KATHMANDU: On a quiet Saturday morning in Mirchaiya Municipality of Siraha district, where I had gone for work, I decided to have some ‘jalebi’ (sweet, crispy, syrup-soaked fried dessert) with local curd. Stepping out from the place where I had stayed the previous night, I walked to a nearby hotel. Inside, a group of young people, probably in their early twenties, were talking about politics.

I wasn’t surprised; discussing politics has become common these days. A few years ago, before the Gen Z wave took over, this scene would have been unusual. Back then, youths of this age rarely engaged in such conversations, but the discourse in Nepal has clearly shifted. We now live in a time where prime ministers seem to be chosen on Discord rather than in parliament, and everyone has an opinion ready before the news even breaks.

I could hear them discussing recent political developments while simultaneously scrolling through social media. I wondered how this generation had shifted so quickly toward politics. A few years ago, people of the same age would act as if politics were the worst topic and pretend nothing could go wrong.

Even in colleges, where earlier generations showed interest in student politics, such engagement was rare. Yet today, this generation seems more drawn to political drama than to reels, careers, games, or the digital world. It makes me ask: is my country changing, and is this generation truly becoming politically aware?

But it also leads me to a second thought. I wonder whether this sudden fascination with politics is genuinely a sign of awareness, or if it is simply that this generation is drawn to whatever is immediate, engaging, or trending. Gen Z has always been quick to latch onto new interests with a speed and intensity older generations rarely saw. Perhaps politics, which once felt distant and abstract, has now moved from the periphery of their imagination straight into the center, simply because it has become interesting in the moment.

Where previous youth would spend hours immersed in games like PUBG or Free Fire, today they scroll through political debates, memes, and online discussions with the same enthusiasm. Yet I find myself questioning whether this is genuine civic awakening, or just another viral attraction capturing attention as easily as a trending video.

Maybe they are truly becoming politically awake, or maybe, like everything else in their digital world, it is a passing fascination. Either way, it is impossible to ignore that politics has entered their consciousness in a way it never did before.

Gen Z in Nepal is a generation that looks global, votes local, and lives online. They are politically savvy and often activist-minded, yet at the same time anxious and economically squeezed.

Their digital-first identities shape not just how they socialize, but also how they organize protest movements and consume news.

Social media has become their primary information ecosystem, with many getting news daily from platforms like Facebook, TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, and X. These spaces remain central to their identity and civic mobilization, allowing them to debate policy, share opinions, and test ideas simultaneously.

Yet while they can mobilize rapidly online, the activism that thrives on social media often struggles to translate into sustained engagement within formal institutions or traditional political structures.

But isn’t this the wrong time to focus so much on politics when so many are still trying to build careers, innovate, find employment, and even pay taxes? Being politically aware is important, yet in Nepal, the scene often looks like theatre, with small groups gathering around the Prime Minister’s office claiming to be the real Gen Z leaders, while their own priorities, decisions, and demands remain unclear.

They may be united by generation, but their perspectives are so fragmented that it raises the question: are they truly politically awake, or just performing activism because it is trending?

At the same time, Nepali Gen Z faces significant mental and economic pressures. Global reports from UNICEF, WHO, and the World Health Organization highlight a widespread mental health crisis among adolescents and young adults, showing a high prevalence of anxiety and depression, coupled with growing demand for support.

Youth unemployment remains well above overall averages, with global youth unemployment around 12.6 percent compared to roughly 5 percent overall, and Nepal mirrors this trend.

Data from the Nepal Labour Force Survey and the Nepal Central Bureau of Statistics confirm high rates of youth unemployment and economic precarity.

Surveys from UNICEF Nepal and local NGOs highlight pressures around education, mental health, and future planning. Rising costs of living and limited career opportunities weigh heavily on them, shaping engagement into a mixture of idealism, curiosity, and pragmatism.

Yet one must ask: are these political mobilizations helping them address the economic and mental health realities they face, or are they simply diverting attention from urgent personal and societal priorities?

Their platform habits further define their generational experience. Gen Z favors creative, short-form, and community-driven spaces, with video-first platforms like YouTube and TikTok and visual-first networks like Instagram dominating their attention.

Political behavior is complex and heterogeneous, with older Gen Z tending toward progressive views while younger subsets sometimes lean more conservative. Google Trends and platform API analytics show which topics and campaigns capture their attention in real time.

Overall, many express high expectations of institutions but low trust in traditional media and governance to address their mental health and social needs. And yet the irony is clear: despite the loud activism and viral campaigns, this generation is often fragmented even among themselves, their demands unclear, and their leadership claims performative.

One wonders: is this the emergence of a truly politically conscious generation, or merely a generation that plays politics as it plays games online, chasing trends, debating loudly, but rarely uniting with clarity or purpose?

An ex-student leader who is a close friend of mine often talks about youth politics. She spent ten years in student politics and has mixed feelings about it. Sometimes she says she regrets spending so much time, but at other times she feels proud of the experience. She points out that the time we could have spent learning, traveling, and exploring new knowledge was instead used following others’ instructions.

She often jokes that we became unemployed cadres of our political parties, caught in a cycle of work without real personal growth. Her reflections show the contradictions many young Nepalis face, drawn into politics but often without clear direction or outcomes.

Isn’t the same thing happening with this Gen Z generation? From my own experience, I have seen it at Singha Durbar.

