In front of the ashes of what used to be Ward 8 of Harion village, a crowd gathers. Two men are talking in Maithili: “They say they want to get rid of the provinces.’&nbsp; The men were not part of the protests on 8-9 September, and have followed the news about some GenZ protesters wanting to abolish the 2015 federal republican Constitution that led to the establishment of Madhes Province.&nbsp; Barely three weeks later, communal clashes broke out 70km away in Janakpur during a Durga immersion festival over Dasain, and a curfew had to be imposed. The Tarai districts along the Indian border with Hindu and Muslim communities have become chronic flashpoints for tension.&nbsp; Between these two towns connected by the East–West Highway, the communal tension sits uneasily alongside earlier unfulfilled demands for provincial autonomy and at a deeper level the very idea of what it means to be a Nepali. It is notable that many Madhesi political leaders who have been quick to protest against Kathmandu for greater decision-making powers under federalism have been more hesitant to address the religious tension within their constituencies.&nbsp; This has led to criticism that the Madhes Movement’s promise of inclusion faltered when it came to protecting caste, ethnic and religious minorities. Muslims of the plains had supported the broader call for autonomy and Muslim activists were among those killed in various Madhes Movements. Yet, they now find themselves caught up in rising Hindu majoritarian sentiments. Political analyst C K Lal has warned in his writings that continued ‘othering’ of the largest minority group in the Madhes could tear apart the province’s social fabric unless deliberate efforts are made to foster dialogue and trust. The Tarai plains are home to 53% of Nepal’s population, and Madhes Province is the most densely populated region of Nepal. It holds a mosaic of identities, ethnic and caste groups. Muslims make up 12% of the province's little over 6.3 million population. Many of these groups share cultural and family ties with communities across the border.&nbsp; Then there are the indigenous Tharu and Rajbanshi, and Pahadi communities who do not identify as Madhesi. There is a distinction about who is ‘Madhesi’ and who is a mere ‘Madhesbasi’. &nbsp;There are those who were moved down in state-sponsored trans-location from the mountains to the plains in the past century, settlers from India, and those who have moved south to the plains for an easier life. The Madhes has hosted a rich tapestry of identities that have mostly coexisted peacefully. There are temples and mosques on the same streets, their calls for prayer often overlapping. The Malangbaba temple in the headquarter in Sarlahi was built to honour a Sufi figure and is revered equally by Hindus and Muslims in an annual fair in March.&nbsp; This diversity in Madhes Province and the Tarai in general also means competing political interests, and occasional friction. Caste divisions add to the complexity: with entrenched hierarchy within Hindu communities. Dalits form 15% of the Madhesh Province population and feel excluded despite the movement for political autonomy. The Madhesi identity is therefore pluralistic, and the Madhes Movement tried to encapsulate different groups for one political cause, although not quite successfully. The layers of othering that excludes Madhes from mainstream politics of Nepal is replicated inside the politics of Madhes as it fails to proportionally represent Muslims and other secluded groups. MADHES GENZ Despite the lingering effects of exclusion by the Nepali state, young Madhesis also joined the GenZ protests last month in a renewed attempt to make their voice heard.&nbsp; “In essence the GenZ protest had resonance because it captured the frustrations of &nbsp;Madhes and dissatisfaction against a corrupt system,” says GenZ activist Nancy Yadav.&nbsp; The protests on 8-9 September led to widespread destruction across the province, with 90 police posts, 207 government offices and dozens of vehicles set ablaze or vandalised. &nbsp; Imran Khan, 23, drives a rickshaw in Harion and says the Madhesi people are used to protests, but this is the first time he found his own peers also engaged in a political rally.&nbsp; “We talk more about politics now than before,” he says. “The GenZ wanted their rally to be peaceful, but somehow old political players caused more damage than good.”&nbsp; Aayush Karna in Janakpur concurs: “The youth here also marched alongside all of Nepal to demand for corruption free and a more just Nepal. But we were shocked on the second day to see how much damage was done so rapidly. Like the GenZ in Kathmandu the movement was hijacked, and that was not what the GenZ wanted.” SAME PAGE&nbsp; Nepal adopted its federal Constitution in 2015 to address decades of exclusion by Kathmandu, decentralise political power and give the Madhes and its minorities a political home.&nbsp; A decade later, the promise feels thin. In mainstream media in Kathmandu the Madhes is still peripheral, and often appears in the news lineup only in moments of crisis, floods, protests, or communal violence.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101411108_9691e252b5ce723b6922f88418caa3eda43e02fba1a65c19043b1fd6ea10c7e9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025101411108_9691e252b5ce723b6922f88418caa3eda43e02fba1a65c19043b1fd6ea10c7e9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2480" height="1715" loading="lazy" alt="Birjang"> <figcaption>A commercial hub and the road gateway to Nepal, Birganj though which 80% of the country's exports and imports pass through.</figcaption> </figure>  When the interim Constitution of Nepal was promulgated with no mention of federal restructuring in January 2007, Madhesi leader Upendra Yadav and his Madhesi Janadhikar Forum burnt copies of the charter and launched an indefinite strike across the southern Tarai in protest, blocking the East-West Highway and organising mass rallies for weeks. After several people were killed in Siraha and other districts, Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala agreed to an amendment of the Constitution to commit to a federal state structure. In early 2008, another uprising under the leadership of Mahanta Thakur was underway demanding concessions on electoral representation and to keep the push for federal restructuring on the forefront of the agenda. The loudest of all dissent from the Madhes towards the state was after the Constitution was promulgated in 2015. Rajendra Mahato set it alight in front of a crowd of supporters, declaring the document illegitimate and anti-Madhes. At least 45 people were killed between August and September as protests spread across the Tarai.&nbsp; The protesters demanded fair and inclusive representation of Madhes in state institutions, security forces, and the bureaucracy, reflecting their population share. They demanded the redrawing of&nbsp; Provincial boundaries to create a contiguous Madhes province stretching the full length of the Tarai from east to west, and electoral constituency delimitation based primarily on population rather than geography, ensuring densely populated plains weren’t underrepresented.&nbsp; They sought reform of citizenship laws, especially those restricting children of Nepali women married to foreigners, and formal recognition of Madhesi identity and cultural rights within the Constitution. Protesters stopped fuel tankers and cargo trucks at key border crossings like Birganj-Raxaul, cutting off the lifeline of a country still reeling from the earthquake. What began as a political dispute soon became a national crisis, and the unofficial blockade left hospitals without medicines and cities without fuel. India was accused of tacitly &nbsp;supporting the border blockade, deepening Kathmandu’s resentment.&nbsp; As shortages grew and international pressure mounted, the government finally yielded in January 2016, passing constitutional amendments on inclusion and representation. Only then, after nearly five months of paralysis was the blockade lifted.&nbsp; The Madhes Movemets of 1007, 2008 and 2015 is often flattened into ‘ethnic unrest’. The state’s lens rarely distinguishes between demands for dignity and threats to stability. When the state securitises dissent instead of understanding it, frustrations can mutate into sectarian anger. Communal tension becomes the grammar through which deeper political discontent expresses itself. “Inclusion is not a favour to the people of the Madhes, it is a right,” says GenZ activist Prerana Paswan. “When people speak of dismantling federalism are we being asked to step back from the GenZ movement?” There are various political parties calling for federalism to be scrapped because it is too costly, decentralised corruption, and that provinces are just proxies for the central parties. “But the need for federalism and provincial structures is more about addressing the country’s diversity and devolving power from Kathmandu,” says GenZ activist Bikashkumar Gupta. The Constitution acknowledges that Nepal is a multiethnic, multilingual, and multicultural state. . Provinces like the Madhes can promote their regional languages (Maithili, Bhojpuri, Awadhi) and cultural traditions alongside Nepali.&nbsp; Federalism has given symbolic and constitutional legitimacy to Nepal’s plural identity and represents a psychological and political acknowledgment that Nepal is not a single homogeneous state. For the Madhes, in particular, federalism represents a shift at least on paper in looking at the people of the region. “The Madhesi people will yet again be forced to take to the street if federalism is dismantled,” said a member of the Janata Samajwadi Party in Sarlahi who did not want to be identified. “We will not go back to being unseen by the Nepali state again.” Federal structures needs to be given more power over decision-making and revenue collection. Whether the next generation of Madhesis inherit mistrust or solidarity depends on whether their aspirations are met. The GenZ chants in Kathmandu and the curfew in Janakpur are not separate stories. They are different dialects of the same question: who gets to belong in Nepal’s democracy?

