The 100-point mandate: A prescriptive blueprint for the new Nepali state
In less than 48 hours, Nepal’s new government has attempted something no administration has dared before—a 100-point contract with its citizens. For a citizen waiting months for a hospital bed or a simple file approval, this roadmap—if implemented—could mean the difference between delay and dignity.
Following the formation of the new government under the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP), the administration of Prime Minister Balendra Shah convened its first Cabinet meeting on March 27 and issued a prescriptive 100-Point Governance Roadmap on March 28, marking one of the fastest major policy announcements in Nepal’s democratic history. This document is not a traditional set of aspirations but a structured “Citizen Contract” designed to turn the energy of the 2025 youth protests into permanent state systems. By shifting from the “politics of grievance” to a “politics of delivery,” the government is setting a new standard where administrative output becomes the primary metric of success.
The first directive of this roadmap mandates an immediate transition to Delivery-Based Governance, drawing lessons from high-efficiency models such as Singapore. This approach mirrors Singapore’s “Clean and Green” campaign of the 1960s, where Lee Kuan Yew used strict, immediate enforcement of public standards to build the trust necessary for larger reforms. Singapore faced the risk of public backlash and compliance fatigue. To overcome this, the state paired strict enforcement with large-scale public awareness and ensured that benefits—cleaner streets and better health—were quickly visible, especially to lower-income citizens.
Applying a similar logic, the Nepali government has ordered strict enforcement of the 10 percent free hospital bed requirement, backed by a newly formed National Health Inspectorate. To make these gains sustainable, the Ministry of Health must move from periodic checks to continuous oversight, including unannounced daily audits.
To dismantle systemic delays in bureaucracy, the administration is prescribing a “Digital by Default” overhaul inspired by Estonia. Nepal seeks to adopt principles similar to Estonia’s X-Road system, which connects public and private services through a unified digital backbone. Estonia’s journey was not without risk—it faced a major cyberattack in 2007 and public concerns over data privacy. These were addressed through advanced data integrity systems and transparency tools that allow citizens to see how their data is used.
Learning from this, Nepal’s roadmap calls for integrating all departmental databases under a “Once-Only” principle, alongside strong cybersecurity safeguards. A public-facing Digital File Tracker is also proposed, allowing citizens to monitor the status of their applications in real time. However, for this system to be effective, digital literacy must be expanded across the population.
In a move to restore judicial integrity, the roadmap proposes an Empowered Asset Investigation Committee—similar in spirit to Hong Kong’s Independent Commission Against Corruption. This body will investigate the assets of political leaders and officials from 1990 to 2026.
Hong Kong faced a serious institutional crisis when sections of the police resisted anti-corruption reforms. The government responded with a balanced approach: limited amnesty for minor past offences, stricter laws for future violations, and improved salaries for public officials. This ensured that integrity became more rewarding than corruption.
For Nepal, credibility will depend on ensuring that such a commission is staffed by independent professionals, such as forensic experts and auditors, rather than political appointees.
While the official roadmap focuses heavily on service delivery, a parallel shift in national security thinking could further strengthen the state. Drawing from the “Total Defence” concepts of countries like Switzerland and Israel, Nepal could broaden its definition of security to include economic stability, food systems, and cyber resilience.
The risk, however, lies in potential overreach or militarization. This can be mitigated by ensuring strong parliamentary oversight, keeping citizens’ rights at the center of any expanded security framework.
The economic pillar of the roadmap is equally ambitious, proposing a fast-track system for business registration—reportedly targeting completion within 48 hours—drawing lessons from New Zealand.
New Zealand’s reforms in the 1980s carried risks of short-term disruption and job losses. These were addressed by simplifying regulations and making compliance easier for businesses. By reducing bureaucratic friction, the system naturally encouraged efficiency and growth.
Nepal aims to replicate this by linking civil service performance directly to efficiency outcomes, creating internal incentives for faster delivery.
A final recommendation is to address Nepal’s deeply rooted administrative culture, often shaped by patronage networks and “Afno Manche” practices. Transitioning to a merit-based system—drawing lessons from post-unification Germany—will be critical.
Germany faced resistance and institutional pushback during its reforms but overcame this through transparent hiring systems and strong legal protections for meritocracy. Nepal may face similar resistance; this can be managed through civil service retraining programs and structured early retirement options, enabling a gradual but firm cultural shift.
