Nepal Gen Z Protests: The Situationship With Power Is Over

When the 73-year-old Sushila Karki, a former Chief Justice of Nepal, was sworn-in as interim prime minister on September 12, the Himalayan nation had already witnessed days of violence in the wake of the killing of Gen Z protesters in police firing on September 8. Bangladesh prime minister Sheikh Hasina’s ouster last year had left the neighbouring country in a similar situation for weeks.

In Nepal, there was widespread destruction of private and public property. Several thousand convicts, including many sentenced for heinous crimes, escaped from prisons across the country, including the capital city Kathmandu. There were no police at their stations or on the streets. Most law enforcement infrastructure had been vandalised and left defunct. There was nobody to record complaints or come to the aid of those facing acts of vandalism.

However, violence deescalated in Nepal as quickly as it had escalated. No major violence has been reported in a week since Karki was sworn in, even though some incidents of crimes at local levels have been reported from different parts of the country.

Protesters in their teens and 20s choosing a septuagenarian as interim head of government may sound puzzling. But there is a reason a consensus was arrived at on her name. During her tenure as a Supreme Court judge, including as the Chief Justice, she had many run-ins with the political establishment, but did not bend. She was among the first civil society personalities to visit the spot of the September 8 firing, the very next morning, and spoke to the mourning protesters.

“It is not for nothing that she is known as ‘the iron lady of Nepal’ among sections of society,” said Birendra Thapa, a 22-year-old college student from Lalitpur area in the Kathmandu Valley. Declaring soon after taking charge that “arson and vandalism during the protests” were “criminal acts”, Karki promised investigation and action. The army asked people to submit video or photographic evidence of acts of vandalism to help them identify the culprits. Evidence came pouring in from across the country.

Nepalese civil society and the youth protesters, however, remain worried if the administration is serious about investigating the atrocities committed by the state forces on September 8 and 9.

Many Gen Z and millennial protesters and civil society members describe Karki as a fierce, independent, courageous and strong person without any political ambition. “She knows how the system works and can make daring decisions,” said Rajdut Karki, a 28-year-old from Biratnagar in south Nepal who works in the transport sector in Kathmandu.

“Personally, I’m very proud that we have our first women prime minister,” says Krispi Raman Jaiswal, a law student, adding, “I think our protests have made it clear that politicians cannot take corruption, nepotism and irregularities for granted.”

Jaiswal took part in the backchannel discussions over selecting the interim prime minister. She was also one of those who celebrated Nepal’s Constitution Day with PM Karki on September 19 at the PM’s residence. According to her, the interim PM was chosen through intergenerational dialogues, not by the Gen Z alone. “As the new PM looks after the major issues, among her priorities now are addressing the issues of the injured and the families of the deceased.” The final death count has exceeded 70.

Beneath the apparent calm lie, deep anxieties about the direction the country is likely to take. Developments are rapid, both in the public domain and behind the curtains. As violence stopped, senior politicians who had gone into hiding started coming out in public. Khadga Prasad Sharma Oli, the deposed prime minister who had been sheltered in the army headquarters until September 18, showed no remorse and instead blamed a conspiracy for the killing of protesters. Meanwhile, the Hindu right-wing Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP), part of the Opposition in the dissolved Parliament, has called for the restoration of monarchy.

Former prime minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal ‘Prachanda’ said during his first public appearance on September 16 that they would prioritise the task of rebuilding their vandalised party offices. He also said there could be efforts to destabilise the Karki government. His critics, however, allege he would be among the first to celebrate if the interim government is toppled.

Steering Nepal through this critical period amid such conflicting interests at play would be “the challenge of Karki’s life”, as many Gen Z and millennial protesters and civil society members put it. Some are concerned that the bureaucracy would try to sabotage her. “She may have just signed her own death sentence by taking up this job,” wrote a worried social media user.

Passion and Pain

On September 9 evening, Kathmandu was in the grip of chaos. Robic Upadhyay sat on a street, dejected, exhausted, helpless. He had been on the streets with the Gen Z protesters since the day before. Things were happening at a breakneck pace, but life had come to a standstill for him since he watched a mob setting fire to the historic Singha Durbar building and the health ministry office complex. The sounds of blasting oxygen cylinders hammered his heart.

