Nepal’s politics thrives on irony, and few stories are more striking than the emergence of an “accidental” education minister. Mahabir Pun, while assuming office as Nepal’s education minister on September 22, 2025, called his appointment an accident, a role he had not sought but accepted with humility. In a country where ministers are usually known for clinging to power and titles, he startled the bureaucracy and the nation as a whole by saying, “Don’t call me minister.” This single statement reflected both his self-awareness and his unease with the trappings of authority. He is new to politics, as he admits, but not naïve about the realities of Nepali politics and bureaucracy. He is also not lightweight. Some mockingly call him a “junk scientist,” but he is an accomplished figure, an innovator, a widely read writer, and a persuasive communicator who even managed to sell his autobiography in the millions.
When assuming office, he went further in demonstrating his unique style. He told officials that he had a habit of sleeping where he worked, requesting the secretary to arrange a small room where he could cook and sleep. What sounded eccentric to some was, in fact, a bold statement about work ethics and integrity. In a system used to pomp, motorcades, and distance from ordinary people, here was a man who declared he would live with the job. Bureaucrats may have found it unsettling, but citizens recognized the symbolism: honesty and hard work still matter in public life.
His honesty also came through when he expressed doubts about the promise of free education. He said, “I can’t mint money, nor am I a god.” It was a realistic admission. Education is never free; someone always pays. However, he must not forget that education is also a fundamental human right, enshrined in Nepal’s constitution and international laws. To retract from that principle would be dangerous. The challenge, then, is not to deny the right but to balance it with fiscal realism. This is where smart governance comes in: designing targeted subsidies, scholarships for disadvantaged children, and evidence-based investments that expand opportunity without making empty promises. There is no shortage of global experiences demonstrating how to achieve constitutional provision of free and compulsory education.
This accidental minister is already credited with remodeling the Agricultural Equipment Center in his career. That achievement matters because it signals his belief in institutional reform rather than showy gestures. Nepal’s education sector desperately needs such pragmatism. For decades, slogans and reforms have abounded, but the results remain poor: declining learning levels, weak institutions, and a private sector boom that mirrors the retreat of the state.
If there is one portfolio in government that shapes the nation’s destiny, it is education, coupled with science and technology. No other ministry is as important for Nepal’s future, for Gen Z’s opportunities, and for the economy’s transformation. The choices this minister makes in his brief tenure, perhaps only five months will reverberate for decades. The task is daunting, but clarity of priorities can turn even a short time into a legacy. It is in this spirit that this article is written, not as bouquets of flowers but as a response to the minister’s public call for suggestions. These are not prescriptions but reflections, a set of issues that may be worth considering alongside many other voices that will come forward.
Acknowledging structural depths
Education’s problems are not recent. They are rooted in Nepal’s structural inequalities—social, cultural, economic, and political. These are not problems that today’s minister or yesterday’s leaders created; they are legacies of history. Yet, they manifest clearly in schools and universities. The complaints Gen Z voices about Nepali society such as corruption, lack of rule of law, authoritarianism, inequality, absence of professionalism are also present in the education sector. No minister can solve them overnight. But recognizing their depth is important. There will be no quick fixes. Hard work will matter, but patience and persistence will matter more.
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The battle of interests
The education sector is not a neutral space. It is an arena where interests collide. Political parties use schools and universities as recruitment grounds. Business interests treat education as a commodity, a market to exploit. Sometimes, it is hard to distinguish who is a politician and who is a businessman. Parents, anxious about their children’s future, demand results they rarely receive. Bureaucrats seek to protect their turf and resources. Teachers are heavily unionized, often prioritizing their organizational strength over classroom teaching. Local governments, empowered by federalism, have the mandate to manage schools but often lack the expertise or resources. And private operators, emboldened and pampered by successive governments, can obstruct any reform that threatens their profits. In this contest of interests, the ultimate sufferers are children and their learning. The accidental minister will have to walk into this battlefield with eyes wide open.
Donor dances and disappointments
Nepal has long been a darling of international donors. For three decades, the school sector has been fertile ground for donor-led reforms. Although donor share to education financing is minimal in recent years, their presence continues to be significant in terms of policy influence. There is an abundance of reports prepared by national and international experts with funds from donor agencies. However, the results are sobering in front of donors’ eyes. Public schools have lost students to private institutions. Learning outcomes remain stagnant or in decline. Donors demand accountability from the government through elaborate monitoring systems, but their own accountability is rarely questioned. Like elsewhere, donor involvement in education has been both a blessing and a trap.
