<img width="640" height="355" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161128/636d18cd9c7e80680e0ac7e5jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Legal theorists once consigned the idea of ‘statelessness’ to the realm of fiction, because they considered it to be impossible within the state system that emerged after World War I. Every human being was supposed to be assigned a nationality and a country to call his or her own. But the war had created many refugees, and as empires disintegrated and new nation-states adopted exclusionary nationality laws, not everyone was in fact included.The rise of fascism in the 1930s and 1940s further exposed the fallibility of this system and the ominous reality of the state’s power to exclude people or strip them of citizenship. Across Europe, citizenship-stripping went hand in hand with genocide for Jews and other minority groups. Following World War II, questions about the right to nationality, state power, and the limits of sovereignty loomed large in the development of human rights and international law. Could the states that were being created out of the independence movements and diminished European empires adopt nationality laws that excluded entire population groups? Did national governments hold the power to strip their own citizens of that status? Who was responsible for the newly stateless?These issues remain highly pertinent today. Statelessness affects at least 15 million people, and the nationality of millions more is under threat, owing to an <a href="https://undocs.org/A/HRC/38/52">escalation</a> of racially discriminatory policies and rhetoric in many countries. Nationality policies remain a favoured tool of authoritarians, who sometimes use them in tandem with mass atrocities, as in Myanmar, where the Rohingyas have been denied citizenship and <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/EN/HRBodies/HRC/Pages/NewsDetail.aspx?NewsID=23575&amp;LangID=E">subjected</a> to genocide and mass deportations to Bangladesh. Making matters worse, the Covid-19 pandemic has led to even more <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/coronavirus-fuels-fascist-politics-by-federico-finchelstein-and-jason-stanley-2020-05">xenophobic scapegoating</a> and ethno-nationalism, with political leaders like former US President Donald Trump and Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán blaming migrants and refugees for spreading the coronavirus.The pandemic also reminds us of the enduring influence that nationality has over our lives. Last May, <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/columnist/filippo-grandi">Filippo Grandi</a>, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, <a href="https://www.unhcr.org/en-us/news/press/2020/5/5eb952222ec/unhcr-warns-stateless-people-risk-behind-coronavirus-response.html#:~:text=The%20right%20to%20a%20nationality,on%20policy%20and%20good%20practices.">warned</a>: “The right to a nationality is a fundamental human right and in this time of crisis it can mean the difference between life or death.” When governments prioritise citizens over others in their public-health and economic responses, the stateless suffer. Because statelessness remains a major blind spot for the institutions charged with protecting life and livelihoods, stateless people have been left <a href="https://files.institutesi.org/together_we_can_report_2021.pdf">further behind</a> than ever.Ghosts from the pastAt a time when statelessness demands urgent attention, two recent books provide important lessons about the nature of state power, international responses to national acts of exclusion, and the consequences of failure.Statelessness: A Modern History, by Mira L. Siegelberg of the University of Cambridge, and Denaturalized: How Thousands Lost Their Citizenship and Lives in Vichy France, by Claire Zalc, Director of the Institute of Modern and Contemporary History at the École Normale Supérieure, underscore both the historic scale of the problem and its grim costs. Each takes a different but equally meticulous approach to researching the history of the problem. And both explore how people have had their citizenship denied and revoked against the background of some of the most violent periods in modern history. Together, they remind us that the history of statelessness is a history of crumbling empires, world wars, genocides, and the emergence of an interstate system based on the formal equality of states.Siegelberg’s work is a sweeping survey of international legal and political thought, covering a period that includes WWI, the rise of fascism in the 1930s, the Holocaust, the postwar reconstruction of the international legal order, and the independence movements of the postwar decades. Drawing on a wide variety of archival sources – including popular fiction, case law, correspondence from stateless people to the League of Nations, works of legal and political theory, and notes from negotiations on human-rights treaties – she documents how the problem of statelessness informed theories of human rights and sovereignty.Siegelberg is concerned with how notions of statelessness developed within, and then shaped, ‘the political contours of the modern interstate order’. She reminds us that the concepts of citizenship and statelessness are not static. Rather, the meanings attached to these terms are constantly being reshaped and reconstructed by historic events and shifting power relations.While Seigelberg’s book provides a comprehensive overview of international perspectives and experiences concerning statelessness and the modern state’s power to exclude, Zalc’s work focuses on Vichy France between 1940 and 1944, when Jews and others were denaturalised in increasing numbers to serve the Nazi agenda of deportation to death camps. Her detailed investigation provides unique insights into how bureaucracies in authoritarian regimes produce and reproduce violence.