This year’s World Press Freedom Day on 3 May falls during COVID-19 lockdowns in many of our countries. Restriction on movement means journalists all over the world are facing obstacles in getting interviews and data, and verifying stories before publishing.In addition, the global pandemic has been used by many governments to control not just the people’s movement but also their right to information. Journalists have been intimidated or attacked, and photojournalists and videographers on the frontlines often risk getting infected while documenting stories.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/lockdown-crackdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Lockdown Crackdown</a>, EditorialTwo recent webinars conducted by Global Investigative Journalism Network (GIJN) and Finance Uncovered (FU) showed that recent government moves to restrict the press in Nepal are not unique – they are happening in many countries around the world.There have been efforts by authorities to criminalise journalism, and this is putting journalists reporting on the pandemic at risk, noted Courtney Radsch of the Center to Protect Journalists at the GIJN webinar. In Nepal, too, there have been <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/lockdown-crackdown/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/lockdown-crackdown/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1588303395047000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE0w7-uF8_CXAUiqOy9AfnGn8Y2Rg">attempts by various government agencies to censor information. </a><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121124/636b8dd29c7e80680e06b36cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="746" height="560"/><figcaption>Photo: MIN RATNA BAJRACHARYA</figcaption></figure>Last month, the portal <a href="http://www.kathmandupress.com/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.kathmandupress.com/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1588303395047000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHevp5RQMt3kOoZW-Z80WS2OffnTg">Kathmandu Press posted a story</a> about alleged corruption during the purchase of medical equipment involving people in high places. This story was deleted from the site by a software company maintaining the portal’s homepage which had links to individuals in the Prime Minister’s Office involved in the deal.On 27 April, Radio Nepal aired a live interview of former prime minister Baburam Bhattarai that was sharply critical of Prime Minister K P Oli. The government asked the head of the state-owned radio station and its news editor for an explanation, and got the interview deleted from Radio Nepal’s site.On 18 April, Press Council Nepal (PCN) sent a letter to Nepal Telecommunication Authority to shut down certain web-based portals and ban them from publishing false news. In all these recent cases, the government appears to be using the cover of the COVID-19 crisis and the excuse of protecting privacy and shielding the public from fake news and character assassination to crackdown on the free press.“Many supposedly democratic countries like the United States, India and Nepal are censoring the press and making it very difficult for press freedom to prevail while covering COVID 19,” said <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/in-locked-down-nepal-print-is-still-king/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/in-locked-down-nepal-print-is-still-king/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1588303395047000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGhb3EiYv_dsV9Zmyy4FohVmEadqA">Kosmos Biswokarma editor of Kathmandu Press</a>. Tampering with the website without permission raised grave questions of freedom of press in this country, he added.The mission of journalism is to use the citizens’ right to freedom of expression to keep them informed. Journalists go to great lengths, and put themselves at considerable risk, to gather and investigate factual information to alert the public and authorities about wrong-doing and malpractice.However, citizens today get their information not just from the mass media but also from the Internet. The dissemination of fake news, rumours, defamation, violation of privacy on social media is not journalism. Governments should make that distinction.The authorities should not mistake misinformation for journalism, and not use objectionable social media content for blanket suppression of journalistic information. There has to be a mechanism to track such content and take action against perpetrators. It is the Press Council Nepal’s job to trace these sources, and not issue directives to ban portals. In fact it is not the PCN’s job to close down the media at all.During emergencies like the COVID-19 pandemic, due diligence rules are relaxed and there is a lack of transparency in big deals. Because it is the journalist’s job to speak truth to power, this often gets them into trouble, as happened in Nepal with the coverage of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-to-test-covid-19-test-kits-from-china/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-to-test-covid-19-test-kits-from-china/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1588303395048000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHDyxZuQKhAZpSJr9rwB_DeXQd1Bw">Omni Business Corporate International</a> in the direct purchase of test kits and medical equipment from China at inflated cost.Shiva Gaunle of the Centre for Investigative Journalism Nepal (CIJ-N) says the biggest problem journalists are facing during the present crisis is getting data and verifying them. “It is not just the lockdown and restrictions on mobility, news items are taken off home pages or shut down, how can Nepal claim to have right to information and rule of law?” he asks.Journalism is not a crime, and fake news is not journalism. Governments should be able to separate the two, especially during emergencies like this global pandemic.Namrata Sharma is the former chair of the Centre for Investigative Journalism NepalTwitter: NamrataSharmaPnamrata1964@yahoo.com

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

Journalism is not a crime...

