A surprisingly important part of why I’ve enjoyed being here so far has been the gym. Not because I just adore lifting weights, but because it is also where I can chat with some local lads my age, many of whom are studying too. Other than asking what I’m doing here (very good question mate) the most common thing they bring up is how keen they are to come live in Europe.
The same topic frequently comes up in conversations with my colleague Bibek. He is a few years out of university and recently shared a striking statistic with me. Of the 45 people in his class, 10 remained in Nepal, 10 got married (women are often discouraged from re-entering the workforce after marriage) and the remaining 25 went abroad, predominantly to Europe. So, for this reflection, I want to explore what drives this Europhilia, and why seeing the choices facing Nepali graduates has put my own frustrations with the Western graduate market into perspective.
First, let me explain what ‘going to Europe’ actually means. People here tend to use ‘Europe’ as shorthand for the West (the US, Canada and Australia are also mentioned, but Bibek says their appeal has diminished in recent years). There are several routes a Nepali graduate could take, but the most common among Bibek’s classmates was to undertake a European Master’s programme. After graduating, many countries allow them to stay temporarily while looking for work. In Germany, this lasts up to 18 months; in the UK it is currently two years (although this is being reduced next year). During that period, many take lower-skilled jobs in hotels, restaurants or similar work to help cover their living expenses. If they are then unable to find – or hold onto – a job that will sponsor their visa, Bibek says some simply apply for another Master’s and repeat the process.
This can evidently be a stressful experience. But it is also extremely expensive. In the UK, international postgraduate tuition fees typically range from around £9,000 to £30,000. Even in countries like Germany, where many universities charge no tuition fees, international students still have to demonstrate access to at least €11,904 to cover their first year. To put that into perspective, a relatively well-paid professional job in Nepal might earn roughly €425-€570 a month. In this case, the German financial requirement alone would represent around two years’ salary, before flights, insurance and other costs are even considered. To afford this, Bibek says that many families take out substantial loans, sometimes using their homes or land as collateral.
So why spend such vast sums on a foreign education? Part of it is that, according to Bibek, for those who do find stable employment, Europe remains something of a golden ticket. Median full-time earnings are around £39,000 a year in the UK and €54,000 in Germany – notably above the wages discussed above. That gap is large enough for graduates to support their families back home and still occasionally indulge in the fruits of our consumer economies. They also gain access to healthcare and social protections that we sometimes take for granted – and they really don’t. Finally, a foreign degree, particularly when combined with European work experience, is highly valued by Nepali employers.
The other part of the story is the sheer lack of graduate opportunities within Nepal. This is the labour market that people like Bibek, who haven’t embarked on the European odyssey, are left to navigate. Graduate unemployment was estimated at around 26% in 2024, above a youth unemployment rate of (still high) 20.6%. On the face of it, graduates appear, paradoxically, to face even greater difficulty finding work than young people overall. Now, the headline youth-unemployment figure masks one of the defining features of Nepal’s economy: mass labour migration. Huge numbers of lower- and semi-skilled young workers leave for Malaysia, the Gulf and elsewhere because the domestic economy cannot absorb them. Around 1,500 Nepalis now leave for overseas work each day. And the money they send home (a.k.a. remittances) accounts for roughly a quarter of Nepal’s entire GDP.
But another reason for this paradox is what economists call a ‘skills mismatch’. Nepal’s economy is still dominated by agriculture and informal employment, which generate relatively few of the white-collar professional roles that graduates expect to enter. One of the underlying problems is Nepal’s repeated failure to build productive domestic industries capable of employing grads. To illustrate this, imports of goods and services are worth almost five times as much as exports. Part of this failure stems from Nepal’s extraordinary political instability. Since its re-democratisation in 1990, the country has had 32 governments and not one has completed a full five-year term. So, an incoming government can expect to last a little over a year on average. Such volatility discourages the long-term economic reforms and industrial policies that might drive domestic industry.
So where does that leave Bibek? He is still searching for a career-building role that a university education was supposed to open up, while holding out for a Master’s in the future. But there are reasons for optimism. Most notably, in 2025, frustration over scarce opportunities, corruption and the political establishment helped trigger a huge Gen Z-led protest movement across the country. The demonstrations (almost physically) removed the government from office. Encouragingly, the upheaval did simply produce yet more political paralysis. Instead, earlier this year, Nepal held peaceful elections and overwhelmingly backed Balendra Shah, the young former Kathmandu mayor and rapper who had built his popularity around anti-corruption and support from young people. To what extent he can tackle Nepal’s various economic challenges remains to be seen, but his strong grassroots mandate gives him a realistic chance of at least seeing out a full term.
However, I have my own concern: artificial intelligence. Nepal has done well in recent decades to produce a growing cohort of graduates. My fear is that the education they have received may be less future-proof than it was even five years ago. Classroom teaching still often relies heavily on memorisation and teacher-led instruction, rather than developing critical thinking and independent judgement (see UNESCO article). As a result, these students are likely better suited for what we in economics call routine cognitive tasks: work that requires thought, but remains repetitive and rule-based. Call-centres and administrative work are good examples, and a couple of decades ago India was able to build a major outsourcing industry around precisely this kind of work. Unfortunately for Nepal, AI is increasingly capable of automating large parts of these tasks (a disruption already beginning to hit India’s own model - FT). That may make it much harder for the country to develop a labour-intensive outsourcing sector that could otherwise have absorbed its newly grown graduate population.
Now this is pessimistic take – and there are other indicators that offer a more uplifting prognosis for the country. But framing it this way has put the graduate situation in Europe into perspective for me. The graduate market is ****ed at the moment; my 50 failed applications are less than half some of the more extreme numbers I have heard from others. And I can only imagine how stressful this might be for those with crippling student loans or difficult home situations. But at least we are not forced into the same high-stakes choice facing many Nepali graduates: put the family’s wealth at risk for a make-or-break attempt abroad, or stay home and risk stagnating in low-progression jobs. Moreover, AI will likely cause a profound shock to our labour markets too. The difference is that we operate within stronger economies and have enjoyed educations that generally placed greater emphasis on critical thinking and individual judgement. If managed right, we might come out of the incoming disruptions as more productive, wealthier nations. What truly breaks my heart when speaking to Bibek and my gym buddies is that I am less certain they can say the same.
So, if anyone reading this in the future happens to glimpse a headline saying that a Nepali prime minister has won a second term – or simply completed their first – this is not just dry political news. It might be an indicator that this country is finally gaining the political stability needed to make the long-term investments it has repeatedly struggled to sustain. And for the graduates whose optimism and kindness have repeatedly struck me, I sincerely hope it does.