Nepal & Gen Z Awakening portion

 

Nepal, Gen Z and the Social-Media Awakening.

Nepal’s recent convulsions were not just the result of hourly politics or an economic wobble. They were a symptom of something deeper: a society moving into the information age while its institutions — especially its governing class — were still thinking in analogue. When a generation born and raised on smartphones and social platforms meets a government that treats information like a utility to be turned on and off, the result is predictable and explosive.

This piece examines what triggered the unrest, why abrupt bans on social media backfire, what lessons the world should learn, and why older generations — the Boomers and those who still look at governance through the lens of traditional media — must come to terms with Gen Z’s power and expectations.

What happened — the trigger, not the politics

In many accounts of Nepal’s crisis the immediate trigger was simple: a clampdown on social media. Multiple platforms were blocked or throttled at a critical moment. But that fact alone does not explain the scale of the reaction. To understand why streets filled with young people, angry and mobilised overnight, we must see social media not as a collection of apps but as the civic operating system for a new generation.

Gen Z in Nepal — as elsewhere — uses social platforms for news, organisation, solidarity, and grievance. Blocking these channels is like switching off the public square in a city where the public square is primarily digital. People did not rise because they wanted a political debate on television; they erupted because the channels that let them speak, share and organise were taken away. A ban on expression felt, to them, like suffocation.

Why an abrupt ban is combustible

Governments that come from a pre-internet mindset treat information as a resource to be regulated: licences for newspapers, access to broadcast frequencies, censorship in print. But social media is different in three important ways:

1. It is organic and decentralised. Unlike a newspaper or a state channel, social media fashions networks spontaneously. Information — and outrage — travels fast, reshaped by individuals rather than packaged by institutions.

2. It is both organiser and amplifier. A hashtag, a short video or a forwarded post can do what pages of mainstream media struggled to do: bring strangers together around a common purpose and give momentum to actions in hours.

3. It is the primary public sphere for Gen Z. For younger citizens, digital platforms are where identity, politics and community meet. Cut that off and you are not managing media — you are silencing civic life.

When a ban is abrupt, people do not calmly migrate to other channels. They perceive the move as an attack on freedom of expression. The natural human reaction to being denied a voice is anger; the digital reaction — amplified by the very networks being targeted — is mobilisation.

The information-era lesson: power, manipulation and trust

A second, less visible danger is subtler: the capacity for manipulation. Information platforms are not neutral pipes. Algorithms, promoted content, and coordinated campaigns can shape what audiences see and when. That capability is a tool — and it is a temptation.

Authoritarian impulses and commercial ambitions alike can exploit platforms. If a government or an aligned actor can calibrate the flow of information — slowing some topics, elevating others — it can nudify public opinion over time. This is not mere speculation: across the world we have seen soft-manipulation campaigns that use misinformation, bots, and algorithmic boosts to manufacture consent.

The important distinction is between gradual manipulation and sudden suppression. Gradual manipulation is stealthy and often hard to detect; it can erode public trust and skew democratic discourse slowly. Sudden suppression (like a blunt ban) triggers immediate backlash. Governments that ignore either risk losing legitimacy: one by erosion, the other by provocation.

Why governments are tempted to control — and why they are often trapped

When social unrest looks uncontrolled, governments feel naked. Their instinct is to reassert control over narrative and order. Banning platforms is a crude, fast way to do that. But it is also a trap.

1. Backfire effect. A ban validates and magnifies the narrative of grievance. Citizens go to the streets because they feel the need to reclaim their public voice.

2. Information refugees. People do not stop talking; they move to other channels — encrypted messaging, VPNs, underground networks — making oversight harder and increasing conspiratorial dynamics.

3. International optics. Abrupt digital suppression draws strong international attention and often condemnation, which can deepen domestic resentment.

Consequently, decision-makers who lack a nuanced understanding of the information ecosystem often cause the very unrest they hope to prevent.

Why think tanks prefer leaders to use social media — and why that matters

Think tanks and strategic advisers increasingly counsel leaders to speak directly on social platforms rather than rely solely on mainstream media. There are pragmatic reasons for this:

• Direct address reduces the risk of message distortion by intermediaries.
• It allows real-time feedback and rapid clarification during crises.
• It builds a rapport with younger audiences who primarily consume short-form, on-platform content.

But direct use must be responsible. Leaders who use social media can gain trust — and lose it rapidly if messages are perceived as manipulative or inauthentic.

The generational fault-line: Boomers and Gen Z

A core mismatch in this crisis is generational: older decision-makers often come from an era where gatekeepers controlled public discourse — newspapers, radio, TV. Those gatekeepers had slowness and predictability. Gen Z lives with speed and decentralisation. They expect immediacy, transparency, and agency.

This is not merely about taste. It affects how legitimacy is built and how consent is measured. A leader who believes that controlling TV narratives suffices will misunderstand where dissent now incubates. Conversely, Gen Z’s fluency with online organising makes them formidable civic actors — resilient, networked, and quick to act.

Practical lessons for governments and civil society

1. Treat information policy as infrastructure policy. Just as you would consult engineers for roads, consult technologists, sociologists and youth representatives before making decisions that restructure public communication.

2. Avoid blunt instruments. Shutdowns and bans are crude and counterproductive. Targeted, transparent measures — guided by rule of law and subject to oversight — are preferable.

3. Build digital literacy and trust. Encourage critical media skills so citizens can distinguish manipulation from genuine discourse. Transparency from platforms and governments helps reduce conspiratorial thinking.

4. Engage younger citizens directly. Token gestures won’t do. Sustainable engagement means including youth voices in policy design, communications, and crisis planning.

5. Plan for resilience. If platforms fail or are blocked, civic life must have resilient, lawful alternatives that preserve communication without empowering bad actors.

Conclusion — a call for respect, not paternalism

Nepal’s recent unrest is a case study in the collision between an information age public and analogue governance instincts. The core truth is simple: you cannot govern an information society with tools built for the broadcast era. Abrupt suppression is both morally fraught and strategically self-defeating. Manipulation is corrosive. The wiser path is transparency, inclusion and adaptation.

The longer-term message is to older generations and to institutions of power: respect Gen Z. They are not merely a demographic; they are the custodians of the new public square. If governments want to be effective, they must learn to speak the languages of the platforms, earn trust there, and design policies that protect rights without extinguishing voice. That is not weakness — it is the only sustainable form of strength in an age where information is the operating system of civic life.