After Gözde, to Young Comrades

No Comrade Should Carry It Alone

October 12, 2026 at 02:13 AM28 min readAuthor: Oğuz Demirkapı

No Comrade Should Carry It Alone: After Gözde, to Young Comrades

A comradely road map for young people caught between family, the realities of life and the struggle

If you feel there is no way out as you read this: You do not have to carry it alone. Tell a comrade, a friend or someone close to you whom you trust, today. You can turn to your university's counselling service or to the psychiatric outpatient clinic of a state hospital. In an emergency you can call 112; if you are outside Turkey, call your local emergency number or a crisis line. Asking for help is not weakness; it is the first step of being organised.

Summary

Two years ago we lost Gözde Topuz. She was a student at METU (Middle East Technical University), she was part of the struggle, and she believed that a better world was possible. For a long time she had been in deep conflict with her family. She experienced criticism directed at her within the struggle as a personal judgement, and in the end she lost her life in the impasse she had fallen into.

This piece is not looking for someone to blame, and it does not turn Gözde into a symbol. It makes five claims:

Consciousness is not a vaccine against pain. Seeing classes and understanding history do not protect a person from loneliness or from serious psychological distress. Reading pain as a "lack of will" or a "petty-bourgeois weakness" is idealism, and it silences people.
Being cornered is socially produced. A quarter of young people are neither in education nor in employment, and the rate of unused labour is 31 per cent. The housing crisis keeps young people under their family's roof. Economic dependence turns a political choice into a family quarrel.
The family is both a refuge and an apparatus of control. There are ways to walk our own road without declaring our family the enemy, but also without surrendering to it.
The organisation can add to this burden too. Criticism that becomes personal and exhaustion that is glorified can leave young people facing a second wall opposite the one at home.
Closing this gap is the task of the collective. Comradeship does not end with carrying the same banner; it also means carrying one another's burdens. A movement that cannot show care within its own ranks cannot promise humanity a caring world.

At the end of the piece we list the concrete tasks of the young comrade towards themselves, towards their comrades and towards their organisation.

Dear Young Comrades,

This is one of the hardest pieces to write. Talking about the death of a comrade, especially when that death was by their own hand, is a conversation all of us want to run away from. After a death we usually do one of two things: either we fall silent, or we turn the dead into a symbol and avoid asking the real question. Both are unfair to Gözde.

We are not writing this to explain Gözde's death, to attach it to a single cause and close the file. A human life never fits into a single sentence. We are writing this for those left behind: for the young comrades who have now reached her age, who read and argue as she did, and who, like her, are caught between home and organisation, exams and actions, the family's expectations and the life they have chosen for themselves.

The way to honour Gözde is to take seriously the question she left behind: How does a young person who struggles stay on their feet, and who holds them when they fall?

Who Was Gözde?

Gözde Topuz was a young woman who studied biology at METU and took part in the struggle. Her labour was in the leaflets, the actions and the reading groups. She believed that a better world was possible, and for her that belief was not a slogan but everyday work. She was a comrade who tried to live what she read and to understand what she lived.

She is best introduced by what those who knew her have said. At the memorials held at METU after her death, and at her graveside a year later, her classmates, her comrades and student societies of different political views described Gözde like this (Evrensel, 15 October 2024; 12 October 2025; 18 October 2025, all in Turkish):

She took her first step into the struggle at a protest against Turkey's withdrawal from the Istanbul Convention, defending women's right to life. Later she led discussions in her department so that the quality of teaching would improve and students would have a say. At METU's student forums, in support of a workers' action, and in organising spaces where students could come together dormitory by dormitory and faculty by faculty, in the words of one comrade, "she had put her shoulder to the wheel". Her friends remember her above all with a megaphone in her hand.
A classmate recalls that at the end of a long graduation forum, someone in the crowd mentioned that it was Gözde's birthday that day: "I remember thinking, 'How can she work this hard even on her birthday?'"
Alongside her determination, she had joy. She would laugh as she told the story of the disciplinary investigation opened against her, and brush off a slogan she had got wrong at a protest with a mischievous smile. One comrade says, "After a good meeting or a protest that went well, she had a happiness all her own, and she was always looking forward to the next one." Her favourite song was "Yeryüzü Aşkın Yüzü Oluncaya Dek" ("Until the Face of the Earth Becomes the Face of Love").
She did not cut her ties with those who thought differently. A friend from the METU Cinema Society recalls once telling her in an argument, "Even though I love you, the fact that I sometimes think differently from you will not change", and now thinking instead, "Even though we thought differently, the fact that I loved her will not change."
According to her classmates, Gözde "kept building her struggle tirelessly for the rights even of young people who did not support it; she saw every one of us as a comrade."

