Gen Z & the Revolution| Speak, and be seen

By the simplest reckoning, fifteen years after the January Revolution, those who followed its unfolding from balconies or television screens—and those who were still infants, learning their first steps and words—are no longer merely onlookers.

Those who did not choose the path of revolution, and therefore did not take part in it—those born between 1997 and 2010, commonly referred to as Gen Z—may remember the revolution and the curfews mainly as a time that deprived them of outings and play. Time has since turned. Today, they are the same age as those who, in 2011, stood face to face with a formidable security apparatus and succeeded in toppling the head of the regime.

But this is not the same day, and they are not meeting it on the same ground.

The revolution that hovered over their childhood left its imprint on their adolescence and early adulthood. And when they stepped into the streets two years ago, declaring their solidarity with Palestine, they were not met as earlier generations had been, a quarter of a century before, when they rallied for the Palestinian Intifada. Instead, the streets led them to prison doors.

What was once possible for the January revolutionaries is no longer within reach. The revolution they mark each year with pride was never without cost. Part of its reckoning was the closing down of spaces that had briefly opened, and the firm prohibition of opening any new ones. Power has grown acutely sensitive, wary of even the smallest spark.

The cost has not been limited to political freedoms. It has extended into social and economic conditions, and even into culture itself. Life has grown harsher, and emigration has become a collective dream.

Today, we stand before a generation made to pay the bill without ever tasting the euphoria that touched us in 2011—a generation that received no apologies, no salute after a victory; a generation that neither made a decision nor chose a path.

Perhaps justice—one of the foremost slogans of January—demands that we listen to those who are paying the price for choices they did not make.

This is not simply a matter of due acknowledgement. It is essential if we are to imagine a future at all.

Whatever the circumstances, and whatever the nature of the power in control, stasis is an illusion.

This is the most important lesson of January. Any change—or even any attempt at change—in the near or medium term, by whatever means and along whatever path, will place this generation at the forefront of its scene.

On the fifteenth anniversary of the revolution, after listening to one another for a long time and taking turns indulging in nostalgia, we chose to listen to the future.

In this series, some call on us to speak and to engage in self-review; others ask us to step aside. Some question what we did, while others share with us their feelings, their experiences, and their vision of what lies ahead.

In this series, Gen Z speaks—so that we may see them.

Because the conversation must go on.