Across our neighbourhood, unrest is once again spilling onto the streets. From Sri Lanka to Bangladesh to Nepal, younger generations are demanding change, challenging governments and questioning the very legitimacy of ruling elites. It is tempting to treat these as uniquely modern eruptions — the impatience of a digital Gen Z, amplified by smartphones and social media. But history tells us otherwise.
Every generation has risen in protest against perceived injustice. In France, 1968 student uprisings nearly paralysed the nation. In India, the Nav Nirman movement and the Sampoorna Kranti spearheaded by Jayaprakash Narayan shook the Indira Gandhi government. Soweto in South Africa, Tiananmen Square in China, the Velvet Revolution in Europe and later, the Arab Spring — all testify that the impulse to rise against authority is as old as civilization itself.
Yet if we look closely, a sobering pattern emerges. Most of these movements, however dramatic, ended with power transfer rather than social transformation. The ruling elite changed, but the condition of society remained largely the same. Masses were mobilised, often misled, to serve the ambitions of those aspiring for power. These were not always genuine “social movements” — they were political struggles for control.
Indian Gen Z has every reason to ask: why were earlier generations so fragmented? Why did they burn themselves over the Mandal Commission, demand separate homelands in Kashmir, Punjab, Tamil Nadu or the North-East or drift into Naxalite extremism in the 1970s? Why did linguistic chauvinism claim lives, while corruption and instability of the 1990s left us with five Prime Ministers in six years? Were these truly struggles for justice — or contests for power fought in the name of justice?
This brings us to the real question: what is the intention behind protest? Is it to create or to destroy? To discipline rulers and expand social welfare — or merely to seize the reins of the state? Any generation that encounters injustice will rise up. But if the objective is only to dislodge and occupy, the cycle repeats itself endlessly.
Here lies the unique wisdom of India’s civilizational thought. From ancient traditions to Gandhian practice, empowerment has never been about aspiring for power. It has been about holding power accountable to society. Dharma demanded that rulers be disciplined; governance was legitimate only when it served the people. True social empowerment was not to replace one king with another, but to ensure justice, welfare and balance for all.
This ethos must be the guiding compass for today’s Gen Z. Their restlessness is real, their courage admirable. But without purpose, movements can easily be hijacked into anger, violence or performative gestures. If, instead, they anchor themselves in India’s civilizational wisdom — seeking dialogue, practicing restraint and keeping “We the People” at the centre — they can break history’s cycle of power struggles and build a more humane society.
The challenge before us is clear. Do we allow youthful energy to be consumed in yet another round of power politics, or do we nurture it into a force for genuine social renewal? The answer will decide not only the politics of the day but the shape of our democracy for generations to come.
