Not long ago, I stumbled upon a strange article on the Internet.
The title read: Dopamine Fasting Is Silicon Valley’s Hot New Trend.
Normally, the words Hot New Trend would repel me like pepper spray. I’m not on the cutting edge, and am not looking to hang out with the cool kids.
Yet, I found myself compelled to click on this particular article. For something in the title just didn’t add up.
After all, dopamine is a central part of our existence. The neurotransmitter evokes feelings of pleasure throughout our bodies. That sensation can be found when we complete that big work project, when our favorite team wins a big game— or when we’re scrolling through the social media feeds on our smartphone.
Why would tech executives — the stewards of such dopamine-inducing platforms as social networks and smartphones — refuse to eat their own dog food? Why would they subject themselves to prolonged periods of masochistic misery?
It only took me five short paragraphs to find out.
It turns out the hoodie-clad overlords of Silicon Valley are adopting dopamine fasting as a health hack. They’re using it to recalibrate their bodies to meet target metrics. And they’re equating the act of hitting their numbers to having optimal health.
Health hacks like these are often billed as course corrections. They’re often considered a rapid regression to the mean.
But in essence, they’re shortcuts. They’re the fast lane to a desirable destination.
This is why even the most counterintuitive hacks — like denying oneself any sources of pleasure —can spread like wildfire. The promise of a craveable outcome and the pull of social pressure can make these hacks appear to be sensible options.
Yet, all too often, appearances can be deceiving.
I am not a fan of hacks.
I never have been. And I probably never will be.
I don’t feel this way because of anything the hacks themselves contain. Sure, they might seem absurd at times. But that absurdity amuses me.
No, my issue with hacks comes from their underlying premise.
Hacks find their greatest power at the intersection of impatience and snobbishness. For their doting audiences seek both instant gratification and elite status.
With hacks, it’s not enough to simply to get an advantage. It’s essential to have an edge that others don’t.
While everyone else is stuck in neutral, we’re going full speed ahead. While everyone else is fighting the same old battles, we’re above the fray.
This thinking is as much about exclusivity as it is efficiency. And this perspective eats at me.
Why must a hack be Zero Sum? Why does it matter what information others have access to? And why should we consider ourselves to be better than others — simply on the merits of achieving something more optimally?
There really is no good answer.
I believe in incrementalism.
Like a ship headed for the horizon, I feel progress is best made one inch at a time.
This is not an exciting viewpoint. But it is a well-practiced one.
According to the Diffusion of Innovation Curve, most people don’t rush toward exciting products as they’re launched. Instead, they wait for others to take the leap along with them.
Moving ahead at the speed of the masses is incrementalism at its finest. And by and large, this theory has helped us evolve over the millennia.
Even so, we crave something more than putting one foot in front of the other.
We don’t merely want to walk. We want to soar.
And so, we find ourselves entranced by flash. We seek out the boldest, brightest and loudest concepts. And we throw the full weight of our aspirations at them.
These actions run contrary to our cautious nature. But they provide us what our heart yearns for.
Of course, a proof of concept can ease this shift from incrementalism to disruption. And our society is full of such examples.
Perhaps the oldest of these is the very foundation of the United States of America. While we might take the concept of a self-ruling democracy for granted these days, it was relatively nascent in 1776. And the idea of splitting from a presiding kingdom was downright unheard of.
America’s success in both declaring and defending its independence was a shock to the system. It was an early case of disruptive innovation.
Many other disruptions have followed in the subsequent centuries. Many of these disruptions — such as the Model T automobile and the personal computer — grew from self-serving roots to gain widespread adoption.
This pattern has helped grow our sense of individualism. It’s caused us to think of our own short-term needs, in lieu of the longer-term implications for society.
In the cases of America, the automobile or the computer, the desirable short-term advantages we’ve enjoyed haven’t been overshadowed by undesirable long-term effects. But in many other situations, a less optimal scenario has come to bear.
This is a critical point, because hacks tend to thrive under the guise of disruption. They promise us short-term benefits and shrug off the long-term view entirely.
This perspective may seem desirable to us in the moment. But over the long haul, it’s extremely dangerous.
Don’t build on shaky ground.
This proverb is as prescient as it is straightforward. For centuries, settlers — perhaps excluding some in California — have taken it as gospel.
A solid foundation means everything. Our homes, our families, our lives — they all depend on stability.
We don’t gain this stability by rocking the boat. By making big waves and leaving others in our wake.
We gain it by working meticulously, methodically and collectively.
I truly believe that the greatest achievements in life are not the result of short-term, selfish thinking. They are the result of long-term, selfless action.
When we aim for immediate personal satisfaction, we only set ourselves up for future disappointment. But when we work together toward a common objective, we have the potential to lift up all of society.
This work might not be glamorous. It might not be hair-raising or pulse-quickening.
But it can bring a lasting satisfaction.
And that is something no hack could ever match.