South of Janakpur near the Indian border is the village of Phulgama. Out of its population of 4,500, nearly every household here has at least one son who is a migrant worker abroad.&nbsp; Some 40% of Nepali men between the ages of 20-35 are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/die-first-get-paid-later">migrant workers abroad</a>, mainly in India, the Gulf states or Malaysia. In the last nine months alone, 741,297 people travelled overseas: mostly to the UAE, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Malaysia and Kuwait. This does not include those who left on student visas, and there are no records of how many went to India. Most end up working in ‘3D jobs’ — &nbsp;dirty, dangerous and difficult. There is also a fourth D: dehydrating work.&nbsp; Risky outdoor as manual workers, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/too-hot-to-work">excessive heat of the desert in the Gulf</a> or humidity of the tropical jungles of Malaysia, poor diet, dehydration and unhealthy lifestyles all contribute to a <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/A-mysterious-rash-of-kidney-failures,3639">higher risk of kidney failure among Nepali migrant workers</a>. Dhanusha district has one of the highest proportions of workers migrating for work to India and abroad. Nephrologists call kidney disease ‘the silent killer’ because patients do not show symptoms until it is too late, and migrant workers are especially susceptible to Chronic Kidney Disease (CKD) or End-Stage Renal Disease (ESRD).&nbsp; Increasing demand for cheap labour and minimum pre-departure health awareness training makes migration more risky than it should be. From a survey of hospitals and dialysis centres in Dhanusha and Kathmandu, the risk of kidney failure<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/saving-kidneys-to-save-nepal"> appears higher among male migrant workers</a> than in Nepali men of the same age group.&nbsp; “This disease is idiopathic, meaning it is not caused by one specific factor,” explains Rishi Kafle of the National Kidney Center Nepal. “But after screening migrant workers going to the Gulf and developing End-Stage Renal Disease in 3-4 years, we can say that migration increases the likelihood of kidney failure.” Kafle adds: “Because of the need to maximise earnings, working in extreme heat for long hours dehydrates them. And many opt for Coca-Cola and meat instead of healthier water and vegetables.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250118070128_b86cd132e88fecad9cde6d6faa648f76b40979660e6d28e846b25469668df9d8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250118070128_b86cd132e88fecad9cde6d6faa648f76b40979660e6d28e846b25469668df9d8" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="Dirty, dangerous, difficult, and dehydrating NT"> <figcaption>All photos: PINKI SRIS RANA</figcaption> </figure>  While the risk of kidney failure is higher in returnee migrant workers in Nepal, the disease is on the rise globally due to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/sick-of-it">lifestyle changes,</a> diabetes or undiagnosed hypertension. Currently, there are 28,266 kidney patients enrolled in the <a href="https://dohs.gov.np/">Department of Health Services</a> for free treatment under the government’s <a href="https://mohp.gov.np/program/medical-treatment-of-deprived-citizens/np">Bipanna Nagarik Kosh</a>, of which 17,044 are male and 11,222 female. Just in the past year, 9,176 more patients were added to the fund. Most hospitalised kidney patients are from age 15-65. In a healthy person, toxins and waste in the blood are filtered by the kidneys. But patients with kidney failure need to circulate their blood regularly through a haemodialysis machine. The whole process takes about 3-4 hours and causes blood vessels in the arms to swell over time. Nearly 2 million Nepalis suffer from chronic kidney disease (CKD), which is about 8% of the population. The rise in diabetes and hypertension is contributing to an increase in the disease. Everyone from migrant workers to many of Nepal’s top politicians suffer from kidney failure. Prime Minister Oli himself has had two kidney transplants. Even with dialysis twice a week, some patients develop nausea, swelling and other problems when they eat or drink. The extra dialysis sessions cost money, and the livelihood allowance given to patients is never enough or timely. Not every migrant working in hot climates returns with kidney disease, but a recent yet-to-be-published study led by nephrologist Sailendra Sharma states that one-fourth of all kidney patients in Nepal are migrant returnees. It points to recurrent heat stress as a primary risk factor. The<a href="https://mihs.edu.np/"> Madhesh Institution of Health Sciences</a> in Janakpur has 103 regular patients who come for dialysis. Of them, 30 are returnee migrants not just from Dhanusha, but also Sarlahi, Siraha, Mahottari and Sindhuli. “Not by the nature of the disease, but the way kidney disease is growing, I would call it an epidemic,” adds Kafle. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250118070128_43731248e116cfdc42bfc08b8f7d71e5ff3d44b938065a5ad9e9a337e666b9c7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250118070128_43731248e116cfdc42bfc08b8f7d71e5ff3d44b938065a5ad9e9a337e666b9c7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1463" height="798" loading="lazy" alt="Dirty, dangerous, difficult, and dehydrating NT"> <figcaption>HARD LABOUR: Jagdish Sah shows a picture from his time in Malaysia.</figcaption> </figure>  Jagdish Sah left for Malaysia ten years ago. He had taken a loan for his sister’s marriage and he had to pay it back. As the eldest son, he was also expected to get married next, but he faced multiple rejections. “Women have expectations too. They want to get married to well-to-do families. They didn’t want to get married to a family that lived in a mud house like ours,” says Sah, now 35. Foreign employment was a one-stop solution to his problems. Or so he thought. Sah was 24 when he left for a tailoring job at a garment factory in Malaysia. He often worked overtime, sometimes up to 12 hours a day in the hopes of earning extra ringgits. Even so, his highest monthly income would only be Rs35,000.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250118070128_7dd5030951c805302adec46afdef623bbdbb6fe1c0f12b7a77fd612531865af1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250118070128_7dd5030951c805302adec46afdef623bbdbb6fe1c0f12b7a77fd612531865af1" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1536" loading="lazy" alt="Dirty, dangerous, difficult, and dehydrating NT"> <figcaption>Sah at a garment factory in Malaysia where he worked, often dehydrated, and not taking toilet breaks to earn more.