From Streets to Screens: How Nepal’s Gen Z Toppled a Government on Discord

“The Gen Z Protests Have Made Gen X Hopeful”

Living in a country with continuous discords expressed through campaigns, movements and unstable government created by the synergy of corrupt politicians with myopic vision gives one a continuous supply of adrenaline rush. Hence, Gen Z protests against corruption and calling out of the flashy, gaudy lifestyle of politicians and their children, triggered by a social media ban, were no surprise for many of us.

September 8 saw shooting of youngsters participating in the protest. I particularly went numb seeing the lifeless body of a young student. His blood was seeping into the hands and clothes of the person who was carrying his body. Heartbreak, anguish and rage is an understatement of what most of us felt that day. By September 14, the number of those killed had reached 72.

On September 9, triggered by the killing of youths, I came out to protest against the use of murderous force. It was disturbing to see that men on the streets were carrying bamboo sticks and stones and had already started the fire. The most disgusting was a young boy hurling stones at the riot police and asking others to do the same. When I told him that his behaviour was unacceptable, he attempted to tower over me, said nothing can be achieved without violence and walked away to continue hurling stones. Seeing the mob psyche that reeked of intimidating, toxic, masculine hyper energy, I returned home to a Gen Alpha with disability, who was left with the caregiver at home. While I was returning, I saw that the house of Energy Minister Deepak Khadka had been set on fire and an unruly crowd had gathered outside the homes of Foreign Minister Arzoo Deuba and ex-Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba.

By 10 PM on September 9, Nepal was under the ‘protection’ of the Nepal Army. The crisp address by the Chief of Army Staff and the statement by Nepal Army chief General Ashok Raj Sigdel, I bet, must have stirred different emotions among people, depending on their position and acceptance or denial of the situation. To me and my friends, as Gen X, who have lived through the times of absolute monarchy, multiparty system and ceremonial monarchy, ten-year-long Maoist war, royal massacre, and a Federal Democratic Republic, the thought of life under ‘Army protection’ was strangely illogical and unacceptable.

Thus, in anxiety, fear, and anticipation, we tried to understand how the situation would unfold. During a live meeting on Discord—a US-based free messaging platform that was used to pick Nepal’s next leader—one of the Gen Zs said: “Our doppelganger Gen Zs are holding dialogues, while we are still discussing, unable to arrive at a decision”. To him, these doppelgangers were the Gen Zs holding dialogues with the Army, the ones awaiting a dialogue with an ‘unwilling’ president, and the ones lying low after exiting from the dialogue. Then there were different versions of Gen Z statements, which, deviating from the initial demands against social media bans and anti-corruption, had morphed into demands for an interim government, dissolution of Parliament, formation of a joint citizen-army management council, reinstatement of monarchy and Hindu nation, merit-based appointments, etc.

One can understand the rationale behind the dissolution of Parliament—that it will be a springboard for the same old poli-goons to come back to power. Hence, Gen Z representatives holding dialogues with the Army chief wanted an interim government, headed by a neutral national personality.

Debates on constitutional allowance and constitutional crisis were far more complex among other issues, and it was unlikely that these were initiated entirely by Gen Zs. Yet, under an increasing unspoken discomfort of ‘protection’, Nepal got an interim prime minister of Gen Z’s final choice—ex-chief justice Sushila Karki.

Nepal also got its first woman prime minister. Congratulations floated around. I felt nothing. First, I was glad that the ‘protection’ was lifted, at least for a while, good enough to let us resume our normalcy. But what is normalcy for Nepal politics, shrouded in vicious conspiracy theories to haunt each time you discuss these political transitions? Second, the appointment of Karki confirms that gender politics sees the rise of a woman in difficult times, even though it may seem like getting a sacrificial lamb. For other genders, that is not even a possibility.

What does the appointment of Nepal’s first woman prime minister—even if it’s an interim arrangement—mean to the women’s rights movement and its flag bearing organisations/networks, especially for the National Alliance of Women Human Rights Defenders, and Anupam Yatra, led by the Inter-Generational Feminist Forum (IGFF), who have been campaigning for women politicians as contenders for the upcoming third federal and local elections? What does the feminist lens see?

A prominent legal advocate for Indigenous peoples’ rights stated: “The oppressed population, particularly Indigenous peoples, including the marginalised and the excluded, seem empowered when the State is weak”. In the wake of Gen Z protest, I wonder how empowered Indigenous people, Dalits, marginalised and excluded would be, after this development. After all, Nepal had become a Fede­ral Democratic Republic through a series of political movements, most notably the 10-year-long People’s war, two Constituent Assembly Elections and promulgation of its Constitution 2015—all of which were devastatingly painful for a majority of its people. Some of the issues have remain unaddressed.

The dissolution of the House of Representatives does not mean that the Constitution will be rewritten, vaguely assuring that the window dressing of rights guaranteed to each one of us, irrespective of our gender, caste, ethnicity, abilities, age, sex and race, will not be scraped right now. But then, this is also the Parliament that has seen the support for affirmative action dwindle.

