Humans have long used natural metaphors, especially trees in South Asia, to describe politics and morals. In Nepal, the sāl and papaya trees reflect national identity and politics. The sāl (Shorea Robusta), with its slow growth and dense heartwood, symbolizes Agrakh ichchhā, steadiness, discipline, and resilience. Like the sāl, nations silently endure hardships, rooted and strong as Nepal remains independent. I often call this 'Agrakh Nationalism,' a quiet perseverance characteristic of Nepal, in contrast to Leo E. Rose's “Strategy for Survival.”
The papaya tree grows quickly, appears healthy, bears fruit early, but is hollow inside. A Sanskrit proverb captures this well:
“पपया-वृक्षः मृदु-काष्ठः अन्तः शून्यः फल-प्रदश्च।”
The papaya tree has soft wood, is hollow inside, yet gives abundant fruit.
Beyond a botanical description, it is a metaphor about structures that seem outwardly strong but lack a solid foundation. Nepal’s recent political upheaval can be likened to a papaya, growing rapidly, producing fruit quickly, and appearing formidable, yet internally hollow.
On September 8-9, 2025, youth anger erupted across Nepal, shifting from online protests against corruption to street demonstrations. Digital frustrations led to crowds demanding justice, overcoming social media restrictions. Clashes occurred, government decisions reversed, and within 28 hours—the time of a Kathmandu-New York flight—the government fell, a new Prime Minister was appointed, and the federal parliament was dissolved. Interestingly, the provinces and local governments remained intact even though these are the governments of “jholes” in the Gen-Z vocabulary.
This was not a slow-building movement but a lightning strike. Despite its strength, clarity, and moral vigor, it lacked a cohesive framework, recognized leadership, a clear ideology, a strategic plan, and an institutional base. It was a vigorous eruption—untainted but directionless. Like a papaya, it achieved quick results but had emptiness at its core.
When the state froze
The key issue was not just the protest but also the state's response to the burning, destruction, and looting. Nepal’s security forces—police, intelligence, and Army—were briefly immobilized. On September 8th, when protesters reached Parliament House in New Baneshwor, the designated coordination hours were unclear. On September 9th, the police were overwhelmed, rumors spread faster than facts, and misinformation worsened the chaos. The Nepal Army, the oldest in Asia and one of the oldest in the world, has defended Nepal from international military involvement since its formation, intervening only after significant damage.
The country that does not celebrate Independence Day relied on wise kings, geographic advantages, and a resilient army for its sovereignty. The army stabilized the nation, maintained peace, and is recognized by the UN as a leading protector of conflict zones worldwide. It helped stabilize Hyderabad in the late 1940s at the request of the Indian government. Similarly, it suppressed the CIA-backed Khampa insurgency and protected Nepal’s borders amid Chinese concerns. In the 14th century, the Khasa Malla Kingdom defended the region from invasions aimed at expanding the Delhi Sultanate's influence into the Himalayas and Peking. This was a fight for sovereignty, dignity, pride, and self-rule, not for China. Yet, China still benefited from this war.
Given this history, the Army’s delayed response during the protest poses jigyasha (inquiries), not accusations. Why were specific sites protected? Tribhuvan International Airport, near its petrol tanks, and Pashupatinath were secured, including the incumbent PM, defunct cabinet members, all political leaders, but not the Singha Darbar, Parliament, or the Supreme Court. We saw an Army officer differentiate between protesters and terrorists, protecting the Airport. On September 9th, after 10 pm, the Nepal Army saved the country; we are proud of the Nepal Army. Social media often oversimplifies, presuming motives without understanding complexities. The key is not condemnation but jigyasa—the desire for knowledge and truth.
The twenty-eight hours of turmoil echo a line from the Nasadiya Sukta of the Rig Veda: “Who truly knows what happened?” Did the state and its authorities understand the scope? Or did international powers know more? One thing is clear: the youth moved faster than the state, which was unprepared.
Protest without poles
The protests carried a remarkable moral clarity. They said again and again, “We don’t throw stones; we seek justice.” They were not chanting for political parties or seeking patronage; they were asking for responsibility, transparency, and fairness in governance. The movement signaled a new political mood in Nepal—ethical rather than ideological, accountable rather than antagonistic.
