The streets of Kathmandu have rarely witnessed such upheaval, but September 2025 marked a turning point in Nepal’s turbulent political saga. In a matter of days, a youth-led movement—driven by a generation that’s grown up in the shadow of broken promises—toppled the political establishment that had held sway since the end of the monarchy nearly two decades ago. According to the Financial Times, the charred remains of Nepal’s parliament bore a stark message in black marker: “From now, only Gen Z youth will be in this place. Corrupt leaders will be sent out of the country. Long Live Nepal. Long Live Gen Z youth.” The sentiment was clear: the old guard’s time was up, and the country’s future belonged to its young.
Nepal’s Gen Z, a demographic that makes up nearly half of the nation’s 30 million people, has long simmered with frustration. For many, the path to adulthood has been marked by poverty, migration, and a political system that seemed indifferent to their struggles. Brothers Mausam and Praveen Kulung are emblematic of this generation. Raised in a remote village without proper schools or reliable infrastructure, they left home for Kathmandu in search of education and opportunity. Yet, as Mausam told DW, “They betrayed the youth of this country and never cared about our future.”
That sense of betrayal finally boiled over this September when the government abruptly shut down all major social media platforms, citing registration issues. The decision was the last straw. Social media had become a lifeline for young Nepalis, a space where they could express their grievances and see the lives of the country’s elite—often the privileged children of politicians, or “nepo kids”—on full display. “Those videos changed something inside us,” Mausam recalled. “It was a moment of awakening. We were angry at the system that encouraged inequality for decades.”
When the ban took effect on September 4, thousands of young people poured into Kathmandu’s streets, demanding an end to corruption and political stagnation. What began as peaceful protest quickly descended into chaos. Within 48 hours, as The Elephant reported, the movement had unseated the entire political leadership that had dominated since the 2006 revolution. The government’s response was brutal; police opened fire on demonstrators, killing 19 people—including Praveen Kulung, who died in his brother’s arms. “He died in my lap. I couldn’t save him,” Mausam recounted to DW. But his grief only strengthened his resolve: “Our fight hasn’t ended. It has only begun. We will not allow these corrupt political parties to rule us again.”
The violence left a heavy toll. According to Nepal’s Health Ministry, at least 72 people died and hundreds more were injured during the unrest. The destruction was widespread: mobs torched the parliament building, the Supreme Court, political offices, luxury hotels, media houses, ministries, and the private homes of politicians and business leaders. The late monsoon rains did little to wash away the bloodstains from the footpaths or the anger that fueled the uprising.
Yet, the Gen Z protesters and their student leaders insist that much of the violence was not of their making. Kamal Subedi, a key organizer, told DW that “The vandalism that happened on the day of the protest was not by us. They were trying to malign our movement.” He described how older men—outsiders, he claimed—pushed their way into the crowds and escalated the unrest. This view is echoed by many on Kathmandu’s streets, who believe their movement was hijacked and spun out of control.
Political turmoil is hardly new to Nepal. The country’s modern history is a patchwork of civil war, monarchy, and fleeting experiments with democracy. The abolition of the 239-year-old monarchy in 2008, following a decade-long Maoist insurgency, promised a new era. But in the years since, Nepal has cycled through more than a dozen governments, and the same old parties—the centrist Nepali Congress, the Unified Marxist-Leninist (UML), and the remnants of the Maoists—have clung to power, often through backroom deals and patronage networks. The promises of a new constitution and progressive reform have repeatedly fallen short, leaving a generation disillusioned.
The September uprising forced the resignation of Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli, who had risen to power during previous periods of unrest. After days of uncertainty, former chief justice Sushila Karki was sworn in as interim prime minister, pledging to “end corruption.” New elections have been scheduled for March 2026, but the political vacuum has revived old debates. Some parties, like the pro-monarchy Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP), called for the restoration of the king. Gyanendra Shahi, the RPP’s speaker, told DW that the monarchy is a “symbol of authority and unity” that would be “more respected” globally. But protest leaders like Subedi were adamant: “We made it clear to the army that we do not want the king back.”
Most analysts, including Prakash Rimal, former editor of the Himalayan Times, see monarchist sentiment as marginal. “Nepal is long past the stage where monarchist parties would have a serious shot at taking power,” Rimal explained. Instead, the Gen Z movement’s true target is the entrenched political system itself—a system they see as irredeemably corrupt and out of touch with the aspirations of ordinary people.
The roots of this discontent run deep. As The Elephant noted, Nepal’s economic transformation over the past three decades has left many behind. Rural livelihoods are increasingly unsustainable, prompting mass migration to cities or overseas. Remittances from migrant labor have become a lifeline for millions, funding education and basic needs, but also fueling frustration when education fails to translate into opportunity. The expansion of higher education has produced a new class of “educated unemployed,” with many young people shut out of the best jobs by nepotism and political connections. Social media, for all its pitfalls, has made these inequalities impossible to ignore.
Against this backdrop, the Gen Z protesters are already looking to the future. Talks are underway about forming a new political party to contest the March 2026 elections—one that rejects the “old corrupt parties or old guards,” as Subedi put it to DW. For Mausam Kulung, the fight is now personal. “I won’t let his sacrifice be in vain. We are ready to build a new future for Nepal.”
Whether this movement can deliver lasting change remains to be seen. Nepal’s history is littered with dashed hopes and recycled leaders. But for now, the country’s youth have made it clear: their voices will no longer be ignored, and the old order cannot return unchallenged.
