The upcoming election is interpreted in conflicting ways: protesters see it as a “phoenix” rising from the graves of 76 GenZ martyrs, symbolising a contest between old and new politics, while UML Suprimo Oli and his party frame it as a battle between nation-builders and destroyers. In reality, it is a vote shaped by recent unrest and the deaths of civilians.
Nepal is once again preparing for a midterm election—an exercise that, by its very nature, is untimely. Unlike a scheduled general election, a midterm poll is triggered before a parliamentary term has run its course, often under conditions of political crisis. Such elections rarely occur in an atmosphere of readiness. Neither the state machinery nor the electorate is usually fully prepared. Yet political compulsion leaves little room for choice.
This will be Nepal’s second midterm election. The first was held in 1994 after then prime minister Girija Prasad Koirala dissolved Parliament. That decision came at a time of deep factional infighting within the Nepali Congress, which had fractured into two rival groups named 74 and 36 on the basis of the number of parliamentarians. The election that followed adhered to a familiar global pattern: the ruling party that initiated the midterm poll was punished by voters, while the main opposition benefited.
The Nepali Congress lost power, and the Communist Party of Nepal (Unified Marxist-Leninist), or UML, came to power for the first time by forming a minority government under its chairperson, Man Mohan Adhikari. That episode remains a defining chapter in Nepal’s post-1990 democratic history.
Three decades later, the country finds itself confronting another midterm election—once again amid political instability, judicial intervention and deep public dissatisfaction with the political class.
The courts, dissolutions and the Oli factor
Following its rise to power in the mid-1990s, UML attempted to dissolve Parliament while leading a minority government. The Supreme Court intervened, ruling that such a move was unconstitutional. The decision triggered widespread political agitation, both inside the House and on the streets. That confrontation between the executive and the judiciary would set a precedent for future constitutional disputes.
In the years that followed, Parliament has twice been dissolved while UML was in power—both times under Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli. On each occasion, the Supreme Court struck down the dissolutions, declaring them unconstitutional and reinstating the legislature. Those rulings reinforced the judiciary’s role as a key arbiter in Nepal’s fragile constitutional order.
The main reason behind this mid-term election is widely seen as former Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli. The difference this time is striking: while he once tried and failed to force a mid-term election, he now cannot stop it, despite his efforts. The GenZ movement, which arose in response to Oli’s hardline policies, led to the death of 76 civilians. Following his removal from office, an interim government took shape. Acting on the demands of the GenZ protesters, the interim administration dissolved parliament and announced a mid-term election. Oli, along with his former coalition partner—the establishment faction of the Nepali Congress under Sher Bahadur Deuba—has approached the Supreme Court seeking the restoration of the parliament. Given the current situation, the election scheduled for March 5 is likely to take place before the court issues its verdict on the case, potentially making parliamentary restoration irrelevant.
Views on the GenZ protests and the upcoming election are deeply divided. Different groups are shaping their own narratives to suit their interests. Protesters describe the election as a “phoenix rising from the graves” of GenZ martyrs, framing it as a referendum between old and new political forces. Oli rejects this interpretation. He portrays the GenZ movement as a conspiracy of domestic and foreign actors to corner him and casts the election as a battle between those who would “destroy the country” and those who would “build it,” claiming the role of the nation-builder.
In reality, both these extreme narratives are misleading. The election is neither simply a contest between the old and the new, nor is the GenZ movement solely the result of a domestic-foreign conspiracy, as Oli claims. Rather, it is a vote standing over the graves of 76 innocent civilians, a measure of public opinion shaped by recent political unrest. How the Nepali people interpret and respond to it remains to be seen. The answer will become clear only after the March 5 election results.
Party politics and accountability
While UML has closed ranks around Oli, other parties have experienced internal upheaval. Within the Nepali Congress, youth leaders recently convened a special party convention that sidelined long-time leader Sher Bahadur Deuba. Deuba, a five-time prime minister, has faced sustained criticism for prioritising personal political survival over party renewal and reform.
