‘We are more doomed than before’: Gen-Z Nepalis are worried about their future

Written by Alex Prvulovich

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Five months ago, these protesters took down their government. I talked to them about that movement, and their hopes and fears for the elections next month.

‘Nobody expected to cross the police barricade,’ says Sam, ‘The government underestimated the protestors. They didn’t have enough police. They didn’t expect so many young people to show up.’ The 25-year-old was near the front of the crowd that surrounded the Federal Parliament in Kathmandu on 8th September last year. Protests had spread across the country, as tens of thousands of young Nepalis expressed their anger at corruption. The next day, the Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli would resign as a number of partisan and government buildings, including the parliament, burned. Sam’s story, of surprise at the power of the protests, is echoed by other Gen-Z Nepalis. Neither the political establishment nor the crowds in the streets anticipated how consequential the day would be. Anzana, 22, says that no one expected to take down the government, but when the protestors did, they felt ‘proud’; ‘People usually believe Gen-Z aren't serious about anything, we proved people wrong.’

Now, the outlook is less rosy. An interim government was formed, promising to steady the country and hand over to elected politicians. On 5th March, Nepalis will go to the polls to vote for 275 members of the House of Representatives. But these Nepalis tell me that not enough has changed. Sam calls the interim government ‘frustrating’ – they are not ‘powerful enough’ to challenge the old parties whose corruption inspired such anger, because entrenched interests could react violently. He tells me he is ‘fearful that the same old parties will win the next election and things will go back’ to how they were before the protests. In particular, some protestors are angered by the failure to prosecute the politicians who they hold responsible for the order to shoot protesters – especially former PM Oli and former Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak. Far from facing charges, Oli is running in 2026 as the UML party’s PM candidate, on a platform that emphasises the destruction and chaos of the protests. At this point, Anzana says, ‘I don’t think this protest will bring any benefit… the old ministers will come back.’ Puskal, 19, was also at the protests in September, and is even more pessimistic: ‘I feel like the protest failed and we are more doomed than before.’

One figure that is seen as a symbol of change is Balen Shah. Aged 35, he made his name rap-battling in the streets of Kathmandu before winning the mayoralty in 2022, running as an independent on an anti-corruption ticket. In 2025, he was popular among the protesters, and many felt he was the natural choice of leader after Oli resigned. ‘Everyone thought Balen would take the lead,’ says Anzana, ‘He was one of the most beloved politicians.’ But as the interim government was being formed, Balen shied away. ‘Many of the youths came out for Balen, but he stayed silent,’ says Sam. For Anzana, the refusal called into question the entire movement – ‘When Balen declined my personal feeling was, “We fucked up so, so badly.”’

What happened next was the most part of the story that attracted most global attention. Hami Nepal, originally an earthquake relief non-profit, had been running a Discord server supporting the protests, called ‘Youths Against Corruption’. On September 10, just under 20,000 people were viewing the main channel, and about 8,000 voted for who they wanted the interim PM to be. With about half the votes, Sushila Karki, a former chief justice, was chosen. This eyecatching moment was widely described as Nepal’s youth choosing their next Prime Minister in a Discord chatroom. Sam, who voted in the poll, is hesitant about that characterisation. Balen and other leaders had backed Karki before the vote, which became almost ‘a formality’ – ‘it wasn’t actually Gen-Z’ who elected the PM. ‘That’s not the actual truth, but it makes headlines.’ Still, Anzana says, Karki ‘was the right person to lead at that time.’

Five months later, and Balen has decided to run for PM, resigning his mayoralty and allying with the centrist RSP. He has taken the provocative step of challenging Oli in his own seat, Jhapa-5. For some Gen-Z Nepalis, though, the shine has come off. When Balen refused to step up, Anzana says, ‘People had mixed opinions. Half of them were angry, thinking that Balen didn’t step forward or show courage when the country was in such a difficult situation. The other half supported Balen, saying that if he feels he cannot lead the country, then why force him to become PM?’ But the questions go beyond just not becoming interim PM himself; Sam says he is now facing ‘many complaints’, such as over his suggestion that the previous parliament be dissolved after the protests – ‘Nowadays, people are questioning him … if we hadn’t shut down the parliament, we would be able to change the constitution.’ Without sitting MPs, Nepalis have waited months in stasis.

From the moment the protests began, there were a number of conflicting stories about why. The Nepalis I talked to were keen to set the record straight – it was about corruption. Online anger at ‘nepo babies’, the children of corrupt politicians who bragged about their luxury lifestyles, was a factor, but one that tapped into a deep vein of dissatisfaction. Similarly, an unpopular social media ban was just the ‘final nail in the coffin’, Sam says. Anzana described frustration at seeing foreign media refusing to discuss corruption as the root cause: ‘they tried to create a false narrative, claiming that our protests were triggered by Instagram bans.’ In particular, he feels Indian media were responsible for dismissing the protests, leading to animosity and protestors calling Indian channels ‘Godi media’, a pun on Indian PM Narendra Modi’s name and term implying sycophancy, often translated as ‘lapdog’. Conspiracy theories abounded, including that the protests were the work of the CIA or a deep state. Even Oli, as he was resigning, blamed ‘external interference’. Anzana firmly rejects this: ‘Some media have claimed that foreign powers influenced our movement, but that’s not true. Yes, geopolitics exists, but most of our fight is homegrown.’

Nepal’s future hangs in the balance, and so too does the legacy of the protests. Sam says that currently the country is in the middle of a ‘blame game’, as neither Gen-Z nor the rest of the country are satisfied with the status quo. If nothing changes politically, then the enduring consequence of the protests will be deaths and the burning of historic buildings, which Sam has some regret for. But in all the accounts of the protests I heard from around the country, it is the violence of the state that stands out. Nepalis described seeing students bleeding and dying in front of them, watching police firing randomly into the crowd. In Anzana’s words: ‘The violence came from the government – they threatened us with force, so we had to respond.’

The March elections will determine whether those losses are seen as a tragic waste or part of a movement for a brighter future. Right now Balen may have questions to answer about his choices last September, but he would be a legitimate departure from the political establishment. As fearful as many are about the elections, such figures provide some reason for optimism. Anzana:

‘If the same old parties return, we are done and dusted. Leaving the country may become the last option. If new faces – especially educated leaders in whom many Nepalese have faith – come into power, there is hope for genuine improvement and a better future for the country.’