The 7.2M Taiwan earthquake on 3 April was a reminder for us here in Nepal about the importance of preparation with up to code infrastructure, earthquake early warning sensors hooked to mobile &nbsp;networks, seismic risk education in schools, and swift emergency response.&nbsp;
Although 13 people were killed, readiness saved lives. Skyscrapers shook and swayed but did not fall, high-rises tilted but did not collapse. A similar intensity earthquake in Taiwan in 1999 had killed 2,400 people. &nbsp;
This week marks nine years since Nepal’s 2015 earthquakes that killed nearly 9,000 people. It has been four months since a 6.4M quake <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/learning-from-jajarkot-what-we-didnt-after-2015-695vpzle">struck Jajarkot and West Rukum</a> near midnight on 3 November, claiming 153 lives.&nbsp;
In the immediate aftermath of 2015, building codes, earthquake-resistant designs and retrofitting became high priority. But as memories fade, so does the fear. Nine years on, buildings <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-of-high-rises">including high-rises that flout zoning and building codes</a> have come up in Kathmandu while <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-occupation-of-tundikhel">open spaces have further shrunk</a>.&nbsp;
Himalayan seismologists have warned that 2015 was not the Big One, the kind of quake that hits central Nepal every 80 or so years. Neither was Jajarkot the megaquake scientists had expected in western Nepal’s seismic gap. As we have been saying in this paper for the last 24 years, the next big earthquake is ‘not a matter of if, but when’.
While the 14 districts affected by the 2015 disaster have now mostly been rebuilt, and are better prepared, the rest of the country is not. A &gt;8M megaquake in Western Nepal would be a trans-boundary disaster of unthinkable proportions.
In Jajarkot and West Rukum, many <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/jajarkot-survivors-show-collective-resilience">survivors spent the winter </a>without a roof over their heads, and they still await relief to rebuild. The National &nbsp;Reconstruction Authority (NRA) might have taken nine months to set up after the 2015 earthquake, but that disaster should have been a lesson for timely assessment for earthquake relief at the very least.
Nepal is a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/lost-and-damaged">landmine of disasters</a>. Nearly 350 people have died just in the past year in floods, landslides, lightning, and forest fires, and not including Jajarkot. We are now in the thick of wildfire season. Hundreds of forest fires are burning across the country, some for weeks. Three fire-fighting soldiers and three children picking mushrooms were killed by wind-fanned flames just in the past week.&nbsp;
The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-suffers-another-winter-drought">prolonged winter drought</a> should have warned us that this year, the fires would be much worse. But adding fuel to the fires, as it were, is the new trend of burning wheat straw after harvest by farmers.&nbsp;
Fire is always followed by flood, and this year, weather models predict above-normal monsoon precipitation. As it is, monsoons have become erratic with extreme downpours followed by weeks without rain. Mohan Mainali’s ongoing series in Nepali Times <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/people-and-mountains-are-thirsty-in-eastern-nepal">analysing meteorological, hydrological and demographic data from eastern Nepal </a>shows that Nepal has always suffered from either too little or too much water, and this has contributed to outmigration.
Landslides triggered by heavy rainfall along Nepal’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/roadkill">poorly designed roads</a> in never-ending states of construction magnify the risk. Landslides can also frequently block rivers, which raises the need for early warning systems.
And if all this was not bad enough, we have the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/sikkim-flood-is-warning-to-nepal">threat of GLOFs </a>from glacial lakes swollen with ice melted by climate breakdown. The water level in the Tso Rolpa glacial lake in Rolwaling was reduced by 3m in 2002, and the water level of Imja Lake was lowered after the 2015 earthquake to mitigate the risk of GLOFs. But these lakes continue to expand as the Himalaya warms 0.7oC faster than the global average.&nbsp;
Thulagi glacial lake below Himalchuli is another one in danger of bursting, and would wash away four hydropower projects downstream on the Marsyangdi River. A GLOF from the precariously situated Lake 464 in the Hinku Valley would race down the Dudh Kosi Valley, into the Sun Kosi and right down to the Tarai.&nbsp;
While these lakes are all dangerous by themselves, they could burst simultaneously during a major earthquake. Which means Nepal must be prepared not just for earthquakes, but the co-seismic risk of catastrophic debris flows along its rivers.&nbsp;
Disaster preparedness means knowing and acknowledging potential without spreading panic and crying wolf. And:&nbsp;
<ul>
 <li>Stockpiling and pre-positioning food and other relief materials</li>
 <li>Investing in search and rescue equipment and training</li>
 <li>Safety drills and earthquake education in schools</li>
 <li>Decentralised first responders with aerial medevac</li>
</ul>
Shristi Karki

