While I recently argued that much of what we call “populism” isn’t actually pro-poor, two new articles, one by Sabin Ninglekhu and another by Paul Staniland, highlight what it looks like when mass populist movements do take shape from the grassroots up—and bring down longstanding regimes. Considering the Gen Z movements in Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, and Nepal that toppled governments there in 2022, 2024, and 2025, respectively, Staniland describes a region in which commonfolk frustration over unmet needs, unresponsive institutions, and rampant corruption spilled into the streets. The contrast with the “populist rhetoric” of pro-elitist governments that I described is striking. So, what is the difference between fiery words about the interests of the commonfolk and these movements that actually toppled governments?
Often, what is populism in name is elite capture in deed
In my earlier blog, I argued that in many instances, so-called populists come to power by talking the talk—promising prosperity and dignity for the poor, the unseen, and the left-behind—without walking the pro-poor policy walk. For instance, in India, Brazil, and elsewhere, the data show that populist regimes coincide with stagnation or even reversals in longstanding poverty reduction while in Mexico, a populist cancellation of a decades-old safety net disproportionately hurt the educational attainment of children from poor households. The poor already have less access to high-quality health and education and such reductions in the safety net further jeopardize their human capital accumulation pathways. In other words, this sort of “populism,” often doesn’t translate into pro-poor service delivery.
South Asia’s many crises of legitimacy
Staniland’s account of South Asia is about something different: here, widespread grievances have generated protest movements powerful enough to destabilize longstanding regimes. In Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, and Nepal, leaders have been rapidly swept out of power by waves of citizen mobilization. These are not just rhetorical populists making promises; they are (seemingly) genuine populist surges, grounded in real hardship and anger at the elites who have failed to deliver after years, even decades, in power.
Particularly striking is how broad-based and decentralized these protests are. Student and youth movements, in particular, have been at the center in each of these three instances—raising the possibility that what we are witnessing is a new generation claiming its space in a region where the nations are young and the politicians are old. And in so doing, these student movements are perhaps yielding a truly people-centric form of populism. Unlike elite-led populism, these movements emerge from the grassroots, and are carried forward by Gen Z organizers and protesters who demand accountability not just in rhetoric, but in practice.
Performative politics versus systemic breakdown
This contrast matters. When I last wrote about “populism,” my emphasis was on the performative, top-down kind: leaders who invoke the poor while sticking to patronage or elite bargains that leave distributional realities largely unchanged. The result is incremental disappointment sandpapered over with a hefty dose of identity politics.
Staniland is describing the other end of the spectrum. When unmet promises accumulate, poverty combines with repeated failures of governance, and inflation inflicts sharp pain each day, the result can be a catastrophic loss of credibility for the government. In Nepal, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka, these movements emerged not because people were seduced by populist rhetoric, but because the gap between state performance and citizen expectations had become impossible to ignore.
Ninglekhu underscores this point by situating the Nepal Gen Z protest in a long local history of revolutions and their afterlives. The article highlights how today’s young protesters in Kathmandu consciously draw from the imagery, symbolism, and unfinished business of earlier revolutionary moments. In this sense, the Gen Z uprisings are not only about contemporary economic frustrations and governance failures, but also about reclaiming political imagination from the ghosts of past movements. This layering of memory and aspiration makes the Nepali protests uniquely resonant: they are as much about dignity and history as about inflation and corruption.
Fragile institutions, fragile gains
Staniland also underlines the institutional weakness that makes these crises so acute—and the steep challenges now faced by these new populist governments and their underlying movements. Hollowed-out parties, weak bureaucracies, and powerful militaries mean that when protests erupt, there are few stabilizers. Instead, authority can collapse quickly, replaced by chaos or by new but equally fragile arrangements. These surges, his work cautions, are both a product of institutional weakness and a driver of further fragility.
This pattern is not unique to South Asia. Over a decade ago, the Arab Spring showed how quickly citizen uprisings rooted in economic grievances and political frustration could sweep across a region. In Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, and beyond, long-entrenched regimes fell in the face of popular mobilization. Yet the aftermath also illustrated the limits of protest alone: in most cases, the underlying institutions remained weak, elites regrouped, and in some countries, authoritarianism returned in a new guise. The echo with South Asia is striking. As in the Middle East and North Africa, regime collapse does not necessarily translate to durable democratic gains or improved welfare for the poor. When grievances are not addressed and institutions remain unreformed, anger resurfaces, producing cycles of upheaval rather than stable progress.
Indeed, Ninglekhu reminds us that in Nepal–and arguably in the region–the institutional void that begot the protests is not new: it is an inheritance of decades of partial transitions, unfinished constitutional settlements, and elite bargains that left ordinary people’s grievances unresolved. When today’s youth mobilize, they are navigating both present-day hardship and this legacy of half-finished change. This helps explain why regime collapse seems to have begotten regime collapse in the region. The underlying grievances remain unresolved, institutions are not reformed, and elites return to business as usual. Without credible pathways for inclusion and vastly improved service delivery, the space for genuine populism—rooted in citizen anger—remains wide open.
The real test lies ahead
The emergence of youth- and student-led protests raises a hopeful but uncertain question: will these movements deliver differently once in power? Having toppled governments, can they translate mass mobilization into pro-poor policy, evidence-based decision-making, and transparent governance?
As Staniland notes, the best hope for lasting success is for these governments to institutionalize accountability and embrace evidence-based policymaking. In a recent blog, Rachel Glennerster notes that citizens deserve not just lofty promises but policymaking rooted in evidence—building accountability into the system. The Gen Z movements that Staniland and Ninglekhu describe have opened the door to something new, but whether that door leads to sustained poverty reduction or to another cycle of disappointment will depend on how seriously new leaders embrace evidence-based policy, transparency, and accountability. If they do, they will differ in both genesis and in how they govern from the populists-in-name-only, who typically shun evidence, data, and transparency.
For the development enterprise, this underscores the importance of focusing on the basics: evidence-backed policy, investments in high-quality service delivery, social protection, and transparency and accountability. This moment offers a timely reminder: meeting basic needs is not a technocratic concern—it is central to regime stability and democratic survival. And for scholars of democracy, Staniland and Ninglekhu together highlight that South Asia offers a cautionary tale: where legitimacy rests on fragile foundations, populism is not just talk. It can be the spark that brings the whole edifice down.
South Asia is home to about 20 percent of the world’s poor, many of whom are also particularly vulnerable to climate change. It is also home to about 12 percent of the world’s Gen Alphas—the generation that the Zs will pass the baton to, and the ones whose formative years can be shaped by robust investments in their health, education, and nutrition. There is real scope for these new governments to do good and to set an example by doing it well. These Gen Z movements have reminded this rapidly aging millennial of a word she had long forgotten: hope. I hope they govern with the good of their people in mind and at heart, and with data and science under their wings.