But within hours of peaceful demonstrations, events at the federal parliament building took a tragic turn. Nineteen young lives were lost on September 8, and hundreds were injured. This sudden and poorly understood moment of violence triggered the unprecedented destruction, arson, and looting that engulfed the country on September 9.
Despite its moral strength, the movement remained a protest without poles—a structure standing unsupported. Without leadership, ideological anchors, organizational planning, or institutional backing, its energy couldn't turn into lasting political change. Once the initial surge faded, a void remained. And politics, like nature, doesn't tolerate a vacuum. Political parties rushed to shape the story, royalists tested public opinion, diaspora voices promoted their own views, social media opportunists fueled anger, and global powers interpreted the events through their own strategic perspectives.
What began as a domestic protest—idealistic, energetic, and morally driven—was quickly absorbed into broader regional calculations. The papaya metaphor extended beyond the youth: institutions that appeared strong proved hollow; systems that looked functional revealed their fragility; and narratives that seemed united exposed deep fractures within the political order.
When activists became “Gen-Z”
The identity of “Gen-Z” in Nepal’s 2025 uprising did not emerge spontaneously; it followed a clear chronological and sociological progression. In the beginning, youths involved in the agitation described their activities simply as digital activism—an online push against corruption, nepo-baby privilege, and political irresponsibility. This virtual agitation took a civic turn when Sabal Gautam and Purushottam Yadav formally applied to the Kathmandu Chief District Office (CDO), calling themselves “Free Nepali Youth” and seeking permission to hold a public program at Maitighar Mandala on September 8. Interestingly, they demanded a co-partner for the program.
After the tragic deaths of 19 protesters that day, the organizers redefined their initiative as a broader, nonpartisan fight against corruption and betithi (disorder), identifying themselves as “Aam Nepali Youth” and consciously using the word “movement.” It was only after Prime Minister K.P. Oli tendered his resignation on September 9 that they adopted the label themself as “Gen-Z,” a term that immediately resonated because it conveyed moral innocence—idealistic, uncorrupted, and free of partisan identity.
What began as online activism, then became a public program, and later a mass movement, ultimately crystallized into a generational identity. National and international media amplified the term with remarkable speed. In just hours, “Gen-Z” shifted from a demographic category to a political symbol, a cultural narrative, and finally a sociological marker of Nepali youth consciousness.
This evolution prompts a key jigyasha: Was the transformation entirely natural or aided by unseen national and international forces? The uprising combined moral innocence with chaotic violence, causing more symbolic destruction in two days than a decade-long Maoist insurgency. It calls for reflection on how social identities are named, how movements are framed, and how covert digital structures influence protests—especially since over a third of Discord accounts involved in mobilization were linked to fake identities. Was that a natural process of protest evolution, or did epistemic capture occur during this process? Are there deep interventions, designs, and innovations of geopolitical actors?
The vacuum and the rush to fill it
Whenever a political center collapses, someone rushes in. In Nepal, the youth-created vacuum was immediately filled by political parties attempting to claim the uprising, royalists testing the waters, diaspora activists shaping narratives online, and—most significantly—by three major geopolitical powers interpreting the moment through their own strategic lenses: India, China, and the United States.
The feather and the fire
To understand why Nepal’s youth protest resonated far beyond its borders, one must return to an incident from 1975. During a meeting with U.S. President Gerald Ford, Chinese Vice-Premier Deng Xiaoping dismissed the Tibetan issue with a metaphor: “It is nothing—just 'chicken feathers and onion skins’.
At first glance, this looked like a casual remark. But it was an example of geopolitical poetics—a deliberate attempt to reduce a centuries-old civilizational question to insignificance. Deng claimed that Tibet, and by extension the Dalai Lama, was a light matter: a feather in China’s vast political landscape, something that could be brushed aside.
He further observed, citing Mao, that the Lama would remain a burden on India; therefore, he suggested allowing him to go to India. However, history, especially Himalayan history, is not eradicated merely because a significant power desires it to be so. The feather dismissed by Deng has reemerged in a new form—as Himalayan fire. The United States and Europe are committed to sustaining Tibetan spirituality, values, and traditions through both overt and covert means.
