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Across South Asia, the concept of ‘expressway’ has shifted from a luxury to a logistical necessity. While these high-speed corridors require immense financial investment, the region has realized that the cost of slow connectivity is far higher. For a country like Nepal, geographical barriers have historically crippled the state’s ability to fulfill its core commitments. Whether it is the timely delivery of life-saving medicines, providing urgent healthcare to remote regions, or ensuring that educational materials reach students on schedule, the lack of reliable connectivity remains our greatest hurdle.

Currently, Nepal’s primary economic and tourism centers remain isolated, often marooned at least five hours away from the rest of the country by road. This distance is compounded by a fragile geography that suffers from frequent landslides and road blockages. In this landscape of uncertainty, the Kathmandu-Tarai Fast Track has emerged as a symbol of hope. However, this 72.5 km project primarily serves to link the capital with the eastern parts of the country. This raises a critical question: what about the western region and our premier tourist hub, Pokhara? The time has come to envision an alternative connectivity model that brings the Western Tarai closer to both Pokhara and Kathmandu. 

At the heart of our current struggle is the ‘Muglin Bottleneck’. The stretch between Narayangarh and Muglin has become a national pain point, plagued by geological instability and constant traffic congestion. To move forward, we cannot simply repair the old; we must build the new. Just as the Kathmandu-Tarai Expressway is set to redefine eastern travel, a similar vision is required to unlock the potential of the west.

The Kawasoti–Shuklagandaki expressway alternative

Gandaki Province is establishing itself as an economic, tourism, and cultural hub of Nepal. Extending from the Tibetan border in the north to Narayani River and Nawalpur in the south, this region is a vital ecological and cultural center. Its importance is growing in terms of economy, academic research, agriculture production, and tourism. Historically, this area was among the first to have a dense road network, including the Siddhartha Highway (linking Pokhara to Butwal) and the Prithvi Highway (linking Pokhara to Kathmandu). 

However, in the current context of increased traffic and changes in mode of travel, people are constantly seeking alternatives and expressing dissatisfaction with the conventional mode of travel, which is time consuming and often lacking in adequate safety standards. 

Various options are being discussed to make the road network from Pokhara to Jomsom, Muktinath, and the Korala border easier and safer. Some projects are already underway. Upgrading work on the Siddhartha Highway is gaining momentum, and the Kaligandaki Corridor project is progressing in stages from Gaidakot to Beni. Despite all this, there has been no fundamental change in Pokhara’s road connectivity with the eastern and western Tarai.

Decades of upgrades have failed to break the cycle of long travel times, safety risks, and travel uncertainty. In light of the constant travel disruptions on the Narayangarh–Muglin stretch due to geological reasons, there has been policy-level discussion about an alternative road west of the Trishuli River. According to sources, the Asian Development Bank has already conducted a preliminary study of the alternative project. 

But is this the right choice for Pokhara and Gandaki Province? This needs reconsideration. The purported project is environmentally and geographically challenging, and it doesn’t significantly change the distance or travel time. While it would help local connectivity, it would merely serve as an alternative to the road running east of Trishuli. Similarly, while the Kaligandaki Corridor has strategic and local economic importance, there are doubts about whether it brings the majority of the people within its range and takes the connectivity of the province to a new level.

Because of these factors, despite having many road options, Gandaki Province and the Greater Pokhara Valley remain distant from much of the country’s population and geography. This directly impacts agricultural and industrial productivity, market expansion, and social leadership. Given this reality, it is necessary to propose a direct Expressway from Kawasoti (Nawalpur) on the East-West Highway to Shuklagandaki (Khairenitar or Tharpu) in Tanahun. This expressway would easily connect Nepal’s western Tarai with Pokhara. Just as the Nijgadh–Kathmandu Expressway will link the eastern Tarai to the capital, this project would provide a fast alternative for the western Tarai to reach Pokhara and Kathmandu.

