Why Optimizers Need Empathy Too

The internet’s most famous longevity enthusiast, Bryan Johnson, recently revealed he has an incurable autoimmune disease. The announcement, made on June 30th, triggered a predictable wave of commentary , but not all of it was sympathetic.

For those unfamiliar, Johnson has dedicated his life , and a significant fortune , to the goal of never dying. His biohacking protocol includes over 100 supplements, constant blood work, wearable tracking, a plant-based diet, and strict sleep habits. He’s also drawn attention for more extreme practices, like receiving plasma transfusions from his teenage son. The condition he now faces is autoimmune gastritis (AIG), where the immune system attacks stomach acid-producing cells, leading to nutrient malabsorption and an elevated risk of stomach cancer. While a public figure announcing a serious illness typically invites empathy, Johnson’s case also sparked a wave of “I told you so” reactions from wellness influencers.

One influencer, organicbunny, posted a reel suggesting Johnson’s use of Botox and GLP-1 medications could be linked to his diagnosis , a claim based on selective studies, not his actual medical history. “You cannot inject health into your body,” she declared. Another TikTok voice theorized that his hypervigilance about health trains the nervous system to see everything as a threat. A third pointed to his plant-based diet and sun protection, arguing that ignoring “foundations such as nature” and red meat leads to trouble, even when everything looks perfect on paper.

The speculation ranges from stress and genetics to far more outlandish ideas. But it’s all guesswork. Johnson himself attributes his AIG to eating sugary cereals and a poor diet in his youth. His online presence , complete with sun goggles, UV parasols, and even boasts about his girlfriend’s vaginal microbiome , invites mockery. I’ve poked fun at him myself. But in the rush to turn his diagnosis into content, the wellness world is missing a deeper point about why people start optimizing their health.

I don’t share Johnson’s philosophy. I actually look forward to mortality; it makes life precious. Yet his path to diagnosis felt painfully familiar. Over the past decade, I’ve navigated my own chronic conditions , polyendocrine metabolic ovarian syndrome and non-alcoholic fatty liver disease. And I suspect many others have or will experience a similar journey as health tech becomes more widespread.

It often starts small. You notice something off, or a doctor flags a lab result. You buy a basic fitness tracker. For some, that’s enough. But for many, the data doesn’t add up. The body doesn’t respond as expected. What begins as a search for answers can become an obsessive quest for perfection.

Johnson’s post describes years of doctors shrugging at his low iron levels because he didn’t fit the anemia profile , despite iron supplementation. It took a biopsy and a team of over 30 doctors to find the AIG. Anyone with a chronic illness knows that story. For me, my HbA1C and fasting glucose never suggested insulin resistance. My slightly elevated liver enzymes were blamed on cholesterol meds. Finding the right treatment required endless testing, multiple doctor visits, and sheer stubbornness. Along the way, I tried dozens of wearables to understand my brain fog, fatigue, and why standard advice didn’t work for me. Underneath it all was existential dread: something is wrong, and no one can explain why.

Some critiques of Johnson’s biohacking are fair. You can’t outrun genetics. You can optimize so much that life loses its quality. At its core, optimization culture is about the fear of dying. Science and data promise answers , that any problem, if measured, can be fixed. But that’s not always true.

Health is not a race with a finish line. Wearables offer scores for sleep, cardio, and longevity, but those scores don’t guarantee a long life. We all know someone who did everything right and still got sick or died unexpectedly. The real answer has always been simple: eat well, sleep enough, exercise. The rest is luck, genetics, and medicine. Biohacking and health tech are useful tools, especially for chronic illness or building habits. But we’re in danger of forgetting why we turn to them in the first place , and of believing they’re essential for a healthy life.

The real goal is balance: a mix of attention and ease that allows for a sustainably satisfying life. Balance looks different for everyone, but finding it requires discernment. That means knowing when to ignore a wellness trend and when to question it. It’s understanding that a slice of birthday cake is fine , and that being an adult sometimes means eating more salads and taking a walk after dinner. It’s realizing we’re all afraid to die, and that some health optimization is an attempt to control that fear. But living joyfully means letting go of the illusion that we can control death.

For me, balance means medication, sensible use of wearables, and running when my health allows. For Bryan Johnson, it means the most Johnson-like response possible: sequencing 1 million of his immune cells to find a cure for AIG. I genuinely love that for him. Though I suspect I speak for most of the internet when I say we could do without the updates about his sex life.