Chuden Kabimo is in Kathmandu to receive this year’s Madan Puraskar prize for his novel, <a href="https://thuprai.com/book/urmal/?srsltid=AfmBOopuAcN_Emi7s7ptdJNBJhP17OQEkWBwF2OjbkZik99xCWS4sqPn" target="_blank">उरमाल</a> that is set among the tea plantations and their workers in northeast India’s Dooar plains.&nbsp; The award ceremony was postponed due to Nepal's violent GenZ protests, and his trip had to overcome highways and bridges destroyed by this week’s heavy rains in the Darjeeling hills and across the border in Nepal.&nbsp; Kabimo’s previous work, <a href="https://thuprai.com/book/faatsung/?srsltid=AfmBOopwCankD0dycz4oef2BifQlIq1vWwHSawc33IPiBWExo_n8YAb3" target="_blank">फातसुङ</a> was the story of the Gorkhaland Movement in Darjeeling 30 years ago told through fictionlised characters and their friendships, their love for the land, and revolution. Song of the Soil is its English translation by Ajit Baral published in 2021, and there are also Hindi and Bengali translations.&nbsp; The Gorkhaland Movement sought to create a separate state for Nepali-speaking Indians of West Bengal. There is plenty of violence, arson, and young death in the book, and a poignant contemplation on the 8-9 September Gen Z protests in Nepal.&nbsp; The plot is structured as a story, inside of a story, inside of a story, and starts off as the narrator gets the bad news that his childhood friend Ripden was killed in a landslide. He heads back to the site, Malbung, where he was born.&nbsp; He reminisces about his days in school with the rebellious Ripden, who encouraged the narrator to skip school and led him on adventures instead. He remembers villagers who sold their farms for alcohol, and dedicated teachers who helped them dream of better lives.&nbsp; Ripden lives with his uncle. His mother died when he was four, and his father disappeared in the Movement. One day he hears that his father is in fact dead as well, and decides to run away to a village called Lolay. There the pair meet Nasim, who is involved in the Gorkhaland Movement as a child soldier.&nbsp; Chuden Kabimo is of the Lepcha community, a people fiercely proud of their identity, homeland, history, and myths. He weaves together the stories of the characters, detailing their motivation to rebel. ‘I may give up my life, I may give up my soul. But Gorkhaland, I will have anyhow,’ says one leader of the Movement.&nbsp; It is the story of all revolutions where young idealistic people join with the best of intentions, but things betray their initial hopes. The spirit of the revolution can get everyone to protest, even those who do not want to be so involved, but they get killed anyway. Much like what happened outside Parliament last month in Kathmandu.&nbsp; Others think of personal success through the movement, and dream of a day where even the pigs can eat rice and every house has a swimming pool. Others keep themselves going through with alcohol and remembering past, present, or potential lovers.&nbsp; Ajit Baral’s translation has short, crisp sentences that make the 200 pages move along at a fast clip. The sparse language allows the writer to recede to the background as the story unfolds by itself. &nbsp; Kabimo condenses love stories into a chapter or sometimes just a few paragraphs. This works because the story of the revolution must be at the centre, and all else is tangential. Characters are sometimes introduced only to be killed off quickly.&nbsp; Like in all revolutions, there are factions and they are fighting among themselves, against Communists, or against the police. Readers not familiar with Gorkhaland may find it difficult to keep track, but this also parallels the real confusion of a society in turmoil.&nbsp; Kabimo also tends to start his chapters with statements like ‘history is written by those who stumble in life’ which sounds better in Nepali, and something is lost in translation. &nbsp; Read with the recent Nepal protests in mind, there is almost a sense of relief that the fires that spread here burnt themselves out so quickly. But in Song of the Soil, the revolution is never-ending with villages and families living in terror and deprivation.&nbsp; It seems that the longer insurrections last, the more people die, and groups become divided making it easier to subvert the original goal of a revolution.