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In today’s digital age, popular culture has become an omnipresent force in shaping how people experience happiness. From box office movies to viral TikTok clips, from social media trends to celebrity lifestyles, these cultural products create what might be called second-hand happiness: the joy or satisfaction we derive not directly from our own experiences but from observing others. While popular culture offers chances for connectivity, it also creates challenges: it can replace direct experiences with mediated ones, foster dependence on external validation, and generate fleeting satisfaction that leaves us constantly seeking the next emotional fix. Understanding this dual nature—how popular culture both enriches and potentially diminishes our well-being—is essential for navigating modern life consciously.

Consumerism and fleeting satisfaction

One major way popular culture shapes our happiness is through consumerism. We buy not just products but also the promises of happiness they bring. New gadgets, stylish clothes, and trendy lifestyle items create real but short-lived excitement. For example, when a new smartphone is released, it generates excitement, social media posts, and buzz. However, within weeks, the novelty wears off, and many consumers find themselves searching for the next product. This cycle illustrates the hedonic treadmill of consumer culture, where material goods offer real but diminishing returns, gradually teaching us to pursue happiness through external purchases rather than personal growth or meaningful relationships.

Social media: Validation and community

Social media has fundamentally transformed how we experience and share happiness, creating both unprecedented opportunities for connection and new forms of dependency. Platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and Twitter quantify social interaction through likes, comments, and shares, which can serve as both meaningful feedback and shallow validation. Content creators who share their creativity on TikTok and receive thousands of supportive reactions experience real encouragement that can fuel their imaginative progress. Yet the same metrics can become addictive, training us to measure our self-worth through digital approval and creating anxiety when expected validation doesn’t materialize.

This duality is crucial to recognize. For marginalized groups such as youth struggling with identity, individuals with rare illnesses, or people with unique interests, online platforms can be transformative. They offer access to support networks, role models, and communities that might be impossible to find locally. To illustrate, a teen exploring identity may find acceptance and understanding online, profoundly improving their mental well-being. Yet, connections often coexist with a culture of superficiality, where users curate idealized versions of their lives for external validation.
The challenge is not the digital validation itself but our overreliance on it. We tend to replace real relationships and personal growth with online approval. The question becomes not whether to engage with social media, but how to maintain agency over when and how it shapes our emotional lives.

The political economy of manufactured desire

Understanding popular culture’s relationship to happiness requires examining the economic structures that produce it. Marx’s analysis of capitalism offers useful insights here: under market systems, our emotional lives increasingly become sites of profit extraction. We don’t simply consume entertainment; we become what might be called ‘affective laborers’, generating content, engagement, and emotional investment that platforms monetize. Every Instagram post, TikTok video, or product review we create adds value to corporate platforms while these companies capture the economic rewards.

Also, let us consider the influencer’s economy: they produce lifestyle content that generates genuine entertainment and community while simultaneously functioning as advertising. Followers experience real enjoyment watching their favorite creators, but they are also being subtly directed toward consumption patterns that benefit brands and platforms. The happiness we feel is authentic, yet profit-seeking entities have carefully shaped it. Fashion and beauty industries, for instance, do not simply respond to consumer desires—they actively manufacture dissatisfaction through trends and standards, then sell products as solutions.

This doesn’t mean all popular culture is manipulative; however, it reminds us to stay aware of its economic motives. Industries profit by keeping us emotionally invested, often prioritizing revenue over our well-being. Recognizing this helps us engage critically, asking who benefits from our insecurities and what desires are shaping us.

Reconsidering second-hand happiness

Second-hand happiness deserves a more nuanced treatment than simple dismissal. Shared cultural experiences—watching a movie, celebrating a sports victory, following a beloved content creator’s journey—can generate authentic joy and meaningful connection. When we laugh at a comedy show or feel inspired by someone’s success story, that happiness is real, not illusory. Humans are fundamentally social creatures who naturally derive pleasure from collective experiences and from witnessing others’ achievements.

The issue is not vicarious experience itself but the balance and awareness with which we engage in it. Problems arise when observation replaces participation. To illustrate, when we watch travel vlogs instead of exploring our own surroundings. Difficulties also emerge when external validation becomes the main source of our self-worth. We may begin to spend more time following the lives of others than nurturing ourselves. Moreover, the constant comparison encouraged by social media often leaves us feeling inadequate and dissatisfied.

A healthy relationship with popular culture means enjoying shared experiences and digital communities while maintaining direct engagement with our own lives. It means appreciating an influencer’s aesthetic without feeling our home must match it or celebrating friends' achievements online while also pursuing our own goals offline. The goal isn’t to eliminate second-hand happiness but to ensure it complements rather than replaces first-hand experience.

