For years the media was obsessed with all the things that the millennial generation was supposedly killing, from fabric softener and home ownership to mayonnaise. But now their successors, Gen Z (those born between 1997 and 2012), have been handed an even graver charge: being unable to dance. In a series of videos that went viral on social media in April, incredulous observers filmed groups of young people standing completely still or glued to their screens on the dance floors of nightclubs. How is it that the so-called Tiktok generation – named for an app that owes much of its success to carefully choreographed dance challenges – is incapable of losing itself to the music?

Well, for one, outside of North Korea or a Texas rodeo, dance floors are not made for regimented routines.They’re a place to escape the lines of life, anonymous amid a mass of bodies and beats. This abandon is much more difficult if you’re under constant surveillance, of course. When you grow up under the all-seeing eye of social media, you develop a fear of being filmed doing something stupid. We used to dance like no one was watching; now we dance like everyone is. In Europe clubs are increasingly insisting on placing stickers over phone cameras so that nobody has to worry about ending up a laughing stock the next day.

Then there’s the fact that clubbing is facing an existential crisis, in part fuelled by the younger generation’s general apathy towards nightlife. In the UK alone, some 400 night clubs have closed over the past five years, about a third of the country’s total. We can blame the pandemic for a chunk of that (and we can blame consequent lockdowns for the younger generation missing out on early clubbing experiences) but there are other factors at play. A major one is that young people can’t afford to go out like they used to: Danish nightlife conglomerate Rekom Group’s research suggests that over 77 per cent of British people have cut down on late nights out due to the cost-of-living crisis. 

Given that they came of age during successive lockdowns and were thrust into a world in which they can’t afford to go out, how can we expect Gen Z to know what to do in a club once they get there? Many, it seems, can’t even rely on the social lubricant that is alcohol. A recent survey of 18 to 24-year-olds by market-reserach firm Yougov highlighted this cohort as the most sober group among adults, with 39 per cent of respondents not drinking any alcohol at all. And when they are drinking, Gen Z are increasingly drawn to strange concoctions, such as Malibu and milk. I can’t imagine a worse time to throw your body around than after a big swig of any combination of milk and liquor. As for the other kind of white stuff, some reports claim that Gen Z are less likely to consume class A drugs than previous generations. Though some say otherwise, with anecdotal reports suggesting that younger people favour drugs such as hallucinogens and ketamine, both of which aren’t generally associated with the desire to dance. 

Ultimately, social media will never tell us the full story. “Every new generation has a subtly different relationship with club culture compared to those who came before them,” Ed Gillett, author of Party Lines: Dance Music and the Making of Modern Britain, tells Monocle. “There have always been boring, sterile clubs full of disinterested people and rubbish dancers.” That said, the current generation of aspiring party people does face a number of obstacles to throwing their hands in the air like they just don’t care. And if the dance floor can so easily be murdered, what chance does mayonnaise have?