When you were young, didn’t you feel a “generation gap” between yourself and your parents or other older people? I certainly did. In high school, just as I was beginning to understand the world, my elders would tell me stories about prewar Japan and their wartime experiences. I was deeply unsettled by how different their worldview was from mine.

Now, 60 years later — and having become one of the “older people” myself — I find myself stunned almost daily to realize that I’m now on the other side of an even wider generation gap. That shouldn’t be surprising, perhaps, but what is surprising is how global the phenomenon seems to be. Young people everywhere view the world very differently from my postwar generation.

Objectively speaking, this simply reflects the continuous generational transitions that shape society. Each generation’s “common sense” is challenged — and often rejected — by the next, signaling the beginning of a new era. While every generation likes to imagine it is unique, this pattern has repeated throughout human history, across cultures and ages.

This transition is under way in Japan as well. An anecdote from a recent annual dinner of former senior secretaries in the Japanese Foreign Ministry — a group I belonged to in the 1980s — illustrates the point. Those once-vigorous secretaries are now, on average, celebrating their 77th birthdays. What struck me was their enduring pride in having engaged with major national issues. Although their responsibilities had differed, they shared the ability and the spirit to stand up to the tyranny — if I may use the word — of politicians.

Things are very different today. I won’t call it “the good old days,” but the relationship between bureaucrats, politicians and the press has changed dramatically. Back then, there was no internet; information was monopolized by newspapers, magazines and television — what we now refer to as “traditional” or “old” media.

Editorial stances were generally left-leaning and reporters who made progressive arguments with abandon were everywhere. Their reporting cost me countless hours during my bureaucratic career, often forcing all-nighters to prepare parliamentary answers to questions rooted in their biases.

After leaving that nostalgic dinner, I headed to a TV studio. But the program I was appearing on wasn’t an “old media” news show; it was a youth-oriented, internet-streamed program. Its concept is a super-edgy news show that completely ignores adult politics, aimed at young people who rarely watch television.

That evening’s topic was, “Is There an Exit Strategy for Japan–China Relations?” What surprised me was the unexpectedly balanced, even conservative, sensibility among the younger commentators and viewers. Their tone differed greatly from that of “old media.” For today’s youth, this may resemble the generation gap I experienced 60 years ago — but emerging in the opposite direction.

Recently, a U.S. polling organization released intriguing data on where Americans get their news. According to the poll, one in five Americans (21%) get their news directly from online “news influencers,” rather than traditional newspapers, magazines, TV or radio. But that 21% figure is only an average. The age gap is stark: 38% of those aged 18 to 29 rely on influencers, 23% of those 30 to 49, 16% of those 50 to 64 and just 8% of those 65 and older.

The trend appears similar in Japan. In short, how people get news — especially political and international information — is undergoing a global generational shift. But it’s not just the way they get their news; it’s the way they see the world that is shifting. What follows is a recent example.

Last month, I wrote in these pages about Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi’s supposed departure from strategic ambiguity regarding China and Taiwan. “Nothing is more dangerous than undermining China’s concept of *mianzi *(or face),” I wrote. “At the same time, no deterrence strategy is more effective than forcing Chinese leaders to confront reality. Takaichi must keep this in mind.”

If there is one thing I have learned through many years of dealing with China, it is that once face is lost, logic no longer applies. When Beijing’s diplomats become enraged, it takes considerable time for them to regain composure and fully consider the disadvantages to their own interests. Even when rationality returns and compromise becomes possible, face-saving remains essential — which complicates everything.

China is now exerting strong pressure on Japan, but changes are also visible in Japan’s response. Predictably, some pro-China commentators insist that Takaichi was wrong to say Tokyo could deploy the Self-Defense Forces in a Taiwan crisis under certain “worst-case” conditions constituting a “survival-threatening situation” for Japan. Others demand that she retract the statement entirely.

What differs from the past, however, is that such criticisms are rarely voiced by younger people, raising the question of whether a generational shift in attitudes toward China is under way. It is also notable that many China experts — long familiar with China’s political and economic landscape and previously sympathetic to Beijing’s position — are now silent. Many face a dilemma: openly criticizing Beijing could jeopardize their access to China, which they rely on professionally, yet they also cannot openly criticize Prime Minister Takaichi.

China would be unwise to underestimate the generational shift unfolding within Japan. The more pressure China exerts, the weaker the pro-China camp becomes and the stronger anti-China and China-skeptical voices grow among ordinary Japanese — especially the young. How well China’s diplomats and Communist Party leaders grasp this trend is a matter of serious concern.

Kuni Miyake, a former career diplomat, is president of the Foreign Policy Institute.