When the Adult World Arrives Too Late – Plovdiv, Our Young People and the Need for a Different Path

I write this through Western eyes, with Swedish experience and many years spent in environments where people, technology, logistics, creative ideas and strong personalities must work together. But I also write as someone who lives in Bulgaria, cares about this country, respects its people and sees its enormous potential.

That is why what happened in Plovdiv hurts even more.

This is not only about a terrible act of violence. It is about what can happen when young people become a group before they become part of society. When the screen becomes their reality, hatred becomes entertainment, a mobile phone camera turns violence into content, and no adult has the time—or courage—to ask what is really happening.

It is easy to react with anger. To demand tougher sentences. To say that parents have failed, that schools have failed, that police have failed, or that the country has failed. Perhaps all of those parts have failed in different ways. But the most important question is not only what we do after the tragedy.

The most important question is: where were we before it happened?

Not a Bulgarian problem – but a Bulgarian responsibility

It would be both wrong and arrogant to claim that this “only happens in Bulgaria.” Violent youth groups, online smear campaigns, self-appointed “paedophile hunters” and people taking the law into their own hands exist across Europe. Sweden is not immune. The United Kingdom is not immune. Germany is not immune. Social media has made it possible for anger, shame, suspicion and group pressure to spread faster than reflection.

But every country must take responsibility for its own conditions.

Bulgaria has a strong family culture and a great deal of human warmth. At the same time, many young people carry frustration. They see adults who have lost trust in institutions. They see that connections can sometimes carry more weight than competence. They see people working hard without feeling that life is opening up for them. They see wealth and success online, but do not always see a concrete path towards it themselves.

When the future feels distant, the group in the here and now becomes more important. When adult role models are absent, influencers, older friends and anonymous online accounts set the tone. When young people are not given the chance to build something, contribute something or be noticed for something good, they may start seeking respect in other ways.

None of this excuses anything. But it helps us understand why it is not enough simply to say: “You must not do that.”

They often already know that.

The question is whether they feel that anyone believes they can become something else.

We need places before we need prisons

I believe Bulgaria—and in truth all of Europe—needs more youth hubs. Not traditional youth centres where young people are parked with a table-tennis table, a few computers and an adult who locks up at five o’clock. Nor another project full of good words, short-term funding and a report that nobody reads.

I mean real places within society.

Places where young people meet adults who have done things in life. Adults who do not come to preach, but to show. People who can listen without being naïve. Who can set boundaries without humiliating anyone. Who can recognise when someone is beginning to drift into a destructive group long before it appears in a police report.

Such a hub should not be built around technology or gaming. It should be built around real life.

A group of young people could visit Nu Boyana Film Studios in Sofia and meet a stunt performer. Not to watch explosions and cool fight scenes, but to hear the truth behind them: how choreographed film violence is, how carefully protected it is, and how much a real punch can hurt.

A stunt performer can explain that a fall which looks simple on screen can lead to concussion, spinal injuries or lifelong consequences in real life. They can show that a kick to the head is not “just a warning.” It can change a life within seconds. A punch can be fatal. A group laughing and filming can become a group that can never undo what it has done.

That reaches people differently than a poster on a school wall.

It is real. It comes from someone young people may actually listen to.

Violence is not an identity

Many young men—and sometimes girls as well—learn early that strength means never showing fear, never stepping back and never allowing yourself to be humiliated. In a group, this becomes amplified. No one wants to be the person who says stop. No one wants to call 112. No one wants to look weak in front of the camera.

That is where much of the problem begins.

We must make it as respected to stop violence as it is to be brave. We must teach young people that the strongest person in a group is sometimes the one who says: “No. This has gone too far.”

A youth hub can create those situations before there is a real crisis. Through conversations, film, meetings, practical assignments and genuine adults, young people can practise responsibility. Not as a classroom lesson, but as part of a community where they matter.