The day before, hundreds of school and college students and other young adults had gathered at Kathmandu’s designated demonstration venue, Maitighar Mandala. Fed up with unchecked corruption, they took the government’s September 4 order banning social media platforms as a tool to stifle dissent. Bypassing the ban with virtual private network (VPN) apps, they used social media itself to mobilise themselves. On September 8, the police shot dead 19 protesters, including school and college students in their uniforms, outside the Parliament building. There were more deaths outside the capital city.

Nepal was soon in the grip of grief and anguish, with a tornado of emotions raging through the streets of Kathmandu the next day. In the backdrop of the green hills that surround the valley, there were fires, explosions, screams, gunshots, celebratory cheers.

Upadhyay, a 35-year-old photographer, sat lost in thought. He phoned his wife, Sabrina Dangol, and broke down in tears. How could people destroy such important buildings, he wondered. Just then his sobs stopped. He heard a group of people asking others to gather outside the National Archives building. They wanted to form a human chain, determined not to allow any vandals to destroy the building that hosts rare and priceless documents of Nepal’s history. “We can’t let them erase our history,” Upadhyay heard someone cry. He rushed to the spot and joined the human chain.

“Witnessing the lows and highs of humanity side by side was an emotional rollercoaster ride. It was a battle of sanity against insanity,” said Upadhyay, still traumatised. Being able to protect the National Archives building restored his hopes.

The outrage following the police firing forced the home minister to resign in the evening of September 8. By night, the demand for PM Oli’s resignation was gaining strength. Violence started from September 9 morning, resulting in Oli’s resignation in the afternoon. For Upadhyay and many others, the fall of Oli’s mighty government despite its two-thirds majority in Parliament felt like a huge victory. It didn’t stop the violence and arson, though. Social media groups that had given the original protest call with the name Gen Z were now repeatedly asking people to stop the violence and return home, but other forces had taken control of the streets.

Six kilometres away in the Patan area, Sabrina Dangol was at her home, alone. She was in panic since the night before. If videos of dead and injured protesters flooding social media platforms were not enough, she received a text message from a bulk message sender, named Malika_Alrt, 20 minutes past midnight. What it said in Nepali translates to: “Only the blood of the politicians who bled the innocent children can calm the nation down—Order of the White Lotus.” In her words, this call for killings through a bulk messaging service was chilling to say the least.

By late afternoon on September 9, it was chaos all around. “I never felt so insecure. For the first time, I locked all doors and windows, and kept checking after every little while whether they were alright. It was a sleepless night,” said the 32-year-old.

Jyoti Shrestha was among the few women on the streets on September 9. The 28-year-old had been photographing the protests since the day before. By the afternoon, she felt as if she were in a movie. A few car showrooms were set afire. The cars were exploding with deafening sounds. There were fire and smoke all around with everything burning—courts, Parliament house, police stations, private property, vehicles on the streets.

Restlessly scrolling down social media platforms for updates, she saw people travelling on bikes brandishing weapons, a petrol bomb here, some firing there. An Instagram user posted a bomb recipe, saying, “What if we don’t have guns, we can make our own bombs!”

At one point, Shrestha was standing with her camera outside the burning building that houses the office of the Kantipur Media Group, one of Nepal’s leading media houses that publishes the Nepali daily Kantipur and the English daily The Kathmandu Post. Suddenly, three men on a bike without helmets emerged from the darkness of the smoke. “Are you happy?” they asked her. She gestured noncommittally. Who knows, which side they belong to and which answer they expected? “Things were happening too fast for me to be able to process anything,” she said.

Soon, there was a report that made her feel even more unsafe—the Nakkhu prison, which is close to her place, had been broken. Returning home, she made sure at night that all the doors and windows were locked properly, but still couldn’t sleep.

The army’s late evening statement announcing the deployment of armed forces and imposition of curfew, and its appeal to Gen Z protesters for talks, brought some relief and triggered anxieties as well. Since the first statement following the prime minister’s resignation came from the Nepali army chief Ashikraj Sigdel, and not from President Ramchandra Paudel, many suspected an army coup.

