Accessed by their forbears, Gen-Zs (the cohort born between 1997 and 2012) are perceived as cheeky, hedonistic and impatient. They would rather buy volatile cryptocurrencies than invest in slow-moving stocks, buy a car instead of build a house, dine out instead of cook at home–all the while sharing endless memes on X. In addition to going against the grain, they seem to place no premium on the cherished beliefs and values espoused by their traditional parents.
Mothers fret that their teenage daughters spend far too much time doomscrolling on TikTok and Instagram. On the political scene, the anxiety is palpable. A longstanding criticism of the young is their apathy towards political engagement. They appear unconcerned about corruption and social crises that inspired national protests in the 1980s and 1990s.
Some of these concerns about Gen-Zs are undoubtedly true. Today’s youths are more inclined towards “soft life” and narcissism. They are probably too willing to flaunt details of their life on social media. Yet scrutinising this cohort of booming youngsters through the lens of past values is a rather unequal yardstick. As opposed to their parents, Gen-Zs are squaring off against grimmer crises such as escalating climate change and rising inflation. Yet they are statistically richer, healthier and more educated than their predecessors. Alongside their traditional 9-5, many young adults enjoy multiple streams of income through side jobs. Although Gen-Zers still prioritise university education, many youngsters are signing up for distance-learning programmes made accessible by the rapid advances in communication technology.
Generations are defined by the significant events and innovations of their time. The Internet, arguably one of the greatest inventions in human history, has revolutionised work and business. Think of the countless stores on WhatsApp and Instagram, in what is now referred to as e-commerce, dealing in sneakers, cars and even real estate. They are just as aggrieved about repressive governments as they are preoccupied by celebrity gist. In this age, the Internet has democratised the state of affairs. Social media has emerged as a formidable weapon of advocacy, contrary to the protest culture that existed in previous generations.
“Protests don’t always have to be about singing solidarity songs or brandishing placards,” argues Olaniyi Luke, a social commentator. “When a particular cause trends online, it can put enough pressure on the government to do what the people want.”
The power to bring authorities to their knees is a prime reason why zealous African youths are taking to social-media platforms to amplify their campaigns, building on the ubiquity of the internet. Consider, for example, the Arab Spring, the EndSARS protests and, more recently, the ongoing demonstrations in Kenya.
All of these uprisings suggest that Gen-Zs are not a TikTok-obsessed cohort indifferent about social crises and misgovernance, as the old are wont to think. They are shaping the world around them with the technology at their disposal and marking their names in time’s history.
Perhaps the tension between the young and the old is a natural conflict that plays out over time. Yet there’s no denying that judging today’s youngsters by yesterday’s standards is outdated. The year is 2024, not 1984.
