Nepal Archives

From mayhem to momentum: How a week of protest changed Nepal forever

By ISS Blog Bliss 21 October 202526 October 2025 2652 views

In this blog, ISS MA Student, Sagar Jung Karki looks into the rise and success of the 2025 ‘Gen Z’ protests in Nepal, that grew into a society-wide protest movement against corruption in the Nepali government. The protests eventually ended with Nepali Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli stepping down. Sagar Jung Karki looks into the way that the protests developed, the reasoning behind their rise, and looks at what may happen in the coming months and years following the protests.

**Caption: AI- Generated Abstract Simulation of Singha Durbar palace in Kathmandu on September 9, 2025**

Introduction

In less than a week, the Generation Z (Gen Z) protests in Nepal toppled the government, dissolved the parliament and installed the country’s first female prime minister. This was more than a protest; it was a generational awakening that refined Nepalese politics. Moreover, the movement serves as a valuable case study for examining how conflict and development theories explain the tensions and aspirations driving it.

Causes of the Gen Z protest

The Gen Z protest that swept Nepal from 8 to 13 September 2025 became a defining moment in the nation’s history. It was partly inspired by similar youth movements in Bangladesh, Indonesia and Sri Lanka. The protest deeply resonated with youths like myself in a country where power had switched between three entrenched political parties that had been ruling for decades. There were three main reasons for the upheaval. First, there is the rampant corruption, in a country with extremely high levels of inequality. Multiple corruption scandals were exposed by the media in recent years, including the fake Bhutanese refugee scam, the visit visa scam, the airplane purchase scam, and the Baluwatar land scam. These recurring scandals led to growing despair, especially among youths. Secondly, 26 social media platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube were completely banned on 4 September after being unable to register in the country. Most of the Nepali population, specifically the youth, used these platforms for daily communication. Defying suppression and the gag on their freedom of speech and expression, the youths turned to Virtual Private Networks (VPNs) to criticize the politicians and their ‘Nepotism Kids’ (also known as Nepo Kids)as well as plan the protests. In the days before the protest, social media was filled with content mocking politicians’ families for flaunting wealth while ordinary people struggled to make a living. Third, another significant trigger for the protest was the viral video of a provincial minister’s car hitting a little girl on a zebra crossing and escaping the scene. These series of events forced the Nepali youths to march to the streets in protests hoping for change.

The aftermath of the protest

The protest initially began peacefully with college students, youth activists and others protesting in designated areas. But the calm was shattered when police opened fire and killed 19 protesters. The next day, the demonstration intensified into vandalism and anarchy with key national assets – including the parliament, presidential residence and supreme court. Most of the politicians’ homes and properties across the country were destroyed. In addition, supermarkets, hotels, showrooms, and other public spaces sustained extensive damage. While many fled to hideouts with military help, some politicians narrowly escaped death at the hands of the youth mob.

Following mass pressure, Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli resigned on 9 September, creating a leadership vacuum. The following day, amidst the curfew, the youths trusted the army to restore order. The next day, amidst nationwide curfew, the army chief held talks with the president and Gen Z representatives. That evening, the youths used online voting via Discord to nominate former Chief Justice Sushila Karki as Nepal’s first female prime minister following the president’s approval. By 13 September, life returned to normal in Kathmandu and across the nation; however, there were 74 fatalities and an estimated financial damage of US$21 billion and left 10,000 people out of work. This has made the protest a tragic yet transformative moment in the nation’s history.

What this means for Nepal’s future

Elections for the House of Representatives have been announced for 5 March 2026, despite the opposition of the old parties. However, there are lingering questions about how the elections and the future unfold and whether the changes demanded by the protesters are formalized and institutionalized. Many youths, including the founder of Hami Nepali, have shown interest in contesting the election. For formal representation, however, Gen Z will need the formulation of new political parties and secure an election majority. This will be a difficult and time-consuming process, given the rural stronghold of the three old parties. There is another challenge as the old parties still hold a majority in the provincial and local government levels. Beyond politicians, addressing governance malpractices will require a range of institutional changes in bureaucracy and paradigm shifts in cultural practices. Such changes will take time, but for now, all eyes are fixed on the upcoming elections and whether Gen Z-led political parties will gain the majority to form a government.

Key Takeaways

At its heart, the Gen Z protest in Nepal was more than a political outburst, it was a clash between generations, power, and unmet promises. Political Scientist Henrik Urdal’s analysis of ‘youth bulges’ can be better understood through the lens of Conflict theory helps explain this tension. When a large youth population feels excluded from decision-making and struggles with economic insecurity, frustration builds. Nepal’s young people, digitally connected and politically aware, turned that frustration into collective action. Social media became their loudspeaker, uniting scattered voices into a nationwide movement. Ironically, government attempts to suppress dissent only confirmed the protesters’ belief that their leaders were out of touch, echoing conflict theory’s idea that repression often fuels, rather than calms, public anger.