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26989c7e80680e043a24jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="677" height="805"/>The ruling <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/one-body-two-heads/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal Communist Party</a> (NCP) government is taking incremental steps to curb press freedom, hoping no one will notice. But added up, they represent a serious threat to the constitutionally guaranteed right to freedom of expression of citizens and journalists.With federalism, controls on the press also seem to be <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Analysis/how-decentralised-is-federalism,776" target="_blank" rel="noopener">decentralised</a>, with provincial governments drafting laws that would jail journalists for perceived infractions. A new criminal code last year already announced punitive measures against reporting construed to infringe on privacy, or ridicule political figures. This week, the government proposed new laws to punish objectionable content on social media with a Rs1.5 million fine, or 5 years in prison.There is a disturbing trend to roll back on freedoms guaranteed in the constitution by politicians, businessmen and power brokers who seem rattled by recent media exposes. This intolerance is reflected in threats of legal action against mainstream journalists, digital portals, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/how-nepals-media-landscape-is-being-transformed/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">social media</a> content providers.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/gagging-the-press-in-installments/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Gagging the press in installments</a>, Sewa BhattaraiIn 2018, there were numerous police crackdowns on journalists covering public demonstrations, the Minister of Communications cancelled a TV show for asking uncomfortable questions, politicians threatened social media users with imprisonment for lampooning the prime minister.There is a clear feeling of déjà vu of Stalinistic tactics used by the newly-elected Maoist government headed by Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15504#.XGZA81UzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">to attack</a> the media in 2008. The party deployed its notorious Young Communist League (YCL) to vandalise newspaper offices, burn distribution vans and use militant unions to shut down media.The following piece I wrote 10 years ago in my blog, <a href="https://aspradhan.blogspot.com/2008/12/are-ycls-new-mandales.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Humanature Journal</a>, is as current today as it was then. Circumstances have changed, but the cast of characters and the goal is still to muzzle the media.Ajay Pradhan is based in Vancouver and works as senior policy adviser on Indigenous-Crown relations and treaty negotiations.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a269b9c7e80680e043a25jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1105"><h2>Maoist's Attack On the Media Continues: Are YCLs the New Mandales?</h2>WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 2008By Ajay Pradhan These are strange times. But these are not unique times. History repeats itself.In Nepal, under the implicit protection and complicity of Maoist leaders in the party that leads the coalition, its unions have got a free pass from the leadership to unleash a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15506#.XGD6GNIza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">reign of terror</a> on the free press.Despite leading the governing coalition, Maoists are continuing their insurgency-time behaviour of using violence to intimidate journalists that dare to report news that they do not like. Such attacks on the free press are unacceptable and should not go unpunished.On Sunday, 50 Maoist-affiliated trade <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15510#.XGD589Iza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">union members</a>, most of whom were the feared Maoist-affiliated YCL, carried out a vicious physical attack on the journalists, management and staff of Himalmedia, a Kathmandu-based media enterprise that publishes the Nepali Times and the Himal Khabarpatrika and vandalised their head office. Many Himalmedia staffers were injured in the assault by a large gang of masked Maoist YCL.The attack drew immediate national and international condemnation. The embarrassed Maoist Prime Minister Prachanda put a political spin on the matter and blamed the attack on “ex-monarchists” who had infiltrated his party to defame it.The very next day, however, the defiant Maoist trade union chief, Salikram Jammarkattel, who is also a Maoist member of the Constituent Assembly, ironically rendered Prachanda’s spin doctoring worthless when he threatened further, more vicious attacks on Himalmedia if it did not yield in to the demands of a Maoist union. Two Maoist trade union leaders who led the attack were safely ensconced in a YCL camp.Physical assault by a group that is affiliated with the party in power can only be construed as the government’s attempt to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15507#.XGD5OdIza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">muzzle the free press</a>. Maoists maintain that this is a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15514#.XGD42tIza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">labour dispute</a>, but the facts prove otherwise. Sunday’s <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15526#.XGD4sNIza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">assault</a> was triggered by criticism of Jammarkattel the previous day by the publication. This is deeply troubling: the Maoists must realise that their days of guerrilla <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10827#.XGU5rlUzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">insurgency</a> are over.The previous week, on 25 October 2008 Maoist perpetrators <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15401#.XGD4jtIza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">attacked with stones</a> the Himalmedia CEO and his driver. On 16 November Maoists burned 5,000 copies of Himal Khabarpatrika at a distribution depot, making death threats against staffers.Earlier, the Maoists <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15513#.XGD6ddIza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">vandalised</a> the offices of Kantipur Publications that publishes The Kathmandu Post and Kantipur for ciriticising the Maoist party. Even after winning the CA election, Prachanda is on record warning Kantipur not to criticise his party, making unspecified threats if it did not comply.This is not how a government builds a nation, earns trust and inspires confidence. Intimidation and violence cannot muzzle the media. <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/interview/We-don,319" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Prachanda</a> would do well to keep this basic tenet of free speech in his mind. Otherwise, the infamy of vicious <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/02/24/maoists-revive-ycl/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">YCL</a> activities will engulf his credibility, much like what the infamous Mandales did to expedite the demise of the seemingly invincible partyless Panchayat system that ruled Nepal for 30 years.<a href="https://aspradhan.blogspot.com/2008/12/are-ycls-new-mandales.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener">https://aspradhan.blogspot.com/2008/12/are-ycls-new-mandales.html</a>

