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The Bhotekoshi floods struck with a fury that no one in the affected communities was truly prepared for, even if monsoon warnings had been in the air for days. In a matter of hours, the river, normally a lifeline for the villages and towns along its banks, turned into a violent, muddy torrent that swallowed homes, roads, bridges, and livelihoods. Families who had woken up to an ordinary morning found themselves scrambling to higher ground, clutching children and elderly relatives, unsure whether their neighbors had made it out. In the days that followed, the scale of the loss became agonizingly clear: people missing, homes reduced to heaps of debris, fields buried under rocks and silt, and entire stretches of once-familiar landscape transformed into something unrecognizable. For the families of the victims, every passing hour without news became another layer of anguish. It is in this atmosphere of grief, fear, and desperate hope that social media emerged not just as a tool for sharing information, but as a battlefield of truth and deception. While platforms like Meta and TikTok allowed people to share distress calls, offer support, and post updates about loved ones, they also became conduits for graphic images, AI-generated fake videos, fraudulent donation schemes, and old clips repackaged as fresh evidence of destruction. Recognizing the harm this could cause, the Government of Nepal moved quickly, summoning representatives of these global technology giants for urgent talks. The message was simple but firm: act now, act fast, and stop the spread of content that could mislead the public, obstruct relief work, or deepen the trauma of those already suffering.
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On Friday, government officials sat down with Nepal-based representatives of Meta and TikTok to address a problem that had escalated rapidly since Wednesday’s flash floods. Leading the conversation was Bijay Kumar Roy, coordinator of the government’s social media regulation and management task force and a director at the Nepal Telecommunications Authority. Roy explained that the government had asked both companies to remove links to objectionable and deceptive content as quickly as possible, ideally the moment such material was flagged. But the meeting was not just about reacting to individual posts; it was also about prevention. Officials urged the platforms to make their algorithms more proactive, so that graphic and false content could be automatically blocked before it ever reached a wide audience. The reasoning behind this approach is rooted in the technical limitations facing authorities in Nepal. Internet service providers can only block entire web domains, a blunt and often ineffective measure that would shut down legitimate content alongside the harmful material. Direct coordination with the platforms themselves, therefore, is the only realistic way to remove specific videos, images, and links that are causing harm. For the families of flood victims, this matters in deeply personal ways. A single old video of last year’s landslide, circulated as today’s tragedy, could send a family into panic, making them believe that another part of their village has been wiped out when it has not. A fake image of a child trapped in rubble could lead rescuers to waste precious time and resources investigating a scene that never existed. In a crisis, misinformation is not just annoying; it is dangerous. It creates confusion where clarity is desperately needed, and it undermines the collective effort to save lives.
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The kinds of content that have been circulating since the Bhotekoshi floods are varied, but they all share one thing in common: they exploit human suffering for attention, clicks, or financial gain. Old videos that have nothing to do with this disaster are being recirculated as if they were filmed during the recent floods. Some of these clips show rivers raging through other countries, while others were recorded years ago in completely different regions of Nepal. Yet they are shared with urgent captions claiming to show the latest developments along the Bhotekoshi, prompting fear and confusion among viewers who cannot easily tell fact from fiction. Even more troubling are AI-generated videos and images, digitally manufactured scenes that mimic real footage with unsettling accuracy. These synthetic creations look authentic enough to fool even careful viewers, and they often depict scenes more horrific than reality, amplifying panic and distress. Then there are the fraudulent QR codes circulating online, supposedly set up to collect donations for flood victims. These codes are designed to steal money from compassionate people who want to help, diverting funds away from legitimate relief efforts and into the pockets of scammers. The government has detected this scheme and warned authorities are monitoring it. The emotional toll of such deception cannot be overstated. Imagine a mother who has not heard from her son in days, scrolling through social media, and coming across an AI-generated video showing a body being pulled from the mud in an area where her son was last seen. The trauma of that moment, the false hope or the false grief, is something no algorithm should allow. Officials fear these scams are exploiting public sympathy on a massive scale, turning generosity into a weapon of fraud while real families wait for help that may never arrive because the money meant for them went elsewhere.
