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Some people still ask whether the GenZ movement existed solely to place Sushila Karki in KP Sharma Oli’s chair, dissolve the House of Representatives two years ahead of schedule and push the country into yet another election costing billions. It did not—and it certainly should not have. Yet the “Oli-like” tendencies now emerging in Prime Minister Karki, the evolving political landscape and the likely faces poised to win if elections proceed on March 5, have together created a climate of growing doubt. As a result, what began as a transformative moment risks being remembered as a political detour.

Unfinished revolution

In the aftermath of the GenZ uprising, Nepal’s political sphere has entered a period of rapid churn—splits, mergers and reconfigurations have become weekly rituals. Dozens of new parties have emerged, led by individuals seeking to capture the energy generated on the streets. Older parties, meanwhile, continue to recycle their leadership and structures in an attempt to remain relevant. The once-entrenched dominance of the big three—the Nepali Congress, CPN-UML and the CPN (Maoist Center)—has weakened to an extent, and non-establishment voices within major parties now enjoy more space to speak.

However, these shifts—loud, visible and dramatic—fall significantly short of what the moment demanded. The sacrifices made by GenZ protesters called for substantive political transformation: a rethinking of governance, the dismantling of patronage networks, and above all, a generational transition in leadership that Nepal has delayed for far too long. Instead, the agenda of the movement has been diluted. Old political habits, long discredited, have resurfaced in new packaging.

The GenZ movement itself has fractured, as mass protest movements often do, but it remains undeniably a force. The current government exists because young people took to the streets. It is also true that even if ministers belong to older generations, they cannot simply dismiss the movement’s aspirations. Public support for its core concerns—integrity, transparency, accountability, generational inclusion—remains robust, despite early signs that partisan loyalties are slowly reverting to traditional alignments.

Accusations of foreign involvement continue to circulate, as they do in every major political upheaval in Nepal, but none has yielded anything of substance. Those who marched know they were not deployed by external actors. Their grievance was domestic, immediate and undeniable: a political system that had become immune to public outrage and unresponsive to genuine reform.

A crisis of legitimacy

With political authority drifting away from parties and toward ad hoc arrangements, the country urgently needs an election to restore legitimacy. Yet preparations by both old and new forces appear woefully inadequate. Established parties fear a public rebuke; they sense that voters may not forgive their role in years of stagnation. New political forces, despite their enthusiasm, remain fragmented and uncertain of their electoral prospects. Many lack the organizational depth needed to contest nationwide elections effectively.

The interim government, meanwhile, has adopted a posture of comfort. If elections occur on time, it benefits from appearing cooperative; if delays arise, its tenure simply stretches on. This ambiguity has eroded public trust. The youth who risked their lives for political renewal now watch a government drifting without urgency.

Amid this uncertainty, efforts to use GenZ factions as political instruments have become increasingly visible. Some youth leaders, disillusioned with the government’s performance, now argue that the Karki administration has failed to uphold the spirit of the movement. They have even floated former Chief Justice Kalyan Shrestha as a potential alternative prime minister—an idea that reveals both dissatisfaction and desperation.

Where Karki has fallen short

There is some truth to their criticism. Karki’s government has not lived up to the transformative mandate it inherited. But this reflects not only her leadership; it reflects the unchanged landscape around her. The constitution remains the same. Senior officials, courts, the bureaucracy and long-established political networks remain largely untouched. The interim government is composed of loyalists with limited experience, each carrying their own political weaknesses and personal constituencies.

Brokers—old and new—have already penetrated the government’s inner circles. Even within GenZ itself, personal rivalries and factional disputes are beginning to surface. In such an environment, prolonged interim politics risks turning the state into a venue for narrow interest-seeking. National interest is often the first casualty. Nepal now stands uncomfortably close to that precipice.

Karki’s elevation to the premiership was itself an experiment. She was appointed despite two constitutional constraints—she was not a member of the House, nor was she eligible for the executive role as a former chief justice. Her defenders justified her selection on grounds of maturity, legal expertise and her public reputation as a principled opponent of corruption and political patronage. These were compelling arguments at the time.

