Dipak Kurmi
Would you like me to give you a few more alternative titles—some sharper for newspapers, others more analytical for journals? Nepal has once again erupted into a storm of unrest, jolting the fragile democratic foundations of the Himalayan republic. The week began with what appeared to be a bureaucratic enforcement of regulation: the government blocked twenty-six social media platforms, including Facebook, WhatsApp, and X, citing non-compliance with a Supreme Court–backed directive requiring tech companies to register locally, appoint grievance officers, and obey national content rules. Within hours, however, what started as digital irritation had transformed into street-level fury. Thousands of young people converged on Kathmandu, stormed restricted zones, and even breached Parliament’s perimeters. The state’s response was fierce—teargas, water cannons, rubber bullets, and aerial firing—yet it could not stem the tide of discontent. Hospitals overflowed with the injured, curfews were declared, and the Army was deployed to control urban crowds. Nineteen lives have already been lost.
This cycle of grievance, repression, and escalation is not unique to Nepal. South Asia has seen such youth-driven upheavals before: in Bangladesh in 2024, when student protests over job quotas cascaded into a nationwide crisis; in Sri Lanka in 2022, when young demonstrators forced the resignation of President Gotabaya Rajapaksa; and in parts of India during the protests against the Citizenship Amendment Act of 2019–2020. Each episode has its own local colour and proximate triggers, but the pattern is disturbingly familiar. A combustible mix of youthful anger, symbolic sparks such as an internet shutdown or a controversial policy decision, and the chronic failures of governance conspire to generate sudden political conflagrations.
Demography as Destiny
At the heart of this turbulence lies demography. South Asia is home to one of the world’s largest youth cohorts. This “youth bulge,” as demographers call it, can in principle be a demographic dividend—fueling economic growth, innovation, and social dynamism. But when it collides with unemployment, weak institutions, and exclusionary politics, the dividend turns into a liability. Scholarship across regions has established a correlation: countries with large concentrations of restless, unemployed, digitally connected youth face a significantly higher probability of political unrest.
Nepal fits this pattern. Its young population, shaped by two decades of political instability, civil war, and sluggish economic performance, finds itself trapped between aspiration and stagnation. Opportunities are scarce, education systems falter, and outmigration is seen by many as the only escape. The youth are hyperconnected—armed with smartphones, social media, and encrypted networks—but politically marginalized. That combination is a gift to mobilisers and a nightmare for brittle states.
Historical Memory of Instability
Nepal’s democratic journey has been anything but linear. The monarchy, which lasted until 2008, presided over a society divided by geography, ethnicity, and class. The decade-long Maoist insurgency (1996–2006) killed over 13,000 people and left deep scars on state-society relations. Even after the monarchy was abolished and the republic established, chronic instability persisted. Governments changed frequently, coalition politics bred paralysis, and corruption scandals eroded public trust.
These legacies matter because they shape how institutions respond to crisis. The Nepal Army and police, having fought an insurgency, tend to view unrest through a security lens rather than as democratic dissent. Political elites, meanwhile, often fall back on nationalist rhetoric to delegitimize protesters and externalize blame. The result is a cycle of repression that neither addresses root causes nor restores durable order.
The Gene Sharp Playbook
To understand Nepal’s present turbulence, one must also turn to theory. No political thinker has illuminated the mechanics of leaderless, rapid mobilization better than Gene Sharp, the American philosopher of non-violent struggle. In his seminal text, From Dictatorship to Democracy, Sharp outlined how decentralized movements can undermine a regime’s sources of authority through symbolic defiance, mass non-cooperation, and the strategic use of communication networks.
Sharp’s ideas resonate across movements from Eastern Europe to the Arab Spring, and they map eerily onto South Asia today. In Bangladesh last year, what began as campus agitation against a job quota decision escalated into a national upheaval that brought down a government. The harsh crackdown, mass arrests, and abrupt political transition reverberated across the region. In Nepal now, young people have drawn upon the same playbook: symbols of defiance, rapid mobilization, and adaptation to communication restrictions. When social media platforms were shut down, encrypted and decentralized channels—the so-called “Black Net”—allowed protest coordination to continue. Sharp never predicted specific uprisings, but his framework explains how brittle power structures collapse when legitimacy erodes and coercion is seen as disproportionate.
Kathmandu in Flames
The sequence in Nepal unfolded with terrifying speed. The government’s decision to ban platforms for non-compliance was read by young citizens not as regulatory housekeeping but as an assault on freedom and voice. In a country where social media functions as the primary outlet for youth expression, organizing, and even economic opportunity, the blackout was intolerable. Within hours, fury spilled from the online world into Kathmandu’s streets.