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Unfinished federalism in Madhes Province

The meeting called by Prime Minister Sushila Karki at Baluwatar on 4 October was supposed to be about completing the interim cabinet with GenZ representatives. But it ended with factions putting up rival demands.
It is ironic that a movement that voted for Karki on Discord is itself marred by discord.
But such jostling was to be expected. This was an amorphous and leaderless group of young Nepalis that was suddenly elevated to fill a national power vacuum, and is now expected to redesign the country from scratch. &nbsp;
At least two camps have emerged within the youth groups. One is led by Sudan Gurung of Hami Nepal with Barsa Raut, Anil Baniya, Purshotam Yadav and Ojaswi Raj Thapa, while the second under Rakshya Bam has Pradeep Gyawali, Aditya Karn, Yujan Rajbhandari and Dheeraj Joshi.
Just like it was at Nepal Army Headquarters on 10 September, there is distrust and dissent within these disparate group. For the sake of stability, and in memory of the 72 who lost their lives last month, Nepalis want these groups to be more united in their stances. &nbsp;
Prime Minister Karki did not attend the Baluwatar meeting last week, wanting the GenZs to first work out their differences. Home Minister Om Prakash Aryal and Finance Minister Rameshore Khanal were present, and entreated the young delegates to cooperate.
Sudan Gurung has demanded the resignation of the Chief Justice and the head of the anti-graft body, the CIAA. However, some even within Gurung’s camp are said to want constitutional provisions to be respected, and do not agree with some of his eight demands.
Rakshya Bam accuses Gurung of trying to do away with the Constitution and issuing arbitrary statements on governance. Her group also issued a statement warning against any attempt to deviate from the values of democratic change.
The conflict between various GenZ groups has exposed the nature and limitations of street revolt, proving that it is always easier to destroy than to rebuild. A revolution can bring rapid and transformative change, but then comes the task of agreeing on new structures and processes — while dealing with the ego and ambition of the protagonists.
TIGHT-ROPE WALK
One year after a similar student-led uprising, Bangladesh is struggling to stabilise the system and preparing for elections while dealing with extremism and geopolitical fallout. Sri Lanka held elections and brought in a new youthful leader, but it has not been smooth sailing.
Prime Minister Karki’s caretaker government is on a tight-rope walk. Moving too fast on arresting the previous prime minister and investigating others for corruption risks igniting renewed street violence, but delaying justice will anger the impatient youth, who want immediate results.&nbsp;
The longer the uncertainty and instability lasts, the more likely it will be for radical forces to take advantage of the fluidity. The communal clashes in Birganj and Janakpur over Dasain, inspired by what is happening across the border, should be a wakeup call. Hate speech and ethnic slurs on social media could be incendiary if left unregulated.
The Prime Minister has said her foremost priority is to ensure free, fair and inclusive elections on 5 March — mindful that various forces are out to sabotage it for their own interests.
Amending the Constitution to meet GenZ demands may have to wait for polls next year, and real change that improves lives, creates jobs and makes the bureaucracy cleaner and more efficient will take longer.
But till then, the interim administration could deliver tangible benefits to people with do-able improvements like speeding up the driving license process, removing middlemen from all levels of the bureaucracy, expeditiously completing highway repairs, controlling food prices.
The youth want immediate course correction, given how the old political parties, politicians and bureaucracy had plundered the state for years. But idealism alone cannot make a state machinery function. Every decision during this sensitive transition must be taken without undermining previous gains.
Factional friction within the GenZ will allow the old leaders in the old parties to regroup and plot revenge. Meanwhile, the three main parties, which fuelled the youth and class rage with their corruption and reckless disregard for the public good for the past three decades, do not seem to have learnt their lessons.&nbsp;
Despite being disgraced, K P Oli of UML, Sher Bahadur Deuba of the Nepali Congress and Pushpa Kamal Dahal of the Maoist Centre, are still not willing to retire. The tragic loss of life and the mayhem that followed does not seem to have opened their eyes to the writing on the wall. They are intent on blaming everyone but themselves.
The Election Commission has already set a deadline for party registration by 16 November. Some in the GenZs want provisions to vote for a directly elected executive head of the country by even changing the Constitution.
There is a lot of confusion about what exactly the mandate of the interim government is, what it can and cannot do. With the dissolution of Parliament, the interim government cannot amend the Constitution, its only mandate is to conduct elections to form a new government that would then work on amendments.&nbsp;
At most, it can pass ordinances but only for the peace and good governance of the country or when there is an immediate need to enact a law.
To make things murkier, Sudan Gurung in a widely-shared interview on Al Jazeera said that he would run for prime minister, and that he would not accept the old parties and their leaders even if they win the elections unless they completely reform their political stance. He is also willing to work with pro-monarchists if they are for the betterment of the country.
Dharan Mayor Harka Sampang has already registered a new party called Shram Sanskriti Party while the likes of Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah, Energy Minister Kulman Ghising and for RSP Sumana Shrestha are expected to follow another corporate backer for a new party.
All parties, including any new ones representing the youth, must learn from the failures of the newer alternatives such as Sajha, Bibeksheel and more recently RSP. Parties go nowhere without a clear ideology, organisation and a vision and pathway post-elections.
The interim government is made of most capable technocrats and a Prime Minister with zero tolerance for incompetence and who says she has no intention of continuing in the position a minute longer than necessary.&nbsp;
We now have to move beyond destruction to rebuilding, and not be distracted by discord.
Sonia Awale

Discordant Democracy

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

One is an archipelago, the other is landlocked. But the Philippines and Nepal have a lot in common: both are disaster-prone, their economies dependent on overseas migrant workers, both went though Maoist insurrections that failed to replace a feudal order dominated by political dynasties. And both countries suffer from rampant corruption. Twelve days after <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-new-normal" target="_blank">deadly protests toppled Nepal’s government</a> tens of thousands of Filipinos, many of them youth, also poured out into the streets demanding transparency and better government. Cars were set on fire, and more than 200 people were arrested, nearly half of them minors. The ‘Trillion Peso March Against Corruption’ was fuelled by <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/09/21/world/asia/manila-philippines-rally-protest.html" target="_blank">anger over embezzlement</a> by politicians and their <a href="https://pcij.org/2025/08/31/5-reveals-from-the-flood-control-data/" target="_blank">crony contractors</a> estimated to top $17 billion in flood control infrastructure that were either never completed, or non-existent.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100411108_85daed60ed5599f53235312e5b33703244bbac8640dbaf5161f90e5abe83f7eb.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025100411108_85daed60ed5599f53235312e5b33703244bbac8640dbaf5161f90e5abe83f7eb" data-rendition-name="original" width="2326" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="Phillipines anti-corruption protests"> </figure>  “We learnt from Nepal and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/09/30/world/anime-protests-flag-moldova-nepal-indonesia-gaza.html" target="_blank">Indonesia</a> how to deploy social media as a tool to spread information, we are digital natives and well connected within the country and across borders,” said <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/yuri-lemana-68322b183/?originalSubdomain=ph" target="_blank">Yuri Lemana</a> of the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/FOIYouthPH/" target="_blank">Youth Alliance for Freedom of Information</a>, and a part of the GenZ protests.&nbsp; “The system has failed us, unemployment is on the rise, there are shrinking opportunities for youth, and we face environmental threats. There is a realisation that our future is at stake,” Lemana added. Online groups started highlighting bribery and kickbacks in July after President Ferdinand (Bongbong) Marcos Jr himself brought up corruption in the infrastructure budget in his annual address to the nation, and launched a probe.&nbsp; The protests gained traction after powerful visuals of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/international-spotlight-on-nepal" target="_blank">rallies in Indonesia and Nepal</a> circulated on digital platforms. Filipino journalists also exposed the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-f0MFz3vmfE" target="_blank">high-flying lifestyle of contractors</a> involved in siphoning off the infrastructure budget.&nbsp; As in Nepal, the youth protests were joined in by various radical groups. In Manila they reportedly included supporters of ex-president Rodrigo Duterte who is currently on trial at the <a href="https://www.icc-cpi.int/philippines/duterte" target="_blank">International Criminal Court (ICC)</a> in the Hague for extrajudicial killings during his ‘war on drugs’ 2011-2019. Duterte still has a lot of support, especially in the Filipino diaspora, for being tough on crime. Duterte was allied with Marcos in the 2022 elections, and his daughter Sara Duterte is currently vice-president. But the two families had a massive falling out, and the Supreme Court annulled the Lower House’s attempt to impeach the vice-president. This week in Manila, a remarkably well-informed Grab driver replayed TikTok videos of Kathmandu’s burning Parliament building to a passenger from Nepal. After his garment factory was driven out of business by cheap Chinese imports, he started driving a ride-hailing cab and was livid with successive governments not providing opportunities to ordinary people like him. Traffic was gridlocked because of flooded streets, and the driver vented out his anger: “Look at this. The streets are always flooded because of corruption. We should have done here what you did in Nepal.” Even before the protests, Senate President Francis Escudero and House Speaker Martin Romualdez had both resigned over the 'Floodgate Scandal'. Romualdez is Marcos’ cousin and is now said to be in Madrid, where his every movement is being tracked by Filipino diaspora in social media posts. The Independent Commission for Infrastructure has issued subpoenas to probe corruption in flood control projects. As in Nepal and Indonesia, much of the anger was over the offspring of politicians extravagantly flaunting their ill-gotten wealth on Instagram and TikTok. In the Philippines, the outrage is also over political clans passing on electoral seats to offspring. The 21 September protests were centred around Rizal Park and the EDSA Intersection in Manila — both symbolic for previous people’s movements against the Spanish colonialists and the 1986 uprising against the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos (father of the present president). “People here had seen what happened in Nepal, and were asking why we weren’t as angry as people there? Why not show our anger, too?” said one reporter who covered the protests. But, he added: “Let’s not be naive. It may have started with youth anger, but there were also people who were paid to infiltrate and instigate. We were also wary that things should not get out of hand like in Nepal.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100411104_2c02ece56d29b2d8222433572d75c2dcc9bc2f3425d277a0056f393b521eecd0.png" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2025100411104_2c02ece56d29b2d8222433572d75c2dcc9bc2f3425d277a0056f393b521eecd0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1550" height="996" loading="lazy" alt="Phillipines youth protests"> <figcaption>An Instagram post of the protests in Manila with a comment relating it to the Nepal unrest two weeks earlier.</figcaption> </figure>  Seventy percent of Filipinos are Millennials and GenZ of voting age, and they were impatient with a rigged electoral system. In a clear parallel to what happened in Kathmandu two weeks earlier, radical groups, political rivals, and the general public furious with the system all joined in the protests. Catholic priests, people from all generations and professions had participated in the EDSA Uprising against Marcos in 1986. This time, it was the youth who took the lead. Joseph Francisco Ortega of the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/nationalyouthcommission/" target="_blank">Philippine National Youth Commission</a> said he understands the frustration among the youth that fuelled the unrest. The discontent is also because despite there being young legislators, they are either party-affiliated or scions of political dynasties. “If we can convince young politicians to do the right thing, then we have won half the battle,” Ortega said. “If we want to rebuild quickly and for the long term, we have to change the system from within. There is a constructive way to do this, while exercising the right to non-violent protest.” CROSS-POLLINATION The <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6w8monPKdrc" target="_blank">violence in Manila streets</a> on 21 September was nowhere near the scale of what happened in Kathmandu on 8-9 September, but both transcended GenZ to be an outlet for pan-generational rage much like 1986 in the Philippines.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004111012_e9cf9abfa8e35f3c074506dfdf94a262b5b311da6863cc2ec7bc3458a983df71.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20251004111012_e9cf9abfa8e35f3c074506dfdf94a262b5b311da6863cc2ec7bc3458a983df71" data-rendition-name="original" width="6566" height="4377" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal GenZ protests"> <figcaption>Angry crowd torched Parliament building among others during the 8-9 September GenZ protests in Nepal. Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption> </figure>  “With due respect to the youth, it is not about age but about technology,” explained journalist Malou Mangahas of the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/R2KRN/" target="_blank">Right To Know, Right Now Coalition</a> who participated in the 1986 uprising against Marcos. “We were all young and angry once. We are older, but still angry, and demanding good governance, transparency and accountability.” Just like in Nepal, young Filipinos rallying against corruption were also wary of infiltration, and it was clear from the anti-Marcos graffiti who the instigators of violence were. The GenZ were mainly wearing white while the pro-Duterte crowd <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6w8monPKdrc" target="_blank">are seen in videos</a> in black.&nbsp; The minors seem to have just joined in the melee from their street-side settlements. Rights groups have called for their release, accusing police of rough interrogation and ‘red-tagging’ as Communist provocateurs. Much of the transboundary cross-pollination of anti-government protests across Asia last month used gaming characters, memes, and anime personas like the manga cartoon One Piece flag depicting a grinning skull in a straw hat which became an icon of youth protests.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100411100_2d09f075663678fe92d4e4dcc631ee6ad1aa8a99996f4c4a3649e4bf4d85132f.png" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="2025100411100_2d09f075663678fe92d4e4dcc631ee6ad1aa8a99996f4c4a3649e4bf4d85132f" data-rendition-name="original" width="810" height="1208" loading="lazy" alt="One Piece"> <figcaption>The One Piece Flag flying during protests in Manila on 21 September. Photo:  CYBERNETICBOYLOL / WIKIPEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Yuri Lemana adapted a saying of gaming character <a href="https://www.warhammer.com/en-WW/shop/mechanicum-archmagos-prime-2024?srsltid=AfmBOorpYg8Zk5G5WiPUS9SXTampX969gMw79sP7ZzkE1G6H5pICR4PW" target="_blank">Archmagos Cortiko</a> in <a href="https://start-warhammer.com/" target="_blank">Warhammer 40,000</a>: “Prayer has its power, but fury also has its uses. If the government tries to hide things from us, we will find a way. Fury will find a way.” Kunda Dixit is the Publisher of Nepali Times, and was a foreign correspondent based in Manila in the early 1990s.

