Prem Darshan Sapkota and Srishti Adhikari
For decades, Nepali politics was ruled through institutional affiliation. In the post Panchayat era and the subsequent people’s movements, party identity was anchored in ideology and proximity to local and central leadership. Political socialization occurred through traditional ways such as student unions, school teachers, local cadres, and later, mass media like newspapers, radio, and television. The Maoist insurgency and the Madhesh movements further solidified these allegiances, expanding party grassroots bases.
However, the rapid shift toward social media and new global dynamics has fractured these traditional channels of political socialization. Our recent conversations with voters across the Madhesh and Bagmati provinces reveal a fundamental shift in the nation’s political psyche: a departure from rigid institutional loyalties toward one of emotional resonance. This raises a critical question whether swing voters have truly shifted or if the very way a voter is defined has changed in the national context.
The rise of figures like Balen Shah and Rabi Lamichhane has introduced a powerful competitor to the status quo: political affection. Our interactions and observations through the province Madhesh and Chitwan indicate that voters are undergoing a unique psychological tug-of-war. The secure attachment to party symbols—the familiar “Tree” or “Sun”—is now competing with the distanced intimacy of the future, where voters connect directly with personalities rather than party institutions. Whether this budding romance of leadership can truly challenge the organizational strengths of the old guard will remain a mystery until the results are announced.
The concept of political affiliation can be explained through social identity theory. According to this theory, political parties become more than a service provider, they become an in-group that individuals can identify with. For a lifelong UML cadre in Nijgadh, ideology remains the key aspect of representation. He argues that despite current dissatisfaction, once candidates begin door-to-door campaigns, the former party affiliations will revive. Similarly, in Birgunj, a 50-year-old shopkeeper voiced a need for ideological affiliation and maturity, placing his hope in Gagan Thapa as a leader who represents a more seasoned, value-driven alternative. Similarly, a group of men in a teashop in Thori, Parsa shared that they would maintain their respective party affiliations. These voters view the party as a secure attachment, an association that provides a sense of stability and belonging even when the system fails to deliver immediate economic results. For them, a vote is a commitment to an ideology and a history of struggle rather than a fleeting emotional response.
In contrast, political affection is driven by the phenomenon of Parasocial Interaction (PSI). Coined by Horton and Wohl in 1956, PSI describes the one-sided emotional bond individuals develop with media personas. When brought into the context of 2026, we can clearly see that social media has helped with the amplification of this idea of “intimacy at a distance.” Young voters in Chitwan and Janakpur view leaders like Balen Shah and Rabi Lamichhane not as distant politicians, but as acquaintances that they can connect with. When they voice their support for the ghanti, they automatically allude to Balen dai. When asked what the mood was like in their local area, three young men said, “this time it is all about Balen” without any hesitation. A female shopkeeper in Nijgadh observed that, many customers support these new faces not because of detailed policy agendas, but because of a visceral feeling that “Balen is a good guy” who can fix the country. When a young teacher in Siraha and a seasoned rickshaw driver in Janakpur both share, “Mutuma ghanta cha” (my heart says the bell), they are describing a visceral, emotional commitment that bypasses rational agenda thinking.
This affection towards a particular personality often manifests as the “Romance of Leadership,” a psychological tendency to invest individuals with superhuman qualities during times of crisis. When voters perceive failure of the system, they seek a leader who appears decisive, courageous, and uncorrupted. In Janakpur, a 70-year-old grandmother expressed her intention of voting for “Ghanti” (the Bell symbol) because her children abroad told her to support Balen. Yet this wave is not without its fair share of critics. A Gen Z female banker in Birgunj, offered a more nuanced perspective. She advocated for a directly elected executive Prime Minister and insists that young voters must check a candidate’s background. For her, the affection must be paired with value-driven politics. She claimed that the building of Singha Durbar did nothing wrong, it was the leaders inside who failed.
However, the field discussions also revealed a systemic feeling of alienation amongst voters. This is not just dissatisfaction with a specific leader, but a cynical belief that the entire democratic system is unresponsive. In Patiyani, Chitwan, a 66-year-old woman, cheated of 12 lakhs by an agent during her son’s attempt at migration shared that she would vote for ghanti this time around because the parties she had shown support to for three decades had failed. Her complaints of fraud fell on dead ears, with none of the authorities acting on it. While she had little hope the new party would change things drastically, she shared she would at least show her dissatisfaction through her vote.