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Disastrous preparedness

Kathmandu Valley’s rivers have always been in full spate during the monsoon, but their wide floodplains allowed the water to spread while fertilising the banks with nutrients.
But in a process that accelerated after the multiparty system was restored in 1990, and especially since the Maoist conflict began in 1996, the Valley’s population exploded. The real estate mafia and their political partners gradually encroached on the riverine flats.
Some of the tributary streams of the Bagmati now have roads and houses built over them, others have been squeezed into narrow canals. With just 90mm of rain in 24 hours, these waterways easily overflowed this week, submerging the banks.&nbsp;
“It was not a lot of rain, but it fell over a short period and there was nowhere for the river to go,” watershed expert Madhukar Upadhyay explained to us.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/thunderstruck-in-nepal">Thunderstruck in Nepal</a>, Shristi Karki
Rainfall patterns have changed with frequent torrential microbursts or prolonged drought due to climate change, but the main reason is that we have constricted the rivers and streams.
“This should be taken as a warning,” Upadhyay added. “This week’s floods could have been as bad as they were in Uttarakhand or Beijing if rainfall was heavier. We should have had strict zoning laws about not building along floodplains.”&nbsp;
Kathmandu’s urban heat island effect meant that this year’s pre-monsoon maximum was up to 5°C higher than average. Trees that would have cooled things down are gone, concrete and asphalt trap the heat.
In winter, the Valley’s air quality is unbreathable and off the charts. Inability to control vehicular fumes, garbage burning and brick kiln emissions means suspended particles are trapped under an inversion layer. The city has now given up trying to control vehicle emissions, and subcontracted it to the private sector.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepal-needs-to-get-its-climate-act-together/">Nepal needs to get its climate act together</a>, Editorial
Emissions can be curbed with a systematic push towards electric public transport and battery-powered vehicles. This would also mean using surplus clean hydroelectricity that is going to waste. Instead, the government has increased taxes on electric vans.
In his election pledge, Mayor Balen Shah promised to clean up Kathmandu’s air and trash. But there has been no effort to segregate waste, leading to chronic problems at the landfill site. A foreign investment proposal to manage waste and generate power through incinerators is stuck in red tape.
None of this can be blamed on the climate crisis. Media headlines call floods ‘monsoon havoc’, but they are actually ‘human havoc’ — a result of regulatory failure, poor planning, corruption and individual greed.
Yet, there is a climate dimension that is making existing problems worse. A new report by the Integrated Centre for Mountain Development (ICIMOD) shows that Himalayan glaciers shrank 65% faster between 2010-2020 compared to the decade before. At this rate, 80% of the ice mass will be gone by 2100. In addition, springs are going dry and the water table has receded.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/un-climate-report-declares-planetary-emergency/">UN climate report declares planetary emergency</a>, Sonia Awale
“We are now past adapting to climate-induced calamities, we have to talk about mechanisms to pay for loss and damage,” &nbsp;<a href="https://climateanalytics.org/events/2023/loss-and-damage-in-south-asia-what-cop28-needs-to-deliver-for-the-region/?fbclid=IwAR0XTyAN82s5-twHW0V5IK2c1nrIeIonmHjJykMc_WDIm1VduBfMfVyjpeg">ICIMOD Director Pema Gyamtsho told a webinar</a> this week hosted by Climate Analytics South Asia. “But while the global community debates loss and damage, climate-induced disasters continue to render many people homeless and hopeless.”
This July was the hottest ever globally, and some weather extremes that climatologists had predicted would take place by 2050 are already happening. World leaders will meet in Dubai at COP28 in November and discuss reparations for climate harm.
“Loss and damage funds may or may not happen, but we in Nepal must take preventive action with local participation immediately,” says Madhukar Upadhyay.
That advice is most relevant for Kathmandu, where federal agencies and mayors must work in close coordination to tackle the Valley’s polycrisis.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/we-have-not-respected-the-fragility-of-the-himalaya">“We have not respected the fragility of the Himalaya”</a>, Nepali Times

