From watchdogs to lapdogs: Are Nepal’s media now ‘Godi’ clones?

KATHMANDU: On March 28, the streets of Nepal’s capital bore witness to a chilling spectacle of state-sponsored violence. What began as a peaceful pro-monarchy protest organized by the Joint People’s Movement Committee, led by Nabaraj Subedi and backed by the Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP), spiraled into a brutal clash that left two dead, 51 injured, and a city scarred by tear gas and gunfire. The demonstrators, waving Nepal’s national flag and chanting “Raja aau, desh bachau” (“Come back king, save the country”), sought the restoration of a constitutional Hindu monarchy—a demand rooted in growing frustration with the corruption, instability, and economic woes of Nepal’s republican system since the monarchy’s abolition in 2008.

Yet, as the state unleashed a disproportionate response—58 rounds of bullets, 746 expired tear gas shells, and 192 blank shots—the nation’s mainstream media, once heralded as champions of democracy, stood eerily silent or complicit, raising a damning question: Have Nepal’s media become the ‘Godi Media’—lapdogs of the state—akin to their counterparts in India?

The events of that day were not merely a clash of ideologies but a stark revelation of a democracy in peril. Two lives were lost: Sabin Maharjan, a 29-year-old protester, felled by a police bullet, and Suresh Rajak, a journalist incinerated in a building torched amid the chaos. Twenty people were shot, including two women, with 13 still under treatment and three in intensive care. The police response was not crowd control but a calculated assault on the constitutional right to peaceful protest, enshrined in Nepal’s 2015 Constitution.

The Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli-led government, propped up by an alliance with the Nepali Congress, revealed its authoritarian streak, deploying over 5,000 security personnel and resorting to expired tear gas and live ammunition when protesters attempted to march toward the restricted Parliament House in New Baneshwar. This was no anomaly but the latest in a series of excesses that expose a regime cloaked in electoral legitimacy yet contemptuous of its own people.

The Media’s Deafening Silence

In a living democratic society, the media are the sentinels of truth, tasked with holding power to account. Yet, as Kathmandu burned, Nepal’s mainstream media—Kantipur, Gorkhapatra, and others—either blacked out (Detailed account of the press conference held by the police regarding the damage caused on the day of the protest) the repression or framed it in ways that supported the state. This was not a mere oversight but a betrayal of their duty, as media experts and commentators have pointed out.

The protest, the largest pro-monarchy demonstration since 2023, was a litmus test for Nepal’s press, and they failed miserably. By not reporting the scale of the violence—746 tear gas shells, 58 bullets, and two deaths—or by delaying coverage until social media forced their hand, they gave the impression of having slipped under the state’s control, alongside a muted civil society and human rights organizations.

The term ‘Godi Media,’ popularized in India to describe outlets that parrot government narratives, has entered Nepal’s discourse. Critics argue that by refraining from exposing the state’s brutality, the media have deviated from their regular duties in the name of preserving the system.

This commentary draws on the insights of three prominent voices—Umesh Chauhan, Editor-in-Chief of Kantipur Daily; Umesh Shrestha, Editor of Mysansar and Lekhanath Pandey, Assistant Professor at Ratna Rajya Campus—to dissect this failure and its implications.

Umesh Chauhan: Defending the System
Chauhan offers a nuanced yet troubling defense of the media’s role. He states:

“There is never enough news on any subject; it’s a continuous process. The media has covered the violence well, but when it comes to the system, the media always remains an advocate. That’s why it didn’t give much importance to things that were against the system. The media has repeatedly written that there should be an investigation committee. In this incident, the police used excessive force and didn’t coordinate properly. We have written news about this in Kantipur as well, stating that the government should form an investigation committee. Is the media biased? The lifeline of the media is democracy, and when it comes to democracy, the media is always one-sided. However, this doesn’t mean it supports any particular party or leader. But the media cannot go against the system. The narrative that Nepali media have become like India’s ‘Godi Media’ is currently irrelevant, and Nepali media aren’t like that either, though they always stand in favor of the system.”

Chauhan’s argument hinges on a fatal flaw: conflating democracy with the current republican system. By admitting that the media “cannot go against the system,” he exposes a self-imposed limitation that undermines journalistic integrity. Covering the violence “well” is meaningless if the broader context—the state’s authoritarian overreach—is downplayed. His call for an investigation committee, while laudable, rings hollow when Kantipur and others failed to sustain pressure on the government or amplify the voices of the wounded and bereaved. Chauhan’s rejection of the ‘Godi Media’ label feels more like denial than a reasoned rebuttal, especially when the media’s silence aligns so neatly with the state’s interests.