But her conduct in office has weakened the aura of moral authority she once enjoyed. Her unrestrained public remarks—claiming she accepted the post under pressure, or that she refuses to meet senior political leaders—have undermined the dignity of the position she holds. The office of the prime minister demands gravitas, restraint and an ability to navigate political complexities quietly and effectively. Instead, her comments have amplified doubts about her political temperament.

More serious, however, are her appointments. Attorney General Sabita Bhandari and Chief Personal Secretary Adarsha Kumar Shrestha, both controversial figures, have become liabilities for the government. Bhandari’s appointment contradicts the anti-nepotism sentiment that defined the GenZ movement. Shrestha, a temporary court clerk, was elevated without a clear merit-based justification. Both have since been linked to allegations of misconduct, including involvement in an illegal ova-trafficking case and the appointment of relatives to government positions.

Yet the government has taken little meaningful action. In one case, its response appeared to shield the accused while sidelining qualified GenZ activists who had expected at least some acknowledgement of their contribution. Such decisions cannot be reconciled with the ethos of the movement that brought this government to power. Instead, they echo the same arrogance of authority that GenZ rose against. Karki’s defense of her appointees mirrors, in troubling ways, the very tendencies associated with Oli.

The risk of betrayal

This raises a difficult and painful question: Did the GenZ movement simply replace one leader with another, without altering the system that produced them?

It did not—and it must not be allowed to. But if the current trajectory continues, the perception that the uprising achieved little beyond a change of faces will deepen. That would be a profound injustice to the martyrs of the movement. It would reduce their sacrifices to a historical footnote and burden their families with needless grief and unanswered questions.

The coming weeks offer a narrow but meaningful window for course correction.

What Karki must do—now

1.  Avoid replicating the authoritarian tendencies of her predecessors.

2. Exercise restraint and dignity in her public remarks.

3. Ensure that constitutional reasoning—not personal networks—guides all decisions.

4. Pursue accountability in cases linked to her controversial appointees; and

5. Ensure that the March 5 elections are held on time, without ambiguity or political bargaining.

Nepal cannot afford another wasted moment. The GenZ uprising was not merely a wave of youthful anger; it was a profound demand for dignity, accountability and a new political culture. Whether that call becomes a turning point—or fades into disillusionment—now rests largely with the prime minister.

The country waits. The youth watch closely. History will decide whether the promise of a generation was fulfilled—or betrayed.

The author is a senior Nepali journalist based in Washington, DC

I visited Ukraine from Nov 12–20  to attend the third edition of Crimea Global, organized by the Mission of the President of Ukraine in the Autonomous Republic of Crimea, the Office of the Crimea Platform, and several Ukrainian NGOs. The theme, “Crimea Global: Understanding Ukraine through the South”, brought together researchers, journalists, and experts from across continents: Mexico, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Brazil, Kyrgyzstan, India, Malaysia, Argentina, Myanmar, Nigeria, Costa Rica, Nepal, Kenya, and more. I spoke on a panel examining Russia’s recruitment of foreign citizens, including Nepalis, into its war against Ukraine, where around eight Nepalis are currently held as prisoners of war.

Since flights to Ukraine have been suspended since 2022 due to war, my journey began in the icy morning light of Warsaw. From there, we drove through the night toward Lviv in a small minivan. Whether it was Ukraine’s warm food or the exhaustion of travel, I slept soundly, even through an air-raid alarm that was meant to send me to the hotel’s basement bunker. I learned of it only at breakfast the next morning, the irony of my peaceful sleep against the backdrop of war making the moment feel strangely surreal.

Lviv: History, resilience, and compassion

Lviv greeted us with its layered history and quiet determination. In the early twentieth century, it was the only city in the world to host three Catholic Archbishops, a testament to its tradition of religious coexistence that shaped generations of thinkers and writers. We wandered through its cobblestone streets and met the City Mayor, who spoke about Russian attacks on the city and Lviv’s ongoing efforts to build inclusive urban infrastructure and help veterans reintegrate into daily life.

