Preamble

The September 7th and 8th Gen-Z revolution was a result of a politics that looks like a spider web—opposition-free collusive politics with impunity, concentrated for decades in the hands of a few leaders—with its tentacles of political penetration reaching into every segment of society—and a wealth-pump economic model, fueled by remittances of those who shed sweat and blood in foreign lands, to maintain the lifestyle of the far removed political elites.

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Ever since the fall of the government in Nepal following the Gen-Z uprising in September, everyone is facing a question: what next?

The euphoria of change and hope—and the sadness of the fallen—have usually followed the other two revolutions within the last 30 years. Vanguards of the Gen-Z revolution, whoever they are, and there seem to be many since it is a headless movement, must reflect on the past two revolutions and the lessons they can learn.

For me, what always worried me was the certainty with which past actors came forward armed with “solutions.” This is where I began to think that prescriptions and solutions, no matter how well-intentioned, always carry some risk.

This is aptly captured by the economist Thomas Sowell: “There are no solutions, only trade-offs.” Simply put, if you say “yes” to something, you may also be saying “no” to something else. There is no absolute truth and no absolute solution.

For example:

If you divvy up all the countless investigative and constitutional bodies according to party collusive allocation, you are institutionalizing corruption with impunity.

If you defer in your party constitution all power and decision-making to a single party president, you are basically sacrificing democratic ideals for autocracy. This recent collapse could have been avoided with a more shared governance model within the party.

If you create a constitution with the provision of selecting upper house members according to party allocation, for example, you are filtering and denying the voice of the people on the ground and sacrifice checks and balance against the lower house.

If you select the president based on party allocation, you create a supreme head beholden to party bosses, not to the citizens.

These examples show the lapses in the constitution that has made it more pro-party rather than pro-people. At the same time, while proposing solutions, Gen Z and other emerging voices—even within old parties—must keep trade-offs in mind. With that, let us look at Nepal’s last two revolutions and the lessons they hold.

The First Revolution: The Beginning of the Spider Web

The first, in 1990, was the struggle for a multiparty system against the one-party autocratic Panchayat regime. Led by students and citizens, it brought down the monarchy’s control and opened the door to multiparty democracy.

The vibrant political freedom that followed generated much excitement and participation. Liberal economic policies opened new opportunities, but without any anti-corruption mechanism in place, they also created fertile ground for corruption. Parties, run like private clubs, began to show their true colors. The culture of corruption quickly spread, along with nepotism and the suppression of dissent within the party polity.

Result was that many suspected of corruption and bribery were rarely prosecuted or even investigated for years. This began to unfold like a spider web of loyalists beholden to each other and to the power center. The center of power grew stronger as it added more nodes to capture victims and extract rents. This is how elite overproduction—a topic I have presented elsewhere (See article below #1)—began to take hold.

Basically, the spider web of corrupt and centralized power had moved from the royal palace to the party headquarters. Party leaders built narrow corridors of access. In the name of the party, different nodes in this web engaged in corruption. Anyone with strength, ability, and connections had a better chance of slipping through that corridor. Professional organizations began to emerge under different party banners, and within a few years the societal web widened. The overproduction of elites was in full swing.

Outside the façade stood professors, students, lawyers, nurses, community forest stakeholders, bureaucrats and more —all carrying party banners in the guise of unions. They were simply the extended arms of the party cadre machine. The party center and its loyal nodes began to take over government institutions: courts, law enforcement, universities and more —all serving the king spider in the middle.

With no institutions independent enough to enforce accountability, resources from research centers were diverted to personal NGOs and foundations. Once-reputable academic institutions like CEDA and CNAS, for example, turned into empty shells, while elite-run NGOs sprang up everywhere. Public universities and colleges were completely politicized, leading to the proliferation of private educational enterprises with the financial involvement of politicians themselves. Issuing licenses for medical, engineering, and a host of other colleges became a lucrative source of graft for policymakers. As the quality of education in public schools began to suffer, students started leaving the country for higher education abroad—averaging 100,000 a year and costing the country billions of rupees annually. Even the press and media happily joined as nodes in the party’s spider web.

The first revolution gave freedom, but it also planted the spider web of corruption, mismanagement, and rent-seeking. At the same time, the existing party structure remained in the hands of the ethnic elites of society—the higher castes—while almost 60 percent of ethnic minorities, including Madhesis in the South, were left out. They were deprived of political voice, economic opportunity, and participation in administrative and decision-making structures.

The Second Revolution: Justice and Betrayal

The second revolution, led by the Maoists, rose because the first one had failed to deliver justice and equality for those who had been shunned for centuries. It gave a voice to the voiceless, to the marginalized, and pushed Nepal into a federal republic.

For a time, it succeeded. But soon, it too was caught in the same spider web. Instead of fighting for the true upliftment of the poor and neglected, the leaders joined the game of extractive, rent-seeking activities.

The young warriors who once carried rifles in the villages now enjoyed mansions, luxury goods, and lavish parties, They denounced the West while quietly sending their kids abroad for education.

The country was now captured by three power hubs—Oli, Deuba, and Prachanda—always playing a musical game of power. The whole system became corrupt, dysfunctional, chaotic, and over-bloated, with governments changing every few months. The absence of term limits allowed the same leaders to recycle themselves in power again and again, paving the way for dynastical handovers, political maneuvering, and concentration of resources.