“The other”Siegelberg’s Statelessness shows us that the racial hierarchies that characterised early twentieth-century citizenship regimes gave way not to equal citizenship, as was envisaged, but rather to other forms of racism in Europe. At the same time, Zalc’s book demonstrates how processes of citizenship were racialised with the help of seemingly neutral and innocuous bureaucratic categories and data collection. Under the French Third Republic, Jewishness had been considered a private matter of faith and thus went largely unrecorded by the state. But as Zalc shows in fascinating detail, the categorisations of ‘Jew’ and ‘Israelite’ were deciphered and applied retroactively to stigmatise and discriminate. With a new racialised definition of ‘Jew’, and under pressure from the occupying Nazi regime to identify, count, and denaturalise Jews according to quotas, individual citizen files were scrutinised for evidence of Jewishness.Zalc’s work provides direct evidence of how state power – and sometimes state violence – functions through the routine processes of registration, categorisation, and counting. This was how discriminatory decisions by administrators and judges, on the basis of predominantly unstated racial criteria, ultimately resulted in deportation and mass murder. Denationalisation, Zalc shows, does not only result from explicit discrimination in nationality laws, but also from the misuse of administrative and bureaucratic processes.We see this today, too. National registers or citizenship-verification processes requiring excessive documentation and paperwork are used to exclude and marginalize certain groups. A case in point is the mass disenfranchisement of Muslims carried out by Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s government in Assam – the <a href="https://www.fidh.org/en/region/asia/india/assam-the-biggest-mass-disenfranchisement-of-the-21stcentury">biggest exercise</a> of its kind in this century. An administrative act described by the government as ‘<a href="https://scroll.in/article/948969/the-nrc-is-a-bureaucratic-paper-monster-that-will-devour-and-divide-india">just a process</a>’ has pushed some 1.9 million people to the <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2021/09/15/magazine/india-assam-muslims.html">brink of statelessness</a>, and many more will follow if this ‘process’ is rolled out nationwide.Racialised categories are also still being applied retroactively to exclude people, including through proxy indicators such as name, place of origin, or one’s status as a ‘dual national’. In Myanmar, where racial hierarchies in citizenship acquisition are explicit, registration and application processes have been fully <a href="https://files.institutesi.org/Towards_an_Inclusive_Citizenship_in_Myanmar.pdf">weaponised</a> against ethnic minorities and political opposition groups. ‘National security’Siegelberg and Zalc highlight not only the potential for bureaucratic violence through the administration of citizenship, but also how this exercise of state power is put to deliberate and targeted use. The archival material examined by Zalc offers a sampling of some of the legitimising rhetoric of the day. In Vichy France, the law on denationalisation was ‘of primordial importance’. According to a 1941 letter by Prime Minister François Darlan, it was needed to ensure that ‘the morally tainted or insufficiently assimilated elements that have been allowed to infiltrate the national community be eliminated as soon as possible’.Similarly, a recent <a href="https://cadmus.eui.eu/bitstream/handle/1814/70213/RSC%202021_23rev.pdf?sequence=4&amp;isAllowed=y">academic symposium</a> canvassing revocations of citizenship from the 1960s through the present (with contributions focusing on Syria, India, Nigeria, and Myanmar) identified a common thread: ‘those targeted for exclusion are reimagined and branded as ‘aliens’ or even ‘infiltrators,’ who the state can and must uncover.”Zalc warns that the inherent ‘malleability of the notion of national interest’ can easily be used to legitimize ‘discretionary power as being exercised in the name of the higher interests of the state’. The revocation of nationality is enjoying something of a renaissance even in some Western democracies, where it is framed as a counterterrorism measure. When stateless people appealed to the League of Nations for assistance in the years following WWI, the world’s first global-governance body received so many letters that it was forced to acknowledge the issue, and to consider whether and how it could take up the refugees’ cause. But, as Siegelberg shows, the response was muted. Firm in their resolve to protect the legitimacy of states and the international state system, legal experts at the League shied away from ‘the messier world of politics’. They preferred to situate ‘the problem of statelessness within the domain of the conflict of laws and avoided addressing it as a wider international or humanitarian crisis resulting from mass denationalisation or exclusionary national legislation’.Then came the post-WWII system, which renewed the ambition to use international law to insulate the modern world against mass atrocities, statelessness, and human-rights abuses, but has proved insufficiently robust. States have maintained and adapted their powers to exclude and denationalize their own people.This is evident even in countries that harbour no doubts about their status as liberal democracies. In 2019, the United Kingdom’s then-Home Secretary, Sajid Javid, summarily revoked the citizenship of <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/topics/c347vzp58nzt/shamima-begum-case">Shamima Begum</a>, a teenage girl who had run away from home to become the bride of an Islamic State fighter. Since this decision had clear political motives and was taken without any judicial proceedings, a court of appeal ruled in July 2020 that Begum should be allowed to return to the UK to fight the decision, but this ruling was <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-56209007">overturned</a> by the UK Supreme Court.In recent decades, important strides have been made in reframing statelessness as a human-rights issue, rather than as merely a matter of conflicting laws. Solutions have shifted from a focus on technical legal assistance (which tiptoes around the elephant in the room – state power) to approaches that challenge discrimination and states’ exclusionary powers directly.And yet, the international system still renders us powerless to temper the discretionary power of states to choose their own membership. There is no reliable, effective check against authoritarian states that set out to disenfranchise sections of their national communities. The contemporary drivers of statelessness are eerily reminiscent of the League of Nations era. Ethno-nationalism, security-related anxiety, and economic scapegoating are all contributing to processes of ‘Othering’ that, in the extreme, leave individuals or entire communities without citizenship. And, as was true of the post-WWI period, we have very few effective remedies to protect stateless people.Willful ignorance of the problem of statelessness has provided fertile ground for official abuses historically. Today, we must not look away as xenophobia is institutionalised in citizenship laws and bureaucracies. We must put aside fears of the ‘messier world of politics’ and call states to account for their exclusions – before it is too late for the excluded.