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The first national convention of Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP), expected to institutionalize the party’s promise of “new politics,” ended in controversy after six days of administrative chaos, disputed election results, factional tensions, and growing criticism that the party has begun replicating the very political culture it once vowed to dismantle.

Held in Bharatpur from June 21 to 26, the convention was widely seen as the party’s biggest institutional test since its formation in 2022. For a party that rose rapidly by promising transparency, internal democracy, meritocracy, accountability, and an alternative to Nepal’s traditional political establishment, the gathering was expected to demonstrate whether RSP could practice internally the values it has consistently championed in public.

Instead, six turbulent days exposed deep organizational weaknesses, procedural controversies, and internal contradictions that now threaten the credibility of the very political project on which the party built its rise.

Trouble began even before formal proceedings started. Originally planned as a three-day event, the convention stretched nearly a week as the party struggled to complete basic organizational preparations. Delegates arriving from across the country encountered confusion over accreditation, identity card distribution, registration procedures, and repeated delays in scheduled sessions.

The party leadership reportedly failed to finalize the delegate list until the final hours before the convention began. Confusion over representative verification immediately disrupted proceedings, forcing postponement of the closed session that was originally scheduled for the second day. The delegate count also mysteriously rose from an initial 3,000 to over 4,100 without any transparent audit trail.

The situation was particularly striking in Madhes, the party’s strongest electoral base where it secured 57.33 percent of proportional representation votes. RSP failed to hold district conventions in seven of the province’s eight districts, meaning delegates were selected through ad hoc committees rather than any democratic process.

For a party that has repeatedly criticized older political forces for bureaucratic inefficiency and weak organizational culture, the early administrative collapse proved politically embarrassing.

Thousands of delegates, many of whom traveled from remote districts at their own expense, found themselves stranded in Chitwan for days amid uncertainty over constantly shifting schedules. Several publicly complained about spending significant personal funds on accommodation and food while the party leadership failed to communicate clearly about the delays.

Weather conditions further deepened frustration. The convention took place in nearly 40-degree pre-monsoon heat, while delegates struggled with mounting accommodation costs due to repeated extensions. The opening session, scheduled for 1 pm, began only at 3:30 pm. Party leaders including Rabi Lamichhane and Balen Shah arrived hours late, mirroring the same political culture of delays the party had once criticized. Delegates reportedly slept in nomination halls while waiting, and many from distant districts returned home before proceedings concluded.

The convention’s biggest controversy emerged during internal elections for central committee positions, where disputes over electoral outcomes quickly escalated into one of the gathering’s most serious flashpoints.

The dispute involving candidate Puja Banstola became the most visible controversy. According to internal election results, Banstola secured more votes than several competing candidates. However, disagreements emerged over how the party interpreted inclusion provisions while finalizing winners, ultimately leaving her unelected despite receiving a stronger vote count.

The outcome immediately triggered criticism from party members and supporters, with accusations that the party had inconsistently applied its own constitutional provisions and denied representation to a candidate who had secured greater electoral support.

The controversy quickly spread across social media, with many supporters openly questioning whether the party’s commitment to fairness and meritocracy exists only as political rhetoric. Although the party’s election commission later corrected the error, the damage had already been done.

Equally troubling was the complete absence of meaningful democratic deliberation during endorsement of the party’s key political and organizational documents.

President Rabi Lamichhane presented major policy proposals intended to shape the party’s long-term political direction. Yet delegates were reportedly given virtually no opportunity to debate, question, amend, or challenge the documents before being asked to endorse them.

A process that should have involved serious deliberation among thousands of representatives was reduced to little more than procedural formality. One party leader sarcastically remarked that the “intensive discussion conducted by 4,200 delegates lasted just seven seconds.”

The irony was striking.

RSP built much of its political identity by criticizing traditional parties for bulldozing major decisions through centralized leadership structures while suppressing internal debate. Yet during its own most important organizational gathering, the party appeared to repeat precisely the same practice.

The policies themselves were deeply controversial: abolishing provincial assemblies, introducing a directly elected executive, making the National Assembly non-partisan, and implementing non-partisan local elections. If implemented, these proposals would fundamentally alter the federal framework established by Nepal’s 2015 Constitution. Yet none were subjected to genuine internal debate. Delegates were simply asked to endorse them—and they did.

The party’s much-publicized digital voting system became another source of controversy. Delegates reportedly stood in long queues for hours merely to complete nomination and registration procedures.

The electronic ballot system itself created confusion after candidate names reportedly appeared in random rather than alphabetical order. Several candidates later raised concerns over inconsistencies in published results after names initially appearing in one result sheet reportedly shifted positions following revisions.

Perhaps the most legally troubling revelation from the convention was the discovery that 35,257 registered party members—representing 6.73 percent of the party’s membership base—were minors under the age of 18.

The revelation potentially violates multiple legal provisions, including Article 39 of Nepal’s Constitution, which prohibits the political exploitation of children; Section 14 of the Political Parties Act, 2073, which requires party members to be eligible voters aged 18 or above; and Section 66 of the Act Relating to Children, 2075, which criminalizes the recruitment of minors into political organizations.

The leadership attempted to dismiss the revelation as a technical glitch in the party’s online registration system. But critics argue the explanation is legally and morally insufficient, particularly given that the party has repeatedly advocated for depoliticizing educational spaces and restricting student unions in the name of protecting young people from partisan influence.

The convention also exposed visible factional divisions despite repeated public claims that RSP rejects faction-based politics.

While President Rabi Lamichhane faced no competition, several contested positions reportedly reflected growing internal alignments among competing leadership groups. Candidates and insiders privately accused powerful figures within the leadership of quietly promoting preferred candidates through informal channels despite the party’s public opposition to factional politics.

Perhaps the most politically damaging statistic emerging from the convention was the dramatic collapse in delegate participation.

Party leaders repeatedly claimed that more than 4,000 delegates attended the convention. Yet only around 2,900 participated in voting for central committee positions. By the time elections for key office-bearer positions were held, turnout had reportedly fallen to nearly 1,300 votes.

In effect, nearly 70 percent of delegates abstained from deciding the party’s new leadership. This included Lamichhane himself, who was present in Chitwan but did not vote, while Balen Shah had already returned to Kathmandu.

The sharp decline reflected more than logistical inconvenience. It exposed growing frustration among delegates exhausted by repeated delays, financial burden, organizational confusion, and dissatisfaction with how the convention was being conducted.