Nepal GenZs inspired Filipinos

Like many, my heart sank as I heard news of protesters being shot in Kathmandu. Just a week prior, I had been there discussing approaches to urban peacebuilding.
The signs of unrest were already visible: police in riot gear, rumours of growing protests, and conversations about corruption and democratic accountability.
Two years earlier, I had heard young people across Nepal raising their voices about unemployment, stale leadership, environmental challenges, LGBT rights, caste discrimination, and more. At that time, it felt hopeful as protest and dialogue are vital signs of democracy. But last month it was clear pressure was building.
What was not clear was just how close frustration and marginalisation were to a violent tipping point. In hindsight, there was space for dialogue and more constructive action on the part of political leaders to address frustration, but that opportunity was missed.
Nepal and Kathmandu now stand at a crossroads. Nearly two decades after the armed conflict, the country has made remarkable gains: a new Constitution, stronger democratic institutions, and more inclusive representation. Few post-war states have built participatory institutions as Nepal has. Yet sustaining democracy is not the same as transitioning to it.
Old challenges such as regional inequality, social marginalisation, economic precarity, and limits on free expression have not vanished. A new generation, especially GenZ, is demanding reforms. They are not rejecting democracy, they are calling for its fulfillment.
The question is not whether Nepal changes, but how and whether reforms can be rooted in sustainable, democratic institutions and more inclusive economic models.
UNDERLYING DRIVERS&nbsp;
Kathmandu will need to play a central role in addressing underlying drivers of conflict while simultaneously navigating the pressures of rapid urbanisation: gentrification, loss of public space, and widening inequality. The ability to foster meaningful participation and greater equity in the city will play a pivotal role in shaping the success of Nepal’s democracy more broadly.
There are numerous examples of cities around the world that have enjoyed successes in dealing with these deep-rooted challenges. Colombia’s <a href="https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22472117/" target="_blank">social urbanism</a> in Medellín played a role in dramatically reducing homicide rates and social marginalization.&nbsp;
In Porto Alegre, Brazil’s pioneering <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/259125910_The_Effects_of_Participatory_Budgeting_on_Municipal_Expenditures_and_Infant_Mortality_in_Brazil" target="_blank">participatory budgeting</a> model increased democratic participation, even helping to reduce infant mortality. Each demonstrates how inclusive urban governance can reduce structural violence and strengthen democratic legitimacy.
In Nepal one critical step would be to design an urban peacebuilding plan not as a narrow conflict-resolution tool, but as a framework for participatory democracy from the ground up. Too often, peacebuilding is treated as something for post-war transitions. In fact, it is essential to democratic resilience: building trust, analysing shared problems, and continuing to develop collective vision. And it must come in large part from within.
Nepal has already proven it can do that. Building on existing infrastructure an urban peace plan for Kathmandu could accelerate social repair, develop models of solidarity economics, and strengthen participatory governance. The key for this plan’s success is to create a local, accessible, place-based peace centres which bridges democratic dialogue that young people are leading online into offline settings where citizens of all backgrounds can engage.
There is already a foundation to build on. Each of Kathmandu’s 32 wards has a mediation centre aimed at resolving disputes locally, and <a href="https://www.thewomencell.com/en/notice/oath-taking-mediators" target="_blank">women’s networks</a> have been mobilised to support and strengthen these efforts. Peace centres can be developed to help take on the deeper structural challenges facing Nepal’s youth which the current mediation centres are not equipped to address.
Peace centres could grow to include ward level local peace councils (LPC) that actively foster connections and dialogue across generational, caste, ethnic, gender, and religious lines. Peace councils in this new context could be adapted to build on lessons learned about LPCs during the post war period and to address a new context.
That could include facilitating meaningful conversations about how government resources are utilised through <a href="https://vimeo.com/107121298" target="_blank">participatory budgeting</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHeRD-rr6wk" target="_blank">legislative forum theater</a> and other well established participatory mechanisms that move from consultation to active decision-making.
Importantly, they can also serve as hubs to facilitate experiments with economic self-reliance by providing resources to help facilitate planning and investment in cooperatively owned production, mutual aid, women’s enterprises, youth social enterprises and other systematically organised community-driven development approaches. This will help reduce exclusion that fuels anger.
This plan creates an important “in between space” between party politics and social media driven activism. Democracy does not require everyone to be a politician, but it does require that everyone have meaningful ways to shape public life and spaces conducive to doing so.&nbsp;
This needs to be nurtured and Nepal already has the human capital to support community-led development, dialogue and participatory democracy. Accelerating education rooted in civic responsibility could link schools and communities, preparing a new generation of young people for leadership in democratic dialogue, and community level development planning.
At this crossroads, Kathmandu can become more than Nepal’s political capital. It can model how cities anchor peace, democracy, and justice in everyday life. The future of Nepal’s democracy depends not only on how it responds to moments of protest and uprising, but on how it builds everyday institutions that address the tensions that make political and economic frustration explode.
The key question is whether leaders and citizens alike are prepared to take this next step and have the support to do so; moving from fragile democracy to a resilient, participatory peace.
Arthur Romano, PhD, is a faculty member at George Mason University’s Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter School for Peace and Conflict Resolution, where he directs the Program on Urban Peacebuilding. His research and practice focus on urban peacebuilding, restorative justice and the design of city-wide learning systems for violence prevention.