The Internal Discord

Nepal has been restive for nearly three decades and a half. The 1990 Jana Andolan (people’s movement) for democracy replaced absolute monarchy with a constitutional monarchy. Unsatisfied with the performance of the new system, the Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist), or the CPN(M), launched a “protracted people’s war” in 1996 to overthrow feudalism and the monarchy, and to establish a “people’s republic”. People joined the guerrillas in their hundreds. This decade-long movement led by ‘Prachanda’ ended in 2006, when the Second Jana Andolan forced the monarchy to retreat, ultimately resulting in the abolition of monarchy in 2008.

Since then, Nepal has had 13 prime ministers, from three parties: the Oli-led Communist Party of Nepal (United Marxist-Leninist) or the CPN(UML), the Prachanda-led CPN (Maoist Centre) and the Sher Bahadur Deuba-led Nepali Congress (NC).

“Oli, Deoba and Prachanda, three old men, were playing musical chairs among themselves, believing they would never be out of power in their lifetime,” said Bikram Adhikary, a 22-year-old who works as a biker for an app-based transport service in Kathmandu. “They underestimated the power of those outside these three parties—the common people and other interest groups.” There was growing frustration with these three parties, generally over bad governance, including failure in employment generation, but in particular over nepotism and corruption.

Around 2019, when Maoist leader Netra Bikram Chand ‘Biplav’ went underground to resume armed struggle, an editorial in Republica noted that Biplav was trying to capitalise on the public discontent caused by the government’s failure to control corruption and ensure the rule of law. Biplav was among the top military commanders of the CPN(M) during the ‘people’s war’ days. “If the government still fails to guarantee the security of people, and deliver on development, corruption control and good governance, Biplav’s radicalism might take root in Nepal’s rural villages,” the editorial warned. While Biplav shunned violence and came overground in 2022, the discontent he was capitalising on did not wither.

The disenchantment with the parties was also reflected in the victory of scores of independent candidates in the 2022 municipal elections. Some of them formed the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) that year. However, its leader, the charismatic journalist-turned-politician Rabi Lamichhane, himself faced major corruption charges and was jailed. The RPP tried to make use of this disenchantment to restore the monarchy. The Maoist-guerrilla-turned-businessman-turned-Hindu-right-wing monarchist Durga Prasai became active in boosting pro-monarchy campaigns.

To curb dissent, the government started to become increasingly authoritarian. The designated protest place of Maitighar kept shrinking over the past few years. Bills were introduced in Parliament to curb freedom of expression. Stand-up comedians were jailed.

Amid this uncertainty, the luxurious lifestyle of politicians’ children on display on social media caused widespread anguish. They were dubbed as “Nepo kids”, the beneficiaries of nepotism. The Nepali youth contrasted their lifestyle with that of the commoners struggling to find employment.

Some of those who faced most of the bashing on social media for displaying luxury cars, watches, bags and expensive vacations include Prachanda’s granddaughter Smita Dahal; Kantipur Media Group owner’s son Sambhav Sirohiya and his wife, Shrinkhala Khatiwada, who is a 2018 ‘Miss Nepal’ and daughter of former health minister Birodh Khatiwada, a former health minister; and former prime minister Deuba’s son, Jaiveer Singh, and his wife, Shivana Shrestha, granddaughter of a former foreign secretary.

As lawlessness spread following the September 8 killings, properties belonging to these families and other politicians from the main parties became the principal targets of vandalism, loot and arson. On September 9, a map emerged with open-source access pinpointing the residence of ministers and politicians. Vivek Thapalia, a media influencer who had defended the luxury lifestyle of the ‘Nepo babies’, also had his house burnt.

Among top-rung leaders, Oli’s ancestral home and his current residence, Deuba and his wife Arju’s house, Prachanda and his daughter Ganga Dahal’s residence, CPN (Unified Socialist) leader and former prime minister Madhav Nepal’s residence bore the brunt of pent-up anger. Visuals of the attack on Deuba’s residence in particular sent a chilling message, prompting most of the prominent politicians to go into hiding.

