How Gen Z is rewriting the rules of power

Last week, when Madagascar’s ruling order fell, toppled by a youth protest movement and a military rebellion, the zworld, the media hardly spoke about it and the action looked like a replay, a familiar pattern unfolding: youth with hanging backpack, carrying symbolic flag of grinning skull and crossbones wearing a straw hat, protestors, mostly well-dressed, flooded the streets, institutions crumbling under public pressure, and the army generals stepping in to “restore order.” This may outwardly look like another political fight for power, another political upheaval or coup, but just remove the surface, and peep under, one will find that there lies a deeper, more consequential trend that is fast reaching into many countries.

From Dhaka to Antananarivo, from Colombo to Casablanca, the protests are shaking governments today and share a common or striking feature: they are being driven, and defined, by Generation Z, a group born roughly between the late 1990s and early 2010s. They are the first generation to have grown up entirely in the digital age, all growing and linked with the internet, and their politics, networked, leaderless, and impatient, are unlike anything the world has seen before.

The History

The seeds of this new form of activism were sown more than half a decade ago. In Hong Kong in 2019, young demonstrators organised flash mobs through encrypted apps, crowd-funded supplies, and broadcast their defiance in real time. Around the same time, Greta Thunberg’s “Fridays for Future” climate strikes redefined that digital mobilisation could spill into the streets on a global scale. What began as issue-based activism has since evolved into something larger, a generational challenge to entrenched political systems. In Nigeria, for example, Gen Z protesters under the #EndSARS banner used memes and live streams to rally against police brutality, forcing the government to disband its special forces. In Thailand, students dared to question royal power, once seen as an untouchable taboo.

The difference between these movements and those of earlier generations lies not in ideology but in a new style of protest, shaped by the new architecture. Gen Z protests are horizontal, self-organising, and fast-moving. They thrive on spontaneity and collapse hierarchy. They do not wait for opposition leaders, party manifestos, or trade unions. Their currency is digital outrage; social media, their instant coordination. This makes them nearly impossible to suppress and equally difficult to sustain.

From Streets to State

Madagascar’s new revolution is the latest proof of how youth discontent, once dismissed as background noise, can turn into political collapse. What began as frustration over issues like water shortages and power cuts grew into a nationwide uprising. Within days, people from different walks of life, like soldiers and police, joined the crowds, the president fled to France and a top army officer proclaimed a “new order.” This same generational frustration has become a defining feature of politics across several countries of South Asia and Africa. In Bangladesh, a quota reform movement against public sector job reservations erupted into a broader uprising last year, forcing Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina to resign and flee the country. In Nepal, a ban on social media apps triggered weeks of unrest that toppled the government. In Sri Lanka, the “Aragalaya” (struggle) movement, driven by students and unemployed graduates, brought down President Gotabaya Rajapaksa after years of economic mismanagement.

The grievances may differ, like corruption, unemployment, censorship, or inflation, but the emotional mood is the same: disgust with political elites and a conviction that change must come from below for progress. The power of Gen Z movements stems not just from their size but from a broader collapse of faith in formal politics. Across the developing world, the institutions that once mediated between citizens and the state like political parties, mostly opposition, employees’ unions, even religious groups, have hollowed out. Young people no longer see them as part of reform, but as part of the problem.

In Madagascar, as in Bangladesh or Kenya, protesters chant not for opposition parties but for “justice,” “truth,” or “a new system.” It is both idealistic and dangerously vague. The vacuum left by shamed political elites is often filled by the military, which promises order but rarely delivers democracy. The army’s seizure of power in Antananarivo this week follows a familiar script: side with the protesters, depose the ruler, and pledge elections in two years. Few of those promises survive. In many cases, it looks like the military is helping, not intervening, but still ruling from the backrooms. Even though, in some cases, youth-led movements have proved transformative. For example, in Kenya, “Gen Z protests” forced President William Ruto to withdraw new tax proposals. Their success is a reminder that while Gen Z is not yet taking power, it is increasingly able to reshape how power behaves; however, in several cases, Gen Z fails to deliver, leading to more chaos and confusion.

Gen Z globalisation

One of the striking features of these movements is their global reach that spreads. A protest chant in Colombo reappears as a meme in Dhaka. This borderless activism represents a new form of political globalisation, not the kind driven by institutions or trade, but by shared anger and algorithms. Some reports suggest that the world’s youngest generation, numbering more than two billion people, now consumes and produces politics as if it were digital content. Their protests are filmed, shared, remixed, and reinterpreted across continents in minutes. They no longer wait for media or newswire reports. The effect is double-edged. On the one hand, digital visibility amplifies dissent, every beating, every bullet is recorded. On the other hand, it can underestimate suffering, spread false statements, and turn revolutions into trending hashtags that fade as fast as they flare. Many Gen Z activists have discovered that while social media can ignite revolt, it rarely builds what must come after. Without structure, they often collapse into fatigue or are hijacked by opportunists. The Aragalaya movement in Sri Lanka succeeded in ousting a president but failed to build a coherent alternative. In Bangladesh, it has been more than a year since there has been a complete failure of law and order. Despite tall claims by the caretaker government, there are few lasting reforms. Even in Madagascar, the movement’s triumph may yet be claimed by the same generals and elites it sought to dislodge.

The political observers suggest that the tension between the speed of digital revolt and the slowness of democratic construction is redefining the politics of the 2020s. As one analyst observed of recent uprisings, “Gen Z can topple governments, but not yet govern.” Their power lies in destruction, not yet in design or construction.

Still, dismissing these movements as naïve would be a mistake. Each uprising leaves behind a legacy of political awakening. In countries where politics had long been the preserve of a narrow elite or dynastic rule, young people are learning the mechanics of organisation, negotiation, and resistance. Over time, that civic energy could mature into something more enduring, a new social contract shaped by a generation that has never known a world without the internet, but has seen too much of its inequality. Governments are beginning to take notice. Some are experimenting with digital outreach and youth councils; others respond with censorship and repression. Either way, the era of passive populations is over. The question is not whether Gen Z will shape politics — it already does — but whether it can translate its fury into governance before disillusionment sets in. Madagascar’s uprising, like those in Dhaka, Colombo, and Kathmandu, is a symptom of a deeper global shift. A connected, restless generation has lost patience with systems that exclude them, economies that exploit them, and leaders who ignore them. Their protests are not mere outbursts but early tremors of a long political reordering, one that will define the next decade as surely as globalisation defined the last decade.

Surinder Singh Oberoi,

National Editor Greater Kashmir