Urban peacebuilding for democracy

Less than 11 months into his term, Indonesian President Prabowo Subianto faces a stark choice. He can be remembered either as a leader whose presidency was defined by public anger and discontent, or as one who recognised the challenges facing his country and acted in the national interest.
The anti-government protests sweeping Indonesia over the past month are not fleeting outbursts but the culmination of long-suppressed grievances against abuses of power, the erosion of constitutional norms, and the violation of basic human rights.
The protesters are not seeking an apology or even sympathy from the president; they demand the chance to live a decent life in which their dignity and human rights are respected and upheld. That yearning for clean and effective government is now echoed in similar protests in East Timor, Nepal, Philippines and elsewhere.
Prabowo's administration has set its sights on making the country the world's fourth-largest economy by 2045 -- a goal that would require sustained annual growth of 8%. But with 68% of Indonesia's population living below the poverty line for upper-middle-income countries, such ambitions mean little if millions of citizens remain trapped in poverty and hardship.
Indonesians have experienced rapid growth before, most notably during the long dictatorship of Suharto (1967-98), Prabowo's former father-in-law. Given that history, they know that lasting and inclusive development gains depend on political and social reform, not strongman rule.
Blaming previous administrations or consolidating power among key parties -- which may provide short-term stability but weakens democratic resilience -- will not absolve the current government of responsibility for its decisions today. What Indonesia needs are concrete measures to reduce poverty, create employment opportunities, and restore trust in government.
To heal the country's deepening social fractures, policymakers must focus on four urgent priorities. First, they must enforce the separation of powers and eliminate conflicts of interest. Democracy flourishes only when the executive, legislative, and judicial branches operate independently, yet in Indonesia, power remains heavily concentrated. Many political parties operate as family-run enterprises, with leaders holding executive roles or wielding outsize influence across institutions.&nbsp;
This concentration fosters a culture of impunity and erodes public trust.
Clear ethics rules are essential. Public officials -- including the president, cabinet members, and parliamentary leaders -- should not hold party posts, positions in state-owned enterprises (SOEs), and private-sector jobs simultaneously.&nbsp;
Eliminating these overlaps would reduce corruption, ensure that policies serve citizens rather than private or partisan interests, and bolster the credibility of Indonesia's democratic institutions.
Second, fiscal transparency is critical to delivering better-targeted social assistance and accelerating SOE reform. For two decades, Indonesia's tax-to-GDP ratio has stagnated at 10-12%. While the 2026 budget projects revenues totaling 12% of GDP, early 2025 figures are lagging this target – a shortfall worsened by a decline in commodity revenues.
At the same time, budget pressures continue to mount, underscoring the need for fiscal discipline. The government's Free Nutritious Meals programme is a prime example. Though well-intentioned, it is prohibitively expensive, with a budget of 171 trillion rupiahs ($0.3 billion) that is expected to rise three-fold in 2026.&nbsp;
A more effective approach would be to pilot the programme in five underserved regions, at a cost of no more than five trillion rupiahs, while engaging with local communities. The remaining funds could be used to support teachers, health professionals, and waste-management workers, or finance programs that deliver tangible benefits to low- and middle-income households.
Similarly, the new Danantara sovereign-wealth fund, with its 300 trillion rupiah budget, is unnecessary. With public debt at 41% of GDP, new borrowing should be directed towards productive investment rather than bureaucratic expansion.&nbsp;
Reforming existing SOEs would be cheaper, faster, and more effective. While consolidation has reduced the number of SOEs from 118 in 2018 to 64 in 2024, the state still dominates sectors ranging from banking to hospitality, crowding out small enterprises.
Third, civil authority must be strengthened to curb military interference. Military or police intervention in civilian affairs tends to undermine democratic institutions.&nbsp;
In Indonesia, where the military continues to wield significant political influence, preserving clear boundaries is particularly important. That means codified institutional checks, stronger civilian oversight, and strict adherence to human-rights norms. Without these safeguards, Indonesia risks sliding towards the instability seen in Myanmar or in parts of Latin America and Africa.
Lastly, the long-delayed Asset Recovery Bill (RUU Perampasan Aset), which would empower the state to reclaim disproportionate wealth without waiting for a criminal conviction, must be enacted.&nbsp;
Crucially, its aim is not to seize assets arbitrarily but to ensure that stolen public assets are restored to their rightful owners -- the people. First drafted in 2008 and submitted to parliament in 2012, the bill has languished for nearly two decades, enabling corrupt actors to plunder public resources with impunity.
By establishing a civil process for recovering unexplained wealth (in rem asset recovery), the law fulfills Indonesia's obligations under the United Nations Convention Against Corruption and shows that the government stands with citizens in fighting abuses of power. If Prabowo channels this recovered wealth into education, health care, and social programs, he could leave a truly transformative legacy.
Indonesia's leadership can choose to deepen repression, or it can take a different path and strengthen democratic governance. Prabowo's legacy will not be measured by electoral margins but by whether his government respects human rights, improves health care and education, and creates more good jobs.&nbsp;
He can be remembered as the president who presided over Indonesia's largest protests since Suharto, or he can be celebrated as a leader who delivered political, social, and economic justice. The choice is his. © Project Syndicate
Lili Yan Ing, Secretary General of the International Economic Association, is Lead Adviser for the Southeast Asian region at the Economic Research Institute for Asean and East Asia.

