Revolution Is Contagious: The Cautionary Tale of Nepal’s Gen Z Uprising

Frazer Macdonald Hay
2 days ago
6 min read

Written by Frazer Macdonald Hay

Image by Frazer Macdonald Hay Kathmandu 2025

It wasn’t meant to be a revolution.

When young Nepalis poured into the streets of Kathmandu in September 2025, they were angry, but they were also hopeful. The government’s abrupt ban on social media had sparked outrage, yet beneath that decision lay years of frustration: corruption, inequality, and the spectacle of political elites living in abundance while most of the population slid deeper into disillusionment. What began as a silent movement and coordinated through TikTok, Discord, and Reddit quickly grew into a national roar. By the time the smoke cleared, at least seventy-two people were dead, hundreds were injured, government buildings were in ashes, and Nepal’s Prime Minister, K.P. Sharma Oli, had fled his residence under army protection.

Branded the “Gen Z Revolution”, the uprising reflected a generational disdain for entrenched politics and a demand for change. Yet, as the chants of “Enough is Enough” faded, Nepal was left to confront a more difficult question: what comes after a revolution that wasn’t meant to happen?

The Spark and the Shock

Earlier this month in Kathmandu, I met with Santosh and Prakash, two young activists who joined the first day of protests and now work with the Dikshya Foundation, a small NGO dedicated to education and empowerment. Over coffee in the Old District, they reflected on how a digital protest turned deadly. “It started as silence,” Santosh told me, referring to the early online coordination known as the silent movement. “Then it became noise, too much noise. Everyone speaking, no one listening.”

Their story began with optimism. The movement’s demands were simple: lift the social media ban, end corruption, and create accountability. But within 24 hours, police gunfire and chaos transformed the tone. Protestors stormed the parliament gates; nineteen young people were shot dead. As the ban on social media was lifted that evening, images of the dead spread across the country and rage ignited.

By the second day, the prime minister had resigned, and a political vacuum opened. Demonstrators set fire to government buildings, among them the historic Singha Durbar complex, the Supreme Court, and the residences of former leaders. Curfews failed to calm the streets. Prisons were attacked; thousands of inmates escaped. In the chaos, more than seventy people were killed, including a twelve-year-old child. Many of the dead were students.

“It was meant to be peaceful,” Prakash said quietly. “We only wanted to be heard.”

A Generation’s Betrayed Hope

Nepal’s Gen Z revolutionaries were not driven by ideology, but by a moral impatience with hypocrisy. They had watched the families of Communist, Maoist, and Social Democrat leaders flaunt luxury cars and foreign education while the country’s infrastructure, education, and health systems deteriorated. Their rebellion, at first, was not against the state itself but against a culture of impunity.

Figures like Balen Shah, the independent Mayor of Kathmandu, inspired many. A structural engineer and former rapper, Shah symbolised a new kind of leadership, pragmatic, uncorrupted, and unafraid. Another was Miraj K. Dhungana, a 24-year-old activist quietly supported by Shah, who became one of the informal faces of the movement. But as violence spread, both found themselves navigating dangerous territory.

Miraj told interviewers, “We’re not the ones burning the country down.” He claimed the original movement had been hijacked by outsiders and political opportunists. “How can ordinary young people, who don’t even know how to handle fuel properly, set such fires?” he asked. “That was the work of skilled hands, not students.”

His words reflect a familiar dynamic in post-revolutionary societies: the moral legitimacy of protest is easily stolen. Opportunists exploit chaos to reclaim relevance, and revolutions that begin as movements for justice often collapse into the very systems they sought to replace.

The Vacuum and the Return of the Old Guard

When the Prime Minister resigned and sought protection in a military compound, he left behind a fractured political landscape. In the weeks that followed, dozens of ministers stepped down or fled, while others quickly re-emerged, eager to position themselves as saviours. The power vacuum became a magnet for opportunism.

