<figure><img width="1200" height="1584" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1dae9c7e80680e0af3cfjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Illustration: BHANU ACHARYA/NEPALI TIMES</figcaption></figure>During the 2017 elections, Baburam Bhattarai’s Naya Shakti Party propped up the Nepali Congress (NC) elsewhere across the country while seeking support in Gorkha, where Bhattarai himself would run, and Rasuwa where his party’s Prem Tamang was contesting.
But when it came time to register his candidacy, Tamang withdrew from the MP race and chose to run for state assembly instead, putting his support behind billionaire businessman Mohan Acharya, the bankroller of the NC.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/purchasing-power/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Purchasing power</a>, Ramesh Kumar
Acharya had registered his candidacy after convincing party chair and prime minister Sher Bahadur Deuba, presumably with money being exchanged, to let him run for office.
The construction <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/bulldozing-democracy-in-nepal,4184" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">contractor who spent a lot more money</a> while campaigning, would go on to win Rasuwa. A year later during an interview, Bhattarai himself accused his party colleague Tamang of selling out his candidacy to Acharya.
Acharya’s opponent was Janardhan Dhakal, another construction businessman who had the UML ticket. The race in Rasuwa was therefore a battle between who could spend more money. Both candidates hosted lavish parties, had extravagant motorcades, and distributed cash to buy vote banks.
What happened in Rasuwa in 2017 is a reflection of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-business-of-politics-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s current electoral system</a> — competent candidates have no chance against powerful tycoons who have bought election tickets from party bosses.
Even as they spend extraordinary money to woo voters, Nepal’s political parties have failed to be transparent about their funding in official reports.
Donations from businesses are the primary source of funding for all political parties, and that is where the rot sets in.
However, the amount of financial support received from well-wishers, supporters and businesses are not broken down in the accounts of any of the parties. In fact, they are not mentioned at all.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/is-democracy-too-expensive-for-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Is democracy too expensive for Nepal?</a>, Laxmi Basnet
The fact that all financial assistance is provided in cash and not through the banking system makes it easy for parties to circumvent institutions that oversee election management, even though The Political Parties Act 2017 stipulates that any transactions above Rs25,000 should go through the banking system along with the details of donors.
There is a similar lack of transparency when it comes to details about any fixed assets in the parties’ audit report. In many cases, private donors pick up the tabs for the renovation of party offices just to be above the board, like what the NC’s Umesh Shrestha did to get himself appointed minister by Prime Minister Deuba.
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-business-of-politics-undermines-nepals-democracy/" target="_blank" style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s politico-business nexus</a> began during the post-Panchayat era after the multiparty system encouraged collusion and quid pro quo. This co-dependency between business and politics became more embedded in subsequent elections.
“When political parties have to spend money to win elections, they start cultivating businessmen and then it is you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours,” explains economist Keshav Acharya.
Over the years, watching from the sidelines was not enough, and Nepal’s rich directly entered politics as the country began its transition into a federal republic following the end of the Maoist conflict.
Former Finance Secretary Rameshore Khanal resigned in 2011 after Finance Minister Bharat Mohan Adhikari sought the counsel of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-richest-man-in-the-pandora-papers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">industrialist Binod Chaudhary</a> during the budget formulation process. He says Nepal’s political parties are at present governed not by institutional systems but the will of individual leaders who mobilise money by helping businessmen launder theirs.
“This practice was introduced by Girija Prasad Koirala in the NC and has been continued by both UML Chairman K P Sharma Oli and Maoist Chairman Pushpa Kamal Dahal,” says Khanal.
Indeed, public sector enterprises like Harisidhi Brick and Bhrikuti Paper Factory were privatised under the first elected government led by Girija Prasad Koirala, and turned into prime real estate.
The Ministry of Finance refunded value-added tax (VAT) to entrepreneurs on consumer goods for almost a decade after 2008, essentially putting VAT paid by Nepali citizens into the pocket of businesses, prompting questions of policy irregularities by the IMF.
Similarly, other NC leaders like former finance minister Ram Sharan Mahat formed the Tax Commission in 2014 which gave tax cuts worth Rs21 billion to big businesses, the case related to which is still pending in the courts.
More recently, Finance Minister Janardan Sharma is alleged to have made policy changes to benefit special interests, like the Shanker Group, through a bill to replace the budget brought by the Oli government.
Of late, businesses have also been actively involved in the infighting within parties that has characterised recent Nepali politics.
The photo of NCP co-chairs K P Oli and Prachanda having lunch with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/red-rice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">red rice at the home of business tycoon Durga Prasai</a> to discuss party unity went viral and prompted widespread ridicule.
The two leaders also held several discussions at the residence of construction contractor Sharada Prasad Adhikari who was untouchable because of his proximity to Dahal, as well as at homes of businessmen like Niraj Govind Shrestha and Ajeya Raj Sumargi. Sumargi often acts as a frontman for Dahal’s business dealings.
Businessmen like Capt Rameswar Thapa and Moti Dugar were actively involved in negotiations related to party unification between UML leaders K P Sharma Oli and Madhav Kumar Nepal, who often met at their private residences.
Similarly, Oli's name has been linked to the Yeti Group, and the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-far-so-good/the-silent-skies/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">death of its founder Ang Tsering Sherpa</a> in a helicopter crash in 2019 was a big blow to the former Prime Minister who had close personal dealings with him. Sherpa served as Oli’s fixer and was rewarded with coveted real estate and other deals for his conglomerate.
Entrepreneurs who transition into politics do so with the intention of influencing the state machinery to get business-related benefits. Moreover, interactions between business and politics are not limited to Nepali figures, as evidenced by the audiotape of Krishna Bahadur Mahara asking a Chinese businessman for Rs500 million on behalf of the Maoists during Constituent Assembly elections in 2013.
To be sure, politicians have always been making licensing and policies easier at the behest of banking, insurance, medical education, telecommunications, as well as in the stock market, allowing a select few to take advantage of the resulting decrease in competition.
Congress leader and former vice-chairman of the National Planning Commission Govinda Raj Pokhrel notes that money has become the lubricant in Nepali politics. In fact, voters themselves seem to seek out leaders who can take care of their financial interests.
“Unless we clean up our democratic system, our democracy is headed to the edge of a cliff,” he says.
<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/guest-editorial/Electoral-reform,1083" target="_blank" style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" rel="noopener noreferrer">Former Election Commissioner chief Bhoj Raj Pokhrel</a>, in his recent article 'Political Finance Management: Opportunities for Electoral Reform' has proposed ideas for electoral reform, including the provision of grants to political parties to manage election-related expenses.
This proposal is not a new concept. Past governments have discussed this and former Finance Minister Prakash Chandra Lohani even made a related proposal in the 2004 budget.
UML leader Surendra Pandey argues that if political financing is to be made transparent, the government should provide financial support based on the votes received by each party.
Former Finance Secretary Rameshore Khanal argues that political parties should seek donations from Nepali citizens, which would consequently make them more accountable to the public.
Achyut Wagle, a professor of economics at Kathmandu University, notes that while government funding for parties is a viable option in an ideal democracy, it is questionable whether a country like Nepal can do it honestly.
Says Wagle: “It is more important to have transparency in political financing. Selling political positions for money has become the norm, and we need to ensure a democracy where businessmen cannot buy their way to power.”

