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Analysis

Nepal’s election season has once again revived a familiar ritual. Groups with little public reach declare a boycott, security agencies raise the alarm, and political leaders warn of disruption. This year is no different. Yet beneath the routine noise lies a deeper question about intent, capacity, and political relevance.

Prime Minister Sushila Karki’s recent remarks in Butwal cut straight to the point. She accused boycott groups of turning dissent into a money-making exercise, arguing that some outfits avoid the hard work of building public support and instead rely on fear and rumor to stay visible.

Her statement reflects growing frustration within the state apparatus, but it also exposes a long-running weakness in Nepal’s political fringe. Many boycott calls generate headlines, not mass movements.

Security agencies say they are watching at least a dozen groups that could attempt to disturb the polls. The list ranges from small communist factions to royalist outfits. Police assessments suggest the threats are real enough to warrant monitoring, though officials quietly admit that most of these groups lack the structure needed for large-scale disruption.

In plain terms, the state is preparing for noise, not necessarily for chaos.

Durga Prasai’s network has drawn particular attention. Operating under the banner of protecting the nation, religion, and culture, his circle, including the Public Defense Force and the so-called Any Time Force, has been flagged as potentially disruptive.

Prasai himself is already in custody, which says a lot about the state’s preemptive posture. When authorities start locking people up before ballots are printed, it usually signals caution mixed with political theater.

Royalist circles are also under the microscope. Former King Gyanendra Shah’s recent video message, warning that the election could bring unrest, prompted closer surveillance of groups such as Shahi Yuva Shakti Nepal.

The monarchy card still carries symbolic weight in some corners, but its ability to mobilize crowds remains limited. Security agencies appear to know this, even as they keep watch.

On the communist flank, leaders like CP Gajurel and Dharmendra Bastola continue to reject the electoral process. Their argument is familiar. They claim the polls lack legitimacy and serve external interests.

The rhetoric has not changed much since 2013, and neither has the outcome. Election boycotts have become a predictable script repeated every cycle with diminishing impact.

Police data reinforces that point. Sixteen individuals are currently in custody for alleged attempts to disrupt the election, while twenty-six others were released after detention.

These numbers suggest activity, but not a movement capable of shaking the national vote.

The historical pattern matters. Since the second Constituent Assembly election in 2013, multiple fringe groups have rejected polls. They boycotted the 2017 elections, the 2019 by-elections, the 2022 polls, and even the 2024 by-elections.

Yet the electoral process has continued with little structural damage. One telling shift stands out. The Biplav-led faction, once a loud boycotter, has now entered mainstream politics. That transition quietly undercuts the boycott narrative.

So what does all this mean for the coming vote? The security establishment is right to stay alert. Nepal’s political environment can turn volatile faster than officials like to admit. Still, the bigger picture points to a cycle driven more by relevance-seeking groups than by credible threats to the electoral system.

Boycott politics in Nepal today looks less like an uprising and more like a survival tactic for marginal players trying to remain visible. The state will keep watching. The groups will keep issuing warnings. And the elections, most likely, will proceed much as they have before.

People’s News Monitoring Service