© <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.project-syndicate.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Project Syndicate</a>Laura van Waas is Assistant Professor of International Law at Tilburg Law School in the Netherlands, is a founder and Co-Director of the Institute on Statelessness and Inclusion.Natalie Brinham, a PhD student at the International State Crime Initiative at Queen Mary University of London, is Senior Programme Officer at the Institute on Statelessness and Inclusion. <img width="307" height="462" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161128/636d18cf9c7e80680e0ac7e6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="301" height="462" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161128/636d18d19c7e80680e0ac7e7jpeg.jpg" alt="">Mira L. Siegelberg, <a href="https://www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog.php?isbn=9780674976313">Statelessness: A Modern History</a>, Harvard University Press, 2020. Claire Zalc, <a href="https://www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog.php?isbn=9780674988422">Denaturalized: How Thousands Lost their Citizenship and Lives in Vichy France</a>, Belknap Press, 2020.

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The statelessness pandemic

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161116/636921f79c7e80680e03a0ffjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/>Nepal’s flourishing diversity of ethnicities, languages and cultures and its socio-cultural closeness to Burma made me feel at home as soon as I landed in Kathmandu recently.Unfortunately, another similarity is that both countries have been mired in conflict and are trying to come to terms with truth and justice for past human rights violations.  There is a lot the two countries can learn from each other.Burma (Myanmar) was ruled by notorious military regimes for nearly half a century up until 2011, when political liberalisation began. The United Nations and others have documented widespread and systematic human rights violations by the junta, including war crimes, crimes against humanity and allegations of ethnic cleansing.Burma has the world’s longest-running civil wars, and has seen continuous conflict between the government and many of the country’s ethnic groups since independence in 1948. Both the military and ethnic armed groups have committed crimes including extrajudicial killings, forced displacement of entire villages, recruitment and use of child soldiers, and destruction of property, and war rape.The brutal suppression of pro-democracy movements, and violent crackdowns of protests were common throughout this period of military rule from 1962 to 2011, resulting in thousands of political prisoners. The atrocities against ethnic minority groups continue to this day, with the <a href="https://www.hrw.org/tag/rohingya-crisis" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://www.hrw.org/tag/rohingya-crisis&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1536731149248000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG9Jk6SjnsFjB6vZ6LOiPDxXWE85A">violations against Rohingya</a> people getting the most international attention at the moment.In comparison, Nepal’s conflict lasted a shorter period between 1996-2006 when most of the rights violations occurred. The violations of human rights during conflicts in both countries are so numerous and egregious that the normal justice system is not able to provide adequate response, which is why <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-struggle-for-transitional-justice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">transitional justice mechnisms </a>are needed.After 2011 Burma’s military rule was replaced by a military-backed civilian leadership. A comprehensive peace process with ethnic armed groups brought bilateral ceasefires moving up to a <a href="https://www.mmtimes.com/national-news/17022-extracts-from-the-nationwide-ceasefire-agreement.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://www.mmtimes.com/national-news/17022-extracts-from-the-nationwide-ceasefire-agreement.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1536731149248000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFCatvjWLrPNer76IDwjivKl6nh7g">Nationwide Ceasefire</a> in October 2015. The current National League for Democracy (NLD) government, elected in a landslide in 2015, has continued <a href="https://www.reuters.com/article/us-myanmar-politics-peace-idUSKCN1160RF" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://www.reuters.com/article/us-myanmar-politics-peace-idUSKCN1160RF&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1536731149248000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHlFs7iEmrEFX7RmKFS5qH4T1roYg">negotiations</a> between government, military, ethnic armed groups and political parties. Even so, the International Center for Transitional Justice (<a href="https://www.ictj.org/our-work/regions-and-countries/burmamyanmar" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://www.ictj.org/our-work/regions-and-countries/burmamyanmar&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1536731149248000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFZYp8J36Vu0BAiKxeaJ9db3UEJEw">ICTJ</a>) has been pushing Burma to provide redress to political prisoners and bring victim experiences into the national dialogue.However, the process has been overshadowed by the accusations of a <a href="https://www.reuters.com/article/us-myanmar-rohingya/myanmars-ethnic-cleansing-of-rohingya-continues-u-n-rights-official-says-idUSKCN1GI0C2" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://www.reuters.com/article/us-myanmar-rohingya/myanmars-ethnic-cleansing-of-rohingya-continues-u-n-rights-official-says-idUSKCN1GI0C2&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1536731149248000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHnY3CEDJon3L9CC2ux35UaP6z-Qg">campaign