</figcaption> </figure>  Workers got a 30-minute break for lunch, and there were limited toilet breaks. So, Sah just worked straight out. Back in Nepal for a break in 2017, Sah had blurred vision and fainted. He thought it was high blood pressure, but a few months later at age 28, he was diagnosed with double kidney failure. “Whatever he saved in Malaysia went for his treatment in Kathmandu. We even sold a plot of our land,” recalled Sah’s mother, Mantoriya Devi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250118070128_dc353dd6ce449c05bda6d562907dd961d8900c1b747dc4afec1680bb65b805b7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250118070128_dc353dd6ce449c05bda6d562907dd961d8900c1b747dc4afec1680bb65b805b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="3995" height="2871" loading="lazy" alt="Dirty, dangerous, difficult, and dehydrating NT"> <figcaption>Sah is now gaunt and frail in this picture taken duing his biweekly dialysis at Madhesh Institute of Health Sciences in Janakpur recently.</figcaption> </figure>  Sah drives his motorcycle twice a week from his village to the Madhesh Institute of Health Sciences in Janakpur for free dialysis. His family says it is as if the Jagdish who went to Malaysia and the one who came back are two different people. &nbsp; “This disease has already doomed my life. Why ruin someone else’s?” says Sah of his lack of marriage prospects. “It is because of dialysis that I have survived so far.” His parents are too old and occupied with their chores to accompany him. Since Jagdish cannot work, his father, Ram Dev sells popcorn by the sidewalk from a wheeled cart. Mithu Kumar went to Saudi Arabia to work as an electrical supervisor two years ago. He was 25. Recently when he started vomiting, he was taken to a local hospital. He was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease and was sent back to Nepal. As Kumar lays down for his dialysis treatment at Save Lives Hospital in Janakpur, he says, “My only wish is that I am healthy enough to work again.”&nbsp; Umesh Kumar Yadav also worked in Saudi Arabia as a guard. He returned with chronic kidney disease, but he says he is the only one to contract the ailment among all the returnees from his village. “Only the ill-fated people have this disease,” says Yadav. “Otherwise, it would have been the same for every other person from the village who is abroad working.” Ambar Bahadur Sarki, 46, travels from Sindhuli for three hours every Monday and Thursday to Janakpur for his free dialysis at the Madesh Institute of Health Sciences. Sarki worked in a palm oil plantation in Malaysia, where heat stress often exceeded the wet-bulb threshold for heat and humidity. “It was extremely hot at all times,” he remembers. He first got hypertension, which made both his kidneys fail. Ram Udgar Mandal from Dhanusha started working in Saudi Arabia in his late twenties. He spent the next 17 years in the desert working as a driver. Now in his late forties, he was diagnosed with End-Stage Renal Disease (ESRD) four years ago.&nbsp; But this is an intergenerational cycle. Mandal’s son has now also gone to Malaysia to supplement the family income. He fears his son will meet the same fate as him. “We do not have a choice, do we?” he says. Lalit Balampaki, 28, from Dhanusa was diagnosed with ESRD a year earlier in Dubai. He stays in Kathmandu along with his older brother’s family on a rented floor. Balampaki worked in extreme heat conditions in a smelting factory in Dubai. He had to work night shifts twice or thrice a week. Sleep deprivation and extended periods without food were part of his daily routine. The pay was good, but his savings have all gone now towards hospital fees. “More than the money, I earned the disease,” says Balampaki. &nbsp; Suraj Thapa Magar, 30, was the sole breadwinner of his family. He installed aluminum windows and doors in Kuwait “It was the hottest in summer and coldest in winter,” says Magar, who worked for 10 hours a day even in 50°C. He also often neglected hydration, and one night he vomited blood. At 26, he was diagnosed with ESRD and has been in Nepal ever since. Thapa has no other choice than to rely on the Rs5,000 allowance, but even that is not timely and not enough. He has to take loans to travel for his dialysis. The government hospitals are supposed to provide some medicines for free, but they are often out of stock. Thapa has looked for jobs, but kidney disease is a stigma and no one wants to hire him. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*** In 2016, Nepal started providing free hemodialysis treatment for the poorest patients. Two years later, a monthly livelihood allowance of Rs5,000 was to be distributed to patients suffering from chronic diseases like dual-kidney failure and cancer. Free dialysis is provided in 107 hospitals across the country, but that is only in theory. Many facilities do not have nephrologists because the government does not provide salaries. The machines also often are not working because they need constant maintenance. Among the 11 hospitals that provide free dialysis in Madhes Province, three are in Janakpur. Nepali Times visited the enlisted hospitals but there were no nephrologists to supervise the treatment, and they were run by general physicians or senior nurses.&nbsp; “The government does not provide adequate salaries for the nephrologists,” says Kafle. “That is why nephrologists are mainly affiliated with the private hospitals.” Bagmati Province has 44 hospitals with free dialysis, which is why many dual-kidney failure patients have opted to live in Kathmandu. The hospitals service over 8,000 kidney patients.&nbsp; Since most of them are migrant workers, the end result is that Nepal’s poorly-resourced health system ends up bearing the cost of treating kidneys that failed while working as labourers in hot, rich countries. &nbsp;

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Dirty, Dangerous, Difficult ... and Dehydrating

At the National Kidney Centre in Kathmandu, a substantial number of the staggering 800 patients who come for regular kidney dialysis are migrant returnees from the Gulf and Malaysia.&nbsp;
Last month alone, 90% of the 90,000 Nepalis who went abroad were migrant workers. Most of them went to West Asia. They are healthy when they leave, but are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/too-hot-to-work">exposed to extreme temperatures</a>, and many return with ruined kidneys.
Nepal is suffering an epidemic of renal failure due to the workers’ continuous exposure to excessive heat, chronic dehydration, harsh work environment, and the tendency to go for energy drinks immediately after returning from work. The problem will get worse in coming decades with nonsurvivable wet-bulb summer temperatures in the countries where Nepali migrants work.&nbsp;
Truth be told, renal failure is not confined to migrant workers. Increasingly high numbers of young Nepalis are suffering from lifestyle-related ailments. Individuals as young as 25 are living with high blood pressure, fatty liver, and diabetes, among others.
