A couple walks past a vehicle torched by demonstrators near the Parliament. Inset: Former Nepal Prime Minister K P Sharma Oli.
Credit: Reuters Photo
Former Nepal Prime Minister K P Sharma Oli seems to have walked down the same road as Bangladesh’s Sheikh Hasina, with strikingly parallel political trajectories now ending in turmoil. What began as simmering resentment among Nepal’s Gen Z – angry at rampant corruption, broken promises of post-Covid recovery, and a sudden ban on 26 social media platforms – has exploded into a full-blown street revolt. The violence has claimed more than 22 lives. Mobs torched the houses of the outgoing PM, ministers, and MPs.
With the police overwhelmed, the army has stepped in, urging protesters to abandon arson and destruction. Nepal’s greatest challenge lies not just in quelling the violence, but in its leaderless character. The protestors – an amorphous blend of youth activists and anarchists – have no identifiable leadership. The original flashpoint, the social media ban, has already receded into the background. The demand now is larger: jobs, accountability, and a clean break from political rot.
For now, experts dismiss fears of an army takeover, insisting democracy is not in imminent danger. But unless the new government finds a way to address the grievances of a restless generation, the flames on Kathmandu’s streets could return stronger than before.
Notwithstanding the decision to lift the ban on social media platforms, peace will return only when the leaderless agitators are brought to the negotiating table, an uphill task for any regime. Nepal has been a country where political battles spill onto the streets. On September 8, that familiar turbulence returned, but with a distinctly 21st-century twist. This time, the spark was not royal absolutism or constitutional deadlock, but the government’s abrupt decision to unplug the digital lifeline of its youth: social media.
What the State described as enforcement of “digital regulation” was seen by millions as an assault on free expression and connectivity. For a country where over 90% of internet users rely on these platforms for news, remittances, tourism promotion, and even daily commerce, the blackout was not just inconvenient; it felt like suffocation.
Oli argued that extremist elements hijacked the protests, while officials insisted the 26 defaulters were only being penalised. Yet, on the streets, this looked less like legal enforcement and more like political censorship. The move exposed the State’s growing intolerance of dissent at a time when ruling politicians faced allegations of corruption.
The eruption of anger reflected deeper frustrations. Fourteen governments in 16 years, spiralling prices, and dynastic privilege have left citizens disillusioned. Social media had become the only real public square for youth and cutting it off meant silencing their voice. The revolt spread without party banners or central leadership, making it harder for security forces to contain. Earlier bans on TikTok and tightening internet laws had already raised suspicion that the State was edging towards authoritarianism. Into this volatile mix entered pro-monarchy forces. Though marginalised since 2006, they staged a massive rally a few months ago that showed royalist sentiment was far from extinct. Analysts believe such elements infiltrated the current protests, adding muscle to the revolt.
Moment of reckoning
The country’s challenge is formidable. While misinformation, cybercrime, and hate speech are legitimate concerns, equating governance with internet shutdowns risks branding the State as repressive. The fragile economy compounds the troubles. Inflation has eroded household incomes, youth unemployment remains high, and dependence on remittances leaves the country vulnerable to external shocks.
At its core, the crisis stemmed from the government enforcing sweeping rules without dialogue or transition. In a society where social media is the primary tool of connection, protest, and survival, the Oli administration badly miscalculated the depth of resentment. Yet, there is one striking difference from Nepal’s past upheavals: the absence of anti-India rhetoric. During my posting in Kathmandu while covering the restoration of democracy, I witnessed communists routinely accuse New Delhi of interference. This time, with communists in power, Oli has avoided pointing fingers at India – a welcome shift for bilateral ties. Meanwhile, Beijing has no incentive to encourage unrest as its relations with Kathmandu are currently smooth.
The lesson from this revolt is clear. In today’s world, curbing online spaces is as combustible as curbing the ballot box. Just as past generations fought for political freedoms, today’s youth are battling for digital rights. Lifting the ban is only the first step, but dialogue with young citizens and leaderless agitators remains the real test. Unless democratic accountability is restored, Nepal risks sinking deeper into its old cycle of protest, repression, and instability – only this time fought both on the streets and in cyberspace.
(The writer is a strategic affairs columnist and senior political analyst based in Shimla)