Two young men, Birendra Shah and Sujan Raut, went to a government office in Lalitpur last year seeking a ticket to a better life in South Korea. Instead, they returned to their villages in coffins. Their deaths were not an accident of fate but the result of a systemic collapse in command, political arrogance, and a policing culture that treats its own citizens as combatants. While an inquiry panel has finally pointed the finger at those responsible, the deeper rot in the Nepali state remains unaddressed.
The tragedy at Balkumari was never just about a language test. It was a flashpoint for a generation that feels abandoned by its own leaders. When thousands of hopeful migrant workers gathered at the Employment Permit System (EPS) office, they were met with a wall of bureaucracy and eventually, a hail of bullets and tear gas. The government’s recent move to seek action against the officials involved is a necessary step, but for many, it feels like a performative gesture to quiet the growing rage of a "Gen Z" demographic that has no stake in the current political order.
The Catalyst of Arrogance
The timeline of the Balkumari incident reveals a shocking level of negligence. On December 29, 2023, as tensions simmered among job aspirants who had been disqualified from a manufacturing sector exam, then-Minister for Physical Infrastructure and Transport, Prakash Jwala, decided to drive his SUV directly through the protest site.
This was not a case of a minister being caught unaware. The area was already thick with protesters and police. Witnesses and subsequent investigations suggest that the minister’s insistence on pushing through the crowd acted as a lit fuse. Protesters, already frustrated by a system that exports them like commodities, saw the white government plate as a symbol of the very elite that had failed them. They torched the vehicle.
The police response was immediate and disproportionate. Instead of focusing on extraction and de-escalation, security forces engaged in a chaotic crackdown. Birendra Shah and Sujan Raut were caught in the crossfire. Shah died from a gunshot wound, while Raut succumbed to injuries that many believe resulted from a brutal physical assault or the impact of heavy-handed crowd control measures.
A Panel of Delayed Justice
The High-Level Probe Commission, led by former High Court Judge Shekhar Paudel, spent 44 days dissecting the failure. Its findings are a damning indictment of the entire security apparatus. The report explicitly identifies "weaknesses" in the leadership of the Lalitpur police and the personal security team of the minister.
- Failure of Intelligence: The police failed to anticipate the volatility of the crowd despite the high stakes of the EPS program.
- Excessive Force: The use of live ammunition against protesters who, while destructive to property, did not pose an imminent lethal threat to officers.
- Command Vacuum: At the height of the crisis, senior officials were reportedly unable or unwilling to issue clear orders that prioritized the preservation of life.
The committee has recommended departmental action against the Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) and several other high-ranking officers. It also called for the removal of Minister Jwala, citing his presence as the primary provocation. Yet, the wheels of political accountability turn much slower than the wheels of justice for the poor. It took months of parliamentary pressure and public outcry before the government even moved to implement these recommendations.
The Korean Dream Turned Nightmare
To understand why young Nepalis are willing to die for a chance to work in a shipyard or a factory in Ulsan, one must look at the economic desolation at home. Nepal’s economy is propped up by remittances, which account for nearly 25% of the GDP. The state has essentially outsourced its responsibility to provide jobs to foreign governments.
The EPS program is one of the few legal, relatively safe routes for migration. When the rules were changed to bar those who had failed the shipbuilding exam from applying for the manufacturing sector, it wasn't just a policy shift—it was the closing of a door to survival. The desperation in Balkumari was the desperation of people who feel they have nothing left to lose.
The Pattern of Impunity
Nepal has a long and storied history of forming inquiry commissions that produce thick reports which eventually gather dust in the Home Ministry archives. From the Rayamajhi Commission after the 2006 movement to the various probes into the Madhesh protests, the script is always the same: find a few low-level scapegoats, issue a payout to the victims' families, and keep the underlying power structure intact.
The "Gen Z" protests of September 2025, which saw even more widespread violence and nearly 20 deaths over a social media ban and corruption, show that the state has learned nothing from Balkumari. The police still rely on lethal force as a first-tier response. The political class still views public dissent as a nuisance to be suppressed rather than a grievance to be heard.
The Cost of Silence
The families of Shah and Raut received a compensation of one million rupees each. In the eyes of the state, that is the price of a young life. But no amount of money can fix the reality that two more rural families have lost their primary breadwinners to the incompetence of the capital’s elite.
Justice in Nepal is often a transactional affair. If the government follows through on the Paudel Commission's recommendations and actually prosecutes those who gave the orders to fire, it would be a historic departure from the norm. If they don't, they are simply waiting for the next Balkumari to happen.
The tragedy remains a stark reminder that as long as Nepal's most valuable export is its youth, it will continue to receive them back in boxes, victims of a system that values a minister's car more than a citizen's life.
Hold the government accountable by demanding the full, unedited release of all recent inquiry reports into protest deaths.
