On September 25, 2025, thousands of young Malagasy filled the streets of Antananarivo carrying flowers and placards demanding something their parents had never reliably possessed: running water and electricity. Within four days, President Andry Rajoelina dissolved his entire government. Within two weeks, 22 people were dead, and a movement organized almost entirely through a Facebook page had forced the most serious political crisis Madagascar had seen in over 15 years.
The Gen Z Madagascar page gained 100,000 followers in just five days, its logo (a Malagasy-style straw hat borrowed from the anime "One Piece") becoming the symbol of a generation refusing to inherit their elders' failed state. What happened in Madagascar isn't an isolated spasm of youth rage. It's the latest data point in a pattern that's reshaping politics across the developing world.
For months before September, residents of Antananarivo had endured daily blackouts lasting 12 hours or more. The taps ran dry for similar stretches. The national utility company JIRAMA, drowning in debt equal to 7.6% of Madagascar's entire GDP, simply couldn't deliver basic services. Only 36% of Madagascar's population has electricity access at all, and those with connections faced constant load-shedding.
The triggering mechanism was distinctly Gen Z. Student protesters didn't just demand better services. They explicitly linked their struggle to viral TikTok videos of Rajoelina's children wearing designer brands and studying at elite Swiss hospitality schools. One medical student told NPR she watched videos of Nepal's "nepo kids" protests and thought: "We are going through the same things and it gave us the courage to rise up."
When protests erupted on September 25, security forces responded with AK-47s, firing live ammunition into crowds. Tear gas drifted into schools, forcing early closures. By September 29, with 22 confirmed dead, Rajoelina appeared on state television to announce his government's dissolution while refusing to resign himself. The protesters rejected his concessions as "completely out of touch." As of early October, the standoff continues, with nightly curfews in place.
Kenya: The Blueprint That Proved It Works
To understand Madagascar, you first need to understand Kenya's extraordinary June 2024 uprising—the clearest proof that social media organizing could force substantive policy reversals.
Kenya's Gen Z movement began with a simple premise: explain to people what was actually in the Finance Bill 2024. The government proposed $2.5 billion in new taxes (VAT on bread and sanitary products, levies on smartphones and diapers, increased fuel costs) to satisfy IMF loan conditions. Traditional opposition parties had failed to stop it. So young Kenyans did something novel: they translated the bill into multiple languages, created AI chatbots to answer questions about its provisions, and leaked MPs' phone numbers so citizens could spam-call them directly.
On June 25, after Parliament passed the bill despite massive street protests, demonstrators did what seemed unthinkable: they stormed Parliament, set parts of it on fire, and stole the ceremonial mace. Twenty-two people died that day alone. President William Ruto, who'd dismissed earlier protests as "online noise" from "ill-mannered children," withdrew the bill within 24 hours. By July, he'd dissolved his entire cabinet and cut $2.7 billion from the government budget.
The Kenya case study reveals both the power and limits of this model. The movement achieved its immediate goal but faced a familiar problem: leaderless movements struggle to negotiate what comes next. When Ruto reconstituted his cabinet, he simply reshuffled old faces and co-opted opposition figures. When protests resumed in 2025 on the one-year anniversary, security forces killed another 41 people in a single day. A 12-year-old girl was shot dead in her home while watching television.
The tactics that forced government retreat couldn't force systemic accountability. As of October 2025, President Ruto remains in power, and Kenya's youth unemployment rate (67% among under-35s) hasn't budged.
The Digital Organizing Playbook
Traditional protest movements required what scholars call "capacity building": the slow work of forming coalitions, recruiting committed members, developing leadership, and planning logistics. The 1963 March on Washington required months of preparation by dozens of volunteers. Modern digitally-organized protests can mobilize hundreds of thousands with remarkably little preparation. But this speed comes with tradeoffs.
Platform Choice Matters
TikTok isn't just Facebook for short videos. Its algorithm provides extreme amplification based on user behavior, creating "socio-algorithmic feedback loops" that can make protest content viral within hours. The platform's features (duets, POV challenges, lip-sync) inherently support horizontal organizing over hierarchical structures. TikTok protests are more spontaneous, decentralized and leaderless, making them harder for authorities to dismantle.