Creeping control over the press in Nepal

“Let's have another cup of tea,” <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/ujwal-thapa-s-light-shines-on-n0tfurod">Ujwal Thapa</a> of the alternative Bibeksheel Nepali party told the young activist Pukar Bam ten years ago. The two had 12 cups of tea that day, discussing ways to get Nepal out of its political deadend. Thapa contested the Constituent Assembly election in 2013 as an independent from Kathmandu, and formed Bibeksheel Nepali to galvanise youth impatient for change, fielding candidates in the first federal election in 2017.&nbsp; Ujwal Thapa was a political guru who was way ahead of his time, and his protégés were among the RSP’s winning candidates in last week’s election. Pukar Bam was a core member of Bibeksheel Nepali until its dissolution, and won the Kathmandu-4 seat this time. Other former Bibeksheel members who won the election from the RSP in Kathmandu include Ranju Neupane from Kathmandu-1, Sasmit Pokharel from Kathmandu-5, and Biraj Bhakta Shrestha in Kathmandu-8. As votes were counted and the results from Kathmandu began to come in, the candidates paid fulsome tribute to Ujwal Thapa’s mentorship and in inspiring idealistic youth to become a part of an alternative political force.&nbsp; Today, as RSP members of Parliament, they are no longer an alternative, but a part of Nepal’s new mainstream politics. Thapa returned to Nepal after finishing his undergraduate computer science degree in the US at the peak of the Maoist insurgency. His foray into politics began when he traveled to Nepal’s western mountains to train communities in mediation. After the war, he started a computer design company for young entrepreneurs entering the workforce. But he became frustrated with the inability of the second Constituent Assembly to promulgate the Constitution, and the power struggle between political parties played out in the streets that led to frequent shutdowns paralysing the country.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260313120348_d18647d53a3b2927328067c35b2e3e6eecf9aefe13f23384e73a2c17211cd9cb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260313120348_d18647d53a3b2927328067c35b2e3e6eecf9aefe13f23384e73a2c17211cd9cb" data-rendition-name="original" width="823" height="682" loading="lazy" alt="The RSP's activist DNA"> <figcaption>Thapa with Pukar Bam, who was elected to Parliament last week from Kathmandu-4. Photo: PUKAR BAM / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  PROTEST TO POLITICS Ujwal Thapa had had enough, and rallied people from across walks of life, leading peaceful, silent demonstrations proclaiming 'नेपाल खुल्ला छ' against prolonged, violent strikes. Citizens fed up with the main political parties organised to defy the shutdowns. Thapa’s activism and vision for a new Nepal drew disenchanted and previously apathetic youth into politics and to join the Bibeksheel Nepali Party in 2013.&nbsp; Thapa was the pioneer of alternative politics in Nepal, and was leading a youth force long before the GenZ became synonymous with Nepal’s September Storm. He mentored and guided social activists who are today influential youth leaders engaged in non-traditional politics. “Ujwal Thapa, with his entrepreneurial spirit, wanted to address people’s pain-points, and believed that activism was the starting point to alternative politics,” explains <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-loses-rare-purpose-driven-leader">Ashutosh Tiwari</a>, former member of Bibeksheel Sajha party. “He sought to build confidence, motivate, and build a community for young people, which drew a lot of people into Bibeksheel.” He adds: “ And while people might say that Bibeksheel never got big, that was never its point. Its function was to be an early talent incubator, which is what it did as evident by the result of this election.” Thapa died in 2021 of complications related to Covid-19, and Bibeksheel had two mergers with Rabindra Mishra’s Sajha Party before being permanently dissolved in 2021. But many of its idealistic members joined Rabi Lamichhane’s RSP, formed just four months before the 2022 federal election. Such was the groundswell of support for change that the RSP became the fourth-largest in Parliament. In 2017, Ranju Neupane (then Ranju Darshana) was the youngest mayoral candidate for Kathmandu at age 21, and contested the federal election in 2022. Pukar Bam himself lost the 2022 election in Kathmandu-1 as an independent.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260313120348_6302a9b534f57191d9a2cb2c31b31449873c6cc27d375344a248dd90847921dd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260313120348_6302a9b534f57191d9a2cb2c31b31449873c6cc27d375344a248dd90847921dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1729" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="The RSP's activist DNA"> <figcaption>Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Sashmit Pokharel also ran an unsuccessful campaign as an independent candidate in Kathmandu during the 2022 provincial election. Later, he was a member of the City Planning Commission under Balendra Shah when he was elected mayor of Kathmandu in 2022.&nbsp; Last week, the RSP swept the election with a supermajority of 182 seats in Parliament. Voters placed their trust in the party and its leaders to steer Nepal in a new direction after the youth unrest in September.&nbsp; In many ways, Nepal’s youth have decided, just as Ujwal Thapa once did, that enough is enough with corruption, malgovernance, nepotism and dynastic politics.&nbsp; In the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-man-who-shook-our-minds">documentary</a> about his life, Dimag Ghochne Manche, released earlier this year, some RSP nominees who previously worked with and were mentored by Thapa spoke of the impact he had on their lives, career, and activism. Among them is Biraj Bhakta Shrestha, former minister of Youth and Sports who is now a second time RSP parliamentarian. “I tell everybody that if it hadn’t been for Ujwal Dai, I would not have gotten into politics,” he says in the film.&nbsp; It would be unfair to attribute all the success of the hard-fought campaigns entirely to Ujwal Thapa’s protégés and former coworkers.&nbsp; But his ethos and vision for Nepal was what inspired them, and will in the coming years be reflected in national politics through the young idealists he mentored. Says Ashutosh Tiwari: “There are many Bibeksheels outside of RSP in constant and open communication with their old friends who have been elected. They will be keeping the lawmakers in check so that they do no stray too far from the values that they grew up with.”

