Nepal’s youth uprising is part of a broader pattern of Gen Z revolts across the postcolonial world. These uprisings are born of genuine frustration at corruption, unemployment, authoritarianism, and betrayal. Yet they also expose the fragility of protest without politics, the dangers of depoliticization, and the ever-present threat of co-option by imperialist and regional powers.

Arkadeep Goswami

Groundxero | Sep 11, 2025

Across South and Southeast Asia, the past decade has witnessed a remarkable resurgence of youth protest. From the sprawling campuses of Dhaka to the dense streets of Jakarta, from Colombo’s seaside occupations to Kathmandu’s public squares, young people have taken to the streets in defiance of authoritarian regimes, corrupt political elites, and economic systems that have made their future uncertain. The movements have been diverse in form and demand, but they share a common core: the refusal of Gen Z to quietly accept the political and economic stagnation they have inherited.

Nepal’s current uprising belongs to this regional wave. Images of Kathmandu’s youth filling the streets, chanting against corruption and systemic rot, evoke recent memories of Bangladesh’s 2024 student revolt, which brought down the entrenched rule of Sheikh Hasina, and Indonesia’s repeated eruptions against oligarchic impunity. These protests reflect a generational discontent that transcends national boundaries. Young people across the postcolonial world are demanding accountability, dignity, and change.

But as inspiring as these movements are, they also reveal profound contradictions. They are often spontaneous and decentralized, bursting onto the political scene with dramatic energy but lacking a coherent vision for what comes after. They are frequently celebrated for being “leaderless” and “non-ideological,” but these very features leave them vulnerable to co-option, depoliticization, and even right-wing drift. They express legitimate anger at the failures of ruling elites but rarely articulate a systemic alternative to the structures that produce corruption, inequality, and repression in the first place. And in a world where imperialist and regional powers are eager to manipulate internal discontent for their own ends, the lack of political clarity exposes these uprisings to manipulation.

Nepal, positioned precariously between India and China and haunted by the degeneration and failures of its once-powerful communist movement, is a particularly vivid case study in this paradox of Gen Z revolt. To understand the Nepal protest, one must examine both its legitimacy and its limitations, situating it within the broader landscape of South Asian youth uprisings and the geopolitics that surround them.

The Crisis of Post-Revolutionary Nepal

To grasp why Nepal’s youth are back in the streets, it is essential to revisit the trajectory of the country’s revolutionary past. In 2006, the People’s Movement, or Jana Andolan II, ended the centuries-old monarchy and paved the way for a federal democratic republic. This movement was the culmination of years of struggle, particularly the Maoist insurgency, which promised a radical transformation of Nepal’s social and economic structures. For a time, it seemed as though Nepal might be the stage for one of the most successful revolutions of the early twenty-first century.

The abolition of the monarchy in 2008 carried immense symbolic weight. It represented not just the end of a feudal dynasty but the triumph of popular will and the possibility of building a more just and equal society. The Maoists, who had mobilized vast sections of the rural poor during their decade-long “People’s War,” entered mainstream politics as central actors in the new republic. Their rhetoric was bold: they promised to dismantle the structures of feudalism, redistribute land, empower the marginalized, and chart a path toward socialism.

But the reality that unfolded was one of rapid compromise and disillusionment. Instead of pursuing revolutionary transformation, the Maoists became entangled in the very political system they had once denounced. Their focus shifted from social justice to coalition arithmetic, from radical reform to ministerial portfolios. Years were consumed in endless debates over the constitution, which, when finally promulgated in 2015, fell far short of the egalitarian ideals promised. Instead of empowering the marginalized, it deepened ethnic and regional grievances.

The Communist Party of Nepal (Unified Marxist–Leninist) and the Maoist Centre, once formidable forces of radical politics, degenerated into vehicles for patronage and corruption. Leaders who once lived in jungle camps now flaunted luxury lifestyles, eroding their moral authority. The revolutionary energy of the 1990s and 2000s gave way to cynicism and stagnation.

For Nepal’s Gen Z, who came of age after the abolition of the monarchy, the word “communist” no longer evokes images of sacrifice and revolutionary struggle but of betrayal, hypocrisy, and self-enrichment. Their lived reality is one of unemployment, corruption, and hopelessness. The promises of their elders have evaporated. The revolutionary inheritance of Nepal has been squandered by those who were entrusted to carry it forward.

The current youth movement is therefore both an expression of present frustrations and a reckoning with past betrayals. It is a cry not just against today’s corrupt politicians but also against the hollowing out of the revolutionary promise that once defined Nepal’s political imagination.

