This is a generation that knows much about the world… and little about itself. It moves with its finger across continents it does not live in, memorizes the biographies of stars who do not know it, yet may stutter when asked about the first story in its own family, or about the name of the “district” from which its ancestors first emerged. A screen opened the planet to it… but along the way, it closed the door to its roots.
Developmental psychology tells us that one of the most important tasks of adolescence is building a clear identity; for the young person to construct a coherent story about the self: Who am I? What do I believe? Where do I belong? A recent review on identity development in adolescence (Branje, 2022) shows that those who possess a clearer identity—a coherent narrative of their life and values—fare better in areas of achievement, relationships, and mental health compared to those who live with a fragmented identity.
Identity‐narrative research supports this. A study on young people (Vanden Poel et al., 2019) found that those who can tell a more coherent story about their lives enjoy higher levels of psychological adjustment and lower levels of anxiety and depressive symptoms. As though the ability to recount the story clearly means that the inner world is not entirely disassembled.
As for cultural and ethnic identity, it is not a “heritage detail”; it is a true protective factor. Meta-analyses and review studies (Smith & Silva, 2011; Rivas-Drake et al., 2014) have shown that a positive sense of cultural belonging is typically associated with higher self-esteem and lower levels of depression among adolescents, and that youth who feel pride and clarity regarding their identity are less vulnerable to internal disorientation.
But what happens when a generation is raised in homes that are always busy, in schools that teach history as pages to be memorized rather than stories to be lived, and in media that sees the past only as material for debate or consumption? The adolescent will find himself surrounded by the stories of others without being given the chance to understand his own story; he knows the history of global teams… but not the history of his own neighborhood; he memorizes the slogans of brands… but not his grandmother’s bedtime prayer.
Recent research on connection and belonging (Pastor et al., 2025; Rose et al., 2024) affirms that a young person’s sense of belonging to family, school, and peers is a powerful protective factor against depression and risky behaviors, and that those who feel they are “of the place” are more internally stable and better able to navigate crises.
Perhaps the planting of roots begins with things that seem ordinary: a family table where a grandfather’s name is mentioned for the first time, a history lesson connecting the map of the homeland to the faces of its people, a short walk through the old neighborhood, simple questions we ask our children about the first home, the first story, and the first value they learned from their elders. In such small moments, the young person learns that his life is a link in a chain… not a single isolated page.
A generation without roots is not a written fate, but the result of short-sighted upbringing. And if we want young people who open themselves to the world without losing themselves within it, then we must first return to them an old gift: that each of them knows where he came from… so he may better choose the road to which he will go.