Anatomy of a Revolt

Following the September 4 social media ban, the youth used VPN services to extensively use Facebook, TikTok, YouTube, X and Instagram as well as Discord, a free messaging platform that allows greater anonymity to its users, to organise themselves for a protest. Posters calling for the September 8 gathering started appearing from September 6.

On September 8, two protest gatherings were called by two different groups at Maitighar Mandala, the designated protest area in Kathmandu—one at 9 am and another at 11 am. Infiltration of young and even middle-aged political cadres into the non-partisan Gen Z protest gathering started around afternoon. Scenes like people climbing poles to destroy CCTV cameras in the area and some throwing petrol bombs made the entry of organised forces quite evident.

The original organisers had no ‘face’ as such. Miraj Dhungana, who was among the spokespersons, distanced himself from the violence. He went missing from the scene, birthing many speculations. Other prominent faces like law student Prabesh Dahal, climate activist Tanuja Pandey, social activist Rakshya Bam—all in their 20s—condemned the violence and cautioned people against attempts to restore the monarchy. While the volunteer organisation Hami Nepal suggested Oli’s men were behind the violence, Bam and others suspected the handiwork of pro-monarchist groups.

Sudan Gurung, a 36-year-old who heads Hami Nepal, emerged as a key representative of the young generation from September 9. The organisation took part in the September 8 protests as a mark of solidarity, supplying ground logistics like water and medical aid. They had opened a channel on Discord on September 7, named Youth Against Corruption, where discussions around the next course of action, including choosing representatives for dialogues with the government, took place.

There was unanimity on one point—none with links to any political party would be considered as a representative or part of the interim government. There was also strong resistance to the possibility of the former king Gyanendra Shah or the army’s involvement.

On September 10 morning, things turned more complex as a group of Gen Z representatives walked out of a meeting with the army chief after he apparently suggested they also speak to Prasai and RSP leaders, describing them as “stakeholders”. A photo of Prasai sitting with the army chief that Prasai himself circulated in the morning added fuel to the fire of suspicion that monarchists were in the play to capture power.

No army rule, no return of monarchy, no politicians from either the government or the Opposition—the likes of Pandey and Bam made this clear. Posts with the hashtag #SaveConstitution flooded social media platforms.

As the interim prime minister, one of the preferred choices was Balendra Shah, the maverick rapper-turned-mayor of Kathmandu. However, Shah declined, ostensibly because he is eyeing a full five-year term instead of an interim charge. Finally, a consensus was reached on Karki. Despite her age, her public image as an anti-corruption crusader struck a chord with the young generation.

“The foreign media went gaga over the apparent selection of Karki through Discord, but this is incomplete and sensationalist reporting,” said college student Neeraj Bhandari, from Janakpur in southeast Nepal. “Discord was among the many platforms used for assessing public opinion and holding discussions. It was used more than others because it allows greater anonymity. But the real developments happened through backchannel discussions.”

The interim government was sworn in under the existing Constitution with only two mandates—investigating cases of violence and corruption, and holding elections in the next six months.

A New Revolution or a Counter-revolution?

When the 2022 protests in Sri Lanka toppled President Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s government and stormed his official residence, social media posts by Nepalis called for similar action in Nepal. When young protesters in Bangladesh toppled Sheikh Hasina’s government in August 2024 and stormed into her private residence, Nepali youth called for a similar move in Kathmandu. When a youth-led protest broke out in Indonesia this August, there were again calls on Nepali social media for a similar movement in the Himalayan nation.

When the bill to control social media platforms was introduced in Parliament earlier this year, Nepali youth and journalists drew public attention to how a law in India with similar provisions was being used to stifle dissent. After Oli resigned, protesters feared he might take a flight, just like Hasina, to another country, and gathered outside the Tribhuvan International airport in large numbers. The turn of events since September 9 has turned the Himalayan nation into a fertile ground for rumours and conspiracy theories.

