In the dusty streets of Kathmandu, Nepal, the sound of marching boots and the scent of tear gas still linger as the country reels from the most significant youth-led uprising in a generation. The events of September 2025, when police opened fire on student demonstrators protesting a government-imposed social media ban, left at least 19 dead and a nation once again at a crossroads. But this was no isolated incident—rather, it was the latest chapter in a long story of generational defiance, echoing across continents from Madagascar to Nepal, and fueled by the digital age’s unique ability to mobilize and amplify dissent.
What began as outrage over the loss of TikTok and Facebook quickly morphed into a much deeper reckoning. According to Global Voices, the Gen Z protesters in Nepal were not simply fighting for their feeds—they were confronting decades of political instability, corruption, and broken promises. Their grandparents had fought for democracy; their parents watched as it unraveled. Now, armed with smartphones, encrypted apps, and a healthy dose of skepticism, Nepal’s youth were determined to make their voices heard.
The roots of their discontent run deep. Nepal’s modern history is a turbulent one, marked by the iron-fisted rule of the Rana dynasty from 1848, the autocratic Panchayat system imposed by King Mahendra in the 1950s, and a series of revolutions that toppled old orders but often failed to deliver real change. The 1990 People’s Movement forced a constitutional monarchy and multiparty democracy, but the euphoria was short-lived. By the early 2000s, a Maoist insurgency had left over 17,000 dead, and a shocking royal massacre in 2001 paved the way for King Gyanendra’s brief return to absolute power. Only after mass protests in 2006 did Nepal finally abolish its monarchy and declare itself a federal democratic republic in 2008.
Yet, as Global Voices recounts, the promise of the new republic soon gave way to familiar patterns: endless wrangling among political elites, a constitution that took seven years to draft and still left many marginalized groups feeling excluded, and a growing gap between rich and poor. By 2024, inflation, youth unemployment, and political stagnation had left the country’s young people feeling betrayed. The government’s solution? Crack down on digital spaces—the very platforms where dissent was brewing.
In early September 2025, student groups began organizing protests through encrypted apps and offline networks. Within days, thousands took to the streets of Kathmandu, Pokhara, and Lalitpur, brandishing signs that read, “Stop corruption, not social media.” Many were teenagers, raised on tales of past revolutions but familiar only with dysfunction. When the crowds swelled outside parliament, police responded with tear gas and, ultimately, live rounds. Hospitals quickly filled with injured students in school uniforms. According to local media and human rights organizations, at least 19 people lost their lives.
The government’s response was swift and severe. A curfew was imposed, mobile networks were shut down, and armed soldiers patrolled the streets. That same night, public anger erupted. The Home Minister resigned, and the cabinet reversed the social media ban. But the genie was out of the bottle—protests spread beyond the capital, with mobs attacking government buildings and the homes of politicians. Former Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba and his wife, Arzu Rana Deuba, were rescued by the army after protesters stormed their residence.
With Kathmandu under military lockdown, President Ram Chandra Poudel appointed former Chief Justice Sushila Karki as interim prime minister on October 14, 2025. Karki, 73, became Nepal’s first woman to hold the office, a move endorsed by the youth representatives who had helped lead the protests. Known for her anti-corruption rulings, Karki’s caretaker government pledged to investigate the killings, restore order, and hold new elections in March 2026. But as Global Voices notes, whether this will be enough to rebuild trust remains an open question.
International observers, including Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International, have called for independent inquiries into the actions of the police and military. The military has maintained that it acted to protect public order, emphasizing that many of the protesters were minors. Meanwhile, students continue to hold nightly vigils in memory of the dead, and university walls are covered in graffiti demanding change. The words “If not now, when?” are a constant reminder of the stakes.
Nepal’s Gen Z movement is not alone in its struggle. According to reporting by Global Voices and other outlets, a similar wave of youth-led protests has swept through Madagascar. There, President Andry Rajoelina reportedly fled the country after the elite CAPSAT military unit backed mass demonstrations against corruption and economic stagnation. Opposition leaders allege that Rajoelina escaped aboard a French aircraft, while the United Nations has warned of escalating unrest as protesters occupy government buildings in Antananarivo.
From Kathmandu to Antananarivo, a pattern emerges: digitally connected, leaderless revolts that excel at mobilization but often struggle to institutionalize change. In Nepal, Gen Z’s digital savvy—using Discord elections, TikTok protests, memes, and street theatre—helped channel dissent, but the lack of a cohesive ideological backbone allowed established elites to retake the reins once the immediate fervor faded. This echoes the experience of the Arab Spring and Sri Lanka’s Aragalaya, where viral energy sparked moments of revolution without delivering lasting structural reform.
As journalist Snigdhendu Bhattacharya observed, humor, virality, and street theatre powered the protests, illustrating the Himalayan-sized challenge facing youth who aim to confront both corruption and political stagnation. Rani Jana described how Nepali youth used memes and viral videos to galvanize support, while Anand Teltumbde noted that, across borders, a glimmer of hope and belief in democracy persists despite economic uncertainty and high unemployment.
In neighboring India, the story is more complicated. As Chaharika Uppal explains, India’s Gen Z oscillates between apathy, right-wing zeal, and sporadic dissent—demonstrating that generational energy alone is no guarantee of sustained political transformation.
Back in Nepal, the streets of Kathmandu are quiet for now, but the tension is palpable. Sushila Karki, in her first statements as interim prime minister, urged calm: “Change must come through institutions, not fire,” she said, while also acknowledging that young Nepalis were “right to demand dignity and opportunity.” The challenge for Nepal’s youth is clear: can they turn their digital mobilization and street power into lasting reform, or will this moment become just another chapter in a long narrative of hope and disappointment?
One thing is certain: every major movement in Nepal since the fall of the Ranas has been driven by students who believed their country could be better. The spirit of defiance, resilience, and creativity remains as strong as ever—on the streets, online, and in the hearts of a generation refusing to accept the status quo.