Young, confused, and right: why our newest voters deserve better

A new survey has revealed that young people don’t know enough about politics, or how voting works, or even trust that politicians want to listen to them.

Now, as someone who grew up talking about politics at the dinner table and actually chose modern studies at school for fun (yes, fun), I find this hard to believe. But the numbers don’t lie. And neither does the feeling of young people online. Two-thirds of 16–17-year-olds say school has not prepared them to vote.

Nearly half say they trust social media more than traditional media for political news. And when asked to sum up politics in one word, the answers were “boring”, “confusing”, and “complicated”. Which, let’s be honest, is probably how most adults would describe their last attempt to fill in a tax return.

Here's the thing: young people aren’t stupid. They’re confused – but are they wrong?

Because if you’re 16 and staring at Westminster, what exactly is there to understand? A circus of scandals, U-turns, and men in ill-fitting suits shouting at each other. If anything, the confusing part is why anyone still believes this system is working.

The deeper issue is education – or more precisely, the deliberate lack of it. We don’t teach young people how politics actually works. We don’t teach them how a bill becomes law, the voting system, what devolution means, or what powers sit in Edinburgh versus London. We don’t even explain that not voting is still making a choice (usually for the status quo).

This isn’t an accident. Civics – the old-fashioned word for political and democratic literacy – was slowly squeezed out of schools in favour of “financial literacy” and “skills for work.” By prioritising financial know-how over democratic literacy, schools taught young people how to manage money, not how to influence the systems that shape their lives. We replaced “here’s how you hold power to account” with “here’s how to apply for a mortgage you’ll never get.” Because, let’s face it, historically, power structures haven’t always encouraged fully active, effective citizens.

So, is it any wonder that 34% of young people say politics is “too complicated”? We’ve made it complicated by refusing to demystify it. Then we turn around and blame them for not caring.

And here’s the brutal truth: politicians don’t chase young people’s votes because older people vote more, live longer and (crucially) own things. The average age of inheriting family wealth in the UK is now 64. Read that again. Sixty-four. That means most young people spend decades renting or stuck at home, waiting for stability that keeps getting pushed further out of reach.

Not because they want to, but because rent is unaffordable, wages are stagnant, and buying a house is a fantasy. The growing gap between those who inherit and those who don’t means that young people are trapped in financial precarity for longer, reinforcing a sense of powerlessness and political disengagement.

Stuck in that limbo – half adult, half independent – politics feels distant. How do you care about housing reform when you can’t buy a house? How do you feel empowered, still living in a teenage bubble? The lack of independence feeds the sense of powerlessness – and that apathy is exactly what politicians rely on to ignore young voters.

So, when 42% of young people say politicians don’t listen to them, they’re right. Why would they? Older voters turn out in bigger numbers, and they overwhelmingly lean conservative. Younger voters are harder to reach, less likely to vote, and therefore written off as “not worth the investment.” It’s a vicious cycle: politicians don’t bother, so young people disengage, so politicians bother even less.

In 2016, I wasn’t old enough to vote in the Brexit referendum, but I saw how decisions I couldn’t influence shaped my future. Even within Scotland, understanding how votes in Westminster affect local interests is crucial. MPs may follow a UK-wide strategy, so voting with Scotland in mind ensures that our needs are drowned out in the “greater good” of London-led politics.

“Young people aren’t confused because they’re naïve. They’re confused because the system is designed to keep them that way. ”

Scotland, at least, has tried something different. We lowered the voting age for the 2014 independence referendum and for local elections. Turnout among 16–17-year-olds was high for the referendum and broadly in line with their slightly older peers in subsequent Holyrood elections. The lesson: if young people are trusted with the vote and given the tools to participate, many will engage.

But that only works if they understand what they’re voting on. Devolved powers aren’t just technical details – they govern health, education, housing, and justice. If Scottish schools don’t equip young people with an understanding of what Holyrood does versus Westminster, lowering the voting age risks becoming an empty gesture. You give them the vote, but not the map to use it. And that puts Scotland’s own rights at risk.

Then there’s the trust issue. Again, nearly half of young people say they trust social media more than traditional outlets. Let that sink in: TikTok is now a more credible news source to them than the BBC. That’s partly on the media, who’ve failed to engage, but also on politicians. If young people live on social media, meet them there - with honesty, clarity, and guidance to navigate misinformation. Right now, the gap is being filled by influencers and bad actors more interested in clicks than truth.

Here’s the optimistic part. Despite all the confusion, apathy, and distrust, the survey found that 65% of young voters say they’re likely to vote when the time comes. And 60% agree that voting is a duty once the right is extended. They aren’t lazy. They aren’t disengaged by nature. They’re just being failed by a system that’s supposed to prepare them.

So what do we do?

• Mandatory political education in schools, not optional modules, not half a term buried inside modern studies, but a proper curriculum on how democracy works.

• More young voices in politics. If parliament doesn’t look like the people it represents, then it will never earn their trust.

• Parties taking social media seriously. Not as a gimmick, but as a frontline tool of democracy. And they have to at least try to get this part right. Not empty, strange videos that don’t say anything.

And practical advice for anyone reading this: check your registration, remember your ID, and know how to vote – by post or in person. And if you’re unsure who to support, figure out your priorities: what matters to you, what issues light a fire in you, and read your local manifestos. Make your vote count. 

Young people aren’t confused because they’re naïve. They’re confused because the system is designed to keep them that way. They aren’t wrong to think politics is boring. Politics has been made boring on purpose – because boredom breeds apathy, and apathy keeps the powerful safe to continue their ego trips, awkward power battles, and ridiculous scandals.

But democracy isn’t boring. It’s the right over who gets what, who pays for it, and who decides. It’s about whether you're left to rely on inheritance at 64 or you get a fair shot at life earlier. It’s about whether your rent swallows half your wage or whether housing is right.

So, to every 16-year-old now free to cast a ballot: yes, politics looks confusing. Yes, the politicians don’t seem to care. Yes, it’s overwhelming. But that’s not an accident. It’s a feature, not a bug. Don’t let them get away with it. Don’t let the older generations decide your future.

Because the minute you show up, the minute you vote, the minute you insist on being heard – that’s when politics stops being boring. That’s when it gets interesting.