In the past 40 years, Nepal has seen a dramatic transformation from a country with mortality mostly from infectious diseases to one where people are living longer but are dying due to lifestyle-related ailments. A <a href="https://nhrc.gov.np/wp-content/uploads/2022/02/BoD-Report-Book-includ-Cover-mail-6_compressed.pdf">2019 study by the Nepal Health Research Council</a> found that non-communicable diseases accounted for 71% of deaths in the country.&nbsp;
Diabetes, high blood pressure, and the irrational use of painkillers are some of the main reasons behind this figure. Kidney failure can be prevented if diabetes and hypertension are controlled in the initial stages.
Renal health is very much linked to the quality of life and economy. Patients do not suffer alone, often they are the sole breadwinners and their condition will greatly impact their families.
As per the World Health Organization, 10% percent of Nepal’s total population (300,000 people) suffer from kidney issues, 30,000 of them are in the final stage, and 3,000 need dialysis or transplant every year.
The increasing burden of non-communicable diseases is a global phenomenon but developing countries like Nepal face a double whammy as we continue to battle preventable infections too.
The chances of survival for people suffering from renal failure are slim, but the good news is that the government provides dialysis and transplantation services free of cost.&nbsp;
Currently, over 90 health facilities throughout the country provide free dialysis services to over 6,000 patients with renal failure. Over 3,000 patients have undergone kidney transplants since the service started about a decade ago, including a former prime minister and other senior government officials.&nbsp;
Every year Nepal spends Rs2.11 billion on the treatment of patients with renal failure. Local governments also provide monthly livelihood allowances to those with kidney failure or undergoing transplants. This is the highest amount the government has been spending for any single disease.&nbsp;
Even so, the focus is on the treatment of the 3,000 people living with kidney failure and scant attention has been paid to 270,000 others who suffer from some sort of kidney disease, and another 270,000 who are at risk of kidney disease.
Providing free dialysis service is not a sustainable solution. Authorities concerned should promote prevention, and encourage renal failure patients to opt for transplants. Despite the legal provision that allows any immediate family to donate a kidney, many with renal failure cannot find one.&nbsp;
Road traffic accidents are one of the biggest causes of deaths today and a kidney from brain-dead donors is a viable option. But this requires increased awareness about organ donation.
Preventing kidney disease is the best way, and the first step is to launch awareness campaigns, the cost of which is minimal compared to the treatment cost of renal patients.
The public should be told about the dangers of obesity, excessive consumption of alcohol, tobacco, salt, and junk food as well as insufficient intake of vegetables and fruits. Regular exercise, drinking plenty of water, and cutting on sugar should be promoted.
Screening is crucial to early diagnosis and a lot of lives can be saved if testing for non-communicable diseases is made free once a year for all age groups. Even then, most Nepalis do not undergo tests unless it is an emergency.&nbsp;
The government has established laboratories at the health post level to carry out the test, but very few make use of the service. People can monitor protein levels in urine and do a creatinine test, a measure that shows how well one’s kidneys are performing or filtering waste from blood. The tests cost just Rs100.
Above all, these awareness campaigns should be launched at the school and community levels so that we have an early chance to save every kidney from severe damage. Before things get worse, we Nepalis and Nepal can bring down the burden of non-communicable diseases, cut medical costs, and save lives.
Rishi Kumar Kafle is a senior Nephrologist and is the founding President of the National Kidney Center in Kathmandu.

Saving kidneys to save Nepal

Nepalis worship the sun, and mark its seasonal passage with festivals. Adding to that spiritual reverence now is the economic relevance of solar power. Fast-flowing Himalayan rivers give Nepal a total feasible hydropower generation capacity of 48,000MW, of which only 3,600 has so far been harnessed. Yet, Nepal’s total solar power potential has been calculated to be nearly 10 times higher at 432,000MW. &nbsp; With over 300 days of sunshine a year, the country could produce 3.6 to 6.2 units of electricity per square meter based on its solar radiation levels.&nbsp; This potential, combined with decreasing installation costs of Chinese-manufactured photovoltaic cells and other means, is a viable and affordable alternative to Nepal’s over-reliance on hydropower which faces concerns about the destruction of riverine ecosystems, as well as risk from glacial lake floods caused by climate breakdown. However, restrictive domestic energy policies and geopolitical sensitivities mean Nepal is failing to diversify fast enough to tap this tremendous solar energy potential. Nepal’s hydropower generation is almost entirely from run-of-river projects that do not have large reservoirs. Many such projects in Nepal and across the Himalaya have been swept away by glacial lake outburst floods in recent years.&nbsp; Such risks and limitations to hydropower should have prompted the Nepal government to jump-start investment into solar farms, but the main reason is that the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) caps solar power at just 10% of total capacity. There is no official explanation, but it is likely due to the outdated perception that solar technology cannot supply a consistent energy stream at evening and morning peak loads.&nbsp; But today, there are plenty of ways around it, including pump storage schemes that use daytime solar power to pump water from a river to a reservoir and drain it to generate electricity at night. Battery technology is now more advanced, and affordable enough to make grid-scale batteries feasible.&nbsp; But then there is an issue of tariffs, which are much lower for solar at Rs5 per energy unit, and competitive bidding forces companies to lower it even further. But there is no bidding process for hydropower and licenses are given out on a first-come, first-served basis with a fixed rate of Rs6.5 per unit regardless of location.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112303118_c3280cddae6f3305d07319011dd9c187005822a9b905bb849c36b95e3ad0d516.