At the Lychakiv Cemetery, where nearly a thousand fallen defenders rest, and later at the Unbroken Ukraine Rehabilitation Center, we witnessed immense efforts, by local institutions and international partners, to heal the wounded, both military and civilian. Mayor Andriy Sadovy captured Ukraine’s spirit in one striking idea: Ukrainian victory has two inseparable parts, the de-occupation of its territories and the reconstruction of the country. Reconstruction, he stressed, cannot wait for the war’s end; it must continue even amid conflict, to sustain hope and the rhythm of daily life.

After days immersed in Lviv’s history and Europe’s renowned cuisine, we began our journey to Kharkiv, a city just 25 kilometres from the Russian border.

Kharkiv: On the frontline

As we approached one of Ukraine’s most targeted regions, news alerts lit up our phones: Kyiv was under a massive drone and missile attack by Russia. Reports spoke of 430 drones and 18 missiles launched on 14 November. Messages from friends in India, Nepal, and elsewhere poured in, their concern amplifying our unease. Though the world is witnessing the largest war in Europe since World War II, my family knew little of the risks I was taking. I had deliberately shielded them from the harshest realities.

Yet, once we reached Kharkiv, the anxieties softened. The crisp winter air, the richness of Ukrainian cuisine, the bright laughter of children studying in underground schools, and the warmth of local hospitality made us momentarily forget the war looming above.

We met the Deputy Head of the Kharkiv Regional Military Administration, who briefed us on how the region had endured nearly four years of full-scale invasion. Despite relentless shelling, Kharkiv continues to rebuild: underground hospitals and schools are expanding, safe education spaces multiplying, and reconstruction proceeding, even when it must take place beneath the earth. Our day was spent partly in devastated neighbourhoods such as Northern Saltivka, and partly in underground shelters for meetings and visits. I still cannot say whether I spent more time above ground or below it, but what I saw was a reality far removed from the world’s distant screens.

Kyiv: The city of golden domes

From Kharkiv, the “City of Students, Science, and Industry,” we travelled to Kyiv, the legendary “City of Golden Domes.” We arrived at midnight. By morning, Kyiv welcomed us with sunlight shimmering on its ancient rooftops. We explored the historic centre, Yaroslaviv Val, the Golden Gate, St. Sophia’s Cathedral, and Mykhailivska Square. Later, we visited the Ukrainian Council of Weapons to learn about the country’s rapidly growing defence industry.

In Lviv, I slept through the air-raid alarm. Kyiv did not grant such a fortune. On the first night, the warning siren drove us underground for an hour; on the last night, we remained in a cold bunker until dawn. We were considered lucky, our shelter had beds, water, and electricity. Many Ukrainians sleep through the night without any of these.

We also joined a closed-door roundtable on “Ukraine’s Resilience in War: Challenges, Responses, and International Support.” Conversations with parliamentarians, ambassadors, and officials from the President’s Office revealed the immense scale of suffering, and of steadfast resolve. Thousands of Ukrainian political prisoners are currently held by Russia. Ukraine, they told us, is fighting not only for its own freedom but for the security of Europe itself. In a war of this magnitude, three elements are decisive: international support, a technologically prepared army, and a competitive defence industry.

Nepal’s support to Ukraine

I was heartened to meet a few Nepali and Indian faces in the gatherings. It was striking to learn that fewer than ten Nepali families currently reside in all of Ukraine. Equally surprising was how little awareness there seemed to be about Nepal’s support during the conflict.

In March 2022, Nepal voted in favour of Ukraine’s call at the UN Human Rights Council for an urgent debate to condemn Russia’s military operation. Of the 29 nations that supported holding the debate, Nepal stood among them, while neighbouring giants chose different paths: China voted against, and India abstained.

