Nepal is in the grip of one of the gravest crises in its recent history. What began as a youth-led movement against corruption and political stagnation has exposed deep fractures in the country’s political system and raised urgent questions about the future of its democracy.
On Sept 8, thousands of young people, primarily from the GenZ demographic, gathered in Kathmandu to protest corruption, unemployment, and the government’s controversial ban on 26 social media platforms. The ban, announced by Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli’s administration, was justified on the grounds that the platforms were not formally registered in Nepal. For many youths, however, it symbolized an attempt to silence dissent and stifle the online activism they had relied on to hold leaders accountable.
The protesters had already mobilized campaigns such as Nepokids, which exposed the lavish lifestyles of politicians and their families. That day, they marched toward the restricted zone around the Federal Parliament. When some entered the compound and set parts of the building on fire, police responded with live ammunition, killing 19 demonstrators. The use of lethal force shocked the nation and ignited mass outrage. Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak resigned that night, and the government hastily announced the lifting of the social media ban. But the damage was done.
On Sept 9, tens of thousands of people poured into the streets of Kathmandu and beyond, demanding justice for what they called a massacre. As protests spread like wildfire and turned violent, Oli resigned in the afternoon. His departure, however, did little to calm the situation. What began as a protest against corruption and authoritarian overreach descended into chaos. Infiltrators, some linked to suspected criminal groups and political spoilers, transformed demonstrations into waves of arson, lynching, looting, and assaults. GenZ representatives distanced themselves from the violence and appealed for calm, but their calls went unheeded.
Scenes of destruction dominated both social media and news channels: crowds ransacking and burning state institutions such as the parliament, the Supreme Court, ministries inside the Singha Durbar complex, and police stations. There were prison riots and mass escapes in different parts of the country. Private residences of prominent politicians were also attacked. Former prime minister and Nepali Congress president Sher Bahadur Deuba and his wife Arzu Rana Deuba, the foreign minister, were assaulted inside their home before being rescued by the Nepali Army. Media outlets were not spared either, as angry mobs set fire to the offices of Annapurna Media Network and Kantipur Media Group.
The delay in deploying the Nepali Army to restore order raised serious questions. Only by midnight did the Army intervene, assuming full responsibility for security. So far, more than 30 people, including security personnel, have lost their lives, and different parts of the country are still under curfew and prohibitory orders.
This situation did not emerge overnight. It was the culmination of years of growing disillusionment with the political class. Since the restoration of democracy in 1990, three major parties—Nepali Congress, CPN-UML, and CPN (Maoist Center)—have dominated the political landscape. Over three decades, they rotated in power but failed to deliver stability, prosperity, or accountability. Instead, they became synonymous with corruption, patronage, and personal enrichment.
Government offices turned into hubs of bribery, where basic services became nearly inaccessible without paying officials. Meanwhile, leaders and their families flaunted wealth, living in stark contrast to millions struggling with unemployment and poverty. Bureaucrats, rather than serving as a check, colluded with politicians to deepen corruption.
In recent years, comparisons with Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, both rocked by mass protests against corrupt elites, circulated widely in political circles. Analysts warned that unless Nepal’s leaders stepped aside for a younger generation, frustration could erupt into something uncontrollable. Instead of heeding these warnings, senior leaders tightened their grip, refusing to retire or allow generational change.
Opposition forces, including the Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP) and royalist groups, sought to exploit popular anger. Earlier this year, the RPP staged large demonstrations, some of which turned violent. Former King Gyanendra Shah openly backed a royalist revival, though divisions within the monarchist camp weakened the movement. For mainstream parties, this brought temporary relief.
But Oli’s decision to ban social media reignited the anger. In a society where traditional institutions had lost credibility, digital platforms were one of the few tools young people trusted to challenge corruption and mobilize peers. The ban was thus seen as both authoritarian and deeply out of touch, adding fuel to an already volatile situation.
Now, Nepal faces a momentous political test. Demands from Gen Z protesters—particularly for an end to corruption and a stable government—must be addressed. Yet political stability also requires preserving the constitutional framework.
There are growing calls for President Ram Chandra Poudel and Army Chief Ashok Raj Sigdel to act strictly within the constitution while picking the head of interim government. Civil society, the media, and the legal community have warned that any deviation could push Nepal into uncharted territory.
Constitutional experts argue that the only viable way forward is to dissolve parliament and call fresh elections under the 2015 constitution. Abandoning the constitution, however, would be disastrous. Drafted after the abolition of the monarchy, it was the product of seven years of painstaking negotiation. Despite criticism from Madhes-based and royalist groups, it remains Nepal’s most inclusive charter to date. Rewriting it in today’s polarized climate would be nearly impossible.
The three major parties still control more than two-thirds of parliament, meaning no political roadmap can succeed without them. Yet their leadership has lost legitimacy in the eyes of young people. Unless they bring in new leaders and show genuine willingness to reform, protests are unlikely to subside.
The violence has struck a fragile economy already under strain. Nepal faces rising external debt, difficulty paying civil servants, and eroding investor confidence. The Sept 9 attacks paralyzed the private sector, long considered the country’s growth engine. Thousands of jobs have been lost. Without quick stabilization, more youths will migrate abroad, draining Nepal of much-needed human capital.
Education has been disrupted, with private schools and colleges targeted. Tourism, which peaks in September, has been devastated by attacks on hotels and travel businesses. Trade, too, has stalled as customs offices were vandalized. Without urgent international aid, Nepal risks sliding into deep recession within months.
International partners, particularly India, China, and Western donors, must play a constructive role in supporting Nepal’s democratic institutions, stabilizing the economy, and deterring external actors from exploiting the turmoil.
Despite the destruction of parliament, courts, and ministries, state institutions must not grind to a halt. The judiciary has pledged to resume partial services, and ministries should operate from makeshift offices.
Nepal now stands at a crossroads. The crisis is both a warning and an opportunity. It has revealed the extent of public anger against a corrupt elite, but also the determination of a new generation to demand accountability.
