Will young people fight?
Defence and national security, at first glance, do not rank highly in the priorities of Gen Z. According to the 2025 UK Youth Poll, the economy is seen as the most important issue facing the UK, with 37% of respondents highlighting financial worries as their biggest concern. This was followed by job insecurity (20%), with social media (14%) and climate change (10%) lagging behind. Post-COVID and Brexit economic pressures weigh down heavily on a generation for whom Britain increasingly seems like a place bereft of opportunity.
These woes extend to Europe, where housing unaffordability and low wages make life for young people increasingly challenging; a European Commission report found that in 2024, 9.7% of young people aged 15-29 lived in households that spend 40% or more of their disposable income on housing. With the average age of young people leaving the home approaching 30 in the Mediterranean and Balkans, it is clear that governments have their work cut out to provide young people with the opportunity to better themselves just as previous generations did in the post-war era.
Against this backdrop, proponents of young people engaging with defence and national security – through enlisting in the military, engaging with Combined Cadet Force opportunities at school, or signing up for the UK Ministry of Defence’s proposed gap year-style scheme – may be viewed as out of touch. Britain’s obsession with class feeds into the stereotype of the public schoolboy donning a khaki uniform on a Wednesday afternoon as the poster image of the country’s efforts to cultivate a sense of civic duty and patriotic commitment to security. These elitist connotations contribute to a general feeling of apathy towards defence by young people in a society increasingly characterised by individualism and isolation.
However, a closer look at the numbers suggests a mixed picture and challenges this assumption. According to the World Economic Forum, 91% of young people polled believe they have little to no influence on political decisions related to peace and security, yet 98% agree that young people should have at least some level of participation in peace and security matters. The UK’s SERCO poll found that 53% of Gen Z (ages 16-28) and Millennials (29-44) say that the current geopolitical climate is making them more inclined to consider a career in national defence.
A gap between perception and opportunity clearly exists. Efforts to improve a sense of civic duty amongst young people and bolster the manpower the MoD can draw on to address foreign and domestic security challenges must be aligned with meeting the concerns of Gen Z, which I have highlighted. Contributing to the military and engaging in civic programmes cannot be seen as gloss on the CV for Britain’s privileged. Rather, youth engagement must reflect the reality of modern Britain.
Political Theatre in Britain
The politicisation of young people and defence in Westminster has hindered efforts to launch ambitious plans that meet practical, not political, objectives and aims. Whilst Gen Z may be subject to criticism by popular commentary and in the media for perceived immaturity, the rhetoric of the Labour and Conservative parties reflects an ironically juvenile behaviour by elected officials that has made this topic subject to electoral theatre. The Sunak government’s plans in 2024 for a “bold new model of national service” that could see young people opting to spend one weekend per month volunteering across a number of roles including a RNLI volunteer, NHS responder or special constable, was a last-ditch attempt by an extremely unpopular Conservative government to appeal to the patriotic senses of its traditional voter base. Seized upon by the opposition Labour party, the idea was decried as “yet another uncosted policy from the Tories” and a £2.5bn “unfunded commitment” whilst the public continued to reel from the disastrous economic consequences of the Liz Truss premiership.
Fast-forward to 2025 and the Labour government has announced that young people in Britain will be offered a gap year-style scheme by the MoD in an effort to introduce citizens to military life early as part of a new “whole of society” approach to defence. Notable differences exist between these two plans; Labour’s is more geared toward defence and national security and emphasises “teaching transferable skills that can be used in other industries”. It is a good idea, albeit vague on details and slow to be rolled out, with just 150 individuals recruited for a pilot programme that won’t begin until March 2026. However, it is also not lost on the average voter that this is a party which just a year previously dismissed the government’s plans on the grounds that it was nostalgia-imbued, out of touch, and unaffordable.
A de-politicisation of this issue is necessary to make civic duty and contributions by young people towards defence a permanent feature of British societal life. Of course, strategy and policy need to be debated in Westminster, and the government needs to be more ambitious. The scope of proposed plans needs to be greater if it is the intention of the Starmer government that British state and society are strengthened by youth schemes.
However, a gap between ambition and reality will persist unless the foundations are laid down for civic duty and defence contributions to become an intrinsic aspect of life for the public, not simply a vote-winning tool come the election period. To this end, lessons can be learnt from European neighbours where civic participation and defence contribution are embedded structurally rather than episodically.
