Visit to Besisahar: Human Rights Violations and Violence in the Name of the Green Transition in Nepal
In the small town of Besisahar, Nepal, residents have been resisting a transmission line project funded by the European Investment Bank (EIB) for over eight years. According to a representative of the Lawyers’ Association for Human Rights of Nepalese Indigenous Peoples (LAHURNIP), supported by KIOS, the green transition is being used as a justification for gross violations of the human rights of Indigenous peoples—especially their right to Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC). Thanks to the efforts of the organization, the EIB has now frozen the project loan. However, the violence continues.
Text and photos: Saga Sinisalo
“One leg (of the pylon) would go here, the other there.”
Ananda Shrestha stands on a slope at the edge of Besisahar and points to where pylon number 16 of the transmission line is marked on the map. Besisahar lies in central Nepal, right next to the Himalayan mountains and the Annapurna Conservation Area.
The pylon is part of the “220 kV Marshyandi Corridor Transmission Line” project, which is intended to carry electricity from the Marshyandi River hydropower plant, through Besisahar, all the way to Kathmandu and India. Construction has been ongoing for about eight years.
A narrow path cuts through the slope.
“This path would fall under the pylon. Villagers use this trail to carry the dead for funeral rites,” Shrestha says.
Shrestha belongs to the Newar Indigenous people. Many other Indigenous groups live in the area as well. Carrying the dead along this specific route is a long-standing cultural tradition.
The surrounding land is used for farming, some of it owned by Shrestha’s family. Agriculture is the main livelihood of local Indigenous peoples. If the pylon is built, people will lose the land beneath and around it—land critical for their survival.
This has already happened to many others in the community, against their will.
Nepal has ratified major human rights treaties, but implementation falls short
Walking up the path through the fields, you come across homes, and then a rocky dirt road. On the other side of the road stands a small village house with just one room.
Light seeps through cracks in the tin roof. Colorful plastic chairs are scattered around the space.
A little over ten people are present—Gurungs, Chetris, Tamangs, and Magars. They represent just a few of Nepal’s 59 state-recognized Indigenous groups.
This village house has been a place for community meetings and decisions. In recent years, many discussions have revolved around the transmission line.
The project is being built by the state-owned Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA). The European Investment Bank has granted approximately €95 million in loans for its implementation. Yet, neither party has attended these local meetings.
According to Durga Mani Rai of LAHURNIP, which advocates for Indigenous peoples’ rights and supports legal actions and community organization, the situation of Indigenous peoples does not seem to interest them.
LAHURNIP has supported the community’s struggle against the transmission line from the beginning.
At the start, NEA interviewed only 1% of the affected population, most of them non-Indigenous men. None of the people gathered in the village meeting space were consulted.
“But by law, they should have been,” Mani Rai says.
Nepal has ratified ILO Convention 169, which guarantees Indigenous peoples’ self-determination, particularly regarding land and water rights. Nepal also voted in favor of the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP).
By supporting the declaration, Nepal committed to implementing FPIC—Free, Prior and Informed Consent—which must be obtained from Indigenous peoples before initiating projects that affect their lands or resources.
This right to participation is also enshrined in Nepal’s 2015 Constitution.
Indigenous lands become worthless
When the project began, community members were unaware of where and when pylons would be built. Survey poles appeared on various private lands, and pits were dug without notice.
Community members tried to stay informed, but plans were repeatedly changed without their knowledge.
In 2024, a pylon was built on land owned by Ananda Shrestha’s aunt, Mina Kumari Shrestha. She happened to arrive as the pit was being dug.
“The pylon had originally been promised elsewhere. I yelled at them and told them to stop,” she recalls.
It was a distressing situation. Mina Kumari Shrestha was already struggling—she is a widow, and one of her children is severely disabled.
She received compensation, but only for the land directly beneath the pylon. Other parts of her land now fall within the project’s buffer zone and construction site. Due to usage restrictions in buffer zones, this land is now practically worthless.
“You can’t build or plant trees in the area. You can’t sell the land or use it as loan collateral,” explains Ananda Shrestha.
The project also affects land owned by nearby resident Tuk Bahadur Nepali. He had planned to expand farming with his son, but now so much of their land falls within the buffer zone that he doubts a bank will issue them a loan.
The community argues that full compensation should be paid for all affected land. They should also have the right to negotiate these payments. So far, compensation has covered at most one-tenth of the land’s value—if anything. Negotiation has been impossible.
“I was promised more compensation later. But now the people who made those promises can’t be reached,” Mina Kumari Shrestha says.