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1084x550

The business of politics

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba5769c7e80680e0736c9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1660" height="1229"/><figcaption>Ang Tshiring Sherpa, Nepal's most innovative and self-effacing tourism entrepreneur in Marpha in 2016. Photo: LISA CHOEGYAL</figcaption></figure>One side effect of the silent skies over past months, other than tipping tourism and aviation into freefall, is that Nepal’s air safety record is greatly improved.Last week marked the sombre anniversary of the Thai International crash <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12597#.XzD6Booza70" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D12597%23.XzD6Booza70&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597133076295000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGI_x30GhvRWctX7wr7jB1g2gzi7Q">in heavy monsoon rains 28 years ago</a> which took the lives of so many Nepali families, friends and residents.Almost exactly two months later, a PIA Airbus piled into the opposite end of the Valley at Lele, the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5616#.XzD6iYoza70" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D5616%23.XzD6iYoza70&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597133076295000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHyUzWCPsevoR4oEf4zHHU-B_xPbA">nation’s worst air disaster</a>. This time, 167 souls were lost, mostly tourists arriving at the beginning of the season -- so close that the specialist international forensic team were still in-country analysing the confetti-sized Thai aircraft wreckage.Exasperated with devastation and grief at yet another catastrophe, I volunteered with the British Embassy to help look after distraught relatives of the PIA victims.Nepal’s dramatic Himalayan terrain and fierce weather patterns make a deadly combination. The deplorable data confirms that the dozens of air accidents since the1992 double carnage occur <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2412#.XzD544oza70" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D2412%23.XzD544oza70&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597133076295000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH2LGp7o4Cs_euspbcs3o_agoB1dA">mostly during the turbulent monsoon months</a>, and involve helicopters as well as fixed-wing aircraft, both international and domestic flights. Usually the pilots have something to do with it and almost all are weather-related, regardless of the season.Early last year <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/helicopter-carrying-tourism-minister-crashes/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/helicopter-carrying-tourism-minister-crashes/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597133076295000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFk0ky2IPjMzTYcM76aAyS7XtiJiQ">we lost an inspirational tourism minister</a> when the chopper he was travelling in tried to take off from a socked-in hilltop temple intending to dive into clear weather, got caught in a freak updraft, and was <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-last-journey/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-last-journey/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597133076295000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFC_RMwxp-AlbE3AHGhvyGO9gH4iQ">slammed sideways against a cliff</a>. There were no survivors and the industry is still reeling from the tragedy.Along with the minister was Nepal’s most imaginative and daring tourism entrepreneur, Ang Tshiring Sherpa, managing director of Yeti and Tara Airlines amongst his many other ventures. It should never have happened, of course. Known to be fanatic about safety, on that fateful day, 27 February 2019, Tshiring allowed his usual strict flying rules to be compromised.It is still hard to accept the chill reality that Tshiring is not coming back. He was only 54. Never again would he drop by our house sitting under the garden cherry tree or casually greet me as he crossed Dwarika’s courtyard to lunch. Never again would I be summoned into his expansive office, glowing with carpets, polished wood and glass, and asked my advice in his serious calm manner.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba5799c7e80680e0736cajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Never again would I see his wry sideways smile as he gently rubbed his stubbled head in that curious distinctive way, attentive, nodding, self-deprecating. Never again would we dine together off the candle-lit polished tables at Le Sherpa restaurant with clients and relatives he wanted me to meet.Tshiring never wasted words, and I learned to listen carefully. Not once did I see him riled or angry, or indeed anything but thoughtful and measured. Even when I could tell he did not agree with my recommendations -- to refocus the family brand, consolidate companies, or add value by improving service standards -- he was unfailingly polite and patient. “Thank you, madam,” he would smile. He always liked to call me madam, with irony, no doubt.Tshiring was Nepal’s most innovative and wildly courageous tourism operator, striding fearlessly into deals with a sure instinct and confidence, trusting his powers of persuasion. His office team of competent henchmen and array of associated family members managed his Kathmandu-based empire of airlines, travel agencies, hotels, restaurants, remote lodges, wildlife camps, trekking and mountaineering companies.It was part of his quiet charm that he did not always get things right, had trouble navigating family politics, learned from mistakes, courted controversy and often moved in mysterious ways.I admired his business panache, but was most captivated by Tshiring’s persuasive rags to riches story, his ascent from humble origins in the Himalayan hamlet of Pangom to creator of Nepal’s major tourism conglomerate.“Let’s make a film about you,” I suggested. The narrative sweeps from a Solu Khumbu kitchen boy, the lowest rung of a trek team, running away to Kathmandu with Rs300 in his pocket (the exact amount is debated), to building the Yeti Group. He out-manoeuvred opponents with canny golf course diplomacy at Gokarna and invented champagne helicopter breakfasts with a view of Everest.In between, as a Sherpa sirdar he led treks throughout Nepal and during the summer worked in French alpine chalets. With typical modesty Tshiring was reticent about a movie, but liked the idea of a book for his extensive and extended Sherpa family.Mindful of those less fortunate than himself, philanthropy motivated many of Tshiring’s travel ideas interwoven with commercial interests. Every air ticket sold planted a sapling and each boarding pass donated five rupees to one of his charitable CSR causes. He embraced community development, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/rebranding-tourism-with-remodelled-plane-" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/rebranding-tourism-with-remodelled-plane-&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597133076296000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHKMIrxHm64H7Kug8jxiAInJaXirA">painted the Great Himalaya Trail logo onto his mountain aircraft.</a>He proposed a STOL airstrip at Lake Phuksundo to benefit the locals, homestays to restore the crumbling village of Braga, and a string of high altitude ecolodges to bring tourism to new areas of the Himalaya. Pilgrimage hotel projects ranged from the Lumbini Hokke at Buddha’s birthplace to Mokshain Jomsom, rising after the earthquake for Hindus visiting Muktinath. He never forgot his origins nor his spiritual roots.In 2016 at Chuksang we sat on plastic chairs in deep shadow under the apple trees, breakfasting on sweet tea and Tibetan bread. Tshiring had joined our recce to introduce high-end tourism to Mustang, quietly sharing his vision at a simple local lodge. His gentle demeanour fitted in anywhere, belying his relentless energy and appetite for business.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba57b9c7e80680e0736cbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Early one blustery morning in 2010, bad weather defeated us from reaching Tsum, whose remote pristine landscape he had wanted to show me, but instead the  helicopter dropped us into Langtang where he was working with the community to construct a trekkers’ lodge.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba57d9c7e80680e0736ccjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It was on that trip that I realised how cautious Tshiring was about flying, obsessed with Nepal’s air-safety, committed to carbon neutralising his airlines, and campaigning for UN and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-airlines-has-new-planes-but-no-new-plans/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-airlines-has-new-planes-but-no-new-plans/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597133076296000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHg1hAc6M4zRgeZRSgG6ZTaTUFoxQ">EU certification</a>. A near-miss in Lukla involving his brother Sonam shook him greatly.The seventh day ceremony was in full swing when I arrived at his home, with a vast gathering of mourners and monks, the family weary with sadness amidst the incense and chanting.“He looked after me so well in life, I must look after him in death,” his wife Chanda smiled bravely. Nyima, his sister married to Tenzing Norgay’s grandson, took my hand and led me upstairs to the prayer room, wringing  her hands in sorrow and denial.Destiny had consigned Nepal’s most self-effacing tourism magnate to become yet another statistic in our <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/never-fly-clouds,855" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/never-fly-clouds,855&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597133076296000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG8Mpc2W6BBxVKvs3lAIAUDIw7g6Q">wretched record of flying</a> in the mountains.