The legislative mess
Education operates within a legal framework that is outdated, tracing its roots to the royal era. The dissolved parliament spent years trying to draft a new act, but the process fell victim to competing interests, weak coordination, and inefficiency. The draft that emerged remains contested, unclear, and compromised. An education without national consensus will serve no purpose. It would be wise for the minister to establish an independent expert panel to review it, explain its implications to the public, and assess whether it addresses the concerns of Gen Z. While passing a new law may have to wait for the next parliament, preparing the ground with evidence and clarity is a task well suited to his tenure.
The higher education jungle
Higher education in Nepal is a mess. Universities are being opened everywhere, often more as political trophies than institutions of learning. A slow-moving higher education accreditation system has gathered excessive paperwork, with no guarantee of quality. Foreign-affiliated colleges operate like fast-food chains, some even like zombies, existing in name but hollow in substance. Universities sell affiliations freely, producing campuses that resemble primary schools rather than centers of advanced learning. The minister could order a rapid review of higher education, achievable within two or three months, to lay bare the scale of dysfunction. A clear diagnosis will be the first step to any meaningful cure.
Respect for teachers
In recent years, teachers have become a target of ridicule and humiliation, often scolded in public by leaders from the prime minister downwards. This culture of teacher-bashing is corrosive. Teachers deserve respect from the nation, for no education system can rise above the dignity of its educators. At the same time, respect must be balanced with responsibility. Teachers’ rightful place is in classrooms, supporting children’s learning. October 5, World Teachers’ Day is right around the corner and offers an opportunity to respect teachers and raise the profile of the teaching profession. Each year, it highlights themes of dignity, innovation, and equity. If the minister chooses to lead a national celebration of teachers this year, it would send a powerful symbolic message: Nepal honors its educators, demands professionalism, and restores balance to a strained relationship. If the Prime Minister joins the Teachers’ Day Celebration, it will send an even more powerful message inspiring youth to consider teaching as their career.
Public education as a public good
Education in Nepal has been reduced to a market commodity. Public schools have been deserted, even by the poor, who scrape together resources to send their children to private institutions. This is a national tragedy. No democracy can thrive without strong public education. Municipalities across Nepal are striving to improve public schools, but their efforts receive little recognition. The minister could highlight their innovations, reward municipalities that succeed, and shift the national conversation back toward education as a public good. In the long run, a policy goal should be clear: reduce private school enrollment from nearly one-third today to around ten percent within 10–15 years by improving the quality and credibility of public schools. Without such a shift, inequality will deepen and social cohesion will erode.
Questionable reform schemes
In recent years, reform initiatives such as “model schools” or the “presidential education reform program” have emerged. These schemes, often highly political, channel resources unevenly and wastefully. The global evidence for such reforms is weak. They function more as vehicles for distributing patronage than for genuine improvement. The minister would do well to order a sober review of such programs, halting what does not work and redirecting resources where they are truly needed. As Natalie Chun (2016) argues, a major reason why increased funding has not resulted into better outcomes is that it has gone to reform initiatives that have often been guided by ideology and preconceived biases rather than rigorous evidence of what works and what doesn’t.
Planting the seeds of evidence
As a scientist, the minister knows that evidence matters. Globally, there is a growing push for evidence-based policymaking. In Nepal, by contrast, the education sector produces endless data, often funded by donors, but the data is rarely used to inform decisions. At times, these data are not publicly available. This is a tragedy and a waste. The minister may not be able to overturn this culture in five months, but he can plant the seeds. He can insist on decisions being justified by data, promote transparency in reporting, and model a culture where evidence, not the political slogans, guides policy choices.
A time of reckoning
After three decades of education reform led by the ministry itself, Nepal finds itself in a paradox: a booming private sector, a thinning public sector, declining test scores, and growing despair among students. The more things have changed in education, the more they remain the same. This accidental minister has only months, not years, but he carries the credibility of someone who has lived by his work, who is unafraid of honesty, and who has built things with his own hands. That example alone is powerful.
Finally, the future of education, science, and technology will determine the future of Nepal’s economy and society. Gen Z, impatient and restless, demands accountability, dignity, and opportunity. The accidental minister may not solve every problem, but if he can confront the structural truths, respect the profession of teaching, restore faith in public education, and sow the seeds of evidence-based governance, he will have done more than many of his predecessors managed in full terms. In politics, accidents are often blamed for disasters. But sometimes, as Nepal now discovers, an accident can be an opportunity. The author is a former professor of education at TU and education specialist with UNESCO.
The author is a former professor of education at TU and education specialist with UNESCO.