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025112303118_c3280cddae6f3305d07319011dd9c187005822a9b905bb849c36b95e3ad0d516" data-rendition-name="original" width="1109" height="887" loading="lazy" alt="Here comes the sun"> </figure>  SUPPLY VS DEMAND Hydropower is supply-driven, while solar responds to demand, so under such a discouraging scenario, solar power accounts for only 5% of Nepal’s total energy mix. “Given the environmental risks to hydropower, investors are now demanding tariffs on hydropower to be increased. So the question to the government is, are you paying more money for hydropower or willing to buy more of the cheaper solar power,” said energy entrepreneur Kushal Gurung. Solar investors are lobbying the government to raise the cap on solar power to 30% and expand zoning policies so that solar plants can be built in areas with high potential, such as Dolpo and Mustang in the trans-Himalaya. These regions are sparsely populated, arid, have a cold climate and high solar radiation levels — ideal conditions for photovoltaics. Solar power’s biggest advantage is its cost-effectiveness compared to hydropower, with the operating cost of a hydropower plant up to four times higher than of a solar plant of the same generation capacity. Investors are no longer assured of a return on investment on hydropower due to climate risk which have increased insurance premiums. “Last year, when the government opened a bidding for 800MW of solar power, the private sector was ready to invest 3,000MW. Both banks and investors were convinced about the potential for solar energy, but the government and especially the bureaucracy, was not on the same wavelength,” added Gurung.&nbsp; Interim Energy Minister Kulman Ghising is said to be interested in increasing the cap on solar energy, but there is a question whether he will remain in office since he has launched his only Ujyalo Nepal party to contest elections in March. GEOGRAPHY AND GEOPOLITICS In 2018, Nepal’s only foreign private equity form Dolma Himalayan Climate Fund (DHCF) pitched a proposal to generate 150MW from a solar farm and store 20MW of it in battery systems in Mustang to meet seasonal and daily peaks. It got approval from Investment Board Nepal (IBN) and had already poured millions into the project when the Department of Mines instructed all developers in Mustang to halt their projects, citing the discovery of uranium ore. But insiders say the real reason was due to pressure from the Chinese government’s security concerns about a Western investor being involved so close to the border with Tibet.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112303118_5946a5f1ba63f34c88f900c6d12b37d0101effb76e8a7a5397cd6451c16cd5b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025112303118_5946a5f1ba63f34c88f900c6d12b37d0101effb76e8a7a5397cd6451c16cd5b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="450" loading="lazy" alt="Here comes the sun NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GHAM POWER</figcaption> </figure>  The same thing happened, but in reverse, when the Chinese company Risen Energy was interested in investing $190 million on a grid-connected 125MW photovoltaic generation system in Banke and Kapilvastu districts near the Indian border. Risen’s subsidiary, Risen Energy Singapore JV, was negotiating with IBN to commit $190 million in the project which would also store 20MW of daytime generation for morning and evening peak demand. But the agreement was not signed because the Indian authorities were concerned about Chinese involvement so close to their border. India has also refused to buy electricity from any hydropower plant in Nepal that has Chinese or other foreign investment or contractors. Indian state-owned companies are currently building or planning hydropower plants in Nepal to generate nearly 3,000MW, mostly for export.&nbsp; But not every Chinese-backed project has been blocked. In 2024, China handed over two solar-powered livelihood projects to a local community in Lalitpur — a community solar bathhouse and a rooftop photovoltaic power system. Funded by the Yunnan People’s Association for Friendship with Foreign Countries, the projects aim to improve living conditions. The initiative forms part of the Chinese Embassy’s ‘Happy Community’ program (幸福社区, Xìngfú Shèqū) under the China–South Asia Poverty Reduction and Development Cooperation Center.&nbsp; Says Gurung: “Hydropower is a geopolitical mess, but it has well and truly started in solar power too. It now all comes down to how we handle it, and we need deft diplomacy to make sure our projects are not indefinitely delayed as has happened in the past.”&nbsp; LOW-HANGING FRUIT Despite domestic restrictions and geopolitics, there are still small-scale opportunities for solar energy entrepreneurs to cash in, such as net metering. Most industries in Nepal have enough rooftop space to generate 500KW to 1MW of solar energy. Combined, they would generate a substantial amount of energy to feed into the grid. Factories, supermarkets and chain stores are often bankable and trusted by financial institutions from which they could easily get credit.&nbsp; China could also take advantage of Nepal’s high solar power potential. Given that the United States has only imposed a 10% tariff on Nepal, China could set up PV manufacturing plants in Nepal.&nbsp; However, this requires government-to-government which could run into trouble, again because of geopolitics. The same applies for the Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism which is a carbon tariff on carbon intensive products, such as steel, cement and some electricity, imported to the European Union.&nbsp; Chinese products have suffered under this mechanism but Chinese products made in Nepal can be competitive in the European market given lower carbon tax for Nepal. Clean energy has long been an area where Nepal hopes to attract Chinese investment — not only in hydropower, but also in solar and wind energy.&nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.&nbsp;

Nepal, here comes the sun

There were two Bhutans on display during Narendra Modi’s visit this month. The first: a trusted partner, modernising rapidly with Indian support, inaugurating hydroelectric projects, and signing healthcare deals. The second: a nation that <a href="https://www.fmreview.org/gazmere-bishwo/#:~:text=In%201990%2D91%2C%20about%20a,are%20therefore%20not%20Bhutanese%20citizens.">ethnically cleansed 17% of its population </a>and has never been held accountable.
Modi chose to see only the <a href="https://kuenselonline.com/news/pm-modi-concludes-bhutan-visit-with-prayers-for-peace-and-prosperity">first </a>during his <a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/india-announces-rs-4000-cr-concessional-credit-line-to-fund-energy-projects-in-bhutan/articleshow/125253915.cms?utm_source=contentofinterest&amp;utm_medium=text&amp;utm_campaign=cppst">11-12 November visit</a>, granting $450 million in credit, offering birthday tributes to Fourth King Jigme Singye Wangchuk, and inaugurating another hydropower project.
New Delhi has opted for strategic silence on Bhutan’s systematic persecution of the Lhotshampas in the 1990s. The displaced remain scattered across the world and in refugee camps in Nepal, their property seized, their citizenship revoked.&nbsp;
Now, on that same contested land Bhutan is building the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/small-bhutan-dreams-big">Gelephu Mindful City (GMC)</a>, a megaproject intended to <a href="https://kuenselonline.com/news/pm-modi-announces-inr-40-billion-credit-line-new-rail-links-and-land-for-bhutanese-temple-in-varanasi">connect directly to Indian infrastructure</a>. The victims are gone, and democratic India’s values remain conspicuously absent.&nbsp;
With no Lhotshampas left to challenge the official narrative and India unwilling to raise it, Bhutan continues to suppress dissent with impunity.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, social media influencer Raghu Pati Subedi was arrested on the Assam side of Gelephu after returning from a visit to relatives in India. His family members reportedly came under intense pressure, including threats of arrest, accusing them of hiding his whereabouts. After his arrest, he was transported to Thimphu and imprisoned.
