While researching for the Nepali Army, I was alarmed to find how minimally AI and drone technologies are being used across government services. Occasionally, we hear of isolated efforts—like the National Innovation Center (led by Dr. Mahabir Pun) delivering medicines via drones in Myagdi, UNDP testing drone-assisted seed spraying in hilly regions, or drone development for disaster risk reduction by the Robotic Association Nepal and the GBS team. However, these are pilot projects—small in scale, largely symbolic, and more about publicity than serious, strategic implementation.
Meanwhile, the world has embraced AI-powered tools such as surveillance and payload drones. Nepal, by contrast, has barely begun to explore their transformative potential. Take border security, for example. Nepal shares long, porous borders with two global powers—India and China—yet still relies on outdated, manual surveillance. The hard truth is that Nepal remains oblivious to the global drone revolution. We’ve left drone advancement largely to private initiatives, failing to make it a national priority.
Shortly after last year’s monsoon, a research team from the Nepali Army approached me to discuss how emerging technologies could strengthen national security. As someone with experience in IT and disaster response, I expected conversations around communication systems. But as we examined border maps and disaster-prone areas, the real issue became clear: while drones are transforming emergency response and security globally, Nepal’s skies remain empty.
Take the example of floods between Aswin 10 and 12, 2081 BS: entire families were swept away in Kathmandu, three vehicles (two microbuses and a bus) were lost in Dhading, and a village in the Tarai was submerged. Rescue teams arrived with only boats and ropes, lacking even waterproof thermal imaging devices—let alone aerial surveillance tools.
In contrast, India deployed drones within hours to locate survivors. Nepal’s responders waded blindly through murky waters, losing precious time. This pattern repeats annually in flood-prone zones, border areas, and national parks—not due to lack of technology, but because we refuse to adopt it.
Consider our neighbors. China uses autonomous drones to patrol its Himalayan borders and detect real-time intrusions. Rwanda delivers blood to remote clinics using drones, saving lives daily. Bangladesh uses AI-enabled drones to predict floods months in advance. Nepal, however, acts as if this technology race doesn’t concern us.
Nepal shares about 1,800 km of open border with India, which is a hotbed for smuggling and human trafficking. In just one year, more than 200 kg of smuggled gold made headlines, with countless cases going unreported. The answer isn’t deploying more personnel—it’s using intelligent surveillance: drones with thermal imaging and vibration sensors that detect hidden paths or tunnels. Israel uses such technology to secure hostile borders. Why can’t we?
When earthquakes strike, the first 72 hours are critical. Yet we still send rescue teams scrambling over debris while survivors suffocate beneath the rubble. After Turkey’s 2023 earthquake, drones mapped 10,000 collapsed buildings in two days and helped locate 900 survivors. By contrast, Nepal responded to the 2015 earthquake and the Jajarkot quake using outdated methods. In one instance, the Army used a journalist’s DSLR camera from a rented helicopter to assess the damage—not as a cost-saving measure, but due to negligence.
Even our most prized natural assets—Chitwan’s rhinos and Sagarmatha’s forests—are guarded with outdated methods. Rangers patrol predictable routes, while poachers create new ones. In Tanzania, drones cut elephant poaching by 90% by scanning wide areas for heat signatures. Nepal, meanwhile, spends conservation funds on noisy jeep patrols that do little to deter illegal activity.
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Kathmandu’s rapid urban expansion reveals another gap. Illegal buildings continue to rise while engineers still assess cracks with measuring tapes. Singapore, in contrast, uses drones to conduct precise inspections of bridges and buildings, detecting problems early. Nepal waits for structures to collapse—then forms investigative committees.
The usual excuses no longer hold.
“Drones are expensive”? A basic surveillance drone costs less than a motorbike. “There are no regulations”? The Civil Aviation Authority took years to draft drone guidelines—longer than the time it took to land on the Moon.
“We lack skilled operators”? Nepal produces over 10,000 STEM graduates annually, yet most head abroad for jobs instead of creating solutions at home.
Nepal’s failure to embrace drones is not about resources—it’s about misplaced priorities. When a VIP needs a helicopter, one is ready instantly.
But when an entire village is buried in a landslide, we suddenly remember we’re a “poor country” that can’t afford drones. This double standard is costing lives.
So, what’s the way forward?
Declare drones as critical infrastructure and fast-track emergency approvals.
Empower the Nepal Army and Armed Police Force to develop a national drone grid—they’re already first responders.
Support innovation by investing in institutions like the National Innovation Center, Kathmandu University, Pulchowk Engineering Campus, the GBS team, and the Robotic Association Nepal to create localized drone solutions—solar-powered, Nepali-language AI, and high-altitude delivery systems.
Launch training programs to develop skilled drone operators and AI technicians.
Partner with private tech firms and international organizations to fund, pilot, and scale drone-based projects.
The monsoon will return. Borders remain exposed. Wildlife is still vulnerable.
Each day we delay, we fall further behind—not because we’re incapable, but because we choose inaction.
The Potential Is Obvious—If We Choose to Act
Smuggling, human trafficking, and illegal trade happen daily, yet Nepal relies on outdated surveillance tools. Spy drones could transform border security by offering real-time aerial monitoring over vast terrain—without risking human lives. With night vision, stealth design, and thermal cameras, these drones can operate 24/7, providing critical intelligence instantly.
Beyond security, Nepal’s exposure to natural disasters makes drone use even more urgent. Floods, landslides, and earthquakes devastate the country each year, yet responses remain slow and reactive. Drones can survey damage, locate survivors, and deliver aid to remote areas in real time. AI sensors can even forecast disasters by analyzing environmental data, offering life-saving early warnings.
Nepal’s biodiversity is a national treasure, but conservation methods are outdated and underfunded. National parks like Chitwan and Sagarmatha face relentless threats from poachers and illegal loggers. Drones could monitor endangered wildlife, patrol vast forests, and collect environmental data—tasks too slow and expensive for human teams.
Urban expansion brings new risks. Kathmandu’s infrastructure is already under strain from uncontrolled development. Drones can create high-resolution maps, inspect buildings and bridges, and monitor critical infrastructure—preventing failures and reducing repair costs.
Yet, Nepal has made little headway in integrating drones into public service.
The biggest hurdle is unclear regulation. There are no comprehensive policies on drone airspace, usage, or data protection, causing uncertainty and reluctance among agencies. Financial constraints and a lack of trained personnel add to the challenge.
To move forward, Nepal must:
Enact clear drone regulations that address safety, privacy, and operational protocols.
Promote local innovation by funding and partnering with academic and research institutions.
Establish vocational training programs for drone operations and AI applications.
Build strong public-private partnerships to scale drone deployment.
If Nepal truly aims for modernization, it must stop ignoring drone technology. The tools exist—what we lack is political will and strategic direction. Without decisive action, Nepal will continue falling behind while others rise.
(The author holds a Master’s degree in Computer Science and is a Disaster Risk Data Analyst. She previously served as an IT Specialist deployed by UNDP at Nepal’s National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority under the Ministry of Home Affairs.)