Today, Tibet is no longer regarded as a closed geopolitical issue. It has become an evolving symbol of resistance, identity, and international moral concern. China’s sensitivity has intensified. The Dalai Lama, now in his nineties, has explicitly stated that his reincarnation will take place in a democratic nation—a direct challenge to Beijing’s efforts to exert influence over Tibetan Buddhism.
And this spiritual-political tension resurfaced in 2025 when the Dalai Lama sent a congratulatory message to Nepal’s new Prime Minister, Sushila Karki. A simple message, delivered with the politeness of a monk, became a geopolitical tremor. For China, it was a reminder of the Dalai Lama’s undiminished influence. For Nepal, it reopened a moral space suppressed for decades. For Gen-Z protesters, it appeared as a quiet nod of solidarity.
Nepal in the middle of Himalayan power politics
Nepal has long functioned as the strategic median, a geopolitical and moral hinge, between U.S. policy toward Tibet and the wider Sino-Indian Himalayan order. From the CIA-funded Mustang resistance (1959–1974) to the legal-diplomatic phase institutionalized through the Tibetan Policy Act (2002), the Tibet Policy and Support Act (2020), and the Resolve Tibet Act (2024), Nepal has served as the only Himalayan corridor through which Washington could operationalize, translate, and legitimize its Tibet strategy. Unlike India, Bhutan, or Myanmar, Nepal remained accessible, geographically, culturally, and diplomatically, allowing the U.S. to maintain a humanitarian, informational, and moral frontier for Tibet without confronting China. I define three stages of the US strategy and policy shift.
The covert frontier (1959–1974)
The covert phase began after the Dalai Lama’s flight in 1959. With India refusing overt paramilitary training, Bhutan closed, and Myanmar under Chinese influence, the CIA used Mustang as its strategic base. Between 1960 and 1965, almost 260 Tibetan fighters trained in Colorado’s Camp Hale were inserted into Tibet through Nepal. Refugee settlements in Kathmandu and Pokhara created humanitarian cover for logistical operations. When U.S.–China normalization advanced in the 1970s, Nepal—under King Birendra and Chinese pressure—disarmed the Khampa guerrillas. Mustang’s closure ended the covert era and marked the beginning of the moral one.
From covert to legal diplomacy (1975–2002)
After the Nixon–Mao rapprochement, Tibet disappeared from formal diplomacy but deepened in America’s moral vocabulary. U.S. agencies reframed Tibet through culture, education, and refugee rights. Nepal shifted from a staging ground to a transit hub for humanitarian programs. Refugee monasteries, schools, and settlements provided the soft-power infrastructure for a new kind of influence.
The statutory era (2002–2024)
The Tibetan Policy Act (2002) formalized humanitarian engagement. Later laws—the Reciprocal Access to Tibet Act (2018), the Tibet Policy and Support Act (2020), and the Resolve Tibet Act (2024)—transformed Tibet from a Cold War issue into an “unresolved international dispute.” For Washington, Nepal became the moral gateway, culturally open, diplomatically independent, and increasingly connected to the West through migration and education. Mustang’s mule trails and radio transmitters have become today’s digital networks, hashtags, and civic activism: Nepal is the informational Mustang of the 21st century.
The feather had become flame: Nepal amid three powers
Nepal today stands at the center of three competing strategic visions, each with its own worldview, each seeking influence, each reading Nepal through its own lens.
India’s strategic vision, encapsulated in Modi’s HIT doctrine—Highways, Internet/Ways, Transmission-Ways—portrays Nepal as an integral part of a shared civilizational continuum. Nevertheless, I propose that Nepal–India relations function on two distinct levels: firstly, the Anuyayi level, fundamental cultural bonds among Hindus and Buddhists, encompassing rituals, scriptures, pilgrimage routes, and shared historical narratives; and secondly, the Citizenship level, contemporary political disagreements, border conflicts, and nationalist sentiments. Nepali political consciousness holds Anti-Indian sentiment, which is exploited as a political instrument within Nepal, whereas Indian policies frequently approach Nepal from a modern Western nation-state perspective. This dualistic relationship remains one of the most intricate facets of Nepal’s diplomatic engagements with India.
