The ‘Gen Z stare’: a look that speaks louder than words

How things went (as they always do): I turn up at the office, open the door to the law firm and say hello from the corridor, peeking into all the rooms. I spot Omissis, who’d joined a few weeks earlier – a keen and bright young woman – sitting at her computer with her face contorted by tears. I go over and ask if she’s all right. A brief shake of the head. I explain that I do not wish to be intrusive, but I proceed because it seems necessary: ‘Is everything all right? Anything going on at home? Is your family okay?’ No reply. She is staring at the screen, a Word document she had been working on. Could that be it?

I consult a partner, and we reflect: we do not typically complain about stress here because this is not a pseudo-American firm where individuals boast about working until two in the morning; we consistently finish at 7 p.m. However, is it our fault? What did he have to do last week? – Nothing, as far as I am concerned. He replies. He had only needed to draft a disciplinary notice—a straightforward task; he knew how to write it, having done so dozens of times before.

After months, it became clear that the issue was not one of circumstances but of character, and from then on, the repeated bouts of unexplained discontent altered the nature of the relationship. Great caution was exercised, and no questions were asked. One might argue that an individual is entitled to express their emotions, both at work and elsewhere. Nevertheless, [omissis] gradually became the colleague everyone felt compelled to monitor. The reason was her silence. It would have been sufficient to state either (a) these are personal issues, or (b) I am encountering difficulties with this role; yet her silence prevailed, and she never offered an explanation.

Although it may not be the most nuanced way to introduce a discussion about Gen Z’s ‘stare’, it is advisable to avoid passing judgement on an entire generation, which is already fed up with older generations and their sarcasm. On social media, ‘stare’ refers to that half-frozen, half-bewildered look that some Gen Z youngsters might give in response to the most ordinary requests: a coffee at the café, a request at the supermarket checkout. They respond with a stare, and the conversation is over. Is it just them? It seems not, and that the problem of reduced speech has crept in just about everywhere; we’re all carrying that ‘can’t be bothered to talk’ attitude in our pockets. It’s the evolution of the phone call that could just as easily have been an email: another great classic complaint in Instagram’s parapsychological posts. Now, however, this joke is backed up by the figures: an analysis published in July 2026 in Perspectives on Psychological Science, based on data collected from over 2,000 people, reveals a significant decrease in the number of words spoken each day. Between 2005 and 2019, the overall decline recorded was 28 per cent. We’re losing around 300 words a day for every year, the equivalent of two or three minutes of conversation. This does not imply much; the conclusion is obvious and we have known it for at least fifteen years: writing has become more convenient than speaking, and the problem only becomes apparent when you add it all up. Because for almost the entire history of humankind, speech has been the primary means of all social interaction, whereas today it is an optional solution – one that can be avoided. Romances of the ‘we’ll always text each other’ variety have now moved from the ‘imaginary’ category to the main section of the basket. Speaking face-to-face is complicated for the brain: it has to retrieve words, string them together so they make sense, listen to the reply, then interpret it and simultaneously prepare what’s to come next. All this happens in the part of the brain called Broca’s area; if you don’t use it, you lose it and you go mad. But apart from that: talking to the world also means being bored to death by the world; it’s vitally important to experience and get used to that boredom, as it helps us recognise which parts of the hell we inhabit are less hellish, as someone once said.