RSP’s activist DNA

It took the September GenZ firestorm and public anger against non-performing actors for a 35-year-old structural engineer and rapper Balendra (Balen) Shah to oust Nepal’s four-time prime minister and former revolutionary.
The UML’s KP Oli has been trounced by 50,000 votes in his home turf, an area where he has won many elections in his 55-year political career. It is the same story across Nepal, where established politicians are being rejected by voters.
A 'Balen Wave' has swept the country, dyeing it in the RSP’s Blue party colour. But the UML and NC particularly did this to themselves.&nbsp;
An apology and a retirement after the September protests would have saved Oli some dignity, and given the rebranded UML a tiny bit of hope and perhaps a few more electoral wins.&nbsp;
Maybe he could have been remembered fondly as the funny old guy who made one last fatal political error, but now he will be defined by this defeat. Maintaining control and legitimacy in his own party will be hard too.&nbsp;
Contrary to his past combativeness and blaming nefarious foreign conspiracies, Oli gracefully conceded on Saturday, congratulating 'Balen Babu' &nbsp;and wishing him 'a successful five years'.
Balendra Shah and his RSP knew what they were doing. As of Sunday, it has won 118 and leads in 7 other constituencies, a lot of them with similarly wide margins of victory. RSP candidates have even beaten well regarded candidates like Gagan Thapa of the NC and Kulman Ghising of Ujyalo Nepal.&nbsp;

<figure>
 <video controls src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026030817030_de0fcd0c749f165992c75cbfcb94a19b086018ffcda1d151bd55e71331f4e934.mp4" alt="" width="100%" height="100%"></video>
 <figcaption>Animation: ANUP TAMU</figcaption>
</figure>

