Rubrika: Trendy

• Facebook
• Instagram

My generation, Gen Z, is often called snowflakes. Unable to withstand anything. But is that true? Personally, I don’t think so. I see a number of implicit factors entering this discussion that people often overlook.

Low Frustration Tolerance

Dr. Radkin Honzák speaks well on this topic, pointing to the phenomenon of lower frustration tolerance among the younger generation. I agree with this claim. What does it actually mean? Frustration tolerance is the ability to withstand frustration without serious disruption to psychophysiological balance and without serious consequences for an individual’s mental health.

Lower frustration tolerance among part of Generation Z can manifest in several ways. One is quicker resignation when encountering obstacles, failure, or prolonged uncertainty. Another is a tendency to avoid unpleasant or stressful situations and to prefer solutions that offer immediate relief or quick gratification. It’s precisely because of these tendencies that Generation Z is often criticized as less resilient to frustration and discomfort.

Honzák points out that part of the problem may be related to the environment in which today’s young people grew up. Unlike previous generations, who were more accustomed to saving, fixing things, or delaying their needs, Generation Z is growing up in a world of instant availability and immediate gratification. Many things can be obtained almost instantly — often at the cost of debt. According to Honzák, this can lead to lower tolerance for waiting and scarcity, and generally a reduced ability to endure prolonged discomfort.

Specific Challenges and Intergenerational Distance

To understand Generation Z, we also need to look at the conditions in which it is growing up. Modern society places enormous pressure on young people to succeed in every aspect of life. They are held responsible for their appearance, their feelings, their choice of partner, their career, and much more. This constant pressure toward perfectionism creates an enormous psychological burden.

I identify with psychiatrist Petr Winkler’s view that Generation Z faces specific challenges. He also points to „mutual intergenerational misunderstanding.“ You encounter people running completely different „software“ than you. This naturally creates enormous pressure, especially on young people who are still forming their identity and need to understand and accept themselves.

Paradoxically, young adults can’t always rely on advice from those close to them. Winkler notes that „young people live in a world where the advice of their parents and grandparents is often somewhat useless, because they lived in a completely different world. The intergenerational distance caused by progress means not only that people are increasingly responsible for their own lives, but also that they have no guidance, nor anywhere to look for it.“

An Uncertain World, Full of Fast and Unexpected Change

So if someone claims Generation Z can’t withstand anything, it’s worth considering whether they’re judging young people by the standards of a world that no longer exists. Navigating today’s world takes considerable effort. It’s no wonder — society is increasingly turbulent and unstable, contributing to far greater uncertainty. This phenomenon can be explained by the VUCA model (Volatility, Uncertainty, Complexity, Ambiguity), which reflects the instability of today’s world.

• Volatility: A rapidly changing world full of uncertainties and unexpected events can lead to feelings of stress and anxiety, weakening psychological resilience.
• Uncertainty: A lack of predictability and a clear vision of the future can trigger feelings of hopelessness and loss of control, fueling depressive thoughts.
• Complexity: The volume of information and stimuli we’re exposed to today can lead to overload and cognitive strain, reducing our ability to cope with problems.
• Ambiguity: Many aspects of modern life are ambiguous and difficult to interpret, which can lead to confusion and helplessness, deepening depressive states.

This doesn’t mean, however, that all of Generation Z’s problems should be explained solely by the surrounding environment. From my perspective, the problem of lower frustration tolerance genuinely exists. Many young people are not used to enduring discomfort, delaying gratification, or facing obstacles over the long term. This can hold us back in many respects.

At the same time, it’s important to see both sides of the same coin. Lower frustration tolerance doesn’t arise in a vacuum. It forms in an environment that, on one hand, offers an unprecedented range of possibilities, but on the other, places enormous demands on young people. We didn’t get to choose the era we were born into. But we do get to decide how we respond to its challenges. This, I believe, is where psychological resilience comes into play.

The Path to Resilience: Learning to Tolerate Uncertainty, Not Avoid It

I like the perspective of Professor Pavel Kolář, whose book Strengthening Through Stress: The Path to Resilience highlights an often-overlooked fact: stress isn’t necessarily only harmful. If a person doesn’t avoid it and learns to work with it, it can become a source of growth and strength. As he writes: „Our body and mind hold enormous potential to make us not only strongly resilient, but also happy. Let’s use that potential and take responsibility for our health and quality of life into our own hands.“

Petr Winkler speaks similarly about resilience: „It’s important to realize that I actually build psychological resilience through my entire life.“ I consider this a key idea. Resilience isn’t a trait you’re born with. It’s an ability you gradually build through how you cope with uncertainty, overcome obstacles, and deal with failure.