Umesh Shrestha: The Blackout That Betrays
Shrestha, a digital media pioneer, offers the most damning assessment:

“Completely one-sided journalism is being practiced right now. Yesterday, the police held a press conference and released details of the incident, but today, government-owned Gorkhapatra, Kantipur, and others blacked out that news. This makes it crystal clear what the media are doing. The media might have shown a kind of loyalty to the system. During the 2006-07 movement, many of us journalists wrote in favor of the republic and against the monarchy—exaggerating a crowd of a few thousand as a procession of lakhs. Back then, we wrote against the system; perhaps they felt the same about this recent incident, so they didn’t write. What we need to understand is that no media in the world is completely independent. But what’s happened now is that social media exists, which didn’t back then, and criticism of the media’s bias has increased because of it. It doesn’t seem like they’ve fully gone down the trend of India’s ‘Godi Media,’ but the recent trend is extremely alarming. It does look like they’re trying to walk that path. Currently, there’s a two-thirds majority government. If it were any other government, and 58 rounds of bullets were fired at a procession of four or five thousand, 20 people were shot, and 746 expired tear gas shells were used, the capital would’ve been up in flames by now. We can only imagine what would’ve happened. Demanding the resignation of the government or the Home Minister would be the least of it. Right now, by not speaking or writing, the mainstream media are helping the state. But what’s important to understand is that in today’s time, with social media, no one can suppress anything by trying to hide it. To some extent, online media have covered it well, but print media completely blacked it out. This is absolutely wrong.”

Shrestha’s revelation of a deliberate blackout—ignoring a police press conference—lays bare the media’s complicity. His comparison to the 2006-07 movement, when journalists exaggerated crowds to bolster the republic, suggests a historical bias that now protects the system they helped create. His point about social media’s role is critical: while mainstream outlets falter, online platforms have filled the void, exposing what print media suppress. Yet, his warning of an “extremely alarming” trend toward ‘Godi Media’ is a clarion call that cannot be ignored.

Lekhanath Pandey: A Warning Call Ignored
Pandey, an academic with a sharp eye on media dynamics, delivers a scathing critique:

“Our media have become lazy. There’s little investment in content, and the media face financial problems. Because of this, the state is taking advantage by ensuring the media don’t criticize the government. The situation is such that they print whatever they’re given. However, in the incident on March 28, the mainstream media failed miserably. A weak media is always harmful to democracy and becomes a weapon for the government, the establishment, and interest groups—that’s my understanding. Knowingly or unknowingly, mainstream media have become supportive of the government, and this extends even to their editorial level. But whatever happened, it was certainly amateur journalism. Since there is a two-thirds majority government in place, and a majority of journalists are either directly or indirectly affiliated with (or part of the sister wings of) these parties, their content may reflect their ties to the parties in power. Beside, since even the main opposition is aligning itself in defense of the republican setup, journalists linked to opposition parties are also seen as supporting the government’s stance in this case—ultimately undermining the voices of the protesters. Once they’re part of affiliated organizations, journalists have to toe the government’s line. In this case, it wouldn’t be fair to outright call it ‘Godi Media’—that would require a case study—but it’s fair to say Nepali media are heading toward that path. Another point: during the direct rule of the king, the media were somewhat persecuted, so in the name of preserving the system, there might be a hangover from that time, making them overly cautious. But whoever it is, reporting should be actual, unbiased, fact-based, and field-driven. The mainstream media didn’t seem to do that much. In this regard, the media have definitely become a shadow of the government. This incident is a warning call for the media to correct themselves. The media should have been in opposition to the government’s attitude, but they weren’t. In fact, during the March 28 incident, even the Maoist party became aligned with the government, and with the media also siding with the government, there’s no opposition left in this country—this is a terribly sad thing. After the media’s attention shifted to Durga Prasai, they didn’t even notice the state’s repression. It was only six days later that the media realized 58 rounds of bullets had been fired, more than 746 expired tear gas shells had been used, and 20 people had been shot. This is even more tragic, and the media failed here too.”

Pandey’s analysis cuts to the core of the problem: a media crippled by financial woes and complacency, easily manipulated by a government that exploits their weakness. His observation that two-thirds of journalists have become loyal to a two-thirds majority government is a chilling indictment of press freedom. The delay in reporting—six days to acknowledge the scale of the violence—underscores a laziness and bias that borders on complicity. Pandey’s warning call is apt, but it’s doubtful the media will heed it when their editorial boards are so entrenched in the system’s shadow.

A Democracy Without Opposition

The March 28 crackdown and the media’s response reveal a deeper malaise. With the Maoist party aligning with the government, civil society muted, and the press in lockstep, Nepal lacks an opposition—a “terribly sad” reality, as Pandey notes. The Oli government’s use of expired tear gas and live rounds, coupled with a curfew and army deployment, smacks of fascism, yet the media’s silence shields it from accountability. This is not just a failure of journalism but a threat to democracy itself. As Shrestha warns, under a different regime, Kathmandu would be ablaze—yet the current two-thirds majority has numbed the press into submission.

A Wake-Up Call or a Death Knell ?

Nepal’s mainstream media stand at a crossroads. The March 28 events—two deaths, 20 shot, and a city choked by tear gas—demand a reckoning. Are they watchdogs or lapdogs? The insights of Chauhan, Pandey, and Shrestha paint a grim picture: a press bound by loyalty to the system, crippled by financial woes, and outpaced by social media. While they may not yet be India’s ‘Godi Media,’ the path they tread is perilously close. This is a warning call, as Pandey urges, but without a radical shift toward fearless, field-driven reporting, it could become a death knell for Nepal’s democratic soul.