60-member House.

The petitioner contended that a majority requires the backing of more than half the total strength of the House—ie, at least 31 members in a 60-member assembly. The respondents argued that the Chief Minister had obtained a majority of the members present and voting, specifically 30 out of 59 MLAs. The court, however, held that a vote of confidence must command the support of the majority of the total membership of the House, not just those present and voting. As a result, the confidence motion was deemed invalid and was set aside through certiorari. 

In Hikmat Kumar Karki v Chief of the Province, Koshi Province, Biratnagar and Others (NKP 2081, Issue 10, Decision Number 11356), the SC held that a person holding the position of the Speaker cannot claim an additional or dual role as a Provincial Assembly member. The Speaker must remain limited to the role of Speaker. 

In Sher Bahadur Deuba and Others v the Office of the President and Others (077-WC-0071), the SC reinstated the House the President had dissolved on the recommendation of then KP Sharma Oli-led government.  

These are just a few representative cases where the apex court had to step in to uphold the constitutional values. These types of incidents have not occurred only in Nepal. India, too, has a long list of Supreme Court decisions correcting the injustices from the governments at the helm.

India’s case

The Supreme Court of India, by overruling its own decision in the State of Rajasthan v the Union of India (1977), held in the case of SR Bommai v Union of India (1994) that the presidential proclamation under Article 356 is subject to judicial review and that it is not an absolute but a conditional power and that no assembly can be dissolved before both the Houses of the Parliament ratify the proclamation. The imposition of Presidential rule and dissolution of the State Assembly cannot be done together, the SC further held.

The apex court in the case of Rameshwar Prasad v the State of Bihar (2006) held that the Governor has no power to decide the majority of the state legislative assembly. He is supposed to play a role in forming a government of a party or parties enjoying majority or confidence in the House and the deciding place for the matter is only the floor of the House, not the Raj Bhawan (Governor’s House).

Sabotaging constitutional values 

Against this backdrop, there appears an important question: Why can’t we build a culture that respects and upholds constitutional values? 

When government departments chase short-term benefits, and people are forced to challenge those decisions on constitutional grounds, it creates a climate where cases are filed against almost every governmental move. This leads to growing public distrust and a loss of faith in the government. 

Yet, the PIL should not turn into a tool to earn publicity; it should not become something like “Publicity/Private-Interest Litigation.” In essence, it should be a virtuous weapon in the hands of the weak.

The way forward

The PIL is an effective tool to lower the barriers and augment trust between judiciary and people. Its sole purpose is to uphold the rule of law and constitutional values. 

In a constitutional democracy, government actions should reflect moral values, constitutional rights and well-established principles. Introducing bills that promote bigamy or seek pardons for serious criminals will only lead to more PILs in the future—just like we have seen in the past. 

The authors are judicial officers at Morang district court, Biratnagar

Green hydrogen has emerged as one of the most promising energy carriers for achieving net-zero carbon targets globally in recent years. Green hydrogen can address two immediate challenges in the energy transition: decarbonizing hard-to-abate sectors and ensuring energy storage for intermittent renewable sources with its ability to store renewable electricity in chemical form. As a signatory to the Paris Agreement and participant in recent COPs, Nepal has pledged to achieve net-zero emissions by 2045 and become carbon negative thereafter. The country’s updated Nationally Determined Contribution (NDC 3.0) emphasizes scaling up renewable energy and exploring low-carbon technologies to meet its climate goals.

With abundant hydropower potential, year-round clean water from the Himalayas and seasonal mismatches between electricity supply and demand, Nepal is well-positioned to use excess hydropower for hydrogen production. By 2035, this country intends to produce 28,500 MW of electricity power (15,000 MW to export and 13,500 MW to be used locally), which leaves a possible surplus of up to 20,919 MW. This surplus could produce around 3m tons of green hydrogen annually, meeting up to 1.7–2.2 percent of the projected global demand of 150–195m tons in 2035. This represents a major opportunity to reduce dependence on imported fossil fuel, enhance energy security and establish a new green industry. However, economic viability assessment of the proposed practice is essential in transitioning potential into practice. Thus, this article analyses the economic viability of green hydrogen production in Nepal.

