Shaifali Sandhya is an international psychologist, former professor, and writer on culture, cosmopolitanism, and global affairs.
Credit: DH Illustration
“I wonder about others like me... fine on the outside but rotting on the inside,” wrote Baek Se-Hee, 35, a South Korean author who died two weeks ago after a struggle with depression. In Berlin, leaders at the World Health Summit confronted a pressing question: why are our young people dying before their time?
Youth is meant to be life’s safest stage, yet it has become increasingly fragile across Asia, Africa, and the Americas. We once believed education, growth, and technology would shield the next generation. Instead, the young – ostensibly the healthiest among us – are dying at alarming rates.
Suicide has risen to become the third leading cause of death among individuals aged 15-29. Each year, it claims nearly 727,000 lives, with 73% occurring in low- and middle-income countries. Moreover, an OpenAI blog post revealed that hundreds of thousands of ChatGPT users send messages each week that reflect suicidal thoughts or plans. These figures are staggering, and the regional disparities are even more concerning.
In South Korea, suicide has surpassed cancer as the leading cause of death among young people, although the circumstances surrounding Se-Hee’s death were not disclosed. India accounts for one in four suicides worldwide, and youth in India face double the global risk, with one in six deaths among 15-29-year-olds attributed to suicide.
Although crude suicide rates vary, their impact on youth mortality is disproportionately high. The suicide rate among women aged 15-29 in India is the highest of any age group. Indian women, despite representing less than one-fifth of the world’s female population, account for over one-third of all female suicides. While some studies suggest that men have higher suicide rates, limitations in data collection challenge these findings. The despair faced by Indian women is deepened by gender-specific challenges such as dowry, domestic violence, and limited access to mental health support.
Today’s youth are grappling with a variety of stressors, including environmental exposures, poor diet, social anxieties, and lifestyle changes that undermine mental health. Chronic diseases once associated with old age – such as heart disease, diabetes, kidney failure, and cancers linked to ultra-processed diets – are becoming increasingly common among the young. Though unique cultural stressors exist, loneliness has reached epidemic levels. The climate movement, which initially inspired the activism of Generation Z and Millennials, has devolved into fatigue.
The result is generational trauma among the youth – a group that feels socially isolated yet bears society’s hopes for the future; physically vulnerable, and politically disempowered. A harsh reality of alienation, isolation, and precariousness has replaced the promise of rights and agency. In China, millions of young people have responded to relentless social and economic pressure by adopting the “lying flat” (or tang ping) movement, which rejects a life defined solely by productivity. What began as a quiet protest against burnout has evolved into a broader generational statement of exhaustion and existential defiance.
Despair that exceeds one’s capacity to cope is preventable. However, the systems meant to protect life are faltering, leading to dwindling access to care. Fewer than one in four people with depression in low- and middle-income countries receive treatment, and one in seven 1-19-year-olds worldwide lives with a mental disorder. The neglect comes at a cost: the World Health Organisation estimates that every $1 invested in treating depression and anxiety yields $4 in productivity gains. India lost $38 billion (approximately 1.3% of GDP), a 2025 study reports, due to adolescent illness in 2021, with over half attributed to non-communicable diseases.
We can begin by integrating mental health services into primary care, screening for depression, suicide risk, and substance use during every clinic visit. Establish district-level suicide prevention units with trained, funded staff to handle data collection and crisis response. Invest in sustainable financing – similar to investments that have yielded victories over infectious diseases. Improve surveillance by creating a suicide registry that connects health bodies, law enforcement, and social services. Institutionalise prevention by incorporating life skills, emotional literacy, and gender sensitivity into school and community programmes. These initiatives may provide a generation desperately seeking purpose with a reason to thrive.
Our next significant public health crisis will not be viral; it will be psychological – an erosion of purpose and belonging. The future won’t be lost to war or disease but to a generation that no longer finds a reason to stay.
“I want to die, but I also want to eat tteokbokki,” wrote Se-Hee. Her poignant statement encapsulates the paradox at the heart of suicidality. The desire to escape pain while still yearning to taste life, amid all the complexities of relatedness, captures our collective failure. The young have not lost the will to live. It is we – societies – that have lost the will to protect them.
The writer is an international psychologist, former professor, and writer on culture, cosmopolitanism, and global affairs.