The words of another classmate also sum up what this piece is about:

"In biological sciences there is a very deep emptiness inside us, left by someone who always listened to everyone's troubles in every way. The only way to fill it is for all of us to take on that role. We must not go through our hard times alone, without listening to one another and supporting one another."

So that no more wounds would be opened, Gözde had spoken of "blossoming from the wounds on our skin". Her classmates decided to write those words on a wall of the Biological Sciences building.

Gözde's relationship with her family had been strained for a long time. Her family did not understand her struggle and tried to turn her away from this path. She, in turn, experienced this pressure not merely as a difference of opinion but as a judgement aimed at her very existence. In her last days she had had a very harsh argument with her father. Tying her death to that argument would be too easy, because no human being is crushed under the weight of a single conversation. But to fail to see that the argument was the last link in a sense of being cornered that had built up over years would also be to close our eyes.

We are not writing this to find someone to blame. We are not writing it to condemn her father, ourselves or Gözde. We are only saying this: a young person should not have been left so alone between her family and the life she believed in. When that phone call ended, there was no one beside her. This piece is written so that no comrade is ever alone in that moment again.

We will make Gözde neither a saint nor a tragic figure. We will remember her as a comrade: as a human being who believed, gave her labour, made mistakes, got angry, loved and grew tired. We followed the same principle on this blog when writing about Yılmaz Güney. We neither sanctify nor judge a person; we try to understand them in their wholeness.

Consciousness Is Not a Vaccine Against Pain

One of the sentences we heard most often after Gözde's death was this: "How could such a conscious comrade...?"

The question looks innocent, but it carries a dangerous assumption: that holding the right ideas will protect a person from pain. That assumption is not Marxism; it is idealism. Marxism teaches us that human thought is not independent of its material conditions. The same principle holds for our psychological life. Poverty, uncertainty, loneliness, pressure, sleeplessness and living under constant threat leave marks on our brains, our bodies and our emotions. Whatever books we have read, we are not exempt from these marks.

Marx himself was not exempt. During his London years he lost three of his children in poverty. He had to borrow the money to buy a coffin for the daughter who had died. For most of his life he struggled with illness. The letters he wrote to Engels are letters of exhaustion, anger and grief. In the letters he wrote from a fascist prison, Gramsci did not hide his illness, his loneliness or the hurt he felt in his family relationships. "Pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will" is not the saying of someone who denied pain; it is the saying of someone who had come face to face with it.

So the great revolutionaries were not people who did not suffer. What kept them on their feet was not only their consciousness but the people beside them. Marx had Engels, Jenny and Lenchen. Gramsci had his sister-in-law Tatiana, who carried books and letters to the prison. Consciousness shows the way, but to walk it we need others beside us.

That is why we must say this plainly: Going through psychological distress is not an ideological weakness. Sentences such as "pull yourself together", "that is a petty-bourgeois feeling" or "a real revolutionary endures" are not comradely. They silence people, and a person who falls silent is left alone.

Being Cornered Is Not Personal but Social

When young people feel there is no way out, they experience it as their own inadequacy: "I failed, I am weak, I am surplus." Yet most of the time this sense of having no way out is a product not of the individual but of the order. Let us look at the figures first:

Indicator	Data
Youth unemployment rate, ages 15–24 (August 2026)	13.0%, and 19.4% among young women (TurkStat, Labour Force Statistics, August 2026 (in Turkish))
Rate of unused labour (August 2026)	31.0% (TurkStat (in Turkish))
Young people neither in education nor in employment (2025)	23.3%, and 30.9% among young women (TurkStat, Youth in Statistics 2025 (in Turkish))
Average age of leaving the parental home in the EU (2024)	26.2, and over 30 in Southern and Eastern Europe (Eurostat)

What this table means is this: a young person in Turkey lives in an order where the road to economic independence from the family is steadily closing. Rent, the shortage of dormitory places, low wages, precarious jobs and a diploma that no longer guarantees a job keep young people under their family's roof for years. This dependence directly shapes political life. For a young person who owes their pocket money, their room and their meals to the family, every action, every meeting and every risk of detention becomes a family matter. A political choice is turned into a question of "obedience" argued over in the kitchen and on the phone.

