Just two months ago, the streets of Kathmandu rang with hope. Gen Z protesters, galvanized by frustration over high unemployment, elite nepotism, and a sweeping social media ban, forced the resignation of Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli. Their movement, coordinated through Discord servers boasting more than 145,000 members, became a symbol of youth power not just in Nepal, but across continents. The world watched as these digital-age rebels polled their own ranks and installed Sushila Karki, a former chief justice with a reputation for integrity, as Nepal’s first female prime minister. For a moment, it seemed like the country was on the cusp of real change.
But as November drew to a close, the same young faces who had lifted Karki to power found themselves back on the streets—this time, chanting for her resignation. The revolution, it seemed, was devouring its own hero. According to Onlinekhabar, on November 25, 2025, Gen Z leaders attempted to march into Singha Durbar, Nepal’s administrative heart, to demand answers from the government. Instead, they were met with riot police wielding batons—an eerily familiar sight from the days of Oli’s rule. Organizers were detained, dragged away, and dumped kilometers from the city center, with no explanation or dialogue. The same tactics that had once sparked outrage were now being deployed by the very leader the youth had chosen.
“We tore down one rotten government just to hand the keys to another that wears judicial robes as camouflage,” said Raksha Bam, a 22-year-old activist who, not long ago, had posted selfies with captions thanking Justice Karki. Her voice, hoarse from shouting behind police lines, captured the bitter disillusionment now gripping Nepal’s youth.
The roots of this new wave of protest stretch back to early September, when the government’s ban on 26 social media platforms—including Facebook, YouTube, and X—ignited a firestorm. With youth unemployment hovering around 20% and viral exposés of “Nepo Kids” flaunting their privilege, the movement quickly escalated. At least 76 protesters lost their lives as chaos swept the nation, parliament burned, and ministers resigned en masse. KP Oli fled by air, and on September 12, President Ram Chandra Paudel swore in Karki as interim prime minister, dissolving parliament and scheduling new elections for March 2026. The appointment was hailed as a victory for judicial integrity, a chance to break the cycle of corruption.
But optimism soured quickly. On November 20, a coalition of 23 Gen Z groups formally petitioned President Paudel to remove Karki, accusing her of “sidelining the rebellion’s core demands.” Chief among their grievances: the government’s failure to compensate the families of the 76 deceased protesters with the NPR 1 million promised by law, and its neglect of those injured during the unrest. These failures, they argued, violated Article 22 of Nepal’s 2015 Constitution, which mandates redress for victims and prohibits cruel treatment.
Meanwhile, Karki’s administration stumbled from one scandal to the next. In October, she nominated Khagendra Sunar—a Dalit activist facing multiple criminal charges—as Labour and Employment Minister. Public backlash was swift, and the nomination was withdrawn, but not before activists rallied outside the prime minister’s residence, accusing her of ignoring Gen Z input and perpetuating exclusionary politics.
Worse was to come. In mid-November, Attorney General Sabita Bhandari faced condemnation for dropping a high-profile prosecution against Hope Fertility and Diagnostic Pvt Ltd, a Kathmandu-based IVF clinic accused of exploiting underage girls for egg harvesting. Despite medical evidence and the detention of five clinic staff, Bhandari—Karki’s first female appointee and personal legal counsel—ordered the case dropped, citing “weak proof.” Leaked records revealed that Bhandari’s own daughter was among the clinic’s stakeholders, a clear conflict of interest that violated Section 14 of the Attorney General Act. The Nepal Bar Association called it a “perversion of justice,” and Human Rights Watch amplified calls for Bhandari’s ouster. Yet, the government remained silent.
This episode, dubbed the “fertile betrayal” on social media, became a rallying point for Gen Z activists. Their November 20 petition catalogued Karki’s alleged betrayals and fueled a new round of street protests, culminating in violent clashes at Singha Durbar on November 25. The interim government’s slide into cronyism, they argued, was unmistakable.
Allegations of nepotism peaked on November 24, when it was revealed that Karki’s Chief Private Secretary, Adarsha Shrestha, had appointed his wife and several relatives to high-level secretariat roles, justifying the moves as necessary for “confidentiality.” Gen Z groups erupted, calling it a blatant abuse of authority as defined by the Prevention of Corruption Act. Yet, the Commission for the Investigation of Abuse of Authority, the only body empowered to act, stayed silent. Karki’s office issued a terse statement insisting all appointments were legal, but few were convinced. The anti-corruption halo she wore in September now seemed irreparably tarnished.
Underlying these scandals are deeper constitutional flaws. Article 132(2) of Nepal’s 2015 Constitution bars former chief justices from holding political office to protect judicial independence—a safeguard Karki herself once championed. Her appointment, justified as a “necessity” amid chaos, bypassed the requirement for parliamentary support and has been challenged in court. The Nepal Bar Association labeled it a “categorical breach,” and impeachment proceedings loom under Article 101.
Karki’s own judicial past offers little reassurance. Appointed chief justice on Oli’s recommendation, she faced impeachment in 2017 for alleged bias and executive interference, resigning amid controversy. Ironically, in 2013, she had ruled that it was unconstitutional for former chief justices to serve as interim prime minister—a stance now at odds with her own position.
Meanwhile, the fallout from September’s unrest continues. Over 12,500 prisoners escaped during the chaos, with many crossing into India and weapons still missing. The National Vigilance Centre, which should be monitoring such irregularities, has issued no alerts. Nepal’s robust anti-corruption framework, including the Money Laundering Prevention Act and whistleblower protections, remains underutilized.
The Gen Z revolt in Nepal is not an isolated story. According to AFP, 2025 saw similar youth-led uprisings in Peru, Morocco, Madagascar, and beyond—many brandishing the skull-and-crossbones emblem from the manga One Piece as a symbol of resistance. In Madagascar and Nepal, these movements toppled governments. Sociologist Cecile Van de Velde notes that Gen Z’s use of social media platforms like Discord and TikTok has made their activism uniquely global, transcending local grievances to form “the new face of a global and generational revolt.”
Yet, as the year winds down, the results are mixed. In Madagascar, the army filled the power vacuum with political insiders, dashing hopes for reform. In Nepal, the interim government’s legitimacy is under siege, and the youth who once cheered Karki now demand her resignation. “We are in the second phase of the movement,” said protester Yujan Rajbhandari, who emphasized that the fight for accountability and voter registration will continue up to the March elections. The hashtags #SushilaKarkiResignNow and #GenZProtestNepal trend daily, a digital echo of the unrest in the streets.
Nepal’s Gen Z revolution was never about replacing one face with another—it was about building a government that serves, not shields, its people. For now, the struggle continues, as the youth who bled for change refuse to let their revolution be co-opted by the very forces they set out to defeat.
