The re-emergence of the ‘directly elected chief executive’ debate in Nepal tells the evolving political story of a nation caught between hope, history and hard lessons.
An old political debate has quietly resurfaced in Nepal — one that the country thought it had buried during the tumultuous years of constitution-making. The country, still recovering from a dramatic Gen Z revolt, and with an interim government forced into place by mass protests, is again asking: Should Nepal elect its executive directly?
It is an old idea with new energy — and possibly, new dangers.
For frustrated young protesters, tired businessmen, and weary voters who have seen 16 governments in 17 years, a directly elected prime minister or president seems like the silver bullet they were never given. But for those who remember Nepal’s fragile social fabric, the long shadows of geopolitics and the messy realities of political behavior, this very proposal may be the recipe for a deeper crisis.
The debate is no longer academic. In rallies, press conferences, TV studios, and TikTok live streams, one of Nepal’s most divisive questions is back: Will a directly elected chief executive save Nepal from instability, or throw the country into a darker storm?
A debate even the new constitution could not settle
When Nepal drafted its new constitution in 2015 – after the first Constituent Assembly was dissolved without delivering the national statute in 2012 – a big question facing the country was precisely this: Who should run the Nepali state – a prime minister selected through parliament, or a prime minister or president elected directly by the people?
The Maoists, fresh from the battlefield and promising radical transformation, wanted a directly elected president. They had even painted Kathmandu’s walls red with slogans like “First President: Prachanda”, and half of the first Constituent Assembly had supported the idea.
But the Nepali Congress and many Madhesh-based and Janajati groups feared something else — that Nepal’s diversity would be flattened, its minorities overshadowed, and its fragile power balances shattered by a single dominant executive.
In the end, compromise won. Nepal adopted a modified parliamentary system with a ceremonial president and a prime minister elected by parliament. But the compromise came with a warning: If the instability in parliament continues, pressure will return for a directly elected prime minister or president.
A decade later, that prophecy is now unfolding.
The Gen Z spark
The recent Gen Z uprising was not just a protest movement; it was a public verdict on a political class perceived as exhausted, corrupt, and obsessed with power games.
Amid the tear gas and bullets, young crowds chanted for end of corruption, assurance of accountability, stability, and a government that lasts more than a year. Now, some protesters — notably the Miraj Dhungana and Amit Khanal factions of the Gen Z movement — have gone further, formally demanding a directly elected prime minister.
Dhungana, who was said to be preparing to form a new political party, even announced he would boycott the mid-term elections if this demand was ignored.
In their eyes, Nepal had tried parliamentary rule for decades — and got only broken coalitions, unstable governments, policy paralysis, and three men (Deuba, Oli, Prachanda) rotating through Baluwatar like a revolving door.
For them, the solution is simple: Let the people choose the leader directly and give such a leader five uninterrupted years.
But not all members of the Gen Z movement agree. Groups from Madhesh and indigenous communities warn that a majoritarian executive could erase hard-won achievements in inclusion and representation.
Even among the rebels, unity is elusive.
Why the idea is booming again: One word — instability
If the demand is gaining traction, the reason is painfully clear. Since Nepal’s birth as a republic in 2008, successive governments have had an average lifespan of barely 12-13 months. Prime ministers outlast monsoon seasons but rarely survive a full winter.
Power-sharing deals — often informal, often secret — have become the backbone of Nepali politics. The infamous Oli–Prachanda, Prachanda–Deuba, and Deuba–Oli turn-taking “gentlemen’s agreements” created an environment where leaders entered government not to govern, but to prepare for the next coalition collapse.
The 2022 elections only worsened the arithmetic: the rise of the Rastriya Swatantra Party, Rastriya Prajatantra Party, Janamat Party, and Nagarik Unmukti Party divided the vote but did not produce a strong alternative force. It was clear that voters wanted change, but instead they had created the perfect recipe for greater instability.
Thus, the argument for direct elections is appealing: If parliament cannot produce stable governments, why not let the people do it directly?