Lisa Choegyal

1250x600

The silent skies

Nepalis worship the sun, and mark its seasonal passage with festivals. Adding to that spiritual reverence now is the economic relevance of solar power. Fast-flowing Himalayan rivers give Nepal a total feasible hydropower generation capacity of 48,000MW, of which only 3,600 has so far been harnessed. Yet, Nepal’s total solar power potential has been calculated to be nearly 10 times higher at 432,000MW. &nbsp; With over 300 days of sunshine a year, the country could produce 3.6 to 6.2 units of electricity per square meter based on its solar radiation levels.&nbsp; This potential, combined with decreasing installation costs of Chinese-manufactured photovoltaic cells and other means, is a viable and affordable alternative to Nepal’s over-reliance on hydropower which faces concerns about the destruction of riverine ecosystems, as well as risk from glacial lake floods caused by climate breakdown. However, restrictive domestic energy policies and geopolitical sensitivities mean Nepal is failing to diversify fast enough to tap this tremendous solar energy potential. Nepal’s hydropower generation is almost entirely from run-of-river projects that do not have large reservoirs. Many such projects in Nepal and across the Himalaya have been swept away by glacial lake outburst floods in recent years.&nbsp; Such risks and limitations to hydropower should have prompted the Nepal government to jump-start investment into solar farms, but the main reason is that the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) caps solar power at just 10% of total capacity. There is no official explanation, but it is likely due to the outdated perception that solar technology cannot supply a consistent energy stream at evening and morning peak loads.&nbsp; But today, there are plenty of ways around it, including pump storage schemes that use daytime solar power to pump water from a river to a reservoir and drain it to generate electricity at night. Battery technology is now more advanced, and affordable enough to make grid-scale batteries feasible.&nbsp; But then there is an issue of tariffs, which are much lower for solar at Rs5 per energy unit, and competitive bidding forces companies to lower it even further. But there is no bidding process for hydropower and licenses are given out on a first-come, first-served basis with a fixed rate of Rs6.5 per unit regardless of location.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112303118_c3280cddae6f3305d07319011dd9c187005822a9b905bb849c36b95e3ad0d516.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025112303118_c3280cddae6f3305d07319011dd9c187005822a9b905bb849c36b95e3ad0d516" data-rendition-name="original" width="1109" height="887" loading="lazy" alt="Here comes the sun"> </figure>  SUPPLY VS DEMAND Hydropower is supply-driven, while solar responds to demand, so under such a discouraging scenario, solar power accounts for only 5% of Nepal’s total energy mix. “Given the environmental risks to hydropower, investors are now demanding tariffs on hydropower to be increased. So the question to the government is, are you paying more money for hydropower or willing to buy more of the cheaper solar power,” said energy entrepreneur Kushal Gurung. Solar investors are lobbying the government to raise the cap on solar power to 30% and expand zoning policies so that solar plants can be built in areas with high potential, such as Dolpo and Mustang in the trans-Himalaya. These regions are sparsely populated, arid, have a cold climate and high solar radiation levels — ideal conditions for photovoltaics. Solar power’s biggest advantage is its cost-effectiveness compared to hydropower, with the operating cost of a hydropower plant up to four times higher than of a solar plant of the same generation capacity. Investors are no longer assured of a return on investment on hydropower due to climate risk which have increased insurance premiums. “Last year, when the government opened a bidding for 800MW of solar power, the private sector was ready to invest 3,000MW. Both banks and investors were convinced about the potential for solar energy, but the government and especially the bureaucracy, was not on the same wavelength,” added Gurung.&nbsp; Interim Energy Minister Kulman Ghising is said to be interested in increasing the cap on solar energy, but there is a question whether he will remain in office since he has launched his only Ujyalo Nepal party to contest elections in March. GEOGRAPHY AND GEOPOLITICS In 2018, Nepal’s only foreign private equity form Dolma Himalayan Climate Fund (DHCF) pitched a proposal to generate 150MW from a solar farm and store 20MW of it in battery systems in Mustang to meet seasonal and daily peaks. It got approval from Investment Board Nepal (IBN) and had already poured millions into the project when the Department of Mines instructed all developers in Mustang to halt their projects, citing the discovery of uranium ore. But insiders say the real reason was due to pressure from the Chinese government’s security concerns about a Western investor being involved so close to the border with Tibet.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112303118_5946a5f1ba63f34c88f900c6d12b37d0101effb76e8a7a5397cd6451c16cd5b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025112303118_5946a5f1ba63f34c88f900c6d12b37d0101effb76e8a7a5397cd6451c16cd5b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="450" loading="lazy" alt="Here comes the sun NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GHAM POWER</figcaption> </figure>  The same thing happened, but in reverse, when the Chinese company Risen Energy was interested in investing $190 million on a grid-connected 125MW photovoltaic generation system in Banke and Kapilvastu districts near the Indian border. Risen’s subsidiary, Risen Energy Singapore JV, was negotiating with IBN to commit $190 million in the project which would also store 20MW of daytime generation for morning and evening peak demand. But the agreement was not signed because the Indian authorities were concerned about Chinese involvement so close to their border. India has also refused to buy electricity from any hydropower plant in Nepal that has Chinese or other foreign investment or contractors. Indian state-owned companies are currently building or planning hydropower plants in Nepal to generate nearly 3,000MW, mostly for export.&nbsp; But not every Chinese-backed project has been blocked. In 2024, China handed over two solar-powered livelihood projects to a local community in Lalitpur — a community solar bathhouse and a rooftop photovoltaic power system. Funded by the Yunnan People’s Association for Friendship with Foreign Countries, the projects aim to improve living conditions. The initiative forms part of the Chinese Embassy’s ‘Happy Community’ program (幸福社区, Xìngfú Shèqū) under the China–South Asia Poverty Reduction and Development Cooperation Center.&nbsp; Says Gurung: “Hydropower is a geopolitical mess, but it has well and truly started in solar power too. It now all comes down to how we handle it, and we need deft diplomacy to make sure our projects are not indefinitely delayed as has happened in the past.”&nbsp; LOW-HANGING FRUIT Despite domestic restrictions and geopolitics, there are still small-scale opportunities for solar energy entrepreneurs to cash in, such as net metering. Most industries in Nepal have enough rooftop space to generate 500KW to 1MW of solar energy. Combined, they would generate a substantial amount of energy to feed into the grid. Factories, supermarkets and chain stores are often bankable and trusted by financial institutions from which they could easily get credit.&nbsp; China could also take advantage of Nepal’s high solar power potential. Given that the United States has only imposed a 10% tariff on Nepal, China could set up PV manufacturing plants in Nepal.&nbsp; However, this requires government-to-government which could run into trouble, again because of geopolitics. The same applies for the Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism which is a carbon tariff on carbon intensive products, such as steel, cement and some electricity, imported to the European Union.&nbsp; Chinese products have suffered under this mechanism but Chinese products made in Nepal can be competitive in the European market given lower carbon tax for Nepal. Clean energy has long been an area where Nepal hopes to attract Chinese investment — not only in hydropower, but also in solar and wind energy.&nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.&nbsp;