From a development perspective, Nepal’s story reflects the tension between a weak state and a strong society. Years of corruption and poor governance weakened institutions, but civil society, especially youth groups, showed remarkable resilience. Organisations like Hami Nepal and online communities stepped up where the state faltered, proving that civic energy can fill governance gaps. Yet, as development theories reminds us, activism alone cannot replace institutional reform. The army’s temporary role in stabilising the situation showed both the trust citizens still have in traditional institutions and the fragility of democratic systems that depend on them.

Ultimately, Nepal’s Gen Z reminded the world that even in fragile democracies, young people can reshape political landscapes. Their protests were not just about anger, they were about reclaiming voice and accountability. For policymakers, the message is simple: when states fail to listen, societies speak louder.

Across Asia, and beyond, similar Gen Z movements are emerging, digitally savvy, and justice-driven. Among the countries experiencing crises and catastrophes, some have recovered and transitioned, while others have continued to suffer. It is yet to be seen whether these upheavals will bring in the demanded changes in the countries or fail to do so.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Sagar Jung Karki is a current MA in Development Studies student at the International Institute for Social Studies (ISS), specializing in Economics of Development (ECD). He previously worked for think tanks on development consulting projects in Nepal. His research interests are trade and investment policies, sustainability, globalization and development.

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Beyond victimhood: The untold realities of Nepali brides in South Korea

By ISS Blog Bliss 11 March 202513 March 2025 5338 views

Nepali brides in South Korea are often portrayed as victims of violence, abuse, exploitation, slavery, and trafficking. But are these the only realities of Nepali brides? Nilima Rai in this article, challenges the dominant monolithic narrative of victimhood and sheds light on the other realities of these women – many of whom navigate such matrimonies with resilience, academic and professional achievements, and significant socioeconomic and cultural contributions in Korea and Nepal. Through patchwork ethnography, this article reveals Nepali brides’ overlooked agency, aspirations, achievements, and contributions beyond their image as victims.

‘They call us Bhote ko budi,1 someone with Pothi Visa,2 who didn’t find a suitable man to marry, the victims of domestic violence and abuse, and someone who is miserably sitting in a corner and crying over their ill fate,’ one of the Nepali brides said. This illustrates the racist, sexist, and negative remarks the Nepali brides encounter in their day-to-day lives. This article discusses how the dominant narrative of victimhood further reinforces stigmas and prejudices of Nepali brides.

Transnational marriage in South Korea: Nepali brides

Transnational marriage between Nepali brides and Korean men began in the early 1990s when Nepali migrant workers entered Korea through the Industrial Trainee System.3 These brides, mainly belonging to socio-economically marginalised Tibeto-Burmese ethnic groups, are preferred4 due to their physical similarity to Korean people.

Nepali women participate in transnational marriage as an opportunity created by globalisation but with an expectation to fill the bride shortage vis-à-vis the ongoing crisis of social reproduction in South Korea. Like other foreign brides,5 Nepali brides make compromised choice of marrying foreign men and settling outside their country to escape poverty, attain upward mobility, or find access to labour markets that are otherwise denied to them.6 Conversely, Korean men7 rejected in the local marriage market due to their low socio-economic status and societal expectations of women seeking brides outside their racial/ethnic pool in countries such as China, Vietnam, the Philippines, Cambodia, Mongolia, and Nepal to name a few.

In Nepal, such marriages occur through commercial marriage brokers, mutual friends and relatives living and working in Korea. Since the early 2000s, Nepali women have entered transnational marriage through the marriage agencies/bureaus in Korea and Nepal.

The media’s victim narrative and its impact on Nepali brides

With the active involvement of the marriage brokers as matchmakers and the negative implications of such commercialised marriages, Nepali brides are often disparagingly depicted as ‘victims’ – the victims of trafficking, slavery, domestic violence, abuse, and deception. For more than a decade and even today, domestic and international news media have been replete with the sufferings of Nepali brides in Korea, portraying them as pitiful, bleak, wretched, sold, trafficked, and enslaved in Korean households. A rapid increase of unregulated marriage agencies in Nepal and Korea has resulted in increased numbers of fraudulent marriages engendering domestic violence and abuse of some of the Nepali brides. News media have widely reported cases of violence against Nepali brides along with their testimonies. Such efforts have highlighted the grave concerns of violence against those Nepali brides who experienced domestic violence and abuse. However, the paucity of research on the overall experiences of these brides, and the overwhelming representation of these women in media not only created their image as ‘women in peril’ and labelled them as ‘victims’ but also reinforced the already existing stigmas and prejudices against these women within the Nepali diaspora community in Korea.

These brides are subjected to gender-oppressive slurs by the Nepali diaspora community which sees them as ‘promiscuous’, ‘leftovers’, or someone who has a problem or is behaving strangely, thus ineligible to marry a man from their vicinity. The media’s tendency to depict Nepali brides merely as victims, the lack of research as well as the condescending attitudes of the Nepali diaspora community and the potential threat of oppressive slurs has often resulted in the silencing of Nepali brides.

‘Other Nepali brides in our community scolded me for allowing them to take my video and giving an interview to one of the media people,’ said one of the Nepali brides. This illustrates the negative implications of such narratives of Nepali brides fostering distrust and discontentment not only towards the media but also within the Nepali diaspora community. Some expressed their resentment through words, while others demonstrated it through their act of refusal, hesitation and constant need for reassurance that those approaching them were not affiliated with the media.

