"There he sits, as if in a row grave. The hollow in the grass is a meter long and forty centimeters wide—just deep enough for him to be comfortable. A bit too snug for a coffin, perhaps, but perfect for sitting upright. Besides, the point isn't burial, but living longer. Or at least enjoying better health during the extra years he has ahead of him. "You can just sit and look around, listen to the little birds." "It’s soothing," says Hubert Stähle. The former WDR Symphony Orchestra horn player is covered in clay from head to toe. He wears a green cap for sun protection; otherwise, it’s just skin.
He has slathered on two wheelbarrow-loads, added 20 liters of water, and sits there for about forty-five minutes—once or twice a day. Since the turn of the millennium, he has taken this kind of clay-bath holiday at least once a year, for ten or fourteen days at a time. Watching, listening, eating wholesome food, and marveling at the advanced age everyone around him reaches. Within sight are a handful of guesthouses, balconies overlooking orchards, a green park, fitness facilities, and a sauna hut; just outside the hotel grounds flows the Nahe River, flanked by vineyards. "Sitting around like this brings out a lot of things that would otherwise stay buried deep inside," says Stähle.
Things have been done this way at Menschel’s Vitalresort for 99 years. Old photographs show the proprietor’s father—who, at 89, is still frequently seen on the premises—playing in the clay as a child. Two aunts recently passed away at the ages of 95 and 97. They lived long lives, back before that was ever given a special name. In the past, the focus here was on Pastor Felke’s fasting program and the clay baths. Today, things are different: "Guests come to me with shoeboxes full of dietary supplements and schedules," says Dr. Matthias Menschel, the proprietor who runs the resort with his sister Birgit and shares the on-site medical practice with his wife, Gudrun.
At the Menschels', the elements defining the "longevity" trend—a term that sounds far more technical and less promising when translated into German—collide: doing good things for the body in order to live one's final years more carefree—on one side. And the ruthless, evidence-based self-optimization of modern times on the other. Relentless fitness and sleep tracking, calorie counting, antioxidants and collagen in powdered drink mixes. And perhaps, quite secretly, the hope for eternal life. For some, not just secretly.
The term "longevity" implies more than the technical "longevity risk" calculated by stern actuaries using reliable mortality tables. "There’s a gold-rush atmosphere in the market," says Michael Altewischer, a wellness veteran who founded the German Longevity Society because, for a long time, too few people listened when he reiterated that hotels and medicine would eventually go hand in hand.
Menschel’s clay bath and the desire to achieve eternal life represent two extremes of a movement that is spreading slowly but steadily—across professional conferences, social media, and medical practices. And as is so often the case, Silicon Valley "tech bros" are setting the pace: Peter Thiel, Mark Zuckerberg, Larry Ellison, Google founder Sergey Brin. Men who find it outrageous that human beings must eventually die. Especially since Donald Trump took office last year, it has become clear that for some of them, the goal is not a better life, but a science-fiction economy from which they themselves stand to profit the most.
Peter Thiel once said: "I’ve always had this strong feeling that death is a terrible, terrible thing." That was eleven years ago in the *Washington Post*. Since then, the billionaire has invested in start-ups aimed at accelerating cell research. One went bankrupt. He is considering having himself frozen after he dies so that he can be thawed out alive later. Cryogenics for immortality. "I prefer to fight [it]," said Thiel regarding death. "Almost every major disease is linked to aging."
At Menschel’s wellness resort, people reach their mid-nineties, yet they do not live forever. He spends two-thirds of his time working as a doctor—able to devote more time to conversation than in a conventional practice—while spending the rest running the family business with his sister. Talking to the slender physician, it sometimes feels as though one is speaking with two different people.
At some point, his wife Gudrun Herzel—who is also slender—brings up the "Blue Zones": the five regions worldwide where more people reportedly live past the age of 100 than anywhere else—Okinawa (Japan), Sardinia (Italy), the Nicoya Peninsula (Costa Rica), Ikaria (Greece), and Loma Linda (USA). There is no trickery involved in these places, nor any tracking.