Now, an interim government under Sushila Karki, Nepal’s first female Chief Justice, has taken office, chosen through online voting among anti-corruption activists using Discord. Symbolically, it represents the spirit of digital democracy. Practically, it faces an impossible task: governing a traumatised country without the institutional strength or social trust to sustain it.

In Kathmandu, the political billboards are gone, but slogans remain painted on the walls: “Revolution is Contagious.” They speak both to inspiration and to danger. Across South and East Asia, from Sri Lanka to South Korea, protests have been energised by Nepal’s youth-led defiance. But contagion, as the word suggests, spreads in unpredictable ways, and not all outcomes are healthy.

The Fragile Work of Peace

The hardest part of any revolution is what follows.

Peacebuilding is often romanticised as a return to calm, but in reality, it is a renegotiation of power. It requires the transformation of relationships, institutions, and social norms, not just the silencing of guns. After the Gen Z revolution, the young generation faces a paradox: the same technology that empowered their movement may now hinder their recovery. Digital networks can coordinate rapid responses, but they also amplify misinformation and deepen mistrust. Virtual peace talks may be efficient, but they rarely build the kind of trust that comes from face-to-face encounters.

Nepal’s peacebuilders now face three overlapping dangers:

Speed without stability: the rush to reform without planning.
Change without cohesion: the exclusion of victims and the traumatised from the rebuilding process.
Power without principle: the opportunism of those who see revolution as a career opportunity.

Already, the old habits of political life are returning. Misinformation spreads faster than fact, seasoned politicians whisper promises of “unity” while manoeuvring for advantage, and social media influencers, once voices of truth, now compete for sponsorship and visibility. The slogans of transparency and reform are being repurposed as tools of narrative control.

The risk is clear: without vigilance, the Gen Z revolution could become a rehearsal of the same political theatre it tried to burn down.

Spoilers and Opportunists

In the language of peacebuilding, individuals or groups who seek to undermine reconciliation for personal or political gain are known as “spoilers.” They often emerge in moments of transition, when institutions are weak and public trust is low. In Nepal today, spoilers range from discredited politicians hoping for redemption to social media entrepreneurs who have learned that outrage pays.

The resignation of Prime Minister Oli has not ended the political chess game; it has merely reset the board. New alliances form daily, not around principles, but around access to resources, publicity, and power. For every young activist calling for reform, there are others, older and more seasoned, waiting to co-opt their message.

Santosh told me that many protesters now feel betrayed. “We gave everything for change,” he said. “And already we see the same faces returning, promising to fix what they broke.”

The Missing Discourse: Healing and Cohesion

In all of this political noise, what is most absent is a conversation about healing. Few speak of the victims, of the students shot near parliament, of the families who lost their homes, of the trauma that lingers. There are no memorials planned, no public apologies, no spaces for collective mourning. The emphasis, instead, is on control: who leads, who funds, who speaks.

Yet without recognition of suffering, there can be no genuine peace. Social cohesion cannot grow from denial. The revolution’s energy must now turn toward reconstruction, not just of buildings, but of trust.

A Cautionary Reflection

Revolutions are emotional accelerants. They compress years of frustration into days of action. But peacebuilding is the opposite: slow, frustrating, and procedural. The danger for Nepal’s youth is not only that their ideals may be hijacked, but that they may lose patience with the pace of genuine change.

As one protestor told me, “We fought corruption, but now I see corruption in the fight itself.”

Across the world, the slogan “Revolution is Contagious” has inspired young people to rise against oppression and greed. But contagion is double-edged: passion spreads as quickly as manipulation. The next revolution may be sparked in the name of justice, but without reflection, it may only reproduce the old injustices under new banners.

If you are prepared to risk life and limb for change, don’t give it all away in the peacebuilding process. Stay vigilant, informed, and united in the long work of constructing a just and stable future. Be mindful of opportunists, spoilers, and the seductive pull of power. Remember what the movement started for, and who laid down their lives for progress.