Many including this paper questioned the RSP's strategy of choosing popular candidates over competence. But the point of an election is to win it, and there was a short campaign window to put it all together and the RSP pulled it off most successfully.&nbsp;
To be sure, the party should not get too much credit. Its manifesto was broad and bland, and no different than the other older parties.&nbsp;
A big part of the RSP ballots, maybe even most of it, were people voting against the old parties rather than for it. Many seemed to feel that this was coming, and perhaps even hoped for it.
There is also a sense of lingering cynicism. Nepal has had several revolutions and many new political starts and things always seem to end up in the same corrupt hopelessness. There is every possibility that the new RSP government will also go the same way.&nbsp;
The RSP is much bigger than Balendra Shah, although it was his popularity that made this victory possible. Its victory brings with it a sense of hope as all new things do.&nbsp;
<div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://election-geo-dashboard.pages.dev/" width="100%" height="600" frameborder="0"> </iframe></div>
Not all party members who were elected are going to be as accountable or have integrity. Many of them have a chequered past, saw an opportunity in joining the RSP and took the risk.&nbsp;
What changed things were the events of September. Politicians saw firsthand that 'Power to the People' is not some abstract idea. Get too loose to it, forget that you are ruling and not serving, and you get booted out.&nbsp;
The interim Sushila Karki government deserve credit for delivering on its biggest mandate of holding the election in such a short time frame. The expectation at large was that the polls would be delayed or even scuttled.
In fact, a two-thirds RSP majority is a great opportunity to rethink the country’s political culture and institutionalise change. The point of the government in a democracy is to serve the people. Appointing non-political, competent people worked, at least in the short tenure of the interim government.&nbsp;
Adding layers of bureaucracy and committees and party politics along federal, provincial and local levels heaped resistance to the simple goal of making lives easier for the Nepali.&nbsp;
Nepal is getting a reboot, and the next few months will show whether the country is on the right track with its new generation government.