Let them meet paramedics and emergency nurses who explain what happens when a victim arrives after an assault. Let them meet firefighters who speak about making decisions under pressure. Let them hear a police officer explain that someone who films, encourages or simply stands nearby is not automatically innocent. Let them meet a lawyer who can show how a “joke,” an uploaded video or a shared group chat may have legal consequences for years to come.

And let them meet people who have taken the wrong path but managed to return. Not with crime presented as a cool story, but with honesty about shame, fear, lost relationships and the slow road back.

Those are the kinds of encounters that can make a young person think: I do not want to become that person.

More society, less moralising

There must be expectations. A youth hub must never become a place where violence is excused because someone had a difficult childhood, or where everything is blamed on society. Personal responsibility is fundamental. But responsibility works better when there is a real path to follow.

Young people need to feel that society wants them to take part. That they are not only interesting when they do something wrong.

They can help organise a local concert, contribute to a cultural project, build a small stage, create an event, plan an exhibition or support older people in their neighbourhood. They can go behind the scenes of a film production, a professional kitchen, a construction site, a radio studio or a sporting event.

I have worked in large productions, concerts, festivals and film shoots. I know that young people grow when someone says: “I trust you with this.” Not only in words, but by giving them a task that truly matters.

A cable must be installed correctly. An artist must be welcomed. A schedule must be followed. An audience must be received. Someone must take responsibility for making things work.

That is where a different kind of self-confidence is born. Not the false confidence that comes from putting someone else down, but the confidence that comes from achieving something together.

Entrepreneurship can also be part of this environment, but it should not be the main point. This is not about making everyone start a business. It is about helping young people understand that they can shape their own direction. That an idea can become a project. That a connection can become an opportunity. That work, competence and responsibility can actually lead somewhere.

Adults must be genuinely present

The most difficult part is not opening a venue. The most difficult part is filling it with the right adults.

We do not need more people arriving with a PowerPoint presentation about youth problems. We need adults who have time to stay after the meeting. Adults who know people’s names, notice when someone changes, hear when the tone in a group moves from jokes to threats, and dare to ask what is going on.

This is not about monitoring young people or listening in on their private lives. Trust cannot be built through control. But the adult world must become better at understanding the digital environments where young people form their identities, conflicts and loyalties.

What is written in a group chat is no less real than what is said in a schoolyard. A video shared further can be as harmful as a punch. A rumour can become a sentence. And a group of people encouraging one another for hours or days can ultimately do things that none of them might have done alone.

That is why adults must be close enough to see the warning signs, but human enough to be let in.

A good adult in a youth hub does not have to be a psychologist, police officer or teacher. It can be someone from the film industry, a sports coach, a stage builder, chef, photographer, craftsperson, business owner or retired firefighter. The title is not what matters. What matters is the ability to be clear, listen and see the person in front of you.

Sometimes it may be enough for an adult to say: “I can see you are angry. But I do not think this is who you want to become.”

A different group to belong to

The young people drawn into the violence in Plovdiv were not born monsters. Nobody is. But people can become dangerous in a group when empathy is switched off, violence is normalised and nobody stops the development.

That is why society must offer a different group.

A group where courage means stopping a fight, not joining it.

A group where respect means keeping your word, not humiliating someone weaker.

A group where status comes from being capable, contributing and taking responsibility.

A group where someone who is angry, lost or excluded does not first have to prove how hard they are in order to belong.

This is not naïve. It is more realistic than believing we can punish problems away only after they have already exploded.

Plovdiv should not be used to judge an entire country, a whole generation or all young people. Bulgaria is bigger than this. The country has enormous energy, creativity and human strength. But precisely for that reason, we must also dare to demand more from the adult world.

We must stop asking how we keep young people away from problems.

We must start asking how we invite them into society before problems become their identity.

That means more real encounters. More adult role models. More places where young people are given responsibility, belonging and a chance to discover what they can become.

Not more empty premises.

Not more reports that end up in a drawer.

But people, experiences and doors that open in time.

Because when the adult world arrives too late, someone else will always become the role model first.

The Questions We Must Be Ready to Answer