The U.S. views Tibet as an unresolved international issue, with the Dalai Lama's succession seen as a religious matter. Tibetan culture is protected, and China’s actions affect U.S.–China relations. Nepal is a moral gateway to Tibet, increasingly linked to the West through democracy and migration, expanding beyond India to Europe, the U.S., and Australia. Nepal’s role has shifted from a buffer zone to a strategic balancing point.
China’s strategic outlook: The GSI and BRI see the Himalaya as vital to Beijing’s economic and security strategies. Chinese influence extends across Nepal’s northern border from Darchula to Taplejung through infrastructure, trade, digital platforms, and security collaborations.
When Nepal fought China
Nepal’s geopolitical position is rooted in history. During the Nepal-China War (1788–1792), Nepal fought the Qing dynasty of China, not over territory, but because it refused to extradite the 14th Shamarpa Rinpoche. The lama sought asylum in Nepal, which follows the principle of शरणको मरण नगर्नु, ‘Do not kill one who has sought refuge.' This ancient South Asian Dharmic rule influences Nepal’s views on sovereignty, justice, and protection, forming the foundation of its ethical sovereignty, beyond mere mercy.
China’s influence once focused on Tibet, but now spans the northern border. When floods destroyed the Rasuwa trade route, Nepal relied on Mustang to trade. In the region, Khampa rebels, supported by the CIA in the 1960s–70s, operated covertly. Geography repeats geopolitical patterns.
A Himalayan generation awakens
Against this backdrop, the rise of Gen Z has more profound significance. Their 2025 protests started with a promise of nonviolence, later turned violent, and were digitally coordinated with moral clarity. Scholars see echoes of Himalayan ethics—Buddhist compassion, tantric discipline, Hindu dharma—in their behavior. These values originated in monasteries, temples, and mountain cultures before modern democracies emerged.
The Gen-Z protest was an appeal to improve the state, demanding integrity without hatred, justice without violence, and clarity without ideology. Their power was their vulnerability: moral unity without organizational unity.
Nepal’s youth showed strength without structure, a Hollow Center in the Himalaya. Nepal stands today at a delicate crossroads where its history, geography, and politics intersect with unusual intensity. Our own tradition offers a warning through a proverb:
“खहरे खोला धेरै कराउँछ।”|
The shallow stream makes the loudest noise. Noise isn't stability. Fury isn't depth. And hollowness is an invitation.
If Nepal’s political center remains hollow, its institutions weak, its academic research compromised, its security hesitant, and its diplomacy reactive, then those who act faster, neighboring powers, global actors, opportunistic groups, and geopolitical agendas, will fill the void.
Interdependence, rather than isolation, constitutes Nepal’s fundamental reality. Tibetan refugees can reside securely in Nepal only to the extent that Nepal can substantiate and uphold this moral position. Nepal can’t decline from the ‘One China Policy’, civilizational embeddedness with India, and democratic ideals of the USA.
Who fills the hollow?
Ultimately, the jigyasa from Nepal’s papaya moment goes beyond politics, touching the core of the Nepali state. Despite centuries of resilience amid empires and conflicts, a hollow core now threatens this strength.
Suppose Nepal neglects to address this gap with discipline, clarity, and a cohesive national vision. In that case, it risks being overshadowed by Himalayan influencers like China’s sensitivity, India’s civilizational pull, America’s democratic ideals, and Tibet's spiritual politics.
The youth have shown remarkable zeal. Geopolitical considerations highlight risks. Historical precedents are set. The future depends on whether Nepal rebuilds its internal strength like the sāl or remains vulnerable like the papaya, leaving its fate to others. Will 18th-century history recur? Will the Dalai Lama be shifted to Nepal as its burden in the support of Western global powers? If the Dalai Lama were reincarnated in Nepal, could Nepal hold the capacity to resist Chinese pressure? Or, will Nepal be compelled to join a regional and/or global military alliance in that situation?
(Dr Mrigendra Bahadur Karki is the Executive Director of the Centre for Nepal and Asian Studies (CNAS) at Tribhuvan University. The ideas and arguments presented in this article are his personal views and do not represent the positions of the Centre. It is a part of his forthcoming academic article on the Gen-Z revolt, the Dalai Lama, and geopolitics.)
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