of ethnic cleansing</a> against the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/living-on-the-margins/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Rohingya Muslim</a> population by the military which has forced some 700,000 refugees to flee to neighbouring countries. A <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/Documents/HRBodies/HRCouncil/FFM-Myanmar/A_HRC_39_64.pdf" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://www.ohchr.org/Documents/HRBodies/HRCouncil/FFM-Myanmar/A_HRC_39_64.pdf&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1536731149249000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFjnSZCGKZsKvq4mB0Q05qmpvitkQ">UN repor</a>t on 24 August was the strongest condemnation yet and called for top military figures to be investigated for genocide in Rakhine State and crimes against humanity in other areas. It recommended that the case be referred to the International Criminal Court (ICC).Predictably, Burma’s rulers <a href="http://time.com/5381281/myanmar-rejects-un-rohingya-genocide-report/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=http://time.com/5381281/myanmar-rejects-un-rohingya-genocide-report/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1536731149249000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHXozMm9CjyFfrgfrqgRcp2s_JVGw">rejected</a> the report. Then last week, a Rangoon court sentenced two Reuters reporters to seven years in prison for <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-45392972" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-45392972&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1536731149249000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE07dgoa6OG7N-imhGIkuPmFXc8aw">violating a state secrets act</a> while investigating the atrocities against the Rohingya. Domestic and international rights have condemned it as a crushing blow to freedom of the press and another setback for democracy.Nepal’s own 2006 Comprehensive Peace Agreement laid down the steps to establish the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and the Commission on Investigation of Disappeared Persons which were finally established in 2015. Even so, they are criticised for allowing the government to grant amnesty to perpetrators, they <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2018/02/13/nepal-transitional-justice-proving-elusive" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://www.hrw.org/news/2018/02/13/nepal-transitional-justice-proving-elusive&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1536731149249000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGebWcVaS1DrMhWBpyjX4uKXTT3HQ">fail to meet international standards</a> and are unconstitutional. The government has extended their mandates for the second time in February, but has not provided them enough technical and financial support.Both Nepal and Burma currently face the challenge of a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/just-not-justice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">lack of commitment and delays</a> about the transitional justice process because of the lack of political will to acknowledge the past and provide relief to victims.In Burma, the military did not want to uncover the wrongdoings of its personnel and discussion of massive human rights violations has been largely<a href="http://www.irrawaddy.com/election/news/forgive-those-who-wronged-us-suu-kyi-tells-nld" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=http://www.irrawaddy.com/election/news/forgive-those-who-wronged-us-suu-kyi-tells-nld&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1536731149249000&amp;usg=AFQjCNF-f-Fz5PYrT6mZYMmyuPWQSLywog">understood to be off the table</a> during the transition and the peace process. This is because the current government says it is worried that raking up the past might reopen old wounds and further deepen divisions. Burma’s hybrid political structure still equips the military with greater power and influence. This failure to address transitional justice to confront past violations is now impeding the ability to confront the present.A similar <a href="https://www.icj.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/Nepal-TJus-Process-Advocacy-2017-ENG.pdf" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://www.icj.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/Nepal-TJus-Process-Advocacy-2017-ENG.pdf&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1536731149249000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFjTUV6E4PEQAdkfJwBIUBkGlAJYg">narrative</a> is <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Rights-right-here-at-home,3956" target="_blank" rel="noopener">being put out in Nepal as well</a>, and this is largely the reason why the perpetrators of conflict-era violations keep getting amnesty without serving actual jail time or prosecution. Since former enemies are now the state, it is in their interest delay, dilute and deny justice. Transitional justice is said to impede reconciliation, and perpetrators argue they were just following orders.Victims, their families, and human rights activists want them to be held to account no matter what. The Nepal government recently began consultations on amendments to the two <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/rocky-transition-to-justice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">transitional justice mechanisms</a>. While this shows the country may be going in the right direction, the notion that seeking justice impedes reconciliation is still widespread.Justice and reconciliation should not be trade-offs, nor are they mutually exclusive. After periods of repression and conflict, burying the past for the sake of peace might seem desirable but is not  sustainable in the long run. Transitional justice does not merely mean prosecution or reopening old wounds, it holds perpetrators to account and gives a change for them to offer apologies and acknowledgment. Nepal and Burma must remember that addressing past violations and recognising victims as rights-holders, fosters civic trust and the rule of law while promoting reconciliation.Naw Gladys Maung Maung is a political science student from Burma who was recently in Nepal.

