The real meaning of Rishi Sunak’s 36-hour fast? ‘I’m a terrible prime minister, but I’d make a fantastic tech bro’ | Coco Khan

IIf the gap between lunch and dinner makes you restless, unable to concentrate or simply hungry, consider Rishi Sunak, who commits to a 36-hour ‘monk fast’ every week. According to the Sunday Times, Sunak consumes no food from 5pm on Sunday until 5am on Tuesday, with water, tea or black coffee being the only things that pass his lips.

Many people fast – for example for religious reasons or because of the potential health benefits. It has taken off in recent years thanks to diets like the 5:2 (five days of eating normally, two days of eating 500 to 600 calories) and time-restricted eating (where people consume all their calories for the day in a set window). .

The Prime Minister is known to be health-conscious: he is a teetotaler and an avid Peloton user, although he also admits to a “weakness for sweet things.” Still, 36 hours is difficult for even regular fasters: it takes commitment and dedication, plus serious practice to do it And maintain productivity. Since we haven’t heard any rumors of Sunak accidentally addressing James Cleverly as James Celery or David Cameron as Dave Macaron in a ravenous rush, we can assume he’s fasting.

When I first heard the story, I half wondered if it had been planted by Sunak to show the public that he was strong-willed and thus improve the situation. his terrible approval rating. It reminded me of David Cameron’s ‘full blow technique’, where the then Prime Minister (now Foreign Secretary) dealt with lengthy negotiations while desperately looking for a pee. Enoch Powell, who popularized the technique, believed it focused the mind, although scientists disagree.

I suppose you could consider the fast technique and the full bladder technique impressive, in the same way that holding twenty grapes in your mouth is impressive – it raises your eyebrows and takes practice. But it’s a bit strange. Plus, I’m not sure anyone could consider it relatable. Sunak knows this: in a subsequent interview with the BBC he downplayed the fast, and said it was a way for him to indulge his sweet tooth for the rest of the week. It’s a familiar line of reasoning—delayed gratification, rather than none—and essentially a Goop version of “no carbs before Marbs.”

Nevertheless, there is one community that will certainly be impressed by Sunak’s fast: Silicon Valley. No one loves an extreme wellness trend like San Francisco tech bros; the more self-flagellation the better. Recent fads reportedly include: peganism (a cool cross between veganism and paleo); microdosing LSD all day to increase creativity; and drink “raw” (i.e. untreated) waterwhich to British ears just screams “sewage”.

To the brethren, I’m sure Sunak – who bills himself as one of their own and even fawningly interviewed Elon Musk at his flagship AI conference – seems very cool. This will be useful for the application he will almost certainly send out after the next election. Perhaps this story is just a well-timed communique for them – a reminder that he is cut from the same cloth.

But what should we citizens learn from Sunak’s fast? Well, not much. While it may be fun to analyze the personal choices of our politicians, it is their policies by which we should judge them – and there are plenty of failed choices against which to measure Sunak.

That said, I was fascinated to hear about dopamine fasting, another popular Silicon Valley trend where people deprive themselves of joy so they can appreciate it later. Considering Britain is suffering from the worst living standards under pressure In short, how is this a theory: we’re all in the middle of a long dopamine fast – every day, all day – thanks to the tech bro-in-chief. If that’s not a reason to reach for sweet treats, I don’t know what is.