Every day, news of someone's death casts a shadow over the morning cup of tea and makes reading the newspaper feel like a burdensome task. Among these stories, the most heartbreaking are those that report the suicides of our youth-the very individuals who were supposed to shape the future of the nation. The relentless trend of student suicides shows no sign of stopping. Just a few days ago, the results of the SSC examinations were released. Not long after, from various corners of the country came reports of five students who had taken their own lives because their grades didn't meet expectations. These incidents occurred in Madhabpur in Habiganj, Sherpur in Bogura, Burichang in Cumilla, Baliadangi in Thakurgaon, and Nawabganj in Dinajpur. The tragedy lies not only in their deaths but in the immense pressure that pushed them toward such an irreversible decision.
A particularly devastating incident involved a Dhaka University student who hailed from the margins of a tea garden settlement. He had climbed countless hurdles in pursuit of education, hoping to break the generational chain of poverty through academic success. And yet, even after making it to one of the most prestigious institutions in the country, the overwhelming burdens he faced ultimately drove him to end his life. According to the World Health Organization, around 727,000 people die by suicide every year worldwide, with 73 percent of those deaths occurring in low- and middle-income countries. Bangladesh, sadly, is not an exception. A report published in 2024 by the Aachol Foundation-a non-governmental voluntary organization-revealed that 513 students across school, college, and university levels died by suicide in 2023. In comparison, the number was 532 in 2022. Among these cases, nearly 10 percent were attributed to mental health issues. Suicide remains the second-leading cause of daily deaths in the country, just after road accidents. This is both terrifying and deeply telling of the state of youth mental health.
Whether it is the loss of bright minds to suicide, the migration of talent abroad, or a general decline in youth morale, each scenario points toward a greater social and economic crisis. The renowned sociologist Émile Durkheim, who laid the foundation of modern suicide studies, offers relevant insights here. His concept of "anomie," a French word meaning normlessness or a breakdown of social norms, can be translated as a state of despair and lack of purpose. Durkheim believed that when people experience this deep confusion and directionlessness, they become vulnerable to self-destructive choices. Interestingly, he noted that groups with minimal societal expectations-religious individuals, wanderers, beggars-tend to have lower suicide rates because they are less burdened by ambition or societal pressure. He classified suicides into several types, all rooted in the same phenomenon: the loss of meaning and optimism.
Durkheim's ideas resonate strongly with the reality in Bangladesh. According to the Bangladesh Bureau of Statistics (BBS), the number of unemployed individuals has remained between 2.5 to 2.7 million over the past decade. Despite graduating from university, many find no meaningful work aligned with their skills. They become frustrated, disillusioned, and disconnected from hope. This sense of being stuck-watching years of hard work go unrewarded-can gradually erode mental stability and lead to tragic outcomes.
There is another psychological factor at play here-perfectionism. Defined by the American Psychological Association as the tendency to demand an extremely high level of performance from oneself or others, often beyond what the situation requires, perfectionism can become emotionally debilitating. A study published in Frontiers in Public Health explored how perfectionism varies across gender, age, and economic background in adolescents aged 16 to 19. The findings showed that while levels were broadly similar across genders, girls were slightly more susceptible to external pressures. Interestingly, adolescents from relatively well-off families exhibited stronger perfectionist tendencies. The study, though based in Norway, holds significant relevance for Bangladesh, where the race for success-fueled by social media, class mobility, and societal expectations-pushes many young people into a corner where failure feels unforgivable.
Having just completed my post-graduation, I find myself navigating these complex emotions firsthand. I've chosen a career I'm passionate about. Still, there's a lingering fear-what if I don't achieve the success I envisioned? What if, after years of dedication, I must switch fields and start from scratch? The idea of wasting time or not having any "visible" achievements to show for one's effort can be crippling. Because of this fear, many like me hesitate to try new things. We begin to avoid risk. Meanwhile, newer graduates continue entering the job market, and in a strange twist of fate, we become part of the statistics we once feared-contributing indirectly to the very problem of youth unemployment.
We must understand that a perfect beginning in one's career is largely a myth. Waiting for perfection can paralyze progress. In reality, no experience is truly wasted. Mistakes, rejections, failures-these are not setbacks but essential parts of growth. People don't start perfect; they become perfect through experience, resilience, and learning.
One of the most sought-after careers in Bangladesh is the BCS. Every year, hundreds of thousands of students pin their hopes on this exam. Many prepare for years, sacrificing other academic or personal pursuits. But only a fraction make it. Those who fail often face immense psychological stress. Some are able to pick themselves up and try something new. Others, unfortunately, are not. They become victims of an unforgiving mindset that equates failure with worthlessness.
At the start of a career, a graduate is often caught in a dilemma. Suppose I want to be a researcher and pursue academia. I may have the motivation and capacity, but structural barriers-like limited job openings or bureaucratic hurdles-can crush those ambitions. Graduates from specialized fields often find themselves in unrelated jobs. It's not uncommon to see pharmacy graduates in banks or engineers in police service. While such adaptability is commendable, it also reflects a severe mismatch between education and opportunity.
This mismatch leads to even more pressure. Society expects results. Families want stability. In such conditions, young people are often discouraged from taking creative or experimental paths. Even those who do, must start from the bottom. And in a country where theoretical knowledge dominates many academic programs, real-world skills are often lacking. The pursuit of a "perfect" job becomes a never-ending chase.
To change this, students must be encouraged to explore internships, fellowships, and skill-building activities during their university years. It is through such practical engagement that interests are discovered, networks are formed, and confidence is built. This kind of foundation prevents the emotional spiral that can follow rejection or failure.
Perfectionism, though often seen as a virtue, comes with a heavy emotional cost. Perfectionists tend to fear failure so deeply that they avoid taking action. They overthink. They burn out. They focus on what went wrong rather than what went right. They forget Einstein's words: "If you've never failed, you've never tried anything new." They forget to laugh, as Chaplin warned: "The most wasted day in life is the day in which we have not laughed."
In the end, we must remember that life is not about flawless success. It's about finding purpose, embracing imperfections, and choosing courage over fear. Our youth must be supported-not only with jobs and education-but with compassion, understanding, and room to grow.
The writer is a researcher