Lessons From Europe
Sweden and Finland offer examples of where civic and military duty amongst young people is a feature of young adulthood – much like a gap year is to a sixth-former – and should be where policymakers in Whitehall should be turning to for ideas. Of the two countries, Sweden has undergone a more abrupt transition to a “whole of society” approach to defence. Historically a neutral country, Sweden’s NATO application in May 2022 ended centuries of non-alignment and was followed by the introduction of a new mandatory civic duty in January 2024. Whilst initially only applying to those trained in emergency services and electricity provision, around 100,000 individuals were called up in its first year with 10% doing so unwillingly. It marked a reactivation of civic duty for the first time since its suspension in 2008. Sweden’s shifting political alignment and abandonment of neutrality status has not been the preserve of an elite sphere; rather, it has been combined with a “bottom-up” mobilisation of society and framed as an internal process of consolidation and strengthening.
In Finland, “conscription is not just a programme-level issue but a living and enduring system in Finnish public life”. The model dates to the end of the 19th century when Finland was an autonomous Grand Duchy of the Russian Empire. Participation in defence efforts is codified in the Finnish constitution, which states that every Finnish citizen is obligated to participate in national defence. Finland’s geography – a 1340km land border shared with Russia – and need for manpower has made conscription a permanent feature of political and public life and explains in part why it retained its model of conscription following the end of the Cold War.
The country’s unique geography and history helps explain the stark difference to the UK’s episodic model of civic duty. Where lessons should be learned, however, is how these participation efforts are culturally and societally normalised features of public life. The psychological preparedness of Finnish society is a result not just of legislative and political doctrine, but also cultural output. An inclusive ethos is apparent as far back as the 1920s, following the successful Finnish War of Independence from the nascent Soviet Union. The 1928 novel Training Fields and Barracks (Kenttä ja kasarmi) authored by the famous novelist Pentti Haanpää depicted how citizens could view the military organisation as a part of normal society which citizens would enter and depart after they had performed their time of service. Its argument was that the military could not afford to operate as a separate caste. Over the past 60 years, national defence courses have been offered four times a year that bring together diverse groups of professionals from across Finnish society. This contributes to “engraving a sense of duty in people” whilst a dedicated National Defence University in Helsinki helps foster innovation in terms of strategy and in maintaining the country’s “whole of society” approach.
These are just some examples of how civic participation and contributions to national security are ingrained in Finnish society by a combination of constitutional and policy instruments and cultural output that in tandem provide a robust and enduring model. This model, whilst responsive to political developments and geo-strategic threats, transcends the sphere of political theatre and manifesto pledges that characterise British efforts.
It’s Not All Rosy
This is not to suggest that all is rosy in Scandinavia. Scepticism still exists, much of it centred around the inclusivity of conscription programmes and questions of identity and belonging in diverse societies. In Sweden, some of those in minority groups question whether they should put themselves at risk for a country where they do not feel a full sense of belonging. These sentiments are reflected in Zahraa Albaroodi, 20, who moved from Iraq to Sweden 12 years ago and who expressed that “it feels like I will never become a citizen, and I can never change that – no matter what training or job I do, or if I do civic or military service”. More so than conscription drives in the 20th century, governments of plural and multi-ethnic European countries must contend with the need for civic duty to be a driver of integration, rather than polarisation in increasingly divided societies. This bears echoes of the sentiment amongst anti-Vietnam War protestors; many of whom could not see why Black soldiers should be conscripted to fight a foreign enemy when they themselves were treated as second class citizens in their own country. However, Sweden is not 1960s America. Its ability to launch a conscription program with such high uptake – contrary to the paltry 10 sign-ups for the British Army internship scheme in 2024/25 – suggests that these are not insurmountable problems. By giving Gen Z a greater say in defence and security, schemes can be vehicles for integration and social cohesion for a generation whose political engagement is characterised by apathy and disillusionment.