With no effective opposition in place, elite overproduction was at its peak. Meanwhile, young minds left the country in droves for jobs and education. Nepal lost its talent, while remittance—almost one-fourth of GDP—kept flowing back in to feed the spider web. This became a “wealth-pump economic model”: extracting from the poor to sustain the lifestyle of the political rich.

Agricultural land went barren as hundreds of thousands left the country for work abroad. Nepal became a net importer. But the three leaders kept the game alive, running their parties with tight control, silencing dissent, and kicking out challengers. The country was teetering toward collapse, which I warned about four months ago in my op-ed on Nepal Unplugged. (See article #2 #3)

The second revolution, born in the name of justice, ended up in betrayal.

The Third Revolution: Breaking the Web

By now, the country was ripe for another revolt. This time it was led by the youth—Generation Z.

They self-organized through social media. They mobilized on their own, rose up, and challenged the entrenched structure that had used Nepal as its playground. The tragic events of September 7 and 8 ensued, but the world was stunned to see Nepal’s decades-old juggernaut collapse in 72 hours.

Out of this came an interim government after the dissolution of parliament. We still have to see how it is going to play out over the next six months, the target time for the new election.

But the path ahead is not easy. If Gen-Z and aspiring reformers within the established parties are to succeed, they must learn from the past two revolutions.

The lesson from the first: political freedom without institutional checks and balances, and without internal party democracy, breeds corruption. Parties as private clubs will always protect their own and suppress dissent. This is a common feature of all the parties. I have thus proposed a constitutional provision to require parties to operate with democratic norms just like the constitution itself, not outside of it. I have described this in more detail in another op-ed posted on Nepal Unplugged. (See article #4)

The lesson from the second: slogans and ideology do not feed the poor. Outdated communism and sermons on Lenin or Mao cannot work in the 21st century. People need policies and plans, not rhetoric. Perhaps a European-style social democratic model, instead of the hard-core ideologies of Mao and Lenin, might resonate with ordinary people.

The temptation to fall into the same trap will always be there. But if Gen-Z and reformers in other parties are serious about breaking the web, they must resist corruption, nepotism, and quick wealth. They must create a culture of fairness, meritocracy, and accountability—not another version of the private club politics of the past.

Lessons for Gen Z and Other Aspiring Reformers: The Trade-Offs

Thomas Sowell once said: “There are no solutions, only trade-offs.” That insight is crucial for Nepal’s third revolution. Every “yes” will also mean a “no” somewhere else. Gen-Z, along with aspiring reformers inside the old parties, must carry that wisdom as they move forward. Some examples follow:

If you divvy up investigative and constitutional bodies by party collusion, you are institutionalizing corruption with impunity. Such arrangements may look like “compromise” at first, but they rot the system from within.

If you say “yes” to an executive head of government, for example, you might end up inviting authoritarian rule while silencing the opposition. Tunisia offers a cautionary tale: the Jasmine Revolution of 2010 brought fresh reforms, but by 2022, the president had consolidated authoritarian power. Be careful what you wish for—without proper checks and balances, reform can quickly turn into repression.

If you liberalize the market without proper regulation and anti-corruption measures, you risk propagating corruption.

If you do not set out a code of ethics for your party leaders, you may risk having them use their authority to get into business and NGO engagements, raising conflict of interest issues.

If you do not implement term limits, you risk perpetual leadership, dynastical handover, political maneuvering, and concentration of resources. The issue is not about the age of the politician—whether in their 60s or 70s—but about the lack of generational turnover built into the system. Even someone who comes to power in their 30s can cling to it until their 60s. Without term limits and democratic processes—primaries, internal checks, and transparency—the problem remains the same.

Build your party away from a personality-centric model. Term limits will help.

Strengthen organizational networks both through the digital sphere and through old-fashioned door-to-door mobilization.

Tap into decentralized decision-making, akin to blockchain technology.

Learn from the swarm intelligence of ants and the flocks of birds: each single entity’s awareness contributes to the whole, building resilience and the ability to bounce back against shocks and attacks. That is, a bottom-up emergence channel is more powerful than top-down dictation.

Embrace slow productivity: work on fewer pressing issues with high priority instead of spreading thin; work at a natural pace with focus and dedication; and obsess over quality rather than quantity.

Focus on delivery and substance rather than image and publicity.

Embrace the principle of “learn, apply, repeat.”

Never cease to learn, experiment, and innovate, or risk being outdated in less than a decade—just like many of the old parties.

If the leaders of the young generation lead the charge to change the face of Nepal’s political landscape, the current ratio of political elites (30,000 political official seats, not including 5 million political cadres) to registered businesses (7,000) will be reversed in no time—just as has been done successfully in countries like Vietnam, Cambodia, and Malaysia, who have gone many folds ahead of us although starting at par around 30 years ago. (See article #5)

In closing, Nepal has already seen what happens when revolutions fall into the same traps. Only by understanding trade-offs and learning from the past can Gen-Z and other reformers avoid weaving yet another spider web of corruption, power, and elite overproduction. A quick review of three centuries of Nepal’s socio-economic cycles will be especially valuable for Gen-Z and the generations to come. (See article #6)

Only then can Nepal’s third revolution truly become the charm.