Young people from different political parties line up just to get passes to enter, even when they have no real work inside. They roam around, have tea, and spend the entire day there. If the minister is from Nepali Congress, you can see young Nepali Congress caders doing it.

The same happens with CPN-UML, Maoist Center, and even newer parties like RSP. Instead of focusing on careers, learning, or building skills, many seem more interested in taking photos, showing off fancy clothes, and following appearances set by their families or peers.

It feels like history is repeating itself.

The same patterns I saw in student politics years ago are now surfacing among the youngest generation. Even those who are supposed to be the most promising and trusted are getting caught in the same cycle, drawn to political spaces not for real engagement, but for show, networking, or status. It makes you wonder whether political awareness is truly growing, or if this generation is simply stepping into an old system that has not changed much at all.

Yet one must ask — how much of Gen Z’s political energy is translating into real-world impact? The online world often gives an illusion of power. Viral campaigns, trending hashtags, and heated debates flood social media timelines daily, but sentiment online rarely converts into sustained institutional change.

At Stride University, research shows that student-led online campaigns generated intense attention but had minimal influence on formal governance structures or policy decisions. Similarly, in Nepal, many viral movements spark discussion and attract media coverage, yet voter turnout among youth remains modest, and coordinated engagement in formal civic institutions is inconsistent. Online outrage signals passion, but without organized channels like elections, unions, or active participation in political parties, it often fizzles into performative visibility rather than concrete reform.

Another layer complicates this picture: privilege shapes activism. Urban, digitally connected Gen Zs often lead highly visible campaigns, whether it’s environmental advocacy, gender justice, or cultural protests. In contrast, rural or economically marginalized young Nepalis face pressing survival concerns — finding jobs, supporting family through remittances, and coping with limited local opportunities. For many of them, attending protests or engaging in debates over cultural or symbolic issues is a luxury they cannot afford.

Recent protests in Nepal highlight this divide. Young urban activists mobilized around certain high-profile issues, while youth from smaller towns or villages remained focused on practical matters affecting daily life. This is not a failure of awareness but a reflection of differing priorities shaped by socio-economic realities.

Ideally, youth activism should bridge these gaps. Political engagement should not just be performative or confined to urban spaces; it should connect digital energy with structured civic action and inclusive platforms that consider the diversity of Gen Z experiences.

Unfortunately, what we often see in Nepal is a repetition of old patterns: a visible, media-friendly urban activism that gets attention and applause, while large swaths of youth remain disconnected from decision-making processes. This misalignment risks creating the perception of a politically awake generation, while in reality, many remain spectators of a system they cannot influence.

If Gen Z in Nepal wants to translate energy into change, they must find ways to unify fragmented efforts, expand inclusion beyond privileged circles, and couple visibility with organized action that addresses both societal and personal priorities.

While reflecting on all this, I often wonder if the same perceptions are shared by every member of Gen Z. This is a generation largely disconnected from deep research, ideological grounding, or long-term strategic thinking. How can they possibly converge on a common agenda when each individual brings a different set of influences, priorities, and fleeting interests? It is hard to imagine that the same enthusiasm seen online or on the streets automatically translates into cohesive political decision-making.

Take, for example, the recent incident where a few Gen Z members joined in Discord discussions and “voted” for their Prime Minister. Was that a collective, well-thought-out decision, or just the action of a few guided by others? It is almost like entering a tournament, playing the game, winning, and then handing the trophy to the audience. Familiar, isn’t it? After their demonstrations, the energy and expectation of youth leadership ended with a 73-year-old ex-bureaucrat taking charge — the very power that was “won” by young people under 28.

The irony is striking. The demonstrations were fueled by the belief that older generations were incapable of leading, that the youth should step forward and guide the nation. Yet the outcome ended up reinforcing the old order, filling the new government with familiar, outdated faces. This reflects the contradictions in the mindset of this generation — one understanding in the morning, another in the afternoon, a third by late night, and yet another the next day. It is a restless, unsure mob searching for something it cannot define, yet motivated by genuine concern for the country.

But even while noting all this, it is important to be fair. I am not trying to criticize them harshly. Gen Z is curious, passionate, and eager to participate. The issue lies not in their intent, but in the system they are trying to navigate. A nation still depends on democratically elected leadership and constitutional structures, not sudden online votes or demonstrations alone.

Enthusiasm without strategy can only go so far, and unless this energy is directed with focus and understanding, even the best intentions may end up reinforcing old hierarchies rather than creating real change.

Ultimately, Nepali Gen Z stands at a crossroads between potential and performance. Their curiosity, energy, and digital fluency give them tools that previous generations could only dream of, yet these tools alone do not guarantee meaningful change.

The enthusiasm to protest, debate, and mobilize online is real, but without strategic direction, mentorship, and engagement with institutional mechanisms, much of it risks remaining a spectacle. The paradox of a generation so capable yet so fragmented reflects not just their choices but the environment they inherit, a political culture that rewards visibility over substance and ritual over results.

What Gen Z needs is positive criticism, guidance, and opportunity. To transform their energy into impact, they must learn to balance immediate excitement with long-term planning, to connect activism with civic structures, and to ground their voices in knowledge, not just trends. The nation benefits when young people are politically aware, socially conscious, and strategically engaged, but the lessons of recent years remind us that idealism alone is not enough.

If Nepali Gen Z can harness their passion wisely, they could finally become the architects of a future that matches their vision, not just another generation swept along by the theatre of politics.