Crowds stormed government zones and Parliament. Security forces unleashed teargas and water cannons, then escalated to rubber bullets and live aerial fire. Hospitals filled with the wounded, dozens critical. Curfews were declared, yet the protests spread. At least nineteen people died. In a dramatic turn, Prime Minister K. P. Sharma Oli announced his resignation, declaring it was to facilitate dialogue after protesters set fire to the homes of top leaders. Several ministers also stepped down. The ban on platforms was rescinded within a day, but by then the damage was done. Once legitimacy frays, reversals look less like concessions and more like signs of weakness.
Lessons from Dhaka and Colombo
Nepal’s crisis is part of a regional continuum. Bangladesh in 2024 demonstrated how quickly a student movement could widen into a national crisis. What started as a quota protest escalated under repression into regime collapse. Heavy-handed measures deepened grievance rather than restoring order, and instability spilled across borders in the form of refugee flows, economic uncertainty, and diplomatic strain.
Sri Lanka’s 2022 “Aragalaya” movement was different in context but similar in dynamics. Youth anger over economic collapse and shortages morphed into a mass uprising that ousted a president. Again, the story was one of young people leveraging networks, symbols, and sheer persistence to overcome entrenched political elites.
The lesson is clear: repression is at best a short-term fix and at worst a long-term mistake. Internet bans, curfews, and military deployment may silence protest briefly but also validate the perception that the state fears its citizens. Once that perception takes root, legitimacy erodes rapidly.
The Army in the Streets
Deploying the Army for urban crowd control is particularly perilous in Nepal. This is a country scarred by insurgency, where memories of military repression remain raw. Using soldiers against young protesters risks alienating the security forces themselves, whose cohesion depends on perceptions of legitimacy. It also hardens the resolve of demonstrators and sows lasting resentment that can destabilize politics for years. Sharp’s insight applies here: coercion works only when compliance pillars remain intact. When those pillars—consent of the governed, belief in legitimacy, support of institutions—crumble, even powerful armies cannot restore order.
India’s Dilemma
What should India do? The instinct of some policymakers may be to intervene, given the long history of India–Nepal ties and the strategic importance of stability in the Himalayan frontier. But prudence demands restraint. Any overt military or political interference will be exploited by Nepalese elites to stoke nationalist sentiment, potentially pushing politics into a spiral beyond control.
Instead, India must adopt a policy of prudence and preparedness. Consular readiness for Indian citizens in Nepal must be ensured. Contingency planning in border states should be quietly ramped up. Secure communication lines with Nepal’s civilian and security leaders should remain open. Public statements should urge restraint in language that explicitly respects Nepal’s sovereignty. Humanitarian coordination with multilateral partners can be readied, but assistance should only be extended upon request.
Information preparedness is also crucial. Disinformation campaigns can spread rapidly in times of unrest. Indian media must avoid partisan amplification that inflames tensions. Narrative control—stressing restraint, sovereignty, and the importance of dialogue—will be the best contribution to stability.
Toward Damage Control
For Nepal itself, the way forward lies not in doubling down on repression but in immediate damage control. The government must rescind blunt measures, as it did by reversing the platform bans, and institutionalize this by committing not to weaponize communication blackouts. Impartial inquiries into the deaths must be launched, ideally with credible international or civil society involvement. Mediation platforms should be created where youth leaders, political elites, and civil society can negotiate grievances.
Confidence-building measures are vital: temporary amnesties for arrested protesters, credible programs for youth employment and education, and a clear reform roadmap. Nepal’s political class must recognize that its youth are not merely agitators but stakeholders in the republic’s survival.
A Regional Warning
There is a larger lesson here for South Asia. The region’s youth are not going away. By 2030, nearly half of South Asia’s population will be under thirty. Whether they are an engine of growth or a force of instability depends entirely on how governments treat them. Invest in education, create decent jobs, uphold credible policing and independent justice, and build peaceful avenues of grievance redressal—then youth become assets. Neglect them, suppress them, or mock their aspirations, and they become liabilities, sometimes explosively so.
The pattern is visible already. Dhaka, Colombo, and now Kathmandu have been rocked by youth-driven uprisings. Delhi, Islamabad, and Male cannot assume immunity. A region that fails to integrate its youngest citizens into meaningful political and economic life will find itself lurching from one crisis to another.
A Pivot for Nepal
Nepal today stands at a pivot. It can either pursue dialogue, reform, and inclusion—or slide further into instability, repression, and loss of legitimacy. If Kathmandu chooses dialogue, rescinds draconian measures, and invests in youth aspirations, stability is possible. If India backs this process with humility and restraint, the region’s calm can be preserved. But if force and internet bans remain the instinctive reflex, we will simply see another chapter in the pattern that has already scarred Dhaka and Colombo.
The strategic lesson is stark: repression silences for a day but destabilizes for a decade. Power ultimately rests on compliance, and compliance rests on legitimacy. Once legitimacy crumbles, pillars of authority can collapse swiftly. The youth of South Asia are poised between promise and peril. Whether they become the region’s greatest asset or its most dangerous liability will depend on the choices governments make today.
(The writer can be reached at dipakkurmiglpltd@gmail.com)