Nepal, here comes the sun

There were two Bhutans on display during Narendra Modi’s visit this month. The first: a trusted partner, modernising rapidly with Indian support, inaugurating hydroelectric projects, and signing healthcare deals. The second: a nation that <a href="https://www.fmreview.org/gazmere-bishwo/#:~:text=In%201990%2D91%2C%20about%20a,are%20therefore%20not%20Bhutanese%20citizens.">ethnically cleansed 17% of its population </a>and has never been held accountable.
Modi chose to see only the <a href="https://kuenselonline.com/news/pm-modi-concludes-bhutan-visit-with-prayers-for-peace-and-prosperity">first </a>during his <a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/india-announces-rs-4000-cr-concessional-credit-line-to-fund-energy-projects-in-bhutan/articleshow/125253915.cms?utm_source=contentofinterest&amp;utm_medium=text&amp;utm_campaign=cppst">11-12 November visit</a>, granting $450 million in credit, offering birthday tributes to Fourth King Jigme Singye Wangchuk, and inaugurating another hydropower project.
New Delhi has opted for strategic silence on Bhutan’s systematic persecution of the Lhotshampas in the 1990s. The displaced remain scattered across the world and in refugee camps in Nepal, their property seized, their citizenship revoked.&nbsp;
Now, on that same contested land Bhutan is building the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/small-bhutan-dreams-big">Gelephu Mindful City (GMC)</a>, a megaproject intended to <a href="https://kuenselonline.com/news/pm-modi-announces-inr-40-billion-credit-line-new-rail-links-and-land-for-bhutanese-temple-in-varanasi">connect directly to Indian infrastructure</a>. The victims are gone, and democratic India’s values remain conspicuously absent.&nbsp;
With no Lhotshampas left to challenge the official narrative and India unwilling to raise it, Bhutan continues to suppress dissent with impunity.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, social media influencer Raghu Pati Subedi was arrested on the Assam side of Gelephu after returning from a visit to relatives in India. His family members reportedly came under intense pressure, including threats of arrest, accusing them of hiding his whereabouts. After his arrest, he was transported to Thimphu and imprisoned.
This was not an isolated incident. It is part of systemic repression that first gained international attention in the 1990s, when over 100,000 Nepali-speaking Lhotshampa were systematically stripped of their citizenship and forcibly exiled. This mass expulsion, which human rights organisations have characterised as ethnic cleansing, created a decades-long refugee crisis that continues to define the regional political and human rights landscape.&nbsp;
EXODUS
The Lhotshampa crisis of the 1990s was not a spontaneous event but the culmination of years of state-led discrimination. Through a series of legislative acts, notably the 1985 Citizenship Act and the 1989 Driglam Namzha, the ‘One Nation, One People’ policy, the Bhutanese state systematically dismantled the rights of its Nepali-speaking citizens.&nbsp;
The use of the Nepali language was suppressed, the traditional dress of the ruling ethnic group was mandated, and citizenship was revoked en masse, rendering a significant portion of the population stateless in their own homeland.
The new manuscript I am editing has harrowing accounts by the authors of those atrocities. The parallels with what happened to Subedi recently are striking and troubling, showing that even after 35 years the regime has not changed its spots. The methods may have evolved, but the repression against dissidents remains disturbingly consistent.
This refugee exodus was an immense and unasked-for burden on Nepal. Despite being a country grappling with its own political instability and limited resources, Nepal accommodated them on humanitarian grounds. Nepal has consistently advocated for a durable solution centered on the refugees’ right to safe, voluntary, and dignified repatriation.
For years, it engaged in bilateral talks with Bhutan, culminating in a joint verification process. However, these efforts ultimately foundered on what Nepal described as ‘continued rigidity and non-implementation of the agreed decisions by the Bhutanese side’.
Nepal fulfilled its moral and humanitarian duty, but the international community largely failed to hold Bhutan accountable. Bhutan’s rulers deflected global attention with the masterful narrative of Gross National Happiness (GNH), while the grim reality in the refugee camps persisted.&nbsp;
Ultimately, with repatriation proving impossible, Nepal acquiesced to a third-country resettlement program led by a group of eight countries, including the United States, Canada, and Australia. From 2007 to 2016, more than 113,500 Bhutanese refugees were resettled in <a href="https://www.unhcr.org/media/nepal-factsheet">one of the largest group resettlement programmes globally</a>, though 6,365 remain in refugee camps in eastern Nepal.
While this solution provided a lifeline for thousands, it was a tragic capitulation to Bhutan’s ethnic homogenisation project. The refugees’ right to return to their homeland has been denied. It is a cautionary tale about the limits of international diplomacy in the face of state intransigence.
Bhutan’s global brand is one of its most successful exports. The <a href="https://www.gnhcentrebhutan.org/">Gross National Happiness </a>doctrine, which promotes holistic well-being over just economic growth, has captivated the Western imagination and policymakers. It offers a vision of a mindful, environmentally conscious, and peaceful Himalayan kingdom. This carefully cultivated image has historically aimed to shield Bhutan from the level of scrutiny applied to other nations with similar human rights records.
The GNH facade, however, cracks under the weight of documented evidence. The same kingdom that champions ‘happiness’ has, for decades, maintained a justice system that human rights groups allege relies on torture, coerced confessions, and draconian laws to silence opposition.
The 1992 National Security Act, with its vague definitions of ‘treasonable acts’ against the Tsa-Wa-Sum (King, Country, and People), has been a primary tool for suppressing political dissent, particularly from the Lhotshampa.
