Between hope and heavy hearts: Inside the lives of Bangladesh's youth in 2025

In the cafés of Dhaka, in university dormitories, and across countless late-night group chats, one question keeps returning among young Bangladeshis: Are we falling behind, or is the system failing us?

In 2025, youth in Bangladesh are living with a strange duality – energised by the moral ownership of the 2024 mass uprising, yet weighed down by a lingering post-revolution hangover marked by economic anxiety and slow institutional reform.

Classrooms Full, Futures Unclear

For many, the journey begins in overcrowded classrooms. While earning a degree remains the primary pathway to social mobility, the promise of higher education has rarely felt this fragile.

Bangladesh's education budget continues to be a point of contention, hovering around 2% of GDP, far below the Unesco-recommended 6%. In the FY25 budget, education allocation stands at approximately 1.69% of GDP, one of the lowest rates in South Asia.

This underinvestment has produced a persistent skills mismatch. According to the Centre for Policy Dialogue (CPD), nearly 9,00,000 graduates – about one in three unemployed people – hold degrees that the labour market does not adequately value.

Experts and civil society groups argue that current spending levels are insufficient to address structural gaps, improve teaching quality, or equip students with job-ready skills.

in interviews, Bangladesh Bank Governor Ahsan H Mansur has warned that Bangladesh risks squandering its demographic dividend if education reform fails to prioritise employability, analytical capacity, and critical thinking. For students, this warning is no abstraction – it is lived experience.

Jobs that don't promise stability

Graduation is now shadowed by sobering statistics. Unemployment among university graduates has reached around 13.5%, nearly four times the national average – creating a paradox where more education often means a higher risk of joblessness.

Those who do find work frequently face short-term contracts, modest salaries, and long hours. Many others turn to freelancing, ride-sharing platforms, or online entrepreneurship. While these options offer short-term income, economists caution that the gig economy provides little protection against burnout, income shocks, or long-term insecurity.

"The world sees us as a 'freelancing powerhouse,' but they don't see the 3am shifts or the fear that an algorithm change could wipe out my income overnight. I earn in dollars, but I live in a bubble. I have 5,000 friends online—and no real conversation with a neighbour in weeks," said Siam, an independent graphic designer.

Tanvir, an MBA graduate from Dhaka University, shares a similar frustration.

"I've applied for 42 jobs in six months. Every interview feels like a rehearsal for a role that's already been cast. People tell us to be patient – but patience doesn't pay internet bills or buy groceries. We aren't asking for handouts; we're asking for a fair game."

As a result, major life decisions – marriage, home ownership, parenthood – are increasingly postponed. Not for lack of ambition, but because stability feels perpetually out of reach.

The great migration debate

Perhaps the most profound shift among Bangladeshi youth in 2025 is a redefinition of success. While government jobs and social prestige once dominated aspirations, many young people now prioritise mental peace, meaningful work, and work-life balance over titles.

Experts argue this shift reflects global exposure rather than entitlement. In a hyper-connected world, youth are not only comparing salaries – they are comparing lives.

This has created a quiet divide: those queuing for IELTS and GRE exams, and those determined to help build a "New Bangladesh." The surge in students seeking foreign education and passports has become a silent vote of no confidence in domestic stability. For many, the ultimate "cadre" is no longer the Bangladesh Civil Service (BCS) position, but a boarding pass to Europe, North America, or Australia.

Zarin, an engineering student preparing for study abroad, said, "My heart is in Chawkbazar, but my career is in a folder labelled 'IELTS prep.' Leaving feels like betrayal; staying feels like slow academic suicide."

Digital natives, real-world activists

In 2025, activism in Bangladesh has moved beyond the streets. It has entered institutions.

That shift became visible on 9 September 2025, when the Dhaka University Central Students' Union (Ducsu) elections were held after a long hiatus. Often described as the "Second Parliament of Bangladesh," the polls recorded a historic 73% voter turnout, signalling a major shift in student political consciousness.

For analysts, the Ducsu vote symbolised a deeper transformation – from protest to participation, from resistance to responsibility. Activism for today's students is no longer just about challenging power; it is about managing it.

The 'post-uprising' mindset: Empowerment vs trauma

The fall of former prime minister Sheikh Hasina on 5 August last year, marked one of the most euphoric moments in Bangladesh's recent history. Young people – many at the forefront of the uprising – felt an unprecedented sense of ownership over the state.

But by 2025, that euphoria has faded into what many describe as a post-uprising hangover.

"After 2024, we felt like we finally owned this country," said Nusrat, an undergraduate and activist.
"But ownership comes with a burden. Every bribe, every poorly built road feels like a personal failure. We're tired of being the country's conscience while our own futures remain on pause."

A 2025 study found that over 67% of university students reported moderate to severe anxiety, with many showing symptoms consistent with post-traumatic stress, particularly after witnessing the violence of the July Uprising.

The revolution delivered freedom – but also expectations. Young people inherited responsibility for fixing a broken system, often without institutional support.

The quiet weight of mental pressure

Behind narratives of resilience lies a quieter crisis – unfolding in dorm rooms, bedrooms, and endless late-night scrolling.

Psychiatrists across Bangladesh report rising cases of anxiety, depression, and sleep disorders among young people. Yet mental health remains deeply stigmatised, with many seeking help only when symptoms become severe.

Professor Dr Helal Uddin Ahmed, head of the Department of Child, Adolescent and Family Psychiatry at the National Institute of Mental Health and Hospital (NIMH), has repeatedly warned that youth face overlapping pressures. In public discussions on youth mental health, he has pointed to family expectations, social comparison, and fear of failure as compounding stressors.

Mental health professionals note that the political empowerment of 2024 did not automatically heal psychological trauma. Many young people are now navigating a difficult transition – from mobilisation to economic reality.

According to Dr Ahmed's clinical assessment, this generation occupies a particularly fragile emotional state – oscillating between political agency and economic uncertainty.

Social media further intensifies this vulnerability. Platforms that powered mobilisation in 2024 have increasingly become spaces of comparison in 2025. Constant exposure to curated success stories quietly erodes self-worth.

Dr Ahmed has described today's youth as emotionally overstimulated but structurally unsupported – highly aware, constantly connected, yet lacking adequate mental health services and social safety nets.

A generation worth listening to

Bangladesh's youth are often labelled impatient, restless – even disruptive. But impatience today may simply be another name for honesty.

This is a generation speaking plainly about pressure, inequality, and broken promises. They are anxious because the stakes are their entire lives. They are active because they have learned – often painfully – that silence allows decay. And they remain aspirational because they still believe change is possible.

Whether Bangladesh can transform this anxiety into opportunity depends not on youth alone, but on institutions willing to listen, reform, and invest with equal urgency.

The future is no longer approaching. It has already arrived, sitting in overcrowded classrooms, scrolling through glowing screens, and marching through city streets.

The defining question is not whether Bangladesh's youth are ready for responsibility. They already carry it. The real question is whether the country is ready to keep pace with the generation it has raised.