In many ways, delegates had already delivered their verdict.

For many young voters, urban professionals, first-time voters, and politically frustrated citizens, RSP’s rise symbolized hope that Nepal could finally build a credible alternative to the country’s old political establishment. That symbolic value made this convention particularly important.

But the party’s first major organizational exercise instead exposed a troubling contradiction.

Nepal’s traditional political parties have long faced criticism for factional bargaining, procedural manipulation, centralized decision-making, weak internal democracy, and lack of transparency. RSP entered politics promising to break that cycle.

Yet during its own first major institutional test, the party found itself accused of replicating many of the same practices it once built its political identity opposing.

The convention that was supposed to institutionalize Nepal’s most ambitious experiment in alternative politics instead exposed an uncomfortable possibility: RSP may already be evolving into the very political culture it promised to replace.

For nearly four decades, farmers in a small settlement upstream of Khageri watershed of Ichhakamana Rural Municipality-7, Chitwan, had given up hope of growing paddy. A devastating flood in Oct 1984 turned once-fertile farmland into barren wasteland, leaving families dependent on rain-fed maize and seasonal vegetables. The soil degraded, irrigation sources disappeared, and farming slowly became a struggle for survival rather than a sustainable livelihood.

Then, last year, something changed.

For the first time in 40 years, local farmer Mangal Raj Shrestha harvested paddy again. On his 6,095 square meters of land, he produced nearly 3,100 kilograms of spring rice, enough to feed his family throughout the year and generate income from sales.

The transformation did not come through expensive machinery or large-scale infrastructure. Instead, it came through something increasingly seen as critical in addressing climate and environmental crises: nature-based solutions.

At Ranikhola Community Forest in Ichhakamana, local communities embraced watershed and springshed management solutions such as bio-dykes, water conservation ponds, irrigation protection, water augmentation structures for springs revival and ecosystem restoration. The result was the revival of land that had remained unproductive for decades.

According to Ram Prasad Gurung, secretary of the Ranikhola Community Forest Users Group, restoring the land required years of difficult work.

The degradation of the Chure region had left the settlement highly vulnerable to repeated flooding and land erosion. To restore the ecosystem and protect the community, locals constructed bio-embankments, conservation ponds, water augmentation structures, protected irrigation sources, and a 1.5-kilometer irrigation canal. Today, the system supports rice cultivation across nearly 135,453 square meters of land, alongside vegetable farming.

But Ranikhola is far from the only example. Across communities in Chitwan and Nawalpur, local residents are increasingly discovering that restoring watersheds and springshed is also restoring livelihoods.

Three years ago, nearly 40 households were affected, and eight families were displaced by a landslide in Kawasoti Municipality-4, Nawalpur. The settlement lies within the Gindri Wetland area of Sankhadev Hasaura Community Forest, between the Gindri River and a landslide-prone slope.

The landslide had been gradually worsening since the 2015 earthquake, with fragile soil conditions causing sections of the forest to slowly move downhill.

Prem Prasad Tiwari, chairperson of the community forest, says the situation has improved significantly after the community introduced nature-based interventions as low-cost soil and water conservation measures which included bioengineering through bamboo crib wall, bamboo palisades, bamboo check dam, plantation of bamboo and other slope stabilizing vegetations, and gully erosion treatments with diversion canal and siltation traps. “Since we started these interventions, the landslide has stopped for almost a year,” Tiwari said. “Some displaced families now want to return because they feel safe again.”

A short distance away in Hupsekot Rural Municipality-4, communities have focused on springshed management for restoring groundwater systems.

The recharge ponds and other water augmentation structures (eyebrow pits, contour trench, flood diversion canal, etc.)  built inside the forest may appear dry during summer, but according to Karun Dewan, Program Officer (Freshwater Programs) at WWF Nepal, their function is far more important beneath the surface. “These water augmentation structures collect rainwater throughout the year especially during the monsoon and allow it to slowly infiltrate underground recharging the aquifers for springs,” he said.

Local farmer Khem Bahadur Magar says the difference has been dramatic. “Before the ponds were conserved, agricultural productivity here was low, and there was very little greenery in the area,” he said. “Now irrigation has improved significantly (through the water collected from the springs), and our crop yields have nearly doubled.”

The impact is visible even during harvest season. “Earlier the land remained dry, and we used machines to harvest paddy. Now groundwater recharge has improved so much that the fields stay muddy, forcing us to harvest manually,” he said.

A similar transformation is underway at Joltepokhari Community Forest in Hupsekot, where once-dry forestland has turned visibly greener.

Rupa Rana, chairperson of the community forest, says local understanding of conservation has changed entirely. “We now understand the importance of recharge ponds, conservation ponds, eyebrow pits/half-moon pits, and other nature-based conservation measures,” she said.

With support from local organization Sahamati under the Triple Benefit Program–Nepal, and financial and technical assistance from WWF Nepal, communities have expanded into water efficient vegetable farming, livestock rearing, beekeeping and market-based enterprises.

Among the 233 households in the Community Forest Users Group, many are now directly engaged in income-generating activities. “We had tried farming before, but it failed because water availability was poor,” Rana said. “Now water availability has improved along with enhanced skill on water efficient technologies, which has led to farming expanding rapidly.”

Vegetables are sold locally in Kawasoti, while peak production is transported as far as Kathmandu. “Sometimes we cannot even meet market demand,” she added.

The benefits extend beyond agriculture. The community has developed local entrepreneurs who collect produce from farmers and supply larger markets. Some households have even started allocating a portion of their profits to nearby government schools for student scholarships.

For 30-year-old Hemati Masraini, the impact has been life-changing. A mother of two daughters studying in primary school, she now supports her entire household independently through goat farming. “Last year, I earned nearly Rs 100,000,” she said, adding that she consistently raises at least 10 goats.

Locals say wildlife populations in the surrounding forests have also increased since conservation efforts began, as evidenced by the hoof prints of wild boars and other ungulates around the conservation ponds, along with the frequent songs of birds echoing through the forest.

In neighboring Ichhakamana Rural Municipality, nature-based solutions have also protected critical infrastructure.

A drinking water tank at the edge of Kalika Pipaltar Community Forest supplying around 400 households was once at risk of destruction due to a landslide. Bioengineering interventions for this landslide helped stabilize the slope and save the water supply system and also possible damage to the settlement and agriculture land below.

