Through Their Eyes: How Generational Experience Shapes What We Value

My father was born in 1944. A child of postwar scarcity and rationing, his generation often saw stability and economic growth as the highest markers of a good society. Even today, when we talk about politics or elections, I hear a common refrain: "People just want the economy to be strong." To him and many of his peers, that’s what matters most when it comes to choosing leaders. Not because they’re callous or greedy — quite the opposite — but because they know what it’s like to have too little.

I don’t see the world that way. And I don’t think the next generation does either. Morality and integrity — in leadership, business, even in sport — feel just as, if not more, important. We’ve lived in a world where basics like food, electricity, and access to work are largely a given. That privilege has created space for us to worry about things beyond the baseline. Things like fairness. Ethics. The origin of the goods we buy. The kind of people we become.

The shift isn’t subtle. It’s everywhere. One example that sticks with me is Australian cricket. From the 1990s through the early 2010s, the national team was dominant. They were brilliant, brutal, and utterly committed to winning. But as the years passed, that "win at all costs" mentality curdled. Then came sandpaper gate — a ball-tampering scandal so blatant, so cynical, that the fallout rocked the nation. It was, in many ways, the logical end of an old-school culture: one that prized victory over integrity.

But what came after was more interesting. The younger generation of players didn’t just take their punishment and move on. They reset the culture. They mapped out what kind of team they wanted to be: hard-playing, yes, but fair. The coach, a product of the older era, was let go. In his place came new leadership, new language, new values. It wasn’t just PR — it felt like a true generational pivot.

I see the same patterns in consumer behavior. Once, low prices and convenience were the ultimate value propositions. Today, many people — particularly younger ones — want to know where their clothes are made. Whether their electronics were built in humane conditions. Whether the food they’re buying is organic, ethically sourced, sustainable. These are not concerns born from scarcity; they’re the luxury of choice. But they’re also an expression of a deeper empathy — a widening of the moral circle that might have felt like a distraction to older generations who had more immediate concerns.

This isn’t to cast judgment. Each generation values what it had to fight hardest for. If you grew up in wartime or during recovery, your priority is likely security and economic stability. If you grew up with full cupboards and stable jobs, you have the privilege — and perhaps the responsibility — to ask harder questions about fairness, justice, and how your actions affect others.

The problem arises when institutions don’t reflect this shift. In countries like the United States, many of the people in power are from much older generations. They're not just unrepresentative in age — they often carry forward older worldviews. Understandably so: those views were forged in fire. But the result is a disconnect between governance and the governed. Younger generations are inheriting a world they didn’t shape, led by people who often don’t share their priorities.

There’s no easy fix. You can’t force people to step aside. And experience should never be discounted. But we also can’t pretend that values stay static. The world changes. People change. And the leadership of a society — whether political, cultural, or sporting — has to eventually reflect that.

None of this means abandoning the past. It means building on it. Honoring what came before while having the courage to evolve. We don’t have to burn down old values to live by new ones. But we do have to admit when the world has moved on, and allow space for the next generation to take the wheel.