> “A generation that trades virtue for vanity is a generation that risks losing its future.”
When we were teenagers growing up in the Army barracks, there was an unspoken competition among parents — not about who owned the newest car or the fanciest clothes, but about who could raise the most disciplined children. Morality was a badge of honor, and every parent wore it proudly. Evenings were filled with echoes of Bible study songs, rosary recitations, and youth fellowship meetings. We memorized scriptures, joined Bible quizzes, and competed over who could quote the Book of Proverbs more fluently. Childhood wasn’t just an age — it was a moral training ground. Parents then obeyed that timeless scripture: “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.”
Friendships in those days were built on shared values. In my own experience, Micah Nuhu, Gideon Peter, Thomas Abubakar Sure, and the late Marshal Adamu Yeri were my Bible study friends, while Jimmy Moses, Philip Kanizubi, Isaac, and others were my tailoring shop friends in the barracks. These relationships were meaningful, nurturing, and anchored in discipline and learning. Today, however, it is heartbreaking to see how friendships among boys and girls are often formed for negative reasons, sometimes with little regard for character, morality, or long-term consequences.
But today, the story has changed — painfully so. The present generation, our Gen Zs, are growing up in a world that celebrates speed over substance, wealth over wisdom, and fame over faith. The moral compass that once guided the home, school, and community now seems to spin without direction. In a culture where “likes” define identity and “followers” define worth, patience, contentment, and honesty are fast becoming endangered virtues. We have moved from teaching principles to chasing pleasures, from nurturing discipline to normalizing distractions.
Not long ago, I sat with a few teenagers to discuss cybercrime — what they now call “Yahoo.” I asked a young boy if he would ever consider it. His answer pierced my heart: “Yes, sir. Because they make money easily, and they use it to help their parents.” A girl beside him nodded and added softly, “I know one who used the money to open a business for his family.” Even more startling, an elderly man nearby said, “If I know where they teach it, I’ll send my children there.”
At first, I was silent — not out of anger, but out of reflection. Because what I noticed was that these children genuinely wanted to help their parents and their communities. Their intentions were good, but the means they admired were misplaced. It was a case of a pure heart choosing a wrong path. Good intent, but a bad idea of getting the means to achieve it. That, to me, is where the tragedy lies — not in their desire to make an impact, but in the distortion of how they think it must be done.
In that realization, a heavier question followed: Where did we lose it? When did right and wrong become negotiable? Has the family lost its grip? Have our moral institutions grown too quiet? Have our learning systems stopped teaching values beyond certificates? These are haunting questions, but they must be asked. Because moral collapse doesn’t happen suddenly — it grows quietly when those who should speak choose silence.
We are now raising a generation that can operate technology but struggles with empathy. A generation fluent in trends but uncertain about truth. A generation that sometimes mistakes applause for achievement. Comfort has replaced correction; indulgence has replaced guidance. And when this happens, character becomes fragile and conscience becomes faint.
Yet, there is still hope. We can rebuild what was lost. We can return to the values that shaped us — humility, respect, honesty, and reverence. Families must once again become the first classrooms of virtue. Faith communities must keep speaking truth with compassion. Schools must reward good conduct as much as brilliance. Society must once again celebrate decency as the real definition of success.
Because if we fail to restore morality, the future may never understand what made our generation strong. The true battle of our time is not between old and young — it is between values and vanity. Until we win that war, we cannot truly say we have secured tomorrow. The correction must start at the family table, echo through classrooms, and resonate from every pulpit and platform.
Only then will morality regain its uniform — neat, firm, and dignified — just as it was when we were young.
“A nation that abandons morality at the altar of convenience will soon discover that convenience itself cannot build a future.”