This is no accident. Capitalism shifts onto the family the burden of care and security that the state ought to carry. Housing, health, finding work and support in times of crisis are loaded onto the family's back. And while carrying this burden, the family also demands an account: "We sacrificed so much for you, and this is what you do?" The young person's economic dependence becomes the family's power of control.

A little-known text by Marx is still striking on this point today. In 1846 he translated into German, with commentary, the chapters on suicide from the memoirs of Jacques Peuchet, who had worked in the Paris police archives (Plaut and Anderson (eds.), Marx on Suicide, Northwestern University Press, 1999). A significant number of the cases Marx chose were stories of young people, and young women in particular, crushed under the pressure of the family and patriarchal authority. Marx's conclusion was that suicide should be read not as a matter of individual morality but as a symptom of the defective organisation of society. In Peuchet's words, a classification of the causes of suicide would be a classification of the very defects of our society.

A hundred and eighty years later, this observation still holds. The sense of having no way out that a young person lives through is not that young person's personal defect. It is the joint product of unemployment, the housing crisis, the patriarchal family, the absence of a future and political repression.

But we must be careful here. Saying that it is social does not mean that individual support is unnecessary. The roots of the crisis are social, but the person living through it needs concrete support today, here. We cannot say, "First let the order change, then we will get better." We will struggle to change the order, and we will also stand by one another so that those waging this struggle stay on their feet.

The Family: Refuge or Apparatus of Control?

In this order the family has two faces. One face is a refuge: the place that looks after us when we are ill, feeds us when we are out of work and shields us from the harshness of the world. The other face is control: an authority that tries to decide whom we love, what we study, how we think and what time we come home. In most families these two faces are intertwined. Love legitimises control, and control is exercised in the name of love.

Where does our parents' fear come from?

Reading our families' attitude towards the struggle merely as "reaction" would be incomplete. Most parents in this country either lived through 12 September or grew up in its shadow. They know about the detentions, the torture, the executions and the disappearances, and about a generation raised with the words "let them study, make something of themselves and stay out of politics". As we described in detail in the 12 September Dossier, the coup's most lasting legacy was that it taught people to fear politics. Today, a father shouting down the phone is very often the voice of that fear.

Understanding this does not justify the family's pressure. But knowing that what we face is very often not ill will but fear changes how we talk to our families. You do not speak to fear with anger; you speak to it with patience.

Not against your family, but with your family, on your own road

Our suggestion for young comrades is not a rupture but a bond with boundaries. It has some practical steps:

Do not try to win the argument; try to explain. You will not convince your family on the phone, at the dinner table or during a holiday visit. The aim is not to win an argument but to show, over a long time, what you believe and why. Remember that your life will tell this better than your words.
You decide how much to share. You do not have to tell your family about every action and every meeting. Lying is one thing; not opening up everything is another. Protecting your inner world is drawing a boundary, not betrayal.
Postpone the conversation in moments of anger. Saying "I cannot talk right now, let us talk later" is not a defeat. The most wounding sentences, from our mouths and theirs alike, come out in moments of anger.
Move towards economic independence step by step. Options such as scholarships, part-time work, solidarity houses and sharing a flat with comrades reduce the family's power of control. This is not easy and it does not happen overnight, but even making a plan lifts a person out of helplessness.
Find your allies in the family. A sibling, an aunt, a cousin, and sometimes one of your parents, can become a bridge between you and the rest of the family.
Do not live through the conflict with your family alone. Talk about it with your comrades. The conflict you have with your family is not a "personal matter"; it is the shared experience of dozens of young comrades.

Let us also say this plainly: some family relationships are genuinely harmful. In situations such as violence, threats, being locked in at home or economic blackmail, drawing a boundary is not enough; you need to put distance between you, get support and, when necessary, move to a safe place. Standing by a comrade in such a situation is one of the most concrete duties of solidarity an organisation has.