This was not an isolated incident. It is part of systemic repression that first gained international attention in the 1990s, when over 100,000 Nepali-speaking Lhotshampa were systematically stripped of their citizenship and forcibly exiled. This mass expulsion, which human rights organisations have characterised as ethnic cleansing, created a decades-long refugee crisis that continues to define the regional political and human rights landscape.&nbsp;
EXODUS
The Lhotshampa crisis of the 1990s was not a spontaneous event but the culmination of years of state-led discrimination. Through a series of legislative acts, notably the 1985 Citizenship Act and the 1989 Driglam Namzha, the ‘One Nation, One People’ policy, the Bhutanese state systematically dismantled the rights of its Nepali-speaking citizens.&nbsp;
The use of the Nepali language was suppressed, the traditional dress of the ruling ethnic group was mandated, and citizenship was revoked en masse, rendering a significant portion of the population stateless in their own homeland.
The new manuscript I am editing has harrowing accounts by the authors of those atrocities. The parallels with what happened to Subedi recently are striking and troubling, showing that even after 35 years the regime has not changed its spots. The methods may have evolved, but the repression against dissidents remains disturbingly consistent.
This refugee exodus was an immense and unasked-for burden on Nepal. Despite being a country grappling with its own political instability and limited resources, Nepal accommodated them on humanitarian grounds. Nepal has consistently advocated for a durable solution centered on the refugees’ right to safe, voluntary, and dignified repatriation.
For years, it engaged in bilateral talks with Bhutan, culminating in a joint verification process. However, these efforts ultimately foundered on what Nepal described as ‘continued rigidity and non-implementation of the agreed decisions by the Bhutanese side’.
Nepal fulfilled its moral and humanitarian duty, but the international community largely failed to hold Bhutan accountable. Bhutan’s rulers deflected global attention with the masterful narrative of Gross National Happiness (GNH), while the grim reality in the refugee camps persisted.&nbsp;
Ultimately, with repatriation proving impossible, Nepal acquiesced to a third-country resettlement program led by a group of eight countries, including the United States, Canada, and Australia. From 2007 to 2016, more than 113,500 Bhutanese refugees were resettled in <a href="https://www.unhcr.org/media/nepal-factsheet">one of the largest group resettlement programmes globally</a>, though 6,365 remain in refugee camps in eastern Nepal.
While this solution provided a lifeline for thousands, it was a tragic capitulation to Bhutan’s ethnic homogenisation project. The refugees’ right to return to their homeland has been denied. It is a cautionary tale about the limits of international diplomacy in the face of state intransigence.
Bhutan’s global brand is one of its most successful exports. The <a href="https://www.gnhcentrebhutan.org/">Gross National Happiness </a>doctrine, which promotes holistic well-being over just economic growth, has captivated the Western imagination and policymakers. It offers a vision of a mindful, environmentally conscious, and peaceful Himalayan kingdom. This carefully cultivated image has historically aimed to shield Bhutan from the level of scrutiny applied to other nations with similar human rights records.
The GNH facade, however, cracks under the weight of documented evidence. The same kingdom that champions ‘happiness’ has, for decades, maintained a justice system that human rights groups allege relies on torture, coerced confessions, and draconian laws to silence opposition.
The 1992 National Security Act, with its vague definitions of ‘treasonable acts’ against the Tsa-Wa-Sum (King, Country, and People), has been a primary tool for suppressing political dissent, particularly from the Lhotshampa.
Overlooked by the international community and ignored by global powers including India, in responding robustly to the ethnic cleansing of the 1990s sent a clear message to Thimphu: such actions could be undertaken with impunity. The monarchy emerged unscathed, its reputation burnished rather than tarnished.&nbsp;
This historical impunity now echoes in the case of Raghu Pati Subedi and the <a href="https://www.cijnepal.org/new-list-of-political-prisoners-expected-to-set-off-discussion-on-bhutans-human-rights-record">continued imprisonment of dozens of political prisoners</a> of conscience. The global community’s reluctance to challenge the GNH narrative has, in effect, become a form of complicity.
The arrest and sentencing of a social media influencer demonstrates how old tactics have been adapted for the digital age. Subedi, 40, was a new kind of threat to the state-controlled narrative and he had to be made an example of.&nbsp;
As the founder and administrator of the popular Facebook page ‘The Don of Asia’, he bypassed traditional, state-influenced media to speak directly to about 78,000 followers. His content, informational and satirical videos on rural poverty, corruption, and the GMC project, was the kind of social media activism that was deemed intolerable.
Subedi was arrested in early 2025 and sentenced to 24 years in prison. The charges allegedly stemmed from Subedi’s social media criticism of the GMC, a flagship project of Nepal-born Bhutanese fifth King Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck.&nbsp;
For <a href="https://thenewamericansmag.com/2024/11/18/the-kings-gelephu-mindfulness-city/#:~:text=Ganga%20Lamitare%2C%20who%20owns%20four,ancestors%20in%20building%20the%20nation.">Bhutanese refugees like Gangaram Lamitare</a>, the GMC represents a bitter irony, a development rising on their confiscated ancestral lands.&nbsp;
Gangaram, who owns four acres where the GMC’s international airport is now under construction, says: “Many people from villages fled at night in 1990, leaving everything behind to escape oppression. Now, the Bhutanese king and ministers are spreading falsehoods worldwide, calling this land vacant, which actually belongs to those forced to leave the country.”&nbsp;
There are signs that international support that has benefited Bhutan may be waning. The United Nations has become increasingly vocal and last year the <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/sites/default/files/documents/issues/detention-wg/opinions/session101/a-hrc-wgad-60-2024-bhutan-advance-edited-ve.pdf">UN Working Group on Arbitrary Detention</a> said the detention of several Bhutanese political prisoners was arbitrary and illegal under international law.&nbsp;
In April 2025 from a group of six UN human rights experts raised grave concerns about the use of torture, denial of fair trials, and the ‘severe chilling effect’ of Bhutan’s legal framework on civic space. These developments owe much to the consistent advocacy of the Hague-based Global Campaign for the Release of Political Prisoners in Bhutan (GCRPPB) since its formation.
