A Journalist Under Siege—Again

Dil Bhusan Pathak—one of Nepal’s most recognized television hosts and the face behind Tough Talk—has once again been accused of violating Nepal’s cybercrime laws. This time, the allegations follow his investigative report on the shares allegedly bought in Hotel Hilton by Jai Bir Deuwa, the only son of former Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba and his wife Arzu Rana. Though Pathak no longer holds the position of editor-in-chief at Kantipur Television, his reputation as a probing journalist persists—and so does the retaliation against his reporting.

This is not the first time Pathak has found himself in legal trouble under Nepal’s cyber law regime. But the timing and target of this most recent accusation suggest something more than just a legal infraction. It reflects a growing trend: the use of outdated and vaguely worded cyber laws to silence dissent and punish journalists who challenge the political and corporate elite.

Weaponizing the ETA: Silencing Through Law

The Electronic Transactions Act (ETA), particularly Section 47, was never intended to criminalize journalism. Originally passed to regulate digital commerce and data protection, it has since become a blunt political tool. The law’s vague language—penalizing anyone who publishes material deemed to be “illegal,” “contrary to public morality,” or “offensive”—has enabled security agencies to target social media users, activists, and now, mainstream journalists.

Dil Bhushan Pathak

Pathak’s first encounter with this law came when he posted a satirical comment involving Microsoft founder Bill Gates. Interpreted out of context, he was summoned by the cyber bureau. Now, with his second accusation—reporting financial news involving Nepal’s top political family—the message is clear: don’t touch the untouchables.

The Deuba Dynasty and Hotel Hilton Shares

At the heart of the controversy is Pathak’s reporting on shares allegedly purchased by Jai Bir Deuwa in Hotel Hilton. In a functioning democracy, such reporting would be lauded. In Nepal, it leads to criminal charges. This points to a deeper rot in Nepal’s political culture, where transparency is treated as betrayal and watchdog journalism as criminal mischief.

The Deuba family, with deep roots in the Nepali Congress and longstanding ties to donor-funded NGOs and foreign missions, has remained one of the most powerful political dynasties in the country. That their son’s involvement in a private luxury hospitality investment could trigger legal consequences for a journalist is emblematic of a political class that feels above scrutiny.

This is not just about a hotel investment. It is about transparency, conflict of interest, financial ethics, and the elite’s continued impunity in Nepal’s fragile democracy. The response to the report is more revealing than the report itself.

Media Cartels: The 12 Brothers of Nepali Journalism

Nepal’s mainstream media is often referred to colloquially as the “12 brothers”—a label that has come to signify the oligarchic structure of media ownership and its proximity to political power. These media houses—Kantipur, Nagarik, Onlinekhabar, Annapurna Post, Republica, Setopati, and others—frequently function less as independent fourth estates and more as protectors of entrenched interests.

Historically, Pathak was seen as aligned with this group. He occupied a powerful media position for years and maintained an editorial stance that often aligned with centrist and liberal power blocs. This association made him a target for rising populist figures like Rabi Lamichhane, who openly accused the 12 brothers of monopolizing public discourse, suppressing new entrants, and protecting corrupt politicians.

Now, the irony is thick. Pathak—once an insider—is facing the same kind of suppression that his detractors, like Lamichhane, warned about. That even someone of his stature and pedigree can be harassed legally shows how vulnerable truth-seekers have become in Nepal’s post-republican era.

Pathak vs. Lamichhane: A Battle of Narratives

The rivalry between Pathak and Lamichhane is not new. Lamichhane, a former TV host himself, challenged Nepal’s media status quo by launching Galaxy 4K and entering politics with the Rastriya Swatantra Party. His meteoric rise unnerved many in the old guard, including Pathak, who was openly critical of Lamichhane’s alleged lack of journalistic ethics and his populist style.