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Nepal and Burma delay, dilute and deny justice

Jazz as healing music

Already trying to balance youth demands with legal provisions in the Constitution, Prime Minister Sushila Karki’s interim government faced yet another challenge over Dasain: a receding monsoon dumped unseasonal rain unleashing floods and landslides that killed at least 60, mostly in eastern Nepal.&nbsp; The government was rated positively for its early warning and the ‘visibility’ of its disaster response, with many comparing it to the inaction of the NC-UML coalition during last year’s floods.&nbsp; Government agencies and police proactively closed off hazardous sections of highways as Kathmandu was marooned from the rest of the country in the peak holiday season. Stranded passengers were taken care of, with police, army and local governments in Ilam coordinating rescue and relief efforts. Many of the problems were structural and inherited from decades of neglect and corruption in highway contracts. Shoddy bridges and encroachment of settlements along river banks have increased risk from more frequent extreme weather caused by climate breakdown. With Dasain over Tihar around the corner and the worst of the disaster behind, the Karki administration is trying to balance the separate demands of GenZ movers and shakers who installed her in office with constitutional provisions. It has not helped that the badly-mauled political parties are spoiling for a fight, and the three top leaders show little signs of stepping down. “Nepal’s movement did not happen in a democratic vacuum, so this government walks a very fine line in political legitimacy," says Bidushi Dhungel of the National Democratic Institute in Nepal. "In this fragile space, whatever the work done — or not done— by the interim government within its limited mandate, it may open up avenues for further dissent from old and new actors. They are &nbsp;caught between a rock and a hard place.” Civil society activists issued a statement on Wednesday calling on the main political parties to heed the writing on the wall and reform themselves. Signed by professor Krishna Khanal and former ambassador Keshab Mathema, the statement said: 'The main leaders of the main parties should say sorry, and voluntarily resign ... they must respect public sentiments and work to reform and transform their parties to be more accountable to the public, or risk being irrelevant.'&nbsp; Complicating matters further are the sometimes contradictory demands of various GenZ factions on punishing those responsible for the carnage and rampage of 8-9 September, Constitution and elections. Karki faces calls to immediately detain former PM KP Oli and Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak for their involvement in the massacre outside Parliament. Under pressure from GenZ delegates, Home Minister Om Aryal fired off a letter to the police to arrest Oli and Lekhak. But later at a confrontational midnight meeting at the prime minister’s residence in Baluwatar, all four security chiefs advised Karki that arresting the UML and NC ex-ministers could unleash violent confrontation on the streets. The interim government is in a bind. It has formed a committee headed by Gauri Bahadur Karki to investigate the killings last month as well as the arson and vandalism that followed. The question is: should it wait for the committee to submit its report before punishing perpetrators, or let police arrest those who can easily be identified in social media posts setting fire to Singha Darbar, the Supreme Court and other sites.&nbsp; GenZ’s Sudan Gurung faction has gone beyond its original demand to submit an 8-point ultimatum that includes the sacking of the Chief Justice and officials of the anti-corruption bureau.&nbsp; The Prime Minister is caught in the crossfire between managing the expectations of a movement that appointed her, and working within the framework of her interim government’s mandate and Constitution. But it is not just the government that faces challenges. The lack of clear consensus among youth factions and their outspoken collectives is surfacing.&nbsp; &nbsp;“This has been a leaderless and decentralised movement, and the traditional variables typically seen in a political revolt seem missing here," notes political scientist Sucheta Pyakuryal. “There is no organised structure, nor any ideological pull factor, therefore a big question is how much bargaining power does a movement like this have, and how sustainable will it be.” GenZ leaders seem to be in two main camps. Demands like the one for a directly elected prime minister, and the constitutional processes that can make for such an outcome, have emerged as a major point dividing the movement.&nbsp; Nepalis both within and outside the youth movement are watching Hami Nepal’s Sudan Gurung closely — especially after his recent interview with Al-Jazeera during which he expressed his interest to run for Prime Minister and seemed to not accept a win by political parties in the March elections.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251009201044_fcba7e92bb9a8812fd0ad4e9770d6f4d4189972de5229f91e9a832a26e388901.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251009201044_fcba7e92bb9a8812fd0ad4e9770d6f4d4189972de5229f91e9a832a26e388901" data-rendition-name="original" width="2916" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="One month on NT"> <figcaption>GROUND ZERO: The destroyed centre of Nepal's government with Singha Darbar (in green scaffolding), the Attorney General's Office, Supreme Court, and in the distance, Parliament building. Also seen are the nearly finished new Parliament Complex and the new Supreme Court buildings. Drone shot taken on Thursday morning. Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Gurung’s participation in the NDRRMA’s disaster management meeting and manner of his interaction with officials at the event was met with both bouquets and brickbats. Interestingly, some of the criticism was youth activists themselves. &nbsp;“There's a lot of self-involvement and self-importance that seems to be guiding a fragmented young leadership, as opposed to constructively engaging in how to concretise reforms,” says Dhungel. “There seems to be very little stocktaking of what's happened in the past, and what's happened in other countries to try identify where lapses could be before they occur."