However, they also reflect broader shifts in international human rights scrutiny. This places Bhutan’s key international partners, particularly the European Union, in a critical position. Bhutan enjoys lucrative benefits under the EU’s ‘Everything but Arms’ trade scheme, which grants developing countries tariff-free access to the EU market contingent on respect for human rights.&nbsp;
The EU is also a significant provider of development aid to Bhutan which provides it with substantial leverage. In April 2025, members of the <a href="https://bsky.app/profile/saskiabricmont.bsky.social/post/3lmrn5mkmrs2q">European Parliament formally called on Bhutan</a> to release all political prisoners. This action signals a growing recognition that trade and partnership cannot be divorced from human rights obligations.&nbsp;
“Bhutan’s international partners and investors, including the EU, should make it clear that they expect Bhutan to comply with its human rights obligations and release them without further delay,” says Meenakshi Ganguly, of Human Rights Watch.&nbsp;
Bhutan stands at a crossroads. Its desire for deeper global economic integration is colliding with its unresolved history of human rights abuses. The international community now has a choice: either continue being charmed by the myth of a happy shangri-la or insist that the kingdom adheres to democratic values it professes to the world.&nbsp;
Nepal’s recent Gen-Z uprising offers a lesson to Bhutan. In September, when authorities attempted to ban 26 social media, Nepali youth took to the streets and, within hours, toppled the entire pro-establishment political apparatus. Their message was clear: in an age of digital connectivity and mass mobilisation, authoritarian tactics such as detaining social media influencers are both unjust and ultimately unsustainable.
This incident echoes the prophetic warnings of Devi Bhakta Lamitare, Bhutan’s first-generation democratic leader, who died in exile in India in 2022. In his seminal 1970 book
Dankindo Bhutan, Lamitare chronicled the systematic suppression of people’s rights and envisioned a path toward liberation.
Before his death, I worked with him to update and edit this work, which the Bhutan Media Society published posthumously in 2023. In a December 2020 interview I conducted for the book on the Ganga riverbank in Haridwar, Lamitare laid out a stark three-front offensive: political mobilisation from within India to awaken resistance inside Bhutan itself, relentless pressure on New Delhi to champion democracy, and a global ‘pamphlet war’ waged by resettled Bhutanese in the West.&nbsp;
Only through such sustained action, he argues, can Bhutanese citizens win the right to choose their own rulers, a principle India, the world’s largest democracy, should be championing, not abandoning.
Binod Dhungel is the Nepal correspondent for Reporters Without Borders.
<a href="http://linkedin.com/in/dhungelbinod" target="_blank">linkedin.com/in/dhungelbinod</a>, @BinodDhungel

Bhutan imprisons social media influencer

Youth protestors who sustained injuries at the hands of state security forces during the September protest staged a sit-in at Maitighar Mandala on Friday, protesting what they have called the interim government’s inadequate efforts to address the demands of the GenZ movements. The demonstrators also sought to bar the UML from gathering at Maitighar, where party chair K P Oli was expected to announce its Youth Volunteer Force on Friday. The organisers consequently relocated the event. Friday’s demonstration at Maitighar comes as UML and GenZ representatives agreed to sit down for talks in Simara, where a curfew was imposed this week after youth protestors and party cadres clashed near the airport as demonstrators sought to stop UML leaders from flying in for a political event to Simara from Kathmandu.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131148_c0b3bfb861f73bee456efbd12f523af55ce3c258742c39e1dea7dbf768774ea5.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251121131148_c0b3bfb861f73bee456efbd12f523af55ce3c258742c39e1dea7dbf768774ea5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2160" height="1440" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Maitighar"> <figcaption>Youth protestors who sustained injuries at the hands of state security forces during the September protest staged a sit-in at Maitighar Mandala on Friday. Photos: SUBASH SHRESTHA</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131152_85f3606728d137b334d782ac1b5d1ed6383544493f96ebcc0398fcd9f0c5add7.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251121131152_85f3606728d137b334d782ac1b5d1ed6383544493f96ebcc0398fcd9f0c5add7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2160" height="1439" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Maitighar"> </figure>  &nbsp;Nepal’s interim government is increasingly cautious about the nation’s sensitive security situation in the lead-up to the 5 March election, as evidenced by pro-monarchy businessman Durga Prasai’s midnight arrest earlier this week over his inflammatory remarks as he called for protests this month. On Thursday, the Supreme Court ordered the government to present Prasai before the court within 24 hours.&nbsp; As it stands, the UML’s inauguration of a youth collective amidst its disregard for the demands of Nepalis for party reforms and a change in leadership highlights party chair and former PM K P Oli’s continued lack of remorse for the excesses of 8 September.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131144_aaa296e2e812ef5f6473064bc4b679bf605e14e06ac0ec9be1d6d047b56f96f9.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251121131144_aaa296e2e812ef5f6473064bc4b679bf605e14e06ac0ec9be1d6d047b56f96f9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2560" height="1707" loading="lazy" alt="UML Youth Volunteer Force NT"> <figcaption>The UML launched its Youth Volunteer Force on Friday. Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131148_bfa8df3fc382195b4cdb9c4804cd67e169d2d9c0b8d218e61bbef0c4c9dbdaad.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251121131148_bfa8df3fc382195b4cdb9c4804cd67e169d2d9c0b8d218e61bbef0c4c9dbdaad" data-rendition-name="original" width="2560" height="1706" loading="lazy" alt="UML Youth Volunteer Force"> </figure>  Families of those killed and injured on 8 September have demanded that the ousted PM and home minister be held accountable for state brutality.&nbsp; This week, Human Rights Watch published a <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2025/11/19/nepal-unlawful-use-of-force-during-gen-z-protest" target="_blank">comprehensive report</a> concluding that security forces fired indiscriminately on youth-led protestors on 8 September.&nbsp; The human rights watchdog urged the Sushila Karki-led interim government to investigate the excessive use of force as well as arson, vandalism and mob attacks on individuals on 9 September. The government has created a judicial commission to inquire into the deaths of 76 people over two days of protests.&nbsp; “The recent violence in Nepal included serious human rights violations, and those responsible should be held accountable, whether they are security forces or political actors,” said Meenakshi Ganguly, deputy Asia director at Human Rights Watch.&nbsp; She added: “The government should ensure that the investigations are independent, time-bound, and transparent, and that no one found responsible for breaking the law is unfairly protected from proper prosecution.” HRW’s investigation was based on testimony from 52 witnesses, victims, journalists, healthcare workers, politicians, and sources close to security forces. Researchers also verified photos and video footage shared on social media and with researchers; and visited the scenes of protests, properties subjected to arson and vandalism, and hospitals.