Indonesian democracy on the brink

From the echo chambers of social media to neighborhood tea shops, the hot topic two weeks after the GenZ revolt toppled Nepal’s government is whether the country should now have a directly elected prime minister. Although this has been proposed before as a way to end the instability in heads of government chosen by the biggest party or coalition in Parliament, it has found supporters and critics in the aftermath of the protests. As democratic as it sounds, a directly elected executive is not that simple.&nbsp; Nepal’s 2015 Constitution does not allow it, but for a young generation impatient for change, this demand raises critical social, political and constitutional questions. Nepal has seen a multiplicity of systems in the past 45 years: from a partyless absolute monarchy to a constitutional one, a parliamentary democracy and then a federal republic. But they have repeatedly failed to bring stability, good governance or an end to corruption in Nepal. But even though lately they have ensured civil liberties, the public was losing hope for the future, especially the young who could air and amplify their outrage on social media. Unbridled corruption and ideologically mismatched fragile coalitions acting with impunity, led many to conclude that a directly elected prime minister would ensure stability and accountability. ‘We have repeatedly trusted the same political parties, but they have repeatedly broken that trust, so it is no longer possible to trust that system anymore,’ says Miraj Dhungana, popular for the TikTok videos asking young people to go out into the streets to rally against corruption, and seen by many as the ‘original’ representative of Gen Z.&nbsp; In interviews he has stated that it has become necessary for Nepal to have a directly elected executive head through constitutional amendment. Dhungana himself did not participate in the protests after his meeting with pro-monarchist businessman Durga Prasai on 7 September sparked controversy that he as a lackey. Binod Deuba Thakuri of the Nepal Student Union who also participated in the GenZ protests thinks Nepal is institutionally not ready for directly elected prime minister: “Our democracy is not mature yet, our institutions are not strong, and we are vulnerable to social media induced populism.”&nbsp; CONSTITUTION AMENDMENT Amending the Constitution would also open a pandora’s box, with other demands, and should be left to the next legislative body, he adds. In her address to the nation on Friday, Prime Minister Sushila Karki who is a former chief justice also clarified that her interim government does not have the mandate to amend the Constitution to make way for a directly elected head of government, and it should be up to the new legislature and government after the 5 March election.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250919130956_799b2d43dccca73b3bff96e435efc0752203117b2cb219d0073994c0e6f2ee25.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250919130956_799b2d43dccca73b3bff96e435efc0752203117b2cb219d0073994c0e6f2ee25" data-rendition-name="original" width="4160" height="2774" loading="lazy" alt="Constitution Day NT"> <figcaption>Constitution Day address by Prime Minister Sushila Karki on 19th September earlier this month.</figcaption> </figure>  The demand for a directly elected executive head was first raised by Maoist leader Pushpa Kamal Dahal after the 2006 ceasefire. He proposed himself as Nepal’s first executive president ahead of the 2008 Constituent Assembly elections. While the UML did not strongly oppose the idea, the Nepali Congress (NC) stuck to a parliamentary framework. The 2015 Constitution ultimately clinched it for the current parliamentary system. The Constitution stipulates that the process of selecting a prime minister is based on parliamentary strength: the President appoints the leader of the party with a majority in the House of Representatives, or, in the absence of such a majority, a member who can demonstrate majority support. If these efforts fail, provisions exist for coalition or minority governments, and ultimately for the dissolution of the House and fresh elections. The Constitution currently makes no provision for a directly elected prime minister, which means that any attempt to introduce a directly elected executive would first require the careful design of a democratic mechanism to amend the Constitution and set out the procedures for such an election.&nbsp; “There is no legal legitimacy to have the directly elected executive head of the country in the March election, except if political legitimacy surpasses legality but that would mean a new constitution,” explains senior advocate Surendra Kumar Mahato. “Many other institutional arrangements like the appointment of the judiciary, the role of the president, and other check and balance mechanisms would need to be restructured.” Mahato says: “Nepal’s Constitution itself is not at fault — it is the political actors, who have failed to uphold good governance within its framework. Changing systems does not ensure better governance.”&nbsp; Changing the Constitution also needs a broad political consensus, the institutional capacity of the state must be carefully considered to ensure such a new system can function effectively in practice and not simply in theory. Empowering an executive head through direct elections should not come at the expense of accountability or parliamentary oversight, and there should be checks and balances in place. LESSONS FROM ABROAD Sri Lanka’s 2022 Agralaya was fuelled by the anger that the directly executive head turned out to be an authoritarian who backslides on democracy. Under Sri Lanka’s 1978 Constitution, the country adopted a directly elected executive presidency with sweeping powers over the cabinet, appointments, dismissal of parliament, and control over key institutions.&nbsp; Over the years, President Mahinda Rajapaksa removed term limits via the 18th Amendment in 2010, centralised appointment powers, including judges and heads of independent commissions, and used constitutional changes such as the 20th Amendment (2020) to reverse safeguards that limited presidential authority, thereby subordinating the legislature, weakening oversight, and enabling authoritarian control.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250914060932_a96e1046d0b148982b33f2dcbe56f349dc0c20a087e358360eb2dddcfe0b5072.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250914060932_a96e1046d0b148982b33f2dcbe56f349dc0c20a087e358360eb2dddcfe0b5072" data-rendition-name="original" width="4640" height="2610" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ and Aragalaya"> <figcaption>Anti-government protest in Sri Lanka on 13 April 2022 in front of the Presidential Secretariat. Photo: WIKIPEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal’s multiparty framework upholds an institutional balance where both the governing party and the opposition have defined roles. This parliamentary setup prevents power from being overly concentrated in one individual and ensures accountability through parliament and competing parties. Beyond the neighbourhood, the United States has a directly elected executive system. Donald Trump exemplifies how direct electoral mandate can fracture institutional check mechanisms. He has leveraged his power to attack judges, frame political opponents, turn legal defeats into rallying points for his supporters, often using pliant media platforms to reinforce the idea that institutional checks impeded the popular will. In Nepal, there is a risk that a directly elected prime minister could bring up a populist media savvy messiah who could use public grievances to get to power and consolidate it. Social media can be mobilised and easily saturated with posts to fuel a political narrative of choice.&nbsp; In the past, former prime minister K P Oli’s ‘digital army’ has been lobbied on his behalf on social media. Even without an ‘IT sena’, it is not unusual for governments to collaborate with social media platforms as seen in the US and India.&nbsp; In Nepal, a directly elected prime minister would raise the stakes, turning the battle for votes into a battle for attention online, where a leader who wins the algorithm also wins the elections, just as Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah demonstrated in 2022 with support from groups like MRR and RONB. The Balen Phenomenon started in social media trickled to the ballot box.&nbsp; The digital space mas ensure that it is not trendy to dislike Balen. Comments that are critical of the Kathmandu Metropolitan City’s treatment of street vendors or of the mayor himself are met with backlash from supporters. Or, if the comments did not get any likes, the algorithms filtered them out as ‘not relevant’.&nbsp; The conversation of Shah often centred on his emotive responses and sentiments, generating strong engagement online. Meanwhile, policy debates received comparatively less attention.&nbsp; “Choosing a leader directly through an election means that we are vulnerable to populism and undermining of the democratic process, accountable institutions,” says Thaukri. Political activist Pradip Gyawali admits that the GenZ revolt was an example of how social media is a powerful tool to organise and disseminate information. But there are risks posed by disinformation and fake news online.&nbsp; “More media and political literacy among the people before the election in March is crucial to control the damage social media could do to influence voter behaviour,” he says.&nbsp; Beyond social media, online news increasingly relies on sensational, click-driven headlines to attract readers in a competitive digital market. A recent survey showed that 82.6% of GenZ (16- 24) rely on Facebook for news and 51.4% on YouTube.&nbsp; Nepali people with higher education seemed to engage with news more (99.1%) than illiterate individuals at 52.1%. Byte-sized headline-only journalism is leaving readers to their own devices, and vulnerable to media infiltration by IT cells.&nbsp; With social media actively shaping the course of elections, and news consumption, debates about changing the Constitution or the system of governance yet again may not ensure the demands for corruption free governance is met. Instead, strengthening media and political literacy among voters is key to prepare for the elections in March. Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.

Nepal's democracy keeps doubting itself

The protest led by digital-native generation is not a rejection of democratic norms but rather an insistence for the Constitution’s most fundamental guarantees to be taken seriously. What confronts us is not youthful defiance, but political impunity masquerading as governance.&nbsp;
The spreading narrative that our protests were about a fleeting social media ban insults our generation’s intelligence. The protest has exposed a deeper generational revolt. No longer will we pay for impunity, we are determined to confront it as a constitutional betrayal rather than an inevitability of culture.
We know what is enshrined in our Constitution. Article 17 guarantees us the right to freedom: a freedom to assemble peacefully and without arms. Yet when we exercised those rights, the state met us with bullets instead of dialogue. That betrayal forces us to ask if Nepal is capable of delivering real democratic substance, or will the upcoming generation be left to inherit yet another endless cycle of hollow symbols and the whims of the powerful?
We, GenZ, are not demanding reforms at the margin. We are asking for the future our Constitution promised. We look ahead with both clarity and urgency.
We envision a democracy true to its words, where the Constitution is honoured in practice; where digital freedom is not revoked when it unsettles entrenched power, where the judiciary upholds the law without fear or favor, and independent watchdogs strike at impunity with unflinching integrity, and where elections reflect the true will of citizens rather than the staged choreography of the elites.
We foresee a cultural transformation-connection being no longer needed for survival. We can only laugh when they label our demands as ‘utopian’, imagine living in a nation where fundamentals of democracy are themselves treated as luxuries.
What is new is our unwillingness to wait. Raised on digital democracy, well aware of the law and fluent in hashtags, we are unafraid to take our case to the streets when institutions have repeatedly failed us. The whole nation is watching the interim government closely, and so are we -- the generation determined to make a system which works for all, not just for the privileged few.
Sambriddhi Aryal, 21, is a fourth-year student at Kathmandu School of Law with a keen eye on constitutional law, civic rights, and the pulse of global change.

GenZ constitutional awakening

On 8 September, Nepal witnessed one of the darkest chapters in its democratic journey. What began as a peaceful demonstration by GenZ students against corruption ended in tragedy.
Young people, many still in their school uniforms, came forward with banners and voices, not weapons. They believed that wearing their uniforms would protect them, a symbol of innocence and safety. Instead, they were met with tear gas, bullets, and chaos.
I was there. I marched with two of my closest friends. I heard chants rise, I saw hope spread. And then, in one moment, everything changed. The air filled with sirens and smoke, our voices drowned in chaos. I was pulled back before it was too late, but others were not so lucky.
That night, my Instagram feed was filled with trembling hands, bloodied uniforms, and lifeless eyes. They were children like me, who trusted the very state that turned its guns on them.
And as if that was not enough, opportunists took advantage. While we bled, criminals escaped from prisons. At the same time, political actors attempted to hijack the movement for their own interests, undermining the authentic voices of the young generation. These betrayals deepened the sense of injustice and disillusionment among Nepal’s youth.
Despite the grief, one truth remains: this generation refuses to be silenced. From the ashes of 8 September must emerge a stronger, more accountable Nepal.
To honour those who lost their lives and to safeguard the nation’s future, the following are essential:
• Justice for the martyrs. Not only official recognition but also lifelong support to their families, including education, healthcare, and economic assistance.
• Independent Truth and Justice Commission. An impartial body with international oversight to investigate the events and ensure transparent, public trials.
• Accountability for violence. Immediate suspension, investigation, and prosecution of officers and commanders who authorised or used violence against students.
•Vetting of political leaders. A commission to ensure that no past leader returns to power without thorough investigation and clearance from corruption or abuse of power. Every new minister and officer must also meet strict academic and professional standards, pass full background checks, and have no criminal record.
• Re-arrest of escaped criminals. Publication of wanted lists and formation of task forces with strict deadlines to restore law and order.
• National healing and trauma care. Counseling and support programs for survivors, families, and students who experienced trauma.
• Memorialisation: Construction of a Youth Martyrs’ Memorial in Kathmandu and designate 8 September as Youth Courage Day.
• Police and security reform. Ban on live ammunition in peaceful protests, mandatory body cameras, and human rights training for law enforcement.
• Youth participation in governance. Establishment of a permanent Youth Advisory Council under the government to ensure young voices shape national policy.
• Accountability of the interim government: monthly progress updates and a 100-day roadmap with clear deadlines for reforms and justice.
• Curriculum inclusion. Incorporation of 8 September protest into school textbooks to educate future generations the cost of freedom.
• Exoneration of GenZ protesters. Officially clear GenZ of any responsibility for property damage, recognising that any destruction was caused by opportunists, while our actions remained peaceful and focused on justice.
These demands are not radical, they are the foundation of a dignified society. In the short term, citizens expect justice for victims, re-arrest of escaped criminals, and concrete accountability from the interim government. In the long term, we look toward systemic reforms: a political culture rooted in merit, transparency, and integrity, and a nation where youth are active participants in governance.
The GenZ protest was more than a demonstration, it was a test of Nepal’s democracy. The state’s failure to protect its children has left a wound that cannot heal without truth and justice. If we act decisively, we can transform grief into reform, betrayal into accountability, and tragedy into hope.The blood of our generation must be the foundation upon which a just, transparent, and inclusive Nepal is built.
Niharika Sah is a final-year engineering student from Lalitpur with a deep love for literature and poetry.&nbsp;

