A primer for what is happening in Nepal

From the blog post, posted six days ago:

For weeks before the initial protest on September 8, young Nepalis had been engaged in an online campaign loosely organised around the “NepoBaby” trend. This campaign began in Indonesia [...]

In Nepal, the campaign targeted the children of Nepal’s political and business elite. [...] Their lavish lives, on full display on social media, where they flaunted luxury goods and European vacations, were contrasted with the lives of ordinary Nepalis, many of whom live hand-to-mouth, and millions who go abroad to work to provide for their families.

The campaign reflected a broader frustration with the status quo. Nepal’s Gen Z came of age in the years following the end of the country’s civil war and the abolishment of the monarchy, now nearing two decades in the past. They were promised a “new Nepal” under a restored democracy and a new constitution, where they could lead better lives than those of their parents. Instead, Gen Z-ers were confronted with a failing economy, characterized by few job prospects and an increasing societal pressure to migrate due to the lack of a worthwhile future in Nepal. As ordinary Nepali youth compared themselves to the children of the political elite, many of them also from Gen Z, there was a swell of righteous anger.

This was what was happening when the social media ban hit. [...]

For Gen Z, this was the final straw. The anger and frustration that had been building up online spilled over into a street protest. The feeling among Gen Z-ers was that the government was attempting to stifle free speech via the ban to prevent criticism of politicians’ children. On the morning of September 8, young Nepalis turned out in the thousands to protest entrenched nepotism and corruption, and to assert their rights to free speech and peaceful assembly.

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[...] As protesters attempted to enter the parliament building, the Nepal Police and the Armed Police Force employed deadly means of retaliation. Salvos of tear gas and water cannons gave way to rubber bullets and live ammunition, fired blindly into the crowd. A boy in a school uniform was shot in the head. Searing footage of him bleeding out very quickly went viral. By the end of the day, at least 19 protesters had been killed.

The shock, grief, and outrage were almost universal. Nepalis of all ages believed that the government had murdered these protesters — children! — in cold blood. The home minister, Ramesh Lekhak, resigned that evening. Oli did not. Prithvi Subba Gurung, the minister for communication, responded haughtily to questions about Oli’s resignation, saying the prime minister would not resign just because some people on the streets wanted him to.

Tuesday, September 9, dawned in anger. Despite curfews, crowds began to gather across the country. They were somewhat restrained at first, but anger quickly gave way to violence. Crowds stormed the houses of politicians and burnt them down. The leader of every one of the three biggest political parties – the Nepali Congress’s Deuba, the CPN-UML’s Oli, the Maoists’ Pushpa Kamal Dahal – lost their homes. Oli and Dahal managed to escape unscathed in military helicopters, but Deuba was not so lucky. Protesters cornered and beat him and his wife, Arzu, in their home, before the army finally rescued them. The seats of all three branches of government were attacked and set alight: Singha Durbar, the seat of the executive; the federal parliament; and the Supreme Court.

Gen Z-ers disavowed the violence and called for protesters to go home. Infiltrators had orchestrated the attacks, they said. It was clear that not all the protesters were Gen Z-ers; many were older, and clearly experienced with violence. Some came armed with khukuris and iron rods. [...]

At around 10 pm, the Nepal Army finally deployed to restore control. By then, there had been rampant looting and arson. Many private businesses were broken into and set on fire, including outlets of the Bhat Bhateni supermarket chain and the headquarters of Kantipur, the country’s main media house – both widely seen as politically connected.

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On Wednesday, September 10, the Chief of the Nepal Army, Ashok Raj Sigdel, asked Gen Z representatives to meet with him and the President, Ram Chandra Poudel, the last civilian leader in a high office. But the Gen Z protestors are not an organised group; they are simply a loose coalition of young people (many of whom do not strictly fit within the Gen Z age range). Their demands are varied, but they broadly agree that their primary agenda is the constitution and the creation of an interim government led by a person of their choosing. This interim government is tasked with dissolving parliament and conducting new elections within six months.

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To hash out all these issues, Gen Z-ers have been holding public town hall-style meetings on the online platform Discord. There, thousands of young Nepalis have discussed their agendas and potential candidates to lead the interim government. The debates have been lively, albeit a little naive. But they have demonstrated that young people are staking a claim to the governance of their country, and are interested in learning and grappling with affairs of the state. They are exercising their democratic rights as more than just voters, as the most significant bloc of the Nepali population and the future of Nepal. They are also doing what has long been denied to them – leading the country.

On Wednesday, on Discord, Gen Z-ers voted for Sushila Karki, a former chief justice, to lead the interim government. The septuagenarian prevailed over other figures popular with Gen Z, including Balendra Shah, the mayor of Kathmandu; Harka Sampang, the mayor of Dharan; and Sagar Dhakal, a youth activist and aspiring politician.

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Most Gen Z-ers I have spoken to did not know who Karki was before September 9. On that day, she joined the crowds on the streets to protest Monday’s killing. In a widely circulated interview, a visibly upset Karki denounced the political establishment, demanded accountability for the deaths, and placed the blame squarely on the government’s shoulders. Gen Z-ers were impressed that someone of her stature came and spoke out at a time when most people of her generation were safe indoors. They began researching who she was. Karki’s hard stance against corruption during her judicial career and her public exhortation to party leaders to hand over power to the next generation resonated especially well. Gen Z-ers also considered that a former chief justice might be the right person to facilitate a transition to a more youth-friendly, corruption-free government.

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The Nepal Army and its chief, Sigdel, have shown little interest in taking over the country, which they could have easily done by now if they wished. Instead, Sigdel appears to be playing the role of referee, bringing Gen Z-ers and the president to the same table. However, there are suspicions that the army has its own designs.