As this roadmap enters its first phase of execution, the priority is clear: early trust-building must evolve into making reforms irreversible. Drawing lessons from Indonesia, Nepal must ensure that institutional changes are protected through law and systems, preventing rollback by entrenched interests.
By embedding reforms into digital systems and legal frameworks, the Balendra Shah administration has the opportunity—not certainty—to ensure that today’s progress becomes tomorrow’s baseline.
The author is a practitioner who closely follows Nepal’s evolving societal and political landscape and has been regularly contributing analytical articles to national newspapers on issues of security, governance and democratic stability
National Security Council: Constitutional shield in a storm
Nepal’s interim government is operating amid a deep national crisis. Public trust in the state is weak. Institutions are working at cross purposes. Citizens, especially the youth, are demanding change on the streets, while political factions and external actors closely watch for any weakness to push their own agendas. The government’s mandate is limited but crucial: conduct national elections within six months, of which one month has already passed. This cannot be achieved through short-term political arrangements or by simply reacting to every crisis. The state must fix its weak institutional foundations. Fortunately, the Constitution offers a clear instrument for this task: the National Security Council (NSC). This is one of the government’s most strategic, but most underused, institutions.
Nepal’s instability is not happening in isolation. Youth groups are demanding structural change, while political parties that lost power after the dissolution of the lower chamber of the bicameral parliament (the House of Representatives) see this as a chance to make a comeback. At the same time, supporters of a return to the erstwhile royalist order are becoming more vocal, presenting themselves as an alternative political force. External actors are also watching the situation closely.
A weak and distracted Nepal suits the strategic interests of some regional and global powers. The longer state institutions remain uncoordinated, the more space internal and external actors will find to influence national affairs. The current situation, latent inter-agency rivalries, uncoordinated responses, and widespread public anger reflect a deep crisis of coordination and command. If this gap remains, it could become very difficult to control later.
The NSC, established under Article 266 of the Constitution, was created precisely for such a situation. It is meant to serve as the strategic brain of national security, bringing together the Prime Minister and the Ministers of Defense, Home, Finance, and Foreign Affairs. However, successive governments have allowed the NSC to remain a ceremonial body, meeting rarely and acting even less. This interim government can change that. Reactivating the NSC requires no new law or constitutional amendment, only political will. The NSC offers a neutral platform to depoliticize security discussions, the authority to bring all security agencies under a common plan, and a legally sound way for an interim government to address security challenges.
Reviving the NSC should not mean only holding closed meetings. It should become a real center for coordination, planning and communication. The government can give it three immediate tasks. First, the NSC should issue a clear public directive explaining which agency does what during a crisis. This simple step will reduce confusion and close the gaps that opportunistic actors currently exploit. Second, intelligence and security agencies must be required to share information and work on the basis of a common threat assessment as fragmented works allow destabilizing elements to take advantage of blind spots. Third, the NSC should hold regular briefings to inform citizens about the security situation and present a common narrative. This is not about revealing sensitive information; it is about preventing rumours, misinformation and disinformation from filling the gap. While the NSC membership is constitutionally fixed, its processes can be more inclusive. It should consult representatives from the private sector, civil society, scholars, technology experts and youth groups as these stakeholders bring perspectives from the ground that government officials often miss.
Given limited time and high risks, the government’s approach must be focused and realistic. In the first phase, the government should activate the NSC by holding a serious, substantive meeting and publicly declaring it as the central coordinating body. This will signal both to the public and to external observers that there is a clear hand on the wheel. It should also launch an independent inquiry by forming a time-bound, judge-led commission to investigate recent protest violence. Showing accountability will strengthen public confidence and deny critics their strongest arguments. Alongside this, the government should establish a crisis communication desk to serve as a single, trusted source for verified information. When rumors spread about “foreign hands” or hidden agendas, citizens should know exactly where to get the truth.
In the second phase, the NSC’s policy directives must be translated into operational orders across all security agencies. In sensitive districts, local security committees made up of officials, police and community leaders should be set up to identify grievances early and prevent external exploitation.
The interim government’s success will not be measured only by whether the streets become quieter for a short period. Its real success will be judged by whether it leaves behind a more coherent, trusted and functional state than it inherited — one that is less vulnerable to internal manipulation and external pressure. The NSC can and should be the central instrument to achieve this. By reactivating the NSC and using it strategically, the government can provide clarity, restore coordination, and close the gaps that currently invite instability.
The author is a self-practicing social analyst. Through her independent study of Nepali society, she provides a unique perspective on societal norms

