BBC – Nepal’s Gen Z protesters brought down a government in under 48 hours – but the victory has come at a heavy price.
“We are proud, but there is also a mixed baggage of trauma, regret and anger,” says Tanuja Pandey, one of the protest organisers.
With 72 people killed, last week’s protests were the deadliest unrest in the Himalayan country in decades. Official buildings, residences of political leaders and luxury hotels such as the Hilton, which opened in July 2024, were torched, vandalised and looted. The wife of a former prime minister is fighting for her life after their home was set ablaze.
The protests represented “a wholesale rejection of Nepal’s current political class for decades of poor governance and exploitation of state resources”, said Ashish Pradhan, a senior adviser at the International Crisis Group. But the damage to government services, he added, could “parallel the toll of the 2015 earthquake which took almost 9,000 lives”.
The destruction is not only confined to the capital Kathmandu – at least 300 local government offices across the nation have been damaged.
The financial losses could amount to 3 trillion Nepalese rupees ($21.3bn; £15.6bn), nearly half of the country’s GDP, according to the Kathmandu Post. Its offices were also attacked by crowds and set on fire.
‘Nepo babies’
Two days before the deadly demonstration on 8 September, Ms Pandey, a 24-year-old environmental campaigner, uploaded a video showing a mining site in Chure, one of the most fragile mountain ranges in the region. Nepal’s resources should belong to the people, not to “politicians’ private limited companies”, she wrote, calling on her peers to “march against corruption and the misuse of our nation’s wealth”.
Like many youth movements in Asia, Nepal’s Gen Z protests were leaderless. Others had made similar pleas to Ms Pandey’s after the Nepali government decided to ban 26 social media platforms, citing their failure to register locally.
For months, fury had been brewing against “nepo babies”, the children of powerful politicians of all stripes, who were accused of flaunting their unexplained wealth on social media.
One of the most viral photos showed Saugat Thapa, the son of a provincial minister, standing next to a Christmas tree made of boxes of luxury brands including Louis Vuitton, Gucci and Cartier. In response, he said it was “an unfair misinterpretation” and his father “returned every rupee earned from public service to the community”.
Ms Pandey had watched almost all “nepo babies” content, but one video juxtaposing the luxurious life of a political family and an ordinary young Nepali who had to find work in a Gulf country struck her.
“It is painful to watch, especially knowing that even educated youth are forced to leave the country because wages here are far below what one needs to live with dignity,” she said.
Nepal is a young democracy. It became a republic in 2008, after a decade-long, Maoist-led civil war that killed more than 17,000 people.
But the promised stability and prosperity have not materialised. In 17 years, Nepal has had 14 governments, and no leader has completed a full five-year term. The country’s politics resemble a game of musical chairs, with communist parties and the centrist Nepali Congress taking turns to rule. Three leaders, including KP Sharma Oli who resigned over the Gen Z protests, returned to power multiple times.
Nepal’s GDP per capita remained under $1,500, making it the second-poorest country in South Asia, behind only Afghanistan. An estimated 14% of the population work overseas, and one in three households receives remittances.
Ms Pandey comes from a middle-class family in eastern Nepal and her father is a retired government teacher. Three years ago, she was diagnosed with a brain tumour, for which she is still receiving treatment. The medical bills nearly bankrupted her family, so her older sister moved to Australia to support them.
Before the protests, Ms Pandey worked with others to create guidelines stressing non-violence and respect and reminding participants to stay vigilant against “hijackers”.
On the morning of 8 September, she arrived at Maitighar Mandala, a huge traffic island in central Kathmandu with several of her friends. She was expecting thousands would turn up at most – but the crowds kept swelling.
Aakriti Ghimire, a 26-year-old protester, said things were initially peaceful and communal. “We were all seated, we were singing old Nepali songs,” she said. “The slogans and everything were so funny, we were enjoying it. And after that, we started to march… the police were there to ensure that there were no vehicles disturbing us.”
Both Ms Pandey and Ms Ghimire started to sense danger at around midday, when crowds began moving to New Baneshwor, the neighbourhood housing parliament. Both saw people arriving on motorbikes, and Ms Pandey said these people appeared older than average Gen Z protesters.
Ms Ghimire believes they were infiltrators. “It became very tricky for us to distinguish the peaceful protesters – some people who genuinely came for something – versus those who came in with the intention of being violent.”
When some protesters tried to breach the security around parliament, police fired tear gas, water cannon and shots in return. There is evidence live rounds were used and they are accused of shooting at schoolchildren as well. An investigation into what happened is under way.
Chaos and violence reigned the next day. Demonstrators retaliated by setting parliament, the prime minister’s office and other government buildings ablaze. Both Ms Pandey and Ms Ghimire stayed indoors and watched the developments online.
“A lot of people did share that it felt so good to finally see politicians face the consequences of everything they’ve done,” Ms Ghimire said, referring to the destruction of the leaders’ homes. But the mood soon darkened.
“I saw people with bottles filled with petroleum. They got it from the motorbikes. They started attacking the parliament,” said Ms Pandey.
The law graduate cried after seeing the Supreme Court on fire, saying that it was like “a temple” for her. Her friends at the scene were pouring water on the flames to try to put them out. They all knew the effort would be futile – they did it only to console themselves.
“People say the arsonists intended to come and burn these things… Who are these people?” asked Ms Ghimire. “The videos show these people are all masked.”
Some calm was restored when the army was deployed to take control of the situation – a curfew was in place for days. Later in the week former Supreme Court Chief Justice Sushila Karki was appointed interim prime minister. She had been backed by protesters for the post.
Ms Pandey hopes she “can lead the country efficiently, do the election in stipulated time and hand the power to the people”.
But the anxiety about Nepal’s political future persists.
Rumela Sen, a South Asia expert at Columbia University, said it was “worrying” to see “an unprecedented glorification of the army as a voice of sanity and stability”.
Many are also uncomfortable with the involvement of Durga Prasai in the initial negotiation at the invitation of the military. Mr Prasai was arrested for his role in violent pro-monarchy protests in March. He fled to India but was returned to Nepal. The Gen Z protesters walked out of the talks over his involvement.
Meanwhile, families of protesters who were killed are reckoning with their deaths.
“We are deeply shocked because we have lost our beloved son,” said Yubaraj Neupane, whose 23-year-old son Yogendra died in the protests. “I am yet to find out how he died.”
Yogendra was shot in the back of the head near the parliament building, according to the post mortem report.
From south-eastern Nepal, the family’s eldest son had pursued his studies in Kathmandu and aspired to be a civil servant. He was always studying, friends and relatives said.
But on 8 September, he joined the protests with his friends, dreaming of bringing change to the country. His family didn’t know he was at the scene until he called them after the situation started heating up.
“Our beloved has lost his life calling for change,” his great-uncle Saubhagya said. “His blood and sacrifice should be recognised so that other young people won’t have to hit the streets again in the future.”
Ms Pandey said she was cautiously optimistic about her country’s future, but the trauma of the past week would stay with her for the rest of her life.
This is a political awakening for her generation.
“We are no longer willing to stay silent or accept injustice,” she says. “This is not just a gentle nudge; it’s a bold challenge to a system that has hoarded power for decades.”
