By Dr. Janardan Subedi

The Architecture of Institutionalized Impunity

In healthy democracies, institutions serve as the immune system of the republic—identifying and eliminating threats to the rule of law. In Nepal, these very institutions have become agents of decay. The Commission for the Investigation of Abuse of Authority (CIAA), parliamentary committees, and even the Supreme Court have, in several cases, not only failed to act against clear evidence of criminal wrongdoing but have often delayed, derailed, or diluted the process.

Take for instance the treatment of high-profile corruption cases. Despite overwhelming public sentiment and media coverage, prosecutions remain cosmetic. Former Prime Ministers, Ministers, and bureaucratic heads routinely avoid arrest, conviction, or even serious inquiry. Meanwhile, scapegoats—minor players or politically vulnerable actors—are paraded as evidence of action. This is selective morality, not justice.

The institutional logic here is circular: investigations are launched by compromised entities, judged by politically loyal appointees, and concluded with legal ambiguity. Corruption in Nepal is no longer about illegal enrichment. It is about legal insulation, ensuring that even when exposed, the system closes ranks to protect its own.

Philosophical Persecution: When the Truth Becomes the Enemy

Nepal’s state apparatus is increasingly hostile to those who speak uncomfortable truths. This represents a classic case of what Michel Foucault termed “discursive violence”—the deliberate marginalization of narratives that challenge the dominant order. Journalists, whistleblowers, and independent scholars face not just ridicule or exclusion, but sometimes legal threats and physical intimidation. The message is clear: in a republic run by the corrupt, the greatest crime is truth-telling.

This isn’t just anecdotal. In recent years, we’ve seen a disturbing trend: those who expose corruption are often more aggressively investigated than those who commit it. The state’s priorities are inverted. Justice is not blind—it is directed.

This is also a form of moral persecution. In a society where crime has become the norm among elites, honesty is framed as disruption. Those who refuse to conform to the unwritten codes of silence and complicity are labeled as unpatriotic, radical, or irrational.

Global Parallels, Local Catastrophes

Nepal is not alone in experiencing such institutional capture. But the consequences here are uniquely destabilizing given the country’s fragile geopolitical and economic positioning. Internationally, Nepal has signed numerous treaties on transparency, human trafficking, and anti-corruption enforcement. However, its domestic actions betray these commitments.

For instance, the fake Bhutanese refugee scam, which involved Nepali citizens being fraudulently sent abroad under the guise of resettlement, not only violated human rights standards but also eroded Nepal’s credibility with donor nations. The United States, which had previously hosted over 100,000 genuine Bhutanese refugees, now views such scams with heightened skepticism. This undermines future cooperation, aid, and migration negotiations.

Similarly, rampant visa corruption—facilitated by high-level government actors—has begun to affect how European and Asian countries perceive Nepali migration policy. When the state itself is seen as complicit in human trafficking, it threatens both bilateral trust and international legitimacy. The reputational cost to Nepal is immense, impacting everything from trade agreements to educational visas.

At a time when Nepal’s economy is heavily dependent on remittances and foreign aid, this loss of credibility has tangible, cross-border consequences. It is not just a domestic crisis; it is a geopolitical liability.

The Sociological Cost: Normalizing the Unacceptable

Perhaps the most dangerous consequence of this institutional corruption is the normalization of cynicism. When citizens routinely witness the corrupt being absolved by fellow criminals in positions of power, the very idea of civic virtue begins to erode. The public comes to believe that morality is futile, that laws are for the powerless, and that justice is a performance, not a principle.

This is what sociologists term moral anomie—a breakdown of ethical standards and shared societal values. In Nepal, this has led to:

- Youth disengagement: A generation of bright minds, disillusioned by politics, seek escape through migration.

- Academic decay: Institutions that should be cultivating critical thought are increasingly politicized or silenced.

- Economic short-termism: With no belief in regulatory fairness, business favors political proximity over innovation or entrepreneurship.

In short, the corruption of institutions leads not only to political decay but to a civilizational regression—where the idea of national development itself becomes unmoored from justice.

What Must Be Done: Toward a Moral-Political Awakening

Nepal does not suffer from a lack of laws. It suffers from a lack of moral infrastructure. Reforms cannot succeed unless they are accompanied by a deep philosophical shift—one that recognizes the current crisis not just as a political failure but as a betrayal of civilization.

To begin this process, the following must occur:

1. Independent Investigative Bodies: Agencies like the CIAA must be restructured with international oversight mechanisms and protected from political appointments.

2. Whistleblower Protections: Legal frameworks must be enacted that not only protect but incentivize the exposure of corruption.

3. Judicial Reforms: The judiciary must be purged of political influence through transparent appointment processes and lifetime performance audits.

4. Public Ethics Education: Schools, universities, and public media must actively cultivate civic responsibility, critical thinking, and democratic ethics.

5. International Conditionality: Donors and global organizations must link aid and cooperation to anti-corruption benchmarks—not just fiscal transparency, but structural reform.

Only then can the vicious circle described in the viral quote be broken. Otherwise, Nepal will continue to exist in a mock republic—with the rituals of democracy but the soul of a kleptocracy.

Conclusion: A Nation at the Crossroads

The real tragedy of Nepal is not that it is poor or unstable. It is that its suffering is manufactured by its own leaders, recycled through its own institutions, and rationalized by its own laws. The corrupt protect the corrupt, not out of loyalty, but out of shared survival. This is not governance. This is a mafia masquerading as a republic.

If Nepal is to survive not just as a state, but as a moral and sovereign nation, it must confront the truths that its institutions have long buried. And it must do so with courage—not the noisy courage of populist slogans, but the quiet, enduring courage of institutional reform, civic resistance, and moral clarity.

Until then, every “Good Morning” that begins with the quote—“The corrupt accuse the corrupt of being corrupt…”—will serve as a tragic reminder: that in the republic of impunity, even justice must ask for permission.