Criticism Is Aimed at the Work, Not the Person

If one side of Gözde's sense of being cornered was in the family, the other side was in the field of struggle. She took criticism directed at her within the struggle personally. We should read this sentence not as a flaw of Gözde's but as a warning that reminds all of us of our responsibility. Because when criticism becomes personal, that is a problem not only of the person criticised but of the culture of criticism too.

Criticism and self-criticism is one of the most valuable tools of the revolutionary movement. Used properly, it lets us learn from our mistakes and grow together. But when it degenerates, it turns into a tool for settling scores, for public exposure, for humiliation. Harsh speeches at meetings, "call-outs" on social media, a comrade's entire labour erased because of a single mistake, sentences that begin with "you are always like this"... These are not criticism; at most they are anger dressed up in organisational clothing.

Comradely criticism has some principles:

Criticism is aimed at a task, a decision or a stance, not at the person. Saying "this leaflet came out late" is criticism. Saying "you are irresponsible" is a verdict.
The aim of criticism is to put things right together, not to be proved right. If criticism is not followed by the question "so how shall we do it?", there is no criticism.
Criticism does not erase a person's labour. Discussing a mistake does not require ignoring everything a comrade has contributed up to that day.
Personal criticism is made face to face, not in front of a crowd. A meeting hall or social media is not the place to expose a person.
Whoever makes a criticism should also see what kind of life the person criticised is living at that moment. The timing and the language of criticism directed at a comrade who is fighting with their family, has exams coming up and is short of sleep should be thought through.
Self-criticism is not expected only from the person criticised. Where the culture of criticism has hardened, those who sustain that culture must also make self-criticism.

The question we must ask ourselves after Gözde is this: Do our comrades hear our criticisms as a hand held out, or as a conviction? Answering this question honestly is the beginning of changing our organisational culture.

Exhaustion Is Not a Revolutionary Virtue

There is a common morality within the movement: the comrade who sleeps less, rushes about more, never says no and is always there counts as "the best comrade". Resting, studying, taking a week off or turning down a task, meanwhile, are quietly noted down as "slackness".

Ironically, this morality is the morality of the order we oppose. Capitalism, too, demands unlimited output from the worker and sees rest as laziness and tiredness as personal weakness. In our pieces on mental Taylorism we described how platform workers and IT workers are pushed into this regime of exhaustion. Reproducing the same regime in our own ranks means growing its opposite from within the struggle.

It was not for nothing that Paul Lafargue wrote The Right to Be Lazy. One of the oldest demands of the workers' movement was the eight-hour day: "Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will." This demand said that a human being is not merely a working machine, and that we have the right to rest, to love, to learn and to enjoy ourselves. A young revolutionary has this right too.

An exhausted comrade does not contribute more to the struggle; on the contrary, after a while they break away from it altogether. Those who have set out on a long march have to learn not to burn out on a short sprint. That is why:

Resting is a duty, not a privilege.
Finishing your studies, sitting your exams and looking after your health are not a betrayal of the struggle.
Saying "No, I cannot take this on this week" is not irresponsibility; on the contrary, knowing what you can carry is responsibility.
Noticing when a comrade's workload grows and sharing that load out is the task of the organisation.

Mental Health Is a Class Issue

On the left we sometimes come across this prejudice: "Therapy is a bourgeois pursuit. If the source of our problems is social, the solution must be social too." Half of this prejudice is right and half is wrong.

The right half is this: in this order, mental health services have been turned into a commodity. Private therapy is expensive, public services are inadequate and waiting times are long. Psychological distress is very often packaged as the individual's "own problem", and its social roots are made invisible. A self-help industry that says "take care of yourself", "think positive" and "do breathing exercises" turns unemployment, repression and the absence of a future into a problem of individual adjustment. The criticism of this is well founded.

The wrong half is this: setting out from that criticism to reject professional support means leaving to the order a right that the order has commodified. When a comrade breaks their arm, we do not tell them, "You will heal once capitalism falls"; we take them to hospital. The same holds for psychological distress. Psychological support is not a luxury but a right. And like every right, it has to be defended and fought for so that it is accessible to everyone.

That is why we say this plainly:

Going to a psychologist or psychiatrist is not weakness. A comrade who takes this step should be supported, not judged.
University counselling services and the psychiatric outpatient clinics of state hospitals are free or low-cost starting points. Problems such as these services being inadequate, being closed down or being linked to security investigations should be among the demands of the student movement.
Accessible mental health care should be defended as a commons. If we at Knowledge Commons say that knowledge belongs to everyone, we must also say that recovery is everyone's right.

