16 September 2025, NIICE Commentary 11739
Vidushi Sharma
“When a generation refuses silence, no firewall can hold back their voices.”
In the past few months, Nepal has been shaken by a generational tremor; its Gen Z has only its smartphones, snappy memes, and insatiable hope for change to thank for shaking the complacency of a ruling elite. In a matter of weeks, online despair about issues regarding unemployment, corruption, and accountability moved beyond cyberspace, and despair gave way to political power. Their mobilization represents more than a protest; it is a generational statement that being mute is not an option anymore. For India, peering from the other side of the border, it brings to the forefront a very real concern: will our own digitally native generation follow suit, or will regulations stem their bemusement?
India's political establishment appears cognizant of the dangers. In recent years, the state has extended its reach into digital spaces - calling for rapid removals of "misinformation," and also supporting IT Rules with a requirement for direct government involvement with online spaces, and now, toying with the idea of curbing “pessimistic” content in the name of social stability. But here lies the paradox: by treating despair as a threat rather than a mirror, the state may unwittingly fuel the very political disruption it seeks to avoid.
The uniqueness of Nepal’s Gen Z revolution lies in its form as much as in its force. Unlike earlier protest movements tied to political parties or ideological camps, this uprising is decentralized, digital-first, and unapologetically irreverent. TikTok became a podium, memes replaced pamphlets, and hashtags carried more weight than manifestos.
For a generation brought up with uncertainty about the economy and scepticism toward politics, a general sartorial pessimism about the system became a shared point of reference. It did not stop at cynicism, however; it morphed into satire, music, viral videos, and most significantly, a collective identity. Their despair gained traction in part because it was visible and without moderation online. Political leaders could no longer dismiss this discontent as 'sour grapes' on the part of a few; their despair had gone viral, and with virality came legitimacy. Nepal’s example reveals a crucial political truth: when governments fail to engage with generational frustration, pessimism mutates into resistance. It does not vanish; it mobilizes.
India’s youth are no strangers to despair. The numbers speak for themselves—high unemployment rates, repeated exam leaks, rising inflation, and shrinking opportunities for upward mobility. Platforms such as X (Twitter), Instagram, and YouTube are filled with satirical reels mocking rulers, threads chronicling economic hopelessness, and memes that capture a generational mood of frustrated contempt. In this digital theatre of despair, pessimism is not simply an emotion; it is a political commentary.
Yet, India’s political establishment has often responded not with dialogue, but with control. The IT Rules of 2021 empowered the state to demand takedowns of content deemed harmful. Posts that criticized the government during the farmers' protests and the terrible second wave of COVID-19 were erased under the guise of preventing panic. Even recently, though, murmurs about regulating "negative" or "pessimistic" content suggest that the state worries the collective despair that permeates the online space could actually spill over into offline disruption.
The reasoning is straightforward: pessimism spreads rapidly, and it tends to erode confidence in governance. But here is the larger question—is stability created by censoring pessimism, or by eradicating the conditions that make it? A democracy that seeks stability through silencing people risks undermining the very legitimacy that stability requires.
The question then becomes unavoidable: Could India experience a Nepal-style youth uprising? The answer is complex, straddling both possibility and constraint.
On the one hand, the conditions are ripe. India’s Gen Z is digitally fearless, politically irreverent, and increasingly impatient. Unlike previous generations, they are free from the obligations of party allegiances or ideological loyalties. Their political expression is much more thematic, networked, visual, and, at times, parodical. They can counteract propaganda faster, challenge authority sharply, and mobilize faster than any other generation that has come before them. If their despair is continually battled against, it could coalesce into a generational, cross-region, and cross-caste demand for accountability.
On the plus side, however, India's magnitude and diversity complicate the matter. Unlike Nepal, where dissatisfaction is often organized along ethnic, caste, and subnational lines, in India, it is typically disorganized. Political parties are effectively positioned to absorb expressions of frustration into electoral bargaining, given their entrenched and diverse institutional frameworks. Additionally, India is practically far more capable of regulatory enforcement; censorship can fracture digital dissent so that it is unable to achieve the same coherence as in Nepal.
However, history warns us. Censorship and control did not eradicate dissent during the Emergency of 1975; it only delayed the inevitable explosion of dissent. When it did explode, the effect was amplified. Digital hoplessness could follow a similar trajectory; online, it could be silenced until it finds an outlet offline that is too expansive to silence.
The essence of the matter is political philosophy. The regulation of pessimism reflects a politics of fear: a conviction that citizens cannot responsibly navigate despair, that anticipations must be limited to maintain stability. Yet, listening to pessimism reflects a politics of possibility: an understanding that despair, however painful, is a contribution to democratic conversation.
Nepal’s protests demonstrate that suppressing pessimism only radicalizes it. Conversely, tapping into youth-related issues (such as unemployment, corruption, and transparency) can mobilize the energy behind despair into reformist energy. The state of India must choose whether it wants to bet on control or bet on trust.
The hazards of electing to be fearful are obvious. When young people are told that their despair is not a legitimate feeling, they do not stop feeling it. They just stop trusting the state. In an interconnected world, that distrust spreads faster than any government announcement. As one protester from Nepal put it: “If they silence us online, we will shout louder offline.”
India's political class finds itself at a pivotal moment. There is a strong desire to regulate despair so that it provides a semblance of order. But illusions do not last. If nothing else, Nepal has shown us that digital despair is not a fluctuation; it is a generational force. If it goes unheard, despair leads to protests. If it is silenced, despair leads to revolts.
The better course of action is not censorship, but instead a deeper engagement. A government that takes on unemployment with genuine reform, combats corruption through a lens of transparency, and treats pessimism as feedback rather than disturbance can channel despair into positive change. In doing so, it does not undermine democracy; it gives democracy strength and resilience.
Because in the end, the ultimate measure of democracy is its ability to hear despair and not silence despair.
India's younger generations are taking note of events in Nepal. They see an entire generation that is not accepting silence, as well as demanding accountability. They see pessimism harnessed into a powerful movement. And they wonder, "Will we be heard before we are silenced?"
The Indian state must answer this question delicately. Disempowering people’s despair may lead to victory at the polls, but would not sustain a democracy. Engaging that despair may be politically perilous in the short term, but remains the only road to lasting stability in the long run.
India will have to make a choice, as Nepal has demonstrated, to understand rather than contain digital pessimism. Will India fear it—or embrace it? "Silencing a generation may win an election. Listening to one may save a republic."
Vidushi Sharma is a Research Intern at NIICE and is currently pursuing her Master's in Political Science in International Relations from Lovely Professional University, Phagwara, India.
The views epressed here are the author's personal views.