Balen takes Jhapa and Nepal

The Bell that rang in the new A daughter stands in her family's living room, frantically ringing an actual घण्टी at her father. He is a lifelong Nepali Congress (NC) voter. She tells him his party loyalty is as humiliating as a daughter eloping.&nbsp; He looks visibly defeated, and because of RSP’s landslide sweep in this election, he has no reply. She is not a party member. Nobody told her to do this.&nbsp; Multiply this actual family scene by hundreds of thousands of households across Nepal and you find the reason for the RSP tsunami. Children ringing bells at parents over dinner. Aunties shaking bells at legacy party candidates on their morning walks. Taxi drivers, lifelong UML supporters, cheerfully announcing they have switched.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_096f980a799b4f80118863174ed629680cc6c21b02e226a899ce1dc5268b4b72.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026031014038_096f980a799b4f80118863174ed629680cc6c21b02e226a899ce1dc5268b4b72" data-rendition-name="original" width="364" height="662" loading="lazy" alt="RSP Flag prank"> </figure>  And overseas, Nepalis in Dubai and Doha, Sydney and Seattle, calling home to deliver just one instruction: “चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप”।&nbsp; How did an election symbol like the Bell jump off a ballot paper and become weaponised for generational shame?&nbsp; The RSP's 2026 campaign is a case study in how a symbol becomes so participatory and instinctive, that citizens start campaigning on behalf of a party they never formally joined. It may look like a cult, but it is a phenomenon no political party in Nepal has ever pulled off. The ghost in the machine&nbsp; The 3-year-old RSP entered the 2026 race without the campaign infrastructure that legacy parties considered essential. It has no sister organisations, no vanguard student unions, no established cadre networks.&nbsp; In a country where ground reach and organisation wins elections, this looked like a fatal handicap. Established parties had spent decades building a top-down machinery: youth wings that mobilise on orders and unions within government. But it was all hollow and manufactured.&nbsp; That is why when the NC or UML posted a policy manifesto, it got barely 200 shares. When a 19-year-old posts an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/spot-ai-generated-election-videos">AI video on TikTok </a>of Balendra Shah swinging a bell like a Kung Fu Hustle weapon, it gets 5 million views.&nbsp; The RSP’s very absence became its strategic advantage. Without a chain of command for content, every post felt peer-to-peer. Supporters built communities instead of following orders. Network effects took over: one person posts, three friends remix it, their followers adapt it for their own local context, and the message multiplies without a single directive from party headquarters. A TikTok from Kathmandu featuring Balendra Shah gets remixed by someone in Birganj who <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@bhojpuriyasuppor0/video/7596686360111484178?q=bhojpuri%20dub%20balen&amp;t=1773115199365">dubs it in Bhojpuri</a>. A supporter in Pokhara takes the same “अबकि बार बालेन सरकार” audio and films it over footage of the city’s broken road.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_56090217f5b3482fad934c4f76fc872047571b3c86331a4eda1ac19ae389c2fc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026031014038_56090217f5b3482fad934c4f76fc872047571b3c86331a4eda1ac19ae389c2fc" data-rendition-name="original" width="375" height="646" loading="lazy" alt="Balen Bhojpuri remix"> </figure>  A Nepali worker in Dubai films himself shaking his phone at the camera, captioning it “I can't vote but my family can”. The content stays structurally the same (bell + emotion) but the surface changes every time. The format is the constant. The context is the variable. A single post multiplies into a thousand pieces of local content without anyone coordinating it. Legacy parties spent money on reach. RSP's strategy built reach for free, because participation itself was the product. The Bell, blazer and brand&nbsp; Run the sensory test. The UML's Sun symbol is only visual. You see it on a ballot, on a flag. You cannot hear a sun. You cannot perform a &nbsp;sun. Nobody walks into a room and ‘suns’ at an opponent.&nbsp; The NC’s Tree symbol is also only seen. It communicates nothing as a verb. Nobody ‘trees’ the father across the dinner table. Ujyalo Nepal's lightbulb was the most passive symbol of all, it just sits there being always on. The Bell had rare resonance as an election symbol. It is a verb (to ring), a sound (tintinnabulation), a physical action (shaking), and a metaphor (wake-up call). घण्टी is participatory by design. You do not just see it, you perform it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260310140312_c5580164e1f11a8466f591c4d514420bb5313a34b559554db05364065486c3b7.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260310140312_c5580164e1f11a8466f591c4d514420bb5313a34b559554db05364065486c3b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="368" height="654" loading="lazy" alt="Classroom ghanti NT"> </figure>  It works as a metaphor: wake up. It works as a taunt: we are coming (“हामी आयौँ”). It operates across sensory channels a meme can travel through. The other party symbols are logos. The घण्टी is a multimedia verb in active voice. Poets on the frontline Politics has always been about performance. Murray Edelman wrote decades ago that political actions are symbolic acts: what politicians do matters less than what their actions represent.&nbsp; Guy-Ernest Debord argued that spectacle replaces lived experience. But the stage has changed. The social media feed is the new stage, and the algorithm is the casting director. It does not select for policy depth, but for recognisability, emotional charge, and remix potential. Poets have always been at the frontlines of political rupture. The French Revolution had its pamphleteers. The Bolsheviks had Mayakovsky. The Black Panthers had Gil Scott-Heron. Nepal's own political history is full of writers who paid for their words with prison or exile.&nbsp; Rap is rhythm and poetry. Balen Shah did not cross from entertainment into politics, his art was always political. “सडकबालक" in 2012 was already a protest song. The diss tracks against corruption were manifestos set to beat.&nbsp; So, if घण्टी was the sound, Balen was the voice. Supporters rang Bells to perform, projecting their hopes on Balen. One is participatory (anyone can ring it), the other is aspirational (representing what you want the country to become). Together, they form a complete symbolic system: an action and an icon, a thing you do, and a person you believe in. Both are algorithm-native. The sunglasses are instantly recognisable in a thumbnail at any size. The bell sound action is identifiable within half a second of a video starting. The confrontational attitude generates the emotional charge that the algorithm rewards.&nbsp; Balen was already trained in the language of the algorithm: hooks, rhythm, timing, and audience retention. While legacy politicians are just now trying to learn the language of the algorithm, Balen grew up speaking it. The folk song brand kit: The slogans wrote themselves. While legacy politicians are just now trying to learn the language of the algorithm, Balen has grown up speaking it. The folk song brand kit The slogans wrote themselves. “चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप” spread through tea shops and bus parks like a folk proverb. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-ai-generated-election">AI-generated Mahabharat edits</a> positioned Balendra Shah as a warrior-hero fighting K P Oli in golden armour.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_cd7fbb8b4a97628757977b55d1244b192c233566dad268e894c7132d16cf180c.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2026031014038_cd7fbb8b4a97628757977b55d1244b192c233566dad268e894c7132d16cf180c" data-rendition-name="original" width="369" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Ghanti Chhap NT"> </figure>  The entire package, partly by accident, partly by instinct, was built to be remixed. Every element is modular: the bell, the sunglasses, the slogan, the attitude. Take any piece and make your own version. Like a ‘Deusi re” song, the melody is fixed, everyone knows it, but anyone can change the words to fit their occasion and mood. It survives across generations precisely because no one controls it.&nbsp; The घण्टी ecosystem works the same way. The melody is fixed: the bell, the sound, the slogan, the sunglasses, the attitude. But the lyrics can be anyone’s. Shoot it in your neighborhood. Dub it in your language. Film your grandmother's reaction. Set it to your local context. That's why it spread faster than any IT cell could manufacture.&nbsp; The generational pincer The standard narrative is that digital movements stay digital, and that memes are a GenZ thing. RSP broke both assumptions. Its content operation executed a pincer movement across generations, capturing not just the youth vote but used youth as a delivery mechanism into households where no party organiser could reach. The Generational Pincer Flowchart Three vectors of pressure, all converging on the same target: the living room and the dinner table, where votes in Nepal are actually decided. Downward: children trolling parents by ringing bells at dinner, turning family meals into campaign arenas. A bell rings as a prank, then as a joke, then as a political statement. By the third night, it's not funny anymore. It's a conversation.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260310140316_446e465f60994532e53b1786368dd025e9ad99a387b4121493f8826c46921cb7.png" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260310140316_446e465f60994532e53b1786368dd025e9ad99a387b4121493f8826c46921cb7" data-rendition-name="original" width="364" height="669" loading="lazy" alt="Ghanti prank"> </figure>  Lateral: the diaspora pipeline. Nepalis in Australia, the Gulf, Japan, could not vote, but they turned every Viber call home into a campaign touchpoint.&nbsp; Upward: the bell pressured power itself. No RSP organiser gets a meeting with a UML ward chairman or a NC MP. But those people go home. And at home, they have teenagers, nieces, nephews, and staff whose kids are on TikTok.&nbsp; A party boss's son rings a bell at dinner and asks uncomfortable questions. A NC donor's daughter shares RSP content on her Instagram story, visible to her father's entire social circle. No political structure, no matter how hierarchical, is sealed off from its own household. The bell did not need to breach the gates of Singha Durbar, it walked in through the kitchen window. The result crossed every demographic line analysts thought was fixed. Memes didn't just stay in the feed. They colonised the living room, the kitchen, the long-distance phone call, the taxi ride. Content nobody commissioned&nbsp; What the RSP's organic content looked less like a political campaign and more like a football fan club. People were not posting because they were told to. They were posting because they belonged. Trace the trends as they accumulated: <ul> <li>“<a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rameshmahto065/video/7610784878174424338?q=chup%20chap%20ghanti%20chap&amp;t=1773115568686">चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप</a>” started as a TikTok post, then showed up on motorcycle stickers, WhatsApp statuses, AI-remixed songs, and in tea-shop conversation as a folk proverb.</li> <li><a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rajjimond_18/video/7612570510508969236?q=ma%20ta%20balen%20ko%20fan&amp;t=1773115129539">Original songs composed by supporters</a>, not the party, gained millions of views. People danced to them at rallies and in the streets. People at polling booths created TikToks to RSP anthems to show their support.</li> <li>AI spectacle videos of Balen as a Mahabharat hero, filmy dialogue, stylised Nepal flag. Slapstick clips hitting 200K+ likes and 5M views. All made by random accounts, none traceable to party infrastructure.</li> <li>Supporters built Bell apps and websites on their own. One site, <a href="https://ghanti.website">ghanti.website</a>, was registered by a random supporter in January. Open it on your phone, shake it side to side, and it rings. Within weeks, crowds of supporters were walking through neighborhoods shaking their phones in unison, producing a wall of digital bell sound.</li> <li>The intimate content. A husband-wife vlog filmed inside a car, casually discussing what a lawmaker should actually do. Just two people talking, and it resonated more than any campaign ad.</li> </ul> None of this was centrally coordinated. Parties across Nepal spent money on polished graphics that looked like professional advertisements. RSP supporters spent nothing and made content that felt like conversation. The algorithm doesn't reward production value, it rewards emotional resonance. And nothing resonated more than the feeling that you, personally, could participate in this movement without anyone's permission. Now what? The RSP has a supermajority. The Bell rang louder than anyone predicted. But a movement built on open-source energy now has to deliver closed-source results: budgets, legislation, diplomacy, institutional reform. Balen built his brand by bypassing institutions, Prime Minister Balendra Shah has to run them. He communicated through Facebook posts and rap lyrics. Now he needs to communicate with India, China, and multilateral lenders.&nbsp; His midnight F-bomb post, deleted within 30 minutes but screenshotted by thousands, showed both his appeal (unfiltered authenticity) and his risk (unfiltered impulsiveness). The question is not whether the bell rang loud enough. It obviously did. The question is what happens when the supporters who posted without being asked start expecting results they did not specify. When the meme energy that won living rooms has to translate into parliamentary committees.&nbsp; For decades, the promise of democracy was that people choose their leaders. What RSP's campaign revealed is something more uncomfortable: in the age of the algorithm and remixable content, people do not just choose their leaders.&nbsp; They build the campaign, write the slogans, produce the content, convert their own families, and then show up to vote for the movement they made with their own hands. The party becomes a container for energy it didn't create and can't fully control.&nbsp; That's either the most democratic thing that's ever happened in Nepal, or the most dangerous. It might be both.