In our interactions across the Madhesh province, there were also many who were still weighing their options. In Janakpur, businessmen remain wary. They acknowledge that the momentum is with RSP, particularly among the young voters but question their intent to work. Similarly, in Lahan, a civil society member shared that despite the fanfare, RSP lacks the grassroots level network to mobilize in the final weeks of the elections. In Sarlahi, a female teashop owner stated that it would make no difference who she voted for while another claimed he would only decide after looking at the list of candidates for his constituency.
While the wave of support for new leadership is palpable: the RSP supporters are both loud and proud and visible across the country, it would be unwise to discount the traditional parties completely. The established parties have the edge on committed party affiliated members and have the associational skill to convince their voters. Similarly, they also have significant grassroots network that they can mobilize to amplify their outreach. For the traditional parties, the challenge is to close the expectations gap and revive their associational bonds through hard work and candidate maturity. For the new forces, the challenge is to draw silent voters into their camp and balance the negativity associated with their candidates through their leadership. As Nepal approaches the 2026 elections, the burning question is: will the party affiliations hold strong, or will the voters shift their loyalties and affection to newer leadership?
First-Past-The-Post (FPTP) System: Seat Share
The FPTP system consists of 165 seats. The following table shows the number of seats won and the corresponding percentage of total FPTP seats for the major parties.
Political Party | Seats Won (FPTP) | Percentage of FPTP Seats |
Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) | 125 | 75.76% |
Nepali Congress (NC) | 18 | 10.91% |
CPN (UML) | 9 | 5.45% |
Nepali Communist Party | 8 | 4.85% |
Shram Sanskriti Party | 3 | 1.82% |
Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP) | 1 | 0.61% |
Others / Independents | 1 | 0.61% |
Total | 165 | 100% |
Proportional Representation (PR) System: Vote Share
This table reflects the distribution of the 10,835,025 valid votes processed. Parties failing to meet the 3% national threshold have been merged in “Others” category.
Political Party | Total PR Votes | Percentage of PR Votes |
Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) | 5,183,493 | 47.84% |
Nepali Congress (NC) | 1,759,172 | 16.24% |
CPN (UML) | 1,455,885 | 13.44% |
Nepali Communist Party | 811,577 | 7.49% |
Shram Sanskriti Party | 385,902 | 3.56% |
Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP) | 330,684 | 3.05% |
Others (Below 3% Threshold) | 908,312 | 8.38% |
Total | 10,835,025 | 100.00% |
The most striking feature of this election was the rejection of traditional ideological “isms”. For the first time, voters moved past the decades-long debates between socialism, monarchism, and liberalism, treating political parties not as sources of political identities but as service providers that were chosen for 35 years in various permutations and combinations and yet failed to deliver. This shift was reflected in the 2025 Purak Asia Survey, which in hindsight can be seen as a statistical harbinger of the results. The survey revealed that 77.5% of citizens had already detached themselves from party affiliations. When the ballots were counted, this detachment was evident in the collapse of the old guard: the Leftist bloc lost a staggering 20% of its vote share as their traditional “vote banks” evaporated. The Monarchist forces saw their support halved, proving that while the public was angry with the current republic, they were not interested in returning to a romanticized autocratic past. Even the Nepali Congress, the traditional centrist anchor, lost 10% of its base. Most telling was the decline of regional and identity-based parties, which lost nearly half their support as the electorate pivoted toward a “New vs. Old” binary that transcended ethnic and geographic boundaries.
This electoral innovation was driven by the “Balen Factor” and the rise of the RSP. Balen Shah, ethnically from the Madheshi community, bridged a historic divide by resonating deeply with both the plains and the hills. His success, alongside Harka Sampang’s resonance in the eastern hills, centered on the perception of “clean” leadership. Balen Shah, lauded as a populist by many, is a dissenter. As the mayor of Kathmandu Metropolitan City, he challenged the interference from the federal government on rights and responsibilities of the local government. In doing so, he confronted the old parties’ reluctance to fully adopt the demarcations of the rights and responsibilities of the federal system and stood up for the rights of the local government granted by the constitution. This breaking away from traditional ways of doing things and the courage of being the lone voice against the authority of political parties resonated with people across the country.