The 40-kilometer revolution

Currently, the distance from Kawasoti to Shuklagandaki via Narayangarh is over 100 km. This expressway could reduce that distance to just 35–40 km, offering massive savings in time and safety. Traveling by public transport from Narayangarh (the hub of Chitwan) to Prithvi Chowk (the hub of Pokhara) takes 5–6 hours. An expressway could reduce this to 1–1.5 hours offering massive savings in time and safety. This project has the potential to transform these two cities into a single large socio-economic unit. Beyond creating thousands of jobs during construction, it would bring a qualitative shift in industry, market expansion, healthcare, education, and the Chitwan–Pokhara tourism circuit.

In terms of technical expertise and financial investment, this would undoubtedly be the most ambitious undertaking in the history of Gandaki Province. Engineering experts suggest that a straight-line connection between Kawasoti and Shuklagandaki would require a 10–12 km tunnel piercing through the Chure hills of the Devchuli region and the Kaligandaki valley, complemented by major bridges over the Kaligandaki and Seti rivers. While the scale is vast, this project would not necessarily require the same high-tech specifications as the Kathmandu–Tarai Fast Track. 

That project, currently managed by the Nepali Army using Chinese technology, is estimated to cost roughly $22m per km. Based on a 40 km length, the Kawasoti–Shuklagandaki Expressway could theoretically reach a cost of $880m (over Rs 120bn), roughly 28 percent of Nepal’s annual development budget. However, experts believe the cost could be minimized by 50 percent or even more, bringing the total to approximately twice the construction cost of Pokhara International Airport (PIA).

Within this optimized price range, financing becomes a realistic goal. Resources could be mobilized through a partnership between the provincial and federal governments, domestic financial institutions, international donors like the ADB, and local investors. Such a project is well within the affordable reach of Gandaki Province, especially if a “public-participation model” is adopted to involve the province’s own citizens as shareholders. Nevertheless, given the technical complexities involved, partnering with reliable investors and construction firms with proven global experience remains essential.

Financing the vision

History shows us that the Siddhartha Highway was once the revolutionary link that connected the Gandaki hills to the world. But today, the demographics, tourism demands, and trade patterns of Pokhara have fundamentally changed. To transform the valley into a modern, accessible, and safe urban hub, we must embrace new visions. PIA was a part of that vision to connect with the ’outer world’. We did not meet the vision as we had expected. But we must not stop dreaming. We need even more connectivity with the ‘inner world’, the other parts of the country. 

Therefore, it is imperative that the provincial and federal governments move beyond traditional alternatives and initiate a feasibility study of this Expressway immediately. If Gandaki is to truly evolve into Nepal’s premier economic and tourism hub, we must stop thinking in terms of mere ‘road upgrades’ and start thinking in terms of strategic, high-speed connectivity. This expressway is the key to making Pokhara a more reliable and vibrant city. Building the Kawasoti–Shuklagandaki Expressway could be a visionary step that would ignite economic growth for both the province and the nation.

The author is a PhD in Anthropology and a Public Intellectual from Pokhara

As Nepal gears up for elections, campaign agendas may extend beyond routine political promises. One meaningful focus could be legal reform—especially revisiting criminal procedural laws to ensure timely execution of judgments. By prioritizing informed dialogue and legislative amendment, political parties have an opportunity to strengthen Nepal’s justice delivery system and restore public confidence in the rule of law.

“No Judgement of any Court, no order of any Judges, is of any use unless it can be enforced,” rightly said Lord Denning. The administration of criminal justice does not conclude with the pronouncement of judgment. The effectiveness, credibility, and authority of judicial decisions depend largely upon their proper execution.

The National Criminal Procedure Code, 2074 (hereinafter code) under Chapter-15 (Sections 151 to 168) constitute a comprehensive statutory framework governing the recording, execution, postponement, remission, and enforcement of sentences, fines, compensation, pardoning and related orders. After all, executio est finis et fructus legis—an execution is the end and the fruit of law.

Reference may be made to one of the most famous judgments of England. Lord Hewart, CJ, stated it in R v Sussex Justices, ex parte McCarthy (1924), where he said: “Justice should not only be done, but should manifestly and undoubtedly be seen to be done.”

Constitutionally speaking, Article 126(2) of the Constitution of Nepal provides that “everyone shall comply with the orders or decisions given by the court in the course of judicial proceedings.” Likewise, Section 18(1) of the Justice Administration Act, 2073 states that “except as otherwise provided in this Act or the prevailing law, a decision made by any court, body, or authority in the course of judicial proceedings shall be final, and all concerned parties shall abide by such decision.”