Additionally, at Kalika Pipaltar Community Forest, improved wetland management, ecosystem regeneration, bioengineering and fire-line construction have significantly reduced environmental risks.

Som Bahadur Chepang, an advisor to the community forest, says forest fires have nearly disappeared. “Previously, forest fires were frequent,” he said. “But this year, it has been almost zero.” However, irrigation remains a challenge, and the community still depends heavily on rainfall for farming.

Collectively, these stories across two watersheds- Khageri (Chitwan) and Gindri (Nawalpur) show how nature-based solutions are doing far more than conserving forests. They are reducing disaster risks, restoring degraded watersheds, improving groundwater systems with springshed management, strengthening community institutions, and creating sustainable livelihoods for vulnerable communities.

Across Chitwan and Nawalpur, communities are proving that environmental conservation and economic prosperity do not have to exist separately. In many cases, protecting nature itself is becoming the foundation for improving people’s lives.

Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) has formally transformed itself from a fast-rising political movement into a highly structured and ideologically defined political force after endorsing a sweeping new party statute during its first national convention in Chitwan.

The convention approved a revised organizational framework establishing a 158-member central committee, expanded leadership structure, a formal ideological shift toward social democracy, and a series of unprecedented internal accountability mechanisms aimed at fundamentally reshaping how political parties function in Nepal.

The newly adopted statute defines the central committee as the party’s highest executive body, consisting of 158 members, including 99 directly elected central committee members, 51 members nominated by the party president, seven provincial presidents serving as ex-officio members, and the party president.

The party will now have 18 office bearers, including one president, three vice presidents, two general secretaries, five joint general secretaries, one spokesperson, three deputy spokespersons, one treasurer, and two deputy treasurers.

One of the convention’s most significant decisions was the formal adoption of the “Right to Recall”, a mechanism rarely seen in Nepali party politics. Under this provision, party members or the relevant electorate will have the authority to remove elected representatives or party executives before the completion of their tenure if they fail to fulfill their responsibilities.

The provision is expected to directly challenge Nepal’s long-standing leader-centric political culture by ensuring elected leaders remain accountable beyond elections and under constant public scrutiny.

The convention also marked a major ideological transition as RSP officially adopted social democracy as its guiding political philosophy. The party says the framework rests on five major pillars: a competitive liberal economy, rule of law, accountable government, a just welfare state, and an equitable and inclusive society.

The economic framework emphasizes private sector-led innovation and wealth creation, while simultaneously guaranteeing education and healthcare as fundamental rights rather than state charity.

The rule of law principle explicitly states that no individual, including top party leaders, should remain above the law. The party also pledged to use digital governance tools to improve transparency and accountability in public administration.

Seeking to break what it describes as Nepal’s culture of nepotism and family-based politics, the party has created a Leadership Academy and a Candidate Club aimed at professionalizing political leadership. Under the new system, popularity alone will no longer be sufficient to secure party tickets for public office.

Aspiring candidates will now be required to undergo mandatory ethical and technical training, pass internal performance evaluations, and eventually compete through primary elections involving the party’s general membership before receiving nomination. The party leadership says the move is intended to institutionalize meritocracy within the organization.

The revised statute also institutionalizes financial transparency through an “Open Ledger” system. Under this mechanism, opaque political donations are prohibited and all party funding must come through formal banking or digital payment channels.

The statute also creates a specialized Discipline Commission tasked with maintaining annual property declarations of all party officials and elected representatives. These disclosures will remain subject to internal audit and organizational scrutiny.

The party has introduced strict internal governance measures intended to prevent concentration of power. The statute prohibits more than one member from the same family serving simultaneously on the same committee or being nominated by the party for state appointments.

In addition, executive positions will be limited to two consecutive terms, a move aimed at preventing internal monopolization of power and ensuring regular leadership turnover. The statute further mandates that at least 33 percent of all party committees must consist of women, while another 33 percent representation must come from youth under the age of 40.

Party President Rabi Lamichhane, in his political report presented during the convention, described the party’s journey as moving from “zero to Singha Durbar” in just four years. 

With the sweeping reforms endorsed this week, RSP has signaled its ambition to fundamentally challenge Nepal’s traditional party system and redefine the standards of internal democracy, political accountability, and organizational governance.

Imagine spending a night in the middle of the jungle, staying in a tree house surrounded by the sounds of birds and insects, with fireflies illuminating the darkness, cool fresh air brushing past, leaves rustling in the wind, and wild animals moving around as if they were familiar companions. It is an experience unlike any other.

This is exactly what visitors can experience in the buffer zone community forests surrounding Chitwan National Park.

According to Meghnath Poudel, chairperson of Milijuli Buffer Zone Community Forest in Ratnanagar Municipality, Chitwan, the community forest earned more than Rs 600,000 in revenue from its night-stay tower, popularly known as the Tree House, in the last fiscal year alone. The four-story tower features an open space on the ground floor, rooms for guards and nature guides on the first floor, and two guest rooms each on the third and fourth floors, all equipped with attached washrooms. In total, the tower can accommodate 12 guests.

The Tree House overlooks a pond frequently visited by wildlife. Visitors often witness one-horned rhinoceroses, tigers, deers, wild boars, crocodiles, and a variety of bird species as they come to drink water, bathe, or simply rest near the water body.

Poudel says that although the primary income source of the community forest remains the sale of firewood, tourism-related services such as the Tree House and Jeep Safari are becoming increasingly important revenue streams. 

A similar initiative has recently been completed by Chaturmukhi Community Forest in Kalika Municipality, Chitwan, where another night-stay tower is expected to begin operations soon. Chairperson Hari Gurung says the decision was driven by growing demand from both domestic and foreign tourists.

“As we saw increasing interest from local and international visitors in staying at Tree Houses, and observed that similar facilities elsewhere were consistently occupied, we decided to build one in our own community forest,” says Gurung. “Selling wood alone is the traditional concept of community forestry, but now we need to focus on long-term alternative income sources such as tourism.”

Gurung says Jeep Safari services have also become a promising source of income, generating more than Rs 600,000 in just the past six months. “We have now received permission to operate evening Jeep Safaris from 5 pm to 10 pm, which is still a relatively new concept in Nepal,” he says, expressing optimism about increased tourist inflow, particularly because wildlife sightings are often more frequent during evening hours.