Who were behind the apparently organised acts of vandalism and destruction? Which external forces did they get support from? Who are controlling the interim government? What does the army want? Who are playing which games to make good use of the political vacuum? Questions are many and the answers are more.

“How the police and the army allowed the vandalism to take place is rather surprising: they did not resist the mobs entering Singha Durbar or the courts,” said a 22-year-old college student, who did not want to be named for security reasons. “It’s not just the state forces that we fear. In the absence of police, the free run of the pro-monarchist goons and the criminals who escaped prisons are major concerns.”

The army argued that opening fire could lead to the loss of more lives. However, many Gen Z and millennial protesters and civil society members find this difficult to buy. “They did protect the airports, except one, and the ministers’ quarters. No one fought with the army,” a Kathmandu-based journalist said.

According to a Hami Nepal member, who spoke on condition of anonymity, the army chief had initially pressed both the PM and the President to resign. However, while the PM heeded, the President refused. That was the first setback for the pro-monarchist groups.

“The chain of developments has left Prasai and the RPP leadership upset, as their agenda was to discard the Constitution and redraft it to reintroduce the monarchy,” said Kathmandu-based human rights activist and researcher Ram Kumar Bhandari, who heads the National Network of Victims and Survivors of Serious Human Rights Abuses. According to him, conducting elections in the next six months sounds next to impossible, especially given the way police stations, courts and jails were attacked, and documents and infrastructure burnt and destroyed.

Bhandari feels the power struggle that has started to fill the political vacuum will see mainly four forces. First, the mainstream political parties want to save the system and would like to see another election taking place. Second, the likes of RPP and Prasai, who want to discard multiparty democracy, would love to see the interim government fail and fall so they could deal directly with the army. Third, the Maoist leaders such as Biplav, who have not been part of mainstream politics, fought against the corrupt parliamentary system, demanding an interim Constitution and a national interim government.

Biplav has influence in provinces such as Lumbini, Karnali and Sudur Pashchimanchal. They will try to increase strength by uniting with the smaller Maoist forces and present themselves as a nationwide socialist alternative, Bhandari feels. And fourth, the likes of Balendra Shah, who, too, wants constitutional changes to make way for a directly elected prime minister. External forces would also try to influence Nepal’s political restructuring through local elements.

On September 17, Oli’s CPN(UML) held its central committee meeting at Chyasal in the same party office that had been burnt down. Party general secretary Shankar Pokhrel was present. The meeting started by paying respect to the ‘Gen Z martyrs’. However, demands for leadership change are growing in strength in all three major parties. Pokhrel has said party leaders must maintain a “pro-people lifestyle”.

Similarly, Deuba’s future in the Nepali Congress leadership is at stake. Reflecting similar disquiet in the RSP, former education minister Sumana Shrestha resigned from the party. Political observers also point out that the home minister in the interim government, Om Prakash Aryal, enjoys close proximity with Balendra Shah and earlier served as his legal advisor.

According to Nayantara Gurung Kakshapati, a Kathmandu-based cultural organiser, Nepal has to deal with several major gaps as it prepares to reroute and rebuild: generational gaps, the urban-rural divide, and long-standing inequalities of caste, class and gender. “Over time, a culture of corruption and impunity had been institutionalised in the political ranks as well as in larger society,” she said. “The Nepali youth’s longing for lasting changes has reached this critical juncture not overnight, but has been building up slowly over decades.”

She says that the older civil society leaders are finding it difficult to cope with the fast pace at which the Gen Z are organising, proposing solutions and changes. She has been trying to facilitate discussions among various groups from different generations.

She believes that the future of Nepali democracy depended on how the citizen-led interim government and Nepali civil society moves from chaos to complexity, pushing for radical change in power structures, without compromising the hard-won gains, including secularism and inclusive and democratic systems of governance, to fill the current power vacuum and not go back to old ways. “This is a tall order and will require everyone in every corner of society to play their part,” she says.

Snigdhendu Bhattacharya is a journalist, author and researcher

The article appeared in the Outlook Magazine's October 1, 2025, issue Nepal Gen Z Sets Boundaries as Gen Z Is So Over The Situationship.