For three consecutive days, the streets of Dili have been filled with chants, banners and defiant voices. Thousands of young people, led largely by Timor-Leste’s Generation Z, are against the national parliament’s controversial decision to allocate US$4 million (A$6 million) for luxury cars for lawmakers, alongside the lifetime pension law for parliamentarians. At the heart of these demonstrations lies a deeper frustration: corruption, inequality and a sense that the promises of liberation have not materialised for ordinary Timorese.
Unlike the resistance generation who fought for independence with clandestine networks, physical courage and handwritten leaflets, Timor-Leste’s Gen Z has grown up with the internet as a constant companion. For them, activism is inseparable from the digital world. Smartphones and social media platforms, especially Facebook and increasingly TikTok, are their arenas of mobilisation. Photos and videos of confrontations with police, where several students were injured, were shared instantly across networks, fuelling anger and drawing more students into the protest.
This ability to broadcast their struggle in real time represents a seismic shift. While older generations still rely on radio or television, Gen Z treats social media as a virtual town square. It is where they debate, organise and hold leaders accountable. The rapid diffusion of digital content has made mobilisation faster, louder and harder for authorities to ignore.
Timor-Leste’s Gen Z, those born between the 1997 and early 2012, makes up a significant portion of the population. They are “digital natives”, more connected to the world than any generation before them. But with connectivity comes disillusionment.
Internet penetration remains uneven, yet smartphones are ubiquitous among youth, making them the main gateway to education, social interaction and activism. At the same time, digital access exposes young people to risks such as online violence, bullying and harmful content. Despite these challenges, their digital fluency enables them to demand transparency and expose injustices in ways that were unimaginable for their parents.
Their concerns go far beyond luxury cars. Many are frustrated by poor education, overcrowded classrooms, underpaid teachers and underfunded schools. Public education remains fragile, while private and international schools serve mostly elites. Each year, more than 15,000 secondary students and more than 4000 university graduates enter a labour market with limited opportunities. Youth unemployment and underemployment are widespread, leaving many young people questioning whether their future lies in Timor-Leste at all.
The World Bank has described Timor-Leste’s labour force participation rate stagnant at about 30.6% for nearly a decade — one of the lowest in the world. Much of the workforce remains trapped in low-productivity informal sectors. Migration is increasingly seen as an escape; surveys suggest that nearly half of young Timorese between 18 and 34 are already planning to seek work abroad, primarily in Australia, South Korea or Britain.
This exodus is more than economic. It reflects a generational lack of confidence in the nation’s current development trajectory. Yet it also underscores why protests in Dili have struck such a chord; these young people are not only voicing dissent, but also signalling that they still want to fight for a better Timor-Leste, rather than abandon it altogether.
Digital activism has its pitfalls. Social media, while empowering, is also fertile ground for misinformation, political manipulation and heated polarisation. The lack of strong digital literacy programs leaves many vulnerable to false narratives. Movements that erupt online can sometimes fade as quickly as they surge, lacking sustained organisation. Calls for violence following police crackdowns show how quickly righteous anger can spill into instability.
Still, Gen Z in Timor-Leste is redefining the country’s activism landscape. Their protests are not only about cars and pensions but also about the broader struggle for accountability, equality and dignity.
Timor-Leste is a nation still in its adolescence, barely two decades old, struggling to transition from petroleum dependency to a diversified economy. Its youth, however, are already shaping a new narrative. They are globalised yet rooted in local realities; impatient with corruption but deeply patriotic; disillusioned yet unwilling to remain silent.
Their activism, digitally savvy, nationally conscious and globally connected — signals the dawn of a new era of civic engagement. If their demands for transparency and opportunity are met, Gen Z could become the generation that not only reimagines activism but also rebuilds Timor-Leste itself.
[Ato “Lekinawa” da Costa is the editor of , an online publication in Timor-Leste, where this article first appeared. He was a student activist against the Suharto dictatorship when he was studying in Malang, East Java.]