However, Chaturmukhi Community Forest faces a major challenge. Unlike buffer zone forests, it is not located in an area where wildlife concentration is naturally high. “Wildlife visibility remains relatively low because we are not in a buffer zone area, where animal sightings are much more common,” Gurung explains. “Still, we are doing our best to improve wildlife habitats because this forest falls within a Biological Corridor Pathway, essentially serving as a highway for wildlife movement. We are also investing in restoring natural grasslands for wildlife.”

Kalabanjar Buffer Zone Community Forest in Bharatpur Metropolitan City presents a different story altogether. The area has become an important habitat for both summer and winter migratory birds in Nepal.

Among the major winter migratory species found here are the Bar-headed Goose, known for flying over Sagarmatha, Ruddy Shelduck (locally called Chakhewa), Mallard, Gadwall, Eurasian Wigeon, and Booted Eagle. Summer migratory species include the Asian Paradise Flycatcher, Pied Cuckoo, Oriental Cuckoo, and Chestnut-headed Bee-eater.

Yet, according to nature guide Manish Limbu, bird populations have declined significantly in recent years due to multiple challenges, including shrinking ponds, increasing use of chemical fertilizers in farmlands, hunting, depletion of water sources due to deep boring systems, and the absence of recharge ponds.

“We have established a community-based anti-poaching unit and trained local communities to understand the ecological importance of birds,” says Sailendra Mahato, outgoing secretary of Kalabanjar Buffer Zone Community Forest. “Previously, people saw migratory birds as enemies, but awareness programs have helped communities understand their ecological value. This knowledge should now be incorporated into school curriculums.”

However, Mahato raises concerns over the lack of compensation mechanisms for farmers whose crops are damaged by birds. “At present, only minimal compensation, up to Rs 10,000, is provided when crops are damaged by wild animals such as elephants, rhinoceroses, or wild boars,” he says. “There is no compensation when birds destroy crops. Unless farmers are compensated properly, they will continue seeing birds as enemies rather than part of the ecosystem.”

A major challenge common to all community forests in Chitwan is the spread of invasive plant species.

According to ForestAction Nepal, 29 invasive plant species have been recorded in Nepal. Four of them—Lantana camara, Mikania micrantha, Chromolaena odorata, and Eichhornia crassipes—are listed among the world’s 100 worst invasive alien species by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN). These invasive plants not only hinder forest growth but also degrade habitats critical for threatened wildlife such as tigers and rhinoceroses.

So what is the solution?

Thangkhola Community Forest in Kalika Municipality, Chitwan has found an innovative answer: turning invasive plants into organic compost fertilizer.

Ram Bahadur Karki, chairperson of the forest, says the community forest users group previously cut and burned invasive plants, but this year they adopted a new strategy. “We have started decomposing invasive plants spread across 28.5 hectares out of the forest’s total area of 199.85 hectares to produce compost fertilizer,” he says.

Karki estimates that around seven tons of fertilizer will be produced in the first batch. The product is sold internally to community forest members at Rs 20 per kilogram, while external buyers pay Rs 50 per kilogram. It is packaged in both 5-kilogram and 25-kilogram sacks.

Working in partnership with the local organization Sahamati under the Triple Benefit Program–Nepal, WWF Nepal has provided both financial and technical assistance. Beyond supporting compost production, the organization has strengthened forest conservation by supplying fire-fighting equipment, constructing fire lines, and training forest guards for patrols. To mitigate climate and disaster risks, the initiative has built bio-dams and bio-dykes to curb landslides, established multi-floral tree regeneration plots, promoted bamboo cultivation, and restored forest vegetation. Furthermore, the partnership focuses on water security and community resilience by conserving wetlands, building conservation and recharge ponds, and supporting local agricultural and livelihood programs.

The compost production process itself is relatively simple. Workers first cut invasive plants and transport them to a processing shed. The plants are finely chopped using a chaff cutter, mixed with soil and water, and left to decompose. Approximately 10 percent soil or dung is added to the mixture, while water is supplied as required. Full decomposition takes roughly three months, after which the compost is packed for sale.

The product, branded as ‘Prakriti Compost Fertilizer’, contains 2.28 percent nitrogen, 0.92 percent phosphorus, 2.26 percent potassium, and 31.93 percent organic carbon. Karki says the fertilizer has undergone laboratory testing and is fully ready for use.

Only local consumers of the community forest are employed in the unit, all on daily wages. Workers put in eight-hour shifts and receive compensation according to the government’s minimum wage standards. The factory has already produced around 10 trainers who can support other community forests interested in replicating the model.

According to Karki, market demand appears highly promising. “We have already introduced the product to banana and mushroom farmers in Chitwan. If they approve the quality and begin placing orders, we could quickly run out of stock, considering there are thousands of hectares of farmland in Chitwan alone,” he says. “Our long-term vision is to expand this practice widely across Nepal, protecting forests through nature-based solutions while helping make the country self-reliant in organic fertilizer production.” He adds that transforming invasive species into a profitable resource creates a rare win-win situation. “It is an alternative way of making money from invasive species while simultaneously protecting forests,” he says. “It is part of a circular economy.”

Meanwhile, Poudel of Milijuli Buffer Zone Community Forest says his forest also plans to establish a similar compost fertilizer production enterprise using invasive plants in the near future.

The National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) has released the much awaited report on the incidents of human rights violations during the GenZ movement of 8-9 Sept 2025. The commission has demanded widespread legal accountability, recommending formal action or investigation against nearly every major stakeholder involved in the unrest, including top political leaders, high-ranking security officials, and influential celebrities. 

Central to the report’s findings is the identification of then-Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli, then-Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak, and then-Communications Minister Prithvi Subba Gurung as human rights violators, with the commission urging the government to enact new laws to prosecute them for their roles in the suppression of the movement.

The demand for accountability extends deep into the security apparatus and the political opposition, as the NHRC has recommended departmental action against current Nepal Police IGP Dan Bahadur Karki and Armed Police Force (APF) IGP Narayan Prasad Poudel, while then chiefs Chandra Kuber Khapung and Raju Aryal are to be barred from any future government service. The report calls for ‘micro-investigations’ and legal action against field commanders and personnel who used live ammunition and lethal force during the protests.

