Editorial: When Gen Z throws a stone
Protesters have attacked all institutions of state — Parliament, the Singha Durbar, and the Supreme Court — as well as the residences of ministers and their families, the leader of the opposition, and the offices of all political parties.
Protests in Nepal (Photo/ ANI)
Youth protests in Nepal have brought down the country’s government as well as its entire political system with a stunning burst of chaotic energy. It shows how quickly an uprising can turn into a revolution. India will pay keen attention to these happenings to the north, not only because of its interests there but also because the parallels between the Gen Z revolt in Nepal and the revolutions in Sri Lanka (2022) and Bangladesh (2024) are so unmistakable. Seen as one chain of events, the South Asian revolutions have drawn a neat semi-circle around India, and therefore, pose a relevant question: Can it happen here too?
What is notable about the Nepalese uprising is that it is not aimed solely at the party in power. Protesters have attacked all institutions of state — Parliament, the Singha Durbar, and the Supreme Court — as well as the residences of ministers and their families, the leader of the opposition, and the offices of all political parties. A five-time former PM and his wife, the current foreign minister, were brutally beaten up.
Politics of all hues stand irretrievably negated in the eyes of Gen Z. Across South Asia, a whole set of material conditions fuels the ire of this generation. Youth unemployment is at crisis levels everywhere. In Nepal, the rate is 20.8% for individuals aged 15-24. Nearly half of all young men have to go abroad for work. In Bangladesh, youth are 28% of the population, but 83% of the unemployed. In India, headline unemployment seems moderate at 5.2% but joblessness among urban youth soars to 19%. In states like Punjab, Bihar, and Andhra Pradesh, there is generational despair: educated young people find that the harder they study, the less it matters.
The education system is broken in the entire region. In Nepal, all paths lead to the passport office. No matter what the degree, pedigree is all that matters. In Bangladesh, protests broke out most fiercely at elite colleges when students found they stood no chance against the grandchildren of those who participated in the 1971 war of liberation. In India, stratification rules: the IITs and IIMs list overwhelmingly towards the English-medium, coaching-class elite, while marginalised communities are formally included but practically excluded. The system claims to be designed for equality, but only doles out hope unequally.
Both Nepal and India suffer from endemic land fragmentation: average holdings are barely viable at 0.55 hectares and 1.08 hectares, respectively. Half of Nepali families own less than half a hectare, while 86% of holdings in India are small or marginal. This results in a society of families surviving on subsistence but investing desperately in education as the great way out for their young. This only produces a rural youth population with no credible path to prosperity at home. Migration is their only escape. Nepal relies on remittances for 26.6% of its GDP. India too sustains itself on remittances of $135 billion, covering half its trade deficit. Its best educated state, Kerala, is a money order economy; its most enterprising, Punjab, is ever on the lookout for dunki opportunities.
So, given these conditions, when along comes a #nepokids hashtag, why won’t a Gen Z youth retweet it? And when a stone comes to hand, why won’t he or she throw it?
