If Nepal allows governance paralysis to persist, the form of crisis may differ, but the outcome will rhyme with Bangladesh's
South Asia has a pattern of learning its hardest lessons too late. Political breakdowns are routinely dismissed as unique – products of culture, personalities, or foreign interference – until the same patterns emerge next door. Bangladesh's descent from managed stability into street-dominated politics is one such warning. For Nepal, watching from across the eastern frontier, the lesson is not alarmist but strategic: what is unfolding in Bangladesh today could, under comparable conditions, unfold in Nepal tomorrow.
Bangladesh's crisis did not begin with ideology or violence. It began with exhaustion. Years of one-party stability under Sheikh Hasina suppressed dissent but failed to build resilient institutions. When that order collapsed, the transition promised renewal but delivered paralysis. The vacuum was rapidly filled by the street. Political outcomes began to be shaped less by elections or law and more by protests, intimidation, and arson. What followed was not democratic correction but ochlocracy – rule by the crowd.
Nepal's trajectory differs in form but not in sentiment. Since the promulgation of the 2015 Constitution, Nepal thought to have achieved historic inclusion. What it has not achieved is stability and credibility in performance. Over time, frustration has shifted from demands for reform to deeper disillusionment with the system itself. When citizens lose faith in institutions, the street becomes the substitute.
In Bangladesh, student-led protests initially articulated genuine grievances. But the absence of credible institutional mediation allowed these movements to be overtaken by criminal networks and Islamist forces adept at exploiting chaos. Elections, scheduled for February 2026, became the primary target. For groups like Jamaat-e-Islami, elections constrain power; instability expands it. The demand for a "revolutionary government" is less about reform than about bypassing accountability altogether.
Nepal has not reached this stage, but warning signs are visible. Youth movements, particularly among Gen Z, are increasingly vocal and impatient. Their demands are largely secular and governance-focussed, which is a strength. But they lack organisational discipline and formal channels of influence. History suggests that such movements, if left unabsorbed by institutions, can be captured by ideological entrepreneurs, disgruntled elites, or external actors seeking leverage.
Bangladesh's vacuum has been filled by political Islam, aided by sympathetic public sentiment and external support. Nepal's ideological risks would look different. Here, substitutes could include restorative nationalism (monarchy or Hindu state revival), radical populism, or externally amplified narratives tied to regional power competition. The ideology matters less than the mechanism: offering identity and certainty where governance has failed.
This is why Bangladesh's experience is instructive. Collapse in such contexts is rarely coup-driven. It is erosion-driven – incremental, deniable, and internally generated. Institutions weaken, street vetoes normalise, elections lose credibility, and ideology rushes in to fill the void.
Another parallel lies in external opportunism. Bangladesh's instability has invited quiet but consequential foreign engagement. Turkey has expanded defence-industrial ties and ideological patronage; Qatar has amplified narratives through financial and media networks; Pakistan-linked actors reportedly exploit openings where Indian interests are vulnerable. None of this required overt intervention. Disorder created the opportunity.
Nepal's vulnerabilities are different but no less real. Intense India-China competition, donor-driven governance agendas, NGO capture, and information operations already shape its political ecosystem. When the state is weak, external actors do not need conspiracies; they only need access points.
In Bangladesh, Islamist mobs have deliberately targeted liberal newspapers and cultural institutions – The Daily Star, Prothom Alo, Chhayanaut, Udichi. These were not random acts of violence but strategic strikes against the secular foundations of the republic. Attacking symbols precedes attacking institutions.
Nepal has not witnessed such physical assaults, but symbolic erosion is underway. The Constitution is increasingly portrayed as an elite bargain disconnected from "real" Nepal. Parliament, the judiciary, and even republicanism are framed as imposed or illegitimate. History suggests that delegitimising symbols is often the rehearsal phase for delegitimising the system itself.
The lynching of a Hindu man in Bangladesh over false blasphemy charges was not merely a communal crime. It was a strategic signal of the state's failure to deter violence. Nepal's social fabric is different, but not immune. Ethnic, regional, and religious fault lines – particularly in identity-sensitive provinces – could become accelerants if politicised amid state paralysis. Minority insecurity is never a local issue; it is a regional destabiliser.
Bangladesh's interim government under Muhammad Yunus illustrates another lesson: moral legitimacy without coercive capacity is insufficient. Condemnation without enforcement emboldens spoilers. Nepal faces a subtler variant of this problem. Chronic coalition instability has produced permanent interimism –governments survive tactically but govern weakly. Streets learn that pressure works; institutions learn that enforcement is costly.
Nepal, however, is not Bangladesh. Its democratic safety valves remain intact: competitive elections, civilian control of the security forces, a plural media environment, and the absence of armed ideological militias. These buffers matter, but they are perishable. Bangladesh once had them too.
The lesson, therefore, is preventive, not predictive.
If Nepal allows governance paralysis to persist, youth anger to be co-opted, street vetoes to normalise, and elections to be delegitimised, the form of crisis may differ, but the outcome will rhyme with Bangladesh's.
Nepal's task is not to suppress dissent, but to restore performance legitimacy. Inclusion without delivery breeds cynicism. Youth energy must be channelled into institutional reform, not street substitution. Elections must remain the sole legitimate path to political change. And above all, Nepal must guard against the external capture of domestic discontent.
Bangladesh today is not just a neighbour in crisis. It is a mirror. The reflection is uncomfortable, but ignoring it would be far more dangerous.
Basnyat is Maj. Gen. (Retd.) and a strategic affairs analyst based in Kathmandu