Constitution vs. Control: The Fight for Nepali Citizens’ Right to Travel

KATHMANDU: In 2013, when I was 19, I found myself standing with my mother in a cramped immigration office at Kathmandu’s international airport, completely baffled. We were on our way to Mongolia, where my father was stationed, with valid passports, proper visas, and a clear reason for travel. Still, we were abruptly pulled aside and interrogated for over an hour. The officials claimed our documents were insufficient and insisted we obtain a letter from the Nepali Embassy in Beijing, a demand that made no sense given we already held the proper paperwork as travelers.

After my mother calmly explained how their questions were unjustified, the focus shifted to the amount of money we were carrying. Our passports did not indicate we had exchanged money through the Government of Nepal, as it was not required. The officials insisted that we couldn’t go if we hadn’t exchanged foreign currency. Finally, my mother had to produce an international credit card, and we were let through immigration. This was the start of my unease with Nepal’s immigration practices at the airport, which has now escalated into a national embarrassment.

Today, I understand what I couldn’t quite grasp back then: anyone with a valid passport and visa has a constitutional right to travel freely. Immigration officials have no authority to stop or interrogate someone without a clear, legal reason. With age and experience, I now also know all the things I wish I had said at that moment to bring the needless inquiry to a stop.

On the contrary, government practice has worsened since. Citizens’ right to freedom of movement continues to be attacked every day and in the hundreds. This issue is as old as time in Nepal, and it speaks like a refrain of an old, well-worn poem.

With the recent controversy surrounding ‘visit visa’, a long-overdue question can be raised: whether the Nepali government violates its citizens’ constitutional right to freedom of movement in the name of public safety.

The Constitution of Nepal guarantees every citizen the right to freedom of movement and the ability to exit the country with a valid passport and visa. Yet in practice, the government has superseded the constitution through a guideline issued on 10th Magh, 2080 B.S. (January 24, 2024) which enables immigration officials to stop citizens from travelling even if they have all the necessary documents. This guideline was not just a routine administrative note, it was an amended guideline, issued without legislative debate or public accountability. What does it say about responsibility in Nepal’s governance when a guideline can override the constitution, and more importantly, who should be held accountable?

Even more troubling is that not a single parliamentarian has raised their voice on what is arguably one of the most significant constitutional violations in recent times. But it turns out restricting a fundamental right to mobility after all had a purpose: that of building a shadowy network of manpower agents, middlemen, and corrupt immigration officials to seek rent from ordinary Nepali citizens. It is a cruel irony where a government that fails to provide jobs inside the country is now harassing those who seek opportunities abroad. This surveillance-driven system targets working-class Nepalis, especially women. Though the constitutional violation here is fragrant, the uproar has not produced a single public interest litigation, and it is unlikely to prosecute any political leaders.

Nepal has become a country where women traveling to places like Dubai to visit family are treated with suspicion, interrogated at the airport as if they were criminals. This alarming reality has been widely reported and criticized by various publications. Since 2071 B.S. (2014), Tribhuvan International Airport has seen 24 different immigration heads, while the Department of Immigration has had 13 director generals during the same period. The nation has rightly recognized that this is far from normal bureaucratic turnover.

Moreover, national guidelines continue to be issued overnight, drafted without citizen input or independent review. Historically, a situation where executive proceduralism takes precedence over constitutionally guaranteed liberties is not new. Nepal has incited societal fears with executive overreach. Recall when then-IGP Achyut Krishna Kharel cut the long hair of young people in the 2000s under the premise that it would eliminate crime.

The visit visa policy also fits this mold, a solution that solves nothing but asserts state power. Also like every bad policy, guideline was formulated without adequate research, and stakeholder consultation.

If the concern is human trafficking, where are the public education campaigns? Where are the well-staffed information centers or safe migration channels? If the worry is labor exploitation abroad, what has Nepal done to sign strong bilateral labor protection agreements?

In 2013, my mother and I eventually were let through. Today, many others are not so lucky. The visitor visa case is merely the latest in a long history of how the Nepali state responds to issues by using a convenience over justice approach. They do not reform broken institutions or build durable solutions, but burden ordinary citizens with taxing regulations. Whether it’s migration, market access, even morality, their political instinct lies in legislating downward.

Instead of reflecting on their failures, the state outsources accountability to the public, and they mask their own incompetence with control. And in the end, the solution to this problem is simple, cancel the guideline, restore the fundamental right, and the visit visa issue will resolve itself.

(Neha Pokharel is a political science graduate and entrepreneur. She writes on governance, public policy, and institutional reform for Niti Foundation.)