Sonia Awale

Kathmandu’s Polycrisis

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636bac959c7e80680e077f3ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>Villagers in Rautahat move to higher ground along a road embmankment to prepare for the flood season. This year it coincides with the pandemic, and experts warn that crowded shelters can be hot spots for the spread of the virus. Photo: BIKRAM RAI</figcaption></figure>Even as Nepal braces for the full socio-economic impact of the COVID-19 lockdown, the monsoon brings the risk of yet another disaster – floods.The lockdown has lasted three-and-half months, causing not just a public health crisis but also mass unemployment and economic dislocation. Experts have warned that because the lockdown has not been accompanied by adequate test-trace-treatment, there is a looming threat of community transmission.If that happens, the pandemic <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/after-the-coronavirus-the-deluge/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/after-the-coronavirus-the-deluge/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1594282153999000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH45ArnnHWwf3p04i8SISD5h-eGkQ">peak in Nepal could coincide with the monsoon peak</a> which brings with it an increased risk of landslides and floods.  This year, unusually heavy early monsoon rains have already triggered landslides across the mid-mountains, causing at least 36 deaths.The Department of Hydrology and Meteorology has forecast 100-200mm of rain in 24 hours from Friday onwards into the weekend, warning of flood risk in the central and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-tarai-learns-from-past-floods/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-tarai-learns-from-past-floods/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1594282153999000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHjQgqhlpUVvl5eApCTDlj0GZnn-A">eastern Tarai</a>. It is not just the precipitation that has <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/flood-of-recrimination/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/flood-of-recrimination/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1594282153999000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFll8mIfpIC-Vxe_TfcdXeq3eqHbA">intensified flood risk</a>, but also poor drainage, denudation of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2017/07/11/chure-denudation-and-floods/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2017/07/11/chure-denudation-and-floods/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1594282153999000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEBryjJNyUZb8d49R3dodj47Lmy4A">Chure Hills</a>, and road and embankment construction across the border in India that impound water in Nepal.“This is the new normal,” explains Bimal Regmi, a climate change expert at the Policy and Institutions Facility (PIF), a program funded by the British aid agency DFID. “Extreme weather causes floods, but change in land cover and loss of vegetation are aggravate their intensity.”Experts say awareness about flood risk preparedness in Nepal starts when the rains start, and by then it is usually too late. The government also invests more on relief and not enough on prevention. This could change with the new Disaster Risk and Management Act 2017 which puts more emphasis on preparedness and mitigating risk, and also hands more responsibility to first-responders at local government level.“We are now looking at disaster risk management much more comprehensively, and addressing early warning and immediate response at the district and provincial level,” says Anil Pokhrel, head of the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority.This rainy season, there is the additional risk of COVID-19 and the need to maintain physical separation and maintain personal hygiene in shelters. Unlike the previous years, the pandemic has also brought returnees from overseas and in-country migrants, increasing the population living in areas at flood and landslide risk. People also need to be made aware of maintaining hygiene and physical separation in shelters.“These factors will magnify social, economic, health and political problems,” says retired Nepal Army general and disaster management expert Balananda Sharma.Nepal has enhanced its flood early warning system on major river basins like the Gandaki, Kosi, and Karnali and issues regular bulletins through social media and the mobile network, reducing the loss of life and property in recent years.Says Dinanath Bhandari, an expert on early warning and adviser to the Authority: “Because of limited data, early warning does have its limitations in Nepal. But when there is heavy rainfall, we send out alerts to at-risk communities.”While the national government usually springs into action after a disaster, more emphasis is needed before floods strike. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/only-half-prepared/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/only-half-prepared/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1594282153999000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEVxtjoSxnZ3vrXXyM6NahadSpxdg">Preventive measures</a> and preparation like better designs for road embankments and drainage need to be integrated into plans.Tapendra Rawal, the Mayor of Tikapur in the floodplain of the Karnali in western Nepal, is aware of this, and uses community action to clear blocked drains and ensure proper outflow before the rains arrive, and he has rafts on standby for flood rescue. This year, he has added  public awareness about COVID-19 precautions to his preparedness plans.At Mahakali Municipality, Mayor Bir Bahadur Sunar says the presence of returnees from India and overseas can be channeled for flood prevention and rescue. He says: “Many people who came back from foreign work are unemployed at the moment, and many have raised concerns about their livelihoods. We could deploy them for flood mitigation efforts.”While the country braces for the coming months, there is also the need to look at the longer term so that the Land Use Policy 2015 is closely followed to discourage settlement in high-risk areas, and in planning for flood risk reduction through livelihood enhancement measures.There are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-villages-learn-to-cope-with-climate-crisis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-villages-learn-to-cope-with-climate-crisis/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1594282153999000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGlr8UC_WND2qI2qHZXkfamofjd1A">success stories like the villagers of Kailali and Kanchanpur</a> which have been supported to manage flood risk through agriculture. They plant bamboo and napier grass on embankments and sugarcane on riverbanks to not just protect them from floods, but also augment income from the cash crops.Says Bimal Regmi: “Many communities have used the areas affected by the floods as vegetation for livelihood, degraded land rehabilitation, tree plantation, bioengineering, and other disaster risk management methods to minimise the impact of floods.”It is obvious that these best practices need to be scaled up.@NDRRMA_Nepal on Twitter and NDRRMA on Facebook