Overlooked by the international community and ignored by global powers including India, in responding robustly to the ethnic cleansing of the 1990s sent a clear message to Thimphu: such actions could be undertaken with impunity. The monarchy emerged unscathed, its reputation burnished rather than tarnished.&nbsp;
This historical impunity now echoes in the case of Raghu Pati Subedi and the <a href="https://www.cijnepal.org/new-list-of-political-prisoners-expected-to-set-off-discussion-on-bhutans-human-rights-record">continued imprisonment of dozens of political prisoners</a> of conscience. The global community’s reluctance to challenge the GNH narrative has, in effect, become a form of complicity.
The arrest and sentencing of a social media influencer demonstrates how old tactics have been adapted for the digital age. Subedi, 40, was a new kind of threat to the state-controlled narrative and he had to be made an example of.&nbsp;
As the founder and administrator of the popular Facebook page ‘The Don of Asia’, he bypassed traditional, state-influenced media to speak directly to about 78,000 followers. His content, informational and satirical videos on rural poverty, corruption, and the GMC project, was the kind of social media activism that was deemed intolerable.
Subedi was arrested in early 2025 and sentenced to 24 years in prison. The charges allegedly stemmed from Subedi’s social media criticism of the GMC, a flagship project of Nepal-born Bhutanese fifth King Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck.&nbsp;
For <a href="https://thenewamericansmag.com/2024/11/18/the-kings-gelephu-mindfulness-city/#:~:text=Ganga%20Lamitare%2C%20who%20owns%20four,ancestors%20in%20building%20the%20nation.">Bhutanese refugees like Gangaram Lamitare</a>, the GMC represents a bitter irony, a development rising on their confiscated ancestral lands.&nbsp;
Gangaram, who owns four acres where the GMC’s international airport is now under construction, says: “Many people from villages fled at night in 1990, leaving everything behind to escape oppression. Now, the Bhutanese king and ministers are spreading falsehoods worldwide, calling this land vacant, which actually belongs to those forced to leave the country.”&nbsp;
There are signs that international support that has benefited Bhutan may be waning. The United Nations has become increasingly vocal and last year the <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/sites/default/files/documents/issues/detention-wg/opinions/session101/a-hrc-wgad-60-2024-bhutan-advance-edited-ve.pdf">UN Working Group on Arbitrary Detention</a> said the detention of several Bhutanese political prisoners was arbitrary and illegal under international law.&nbsp;
In April 2025 from a group of six UN human rights experts raised grave concerns about the use of torture, denial of fair trials, and the ‘severe chilling effect’ of Bhutan’s legal framework on civic space. These developments owe much to the consistent advocacy of the Hague-based Global Campaign for the Release of Political Prisoners in Bhutan (GCRPPB) since its formation.
However, they also reflect broader shifts in international human rights scrutiny. This places Bhutan’s key international partners, particularly the European Union, in a critical position. Bhutan enjoys lucrative benefits under the EU’s ‘Everything but Arms’ trade scheme, which grants developing countries tariff-free access to the EU market contingent on respect for human rights.&nbsp;
The EU is also a significant provider of development aid to Bhutan which provides it with substantial leverage. In April 2025, members of the <a href="https://bsky.app/profile/saskiabricmont.bsky.social/post/3lmrn5mkmrs2q">European Parliament formally called on Bhutan</a> to release all political prisoners. This action signals a growing recognition that trade and partnership cannot be divorced from human rights obligations.&nbsp;
“Bhutan’s international partners and investors, including the EU, should make it clear that they expect Bhutan to comply with its human rights obligations and release them without further delay,” says Meenakshi Ganguly, of Human Rights Watch.&nbsp;
Bhutan stands at a crossroads. Its desire for deeper global economic integration is colliding with its unresolved history of human rights abuses. The international community now has a choice: either continue being charmed by the myth of a happy shangri-la or insist that the kingdom adheres to democratic values it professes to the world.&nbsp;
Nepal’s recent Gen-Z uprising offers a lesson to Bhutan. In September, when authorities attempted to ban 26 social media, Nepali youth took to the streets and, within hours, toppled the entire pro-establishment political apparatus. Their message was clear: in an age of digital connectivity and mass mobilisation, authoritarian tactics such as detaining social media influencers are both unjust and ultimately unsustainable.
This incident echoes the prophetic warnings of Devi Bhakta Lamitare, Bhutan’s first-generation democratic leader, who died in exile in India in 2022. In his seminal 1970 book
Dankindo Bhutan, Lamitare chronicled the systematic suppression of people’s rights and envisioned a path toward liberation.
Before his death, I worked with him to update and edit this work, which the Bhutan Media Society published posthumously in 2023. In a December 2020 interview I conducted for the book on the Ganga riverbank in Haridwar, Lamitare laid out a stark three-front offensive: political mobilisation from within India to awaken resistance inside Bhutan itself, relentless pressure on New Delhi to champion democracy, and a global ‘pamphlet war’ waged by resettled Bhutanese in the West.&nbsp;
Only through such sustained action, he argues, can Bhutanese citizens win the right to choose their own rulers, a principle India, the world’s largest democracy, should be championing, not abandoning.
Binod Dhungel is the Nepal correspondent for Reporters Without Borders.
<a href="http://linkedin.com/in/dhungelbinod" target="_blank">linkedin.com/in/dhungelbinod</a>, @BinodDhungel