Economic assessment

The economic viability of green hydrogen production in Nepal depends on both the capital investment (CAPEX) required to build the facility and the operational expenditure (OPEX) for its ongoing operation. The total CAPEX of the Green Hydrogen Production Plant is usually divided into several major subsystems. The electrolyzer system represents the most significant portion of the total CAPEX (about 45 percent). The system includes stacks, power electronics and control units. The storage and compression of Hydrogen comprises approximately 20 percent in the form of high-pressure vessels, compressors and safety systems. Balance-of-plant (BoP) requires about 15 percent of the total, which includes piping, valves, instrumentation and electrical interconnections. The water purification system constitutes approximately five percent, which is crucial in producing high-purity deionized water in electrolysis. The remaining 15 percent is land acquisition and infrastructure development, which includes foundation, civil works, access roads and utility connections.

The most significant component of the operation expenditure (OPEX) of such a facility is the electricity cost, comprising 65-70 percent of the annual operating cost, since the electrolysis process is energy-intensive and the cost of electricity is a significant factor affecting the price of hydrogen. Maintenance covers about 10 percent of the total, including regular inspection, component changes and system service. Human resources cost account for about eight percent, including plant operators, engineers and administrative staff. The remaining 12-17 percent will be classified under miscellaneous expenses that will incorporate insurance, safety compliance, spare parts inventory and miscellaneous overheads.

For instance, considering that the Government of Nepal has already waived customs and income tax on hydrogen production equipment for the next five years as per the fiscal budget of FY 2025-26, and that the cost of each plant component (electrolyzer, storage, balance-of-plant, purification systems, land and infrastructure) generally aligns with global benchmarks, a 500-kW green hydrogen plant in Nepal is estimated to require a total CAPEX of about Rs 500m ($3.67m) with an annual OPEX of around Rs 65m ($0.477m). A 1 MW facility would cost approximately Rs 900m ($6.62m) in CAPEX and Rs 135m ($0.99m) in OPEX. In comparison, a 2 MW green hydrogen production plant with an integrated oxygen recovery and bottling facility is estimated to require a total CAPEX of Rs 1.63bn ($11.98m), with an annual OPEX of Rs 255m ($1.87m), where Rs 200m ($1.47m) is solely covered by electricity cost. Thus, the CAPEX–OPEX profile highlights the importance of securing low-cost renewable electricity, optimizing system efficiency and monetizing by-products for Nepal to establish a cost-competitive green hydrogen sector. The relatively high proportion of electrolyzer and storage costs in CAPEX suggests that technological advancements and economies of scale will be critical to cost reductions over the coming decade.

The construction period for green hydrogen projects depends on plant capacity, supply chain lead times and site conditions. In Nepal’s context, a 500-kW plant can typically be completed within 9–12 months, including site preparation, procurement and commissioning. A 1 MW plant may require 14–18 months, while a 2 MW facility, given its greater storage, compression, and civil work requirements, can take 18–24 months. Streamlining regulatory approvals and integrating the hydrogen facility with existing hydropower plants can reduce timelines by up to 20 percent.

Economic viability

Numerous countries and entities are trying to lower the price of green hydrogen. As a new and capital-intensive form of technology, it must be made less expensive to scale up. On a per-kilogram basis, 60–70 percent of the production cost is attributed to electricity, 0.5–1 percent to water, 8–15 percent to CAPEX and 2–4 percent to other operational expenses. Currently, the worldwide price to generate green hydrogen is between $3 and $8 per kg, whereas in 2035 it is estimated to be $1.3-$2.3 per kg. Since Nepal has access to cheap electricity and clean water, it is estimated that the production costs will be between $1.2-$1.8 per kg by 2035, making Nepal’s hydrogen very cost-competitive.

A detailed cost analysis indicates that a 2 MW electrolyzer represents the optimal scale for Nepal’s initial green hydrogen projects, producing hydrogen at approximately Rs 1,812/kg ($13.32/kg) based on current electricity rates (Rs 11/kWh, i.e. $0.08/kWh). This mid-range capacity strikes a critical balance—delivering economies of scale without the prohibitive costs of larger plants, as costs initially decrease from small to medium scales, rise slightly between 2-5 MW due to balance-of-system complexities, and then drop again for 10+MW capacities. With a manageable capital investment of around Rs 1.64bn ($12.05m), the 2 MW model offers commercial viability while remaining scalable for future expansion. Furthermore, if subsidized electricity rates (Rs 3/kWh, i.e. $0.02/kWh) are applied, production costs could fall to ~Rs 1,372/kg (~$10.08/kg) and at an intermediate tariff of
Rs 6/kWh ($0.04/kWh), production costs for a 2MW plant are estimated at Rs 1,537/kg ($11.3/kg), reinforcing Nepal's potential to establish a cost-competitive green hydrogen industry that aligns with domestic energy goals and emerging global market opportunities.