The realities of other Nepali brides

Narrating these women’s stories only through victimhood perspectives obscures the other realities of brides who claim to be empowered through economic gain, freedom of mobility and the acquisition of new knowledge and skills. These are the Nepali brides whose lived realities differ from those who suffer from violence and abuse.

‘Do we look like the victims of domestic violence or unhappy in our marital life, like how these journalists often portray us? Rather, I think I made the right decision getting married and coming here as I have more freedom to work, earn and live my life on my own terms,’ one of the Nepali brides said.

Similarly, another Nepali bride expressed her frustration, saying, ‘I am sick and tired of how these Nepali media represent us. A few years back, one of the journalists asked for our (her husband and her) photo, saying they wanted to cover the stories of Nepali brides. Still, in the end, they published our photo under the awful title and story that talked about how pitiful Nepali brides are. I am more than happy with my husband, who speaks fluent Nepali and actively contributes to Korean and Nepali literature and society. We both are hotel entrepreneurs. So, do you think my story fits into one of those stories published in the newspaper?’

**Nepali bride with her husband tending their kitchen garden at Jeju-do, South Korea**

The Nepali brides who were not victims of violence – and whose stories did not fit in with the articles published in news media – claimed to have made adjustments early on in their marriage, particularly in terms of language, food, and culture. They are now content with their familial relationships, have successfully established their professional careers, and are able to support their left-behind/natal families in Nepal.

These brides wish to be recognised as successful entrepreneurs, educators, nurses, police officers, poets, counsellors, interpreters, and promoters of Nepali culture, food, and language across the Nepali border. Instead of questioning their intentions in choosing a foreign spouse and vilifying them as ‘gold diggers’ – those who marry old Korean men for ‘card’/citizenship – and helpless victims of violence – who are beaten, battered, and abused by their husbands and in-laws – they want their achievements and contributions in both Korea and Nepal to be valued and acknowledged.

Furthermore, these women are often fluent in the Korean language and are pursuing/pursued further academic and professional endeavours in Korea; things they believe they could not have achieved in Nepal. Based on my research, Nepali migrant workers and students rely heavily on these brides to book public venues and bargain in local shops. They also rely on them for critical services such as translating/interpreting sensitive court cases and counselling in medical and mental health cases. Furthermore, these brides provide constant support and services as teachers and educators in schools, institutes, and migrant worker centres; provide health and safety orientations in factories and industries; act as counsellors to facilitate immigration procedures; work as nurses in hospitals, as police officers, established women’s shelters for migrant workers and provide all the necessary support in the rescue and repatriation of undocumented migrant workers.

Highlighting these women’s stories as achievers and contributors is not to trivialize the gravity of the issues related to violence against Nepali women/brides at all levels in and outside the country. The main aim of this article was to discuss the consequences of one-way narratives of victimhood that have negative implications on the lives of other Nepali brides who are happy with the positive outcome of their struggles in a foreign land. There is a need for in-depth research into the broader experiences of these women and for a multi-stakeholder dialogue and deliberation with state and non-state actors such as news media.

Endnotes

1. ‘Bhote’ is “a derogatory term for ethnically Tibetan people from northern Nepal (Gurung 2022, 1746). This kind of racial slur has been used against Nepali brides in Korea due to the resemblance or the similar physical features of Korean men with these ethnically Tibetan people.

Gurung, Phurwa.2023. ‘Governing caterpillar fungus: Participatory conservation as state-making, territorialization and dispossession in Dolpo, Nepal’ EPE: Nature and Space 6, No.3: 1745-1766.

2. In Nepal, the word ‘poth’” or ‘hen’ is a derogatory colloquial term often used as an oppressional slur that evinces male dominance or superiority over women (Lama and Buchy 2002).

Lama, Anupama and Marlene Buchy. 2002. ‘Gender, Class, Caste and Participation: The Case of Community Forestry in Nepal’ Indian Journal of Gender Studies 9, No.1: 27-41.

3. Before the Employment Permit System (2004), Korea systematised the inflow of migrant workers by introducing the Industrial Trainee System in 1991. Nepali migrant workers entered Korea through this trainee system. In 1990, 43,017 Nepali migrant workers were recorded in Korea.

Rai, Nilima, Arjun Kharel, and Sudeshna Thapa.2019. Labour Migration from Nepal-Factsheet: South Korea, Centre for the Study of Labour and Mobility and Foreign Employment Board, Nepal. https://archive.ceslam.org/fact-sheets/factsheet-south-korea

Based on my research findings, some Nepali brides were found to enter Korea through the trainee system in the early 1990s and later married Korean men.

4. Kim, Kyunghak, and Miranda De Dios. 2017. ‘Transnational Care for Left-Behind Family in Nepal with Particular Reference to Nepalese Married Migrant Women in Korea’ Global Diaspora and the Transnational Community: Migration and Culture.

5. Kim, Minjeong.2018. Elusive Belonging: Marriage Immigrants and ‘Multiculturalism’ in Rural South Korea. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press.