For Comrades: Notice, Ask, Do Not Leave Them Alone

After Gözde, the same question went through all our minds: "Could we have noticed?" There is no definite answer to that question, and wearing ourselves down with guilt helps no one. But there are things we can learn for what comes next.

What to look out for

The World Health Organization and work in the field of suicide prevention draw attention to certain warning signs (WHO, Preventing suicide: a resource for media professionals, 2023). If we see these in a comrade, we should stop and talk with them:

Talking about wanting to die, about life being meaningless or about being a burden to others,
Gradually withdrawing from friends, meetings and the things they love,
A marked change in sleep, eating, or their routine at university or work,
A sense of having no way out, hopelessness and the feeling that "nothing will change" becoming dominant,
Telling you that the conflict with their family or in close relationships has grown worse,
An unexpected calm after a long period of distress, or behaviour that resembles saying goodbye.

How to approach them

Do not be afraid to ask directly. Asking "Are you thinking about harming yourself?" does not put the thought into a person's head. Research shows that it does not increase the risk and can, on the contrary, bring relief (Dazzi et al., Psychological Medicine, 2014).
Listen; do not lecture. What your comrade needs at that moment is not a political analysis but someone who truly hears them.
Do not judge or belittle. Sentences such as "Is that what you are worried about?" or "There are people worse off than you" leave a person even more alone.
Do not leave them alone. When you sense a serious risk, do not leave them alone; look for a way to reach a source of support together. In an emergency, do not hesitate to call 112 (or your local emergency number).
Do not carry the burden alone yourself either. Supporting a comrade is heavy work. Ask other comrades you trust, and professionals, for support. Solidarity rests not on the heroism of a single person but on a network.

The Tasks of the Organisation: Care Is a Form of Organising

In the Event Organizing and Comradeship guide we used a slogan: "Being organized, taking care." This slogan holds not only for congress halls but for the everyday life of the organisation. If we cannot build caring relationships among ourselves, our claim to change the world rings hollow.

An organisation can do the following:

Solidarity partners: Every young comrade should have a comrade who regularly asks how they are doing, who knows not only their tasks but their life.
Task rotation and keeping track of workloads: The same comrades should not always carry the same loads. Who carries how much should be discussed openly.
A "how are you" round at meetings: Before moving on to the agenda, opening a few minutes in which everyone can say how they are helps problems be noticed early.
A solidarity network for comrades under family pressure: Reducing a young person's dependence on family control through concrete support such as housing, scholarships and finding work.
Reviewing the culture of criticism: How criticism is made, and who is criticised in what language, should be discussed regularly.
A bridge to professional support: Building relationships with volunteer psychologists, psychiatrists, health workers and friends organised in the health sector, and being able to refer comrades to them with confidence.
Not leaving people alone after a loss: The death of a comrade deeply affects those left behind too. We need to make room for grief, to talk and to stand by one another.

None of this is "softness". These are the organisational conditions of a long struggle. A movement that loses, wears out or abandons its comrades cannot last.

Two Cultures: The One That Isolates Us and the One That Keeps Us Standing

The culture that isolates us	The culture that keeps us standing
"A real revolutionary endures."	"When you cannot endure, we will be beside you."
Treating pain as an ideological weakness	Accepting pain as part of being human
Aiming criticism at the person, exposing them	Aiming criticism at the work, putting it right together
Treating exhaustion as a measure of commitment	Treating rest as a right and a duty
Brushing off family problems as a "personal matter"	Talking about family pressure as a shared experience
The prejudice that "therapy is bourgeois"	Defending psychological support as a right and a commons
Asking only about tasks	Asking about a person's life too
Heroic comrades	Comrades who lean on one another
Falling silent after a death, or turning it into a symbol	Talking, learning and changing after a death

Concrete Tasks

The young comrade's tasks towards themselves

When you feel there is no way out, do not carry it alone. Tell at least one person you trust, today.
See getting professional support not as a weakness but as a right.
Count resting, sleeping, your studies and your health as part of the struggle.
In your relationship with your family, try drawing boundaries instead of breaking away, and patience instead of anger; but do not hesitate to put distance between you in a harmful relationship.
Make a plan, however small, for your economic independence.
When you hear criticism, try to hear it as words aimed at the work you did, not at your existence. If a criticism has truly hurt you, do not hesitate to say so.