Preparing for floods during a lockdown

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121148/6368f1309c7e80680e035a19jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="478"/>The monsoon deluge hammers our rooftops and buckets of water seem hurled at our windowpanes by divine hand. Drains clog and swell, streams overflow, and rivers spill onto what is left of roads with their surfaces corroded by wheels and weather. Drenched hillsides release their soil and stones into slips and landslides.Nepal’s summer monsoon floods cause untold misery, damage and disruption, even if we have come to consider them ‘normal’. Draining into the sacred Ganga, Himalayan rivers have not much more than 100m elevation to drop between the southern border with India until they meet the Bay of Bengal 2,000km away. India shares the flooding watercourses and the suffering.At <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/More-trouble-in-Chitwan-National-Park,2956" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Tiger Tops in the middle of Chitwan</a>, it never even occurred to us to try to keep the lodge running during this annual drama. Access across the swollen rivers and overgrown tracks was nigh impossible, the Tarai heat and humidity were oppressive, and the jungle environment more teeming than usual with tics, leeches, scorpions and snakes flooded out of their homes.Closed every year mid-June to mid-September, monsoon was the time for lodge maintenance, repairing roof thatch and bamboo walls, resting the elephants, and with only a skeleton staff who rotated to their villages for six weeks’ annual leave. The tented camps deep in the forest or overlooking riverbanks were packed up and carefully stored to avoid mould, fungus and damp rot, the tent shelters remade, and the jungle kitchens rebuilt.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121148/6368f1329c7e80680e035a1ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="536" height="432"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Monsoon is a special time to be in Nepal, rewarded with theatrical cloud effects, unexpected sunsets, rain-washed views and profligate plant life, but I was not prepared for the natural violence wrought in the lowlands, cataclysmic erosion changing the landscape. Rivers rose and fell with the relentless rains, swirling brown with topsoil from the middle hills, and carved new courses, gouging their sandy banks and dragging down huge trees in the flatlands of the Tarai. Unnoticed streams became impassable, and even large mammals such as domestic buffaloes and wild rhinos were swept to their deaths. An attempt at crossing the Rapti on elephant back needed to be carefully timed and was never predictable.At the end of this annual onslaught, as rivers settled back into new alignments, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/one-day-of-life-in-the-jungle-chitwan,1005" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Tiger Tops</a> was painstakingly reassembled, repaired, refreshed and polished clean. The National Park roads had to be labouriously remade by hand, jungle trails cleared of encroaching greenery, forest campsites reclaimed, boats positioned for Rapti and Reu crossings, and Land Rovers floated across the rivers, wheels balancing precariously on makeshift rafts made from lashed together wooden boats, ready for the first of the arriving guests.Only elephants could forge their way through the dense towering grasslands that had flourished in the heat and wet, disappearing beneath the delicate pink Saccharum flowers of September. It was the hardest time to show any wildlife-- hidden in the foliage, invisible in the vegetation and with ubiquitous water sources, the presence of animals was only betrayed by swaying grass or crashing branches, and a rare glimpse if you were lucky.A few hardy foreigners, mainly researchers and naturalists, took their chances in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/back-to-Chitwan,1075" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Chitwan</a> during the summer months but I never spent a whole monsoon in the jungle. My role in marketing and communications during the 1980s had me travelling on sales missions and promotion tours, or helping my then-boss Jim Edwards host his annual salmon fishing groups on remote rivers in Iceland.Armed with a free Pan Am air ticket around the world, Jim’s extensive network of contacts, heaps of yellow brochures, a slide carousel (remember those?) and a miniscule budget, every June I would set off around the world to promote <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nation-quality-control-in-tourism,471" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal and Tiger Tops, visiting trade shows, travel agents, tour operators and well-wishers on whom we depended for business</a>. Standby travel on Pan Am was uncertain and stressful as we only flew when there were empty seats – with bizarre rules such as a dress code banning denim or jeans which I remember well, having been denied boarding in Chicago due to my blue pencil skirt.Sleeping on the scrounged sofas of kind Nepal-lovers or Jim’s bemused friends, I could visit eight Hong Kong or Singapore travel agents in one day, persuading their weary staff why they should sell Nepal above other destinations. With partners such as Lindblad Travel, Abercrombie &amp; Kent and Mountain Travel USA, we did the rounds of North American and European fairs and travel retailers who formed the interface with consumers in those pre-digital days.Between agent slide shows and promotional events in bland motels, I slept in more strange spare rooms and attended luscious lunches and elegant dinners hosted by Nepal enthusiasts to further ferment their fervour amongst their circle of friends. Taking time out to regroup with Jim in our fledgling London office, I visited conservationists, climbers, filmmakers, journalists, media, museums, zoos, and anyone else we thought might help us sell wildlife and trekking holidays in the distant and still-mysterious kingdom of Nepal.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121148/6368f1349c7e80680e035a1bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="435"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>So whilst the monsoon raged, my nomadic progress took me to major capitals and cities linked by Pan Am Boeing flights, on a mission to spread the word and help establish what would become the adventure destination of Nepal.

