Nepal is not at war. No famine stalks the land, no cataclysmic disaster compels its people to flee. Yet, an exodus unfolds—tens of thousands of Nepalis depart monthly, not for adventure, but for sheer survival. They are not driven by bombs or hunger, but by a quieter, more insidious devastation: systemic state failure. From brazen refugee scams to deeply entrenched visa rackets, recent scandals reveal a harrowing truth: Nepal is institutionalizing the exodus of its own citizens.
This is not mere migration. It is something far darker, a phenomenon I call being rendered refugee by the nation.
To become a refugee due to the state’s failure is to be exiled by hopelessness. It is to be systematically pushed out by systems so broken they no longer offer dignity, opportunity, or even the illusion of a future. It is to become a refugee in spirit—displaced not from one's land by external forces, but from the very possibility of a fulfilling life at home, by one's own country.
The Architecture of Corruption
The scale of this despair was starkly illustrated in 2023. A large-scale scam duped over 800 Nepalis into believing they could be resettled in the United States as Bhutanese refugees. Victims paid exorbitant sums, ranging from Rs 1 million to Rs 5 million, for forged documents and phantom promises. Investigations exposed a sophisticated web implicating high-level officials, leading to arrests and charges of corruption and human trafficking.
This year, the pattern continued. Another scandal erupted, this time involving the illegal issuance of visit visas through Tribhuvan International Airport (TIA). A network of immigration personnel and intermediaries allegedly facilitated unauthorized departures, primarily to Gulf nations, using fraudulent paperwork in exchange for hefty bribes. Again, arrests followed, sparking public outrage and renewed, weary demands for accountability.
What makes these scandals so profoundly tragic is not just the financial fraud, but what they signify: the commodification of desperation. Nepalis are not merely choosing to leave; many are being actively driven out by the very systems that should protect and empower them, systems that instead systematically suppress their aspirations.
The Two Faces of the Exiled
Nepal’s outbound tide comprises two main groups, both casualties of this systemic failure: the under-skilled refugees and the skilled refugees.
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The under-skilled refugees represent a vast exodus fuelled by economic desperation. Lacking access to decent jobs or viable vocational training at home, countless Nepalis seek manual labor abroad—in construction, manufacturing, or domestic service—primarily in the Gulf states, Malaysia, and South Korea. Their remittances are a lifeline, propping up the national economy to the tune of nearly a quarter of Nepal’s GDP.
But this reliance is a dangerous bargain. Rural communities are hollowed out, essential services like healthcare and education are critically understaffed, and the state remains perilously dependent on these remittances while chronically failing to invest in sustainable, long-term domestic development. These individuals are not leaving by choice; they are pushed out by a vacuum of opportunity. Until Nepal fosters job creation, expands practical training, and genuinely values its human capital, this cycle of forced migration will persist.
Then there are the skilled refugees: engineers, doctors, entrepreneurs, educators, and technologists. They leave not from a lack of love for their homeland, but because their ambition finds no fertile ground. Faced with suffocating red tape, pervasive political interference, and a corrosive lack of institutional trust, they seek dignity and the chance to realize their potential elsewhere. The irony is bitter: these individuals, often dismissed or disempowered at home, are frequently valued, trusted, and empowered by their host nations.
When these skilled professionals attempt to return, armed with ideas, experience, and capital, they are too often met with apathy, if not active obstruction. This brain drain is a grievous self-inflicted wound. Nepal is not just losing talent; it’s forfeiting the architects of its own potential transformation. Reversing this requires more than rhetoric; it demands dismantling bureaucratic barriers, cultivating a meritocratic environment, and welcoming returning professionals as essential partners, not inconvenient intruders. A nation that cannot trust or empower its own brightest cannot build a viable future.
Innovation Stifled, Hope Deferred
My own experience, and that of many like-minded individuals, is a testament to this frustrating reality. Over several years, myself and many like-minded individuals have proposed infrastructure solutions—from clean energy models to data-driven governance tools—across multiple departments and through five successive governments. Each time, the ideas were nominally welcomed, the need acknowledged, the urgency agreed upon. And yet, invariably, nothing moved forward. Meetings were indefinitely postponed, decisions perpetually deferred, proposals left to languish "under review" for years.
