Nepal's Generation Z rebels against corruption and unemployment


No social revolt is born from a single cause, much less one with the fury shown in Nepal . It was a recent social media ban that brought young people to the streets of Kathmandu, the capital of this Himalayan country, but protesters answered the call with a long list of grievances that have accumulated over the years.
Distrust of a political elite clinging to power has been brewing for decades, fueled by endemic corruption, precarious employment, and a lack of opportunities for young people. Approximately 1,700 people leave the country every day for work, and 100,000 students leave annually to pursue their studies, according to official data cited by the Annapurna Express newspaper. Remittances have become both a pillar of the economy and a reflection of internal failure. Added to this is the frustration of a generation that grew up connected to the world through the internet and, seeing that space of freedom curtailed, felt that the only thing they had left: their voice, was being taken away.
On Monday, peaceful anti-corruption protests organized by the so-called Generation Z (those born between the late 1990s and early 2010s) led to violent clashes with security forces as protesters attempted to gain access to centers of power, such as Parliament. The police brutality, denounced by those who suffered it and by the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, left at least 30 dead and more than 400 injured.

The demonstrations intensified on Tuesday, despite the curfew imposed by the authorities. The government reversed the ban that sparked the protests, and Prime Minister Khagda Prasad Sharma Oli was forced to resign, but the tensions continued unabated.
“If shedding blood is good for our future, then I did well to participate in the protests,” Suman Rai, 20, told Reuters from his hospital bed, where he lay with his head and left wrist bandaged.
Mobs of angry citizens went after political leaders with the intention of holding them accountable. They stormed Parliament and set fire to the building . They did the same to the Supreme Court, the President's Office, and the headquarters of Kantipur Media Group, the country's largest media conglomerate. They burned the homes of around twenty ministers (the army had to evacuate them) and the private residence of the former Prime Minister. All of this was broadcast on social media, where images of former prime ministers and their families being attacked by protesters also circulated.
This Wednesday, The Kathmandu Post published an article disassociating the mobilized youth from the most serious episodes of vandalism . “What the country is witnessing now is not from Generation Z,” one of the protesters told the newspaper. “The anarchy, the chaos, the bloodshed are the work of opportunists, criminals, and failed leaders trying to tarnish our name.”

The Nepo Kids campaign (derived from the words "nepotism" and "child") has been growing on social media for weeks, targeting the children of politicians and influential figures accused of enriching themselves through corruption. Their photos showing off mansions, luxury cars, and exclusive trips—while much of the country survives on meager wages—have now become the target of ire among younger protesters.
For many Nepalis, the Nepo Kids embody the legacy of a political system that, since the 2015 Constitution came into force (which made Nepal a federal, secular republic), has remained in the hands of the same three leaders in an endless rotation of power that blocks the entry of new generations. These are Khagda Prasad Sharma Oli (the prime minister who was forced out), Pushpa Kamal Dahal (current opposition leader), and Sher Bahadur Deuba.
The ostentation of the children of this elite has not only infuriated those lacking opportunities, but has also highlighted the failure of a democratic regime that has failed to live up to the expectations with which the republic was founded. Transparency International, an independent organization that monitors government accountability, has ranked Nepal among the most corrupt nations in Asia . And after a series of scandals for which no one has been held accountable, the sense of impunity among the political class has deeply permeated the population.
Adding to this outrage is an even deeper malaise: the lack of work and decent opportunities. The official unemployment rate stood at 12.6% for the 2022-2023 period, according to the most recent Living Standards Survey, a figure that rises to 22.7% among people aged 15 to 24. These figures also tend to underestimate the severity of the problem, as they exclude the majority of Nepalis, who work without contracts in the agricultural sector. The Asian Development Bank estimated that, in 2022, approximately 20.3% of the population lived below the poverty line.
Faced with this reality, thousands of young people leave Nepal every day in search of job opportunities in the Persian Gulf, Malaysia, or India. Last year alone, more than 741,000 people left—representing 4% of the workforce—mainly to work as laborers or farmers, according to the Department of Overseas Employment, cited by local media. The result is an economy deeply dependent on remittances: in 2023, they represented more than 26% of GDP , a figure that far exceeds the global average, according to a report published by the International Fund for Agricultural Development (IFAD).
There are now fears that the political earthquake in Kathmandu will have ramifications. Nepal, a country of 30 million people wedged between the two most populous countries in the world, India and China, depends on both giants to sustain its economy and ensure its stability. The resignation of the prime minister has left a power vacuum with no clear successor, and several ministers have been forced to seek refuge with the security forces. Despite the curfew, calls for accountability and reform continue to multiply. Analysts cited by international agencies warn that if the government does not offer a credible response, the revolt could intensify. And this instability could add a new factor of uncertainty to a regional landscape already marked by strategic rivalries.
EL PAÍS