The Nepal our friends died for

Social media has long been more than entertainment for young Nepalis. It has become a civic space where they stay informed on national issues, challenge authority, demand accountability, and organise for change.
In early September, TikTok, Reddit, and other platforms were flooded with a 'naming and shaming' campaign aimed at so-called 'nepo babies' in Nepal. Echoing similar movements in Indonesia and Sri Lanka, the campaign resonated deeply with disillusioned Nepali Gen Z. &nbsp;
Frustration escalated when the government banned 26 social media platforms including Facebook, WhatsApp, and Instagram, for failing to register within Nepal. The ban shut down the civic space Gen Z relied on. What began online spilled onto the streets, sparking nationwide protests now known as the GenZ protests. Young Nepalis voluntarily marched, demanding two urgent reforms: lifting the social media ban and rooting out corruption.
For many, the anger runs far deeper than digital restrictions. Public trust in politicians has withered after decades of power struggles between Sher Bahadur Deuba, Pushpa Kamal Dahal and K P Oli. Tired of the endless game of musical chairs who promise change but deliver betrayal, GenZ insists that politicians are not divine power to be worshipped but public servants who must answer to the people.
On 8 September, GenZ protesters marched peacefully, carrying artistic placards and singing patriotic songs. Police responded with deadly force firing live rounds, deploying tear gas, and beating protesters with batons and water cannons, resulting in the mass killing of our fellow protesters. What began as a citizen’s duty to hold the government accountable turned into a tragedy because the government forgot that it is the guardian of its people, not their murderer.
On 9 September, rage engulfed the nation. People from every corner joined the protests, responding to the government’s failure and the brutal mass murder of young people. Taking advantage of the situation, some vested groups infiltrated the demonstrations, which escalated into violence, including arson, vandalism, and attacks on property and individuals holding political power.
Following the incident, the government was overthrown, and GenZ formed a citizen’s Government. Our primary demand to this new government is a full and impartial investigation into the mass murder. GenZ has specifically identified former Prime Minister K P Oli, former Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak, and the former Inspector General of Police Chandra Kuber Khapung who must be investigated free from political interference.&nbsp;
Those found guilty must be held accountable under national law. Additionally, GenZ demands a transparent inquiry into the vandalism and arson that occurred on 9 September, emphasising that attacks on public property undermine the true spirit of their movement.
GenZ’s second demand is the conduction of fair elections on 5 March 2026. The true measure of this interim government’s success lies in fulfilling that commitment.
The third demand is the establishment of a high-level, independent anti-corruption mechanism to investigate graft since the restoration of democracy in 1990. GenZ argues that existing watchdog bodies are toothless, filled with political appointees loyal to ruling parties. The new body must be free from political influence and empowered to investigate and prosecute even the most powerful. These demands are not negotiable.
While united on these core demands, GenZ activists hold different views on the political system’s future. Some advocate for a directly elected prime minister, while others favor reforms within the existing parliamentary structure. Even young members within ruling parties share this frustration, calling for internal reforms and urging long-entrenched leaders to step aside and pass the mantle of leadership to a new generation. This is not a formal demand but a discussion taking place within GenZ circles.
Debates over the Constitution of Nepal 2015 have also surfaced. While some anti-democratic actors have called for its nullification, GenZ protesters firmly reject this. This Constitution was achieved through nearly a decade of struggle. Although it is rare for a Constituent Assembly to fail in delivering a Constitution, Nepal became an exceptional case when the first assembly collapsed without producing one. This failure led to the formation of a second Constituent Assembly, which ultimately delivered the 2015 Constitution.
GenZ continues to uphold the principles of a Federal Democratic Republic of Nepal. They emphasise that the Constitution must be implemented in its true spirit ensuring accountability, transparency, and rule of law.
At the same time, no Constitution is perfect. Society is constantly evolving. Space for amendments should always exist, as in any healthy democracy, to address shortcomings and strengthen its foundations. However, this remains a background discussion, not a central agenda of the GenZ movement.
Though triggered by the social media ban, the GenZ protests represent something deeper. This generation demands strengthening the pillars of good governance. For Nepal’s GenZ, this movement is reclaiming democracy, reclaiming their space.
Eight September is embedded into GenZ’s collective memory as a trauma that will continue to haunt Nepal unless the nation changes its course. And if it does not, GenZ will keep rising up, not only as the greatest leaders but, more importantly, as a most formidable opposition. 
 
Tanuja Pandey is a lawyer and climate justice activist.

A new dawn for democracy in Nepal

In the very first page of the first chapter of Nepal 2043: The Road to Prosperity are two maps. The first places Nepal right at the epicentre of Asia, and in the second the Kathmandu is at exactly the midpoint between Mumbai and Beijing. With his trademark optimism, author Sujeev Shakya says Nepal is not land-locked but land-linked to three billion people in China and India. We just need those two economic engines to pull us in the same direction. ‘With China and India becoming the two largest economies in the world in the next two decades … Nepal is the most valuable piece of real estate in the world,’ Shakya writes. For one thing, Nepal does not look beyond India and China for tourism — with the right policies it can attract millions of tourists just from those two countries. Nepal is set to graduate from a low- to a middle-income country by 2026 and to a high-income country in 2043 — hence the name of the book. The year 2043 in the Bikram Sambat calendar is also 2100 — a new Nepali century. The book delves into the past, present and future of Nepal and analyses enablers including hydropower, a fundamental transformation of which will drive the 2043 goal. The commoditisation of electricity will be the biggest transformation. Nepal can deploy ‘Cyber Gurkhas’ to attract foreign investors with the management of data centres with climate friendly renewable energy. Access to technology such as precision agriculture, a data-driven approach to farming to improve food production, reduce environmental impact and enhance profitability could be Nepal’s strategy into 2043 and beyond. ‘Earlier, we needed ploughs and strong hands in agriculture. Now, you need a computer and strong fingers,” Shakya writes, citing a neighbour’s son who inspects his crops from drone cameras. A farmer in an Ilam teashop tells the author he asks AI questions in Nepali, and it answers promptly. The biggest enabler of all is Nepal’s young demography with 62% of the population in the active 15-60 age bracket, while 28% are younger than 14. Nepal’s dependency ratio has dropped to the lowest in history with 100 Nepalis having to support 62 dependents. But this demographic dividend window is closing. Nepal’s total fertility rate declined from 2.62% in 1981 to 0.92% in 2021 — below replacement level. We have less than 30 years left to make the best use of the youth, many of whom are currently studying and working abroad. Nepal’s biggest resource, therefore, is its diaspora spread across the world who send home $20 billion a year. Migration is not just a necessity but an aspiration for many Nepalis, and they are an important source of contacts, investment and soft power. This young and educated group has taken advantage of connectivity and digitisation in all arenas of national life. TikTok and Instagram have become e-commerce platforms, or mobile app-riven digital services. Nepal’s software companies exported over $1 billion worth of IT products last year. Next we need a change in the bureaucratic mindset to eliminate paper and manual processes, which would also contribute to reducing corruption. Shakya comes up with many revelations: 81% of Nepalis live in houses they own, much higher than most other South Asian countries which means higher disposable income. Nepal has the highest tax-to-GDP ratio in South Asia. The banking sector is twice the size of Bangladesh despite Nepal having just one-fifth of its population. In 2021, 12.62% of the population had demat accounts in Nepal, while India had only 5.32%. For every five male investors, there are four women in Nepal while it is 10:1 in India. With such figures and prospects, how come Nepal just went through a violent uprising that took the shortest time to topple a democratically-elected government in modern history? One early chapter of 2043 is actually dedicated to how Nepalis have always thrived on chaos. When people faced up to 20 hours of power cuts a day, people worked around the load-shedding schedule, woke up at ungodly hours to cook and stock up on inverters. They did not put up a fight, or even protest. ''Generally, Nepalis are used to taking things lying down, and perhaps this also needs to change,' says Shakya, writing that line before last month’s uprising. ‘On the one hand, some of these issues speak volumes about the average Nepali’s patience and perhaps optimism that things will change in the long run. On the other hand, one is also forced to wonder how much longer they will be able to put up with unfavourable conditions if things don’t change.’ It does seem Nepali had enough with corruption, governance failure and political apathy to the concerns of ordinary people. The final chapter lists the non-negotiables to realise the 2043 Nepal Roadmap: democratic values and freedom of speech, a capitalist welfare state and socio-political transformation to tackle corruption and impunity. The book notes, ‘Countries transitioning to democratic rule experienced a 20% increase in GDP over a 25 year period compared to what they would have achieved under authoritarian regimes. After the end of the Shah rule in 2006, Nepal’s GDP rose from US$10 billion to US$44 billion by 2024.’ The government’s Vision 2030 document projects Nepal’s GDP at US$100 billion, and the Vision 2043 estimates that it will be a US$423 billion economy with a per capita of US$12,100. However, it will need more than optimism and practical action to make these projections real. China and India loom large throughout the book with examples of small city states like Singapore which have taken advantage of their strategic location. Despite the tension between India and China, the two will have to collaborate given the inherent advantages. China has replaced the United States as India’s biggest trading partner. Sujeev Shakya is a great admirer of former Singaporean diplomat and author Kishore Mahbubani, and he has written a blurb for the book. He quotes Mahbubani saying that for the past 2,000 years, apart from the last two hundred, Asian countries have dominated the world, and it is quite natural that the world’s economic centre is returning to Asia. And Nepal is strategically placed to make the most of it because of its location between two of the world’s fastest growing economies. We just have to get our politics right, and have a strategy for equitable growth in the new Nepali century.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251016091052_78b2d1495d59cd492a17693e0e770b65230c7cb749393ac6643f4676b73832ef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251016091052_78b2d1495d59cd492a17693e0e770b65230c7cb749393ac6643f4676b73832ef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Sujeev Shakya book details NT"></figure>

