Gen Z are often framed as the vanguard of a new health-conscious era.

The papers had a field day when it emerged that this age group’s New Year’s resolutions reportedly include abstaining not just from alcohol or drugs, but from sex, caffeine, and late nights. A fifth said they’d be taking daily ice baths (serious question: how big are your freezers?), while one in ten committed to regular IV drips.

This is seemingly a generation exploring wellness in place of some pleasures: discipline as virtue, identity, and, often, survival.

None of this is inherently wrong. In fact, much of it makes sense in a world that feels volatile and unforgiving. Young people are living through a mental health crisis while struggling to access meaningful medical support. A generation obsessed with fixing its own health isn’t mysterious, it’s entirely logical. And it deserves less smirking derision from Daily Mail columnists and more recognition that many young people are trying to look after themselves, often while taking pressure off an NHS that increasingly prioritises older generations.

But I worry about what our obsession with self-optimisation is doing to our politics. As we turn inward to solve problems, we forget the value of community and cohesion. Isolation breeds extremism, resentment and suspicion. And not only do we turn our attention away from the real, structural issues in our society, we forget to channel that new found care into each other.

my piece on what happens to society and politics when what’s good for us stops meaning “us” 👇