6. Based on the findings of the study.

7. Kim, Hansung, Sun Young Lee, and In Hee Choi. 2014. ‘Employment and Poverty Status of Female Marriage Immigrants in South Korea’ Asian and Pacific Migration Journal 23, No.2: 129-154.

This blog post is based on the empirical evidence collected from field research in South Korea and Nepal (2023-24) for my doctoral study.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author

Nilima Rai is a Ph.D. candidate in Gender Studies at Queen’s University, Kingston, Ontario. Her research explores the lived realities of Nepali brides in South Korea. She holds master’s degrees in Development Studies from Erasmus University, the Netherlands, and in Conflict, Peace, and Development Studies from Tribhuvan University, Nepal, and the University of Ruhuna, Sri Lanka. Her interests include migration, marriage and labor mobility, social justice, women’s rights, and the intersections of conflict, disaster, and gender.

Pros and cons of a women-friendly rideshare app

By ISS Blog Bliss 18 January 202415 December 2024 3508 views

As ride-sharing booms in Asia, women’s mobility is crucial. But it faces challenges like harassment due to the introduction of gendered strategies.

Ride-sharing platforms in Asia are thriving but their impact on women’s safety and mobility remains largely unexplored. This is concerning, given the prevalence of gender-based violence in conventional transport, particularly in South Asia where women face greater restrictions on independent mobility.

Enter Tootle. Research conducted in Kathmandu, Nepal, shows that the issue of gender has featured centrally in the business strategy of the Nepali-owned ride share company.

Co-founder and CEO Sixit Bhatta describes Tootle, which launched in 2017, consistently as “not just a ride-sharing company, the whole idea revolves around encouraging freedom of movement“. Tootle seeks to expand the freedom of movement, especially as Kathmandu’s public transport has been unfriendly towards differently-abled people and women.

Without questioning Tootle’s social justice concerns, the focus on women was recognised as a business strategy as women comprise at least half of the potential passenger population and constitute a dormant pool of potential riders.

Women are also underrepresented in paid work. In Ethiopia, for example, these observations have contributed to the launch of a ride-sharing platform (Seregela) which worked with women drivers exclusively.

Recruiting more women as drivers is probably the most effective strategy to increase the share of women passengers. Women drivers convey a sense of safety and security to women passengers. Tootle has built this factor into its ride-sharing app by allowing passengers to ‘choose‘ between men and women drivers.

However, attracting more women drivers is a challenge. The ride-sharing platforms seek to address this by championing women as drivers in their advertisements and by depicting ride-sharing as a women’s practice, involving women drivers and women passengers.

The platforms also publish success stories about women drivers that carefully weave together the benefits of being a driver with aspects of women’s conventional gender roles. Tootle also sought to attract women drivers by not charging them a commission (initially it charged men drivers a 4 percent commission).

Tootle not only creates its supply of drivers in gendered ways, following the theoretical premise that platform companies are ‘in the business of making markets’ it does the same for demand. For the public this is less visible; yet, probably more impactful. In its driver’s interface, Tootle represents demand for ride-shares in hetero-normative ways: customers are presented as either female or male.

Research in 2019 suggests that drivers (who are mostly men), indeed, use this to give preference to women passengers. For example, women passengers rarely complained about long waits. One woman customer who mostly used Tootle said: “I never had to wait more than 10 minutes for a ride-request sent.” In contrast, men frequently complained. One said: “It will be a pleasant surprise if I ever get a ride without waiting for more than 30 minutes.”

Allowing drivers to give preference to women passengers can be argued to make ride-sharing more women-friendly because it reduces waiting times for women.

Unfortunately, it also facilitates sexism.

A male customer interviewed referred to a response he got when he complained to a (male) Tootle driver who picked him up after a long wait: “You should feel lucky, because you are my first male customer [today]. I never give rides to males but only to females. Why would I become a driver otherwise — it’s fun having a female on the back of my bike.”

While in this specific case no woman was negatively affected, the driver’s attitude mirrors those collected online from women passengers reporting harassment by male drivers both during and after the ride-share.

These incidents happen despite compulsory onboarding of new drivers in which ride-sharing platforms instruct newly recruited drivers about avoiding unwanted behaviour.

New drivers are told to not tease women customers, to refrain from comments that could be interpreted as sexual innuendos and to refrain from asking women customers to sit closer to the driver, or to brake in such a manner that the body of the woman passenger touches the driver.

Across Asia ride-sharing platforms have significantly transformed urban transportation, including in gendered ways. The expanded choice and availability of transport options is good news, especially for those women looking for and able to afford alternatives to existing gender-insecure forms of transport.

Recruitment efforts targeting women as drivers has not only created new opportunities for paid (part-time) work for women, it also contributed to further shifts in gender norms in urban transport.

However, the gender justice argument put forth by Nepal’s ride-sharing platforms must be recognised as a business strategy. When platforms make markets in gendered ways, this creates gendered tensions.

Most notably, allowing driver selection based on the passenger’s gender seems beneficial to women initially but it encourages sexist attitudes and creates the potential for gender-based violence.