Bangladesh 2024: Lessons in the Fragility of Youth Revolt

The echoes between Nepal’s Gen Z and Bangladesh’s 2024 student uprising are unmistakable. In Dhaka, what began as protests against government repression and a discriminatory job quota system soon escalated into a nationwide revolt that shook the foundations of Sheikh Hasina’s long-standing authoritarian rule. Students poured into the streets in the hundreds of thousands, paralyzing the state machinery and forcing the resignation of a leader once seen as unassailable.

The Bangladeshi uprising, like Nepal’s, was spearheaded by young people who felt excluded from the system, betrayed by their rulers, and suffocated by corruption and authoritarianism. Their anger was authentic and their courage undeniable. Social media amplified their demands, giving the movement a rapid, viral momentum.

Yet the aftermath of Hasina’s fall revealed the fragility of such uprisings. Without a coherent program or leadership, the student movement created a power vacuum that was quickly filled by establishment figures and technocratic elites. Western diplomats, who had grown uncomfortable with Hasina’s growing ties to China, seized the opportunity to shape the post-Hasina order. The movement, which began with radical demands for justice and accountability, was channeled into the safe terrain of “democratic restoration” — a slogan that carried little substance beyond the replacement of one elite faction with another.

The lesson for Nepal is stark. Authentic grassroots anger can topple governments, but without a clear social transformation program, it rarely changes the structures of power. When youth energy is not tied to systemic critique, it becomes easy prey for external manipulation and elite capture. Nepal’s protesters may shout against corruption and unemployment, but unless they articulate an alternative to the system that breeds corruption and unemployment, their revolt risks ending the way Bangladesh’s did: with the same structures intact, only under new management.

Indonesia: Depoliticization and the Trap of “Leaderless” Protest

Indonesia offers another cautionary tale. Since 2019, Indonesian youth have repeatedly mobilized against regressive “Omnibus” laws, environmental destruction, and pervasive corruption. Their protests have been massive and imaginative, blending street demonstrations with digital campaigns that captured global attention. They symbolized the vibrancy and determination of a generation unwilling to accept the corruption of their elders.

Yet these movements, for all their energy, have largely failed to secure lasting victories. The reason lies partly in their deliberate depoliticization. Indonesian youth, wary of traditional political parties and distrustful of ideology, embraced a “leaderless” and “non-ideological” model of protest. While this protected them from authoritarian targeting and co-optation by party elites, it also meant that the protests lacked direction beyond immediate grievances.

Calls for transparency, anti-corruption reforms, and “good governance” replaced systemic critique of the capitalist-military nexus that underpins Indonesian politics. The oligarchic structures of power remained intact. The energy of the youth was deflected toward reforms that could be absorbed without threatening the system itself.

Nepal’s current uprising risks falling into the same trap. By celebrating spontaneity and rejecting ideology, it risks producing a politics that is intense but shallow, courageous but fragile. When systemic critique is absent, protest slogans can easily be absorbed into the language of liberal reformism, or worse, redirected into conservative and right-wing channels. The very features that make these movements inspiring — their decentralization, their defiance of hierarchy — are also their greatest weaknesses.

Imperialism, Hindutva, and the Contest over Nepal’s Future

Any serious analysis of the Nepal movement must grapple with its geopolitical context. Nepal is not only shaped by its internal contradictions but also by the pressures of imperialism and regional hegemonies.

The United States and its allies have long used soft power to shape political outcomes in countries like Nepal. During the Cold War, the CIA invested heavily in student unions, cultural organizations, and intellectual forums to counter communist influence globally. That legacy continues today in subtler forms. Western embassies and donor agencies pour money into Nepal’s NGOs, framing governance and development in liberal-democratic terms that sideline systemic critiques of capitalism and imperialism. The Millennium Challenge Corporation (MCC) compact — presented as an infrastructure grant but widely criticized as a Trojan horse for U.S. strategic influence — symbolized these pressures. The risk for Nepal’s youth movement is that its authentic grievances could be reframed by Western actors into a liberal reformist agenda that leaves the structures of dependency untouched.

Yet imperialism is not the only danger. Nepal’s giant neighbor, India, exerts a different but equally dangerous influence. Successive Indian governments have treated Nepal as part of their “sphere of influence,” resorting to blockades, diplomatic arm-twisting, and party-to-party interventions to secure compliance. But beyond the state, India’s Hindu right has nurtured its own fantasies about Nepal. For the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) and its affiliates, Nepal is not merely a neighboring country but a vital piece of their civilizational project of Hindu Rashtra.