Furthermore, the report has branded the unauthorized exit of Rabi Lamichhane, chairperson of Rastriya Swatantra Party, from Nakkhu Jail as a ‘criminal offence’, recommending a full criminal investigation into Lamichhane, jail administrator Satya Raj Joshi, and MPs Manish Jha and Hari Dhakal who escorted Lamichhane out. 

Even the public sphere has not been spared, with over four dozen public figures, including film maker Nischal Basnet, vlogger Sisan Baniya, former Home Minister Sudan Gurung and former Prime Minister Sushila Karki, recommended for ‘micro-investigation’ to determine if their social media expressions incited the subsequent violence and destruction.

The commission’s report dives deep into the specific triggers of the violence on 8 Sept 2025, pinpointing the moment a crowd of 20,000 to 25,000 gathered in front of the Everest Hotel. According to the investigation, the situation escalated into a full-scale riot shortly after Gurung, founder of the ‘Hami Nepal’ organization, took leadership of the crowd around midday. 

While Gurung and other organizers, including Ankit Malla and Khemraj Saud, had initially assured the Chief District Officer that the protest would remain peaceful, the NHRC found that after Gurung took charge, the crowd became aggressive, breached security barricades, and entered prohibited zones, forcing security personnel to deploy tear gas and water cannons. Internal friction was also noted, as other activist groups led by Raksha Bam reportedly clashed with Gurung, even asking him to leave the site.

However, the NHRC’s report has drawn significant scrutiny for what appears to be a starkly different standard of accountability applied to the Nepali Army. Despite identifying ‘clear weaknesses’ in the Army’s role, specifically their failure to protect vital national assets like Singha Durbar, the Supreme Court, and the President’s Office (Shital Niwas), the commission conspicuously avoids recommending ‘action’ or ‘investigation’ for the military leadership. Instead, the report merely directs the Chief of Army Staff (CoAS) to be ‘mindful of his responsibilities’ regarding the protection of national property and human rights in the future. This mild directive stands in sharp contrast to the Army’s behavior during the crisis. The report notes that while the Army claimed they remained in their barracks due to a lack of government orders, they were actually deployed at 10 pm on 9 Sept 2025 without any formal decision, revealing a lack of consistency in their official statements.

The commission’s findings further highlight that if the Army had merely stepped outside their gates, the massive arson and vandalism that devastated the country’s administrative heart could have been significantly mitigated. Instead, they remained ‘mute spectators’ while national heritage and property were destroyed. Despite this grave failure, the NHRC only recommended that the government ‘alert’ the specific unit commanders who were stationed at Singha Durbar and Shital Niwas at the time. This discrepancy in language, demanding criminal prosecution and departmental firing for police and politicians while only offering ‘guidance’ to the military, has become one of the most debated aspects of the report’s recommendations.

In reviewing the broader scope of the report, several critical elements missing from the general public discourse include the specific role of the ‘TOB’ biker group, which the NHRC identified as a primary catalyst that hijacked the GenZ movement and used protesters as ‘human shields’ to attack security forces. 

Additionally, the report offers a nuanced defense of the police, noting that the state failed to provide field personnel with adequate human-rights-friendly crowd control equipment, such as body cameras and water cannons, which forced them into lethal confrontations. Finally, the commission’s extensive recommendations for victim compensation are essential; it has mandated not just financial relief, but free lifelong medical care for the injured and guaranteed employment or self-employment for at least one family member of each of the 76 individuals killed during the unrest to ensure their right to live with dignity.

Barely a month into office, the Balen Shah administration has placed digital governance at the center of its reform agenda. From speeches to policy documents, “Digital Nepal” has been framed not merely as a long-term vision, but as an immediate transformation in how the state interacts with citizens. The government’s 100-point agenda reinforces that emphasis, with roughly a fifth of its priorities directly tied to digitalization. Yet an assessment of ministry websites and social media platforms reveals a more uneven reality—one where ambition is evident, but execution remains fragmented, inconsistent, and at times neglected.

Across ministries, one of the most striking patterns is uniformity without functionality. Nearly all ministry websites use the same interface, suggesting a centralized template, but that standardization has not translated into quality. English-language versions, crucial for accessibility, transparency, and international engagement, are generally weak, incomplete, poorly translated, or outdated. Equally notable is the absence of basic political transparency: most ministries do not include biographies of their ministers on official websites, leaving a glaring gap in public-facing leadership information.

Nowhere is this contradiction more visible than at the Office of the Prime Minister and Council of Ministers (OPMCM). Despite serving as the nerve center of governance, its digital presence appears uneven. The website has a weak English version, lacks a biography of Prime Minister Balen Shah, and continues to display outdated notices on its homepage. Its photo gallery is updated irregularly, reinforcing the impression of a platform that is not actively maintained.

Outside the website, however, the Prime Minister’s digital reach tells a different story. The official “PMO Nepal” Facebook page, with around 82,000 followers, is regularly updated, while Shah’s personal Facebook page, “Balen,” commands an audience of more than 4.6m. The contrast highlights a broader issue: institutional platforms lag behind the personal digital influence of political leaders. The PMO also maintains accounts on TikTok, Instagram, LinkedIn, and Messenger channels, but most are either inactive or inconsistently maintained. Even its X account, despite having more than 700,000 followers, has not been updated since late March.

The OPMCM website does host one of the government’s more functional digital tools: the “Hello Sarkar Complaint Management System,” which allows citizens to register and track complaints. The platform signals an attempt to improve digital service delivery. Yet even here, gaps are visible. The publicly displayed complaint status appears to be at least a year old, raising questions about whether backend systems are being updated as actively as the interface suggests.

At the Ministry of Home Affairs, the situation is somewhat more balanced, though still imperfect. While the English version remains weak and the biography of Home Minister Balen Shah is absent, the website is otherwise updated regularly. Notices and photo galleries are current, and the homepage integrates multiple citizen-facing tools, including complaint forms, tenders, directives, and thematic portals such as the Drug Portal and Peace Portal. These features indicate an effort to centralize services digitally.

However, the ministry’s social media presence lacks originality. Official accounts largely reshare updates from subordinate agencies, including the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority and the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology, rather than producing distinct institutional communication.

The Ministry of Defense presents a more static digital presence. While notices and photographs are updated, key details such as office hours remain outdated. More notably, its social media presence appears almost dormant. Official Facebook and X accounts are neither active nor integrated into the website, reflecting a disconnect between the ministry and contemporary digital communication practices.