Bhutan imprisons social media influencer

Youth protestors who sustained injuries at the hands of state security forces during the September protest staged a sit-in at Maitighar Mandala on Friday, protesting what they have called the interim government’s inadequate efforts to address the demands of the GenZ movements. The demonstrators also sought to bar the UML from gathering at Maitighar, where party chair K P Oli was expected to announce its Youth Volunteer Force on Friday. The organisers consequently relocated the event. Friday’s demonstration at Maitighar comes as UML and GenZ representatives agreed to sit down for talks in Simara, where a curfew was imposed this week after youth protestors and party cadres clashed near the airport as demonstrators sought to stop UML leaders from flying in for a political event to Simara from Kathmandu.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131148_c0b3bfb861f73bee456efbd12f523af55ce3c258742c39e1dea7dbf768774ea5.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251121131148_c0b3bfb861f73bee456efbd12f523af55ce3c258742c39e1dea7dbf768774ea5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2160" height="1440" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Maitighar"> <figcaption>Youth protestors who sustained injuries at the hands of state security forces during the September protest staged a sit-in at Maitighar Mandala on Friday. Photos: SUBASH SHRESTHA</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131152_85f3606728d137b334d782ac1b5d1ed6383544493f96ebcc0398fcd9f0c5add7.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251121131152_85f3606728d137b334d782ac1b5d1ed6383544493f96ebcc0398fcd9f0c5add7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2160" height="1439" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Maitighar"> </figure>  &nbsp;Nepal’s interim government is increasingly cautious about the nation’s sensitive security situation in the lead-up to the 5 March election, as evidenced by pro-monarchy businessman Durga Prasai’s midnight arrest earlier this week over his inflammatory remarks as he called for protests this month. On Thursday, the Supreme Court ordered the government to present Prasai before the court within 24 hours.&nbsp; As it stands, the UML’s inauguration of a youth collective amidst its disregard for the demands of Nepalis for party reforms and a change in leadership highlights party chair and former PM K P Oli’s continued lack of remorse for the excesses of 8 September.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131144_aaa296e2e812ef5f6473064bc4b679bf605e14e06ac0ec9be1d6d047b56f96f9.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251121131144_aaa296e2e812ef5f6473064bc4b679bf605e14e06ac0ec9be1d6d047b56f96f9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2560" height="1707" loading="lazy" alt="UML Youth Volunteer Force NT"> <figcaption>The UML launched its Youth Volunteer Force on Friday. Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131148_bfa8df3fc382195b4cdb9c4804cd67e169d2d9c0b8d218e61bbef0c4c9dbdaad.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251121131148_bfa8df3fc382195b4cdb9c4804cd67e169d2d9c0b8d218e61bbef0c4c9dbdaad" data-rendition-name="original" width="2560" height="1706" loading="lazy" alt="UML Youth Volunteer Force"> </figure>  Families of those killed and injured on 8 September have demanded that the ousted PM and home minister be held accountable for state brutality.&nbsp; This week, Human Rights Watch published a <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2025/11/19/nepal-unlawful-use-of-force-during-gen-z-protest" target="_blank">comprehensive report</a> concluding that security forces fired indiscriminately on youth-led protestors on 8 September.&nbsp; The human rights watchdog urged the Sushila Karki-led interim government to investigate the excessive use of force as well as arson, vandalism and mob attacks on individuals on 9 September. The government has created a judicial commission to inquire into the deaths of 76 people over two days of protests.&nbsp; “The recent violence in Nepal included serious human rights violations, and those responsible should be held accountable, whether they are security forces or political actors,” said Meenakshi Ganguly, deputy Asia director at Human Rights Watch.&nbsp; She added: “The government should ensure that the investigations are independent, time-bound, and transparent, and that no one found responsible for breaking the law is unfairly protected from proper prosecution.” HRW’s investigation was based on testimony from 52 witnesses, victims, journalists, healthcare workers, politicians, and sources close to security forces. Researchers also verified photos and video footage shared on social media and with researchers; and visited the scenes of protests, properties subjected to arson and vandalism, and hospitals.&nbsp; A police officer said that officers opened fire with lethal force five minutes after the District Administration Office declared an emergency curfew around Parliament. Witness accounts and analysed footage did not show grave and imminent danger to life that would justify the intentional use of lethal force, stated the human rights watchdog in the report.&nbsp; The protestors and witnesses identified security forces who fired live ammunition at the protestors by their uniforms as members of the Armed Police Force (APF) and Nepal Police’s Special Task Force (STF). &nbsp; “They literally aimed at us and started shooting,” said one witness who sheltered behind a barricade as police continued shooting.&nbsp; A retired senior police official said police had failed to follow procedures for dispersing protests and using lethal force.&nbsp; Pathologists at a Kathmandu morgue told HRW that they determined 35 cases of death caused by “high velocity gunshot wounds” to the head, neck, chest, or abdomen.&nbsp; The witness recounted being taken into custody along with 33 other protestors by STF officers in riot gear, and said that police police personnel beat him with batons. Detainees were threatened and their IDs destroyed. Several witnesses said that the mob attacks on businesses, politicians, media companies, and educational institutions were very targeted, noting the absence of security personnel on 9 September as arson and violence raged across the capital.&nbsp; Some suggested that the violence may have been instigated by infiltrators associated with various political movements.&nbsp; On Discord, the platform where a significant number of demonstrators organised, participants noted that while there were calls for peaceful movement in the days leading up to the protest, some on the platform advocated for violence.&nbsp; Human Rights Watch has said that any credible allegations of criminal acts contributing to the violence must be investigated.&nbsp; Said Ganguly: “The authorities should recognise that widespread impunity for human rights violations in the past helped enable the violence that occurred this time in Nepal. It is crucial to reverse the decades-long tendency by successive governments in Nepal to bury investigations and stall prosecutions, and to bring about accountability and security sector reform.”

