Introduction
For generations, African societies have revered the wisdom of elders. Proverbs which are Africa’s living libraries have enshrined this reverence in moral and cultural philosophy. The saying often echoed in Nollywood films, “What an old man sees sitting down, a young person cannot see even from the tallest iroko tree,” captures a worldview that places the older generation as the custodians of foresight and authority. Likewise, the Akan proverb “se opanin dware wie na nsuo asa”, literally, “when the elder finishes bathing, the water is finished”, asserts that when the elder speaks, all other voices must be silent. These maxims were more than linguistic ornaments; they reflected a social order rooted in gerontocracy, ruled by the aged, where youths were expected to learn, not to lead. But in the twenty-first century, this hierarchy is being dismantled by a generation that has discovered new forms of power not from ancestral wisdom, but from the internet. Today’s Gen Z, Africa’s most connected and digitally fluent generation, is challenging the monopoly of the old over public discourse, political legitimacy, and even moral authority. They are not bound by the walls of the village square or the bureaucracy of the state. Their village is global, their medium is digital, and their influence is viral.
Across the continent, Gen Zs are redefining protest. Social media, once dismissed as a playground for entertainment, has become a battleground for governance and accountability. Their activism is not anchored in traditional movements or political parties, but in collective emotion amplified through algorithms. In Nigeria, the 30 Days Rant Challenge initiated in March 2025 by @iamraye (Ushie Rita Uguamaye) exemplifies this trend. What began as a viral Instagram video encouraging young people to express their frustrations about economic hardship evolved into a nationwide digital revolt. The hashtag spread across TikTok and X (formerly Twitter), drawing millions of youth into an online chorus of dissent. Like the EndSARS movement of 2020, it revealed a generation that refuses to suffer in silence. Their protest tools are smartphones, not stones; their battlegrounds are feeds and comment sections, not city squares, at least not initially.
Kenya provides perhaps the most striking African example of the political potency of Gen Z. In mid-2024, the country was rocked by protests led predominantly by young Kenyans against the Finance Bill 2024, which proposed new taxes on essential goods and digital services. Mobilised through X and TikTok under hashtags such as #OccupyParliament and #RejectFinanceBill2024, Gen Z activists framed the protests as a fight against corruption, generational betrayal, and elite impunity. They organised rallies through social media, live-streamed police crackdowns, and circulated infographics explaining the bill’s implications in simple, viral formats. Within days, protests spread across Nairobi, Mombasa, Kisumu, and Eldoret. The results were historic: after weeks of escalating demonstrations and international media coverage, President William Ruto withdrew the bill, dissolved his cabinet, and promised reforms. This was not merely a policy reversal, it was a generational reckoning. The protest redefined governance in Kenya, demonstrating that digital-native citizens could outmaneuver state machinery through coordination, creativity, and courage. It was the clearest signal yet that power in Africa is shifting from the corridors of the old to the timelines of the young.
In Madagascar, a similar digital unrest escalated into regime change. What began as youth protests over electricity and water shortages on September 25, 2025, transformed into a demand for systemic reform. When the elite Capsat military unit joined the protesters, President Andry Rajoelina fled the country. Colonel Michael Randrianirina, the unit’s commander, became the transitional president. This was not a traditional coup like it happened in the Sahel or in the 1960s to 1980s, it was a digitally catalysed revolution, where social media mobilisation blurred the lines between protest and power seizure.
This generational wave is not confined to Africa. In Nepal, protests tagged #nepokids and #nepobabies exploded across TikTok and Reddit, uniting young people against cronyism and corruption. Seventy-four people died, over two thousand were injured, and by the end, the prime minister had resigned. It marked the third youth-driven uprising in South Asia in four years, following Sri Lanka (2022) and Bangladesh (2024), each sparked by economic despair and amplified by social media.
From the Barracks to the Browser
Historically, Africa’s revolutions were led by men in uniform such as the revolution in Ghana by JJ Rawlings, in Burkina by Thomas Sankara and in Ethiopia by the Derg. During this period from the 1960s and in the 2020s in the Sahel, military coups were the instruments of regime change. However, today’s revolutions are scripted in code, not command. The locus of power has shifted from the barracks to the browser. Viral videos can now do what tanks once did, which is destabilise governments, galvanise public opinion, and force leaders to retreat.
Yet, this new power comes with contradictions. While digital activism has democratised voice, it has also created new vulnerabilities. Gen Z’s emotional energy and online mobilisation can be co-opted by political opportunists, misinformation networks, or external interests. Just as the Cold War powers once exploited African armies to influence politics like their influence in the February 1966 coup in Ghana, digital actors (both domestic and foreign) can manipulate online youth activism to advance hidden agendas. In this sense, Gen Zs can become both the architects of democratic renewal and the instruments of destabilisation, depending on who controls the narrative.
Ghana, often seen as a stable democracy, must pay attention. Its young population is increasingly vocal online, as seen in movements such as #FixTheCountry. The digital environment is fertile ground for frustration over unemployment, corruption, and governance failures. The lesson from Kenya and Nigeria is clear: ignoring the grievances of Gen Z is perilous. Governments that fail to engage and empower their youth risk confronting not just protests, but digital revolutions without borders.
The Akan proverbs teaches that “abofra bo nnwa na ommo akyekyedee” meaning “a child can only crack the shell of a snail, not a tortoise.” But in this digital age, that child might be able to crash a government website, trend a revolution, or rewrite the national conversation overnight. The balance of social power has tilted, not through violence, but through virality. Policymakers must therefore abandon the condescending notion that youth are too impatient or naive for leadership. Instead, they should institutionalise generational dialogue, create digital governance mechanisms that include youth voices, and expand opportunities for creative employment and civic education. Failing to do so risks turning Africa’s most connected generation into its most disillusioned one.
Africa now stands at a historical crossroads where ancestral wisdom meets algorithmic power. The continent that once depended on the authority of elders must now contend with the audacity of a connected youth. Gen Z has not only disrupted the hierarchy of age but also redefined what it means to hold power, to lead, and to dissent. They have turned the smartphone into a megaphone, the hashtag into a parliament, and the feed into a frontline. This is not merely a clash of generations, it is a reconfiguration of power. The same societies that once silenced young voices in the name of respect must now listen to them in the name of survival. For when governance fails, Gen Z does not gather at the palace gates, they gather on TikTok, X, and Instagram, where revolutions are no longer whispered but streamed live.
African leaders must therefore recognise a new social truth: the legitimacy of authority now depends on its capacity to listen and not to lecture. The proverbs that once placed elders on pedestals must evolve to reflect the dynamic energy of the young. Wisdom still matters, but wisdom that refuses to adapt becomes irrelevant dressed in experience. The elders may still “see far,” but the youth now see faster and in a world governed by speed, that difference can change history. The new proverb for Africa’s century might well be this: “When the old man sees the storm from afar, the young have already gone viral about it.” If the elders and the youth can learn to see together, one with depth, the other with reach, Africa’s future will not just be spoken in proverbs, but coded in progress.