&nbsp; A police officer said that officers opened fire with lethal force five minutes after the District Administration Office declared an emergency curfew around Parliament. Witness accounts and analysed footage did not show grave and imminent danger to life that would justify the intentional use of lethal force, stated the human rights watchdog in the report.&nbsp; The protestors and witnesses identified security forces who fired live ammunition at the protestors by their uniforms as members of the Armed Police Force (APF) and Nepal Police’s Special Task Force (STF). &nbsp; “They literally aimed at us and started shooting,” said one witness who sheltered behind a barricade as police continued shooting.&nbsp; A retired senior police official said police had failed to follow procedures for dispersing protests and using lethal force.&nbsp; Pathologists at a Kathmandu morgue told HRW that they determined 35 cases of death caused by “high velocity gunshot wounds” to the head, neck, chest, or abdomen.&nbsp; The witness recounted being taken into custody along with 33 other protestors by STF officers in riot gear, and said that police police personnel beat him with batons. Detainees were threatened and their IDs destroyed. Several witnesses said that the mob attacks on businesses, politicians, media companies, and educational institutions were very targeted, noting the absence of security personnel on 9 September as arson and violence raged across the capital.&nbsp; Some suggested that the violence may have been instigated by infiltrators associated with various political movements.&nbsp; On Discord, the platform where a significant number of demonstrators organised, participants noted that while there were calls for peaceful movement in the days leading up to the protest, some on the platform advocated for violence.&nbsp; Human Rights Watch has said that any credible allegations of criminal acts contributing to the violence must be investigated.&nbsp; Said Ganguly: “The authorities should recognise that widespread impunity for human rights violations in the past helped enable the violence that occurred this time in Nepal. It is crucial to reverse the decades-long tendency by successive governments in Nepal to bury investigations and stall prosecutions, and to bring about accountability and security sector reform.”

Security forces targeted protestors disproportionately: HRW

&nbsp;Nepal has finally become famous the world over for something else besides Mt Everest — the GenZ Movement. The 8 September protests in Kathmandu may have been triggered by what happened in Jakarta a week previously, but it inspired street uprisings all over the world. This week, Mexico’s GenZ are clashing with riot police. Last month, the president of Madagascar fled to Dubai. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-genzs-inspired-filipinos" target="_blank">Philippines</a>, Morocco, Peru, Timor Leste all have seen similar anti-government protests against corruption, nepotism and poor governance. A Himalayan republic, a Latin American federation, a Southeast Asian archipelago, or a North African kingdom may have little in common, their histories, religions, languages, and political systems are worlds apart. But <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/10/19/world/gen-z-revolutions-protests-louvre-heist-gaza.html" target="_blank">the common thread</a> running through these demonstrations were the simulacra and symbols spread on social media platforms.&nbsp; The young crowds marching through the streets of these countries were holding up the same icons. They painted the same images on cardboard, waved the same flags, stitched the same badges on their backpacks. They chanted &nbsp;the same references from the same corners of the internet.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_2ff7cf4ce7a9590359ed18753f4977648a6db83e95dd62d602a3f81e9eec42c4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251122031128_2ff7cf4ce7a9590359ed18753f4977648a6db83e95dd62d602a3f81e9eec42c4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1250" height="1047" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption> One Piece reference meme on Instagram, 115K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  To anyone who did not grow up online, this looks random. To anyone who did, it feels like the most obvious thing in the world. A new kind of global identity has formed — one that cuts across nationalities and cultures. In Nepal older relatives mock the ‘जेन्जी’. My neighbour asked me if ‘GenZ’ was a new political party.&nbsp; Around the world, when youth-led protests appear, reporters and politicians ask the same question: ‘Who is the leader?’ The answer is the same: there is no leader.&nbsp; Some names come up more prominently, as people did during <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-historic-youth-dissensus?fbclid=IwY2xjawNPQnZleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHk5Nazeqz3K9aNddXa-dQfCbwtId0nLclQwHzIYhTfg8tzGWXZMBJ5pjm5Qx_aem_a5JoyT1FRqzCVtnnPM7zUw" target="_blank">the Nepali protests</a>: Sudan Gurung. Miraj Dhungana, Rakshya Bam and other organisers who appeared in livestreams and interviews. But look closely and the leader is hiding in plain sight. The leader is not a person. The leader is the internet meme.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_b2319eb8d7abec7ed5e12baf1a53e0a27cfd7a49ee15c058c47cdf2603a7fa8a.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251122031128_b2319eb8d7abec7ed5e12baf1a53e0a27cfd7a49ee15c058c47cdf2603a7fa8a" data-rendition-name="original" width="662" height="1038" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Aurafarming, 233K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-meme-revolution" target="_blank">Memes today</a> are doing the quiet organising work that pamphlets and party cells once did. They offer identity, coordinate action, level power differences, and they do it without any central command. This is not because memes cause revolts. It is because memes are the connective tissue of a generation that grew up on the same visual language, the same jokes, the same references, and the same sense of shared digital childhood. Older generations did not share cultural symbols in the same way. Whether they read a certain comic book or watched the same cartoon depended on class, religion, caste, the country, or neighbourhood they grew up in. These divisions created stratified cultural memories.&nbsp; Today, an entire global cohort has been raised on the same visual media. The same YouTube creators. The same TikTok jokes. The same anime storylines. It is truly what McLuhan predicted the Global Village would be.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_136d009a48d8f8daee82ada1b220e0b0c8ec482b52dcd44e0942e2185a70421b.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251122031128_136d009a48d8f8daee82ada1b220e0b0c8ec482b52dcd44e0942e2185a70421b" data-rendition-name="original" width="738" height="1012" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Masked K P Oli, 63K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  This has also created the perfect environment for <a href="https://observer.co.uk/news/international/article/revolution-20-frances-political-future-could-be-won-or-lost-by-bots-and-memes" target="_blank">memes to become political tools</a>. They are instantly recognisable, emotionally charged, and open for remixing. They allow young people to signal their values without stating them. They compress identity, anger, humour, and belonging into something that the rest of the world dismisses as unserious. The perfect example of a GenZ meme is the famous skull and crossbones in protest flags from Kathmandu to Manila to Mexico City. The Strawhat Pirates from the <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/asia-pacific/20251006-one-piece-manga-revolt-morocco-indonesia-nepal-madagascar" target="_blank">anime One Piece</a>, is a show with over 1,000 episodes and a global fanbase that spans continents. One Piece follows Luffy, a justice driven pirate who travels across a world ruled by corrupt older elites who hoard power and suppress dissent.