Time for legal reform

It is reasonable to argue that the Code is an enlarged version of the State Cases Act, 2049. It provides limited procedural arrangements for private prosecution cases. The code should have incorporated a separate chapter dealing specifically with procedural aspects of private prosecution, such as the lapse of dates, securing dates, and other procedural safeguards.

Section 165(11), which stipulates that personal claims cannot be recovered, the state bears the cost of the prisoner’s ration during imprisonment, effectively shifts the financial burden to the state due to the non-realization of personal claimed amounts. As a result, the state is subjected to an unnecessary burden even in cases arising out of purely private transactions between individuals. In such cases, private individuals are required to approach the court through an application to realize their claims in accordance with judgments delivered in their favor.

As in private prosecution cases, state criminal cases should also recognize the Government of Nepal as the petitioner at the stage of execution. The responsibility of the government should not end with the filing of the case. Rather, it should demonstrate proactive and sustained efforts at the execution stage, similar to its role during investigation and the filing of the charge sheet.

The execution of judgments cannot take their true and effective shape unless state mechanisms commit themselves to withholding state services—such as the issuance or clearance of electricity bills, water bills, or the registration or renewal of transport services—from judgment debtors.

The state should establish a common portal containing information on defendants who have failed to furnish fines, compensation, claimed amounts, or to serve jail sentences as mandated by court judgments. The government should restrict public services to those who fail to comply with court orders and judgments. An amendment could be introduced in this regard under Section 160 of the code and other relevant laws.

Executive’s role is essential

Non-execution of court verdicts fosters a culture of impunity. While the state possesses the police, administrative machinery, prisons, and other executive mechanisms with adequate means to enforce court verdicts, the courts themselves lack enforcement agencies.

Judgments cannot be enforced in letter and spirit unless state mechanisms stand on an equal footing when it comes to execution. The court verdicts cannot be effectively implemented until and unless the executive organs of the state are equally involved in the execution process.

In countries like India, the United States, England, and China, the judicial department delivers judgments, but the executive branch ensures their execution, reflecting the principle of separation of powers.

Other laws

Meanwhile, Section 166 of the Code provides a priority order for recovery, placing fines first, government claims second, followed by compensation, claimed amounts, and lastly other amounts in question.

This provision has significant consequences in cases involving banking offenses, cheque dishonor cases, and private prosecution cases. As a result, plaintiffs in private prosecution cases often suffer in the realization of their claims, as the law mandates the recovery of fines before addressing private claims.

Section 155 allows first-time offenders sentenced to one year or less to substitute imprisonment with a monetary payment—Rs 300 per day. Courts must record reasons and obtain a good conduct deed before granting relief. The amendment changed the language from “may” to “shall,” making the release by payment mandatory.

Way forward

As per Judgment Execution Directorate’s data (as of 17 Nov 2024), there are 106,265 persons whose imprisonment remains to be executed (of which 2,538 are foreign nationals). The remaining imprisonment amounts to 118,613 years, 3 months, and 5 days. The outstanding fines total Rs 2,998,629,509, of which the government’s share is Rs. 212,264,153. Compensation yet to be paid to victims of crime amounts to Rs 931,191,131. Additionally, there are 37,718 pending applications related to judgment execution.

This data paint a depressing reality. But who is to blame? Courts? Certainly not. The courts’ job is to pronounce verdicts and oversee their execution, but the actual enforcement rests with the executive branch.

The court’s job is to judicially examine the case. It is improper for the court to side with the winning party or act against the losing party in the name of executing a judgment.

“A punishment imposed in accordance with a judgment does not attain its purpose unless it is actually executed. A judgment that cannot be enforced also loses its real significance,” held the Supreme Court in the case of Nimesh Lakhe v Lalitpur District Court, et al.

A democratic state should encourage debate and ensure court verdicts are enforced. The executive’s role is crucial—not just in filing cases, but also in implementing judgments. The judiciary’s sole job is to deliver justice; delays in enforcement are the executive’s responsibility.

