- By: Barrister Usman Ali (Ph.D.)
Whenever turmoil shakes Pakistan’s neighborhood, whether in Nepal, where corruption and mismanagement fueled mass demands for reform; in Bangladesh, where students rose in revolt; or in Sri Lanka, where protests toppled a ruling dynasty, a wave of self-styled revolutionaries suddenly emerges online in Pakistan. A group of YouTubers and exiled social-media warriors, many living comfortably abroad, rush to declare that “change is coming” here too. They twist regional struggles into clickbait, feeding youth false hopes of revolutions that never arrive. These are not harmless storytellers; they are complicit in hollowing out Pakistan’s Gen Z, turning them into blind followers rather than nurturing a reformist generation.
A handful of powerful generals engineered this decline. Consumed by hostility toward the two main political parties, they spent over a decade crafting a “third force.” Controlling the judiciary, media, and bureaucracy, they manufactured the image of a savior out of a former cricketer. They knew he had no vision, no wisdom, no ideology. That was the point: he would be the face, while they ruled from behind the curtain.
This was no speculation. Once in power, he admitted that budgets and bills passed not through political skill but through military intervention. His government was run not from Islamabad but from Rawalpindi. His rise was not the story of a leader inspiring youth with ideas, but of a puppet created by the establishment and marketed as a messiah.
The results were disastrous. Inflation soared, governance collapsed, foreign policy drifted, and Pakistan slipped into isolation. Institutions weakened, and the lofty slogans of “Naya Pakistan” proved empty. Youth who had been promised transformation were left in despair. Their energy, instead of fueling reform, was wasted defending a man who could not deliver.
What could have been Pakistan’s most powerful generation, energetic, connected, politically aware, was instead divided and weakened. One camp became blind devotees, parroting conspiracy theories and branding criticism as treason. The other sank into apathy. Instead of a united youth movement demanding reforms in education, employment, and accountability, Gen Z splintered into cult and counter-cult.
The contrast across the region is stark. In Nepal, youth dismantled monarchy and built a republic, proving conviction can reshape political order. In Bangladesh, students mobilized around road safety and forced government concessions. In Sri Lanka, Gen Z spearheaded the Aragalaya movement, which toppled a corrupt dynasty during economic collapse. In each case, young people rallied around issues, not personalities. Their activism translated into systemic change.
Pakistan moved in the opposite direction. In earlier decades, Baby Boomers and Gen X—the “Gen Z” of their time, built their politics on clear ideologies: progressive thought, democracy, human rights, autonomy. They formed study circles, debated ideas, and resisted dictators like Ayub and Zia through ideological conviction. Today’s Gen Z, by contrast, idolizes leaders without knowing their ideology or manifesto. Their politics is personality-driven, reflecting the collapse of ideological parties, the dominance of social media, and the global rise of personality cults. The result is shallow loyalty mistaken for commitment, leaving youth vulnerable to manipulation.
This hollowing out was deliberate. Youth were turned into blind followers of one man. They even boast online that when doctors X-ray their heart, the image of their leader appears. Absurd as it sounds, they wear this as a badge of honor, mistaking obsession for conviction. Their activism is confined to hashtags, TikTok videos, and echo chambers. The generals who designed this project ensured politics remained hollow, while fake influencers amplified the illusion. Together, they produced a generation that shouts loudest online but cannot build institutions or bring real change.
Yet all is not lost. Pakistan’s Gen Z can still reclaim its agency, if it breaks free from cults and clickbait. The way forward is for youth to nurture ideological and clean leadership that, through democratic platforms, fosters critical debate. Politics must become issue-based, centered on education, unemployment, inflation, climate change, and corruption, not personality cults. It requires rejecting idols, whether engineered by generals or glorified by YouTubers, and demanding institutional, programmatic politics. Above all, it requires youth unity across party lines to hold governments accountable, rather than fighting each other online as digital enemies.
Pakistan’s tragedy is not that its youth lack passion or courage. The tragedy is that their passion was hijacked, by generals who wanted pawns, by a celebrity who wanted a cult, and by fake prophets who sold revolutions that could never arrive. If Pakistan’s Gen Z can learn from their peers in Nepal, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka, they may yet transform disappointment into a collective force for genuine reform. Until then, they remain a divided, disillusioned generation: the loudest online in the region, and the weakest on the ground.