What Next in Nepal?

Nations do not lose their sovereignty in a single dramatic moment. They lose it gradually-through confusion, manipulation, and the systematic erosion of trust. Nepal today stands at such a crossroads.

The method is familiar and well-tested. Ambitious actors are elevated as saviors. Journalists are co-opted, media platforms are captured, and intellectual spaces are flooded with noise rather than clarity. Once narrative control is achieved, relentless hostility is directed at the state, democratic institutions, and political parties. Nothing is spared. Everything is declared illegitimate.

The central slogan:

“Everyone before us was corrupt. Everything existing is rotten. Only we are right.”
This claim is powerful precisely because it refuses scrutiny. By what ideology? By what experience? By what achievement? These questions are dismissed as outdated or “counter-revolutionary.” History is flattened, nuance erased, and accountability replaced with moral absolutism.

The Illusion of Purifying Collapse

In this environment, arson beneath state foundations is marketed as revolution. Institutional breakdown is glorified as reform. Destruction is rebranded as courage, and violence; direct or symbolic is excused as justice. When destruction becomes virtue, governance becomes impossible.Nepalese society was once bound by social cohesion—a culture that shared grief and joy, death and celebration. Today, that cohesion is under deliberate assault. Polarization is no longer a byproduct; it is the objective. Hatred is normalized. Dehumanization is justified. The conditions are carefully prepared for social rupture, where ideological disagreement is no longer debated but eliminate.

This is not an organic uprising. It is not a sudden awakening. It is a replication of a model deployed repeatedly across vulnerable states. Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Ukraine: different histories, same trajectory. Institutional distrust, emotional mass mobilization, glorified street politics, followed by collapse and regret. Their citizens did not lack intelligence; they lacked time, and realized it too late. Nepal is now being positioned as the thirteenth version of this experiment.

The weapon of choice is generational anger. Gen-Z activism, digital virality, and moral outrage are amplified while substance is quietly removed. Loud rejection replaces structured reform. Institutions are dismantled without blueprints for replacement. Responsibility is deferred, accountability denied. Chaos fills the vacuum, and external influence enters without resistance.

None of this is an argument against reform. Nepal needs reform, deep, painful, and urgent. But reform without responsibility is sabotage. Dissent without accountability is demolition. Revolution without a governing vision is merely destruction wearing borrowed virtue. The most dangerous illusion today is the belief that collapse will purify the system. It will not. Collapse only redistributes power; usually away from citizens and toward forces least accountable to them.

What makes this moment fatal is not the presence of manipulators, but the silence of the informed. Citizens see the pattern, recognize the warnings, yet hesitate; paralyzed by fatigue, cynicism, or fear of social backlash. History offers no mercy to such hesitation. So the question is no longer abstract or ideological.

What next in Nepal?

A nation that interrogates narratives, defends institutions while reforming them, and refuses to romanticize chaos? Or a society that mistakes destruction for courage and wakes up, like others before it, with sovereignty already lost?

WARNING! History will record the answer. It is being written now.