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251012051032_089e7a01ed5afdad35c7a298024e65893b8cf252eb2fce3b919e72c60a3c7a8f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251012051032_089e7a01ed5afdad35c7a298024e65893b8cf252eb2fce3b919e72c60a3c7a8f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Song of the soil NT"> </figure>  --- <h2>"I make sure I am always connected to the story"</h2> - Chuden Kabimo, the winner of this year's Madan Puraskar literary prize for the book Urmaal Nepali Times: Your journalism about the Gorkhaland Movement inspired your earlier novel, Faatsung. What was your process in learning about tea plantation workers for Urmaal? Chuden Kabimo: I had been reporting on the second Gorkhaland movement, so it was easy for me to write Faatsung. For Urmaal, I lived with the tea plantation community. I started work six months after Faatsung was published, heading to the Dooars and exploring it. I had gone with the intention of writing a story about child marriage in a community there.&nbsp; I talked to the locals and the workers, and the need to write Urmaal started pulling me. I would often think that I had enough material for my story, but then I would want to add certain elements, which kept me going back over the five years it took to write the book.&nbsp; How does all that information you gather develop into a storyline and characters?&nbsp; When I start the book I don’t know how the plot will start and end. I talk to many people from different backgrounds. Each person tends to introduce me to other people that I should speak to.&nbsp; I listen to their stories. As the stories start to fit together, I get a sense of the plot and that is where my characters come from. For a single character I need to bring together the stories of many people, maybe ten or twelve. It is not possible to base a character on a single individual all the time. I start where I want to, and as I keep writing the story slowly takes shape. I wrote what ended up becoming the last chapter for Urmaal, first.&nbsp; What about your actual writing process? I wake up early in the morning, then I either go cycling or play football. Then I get back and &nbsp;sit at my computer for sometimes two hours. I sometimes write only two lines in the two hours, sometimes I can write five hundred words. I don’t set a word count for myself. I cannot write a lot at once, I am a slow writer, but I strongly believe that you have to write daily.&nbsp; When you do not write daily, especially for a novel, you tend to lose the connection to the story. I just make sure that I am always connected to the story, which helps me always think about it even when I am on the bus or something.&nbsp; What does winning the Madan Puraskar mean to you?&nbsp; I feel that the Madan Puraskar is the biggest prize in Nepali literature, so it is a source of great pride for me.&nbsp; When I wrote my first book, I hadn’t thought of winning any prizes. When I wrote Faatsung I was thinking much more of Kalimpong and Darjeeling. What Faatsung did for me was make me recognised. A lot of people in Nepal liked it too. How to outdo Faatsung was a challenge for me when I wrote Urmaal. After the book was published, it was getting some good reviews but I didn’t expect it to win the Madan Puraskar. I was at home reading in Siliguri when I got the news.&nbsp; For other awards, like the JCB, they had contacted me to tell me that I had been shortlisted or that I won, but to not reveal it to anyone. It was the opposite with the Madan Puraskar. I was notified via Facebook!&nbsp; It was a unique type of happiness. It is also great motivation for me to work on my third novel. Perhaps I will do something about Sikkim, moving away from Gorkhaland.&nbsp; How does it feel being recognised in Nepal? Six years ago, readers in Nepal did not know who I was. I was new to Nepal and Nepal was new to me. I grew up in rural Kalimpong, and we only had a radio for entertainment. On the radio, we used to listen to Nepali programs, which developed an emotional attachment to the country.&nbsp; I came to Kathmandu for the first time for Faatsung, and it was a lot of fun seeing the places that I had heard about on the radio. The journey after that, of the love the readers have shown for the book and now the prize, has been very meaningful.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251012051032_98bbbef41bc3ca68f0e8c84edd40f7e6c5bd012186e09a08b4ed9631fd9a009b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251012051032_98bbbef41bc3ca68f0e8c84edd40f7e6c5bd012186e09a08b4ed9631fd9a009b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Urmaal NT"> </figure>

