By Our Reporter
Prime Minister Sushila Karki came to office in unusual circumstances. The citizen government that emerged after the Gen Z uprising was meant to calm the country, restore order, and prepare the ground for elections. Its mandate was narrow and temporary. Conduct the polls, maintain stability, and step aside once a new government takes shape. It was never meant to behave like a full political administration distributing posts and rewarding loyalists.
Yet the latest decisions from Karki’s Cabinet suggest that this basic boundary has been ignored. Just days after the election concluded and the country began waiting for a new government, the caretaker Cabinet recommended Home Minister Om Prakash Aryal to the National Assembly under the expert quota. At the same time, Prime Minister Karki appointed her chief personal secretary, Adarsha Shrestha, as chairperson of the National Trust for Nature Conservation. Both decisions came from a government that is already preparing to leave office.
That timing alone raises serious questions. A caretaker government is expected to exercise restraint. It is supposed to avoid long term decisions that bind the next administration. Sending a sitting home minister to the National Assembly at the end of a caretaker term stretches that principle. Even if Aryal is qualified, the process itself looks inappropriate. The country has just delivered a new mandate through the ballot. Installing a political ally in a parliamentary seat during this transition weakens that mandate.
Gen Z activists have been quick to point out the contradiction. Their movement emerged partly as a reaction against the old culture of political favoritism. They marched on the streets demanding merit-based appointments and stronger public institutions. The citizen government that followed was supposed to represent a break from that tradition.
Instead the same old pattern appears to be repeating. The appointment of Adarsha Shrestha is even harder to defend. Shrestha serves as the prime minister’s chief personal secretary. His job is administrative and personal. Yet he has now been placed at the head of a major national institution responsible for environmental conservation. The decision becomes more troubling because Shrestha was already involved in controversy earlier when he helped secure a public appointment for his wife. That appointment had to be cancelled after public criticism.
Despite that history, the prime minister has chosen to elevate him again. Karki’s explanation does little to calm the criticism. Her office has argued that she requires a trusted individual to assist her closely due to her age and personal circumstances. That argument might justify employing a reliable aide in the prime minister’s secretariat. It does not explain why the same person should lead a national conservation institution. Public bodies are not extensions of the prime minister’s household. The decision suggests something else. It reveals how easily even a caretaker government can fall into the habits it once criticized.
Home Minister Aryal’s nomination to the National Assembly raises a different but equally serious concern. The expert quota exists so that specialists in law, science, economics, or public policy can contribute to the legislative process. It was never designed as a soft landing for ministers leaving office. When a caretaker Cabinet sends one of its own members to fill that quota, the purpose of the provision becomes distorted.
Aryal’s defenders say his competence is not in doubt. That may be true. Yet the problem here is not only about personal capability. It is about the integrity of the process. A caretaker government recommending its own minister to parliament days before stepping down creates the impression that public office is still treated as political property.
This perception damages the credibility of the citizen government itself. Karki had gained respect for steering the country through a difficult moment after the Gen Z protests. Many people believed her administration represented a temporary clean break from the usual power politics. That image now looks fragile. These appointments have revived the suspicion that Nepal’s political culture remains unchanged no matter who occupies the chair.
The anger expressed by Gen Z activists reflects that disappointment. Young protesters who marched against nepotism and favoritism expected the new leadership to behave differently. Some of their friends were injured during those demonstrations. Their demand was simple: public institutions should serve the public, not the inner circle of political leaders.
When a caretaker government begins distributing positions at the end of its tenure, it sends the opposite message. Nepal’s democratic system already struggles with low public trust. Every decision that appears self-serving deepens that distrust. Prime Minister Karki had an opportunity to leave office with a reputation for restraint and fairness. Instead her final decisions risk reinforcing the belief that even governments born from protest can quickly adopt the habits of the past. That would be an unfortunate legacy for a government that once promised to change the rules.
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