&nbsp; It is not hard to see why that story resonates with young people who feel locked out of political systems built by generations before them. I even printed stacks of my own flyer that explained memetic warfare using Minecraft visuals and handed them out in the crowd. Each one linked to a Telegram group with the Strawhat Pirates logo called MemePack HQ.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031144_1b12e920be6e312e1dc8768d318c1d1332e32694293b48984089867e7e525a27.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251122031144_1b12e920be6e312e1dc8768d318c1d1332e32694293b48984089867e7e525a27" data-rendition-name="original" width="1100" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Meme Movements"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_08b720667a9ff36537e58992c8a8030b090900847de5eecd479bbb3fc727349d.png" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251122031128_08b720667a9ff36537e58992c8a8030b090900847de5eecd479bbb3fc727349d" data-rendition-name="original" width="696" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Indonesia-Nepal comparison, 17.7K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  CULTURE EXPOSURE The Strawhat logo is not the only symbol making people protest. That would be like saying video games cause real world violence. Instead, the logo works like a modern version of mythology. It packs meaning for those who understand it. It represents loyalty, rebellion, chosen family, and resistance against unfair structures. It works as a rallying flag because it is already a shared story. And unlike older myths, it is accessible regardless of religion, caste, language, or national identity. Across Nepal, the Strawhat symbol has shown up on posters, badges, and protest outfits. But it is only one piece of a larger ecosystem of youth symbols. From Nepali meme pages remixing political speeches into ironic audios, to posts that place politicians into familiar pop culture formats, to clips that exaggerate the absurdity of daily life under slow moving governance, these are not just jokes. These are narrative units. Each post is a tiny story with its own punchline and its own political edge. Each TikTok video or meme functions like a religious shlok, a short piece of narrative that carries layers of meaning depending on who consumes it. Someone who has spent years studying a religion, in this case, inside GenZ online culture will recognise the symbols instantly. Someone outside this world will only see noise. This creates a literacy divide that is not about formal education but cultural exposure.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_2d09f075663678fe92d4e4dcc631ee6ad1aa8a99996f4c4a3649e4bf4d85132f.png" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20251122031128_2d09f075663678fe92d4e4dcc631ee6ad1aa8a99996f4c4a3649e4bf4d85132f" data-rendition-name="original" width="810" height="1208" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_d591c4dc857864cc833ffc6baece3f4c2798bbaf70b557f965463fc8f802900e.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20251122031128_d591c4dc857864cc833ffc6baece3f4c2798bbaf70b557f965463fc8f802900e" data-rendition-name="original" width="568" height="1124" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>  Protesting youth spent countless hours scrolling, interpreting, remixing, and responding to content. They built a shared symbolic universe across borders without planning to. This is why their political movements feel leaderless. They are not following individuals. They are following stories that define what justice looks like. Stories that define who the villain is. Stories that define how to respond when power is abused. In Nepal, memes about broken roads, delayed passports, political inheritance networks, and bureaucratic absurdity circulated for months before they became slogans or chants. By the time people took to the streets, the narrative groundwork had already been completed by thousands of posts liked and shared in private. The protests did not emerge from nowhere. They emerge from years of digital storytelling. Which is why the government’s ban on 26 digital platforms on 5 September became such a rallying force. The platforms that distribute these memes are not neutral, they are actually designed to maximise engagement because engagement translates to ad revenue. Right now, there is an engineer in Silicon Valley getting paid an enormous salary to find the perfect colour shade for a singular pixel on your screen so that you linger for fractions of a second longer.&nbsp; Algorithms reward content that trigger emotion. Sometimes the emotion is delight. Sometimes it is envy. Often it is anger. When rage becomes a business model, movements built inside these systems can feel powerful but unstable. The platforms democratise attention but centralise emotion. They allow anyone to broadcast, yet they shape the emotional tone of what becomes viral.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_f22baab05910305ea435045824b25b796d5630715e2e17c3f3c0991e8371843c.png" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20251122031128_f22baab05910305ea435045824b25b796d5630715e2e17c3f3c0991e8371843c" data-rendition-name="original" width="974" height="1156" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>  GenZ sits inside this tension. Empowered by the ability to speak without gatekeepers. Trapped inside systems that monetise their attention and amplify their frustration. This is why these leaderless online movements feel both organic and volatile. The algorithm filters which stories rise and which fade. It becomes an unintentional political actor. Not elected. Not accountable. Yet influencing millions. When the state is no longer the primary distributor of information, and when the algorithm becomes the new filter of reality, the public is left with a new responsibility. We have to learn to read memes the way past generations learned to read pamphlets or manifestos. A 15 second video can carry more political weight than a two hour speech. A symbol on cardboard might represent a decade of digital storytelling. Older generations often dismiss these images as childish. They are actually literacy markers of a new political class, one that does not wait for leaders. A political class fluent in remixing power, raised on global stories that feel more honest than the institutions they inherited. The youth did not create these platforms. They inherited them. But through memes they found a new language, one that lets them organise without permission. One that lets them build solidarity without needing meetings or manifestos. One that allows them to resist systems that feel too old to reform. It is time to take that seriously. Nobel Rimal is a researcher of digital culture and political communication who studied and participated in the meme driven mobilisations during the Nepal protests&nbsp;

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Security forces targeted protestors disproportionately: HRW

Meme movements