A microscopic view of the youth bulge reveals its fractures. Whether it is a girl jumping from a hostel balcony, a candidate sobbing on a bench outside a classroom, a boy locking himself in before an exam, a bright student disappearing into silence, or someone escaping reality through drugs — all of these point to the most urgent question: are our young people well?

Pakistan is one of the youngest countries in the world. Two-thirds of our population is under 30. Nearly 63 million people are between 15 and 29 — the largest youth cohort in our history. This generation will define Pakistan’s economic productivity, political stability and social cohesion. Yet these statistics are overshadowed by a growing mental health crisis.

Today’s Pakistani student grows up in a climate of relentless pressure. Academic competition is brutal. University admissions are scarce. Scholarships are limited. Jobs are even fewer. Every year, millions enter a labour market that cannot absorb them.

The World Bank estimates that over a third of those aged 15 to 24 are not in employment, education or training. Gallup data shows millions of young people are neither studying nor working. For those who are studying, the anxiety is suffocating: what if there is no job at the end of it?

Recently, a professor at a leading public sector university shared a troubling anecdote. When he asked his class what they expected after graduating as engineers, many voiced pessimism. “We expect to be unemployed,” the class replied.

Parents invest life savings in tuition while pinning their hopes of social mobility on one child’s grades. In such an environment, failure is not merely academic — it is existential. The result is a generation that is restless, agitated and often very angry, not because they lack ambition but because their aspirations collide with structural barriers.

Furthermore, digital connectivity masks profound emotional isolation. Three in five Pakistani youth use the internet, and almost all of them are on social media. They are more connected than any generation before them. Yet social media amplifies comparison. It creates curated illusions of success and turns every peer’s achievement into a reminder of one’s own perceived inadequacy. For students already struggling with self-worth, this becomes combustible fuel.

Universities, meanwhile, often lack structured counselling services. School systems focus on grades rather than emotional resilience. Conversations about depression or anxiety are still dismissed as weakness, drama or a “lack of faith”.

The broader political environment also seeps into mental health, as institutions appear unresponsive and opportunities continue to shrink. Gen Z grows up surrounded by unpredictability and gradually internalises that instability.

Mental health services in public universities remain grossly inadequate. Most campuses lack full-time psychologists. Faculty are rarely trained to identify early warning signs. Helplines are underpublicised or underfunded. School curricula seldom teach coping mechanisms, emotional literacy or stress management.

The University of Lahore is now taking the lead in addressing students’ mental health concerns. Its chairman, Mr Awais Raoof, has not only revamped the campus with additional safety measures but has also established a dedicated department to address the mental health challenges faced by students coming from across the country. Other universities should learn from this initiative. A large share of the country’s future workforce is currently sitting in classrooms, and student mental health is not a peripheral issue — it is a matter of national economic and social stability.

Mental health services must be institutionalised across universities and colleges, not as token offices but as properly staffed, confidential and accessible departments. Teacher training should include basic psychological first aid, as educators are often the first to notice behavioural changes. The state must recognise that economic reform is also mental health reform. Job creation, transparent recruitment and predictable policy environments reduce uncertainty, and uncertainty is a powerful driver of anxiety. At the same time, we must dismantle stigma. Faith and therapy are not opposites.

Lastly, domestic violence, failed marriages, parental separation, and households where parents live under the same roof yet remain emotionally distant, isolated and silent also erode young people’s emotional and mental well-being. But that is a discussion for another day.

Muhammad Ali FalakThe writer is a Fulbright alumnus working on climate change. He can be reached at mafalak@yahoo.com

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