&nbsp; In the absence of unified positions and level-headed leadership, the youth who spearheaded post-protest negotiations, as well as the GenZ movement in general, risk losing public goodwill already dented by the destruction of state property on 9 September. This also leaves an opening for political parties which are on the defensive and licking their wounds to capitalise on youth discord.&nbsp; Says Pyakuryal: “Post revolution, the political landscape becomes extremely unpredictable and therefore there is a risk of co-optation from several Machiavellian political actors including political parties, monarchists, as well as other forces, and that is concerning.” The immediate and visible transformation that Nepal’s youth expect will not manifest right away, and while there is a need for long-term political planning, the caretaker government must also undertake measures that have a palpable impact on the daily life of citizens. &nbsp;&nbsp; “While youth frustrations must be addressed urgently, statecraft isn’t just about fulfilling short-term goals,”says Pyakuryal. &nbsp; Many, including the youth themselves, now see the need for GenZ to have a more united stance and to move beyond making demands that the interim government cannot fulfil and start mobilising for elections — even by forming its own party.&nbsp; A strong showing in elections can enable them to enact the changes they want to strengthen Nepal’s democracy, and make future governments more accountable.&nbsp; This week, the Election Commission announced 16 November as the deadline to register new parties for the 5 March polls.&nbsp; Youth representatives have said that they want to be active participants in the political process, particularly in national-level politics. The Constitution defines ‘youth’ as being between the ages of 16-40. In the 2022 elections, the Election Commission stated that over 41% of locally-elected representatives were from ages 21-40 years.&nbsp; If young Nepalis are to contest the election outside the banner of mainstream parties, this leaves electoral aspirants little more than a month to decide whether to form a loose coalition with existing parties, a separate political party, or to contest elections independently. “This is first of a kind movement, where political language is digital, not ideological, where organising is done through online platforms and where there is no one leader spearheading the movement,”says Pyakuryal. “I don’t know if ‘anti-corruption’ or ‘political reform’ have a strong enough ideological pull to band people together in the long run.” Indeed, the RSP was formed only four months before the 2022 elections and cashed in on anti-incumbent and anti-corruption sentiments of voters — mainly driven by social media. But controversy and strife within their party means it has largely lost its public trust.&nbsp; Nepal’s September Uprising and its aftermath have shown that a majority of young people are entirely disillusioned with establishment parties and politicians, even using ‘ex-political parties’ as a phrase of reference. Any new young political figures that emerge from this movement and this election will have to work with mainstream parties in a multiparty democracy.&nbsp; &nbsp;“The reality of politics is that change is not possible without engaging with existing political institutions and actors,” says Dhungel. “To say that they do not want to engage, negotiate, or identify allies or proactively seek out input from at least the reform-minded individuals within each of those outfits is political naivety, and may lead to a lack of institutionalised reform.” However, Dhungel notes that the youth leadership would have more agency if they are clear not just on what they want to change, but about whether they are interested in active politics or civic engagement. “The window of opportunity that is fast closing is to really negotiate hard and push for internal reforms within political parties and across the electoral system,” she adds. Pyakurel also adds: “GenZ are smart and politically mature, I hope they see these loopholes. I am optimistic about the direction they take.”

One month on

7:30pm Tuesday, 9 September.&nbsp; I was driving my daughter back from a relative’s house in Baneswar where she had taken refuge after a curfew was declared the previous day while she was in school. She was riding pillion on the back of my moped. We drove past Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">where 19 people had been killed by police </a>the previous day. We passed Thapathali, where the Kantipur highrise was on fire. The sky had gone dark, and the stinging smoke made it hard to breathe. A gas cylinder exploded, and the crowd dispersed briefly. The blast provided a moment to escape the raging mob. By myself I may not have been so scared, but my daughter’s safety made me more afraid. I had never been this frightened in my journalism career, even while covering the Maoist insurgency 20 years ago. At the Tripureswor intersection there were more angry crowds. The further we got from the epicentre of the GenZ demonstration, the more elderly the protesters looked. Many were muscular gentlemen with tattooed arms. Prime Minister K P Oli had just <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">resigned</a>, but the crowd was still chanting “के पी चोर, देश छोड”. Soon, we were surrounded by an enraged mob. &nbsp;My survival instinct took over, and I started shouting “के पी चोर” and my plucky daughter screamed from behind “देश छोड”. Father and daughter waved at the &nbsp;protesters, and gave them a thumbs up. &nbsp;We finally got home, scared and smelling of burning rubber and smoke.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251007031028_c5c04095cdb6f0b24cdc2cc60bf627f49c15e0cf9b509ad149df35a2e73e1d3f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251007031028_c5c04095cdb6f0b24cdc2cc60bf627f49c15e0cf9b509ad149df35a2e73e1d3f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Reporter's diary of 8-9 September"> <figcaption>A building in Baneswar was damaged by protesters. </figcaption> </figure>  ARSON AND LOOTING I was born in the remote mountains of western Nepal in Rukum, the district that was the stronghold of the Maoist guerrillas after they launched an armed struggle in 1996. I moved to Kathmandu for higher studies, and as a student witnessed the popular uprising of 2006 against Gyanendra’s absolute monarchy. I have covered violence and chaos. I have been caught in the crossfire between the rebels and state security. I covered the violent <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-historic-youth-dissensus">street protests</a> of the 2006 People’s Movement that ended the war, the Madhes movement and the Indian blockade of 2015.