Nepal’s Gen Z protests and humanity’s shared future

In the wake of massive anti-corruption demonstrations, which began on Sept. 8 over a social-media ban and left more than 70 people dead before a new prime minister took office, I think of a young Nepali man I met here in the capital, no older than 23, planning to attend a Gen Z protest. "Brother," he said to me, "we are not just angry. We are building our nation. We are looking for a nation where there is no corruption. We cannot stay silent now."

That moment will stay with me forever, a reminder that revolutions are not always born in blood but in the quiet calculations of the overlooked. Gen Z, those born between 1997 and 2012, make up over 40% of Nepal’s population, a formidable force. They are the digital natives who bypassed the government’s ban on Facebook, Twitter and other social media with unbanned VPNs and TikTok whispers, turning a censorship decree into a clarion call for accountability. These young people, the driving force of change, are furious over high unemployment, rampant corruption and rising economic inequality.

Nepal's Gen Z is not merely protesting corruption or joblessness; they are etching indelible patterns across the nation's social fabric, economy and environment. They are the force that could either erode the old guard's complacency or flood the valleys with fresh possibility. In a world where youth challenges fragile governments from Dhaka to Nairobi, Nepal offers a parable.

The People’s Movement in 2006 was a key moment in Nepal’s democracy, ending the monarchy in 2008 and making the country a republic. It held out hopes for inclusion and better lives. But two decades on, it’s failed to deliver on its promises. Corruption runs deep — look at the 2017 Airbus scandal, where Nepal Airlines lost $10.4 million in dodgy deals and those responsible got off lightly. Youth unemployment is around 20%, forcing thousands of youths to work abroad as migrants, their earnings amounting a third of Nepal’s GDP while politicians’ kids flaunt luxury goods on TikTok. Yes, the protests were sparked by the government’s draconian social-media ban earlier this month, but the fuel had been building up for years.

Villages in the Terai and hillsides in the midlands echo with absence, elders tending fields once alive with youthful banter. And overlay that with climate's cruel arithmetic: Himalaya would lose more than one-third of its ice by the end of the century, according to one study. Gen Z schooled in apps that track carbon footprints seethes at the irony — politicians jetting to COP summits while floods devour homes in the south. Yet their voices, amplified on Instagram reels about melting permafrost, clash against a digital divide, turning potential organizers into isolated echoes.

In addition to being tone deaf, the administration of K.P. Sharma Oli's ban on Facebook and other social media sites cut off the lifeblood of a generation that relied on algorithms for everything from job searches to mental-health discussion boards. Suicide rates among Nepali youth are growing high, whispers of despair in a society still shackled by stigma. Nepal became a republic in 2008, after a long decade of war that killed more than 17,000 people. Leaders promised stability and economic prosperity that failed to materialize — a failure Gen Z sees as betrayal.

Meanwhile, migration remittances fuel consumption but stifle innovation, as a nation of savers becomes a republic of senders, with innovation deferred to foreign shores. The unrest breeds cynicism, eroding trust in institutions. Nepal’s EdTech surge must scale, weaving coding and critical thinking into curricula long mired in rote memorization. Imagine subsidies for rural broadband, turning isolated hamlets into hubs of virtual apprenticeships, where a girl in the remote region of Mustang codes apps for glacial monitoring.

Policy must follow suit, with youth quotas in local governance as a real veto on budgets. The recent uprising by anti-corruption protestors ousted Prime Minister Oli, with former Chief Justice Sushila Karki serving as interim prime minister until elections are held in March. What next? Channel that momentum into much-needed anti-corruption apps, including blockchain-led procurement transparency. Pivot from remittance dependency by offering tax incentives for returnee startups and incubators in Pokhara and other places. Help lure diaspora talent back with grants for startups and green ventures.

At the same time, Nepal's National Adaptation Plan could devolve power to youth-led councils, funding community solar grids or reforestation drives that double as job pipelines. What would happen if the chants of Gen Z protests echoed in boardrooms, demanding ESG (Environmental, Social and Governance) metrics for foreign aid? Globally, donors like Japan or the European Union should tie aid to youth involvement, ensuring ripples amplify rather than dissipate.

Concessions temper optimism. Not every protest brings progress. Nepal's volatility risks descent into factionalism, where Gen Z's idealism fractures along ethnic lines — the Madhesis people in the plains eyeing hill elites with fresh suspicion. Elders, scarred by the Maoist civil war (1996-2006), view this digital insurgency as reckless, a generational chasm widening.

Yet, for the most part, the expectant youth of Nepal's Gen Z are not anomalies, they are augurs; their demonstrations a summons to stewardship. Leaders, heed the young architects of your nation; build with them or watch the floods reshape your legacy. This is not Nepal's story alone. It is a reminder that the future isn’t inherited but forged by today’s youth.