Snow flakes

Original text was published in Czech magazine Psychologie Dnes 11/24. Translation by AI.

Young people are sometimes criticized for being too fragile and sensitive, labeled dismissively as "snowflakes." Yet blaming a snowflake for being delicate is a fundamental misunderstanding of its nature. Can we look at the new generation through different eyes and appreciate the gifts they bring us?

Since childhood, I’ve felt a bit deceived by how snowflakes look. On every fridge magnet, Christmas ornament, and pack of frozen spinach, they gleam as intricate geometric masterpieces. Yet when it snows, what falls from the sky are clumps or hard pellets—nothing resembling that painted perfection. Though this puzzled me for a long time, I eventually resigned myself to the fact that those fascinating flakes were mere symbols, while reality was disappointingly gray.

But this year, everything changed. For the first time, I saw snowflakes that truly looked designed—each unique, delicate, incredibly intricate. They were a marvel of nature! This experience led me to reflect on the societal conversation about young people, often disparagingly nicknamed "snowflakes." We hear critiques of their supposed fragility, hypersensitivity, and lack of resilience. But as I gazed at those artistic creations of nature, I realized that some of the stereotypes and expectations of this generation may be as unfair as my own misconceptions about snowflakes.

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Snow Is Falling

German sociologist Hartmut Rosa, in an interview with Czech philosopher Tereza Matějčková, pointed out that “fresh snow cannot be forced; it’s not something at our disposal, but it transforms the world.” He added that it’s entirely different from snow produced by snow cannons.

While this statement can be read as a simple weather observation, let’s consider it in a timeless context—within the realm of human existence. Snowflakes form in cold weather, from microscopic particles wrapped in moisture. This convergence of unpredictable meteorological phenomena is much like the conditions required for the emergence of new life. We understand both processes in theory, but success isn’t always guaranteed. Just as a snow cannon can’t ensure skiing in August, artificial insemination doesn’t guarantee a healthy pregnancy.

How many couples know the waiting-for-snow feeling as they wait for a child together? How endlessly long can the autumn feel before the snow begins to fall? Do you remember the thrill of the first snow outside the school windows?

Snowflakes do not leave us indifferent. Like our children, they bring transformation, enchantment, but also challenges and pain.

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Expectations

To criticize a snowflake for being fragile is to miss the point entirely. Fragility and transience are their very gifts to us. Snowflakes mark the passage of time. It’s no coincidence that, in old Czech, one’s age was measured by winters.

Snowflakes alert us to the coming hardships of the season and test our preparedness. Our perception of snow also shifts with time: what brought joy in childhood ("It’s snowing! Let’s go outside!") can evoke melancholy in old age ("It’s snowing again. I can’t go anywhere.").

The fleeting nature of a snowflake reminds us of the phases of human life. Everything begins and ends; everything changes. Snowflakes close one natural cycle and enable the next. Just as an icy crystal transforms into life-giving water under warmth, human struggles can evolve into valuable life experiences.

What changes, then, is the snowflake generation bringing to our society?

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A Generational Challenge

Today’s adolescents and young adults challenge us to reexamine our values. They confront us with our (in)sensitivity, (in)tolerance, and (dis)respect—qualities we profess but often fail to practice. They probe sensitive areas long numbed by the older generations with overwork, excessive exercise, or, in worse cases, overconsumption of alcohol or other substances.

Snowflakes ask us: What truly matters in life? And they don’t always get satisfying answers. They encounter prejudice, stereotypes, and automatic reactions from adults. They seek authenticity but often find only the mirrored illusions of social media, endlessly reflecting a consumerist reality, pretense, and norms they rightly consider outdated.

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Fresh Perspectives

To understand the younger generation, we need to see them with fresh eyes. If we really focus, we might discover they are beautiful, soulful, and full of hope. They have everything we worked so hard to give them, but they still seem to lack something. Meaning? Hope? Love? A future?

Perhaps they can teach us to be more sensitive to ourselves and to one another. Maybe they will help us remember what once brought us joy before we fell into the structures shaped by our postwar parents and hastily redrawn by the Velvet Revolution.

Can we accept their challenge and look at ourselves as critically as we look at them? Can we work on our own anxieties and discomforts? Can we open our eyes to the world we are creating?

Maybe it doesn’t matter if women wear pants or men wear skirts. Maybe it doesn’t matter what someone paints on their face or nails. Maybe it doesn’t matter what people think of us because they’ll think something anyway, and we can’t stop them.

Maybe one car per family is enough—or even too much.

Maybe everything can be different. And it will be. The planet is warming rapidly, and the snowflakes will soon leave us.

Let’s pray they don’t melt away too soon.