Getting rid of the final remnants of a decadent political culture was unquestionably and unequivocally the greatest accomplishment of the GenZ movement (2025) in Nepal—at par with the abolishment of Rana rule in 1951, Panchayat in 1990, and the monarchy in 2006. Though triggered by a social media ban, the movement espoused anti-corruption as its primary agenda. This protest of GenZ youth (born 1997-2012) has irreversibly cemented the fate of three prominent Baby Boom Generation (born 1946-1964) leaders of Nepal, namely KP Sharma Oli, Sher Bahadur Deuba, and Puspa Kamal Dahal. Regrettably, GenZ’s historic uprising, being not a monolith, has been unmistakably hijacked by what appear to be mobs divorced completely from the national interest.
From protest to chaos
The dissatisfied, frustrated, and agitated GenZ generation movement unfolded peacefully in Kathmandu on Sept 8. The mood shifted as some protestors breached the restricted area close to parliament, climbing over the wall. Tension escalated, and clashes erupted following the protesters’ attempt to forcefully enter the parliament building and set fire to the gate. Against the mass antigovernment protests, the security forces responded with indiscriminate force, leaving 19 people dead by Sept 9.
The movement came to fruition with the resignation of Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli by Tuesday afternoon. However, the feeling of triumph over his downfall was short-lived, as the protest descended into complete wreckage—unbridled anarchism. What started as a non-violent protest, “rooted in the principles of peaceful civic engagement,” against corruption soon spiraled into vandalism, violence, and arson attacks on government offices and buildings by the end of September 9. A wide array of private properties, including media outlets, supermarkets, banks, hotels, and whatnot, witnessed collateral damage.
On three GenZ protesters’ accounts, the tens of thousands of followers on social media were warned of acting violently, irrespective of the death of 19 protesters on the first day. In a meeting with the Army chief, Ashok Raj Sigdel, on Tuesday evening, the GenZ protesters denied involvement in the pervasive arson attacks in the capital city. The protestors were left crestfallen and shocked by the scale of destruction. To them, the movement was hijacked by opportunists and co-opted by infiltrators. In fact, the hijackers took over, controlled, and steered the leaderless and disorganized movement into a direction of their interest—from instigation of violence on the first day to the widespread rampage on the second day.
The sight of smoke belching out of the burnt-out buildings, particularly Singh Durbar (Nepal’s central headquarters), the Supreme Court, and the House of Parliament in Kathmandu, left everyone utterly perplexed, appalled, and petrified. Who hijacked the GenZ protest and torched down the three government complexes or buildings of national significance—and why? Considering the analysis of social media posts, statements, and political commentaries—discourses on corruption—in the past 5 years, the destruction does not appear to be merely a result of youth’s impulse or performative rage.
From discourses to destruction
Pro-monarchy forces have struggled in their sporadic attempts to mobilize a huge mass against the system, despite their ardent efforts in the last 18/19 years. As luck would have it, Sept 8 afforded these elements an unorganized mass to exploit. The pro-monarchy protest that was miscarried in March 2025 with Durga Prasai’s arrest, opportunistically piggybacking on the GenZ movement, has reached its desired climax.
The House of Parliament (people’s representatives) reminds the pro-monarchy supporters of their old wounds and scars from the lost battle in 2006. It appears that their long-standing resentment and agitation finally found an outlet, expressed in Parliament House’s destruction. The renewed attacks (first attempt in March 2025) against its old nemesis—Nepal’s biggest media group, Kantipur, and Nepal’s largest supermarket retail chain, Bhatbhateni—suggest an extension of this wrath rooted in that unhealed wound. A narrative that Kantipur media shaped public opinion in favor of the republic and against the monarchy around 2006 has been pushed in recent years. The symbolic nature of the attacks implies the radical pro-monarchy forces have finally settled their scores with all these entities.
Pull out the interviews or public speech videos by Durga Prasai, including far-right pro-monarchy opinion makers, published in the last five years. This new recruit in the pro-monarchy camp endlessly rattled, crafting a discourse formed through a progression of debatable assertions (Nepal Police are thieves, industrialists destroyed Nepal), incendiary rhetoric (bury the leaders, hang them on Damak tower), self-serving exaggerated claims (political leaders’ 10 Kharba money abroad), and ultimately, deliberate disinformation. Discourse targeting the symbols of “corruption”—major political parties or leaders, major media houses (Kantipur, Annapurna and Nagarik are blackmailers), and wealthy businessmen (Marwaris and Chaudhary Group) in Nepal.
Enmeshed and implicated in the cooperative fraud or corruption case, Rabi Lamichhane’s (chairman of Rastriya Swotantra Party, RSP, and former home minister) multiple trials and subsequent guilty verdict likely have paved a path for a discourse of a failed judiciary system. Lamichhane’s endless trials served as a tipping point, particularly for his staunch followers. Social media analysis of Lamichhane’s supporters reveals a prevalent discourse of a ‘captured and corrupted justice system (the Supreme Court being the highest).’ Even though Lamichhane’s integrity has been questioned in Nepal’s cyberspace, the leaders close to three major political parties are equally perceived as corrupt.
Furthermore, in this discourse the judicial system is framed as the puppet of three corrupted political parties. This discourse revolves around a delayed justice system, a party-dependent judiciary, unfair trials, biased and intransparent courts being selective, and political appointment of judges. A narrative that the parties or government ganged up to conspire against the public’s rising star (“innocent leader” victim of political revenge), like Lamichhane, and hounded him out with legal instruments.
In the context of his wife being stopped by a traffic police officer, the mayor of Kathmandu Metropolitan City (KMC), Balendra Shah, vented his anger on his official Facebook page. "It is okay for today, but if any vehicle of the KMC is stopped by traffic police in the future, I will set Singha Durbar ablaze. Mind it, thief government!” Did that statement in 2023, if not shaped, spark or seed a discourse implying a ‘corrupted Singha Durbar’ deserves to be burnt down? After all, his post was well-received (viral) by his thousands of well-wishers, a green signal to his aspiration, and a symbolic abetment by the public to act. A few months before his Facebook post, already in April 2023, over the garbage collection dispute, the mayor asked the government to move Singhadurbar to another city.
The rising public faces (Prasai, Lamichhane, and Shah, to name a few) and their supporters, particularly in the last five years, played a catalytic role in the discursive formation of corruption. To be sure, social media apps such as TikTok, Facebook, and Instagram fueled the amplification and circulation of the discourse against state instruments. While spontaneous anger might explain some vandalism, the destruction of the Parliament House, Singha Durbar, and Supreme Court could be interpreted as a reflection of the discourses. Discourses shape and control the actions. Although reality is complex and it is tempting to assign blame on a single actor or faction, the infiltration of opportunistic groups targeting previously untouchable institutions aligns too closely with the popular discourses to be easily dismissed as mere coincidence.
End of history
The GenZ movement deserved to be remembered as a youth-led successful anti-corruption movement—not a tragic example of winning at enormous cost. Thus, it is a clarion call to the mainstream organic GenZ movement to reclaim their narrative of ‘hijacked,’ officially announcing its non-involvement or non-association with the hijackers’ abysmal destructive actions that were not in favor of national interest. Ignoring the smear campaign against the movement, the international community should extend moral and financial support in the upcoming days to rebuild Nepal. If Francis Fukuyama marked 1990 as the end of history with the victory of liberal democracy, perhaps 2025 could be seen as Nepal’s own ‘end of history’—the end of decadent politics and the dawn of youth-driven governance.
