By Herman M. Lagon

Something has been silently growing underneath for a while now, and it would rather not be ignored anymore. You can see it on the streets and on your phone, in handwritten signs and shared symbols, and in young voices that seem more tired than angry. What many people term the Gen Z rebellion isn’t a sudden explosion; it’s a breath held too long that was let out across Asia, Africa and Latin America, where being quiet is starting to cost more than speaking up.

That similar emotion is here in our own country. It slips into classrooms and family dinners, as well as late-night talks where kids ask why flood projects never get done, why public money keeps disappearing, and why they are always encouraged to be patient while the same mistakes are made. These are not entitled complaints; they come from seeing the same story over and over again, election after election, storm after storm.

I feel this restlessness not only as a columnist or an educator, but first as a parent. I don’t have to search far to sense the shift — I see it at home, in my two Gen Z daughters, who are aware, outspoken and unwilling to stay quiet when they witness abuse, corruption, violence, or people simply getting away with it. I felt the same pulse during the 2022 and 2025 elections, when young voters organized, spoke up and chose principles over familiar names and worn-out political habits.

During these recent elections, this frustration took a civic shape. Many young voters did not simply cheer or campaign; they questioned. They looked past surnames and slogans, asked for track records and measured promises against data. What some dismissed as “online noise” quietly became volunteer networks, fact-checking communities and issue-driven conversations that bypassed traditional political machinery.

Globally, Gen Z’s push is powered by hard realities: shrinking job markets, rising costs of living, ballooning debt, and public services that lag behind promises. In countries like Indonesia, Bangladesh and ours, corruption and misallocated funds sharpen the sense that sacrifice is demanded only from those with the least power. The anger is not abstract — it is rooted in numbers, bills, receipts, and lived outcomes.

What sets this generation apart is not just what it resists, but how it moves. Organizing happens where they already live — on phones, group chats and shared platforms — where information spreads faster than official excuses. Symbols travel quickly too, from pop culture to protest, forming a shared language of resistance that feels both local and global.

To us, this has meant sustained attention to issues that used to fade quickly: flood control corruption, misuse of emergency funds, police abuse, online disinformation. Young people document, archive, revisit, and refuse to move on. It may be messy, sometimes sharp, often informal — but it is persistent, and persistence is hard to ignore.

This moment is not without risks. Movements can burn out, and moral clarity does not automatically become policy. But to focus only on these limits misses the deeper message. Gen Z is not claiming moral superiority; it is asking for moral coherence — for power to match responsibility, and leadership to remember who it is meant to serve.

For educators and institutions, the signal is clear. Today’s youth no longer separate civics from daily life or ethics from survival. They are not waiting to be shaped; they are already shaping the conversation. What they ask for is not chaos, but calibration — a reset toward fairness, evidence and accountability.

The question, then, is not whether Gen Z will keep pushing. They already are. The question is whether institutions, here and elsewhere, are willing to listen and respond — before frustration hardens into something far more difficult to repair.

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Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with./WDJ