Over recent years, Nepal’s ride-sharing platforms have improved complaint and tracking mechanisms to combat sexism. Yet, the failure to increase the share of women as drivers delimits the inclusiveness of ride-sharing platforms. Improving women’s riders working conditions may be the surest way to address this.

This article is part of a Special Report on the Asian Gig Economy, produced in collaboration with the Asian Research Centre – University of Indonesia

This article was originally published under Creative Commons by 360info™.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the authors:

Roy Huijsmans is an associate professor of childhood and youth studies. His research focuses on young people in processes of social development, which includes the emerging platform economy.

Pritee Hamal is an independent researcher based in Kathmandu, Nepal. She holds an MA in Development Studies and Gender Studies.

Connecting academic (air) mobility with carbon inequality: Perspectives from a Global South scholar

By ISS Blog Bliss 15 November 20224 January 2025 1607 views

As citizens of the Global South, now immigrants in the Global North, which narrative of climate action should we uphold: the one that we know is unfair back home, or the one that puts the responsibility of action on us because of where we reside now? Are our Western contemporaries aware of these dilemmas that we face? A Nepali scholar now residing in Norway reflects on these questions.

Growing up in a middle-income household in Nepal, I was part of a population that was allured to all things western. I distinctly recall how the elementary school curriculum entrenched the notion that Nepal could reach the stature of Switzerland someday – that’s how enticing the western notion was. That we could try to be like them was perpetuated as the goal. And thus, I was introduced to the distinct dichotomy of the spheres of we and they.

I pursued my higher studies in climate change and sustainable development, where I first came across the principle of “Common but Differentiated Responsibilities” (CBDR) that underscored climate change negotiations over a decade ago. This further deepened the we and they dichotomy for me: that those states which have the highest responsibility in the current levels of greenhouse gas emissions should bear the bigger share in curbing emissions is of course sensible! I have always understood that they equated with the Global North (whose historical emissions are the root of the climate problem) while we meant the Global South (who have historically faced the greater impacts of climate change). And of course, in this phenomenon, I was a part of the we. I had learned that we must adapt (because there is no other choice), and they must curb emissions (because they are responsible for the problem). I have had abundant discussions with teachers and friends alike, about how they are responsible for the climate crisis, and how it is unfair that we have to bear the repercussions of it. These discussions resonate with the current global negotiations as well as social movements which are premised upon climate (in)justice.

About a year ago, I moved to Europe for my PhD and was beyond elated! Omar El Akkad has said on flight patterns: “Westerners don’t tend to think this way, but in the part of the world I’m from, we talk about passports in terms of their power…”, and I couldn’t agree more. My green passport is limiting in every manner and form, at the bottom of the passport tier, and requires me to get a visa to most countries. My global citizenry aspirations are curtailed by the power that my passport lacks. And this new job offered me the opportunity to live the western dream, in terms of work, travel and to some degree, privilege!

A month into my PhD, I began to realize that I was struggling to fit in because the discussions centered around how ‘we’ need to do more, cut down emissions radically because ‘they’ suffer the impacts. This reversal of ‘we’ and ‘they’ in my workplace left me stunned, to say the least, and I began questioning: in my current situation, which ‘we’ do I belong in?

Art by Jacob V Joyce and Rudy Loewe at the Back to Earth exhibition at Serpentine North Gallery London

Many of my colleagues argue for degrowth in order to reduce emissions and live within planetary boundaries, which a growing body of scholarly literature also points to. Degrowth, after all, is not universal and is applied to “specifically high-income countries that need to degrow”. I understand the science behind degrowth but struggle with it, especially when it is voiced that ‘we’ must degrow. This becomes apparent, for example, when we discuss low carbon travel in my workplace. As colleagues of mine suggest that we ought to fly as little as we can, for both work and leisure, and then some colleagues go on to say how they have adopted a low-flight lifestyle, I can’t add anything but a few nods because of course, what they say is true. It is both refreshing and inspiring to work with people who walk the talk about individual climate action. But soon after, the question “how is this fair?” sinks in.

There is no denying that flying jeopardizes the climate, and the less we fly the better. But there is little acknowledgement that flying is linked with stark global carbon inequalities. What my colleagues pay no heed to is that I have not had the same experiences as they have. Studies show that air travel is in fact an economic privilege. While the top 10% of the income quartile consume 75% of all the energy from air-travel, the majority of the global population “are almost or entirely excluded from aviation”.

Most of my colleagues have travelled around the world, not just Europe. Their passports are inherently more powerful than mine – they don’t need a visa to visit Europe, nor for many other parts of the world. When they speak about the trips they took a lifetime ago to another country, or continent for that matter, for work or otherwise, I have no similar experiences to draw on. Back home, flying is the exception whereas here it’s the norm. I have had more opportunities to fly in the past year while working in Norway than throughout my entire life spent in Asia.

What is the basic standard for most of my colleagues is, in fact, a luxury for me. I’m not sure they’re aware of this. My version of we is fundamentally different from theirs. My colleagues and I view the world through our respective colored lenses. At least some part of their higher education has been in the Global North (Europe, the US, Canada or Australia) whereas mine has been grounded in Nepal and Thailand.

