For Generation Z, the summer of 2020 has been “wack” — meaning it stunk.
Young Europeans realize that older people face far greater health risks from the coronavirus, and everyone has struggled with lifestyle changes demanded by the pandemic — but they’ve had it tough, too. What should be the most carefree time of their lives has been a season of anxiety, restrictions and confusion.
Plans have been put on hold and social lives disrupted as Gen Z kids prepare to enter a job market decimated by an unprecedented economic crisis. Many young people have had their education and career prospects crushed, or postponed indefinitely — putting considerable strain on their mental health.
POLITICO spoke with six young Europeans about how the virus has affected their lives — from hobbies interrupted, graduation ceremonies ruined and romances destroyed, to unemployment and economic uncertainty. They also expressed empathy — and a common desire to make the best of a bad situation.
Enora Gemin, 24, Düsseldorf, Germany
A dancer who grew up in the French city of Nantes and studied in Germany, Enora signed her first professional contract earlier this year at the Staatstheater in Karlsruhe, to perform in the opera Wozzeck.
“One week before the premiere, the COVID measures were imposed, and we had to stop rehearsing — six shows just didn’t happen.”
The theater organized a crowdfunding campaign, to collect money for the artists. “I got €300. It’s not a lot, but it’s a little help.”
With cultural life reopening very slowly, only a limited number of dancers can use the studio at once, and normal life still seems a remote prospect. “I was thinking of how we’d fight to be invited to an audition, how we’d fight for a place once we are inside. And now, we start to fight to even be able to train.”
For all her financial troubles, Enora has found time to reflect: “I realized why I’m dancing — and it’s not to feel sweaty in my room. For me dance is something that has to be alive, it’s sharing energy. I also got really afraid, because a lot of articles were published discussing whether dance could become a technological art, which would make me feel really depressed.
“But actually, I’m convinced a lot of great performances will happen after this. Dance might come back even stronger.”
Kieran Hamilton, 21, Perth, Scotland
Kieran normally spends the week painting cars at a local car dealership and his free time doing what he loves: watching and playing football. He describes himself as a “below-average goalkeeper.”
On March 23, his weekends and evenings were upended when Prime Minister Boris Johnson announced a national lockdown, and the indefinite postponement of everything Kieran enjoys.
“The first week was actually OK, it was almost like a holiday from work. Then the second week came and it all started to feel a bit more grim.”
With so much time on his hands, Kieran decided to improve his health: He started thinking more about what he was eating to fix his “horrendous” diet, and began running a few times a week.
“I was just sitting alone in the house, with nothing to do. I felt like I was at a loose end and it just all started to feel a bit dark. I had to force myself into doing something.”
Now, as life slowly gets back to how it was, he recognizes that he was lucky. He returned to work in July, and nobody close to him has died from the virus.
Football is back too. Kieran resumes training at his amateur club this week, after a pause of almost six months. “It was such a huge part of my life and it was just taken away. [My team] aren’t particularly good or talented at all, but it’s a good laugh and the social side of it is massive. That all just disappeared.”
He’s understandably excited — with a tinge of apprehension. “A few weeks ago I took a ball out to practice, again having not kicked one in months — I was absolutely hopeless.”
He added: “I did think that if [the pandemic] goes on any longer, I could be in trouble.”
Sarah*, 26, Berlin, Germany
Sarah moved to Berlin five years ago as part of the Erasmus exchange program. She works part-time in customer service and produced her own music, turning tables live at vinyl events — until the lockdown.
“I had organized a music event called nofuture on the 21st of March. Obviously, because of COVID it got canceled. In the meantime, I noticed that the people who were to perform had been producing loads of music, so I had the idea to turn nofuture into a net label.”
During the pandemic, Sarah and others from the Berlin club scene have begun organizing outdoor parties. “It was an experiment. We had a bit of money, decided to invest in equipment, and started to scout nice places where we could spread and maintain distance.”