To uphold the rule of law and end impunity, timely execution of judgments is essential, following practices in other countries. Let’s protect the judiciary, the temple of justice, and make this a priority—even as an election agenda—for good governance and democracy.

The authors work at the Supreme Court and have a keen interest in academic discussions on law

Nepal is days away from electing a new House of Representatives on March 5. This is an election born out of one of the most dramatic political upheavals the country has witnessed in recent time. The GenZ protests of Sept 8–9, shook the foundations of the Nepali Congress and CPN-UML-led coalition government, forced the dissolution of Parliament, and propelled former Chief Justice Sushila Karki into the role of interim Prime Minister. In many ways, this election carries the weight of a nation’s renewed hope to bring the constitutional processes on track. 

And yet, something is quietly poisoning that hope—not a foreign enemy, not a natural disaster, but something far more insidious: a flood of propaganda that is dividing Nepalese society in ways that may take years to repair.

This is not the first election Nepal has held in the wake of political transformation. But it may be the first where the election campaign itself has become more dangerous than the political crisis that preceded it. Across social media feeds, public rallies, and private conversations, Nepali citizens and political cadres are not debating policy, rather they are choosing sides in a war of narratives. And the longer this goes on unchecked, the harder it will be to put the country back together once the votes are counted.

A campaign built on slogans

Walk through the current election campaign landscape and one phrase captures the spirit of it all: ‘Desh banaune ra desh jalaune’—those who will build the country and those who will burn it. It sounds dramatic. It is meant to. And therein lies the problem. Nearly every major political force, either old or new, has reduced the complexity of Nepal’s governance challenges into a simple binary: us versus them, nationalists versus traitors, reformers versus the corrupt establishment. Nepali Congress, reinvigorated under Gagan Thapa following a special party convention, presents itself as a fresh political alternative. 

The newly formed Nepali Communist Party (NCP), which brought together nearly a dozen leftist factions after the September protests, also claims to represent a new dawn. The Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP), with Balen Shah now formally in its ranks and declared as their prime ministerial candidate, pitches itself as the true outsider ready to dismantle the old order. Meanwhile, CPN (UML) under KP Sharma Oli, who led the government during the protests that triggered this election, is somehow also claiming the nationalist high ground.

The problem is not that parties are presenting themselves favorably. Every political party in every democracy does that. The problem is that these competing narratives have little to do with actual governance proposals. Manifestoes promise extraordinary things: CPN (UML) pledges one million youth jobs in five years. RSP commits to per capita income crossing $3,000 USD. Others promise to slash corruption overnight and send corrupt leaders to jail, without specifying a single credible legal mechanism for doing so. These are not policy platforms. They are propaganda dressed in the language of policy.

Old wounds reopened, new fractures created

Perhaps the most telling sign of how propaganda-driven this election campaign has become is the return of debates that most people assumed were settled by the 2015 Constitution. The monarchy question, which was resolved when Nepal became a federal democratic republic, is somehow back on the table. The Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP) has made monarchy restoration a central demand, positioning itself as the only truly nationalist force, implying that everyone else is, to varying degrees, compromised by foreign interests and imposing foreign agenda.

The “who is a nationalist” debate has spread like wildfire. CPN (UML), despite bearing significant political responsibility for what happened during the Sept 2025 protests, now presents itself as a bulwark against foreign interference. RSP’s candidate Sobita Gautam and others were labeled “American agents” on social media—a claim later fact-checked and found to be based on a deliberately misleading photograph. Manipulated AI-generated images of Gagan Thapa being chased by crowds were widely circulated before being debunked. According to Nepal Fact Check, such incidents are not isolated—they reflect a systematic effort to use digital tools to shape perception rather than inform it.

A recent survey by the Center for Media Research Nepal found that over 95 percent of online users in Nepal had encountered false information at some point. With 73 percent of Nepalis now using smartphones and over 37 percent having internet access according to the 2021 National Census, the infrastructure for mass misinformation has never been more complete.

