By Dr Janardan Subedi---------------
Nepal today faces more than just political instability or institutional failure. These are symptoms. The deeper crisis is civilizational—a quiet but rapid decline of memory, meaning, and moral continuity. Recognizing this can motivate Nepalese citizens to take pride in and take responsibility for protecting their shared heritage.
Every generation claims to have discovered a truth that earlier generations ignored or deliberately hid. That claim is as old as humanity. What is new, however, is how quickly certainty now spreads—and how fragile the knowledge it rests on is. In Nepal, this tension is most evident among Generation Z: a group impatient with the past, distrustful of tradition, morally confident yet lacking historical depth.
Recent upheavals in September serve as a clear example. The protests were raw, passionate, and in many cases justified. Young people expressed frustration with corruption, bureaucracy, and the inaction of elites. However, passion without historical understanding risks going in circles. Revolutions that lack awareness of past revolutions tend to repeat their failures—sometimes faster, sometimes louder, and rarely wiser. Anger alone does not lead to progress. History is not an obstacle; it’s a guide. Ignoring it leads to aimless wandering and the repetition of familiar mistakes.
Nepal’s current political dysfunction is often blamed on aging leaders refusing to step down. That critique is partly correct but incomplete. Societal renewal doesn’t happen simply by replacing old leaders with young ones. It requires a transfer of values, not just a change of faces. Incorporating civilizational memory into policy discussions ensures reforms are rooted in enduring principles and promote sustainable change.
Historically, Nepal served as a bridge between the plains and the mountains, between Indic and Himalayan cultures, and between material survival and spiritual inquiry. Its strength was rooted in synthesis, not uniformity. The Sanātana worldview gradually shaped Nepal, absorbing differences while maintaining moral consistency. Change happened slowly, through dialogue, and was grounded in memory. The monarchy fell not because tradition failed, but because its guardians lost sight of balance. The rise of republicanism left a fragile nation, often unmoored and unaware of the weight it bears.
By contrast, Generation Z grew up in an algorithm-driven world that favors disruption over understanding. Seeing history as a map rather than an obstacle can foster moral clarity and responsibility, encouraging young people to learn from the past rather than dismiss it.
The results are clear. Young people demand accountability from institutions but show little patience for institutional memory. Courts, parliaments, armies, universities—even moral elders’ authority—are dismissed wholesale, without distinguishing structural failure from ethical necessity. Everything is corrupt; therefore, everything must go. But what replaces it? Often, the answer is vague: something new, something clean, something undefined. This isn’t radicalism; it’s moral improvisation.
In September, police, the army, and the judiciary were vilified, not just for mistakes but for systemic contradictions within Nepal’s system. People demanded quick justice without understanding the historical compromises that created current realities—generational impatience, amplified by digital echo chambers, replacing civic understanding. Energy without direction can be destructive; enthusiasm without historical awareness often repeats past mistakes.
The Sanātana civilizational framework provides perspective. Change is only legitimate when aligned with dharma—not law or ritual, but moral balance. Dharma defines relationships: between individual and society, power and responsibility, desire and restraint. Tradition isn’t stagnation; it’s an ethical framework. Nepal’s tragedy is that neither its political leaders nor its critics speak the language of dharma anymore. One clings to power without moral authority; the other demands change without cultural literacy. The result is a void—filled with cynicism, conspiracy, and performative outrage.
Satire almost writes itself here. Young Nepalis quote Western thinkers fluently but often misunderstand their own constitution. Hashtags replace reading; slogans replace reflection. Monarchy is condemned without understanding why it collapsed; republicanism is defended without examining its struggles. The culture of perpetual dissatisfaction grows in a society disconnected from its moral anchors.
Worldwide, we witness a civilizational contest—not of armies, but of meanings. Societies that embrace their culture and confidence withstand pressure better than those that apologize for their existence. Instead of strengthening their civilizational identity, Nepal has spent decades mimicking imported political language without translating it into local moral terms. The result: an educated, passionate, yet historically ungrounded youth demanding reform as a right but unfamiliar with the lessons that come with consequences.
The danger is clear: civilizations fall not just when the old refuse to leave, but when the young arrive without memories. When change is demanded without discipline, freedom without responsibility, and justice without context, societies drift into crisis. Nepal is on the brink today. The September protests, intense and justified, revealed not just discontent but a systemic amnesia that makes repeated failure inevitable.
Civilizational confidence can’t be reduced to nostalgia or ceremonial preservation. Nepal must balance tradition with reform, continuity with innovation. Generation Z’s energy is essential—but it must be guided, informed, and anchored. Reform without understanding history isn’t actual progress; it’s improvisation. Accountability without memory is superficial.
The way forward isn’t to blame one generation or praise another, but to foster dialogue across generations. Create platforms for elders to share history and for youth to bring new ideas. This can help institutions evolve while respecting civilizational continuity, strengthening society.
Nepal isn’t lacking passion. It lacks patience, perspective, and a sense of civilizational continuity. Young people want change—and rightly so—but society must first give them the tools: a sense of history, a language of responsibility, and an ethic of restraint.
The key lesson is simple but profound: awakening isn’t about shouting louder, tearing things down faster, or using more hashtags. It’s about understanding what you inherit, what you want to change, and why that change matters. Civilizations aren’t rebuilt in a year; they survive through memory, flourish with discipline, and grow by aligning with core values. Energy untethered destroys itself. Knowledge without continuity becomes spectacle. Passion without direction breeds chaos.
Nepal stands at a crossroads. One route leads to impulsive destruction—a cycle of protests, show, and collapse. The other leads to informed renewal—a patient rebuilding of institutions and a genuine dialogue that balances critique with continuity. One requires courage; the other discipline. One asks us to learn from the past; the other assumes that novelty is always good.
The challenge isn’t just technical or political. It’s civilizational. Will Nepal keep its memory alive, respect its lessons, and use its energy wisely? Or will it sacrifice continuity for quick fixes and fall back into old errors? The answer depends on whether society, young and old, understands its history and chooses to act—not just with passion but with insight.
In this battle of memory, meaning, and morality, there are no bystanders. Every citizen is involved, knowingly or not. Every protest, every policy, every conversation either strengthens or erodes the fabric of civilization. Nepal cannot afford to treat history as optional. Generation Z can’t see change as the only sign of progress. Losing this balance risks repeating past failures and prolonging disillusionment.
Patience, reflection, and moral literacy are the genuine tools of a resilient society. Without them, even the loudest protests and the most innovative reforms are just fleeting noise. Nepal must remember, adapt, and act. Only then can it turn passion into progress, restlessness into reform, and energy into lasting civilization.
Let’s hope 2026 brings clarity and sanity to all of us.
(with PR)