Security forces targeted protestors disproportionately: HRW

&nbsp;Nepal has finally become famous the world over for something else besides Mt Everest — the GenZ Movement. The 8 September protests in Kathmandu may have been triggered by what happened in Jakarta a week previously, but it inspired street uprisings all over the world. This week, Mexico’s GenZ are clashing with riot police. Last month, the president of Madagascar fled to Dubai. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-genzs-inspired-filipinos" target="_blank">Philippines</a>, Morocco, Peru, Timor Leste all have seen similar anti-government protests against corruption, nepotism and poor governance. A Himalayan republic, a Latin American federation, a Southeast Asian archipelago, or a North African kingdom may have little in common, their histories, religions, languages, and political systems are worlds apart. But <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/10/19/world/gen-z-revolutions-protests-louvre-heist-gaza.html" target="_blank">the common thread</a> running through these demonstrations were the simulacra and symbols spread on social media platforms.&nbsp; The young crowds marching through the streets of these countries were holding up the same icons. They painted the same images on cardboard, waved the same flags, stitched the same badges on their backpacks. They chanted &nbsp;the same references from the same corners of the internet.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_2ff7cf4ce7a9590359ed18753f4977648a6db83e95dd62d602a3f81e9eec42c4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251122031128_2ff7cf4ce7a9590359ed18753f4977648a6db83e95dd62d602a3f81e9eec42c4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1250" height="1047" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption> One Piece reference meme on Instagram, 115K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  To anyone who did not grow up online, this looks random. To anyone who did, it feels like the most obvious thing in the world. A new kind of global identity has formed — one that cuts across nationalities and cultures. In Nepal older relatives mock the ‘जेन्जी’. My neighbour asked me if ‘GenZ’ was a new political party.&nbsp; Around the world, when youth-led protests appear, reporters and politicians ask the same question: ‘Who is the leader?’ The answer is the same: there is no leader.&nbsp; Some names come up more prominently, as people did during <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-historic-youth-dissensus?fbclid=IwY2xjawNPQnZleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHk5Nazeqz3K9aNddXa-dQfCbwtId0nLclQwHzIYhTfg8tzGWXZMBJ5pjm5Qx_aem_a5JoyT1FRqzCVtnnPM7zUw" target="_blank">the Nepali protests</a>: Sudan Gurung. Miraj Dhungana, Rakshya Bam and other organisers who appeared in livestreams and interviews. But look closely and the leader is hiding in plain sight. The leader is not a person. The leader is the internet meme.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_b2319eb8d7abec7ed5e12baf1a53e0a27cfd7a49ee15c058c47cdf2603a7fa8a.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251122031128_b2319eb8d7abec7ed5e12baf1a53e0a27cfd7a49ee15c058c47cdf2603a7fa8a" data-rendition-name="original" width="662" height="1038" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Aurafarming, 233K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-meme-revolution" target="_blank">Memes today</a> are doing the quiet organising work that pamphlets and party cells once did. They offer identity, coordinate action, level power differences, and they do it without any central command. This is not because memes cause revolts. It is because memes are the connective tissue of a generation that grew up on the same visual language, the same jokes, the same references, and the same sense of shared digital childhood. Older generations did not share cultural symbols in the same way. Whether they read a certain comic book or watched the same cartoon depended on class, religion, caste, the country, or neighbourhood they grew up in. These divisions created stratified cultural memories.&nbsp; Today, an entire global cohort has been raised on the same visual media. The same YouTube creators. The same TikTok jokes. The same anime storylines. It is truly what McLuhan predicted the Global Village would be.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_136d009a48d8f8daee82ada1b220e0b0c8ec482b52dcd44e0942e2185a70421b.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251122031128_136d009a48d8f8daee82ada1b220e0b0c8ec482b52dcd44e0942e2185a70421b" data-rendition-name="original" width="738" height="1012" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Masked K P Oli, 63K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  This has also created the perfect environment for <a href="https://observer.co.uk/news/international/article/revolution-20-frances-political-future-could-be-won-or-lost-by-bots-and-memes" target="_blank">memes to become political tools</a>. They are instantly recognisable, emotionally charged, and open for remixing. They allow young people to signal their values without stating them. They compress identity, anger, humour, and belonging into something that the rest of the world dismisses as unserious. The perfect example of a GenZ meme is the famous skull and crossbones in protest flags from Kathmandu to Manila to Mexico City. The Strawhat Pirates from the <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/asia-pacific/20251006-one-piece-manga-revolt-morocco-indonesia-nepal-madagascar" target="_blank">anime One Piece</a>, is a show with over 1,000 episodes and a global fanbase that spans continents. One Piece follows Luffy, a justice driven pirate who travels across a world ruled by corrupt older elites who hoard power and suppress dissent.&nbsp; It is not hard to see why that story resonates with young people who feel locked out of political systems built by generations before them. I even printed stacks of my own flyer that explained memetic warfare using Minecraft visuals and handed them out in the crowd. Each one linked to a Telegram group with the Strawhat Pirates logo called MemePack HQ.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031144_1b12e920be6e312e1dc8768d318c1d1332e32694293b48984089867e7e525a27.