Beyond the monarchy-versus-federalism divide, the Sept 8–9 protests themselves have become a battleground of competing narratives. Sept 8, when security forces killed protesters in the streets, is remembered by some as a day of martyrdom and used by RPP as evidence of state brutality under the then-ruling coalition. Sept 9, when mobs destroyed public and private property, is the image CPN (UML) prefers to amplify, using it to question the legitimacy of the entire protest movement—while staying conspicuously silent about the bloodshed the day before. Nepali Congress and the Nepali Communist Party have taken a more measured position, acknowledging the protests and calling for an independent investigation into both days. But measured voices struggle to compete in an environment where outrage is the currency of engagement.

The invisible global agenda

One of the quieter failures of this election campaign is the near-complete absence of serious debate on the issues that will most shape Nepal’s future over the next decade. Climate change, which threatens Nepal’s glaciers and water security. The restructuring of the global economy, which directly affects remittances—currently surging by over 32 percent and sustaining a foreign reserve of $22.47bn, but fragile nonetheless. 

Youth unemployment and economic inequalities, which were the original fuel behind the GenZ protests. These are the issues that demand substantive policy discussion. Instead, what voters are getting feels less like a parliamentary election and more like a local government campaign—personal, parochial, and driven by personality over platform.

Meanwhile, some leaders, including deposed King Gyanendra, have stated that Nepal’s very existence as a sovereign nation is in question, that the country is ‘close to a major accident’. These are extraordinarily alarming things to say, and they are being said without a shred of evidence. When leaders speak this way without backing, they are not sounding alarm bells, rather they are manufacturing fear. And manufactured fear is one of the oldest and most effective propaganda tools known to politics.

What happens the morning after

When the results come in the following week of March 5, one side will have won and several will have lost. But the deeper question is: what kind of country will Nepal be when the campaign posters come down?

Polarization of the kind being manufactured right now does not disappear after election day. It settles into communities, strains friendships, fractures families, and hardens into the kind of social division that festers for years. None of the current political forces, neither the so-called new ones nor the established ones, seem interested in stepping back from the propaganda machine. Because, simply put, it works. At least in the short term.

This is precisely why the responsibility now falls on those who stand outside the electoral arena: civil society, independent media, academic institutions, and think tanks. Nepal urgently needs serious investment in propaganda fact-checking, not as a reactive exercise after falsehoods have gone viral, but as a proactive, institutionalized function embedded in the election cycle. Organizations like Nepal Fact Check are doing valuable work, but they cannot carry this alone. Tech platforms operating in Nepal, the Election Commission of Nepal, and policy bodies need to come together to build the infrastructure like technical tools, regulatory guidelines, and public literacy programs that can hold propaganda accountable in real time.

There is also a deeper structural issue. Many of the propaganda narratives that have taken hold during this election campaign—about the September protests, about foreign interference, about the monarchy, about federalism—thrive precisely because there has been no credible, independent, evidence-based account of these events that the public can trust. When authoritative information is absent, rumor and spin fill the vacuum. 

Nepal needs white papers from concerned authorities, investigative reporting from independent media, policy briefs from research institutions, and reels and TikTok videos from ethical content creators that can put facts on the table with enough credibility and reach to shift the public conversation. The question, honestly, is whether Nepal has yet built the institutional capacity to do this. If not, that capacity needs to become a priority after this election, regardless of who wins.

A paradigm shift Nepal cannot afford to delay

Nepal has come a long way from a decade-long armed conflict to a constitutional republic with federal democratic governance. That journey was not easy, and it was not free. Thousands of lives and decades of struggle went into building the political framework that now exists. To watch that framework hollowed out by propaganda, not by armed insurgents, but by politicians with microphones and social media accounts, should concern every Nepali citizen deeply.

The March 5 election will happen. A government will be formed. But the work of preventing propaganda from becoming the permanent language of Nepali politics must begin the moment the voting ends. Civil society must speak louder. Journalists must hold the line. Citizens must demand more from their leaders than clever slogans and manufactured fear. Because a country that chooses its leaders based on who tells the most convincing lies is not choosing its future—it is surrendering it.

The author currently serves as a Visiting Research Fellow at Kroc Institute of International Peace Studies at the University of Notre Dame, USA. The author writes on political affairs, peace, governance, and social policy in Nepal

The Russia-Ukraine war has evolved into a transnational conflict drawing in thousands of foreign nationals. Available data suggest that approximately 18,000 foreign citizens are serving in the Russian Armed Forces, while more than 130 foreign nationals from over 30 countries have been listed as prisoners of war (POWs) in Ukraine. Among them are Nepali citizens, killed, missing, captured, or still engaged in combat.