When I think rationally, I know, understand, and even agree that my individual choices, regardless of which part of the globe I live in, are mine. I can be a part of the climate crisis (should I choose to hop around Europe in cheap budget airlines for work and/or leisure) or be a part of the solution (plan the same travels by land). But it is difficult to be rational all the time, especially when my experiences, contexts and perspectives are so different, and even more so, when what I think of luxury (being in Europe) are just everyday things for others.

I focus here mostly on flying because my work encourages a low-carbon travel policy, including to avoid flying for work to the largest extent possible. While it is a sensible climate action for an institute, I do think there are nuances that need further unpacking.

Image of the University of Bergen’s Centre for Climate and Energy Transformation (CET) low-carbon travel policy. Source: https://www.uib.no/en/cet/120490/cet-low-carbon-travel-policy

Firstly, our travel budget does not allow for a low-carbon travel policy because it is fixed. The more we choose trains and stopovers in different cities, travelling for work, be it a conference, networking events or even courses, becomes more and more expensive. The choice of transport mode is therefore a matter of economic privilege, which most of us unfortunately do not possess.

Secondly, the low-carbon travel policy does not account for the carbon inequality linked with flying. How is it fair that I feel guilty for flying to conferences (which are important for networking as an early career researcher) while there are plenty of more established, senior researchers (including those working on sustainability and/ or climate change) who choose to fly between continents for a 2-day conference, even though they may not need to network any further? I am aware of my own privilege when I discuss my choice to attend such events in person. More often than not I am reminded about how many such in-person events are inaccessible to a lot of my peers, both financially and geographically. This contributes further to my own guilt, and also to the debate about how (un)sustainable current academic practices really are.

That everyone in the room shares similar beliefs because we work at the same center and are passionate about similar things is not a given. My personal conflicts of treading this ‘we’ and ‘they’ have resulted in numerous venting sessions. Because it is sometimes both frustrating and exhausting to not be able to find another person with similar lived experiences to connect with, in a foreign land.

A friend of mine who is now in the UK advised me that I must simply unlearn things to cope with this reversal. And I can’t help but ask if it is fair that they talk about radical lifestyle transformations, when we have always aspired to look upon their everyday? Or do I feel guilty for having to ask it at all, because I know the science behind it, and need to stop viewing the world through the colored lens of we as equating with the Global South? I have also come to the glaring realisation that these ‘uncomfortable’ talks need to happen more – because they open avenues to thinking in a different manner. And that is a critical first step to instigate action.

I recently flew to two conferences, one in which a session was on making meaningful connections between the Global North and South, and the other focused on energy and climate justice. It was a meeting point for over a hundred young researchers working around the world, trying to solve world problems, one research project at a time. Could such events create ‘safe spaces’ where we can have meaningful conversations about the reversal of we and they, and develop genuine connections between the Global North and Global South? Could such conversations lead to perhaps blurring the dichotomies? Would these broaden perspectives by forcing us to think outside of the box that we’ve been trained to think in?

Reflecting on both these events, I do think that they offered the space and the connections to confront the dichotomies of we and they. I had the chance to discuss with researchers, both early career and established ones, about my dilemma with air travel as an early career researcher. Three important points have come up. Firstly, we need to question who has to reduce air travel – is it up and coming researchers who really need networking opportunities, or established ones who comprise the privileged ones? Secondly, we need to acknowledge the carbon inequality associated with flying and incentivize travel by land. We live in a system that inherently disincentivizes low-carbon travel options, as air travel is heavily subsidized while train travel is not. So, if we, as an academic community preach the shift from air to land travel, it is the community’s responsibility to incentivize the low-carbon options, especially to those from the Global South, to attend such events. Finally, the geography and accessibility to these events matter: they can be organized in places that have good connections by land and in hybrid formats (as were events during the COVID pandemic). This feeds into a larger debate of how (un)sustainable and (un)just current academic practices are- especially in terms of accessibility and inclusion of those from the Global South.

This blog was first published in Undisciplined Environments.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Subina Shrestha is a PhD Candidate, Centre for climate and energy transformation (CET).

EADI/ISS Series | Resource Grabbing in a Changing Environment

By ISS Blog Bliss 16 March 202016 May 2020 2391 views

By Adwoa Yeboah Gyapong, Amod Shah, Corinne Lamain, Elyse Mills, Natacha Bruna, Sergio Coronado and Yukari Sekine

We are living in an era where people’s daily lives are deeply intertwined with the impacts of global markets and the threats of climate change. Even good intentions for mitigating and adapting to climate change can jeopardise natural resources and rural livelihoods. These seemingly abstract issues are becoming increasingly clear through both research and the role of the media, sparking questions such as: How do attempts to address climate change prevent farmers from working their lands, or negatively affect the livelihoods of forest users? Why are fishers organising themselves to resist interventions intended to protect marine areas? How do human rights groups and indigenous communities resist the state and powerful companies despite civil society space being increasingly limited?

