There is a central concept that has been totally neglected so far in the ongoing debate about the events of the uprising of September 8 and 9 and what will come next.
In the aftermath of tragic human losses and the subsequent personal suffering affecting hundreds of families whose daughters, sons, husbands, and wives lost their lives, Nepal must reckon with the need for a process of national reconciliation, or at least for facing the past and dealing with it.
Talking about national reconciliation should not be seen merely as an imperative to heal the psychological trauma of many people who have been directly and indirectly affected by violence.
It can also be seen as an opportunity to turn a page in the country’s modern history by addressing a deeply painful episode that should be examined through the lens of past injustices that were never resolved. Needless to say, it is also about recognising the contributions made by those who gave up their lives to give the country a new beginning.
Nepal’s armed conflict from 1996 to 2006 witnessed many acts of violence that have never been addressed by transitional justice mechanisms, which have been weakened by a lack of political will, compromising their overarching goals and operations. The same can be said of the episodes of violence that characterised the Madhes Movement in its three phases between 2007, 2008, and 2015.
All these political events, despite being different in nature and occurring in distinct phases of Nepal’s modern history, shared a common thread: the quest for social justice and dignity—and, unfortunately, the neglect of victims’ rights and calls for accountability.
The frustrations that pushed thousands of youths onto the streets on September 8 were not only about opposing a ban on social media. Even frustrations related to corruption and nepotism should be viewed from a broader perspective—the affirmation of inalienable rights that, for far too long, have been neglected and never implemented. As one Gen Z leader, Bibhu Pahadi, remarked, “It was frustration piled up from seeing how the government and the state as a whole were becoming non-responsive to people’s demands, at the cost of people’s taxes.”
One may disagree on the causes of the September 8 incidents, but the undeniable truth is that more than 74 lives were lost, hundreds were injured, and the country has been left with deep rifts and divisions.
The nation needs a new social contract between the state and the citizenry, and, hopefully, the political process unfolding through the upcoming elections will enable new forms of politics to emerge.
We are convinced that, for a prosperous future based on inclusiveness and respect for human rights, it is paramount to lay the foundations of a long-term national rebuilding process through a focus on restorative justice.
Restorative justice is not only about addressing the root causes of violence that has intermittently—and periodically—marked the history of the republic.
It is also about acknowledging the pain and suffering that many citizens continue to experience, whether from violence they directly endured or from its consequences, including the loss of loved ones.
This is why traditional mechanisms of reparation commonly associated with transitional justice—namely economic compensation and symbolic proclamations of martyrdom—are utterly inadequate.
In the days, weeks, months, and years following tragic episodes of political violence that were never addressed and where accountability was never achieved, people lost their dignity and, with it, their hope for a better future.
After all, how can one imagine a bright horizon when loved ones will never return?
That is why the state must recognise the invisible yet very real and ongoing suffering—recent and past alike—that many people continue to endure.
To begin with, a process of national reconciliation founded on restorative justice should entail an official apology by the authorities. The state, ultimately, was profoundly ineffective and, at times, intentionally disinterested in acknowledging this pain beyond tokenistic measures. A public apology, though symbolic, would represent a first step towards a longer and genuine process of national reconciliation.
Second, a national dialogue should be initiated at both local and national levels. Around the world—from the Philippines to Tunisia to Colombia—there are numerous examples from which Nepal could draw inspiration.
In such processes, it will be essential for victims of recent and past violence to come forward and share their still-grieving emotions and experiences. Perpetrators of violence, whenever possible, should also be encouraged to come forward, express remorse, and seek moral forgiveness through appropriate mechanisms.
These dynamics would not replace legal approaches aimed at formal accountability, including judicial proceedings. Rather, they can complement them by creating two parallel but interconnected streams of justice.
Dialogues at local and national levels would provide spaces not only for healing but also for addressing the root causes of inequality and discrimination that led to the painful episodes of violence marking Nepal’s slow and difficult democratisation.
Without a reckoning with past human rights violations, it will be difficult—perhaps even unimaginable—for Nepal to forge a sustainable path to peace and long-term economic prosperity.
The 2015 Constitution, though far from perfect, represents a pivotal milestone for the nation and was made possible only through the sacrifices of thousands of citizens who lost their lives in pursuit of a better country.
It is important to underline that restorative justice is also a vital tool for personal emancipation and empowerment.
Addressing violence and the pain it has caused over the past two decades through a victim-centred approach is the only viable way for Nepal to truly turn the page and lay the foundations of a new republic based on dignity, inclusiveness, and equity.
Restorative justice offers a pathway towards realising these overarching principles that define the new Nepal created after the abolition of the monarchy.
Though too often overlooked, we must remind ourselves that it was in pursuit of these principles that many citizens gave their lives.
It is time for their families to have these sacrifices fully acknowledged and for the emotional scars that continue to shape their daily lives to begin healing. The time for national dialogue is now—more urgently than ever.
Tiwari is Director of the Nepal Forum for Restorative Justice.
Galimberti is the Pro Bono Co-Founder of ENGAGE and The Good Leadership.