Moving forward

Happiness remains fundamentally personal, rooted in direct experiences, relationships, and a sense of purpose. Popular culture can enrich these aspects by providing inspiration, facilitating social connection, and offering entertainment and meaning. However, it functions optimally as a complement to direct experience rather than a substitute. The most fulfilling lives likely integrate both: engaging with shared cultural experiences while actively cultivating personal goals, relationships, and creative expression.

Maintaining balance within systems designed to capture attention and shape desires toward consumption requires deliberate effort. This includes setting boundaries with technology, reflecting on what genuinely satisfies us, investing in meaningful relationships, and engaging with cultural products critically rather than passively.

As popular culture continues to evolve, awareness of its mechanisms allows individuals to enjoy its benefits without yielding their well-being to external validation or manufactured desire. The objective is not to choose between first-hand and second-hand happiness, but to ensure that engagement with culture enhances, rather than diminishes, personal well-being. In this way, individuals can participate fully in contemporary culture while preserving the internal sources of satisfaction that sustain them.

China’s Fourth Plenary Session of the 20th Central Committee and the Xi–Trump meeting in Busan took place only days apart. On paper, one was a domestic political gathering and the other a diplomatic encounter on the sidelines of a multilateral summit. They were not linked in official statements, and neither attracted feverish global commentary. Yet, taken together, they offer a glimpse into how Beijing is adapting to a complex international environment.

Fourth plenums traditionally focus on governance questions, party discipline and institutional direction rather than dramatic policy launches. This session followed that pattern. The messaging centered on maintaining steady political control, ensuring policy continuity and fostering cautious confidence. It suggested a leadership that sees no benefit in abrupt moves, either domestically or externally, at a time of uneven economic recovery and external pushback. Three themes stood out.

First, the reaffirmation of party-led governance was not performative symbolism. In Beijing’s worldview, political cohesion and long-term planning are assets in a period marked by technological disruption and geopolitical frictions. The leadership continues to believe that diffuse decision-making would leave China vulnerable to external pressure. Second, economic language emphasised pragmatic adjustment. China did not deny its financial challenges, ranging from corrections in the property sector to demographic shifts. However, rather than promising a sudden return to high-speed growth, the plenum signalled an acceptance that the next phase will be steadier, more industrial policy-driven, and oriented around the security of supply chains and financial stability. 

Third, technology remains the core battleground. US-led restrictions on advanced chips, export controls and scrutiny of Chinese tech companies have clearly been internalized. The Plenum’s language underscored ongoing efforts to reduce reliance on foreign tech inputs and build resilience in critical sectors. This is not isolationism; it is preparation for a world where access to advanced technologies is increasingly politicized. None of this was presented as a crisis response. It reflected a system that was preparing for long-term competition, rather than one that was overwhelmed by it.

The Xi-Trump meeting in Busan fit into this context of calibrated pacing. The discussions did not produce groundbreaking agreements, nor were they expected to. Tariffs, agricultural purchases and fentanyl precursors figured in public remarks. The more telling aspect, however, was tone—measured, practical and devoid of the sharpness seen in earlier phases of US–China confrontation. For Beijing, arriving in Busan after the plenum mattered. It allowed Xi to approach talks from a position of internal consolidation, not defensive anxiety. For Washington, under a Trump return that values transactional gestures, a calmer exchange made tactical sense too.

The meeting illustrated a shared recognition: neither country benefits from sustained escalation at this moment. China is navigating an economic transition and rebuilding confidence, while the United States is focused on industrial reshoring, alliance repair, and domestic political contests. Strategic rivalry continues, especially in technology and security, but uninterrupted confrontation is costly, and both sides appear willing to slow the tempo. This was not détente. It was a way to test whether channels can stay open without implying softness.

If one looks at global alignments, markets and diplomatic behavior since these events, the picture that emerges is not sudden stability but a more predictable cadence. Supply chains are diversifying, not breaking. Export controls evolve, but trade persists. Security partnerships deepen, yet complete economic decoupling remains improbable. The US–China rivalry remains as real as it was a few years ago. It simply appears to be settling into a slower, steadier phase one, where each side tests its structural endurance. This rhythm benefits nobody spectacularly, but it also harms nobody dramatically. It suits countries that want time to build capacity, especially powers striving for strategic autonomy, including India and the European Union. 