The young comrade's tasks towards their comrades

Ask your comrades not only about their tasks but about their lives.
When you notice a change in a comrade, do not stay silent. Ask directly, without judging.
Aim your criticism at the work, not the person. Make personal criticism face to face, not in front of a crowd.
Share the load of a comrade who is carrying too much.
While supporting someone, do not be left alone yourself; ask other comrades and professionals for help.

The young comrade's tasks towards their organisation

Propose that your organisation set up practices such as solidarity partners, task rotation and a "how are you" round at the start of meetings.
Ask for the culture of criticism to be reviewed regularly.
Contribute to building concrete solidarity networks for housing, scholarships and work for comrades under family pressure.
Help build a trusted relationship with sources of professional support.
Put accessible mental health care among the demands of the student and youth movement.

A Better World, Leaving No One Behind

Gözde believed that a better world was possible. That belief is still with us today. But we now also know that this world is not only something to be built tomorrow; it begins with how we treat one another today.

The history of the revolutionary movement is not only a history of great actions, great texts and great leaders. It is also the history of the hands that carried letters to the prison, of those who waited at the door for a comrade released from detention, of those who took a tired friend into their home, of those who answered the phone ringing in the middle of the night. Without this invisible labour, no great action would have been possible.

The question Gözde left us still stands before us: How does a young person who struggles stay on their feet, and who holds them when they fall? Let our answer be: All of us. By holding one another, leaning on one another, and leaving no one alone when that phone call ends.

No comrade should carry it alone. In memory of Gözde, for all the young comrades who survive and go on living: for better futures, all together.

To get support: In an emergency, 112. For social support, the Ministry of Family and Social Services' ALO 183 line (in Turkish). University counselling services and the psychiatric outpatient clinics of state hospitals. If you are outside Turkey, your local emergency number or crisis line. And above all: a comrade, a friend or someone close to you whom you trust.

Sources

Evrensel, "Emek Gençliği üyesi Gözde Topuz ODTÜ'de anıldı" (15 October 2024). evrensel.net (in Turkish)
Evrensel, "Emek Gençliği üyesi Gözde Topuz ölümünün 1. yılında anıldı" (12 October 2025). evrensel.net (in Turkish)
Evrensel, "Emek Gençliği üyesi Gözde Topuz ODTÜ'de anıldı: 'Mücadelesi ve neşesi bizimle'" (18 October 2025). evrensel.net (in Turkish)
TurkStat, Labour Force Statistics, August 2026 (30 September 2026). Summary on alomaliye.com (in Turkish)
TurkStat, Youth in Statistics, 2025 (May 2026). Report in Dünya newspaper (in Turkish)
Eurostat, "When do young people in the EU leave home?" (23 September 2025). ec.europa.eu
Karl Marx, "Peuchet: Vom Selbstmord" (1846). Eric A. Plaut and Kevin Anderson (eds.), Marx on Suicide, Northwestern University Press, 1999.
Antonio Gramsci, Letters from Prison.
Paul Lafargue, The Right to Be Lazy (1880).
World Health Organization, Preventing suicide: a resource for media professionals, update 2023. who.int
Dazzi, T., Gribble, R., Wessely, S., Fear, N. T., "Does asking about suicide and related behaviours induce suicidal ideation? What is the evidence?", Psychological Medicine, 44(16), 2014. doi.org
Niederkrotenthaler, T. et al., "Role of media reports in completed and prevented suicide: Werther v. Papageno effects", British Journal of Psychiatry, 197(3), 2010. doi.org
Ministry of Family and Social Services, ALO 183 Social Support Line. aile.gov.tr (in Turkish)
Knowledge Commons, 12 September: The History, Balance Sheet, and Present of a Class Coup and Event Organizing and Comradeship dossiers.

This piece was written with the World Health Organization's recommendations on reporting and talking about suicide in mind: no method or details are given, death is not presented as a way out or a message, and it is emphasised that getting help and recovering are possible.

Topics:Labour and Organising Socialism and the Left Culture, Art and Memory Education and Youth

Tags:#memorial #youth #organising #family #health #marxism #unemployment #education