The interim government’s mandate is to hold a federal election in the coming six months. Once the election date gets set, the National Assembly will also be dissolved. This was the House that had slightly more representatives of women, Dalit, Madheshi and Indigenous peoples, in comparison to the House of Representatives.

The concern is, how will this upcoming election ensure that these groups will have an increased number of representatives, especially when we saw how the numbers have dwindled from the second constituent assembly election in 2013 to the second federal and local elections in 2022? However, this is also the right time for these groups to mobilise themselves to change the equation that will hopefully lead to the rewriting of the present Constitution, which, with no inhibition, will recognise the rights it has been miserly of giving. Six months can prove to be a glass full or a glass half full for these groups. As a middle-aged Indigenous woman, raising a child with severe multiple disabilities, I hope that this glass does not get broken and bleed any of these groups.

Despite one’s disinterest, speculations are all around. What should we do now? What will it be like? Each time I hear this question, I remember being told how, in a game of dice, one does not know the number until the dice gets thrown. Through these Gen Z protests, the dice has been thrown, and we are waiting to see the number. I want to believe that the number will be against servitude of any kind for any of us, that this will be against a myopic vision based on the narrow understanding of what diversity, competency, inclusion and accessibility mean for Nepal’s resilience. I hope that the number, when revealed, will not call for a long struggle. Till then, one can only stay sane and sharp, conserving energy and engaging with right-holders across the board.

(Views expressed are personal)

Pranika Koyu is a writer and human rights professional with focus on identity politics, women’s right and disability rights.

“Nepali Society Has Cracked Open And So Have Our Hearts”

As I sipped my morning tea on Friday, September 5, I was majorly annoyed. The government’s decision to ban 26 social media apps, including the popular ones owned by Meta, had begun. When I went to visit a friend in the afternoon, she shared the best VPN app she was using and I promptly installed it. Would this be a temporary measure? No matter. Numerous Nepalis are often compelled to circumvent inconveniences in this way. We relied on battery-powered inverters during phases of power cuts, sometimes for up to 20 hours daily. When the air quality worsens, we shut windows and turn on the air purifier. Since the quality of universities is poor, we choose to go abroad. And if the cumulative inconveniences of all this is too much, we have an option of settling abroad. But a majority of Nepalis aren’t able to afford these options.

The response to the social media ban was going to be different. Most members of Gen Z are digital nomads—they have seen and learnt much more about the world than those from my generation and older. They were not going to remain passive. The ban was most likely linked to a burgeoning online campaign in the weeks before which targeted politicians and their children showing off lavish lifestyles, in sharp contrast to the reality of so many Nepali people. The young people viewed the ban as an attempt to stifle free speech and further constrain freedoms.

A protest was declared on Monday, September 8, sparked by the social media ban but with a grander agenda of calling out unchecked government corruption. That day, I was scheduled to teach a college elective centered on literature and critical thinking. I wasn’t expecting many students since this course is optional. Besides, attendance would surely be hampered by the protest. I was surprised when seven students showed up, six of them boys, which is even rarer in these classes.

For this particular course, I have been assigning a personal essay titled, “Telling Stories”, that I wrote in 2013, weeks after returning to Nepal, after living and teaching in New York City for close to a decade. For me, the essay had been a way of processing my abrupt and difficult decision to return, and sharing my experiences with a wider audience. One of the themes I’d touched on was the idea of choosing “conflict and change”, when there is an option to be peaceful without change.

In choosing to return to Nepal, I’d placed myself in a drastically changed atmosphere. I was learning to navigate conflicts on multiple levels: personal, familial, societal. It was at the end of that first year that I began offering this course and I have been teaching it every year since, interacting with students, encouraging them to read, express and engage in discussions. Apart from these behavioral goals, my larger intention is to nudge students to see the value of taking risks and moving outside their comfort zones. But over the years, most of the students who speak seem discouraged and disenchanted. They see no future in Nepal. They desperately want to go abroad.

In those discussions, we also touch on national and international conflicts, so that we can all examine this idea from various angles. I was teaching my 13th group of college students—those smack in the middle of Generation Z—this past fateful September 8 morning. I expressed genuine appreciation to the seven who had showed up. In fact, I spoke at length about the idea of ‘showing up to events, to places and for values one believes in’. But that morning was different and I was conflicted and slightly confused. Should I have cancelled the class and gone to the protest instead? “How come you all didn’t go there?” I asked. “Why bother when nothing is going to change?” one of them articulated.

As we were wrapping up the session close to noon, a college admin called to inform us that a curfew had been declared and my afternoon class would be cancelled. I went home and learned that the protest had suddenly turned violent. By that evening, news reports declared 19 dead. The government had sought to brutally quell the protests, used tear gas, rubber as well as metal bullets. We went to bed enraged and in deep grief. But we knew that there would be unrest.