At the Ministry of Finance, the contrast between innovation and neglect is particularly stark. On one hand, the homepage includes a QR code for lodging complaints and a budget suggestion form, signaling openness toward participatory governance. On the other hand, the English version remains weak, a biography of Finance Minister Swarnim Wagle is absent, and the photo gallery is outdated.

Social media integration is also inconsistent. While the ministry’s X account (@mofnepal) is active and followed by more than 57,000 users, its Facebook page has effectively been abandoned since its creation in 2022, with no posts beyond initial profile and cover updates. Adding to the inconsistency, the website inexplicably integrates the X handle of the Commission for the Investigation of Abuse of Authority.

In contrast, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs stands out as a relative exception. Its English-language website is comparatively well developed, likely reflecting the ministry’s international mandate. It includes a biography of Foreign Minister Shisir Khanal, while press releases, notices, and updates are maintained regularly. Its social media platforms are integrated and active, with around 80,000 followers on Facebook and more than 267,000 on X. Even here, however, the photo gallery remains outdated, suggesting that no ministry is entirely free from lapses in digital upkeep.

The Ministry of Energy, Water Resources and Irrigation presents a mixed picture. While notices are updated regularly and the homepage usefully lists national pride projects with relevant details and links, other aspects lag behind. The English version is weak, a biography of Minister Biraj Bhakta Shrestha is missing, and the photo gallery is outdated. Its Facebook page, despite having a small following, remains active. Its X account, created in April, has just two followers and no posts.

The Ministry of Physical Infrastructure and Transport provides only a one-line biography of Minister Sunil Lamsal, and that too only in Nepali. While notices are updated regularly and Facebook remains active, the ministry’s X account has been dormant since 2024 and has minimal followers.

The Ministry of Urban Development mirrors this inconsistency. Although notices and photographs are updated, its newly created Facebook page has negligible reach, while its X account has remained inactive for years and is not even linked to the official website.

At the Ministry of Law, Justice and Parliamentary Affairs, the absence of a biography of Minister Sobita Gautam continues the broader trend. Although notices and photographs are updated, newly created social media accounts remain inactive, suggesting that digital presence is being treated more as a formality than a functional communication tool.

The Ministry of Women, Children and Senior Citizens provides a biography of Minister Sita Badi, but only in Nepali, limiting accessibility. While its Facebook presence is active, the absence of an identifiable official X account reflects incomplete platform integration.

Similarly, the Ministry of Federal Affairs and General Administration lacks a biography of Minister Pratibha Rawal and has not updated its X account in more than a year, despite maintaining an active Facebook page.

The Ministry of Land Management, Cooperatives and Poverty Alleviation presents an even weaker digital profile, with no ministerial biography, poor English-language content, an outdated photo gallery, and minimal activity across social media platforms.

The Ministry of Health and Population also lacks a biography of Minister Nisha Meheta, while its English-language content remains weak. The photo gallery and notices section are not updated regularly. However, the ministry stands out in terms of digital services and social media presence. Its Facebook page, with around 782,000 followers, is updated regularly, while its X account is also active.

The ministry’s homepage features several public-facing digital services, including the Nepal Health Facility Registry, the Free Health Dashboard, and Digital Mapping of Health INGOs. It also provides real-time data on hospitals, beds, ICU beds, ventilators, and available free beds across the country.

Similarly, the Ministry of Water Supply does not include a biography of Minister Meheta, while its English-language content remains poor. The photo gallery and notices section are outdated, and Facebook and X accounts are not integrated into the website. During the assessment, no official Facebook or X accounts linked to the ministry could be identified.

The Ministry of Education, Science and Technology also lacks a biography of Minister Sasmit Pokharel, while the English version of its website remains weak. The photo gallery contains outdated material, though notices are updated regularly.

Despite this, the ministry provides several useful digital services on its homepage, including career guidance tools, e-learning resources, and services targeted at students, teachers, guardians, and local governments. Its Facebook page, followed by around 40,000 users, is regularly updated. Although the X account “@MoEST_Nepal” is linked on the website, the link redirects to a page stating that the account does not exist.

The Ministry of Youth and Sports also does not feature a biography of Minister Pokharel, while the English-language version of the website remains poor. Although the photo gallery is outdated, the notices section is updated regularly. The ministry’s Facebook page is active and has around 15,000 followers. However, its X account, “@youthmoys,” appears largely inactive, with the last post published on 7 May 2025.

The Ministry of Culture, Tourism and Civil Aviation does not feature a biography of Minister Ganess Paudel, while the English-language version of its website remains weak, similar to many other ministries. However, both the photo gallery and notices section are updated regularly. The ministry’s Facebook page, with around 30,000 followers, is also actively maintained, though no official X account could be identified.

The homepage includes several useful public services and features, including an air accident hotline, QR codes for complaints and suggestions, a “scan to meet the minister” feature, the Tourism Product Sharing Program, and access to Nepal’s tourism statistics from 1962 to 2021.

The Ministry of Communication and Information Technology includes a detailed biography of Minister Bikram Timilsina in both English and Nepali. However, like most ministries, the website’s overall English-language content remains weak. While the photo gallery is updated regularly, the notices section is not.

The ministry’s Facebook page is active, and its official X account, “@Hello_MoCIT,” has around 14,000 followers, though it has not been updated since 20 June 2025. Notably, the last post from the ministry’s official X handle was a YouTube link to a song produced by Beest Production. The ministry’s homepage also provides several digital services, including foreign film development permission and movie licensing services.

The Ministry of Agriculture and Livestock Development also lacks a biography of Minister Gita Chaudhary, while its English-language version remains poor. However, both the photo gallery and notices section are updated regularly, and the ministry’s Facebook page is active. No official X account appears to exist. The homepage includes several important digital services, including the Farmers Listing Management System, Fertilizer Management System, and Agromet Advisory Bulletin.

The Ministry of Forests and Environment similarly does not include a biography of Minister Gita Chaudhary, while its English-language version remains weak. However, the ministry performs comparatively well in digital updates, with both the photo gallery and notices section maintained regularly. Its Facebook page and X account are also actively updated. The homepage features several key services, including the Forest Fire Detection and Monitoring System in Nepal, Air Quality Monitoring, and the Environmental Impact Assessment Portal.