Land requirement and site selection

The establishment of green hydrogen production facilities in Nepal requires careful consideration of land availability, terrain, accessibility and proximity to essential resources. For electrolysis plants, land is primarily allocated to the electrolyzer building and power conditioning units (25 percent of total area), hydrogen storage and compression facilities (20 percent), oxygen recovery and bottling units (15 percent), balance-of-plant (BoP) systems including piping and workshops (15 percent), water treatment and purification systems (10 percent), and access roads, green buffers and safety exclusion zones (15 percent). Based on global benchmarks, a 2 MW green hydrogen production facility typically requires around 1.2 acres (~4,856 m²), which could be arranged as 70 m × 70 m.

In the context of Nepal, site selection should be nearer to the large hydropower plants to cut down on transmission losses and infrastructure costs. Sites around Bagmati, Gandaki and Koshi provinces, which already have or are planning to have large-scale hydropower plants, seem to be the most appropriate. Areas near the transmission substations, accessible roads for transporting heavy equipment and water sources are also critical. The site should not be near dense population areas so that the high-pressure hydrogen storage that would be used would not pose too many safety issues. Integrating the hydrogen plants with other hydropower plants or as extensions to existing ones would make the issues of land acquisition simpler and would ensure a constant supply of electricity, especially during low-demand periods when surplus electricity from hydropower is available.

Oxygen as a by-product

Electrolysis produces oxygen alongside hydrogen (8 kg of oxygen per 1 kg of hydrogen). This by-product can be monetized, improving project economics. For instance, a 2 MW plant operating for 8,000 hours annually equates to over 6,376 kg of oxygen daily. Nepal currently operates around 25 oxygen plants producing 80,000–85,000 kg per day, serving both medical (60 percent) and industrial (40 percent) sectors. The additional supply from green hydrogen projects could strengthen domestic oxygen security, particularly during health emergencies such as the COVID-19 pandemic, when oxygen shortages became critical. This oxygen can be compressed and bottled for sale to hospitals, industries such as steel and glass manufacturing and water treatment facilities. A dedicated 2 MW by-product oxygen production facility would require a CAPEX of about Rs 145m, producing 6,376 kg of oxygen per day, equivalent to approximately 744 high-pressure medical-grade cylinders daily, where each cylinder has a volume of 40 liters filled at 150 bar pressure (equivalent to 6,000 liters at atmospheric pressure). At a market price of Rs 600 per 40-liter cylinder, this output could generate annual revenue of around Rs 162m. The oxygen revenue stream can significantly offset hydrogen production costs, potentially reducing the effective cost per kilogram of hydrogen by 5–10 percent depending on market demand and selling prices.

Conclusion

Nepal has significant potential to establish a green hydrogen industry due to its abundant hydropower resources, clean water access and increasing commitment to decarbonization. The economic assessment for Nepal’s green hydrogen production suggests that the country’s first commercial pilot project could be implemented at scales of 500 kW, 750 kW, 1 MW, or 2 MW, out of which the 2 MW facility stands out as the optimum and most economically viable choice so far. The output potential of a 2 MW facility is about 800 kg of green hydrogen daily. If all production is consumed, the project would achieve an internal rate of return (IRR) of 10–11 percent and a payback period (PBP) of 6–8 years under varying electricity tariffs from Rs 3 ($0.02) to Rs 11 ($0.08) per kWh.

The most immediate application of such a pilot project would be establishing a green hydrogen–fueled transportation ecosystem in Nepal. With a daily hydrogen production target of 800 kg, approximately 20 fuel-cell buses could be operated daily. This would replace diesel consumption and avoid around 1,956 tonnes of CO₂ emissions yearly, contributing to roughly 0.041 percent of Nepal’s total annual transport sector CO₂ emissions. While the electricity prices currently render the production prices of small to mid-scale plants to be on the higher side, these can be lowered substantially with the right subsidy policies, scaling up of technology and monetization of by-products. A phased approach, starting with strategically located 2 MW facilities near hydropower plants, can validate technical performance, establish market links and create a skilled workforce. As global costs decline and demand rises, Nepal can scale production to tap into regional export markets, particularly India, Bangladesh and other South Asian nations transitioning to cleaner energy.

Green hydrogen not only offers a pathway to reduce Nepal’s fossil fuel imports and improve energy security but also positions the country as a potential exporter in a rapidly expanding global market. With supportive policies, public–private partnerships and infrastructure investments, green hydrogen could become a pillar of Nepal’s energy strategy, contributing to economic growth and the nation’s commitment to achieving net-zero emissions by 2045.