Listening to the Future

This morning, I had the privilege of joining a Teams call with three inspiring colleagues from Oxfordshire County Council: Elena, Roz, and Rosie. The conversation was energising – a window into some of the most thoughtful, practical work I’ve seen when it comes to engaging young people in the decisions that will shape the world they inherit.

The Council’s work under the banner of Future Generations is far more than a slogan. It’s a promise – one passed unanimously by councillors – to make long-term thinking central to public life in Oxfordshire. At its heart is a desire to involve young people not only as consultees, but as collaborators. I find that both inspiring and necessary.

What Elena, Roz and Rosie described wasn’t simply policy. It was people. Workshops delivered directly in schools. Conversations around representation, civic engagement, and aspiration. Sessions already being planned for July – one in Oxford, one in a market town, one in a rural area – each designed to hear from young people about what life in Oxfordshire is really like for them, and how they want it to be. These aren’t abstract exercises in consultation. They’re an investment in leadership, in curiosity, and in the kind of democracy that doesn’t wait for adulthood to value someone’s voice.

One highlight that particularly resonated is their ingenious “Pizza & Politics” series, which has already brought more than 40 young people together in central Oxford to dissect local democracy over a slice—or two—of pizza. It’s simple, warm, and clever. Offer a convivial space with refreshments, bring in councillors, local MPs (as happened, where 30+ young people from Banbury engaged with their MP Sean Woodcock), and suddenly civic conversation becomes accessible. One participant said it boosted their confidence and helped them feel capable of meaningful political discussion. There are plans to adapt it for younger pupils—primary school students—creating bite-sized, age-appropriate sessions. (Would that be mini-pizza and politics?!) Imagine nine, ten or eleven -year-olds asking about their playgrounds, parks, and their place in shaping them. It seems like the kind of engagement that plants seeds early.

As High Sheriff, my resources are limited. I have no budget, no staff – just time, presence, and a rather striking black velvet waistcoat. But what I do have is the ability to bring people together. To convene. And in this space – where young people are asked to articulate not just their challenges but their ambitions – I see a real opportunity for the Shrievalty to play its part. That might mean amplifying this work through networks I move in. It might mean inviting young voices into rooms they’re not usually in. It might mean championing the idea that listening to our young people isn’t a worthy bolt-on, but fundamental to making good decisions.

I was also struck by how well this dovetails with the themes I’ve chosen to focus on during my Shrieval year. Hearing the Young Unheard is more than a phrase for me. It’s a commitment. And the work that Oxfordshire County Council is doing – alongside partners like Oxfordshire Youth and the National Youth Agency – is one of the finest examples I’ve encountered of putting that principle into action.

Roz shared a draft invitation to schools for the upcoming workshops. It’s direct, warm, and grounded in real possibility. Three schools. Two hours. One conversation about how our county works, and how it could. With councillors, where possible, sitting alongside young people to answer questions and hear their perspectives. One school is already confirmed. Two more are being approached. If we can help make those conversations happen – or help them resonate more widely – I’ll be proud to do so.

There’s a quiet confidence in the Council’s Future Generations work. It’s not flashy. It’s thoughtful, deliberate, and grounded in the belief that public service is at its best when it remembers not just who we are now, but who we are becoming.

I left our call this morning genuinely encouraged – and with a renewed sense of how the ancient office I now hold can still make a modern difference.