Lisa Choegyal

Monsoon memories

In 2003, the death by police firing of a student protesting a rise in fuel prices pushed Nepal’s student activists to join the प्रतिगमन विरोधी आन्दोलन (Movement Against Regression), which political parties had begun after king Gyanendra’s sacking an elected government a year before. The students’ participation elevated the movement and prompted more Nepalis to join in, leading to the People’s Movement that first sidelined the monarchy and then abolished it in 2008.&nbsp; That took five years to happen. But 12 years later, this month, a youth-led protest forced the prime minister to resign within 30 hours.&nbsp; Police massacred GenZ activists, many of them students, outside Parliament on 8 September. This intensified public anger, leading to targeted attacks, looting, and burning of the homes of political leaders, private businesses, and public buildings.&nbsp; Amid the smouldering ruins of state institutions, young Nepalis chose a new prime minister to lead an interim government and deliver a fresh mandate. All of this happened in five days.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250910140912_019d62de4b62a366299a27d1276e931a7dadefcc674441e7fb3acd503970efaf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250910140912_019d62de4b62a366299a27d1276e931a7dadefcc674441e7fb3acd503970efaf" data-rendition-name="original" width="8000" height="5760" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal in ashes"> <figcaption>Parliament building up in flames during the GenZ protest on 9 September. Photo: KAMAL PRASAI</figcaption> </figure>  Students have been central to Nepal’s democratic and political process since the mid 20th century. In her 2018 book Making New Nepal, researcher Amanda Thérèse Snellinger traces the history of student activism and politics against a background of &nbsp;Nepal’s socio-political history and party politics.&nbsp; Snellinger examines the interplay of ideology and identity, explores how student activists fit into a political landscape continually occupied by the traditional elite, and details how student leaders have established themselves through relationships with influential actors on local, national, regional, and transnational levels. The Rana regime’s repression caused students to be politically aware. In 1947, students held the first organised protest against the Rana autocracy demanding educational reforms. The breadth of student activism expanded during the Panchayat era after king Mahendra banned political parties, which drove mainstream politicians and parties underground. &nbsp;Student activists then became proxies for multiparty democracy because they were still able to organise.&nbsp; Student politics was institutionalised, and unions emerged as vanguard sister organisations of political parties. Student activism, more so than mainstream political parties, played key roles during &nbsp;both major movements in 1990 and the 2000s, as they mobilised the citizenry to join the democratic process.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924130940_f94cf97fb7ed98b90b48736e1aa8a76466f50337dffc36ec78e9cd5e6927deea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250924130940_f94cf97fb7ed98b90b48736e1aa8a76466f50337dffc36ec78e9cd5e6927deea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1952" height="2928" loading="lazy" alt="1990 people's movement Nepal"> <figcaption>The iconic image of the 1990 People's Movement agaist the autocratic Panchyat regime of the king. Photo: MIN RATNA BAJRACHARYA</figcaption> </figure>  Through extensive ethnographic research between 2003 and 2015, Snellinger investigates the political coming of age of student activists during the final years of the armed insurgency and their role in and beyond the movement that ultimately abolished the monarchy. Her research revolves around the political journeys of five student activists: Akash and Rishi from the Nepali Congress (NC) student wing Nepal Student Union (NSU), Salini from the UML’s All Nepal National Free Students’ Union (ANNFSU-Akhil), Gyanu from ANNISU-Revolutionary of the Maoists, and Lagan, who began his political journey from Nepal Majdoor Kisan Party’s student wing Nepal Krantikari Bidyarthi Sangathan. The ‘movement against regression’ in 2003 served as the entry point &nbsp;for activists into national party politics. Indeed, it was their &nbsp;participation in the movement that elevated the profile of the main subjects of Snellinger’s research. In the years that followed, the paths of the five activists diverged. Some made it into mainstream politics, even becoming lawmakers. In doing so, they have had to trade idealism for pragmatism, and their attempts realise their previous vision for Nepal’s democracy have been overshadowed by their political opportunism and position. And even decades after they began their journey as student activists, the generation that the book focuses on are still considered &nbsp;‘youth’ leaders. Snellinger quotes a former student leader who joined mainstream politics as saying: “I am still a youth because &nbsp;my aspirations remain unfulfilled.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924130944_7cca095d79fb5ce45cf92c61b77d72c31c5e0931aa744c73e264b6f91efdd29b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250924130944_7cca095d79fb5ce45cf92c61b77d72c31c5e0931aa744c73e264b6f91efdd29b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="2006 People's Movement of Nepal"> <figcaption>A student protester wearing a paper crown and ridiculing Gyanendra with an impersonation, a day after king stepped down and left his palace. Photo: AJAY JOSHI / A PEOPLE WAR</figcaption> </figure>  Meanwhile, the refusal of Nepal’s octogenarian leaders to retire (even after The upheaval this month) has created a surplus of younger adults waiting in the wings, making the word ‘youth’ relative in Nepal’s political trajectory. Other subjects of Snellinger's research have retreated from student and mainstream activism, either in disappointment over their mother party’s retreat from some of their more radical positions, or to &nbsp;continue their work at the community level through education and journalism. One of them has leveraged her political connections to further women-led initiatives after unsuccessful election bids. Nearing the end of her research in 2015, Snellinger observes the disappointment of Madhesi communities whose movement to demand more inclusive provisions of the draft Constitution had gone in vain, even after 45 lives were lost.&nbsp; As the Constitution was promulgated in 2015, TVs were switched off in the Tarai, and there were sighs of resignation. In Kathmandu, Snelllinger noted that the student leaders that entered mainstream politics protesting for inclusive democracy had little empathy for the struggles and similar demands of groups in the Madhes. Despite the students’ role in ending the monarchy, Nepal’s political status quo has remained. The institutions and people that replaced the &nbsp;monarchy have allowed one set of Kathmandu elites to be replaced with another.&nbsp; The socio-political benefits promised during the movement two &nbsp;decades ago have remained tightly controlled by leaders who refuse to give up their hold on power. The political system was overhauled, but without concrete reform. It was only a matter of time before public frustration would boil over. Indeed, Snellinger concludes her book by predicting the inevitability of future movements in Nepal.&nbsp; She writes: ‘Leaders emerge through the andolan … a new generation will emerge shaped by Nepal’s accumulated socio-political heritage, which they will mediate to shape a liveable present and future for themselves in their country, perhaps by continuing the movement.’&nbsp; And that is exactly what happened on 8-9 September. Students marched in the streets demanding an end to corruption and impunity, but this time not as proxies of political parties.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250908120948_8a9acceede487651487c2f15b65e40f900ee6cd390bbf98394eade6b95d05b28.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250908120948_8a9acceede487651487c2f15b65e40f900ee6cd390bbf98394eade6b95d05b28" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Gen Z protest"> <figcaption>A student during the GenZ protest against acorruption on 8 September. Photo: SUDIKSHA TULADHAR</figcaption> </figure>  Their desire for socio-political reform was apolitical at a time in Nepal’s history when the nation’s student organisations have weakened and lost credibility, mirroring the erosion of trust in their parent parties. Along with party-based student unions, the Free Student Union (FSU)— the umbrella body all student unions—has lost its reputation due to corruption and embezzlement. That is not to say there are no similarities in movements past and present. Whether political or apolitical, protests have been overshadowed by a lack of unity within the groups that spearhead movements. They have led to destruction of public and private institutions.&nbsp; Leaders of youth and student movements have also had to bear the brunt of the frustration of the people they represent when there is no delivery on their demands. The academics of students have suffered because of frequent lockouts of university and college administration. Youth andolan, whether political or apolitical, has been a rite of passage into Nepali democratic politics — dissensus is an integral part of political regeneration. It remains to be see how the fall &nbsp;from grace of political parties after the GenZ movement will affect their affiliated student unions. As elections approach, student unions and youth collectives will find their own footing in Nepal’s &nbsp;newly emerging socio-political landscape. The youth who took to the streets are asking for a complete overhaul for political parties. Establishmentarian leaders still have not seen the writing on the wall.&nbsp; NextGen leaders in their parties have been waiting for years for their turn &nbsp;to break through the glass ceiling. These established political actors will not go down without a fight in the run-up to March elections.&nbsp; Amanda Thérèse Snellinger perhaps needs a post-script or even a sequel to her book to see how a new generation of leaders, forged by their student activism, will compete in Nepal's new political arena.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250923190928_98d53dd49d56c92950bc34642eaee51dea458fd64312d945a358ad70e5e994bb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250923190928_98d53dd49d56c92950bc34642eaee51dea458fd64312d945a358ad70e5e994bb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Making new Nepal book details NT"> </figure>

