If the gap between lunch and dinner has you agitated, unable to concentrate or just plain hangry, consider Rishi Sunak, who commits to a 36-hour “monk fast” each week. According to the Sunday Times, Sunak consumes no food from 5pm on a Sunday until 5am on a Tuesday, with water, tea or black coffee the only things to pass his lips.
Many people fast – for religious reasons, say, or for the potential health benefits. It has taken off in recent years due to diets such as the 5:2 (five days eating normally, two days eating 500 to 600 calories) and time-restricted eating (whereby people consume all their calories for the day in a fixed window).
The prime minister is known to be health-conscious: he is teetotal and an avid Peloton user, although he does also admit to a “weakness for sugary things”. Still, 36 hours is difficult for even regular fasters: it takes commitment and dedication, plus serious practice to be able to do it and maintain productivity. Given we have yet to hear rumours that Sunak keeps accidentally addressing James Cleverly as James Celery or David Cameron as Dave Macaron in a slip of hungry desire, we can assume he has got fasting down.
When I first heard the story, I half-wondered if it had been planted by Sunak to show himself to the public as strong-willed and thus improve his abysmal approval rating. It reminded me of David Cameron’s “full-bladder technique”, whereby the then prime minister (now foreign secretary) would handle lengthy negotiations while desperate for a pee. Enoch Powell, who popularised the technique, believed it focused the mind, although scientists disagree.
I suppose you could see the fast and the full-bladder technique as impressive, in the same way that being able to hold 20 grapes in your mouth is impressive – it is eyebrow-raising and requires practice. But it is a bit odd. Also, I am not sure anyone could consider it relatable. Sunak knows this: in a subsequent interview with the BBC, he downplayed the fast, saying it was a way he could indulge his sweet tooth for the rest of the week. It is a familiar line of reasoning – delayed gratification, rather than none – and essentially a Goop version of “no carbs before Marbs”.
Nonetheless, there is one community that will definitely be impressed by Sunak’s fast: Silicon Valley. No one likes an extreme wellness trend like the tech bros of San Francisco; the more self-flagellating, the better. Recent fads have been reported to include: peganism (a tough cross between veganism and paleo); microdosing LSD all day to enhance creativity; and drinking “raw” (ie untreated) water, which to British ears just screams “sewage”.
To the bros, I am sure Sunak – who styles himself as one of them and even fawningly interviewed Elon Musk at his flagship AI conference – seems very cool. This will be useful for the job application he will almost certainly be sending their way after the next election. Perhaps this story is just a well-timed communique to them – a reminder that he is cut from the same cloth.
But what should we citizens glean from Sunak’s fast? Well, nothing much. While it may be fun to analyse our politicians’ personal choices, it is their policies by which we should judge them – and there are plenty of failed ones by which to measure Sunak.
That said, I was fascinated to learn about dopamine fasting, another popular trend in Silicon Valley, whereby people deprive themselves of joy, so that they appreciate it later. Given Britain is suffering the worst standards of living squeeze on record, how is this for a theory: we are all in the middle of a long dopamine fast – every day, all day – thanks to the tech-bro-in-chief. If that is not cause to reach for the sugary treats, I don’t know what is.
• Coco Khan is a freelance writer and co-host of the politics podcast Pod Save the UK