Retrofitting Nepal for future shocks

In the aftermath of the GenZ protests last month, as new PM Sushila Karki chose the first members of her Council of Ministers, youth collectives urged that it reflect the country’s diversity by including women, youth and people from various ethnic and socio-cultural backgrounds.&nbsp;
It took another couple of weeks for Karki to include &nbsp;bureaucrat and public health expert Sangeeta Mishra as &nbsp;Health Minister in her next tranche of ministers. Almost immediately, people dug up a video of Mishra calling herself “Nepali, but a native Indian”.
She was telling it like it was: Mishra is a naturalised Nepali citizen. But there was outrage in the ultra-nationalistic cybersphere. Mishra’s name was withdrawn from the list of ministers, with government officials citing an ongoing investigation at the CIAA.&nbsp;
With her Cabinet still incomplete a month after taking office, Prime Minister Karki was preparing to induct GenZ as ministers. A leak in the media floated the names, one of which was of Tashi Lhazom, a climate activist and filmmaker from Humla’s Limi Valley.&nbsp;
Almost immediately, social media erupted with discriminatory, xenophobic and misogynistic epithets against her: that she supported a separatist movement, that she was a foreign agent, that her citizenship was disputed, that she did not ‘look’ or ‘speak’ like a Nepali.&nbsp;
Political figures like Gyanendra Shahi, a prominent voice calling for the restoration of a Hindu monarchy, added fuel to the fire by making bigoted and false remarks about her heritage.
The former Commissioner of the National Human Rights Commission, Mohna Ansari, wrote on social media that it was shameful to question Lhazom’s identity: ‘Ms Tashi Lhazom is as Nepali as you are. Our society’s ugliest face and biggest flaw is doubting our own. Real patriotism embraces diversity — fake nationalism must end.’
Ansari, a human rights lawyer and activist, has also often been subject to Islamophobic and derogatory comments on digital platforms. &nbsp;
In response, the Indigenous GenZ Collective released Lhazom’s Nepali citizenship certificate to debunk the mistruths spreading on digital as well as mainstream media.
What makes a Nepali? What does a Nepali look or sound like? Who is a Nepali?
‘Had my name been Tashi Poudel, Thapa, Bhattarai or Ghimire, this would not have happened,’ Lhazom said in an interview with Kantipur following an avalanche of bigotry against her. ‘They questioned me because I do not look Nepali, or speak Nepali like a Khas. Because it is not my mother tongue.’
It is an indictment of Nepali society that indigenous Nepalis have to present proof, at the slightest inconvenience of mostly the dominant groups, of being a citizen of this nation simply because they might not fit into an imagined idea of Nepali nationhood by virtue of physical appearance, speech, geography, or faith.
And while we celebrate the successes of Nepal-born naturalised foreign citizens (some now hold elected office in the US) we refuse to afford the same respect to naturalised Nepali citizens, and those born in Nepal to excluded groups, nor do we expect them to work in the national interest if they are given responsibility to govern. And women are singled out twice as much for scrutiny.
Then cyber Nepal went into a tizzy when videos appeared of a biker’s group clad in black t-shirts emblazoned with the acronym ‘TOB’ which was interpreted to stand for ‘Tibetan Original Blood’ and linked to the Free Tibet movement.
The accusations snowballed into disinformation, xenophobia, and even calls for violence against Nepalis of Tibetan heritage and the Tibetan community in Nepal.&nbsp;
In the aftermath of the September protest, the hope was that politics and the bureaucracy would finally be rid of orthodox political actors. But first, we as a nation need to collectively examine the biases and bigotry that exist in Nepal’s socio-cultural space.&nbsp;
Otherwise, Nepal’s multiculturalism will be limited to just words in the Constitution and political tokenism.
No one who is in government now or in future can be expected to be completely free of subjective opinions, ideology, affiliation to a cause, or prior activism. And such criticism falls disproportionately on activists, advocates, and members from underserved and underrepresented communities.&nbsp;
One cannot be apolitical and hope to participate in politics, and as we move forward to rebuild the system it must not just reflect diverse communities, but also celebrate diversity of thought and beliefs.&nbsp;
Resorting to ethnocentrism, racism and chauvinism with conspiracy theories and discriminatory dog-whistling about fellow citizens is a disservice to Nepali nationhood. It is Nepal’s diversity that makes us strong.&nbsp;
Shristi Karki

What makes a Nepali?