Nepal’s historic youth dissensus

What does a journalist do when young protesters are shot in front of her? Does she do her job and stay neutral? Can you stay neutral?&nbsp; As protests engulfed Kathmandu, Nepal's journalists found themselves reporting a story that was personal. While doing their job, some of them were even targeted by mobs.&nbsp; Dart Asia Pacific Fellow <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/arunkarki/" target="_blank">Arun Karki</a> visited their newsrooms and spoke with his colleagues on their experience of reporting the GenZ protests that erupted on 8 September. These are the first-hand accounts of journalists who witnessed the turmoil in the city they call home. Sunita Karki was at a workshop in a hotel on 8 September. She saw the first waves of protests through hotel windows. Curfew alerts flooded her phone, a vehicle belonging to a human rights group sat burning across the road, young boys were taking their wounded friends on motorbikes to the Everest Hospital, and police were beating a teenager with hands raised up.&nbsp; “I cried a lot,” she said, but the tears were not out of fear -- they were because she felt guilt. “I couldn’t write the news. We were witnessing these scenes from a five-star hotel.” By evening, the death toll had reached 19. On 9 September at about 3:35 p.m. &nbsp;her outlet, the Annapurna Post's office in Tinkune, Kathmandu, was set on fire. Staff had to leave the building as parts of the newsroom burnt down.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_e1cc49c9e4fcc4bd4cd3c0163c782fc4e9956bf633cff7b53a63cf8e2dd74cff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250924040948_e1cc49c9e4fcc4bd4cd3c0163c782fc4e9956bf633cff7b53a63cf8e2dd74cff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dart Centre Asia Pacific"> </figure>  When she knew her office was burning, she anxiously told her husband that she would resign from the job: "If we have to hide our identification cards in every protest, what kind of journalist am I?" she asked herself. She filed a story the next day, but her emotions kept bouncing between that of a journalist’s duty and shock. She said that in moments like this, it’s hard to feel truly neutral. After watching the police beat people, she felt a strong urge to step in, not just stand back and report. The first real calm came later, when people came to the street and lit small candles together. “This was a sort of victory procession. I felt some relief after brutal days,” she said. <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/angaddhakal/" target="_blank">Angad Dhakal</a> a photojournalist who works at Kantipur National Daily, was standing outside his office building when protesters stormed in and set parts of it on fire. He had already been informed that protesters were planning to torch his office building and &nbsp;rushed to his office hoping to save his hard drives containing ten years of photography work. He failed. He raised his camera and "forcefully" pressed the shutter - more to document the scene than out of "professional enthusiasm or duty".&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_ebafaacb85c4ea045c41f2c63f1eff06fee9a4ddb5fbf419724e1a5d533781fa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250924040948_ebafaacb85c4ea045c41f2c63f1eff06fee9a4ddb5fbf419724e1a5d533781fa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="It is hard to feel neutral NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GAURAV POKHAREL</figcaption> </figure>  “My office was burning. What should I photograph?” he recalled. A few moments later, a protester noticed the “PHOTO” label on his yellow Press jacket. Dhakal deflected it by saying he was an early career freelancer and YouTuber. So that protesters wouldn't find out, he went to one corner and took his jacket off. When it comes to covering street protests, &nbsp;Angad usually stands near the police because it feels safer. But on 8 September, fire and gunshots made even that area unsafe. A rubber bullet hit his friend Dipendra Dhungana that badly injured him.&nbsp; He thought, “Where do we go now? If we stay here, we’ll be hit.” After witnessing two days of protests, violence, and killings, and seeing his own office burning, he couldn't sleep for days. The same afternoon that government buildings burned and Kantipur was attacked, a message in a protest Discord forum talked openly of 'attacking Kantipur'.&nbsp; Rumours spread to other outlets. Outside OnlineKhabar's office, where <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/article/edit/7376157229248528384/?author=urn%3Ali%3Afsd_company%3A79132377#" target="_blank">Gaurav Pokharel</a> works, the newsroom manager saw “very suspicious people were walking around”. They lowered blinds, avoided windows, locked the front gate and dispersed staff to other places across the city. The outlet was threatened and effectively locked down, but not torched. Pokharel hid his press ID. “ I never showed the ID card. Sometimes I had to enter the crowd shouting slogans, just to blend in among the protesters,” he said. He watched people fall under gunfire, he helped pull one surrounded journalist out of a hostile crowd.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_3b335eee57280373cb51f460534ca4476df23f89c787ba9e4a66d116a537b1a3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250924040948_3b335eee57280373cb51f460534ca4476df23f89c787ba9e4a66d116a537b1a3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="It is hard to feel neutral NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GAURAV POKHAREL</figcaption> </figure>  As a freelancer, Gaurav also contributed articles for international outlets. Later, while transcribing an interview of a young protest organiser, he wrote to his editor at an international outlet : “This was very hard to write. I cried many times while doing it.” He had been working at a stretch for days battling bouts of exhaustion and low blood pressure.&nbsp; Protesters vandalised and set fire within the Singha Darbar complex housing Nepal Television and Radio Nepal. They tried to disrupt public broadcasting.&nbsp; Surendra Paudyal began the day with his press ID hanging on his neck, thinking it would let him move freely. But when he reached Singha Darbar around 3:30PM, the situation felt dangerous.&nbsp; He put the ID in his pocket. When asked what mattered most, he answered without pause: life comes first. In that moment, he felt real fear and a strong duty to protect his team.&nbsp; His focus narrowed to basic things: stay calm, find exits, get everyone out safely. Later, they were able to keep the 8 pm news on air through a regional link. He felt mixed emotions and a sense of relief that the broadcast continued, but also sadness and anger that their own studio had come under attack. Reprinted with permission from the Dart Centre Asia Pacific, a regional hub that provides trauma-informed support and advice to journalists.

