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By Dr Janardan Subedi

On paper, Nepal checks all the boxes of a functioning nation.

There is a constitution, even if it is debated more than it is enacted. There is a parliament, though it collapses and reconvenes with the regularity of seasonal festivals. Courts exist, judges issue rulings, and occasionally, rulings are enforced. The army marches, the bureaucracy stamps documents, and elections are scheduled for March 5, 2026. Flags flutter on rooftops, and embassies hum with diplomatic activity.

From an outsider’s perspective, Nepal remains intact.

But states do not survive solely on paper. They thrive on trust, legitimacy, and citizen engagement. When citizens believe in their leaders, the state operates with purpose. This trust can be rebuilt, inspiring hope and a sense of agency among Nepali citizens to shape their future.

Political science provides a technical perspective: loss of territory, inability to enforce laws, collapse of services, economic failure, and monopoly over the use of force. By these standards, Nepal passes. There is no civil war, taxes are collected, and bureaucrats perform their duties, even if slowly.

Yet technical definitions hide lived reality.

When bribery becomes common, when loyalty surpasses competence, and when the country’s most talented young citizens plan their futures abroad because opportunities at home are blocked, the state may function legally, but it is morally hollow.

Nepal’s recent political turmoil, youth-led protests, collapsing governments, and the cycle of interim authorities point to issues deeper than procedural instability. Citizens are no longer upset over individual policies; they are frustrated with the entire system. This reflects a structural weakness, not just temporary unrest.

Consider the patterns:

Institutional Fragility: Governments tend to collapse in predictable ways. Coalition agreements rely more on math than ideology. Ministries rotate personnel like chess pieces. Policies are drafted, publicly praised, and then forgotten. Authority exists in name only and is difficult to implement. However, this predictability can be a strength: it helps citizens understand the system, anticipate failures, and plan civic interventions strategically.

Normalized Corruption: Corruption is ingrained, not occasional. Public office favors loyalty over competence. Citizens become skilled at decoding influence networks, knowing which promises will come true. Seeing corruption as systemic isn’t cynicism; it’s strategic awareness, the first step toward reform.

Youth Disillusionment: The young generation shows frustration through migration and protests. They move abroad for work to support families, while political gridlock continues. Social media activism raises awareness but doesn’t change how government works. Still, this situation gives Gen Z the chance to focus on civic actions such as advocacy, education, and oversight of institutions where they can make a difference.

Economic fragility hidden by remittances: Money from abroad sustains the economy, but dependence on remittances conceals underlying weaknesses. Short-term stability is apparent, but the foundation remains fragile. Recognizing this vulnerability is essential for strategic national planning and youth-led economic efforts initiatives.

Trust Deficit: Confidence in parliament, political parties, and leadership has declined. Citizens protest not only policies but also ongoing betrayal. Political promises often serve as empty gestures. Citizens vote not based on vision but to avoid instability. However, this deep skepticism is a civic strength: it shows that Nepalis demand substance, not symbols, and will hold leaders accountable when reform opportunities arise.

Amid these circumstances, the March 5 election nears, portrayed by interim authorities as a move toward normalcy. Political actors consider it a constitutional solution.

Elections are vital. They give citizens a chance to express preferences and reset formal authority. However, if dysfunction goes beyond procedures, elections are merely superficial. Votes may change faces or alter rhetoric, but they seldom transform culture, break up patronage networks, or rebuild public trust.

Electoral participation alone is not enough. Citizens must actively get involved through advocacy, civic dialogue, and monitoring to feel empowered and motivated to promote meaningful reform and rebuild trust.

Yet even strong engagement cannot automatically:

  • rebuild party structures,
  • dismantle entrenched corruption,
  • professionalize administration,
  • strengthen judicial independence,
  • transform political culture,
  • reverse youth migration,
  • diversify economic production, or
  • restore public confidence overnight.

Nepal has experienced repeated cycles of this pattern. Governments promise reform but end up recreating dysfunction. Political resilience is judged by the survival of parties, not by citizen prosperity.

If the upcoming election genuinely serves as a referendum on corruption and institutional reform, it could trigger systemic change. However, if it turns into a transactional coalition or a loyalty-based marketplace, it will only delay the crisis.

Nepal maintains sovereignty and control over its territory. It is technically not a failed state. However, clear weaknesses exist: declining trust, systemic corruption, political instability, and economic dependence. Recognizing these issues is a strength, enabling targeted, informed civic strategies rather than unquestioning optimism.

The election is essential. It can restore legitimacy and open the door for reform. However, solutions will only occur if citizens engage in civic education campaigns, monitor electoral processes, and push for transparent governance that goes beyond technicalities and promotes a civic ethic grounded in shared responsibility, historical awareness, and active participation.

Nepal’s republic can learn from other countries. South Korea’s anti-corruption protests, Georgia’s judicial reforms, and Taiwan’s civil society movements show that sustained activism leads to real change. Recognizing these examples can build confidence and strategic hope for Nepal’s future.

Gen Z Nepalis must realize that virality does not mean legitimacy, and attention does not equal influence. Hashtags cannot replace policies; online trends cannot substitute structural reform; popularity does not guarantee accountability. Foreign actors may influence perceptions, but Nepalis should make decisions based on local realities and long-term interests. Geopolitics operates without compassion; it pursues strategic goals regardless of sentiment. Recognizing this truth is an advantage, not a hindrance.

True transformation is slower, less flashy, and often goes unnoticed. It demands patience, a careful study of history, strategic planning, and regular engagement with institutions. This steady effort is the unglamorous but vital foundation of a functional state.

This is the true test of Nepal’s republic. It is a challenge for a generation. And Nepal, with its complex history, resilient people, and cultural depth, has the tools to succeed.

The ballot matters. The monarchy is influential. Currently, the algorithm shapes perception. None of these alone can ensure Nepal’s future. Only disciplined, historically informed, and strategically smart engagement will.

Nepal cannot entrust its future to others. Symbolic gestures, passing trends, or digital algorithms cannot uphold a republic. Real progress happens when energy meets strategy, knowledge combines with action, and civic pride pairs with responsibility. That is the point where legitimacy is restored, the foundations of governance are rebuilt, and Nepal can attain lasting resilience.

In short, recognizing weaknesses, dysfunctional patterns, and citizen disengagement is not a curse; it is a roadmap. The failures of institutions, the cynicism of youth, and the gaps in governance become strategic insights. Nepalis who understand this can act decisively, influence the republic, and shape a functional state from the ashes of its structural challenges.