Discord has emerged as the coordination hub governments fear most. Morocco's GenZ 212 server surged from 3,000 to 150,000 members in under two weeks. Nepal's Hami Nepal Discord group became the virtual parliament after the prime minister resigned, with tens of thousands voting on who should lead the interim government. Originally designed for gaming, Discord provides real-time coordination with more privacy than public social platforms, though it remains vulnerable to government infiltration.
Transnational Solidarity Through Pop Culture
The movements share tactical DNA across borders. The One Piece Jolly Roger flag (depicting pirates fighting a repressive World Government) has appeared in Nepal, Indonesia, Madagascar, and the Philippines as a shared symbol of resistance. When Indonesia's government accused protesters of treason for using the flag, Amnesty International had to defend cartoon imagery as protected speech. This kind of transnational solidarity through pop culture references represents something genuinely new.
But the "leaderless" structure that makes movements resilient also makes them unsustainable. Both Bangladesh and Nepal appointed conspicuously older interim leaders after youth movements toppled governments, revealing that grassroots, leaderless mass movements face considerable challenges after toppling a government, as they lack established political infrastructure. The boom-bust cycle is real: rapid mobilization, massive turnout, government concessions, then the movement dissipates before consolidating gains.
Why Governments Keep Responding With Live Ammunition
The pattern is remarkably consistent: Gen Z protests begin peacefully, governments respond with disproportionate force, the violence galvanizes larger protests, and governments either fall or make partial concessions while criminalizing dissent.
Nepal banned 26 social media platforms on September 4, ostensibly for failing to register with authorities but transparently to silence dissent about "nepo kids" videos. The ban became the movement's catalyst. When protests erupted four days later, police used live ammunition on the first day, killing 19 people. By September 9, protesters had burned Parliament, the Supreme Court, and multiple government buildings. Prime Minister K.P. Sharma Oli resigned. The 73-year-old former Supreme Court Chief Justice became interim prime minister through a Discord poll.
Bangladesh's Sheikh Hasina initially called protesters "Razakar" (a deeply offensive term for Pakistani collaborators during the 1971 independence war). When that didn't work, she ordered a shoot-to-kill response that killed an estimated 1,400 people, including firing from helicopters onto crowds. Secretly recorded phone calls later revealed she'd ordered forces to "use lethal weapons, shoot wherever you find them." She fled to India on August 5 after losing the military's support.
Morocco's response has been relatively restrained: 3 deaths, 409 arrests. This may be because protesters explicitly appealed to King Mohammed VI as a stabilizing force rather than targeting the monarchy itself. The government promised "dialogue" within days, though Prime Minister Aziz Akhannouch (a billionaire who controls gas stations while citizens can't afford fuel) remains in power.
Internet Shutdowns Backfire
Internet shutdowns have become the go-to countermeasure, despite evidence they backfire. Stanford research found shutdowns correlate with quadrupling of violence. Bangladesh cut internet for 11 days, only to see protests intensify. Nepal's social media ban lasted five days before being reversed. Protesters simply distributed QR codes for VPN downloads, turning the shutdown into a digital literacy campaign. Morocco's GenZ 212 Discord server grew 5000% during the crackdown. The attempt to silence them became their best recruiting tool.
The Economic Undertow Pulling Youth Toward Revolt
To call these "Gen Z protests" undersells their structural inevitability. Youth unemployment in Morocco stands at 36%. Nepal's hits 20.8% despite GDP that's 33% remittances from citizens forced to work abroad. Kenya's reaches 67% among under-35s. Indonesia's gig economy workers (like 21-year-old Affan Kurniawan, killed by police while delivering food) symbolize a generation offered only precarious labor with no path to stability.