Again, on Feb 25, Nepal voted in favour of the UN General Assembly resolution titled “Advancing a comprehensive, just, and lasting peace in Ukraine.” Nepal supported the resolution, while its immediate neighbours, India and China, abstained. Interestingly, the United States voted against it, alongside Russia. These moments reflected Nepal’s principled stance, something many Ukrainians were unaware of.

Reflections and hopes

After two days of intense discussions with Ukrainian and international experts, a country that had once been distant to us had transformed into a place filled with friendships, colours, and stories that will remain with us forever. As the train departed from Kyiv toward Poland, we passed through streets lined with brave, warm-hearted people, waving flags, holding flowers, dancing beside the windows. The scene was overwhelming. Yet we could neither let our tears fall nor look away from the emotion mirrored in their eyes.

When I returned home, I learned that the United States had proposed a 28-Point Peace Process, a comprehensive framework aimed at ending the war. According to a Kyiv International Institute of Sociology (KIIS) survey, 76 percent of Ukrainians categorically reject the plan. Whether this initiative will bring relief or lasting peace remains uncertain. But like millions of others, I hope peace arrives soon, a peace that respects Ukraine’s sovereignty and secures long-term stability for its people.

The author is Research Director at the Nepal Institute for International Cooperation and Engagement, one of Nepal’s leading think tanks working on foreign policy and security

As Nepal marks the 34th International Day of Persons with Disabilities on Dec 3, the national mood feels different from previous years. This is not merely because of the annual observance or another well-phrased slogan. Rather, it is because the country finds itself standing at a political crossroads. The powerful GenZ movement, which erupted with unprecedented energy from streets to social media, has shaken the foundations of Nepal’s traditional political establishment. It has forced long-comfortable leaders to confront voices they could previously ignore. And, as the nation moves toward yet another election cycle, one thing is clearer than ever: Nepal’s democracy cannot mature without confronting the question of inclusion head-on.

This year’s international theme, “Fostering Disability-Inclusive Societies for Advancing Social Progress,” and Nepal’s national theme focusing on promoting disability-inclusive societies for social advancement offer not only a reminder but a roadmap. They urge us to revisit what inclusion truly means beyond speeches, tokenism or yearly commemorations and to examine how deeply inequality is embedded in our structures.

For more than a decade, Nepal has proudly pointed to its commitments under the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (UNCRPD), which we ratified in 2010, and the Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act (2017). These frameworks obligate the state to ensure accessibility, non-discrimination, participation and full equality. But the distance between law and lived reality remains wide.

Nepal has made encouraging commitments to universal accessibility, yet many schools, hospitals, municipalities, public buildings and transportation systems are still working toward meeting these goals. Although policies emphasize equal participation, disability-related decisions often include limited input from persons with disabilities. And while data collection and inclusive budgeting are required in principle, many people with disabilities still remain overlooked and not fully reached in practice

A wake-up call

The GenZ movement has challenged stagnation across all sectors; politics, governance, media and social norms. Its demands for transparency, accountability and equal opportunity resonate strongly with the disability community. After all, people with disabilities have long been demanding these very things: transparent service delivery, accessible infrastructures, fair representation, and an end to systemic neglect.

GenZ’s insistence on structural change naturally aligns with disability rights. However, the movement itself must also evolve. Many of its loudest voices come from urban youth without disabilities. The movement has an opportunity and responsibility to expand its platform to include disability justice at its core. If GenZ wishes to redefine Nepal’s political culture, it must champion a future where all bodies, minds and identities have the space and support to participate fully.

It is also important to recognize that disability itself is diverse; encompassing physical, sensory, psychosocial, intellectual and multiple disabilities. In Nepal, this diversity is represented through the National Federation of the Disabled Nepal (NFDN), the umbrella organization advocating for the rights of persons with disabilities across all provinces. Any political or social movement that seeks true inclusion must engage with this diversity and the institutions that represent it.

As political parties prepare their manifestos, the usual clichés will reappear: development, roads, jobs, digital transformation. Yet the real question is: Will disability inclusion be positioned as a fundamental development priority? Here are key commitments that must define the coming election agenda:

1. Universal accessibility: Public buildings, schools, health centers, transport, digital platforms and polling stations must meet accessibility standards. Accessibility is not charity; it is a human right.