"It is hard to feel neutral"

Harry Jackson was on an epic adventure ‘from Thailand to the UK on 2 wheels’ when he ran into the ultimate sidequest. Having just visited Zangla in Ladakh, Jackson had only landed in Kathmandu when he found himself in the middle of GenZ protests earlier this month. ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Slq6zWu9o9w">Arriving in Nepal - Chaos, Protest &amp; Curfews</a>’ is the title of his first video (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/@wehatethecold/videos">wehatethecold on YouTube</a>) about the protest. He shoots police as they shoot at protesters outside Parliament. Jackson is riding a Honda CT125, a retro lightweight motorbike with off-road capabilities. Strapped to the bike is his sparse luggage, flute, and a faded Union Jack. People are rioting on the streets and there is a heavy armed police presence as he makes his way to his hostel in Thamel. His vlog the day after on 9 September has 29 million views. In ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyxSqeFrlp0">The side of Nepal the media won’t show you</a>’, Jackson rides his bike straight at the crowd just past the Parliament building into Old Baneswar.&nbsp; He parks it and walks among the protestors, documenting it all: from the police firing capsules of tear gas into the crowd to the burning Parliament building as well as the jubilant, victorious crowd in the premises as they destroy police vehicles and dance. “I’m shocked at the scenes I’ve witnessed here today. I have truly witnessed history on a stupid trip from Thailand to England on a f***ing moped!” exclaims Jackson as he leaves the scene for the day, heading back to his hostel to edit the footage. The hostel is in direct contrast to the raucous scenes of the protest, as tourists and Nepalis sit and lounge at tables. ‘KUIRE VLOGGER’ Nepalis quickly called him the ‘kuire vlogger’, and attribute his skin colour to his popularity. Objectively, the videos are well made. Jackson goes full gonzo journalist, putting himself right in the heart of the action, talking directly to the people, all while narrating the events as they unfold. Despite being cut together in an entertaining way, the footage retains a raw, unpolished quality that outdoes what most professional journalists with a heavy duty camera crew could do. At a time when legacy media has been seen to be pushing biased narratives, Jackson wants to see for himself what happened, and make up his own mind.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250925120956_f7141e06c72655502fc4b2e56120d084b0f5ae111078d66df4fd0415adf8d376.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250925120956_f7141e06c72655502fc4b2e56120d084b0f5ae111078d66df4fd0415adf8d376" data-rendition-name="original" width="2880" height="1604" loading="lazy" alt="WehateTheCold"> </figure>  This kind of video journalism takes a lot of skill and a certain personality. Many people, almost everybody, had their phones out at the protests, but only a handful were like Jackson. He interviewed people firsthand, edited the clips and uploaded them the same day. Jackson continued his vlogging over the next few days as the curfew was first put in place and then lifted. He explores the city as the Valley rebounds. By this time, Nepalis recognise him everywhere he goes. Jackson had achieved moderate fame as a 23-year old DJ in Birmingham, but what he has done in Nepal is something else. Almost everyone he talks to has already seen his vlog, and they are all eager to interact. He has been on multiple podcasts in Nepal too, and most videos online on the protests reference his vlogs. Before his Nepal blogs, Jackson had a modest 16k subcribers on YouTube, but after Nepal figure is now almost 700k, gaining over 100k each through 11-13 September. Most of them are Nepali viewers. “I’m just a regular dude who just did what he wanted to do,” says Jackson on a podcast. “I wanted to go on an adventure, learn about history, and learn languages. And I wanted to film it, document it, and have a wicked film for my life to show future generations.” &nbsp;

