KATHMANDU, Nepal—When Kumar Paudel turned on the TV in August 2016 and saw former Prime Minister Kirti Nidhi Bista giving an interview from his home, it wasn’t the content of the conversation that caught his attention. It was the massive tiger pelt hanging on Bista’s wall.
At the time, Paudel, a conservationist based in Kathmandu, was traveling around Nepal’s prisons to conduct interviews with incarcerated individuals as part of his research into why people commit wildlife crime. Although there are few official statistics on wildlife crime in Nepal, researchers believe that the country is a key hub in the region for wildlife trafficking, one that serves as an important transit route between India and China.
Nepal has some of the strictest wildlife crime laws in the world, but they are unevenly enforced: While the country’s poor languish in prison for their involvement in the trade, the rich and powerful illegally flaunt exotic skins as showpieces.
Paudel is deeply aware of this disparity. Between 2016 and 2017, he interviewed 116 prisoners convicted for wildlife crime, mostly in the rhinoceros trade. Some had been part of international wildlife trafficking syndicates; many others were driven by economic desperation or were not sure why they had been arrested. More than half of them lived below the poverty line, and 75 percent came from Indigenous communities.
“Prosecution is mainly targeted at poor and vulnerable communities in the global south who are not often at the helm of driving international illegal wildlife trade,” Paudel said when I met him in December at a small forested patch amid Kathmandu’s urban sprawl. The 33-year-old conservationist had a scientist’s curiosity, his attention ensnared by every insect and plant, and his wardrobe was unselfconscious outdoor nerd: trekking shoes, baggy pants, safari jacket.
After Bista’s interview aired, Paudel decided to take matters into his own hands. Bista hadn’t been prime minister since 1979, but he was emblematic of Nepal’s elite. Paudel sought legal action to rectify Nepal’s double standard in enforcing wildlife crime. Finally, in May 2023, Nepal’s Supreme Court ruled that the government must enforce its conservation laws and seize illegal wildlife parts. The verdict marks a significant victory for conservation, but Nepal’s entrenched power structures and deep-seated inequality mean that this is only a first step in supporting both vulnerable communities and conservation efforts in the country.
Trophy hunting in Nepal dates back at least to the reign of Jung Bahadur Rana in the 19th century. British visitors embarked on trips to the region to hunt and collect exotic wildlife, including rhinos, tigers, and elephants. These expeditions weren’t mere hunting outings or camping adventures; they were elaborate demonstrations of wealth, authority, and diplomacy.
Nepali monarchs orchestrated extensive hunting expeditions to curry favor with the British. These encounters provided fertile ground for negotiating political interests and strengthening cultural ties, all while showcasing the monarchy’s authority over its natural riches.
These “hunting diplomacy” expeditions were enormous. Photographic records of the hunts are perhaps the best evidence we have that they drove megafauna across the subcontinent to endangered status and near extinction, from the Bengal tiger to the one-horned rhinoceros and the Indian elephant.
Nepal has come a long way since then. The country completely banned hunting in 1972. The following year, it enacted the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act, which provides a comprehensive legal framework for the management of Nepal’s natural resources and biodiversity. The act authorizes the government to designate national parks, wildlife reserves, and conservation areas, as well as zones where hunting is allowed under strict regulation. (Today, hunting is only allowed in the Dhorpatan Hunting Reserve. All other hunting, even for bushmeat, is illegal, though subsistence hunting is still relatively common.)
The act also makes it illegal to use, sell, or distribute wildlife without permission, and it states that any individual in possession of wildlife parts must get a permit after acquiring them by disclosing their source. (This also applies to parts acquired before 1973.)
Despite these efforts, the country’s hunting legacy left its mark, and threats to wildlife continue to grow—including climate change, rapidly expanding human populations, the illegal wildlife trade, and a resurgence in poaching. In addition, the 1973 act isn’t always enforced; for instance, according to the director general of Nepal’s Department of National Park and Wildlife Conservation, no one has ever sought to obtain a permit for any wildlife parts.
The illegal wildlife trade is rampant in Southeast Asia, where the gap between rich and poor creates both poachers and markets. In Nepal, the illegal wildlife trade largely operates covertly, and some of the product is used for manufacturing traditional medicines. But a portion of the trade meets the demand for extravagant decor. Some pelts have been exhibited in public spaces such as banks, markets, and even government offices.
Many Nepalis have been imprisoned for their involvement in the trade. (Despite poor data, researchers have found that from 2011 to 2015, there were 830 wildlife-related arrest cases reported in the country.) They fall into the trap of trafficking to support their families and spend decades paying the price.
“We are expendable and poor and desperate for money,” said Bir Bahadur Tamang, who served 15 years in prison for smuggling wildlife parts. “There are many like us.”
