Optimization Will Not Save You

Magdalene J. Taylor wrote:

Huberman is one of many people aligned in the contemporary cult of optimization. Bryan Johnson is another poster child of the movement, as is much of the SF tech scene writ large. Most of these types are undergoing this optimization on smaller scales than Huberman or Johnson, but the mentality remains the same. Here are people who won’t drink not because they have any particular problem with it but because the data their Oura ring gathers suggests they sleep 7 percent better on nights they don’t, therefore allowing them to answer emails twenty seconds more quickly. Here are people avoiding coffee half an hour before meeting with their personal trainer who charges as much as a mortgage because they don’t want to reward their brain with a dopamine boost that could become habitual, concerning themselves with the precise receptors through which caffeine and dopamine interact.

It’s boring. It’s exhausting. It’s not sexy. It might not even be healthy.

One thing I’ve wondered about the Huberman story is what would have happened if he applied this same optimization mentality to his dating life. It’s possible that he did — perhaps he was only able to juggle six women at a time without them knowing about each other (at least temporarily) because he enforced this same routine of rigidity and calculation to romance. It’s also possible that he only managed all of this through sheer luck and some solid lies. One can imagine how this type of optimization could be applied to dating more honestly, but with similarly unsexy results: a common thread in several of the major polyamory stories as of late has been how packed everyone involved’s Google Calendar is. Surely plenty of people pursuing ethical non-monogamy see themselves as romantically more productive, more detailed and more modernized than the rest of us in a way that mirrors the Huberman health methods.

Regardless, the point remains that optimization will not necessarily fulfill us in the way we’re looking for. It will not stop of from behaving in self-destructive ways (which, I think, Huberman ultimately was), nor will it fill in the emotional gaps that have led us searching for solutions in the first place. It probably will help us sleep a little better, help us feel a little better, help us look a little better, and that all absolutely is worth something. All of that does count toward our broader happiness. But to treat it as our guiding philosophy leaves us empty. There is no telos to it beyond productivity and conspicuous spending.

It all begs the question, what exactly are our bodies for? For whom are we achieving this “peak” physical form? When will that “peak” even be reached? It isn’t just that we’re enhancing our bodies to yield more labor in order to make our employers wealthier, though that’s probably true, too, but rather that it feels like we’ve turned our bodies into projects so that we simply have something to do, something to define ourselves by. In some cases, it might even just be so that we have new things to buy. Spending our money on supplements and gym memberships gives us a sense of purpose. I’m not trying to critique health as some sort of capitalist psyop — the reality is likely the opposite. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be hot and fit. Those are things I want, too. But the point of this brand of optimization does not seem to be that we ought to enjoy the bounties of our healthy bodies. Rather, it is rigidity for rigidity’s sake.