The Ministry of Industry, Commerce and Supplies does not feature a biography of Minister Gauri Yadav, while its English-language version remains poor. Although the notices section is updated regularly, the photo gallery is not. Facebook is not integrated into the website, though an X account is linked. However, the account has not been updated since 12 Sept 2024.

Likewise, the Ministry of Labor, Employment and Social Security does not provide a biography of Minister Ramji Yadav, while the English-language version of its website remains weak. Despite this, both the notices section and photo gallery are updated regularly, and the ministry’s Facebook page and X account are actively maintained.

Taken together, the emerging picture is one of a government that has embraced the language and framework of digital governance but has yet to translate it into a coherent and functional ecosystem. Websites exist, but many are poorly maintained. Social media accounts are created, but often left inactive or underutilized. Digital tools are introduced, but not consistently updated or integrated into a broader service-delivery framework.

For an administration that has made digital transformation a defining feature of its governance agenda, these shortcomings carry broader implications. Digital presence is not merely about communication; it reflects transparency, efficiency, and institutional seriousness. A poorly maintained website, an inactive social media account, or the absence of basic public information such as a minister’s biography may appear minor in isolation, but together they reveal a persistent gap between policy ambition and administrative execution.

The race for Deputy Speaker of the House of Representatives took a dramatic turn on Thursday. Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP) parliamentary party leader Gyanendra Shahi claimed that Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) Chair Rabi Lamichhane had verbally agreed to support the RPP’s bid for Deputy Speaker. However, the ruling party instead backed the Harka Sampang-led Shram Sanskriti Party.

The RSP announced its endorsement of 26 years old Rubi Kumari Thakur of the Shram Sanskriti Party, virtually ensuring her victory. With this backing, the alliance commands 189 seats in the lower house—well above the two-thirds majority threshold—placing Thakur far ahead of the RPP candidate Saraswati Lama. Thakur’s candidacy was proposed by Shram Sanskriti lawmaker Aaren Rai and was seconded by RSP’s Ashok Kumar Chaudhary.

RPP’s Shahi publicly accused Lamichhane of reneging on a prior commitment. “We will see how much he fulfills his promise,” Shahi told reporters.

The emerging alliance is notable given past tensions. Harka Sampang, chair of the Shram Sanskriti Party, has been a vocal critic of the RSP-led government both inside and outside Parliament. Despite this, the two parties have now aligned, giving the ruling bloc a commanding two-third majority.

The Shram Sanskriti’s path to the Deputy Speakership appears to have been shaped by internal rifts within the RPP, despite an earlier verbal understanding between leaders.

A source told ApEx that the RSP had initially preferred Khusbu Oli as a consensus candidate for Deputy Speaker. However, RPP parliamentary party leader Shahi instead pushed forward Saraswati Lama, who is also the spouse of RPP leader Buddhiman Tamang.

Although Oli seconded Lama’s nomination, she was reportedly seeking the post herself. After learning of the internal discord within the RPP, the RSP recalibrated its position and chose to back the Shram Sanskriti Party’s candidate. 

The election follows the unopposed appointment of Dol Prasad Aryal as Speaker on April 5. Constitutional provisions require that the Speaker and Deputy Speaker be from different parties and of different genders. 

Contrary to claims that the Gauri Bahadur Karki-led probe commission report ignored the second day of the GenZ movement, the 898-page document provides a forensic account of a state in collapse, a security vacuum that invited chaos, and a ‘criminal hijacking’ of a peaceful protest that has now led to criminal charges against the highest levels of the former government.

The Karki Commission report draws a clear distinction between the ‘peaceful’ protests of Sept 8 and the ‘criminal’ activities of Sept 9. 

The Karki Commission draws a sharp, definitive line between the two days of the uprising. Sept 8 was characterized as a ‘reform-oriented and anti-corruption’ movement that was largely peaceful until it reached the gates of Federal Parliament. However, the report characterizes Sept 9 as a day when the movement was ‘hijacked’ by what it calls ‘criminal elements’.

According to the report, the crowd on Sept 9 was no longer just the frustrated GenZ youths who had mobilized over a social media ban and systemic corruption. Instead, the riots were joined by street vendors, garage workers, transport drivers, construction workers, and even individuals who had just escaped from police custody or prisons. This shift transformed a political protest into a nationwide spree of arson, looting, and targeted destruction.

The report provides a chilling inventory of the damage inflicted on Sept 9. The violence was not random; it followed a tactical pattern across 18 districts, from east to west.

In Kathmandu Valley, ‘criminal elements’ targeted the very heart of the Nepali state. Beyond the Federal Parliament, mobs attacked Singha Durbar and its various ministries, Supreme Court and the Office of the Attorney General, Sheetal Niwas (President’s Residence), Official Residence of Prime Minister in Baluwatar, and the Minister’s Quarter in Bhaisepati.

The commission’s field visits revealed a calculated method of operation. In almost every instance, attackers first destroyed CCTV cameras and government Data Centres to erase evidence before proceeding with the destruction. They emptied water tanks to ensure fire-fighting efforts would fail, then used ‘Molotov Cocktails’ and other highly flammable chemicals to torch buildings.

Private property was not spared. The report details the looting and burning of star hotels (including the Hilton and Hyatt), political party offices, shopping malls (notably Bhatbhateni stores), and the private residences of politicians and civil servants. In some instances, the looting was so frenzied that individuals were trapped inside burning buildings and died while attempting to steal goods.

Perhaps the most damning section of the report is the analysis of the ‘security vacuum’ that emerged on Sept 9. By 10:00 am that day, police presence across the country had essentially vanished from the streets, withdrawing into their stations.

The commission found that top police leadership had issued orders to use ‘minimum force’ and, if the situation worsened, for personnel to strategically withdraw to save their own lives and protect their weapons. While this may have limited casualties, it created a psychological victory for the mobs. “The crowd felt that they had won, that they could do anything, and that no one was coming to stop them,” the report notes.

This vacuum led to the collapse of police infrastructure. In the Kathmandu Valley alone, 39 police units, including circles, divisions, and posts, were looted, burned, or vandalised. Large quantities of state weapons, ammunition, and communication equipment were seized by ‘non-state actors’. The report highlights the brutal murder of three police officers, two at the Maharajgunj Circle and one at the Koteshwor Division, who were beaten to death by the mob.

The commission specifically critiques the lack of a ‘unified command’. While the Nepali Army was eventually deployed, it did not happen nationwide until 10:00 pm on Sept 9, long after the nation’s most vital installations had been torched.

