KATHMANDU, Aug 8: When Prime Minister Balendra Shah delivered his first address to the nation on July 26, he chose Facebook over the press.
The address came nearly four months after he assumed office on March 27, at a time when a dispute in Kaptanganj, Devanganj Rural Municipality-3, Sunsari, had begun to trigger tensions in other parts of the Tarai-Madhesh region. But instead of calling a press conference or engaging with the mainstream media, Shah went directly to social media to address the nation.
The choice was notable for another reason. Nepal Television, the government-controlled public service broadcaster, had recorded the prime minister's address. Yet Shah posted the video on Facebook nearly two minutes before it was scheduled to be broadcast on Nepal Television.
For a prime minister who once gave interviews to media outlets before becoming mayor of Kathmandu Metropolitan City, the shift is striking. After taking charge of the metropolis, Shah largely kept his distance from mainstream journalists. As prime minister, that distance appears to have continued.
The question, therefore, is not simply why Shah prefers social media. It is whether his government sees the media as an institution that deserves engagement, investment and reform—or merely as a channel that can be bypassed.
The question becomes even more pertinent given the background of the ruling Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP). Party President Rabi Lamichhane built his career largely in the media, while at least three ministers in the Shah-led government also have backgrounds in journalism or media. More than two dozen RSP lawmakers in the House of Representatives (HoR) began their careers in the media sector as well.
With the RSP now leading the government and holding close to a two-thirds majority in parliament, journalists and media organisations had expected those with first-hand experience of the profession to bring the sector higher on the policy agenda.
So far, however, that has not happened.
Since the March 5 election, the media sector has rarely featured prominently among the government's priorities. The irony is hard to miss: a political force that has made extensive use of social media to reach voters appears to have little appetite for engaging with the institutions and professionals that have traditionally carried out the public's right to information.
In some respects, the RSP leadership's attitude toward mainstream media has even appeared less accommodating than that of leaders from traditional political parties.
The relationship between Lamichhane and the mainstream media illustrates the tension. After the RSP emerged as the fourth-largest political force in the 2022 General Election, Lamichhane became deputy prime minister and home minister. The mainstream media had repeatedly raised questions about his citizenship status, and the Supreme Court later stripped him of all public positions over the issue.
After reacquiring Nepali citizenship and contesting a by-election, Lamichhane held a press conference at the party headquarters and launched a fierce attack on journalists and the mainstream media. By naming prominent editors, he helped popularise the term "12 brothers" as a label for what he portrayed as an influential media establishment.
Yet this is hardly unique to Lamichhane. Politicians often embrace the media when they need publicity and turn against it when they come under scrutiny. The same pattern can be seen among people from business and other professional sectors.
Why media must be free
That, however, does not mean journalism itself is above criticism.
Nepal's media industry has serious problems of its own. The proliferation of digital platforms has created a culture in which views, clicks and virality can sometimes matter more than accuracy, context and professional responsibility. The result has been a gradual erosion of public trust.
Former Federation of Nepali Journalists (FNJ) president Shiva Gaunle recently raised precisely this concern at a national gathering of the federation. He said press passes and journalistic tools had increasingly been turned into instruments of power and status.
But microphones and cameras, he argued, are supposed to serve a different purpose: informing the public, bringing people's stories to the forefront and holding those in power accountable. Turning them into instruments of personal power or arrogance, he said, falls outside the ethics of journalism.
The problem, Gaunle suggested, goes deeper than the behaviour of individual journalists. Journalism is supposed to represent people's questions and demand answers from those in power. Yet many questions asked today do not necessarily reflect public concerns.
A culture has developed in which some journalists approach programmes without sufficient knowledge of the issue at hand, ask whatever comes to mind and sometimes try to embarrass guests in pursuit of attention and popularity.
Such practices weaken journalism itself. When journalists stop asking questions that matter to ordinary people, their questions lose public value.
And when the questions become weak, Gaunle asks, how can journalism remain strong?
Digital platforms have amplified the problem, but they can also be part of the solution. Ultimately, the profession itself must respond to criticism directed at journalists and journalism. Those working in the sector must be prepared to acknowledge mistakes, correct them and rebuild public confidence.