"The Japanese people who reached 100 didn't make a big deal out of food, and were slim all their lives," says doctor and innkeeper Menschel. The problem, says his wife Herzel, is that the healthcare system leaves too little time for prevention because chronic patients consume the resources. "Longevity could offer a small chance to age healthily and save resources within the system," she says. It is a long road ahead.
The day before, seven hours' drive to the southeast, a school class gathers in the reception area of the Biogena Plaza in Koppl, near Salzburg. Nineteen girls, one boy. In the reception area, there is a counter staffed by very friendly personnel. Behind it lies the supplement manufacturer’s showroom: a staff member strikes up a conversation with the group. Who knows anything about iron deficiency? "Do you also do anything for gaining or losing weight?" asks one of the students from the nearby city. The answer is yes. The staff member guides the class to the cryo-chamber.
Cryo: The term derives from the Greek word *kryos*, meaning "ice" or "freezing"—and, for Peter Thiel, representing a fantasy of reawakening. Here at Biogena, it is simply a cold chamber that gives you a bit of a kick-start at minus 87 degrees Celsius for three minutes. It costs less than a sauna session and is intended to promote recovery. "Who is over 18?" the staff member asks. Seven hands go up. A chance to try it out for themselves. Minus 87 degrees—wearing socks, gloves, a hat, and a face mask—can feel like a long time, even with a favorite song playing on Spotify.
One floor up sits Michael Kohlberger, a biologist and fitness trainer. He heads Biogena’s Evidence & Education team and joined the company five years ago—starting the very next day after submitting his doctoral thesis. He takes: a multivitamin, magnesium, ashwagandha, Antioxidant, grape seed extract, creatine, beta-alanine, omega-3 fatty acids, vitamin C. Each supplement has its place because the division of labor, modern diets, and current patterns of physical activity mean we lack nutrients that used to be present in our food.
"Hunter-gatherers lived to be 70 on average," says Kohlberger. "Today we live to be 85, but in the meantime, we go through two chronic illnesses." So, we aren't much better off."
Biogena seeks to align itself with medical professionals and offers high-quality supplements at a premium price point. A "Biogena One" starter pack, sufficient for about 30 days, costs 129 euros. The showroom also features biohacking, Intermittent Hyperoxic Treatment, and a cryochamber. "These are things that aren't just about lifestyle; they also boost performance."
The group of students climbs two flights of stairs and crosses a bridge into the production area. Through large windows, they watch employees weighing out powder, encapsulating it, removing dust, and filling containers. One employee is wearing a hairnet, protective clothing, and a face mask. He repeatedly stops the conveyor belt carrying small containers made of sugarcane. Biogena plans to expand, with an IPO scheduled for July. Yet, this isn't mass production; it is more akin to automated artisanal manufacturing.
Kohlberger is naturally convinced of his business model, but he is far removed from the "sci-fi economy" of tech bros. Here, too, longevity is strongly linked to the idea of making life healthier in old age. "Health optimization can go too far and become obsessive," he says. However, he notes that supplements offer a major advantage—even over the pharmaceutical industry: "If there is a deficiency, supplements can make a huge difference to one's health—surpassing the effect of a medication," he says.
Two days later in Raunheim, near Frankfurt. One of those hotels that owe their existence entirely to their proximity to the airport. Sixty-three scientists are gathered in a dimly lit room; they hail from China, India, Egypt, Mexico, Argentina, and many European countries. The youngest participant is a 20-year-old dental student from Uzbekistan. They are conducting research on biomarkers, optimism, Tumors, quality of life for the elderly. An interdisciplinary group: psychologists, medical professionals, and biochemists. The cutting edge of longevity research.
However, the proceedings kick off with a speaker from outside the academic world. Thomas Klaholz is a sports scientist who has spent 20 years working with companies aiming to reduce employee absenteeism. He discusses nutrition, stress, and factors contributing to longevity with them. His presentation is titled "Seven Secrets of a Long and Healthy Life." In this gathering of experts, he is quick to note—preemptively—that these are not actually secrets. Yet, certain points still resonate.