The chaos of Sept 9 culminated in what the report calls a ‘grave security challenge’: the mass escape of prisoners. Across the country, mobs attacked jails, overwhelming staff and forcing gates open.

The most high-profile incident occurred at Nakkhu Jail, where protesters demanded the release of Rabi Lamichhane, the chairperson of Rastriya Swatantra Party. The jailer’s statement to the commission describes a scene of intense pressure where, fearing a total massacre, administration officials eventually allowed the crowd to take Lamichhane. Lamichhane himself claimed he was ‘pushed out’ by the crowd against his will.

The scale of the escape was staggering. A total of 12,440 prisoners and detainees fled their cells on Sept 9. As of March 30, the government has managed to return 8,225 to custody, but 4,215 remain at large, continuing to pose a significant threat to public safety. 

Contrary to claims that the state has halted its pursuit of the Sept 9 rioters, data from Police Headquarters reveals an extensive and ongoing nationwide crackdown. To date, law enforcement has taken 951 individuals into custody and registered 801 cases, of which 690 have already been resolved. The judicial system remains actively engaged in these proceedings, with 210 individuals currently held in jail pending trial.

Kathmandu Valley has emerged as the primary focal point for these legal efforts, accounting for 259 cases and 409 arrests, including those tied to the murder of three police officers. Notably, the police revealed that 48 of the individuals arrested in the capital had prior criminal records for serious offenses such as attempted murder and drug trafficking. This finding lends significant weight to the commission’s theory that the movement was systematically infiltrated by criminal elements rather than being a purely spontaneous protest.

The arrest of former Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli and former Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak on March 28 is the direct result of the commission’s recommendation for criminal investigation into their ‘negligent conduct’. The commission argues that in a parliamentary system, the Prime Minister holds the ultimate responsibility as the ‘guardian’ of the citizens.

The report is particularly scathing regarding Oli’s testimony. It notes that even as gunfire continued for four hours outside Parliament on Sept 8 and riots consumed the city on Sept 9, no effective efforts were made to prevent human loss. The commission termed Oli’s responses during questioning as ‘irresponsible’.

For Lekhak, the commission recommended action for negligence that led to the loss of life. While Lekhak argued that he provided ‘policy guidance’ and that the protests were ‘infiltrated’, the commission concluded that the failure to coordinate a unified response and the subsequent ‘security vacuum’ constituted a criminal lapse in duty.

The report also identifies the government’s own actions as the primary catalyst for the explosion of anger. The ban on 26 social media platforms was the ‘triggering factor’ that drove the youth onto the streets. 

However, the commission also criticizes the government for its handling of the ban’s lifting on Sept 9. It argues the government lifted the restrictions without studying how misinformation and ‘negativity’ would spread. This allowed false reports—such as the claim that 32 bodies of protesters were hidden inside the Parliament building—to go viral, further inciting the mobs to attack government structures.

The commission identifies a critical turning point on Sept 8 when a peaceful protest transitioned into a violent siege. According to the report, at approximately 12:00 pm, a group of about 100 motorcyclists arrived from various corridors, including Chabahil and Gaushala. Many members of this group were wearing black T-shirts with ‘TOB’ written on them.

These individuals—believed to be the members of the gang that goes by Tibetan Original Blood— acted as provocateurs, revving their motorcycle engines to create loud noise and aggressively inciting the crowd. Following their arrival, the protesters became significantly more violent, attacking police lines with water bottles, stones, rods, bricks, and slingshots in a concerted effort to breach the Federal Parliament.

For the TOB group and other individuals involved in vandalism, arson, and looting, the commission has made several specific recommendations aimed at ensuring systematic prosecution.

To address the widespread destruction of state and private property on Sept 9, the commission has outlined a series of rigorous recommendations targeting general vandals and criminal elements. Central to this strategy is the formation of a high-level Special Investigation Team under the Ministry of Home Affairs, composed of forensic and technical experts. This team should be tasked with utilizing primary evidence already collected, specifically Base Transceiver Station (BTS) data from Nepal Telecom and NCell, to identify telephone numbers present at vital riot sites like Singha Durbar and the Supreme Court. 

Meanwhile, the government of Balen Shah, in its first cabinet decision, has said that it would form a probe committee regarding Sept 9.

To ensure accuracy, the report directs investigators to cross-verify this digital data with CCTV footage, social media videos, and victim-provided clips to confirm the identities of those involved in arson and looting.

Furthermore, the commission emphasizes the need for specialized focus on the systematic tactics used by rioters, such as the strategic destruction of Data Centers and CCTV cameras intended to erase evidence. 

The report recommends severe criminal prosecution for individuals who utilized Molotov cocktails or targeted sensitive government documents. Accountability also extends to the security breach, with a specific probe recommended to identify both the ‘non-state actors’ and negligent police involved in the theft of state weaponry.

Despite its nearly 900-page length and extensive evidence, the Karki Commission report explicitly acknowledges several critical areas where it lacks data or definitive findings. 

The most significant admission in the report is that the commission failed to collect enough solid evidence to recommend formal prosecution for most individuals involved in the Sept 9 violence. The commission cited its ‘short mandate’ and a severe ‘lack of time and human resource’ as reasons it could not conduct a detailed investigation into every incident nationwide. Instead of identifying all perpetrators, it recommends that the government form a special investigation team to finish the work.

The commission reports a lack of cooperation regarding security data. Specifically, it states that police and the Armed Police Force (APF) did not provide detailed logs regarding which officers used what ammunition or the specific circumstances under which weapons were looted. The report notes that despite repeated requests, these agencies provided ‘reports citing arson’ rather than the forensic details required to determine if ammunition was used responsibly or negligently.

The report highlights a gap regarding the movement’s origins. While the commission mentioned suspicions that foreign funding may have been directed to certain NGOs to fuel the unrest, it explicitly states that it found no ‘concrete evidence’ or ‘solid proof’ to support these claims. It notes that while the geographic location of Nepal makes such influence a ‘natural suspicion’, the state’s regulatory mechanisms currently lack the transparency to confirm these financial trails.

In a damning critique of the state’s internal systems, the commission reveals that it did not receive a single intelligence report from any government or non-governmental agency to assist in its investigation. This left the commission to rely almost entirely on testimonies and raw BTS (cell tower) data, which only proves physical presence at a scene rather than specific criminal actions.