Thanks to LAHURNIP, the development bank’s loan was frozen
The community has resisted the project from the beginning, says Khem Jung Gurung, chair of the FPIC and Human Rights Forum representing the victims.
The forum was established around the same time the hydropower project began. Members include Ananda Shrestha and Tuk Bahadur Nepali.
Many have refused to accept the inadequate compensation offers. Some even refused full compensation in solidarity with others.
When NEA workers dug pits, villagers filled them back in.
LAHURNIP has played a significant role in supporting the struggle. The Besisahar community was already known to the organization, as a Chinese company had implemented a similar transmission line project in the area, with documented issues.
“We already had human rights observers working in the area,” says Durga Mani Rai.
Together with the FPIC and Human Rights Forum, LAHURNIP filed numerous complaints—including to Nepal’s Human Rights Commission.
In 2018, a complaint was submitted to the EIB through the bank’s internal grievance mechanism. The bank initially suggested mediation between NEA and the community, but NEA refused. The EIB launched an investigation and published a report in 2021 confirming human rights violations. The loan was subsequently frozen.
It was a victory.
Still, it would have been better if the loan had never been granted in the first place, says Durga Mani Rai. The EIB could have easily found that NEA had committed human rights violations in all its previous projects.
Protesters have been arrested and beaten
In April 2022, construction continued despite the frozen loan. NEA workers were accompanied by 30 police officers. Community members gathered to protest, attempting to fill the dug pits.
A single mother of four who took part in the protest was beaten.
In May, she and three others were arrested. She was beaten again in the police vehicle.
“She still suffers from her injuries and cannot control her bladder,” says Ananda Shrestha.
According to Durga Mani Rai, the organization has made progress in improving the situation for many communities. Recently, a partial agreement was reached in a World Bank-funded transmission line project near Kathmandu—also involving NEA.
But the Besisahar situation has been especially difficult.
People are afraid and have lost trust in authorities. Over the past eight years, representatives from NEA, EIB, and the bank’s grievance mechanism have repeatedly visited and reported on the situation. Yet little has changed. Violence has increased.
“To us, NEA and EIB are the same,” says Khem Jung Gurung.
Over the years, many parties have claimed to support the community. Victims of the project have been told repeatedly how important the project is.
“Don’t you want this country to develop?” they have been asked.
Indigenous rights are neglected in green energy projects
LAHURNIP currently supports around 15 different communities across Nepal. Half of the cases involve green energy and hydropower. Many projects are funded by development banks.
Human rights violations in bank-funded projects are common across the Global South. Staff at these institutions often lack expertise in development or human rights.
Durga Mani Rai says that development banks fail to understand how projects affect Indigenous peoples differently than other groups. It’s not just about losing land—it’s about losing culture and entire belief systems.
For example, seven hydropower plants have been built on the Likhu River, with devastating consequences for the Sunuwar people.
“They have a spiritual connection to the river. Its soundscape guides their rituals. Now, the water level has dropped so much that the sound is gone.”
According to Rai, these projects can be seen as a form of cultural genocide committed in the name of green development.
He emphasizes that he is not against development. But development must be rooted in human rights.
“Our next goal is to get the EIB to fully cancel the loan. They currently seem quite willing.”
Working with NEA is more difficult. LAHURNIP and the FPIC Forum have repeatedly appealed to the Nepal Human Rights Commission, which has urged NEA to engage in dialogue with Indigenous representatives. Rai hopes this time a dialogue may actually begin.
As a last resort, the case could be taken to the Supreme Court of Nepal. According to Rai, it would be a long and expensive path—but they plan to pursue every possible option.
The effects of climate change are already visible in Besisahar
Ananda Shrestha parks his motorcycle on the roadside. Tuk Bahadur Nepali and Ram Bahadur Gurung follow on their red scooter.
They are headed to see pylon number 17. No power cables are in place yet. But when more pylons are built and the cables installed, both Nepali’s and Gurung’s lands will fall within the buffer zone under the wires.
“We used to cultivate a lot of land, but now it’s decreased,” says Tuk Bahadur Nepali.
After learning they would lose their land, his son moved to Saudi Arabia for work. There was no future for him here. Labor migration is common in Nepal.
Along the way, the men stop to look at a large, deep landslide littered with fallen trees, roots, and debris.
The slope collapsed after unusually heavy monsoon rains last fall. Such extreme weather events are becoming more frequent in Nepal.
A few minutes’ walk away, the transmission tower rises above the treetops. The steel glints in the sun. The cables are planned to run from here to the tower proposed on Shrestha’s land.
But the landslide sits directly in their path. Construction seems to have stalled.
What will NEA do next?
“I don’t know,” Shrestha replies.