In the shadow of the Himalayas, Nepal is burning—not from another earthquake or flood, but from the righteous fury of its youth. On September 8, 2025, what began as peaceful protests against endemic corruption erupted into chaos when police opened fire on demonstrators in Kathmandu, killing at least 19 and injuring hundreds.
The next day, enraged crowds stormed the federal parliament, setting it ablaze in a symbolic act of defiance against a system that has long betrayed its people. Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli’s resignation on September 9 feels like a hollow concession, a desperate bid to quell the storm rather than address the rot at its core. Make no mistake: this is no mere tantrum.
Nepal’s Gen Z protests represent a watershed moment, a justified uprising against decades of kleptocracy, censorship, and incompetence. And I stand firmly with the protesters—it’s time to dismantle this failed oligarchy and rebuild a nation worthy of its resilient citizens. The spark? A draconian ban on 26 social media platforms imposed by the government on September 4. Officially, it was to curb “misinformation” amid growing anti-corruption sentiment. In reality, it was a blatant attempt to silence dissent in an era where digital spaces have become the lifeblood of activism.
Nepal’s leaders, mired in scandals from embezzlement to nepotism, feared the viral exposés that had already mobilized thousands. But banning social media in 2025? It’s as futile as trying to dam the Koshi River with sandbags. Young Nepalis, tech-savvy and globally connected, bypassed the restrictions with VPNs and spilled into the streets, chanting for accountability.
This isn’t just about likes and shares; it’s about a generation inheriting a country crippled by elite capture, where politicians cycle through power like musical chairs, leaving the masses in poverty. Corruption in Nepal isn’t a bug—it’s the feature. Successive governments, including Oli’s communist-led coalition, have presided over a system where public funds vanish into private pockets.
Infrastructure projects stall amid kickbacks, healthcare crumbles while officials jet abroad for treatment, and youth unemployment soars above 20 percent. The anti-corruption movement didn’t emerge in a vacuum; it’s the culmination of frustrations from the 2015 earthquake recovery scandals to the ongoing economic stagnation exacerbated by COVID-19. Gen Z, born into democracy’s promises post-2006 monarchy abolition, sees through the facade.
They’ve watched their elders—veteran politicians like Oli, Sher Bahadur Deuba, and Pushpa Kamal Dahal—treat governance as a revolving door of self-enrichment. Enough is enough. These protests demand not just Oli’s head, but mass resignations and systemic overhaul: independent anti-corruption bodies, electoral reforms, and transparency in public spending. Critics will decry the violence—the torched parliament, clashes with police—as anarchic.
But let’s be clear: the real violence is the state’s lethal response. Human Rights Watch reports police using live ammunition on unarmed crowds, a grotesque overreach that echoes authoritarian playbooks worldwide. When dialogue is met with bullets, escalation is inevitable. The protesters’ actions, while destructive, pale against the institutional vandalism perpetrated by the elite: siphoning billions from a nation where over a quarter live below the poverty line.
This isn’t mob rule; it’s a desperate cry for justice in a land where the rule of law favors the powerful. Nepal’s neighbors, India and China, watch with vested interests—border disputes, hydropower deals, and geopolitical maneuvering. But this crisis is homegrown, and external meddling would only compound the betrayal. The international community must amplify the protesters’ voices, not prop up failing regimes with aid that lines corrupt coffers.
The UN’s condemnation of the crackdown is a start, but pressure for investigations into the killings is essential. In the end, Nepal’s Gen Z isn’t just protesting; they’re reimagining their future. They envision a merit-based society, free from the patronage networks that stifle innovation. Oli’s resignation lifts the social media ban temporarily, but without deeper reforms, it’s lipstick on a pig.
The youth have shown they’re willing to risk everything—lives, futures—for change. It’s time the old guard steps aside or faces the consequences. Nepal deserves better: a transparent, accountable democracy that harnesses its youthful energy, not suppresses it. If this uprising succeeds, it could inspire a wave across South Asia. If it fails, the mountains will echo with regret for generations. The choice is clear—stand with the revolutionaries, or perpetuate the decay.