The Gen Z movement marked a decisive rupture in Nepal’s political life. It was not merely another episode of unrest; it triggered a dramatic regime change and fundamentally altered the relationship between citizens and the state. At such moments, political parties are tested—not by rhetoric, but by their capacity to recognise history when it arrives. The Nepali Congress, the country’s oldest democratic party, initially failed that test. Its response was muted, hesitant and out of sync with the scale of the national shock. Instead of offering leadership and direction, the party clung to inertia, exposing a crisis that threatened not only its relevance but its very purpose.

This paralysis was not accidental. A section of the leadership remained trapped in a logic of survival, seeking to preserve influence through tactical alliances and quiet accommodations with rivals. The instinct was to manage decline rather than confront change. In contrast, Gagan Thapa articulated a fundamentally different proposition. He argued that the party could not respond to an epochal rupture with procedural normalcy. His call for a special convention was not a tactical manoeuvre but a political statement: The Nepali Congress must confront the events of the Gen Z movement directly, acknowledge the profound shift in public consciousness, and realign itself with a society that has decisively moved ahead of its political class.

The special convention held in Kathmandu in early January marked a clean break from business as usual. It was not simply a forum for policy adjustment; it was an assertion of democratic sovereignty within the party itself. For perhaps the first time in years, the will of party delegates led to leadership outcomes. This was happening as other parties scrambled to respond to the Gen Z moment—a generational rejection of opaque politics, ideological cynicism and political impunity. The CPN-UML convened its own convention to reassert relevance. Pushpa Kamal Dahal transitioned from Maoist Centre’s chairman to convener of a broader leftist front, the Nepali Communist Party. The Rastriya Swatantra Party welcomed prominent entrants, including Balendra Shah, now projected as its prime ministerial candidate. Yet among these responses, the NC’s convention stood apart not as a reactive adjustment, but as a structural and political reset.

Leadership is rarely conferred by title alone. There is a simple rule: The person whose political line is adopted becomes the natural leader. Authority follows clarity. Thapa’s insistence on a special convention and his success in having his vision formally endorsed signalled a decisive shift within the NC. His election as party president was not procedural; it was a statement of legitimacy. It reflected a wider sentiment within the party and beyond: A demand for leadership that combines moral conviction with policy coherence, capable of preparing the NC for reform and electoral battles ahead.

Equally important was the party’s engagement with the Gen Z-led movement that reshaped national discourse. This movement was not a fleeting expression of youthful anger; it represented a structural break in how citizens relate to power. For the NC, dismissing it as an aberration would have been politically fatal. The convention instead acknowledged a core democratic reality—while the constitution is permanent, it is not immutable. Through political consensus, it can evolve to reflect new social realities, enhance participation in the state, and improve governance outcomes.

Thapa’s vision extends beyond constitutional reform. His advocacy for lateral entry into party structures and parliamentary representation challenges the closed ecosystem of Nepali politics. By opening space for professionals, technocrats and non-traditional political actors, he is repositioning the NC as a living political movement rather than a static electoral machine. This is not populism dressed as reform but an effort to rebuild political competence and credibility at a time when public trust in institutions is dangerously eroded.

Most critically, this moment is about the survival of liberal democracy in Nepal. The country faces an existential challenge. Populist rhetoric, often punitive and polarising, has gained traction, while political retribution is justified in the language of popular will. Uncertainty has become the dominant feature of governance. In such an environment, the weakening of constitutional democracy is not a distant risk; it is an unfolding reality.

The rejuvenation of the NC, therefore, carries significance far beyond party politics. A functioning liberal democracy requires a credible democratic centre, one that believes in constitutional supremacy, pluralism and restraint. Nepal needs contemporary laws that anticipate and protect citizen rights, institutions capable of withstanding populist pressure, and a parliament that functions as a serious law-making body rather than a stage for political theatre. Bipartisan consensus on national priorities is a democratic necessity.

While nearly every major party claims to have reinvented itself after the Gen Z moment, these claims largely ring hollow. Cosmetic changes, leadership reshuffles and rhetorical reinvention do not constitute transformation. The NC stands apart precisely because it subjected itself to internal democratic correction. Thapa’s elevation matters because it signals a genuine break rather than managed continuity. The convention demonstrated that national politics once again gravitates around the NC when it acts with clarity and courage.

For too long, the party operated under the shadow of fear, particularly of a consolidated left unity, which constrained organisational growth. Thapa, unburdened by legacy compromises and factional baggage, is positioned to free the NC from this paralysis. If he succeeds, the party can reclaim its historic role not as a party of hesitation, but as the principal voice of democratic moderation, constitutionalism and national stability. In a moment of democratic fragility, that role has never mattered more.