Since this is the last op-ed of 2025, it’s worth recapping recent political developments and putting them into perspective, as many significant events are happening suddenly. For those following Nepali politics, turbulence has often been the norm rather than the exception. What outsiders see as chaos is, in fact, a managed system of instability where domestic elites, external actors, personalities, and institutions interact to maintain control while creating the illusion of uncertainty.
Nepal is rarely quiet for long. One week, ambassadors are recalled or have a heart attack; the next, royal family members quietly visit Siliguri, India. Street protests flare up in Kathmandu, media personalities dominate the discourse, and judicial decisions are contested or bypassed overnight. To a casual observer, the country might seem on the verge of collapse. However, those familiar with its rhythms understand that what appears disorderly is intentional—a sophisticated game of perception and influence played by elites under both domestic and international scrutiny.
The nearly simultaneous recall of Chinese and American ambassadors exemplifies this dynamic. In most countries, rotations are routine. In Nepal, however, timing is strategically critical. Beijing views Kathmandu as a sensitive Himalayan border; Washington considers Nepal a key point in its Indo-Pacific strategy, where influence is exerted symbolically with little material investment. Neither seeks outright dominance; both aim to limit the other’s leverage. Volatility isn’t failure; it’s an accepted reality.
New Delhi watches closely. Political instability in Bangladesh has prompted a reassessment of buffer states. Nepal, long seen as a strategic backyard and political irritant, is now back in focus. The royal family visit, private yet symbolically significant, coincided with meetings involving India’s intelligence and security agencies. This wasn’t just a royal revival; it was about keeping options open and signaling influence. External actors exert power subtly—through observation and calculated gestures rather than direct intervention.
The U.S. operates similarly. Engagement with younger political groups—so-called “Gen-Z strategies”—provides low-cost leverage, not intervention. Supporting civil society, governance reform, and youth mobilization boosts visibility and influence without substantial investment. In Nepal’s fragile institutions, perception alone can shift incentives. Narratives around political actors shape policies, influence elite behavior, and alter the strategic environment. This isn’t regime engineering; it’s patient, precise pressure.
Domestic leadership issues are particularly impactful. The appointment of retired General Balananda Sharma, now in his late seventies, as Foreign Minister has drawn intense scrutiny. Beyond concerns about his diplomatic inexperience, Sharma faces allegations of involvement in the sale and smuggling of antique weapons from the Nepal Army Museum to foreign collectors, including in the U.S. These claims, whether fully proven or circumstantial, raise serious questions about judgment, integrity, and accountability at the highest levels of government. A man with such a controversial record—accused of monetizing national heritage artifacts—is now expected to work with veteran diplomats from New Delhi, Beijing, and Washington. His appointment reflects a recurring pattern in Nepali politics: choices based on loyalty or symbolic value rather than competence, with stakes that go beyond ceremony and affect Nepal’s credibility, bargaining power, and moral standing.
Nepal also faces additional institutional pressures. Figures like Durga Prasai, a champion for those from lower socio-economic backgrounds known as ‘Bhuimaanchhe,’ have repeatedly warned that unless their demands are met, a “real revolution” is imminent. These pressures reveal how fragile Nepal’s political landscape is, demonstrating how influential actors outside formal governance shape policy, create tension, and push for reform. Governance in Nepal is an ongoing negotiation between official authority and informal influence.
The rise of multiple political parties further complicates the picture. Nepal now has more registered parties than its population proportionally suggests. Many aspire to ministerial or prime ministerial roles, yet most lack clear agendas capable of stabilizing the country or fostering structured economic, social, and cultural development. Political ambition often eclipses systemic problem-solving, perpetuating instability.
Certain personalities influence politics not as alternatives to government but as pressure points within the system. Ravi Lamichhane, Balen Shah, and Kulman Ghising are examples. Lamichhane’s populism, fueled by media attention, is unpredictable; Balen Shah’s management affects local governance; Kulman Ghising’s technocratic success revealed inefficiencies that the system later neutralized. Since figures like Lamichhane, Shah, Ghising, and the so-called interim Prime Minister, Madam Karki, and her loyal “gang-members” of ministers—including the recently appointed Foreign Minister—are widely accused of being tools of Western influence, especially U.S. interests, their role in navigating domestic and global politics remains critical. The Gen-Z generation, once seen as transformative, is now largely neutralized—disrupted, co-opted, or distracted by hashtags and external actors. These personalities have become instruments of foreign agendas, often at the expense of Nepalis, with narratives shaping strategic incentives.
At the institutional level, entrenched party elites—like KP Sharma Oli, Pushpa Kamal Dahal, and Sher Bahadur Deuba—share a core goal: maintaining parliamentary dominance. Parliament is seen less as a democratic institution and more as a tool for elite control—centralizing bargaining, routine patronage, reassuring international partners, and avoiding accountability. Street protests and personality-driven politics are tolerated only when they don’t threaten this balance. Oli’s approach of negotiating while tolerating disruptions reflects a shared understanding: elections are risky, but pressure can be used without losing long-term control. Disorder is carefully calibrated; outcomes are delayed.The Nepali Army, invoking Prithvi Narayan Shah’s legacy, signals limits: fragmentation is tolerated; disintegration is not. Executive flexibility underscores conditional compliance, reinforcing this pragmatic approach behind the managed instability.
The judiciary faces similar constraints. Judges are appointed through party networks, aligning loyalty with political configurations that promote them. A small group, including figures linked to Madam Karki, is perceived as acting independently of these norms. Whether true or not, perception alone shapes strategic narratives, allowing elites to portray unfavorable rulings as externally influenced and maintain a judiciary divided more by alignment than ideology.
Analyzing these micro- and macro-level dynamics—personalities, elite tactics, external influence, and institutional behaviors—shows that the root cause of ongoing instability lies in the constitution itself. Its ambiguities, loopholes, and unclear division of powers increase tensions, encourage opportunism, and hinder effective governance. Without fundamental reform, efforts to stabilize the country will remain temporary, superficial, and driven by personalities rather than institutions.
Nepal’s story in 2025 is one of adaptation, perception, and survival. Its turbulence in Kathmandu isn’t a call for outside intervention; it’s a small state balancing internal ambitions with external pressures. Influence flows less through coercion and more through observation, discreet interaction, and narrative control. Survival depends on subtlety, strategy, and a sharp understanding of micro- and macro-level dynamics.
As the year ends, the clear lesson remains: stability in Kathmandu isn’t granted; it’s negotiated, calculated, and constantly threatened. Volatility is accepted; personalities are manipulated; institutions bend but do not break. Power isn’t about ideals, morality, or good governance—it’s about control, perception, and survival. Those who underestimate Kathmandu’s politics are left behind, replaced, or co-opted. The city doesn’t forgive, doesn’t negotiate principles, and doesn’t reward naivety. Unfortunately, Kathmandu is in Nepal, but Nepal is not Kathmandu, and whatever happens in Kathmandu happens in every nook and corner of Nepal. This is what the global world and the Nepali elite have historically, and still firmly believe.
Nepal’s future isn’t predictable or straightforward. But one thing is clear: turbulence is managed, elites dominate, external actors probe relentlessly, and survival requires patience, strategy, and ruthless orchestration of uncertainty. Kathmandu offers no illusions. Its calculus is cold, detached, and merciless. Only those who understand the rules survive; the rest quietly fade into history.
Author Subedi is a Professor of Medical Sociology at Miami University, USA
@ Desh Sanchar
