Nepal, a young republic nestled in the Himalayas, has once again erupted. Streets of Kathmandu and Pokhara are filled not with orchestrated cadres of political parties, but with angry, leaderless youth demanding dignity, accountability and a future. The killing of 19 young protesters in a single day after K.P. Sharma Oli’s government tried to shut down social media was the final spark in a tinderbox of frustration.
This is not simply another episode of instability in Nepal’s tumultuous history. It marks a new phase in the political evolution of a nation of 30 million where the anger of a digitally connected generation has converged with systemic failures: entrenched corruption, chronic unemployment and a governance paralysis that has left an entire people without faith in their institutions.
A history of turmoil
Political violence is not new to Nepal. The 1990 People’s Movement forced the monarchy into constitutional retreat. The Maoist insurgency from 1996 to 2006 left nearly 17,000 dead and transformed Nepal’s political landscape. The shocking palace massacre of 2001, in which King Birendra and much of the royal family were killed, shattered the monarchy’s aura of permanence. And the 2006 Jana Andolan finally pushed King Gyanendra from power, leading to the declaration of a republic in 2008.
Yet, for all the violence and sacrifice, the republic has failed to deliver. Political parties remain faction-ridden and consumed by patronage. The leftist parties that once mobilised peasants have become indistinguishable from the Nepali Congress in their hunger for office.
Ethnic protests in the Terai, corruption scandals in Kathmandu and endless rounds of coalition horse-trading have hollowed out public trust.
This time, however, the revolt is different. It is not ideological, not about kingship versus republic, nor about Marxism versus liberal democracy. It is about systemic dysfunction caused by the inability of the state to create jobs, deliver services, or ensure dignity. And it is being driven by a digitally networked Generation Z that constitutes nearly half of Nepal’s population.
The trigger: A digital ban for a digital generation
When the Oli government banned social media platforms, it underestimated the lifeblood of a generation. For Nepal’s youth, social media is not a luxury. It is the public square, the space for activism, entrepreneurship and connection to a wider world. To sever it was to strike at their very identity.
The brutal crackdown that followed turned anger into fury. The killing of 19 protesters in a single day became Nepal’s Jallianwala moment, crystallising grievances accumulated over years of lack of jobs, corruption at every turn, a revolving door of governments, and a sense that politicians lived in a different universe.
For once, divisions of party, ethnicity, or class melted away. The revolt was spontaneous, urban, leaderless and united. And while some sensationalist theorists rushed to pin this unrest on the “foreign hand,” the reality is simpler and more profound: this is Nepal’s own people demanding accountability.
India–Nepal: Bound by blood and borders
For India, Nepal is not just a neighbour; it is kin. The 1,770-km open border is one of the world’s most unique arrangements. Millions of Nepalis and Indians cross daily without visas to trade, to work, to marry, to worship. The Janakpur–Ayodhya connection, the sacred link of the Pashupatinath temple, and the Gorkha soldiers who serve in India’s regiments all speak of a civilisational intimacy few countries share.
Economically, India is Nepal’s lifeline. Nearly 65 per cent of Nepal’s trade is with India, bilateral trade topping $13 billion in 2023. Three to four million Nepalis work in India, often in the informal sector, sending remittances that, along with Gulf earnings, make up nearly a quarter of Nepal’s GDP. Hydropower potential estimated at 83,000 MW is being tapped with Indian investment, with projects like Arun III and Upper Karnali promising to reshape Nepal’s energy future.
On the security front, the ties are equally deep. Around 32,000 Nepalis serve in the Indian Army. The annual Surya Kiran exercises build joint capacity. And during Nepal’s darkest hours, such as the 2015 earthquake, India was first on the ground, launching Operation Maitri that rescued thousands.
Yet these bonds also create friction. For many Nepalis, India’s closeness can feel like overreach. Episodes like the 2015 blockade still rankle. Managing this relationship requires India to balance cultural intimacy with political sensitivity.
China and the United States: New players, old games
Where India sees kinship, China sees strategy. Beijing has deepened its footprint in Nepal with roads, rail projects and loans under the Belt and Road Initiative. The 2024 BRI framework agreement signalled Kathmandu’s willingness to accept Chinese investment, though debt fears linger. For China, Nepal is part of the Himalayan shield—a buffer against Tibetan activism and Indian influence.
The United States, meanwhile, approaches Nepal as both a development partner and a geopolitical outpost. The controversy around the Millennium Challenge Corporation (MCC) compact was emblematic, framed by critics as an American strategic gambit, but defended by Washington as economic aid. For the US, Nepal is another frontline in the contest with China, a chance to shape connectivity and governance in its favour.
Thus, Nepal sits at the intersection of India’s cultural gravity, China’s strategic ambitions, and America’s geopolitical calculations—an unenviable position for a fragile republic.
The army steps in
With Oli discredited and parties floundering, an interim administration backed by the Nepal Army has taken charge. The army insists it is only stabilising the situation, not seeking power. For now, many Nepalis, exhausted by chaos, welcome the respite. But history warns that once armies enter politics, they rarely exit quickly.
The army is the most trusted institution in Nepal, but governance cannot be outsourced to barracks. Without credible elections and reforms, interim order may harden into an authoritarian drift.
What lies ahead? Three scenarios
Best Case: An inclusive dialogue brings together youth movements, mainstream parties, and the interim government. Elections are held within 12 months, reforms launched to curb corruption, jobs created through hydropower and IT and social media restrictions lifted. Nepal finds a middle path—democratic but stable, modern but rooted in tradition, possibly with a symbolic monarchy as a cultural anchor.
Drift: More likely, Nepal muddles through. The interim administration holds off elections, youth protests simmer, corruption investigations are cosmetic and external powers deepen their influence. Instability remains chronic but contained.
Worst Case: The army tightens its grip, dissent is crushed and economic decline accelerates. Nepal becomes an authoritarian buffer, with China expanding influence, India facing refugee and security spillover and the US disengaging. Such an outcome would squander Nepal’s demographic dividend and destabilise the Himalayas.
A moment of reckoning
Nepal’s crisis is a reminder that democracy without delivery is fragile. The republic’s youth, born after the monarchy fell, will not tolerate politics as usual. They want jobs, dignity and accountability and they are willing to risk their lives for it.
For India, the challenge is to engage not as a patron, but as a partner supporting economic relief, job creation and political dialogue without suffocating Nepal’s sovereignty. For China and the US, restraint will be equally important: turning Nepal into another pawn of great-power rivalry would only deepen instability.
In the end, Nepal’s future will be decided not in Beijing, Washington, or New Delhi, but in Kathmandu on the streets where its young citizens have risen to demand change. Their anger is real, their aspirations legitimate and their patience exhausted. The question now is whether Nepal’s leaders, and its friends abroad, will listen.
(Sumeer Bhasin is an independent geopolitical analyst )
