Nepal’s Unfinished Republic
South Asia has been hit hard by protests; Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Myanmar, and Pakistan are specific cases. Most of these states share common causes that result in periodic collapse of the working of these state systems: weak institutions, feudal state apparatus, little or no civil society, elitism, economic problems, and foreign interference. The modern nation-state project has never faced such stress in this region. Sitting at the head of the strategically important Indian Ocean, the region is witnessing a new wave of public anger and new challenges for policymakers. Nepal is the latest case. Kathmandu’s Ratna Park is again mirroring Nepal’s politics, echoing cries of “No jobs, no future - no faith; Democracy, not dictatorship!” The place is again in the throes of civilian unrest, with much of its young population taking to the streets. Violence breeds more anger and uncertainty. What shapes the protests across South Asia is not just instant disillusion with the ruling elite but a deep structural malaise now exploding. In Nepal, public outrage is surfacing again; most protesters were likely born after the royal flag was lowered, showing how democracy’s failure can lead impatient youth to lose faith in a system that has failed to deliver. The rage is old, shaped by the turbulent journey of the republic, a decade-long Maoist insurgency, the fall of the crown, and the steady erosion of democratic ideals.
The People’s War against the Royal Monarchy was launched by a small Maoist group in 1996, which they saw as a battle against the feudal and exclusionary system run by the monarchy. It started in some pockets of the kingdom but spread quickly, reaching many social and ethnic groups. The promise of land reforms, equality, and justice resonated with these marginalized groups. For a decade, the kingdom bled, with 17,000 killed and pitched battles between rebels and the Royal Army. A full-blown armed insurgency broke out. It was not just an insurgency; a century-old structure was challenged and dismantled. Although the promises did not materialize and the call for jan rajya fell flat, by 2005 the kingdom was ruled with an iron fist, forcing all political parties and groups to unite against the king. This led to the complete collapse of the 240-year-old monarchy by 2006.
The dawn of 2008 led to the rising of the crimson flag over Kathmandu; all united groups from civil to armed groups sat in the chambers of democracy - birth of a democratic republic, a new parliament. All parties, mostly leftist-oriented, had a “Naya Nepal” promise, a rebranding of the Jan Rajya arrangement. Consequently, mutual feud amongst the parties and shifting coalitions led to a new phase of corruption, revolutionaries turned into career politicians, and social welfare took the backseat. Like all revolutions, it ended by eating its own flesh, and “democracy without delivery” is what people called it.
Monarchy echoes despite the country making a transition to democracy; the mantle of the social order remains feudal, hierarchical, patriarchal, and caste-based. Bureaucracy, army, and politics remain monopolized by high caste groups, and the rural economy remains agrarian; women are out of the inheritance and decision-making social code. After the fall of the king, the social pyramid stands intact, the heft to initiate reforms still remains a dream which no leader is willing to undertake. The country remained politically squabbled in the capital, Kathmandu, and millions of young Nepalis looked outside, to the Gulf, Malaysia, and India to earn their livelihoods. By 2020’s remittances nearly reached a quarter of the country’s GDP. Normal business and life cycles are paid for by migration, a state sustained by the labour of its absent citizens.
In 2018, the changed political realities led to the merger of the Nepal Communist Party under K P Sharma Oli and Pushpa Kamal Dahal (Prachanda), consequently winning elections by a landslide. Analysts concluded that the republic has matured, to the surprise and shock of the people, Oli in 2020 moved to dissolve the parliament. This shattered the public faith again. This exigency was succeeded by a Pandemic; the entire healthcare system was overwhelmed, and dead bodies were piling up outside the hospitals. The cynicism again crept in, inflation soared, fuel prices skyrocketed, and a silent revolution was underway. Remittances funded the most livelihoods and GDP; the crisis became personal, let alone political.
By September 2025, the discontent had reached a boiling point, with high unemployment fueling more discontent and more public outcry. Instead of addressing the people’s concerns, the government banned social media. This triggered a massive public outburst, turning people from across the country against the government and back to the streets. The protestors, mostly born after 2000, fed on revolution, equality discourse, and being digitally well-connected, saw corruption and unemployment rampant in the system. From the slogans of “Democracy not dictatorship” to “Democracy without delivery” to “Roti, Rozgar, Nyaya”, and promised democracy, but we got despair, Nepalis saw another repression, killing 70 and injuring 2000, and compelled Oli to resign. Among the placards were unexpected symbols: portraits of the late King Birendra and the national flag of the old monarchy. For some protesters, the return of royal imagery was nostalgia for stability rather than ideology. But it signaled something deeper—a crisis of faith in the republic itself. The message was not entirely restorationist but reflective of despair: “At least we had order then.” This sentiment reveals that if a crisis gets out of control due to failed governance, it can invite dangerous romanticism.
The crisis after crisis isn’t just coincidental but stems from feudalism’s lingering shadow, which continues to shape both economy and imagination. The rural economy runs on land controlled by a few, with very low social mobility, and feudal hierarchies govern everyday interaction. Patronage culture dominates urban centres, merit is outweighed by loyalty, and innovation by inheritance. The democratic system that pledged constitutional rights, hitherto failed to dismantle feudalism, rather replicated it in new forms. The only thing that happened due to the transition to democracy was that ministers replaced monarchs, and party bosses replaced landlords. The republic is caught in the crossfire of modern and medieval anomalies; wired into global networks, yet it couldn’t rule out old habits of control. The Gen-Z protest that engulfed the whole country didn’t only demand jobs and welfare, but they are demanding an end to the centuries-old social contract based on feudal hierarchies.
Neal isn’t alone in this; many other South Asian countries are suffering the same malaise: weak institutions, corruption, elitism, feudalism, and decaying institutions. Their placards may differ in language, but the themes are identical—accountability, dignity, survival. In that sense, the “Naya Andolan” places Nepal within a continental pattern: a youth demanding what their parents were promised but never received.
From the People’s War to the Gen-Z revolution, Nepal stands between memory and possibility. Although the republic was born with optimism and idealism, it has survived on compromise. The current protest landscape is both an accusation and a reminder that the revolution is incomplete. The leadership might act deaf to the perennial frustration powered by the structure, the youth have reclaimed the streets once more, and again the ground echoes with slogans, courage, and hope that even in disillusionment, the democracy’s heart still beats. Amid this chaos, as Nepal heads towards an election scheduled in 2026, there is a possibility that the old elite reshuffles power once again, right-wing and monarchist forces will gain traction again, or a genuine democratic renewal takes place. The path ahead will depend on the sustenance of street power. The challenge for Nepal’s left is existential: either reconnect with the anger of this generation or risk irrelevance. Even if it doesn’t return to Monarchy, the spark to ignite protests will keep haunting the republic now and in the future. Any arrangement under democracy or interim, will have to be careful about the scheme of governance, one that doesn’t treat people as subjects but must treat them as citizens with rights.
Mehraj Bhat is a researcher in South Asian geopolitics.