The "nepo kids" phenomenon crystallizes this rage. A single Instagram post of a Nepali provincial minister's son posing with a Christmas tree made of luxury gift boxes went viral in a country where average annual income is $1,400. Madagascar's protesters watched TikToks of President Rajoelina's daughter in designer brands while they carried water in jerrycans. Kenya's youth leaked videos of politicians' opulent weddings while demanding bread subsidies.
The timing matters. These movements emerged post-COVID, after governments promised "build back better" but delivered only inflation and austerity dictated by IMF loan conditions. Kenya's Finance Bill was partly driven by IMF requirements. Morocco spent billions on 2030 World Cup stadiums while eight women died giving birth in a single public hospital. Madagascar's government invested in cable cars for tourists while JIRAMA's debt spiraled.
The gap between elite consumption and public squalor has never been more visible, and social media ensures everyone can see it in real-time.
What This Means for Governance in the Global South
Three governments have fallen to Gen Z protests in three years. Several more have made major concessions. The success rate for toppling governments is remarkably high. The success rate for achieving lasting institutional reform is remarkably low.
The post-victory governance problem is acute. Nepal has had 17 governments since 2008; adding another interim administration solves nothing fundamental. Bangladesh's Nobel laureate interim leader Muhammad Yunus struggles to implement reforms with elections now planned for 2026. Madagascar's dissolved government continues as caretaker while Rajoelina searches for a new prime minister via LinkedIn applications—a surreal detail that captures the absurdity of trying to squeeze revolutionary energy into existing institutional channels.
Traditional opposition parties have proven unable to co-opt or channel these movements. Kenya's President Ruto tried appointing opposition figures to his cabinet; protesters rejected the move as elite pact-making. Madagascar's formal opposition endorsed the Gen Z movement but cannot claim to lead it. The movements explicitly reject hierarchical leadership and party structures that failed their parents' generation.
The Authoritarian Response Hardens
The regional authoritarian consensus is hardening in response. Uganda increased repression preemptively after watching Kenya. Tanzania arrested Kenyan activist Boniface Mwangi in a cross-border cooperation. Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania are reportedly sharing intelligence on activists. The lesson autocrats are drawing isn't "reform before you're overthrown." It's "use more force earlier."
Yet governments face a coordination problem; protesters don't. Madagascar's movement learned from Nepal, which learned from Bangladesh, which learned from Kenya. The digital infrastructure enabling transnational solidarity gets stronger with each iteration. When GenZ 212 launched in Morocco, they already knew which Discord features worked best and which tactics Nepali youth had used successfully. Governments are learning too, but they're optimizing for repression while movements are optimizing for resilience.
The Questions Left Unanswered
The most important dynamic isn't whether individual movements succeed or fail. It's that an entire generation across the Global South has learned they can force governments to respond, even if response doesn't equal transformation. The political consciousness this creates is something that cannot be unlearned.
Can leaderless movements transition from disruption to governance? Nepal and Bangladesh are live experiments. Can governments reform fast enough to address root causes before the next crisis? Madagascar and Morocco are testing grounds. Can youth activism sustain momentum between explosive moments? Kenya's movement entered its second year in 2025 with renewed protests and renewed casualties.
The digital infrastructure isn't going away. The economic conditions generating youth rage aren't improving. The model has proven exportable across radically different contexts. Whether this becomes the Arab Spring's sequel—a wave that forces genuine democratic opening—or its echo—initial euphoria followed by authoritarian restoration—depends on questions these movements haven't yet answered.
How do you negotiate when you're nobody? How do you govern when you've only practiced resistance? How do you prevent the revolution from being Photoshopped out of history by the same elites you thought you'd defeated?
What's certain is that ruling classes across Africa and Asia are on notice. The generation that grew up watching their parents tolerate corruption, inequality, and incompetence has decided it won't. They have smartphones, they have each other's Discord servers, and they've watched it work in Nepal, Bangladesh, Kenya, and Madagascar. The yellow jerrycans of Antananarivo and the Jolly Roger flags of Kathmandu aren't aberrations. They're the new normal. The only question is whether political institutions can adapt before more parliaments burn.