For New Delhi, the Plenum-Busan period did not signal a change in thaw with China or a weakening Western alignment. Instead, it reinforced an approach that India had already adopted: steady engagement with the West on critical technology and defense, alongside measured management of the China relationship to avoid avoidable shocks.

India’s border concerns with China have not lessened. Military deployments remain robust; infrastructure development in border regions continues. At the same time, diplomatic channels remain open, and senior-level military talks continue. People-to-people and business-to-business ties have also begun growing in the past few months, signalling that both countries are understanding and navigating turbulent geopolitical spaces. 

India is not repositioning away from the United States. Strategic cooperation on supply chains, advanced manufacturing, space and maritime security has only deepened. The expectation that any external partner, even the United States, will perfectly align with India’s priorities has faded. Statements from Washington after Operation Sindoor served as a reminder that every partnership has its chafing points. So, India is doing what rising powers with long memories do: building capability, banking partnerships, and keeping options open. Instead of dramatic swings, we see incremental strengthening in areas such as semiconductor policy, defence co-production, digital infrastructure exports, energy corridors, and tighter coordination with Europe and the Indo-Pacific. 

Ultimately, neither the Fourth Plenum nor the Busan meeting reveals the future. What they tell us, instead, is how major powers behave when they don’t fully trust the world and aren't entirely sure of themselves, either. China tightened its seams before it stepped onto the diplomatic stage. The United States played along, not because it suddenly believes in strategic harmony, but because endless confrontation is exhausting and expensive. And India, watching both, is quietly filing away lessons. Nobody is “winning” here; nobody is collapsing either. This is a moment of political adulthood where states learn to live with discomfort, ambiguity, and the slow grind of structural rivalry. It’s not dramatic, and that’s precisely the point. The future is being shaped in paperwork, quiet conversations and long-term investments, not in summit fireworks.

For India and the region, the task is not to predict which way the wind blows, but to build so that whichever way it blows, you don’t get swept off your feet. Great power politics right now is less a game of grand moves, more like distance running: steady breathing, keeping pace, occasionally accelerating, never collapsing from your own adrenaline. In the years ahead, we can expect headlines, crises, breakthroughs, and provocations again. But these quieter phases matter too.

The author is a PhD candidate at the School of International Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University. He is also a life member of the International Center for Peace Studies

The study titled ‘The immortality of too much money’, published in PNAS Nexus in June 2025 by Jackson Trager and Mohammad Atari, looks at how people around the world judge those who have far too much money. It clearly separates excessive wealth when one person holds a huge share of money from economic inequality, the overall gap between rich and poor in a society. The Gini coefficient measures this gap, with 0 meaning everyone has the same and 1 meaning one person has everything.

Across 20 countries and over 4,300 people, most do not see extreme wealth as very wrong. But views differ greatly. In rich and fair countries like Belgium and Switzerland, people are more likely to call it immoral. In poorer and less equal places like Peru and Nigeria, they accept it more, seeing it as a sign of hope or survival. The research uses Moral Foundations Theory, which says we make quick moral calls based on six basic feelings: care for others, equality, reward for effort (proportionality), loyalty to groups, respect for leaders (authority), and purity or avoiding things that feel dirty or wrong.

People who value equality and purity most strongly say too much money is bad. Those who focus on effort, loyalty and authority are more okay with it. A smaller study in the United States with 315 people showed that purity concerns go beyond money—they also make people judge too much ambition or pleasure as wrong. This explains why we call some rich people “filthy rich.” The study matters because as the world’s wealth gap grows, understanding these moral views can shape laws on taxes and fairness. In equal societies, people worry more about the harm of excess. In unequal ones, they often defend the system.

Shadow of plutocracy

The world’s richest one percent now hold more wealth than 95 percent of humanity combined. Oxfam  described this as “the shadow of global oligarchy” looming over multilateral decision-making. According to Oxfam’s report, over a third of the world’s 50 largest corporations—collectively worth $13.3trn—are now controlled by billionaires, either as CEOs or principal shareholders.The imbalance is particularly stark between the Global North and South. Countries in the Global South, which account for nearly 79 percent of the global population, own just 31 percent of total global wealth. The concentration of extreme wealth is not just an economic issue but it’s a moral and political crisis that undermines democracy and fuels inequality worldwide.

A 2014 survey in 44 countries found most people see the rich-poor gap as a big problem. It links inequality to poor health, more crime, less trust and lower happiness. Early lab tests with US students showed they prefer to share equally, even if it means less for all, and get angry at unfair sharing.

