We, Zoomers, bound to silent sacrifice?

An intimate look into the seldom mentioned trials faced by younger generations in light of the coronavirus pandemic.

Photo by Christian Lue on Unsplash

After nearly 22 years in this increasingly absurd world, I cannot recount the number of times I have been told: “you have had it so easy,” “back in my days” and “come on, it is not that hard.” Remember this moralising story about your grandfather walking 15 miles a day to school under enemy fire? Well, that kind.

In contrast, our parents, in many respects, are the ones who have had it fairly “easy.” In the Western world at least, 50-year-olds today have experienced a cheap and/or heavily subsidised education, an overall impression of “progress" in society (even though terrible prejudice remained, obviously) and what seemed like a world of opportunities. This is a generalisation of course, but compared to our current circumstances, it is a telling point.

Today, we, their children, are being told to stop being so selfish. To stop needing a minimum of social interaction, a glimpse of happiness. Why would we mind borrowing thousands to attend university in our bedrooms after all? Do young people really need a life of their own? According to some - apparently not.

What about the students who will have to renounce their education because of the impacts of the pandemic? Where are their voices heard? It is true that we are not being drafted to war. It is true, yes. 2020, instead, is a year of pernicious violence; one of silent suffering and tortured inertia. The destructive assumption of the more “settled” generation is that we will be fine. How do they know?


Of course, COVID-19 has, arguably, changed the life of every person on this planet: young people are not the only ones affected. Efforts and sacrifices need to be made. However, it cannot be denied that the youth is the last worry of most institutions. Most of us are healthy enough to not die of COVID-19. But what about the looming mental health crisis, and the loss of most things that make life enjoyable? It baffles me that 18-year-olds are considered legally mature for life-changing responsibilities, but not enough to have their own hopes and desires. 

For example, the situation of international students in the USA under the new Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) rules is absolutely appalling and shows the absolute apathy of some towards students. Apart from the overall disastrous situation in America right now, the disregard of students’ personal hopes is systemic and not new. In the UK, the impact of Brexit on EU students is also increasingly concerning. Economically inactive by definition, students end up in the same category as the unemployed, children, and all people deemed unimportant enough to be ignored. In other words - voiceless, because mostly financially irrelevant. But universities rely on us, and we do have power, but change is most effectively triggered by common and organised action. However, the pandemic is a profoundly divisive and isolating time.

Yes, COVID-19 is awful for everybody. People have died and keep dying in absolutely inhumane ways, live-streamed to their families. Jobs are being cut in nearly every industry, and the lucky ones now live their work lives online. This article is not a manifesto against social distancing measures: masks and goodwill are needed now more than ever. But I also believe that we need more than a one-size-fits-all solution. This article is not an attempt to victimise our generation. On the contrary, it is a life-affirming statement, that we must go on, safely, but that we must go on, and that we need to be trusted.

Is the impact of COVID-19 on a “functioning” adult with a stable job and a family unit really comparable to students who have had their prospects and living conditions completely altered in a matter of days? I would argue that it is easier to cope with change when one’s life is so settled already that one can handle the shock. We, young people: how many encounters, how many life-changing friendships, love stories, travel and professional opportunities have we now missed? Growth is tough to achieve between four walls, hypnotised by the stream of bad news on our phones. I am afraid that no amount of banana bread baking can fix this.

As a student of History, I know that during global crises, the personal is often erased. The great challenge and one of the fascinating aspects of COVID-19 is that the intimate is overlooked. In one of the most individualistic environments that humankind has known to date, the divide between the personal and the collective is as deep as ever. Social media, while already hugely present in our lives before COVID-19, is now a lifeline for most of us, with the toxic effects it can have.

For most, going back to our parents has been a mixed-feelings experience. While some have learnt to appreciate their families even more, not all of us are lucky enough to have healthy support structures. What about these people? Do they matter?

Also, at University College London, a fair number of students have transnational existences: often, we have no roots or friends at our parents’ location or “home.” Furthermore, a lot of parents have not signed up for having their university-aged kids back home full-time forever, which can create significant conflict.

“Well, they’re young, they can get over it.” Well, in fact, many of us will not. As always, the most fragile, economically, mental-health wise, will pay the price. This is not acceptable. Valuing a person’s emotions and life only on how well they can survive the unthinkable is a mistake. It is a complete disregard to what our “modern societies” stand for, even though this statement is increasingly losing its meaning due to the absurd populism and bigotry that the past years have displayed.

In a time of information overload, I have been surprised by the lack of conversation around the suffering of the young generation. Past the Zoom drinks, the Instagram workouts and the pictures in the park, we have been silent. It is not like sharing deep emotional concerns is appealing to a social media audience. It is also hard to confide in others, when we are all dealing with our personal issues and grief. Our generation, already weakened by the 21st century and its “stable instability,” is now experiencing a coup de grâce. On the edge of adulthood, the world crumbles. What about our mental health, the impact of the bleak economic and emotional prospects we are now facing? Where are these issues in the mainstream media? 

“Sink or swim,” they say. But did they ever have to sink or swim to this extent? Probably not. Finding a job, or a purpose in life was already hard as it was, now it has become only more complex. We have not been trained to promote ourselves through Zoom internships while our parents are calling us for dinner, all of this, often, in different time-zones.

Of course, there is always light in the darkness. Some have been enjoying the lockdown, have re-discovered relationships, re-centred themselves on what matters. Also, the awakening of a political conscience is absolutely fantastic; Black Lives Matter and the movements in defence of the less privileged groups give me hope for the future. Combating climate change, standing against the patriarchy: we inherited the duty of doing what is fair. Because at this point, what else matters? It is hard to engage in every fight, but we can all step in for what we believe in. Whether they like it or not, our generation is made of the next decision-makers, the next carers, the next invaluable workers. We matter, and COVID-19 and its tragic implications need to empower us in asking for change.

The strength necessary to deal with crises often comes from anger. I am angry. We should be. Angry at the world, angry at being considered as commodities. I am sad I have not been able to say goodbye to friends, people I care about, and people I have cared about in silence. Being students at an “elite university” often shields us from a lot of suffering. But being the “best and the brightest" is not worth it if it is in deafening mutism, for us, and for others.

Under our masks, we need our voices to be heard. Our pain, our hopes, are valid and ought to be addressed. Let us not be the next silent generation. We need the world as much as it needs us. “Snowflakes,” they say? Then, expect the blizzard.

Stay safe.

Pi Opinion content does not necessarily reflect the views of the editorial team, Pi Media society, Students’ Union UCL or University College London. We aim to publish opinions from across the student body — if you read anything you would like to respond to, get in touch via email.