Vishad Raj Onta

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Revolution song

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151120/636a65e79c7e80680e059950jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="557" height="438"/>On the morning of 31 October 1954, 29-year-old William J Burke stepped on a red-gold carpet of fallen maple leaves outside his home as he made his way to the nearest port where his family and friends had gathered to bid him farewell on his journey to faraway India.None of them, not even the young easy-going Burke waving from the ship's deck would have guess that he would never return to his native Canada. Or, that he would go on to devote his life to a language few then had heard about – Nepali.Born in 1925, Burke decided to become a Jesuit when he was just 15. Eight years later, he set off to Montreal to study philosophy, graduated and set off for North Bengal, a mission first started by Belgian Christians in 1888.After sailing for seven weeks to Calcutta, and travelling overland, Burke reached Saint Joseph School in Northpoint, Darjeeling a day before Christmas. Within a week he was enrolled for Nepali language classes at St Mary's in Kurseong, and within few months he was teaching Nepali to other students. He also continued his theology lessons and attained priesthood in 1959.Between 1960-61, Burke worked with renowned Hindi language scholar and lexicographer Fr Kamil Bulke, who seems to have inspired in the Canadian priest his passion for Nepali language.Under Bulke’s tutelage, Burke quickly learned Hindi and was able to tutor in Hindi-medium schools. But he felt he lacked the basic knowledge of pedagogy and at the age of 38 went back to school for BEd in Kolkata. By the time he was 55, Burke had also mastered Bengali, and became the principal of Saint Roberts School.In 1990 Burke's desire to work on a Nepali corpus finally took shape, culminating in Sahi Sabda (The Right Word) which later won him the prestigious Madan Puraskar. "We have to address the young generation with the right words so that Nepali culture and language thrive,” said Burke during his acceptance speech in Kathmandu in 2014.In 2006 he published English-Nepali book Ukhaanharu Ajaka ka Nimti (Idioms for Today) in collaboration with P K Chettri. "Even if Burke was not Nepali, he never considered the Nepali language not his own, which is why his work primarily focused bringing life to a language by documenting its usage,” recalls Kamal Regmi, a teacher at St Joseph.Burke is also credited with completing what is now known as the ‘Red Bible’ when Fr Francis Farell died while working on a Nepali catholic bible. The book was published in 1999.Back in the day when the principal of Darjeeling's St Roberts High School Father John Pindergast went to Canada to give talks, the young Burke was responsible for setting up the projector during the lectures. When he was late Pindergast would ask him to set up the slides quickly. "Chito chito" was the first Nepali world Burke learned while still in Canada.The word pretty much sums up his life as well. He learnt languages quickly, and undertook many projects. On 29 November, after a full life, William J Burke has a stroke in Darjeeling and died a few days later at age 94.The Canadian Jesuit was as much a campaigner for the Nepali language as he was a missionary. A true tribute to him would be for the Nepali-speaking world to be inspired by his life.

Canadian's missionary zeal for Nepali

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/636922659c7e80680e03a127jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/>After staging plays by foreign writers, Mandala Theatre has forayed into an original Nepali folktale, with a sharp contemporary socio-political message.Jalini is a short story in Dhruba Satya Pariyar’s book Kairan that was shortlisted for this year’s Madan Puraskar, and adapted by the author and director Dayahang Rai into a play that is a satire with a message of inclusion.An arrogant king wants to stand out in history, and is told he will do so only if his daughter makes a sketch of him. He imprisons her in a palace so that she can see no other man.The folktale of Rapunzel springs to mind. Even the Buddha was confined to his palace so that he could not see the sufferings of the world. But, as expected, the unseen holds the most fascination, which is what happens to Jalini.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19506#.W6Io_s4zbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Highway</a>, Sophia Pande<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/review/Degree-Maila-review,963" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Degree Maila</a>, Sunir Pandey<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/636922699c7e80680e03a128jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="939"><figcaption>Photos: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>Jalini's story attempts to trace how the imprisonment of women in homes leads to their subjugation, and secondary place in society. It is not just Jalini's body that is confined, but her heart and mind as well. And this just to satisfy the whims of a king unhinged with power. Jalini is not just a princess but a symbol of womanhood, and you will have to go watch the play if you want to find out if she finally breaks out of her confinement.The stage is taken up by a powerfully choreographed movement of the kingdom’s good citizens labouring to construct a palace for Jalini. A woman named Jaljala (so named perhaps to remind us of the mountain in Rukum that became a symbol of the Maoist revolution) speaks out boldly against tyranny, and the plot thickens as Jalini is brought to confront a world she had never seen.The king's attempts to force the people to do his bidding as he ignores their hardships is reminiscent of despotic regimes today. He takes pride in how he has decorated the walls of his palace with pictures of his long-suffering subjects, and thinks that passes for doing something to uplift them. This is obviously a satire on the tokenism and lips service to inclusion in present day Nepal.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/taandro-film-review,4036" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Tandro</a>, Rabin Giri<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/all-the-men-and-women-merely-players/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">All the men and women merely players</a>, Sewa Bhattarai<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/6369226c9c7e80680e03a129jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">The play entertains even as it subtly draws the audience to think about caste and gender discrimination. The music changes from dramatic to romantic and fantastic depending on the scenes, adding an audio element to the stagecraft. There are loose ends: some mysteries are not solved even till the end, and there is a distracting scene of a prime minister who does not have a major role in the plot.Bijay Baral as the king deserves special mention for his perfect comic timing. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Film-funny-man,1349" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Dayahang Rai</a>, the film actor who began his career in theatre has come back a full circle to the stage. He tries not to make this  love story with a political message too preachy or predictable, and he largely succeeds in giving Pariyar’s fairy tale a hopeful and optimistic tint in a darkly cynical world.5:30 PM everyday except MondayMandala Theater, Until Oct 7Phone: 01-6924269

Once upon a time

Jazz as healing music

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

Reporter's diary of 8-9 September

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

To survive, the UN must leave the US

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