Nepal is a country shaped by its imbalances. For every rupee we earn from exports, we spend nearly eight on imports. Fuel, life-saving medicines, electronics and cement—the essentials of modern life come from beyond our borders. And then there is our most poignant export: Our people. We trade our youth for remittances that keep the economy floating, relying on the earnings of those who had to leave because opportunities were scarce.

There is another import we rarely acknowledge, even though it deeply matters to democracy. We are importing our own story.

The silence of the past

To understand this, we need to look at how we have handled moments of national crisis. In June 2001, after the royal massacre, the country was thrown into shock and an identity crisis. The state responded quickly by forming a high-level investigation and releasing a report within weeks, but public trust was missing. The findings were not communicated in a way that truly answered people’s questions. At a moment that demanded clarity, there was institutional silence.

And when a country cannot explain itself to its people, it starts looking outside for answers. In the aftermath of the royal massacre, international broadcasters took on the role of primary interpreters. This is what I call the ‘library effect’; when a country depends on external lenses to understand its own reality, not because the knowledge is lacking, but because it isn’t being shared from within.

The power of the narrative

History isn’t just lived, it is written. If you are not telling your story, somebody else will. The ones who document events hold the power of narrative. They shape what is remembered, what is emphasised, what is questioned, and what quietly fades away. By allowing others to document our story, Nepal has slowly given away some of its voices. In doing so, we risk losing control over how our journey is understood. The goal is not to reject foreign perspectives; they are often rigorous and valuable. It is to ensure they complement or add to our narrative, rather than be the sole record of consideration.

This is where the media becomes powerful as a filter, not just as a messenger. Those who shape the narrative influence not only what people know, but also how people feel about it. This has economic implications, too. With foreign aid making up around 20 percent of Nepal’s development budget, much of the research and knowledge about Nepal is foreign-funded and foreign-led. It builds roads and hospitals, yes, but also produces reports about governance, poverty and potential. While useful, these perspectives are not always neutral. Over time, Nepal’s voice risks becoming secondary in discussions about its own future.

The September 2025 test

The events of September 2025 became the latest test. After the tragic loss of lives, there was a noticeable silence from official institutions. In that vacuum, external platforms like the BBC stepped in to make sense of what had happened and provide detailed and necessary coverage. Their reporting brought clarity when little else was available.

But a foreign lens, no matter how skilled, can only go so far. It often struggles to fully explain the institutional failures, the internal dynamics, and the strategised decisions made behind closed doors—the elements which require a domestic autopsy that no outsider can provide.

A win for democracy

Now, the tide has been shifted. Today, in the age of digital transparency, the truth refuses to be contained. We are seeing the rise of a ‘whistleblower’ culture, where the secret is already out and circulating as a digital leak.

In the past, even when the investigations were carried out, whether completed or left unfinished, the truth often remained on a locked desk. That is why the publication and implementation of the Karki Commission report, in its entirety, is a massive shift in our national character. On only the second day of the new government taking office, we have seen the arrests of those held responsible for the casualties during the Gen Z protests, based on this report. For many, this effort to bring about justice feels like a victory.

However, the evidence and facts in the 907-page leaked report need to be made public officially to answer doubters, console critics, and prove that these actions are rooted in truth rather than a political vendetta. By acting on this investigative report and moving it from the closed office into the public domain, the state is finally beginning to trust its citizens with the truth.

The question now is how the state will move forward with this information. Will the report be tucked away in an access-based parliamentary library? Will it remain a document that citizens must fight for through individual Right to Information (RTI) requests? Or will the government embrace the modern era and make it available in an open online portal for every Nepali to read?

Transparency is more than a physical book on a dusty shelf. It is about the immediate, digital right to know. By officially publishing the report online, the state moves from holding a secret to upholding the law. It transforms a chaotic digital leak into an authoritative document of national history. This transition, i.e., from a culture where the truth was well-guarded to one where information is a public right, is the foundation of a healthy democracy. Transparency is the only antidote to the noise of conspiracy.

Reclaiming the pen

As the saying goes, only a historian can reshape the past, and for too long, we have allowed others to write ours. Nepal has an extraordinary story. We are a nation that has survived revolutions and has reinvented itself in ways that would challenge many others. We have the power to tell that story from within.

Today, we may still import much of what we consume. But if this path of transparency continues, we may no longer need to import our own history. This is evidence that we can produce our own knowledge, hold our leaders accountable, and narrate our own future. Knowledge is power, and by acting on this report and trusting the public with its contents, Nepal is finally choosing to place that power back into the hands of its people.