This, I believe, is where Generation Z’s greatest challenge lies — not in being weaker than previous generations, but in having to learn to function in a world that is less predictable than ever before. All the more reason not to treat discomfort, uncertainty, or failure as things to be avoided at all costs. They are a natural part of life and, at the same time, one of the main sources of psychological resilience.

From my generation’s perspective, I think it’s important to accept that life’s challenges aren’t obstacles on the path to fulfillment — they’re part of it. As Professor Jiří Horáček often says, a precondition for human fulfillment is learning to tolerate uncertainty, not avoid it.

I think we need to learn to face life’s challenges and accept that not all hardships can be eliminated. The current generation, moreover, often faces intense pressure toward performance and perfection, amplified by social media and a culture of comparison.

All the more reason to recall the ideas of Viktor Frankl, who emphasizes that the key to overcoming suffering isn’t eliminating it, but finding meaning in what we experience. Though this path is difficult, it is precisely there, he argues, that human resilience is born.

I don’t think Generation Z is a generation of „snowflakes.“ It’s a generation growing up in an environment of high uncertainty and performance pressure. But that’s not a reason for resignation — it’s a reason for consciously building resilience. Not because we’re weak, but because we live in a time that demands it.

The longevity industry pretends it is selling health. In reality, of course, it is selling fear of death. My grandfather never “worked on longevity”. He just lived. And this year he will celebrate his 101st birthday.

He was 99. He was playing table tennis and he did not want to lose. My dad knew that very well, so he let him play. Then came one wrong step and a broken leg. I personally thought that was the end. That I would never again see my grandfather enjoying life. Luckily, I was wrong. A few months later he celebrated his hundredth birthday – and he was dancing on the dance floor.

It is important to say that my grandfather has never heard the word “biohacking”. And the fact that somewhere out there people are spending thousands of dollars on longevity protocols, biomarkers and life optimisation could not interest him less. He certainly does not think that this is the path to a long and content life.

An old‑school approach

My grandfather was born in 1926. He experienced the Second World War on the German side. He has been a widower for more than half a century. He lives alone in an apartment in Hamburg. And he regularly goes to sunbathe at an FKK – a nudist beach. Yes, at 100. Naked, on the beach and full of joy. Is there a better metaphor for a man who lived his whole life authentically, without unnecessary crutches?

Modern humans have lost their relationship to ordinary life. Twenty‑year‑olds today track their sleep quality more carefully than people once chose a life partner. At no time in history have we known more about the human body. And yet we have probably never been more anxious about the fact that we are ageing.

The crazy boom of the longevity business

In the meantime, longevity has become a huge business. Among all fashionable wellness disciplines, longevity is breaking records – and this is far from over. According to Oliver Wyman, the longevity market is set to grow by 300% over the next decade. To illustrate the scale: in 2013 there were fewer than a hundred longevity clinics worldwide. Today there are thousands.

Fascination with a long life is, of course, nothing new. What is new is the way we think about it. In the past, people wanted to live well; today they want to live as long as possible and hope it amounts to the same thing. We have learned to maximise comfort and minimise discomfort. But we forget that it is precisely discomfort that often builds our resilience.

Extreme methods in the name of longevity

No one embodies this trend better than Bryan Johnson. A tech billionaire who has turned his life into a public experiment – and built a multimillion‑dollar business on top of it. Every morning, Johnson swallows dozens of pills and measures more than a hundred biomarkers. In 2023 he had a litre of blood transfused from his seventeen‑year‑old son. All in the name of longevity. His annual routine costs two million dollars, and his protocol, supplements and thirty‑five‑dollar olive oil have become products that people buy around the world. Yet the results are, at best, anecdotal. It is a case study of one person – the lowest rung on the ladder of scientific evidence.

Johnson is not an exception. He is a symptom. He is not the first to try something like this. Back in 1923, American doctor John Brinkley sold goat testicles for 750 dollars as a guaranteed cure for ageing. He became a millionaire – until he lost his licence. The methods have changed, but the logic is the same. Fear of ageing is something you can monetise.

Can you buy longevity, or do you have to earn it?

People often forget that the path to a long and high‑quality life does not have to run through expensive supplements or endless hours in the gym. Our breathless effort to live a “high‑performance lifestyle” is often just another layer of pressure we put on ourselves.

We have apps to help us sleep better, other apps to reduce stress. We even download apps to help us meditate. And yet a delayed train or a badly written email can still throw us off balance. The longevity industry sells optimisation, metrics and the promise that if you do everything “right”, you will live longer.

