Sri Lanka is entering a new era shaped by two remarkable generations, Alpha and Beta, whose childhoods are guided more by technology than by tradition.
In their world, screens speak louder than elders, instant answers replace patient learning, and global digital cultures quietly reshape everyday social patterns. These children are incredibly capable, mastering devices before they can even write and absorbing information at incredible speed.
Beneath this brilliance, however, lies a challenge: parents and grandparents, shaped by slower, hands-on lives, often struggle to connect with children whose emotions, attention, and values are increasingly shaped by algorithms. Families live under the same roof but experience very different worlds, raising a pressing, unavoidable question for Sri Lanka: who must change – the children or the adults?
The challenge is clear: adults must adapt alongside their children, finding ways to combine the wisdom of human guidance with the opportunities technology offers, so that Sri Lanka’s next generation grows both brilliant and balanced, ready to shape the nation’s future.
A profound shift
Consider the story of eight-year-old Senaya from Kandy. Her parents proudly tell visitors that she can edit videos, generate digital art, and speak to Artificial Intelligence (AI) bots with the poise of a small diplomat.
However, when her grandmother asked her to help with a simple household activity like sweeping the front verandah, she froze. “It’s boring,” she said. “Can I just simulate it on my tablet instead?” Her grandmother later confessed with tears: “She can build kingdoms on her screen but cannot fold a mat.”
Then there is Aran, a 12-year-old in Jaffna, who spends three hours a day training an AI image generator to create futuristic versions of Sri Lankan religious places. His creativity is astonishing.
However, when asked to describe the actual Nallur Kandaswamy Temple he lives 10 minutes away from, he hesitates. “I haven’t been,” he murmurs. “I only know the one I made.”
These stories are not anomalies. They are signals of a national shift, a shift so profound that it is redefining family life, community bonds, and the very architecture of childhood.
Parents across Sri Lanka are confused. Proud, because their children are mastering skills once reserved for adults. Afraid, because those same children seem disconnected from the emotional and cultural rhythms that shaped earlier generations. They scroll past sunsets they never saw, laugh at jokes their parents cannot decode, and share digital experiences more vivid than the physical world around them.
A clash of lived experiences
For many older generations, the rapid changes in today’s youth feel unsettling. A retired teacher from Matara observed: “Our children are brilliant but somehow empty. They know so much, yet understand so little.” This sentiment is widespread, reflecting genuine concern. But is the criticism entirely fair?
The divide between generations is not simply about values or discipline; it is a clash of lived experiences.
Today’s children grow up in a digital world their parents never faced. Their thinking is shaped by endless choices, instant responses, and highly stimulating environments where attention is a form of currency and speed dictates survival. They learn differently, relate differently, and even forge friendships through algorithms. Creativity is often aided by technology, and their sense of self is increasingly influenced by rapidly evolving online communities.
For older generations, who grew up with outdoor games, slow-paced learning, and face-to-face interactions, today’s digital childhood feels strange. But for today’s youth, it is entirely normal.
This digital world comes with hidden costs. Teachers notice children have shorter attention spans, less patience, and a shrinking emotional vocabulary. Kids can explain AI but struggle to name their feelings. They can create entire virtual worlds but falter in handling small disagreements with friends. Brilliance without grounding, experts warn, can be fragile.
Parents try to manage this world with familiar rules – no screens after 8 p.m., no phones at meals, no gaming before homework – but these boundaries often fail in a digital reality. A child spending six hours a day online cannot easily switch to the slower pace of offline life. Teenagers who seek instant approval on social media may not know how to handle real-world frustrations.
Friendships that exist mainly online are hard to pause with a simple ‘enough’ from a parent. This is not rebellion. It’s adaptation. Just as previous generations were shaped by open fields, neighbourhood games, and long talks by lamplight during power cuts, today’s children are moulded by the digital world they call home.
A generation adrift
The problem is not the children. The problem is that Sri Lanka has not reimagined what childhood should mean in the digital age.
We are trying to raise 21st century minds with 20th century tools. We expect them to grow with empathy, patience, cultural pride, and emotional balance while offering them an ecosystem that rewards speed, stimulation, and distraction. The mismatch is widening into a generational chasm.
But amid the anxiety and confusion, there are moments of breathtaking possibility. In a school in Colombo, students use AI to recreate ancient Sri Lankan trade routes, then compare them with modern geopolitical dynamics. In Galle, a group of teenagers use AI to translate folk songs into multiple languages, preserving heritage in a way no prior generation could. In Gampaha, a nine-year-old girl codes an app that reminds her family to water plants and helps her grandmother take medicine on time, blending digital creativity with real-world responsibility.
These flashes of promise tell us something important: today’s children are not lost; they are adrift. They live in a world shaped by screens, algorithms, and instant feedback, moving at a speed earlier generations could never imagine. Guiding them does not mean turning off technology or dragging them back to the past. It means teaching values, responsibility, and empathy in the very world they inhabit.
Every generation worries that the next one is drifting away. But today, the drift is faster, pushed by machines that shape what children think, like, and even how they see themselves. Sri Lanka’s challenge is not to pull them backward, but to help them navigate the digital world with wisdom and care.
Are we ready to change?
The Alpha and Beta generations are writing the future in code, pixels, animations, and AI prompts. They are experimenting, creating, and solving problems in ways older generations cannot fully follow. They are moving ahead learning, thinking, and acting faster than schools, parents, and even teachers can keep up.
The real question is not whether these children will change; they already have. The question is whether we, the adults around them, are ready to change too. Are we willing to understand their world, meet them there, and guide them without holding them back?
The future is already being written, and it is up to all of us to make sure it is anchored in both creativity and values.
(The writer is an independent researcher)
(The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect the official position of this publication)