This also requires a clearer definition of who qualifies as a journalist and what constitutes a media organisation at a time when the boundaries between journalism, content creation and social media influence are becoming increasingly blurred.
A journalist, editor or media organisation cannot turn away from citizens' questions. They must remain accountable to the public. Yet, with some exceptions, Nepal's media industry is increasingly accused of falling short of that responsibility.
There are also basic structural questions that remain unanswered. What qualifications, resources and human capacity should be required to establish a media organisation? What editorial standards should it meet? How should the content it produces be edited and processed? And should organisations with little or no capacity to sustain professional journalism be allowed to operate indefinitely?
These are not questions for journalists alone. The government, media owners and professional organisations all have a role to play.
Nepal has long followed a familiar political pattern: parties use the media enthusiastically while in opposition and become increasingly interested in controlling it once they reach power.
The current government appears to have adopted a somewhat different approach—not necessarily control, but neglect.
Rather than engaging with the media sector, the government has increasingly used social media as its preferred communication tool. There is little evidence of a broader policy push to develop, expand and modernise the country's media industry.
That needs to change.
Many of Nepal's media laws are decades old and require serious updating. The rapid expansion of social media has created regulatory challenges that existing laws were never designed to address. The system for classifying newspapers and other publications is also outdated, while experts have long called for a more systematic approach to classifying and regulating the growing number of media outlets.
The financial health of the industry is another concern.
For years, media houses expanded rapidly, fuelled by a relatively strong advertising market. But as advertising has contracted, many organisations have found themselves struggling to survive.
The consequences are being felt most directly by journalists. Labour disputes are becoming increasingly difficult to resolve, while many media organisations themselves are struggling to maintain their workforce and financial viability.
This is particularly troubling because Nepal's media industry has historically played an important role during periods of political crisis and democratic transition. Journalists and media organisations contributed significantly when political parties were under pressure and democratic processes were disrupted. They continue to perform that role.
Yet when the media sector itself enters a period of crisis, the same level of political attention appears to be missing.
The FNJ, meanwhile, should be at the forefront of a broader conversation—not just about journalists' salaries, rights and benefits, but also about the future of the media industry itself.
Professional organisations need to focus on journalists' capacity building and professional development while also strengthening accountability, ethics and a sense of responsibility.
The FNJ should also serve as a bridge between journalists, media owners and the government, helping develop policies that address the sector's structural problems.
Instead, its increasing focus on labour disputes has at times strained relations between journalists and media owners. The two sides have become so wary of each other that meaningful discussion about the industry's larger challenges has become difficult.
The federation, which should be working toward long-term solutions to problems ranging from labour rights to the industry's financial and structural weaknesses, has increasingly been associated with protests and demonstrations.
Such actions may provide immediate responses to specific incidents, but they cannot substitute for long-term policy reform. When the underlying problems remain unresolved, confidence in the federation also suffers—even among journalists themselves.
At the heart of the debate lies an even more fundamental question: Is the media an industry or a social service?
If it is an industry, should media organisations be allowed to register and operate without demonstrating adequate capital, a viable market and the capacity to provide employment security, as is expected in other industries? Should a minimum level of investment be required before a media organisation is allowed to operate?
If the media is considered a social service, another question follows: should the wealth generated by such organisations be treated as private property?
The debate also extends to labour law. Should media organisations be governed by the Labour Act or the Working Journalists Act? And what should happen when the two frameworks overlap or conflict?
None of these questions has a simple answer. But avoiding them is no longer an option.
Nepal's media sector needs more than protection from political interference. It needs reform—from outdated laws and weak regulation to professional standards, financial sustainability, labour relations and institutional accountability.
The government cannot expect the media to hold power accountable while treating the media sector itself as an afterthought.
And the media cannot demand accountability from the government while avoiding difficult questions about its own failures.
The real challenge, therefore, is not simply to ask why the government has not made the media a priority. It is to determine what kind of media Nepal needs—and what the government, journalists, media owners and professional bodies must do to build it.
