Raise your hand if you’ve heard of Monk Mode. Now pat yourself on the head — it’s a reward for probably being too online.
The term, recently popularized by entrepreneur Iman Gadzhi, is a practice where one ditches external distractions for a focus on work, fitness, and self-reflection. The more Latin-friendly among you might see this as a 21st century version of guidance proposed by actual monk Benedict of Nursia: ora et labora (pray and work). And Benedict was writing in 530AD, when the average human didn’t have a cascade of online shopping opportunities, Teams notifications, and/or Internet pornography competing for their attention.
The through line from Benedict to Gadzhi seems actually fairly obvious — life is about tradeoffs, sacrificing one form of output for another, hopefully better, one. People at all levels of society have always realized that. And yet, there’s an irony to the embrace of Monk Mode. In a world where more than half of people under 30 admit to spending too much time on their iPhones, how is it possible to sell folks on the concept of taking up to six months off of social media, to come back seemingly reborn and unrecognizable? The answer, at least on the surface, lies in a psychological shift. It’s not merely about spending less time looking at your phone. It’s about seeing yourself as the sort of person who isn’t addicted.
This isn’t just about Monk Mode. It’s about optimization culture, where people get into cold plunges, red light therapy, physical fitness, and controlling their substance use to better their lives. Let’s be very clear here: These are by-and-large good things. As it turns out, waking up on time, being in shape, and not being addicted to alcohol and drugs is a better way to go through life. The people who throw away the entirety of optimization culture (or the entire manosphere that operates along many of the same principles) are throwing the baby out with the bathwater.
But let’s be realistic about the shortcomings of optimization culture. In the words of Dr. Andrew Huberman (maybe the most recognizable advocate of optimization culture); do what you will, but know what you’re doing.
If you want to actually benefit from optimization culture, you have to realize the difference between a product you can buy and a mindset that you actually adopt. The people selling Monk Mode, red light therapy, and charisma coaching are just that: selling. Go back to that point about self-perception. Buying lifting straps, greens supplements, and online coaching to make you better at talking to the opposite sex do not, of themselves, make you a healthier, more optimized, better person. What they do is convince you you’re the kind of person who uses these kinds of products.
Furthermore, if you follow some of the more extreme dictates of Monk Mode (e.g. avoiding all strictly unnecessary social interactions), you’re arguably only worsening modernity’s malaise of loneliness. Note here: I’m not saying you should never take breaks from social media overstimulation or anything of the sort. There are people for whom a cold-turkey optimization binge could benefit. But what comes after that binge matters more. I am saying this about the reality of optimization culture: practical beats optimal.
And if we’re operating off the premise of “doing hard things is good,” then let’s be real about what’s actually more difficult. It’s actually relatively easy to figure out how to ditch Snapchat or not check Facebook for 3 months. It’s much harder to figure out how to practically balance social media, friends, church, fitness, and a successful career. And chances are, you’re only going to be trying to do one of those your entire life. As scholar Arthur Brooks notes, the basic 4 elements of human happiness are family, friends, faith, and works. It’s no accident that you can’t buy any of those on Amazon.
Optimization culture, at its worst, sells you products many of its loudest voices actually hope you don’t end up using. It’s unavoidable — no one can force you to actually use productivity supplements or gym equipment. It’s designed to make you think that, if you buy the right optimization-hack-esque gadgets, you’ll actually be a more productive, smarter, more well-adjusted person.
In reality? You actually have to … start before the benefits start rolling in. That productivity app you bought won’t make you less porn-addicted any more than protein powder will make you more muscular or “player advice” will make you more confident with the opposite sex. Gritty, unsexy, imperfect consistency does those things.
People who buy into fad fixes like monk mode don’t always seem to get that. Which is ironic because actual monk wisdom does reflect this truth. Benedict’s “pray and work” mantra strikes at the fundamental nature of human betterment: The action, in so many cases, precedes the mindset. You don’t need to spend 3 months off social media to figure this out — and you certainly don’t need to spend a lifetime in a monastery.
Countless sufferers from depression have found solace by forcing themselves to get out of bed and be social people instead of waiting for their mindset to shift perfectly. Countless people hit the treadmill for the first time in years and left the gym with shaky legs wanting to vomit, before their mindset around body perception or physical fitness was anything near healthy. And that’s okay. In fact, it’s to be expected.
The actions of the body aren’t disconnected from the state of the mind because both are made in the image of a God whose actions are the outflow of His desires. Why should His greatest creations be any different?