But some experts say people actually like unequal results if the process seems fair if effort and skill decide who gets more. This is procedural fairness (fair rules) versus distributional fairness (same amounts). However, Moral Foundations Theory splits fairness into equality (same for all) and proportionality (more for those who deserve it). Western studies focus on harm and justice. Other cultures add respect for leaders and purity. These ideas connect with purity, giving real meaning to“filthy rich.” Nepal’s Hindu and Buddhist roots also teach balance and clean living, stressing the need to keep the self and society clean from corruption, and treating greed as a demon.

A wave against filthy rich

At first glance, the recent GenZ protests might seem like a reaction to the Oli government’s decision to ban 26 social media platforms. But to call it just that would be missing the point entirely. What we’re seeing is not merely digital outrage—it’s a moral uprising.

For many young Nepalis, the ban was the last straw. Years of frustration over corruption, unemployment, impunity and the politicization of state institutions had already created a boiling pot. The social media ban was simply that one extra degree that made the water boil.

Let’s be honest—this anger isn’t just about losing social media. It’s about a political system that has long rewarded power over principles. It’s about leaders who preach sacrifice but live in luxury, often funded by public money. It’s about “Nepo kids” flaunting privilege while young people with talent and degrees struggle to find opportunity.

If the political class still believes this movement is about social media, they’ve missed the heart of the issue. What GenZ is demanding is course correction—a cleansing of the system, not a cosmetic fix. Corruption has become so normalized that even small acts of honesty now feel revolutionary.

And here’s where a new lens becomes important. Recent research based on Moral Foundations Theory shows that people’s moral sense is grounded in six values: care, equality, proportionality, loyalty, authority and purity. The study found something fascinating—those who value equality and purity are more likely to view excessive wealth as morally wrong. The equality link is obvious. But purity? That’s usually about cleanliness or sanctity. Yet, it gives us new meaning to the phrase “filthy rich.”

This insight hits close to home in Nepal. Corruption here isn’t just a governance issue—it’s a moral one. Our failure has been to treat it purely as a legal problem, not a cultural or ethical one. Until we rebuild our moral foundation—individually and collectively—no law, commission, or anti-graft body will be enough.

The GenZ movement, in essence, is calling for that moral reset. It’s telling every political party, leader, civil society group and citizen: clean your own house first. Because real change won’t come from outside; it will come when we restore integrity as a national value.

Nepal’s youth are not just demanding better governance; they are demanding a cleaner conscience from those who lead. And that’s a revolution worth standing for. Nepal’s Gen Z revolt  isn’t just protesting a social media ban but they’re demanding a moral reckoning.

Building a cleaner future

To end corruption, Nepal should make purity a daily rule. Require all officials to show their money and spending openly online. Use digital technology to watch government buying and stop secret deals. Prosecute the big theft cases quickly and fully. Pay honest workers much more to reward real effort.

Teach school children about these six moral feelings. Help them see how too much of anything, especially stolen money, harms everyone. Give young people real roles in anti-corruption offices. Their fresh eyes can keep the system honest.

The study warns that without change, old habits return. But Nepal’s youth have shown moral fire. By treating corrupt wealth as a stain on the country’s soul, leaders can build trust, close the wealth gap and create fair rules for all. This is the path to lasting good governance.

The author is an advocate

The image of journalist Suresh Rajak, who was killed during the royalist movement on March 28 this year, comes into my mind as the world marks the International Day to End Impunity for Crimes Against Journalists 2025. Rajak lost his life in a horrific fire incident in suspicious circumstances while he was filming the demonstration from inside a house for a television channel. Despite the Federation of Nepali Journalists (FNJ) forming an investigation committee and repeatedly demanding a state-led inquiry, a proper investigation to identify and prosecute those responsible has yet to begin. In this article, the writer first provides an overview of journalist killings in South Asia, including Nepal, in 2025, followed by an analysis of the current status of justice for slain and disappeared journalists in Nepal. Finally, the article examines the underlying causes of these incidents and explores possible ways to ensure accountability and protect journalists.

Together with Rajak, South Asia witnessed the killing of nine journalists in 2025, according to a report from the International Federation of Journalists (IFJ) published on 1 Nov  2025. The IFJ also confirmed that by November 2025, India recorded the highest number of journalist killings in South Asia, with four journalists—CH Naresh Kumar, Dharmendra Singh Chauhan, Raghvendra Bajpai, and Mukesh Chandrakar—losing their lives in targeted attacks, bombings or crossfire incidents. In Bangladesh, two journalists—Md Asaduzzaman Tuhin and Khandaker Shah Alam—were killed, while in Pakistan, two media workers—Abdul Latif Baloch and another unidentified journalist—lost their lives. If we look at the global picture,  a total of 99 journalists have been killed so far in 2025, according to the IFJ’s latest statistics. More than half of these deaths—50—occurred in Gaza, Palestine, followed by eight in Ukraine and six in Sudan.

