Sudan Gurung and other Gen Z leaders may be on to something bigger than Alexandre Dumas’ book The Three Musketeers.

Earlier this month, Gen Z leaders helped forge an agreement to bring together the three musketeers of Nepali politics—Rabi Lamichhane, Balendra (Balen) Shah and Kulman Ghising—in an alliance under the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP). While the initial agreement included only Lamichhane and Shah, Gurung, a key Gen Z leader, reportedly persuaded Ghising to join, personally accompanying him to the final negotiations.

For Nepal, this coming together could be way bigger than when Dumas first published The Three Musketeers, a historical swashbuckling adventure, in 1844. Will Nepalis turn the three musketeers of the RSP into an instant favourite just as Dumas’ three musketeers did?

Frontline to back-room deals

“There is no friendship that cares about an overheard secret.”

Gurung and other Gen Z leaders made their mark from the frontlines, always remaining transparent and open in their activities. It felt like they had no secrets, no ulterior agenda; everything always seemed open, honest and transparent. Their ability to broker a complex political arrangement involving high-profile leaders marks a significant evolution in their roles, from transparent changemakers in the frontlines to backroom dealmakers. Backroom deals and opaque power-sharing arrangements were part of the public resentment against the political system, a factor underlying the September protests. In forging the political alliance within the RSP, Gen Z-ers now risk becoming the very shadowy backroom figures.

In facilitating the RSP agreement, perhaps Gen Z leaders may have decided that practical political expediency rather than lofty principles, like transparency, was more important in establishing a credible political front for the moment. But these are the moments that Gen Z leaders must carefully weigh how much and when they choose to engage politically, whether from the front or in the backroom. By weighing in and actively facilitating the political arrangement, they have taken sides in a politically delicate time. They have now been drawn into the ideological orbit of political power races, whether they intended it or not.

In these delicate times, the country needs many skills, expertise and talents. It needs skilful negotiators and savvy political operators to help navigate Nepal’s delicate and complex political situation. It also needs honourable civil society leaders who are willing to retain their principles and remain a politically neutral force for change.

When Gen Z led the September protests, they did so with a call for change and improved governance. They did not lead those protests to secure the political fortunes of any one political leader. Or at least for those of us who still hold out hope for transformative change from Gen Z, we don’t believe the protests were intended only to secure the political fortunes of our favourite musketeer, no matter how swashbuckling they may be. Gen Z are best suited to provide politically neutral civil society leadership. They must not waver.

Unity without ideology

“All for one and one for all, united we stand divided we fall.”

The appeal of Gen Z has come from its simplicity of thought and clarity of purpose. Gen Z leadership was so diffuse that everyone was a leader and no one was a leader, all at the same time. They did not have any ideological motivation and carried a simple call: A demand for change that could give everybody a fair chance to improve their lives and build their own destinies. With this simple call, the Gen Z movement united everyone and offered a common shared purpose.

The simplicity of their purpose, coupled with their transparency and integrity, is what made Gen Z so appealing, not just in Nepal but globally.

I personally experienced the global appeal of Nepal’s Gen Z while in Kenya, Brazil and the UK recently. The first reaction of ordinary people when meeting a Nepali was a gushing proclamation of ‘Gen Z!’ with a broad grin. Instead of associating Nepal with Everest or brave Gurkhas, as they usually did, now it was the powerful appeal of Gen Z that symbolised Nepal.

It would be a mistake to characterise the Gen Z movement merely as an outcome of widespread public frustration or a response to the brutal firings on the first day of the protests. Public discontent with corruption and poor governance was widespread long before it exploded in September. Many leaders, political parties and fly-by-night messiahs had tried to exploit this public frustration to build movements and lead protests. Despite a few starts here and there, most of them fizzled out. Overall, those protests failed to draw in sustained public support because not enough people believed in that leadership.

On the other hand, people believed in Gen Z. Thousands of people heeded the call and joined the protests. It wasn’t just the public mood that resulted in the September protests. Gen Z’s call to build pressure for change resonated deeply with people because it was a movement without ulterior motive. There was no political affiliation, no ideological direction. It was honest, transparent, believable and without deceit.

Many Gen Z leaders are now using the appeal of their movement to catapult themselves into active politics. Some have, for instance, started new parties or joined existing ones. Several established political parties are including Gen Z leaders as their candidates for the elections. Some Gen Z leaders have repurposed the movement’s impact to justify changes to the constitution, such as calling for a directly elected executive president or a return of the monarchy.

Many Gen Z leaders will go on to be great political figures. Gen Z leaders who believe in deeper constitutional changes will also go on to pursue their goals politically. But as they make the transition from Gen Z activists to political leaders, they must remain mindful to divorce themselves from the movement’s appeal and impacts.

People who died in the Gen Z protests did not die to launch someone’s political career or pursue some ideological course. They died while heading a simple call to protest for ending corruption, improving governance, a chance to better lives and fulfilling destinies. It would be a betrayal of the fallen heroes if Gen Z leaders were to misuse the movement’s appeal and impact to launch their (or someone else’s) political career or push through ideological changes.

The Gen Z movement illustrated how civil society activism could serve as the final safeguard. The protests were tragically highly anarchical, with people killed, buildings burned, houses ransacked and shops looted. Ironically, it was this anarchy that also prevented the descent into another form of anarchy—it blocked the government of the time from descending further into corruption, malfeasance, poor governance or anarchy, in short.

Gen Z leaders must not corrupt the purity of civil society activism with political design or ideological motivations. After all, it is not musketeers who will save us all; only we—ordinary civil society—united ‘all for one and one for all’ can save ourselves.