The rapid rise in the scale and scope of the commodification and exploitation of natural resources can be linked to four broad, interlinked drivers: the expansion of the industrial food system; increasing privatisation of the commons; changes in governance mechanisms; and the growing prominence of climate mitigation and adaptation responses. Both local and global issues shape and complicate the dynamics of contemporary resource grabbing, many of which are still not fully understood – and will be explored further in our workshop on “Resource grabbing: impacts and responses in an era of climate change” at the EADI/ISS General Conference 2020.

The social and environmental impacts of resource grabbing

Resource grabbing impacts can include limited access to resources, insecure livelihoods, diminishing ecological sustainability, and restricted participation and political incorporation, all of which are embedded in broader power dynamics. In some cases, governance instruments (e.g. labour laws) can further exacerbate the impacts of resource grabbing. Four examples illustrate these diverse impacts.

Conservation in global fisheries

Small-scale fishers globally are facing an overlap of existing and newer processes of exclusion. Existing forms of exclusion caused by industrialisation and privatisation in fisheries have more recently overlapped with exclusionary processes stemming from climate change mitigation and adaptation initiatives. Prominent examples include the increasing establishment of Marine Protected Areas (MPAs) and blue carbon initiatives, which are presented as approaches to conserve and protect marine ecosystems. Such initiatives are often established close to the shallow coastal domains of small-scale fishers and involve the banning of fishing activities, leaving them with limited access to fisheries resources, territories and markets to sustain their livelihoods.

Climate funds in Mozambique

With 25% of its territory designated as conservation areas, Mozambique is the third-largest recipient of climate funds in Sub-Saharan Africa, having received approximately US$ 147.3 million in 2016. Most of these funds are directed to land-based conservation and climate change mitigation and adaptation projects. The Gilé National Reserve, a decade-old REDD+ project, combines such policies with the implementation of Climate-Smart Agriculture (CSA) in the reserve’s buffer zone. This has limited rural livelihood strategies and local people’s control over land and decision-making processes, due to restrictions placed on fishing, hunting, cattle rearing and gathering forest resources (e.g. charcoal, medicinal plants).

Mining in Colombia

Since the 2008 commodity-boom, open-pit coal mining in the Colombian Caribbean region of La Guajira has expanded rapidly, leading to intensified land and environmental conflicts between mining companies, the state, and the affected communities. Land previously used for agriculture and grazing livestock is no longer accessible. Both the landscape and the local economy are now dominated by mining, which has consumed more than 12,000 hectares of land and displaced 16 local villages.

Hydropower dams in the Eastern Himalayas

In the Eastern Himalayas (North-East India and Nepal), numerous hydropower dams are being planned or are already being constructed. Many of these are funded through the Clean Development Mechanism (CDM), an internationally developed climate finance initiative aiming to stimulate the development of renewable energies. However, evidence suggests that dams contribute significantly to greenhouse gas emissions through the creation of reservoirs and changes in land-use. Large dams particularly disturb ecological systems, upstream and downstream river flows, and limit people’s access to riverside lands.

Political responses generated by resource grabs

Local people and communities affected by resource grabbing engage in both overt and covert responses against dispossession and exploitation. Overt responses include formal, organised actions, often by social movements. In contrast, covert responses may include everyday acts of resistance and adaptation through different livelihood strategies, such as migration or incorporation into projects. The dynamics of such political responses have implications for solidarity with and building alliances between affected groups, particularly those seeking social and environmental justice. Three examples illustrate these diverse responses.

Using legal tools in India and Colombia

Indigenous communities facing displacement stemming from hydropower and mining in India have effectively stalled land acquisition processes through court action. These rulings have enforced existing laws mandating their prior consultation and consent. Similarly, in Colombia, more than ten popular consultation processes have been carried out at the provincial level since 2010. In each of them, large numbers of local people voted against the installation and expansion of mining or oil extraction projects. Legal battles have also taken place between companies, the state, and human rights defenders over the implementation of consultation results.

Scaling-up ‘agrarian climate justice’ struggles in Myanmar

The recent re-emergence of overt, organised resistance related to land, environment and climate mitigation issues in Myanmar has ranged from advocacy aiming to influence national-level land laws and policies that facilitate privatisation and concentration, to more localised resistance against large-scale oil palm concessions, mines and forest conservation initiatives that exclude small-scale farmers and forest users. Scaling up across struggles for agrarian climate justice has become imperative to counter elite power at national and regional levels. However, it sometimes triggers external threats, like repression, and ‘divide-and-rule’ strategies from above. Fault-lines within movements may also emerge, particularly due to competing political tendencies and legacies of ethnic conflicts.

Everyday strategies in Ghana

Farmworkers on an oil palm plantation in Ghana have engaged in covert strategies such as absenteeism, non-compliance to rules, and continuous production to resist exploitation. Workers on farms near the plantation occasionally use company vehicles on their own farms, while they absent themselves from plantation work. Casual workers use various tactics to obtain paid medical leave, while others do shoddy work, knowing there are few monitoring supervisors. Through these everyday individual responses, workers can maintain a small supply of staple foods (e.g. corn and cassava), earn extra income, and rest. However, their everyday actions also restrict their upward workplace mobility, such as moving from casual to permanent contracts, and productive autonomy on their own farms in terms of scale and crop choices.