His removal—though controversial—was widely seen as a symbolic attempt of younger party members to assert accountability within the organisation. Many argue that Deuba’s leadership had come to embody the stagnation and transactional politics that voters increasingly reject.
UML, by contrast, has taken no comparable steps to discipline or sideline Oli. Instead, its party convention reaffirmed his leadership overwhelmingly. For critics, this reinforced the perception of UML as a party centred on a single individual rather than collective leadership.
That perception appears to be resonating in Oli’s home constituency of Jhapa-5, where political dynamics have shifted. Reports suggest that voters there are less concerned with party affiliation than with identifying a candidate capable of defeating Oli. The constituency has become sharply polarised between his remaining loyal supporters and a growing group of voters seeking change.
Into this contest has stepped Balen Shah, who resigned as the mayor of Kathmandu Metropolitan City to challenge Oli in Jhapa-5. While some view his move as politically risky, others see it as a calculated attempt to capitalise on public frustration with established leaders.
Vote sans issues in a shallow democracy
Beyond individual contests, the broader nature of Nepal’s elections has remained largely unchanged despite repeated political transformations. The country has experienced multiple systems—monarchy, Panchayat rule, constitutional monarchy and now a federal republic. Yet electoral behaviour continues to be shaped less by policy debates and more by personality, identity and patronage.
Multiparty democracy is often regarded as the most advanced political system, with periodic elections serving as its core mechanism of accountability. In theory, parties present clear agendas, voters choose among them, and those who fail to deliver are voted out.
In practice, Nepal’s democratic exercise remains underdeveloped. This will be only the third such election under the current republican framework. Political agendas are weakly articulated, candidates often lack policy clarity, and voters are still adapting to the idea of elections as instruments of accountability rather than ritualistic exercises.
Campaigns continue to be influenced by caste, religion, region and personal networks. Despite the formal abandonment of the Panchayat system, the personalised nature of politics has endured. Many figures who once opposed multiparty democracy have successfully reinvented themselves within it, moving across parties while retaining influence and access to power.
Elections have also become increasingly expensive. While parties now contest elections rather than individuals, the underlying culture has not changed. Campaigns are often likened to financial investments, with candidates expected to recover their costs once elected. As a result, parties tend to favor wealthy contenders over ideologically committed activists, reinforcing corruption and public cynicism
Social media, new faces and an uncertain verdict
This election is unfolding in a dramatically altered information environment. Nearly every voter now carries a smartphone, providing access to social media platforms that amplify messages at unprecedented speed. Algorithms often reward emotionally charged content, enabling misinformation and disinformation to circulate widely.
Populist narratives have gained traction, particularly around figures portrayed as political outsiders. Online discourse suggests growing enthusiasm for newer faces such as Balen Shah and Rabi Lamichhane, as well as other non-traditional political actors. Whether this digital momentum will translate into votes remains uncertain.
Despite the noise, most analysts agree that no single party is likely to secure a clear majority. Nepal’s electoral system, combined with a highly polarised electorate, makes such an outcome improbable. Even alliances between major parties may struggle to cross the threshold needed to form a stable government.
As a result, post-election coalition bargaining appears almost inevitable. While such arrangements are common in parliamentary democracies, Nepal’s experience has been marked by instability and frequent government changes.
Ultimately, while the election may help restore procedural legitimacy and stabilise constitutional processes, few expect it to resolve Nepal’s deeper political challenges. Governance failures, entrenched corruption and weak institutional accountability remain unresolved.
As the country heads toward polling day, many hope the election will serve as a genuine democratic exercise—one in which voters prioritise competence and integrity over loyalty and identity. Whether that hope will be realised will become clear once the ballots are counted.
For now, Nepal waits—once again placing its faith in the ballot box to chart a way forward.
The author is a senior Nepali journalist based in Washington, DC