2. Representation and leadership: Persons with disabilities must have meaningful representation in local and federal bodies, not merely through reserved seats but through open, competitive leadership roles.

3. Inclusive education and employment: From early childhood education to university systems, Nepal must dismantle structural barriers. Employment quotas must be enforced with accountability, incentives and penalties.

4. Data, budgeting and policy execution: Without accurate disability-disaggregated data, planning is impossible. Budget allocations must be transparent and measurable, with civil society oversight.

5. Assistive technology and digital inclusion: With Nepal’s rapid digitalization, accessible digital services—screen-reader-friendly platforms, accessible government websites, sign-language-integrated public communication—must become non-negotiable.

6. Health and community-based support: Holistic support services, mental health care, rehabilitation, personal assistance, sign language interpretation and community-based rehabilitation must be strengthened nationwide.

The shift Nepal must embrace

Culturally, disability has long been seen through the lens of pity or charity; individual suffering to be consoled rather than societal barriers to be dismantled. This mindset continues to influence policies, media portrayals, and even our education systems. The UNCRPD demands a shift away from this outdated charity model toward a rights-based understanding that recognizes people with disabilities as holders of equal rights, agency, and autonomy.

This shift is not theoretical. It requires language that respects dignity, media that portrays disability accurately, institutions designed with accessibility in mind, an economy that recognizes diverse abilities and policymaking processes that include persons with disabilities from the start.

Diversity as national strength

When we talk about disability, we are ultimately talking about human diversity. Disability is not an exception; it is a natural part of human life. Anyone can enter the disability community at any stage through illness, accident, age or circumstance. Designing society to be inclusive of disability is, therefore, designing a society for everyone.

Wheelchair ramps help parents with strollers. Clear signage helps tourists. Easy-to-read communication helps children and older adults. Sign language interpretation enriches public communication for all. Accessibility benefits the entire population; it is a universal good.

A moment we must not waste

This year’s International Day of Persons with Disabilities comes at a moment when Nepal is rethinking its political culture, its priorities and its vision for the future. With young citizens demanding accountability and elections on the horizon, we have a chance to realign our national direction. If Nepal chooses to take disability inclusion seriously, not as a ceremonial gesture but as a structural commitment, the rewards will be transformative. 

Nepal now stands before a choice: will we continue to write progressive laws without implementing them or will we finally build a country where every citizen, regardless of body, mind or background, can participate fully in shaping our shared future?

As we mark this day, let us reaffirm that social progress is impossible without disability inclusion, and that democracy loses its meaning when even a single citizen is left behind.

The author is a communication for development professional with over a decade of experience across South Asia

The appeal for a directly elected president is easily comprehensible. It is an intuitively appealing and credible notion that people deserve to directly elect their leader in a democratic process. And in principle, that is something I agree with. 

As I’m contemplating my next paragraphs of this article, I’m acutely aware that the burden to prove that people should not get to directly vote their leader rests with people advocating against the directly elected executive, rather than the other side having the obligation to prove its merits. Likewise, as a member of GenZ myself, I share the discontent with the never-ending cast of unstable governments that my generation and the generation before me have. I am mindful of our current and past political predicaments rife with instability and governments riven by inter- and intra-party disputes. Potential stability this could bring does have people dreaming of a uniform government and policies that would bring much-needed investment, jobs, and prosperity.

Well, as always, the devil is in the details and an annoying thing called practical reality.

First, on a principal level. Imagine a powerful executive, say that of the US. The president has the power to veto bills and sign them, sign executive orders, call the shots during a war, grant pardons, and so on. It follows logically that the burden of proof also lies to a great extent on concentrating so much power on one individual. People with competence and integrity do not always get to the top, and even if such people are on top, it doesn’t mean they are demi-gods who can make perfect decisions all the time. So why should the whims of individuals decide matters of great importance? Remember Trump’s handling of Covid-19 in the first term or his stepping on every conceivable democratic norm in the current term? If Trump seems like an extreme and anomalous example, note that President Biden, before him, freshly into the office, branded with the “nice guy who is set to defend democracy” image, unilaterally decided to send bombing planes to Syria. 