Tamang was born and raised in the village of Kalika on the rim of Chitwan, Nepal’s first national park. Tigers, rhinos, leopards, spotted deer, and wild buffalo roam there, along with elephants that come to graze when the plains are dry. Several Indigenous communities have been living beside these dense forests for centuries.
I first met Tamang last December outside his home in Kalika. With a hint of guilt, Tamang recalled supplying bags to masked ringleaders—whom he called “big people”—in the trade network that were full of rhino horns and pangolin scales (both of which are classic ingredients in traditional Chinese medicine), as well as tiger skin.
One morning, Tamang and six of his friends were arrested for conspiring to smuggle wildlife parts. None of them could afford to post bail, he said, and there was never a trial. Some died in prison due to physical ailments and inadequate medical treatment.
Tamang was released from prison in 2016, but as a former felon, he faces a world of poverty, hazards, and guilt. He struggles to make a living, often existing hand-to-mouth without a stable income or basic necessities. Tamang said that finding work has been challenging due to his criminal record and a spinal injury from poor confinement conditions. He is often psychologically distressed, haunted by nightmares of his time in prison, and fearful of entering the jungles that surround his home. “I’m taking it one day at a time,” he said.
As Paudel put it, when a poor person illegally kills a tiger, the full weight of the law is applied. But when a prime minister illegally owns a dead tiger, it is permitted.
Yet showcasing wildlife is harmful, too: It normalizes the trade and adds to its appeal as a status symbol. This is why, starting in 2016, Paudel lobbied for government action. First, he reported instances of illegal wildlife parts displayed in Kathmandu to different government bodies. But authorities warned him to keep quiet, and he said that some even threatened to end his career by withholding approval for his conservation and research permits.
After running in vain from one department to another for two years, Paudel made little progress. So in May 2018, Paudel filed a petition to Nepal’s Supreme Court with the help of environmental lawyer Padam Bahadur Shrestha. The petition demanded that the government urgently conduct investigations into the private possession of wildlife parts, seize illegal parts and prosecute those who own them, and maintain records on legally held wildlife parts. This includes parts used in medicines, trophies, and displays.
After five years of deferrals, the Supreme Court ruled in Paudel’s favor. It also mandated that the government implement additional measures to combat wildlife crime, including better educating the public on the wildlife possession laws and confiscating wildlife parts for educational and research purposes.
The verdict means anyone displaying trophies without the right permits is in trouble. Penalties can include fines of roughly $7,400 and up to 15 years in prison. Courts may confiscate wildlife parts for evidence, research, or destruction, and offenders can also face penalties such as asset forfeiture and bans on further wildlife-related activities. This applies to all offenders, regardless of their socioeconomic status. “Ensuring justice isn’t about favoring one group over another,” Paudel said. “It’s about equitable treatment and holding everyone accountable under the law.”
Bista, who died in 2017, did not live to see the ruling in the case, which was spurred in part by his own decor.
For now, it’s unclear whether the government will have the desire—or ability—to enforce the law. Part of this comes down to Nepal’s history. For most of the 20th century, Nepal was ruled by a monarch who held all executive power and enjoyed absolute immunity. After the 1973 act, all wildlife trophies seized by the authorities were handed over to the Royal Palace and were often displayed in public as a symbol of royal splendor, according to Sindhu Prasad Dhungana, director general of the Department of National Parks and Wildlife Conservation. The monarchy was abolished in 2008, but wildlife parts are still displayed and used in some private households of Nepal’s elite, often without any consequences.
“The lingering effects of royal impunity still resonate in the present,” Dhungana said.
According to Shrestha, the attorney who helped Paudel with his petition, powerful Nepalis often manipulate the investigation process to evade punishment. “The inconsistent application of laws within Nepal points to a glaring deficiency in our legal system: It fails to dissuade criminals, resulting in rampant impunity,” he explained.
The new rules are expected to go into effect later this year, but it will take time for officials to establish a process for investigating and certifying wildlife trophies. Although the Ministry of Forests and Environment will be responsible for this initiative, the specific details will only be determined after the full text of the verdict is released in the coming months.
Dhungana believes it will be challenging to implement the new law. “Many possessions are displayed flouting the law, but it is nearly impossible to enter every house and investigate,” he said. “One cannot presume people who have wildlife on their walls are criminals and the same ones participating in the current wildlife trade.”
Paudel, for his part, has found relief in the ruling, which marks the end of a long journey for him. He believes the decision will go far in safeguarding Nepal’s biodiversity by addressing the problem at its source: “True justice will prevail only when governments and their law enforcement agencies hold accountable those who drive the demand for illegal wildlife trade.”
Still, Paudel knows that many challenges lie ahead. “Dealing with the past is complex,” he said. “But we must find ways to make the law equitable in the future and adhere to the court’s order.”
The post Will Nepal’s Elite Finally Be Held Accountable for Wildlife Crimes? appeared first on Foreign Policy.
