The revolution will not be televised. It will be meme-ified

In the charged days of the July Uprising in 2024 — as streets filled with tear gas, protesters were beaten, and unlawful arrests mounted — Bangladeshi youth reached for an unexpected political weapon: the meme.

The gulf in age and worldview between those in power and Gen Z turned each meme into a kind of coded dispatch. Inside jokes like "Natok kom koro, piyo" and pop-cultural references became the most accessible — and perhaps the most peculiar — form of political protest. Some even drew parallels between this generation's meme-driven uprising and the role Chorompotro played in galvanising people during 1971.

But memes diverge sharply from the political art forms of the past. Unlike newspapers, radio commentaries, or satirical columns, they bypass editorial scrutiny entirely. 

Under strict censorship and authoritarian rule, memes have become an unexpected civic gateway — a way for young people, increasingly disillusioned with politics, to re-enter the conversation.

A political tool for the social media age

Indonesia charted a similar path. Its protest wave eventually lost steam, but the reliance on memes and Gen Z's distinct political vernacular remained strikingly familiar.

Nepal soon had its own reckoning, after its government attempted to silence dissent through restrictive digital press acts — and was ultimately toppled.

But in Bangladesh, the meme-driven critique of those in power did not begin last year.

Punny Kabir, a PhD student at the University of Cologne who has been actively creating political memes against Hasina's government, believes Bangladeshi Gen Z's political awakening can be traced back to the 2018 Road Safety Movement.

That was when young people first began posting memes from personal accounts and across meme pages to express their dissent.

"In authoritarian regimes or one-party states, the absence of a strong opposition leaves people without a collective voice. As a result, they feel compelled to protest subtly or speak in coded language, knowing that if they are abducted, no one will raise their voice for them," Kabir told TBS.

Like all satire, memes have the power to ridicule and expose hypocrisy without confronting authority head-on. Their form is disarmingly simple: an image paired with a witty line. A single frame from a pop-cultural moment, juxtaposed with a pointed caption, can carry more political weight than an entire op-ed.

One of the clearest examples is a meme referencing Sheikh Hasina's 17 July 2024 speech. After deploying the armed forces and party loyalists against protesters — an assault that left several injured and Abu Sayeed dead — Hasina delivered a speech linking the death to her family's murder.

The meme contained neither her name nor image. Instead, it used a still from a 'Thakumar Jhuli' episode, 'Pandither Pathshala', paired with a line from her speech. Another phrase — "Natok kom koro piyo", taken from a completely unrelated video — soon circulated in reference to the same remarks. The meme spread far beyond social media, appearing in graffiti and protest art across Dhaka.

The semiotics of dissent

Maskwaith Ahsan, a writer and journalist, explains why memes can hit authoritarian elites where it hurts.

"As the tone of memes is humorous and relatively light, it is hard for authoritarian regimes to criminalise them directly. When a regime takes harsh measures against someone for posting a meme, it often ends up looking worse — becoming the subject of even greater criticism and ridicule," he said.

According to him, memes offer several advantages as tools of protest.

"To understand meme humour and its cultural references, one has to belong to that generation. This generational gap is precisely what makes young people feel safer using memes. They know the aging authoritarian elite will take time to decode the meaning, by which point public opinion will already have shifted."

That is exactly what unfolded last July. Before the regime realised what was happening, young people had turned memes into fuel for a movement that ultimately toppled the government.

Soon, the meme revolution spilled across borders.

In Nepal, public frustration with the government was already simmering. When the authorities blocked 26 apps — including Instagram, Messenger, YouTube, X and Reddit — on 5 September, discontent turned into open rebellion.

With few platforms left, young people flocked to TikTok, using it to organise rallies and share #NepoBaby clips exposing the lavish lifestyles of politicians' families bankrolled by corruption.

Juxtaposed with the harsh realities of Nepali migrant workers, the memes ignited a new wave of anger among the youth.

This revolution unfolded in a language the state could not decipher. Officials and media outlets were baffled by memes featuring Japanese anime characters paired with anti-corruption slogans.

Nepal's Gen Z movement reached an even more surreal moment when young people elected their interim prime minister on Discord — a platform better known for gaming than governance.

The youth's exclusion from traditional politics is what sparked these sudden bursts of rebellion. Gen Z's political expression, and authorities' inability to decode it, shows just how far apart the two sides have drifted.

The message to future governments is clear: the terrain has shifted. Even a meme can become a democratic weapon. The old feudal distance between state and citizen has collapsed; those in power are no longer untouchable, and they must answer to the public.

But there is a caveat. Memes should not be mythologised. In today's attention-driven ecosystem, they can spread misinformation, amplify propaganda, or destroy reputations without context.

The ability to boost content with money makes it easy for political actors to manipulate public sentiment. The rise in misogynistic and racist memes is equally troubling.

Memes as a form of political expression did not begin with the uprisings — nor did they end with them. The uprisings merely exposed how deeply politics is now bound to digital culture, with or without the consent of those in power.

Many politicians have since begun sharing memes from their official accounts, recognising their reach — a PR tactic that has helped them connect with younger audiences. From the Ducsu elections to figures like Zohran Mamdani, memes have become inseparable from the language of contemporary politics.

So, for better or for worse, the memes are here to stay and in the process have done what, in many cases, years of traditional opposition could not: it has rendered the powerful human, and therefore, fallible.