Of course, this is not to claim that the parliamentary system is a paragon of rationality and accountability, but the fact that discourse has to happen publicly in Parliaments, under the public’s watchful eyes, creates incentives to take more integrity-laced decisions. It is likely that if there had been a publicly visible discussion about, say, the Biden administration’s bombing targets in Syria. i.e., a decision to drop expensive bombs, with ultra-expensive planes, to destroy priceless innocent lives, decisions would be different. The public has the right to scrutinize as many decisions and policy discussions as possible, to the extent that they want. Also, the process of discourse itself is likely to result in better chances of yielding more rational decisions. 

In many cases, these executives are voted in by narrow margins. So, in a country where a President gains 51 percent of votes to get elected, the 49% gets no representation in the share of executive power. While in the parliamentary system, minority parties can form coalition governments and gain some ministries, they are shut down completely from the executive system, especially under something like the spoils system in the US. This is likely to disproportionately harm minority groups, who have a lesser chance of having a member of their group being elected as the national figurehead. 

Similarly, this concentration of executive power poses a direct threat to democracy if the executive has immense influence and is seeking to break free from the reins of democracy. This has been vividly visible in countries like Russia, Turkey, Hungary, the USA, etc, which have suffered democratic backsliding. Likewise, in Nepal, where it will take a while for democratic gains to get cemented, there was a de facto concentration of executive power when the interests of former President Bidhya Bhandari and former Prime Minister KP Oli were aligned. Two Supreme Court decisions saved our infantile democratic practice, but the flashing danger lights were for everyone to see. Well, after coming to power again, the naked authoritarian tendencies of Oli were visible again in gunning down protesters and littering the streets with blood. The factors that led to Oli deciding to resign were likely multifaceted. But being in a coalition government, where Congress and other coalition partners were facing tremendous pressure to resign, must have played a part in Oli’s calculus that further repression would not be possible without these coalition partners buckling under pressure. So, the fact that he needed the support of members of parliamentary members of his own party, who, despite mostly being supine to Oli, must have been worrying about their own political futures after the brutal repression of the protests caused the public support for their party to nosedive. 

Of course, I hear the chorus saying that Oli wouldn’t have been elected if we had a directly elected executive. Probably, but the problem goes beyond Oli as an individual, as there have been countless examples of initially popular leaders going on to reveal and develop authoritarian tendencies. The very definition of dictatorship is the concentration of power without checks and balances. So, of course, reducing the supervision of checks and balances, which is primarily a legislative function (it not only elects or controls the executive branch but confirms judiciary appointments in most democracies), can be the bedrock of budding authoritarianism. A strong parliament, in control of the executive branch, acts as a bulwark to such despotism as power in this most powerful body is divided among hundreds of MPs. Again, this isn’t to imply that democratic backsliding isn’t possible in a parliamentary process, but rather, more difficult to do so due to this dissemination of power. 

The other important consideration would be the impact on the election process itself. The character, quirks, personal beliefs, and relationships of the Presidential candidates fill large chunks of political columns that ideally should be filled with policy discussions. This prevails in the parliamentary system too, but becomes more prominent during candidate-centric elections rather than party-centric elections. During candidate-focused elections, qualities that gain preponderance are charisma and oratory skills; qualities that people wrongly value in political leaders. 