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251122031144_1b12e920be6e312e1dc8768d318c1d1332e32694293b48984089867e7e525a27" data-rendition-name="original" width="1100" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Meme Movements"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_08b720667a9ff36537e58992c8a8030b090900847de5eecd479bbb3fc727349d.png" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251122031128_08b720667a9ff36537e58992c8a8030b090900847de5eecd479bbb3fc727349d" data-rendition-name="original" width="696" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Indonesia-Nepal comparison, 17.7K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  CULTURE EXPOSURE The Strawhat logo is not the only symbol making people protest. That would be like saying video games cause real world violence. Instead, the logo works like a modern version of mythology. It packs meaning for those who understand it. It represents loyalty, rebellion, chosen family, and resistance against unfair structures. It works as a rallying flag because it is already a shared story. And unlike older myths, it is accessible regardless of religion, caste, language, or national identity. Across Nepal, the Strawhat symbol has shown up on posters, badges, and protest outfits. But it is only one piece of a larger ecosystem of youth symbols. From Nepali meme pages remixing political speeches into ironic audios, to posts that place politicians into familiar pop culture formats, to clips that exaggerate the absurdity of daily life under slow moving governance, these are not just jokes. These are narrative units. Each post is a tiny story with its own punchline and its own political edge. Each TikTok video or meme functions like a religious shlok, a short piece of narrative that carries layers of meaning depending on who consumes it. Someone who has spent years studying a religion, in this case, inside GenZ online culture will recognise the symbols instantly. Someone outside this world will only see noise. This creates a literacy divide that is not about formal education but cultural exposure.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_2d09f075663678fe92d4e4dcc631ee6ad1aa8a99996f4c4a3649e4bf4d85132f.png" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20251122031128_2d09f075663678fe92d4e4dcc631ee6ad1aa8a99996f4c4a3649e4bf4d85132f" data-rendition-name="original" width="810" height="1208" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_d591c4dc857864cc833ffc6baece3f4c2798bbaf70b557f965463fc8f802900e.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20251122031128_d591c4dc857864cc833ffc6baece3f4c2798bbaf70b557f965463fc8f802900e" data-rendition-name="original" width="568" height="1124" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>  Protesting youth spent countless hours scrolling, interpreting, remixing, and responding to content. They built a shared symbolic universe across borders without planning to. This is why their political movements feel leaderless. They are not following individuals. They are following stories that define what justice looks like. Stories that define who the villain is. Stories that define how to respond when power is abused. In Nepal, memes about broken roads, delayed passports, political inheritance networks, and bureaucratic absurdity circulated for months before they became slogans or chants. By the time people took to the streets, the narrative groundwork had already been completed by thousands of posts liked and shared in private. The protests did not emerge from nowhere. They emerge from years of digital storytelling. Which is why the government’s ban on 26 digital platforms on 5 September became such a rallying force. The platforms that distribute these memes are not neutral, they are actually designed to maximise engagement because engagement translates to ad revenue. Right now, there is an engineer in Silicon Valley getting paid an enormous salary to find the perfect colour shade for a singular pixel on your screen so that you linger for fractions of a second longer.&nbsp; Algorithms reward content that trigger emotion. Sometimes the emotion is delight. Sometimes it is envy. Often it is anger. When rage becomes a business model, movements built inside these systems can feel powerful but unstable. The platforms democratise attention but centralise emotion. They allow anyone to broadcast, yet they shape the emotional tone of what becomes viral.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_f22baab05910305ea435045824b25b796d5630715e2e17c3f3c0991e8371843c.png" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20251122031128_f22baab05910305ea435045824b25b796d5630715e2e17c3f3c0991e8371843c" data-rendition-name="original" width="974" height="1156" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>  GenZ sits inside this tension. Empowered by the ability to speak without gatekeepers. Trapped inside systems that monetise their attention and amplify their frustration. This is why these leaderless online movements feel both organic and volatile. The algorithm filters which stories rise and which fade. It becomes an unintentional political actor. Not elected. Not accountable. Yet influencing millions. When the state is no longer the primary distributor of information, and when the algorithm becomes the new filter of reality, the public is left with a new responsibility. We have to learn to read memes the way past generations learned to read pamphlets or manifestos. A 15 second video can carry more political weight than a two hour speech. A symbol on cardboard might represent a decade of digital storytelling. Older generations often dismiss these images as childish. They are actually literacy markers of a new political class, one that does not wait for leaders. A political class fluent in remixing power, raised on global stories that feel more honest than the institutions they inherited. The youth did not create these platforms. They inherited them. But through memes they found a new language, one that lets them organise without permission. One that lets them build solidarity without needing meetings or manifestos. One that allows them to resist systems that feel too old to reform. It is time to take that seriously. Nobel Rimal is a researcher of digital culture and political communication who studied and participated in the meme driven mobilisations during the Nepal protests&nbsp;

ang-tshiring-sherpa

The business of politics

The silent skies

Nepal, here comes the sun

Bhutan imprisons social media influencer

Security forces targeted protestors disproportionately: HRW

Meme movements