This article is part of a series launched by the EADI (European Association of Development Research and Training Institutes) and the ISS in preparation for the 2020 EADI/ISS General Conference “Solidarity, Peace and Social Justice”. It was also published on the EADI blog.

About the authors:

Adwoa Yeboah Gyapong, Amod Shah, Corinne Lamain, Elyse Mills, Natacha Bruna, Sergio Coronado and Yukari Sekine are all PhD researchers in the Political Ecology research group at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS).

Image Credit: Maarten van den Heuvel on Unsplash

Nepal’s school-merging programme goes against the right to education by Nilima Rai

By ISS Blog Bliss 9 May 201918 May 2020 3451 views

Nepal’s government is increasingly merging schools due to shrinking population numbers in its rural areas, arguing that this will improve the quality of education. However, as Nilima Rai points out, reducing the number of schools actually has an adverse impact on children in remote areas. Hence, the government policies interfer with the children’s right to education.

The Prime Minister of Nepal and his government has named the quality of education in public schools as the topmost priority, with a promise of developing Nepal as an international educational hub. Accordingly, the Nepal Government is aspiring to ensuring inclusive and equitable quality education and promoting lifelong learning opportunities for all under Sustainable Development Goal (SDG) 4, with a proposed target of an enrolment rate of almost 100% by 2030.

So, the governmental authorities believe that merging schools will help to improve the quality of education in public schools. However, it is necessary to understand whether the existing education policies and infrastructures of public schools, particularly in remote areas of Nepal, are inspiring children’s enrolment, or whether it has an adverse impact on them. This article is based on the informal conversations with people I met during my visit to Annapurna Base Camp and a governmental official of Ministry of Education, Science and Technology (MoEST) Nepal, reflections of different field visits (other research purposes), and policy reviews and grey literatures relevant to Nepal’s education system and children’s rights.

Context of the Study

I met a girl, three or four years old, in a small teahouse. Like any kid, she was happily playing outside her house. I asked her mother, the teahouse owner, if she went to school. Her reply evoked introspection: “Yes, she does, but she just came home a few days ago for the Dashain vacation.” Wasn’t she too young to leave her mother to travel far just to join school?

Later, I discovered that the little girl was staying with her elder siblings in Pokhara (17 miles away) to study, since the neighbourhood primary school had merged with another school and was now located some distance away. Her story is not a new phenomenon, particularly in the remote villages of Nepal where school-merging policies and programmes are being implemented.

Implications of School Merging Policies on Children’s Education

Consequently, the implications of the existing education policies in sparsely populated areas of Nepal are evident. A large corpus of literature on migration and remittances suggest that remittances have improved the living standards of remittance-recipient households and led to internal migration, mostly for the children’s education, because student numbers in remote areas have dropped. To address the decreasing number of students in public schools, the government introduced the School Merging Implementation Directives 2014, but the long-term impacts of school-merging policies on children were not considered prior to its design and implementation.

The Directives followed the scheme to restructure the education system from classes 1 to 12 by creating uniformity as per the School Sector Reform Plan 2009-15 . According to the Directives, schools located within 30 minutes’ walking distance from home and serving a small population, that are unable to meet the minimum criteria of a full-fledged foundation, primary or upper primary school, can be merged together and run as a full-fledged school. According to the Status Report 2014-15 of the Department of Education, out of the 35,223 schools in the country, 443 schools were merged with neighbouring schools, 627 were closed, and 43 were downsized. This number might have increased since then.

The provision of merging schools located within 30 minutes’ walking distance from home overlooks the grim realities of a difficult topography and the absence of transportation in remote areas. The addition of 15-20 minutes to the commute time has exacerbated the children’s problems and increased the chance of dropouts. Taking into account the widespread poverty in Nepal and the country’s dependency on intensive agriculture, the Government of Nepal (Ministry of Health and Population and Ministry of Education) in support of different UN agencies and INGOs introduced the mid-day meal programme to support families in need and encourage children who have to walk long distances to school simply in search of enrolment. Due to irregularities and the insufficiency of such programmes, cases of children not getting the mid-day meal exist.

Children’s Rights and School Merging Policy

It is said that the practice of merging schools is intended to enhance the quality of education by centralising scattered resources, but it is very crucial to assess the feasibility for each and every child before merging schools. When schools are merged, children have no alternative but to quit school, endure the hardship of commuting over longer distances, or leave their parents and live in another place.

Hence, my study finds that the school-merging programme goes completely against the children’s right to education. When seen from the lens of child rights and the perspective of local communities, it has actually aggravated the children’s problems and driven them away from school. Therefore, it is imperative to analyse the long-term consequences of such policies on children’s education and exercise to find a better and comprehensive solution.

This post is a summarised version of the author’s article in the Kathmandu Post.

Image Credit: Simona Cerrato on Flickr.

About the author:

Nilima Rai is an ISS alumni. She is currently working for CESLAM on various research studies, and previously worked for several National and International NGOs. Her primary research interests are issues of International/National migration and labour, forced migration, ethnic relations, and gender issues
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