Pathak was particularly vocal when Lamichhane was implicated in the controversial Sahakari scam, a financial scandal involving cooperative funds. Lamichhane’s eventual arrest and current imprisonment under ongoing court proceedings is widely seen—not just by his supporters but also by neutral observers—as a political vendetta orchestrated by the political mafia Pathak once aligned with. Pathak’s critical coverage during this sensitive period added fuel to the perception that legacy media was complicit in a character assassination campaign, selectively targeting threats to the establishment while remaining silent on the corruption of ruling elites.

In this rhetorical war, Pathak stood for legacy media and establishment journalism; Lamichhane became the symbol of anti-establishment disruption.

What we now see is an overlap of both narratives. Pathak’s recent work—challenging power—has shifted him closer to the position Lamichhane once occupied: a lone voice against systemic corruption. The irony is palpable, and the political lesson is sobering: in Nepal, even insiders can be sacrificed when their reporting offends the wrong oligarch.

The Cyber Bureau’s Role: Law as Coercion

It is important to ask: why is the Cyber Bureau of Nepal being used to police journalism? Why are elected governments—whether led by Deuba, Oli, or Dahal—so comfortable unleashing law enforcement on critics?

The answer lies in the political utility of laws like the ETA. These laws provide a veneer of legality to what is essentially political intimidation. By using “cybercrime” as a label, the state avoids the appearance of direct censorship. But the effect is the same: journalists self-censor, stories go unpublished, and political elites remain unchallenged.

The case against Pathak, especially given its timing and substance, falls squarely within this category. It is not about legality; it is about control.

A Liberal Authoritarian State?

Nepal presents a paradox: it is formally a liberal democracy, but informally a soft authoritarian state. It holds elections and has a constitution, yet institutions like the judiciary, police, and media are compromised. This duality enables those in power to use democratic tools—laws, courts, commissions—for undemocratic ends.

In such a state, the line between criminal offense and political inconvenience is blurred. Today, the same cyber law that could be used to stop digital fraud is instead used to punish cartoonists, TikTokers, and respected journalists. This is not a symptom of dysfunction—it is the design of a deeply corrupted system.

Who Will Be Next?

If someone like Dil Bhusan Pathak can be harassed, who is safe? That is the question Nepali journalists, activists, and citizens must ask themselves. The current trend suggests no one is. A journalist may feel secure while promoting state narratives, but the moment they challenge a powerful figure, the machinery of suppression kicks in.

This chilling effect is the real danger—not just for press freedom but for democratic life itself. When media becomes afraid, the citizen becomes uninformed. When the truth is punished, lies become policy.

The Way Forward: Resist and Reform

Nepal must urgently reform its cyber laws. The ETA, in its current form, is incompatible with constitutional protections of freedom of expression. Any legal reform must:

1. Decriminalize defamation in the digital realm.
2. Clearly define cyber offenses, limiting them to hacking, fraud, and online harassment—not journalism.
3. Create an independent press commission with public oversight to mediate defamation disputes without police interference.

But legal reform alone is not enough. Civil society must wake up. The Federation of Nepali Journalists (FNJ), bar associations, student unions, and human rights groups must speak up not just for Pathak, but for the broader principle of media independence. Silence now will invite further repression later.

Conclusion: The Case Is Bigger Than Pathak

This is not just about Dil Bhusan Pathak. It is about a system that increasingly criminalizes truth-telling and rewards sycophancy. It is about the suffocation of media pluralism by a handful of media houses aligned with corrupt political actors. It is about a state that uses the law to shield itself from transparency.

The message being sent today is dangerous: journalism is a risk, truth is a crime, and silence is the safest option. But Nepal cannot afford more silence. If it is to preserve its fragile democracy, it must protect those who dare to speak—even when their past is complicated, even when their politics are not popular, and especially when their reporting touches the raw nerves of power.

The case against Pathak is a mirror. It shows us what we have become—and what we must urgently resist.

(Dr. Janardan Subedi is a Professor of Sociology at Miami University, Ohio, USA.)

@PR