On March 11, 2020, the World Health Organization declared a global pandemic as SARS-CoV-2 disrupted lives across generations, geographies, and social strata. Yet, as I sifted through both Indian and international media, and statements from major public health organizations, one group remained largely overlooked: 1.2 billion young people. True, there was some attention for their predicament during the pandemic, but not nearly enough.
In the years since, global analyses have centred on healthcare failures, economic recovery, and political responses—but what of the generation forced to build its future during these years of disruption?
Pandemic skip
Unlike older generations who largely returned to pre-pandemic routines, many young people wrestled with what’s now called the “pandemic skip”, a sense of developmental stagnation, particularly in education, careers, and social growth. The term first gained traction on TikTok, where users shared their struggles with time feeling warped, ‘leaving them permanently behind’. Missed graduations, internships, first jobs, and relationships are life events that cannot simply be rewound.
A World Bank report highlights COVID-19 pandemic’s staggering impact on human capital accumulation, particularly for those under 25—the generation set to comprise 90% of the prime-age workforce by 2050. By the end of 2021, nearly 40 million young people who should have entered the workforce remained jobless. Millions missed critical vaccinations, endured unstable care environments, and faced setbacks in social and emotional development.
In wealthier nations, government aid and digital infrastructure somewhat cushioned the blow, but lower- and middle-income countries (LMICs) faced worsening disparities with no comparable safety nets. In India, for example, the school dropout rate more than tripled from 1.8% in 2018 to 5.3% in 2020, with the worst effects on disadvantaged students who relied on schools for structure, safety, and mobility. School closures fueled child labor, early marriage among girls, and the loss of essential support systems like midday meals. The shift to remote learning deepened educational inequities, with millions lacking access to devices, stable internet, or conducive learning environments.
India also saw major working-hour losses in 2020 and 2021. Young workers in informal jobs, without social security, bore the brunt of layoffs and hiring freezes, exacerbating financial instability and mental health struggles. Meanwhile, India’s already underfunded mental health system was unprepared for the crisis.
Data issues
In spite of these obvious challenges, data collection and reporting systems by and large failed to adequately capture the full impact of the pandemic on young people. WHO’s COVID-19 mortality dashboard still groups ages broadly (0-4, 5-14, 15-64, and 65+) which, while useful for general analysis, erases the nuanced experiences of adolescents and young adults. While clearly some countries offer more detailed national data, much of global reporting remains reliant on aggregated categories, making meaningful comparisons difficult.
From my perspective, young people remain largely invisible in far too many global health datasets, especially those from LMICs. This lack of specificity hampers policymaking, leaving governments and institutions without the clear evidence needed to design targeted interventions, while young people’s experiences and challenges remain buried in statistical averages.
Building resilience & involving young people in decision-making
Disease has always shaped human history, an ever-present reminder of our vulnerability. Yet while disease is inevitable, large-scale pandemics don’t have to be. The defining failures of this crisis were more structural than biological. If we are to build resilience, we must start with those who will inherit the consequences: young people.
Article 12 of the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child affirms the right of children and young people to participate in decisions that affect them. Yet their role in shaping pandemic response and recovery has been largely tokenistic, acknowledged in rhetoric but absent in practice, both globally and nationally.
To truly engage young people, we must meet them where they are—on social media, in schools, and within their communities. Public health messaging must be reimagined, leveraging digital creators and influencers to make information both accessible and engaging. Schools must prioritize media literacy to equip students with the ability to discern misinformation from fact, a skill more urgent than ever.
Youth mental health must be central to crisis preparedness, backed by dedicated funding and accessible support systems. Grassroots youth organizations need real decision-making power and financial autonomy, not token advisory roles. Equally important is investing in research to track not just epidemiological but also social, economic, and psychological consequences. A centralized, youth-accessible repository of crisis-related resources should be developed to bridge this knowledge gap and provide real-time support.
Beyond immediate crisis response, we must equip young people for an increasingly volatile future. Digital safety and privacy must be recognized as fundamental rights. At the same time, upskilling and reskilling must become policy priorities. Future-proof education must go beyond traditional curricula, integrating financial literacy, digital skills, and crisis-resilient professions.
The next pandemic, or global crisis, is not a matter of if but when. The real question is not just how we respond, but whether we will continue to sideline the very generation that will bear the long-term consequences, both in the preparation for, and response to the next major crisis. If public health is to be truly equitable, it cannot be an emergency response. It must be built on prevention, equity, and trust.