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Meta and TikTok have not been entirely unresponsive. They have designated focal points in Nepal, individuals through whom authorities can flag problematic posts and request removal. Since the floods began, the companies have been coordinating with government officials, and some content has been taken down after complaints were filed. But the response is far from immediate. Roy acknowledged that the platforms currently take anywhere from 24 to 48 hours to act on reported posts, a delay that in the chaotic aftermath of a disaster can be catastrophic. In that window, a graphic image of a victim’s body can be seen by thousands of people, a fraudulent donation code can collect money from hundreds of donors, and a fabricated news alert can trigger widespread panic across entire districts. Officials have therefore asked the companies to substantially shorten their response time, reducing it from days to hours, or even minutes. Beyond removal, the government has also requested that platforms immediately blur or obscure distressing images and videos, particularly those showing victims and the aftermath of the disaster. This is not about censorship in the traditional sense; it is about protecting the basic dignity of people who are already at their most vulnerable. A grieving father should not have to scroll past a close-up of his child’s belongings scattered across the mud, shared by a stranger with no context and no compassion. A rescue worker should not have to see the same traumatic footage over and over again while trying to do his job. By blurring graphic content and slowing its spread, platforms can give users a chance to choose whether they want to engage with such material, rather than forcing it upon them in their darkest moments.
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To coordinate these efforts and ensure that the platforms follow through on their promises, the government has formed a multi-agency team dedicated to monitoring and regulating harmful online content during the crisis. This group brings together representatives from the Ministry of Communication and Information, the Nepal Telecommunications Authority, and the Ministry of Home Affairs, reflecting the multidisciplinary nature of the challenge. The NTA is responsible for technical coordination with social media platforms, ensuring that flagged content is communicated clearly and that responses are tracked. Meanwhile, the Nepal Police are working to identify individuals suspected of creating or circulating malicious content, gathering evidence, and initiating legal proceedings where necessary. There is a real attempt here to hold people accountable for the harm they cause, even when that harm is inflicted from behind a screen. The team includes NTA director Bijay Kumar Roy, deputy director Surya Prasad Lamichhane, assistant director Om Prakash Mahato, MoCIT engineer Kumar Yadav, and inspector Arun Tamang from the home ministry. These are the people working behind the scenes, in urgent meetings and late-night exchanges, trying to balance the free flow of information with the need to protect the public from manipulation and distress. Their work is not glamorous. They are not on television making speeches. But their efforts have a direct impact on whether a family receives help or gets led astray by false information. In a time when every minute counts, when rescue teams are digging through rubble and relief supplies are being distributed to those in need, the ability to separate truth from lies is not a luxury; it is a lifeline.
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The government has also turned its attention to the broader public, issuing a press statement through the Ministry of Communication and Information that appeals to national and local media outlets, as well as ordinary social media users, to exercise caution and responsibility. The statement urges people not to share distressing photographs, unverified reports, or fabricated material, warning that information circulating during a crisis can have a significant impact on rescue operations, relief distribution, and public morale. “We appeal to all national and local media outlets as well as social media users not to share unverified, fabricated, or AI-generated rumours that spread panic,” the statement read. The ministry also highlighted the psychological damage that graphic images and videos can inflict, particularly on the families of victims. When such material is shared without context or verification, it does not merely inform; it injures. It deepens trauma, prolongs grief, and can even discourage people from coming forward with reliable information because they feel their voices are being drowned out by noise. Authorities have therefore urged everyone to verify information before forwarding or reposting it, especially material that purports to show the latest flood damage, casualties, rescue operations, or requests for financial assistance. This is a call for collective compassion as much as for factual accuracy. It asks each of us to pause, even for a moment, before hitting share. It asks us to think about the family on the other side of the image, the rescue worker who might be misdirected, the donor who might be scammed. In the end, the fight against misinformation is not just a technical problem to be solved by algorithms and government task forces. It is a human problem, and it requires a human response. The Bhotekoshi floods have already taken so much. Let us not allow lies and exploitation to take even more. By choosing to verify, to wait, to care, we can honor the victims and support the survivors in a way that no forward button ever will.