&nbsp; But never was I more scared than during the 30-minute drive home through the city with my daughter at the back of my moped.&nbsp; Last month’s protests were initially led by youth groups which had loosely banded together as GenZ to protest corruption and impunity. On 8 September, I drove to the Mandala in my trusty moped to cover the rally, some protesters were in school uniform. There was singing and chanting. Just before noon, a slightly older group of protesters peeled off from the sit-in in front of Everest Hotel, broke through the half-hearted police cordon and moved towards the intersection outside Parliament. Most of the original young demonstrators remained at the sit-in, while the grownup protesters who were clearly not a part of the GenZ, started to break the perimeter wall of the Parliament complex. The young protesters looked a bit confused about what to do next as they also neared the Parliament gates. Violence was not a part of their plan, and the infiltration had begun in earnest. A group of organised older rioters broke through the western wall, even as police were concentrated along the main south gate. These agitators seemed focused on a single mission: to burn down the Parliament building, and they went about it purposefully.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251007031032_1fcd474774c8e110e833485cf54a7e63e8c8388ec78c2b4d3ae6e830c203c183.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251007031032_1fcd474774c8e110e833485cf54a7e63e8c8388ec78c2b4d3ae6e830c203c183" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Reporter's diary of 8-9 September NT"> <figcaption>Blood seen in Baneswar.</figcaption> </figure>  Too late, the police used water cannons to disperse those by the south gate. I went closer, my press card dangling from my neck. A tear gas canister whizzed past my head. I was not able to see clearly, and backed away to safety. The police opened fire at point blank range, killing 19 protesters. Hundreds of injured were carried to the nearby Civil Hospital. There are many video clips on social media of task force police kneeling, taking aim with SLR rifles and shooting, they show protesters being hit and falling. The riot police fled, and the Armed Police Force and Nepal Army soldiers came out, but remained close to the trucks that had transported them to the intersection. Seeing that the security forces were not stopping them, the crowd then went on an arson rampage — it became a free-for-all as government buildings were set on fire one after another. Most of the arsonists were not GenZ, they were in the mid-30s, and I heard many shouting slogans for the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/why-the-monarchy-still-sways-nepal-s-republic"> restoration of the monarchy</a>. Others were there simply to vandalise and loot. After having chased the police away from the Parliament building, they posted pictures and videos, having the run of the premises, instigating new arrivals to continue with the arson, and also brandishing looted automatic weapons. A curfew was declared, but this did not stop the rampage throughout that evening and into the night. Unable to return home, I spent the night in a friend’s office, and returned to the Parliament area the next morning. The black asphalt was dyed red with blood. Shoes, slippers and pieces of clothing littered the street. The next day, 9 September the much-feared and expected revenge attacks ignited. There was hope that the Army would be able to protect government buildings and provide public security, but the arson, vandalism and looting went unchecked — even when the seats of government were set on fire. The military did make an appearance, but only after 10pm to enforce the curfew, but by then the mob had already gone home.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251007031032_578cfa7c9e56f6ffcf1ca9b148e114a87b5332268cf97720584b70906823c074.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251007031032_578cfa7c9e56f6ffcf1ca9b148e114a87b5332268cf97720584b70906823c074" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Reporter's diary of 8-9 September NT"> <figcaption>A protester receiving treatment at Civil Hospital.</figcaption> </figure>  That was the moment I asked myself: Where have the students gone? Has the GenZ movement been hijacked? I could not see any of the GenZ-ers anywhere on 9 September. It was around midday of 9 September that millennials, including from groups like Hami Nepal came forward to the media, claiming to speak for the GenZ. They claimed to have led the protests. Others claiming to be GenZ said they were for the restoration of the monarchy, but they did not look the age.&nbsp; Mobs were out of control, burning down the prime minister’s office, the Supreme Court, the CIAA and the official and private residences of ministers. Within 27 hours Nepal became a country without a government, and leaders without homes. Important official documents went up in flames with the buildings that housed them. PM Oli resigned, too late to save the day. The Army occupied itself airlifting ministers from their official residences. Former prime minister Sher Bahadur Deuba and his wife foreign minister Arzu Rana Deuba were dragged out, beaten up and their home set on fire. They were rescued and taken to an army base. It became hard to tell over the next few days if the Army was providing them security, or keeping them incommunicado in detention. The Army was negotiating with GenZ as well as pro-monarchists at its headquarters, but moved the talks to President Ram Chandra Paudel’s office on 11 September.&nbsp; Former chief justice Sushila Karki was nominated interim head of government by GenZ delegates voting on Discord, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/march-to-5-march">mandated to hold elections</a> on 5 March.&nbsp; Will that happen? Things are too fluid at the moment. And my mind is still reeling from the fear and panic of that moped ride with my daughter through rampaging mobs. Did all that really happen in front of my eyes, or was it just a nightmare?&nbsp; Bhadra Sharma is a reporter for The New York Times based in Kathmandu.

