–Sarthak Gupta, Lawyer based in New Delhi; former Judicial Law Clerk, Supreme Court of India; and Researcher, Columbia University[1]
On 12th September 2025, a former Nepal Supreme Court Chief Justice, Sushila Karki, was appointed as Nepal’s interim Prime Minister following widespread youth-led protests against corruption (popularly known as the “Gen-Z protests”). The protests began after the Government, led by then-Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli, banned social media applications but quickly escalated into nationwide unrest targeting the administration of Prime Minister Oli, who, along with his government officials, fled the country. Ironically, Ms. Karki was selected as the interim Prime Minister by protesters and citizens through a digital vote conducted on Discord, a social media and community platform.
Following in the footsteps of Bangladesh, Nepal appointed a “caretaker government.” However, unlike Bangladesh’s constitutional structure, Nepal has no provision for a “caretaker government.” In this post, I examine Nepal’s extra-constitutional regime change and the installation of an interim government regime outside existing constitutional frameworks. I argue that these developments raise fundamental concerns about the erosion of constitutionalism and the rule of law, and question whether the pursuit of “modern democracy” can legitimately occur at the expense of the existing constitutional structure. To support my arguments, I refer to Prof. Tushnet’s scholarship and Prof. Ginsburg’s scholarship on ‘constitutional democracy.’
The (modern) Constitution of Nepal is explicit that “sovereignty” rests in the people but must be exercised “in accordance with the provisions set forth in this Constitution” (Article 2). The office of the Prime Minister is governed by Articles 76 and 77, which mandate that the President appoint as Prime Minister a member of the House of Representatives who commands majority support, with detailed fallback mechanisms if no party holds a majority. Even during a dissolution of the House, the caretaker (interim leader) must be a legitimately appointed Prime Minister under Article 77. No provision authorizes an appointment through an ad hoc popular vote, whether digital or otherwise. The President’s power to declare an emergency under Article 273 similarly presupposes a functioning constitutional government. On the face of the constitutional text, the appointment of Ms. Karki is unconstitutional.
Yet, the proponents of the Discord appointment would invoke “popular sovereignty” to argue that the people’s will is ‘supreme’. (Hi, Rousseau) Yet, as Prof. Tushnet notes, constitutional democracy is not simple majoritarianism but self-government through law. The people retain ultimate authority, but they exercise it through constitutional channels they have consented to. Constitutional democracy requires free elections, recognition of rights, and institutional integrity. (See, Prof. Ginsburg and Prof. Huq) Nepal’s sudden extra-legal transfer of power may claim democratic legitimacy, but it destroys the institutional integrity that sustains a constitutional order.
Neighboring South Asian countries are all victims of the unconstitutional democracy. Bangladesh’s 2024 interim government emerged when Prime Minister Hasina fled amid student-led protests and had no constitutional foundation, and within months, it faced charges of arbitrary rule. (See, here and here) Sri Lanka’s 2022 crisis, by contrast, stayed within constitutional bounds when Parliament elected a successor president after Gotabaya Rajapaksa fled. (See, here and here) India’s 1975 Emergency shows another path that even when leaders act “constitutionally,” suspension of liberties can hollow out democracy.
Nepal’s case illustrates a novel approach, as a dangerous path. Modern democracies rarely die by sudden coups (like Nepal’s Gen-Z protests), but they erode the structure incrementally. Nepal’s modern democracy “moment” is unusual because it combines instantaneous rupture with the seeds of long-term erosion. Once the precedent is set that mass demonstration followed by digital mobilization may override the Constitution, future leaders can invoke the same tactic to sidestep constitutional limits. The very logic of constitutionalism, binding today’s majority so that tomorrow’s minority remains protected, is undone.
“Constitutional democracy” is always fragile because contemporary degradation occurs when governments retain democratic symbolism while discarding constitutional norms. Gen-Z protesters demanded accountability, but by appointing an Interim Prime Minister through a digital plebiscite, they abandoned the slow, deliberative methods that give popular sovereignty legal form. Rousseau’s notion of direct “popular will” cannot coexist with the Lockean conception embedded in Article 1 of the Nepalese Constitution, which declares Nepal an “independent, indivisible, sovereign, secular, inclusive, democratic, socialism-oriented, federal democratic republican state,” but only through the Constitution as fundamental law.
The Discord-based selection of Ms. Karki exposes the inherent limitations of digital plebiscitary governance in a country of roughly 29.6 million people. Several reports indicate that one server with about 145,000 participants (barely a fraction of the population) hosted debates and successive polls to nominate an interim leader, from which Ms Karki emerged as the favourite. Beyond the obvious problem of excluding the illiterate, the poor, and those without reliable internet access, the very platform proved vulnerable. Several polls were hacked during the week-long process, casting doubt on the authenticity of the tallies. A legislature that exists only as a chatroom cannot provide the safeguards of transparent electoral rolls, verified counting, or judicial oversight that Articles 84 and 246 of the Constitution envision. Instead of a deliberative mechanism capable of representing an entire nation, the “Parliament of Nepal” became, in effect, a mutable digital forum controlled by aliens of multiple states (See, here, here, and here), hardly a substitute for constitutionally regulated self-government.
Looking forward to reclaiming constitutional democracy, the Himalayan country must channel the energy of the protests back into its constitutional framework rather than outside it. Articles 100, 85, and 17 of the Constitution already provide tools for no-confidence votes, periodic elections, and robust freedoms of expression and assembly, mechanisms that, if respected, could have addressed public grievances without resort to an improvised digital-controlled parliament. No doubt, constitutional and institutional reforms are needed and should aim to fortify constitutional provisions by clarifying mid-term succession rules and entrenching core principles, as India’s basic-structure doctrine has done, so that momentary majorities cannot dismantle constitutional essentials. Modern democracy in Nepal will remain precarious unless the people reaffirm that their sovereign power is exercised only through the Constitution they have collectively enacted, not through a digital poll or the turbulence of the streets.
Suggested citation: Sarthak Gupta, The Birth of Modern Democracy at a Constitutional Cost: In Search of “Constitutional Democracy” in Nepal, Int’l J. Const. L. Blog, Sept. 19, 2025, at: http://www.iconnectblog.com/the-birth-of-modern-democracy-at-a-constitutional-cost-in-search-of-constitutional-democracy-in-nepal/
[1] Disclaimer: The author does not intend to diminish the protesters, their demands, or the lived experiences of the Nepalese people. The analysis focuses solely on the constitutional perspective, situating Nepal’s current state of affairs within broader debates on democratic transitions in the Global South.
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