The participation of Nepalis in a distant European war is not an isolated anomaly. Rather, it reflects the intersection of global labor migration, economic precarity, militarized recruitment networks, and geopolitical strategy. This article examines the structural drivers behind Nepali enlistment, Russia’s motivations for foreign recruitment, and Nepal’s diplomatic and policy responses.

Foreign recruitment in the Russian war effort

Foreign recruitment into the Russian military must be understood within the broader context of manpower shortages and political constraints. As battlefield losses mounted, Moscow sought to replenish forces without triggering widespread domestic discontent through additional waves of mobilization.

Foreign nationals serve several strategic purposes for Russia in the context of the ongoing war. First, their deployment provides a degree of political insulation, as casualties among foreign fighters are less likely to trigger domestic backlash compared to losses among Russian citizens. Second, recruiting foreigners can be more cost-efficient, often involving fewer long-term welfare obligations, pensions, or social benefits. Third, amid sustained battlefield attrition, foreign enlistment enables rapid operational replenishment of forces without resorting to politically sensitive large-scale mobilization at home. Fourth, the presence of foreign fighters carries propaganda value, allowing Moscow to portray its war effort as enjoying international backing rather than being isolated. Finally, foreign recruits who return to their home countries may function as informal transnational networks of influence, potentially advancing Russian strategic interests beyond the immediate battlefield.

Entities associated with the Wagner Group, a Russian state-aligned private military company (PMC), reportedly played a role in foreign recruitment efforts. Following the failed mutiny led by its commander in 2023, the group was formally dismantled. In the aftermath, the Russian government moved to consolidate control by integrating PMCs into the regular armed forces. As a result, individuals recruited thereafter have been enlisted directly into the military, signing formal contracts with the Ministry of Defense rather than with private entities. Additionally, Russian President Vladimir Putin signed a series of decrees expediting Russian citizenship for foreign nationals who enlist, thereby institutionalizing recruitment incentives within the state framework.

Motivations of foreign recruits

The motivations of foreign nationals joining the Russian Armed Forces can broadly be categorized into three interrelated drivers: financial incentives, coercion and deception, and ideological affinity. Economic necessity appears to be the most significant factor, as many recruits originate from lower-income countries where domestic wages are far below the compensation packages advertised by Russian recruiters. 

Reported monthly salaries of $2,000–$3,000, along with promises of insurance coverage, medical benefits, and pathways to citizenship, create powerful pull factors for economically vulnerable individuals. At the same time, evidence from captured foreign fighters indicates that not all enlistments are entirely voluntary. In certain cases, individuals were allegedly misled with promises of civilian employment, threatened with deportation, or pressured into signing military contracts. There have also been claims that recruitment extended to detainees, with authorities reportedly approaching individuals while they were under arrest, prior to any court sentencing. In such instances, coercive tactics, including intimidation, physical pressure, or blackmail, were allegedly used to secure enlistment. 

Additionally, the contracts are typically drafted in Russian, a language many recruits do not fully understand, raising concerns that they may sign binding military agreements without clear comprehension of their terms and obligations. These accounts complicate the narrative of free and informed consent in the recruitment process. A smaller segment may be driven by ideological affinity, particularly individuals from regions historically connected to Soviet or socialist political traditions. Many of these regions remain significantly exposed to Russian influence in their political systems, economic networks, and informational space, which can increase susceptibility to pro-Russian narratives and propaganda, thereby shaping perceptions and motivations. However, in the Nepali context, ideological motivations appear to be secondary to economic considerations.

Nepal’s structural vulnerabilities

The recruitment of Nepalis into the Russian military cannot be divorced from Nepal’s domestic political economy. Nepal’s economy remains heavily dependent on remittances. Youth unemployment hovers near 20 percent, and approximately one in five citizens lives below the poverty line. Per capita income remains under $1,500. Labor migration is deeply embedded in Nepal’s development model; an estimated 1,500–2,000 Nepalis leave the country daily for foreign employment. In 2022–23 alone, roughly 71,000 Nepalis opted for permanent migration. Within this context, Russia emerged as an alternative labor destination, albeit one embedded in a war economy.