The 2025 Purak Asia survey data highlighted that 93.3% of the public believed the old parties were complicit in systemic corruption, and this was also reflected in the demand for anti-corruption and accountability from the youth during the Gen-Z protests. Considering this, RSP’s anti-corruption platform seemed like an answer to their prayers for the voters. The public explicitly sought “young blood,” with 91.8% of survey respondents calling for a generational handover. The voters treated this election as a means to replace stagnant political monopoly and this is evident in the results. There is a significant youth representation from the direct elections in the new parliament—54 of the directly elected candidates are under the age of 40.
The result was a historic majority for new political forces, a mandate that provides a rare opportunity for institutional reinvention but also carries the weight of immense public expectation. For the policy community, this shift presents a unique window of opportunity to redefine the relationship between the state and its citizens. As many professional and young parliamentarians enter the new parliament, there is a distinct opportunity for policy analysts from the civic front to engage with a more receptive legislative body. There is now a space to push for deep-seated bureaucratic reforms and the digitalization of governance that the previous “syndicate” of parties had resisted. There is an opportunity for some civic organizations to act as the intellectual architect in helping a party of newcomers translate their “anti-corruption” energy into sustainable policy frameworks. Furthermore, the high level of interest and engagement from the diaspora and social media users allows civic organizations to bypass traditional gatekeepers and mobilize public opinion for transparency.
The primary policy challenge for the new government lies in the lack of a tested legislative track record. There is a tangible danger of a policy vacuum, since the party campaigned on a platform of “newness” rather than concrete agendas; their stance on complex issues like federalism, foreign policy, and debt management remains undefined. Furthermore, constitutional amendments are on the table, given the near two-third majority for RSP. However, RSP needs to realize that the constitution is a product of intense socio-political negotiations, and any proposed amendments will need to be carried out with due process and consultations with the public. Civil society, therefore, has a vital role in filling this void by providing both technical expertise and a critical perspective. Since the opposition within the parliament is weak in terms of numbers, civil society also has the additional task of remaining vigilant and raising voices of different sections to ensure that this overwhelming majority is used to strengthen democratic processes and institutions, rather than becoming a tool for overreaching power.
While the euphoria and hope are palpable at this moment, the challenges are equally formidable. The RSP has secured a massive mandate, yet its commitment to democratic principles remains largely untested in a parliamentary setting. Most of its elected representatives are newcomers without established ideological positions, raising questions about party cohesion. There is a genuine concern in some quarters that this majority, fueled by frustration rather than clear policy, could move in unpredictable directions. Furthermore, the rising rhetoric against the right to freedom of association—specifically frustrations aired regarding trade and student unions—suggests a potential friction with established civic organizations. If the new government views all intermediary institutions as “remnants of the old system,” the space for independent civic oversight may shrink.
Addressing these risks will require civil society to adopt the role of a watchdog. Nepali civil society will need to monitor the activities of the government, particularly in relation to the protection of the marginalized voices. While Balen Shah is a symbol of hope for many, his previous use of force against street vendors and the landless in Kathmandu suggests a governance style that may prioritize urban aesthetics over human rights and equity. Given the near two-third majority, civil society will also have to track parliamentary functioning and legislative transparency, ensuring that the majority does not lead to fast-tracking laws that bypass public consultation or weaken the right to association. It is also important that the civil society hold RSP accountable on their anti-corruption measures. Most importantly, we need to ensure that the quest for justice does not devolve into populist revenge against old political cadres, which would jeopardize long-term stability.
The ultimate stability of this new era depends on whether the RSP and its leaders can move beyond being a “reaction” to the old parties and become a proactive force for institutional stability. For civil society, the task ahead is to be both a collaborator and a critic. They must support the mandate for change while defending the pluralism that makes democracy possible. The 2026 election proved that the Nepali people want a government that is not just new, but just. It falls to both government and civil society to translate the street’s voice into the language of law, without sacrificing the democratic process as well as rights of freedom of association and expressions.