Many of us have tried, encountered these invisible walls, and ultimately returned to host countries, disillusioned not by the rejection of our ideas, but by the complete absence of follow-through. Even contractually obligated or ongoing small-scale projects are routinely neglected, poorly executed, or left unaccounted for. Alarmingly, this inertia is no longer confined to the government; segments of the private sector are beginning to mirror this dysfunction and apathy.
In a system where praise is abundant but action is a mirage, solutions wither in silence. Nepal doesn't lack innovation; it lacks the institutional will and accountability to translate ideas into tangible outcomes. This culture of indecision and impunity ultimately forces even the most patriotic and resilient to seek opportunities elsewhere.
A Deepening Crisis of Trust
This ever-widening chasm of distrust between citizens and the state is perhaps the most painful element of Nepal’s migration crisis. The global Nepali diaspora includes individuals who have built companies, led groundbreaking research, and driven innovation. They possess not just capital, but invaluable new perspectives, global networks, and a fierce, often untapped, desire to contribute to their homeland.
Yet, back in Nepal, they are frequently sidelined. Merit takes a backseat to proximity to political elites. Too often, an under-qualified insider secures the contract, the loan, or the crucial opportunity. When capable professionals are welcomed and thrive abroad but are systematically undervalued or rejected at home, the message is devastatingly clear: Nepal does not value its own. This isn't just poor governance; it is a profound betrayal. It stifles progress, accelerates talent drain, and cements a system where mediocrity is rewarded, and excellence is exiled.
A Nation in Denial, A Reputation Tarnished
As these scandals accumulate, Nepal’s leadership often defaults to damage control rather than genuine reform. Investigations tend to be sluggish, often resulting in scapegoats being punished while influential power brokers remain untouched. Meanwhile, the torrent of young Nepalis seeking dignity and a future elsewhere continues unabated, month after month.
The damage is not merely reputational, though that too is significant. These scandals erode the already fragile trust between citizens and the state. Institutions designed to uphold the law and protect citizens' rights are increasingly perceived as, and sometimes are, the very entities facilitating abuse. In this process, Nepal is squandering its most precious asset: its people.
Even the international community is taking note. Nepal’s carefully cultivated image as a peaceful, scenic democracy is now increasingly juxtaposed with headlines of fake refugee schemes, human trafficking rings, and pervasive administrative rot. If Nepal hopes to retain global credibility and foster meaningful international partnerships, transparency and accountability must become non-negotiable pillars of governance.
At a Crossroads
There is, however, a faint glimmer of hope. New political movements, often led by younger figures and energized by grassroots momentum, are beginning to challenge the entrenched status quo. These movements champion inclusive growth, digital governance, and genuine transparency. But they need the space to lead and a clear mandate from a public growing increasingly disillusioned with stale pronouncements and systemic inertia.
Simultaneously, frustration with current democratic institutions runs so deep that some openly call for a return to monarchy. This is less about genuine nostalgia for autocracy and more a stark reflection of how profoundly people feel let down by the failures of the current republic.
Nepal stands at a critical crossroads. One path leads deeper into dysfunction: more lost talent, widening inequality, and further international isolation. The other, more arduous path, leads toward national renewal.
Choosing renewal means building a government that prioritizes competence over connections, actionable ideas over empty ideologies, and unwavering integrity over paralyzing inertia. It means fundamentally shifting perspective to view returning citizens not as threats or competitors, but as indispensable collaborators in nation-building. It necessitates comprehensive reforms in education and labor systems to create tangible opportunities at home, rather than exporting despair abroad.
Conclusion: Nation or Neglect?
The migration crisis gripping Nepal is far more than a collection of personal decisions; it is a narrative of systemic, deliberate displacement engineered by the system itself. It is the story of a country that consistently fails to nurture its own people, pushes them to the margins, and then, metaphorically, closes the door when they attempt to return with skills, capital, and renewed hope.
This is more than a policy failure. It is a national betrayal—a fundamental rupture of the social contract between citizen and state. When the nation becomes indistinguishable from neglect, it forfeits its moral authority and the right to expect loyalty, contribution, or even belief from its populace.
If Nepal is to reclaim its future, it must begin by truly valuing its people—not just as sources of remittances or as periodic voters, but as indispensable collaborators in the urgent, collective task of forging a more just, capable, and dignified society for all.
