A government’s attempt to silence dissent by blocking social media has backfired, unleashing the fury of a generation already weary of corruption and economic stagnation. The result is Nepal’s worst unrest in decades and the sudden resignation of its prime minister.
Nepal is reeling this week from a wave of protests that ostensibly began over a government decision to block social media and spiralled into a full-scale political crisis. The ban, which targeted nearly two dozen platforms including Facebook, WhatsApp, YouTube and X, was lifted after days of chaos, but by then the damage was done. The streets of Kathmandu and other cities filled with demonstrators, mostly from Generation Z (defined as the cohort born between 1997 and 2012), who saw the restriction not only as censorship but as one more sign of a government unwilling to listen to its people.
The scale of the demonstrations, the intensity of the clashes, and the tragic loss of life have shaken the country and led to serious concerns throughout Asia. According to reports, at least 22 people were killed on Monday alone in Kathmandu and the eastern city of Itahari after security forces fired on crowds, and more than 400 others were injured. Hospitals have struggled to cope with the influx of casualties, and eyewitness accounts suggest live ammunition was used alongside water cannons and tear gas. The UN human rights office said it was “shocked” by the killings and called for a transparent investigation. Amnesty International described the use of lethal force against largely unarmed protesters as a grave violation of international law.
More recent reports have placed the revised death toll from the protests at 51.
As the death toll mounted during the week, public anger grew. Protesters defied curfews, torching parliament, the Supreme Court, and other government buildings. On the second day of unrest, Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli tendered his resignation, writing in a letter that the “extraordinary situation” left him no other choice. His departure followed that of several senior ministers, including the home, agriculture, water and health chiefs, who quit under the weight of the crisis. By evening, demonstrators had forced their way into Oli’s private residence, ransacking and setting parts of it ablaze.
LONG-SIMMERING ANGER BOILS OVER
What began as outrage at a social media ban quickly became an outlet for deeper frustrations. For years, Nepalis have endured what many see as entrenched corruption, stagnant job growth, and a political elite divorced from everyday realities. Young people in particular feel abandoned. The World Bank estimates that youth unemployment in Nepal stood at 20.8% in 2024, a sobering figure in a country where nearly half the population is under 30. With limited opportunities at home, many choose to leave. Remittances from Nepalis working abroad now account for more than one-third of the country’s GDP, an extraordinary reliance that speaks volumes about domestic prospects.
Into this environment came a decision that, to the government, may have seemed technical, but to young citizens felt like a direct assault. Social media has become central to how Gen Z connects, organises, and expresses itself. Platforms like TikTok, Instagram and YouTube not only offer entertainment but also expose corruption and highlight inequality. In recent months, viral campaigns mocking “Nepo Kids” — the children of politicians flaunting wealth and privilege online — had fuelled resentment. When the government tried to pull the plug, it was the final straw — and the spark needed to ignite the tinderbox.
The speed and size of the response surprised many observers. Thousands poured into the streets, brandishing placards, waving phones, and chanting against corruption. A 28-year-old protester told reporters the movement was about much more than social media, describing it as “the long history of corruption and bad governance” finally boiling over. The energy was palpable, with crowds swelling to enormous sizes, despite the danger of a heavy police presence.
For the ruling class, the fallout was swift. Oli, a veteran of Nepali politics, was on his fourth term as prime minister. He initially tried to downplay the unrest, expressing sadness at the deaths but suggesting infiltration by “vested interest groups” was to blame. That line did little to calm the fury in the streets. As more buildings were burned and the airport in Kathmandu shut down, his position became untenable. President Ram Chandra Paudel has since appealed for calm, urging dialogue and calling for a peaceful resolution. Behind the scenes, lawmakers are now exploring interim leadership arrangements, with former Chief Justice Sushila Karki mentioned as a possible caretaker prime minister.
WHAT COMES NEXT: WILL PAST BE PROLOGUE FOR NEPAL?
International reaction has been cautious but firm. The UN Secretary General called for restraint and an end to excessive force. The US State Department advised its citizens in Nepal to shelter in place. Rights groups continue to document allegations of abuse by security forces, including the firing of live rounds at unarmed crowds. Calls for independent investigations are growing, though whether these will materialise remains to be seen.
What sets this movement apart, observers have noted, is not only its intensity but also its character. Largely decentralised, it lacks a single leader or party affiliation. Many participants openly reject Nepal’s traditional political class, insisting they want accountability rather than more of the same faces. Their demands are broad but urgent: greater transparency, action on corruption, more jobs, and an end to elite privilege. The fact that they toppled a prime minister in just days underscores their potential influence, though it also raises questions about what comes next.
There is precedent for protest movements reshaping Nepal’s political landscape. The country has endured monarchy, civil war, and transitions to republican democracy, each marked by upheaval and street activism. Yet this generation’s revolt feels distinct. These are young people who have grown up online, who know how their peers live in other countries, and who are no longer willing to accept what they see as a rigged system. Their voices echo with both anger and aspiration, demanding that Nepal move beyond symbolic changes toward systemic reform.
The government has announced plans to set up an investigative panel within two weeks to look into the violence. But trust between authorities and protesters is thin, and whether such a panel will satisfy demands remains uncertain. In the meantime, curfews are in place, the army is deployed in the capital, and the mood remains volatile. The fires of Kathmandu may have died down, but the embers of discontent are still red-hot.
As Nepal searches for its next leader, the country stands at a crossroads. The resignation of KP Sharma Oli may provide short-term relief, but without deeper reforms, the grievances that fuelled this uprising will not go away. The challenge now is whether the political system can adapt to meet the demands of a generation that refuses to be silenced. If it cannot, Nepal risks being drawn into further cycles of unrest and repression. If it can, the turmoil of this week might yet be remembered as the painful birth of a new political era.
