If justice delayed is justice denied, tens of thousands of victims of the decade-long Maoist insurgency (1996-2006) in Nepal could credibly claim to be hard done by. During the conflict, nearly 13,000 people were killed while around 1,300 were forcibly disappeared. Thousands more were tortured.
The Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA), signed on November 21, 2006, had a provision whereby both sides to the conflict — state forces on one hand and the Maoist rebels on the other — agreed to make public within 60 days of the signing of the agreement “the correct and full names and addresses of the people who ‘disappeared’ or were killed during the conflict and convey such details to the family members.” Nearly two decades later, the promise remains unfulfilled.
The peace process that started with the CPA’s signing had three broad goals: integration of Maoist combatants into the state’s security forces, institutionalization of the newly-achieved peace and restructuring of the state through a new Constitution, and justice for the victims of rights violations committed by the security forces and the Maoist rebels. The first two objectives have long since been met, but the country is nowhere close to meeting the third one.
To start with, the two transitional justice bodies provided in the CPA could not be formed for nine long years owing to confusion over what justice for conflict victims actually entailed and opposition to the process from various quarters. Finally, in 2014, the Enforced Disappearances Enquiry, Truth and Reconciliation Commission Act came into force. Under the Act, the twin commissions — the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) and the Commission of Investigation on Enforced Disappeared Persons (CIEDP) — were instituted in February 2015. The TRC was mandated to investigate cases of serious human rights violations including unlawful killings, sexual violence and torture committed during the conflict, while the CIEDP would deal with the cases of enforced disappearances.
But as in the period preceding their formation, the two bodies continued to be hobbled by political wrangling and undue interference from various quarters. Two powerful forces, in particular, were concerned with how the transitional justice process would unfold: the Nepal Army and the Maoist party, the political outfit of former rebels.
Rights organizations had documented cases of grave rights violations like extra-judicial killings, rapes and torture of suspected Maoists and their sympathizers while they were in the Nepal Army’s custody. Although other state security agencies like the Armed Police Force and Nepal Police were also involved in rights violations, the most damning allegations were levelled against the army.
Thus, the institution, easily the most muscular state organ in Nepal, put considerable pressure on the political class to ensure that army officials were not implicated in grave rights violations from the conflict period.
For similar reasons, top Maoist leaders did not want their activities carried out during the “people’s war” too closely scrutinized. For their part, the Maoists were accused of crimes like killings of civilians considered “enemies of the revolution,” hostage-taking for ransom, torture of people taken captive and deliberate killings of members of the security forces.
So both the army and the Maoists lobbied for more or less blanket amnesty for the perpetrators of insurgency-time rights violations. Nepal’s fractious politics also added to the confusion on transitional justice, which became a matter of political give and take during the formation and dissolution of successive governments.
As the two transitional bodies worked in fits and starts amid repeated extension of their tenures, the most important thing they did was register complaints from victims: over 65,000 in the TRC’s case, and over 2,500 in the case of the CIEDP.
In July 2022, the two bodies even became defunct when the government extended their tenures without appointing new office bearers.
After a gap of over two years, Nepal’s two transitional justice commissions have again gotten their office-bearers. The problem is, the conflict victims have rejected the new appointments. The victims say they were not adequately consulted in the process and as such they won’t accept the new bodies. They have instead threatened to set up parallel bodies to the TRC and the CIEDP.
Conflict victims reckon the interests of powerful politicians and institutions have again prevailed in the pick of the new officials: the Maoists and the army’s top brass are still determined that no one inimical to their interests should be appointed to these bodies — and they have largely succeeded in doing so.
International donors are starting to tire too. Initially, Westerners, especially the Europeans, worked to ensure, including through hefty donations, that conflict victims got timely justice and adequate reparations. But as the process drags on and on, donor fatigue has set in.
The hope among the Maoists and the army is that with the passage of time, the issue of transitional justice will go away. But if there is no amicable settlement, conflict victims could revolt. They continue to enjoy strong moral support of the Nepali intelligentsia and the international community.
The other risk is the internationalization of the issue. In the past, senior Nepali army personnel have been arrested abroad in cases of rights abuse from the conflict period under international jurisdiction. Without an amicable settlement, there could be more such cases of arrests and harassment on foreign soil of those accused of wartime rights violations.
Transitional justice, the last leg of the peace process, will remain incomplete unless the victims have adequate say in the process. A process that does not have the support of victims will also lack international legitimacy, denting Nepal’s image as a credible actor on the global stage. Even more worryingly, such an incomplete process will leave open the prospect of another conflict