Likewise, this is likely to foster racism and battering of minorities more. In all political systems, an effective way to gain a devoted following is by appealing to and fostering prejudices. Sadly, thanks to a physiological phenomenon called negativity bias (things of a more negative nature have a greater effect on one’s psychological state and processes than positive things), people are attuned to respond with greater emotional intensity to things like fears, prejudice, anger, etc. This means that by arousing or responding to people’s prevailing feelings of particular groups, usually minorities, power-hungry rulers can garner a devoted following. This is a tremendously common phenomenon: Trump’s appeal to fears of a shrinking white majority, Modi’s incitement of fear against Muslims, and the Burmese military’s demonizing and cleansing Rohingya by portraying them as perpetrators of all evil are among the countless examples of this. The sheer effectiveness of this means it has been used by rulers and wannabe rulers of all shades and systems. However, there is an added incentive to use this heinous tactic for directly electable presidential candidates. While political parties have an incentive to garner the broadest possible constituency to garner a larger number of seats, presidential candidates can effectively get away with winning at best 51 percent of the votes. This is the reason why Trump eagerly chose to ride the tide of white nativist fears, despite alienating a broader sector of minorities. Colored people weren’t his targeted constituents. 

Spare a thought about how this could potentially play out in an ethnically diverse country like Nepal with low education and literacy rates. In a country where our brothers in Tarai have been portrayed by the ruling elites for centuries as “Indians” and “dhotis” and have these notions firmly hammered in the sentiments of the general public. Where prejudice and stereotypes exist regarding various ethnicities and castes. Where reactionary voices used the incident of a Dalit woman not getting rent as a platform to question affirmative action. Where wide-ranging frustration, unemployment, poverty, patriarchy, and deeply rooted social injustices prevail, leaving a fertile ground for a wannabe charismatic dictator. 

So what would be a solution then? Surely, after the GenZ movement, the general populace is in no mood to digest another musical chair of endless government change, revolving around a few party heads?

There could be solutions that have been tried before, with a few innovations added from our side. We could have something similar to the Swiss model, where a group of seven leaders is elected as co-presidents or members of the federal council. Their majority decision, four or more out of seven, could be considered as a decision from the executive.  If a nominal head of state is needed, these seven co-presidents would take turns being so, with each member being a head for the duration of their total mandate divided by seven. We could add further tweaks to this by mandating proportional representation from marginalized groups and gender in this council of co-presidents. 

If we absolutely want one directly elected head of state, assuming that constitutional change could be made,  their powers could still be tempered by having a directly elected executive prime minister, with the president, elected by the parliament, still remaining the nominal head of state. In those cases, power for strong measures like declaring an emergency and dissolving the parliament(insofar as permitted by the conditions described by the constitution) would require the approval of both,  and in such situations, the authority of the president could be extended to make an active judgment, beyond rubber-stamping decisions. 

But even in the situation where we end up with a single directly elected executive, we should be cognizant of its potential consequences and must have our systems of checks and balances fortified. Provisions like the directly elected executive not having the power to dissolve the parliament, needing to defer to the parliament for major actions like declaring emergencies or mobilizing the military, are a must. There are strict provisions of control of the purse by the parliament, as well as requirements for approval of both chambers of parliament for appointments across the judiciary and other governmental agencies like CIAA, NRB, etc. This is not an exhaustive list by any means, but an attempt to nudge the conversation towards this direction, instead of potentially sleepwalking towards it. 

So, given that concentration of power is a tremendous risk, more so in a fragile democracy, how and to what extent we should be disseminating democratic power to prevent this has been and is likely to be a pressing issue for quite a long time. While we are on this matter, it should be remembered that expanding democracy should go way beyond electing a head of state, and even elections themselves. Yes, we should absolutely advocate for more direct democracy, more referendums on federal levels, and more participatory democracy, as well as referendums on local levels. Even more than that, we should be having conversations about truly disseminating economic and political clout by giving workers more power over their workplaces and the generated revenue, and by giving communities control over their local resources. The most important check on concentrated power would likely be a citizenry equipped with its own economic power, platforms, resources, and economic as well as political incentives to engage politically. How, if, and when it would be possible would be a different debate, beyond the scope of this article. But what I do seek to implore through this article is to orient our conversations in that direction, instead of, or at least a lot more than, conversing about characters and peculiarities of political parties and their leaders.

The author graduated from Fudan University with a master’s degree in World Economy