We were used to getting stuck in Kathmandu’s notorious traffic with gas fumes and horns blaring. We are still stuck in traffic, but now it is mostly the quiet hum of EVs, and street-level air is noticeably cleaner. Alongside Norway, Nepal has the highest combustion-to-EV conversion rates in the world. And we are not even a middle-income country yet. How did we get here?&nbsp; For the first time in Nepal’s history, 2025 saw an unprecedented turn of events: two back-to-back auto shows a week apart in August, independent of each other. This was timed for the warm up to the Dasain season. &nbsp;&nbsp; The first auto show 6-11 August was the <a href="https://naimanepal.org/mobility-expo" target="_blank">NAIMA Mobility Expo 2025 </a>by the newly established Nepal Automobile Importers and Manufacturers Association which saw 35 new models, many of them EVs with 50 participating brands like Toyota, BYD, Hyundai, Kia, MG, Mahindra, Omoda &amp; Jaecoo, Proton and Leapmotor.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_d8c03f5141f0086814d866543af4d95310f340a7191363e4705aedda8e4b73d0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025101711108_d8c03f5141f0086814d866543af4d95310f340a7191363e4705aedda8e4b73d0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1770" height="1097" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  The exhibition had a strong focus on two-wheelers aimed at affordable and easy mobility in a town now known for long traffic jams (see report). NAIMA attracted a record 100,000 visitors in six days.&nbsp; The second one was the Nepal Automobile Dealer’s Association Auto Show 2025 (<a href="https://youtu.be/emSd0mUuMjU" target="_blank">NADA</a>) to address the growing demands for cars and two-wheelers. It was a natural expression of new market forces at work, on one hand, and popular taste, on the other — one influencing the other.&nbsp; This year’s NADA Auto Show was its 17th iteration, and carried a hefty legacy: exhibiting a contemporary lineup from manufacturers such as Tata, Suzuki, Xpeng and Nammi, but also classics for vintage car lovers like the 1928 Ford Model A and a rare 1955 Austin Princess Dm4 sedan.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_dda7d264ddb12448cc10d9b1cb699632eee975741fc4c56055e4df904579c34f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025101711108_dda7d264ddb12448cc10d9b1cb699632eee975741fc4c56055e4df904579c34f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1381" height="848" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  It also showcased the Deepal eVTOL (a 2-seater drone), and a humanoid robot with dog. Curious onlookers at Bhrikuti Mandap thronged the show with footfall crossing 170,000.&nbsp; Earlier this year, I had traveled to attend India's largest auto show, the <a href="https://youtu.be/OgIIvXx6yOM?si=zNmMgklzCJpagTye" target="_blank">Bharat Mobility Global expo</a> in January in New Delhi. It was part of a <a href="https://youtu.be/GT6LBKiJvyg?si=r7YaxahjSAnsIfBY" target="_blank">roadtrip</a> from one capital to another with BYD Nepal on a Dolphin. The journey took three days through Bhairawa and then the Lucknow-Agra Expressway, covering a distance of 1200km one way.&nbsp; The drive through the horrid Narayanghat-Butwal corridor alone was testimony that EVs are no longer fragile and could handle a beating. And while both Nepal's economy pales in comparison to India, it was evident that the private passenger segment is well on its way to electrification. More than 70% of all vehicles sold in Nepal last year were electric. Sales representatives are unanimous: inquiries for EVs are at an all-time high and overshadow demand for ICE (Internal Combustion Engine) vehicles. Besides four-wheelers, a fast-growing proportion of scooters were also electric.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111016_e4cd988ca915ddd283a86d48fac332f22f98ff776b3d22391e10156ad56d7a1a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251017111016_e4cd988ca915ddd283a86d48fac332f22f98ff776b3d22391e10156ad56d7a1a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1389" height="863" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal"> </figure>  I have spent the last two years <a href="https://youtu.be/256YQa37Ol8?si=Sv1wQ8EdvgMCiTM_" target="_blank">reviewing</a> many of these EVs. The days of batter-powered cars being small toy cars, with sub-par build quality and the range of golf carts have long gone.&nbsp; Fit and finishing in both Chinese and Indian EVs are comparable to established brand names even in Japanese and European markets. But most significantly for us in Nepal, battery technology and range have made inter-city travel on our highways imaginable. The media sometimes portrays Nepal as a prime testing/dumping ground for EVs due to lack of regulation and the proximity to the world’s largest EV exporter (China) and our tough geographical conditions. That is just a part of the story. What actually stands out is the incredible appetite for risk among Nepali buyers.&nbsp; Since the Covid pandemic charging infrastructure has spread across the country. My early trips between Kathmandu and Pokhara saw the possibility of topping up with just one charging gun at the <a href="https://rsr.com.np/" target="_blank">Riverside Springs Resort in Kurintar</a> – and I would have to wait in line, or the charger simply would not be working.&nbsp; These days, by the time I cross Kurintar from Koteswor in my Kona, I will have passed at least 10 charging stations with multiple guns. &nbsp; On my <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">YouTube reviews</a>, people from across the globe ask about range and handling EVs on poor road conditions like ours. The occasional skeptics also leave comments like: ‘If this works in the higher altitudes and mountainous roads of Nepal, then it should be a breeze down here in the flats of Australia and/or hills around Auckland!’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111016_8b4fbe59884538849be6428eb2ce9249627a8970ed9ef4cd3c792682bf26dbed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251017111016_8b4fbe59884538849be6428eb2ce9249627a8970ed9ef4cd3c792682bf26dbed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1139" height="787" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal"> </figure>  SATURATION? However, both the NAIMA and NADA auto show also confirmed that we could be hitting a peak EV. From having just one car in one budget segment, there are now multiple alternatives stretching from the entry of below Rs3 million to the premium and high-end Rs 10 million price point.&nbsp; Furthermore, the price wars on EVs that started in China a year ago have also trickled across to Nepal. Models such as the <a href="https://youtu.be/3wFN2I81Tq0?si=T6L4SAfRpoyNNvYC" target="_blank">MG S5</a>, Nammi Vigo, BYD Atto 2 (and 1) and <a href="https://youtu.be/y214kWbWTc4?si=bIevanDZEPQdkEs4" target="_blank">Deepal S05</a> saw aggressive pricing schemes and discounts that disrupted pre-existing quotas. Consumers can suddenly afford a lot more cars, and travel a lot further for a considerably smaller price tag.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_276afec1bdbd37497572939a4eada4bef74c9d075cd5851892c4dd1985edb9c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2025101711108_276afec1bdbd37497572939a4eada4bef74c9d075cd5851892c4dd1985edb9c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1953" height="1107" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  However, booking numbers at both auto shows did not necessarily translate into actual deliveries. The fact remains that almost 80% of registered vehicles in Nepal are still two-wheelers, and GDP per capita stands at just $1500 — among the lowest in the world.&nbsp; This means that early first-adopters are first-time buyers, and the remaining customers in the market are more skeptical and less willing. But there are also those that are unlikely to consider the EV suitable to travel to off-road rural areas. For the average Nepali family, upgrading or purchasing a new car is no small decision. It happens in five years or more with resale values being a big determinant. The EV boom may be reaching saturation.&nbsp; Both NADA and NAIMA shows drove home the message that Nepal’s transport sector is on an electric fast-track, but the road ahead will be bumpy.&nbsp; Soon after the shows, the glacial debris flow on the Bhote Kosi knocked out the Rasuwa-Kerung border with China, and earlier landslides had already blocked the Koradi checkpoint. Manufacturers are now using the less convenient Korala border in Mustang. BYD, Leapmotor and Omoda &amp; Jaecoo have begun rerouting their vehicles to make up for delivery deadlines.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_62fd70a476656062005959c247b38178d8efabf8570c73929295c0a103ff4013.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="2025101711108_62fd70a476656062005959c247b38178d8efabf8570c73929295c0a103ff4013" data-rendition-name="original" width="1438" height="1031" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  Although the distance from the capital to the Korala border (470km) is four times longer than from Rasuwa (128km) &nbsp;and Tatopani (112km), it is still considered faster and more cost effective than shipping via India using sea routes.&nbsp; And then Nepal was engulfed in turmoil after the youth-led protests of 8-9 September and its aftermath. Many automobile showrooms around Thapathali including Tata, Hyundai and CG were vandalised and torched.&nbsp; Sushila Karki leads a caretaker government till elections are held in March, and the unsettled situation will affect the economy and investment climate as well as the automobile sector. Arnav Upadhyay reviews automobiles and promotes road safety under the handle Casually Annoyed Driver on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">Youtube</a>, <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">Tiktok</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/casuallyannoyeddriver/" target="_blank">IG</a>, and this monthly column Drive Line in Nepali Times.

Is Nepal reaching peak EV?

Nepali Times: You just climbed Mt Everest without oxygen and then skied down the mountain. How does one even train for something like that?&nbsp; Andrzej Bargiel: What made skiing down Everest possible was all the years of experience I’ve gained in high-altitude mountains. Spending a lot of time in the high mountains helps me read the snow, the conditions, and potential hazards. I need to ski often, especially in steep and exposed terrain, so that it becomes a place where I feel completely at home.&nbsp; I also climb regularly, I am an IFMGA mountain guide. I also run, ride a bike, and work out in the gym. Like in any endurance sport, I have to prepare my body for the demands of an expedition.&nbsp; What motivated you to do Everest? This was actually my third attempt on Everest. After many years of ski mountaineering and racing, I felt it would be great to use that experience to take on a meaningful project in the Himalaya. It’s about exploring what’s really possible, testing my limits, and seeing how far I can go. I was inspired by people like Davo Karničar, Fredrik Ericsson, and Hans Kammerlander, who showed that skiing in the high mountains can truly be done.&nbsp; What do you have to be most careful about when skiing at such high altitude? You really have to manage your energy well, because you need to be ready to spend many hours at very high altitude — even above 8,000 meters. Risk management is essential. You have to read the signals nature gives you and make the right decisions, choosing safe moments to move. The dangers are always there: avalanches, crevasses, extreme fatigue, and exposed terrain, so you have to stay fully aware and focused. Safety comes first, always. You also need to stay open to changing your plans, because in the mountains, things don’t always go the way you expect.&nbsp; Why did you choose autumn and not spring?&nbsp; Autumn is really the only season when you can think about making a full ski descent from the summit all the way to base camp. In the spring there’s much more ice left after winter, and the snow cover is broken. A full descent simply isn’t possible then, because too much rock and ice are exposed. Of course, in spring it’s easier to climb the mountain. The conditions are more stable, the snow is firmer, there’s less avalanche risk, and you don’t have to wade through deep snow. The autumn ascent is very complex and demanding, which is why so few expeditions attempt it. But in autumn, skiing becomes possible. Several meters of fresh snow fall on Everest’s slopes, covering the rocks and ice, and that transforms the mountain into something wild, beautiful, and most importantly skiable. What was your favourite part this time? The moment I remember most fondly was reaching the summit — and that first stretch just below the top, when I clicked into my skis and started moving down through surprisingly nice snow. It felt smooth and natural, a kind of free, easy glide down toward the Hillary Step. I could feel the movement, the flow, and at the same time this awareness that I was skiing from the highest point on Earth. It was just a really good feeling. The Icefall was another special moment. I felt from a skier’s point of view that it really worked. I could make my turns, and the descent itself was fun, technical, but a beautiful one too — full of variety, weaving through ice towers and seracs that looked incredible in the sunlight. It was challenging, but also just pure joy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251015141012_e9e671e07b089a7d59e4b9ba34df993180ae2dfcae3786113a4d48c515427b3d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251015141012_e9e671e07b089a7d59e4b9ba34df993180ae2dfcae3786113a4d48c515427b3d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Andrzej Bargiel NT"> </figure>  And what was most challenging? The hardest moment came on 14 September, during our first summit push attempt. We were breaking trail in deep snow and reached the South Col in the evening. I already knew we wouldn’t be going higher that night, so I decided to stay there, to use the climb to acclimatise.&nbsp; But after that attempt failed, the team completely lost faith that the project could still succeed. Almost everyone started packing up, convinced it was over, nobody thought that the snow would stabilise enough.&nbsp; I skied down from the Col early the next morning in really good conditions, while the rest of the team descended on foot. Rebuilding belief within the team that it could still be done was the toughest part, mentally. It took me several days to bring that energy and motivation back, to make everyone believe again that we could try once more. What was your support crew like?&nbsp; I want to thank the whole team — all team members from Poland, all those who contributed to the project, all the sponsors, and the Seven Summit Treks crew, especially Dawa Sherpa, who had the courage to go to the top with me.&nbsp; In the end, his courage made it possible. Doing it alone would have been almost impossible. With him there, I felt safe, and that made all the difference. What potential for skiing do you see in the Himalaya?&nbsp; Huge. There’s massive potential here both for ski touring and for a more recreational form of skiing. In the Himalaya, there are so many mountains you can ski from, and they don’t have to be eight-thousanders.&nbsp; There is an incredible amount of snow even in the lower valleys during the winter, which makes it a really interesting place for skiing. You can find great powder and enjoy long, wide runs.&nbsp; The key, I think, is to keep developing local guiding structures. There should be more certified guides in Nepal, Sherpas gaining guiding qualifications, and a proper professional rescue service. That would definitely increase the sense of safety for both skiers and tourists coming to the mountains. I’d love to come back to the Himalayas one winter just to ski in those lower parts — in deep snow, on much longer and wider skis – that would be pure pleasure. At those lower altitudes, the fun can be so much greater, with a more relaxed, freeride kind of feeling.

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