Tom Hayward
As my cohort stares into the void beyond our final exam or coursework submission, we face the somewhat substantial question of what we want to do with our lives.
Realism in international relations emphasises the importance of survival. States must prioritise their own interests, often at the expense of others, to ensure security and weather the storms of an anarchic international system. In contrast, liberals believe that states can work together through diplomacy and dialogue to address common challenges.
We embody a far more realist outlook when it comes to careers – a reflection of the tough world which we are graduating into
For years, graduates have pursued careers with the same liberal optimism, believing work could reflect their values. Millennials sought careers which valued wellbeing, sustainability, and moral righteousness, reflecting a prioritising of values and passions over practical considerations such as – well, money.
Our generation cannot afford to be so idealistic. We embody a far more realist outlook when it comes to careers – a reflection of the tough world which we are graduating into.
Just as realism has gained greater traction in foreign policy circles, a similar mindset has crept into how graduates are approaching their futures.
Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022, advocates of realism in international relations have felt vindicated. Realists don’t think the world changed when missiles thudded into residential apartments in Kyiv. Rather, they see Russia’s war of aggression as a sign of the enduring relevance of great power politics and have commentated on events in recent years with a hint of “I told you so”.
Sceptics have long poured scorn on the concept of values-driven foreign policy, depicting it as realism masked behind liberal rhetoric. In a similar vein, they would say, students begin their careers with idealistic visions only to find themselves in Canary Wharf optimising shareholder value.
Just as realism has gained greater traction in foreign policy circles, a similar mindset has crept into how graduates are approaching their futures. Students seem to be giving up on their idealistic tendencies and accepting the competitive nature of the job market. Having demanded sustainability and social responsibility from employers, graduates now find themselves prioritising job security and financial sustainability over lofty ideals.
The international relations theory which we’ve studied for three years is increasingly embodied in the everyday world we see around us.
These shifting priorities bring implications which are seeping into personal lives. Other core parts of your 20s, such as building a support network and picking up new hobbies, are pushed aside. A fragmented international system has coincided with an atomising society – whereas life once revolved around community hubs, we now struggle to build meaningful connections with others. Nowhere exemplifies this better than London, where many young graduates live shoulder to shoulder in shoebox flats but feel a deep sense of isolation.
This dissatisfaction is not just about careers; it reflects a broader sense of detachment and pessimism about our future. Shrewd politicians are taking note. Take Nigel Farage’s emphasis on “Family, Community, Country”, or JD Vance’s interpretation of ‘Ordo Amoris’ – loving your family, then your neighbour, then your community, then your country, then the rest of the world – in that order. These philosophies embody grievances that are increasingly prevalent among young people, who feel disillusioned with the world which they are inheriting. Politicians like Farage and Vance capitalise on this by calling for a return to traditional concepts – family, community, a sense of belonging – which many young people are craving.
The international relations theory which we’ve studied for three years is increasingly embodied in the everyday world we see around us. The result is that we are losing our commitment to values and ideals, and prioritising survival in a landscape fundamentally different from the stable environments handed to previous generations.
Applying cold realism to our everyday lives risks creating a generation that accepts the status quo rather than challenging it.
Every conversation now revolves around internships, every phone call with friends and family permeated by a sense of dread about the future. Friends who aspired for a career in international development have seen the industry decimated by foreign aid budget cuts, forcing them to scramble for any role that ensures they can pay the bills in a few months’ time. This isn’t an isolated story; graduates across the country have found their dreams sidelined by economic necessity.
Students shouldn’t give up on their desire to change the world for the better. The pull towards financial security and self-preservation is a result of uncertain times and reflects deep fears about the future. But applying cold realism to our everyday lives risks creating a generation that accepts the status quo rather than challenging it.
Our generation is so preoccupied with paying rent that we risk not paying attention to the kind of world we are working to afford. The question is not whether the idealism of youth is naïve – but whether we can afford to abandon it.
Tom Hayward
Featured image courtesy of US Department of State via Flickr. Image license found here. No changes were made to this image.
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