Nepal's decade-long civil war ended in 2006 with a promise that truth, accountability and reparation would follow. Two decades later, that promise remains only partly kept. Families of the disappeared still lack definitive answers about what happened to their relatives, survivors of conflict-era abuses continue to press for recognition, and successive governments have struggled to design a transitional justice process that commands broad public confidence. This explainer, based on published reporting and official records, examines why justice has moved so slowly and what the next phase may require.

More than 13,000 people were killed during the conflict between Maoist insurgents and state security forces, with disappearances recorded on both sides. The 2006 Comprehensive Peace Accord committed the signatories to investigate serious violations and to support victims. Yet institution-building took years, legal frameworks were repeatedly contested, and political bargaining often took precedence over victims' demands. Understanding that history is essential to understanding why transitional justice remains one of Nepal's most sensitive unfinished debates, and why the credibility of democratic institutions is closely tied to its outcome.

Commissions Created, Progress Contested

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission and the Commission of Investigation on Enforced Disappeared Persons were created in 2015, nearly nine years after the peace accord. Both bodies received large numbers of complaints, but they have been widely criticised as slow and underpowered. Victims' groups have argued that procedures lacked independence, that confidentiality protections were insufficient, and that recommendations were not followed by effective prosecutions or reparations. Governments, for their part, have pointed to limited capacity, legal uncertainty and the sheer scale of cases inherited from a nationwide conflict.

A central difficulty has been defining how truth-seeking, criminal accountability and reconciliation should fit together. International human rights standards generally exclude amnesties for the most serious crimes, while some Nepali political actors have emphasised reconciliation and social closure. That tension has shaped every draft law and court challenge. For families, the practical effect has been prolonged uncertainty: interim relief was provided to some victims, but comprehensive reparation, memorialisation and guarantees about the fate of the disappeared have advanced unevenly across districts and categories of victims.

The 2024 Amendment and Its Discontents

Parliament passed a transitional justice amendment act in August 2024, presenting it as a step toward finally completing the peace process. Supporters described the legislation as a workable compromise that could restart investigations, clarify the mandate of the commissions and provide a legal path for cases that had remained in limbo for years. The passage of the law was significant after repeated failures to agree on amendments, and it signalled that major parties recognised the political cost of indefinite delay.

Critics, including victims' organisations and international observers cited in published reporting, responded that implementation would be the real test. Concerns focused on appointment procedures for commissioners, the treatment of serious violations, provisions on sentencing and whether victims would have a meaningful role in shaping outcomes. Because trust in the process was already low, even technical questions about staffing, budgets and timelines carried political weight. As of the period covered by published reporting, implementation remained contested, and the debate shifted from passing a law to proving that institutions could act independently.

Justice delayed after a civil war does not stay in the past; it shapes how citizens judge every institution that follows.

What Victims Are Asking For

Across public statements documented by rights groups and news organisations, victims' demands have been notably consistent. They include truthful disclosure about disappearances, dignified reparation that goes beyond one-off payments, psychosocial and livelihood support, memorials that acknowledge suffering on all sides, and legal accountability proportionate to the gravity of offences. Many families also seek simple administrative recognition: death certificates, property transfer and access to services that can be blocked when a person's legal status remains unresolved decades after a disappearance.

These demands are not uniform, and that matters for policy design. Families of the disappeared, survivors of torture and sexual violence, displaced households and families of those killed face different needs and different evidentiary challenges. A process that treats victims as a single category risks missing those distinctions. Analysts who study comparative transitional justice note that durable settlements usually combine several mechanisms at once, sequenced carefully, rather than expecting a single commission to deliver truth, justice and reconciliation simultaneously. Nepal's experience so far illustrates both the ambition and the strain of that combined approach.

Why the Issue Still Shapes National Politics

Transitional justice is sometimes discussed as a legacy issue, separate from present-day governance. In Nepal it is closely connected to current politics. Parties that emerged from the peace process, parties that governed during the conflict and institutions such as the security forces all have stakes in how responsibility is described. When investigations stall, public suspicion grows that accountability is being traded for political stability. That suspicion, documented in commentary and reporting over many years, feeds the broader distrust of parties that younger Nepalis expressed during the September 2025 protests.

Conversely, a credible process could strengthen democratic legitimacy. It would demonstrate that constitutional commitments apply even to powerful actors and even to events that are politically inconvenient to revisit. That is why international partners, courts and civil society continue to treat transitional justice as a measure of the republic's maturity, not only as a historical exercise. The question is less whether Nepal has created institutions on paper, since it clearly has, and more whether those institutions will be resourced, protected from interference and judged by results that victims themselves recognise.

A Path That Would Need Proof, Not Promises

Published analysis points to several practical tests for the next phase. Transparent appointments, published timelines, adequate budgets, protection for witnesses and complainants, and regular public reporting would all signal seriousness.

Nepal has completed difficult transitions before, from conflict to a peace accord and from monarchy to a federal republic.