By early afternoon on September 9, social media—the ban had been removed—was filled with images of violence and vandalism. The protesters had targeted the residences of the leaders of all three political parties, as well as buildings representing all three wings of the government. Since my house is a kilometre from the Federal Parliament building, smoke began to fill the air. As I closed the windows, I was gripped by surreal sensations. In fact, my head is still reeling from the enormity of what has unfolded in Nepal this past week. There’s grief for sure—the number of those who died have reached 51. But on September 9 afternoon, the predominant feeling was incredulity with an undertone of joy. I use this unlikely word ‘joy’ during a time of violent uncertainty because to me, the fumes filling our room and the images—inflamed government buildings, enraged students and fleeing politicians—filling our phones, demonstrated that the impossible can happen. Yes, Nepal has had revolutions before. But the death toll of September 8 is the largest number killed in one day. Entire supermarkets and hotels were never burnt down in this way.

September 10, 11 and much of September 12 were very uncertain. We were glued to the phone and the television, trying to grasp what was unfolding. There was much disinformation—would the Army take control? Would they collude with the monarchy or with political players in India?

Thankfully, hundreds of those belonging to Gen Z held virtual meetings on Discord and managed to come up with a few non-negotiable agreements as well as nominate their choice of prime minister for an interim government. There are other articles detailing these days, underlying various issues. I didn’t attend the Discord meetings. Weeks like this when time seems to accelerate (or stand still!) can seem disorienting and confusing. What do we focus on? How to relax and kill time? There was a curfew throughout those days, imposed by the Nepal Army who took control on September 9 night to restore calm. On September 12, Nepal’s first female Chief Justice Sushila Karki, nominated by the young protest leaders of Generation Z, took the oath of office to be Nepal’s first female prime minister.

As I write this on September 13, I’m feeling deeply moved by what has happened over this past week in Nepal. The sheer coincidence of these events unfolding on that same Monday when I was with those students took me back through all those years and all those conversations. It has reassured me that it is essential to continue having crucial discussions with young people, about ethics and morals, about our civic duties and our discomforts. Nepali society has cracked open and so have our hearts. On September 10 night, I went to bed thinking of how difficult it is to be a young person in Nepal—a developing country emerging out of a pandemic, still rebuilding after a major earthquake shook us a decade ago, still trying to reconcile with the crimes committed during our recent civil wars. It is difficult when our politicians have been so corrupt and so apathetical, when the economic landscape is so fragile. This generation, Gen Z, having learnt much more about the world through the Internet, were not going to be passive and fatalistic. They raised their voices, and brought down a deeply oppressive and immoral government.

(Views expressed are personal)

Niranjan Kunwar is an educationist whose career includes teaching in primary schools and mentoring teachers in Nepal.

“We Must Seize This Moment”

It is difficult to be a young person in Nepal. It is difficult to dream in a country run by morally bankrupt politicians. How to make sense of the larger world when elders in our families and communities are reeling from their own injured childhoods? Or have they chosen to ignore and repress their pain?

Most members of this generation, Gen Z, were literally born in the middle of Nepal’s civil war. Their daily school lives and the larger arcs of their childhood and young adulthood were disrupted by a major earthquake and then a global pandemic. Thank God for technology. The Internet has provided what the State and so many of their own families couldn’t—exposure, education, entertainment and soul-fulfilling connection through social media.

When the State and society have presented mainly barriers, the Internet has taught them to be more self-conscious about their caste, class, gender and religious practices. When the edu­cation system has failed to teach them world history and our own national history, so many of them have taught themselves.

This generation, Gen Z, spent their childhoods in darkness and suddenly learned that they could actually have electricity. Thank God for technology. And the cruel, ignorant people in the government didn’t even realise what they were doing. They thought it was a joke.

What had the State given to Nepal’s young people? An option to either sell their labour in terrible conditions or to slog in cold and alien societies. So many had started online businesses and created communities. And the politicians tried to even take that away, instead of creating mechanisms of support.

This generation, Gen Z, has already seen and learnt so much. They have travelled throughout Nepal more than any other generation. Gen Z loves Nepal. They have truly understood why so many people in the world also love Nepal and choose to visit. No wonder they raged and revolted for the right to stay and to dare to imagine a future in our beautiful country.

To create new structures and systems, rotten relics from the past ought to get burnt down. I’m not condoning the violence and the vandalism, but it’s a potent symbolism for an iconic moment in Nepal’s history—images of apathy and greed burning down. Hollow, meaningless shells turning to dust. Let those images be seared in every Nepali’s mind because, one day, many of us might forget and move on as is only natural. But those of you who showed up and took risks, those of us who have been watching and witnessing, we must seize this moment. We must make attempts to remember so the import of this past week is never forgotten.

(Views expressed are personal)

Niranjan Kunwar is an educationist whose career includes teaching in primary schools and mentoring teachers in Nepal.

(The article appeared in the Outlook Magazine's October 1, 2025, issue Nepal GenZ Sets Boundaries as 'The Youthquake')