But there is another image of longevity. Much less technological and much less loud. American researcher and writer Dan Buettner spent years studying places where people live to an exceptionally old age. He calls them “blue zones”. These regions include, for example, Okinawa in Japan, Sardinia in Italy, the Greek island of Ikaria and parts of Costa Rica.

At first glance, these places have nothing in common with what we now call the longevity industry. No protocols. No biomarkers. No optimisation dashboards. And yet people there live longer than elsewhere.

“Blue zones” without miracle solutions

When Buettner studied these communities, he did not discover a secret recipe. What he found was simply the opposite of our current obsession with control. People there did not “work out” – they just moved. On top of that, they worked with their hands, ate modestly and lived in a slow, repetitive, calm rhythm.

And they also had people around them who cared about them. Family, neighbours, community. Strong social ties that keep a person anchored even in old age. These ties create a sense of belonging and reinforce one’s sense of importance in the community, even at an advanced age.

Maybe it can be done completely differently…

Just like with biohacking, my grandfather has never heard of blue zones. Yet he arrived, on his own, at simple principles that helped him reach a hundred. And without realising it, he was effectively building up his resilience in a holistic way. His recipe is simple and a bit boring – and perhaps that is precisely why it works.

My grandfather’s guide to longevity consists of four things: movement, mind, community, moderation. None of the ingredients is secret, and none of them is expensive. But all of them require something the longevity industry does not and cannot sell: time. You do not build a community over a weekend. Exercise habits do not take shape in a month. And an active mind? You work on that for decades. The trust of neighbours, a name people recognise at the local club, a routine that holds you even when life does not go well – all of that emerges slowly and quietly, without notifications and without apps to measure it. My grandfather is a hundred years old. He found the time for all of this.

The four pillars of my grandfather’s longevity

His first pillar is movement – though not in the way today’s longevity industry imagines it. He only started doing sports actively after fifty, and he jumped straight into explosive disciplines: tennis and squash. When he turned eighty, he switched to table tennis, which he plays to this day. At home he added a simple routine – a few exercises with a stick, no heavy weights – and a daily walk. He never ran marathons. Going outside was enough.

The second pillar is the mind. He reads every day – not because he has to, but because he wants to. He belongs to a generation that does not use a mobile phone, and that may actually be an advantage. No doomscrolling, no notifications – just books, the TV news and a genuine interest in what is happening in the world. At a time when an average person reaches for their phone a hundred times a day, my grandfather’s approach is quietly revolutionary.

The third pillar is community, and in my view it is the most important one. My grandfather has been living in the same place for more than half a century. Everyone knows him, and he knows them. The same shop, the same restaurant, the same club. He lives in a big city, but he has little need to leave his neighbourhood because everything he needs is there. Above all, there are people who are a natural part of his daily life and know how he is doing without having to ask.

Moderation rounds out his longevity concept naturally. It is simply about measure. About having one beer, not ten. One square of chocolate, not a kilo. Eating until you are pleasantly satisfied, not stuffed; drinking until you are pleasantly relaxed, not drunk – as the old saying would put it.

Back to the old, simple advice

My grandfather’s example is backed up by science – just with a different vocabulary. Gary Small, a psychiatrist at the UCLA Longevity Center, says the most reliable ways to protect the brain are pieces of advice most people would probably dismiss as unoriginal: movement, sleep, social contact.

No supplement can replace that. Peter Attia, one of the most influential longevity doctors, puts it even more directly in his book Outlive: “It is not enough to live long. What matters is how long you live well – with a functional body, a clear mind and the ability to do the things you love. Everything else is just extending a number.”

It sounds so simple. And maybe it is.

Last year I thought it was the end for my grandfather. He lost all his pillars at once. No walks, no club, no nudist beach, no ping‑pong. He was confined to a bed. And yet he did not break.

I spent a long time thinking about why. And then it dawned on me that resilience does not work like an insurance policy you can just take out. It is built differently. Every walk he has taken in the last fifty years. Every book, every conversation at the table, every glass of wine shared with people who care about him. None of these things, taken alone, sounds like preparation for a crisis. But together they form something that cannot be bought or simulated: a reservoir you can draw on even when everything else is taken away from you. My grandfather spent a lifetime building that reservoir, without knowing he would one day need it.

A few months later he celebrated his hundredth birthday on his feet. I could hardly believe my eyes. I see him now, dancing on the floor, contentedly sipping his beer and once again looking forward to his next naked sunbathing session.