After years of anti-corruption protesting, it took cutting off access to PUBG, TikTok and trans-influencers to move Nepali Gen Zs to revolutionary fervour. A deposed government later, they couldn’t agree who should lead, or even what they stood for. Lee Russell Wilkes draws conclusions from witness testimony.
At the start of September, the pro-China Nepali government was making moves against social media platforms. The Kathmandu government was demanding local restrictions on content with the predictable excuse of combating misinformation and harm. Many suggest it was an extortionist grift.73-year-old Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli, an alleged recipient of organ ‘donation’ from China, had just returned from the Victory Day Parade in Beijing on September 3rd.
“The Prime Minister was so confident. He said: ‘We will be in power for 20 more years.’ People just wanted to end the corruption,” says Rupa Poudel, a 24-year-old undergraduate from the capital.
Protests were provoked by TikTok videos – #nepokids and #nepobabies – exposing the shameless luxury lifestyles of the ministers’ children living abroad. This stoked social tensions over double-standards, lack of employment at home, and hardships imposed on generations of young people forced into going abroad for work and education. A quarter of Nepal’s GDP is sent from overseas.
The coalition communist government demanded social media companies register and censor their content. Twenty-six companies refused –YouTube and Facebook included – and nationwide access was turned off on September 4th. This hit young Nepalis – later identifying themselves as Gen Z – firmly in their smartphone ennui.
“The Prime Minister didn’t hear their demands,” says Keshav Bhatta, 48, from Kathmandu. “There was no table talk between the Prime Minister and other parties.”
The students protested. Somebody okayed the police using live ammunition.
“The police were supposed to use rubber bullets,” adds Rupa. “They were shooting students in the head.”
Many of the protesters were wearing school uniforms. At the time of writing, the official body count from the shooting on September 8th is 19 with 400 injured.
“But on September 9th things took a different turn,” says Rupa.
One Facebook post read: “Need more ZenGs [sic] to fuck this corrupt politicians and fucking police.” #CorruptPoliticians #corruptpolice #fuckGovernment
A Teenage Wasteland
“The mob went to the Communist Party and Unified Marxist–Leninists compounds,” Rupa continues. “They destroyed it. They went to Nepal Congress ministers’ houses. They beat them. They were kicking the finance minister. They were beating everybody. The ex-Prime Minister’s wife was badly burned.”
Businesses connected to the elite, including private schools and the popular Bhat-Bhateni supermarkets, were all looted and burnt. The Kathmandu Hilton went up in flames.
“They even broke into the central jail and released the prisoners. The convicts are roaming outside now, with guns and knives. I saw reporters asking how they got out and what they did,” adds Rupa. She said one even boasted of his crimes against children and his unexpected freedom.
“A day before that, police were after people, and then a day later, the public were after the police. Most of them surrendered. So, there’s no police force at the moment.”
“People were happy when the Prime Minister resigned, but it went too far. What’s the point of burning Parliament? We’re already behind [in economic terms, in infrastructure development], and now they are destroying everything.”
Fatalities from rioting and fire vary between 50 and 70.
Change It Had to Come
Teacher Bikram Thapa, 36, from Biratnagar, says:
“Hundreds of college students in their uniforms supported the First Day Movement, which was said to be a peaceful protest against corruption. Students, the self-employed, and entrepreneurs all expressed solidarity — firstly because they wanted to end corruption, and secondly because they were frustrated by the social media ban.
“Of course, some elements wanted to express their anger through vandalism. And perhaps 20 percent were there for entertainment — to enjoy throwing stones, to vandalise, and to create content for their TikTok.”
“Our society lacks employment opportunity and many lack a monthly income. Some are jealous of those who earn money through business. Some people just want to steal, snatch and loot.
“The parties in power know there’s lots of anger from the youth in Nepal and those abroad. But they’d prefer it if there was no social media because in the next election, they are uncertain if they will win their seats. We have seen the power of social media.
“There was a young mayor elected in Kathmandu, called Balen, a 35-year-old rapper, and it was all because of social media. The political parties didn’t want that to happen in future elections.
“When the military called for talks, the problem was the Gen Z group didn’t have leaders. Twenty of them went to see the Chief General. He said: ‘No’ and ‘You must come in a minimal group of two, three or four.’
“I saw on the news that the Gen Zs outside the Chief General’s offices were fighting because they have different names for the head of the interim government.
“Gen Z wanted transparency. Let’s say they can lead a classroom. But becoming a college leader and becoming a national leader are very different things. They are not mature enough.”
Meet the New Boss
On September 13th, 73-year-old Sushila Karki was sworn in as interim Prime Minister. The election is set for 5th March 2026.
“She is ex-chief justice,” says Rupa. “That’s all I know. I’m just happy that the country has an interim government before either India or the US could interfere.”
Bikram adds: “This is not merely the appointment of an individual, but our collective victory against corruption, reaffirming the people as the ultimate sovereign power. Sushila Karki has a proven record of doing good work. She is bold, brave, and knowledgeable of the constitution.”
Damien Tidmarsh, a 52-year-old ex-pat and Kathmandu resident, adds: “The new key ministers are very good choices, all educated, competent and respected for their honesty.
“The new guy in charge of energy and urban development was the previous head of the Nepal Energy Authority. He ended load shedding by uncovering dedicated industrial feeds that were milking the grid.
“That cost him his job as the industries were in cahoots with the ruling politicians. His first directive as minister has been to force them to pay – something like nine billion rupees [£47 million] in total. So that’s a huge thing.”
“The new home minister was involved in anti-corruption investigations over politicians’ illegal land grabs in the city. We can expect to see the cases he filed reopened and pursued, and prosecutions made.”
“The people wanted change in the system,” says Bikram. “So now we have a change.”
Business and public services reopened on September14th. “Since Sunday, everything has been back to normal,” Rupa adds.
And the World Looks Just the Same
Of course, political change is scalable. Just how much of it has been achieved is a vital question. The youth-led protesters in Kathmandu walked straight into entirely predictable infighting in record time. Without a youthful Solon, the revolutionary moment was squandered, and power quickly reverted to the grown-ups.
Against the backdrop of our time, these events prove the often-tweeted dream of a youth-led utopia is sadly unworkable. Recall how Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité ended. Young Nepalis, brave as they were, just confirmed flash-mob emotionalism – absent leadership with a fully formed frontal cortex – will never build a stable polity. Like every other historical conflict, it’s depressingly back to sober, rational – and above all – aged minds negotiating the peace.
The result is that after youthful blood was spilt, the familiar process of Nepal’s elder-dominated politics seems set to resume. Mourn the victims, celebrate the ousting of despots, but perhaps temper expectations of the always disappointing new tomorrow. As well-intentioned as this interim government seems – and don’t they all – many young Nepalis may yet come to regret handing their country – and their trust – back to the over-thirties.
Lee Russell Wilkes 