In Finland, a distinction remains between universal male conscription and women volunteer status, although to date over 14,000 women have completed military training and entered Finland’s reserve force numbering some 900,000. In 2019 the Finnish defence minister asked for the creation of a commission to look at the possibility of conscription for women. However, as of yet this has not materialised. The sheer number of reservists means that female conscription is not required. At the same time, Jarkko Kosonen and Juha Mälkki argue that “citizens do not show their unreserved support for the development of conscription in a gender-neutral way as a mandatory obligation for all genders.” Though tempting to see this as a gendered issue, the reality is that it is a combination of precedent and capacity which determines Finland’s approach. At the same time, women form half of civilian military personnel and a quarter of National Guard members. What matters, therefore, is the scope of opportunity provided and outlets for contribution rather than absolute parity.
Recommendations
Whilst this article does not claim to provide a blueprint for future policy, I make a series of recommendations following from the key arguments expounded.
Firstly, if we are to engage young people in defence and civic duty, we have to align programmes with the major concerns and needs of a generation which believes the social contract is broken. Any form of military duty or civic duty must provide young people with the leadership, organisational skills and technical knowledge that will help them in a labour market profoundly transformed by artificial intelligence. Embedding education within programmes provides a greater incentive for uptake. Furthermore, in a society characterised by class divide and extraordinary wealth inequality, schemes must foster social mobility and aggressively recruit applicants from deprived backgrounds. The costs of these schemes to the state should be balanced against if participation leads to a material improvement in career opportunities and standard of living, with increased productivity and tax revenue down the line. I also suggest it is currently more costly to fund the welfare payments of the estimated 1 million young people ages 16-24 who are neither in education nor employment than to upskill them and have them contribute to Britain’s security needs. Policy must be framed as an investment in Gen Z, as much as it is a contribution by young people to state and society.
Secondly, a “whole of society” approach must be taken to both strengthen and widen participation, but also to counteract the issue of politicisation this article highlighted. This means that initiatives must thrive at the local level, and participation must become culturally and socially embedded. Those who suggest that incorporating defence into education or introducing limited mandatory conscription is state overreach and risks an authoritarian turn should look to Nordic countries to see that this does not need to be the case. It is precisely an embedding of defence participation that can prevent it from being used as part of a nostalgia-imbued populist appeal to the electorate. A further beneficial consequence of this approach is the chance to rebuild British civil society and public spaces, which were stripped of funding and overstretched during the austerity measures that followed the 2008 financial crisis.
Furthermore, whether conscription should be made mandatory must be decided based on capacity, demand and practicality rather than whether Gen Z is “lazy” or whether mandatory conscription sends a stronger signal to Britain’s youth. Given Britain’s island geography and its regular army standing at just 75,000, dwindling in numbers to its lowest level since the Napoleonic wars, mandatory youth conscription appears at odds with the direction of policy since 2010. However, should a ceasefire take place in Ukraine and British troops are sent as part of a peacekeeping force, then this will create demand for reserve forces and increased recruitment to deliver on the UK’s domestic security needs. Here, conscription could be an effective tool to support such efforts.
Finally, it is necessary to highlight how European allies can also learn from the contrasts between British and Scandinavian approaches explored in this article. In Germany, for example, a new Military Service Modernisation Act was announced at the end of 2025 which seeks to incrementally introduce conscription to align with Bundeswehr capacity to take on new recruits. Military service remains voluntary, yet mandatory questionnaires and fitness tests for men will be introduced so as to determine who could be drafted in the event of a conflict. The proposals include a respectable monthly starting salary of €2,600 and the opportunity for subsidies for driving lessons for those who serve for at least 12 months. However, tensions exist over obligatory medical check-ups and the potential for a lottery system should sign-ups be below expected levels. Concrete incentives exist, yet Germany’s pragmatic approach also demonstrates the limits of a technocratic implementation of national service without societal buy-in. Without ingraining service within a new social contract between state and society, protests such as those in Hamburg in December are likely to become an endemic and challenging new trend facing governments that are already waning in popularity.
To conclude with the words of Finnish President Alexander Stubb, “The starting point for comprehensive security is an understanding that internal and external security, civil and military, public and private, peace and war are all intertwined.” This model does not promise quick fixes, but it is the one necessary if British and European plans for youth defence and civic duty schemes – and indeed their national security strategies as a whole – are to succeed for generations ahead.
Jude Petrie, BA (Cantab) is the Executive Assistant to the Chairman of the Alphen Group, a defence-based network and platform for discussion formed by Professor Dr. Julian Lindley-French PhD, MA, FRHistS of more than 70 leading strategic thinkers from over 16 countries.
Photo credit: Filip Andrejevic on Unsplash