This September, a youth-led uprising toppled the Nepali government. The movement erupted with a ferocity not seen since 2006, when nationwide protests forced King Gyanendra from power and set Nepal on the path to becoming a federal democratic republic in 2008. This time, the upheaval was shorter and more violent, leaving at least 72 people dead and state institutions in flames. Within a single day, parliament and major government buildings were reduced to ruins and the government collapsed.
Since becoming a republic, Nepal has cycled through 14 governments, each mired in infighting, patronage, and corruption. For a generation raised on democratic promises but denied progress, the political elite has become the symbol of state failure.
Although India and China have long competed for influence in Kathmandu, and some observers speculated they were involved in the recent unrest, there is little credible evidence to support these claims. This revolution was homegrown.
The immediate trigger was a blanket ban on 26 social media platforms. Some analysts say the ban had been in the works for months. Others argue its timing was tipped by the viral “Nepo Kids” trend, which spread via social media and exposed the contrast between politicians’ children flaunting luxury and the grim economic prospects of ordinary Nepalis.
Regardless of the precise cause, for a generation saddled with unemployment and disillusionment, the ban confirmed their betrayal by a political class that promised inclusion but delivered little.
Officials assumed that cutting access to social media would stifle dissent. Instead, it sparked the peaceful September 8 Gen Z protest against the bans and corruption. When security forces opened fire, killing at least 19, anger hardened into resolve – much as the Boston Massacre, Bloody Sunday, or more recently the shootings in Daraa and crackdowns in Yangon hardened protest into revolutionary struggle.
Under pressure that night, the government reversed the ban – but too late. As platforms jolted back to life, graphic evidence of the shootings spread at viral speed, transforming protest into nationwide revolt overnight. The next day, millions watched events unfold online, many provoked by what they witnessed to coordinate and take to the streets. Government complexes were set ablaze nationwide, leaders fled burning homes, and the government collapsed.
The collapse was only the beginning. The deeper test for Nepal is whether its entrenched and newly ascendant political classes can restore public trust and deliver credible elections before disillusionment hardens into another wave of instability.
The crisis was sparked by the attempt to control Nepal’s information environment, but it was the combination of lethal force and the viral spread of its evidence that pushed mobilization beyond the state’s capacity to contain. Even without the internet, anger at the killings would have driven people into the streets. Yet it would almost certainly have unfolded more slowly and at a smaller scale, particularly without the organizing support of opportunistic political parties.
The revolt’s scale underscored how deeply corruption and chronic misrule had stripped state institutions of legitimacy, while its speed revealed how quickly social media can transform anger into revolution. Without reform, it could happen just as suddenly again.
If Nepal is to prevent another uprising, reform must begin at the political core. Three options are now under debate: reinstating parliament and pursuing reform, drafting a new constitution, or holding elections under the existing framework. Elections, announced for March, are the right path because they offer citizens a chance to choose new leaders after their disillusionment with the old. They must come with agreements for reform. Reinstating discredited figures would further erode trust, while drafting another constitution would be costly, lengthy, and unnecessary when the 2015 charter remains a solid framework.
One of the central failures of Nepal’s transition has been that political parties ignored and abused that charter. They remain unreformed, weakly institutionalized, opaque, and factional. Parties must democratize, allow generational turnover, and embrace transparency or no election will restore trust. These are not abstract reforms: they reflect the core demands of the Gen Z protesters who took to the streets for accountable leaders, an end to nepotism, and a political system that finally delivers on the promises of democracy.
Equally urgent is the need to confront Nepal’s information environment: both the dangers of censorship and the risks of unchecked disinformation. The recent ban showed that cutting citizens off can itself ignite revolt. However, the same online space also carried high levels of disinformation, misinformation, and other harmful content during the uprising – and it continues to deepen instability.
Repressive control of speech is counterproductive, as recent events showed in Nepal and in other democracies, or those aspiring to be. At the same time, harmful content, whether seeded by political opportunists at home or manipulated by foreign actors, cannot be ignored. The answer lies in balance: protecting free expression while building institutions resilient enough to withstand speech that undermines rights and erodes democracy. This remains one of the hardest challenges of the internet age. Nepal can draw lessons from elsewhere in Asia, from resisting heavy-handed censorship to countering disinformation campaigns and pressing platforms for accountability.
Immediate steps are critical ahead of the elections. Sidelined parties, emboldened royalists, and opportunistic external actors will almost certainly exploit the situation to distort debate and undermine legitimacy. Civil society and journalists need resources for independent monitoring, rapid fact-checking, and transparent communication. As Subina Shrestha recently wrote in Nieman Reports, the Harvard-based journalism review, legacy media in Nepal “reacted” to the uprising rather than shaping its narrative, and in the process lost the trust of a generation attuned to memes and Discord. Strengthening journalists who can straddle facts and the vernacular of digital protest is essential.
The interim government must also work with civil society to ensure their findings are heard. But platforms themselves bear responsibility. So far, companies like Meta and X have shown little interest in engaging with Nepali authorities or investing in Nepali-language moderation, leaving citizens exposed to disinformation in one of the world’s most fragile democracies. That must change.
Ahead of polls, platforms should be required to sign transparent agreements to expand local-language moderation, publish real-time ad libraries, and cooperate with civil society through rapid-escalation channels. If they resist, the answer cannot be another sweeping ban, which only deepens instability, but sustained pressure and accountability to meet their obligations to some 30 million citizens in a democracy.
On the legislative front, the Social Media Bill of 2025 – though not yet fully enacted – reflects an ambition to formalize sweeping controls over digital platforms and must be revisited through genuine consultation. Heavy-handed measures like the proposed National Internet Gateway – essentially a digital authoritarian single choke point for all online traffic that would allow authorities to cut, filter, or surveil the internet at will – must be rejected. Regulation is necessary, but it must be designed to protect citizens and democracy from exploitation, not shield politicians from criticism.
In the longer term, investment in education and literacy, including digital literacy, must be prioritized, however costly, because stronger education systems consistently reinforce democratic resilience.
Nepal now faces a long and precarious road of rebuilding, with ample room for backsliding. The lesson of September is that society’s anger cannot be ignored. Leaders must deliver on citizens’ demands while ensuring the information space supports democracy. September showed how quickly anger can topple a government. March will show whether democracy can rise in its place.
What happens in Kathmandu will echo far beyond Nepal. This is a test of whether fragile democracies can withstand the volatility of the digital age.