“Now there are raves all over. There are very creative ways of selling tickets and sharing locations, but the police are also becoming stricter and more aware.” Sarah’s collective is bracing for a fine of between €2,000 and €10,000.
With her family living in Spain, Sarah was sometimes torn: “It was very difficult for me at first. I felt privileged, because here we could still go outside. I couldn’t even watch the Spanish news. But then, talking to young people, we realized we couldn’t stay inside because everyone else is locked in. From my friends and family I never got a negative comment, they are happy and even inspired.”
* Due to an ongoing police investigation, Sarah’s name has been changed.
Parfait Weza Irenge, 20, Namur, Belgium
Parfait, a student at the University College of Namur-Liège-Luxembourg, feels his life was turned upside-down by the pandemic. “My summer was ruined and stolen from me,” he said.
“I had so many things planned. I was planning to go to this festival called Rolling Loud and I was going to meet up with friends that I haven’t seen in two to three years!” Instead of spending the summer at rap events on the beaches of Portugal and seeing old friends, Parfait had to stay in Namur.
Even at home, it was hard to make the most of a rough situation. “We like to go out and do things. Because of the lockdown, there were so many things we couldn’t do, like going to the bar or the beach.”
But he’s grateful that he and most other young people didn’t suffer the worst effects of the pandemic and sympathizes with those who fell ill, or endured the lockdown alone. “It was bad for us, but it wasn’t as bad for us as it was for older people.”
The experience has given Parfait a new perspective on life: “It made me realize that tomorrow can’t be taken for granted. Things like this can happen without a knock on the door.”
Despite a disappointing summer, he tries to see the bright side. “Two weeks ago, I had a photoshoot with some friends for a friend’s Instagram page and we really savored the moment. It was so good seeing each other after so long.”
Chiara Badolato, 19, Bergamo, Italy
Chiara had always imagined her baccalaureate exam would be like “Night Before the Exams,” a cult movie for Italian teenagers.
“I always pictured my final exam as an emotional experience where fears and expectations are shared with friends closely, physically,” she said. In the event, it was an “unreal” experience and she missed that rite of passage, starting a new phase of her life without the chance to celebrate it.
Being a final-year high-school student in the worst-hit town in Europe wasn’t easy. She had to stop dancing flamenco, her main hobby, but she bought a ukulele online and watched hours of online tutorials to learn how to play it. “It worked — I am really good at it!”
After briefly reopening nightclubs, Italian authorities shut them again after a spike in infections among young people. Matteo Salvini, leader of the far-right League party, said young people were being picked on, but Chiara sees things differently and stayed away from the clubs when they reopened.
“I never went dancing this summer,” she said. “They don’t respect rules. I don’t feel comfortable with it.”
Becky Pettinau, 18, Zürich, Switzerland
The toughest thing for Becky was not the abrupt end of her senior year of high school, scrapping her summer travel plans, or even breaking up with her boyfriend. It was the emotional roller-coaster of canceled exams, the offer of a place at her top U.K. university choice being rescinded, followed by a successful appeal against the controversial algorithm used in place of exam scores.
At first, a lot of students were thrilled that exams were canceled. “But most of us have spent the whole summer realizing this was the worst thing that could have happened to us.”
When Becky applied to British universities earlier in the school year, teachers had given her a predicted International Baccalaureate grade of 40 points (out of 45), which earned her a conditional offer from Bath University. With no exams, the IB used an algorithm to determine final scores and everyone at Becky’s school dropped two to 12 points from their predicted grades, including Becky, who dropped eight points and lost her offer from Bath.
She appealed, but also applied for other courses through Clearing, a back-up process for students who didn’t get into the schools to which they originally applied. “I couldn’t just risk it and hope my appeal comes back positive.”
Through Clearing, Becky was accepted into Royal Holloway University. Days after she was accepted there, Becky found out that on appeal, her IB grade had gone back up four points, and she could still go to Bath.
“It is such a big mess,” she said. “This whole summer has been figuring out what I am going to do for university.”