By Our Reporter
A budget is supposed to be the government’s most transparent policy document. It tells taxpayers where public money will go, why it is needed and what outcomes it is expected to produce. The moment a large share of that money is left without a clear destination, the budget begins to lose its credibility. That is why the government’s decision to set aside more than Rs 90 billion as an abanda, or unspecified discretionary fund, deserves far greater scrutiny than it has received.
Governments do need limited contingency funds. Natural disasters, public health emergencies and unexpected national priorities cannot always be predicted months in advance. But contingency funding and discretionary funding are not the same thing. A contingency fund is designed for genuine emergencies. An abanda budget, by contrast, allows the government to decide later where the money will go, often without the same level of parliamentary debate or public scrutiny that accompanies the annual budget.
The concerns become more serious when the amount keeps growing. The discretionary allocation has increased from Rs 78 billion to more than Rs 90 billion in a single year. That is not a minor adjustment. It is a significant expansion of spending authority without corresponding expansion of transparency.
Science, Technology and Innovation Minister Mahabir Pun’s disclosure illustrates the problem. His ministry received Rs 3.5 billion without detailed programs attached, despite not being a newly created institution. Ministries are expected to prepare plans, define objectives, estimate costs and justify expenditures before Parliament approves the budget. Reversing that process defeats the very purpose of budget planning. It effectively asks Parliament to approve a blank cheque and trust the executive to fill in the details later.
This is where the risk begins to resemble policy level corruption. Corruption is often understood as bribery or embezzlement. But it can also occur through the design of public policy itself. When governments deliberately create systems that allow large sums of public money to be distributed with minimal transparency, broad discretion and weak oversight, they create conditions where favoritism can flourish without necessarily breaking any law.
An unspecified budget opens the door to politically motivated spending. Projects that fail technical screening can suddenly find funding. Constituencies represented by influential politicians can receive last minute allocations. Ministries can quietly accommodate demands from coalition partners. Budget decisions shift from evidence-based planning to political bargaining.
Several ministers have already hinted at this possibility by telling lawmakers that projects omitted from the budget can still be accommodated later through their ministries. That statement alone raises serious questions. If projects can simply be inserted after the budget has been approved, what value does the budget process itself hold? Why require feasibility studies, cost estimates and parliamentary debate if allocations can later be adjusted through executive discretion?
Such practices also weaken institutions. The National Planning Commission is meant to prioritize projects based on national needs. Sectoral ministries prepare detailed plans. Parliament reviews and approves them. An expanding discretionary budget sidelines each of these institutions by concentrating spending authority inside the Finance Ministry.
The fiscal implications are equally troubling. Projects funded through discretionary allocations often lack completed feasibility studies, detailed project reports or realistic implementation schedules. That increases the likelihood of cost overruns, delays and poor value for money. Nepal already struggles with low capital expenditure and chronic underperformance in project implementation. Injecting more money into projects that have not completed basic planning is unlikely to improve those outcomes.
Equally worrying is the signal this sends about accountability. Parliament can monitor spending only when it knows what has been approved. Citizens can hold governments accountable only when promised projects are clearly identified. Oversight institutions can audit expenditures effectively only when there are predefined objectives against which performance can be measured. An unspecified allocation weakens all three safeguards.
Finance Minister Swarnim Wagle has argued that some flexibility is necessary because of contingency needs and evolving government priorities. Some flexibility is indeed unavoidable. But flexibility should remain the exception, not become a governing principle. When discretionary spending reaches tens of billions of rupees, flexibility begins to look less like administrative necessity and more like an alternative budgeting system.
The debate is therefore not simply about Rs 90 billion. It is about whether Nepal’s budget remains a transparent public document or gradually becomes a political instrument that allows governments to reward allies, satisfy coalition demands and fund pet projects after parliamentary approval. Public finance works best when rules limit discretion, not when discretion replaces rules. If this trend continues unchecked, the greatest cost may not be fiscal. It may be the steady erosion of public trust in the integrity of the budget itself.
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