For instance, the figures: 53 percent of Germans are overweight, 64 percent struggle with stress, 69 percent have digestive issues, 42 percent do not get enough exercise, and 53 percent take painkillers at least once a month. All of this stands in the way of longevity. It is not just a matter of tweaking one of these variables; but there is a danger of perfectionism. You don't have to do everything 100 percent," says Klaholz. Then he reveals his secret. The formula for a long life, he says, is: eat healthily, practice healthy abstinence, get sensible exercise (not a matter of sports, but of everyday life), schedule downtime, find a balance between stress and cleansing, learn, and change. Finally: find meaning.
Is this also the recipe followed by investor and entrepreneur Bryan Johnson? He is the man who puts himself on display on social media, consumes over 100 supplements a day, and has had his son’s blood plasma administered to himself. He invests in companies aiming to push the boundaries of longevity. Johnson strictly adheres to a 1,977-calorie daily diet. Yet, for all his self-optimization efforts, he was forced to publicly disclose in June that he had developed autoimmune gastritis.
In the darkened room at Frankfurt Airport, Thomas Klaholz has finished his presentation. Next up are a German woman, a Romanian woman, and an Israeli man. The first researcher is studying how to use assistive technology to encourage older adults to measure their grip strength regularly. The Romanian researcher works with psychological models and has empirically demonstrated that optimistic, hopeful subjects enjoyed more stable health. And the Israeli researcher has focused on the little-studied health effects of the protein RIPK2. Three languages, three research horizons—no science fiction here. Longevity for ordinary people.
Earlier that morning, Hubert Stähle sits with his wife, Birgit Schmidt-Hurtienne, in a shady spot outside one of the guesthouses at Menschel’s Vitalresort. He is writing letters by hand—something he doesn't get around to in his daily life, even though he is retired. The older ladies of the Menschel family set a fine example. Yet they would never have called it "longevity."
Longevity has a problem with measurability. What is the effect of drinking collagen powder 100 times? What impact does skipping that second glass of wine have? "Affluence and excess are huge issues," says physician Matthias Menschel. He has joined the board of the German Society for Longevity. Yet, in practice, he still does most things just as his family has done since 1928.
For lunch, Hubert Stähle has piled mozzarella and couscous onto his plate, accompanied by broccoli and carrots. Meat and fish are relatively new additions to the Menschel menu, served only on select days. His wife hasn't taken the clay bath yet, so she has already moved on to the blueberry cake—a reduced-sugar version. During this vacation, she read the novel *Lost Horizon* by James Hilton. It tells the story of four Westerners who, following political unrest, find themselves unwillingly in a Himalayan sanctuary (Shangri-La) where people live to a great age. Only gradually do they come to terms with the situation. "It’s just like here," says Schmidt-Hurtienne. "Everything moves at a leisurely pace; it’s about longevity, health, and a world unto itself." She had to smile when the term "longevity" appeared on page 221—in a book from 1933.
Stähle catches up on his meal; by now, he too has reached the blueberry cake. He chats with a fellow diner—also a regular—about how the peace and quiet suffers because the restrictions on mobile phone use are no longer strictly enforced. Afterward, he walks to the parking lot and gets into his car. He drives to the neighboring village of Kirschroth, where he buys a dry Pinot Gris from the Theis winery. He has arranged to meet his wife on the terrace for the sunset. By then, the bottle will be chilled.” [1]
1. Longevity ist auch nur modernes Heilfasten: Das Silicon Valley, Kur-Hotels, Supplement-Hersteller - alle streben nach dem ewigen Leben. Wie wäre es, zuerst das Altern zu verbessern? Von Philipp Krohn, Fotos Thomas Dashuber und Emil Eichinger. Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung; Frankfurt. 21 July 2026: 16.
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