Religious revival: Why young people around the world are finding faith again

The global resurgence of religion among young people (especially young men) stands as one of the great puzzles of our era, defying two long-held sociological iron laws: faith is for the old, and for women. For some theorists, the recent surge in religious affiliation, practice and/or identification amid decades of secularisation is less a permanent shift than a passing flare. In modernising societies, religious revivals can flare during moments of crisis (e.g., war, recession, pandemic) when people seek stability and meaning. Or people can seek out religious tradition as a backlash to rapid liberalisation or post-authoritarian change. Sweeping societal shifts flowing from migration can carry devout traditions across borders. Religiosity can result from state action, whether via promotion or ending repression. Demographic tides (e.g., immigration, birth rates, sectarian growth) can also quietly tip the scales of belief.

But these mechanisms are not mutually exclusive. In Asia, for example, isolation and uncertainty triggered by the Covid-19 crisis spurred a surge in engagement with Shinto shrines in Japan and Buddhist retreats in Thailand among 18–35-year-olds. This was more than a crisis reflex. It became a quest for meaning, community, and identity in societies where rapid economic growth had often eclipsed cultural and spiritual life. The pandemic forced young people to confront mortality and instability, prompting them to re-examine their values. In post-pandemic China, youth turned to spirituality as a balm against bleak job prospects and an unforgivingly competitive culture.

Religion offered a form of mediation when secular narratives failed to make sense of the world, countering the hyper-digital, materially driven identities that had previously defined this generation.

India offers a striking case of how Hindu nationalism has reframed religion as both cultural and political identity. Recently, among Gen Z, people born between 1997 and 2012, more than two-thirds reported feeling more confident after praying. In a world where traditional social bonds have been eroding and technological progress has been fuelling insecurity and ethical unease, many young Indians are turning to faith for meaning, stability, and guidance. But a feature of modernity is also ironically the digital space, where influencers are marketing spirituality and distilling complex traditions into bite-sized reels, making faith accessible, relatable, even aspirational.

In Turkey’s case, religion’s resurgence is less about generational belief shifts and more about period-based politicisation, illustrating how state-led transformations can redraw the religious landscape even in societies well along the path of modernisation. Under President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, the politicisation of Islam and the dismantling of traditional secular boundaries have reshaped public life, fuelling a religious backlash among the youngest cohort.

In the United Kingdom, however, a quiet resurgence in church attendance is a story of demographic shifts. Immigration from Catholic-majority countries such as the Philippines, Nigeria, and Poland has brought more devout communities into England’s urban centres, where immigrants tend to be far more religious than the British-born population.

Whether this is a passing phase, or a lasting realignment remains an open question – but its political ripples are already visible.

In the United States and Australia, the Gen Z religious revival is sharply gendered. Young men now identify as Christian at higher rates than women, often amid feelings of cultural dislocation and a belief that modern life offers them less than it did their fathers. Young American men, for example, are significantly more likely than young women to indicate “no strong sense of belonging anywhere”. Religion, especially traditions with male-led hierarchies, offers them belonging, purpose, and a defined role. Men are therefore turning to church for community rather than for moral refuge. For women, the trend cuts the other way: Gen Z women are more liberal with a stronger feminist consciousness than previous generations and more likely to reject faiths that preach male headship. The result is a widening gender gap in religion that mirrors the broader cultural and political divide.

Online masculinity spheres are also fuelling this male-centric religious revival, offering clear roles in an era where manhood feels under siege. For Gen Z men, the internet doubles as a recruitment tool and refuge – via celebrity Christians like Stormzy and contrarians like Jordan Peterson – blending secular self-help with quasi-religious values. This mix appeals to those adrift in economic precarity, social isolation, and a cultural climate where masculinity is frequently scrutinised.

Whether this is a passing phase, or a lasting realignment remains an open question – but its political ripples are already visible. In some countries, rising young male religiosity tracks with a tilt toward conservatism, offering fertile ground for populists and nationalists to fuse faith with identity politics. The result could be new political cleavages (religious versus secular youth, gendered voting blocs) deepening polarisation and testing liberal norms. Religion risks becoming less a moral compass than a partisan weapon. And if the future belongs to the young, and the young are turning to God, the political map of tomorrow may look far less secular than was once thought to be inevitable.