The accidental journalist

Nepal is still reeling from the short but violent GenZ moment, and the reverberations are being felt around the world.&nbsp;
As news from the killings and rampage from Nepal on 8-9 September spread through the wire services and social media, in the Philippines, East Timor and even faraway Peru, banners on the streets last week referred to ‘learning lessons from Nepal’. In Ladakh last week, <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/9/25/bloodiest-day-how-gen-z-protest-wave-hit-indias-ladakh-killing-four">protesters set fire to the ruling BJP party office</a> and four people were killed in police firing.&nbsp;
Nepal’s GenZ was praised by <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/09/19/opinion/asia-protest-youth-nepal-bangladesh.html">international commentators</a> for rising up against chronic corruption and impunity, and for achieving the fastest regime change in history. But the youth were also blamed for the arson and vandalism even though the groups said they had no part in it — most &nbsp;foreign media also did not highlight enough the infiltration by radical groups.
“We were not expecting the protests to turn so violent and deadly. On the second day, things escalated so quickly it became difficult to keep track. We were rushing on the groud and making calls to confirm what was happening,” recalls Paavan Mathema of Agence France-Presse (AFP) in Nepal.
The GenZ protest this month was a lesson on the mechanics of social media. Hashtags like #youthagainstcorruption and #nepobaby from Indonesia inspired Nepal’s youth to take to the streets, but events here in turn triggered protests elsewhere. The international news agencies and mainstream global tv channels were not as important in this information cross-pollination.
The movement was organised online and spread quickly in no time, but it was disinformation and fake news that spread faster than facts. The over-simplification by international media was because it had to explain 30 years of political evolution in a country that they mostly ignored in the past, this sometimes tended to be misleading.&nbsp;
While the Oli government’s social media ban of 26 platforms starting 5 September poured oil on the fire that had already been lit by a disparate group of desperate youth, their outrage over decades of corruption and impunity was reaching a breaking point. There was extreme disenchantment with serial politicians recycling themselves in power.&nbsp;
“The ban on social media definitely triggered the protest, but we put a high priority on accuracy and speed during reporting in such times,” explains the Nepal correspondent for Associated Press (AP) news agency in Nepal Binaj Gurubacharya. “Our own safety also becomes a prime concern in times like these, but should not be at an expense of accuracy.”
CRISIS REPORTING
But headlines everywhere including in The New York Times, The Guardian and others that used wire service content initially highlighted the social media ban as the main reason for the protest. They were soon called out by protesters, while <a href="https://institute.aljazeera.net/en/ajr/article/3358" target="_blank">Al Jazeera</a> and its <a href="https://institute.aljazeera.net/en" target="_blank">Media Institute </a>were applauded for more nuanced coverage.
Another positive example of international media supplementing the stories by local journalists was <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/" target="_blank">France 24’</a>s detailed <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/asia-pacific/20250915-nepal-police-protests-violence-kathmandu" target="_blank">forensic analysis</a> of the security forces firing live ammunition at protesters at Parliament on 8 September.&nbsp;
What really went far and wide around the world were dramatic YouTube videos about the violence, and memes on social media. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-accidental-journalist" target="_blank">A British tourist</a> who filmed street protests did the work of an on-the-ground journalist and got millions of views globally for some of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Slq6zWu9o9w" target="_blank">his YouTube videos</a>.&nbsp;
But some of the misinformation or fake news on social media was also picked up by the mainstream press, like the <a href="https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/world/south-asia/nepal-violence-ex-pm-khanals-wife-dies-after-house-torched-president-urges-calm-dialogue/articleshow/123791004.cms">wrongly reported death of former Prime Minister Jhalanath Khanal’s wife</a> in an arson attack on their home. A video of the Finance Minister Bishnu Poudel being <a href="https://www.ndtv.com/world-news/video-nepal-finance-minister-chased-through-street-kicked-attacked-9243749">chased and beaten</a> by protesters also turned out to be someone else.&nbsp;
Some international outlets, mainly in India, also fell prey to a fake video that K P Oli had fled to Dubai. Even this newspaper’s online edition had to correct it after wrongly reporting it without verification.&nbsp;
Indian tv channels which did &nbsp;extensive coverage of events in Nepal, with many Nepalis relying on them and believing their content — especially during the protests when Nepal’s main channels went off air as they were being attacked.
All this got out of hand, and protesters in the week after the violence started ridiculing and harassing Indian tv correspondents as they tried to interview talking heads outside the charred Parliament building, or on the streets.
<a href="https://www.newslaundry.com/2025/09/09/foreign-hand-gen-z-data-addiction-5-ways-indian-media-missed-the-nepal-story">Indian media</a> were also the first to accuse US involvement in sparking a ‘colour revolution’ in Nepal. They later claimed that former Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) chief and now Energy Minister Kulman Ghising and even Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah have been appointed interim prime minister in Nepal. These were rumours in Nepal, but were reported as news.&nbsp;
“Fact checking is crucial while covering such movements, and since we are telling an important story about Nepal to the world, double checking becomes important as it sets the international narrative,” says Mathema. “We were constantly double checking with concerned authorities as so much misinformation was being spread.”
“We were constantly double checking numbers and information with concerned authorities and parties to make sure we were accurate, especially as misinformation was rampant,” she adds.
Apart from Indian media, international news agencies got reinforcements of reporters, photojournalists and editors from the region, and other foreign correspondents also flew in when Kathmandu airport was opened after 48 hours.
Adds Mathema: “Sometimes foreign reporters can give a fresh perspective or an angle which we could not see or cover. So their inputs are always helpful.”
In the aftermath of the violence, there were plenty of jokes and memes, clips of protesters dancing, in weird poses and performing martial arts, showcasing the light hearted side of the protests while also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-meme-revolution">reaffirming the resilience</a> of people able to bounce back from something so traumatic.
The GenZ clean-up campaigns, neighbourhoods helping restore burnt out police stations and local people’s emotional reaction to the burnt out hulks of government buildings at the city centre also <a href="https://www.scmp.com/week-asia/people/article/3325635/nepals-gen-z-protesters-lead-clean-campaign-after-violent-clashes">made news</a>.
“After the protests, people were quick to gather and clean up public spaces and paint police stations. This is a scene which may not be so common in other countries with similar violence,” adds Gurubacharya. “So it became an important story to also tell the world.”&nbsp;
In less than two days, the world saw a dramatic toppling of a democratic government. With the interim government led by former chief justice Sushila Karki, there is much hope. She has expanded her ministerial cabinet, and the election has been announced for 5 March 2026 but between then and now, a lot remains uncertain.&nbsp;
And Nepal will continue to be watched by national and international media alike until then and after. AP’s Gurubacharya sums it up: “For now, we are taking it one day at a time.”

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