This logic is not lost on the Maoists, who revived their old agenda after the Gen Z uprising. Now that the main Maoist party, following unity with nine other leftist parties and factions, has morphed into the Nepal Communist Party, still several leaders argue that Nepal has no option left but to adopt a system where the executive completes a fixed term.
Their argument is simple. That a stable government leads to stable administration which leads to investor confidence which, in turn, leads to economic growth. But can a political system be judged only by its ability to prevent collapses?
The pro-direct-election camp — which includes Maoist factions, new urban leaders like Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah and Dharan Mayor Harka Sampang, and sections of the Gen Z movement — makes three core arguments:
One is stability without bargaining. A directly elected executive cannot be toppled by shifting coalitions every three months. With five guaranteed years, policies can mature, reforms can continue, and political energy can be used for governance rather than survival.
The second argument relates to clear accountability. If voters elect a leader directly, they know exactly whom to reward or punish. No more blame-shifting between coalitions, partners, or supporting parties.
A third argument is that decisions are made quicker. Because authority rests in one office, the leader can push anti-corruption measures, administrative reform, and economic strategies without endless negotiations of coalition compromises.
The logic is deeply personal for new political actors like Balen who rose to power through direct mayoral elections. They have tasted the legitimacy of direct votes and perhaps want to replicate it nationally. To many urban voters, it sounds like a refreshing alternative to the circus of parliamentary bargaining.
The other side of the story: Dangerous simplicity
The critics of the idea — many from Nepal’s “mainstream parties”, and a section of constitutional lawyers and ethnic activists — warn that the seductive simplicity of direct elections hides three grave risks.
The first of these risks is the concentration of power risks authoritarianism. Nepal’s political critics note a key paradox: Under the parliamentary system — with all its checks — prime ministers like KP Oli still attempted to dissolve parliament twice unconstitutionally.
What happens when a leader with much greater powers is elected directly? Some people warn: “If a directly elected executive makes grave mistakes, the nation must suffer for five years — because removing them becomes almost impossible.” In Nepal’s volatile political culture, where strongmen dominate party structures, the fear is real: a directly elected executive could become a directly elected authoritarian.
The second risk is Nepal’s diversity and geography cannot easily support majoritarian rule. Nepal is a mosaic: hills, Madhesh, mountains, more than 120 languages, and scores of ethnic groups populate deeply uneven demographics. In the winner-take-all national election, smaller communities fear that they will be permanently sidelined.
This concern is not ill-founded: the majority of the population is in the plains and the hills. Madheshi, Janajati, Tharu, Dalit, and Muslim groups do feel under-represented. A single countrywide election tends to favor candidates from dominant groups. So, “a single executive cannot reflect a diverse nation.”
Nepal’s geopolitics makes a powerful executive vulnerable
Nepal sits between China and India — two giants with deep influence. Besides them, there is the USA, oft-touted as Nepal’s “third neighbour.” A directly elected executive, armed with sweeping powers but no parliamentary cushion, may face intense external pressure.
During crises, who acts as the shock absorber? Who prevents the country from swinging unpredictably toward one power?
In the parliamentary system, power is diffused. In a direct presidential system, the pressure falls entirely on one person.
Nepal’s former leaders remember the geopolitical turbulences of the 1960s–1990s and warn: “A powerful executive without checks may be too weak to resist geopolitical pressure, or too strong and cause diplomatic damage.”
Deuba, Oli, and Prachanda have collectively dominated Nepal’s politics for almost 30 years — longer, some argue, than many kings and Rana rulers. Even the Ranas averaged 9 years each; modern leaders have often enjoyed greater cumulative power despite short governments.
What appears at first to be an internal governance reform quickly becomes a subject of geopolitical curiosity. In the Himalayas, even minor tremors in Nepal tend to travel across borders, unsettling calculations in New Delhi, Beijing and Washington. Any change in Nepal’s political architecture is never just Nepal’s concern; it radiates outward into a strategic landscape where three major powers are always watching.