Beyond structural poverty lies aspirational transformation. Social media exposure has amplified desires for global mobility, consumer goods, and upward socioeconomic mobility. Russian recruitment advertisements reportedly emphasized high salaries, advanced weaponry, insurance coverage, and immediate citizenship pathways for families. For individuals earning less than $200 per month domestically, the promise of $3,000 represented not only income but social mobility.

Similarly, Nepal’s historical experience with foreign military service, particularly Gurkha service in British and Indian armies, has normalized overseas enlistment as honorable employment. However, unlike treaty-based Gurkha recruitment, current enlistment into Russian forces lacks formal intergovernmental safeguards, transparency, and institutional oversight.

Recruitment mechanisms and trafficking networks

Reports indicate that many Nepalis traveled to Russia on tourist visas, often transiting through the United Arab Emirates. Informal agents and alleged trafficking networks reportedly charged substantial fees, ranging from $1,500 to $9,000 per recruit. In Dec 2023, Nepalese authorities arrested multiple individuals accused of facilitating recruitment into the Russian military. Despite Nepal’s suspension of labor approvals for Russia, anecdotal evidence suggests that recruitment continued, albeit at reduced rates. Russian officials have maintained that foreign nationals joined independently and voluntarily, complicating data verification efforts.

Battlefield realities and human costs

Testimonies from returnees and families describe short training periods, sometimes as brief as 10–14 days, before deployment. Language barriers, extreme climatic conditions, and unfamiliar terrain compounded operational risks. Some accounts allege that foreign recruits were deployed in frontline positions with limited protection. Casualty figures remain contested. Nepal’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs acknowledges dozens of deaths and over one hundred missing persons, while Ukrainian intelligence sources have cited higher involvement numbers. 

In March 2024, Ukraine publicly disclosed that it was holding five Nepali prisoners of war (POWs). However, no visible initiatives were taken by the Russian side in response. The families of the POWs have continued to report delays in the dissemination of information and in compensation procedures from the Russians. The lack of clarity surrounding official figures has further contributed to growing public distrust.

Nepal’s diplomatic position

Nepal formally condemned Russia’s invasion and voted in favor of resolutions at the United Nations General Assembly demanding respect for Ukraine’s sovereignty. This marked a departure from Nepal’s abstention during the 2014 Crimea vote, reflecting a shift toward a more explicit normative stance aligned with the UN Charter. Simultaneously, Nepal has pursued diplomatic channels to repatriate POWs, recover remains, and seek compensation. However, the state faces structural limitations in monitoring and regulating informal migration routes.

The phenomenon of Nepali participation in Russia’s war highlights several urgent policy challenges for the state. First, it exposes weaknesses in migration governance, underscoring the need for stronger oversight of outbound labor migration and tighter regulation of informal and unauthorized recruitment channels. Second, it calls for more robust anti-trafficking enforcement, including enhanced cross-border cooperation to dismantle networks that exploit vulnerable job seekers. Third, the crisis reflects deeper structural issues within Nepal’s domestic employment strategy, particularly persistent unemployment and heavy dependence on remittance-driven growth, which push youth to seek risky opportunities abroad. Finally, it reveals limitations in consular protection capacity, emphasizing the need to expand diplomatic resources and crisis-response mechanisms to better safeguard Nepali migrant workers caught in conflict zones.

Conclusion

Nepali involvement in the Russia–Ukraine war is neither purely voluntary adventurism nor solely geopolitical manipulation. It is a product of structural economic vulnerability, aspirational pressures, recruitment networks, and wartime labor demand. For Russia, foreign recruitment mitigates domestic political risk and manpower shortages. For Nepali youth, enlistment represents a high-risk strategy for socioeconomic mobility. For Nepal, it exposes systemic weaknesses in migration governance and economic planning. Absent structural reform, similar patterns may re-emerge in future conflicts. 

The author is the Research Director at the Nepal Institute for International Cooperation and Engagement (NIICE), Nepal’s leading think tank