According to UNESCO, 85 percent of journalist killings remain unpunished worldwide. As the majority of journalists killed this year were reporting from war zones, the prospects for justice in these cases are even slimmer.  Globally and regionally, impunity remains the norm rather than the exception.

Let’s return to the case of Nepal. In 2024, Nepal witnessed another tragic killing of journalist Suresh Bhul (30). While local authorities claimed that cattle theft was the reason behind the lynching, reports from Reporters Without Borders (RSF) revealed that Bhul had been receiving threats from local elected officials due to his activism for the right to information and his critical stance on local governance issues.

Decades of impunity

During the decade-long Maoist insurgency (1996–2006) and the post-conflict period, journalists were often targeted by both warring sides and political actors. According to Freedom Forum, 23 journalists were killed between 1996 and 2016—14 during the conflict and nine after the Comprehensive Peace Accord (CPA) of November 2006. Also, the period witnessed enforced disappearance of three journalists during the period, per data from the Freedom Forum. The Federation of Nepali Journalists (FNJ) has varying data. According to the FNJ, a total of 38 journalists were killed and four had become victims of enforced disappearances up to 2018. Since then, two more journalists—Suresh Rajak and Suresh Bhul—were murdered in 2024 and 2025, respectively

Despite the long list of journalists killed in Nepal, justice has been delivered in only a handful of cases, with convictions achieved in just a few—Dekendra Raj Thapa, Uma Singh, Birendra Shah, Arun Singhaniya and Yadav Poudel. Journalist Dekendra Raj Thapa, abducted and killed by Maoist cadres in 2004, finally received some semblance of justice after 17 years when the Dailekh district court, on 12 Dec 2021, sentenced perpetrators  to life imprisonment. In the case of Uma Singh, a radio journalist murdered on 11 Jan 2009, the Janakpur high court upheld the Dhanusha district court’s verdict, sentencing  culprits to life imprisonment with property confiscation. Progress was made in the 2007 killing of journalist Birendra Shah, with Narendra Faujdar arrested on 27 Oct 2024, and Hareram Prasad Kurmi on 10 Sept 2020, while few other perpetrators had already been sentenced to life imprisonment. 

In another landmark verdict, the Janakpurdham high court, on 21 Sept 2022, sentenced the culprits  to life imprisonment for masterminding the 1 March 2010 murder of media entrepreneur Arun Singhaniya.  In the case of Yadav Poudel, a journalist killed on 3 April 2012, in Jhapa, the appellate court in Ilam, on 8 July 2014, sentenced the perpetrators to life imprisonment. Further, cases of slain journalist Jagat Prasad Joshi and media entrepreneur Jamim Sah remain sub judice in court whereas cases related to the killing of journalists Krishna Bahadur Sen and Gopal Giri are pending before the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), reflecting long delays in transitional justice mechanisms. For the remaining majority of cases, the justice process has not even begun.

Justice delayed, justice denied
According to the research article ‘Understanding journalist killings’ by Sabine C Carey and Anita R Gohdes, published in 2020, journalists are frequently targeted because their reporting exposes corruption, human rights violations, organized crime or other politically sensitive issues that may threaten the power, reputation or interests of local authorities and influential actors. Such reporting can challenge entrenched networks of power, making journalists vulnerable to intimidation, threats or lethal attacks. Interestingly, the majority of these cases do not lead to prosecution, largely due to a combination of factors, including the lack of political will on the part of the state, weak law enforcement, insufficient legal protections and an overall lack of accountability.

Way forward

The way forward to address impunity for crimes against journalists in Nepal begins with recognizing and celebrating the rare successes where justice has been achieved, such as in the cases of Dekendra Raj Thapa, Uma Singh, Birendra Shah and Arun Singhaniya. Next, the processes of TRC and other transitional justice mechanisms must be expedited to resolve pending cases like those of Krishna Bahadur Sen and Gopal Giri. Simultaneously, the justice process should commence for the majority of unresolved killings and disappearances, including long-standing cases such as Milan Nepali, Iswor Budhathoki and Suresh Bhul. Strengthening investigative capacity, shielding judicial processes from political interference, protecting witnesses and prioritizing prosecutions even in remote areas are essential for breaking the cycle of impunity.

The author is a media researcher based in Nepal