Reporter's diary of 8-9 September

The annual United Nations General Assembly is always an occasion for taking stock of the state of the world. But this year, on the 80th anniversary of the UN’s founding, it was also an occasion to take stock of the organisation itself.
By any measure, the UN’s situation is dire. While Russian aggression against Ukraine and mounting tensions between the United States and China cannot be blamed on the UN, they do highlight a fundamental problem. The UN Security Council – where China, Russia, and the US each wield a veto – is locked in a permanent confrontation over one issue or another, blocking the rest of the organisation from moving forward on almost anything.
Consider the situation in the Middle East, where the UN has played a central role in conflict resolution and peacemaking ever since the State of Israel was established (under a UN resolution). Numerous UN peacekeeping operations in the region have helped to alleviate tensions, and massive humanitarian efforts, primarily aimed at Palestinian refugee communities, have saved countless lives. While the UN has not forged a lasting peace, it has certainly helped prevent some wars and shorten others.
In recent years, however, the UN has increasingly been sidelined. The so-called Quartet – the UN, the US, the European Union, and Russia – is now a distant memory, and numerous UN operations have come under direct attack, primarily by Israel. The Israeli government not only questions the humanitarian efforts of UNRWA (the UN Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees) but now also blocks the organisation’s work whenever it can.
Before Hamas’s October 7, 2023, attack on Israel, the UN was essential to keeping the situation in Gaza relatively stable. Though it couldn’t overcome divisions among the Palestinians, especially after Hamas assumed power in Gaza in 2006, it could, and did, help provide the basic means of survival for the enclave’s two million people. But now Israel has questioned or attacked virtually every aspect of the UN’s work on this issue, and it could not have done so without America’s tacit support. US President Donald Trump, in particular, has proved willing to accept virtually everything that Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu’s extremist government does.
Meanwhile, the UN has struggled to mobilise an effective response in South Sudan, a semi-failed state, and in Sudan, where a devastating civil war is entering its third year. Similarly, from the Katanga secession in 1960-63 to the recent peace operations in northeastern Congo, Central Africa continues to preoccupy UN peacekeepers and mediators.
Around the world, there is no shortage of crises that demand UN engagement – from Gaza and Sudan to the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Haiti, Myanmar, and Afghanistan, to name just a few. But with the larger powers fixated on their confrontations with one another, and with the Trump administration withdrawing not only active support but also funding, the outlook for the UN appears grim.
The US provides 25% of UN funding, but it has <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/united-nations-must-adapt-or-die-by-adekeye-adebajo-2025-09" target="_blank">stopped</a> sending its contributions. It also traditionally accounts for an even larger share of voluntary financing for humanitarian operations, but these funds, too, have been cut. Making matters worse, China, the UN’s second-largest contributor, is also behind on its payments.
With its financial situation growing desperate, UN Secretary-General <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/columnist/antonio-guterres" target="_blank">António Guterres</a> warns that staff across the organisation will need to be cut by <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2025/sep/18/united-nations-un-2026-budget-job-losses-us-funding-cuts" target="_blank">one-fifth</a>. Morale is said to be low, as is the prospect of a change for the better. With his recent address to the General Assembly, Trump made clear that he has nothing but contempt for the organisation. The only role he seems able to see for it is to help him get a Nobel Peace Prize. The Trump administration’s forthcoming review of America’s multilateral commitments is almost certain to deliver more bad news.
Does the UN have any future? While the demand for it is as great as ever, its ability to deliver has obviously been diminished. There is no way for it to survive without scaling back its ambitions and abilities; precisely how it goes about this will be a central issue over the next few years.
With Guterres’s tenure ending in 2026, the process of selecting his successor will also have to feature a debate about ensuring the UN’s long-term survival. Moving the headquarters out of the US is a natural step, owing not only to the withdrawal of US funding and the need for cost savings, but also to the US refusal to grant visas to those attending UN gatherings (as it did with the Palestinian leadership this year).
Yes, a UN that is no longer headquartered in New York would be different in many ways. But relocation also may be the only way for it to survive. Dag Hammarskjöld, the UN’s second secretary-general, famously <a href="https://ask.un.org/faq/14623" target="_blank">remarked</a> that the body was not created to deliver Heaven, but rather to spare us from Hell. That task remains as important as ever. But for things to stay the same, everything must change. © Project Syndicate
Carl Bildt is a former prime minister and foreign minister of Sweden.

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Reporter's diary of 8-9 September

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