Nobody ran the campaign. That is why it worked.

I was a new mother trying to protect my young family from Covid in 2020, and that was when I first noticed Jacinda Ardern’s leadership. Our own prime minister was spreading misinformation about the strong immune system of Nepalis and our herbal concoctions being antidotes.&nbsp; Later in 2024, Ardern showed up after the mass shooting at mosques in New Zealand with tears in her eyes, and the strong message: “They are us.” It was refreshing to see such empathetic leadership, especially as political news was dominated by elected authoritarians, while Nepal was held hostage by repeat prime ministers.&nbsp; Ardern’s book A Different Kind of Leadership should be essential reading for all Nepalis with political aspirations, especially the new generation that wants real change. The theme that repeats throughout the book is to be human before becoming a politician.&nbsp; The book is not just about Ardern showing up for her people as one of them, it is also about why she decided to show up the way she did, and what brought her to politics to begin with — resolve, a little bit of luck, and stepping up when she had to.&nbsp; Political ambition is not a bad thing. But stepping up to lead when the situation demands it, and knowing when it is time to leave, is what makes a leader. Ardern was given the opportunity to become her party’s deputy leader at a relatively young age, and her party leader resigned — two events uncommon in Nepali politics. Ardern mentions multiple times not thinking of herself as politician material because she has a thin skin, and she talks equally often of her feelings of being intimidated in political spaces, up until she accepted the position of party leader.&nbsp; But she was accountable at a time when we in Nepal were getting used to non-reactions and non-answers from the loud, confident men who played with power. Somehow, somewhere, not least because of the malestream ideas we have been fed about politics and politicians, we imagine that leadership should look a certain way. Strong, macho, loud, confident or even better, overconfident. We imagine that empathetic leadership is soft, is scared to make people angry, is ineffective.&nbsp; LOOKING AFTER PEOPLE Ardern’s leadership was effective. New Zealand had less Covid fatalities than most developed countries, and it went in and out of lockdown with relative ease. Ardern’s approval ratings were high at a very unstable time in politics globally. A significant portion of the chapters that talk about Ardern’s time in office also delve into her struggles being a working mother. But she does not consider herself a supermom who did it all. She portrays herself as simply a working mom, one with lots of support, and discusses how common it is for parents, especially mothers, to juggle work and family. She comes across as one of us. There is a section in the book where Ardern’s daughter asks her the question she has been dreading, and which many of us working moms also face, “Mummy, why do you have to work so much?” Ardern explains that she has a “very important job” and explains it to her three-and-half-year-old as “looking after people”.&nbsp; I put down the book when I reached that sentence. I want the next prime minister of my country to read this book, and then lead. I want the next prime minister of Nepal to think that he (all the top contenders for the job are men, page 9) is looking after people, making sure no Nepali child is undernourished, that people can make a living without risking their lives, hearing the concerns of citizens and solving them.&nbsp; I want him to lead like a woman, like Sushila Karki has been leading for the last six months, with quiet determination and integrity, and without fanfare. I want him to remember that leadership is just service, and that, like Maya Angelou wrote, ‘Your legacy is what you do every day.’ It is not loud speeches and the making of some imagined, glorified history. Karki was picked to lead us back during the black days of early September when the country was in flames. The very first video of her on 9 September, the day after young people and students had been shot by the government that was meant to protect them shows her angry and emotional, her voice shaking.&nbsp; It was Karki’s actions in those days of fragility that showed us, once again, that the leader we deserve gets emotional on our behalf, but also knows how to do the work. After five years of leading her country through a global pandemic, Ardern realised that she is exhausted, that she does not have enough in her anymore to keep leading New Zealand, and she steps down.&nbsp; Towards the end of the book, Ardern tells readers like herself, sensitive and self-doubting, that if we want to be leaders, we should channel our anxieties and sensitivities to humble ourselves, to read more and seek out advice, and prepare ourselves for the challenges. Nepal’s next prime minister has to have these qualities: humility, teamwork, diligence and accountability. Good intention, ambition, university degrees, professional achievements are not enough to change the country’s trajectory.&nbsp; And when they have completed the task, or when they know they cannot do it they must have the courage to step down like Jacinda Ardern.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260308010340_b1c2a873eb640e3f10ab912c368dc9271f12f60d600bf8d5db5d2c13422a317c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260308010340_b1c2a873eb640e3f10ab912c368dc9271f12f60d600bf8d5db5d2c13422a317c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Jacinda book details"> </figure>  &nbsp;

freedom-of-press

Journalism is not a crime...

Creeping control over the press in Nepal

RSP’s activist DNA

Balen takes Jhapa and Nepal

Nobody ran the campaign. That is why it worked.

Ending Nepal’s malestream politics