For India, Nepal’s political changes have always been matters of both proximity and sensitivity. For over past three decades, New Delhi is accustomed to a Nepal where coalition governments rise and fall frequently, where political bargaining opens multiple channels of influence, and where policy trajectory is slow, negotiable and familiar. This landscape might be disrupted by a directly elected executive with a clear national mandate and the authority to make quick decisions. If such a leader entertains a nationalist narrative, long-dormant issues such as boundary disputes, revisions of treaties, or economic dependency could acquire a new heatedness that would challenge the balance India has so carefully maintained.
And if the leader visibly leans towards Beijing, India would see it as a strategic setback at a time when it already faces tense standoffs with China along the Himalayan frontier.
Yet, paradoxically, India also sees an opportunity: a stable Nepal that can deliver consistent policies may finally unlock the long-anticipated connectivity projects, energy trade, and cross-border infrastructure that perpetual political instability has repeatedly delayed. Thus, India stands watchful, wary of both the promise and peril of Nepal electing a strong chief executive.
Across the mountains, China watches the Nepali debate with a mix of cautious optimism and unease. For two decades, Beijing has steadily expanded its presence in Nepal through infrastructure projects, political outreach, and security coordination. A stable, decisive government in Kathmandu could advance China’s ambitions, most of all on long-term projects such as cross-border railways and Belt and Road initiatives that often get stuck in Nepal’s coalition-driven bureaucracy.
But a directly elected leader also brings along an unpredictable variable. If he or she turns outwardly pro-India or leans toward the Western democratic narrative, Beijing could be in for a far less-pliant political environment. A strong executive might adopt a harder stance on Tibet-related sensitivities, slow down Chinese investments, or reassess security cooperation altogether. Stability is, therefore, a double-edged sword for Beijing: it is helpful, as long as it does not empower an unfriendly political figure.
Far away from the Himalayas but deeply invested in Nepal’s political evolution, the United States sees in this constitutional debate a new strategic opening. Washington has always been supportive of reforms related to “good governance” and “democratic institutional development” in Nepal. A directly elected executive fits very well into the mold of having strong and effective authority to overcome corruption and any kind of stasis or lack of progress. It also provides Washington with leverage to increase its development collaboration efforts while defying accusations of meddling in Nepal’s politics as it forges its coalition administration.
Yet Washington, too, is cautious. It knows that a powerful leader could tilt toward Beijing just as easily as toward the democratic world. A populist strongman with anti-West rhetoric would complicate America’s strategic investments in Nepal as much as any instability.
At the center of all these external calculations stands Nepal itself—small, vulnerable, but quietly aware of its growing geopolitical weight. A directly elected leader may bring stability to Nepal—the kind of stability which Nepal has been longing for all these decades. It may minimize coalition politics and bring faster decision-making for economic development to take place predictably. But one should not deny the risks associated with it too. This kind of power may tend to go authoritarian at some stages or may create further rifts if leaders tend to monopolize politics. It also may cause foreign intervention to influence election politics and Nepal may become a battleground of foreign politics.
For now, Nepal must debate, not rush
Would direct elections make Nepal better or worse? There is no simple answer — only difficult truths. If the goal is stability, direct elections could help. If the goal is inclusion and balance, direct elections could harm. If the goal is preventing corruption, neither system works without strong institutions. If the goal is stopping political turnover, direct elections offer fixed terms — but also fixed leaders. However, if the intention behind it is to safeguard democracy, Nepal may not have an effective executive at this point in its politics.
Thus, the return of this particular debate—the one championed by Gen Z and revived by Maoists—also speaks to the further development of democracy because it symbolizes a level of democratic maturity.
Before Nepal rewrites its constitution again, it must answer some critical questions. How will minorities be included in a majoritarian executive? How do we prevent authoritarian drift? How will geopolitical pressures be managed? What checks and balances will prevent misuse of power? And, can political culture reform without system reform?
Until these questions are confronted honestly, a directly elected PM or president remains both Nepal’s boldest hope and its most dangerous gamble.
The nation clearly stands at a crossroads. The path ahead is uncertain. But the debate – reignited by the youth and deepened by crisis, but informed by history as well – is now at last beginning again. Perhaps, for its part, Nepal may now ask not just what kind of politics it favors but also what kind of politics it truly deserves.