The abolition of monarchy and Nepal’s transformation into a secular republic in 2008 was seen in Hindutva circles as a grievous loss. For decades, Nepal had been the world’s only Hindu kingdom, a symbolic ally in the RSS’s quest to establish Hindu political dominance. Since then, the RSS has worked to cultivate influence in Nepal through religious organizations, cultural networks, and sympathetic politicians. The current youth disillusionment offers fertile soil for these efforts. By framing republican corruption as evidence of secularism’s failure and monarchy as the guarantor of “authentic” Nepali identity, Hindutva forces hope to steer the youth revolt toward a restoration of Nepal as a Hindu state aligned with India’s authoritarian, communal politics.

Nepal thus faces a double danger. On one side, Western imperialism seeks to channel the movement into safe liberal-democratic reforms. On the other hand, Hindutva ideologues aim to capture the movement’s energy for a regressive project of Hindu nationalism. Both trajectories threaten Nepal’s sovereignty, secularism, and revolutionary potential. The youth revolt, unless vigilant, could become a pawn in larger geopolitical games that strip it of its emancipatory promise.

Right-Wing Drift and the Crisis of the Left

These geopolitical pressures intersect with Nepal’s internal political vacuum. The most dangerous outcome of youth disillusionment is not merely apathy but active drift toward reactionary alternatives. The resurgence of monarchist nostalgia illustrates this danger vividly. Amid the anger at corrupt republican leaders, some voices have begun romanticizing the monarchy as a source of stability. Combined with Hindutva narratives, this nostalgia becomes more than just sentiment; it becomes a political project to roll back Nepal’s republican and secular gains.

This rightward drift is possible only because Nepal’s left has failed so profoundly. The communist parties, once the vanguard of revolutionary struggle, are now widely perceived as corrupt and opportunistic. Their leaders live in luxury while their constituents languish in poverty. Their rhetoric of socialism has been hollowed out by their actions in government, where they have embraced neoliberal economic policies and abandoned grassroots struggles. For young people, “communism” now means corruption and hypocrisy rather than resistance and liberation.

This betrayal has created a political vacuum. When the left discredits itself, the space it once occupied becomes available for right-wing forces. Reactionary fantasies — whether of monarchy, Hindu nationalism, or neoliberal reformism — gain traction not because they offer real solutions but because the radical left alternative has collapsed. Unless a new generation of left politics emerges, Nepal’s youth movement risks being absorbed into one of these regressive trajectories.

Toward a Politics Beyond Rage

The Nepal movement is therefore caught between promise and peril. Its promise lies in the courage of young people who refuse to accept corruption and unemployment as their destiny. Its peril lies in its lack of systemic vision, its vulnerability to foreign and regional manipulation, and its exposure to right-wing capture.

To move beyond rage, Nepal’s youth must rediscover politics in the fullest sense. That means rejecting the false neutrality of “leaderless” and “non-ideological” protests. It means articulating systemic critiques of capitalism, feudal remnants, and imperialist dependency. It means rebuilding left politics from the ground up, learning from the failures of the past but not abandoning the ideals of equality, justice, and sovereignty.

Such a task will not be easy. It requires organizing among workers and peasants, building alliances across ethnic and regional divides, and confronting both local elites and global powers. It requires intellectual clarity and moral courage in equal measure. But without it, the cycle of protest and betrayal will continue. Movements will rise, dictators and parties will fall, but the structures of exploitation will remain intact.

The lesson from Nepal, Bangladesh, and Indonesia is that protest alone is insufficient. Only when youthful rage is fused with revolutionary programs can systemic transformation be achieved. The challenge for Nepal’s youth is not only to denounce the failures of their leaders but also to dare to imagine — and to build — an alternative order.

Conclusion: Nepal and the Future of Gen Z Revolts

Nepal’s youth uprising is part of a broader pattern of Gen Z revolts across the postcolonial world. These uprisings are born of genuine frustration at corruption, unemployment, authoritarianism, and betrayal. They embody the courage and creativity of a generation that refuses to remain silent. Yet they also expose the fragility of protest without politics, the dangers of depoliticization, and the ever-present threat of co-option by imperialist and regional powers.

Nepal, with its revolutionary history and its strategic position between India and China, is a particularly stark example of these dynamics. Its youth revolt is both an indictment of the failures of its communist past and a warning of the dangers of reactionary futures. The role of the CIA and Western soft power, the designs of India’s Hindutva project, and the collapse of left credibility all converge to create a precarious situation.

The task before Nepal’s youth — and indeed, before Gen Z across the postcolonial world — is to move from protest to politics, from rage to revolution, from spontaneity to strategy. If they succeed, they may yet redeem the broken promises of their elders and chart a path toward systemic transformation. If they fail, their anger will be remembered only as another flare of resistance extinguished by the combined forces of corruption, imperialism, and reaction.

The choice, as always, lies not in fate but in struggle.

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Arkadeep is a political activist and writer based in Kolkata.

(The views expressed in the article are author’s own.)