Despair takes many forms, touching nearly everyone. Young people are not immune, some carry the weight of extreme hopelessness, and others experience it in smaller doses. Yet even in the shadows, faint traces of hope remain. This despair is not limited to one individual, one family, or one nation; it has spread globally in strikingly similar ways.
What has caused the world to sink so deeply into despair? The full answer may demand anthropological study, but here I simply reflect on the events and experiences my generation, and those like me, have lived through.
Those of us now in our forties only heard of the World Wars; we did not witness them. A few dimly recall the Iraq–Kuwait conflict, but our window to global events was limited to news on Nepal Television. The world felt distant. Yet, in the past three decades, and especially the last fifteen years we have become direct witnesses, and at times participants, in transformative events brought by political change, economic shifts, and social upheaval.
By our twenties, we were already immersed in rapid technological change. We marveled at innovations. We were the generation that once followed motorcycles out of fascination, and welcomed cars with garlands and panche baja (Nepali traditional instruments).
But alongside progress came devastation. We saw Syria and Sudan collapse into conflict, Gaza and Palestine burn, Ukraine and Afghanistan torn apart by war. Closer to home, Nepal endured an armed conflict, the pandemic of COVID-19, the Madhes movement, and the blockade. Could not these very events of the past four decades be counted as the roots of despair?
This article does not aim to list all tragedies. It is instead a modest attempt to explore one dimension, the backdrop of the recent Gen Z movement.
We changed the system, you changed the situation
Every generation leaves an imprint. Ours was shaped by scarcity, struggle, and political upheaval. Yours, today’s Gen Z, was raised amid abundance, technology, and globalization. Both fought battles, but the nature and cost of those battles are very different.
No generation endured as much political transition as ours. We grew up when televisions were rare, electricity was new, and cars extraordinary. By the 1990s, we stumbled into computers and the internet, some as pioneers, others late, still struggling with digital literacy. Sending money via SMS or scanning a QR code is still not simple for many of us.
We lived through the 1990 People’s Movement, some in the streets, others through radios. We witnessed the Maoist insurgency, the state of emergency, the years of underground politics. We queued in cyber cafés to check SLC results, paying 10 rupees whether we passed or failed. We paid five rupees per minute to chat on Yahoo or Messenger. By the time we reached college, we were already swept into another upheaval, the 2006 revolution.
That struggle was ours. We broke centuries of monarchy and declared that even a commoner’s child could aspire to the highest office. We were the generation that forced an entrenched system to change course. Whatever one’s interpretation, the fact remains: our generation ushered in a democratic republic, and we have every reason to be proud.
The generation of comfort
You, Gen Z, came of age differently. Politics reached you through family conversations rather than lived struggle. Our mistake was telling you, “Children should not be involved in politics.” We withheld the lessons of our fight, leaving you less connected to the history that shaped the system you inherited.
You grew up refusing to eat without a mobile phone in hand, boycotting meals if denied new gadgets. While we never had coffee shops to linger in, you embraced hookah bars, cappuccinos, and Americanos.
When you spoke of “entrepreneurship,” we were already balancing morning college, full-day jobs, and family duties. When you turned to ChatGPT for an application, we were the ones who once waited a week just to obtain citizenship. By Grade 12, many of you had passports; even today, half our generation does not. You traveled to America and Europe; we celebrated a simple train ride to Ayodhya as going abroad.
Two movements, two costs
At heart, both generations desire the same thing: a governance system that is simple, efficient, and technology-friendly. No generation knows everything, and no generation knows nothing. But the difference between our struggles is clear.
Our movement sought systemic change and achieved it with relatively little destruction. Yours has sought situational change, but at a staggering cost: billions in property damage, deep social scars, and heavy human casualties.
History will continue to debate the outcomes. Perhaps, in old age, we will look back with humility. Perhaps you will one day measure the consequences of your own revolts. For now, what remains undeniable is this: ours was the revolution that ended an order; yours is the rebellion that has turned the nation to ashes in search of something new.
Whether those ashes give birth to a stronger Nepal is a question only time and your generation can answer.
