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I have a friend who lives in a monastery. 

He moved there a couple of months ago and invited me over to have lunch recently. The abbey is an hour’s drive from my house, tucked in a bucolic stretch between Reading and Oxford.  

After short prayers in the light and airy church, we had lunch with the monks in a high-ceilinged room at the back. I knew this would be the case, but I was still surprised to see them all dressed in floor-length black robes; some of them had socks and sandals on their feet and during the prayers, I even spotted one with his cloak pulled over his head.

During the meal, we sat around tables in a U-shape and we all faced inward. We ate in silence while a monk read to us from a religious text. The food was simple but filling; one of the monks asked me if I was vegetarian because there was an option if so. I definitely wasn’t expecting an assortment of ice cream and a cheese board for dessert (you could have both).

After lunch, my friend and I walked around the grounds and he pointed out the monastery’s beehives and pumpkin patch. We went into the library where the librarian-monk misheard my name and kept calling me Alice. He was waiting for an IT guy to come and fix his computer. 

While perched on a bench overlooking the abbey grounds, I asked my friend what he did all day. He explained that his life is punctuated by daily prayers, but beyond that, he has the freedom to pursue his interests. He spends most of his time in the library, immersing himself in the wisdom of ancient texts.

Despite my own lack of religious inclination, I understood the appeal of my friend's new way of life. It’s a serene setting for embarking on an epic quest for meaning and fulfilment. It also made me reflect on modern self-help literature and the stark contrast between the abbey's approach to life and the advice often peddled online.

Because in the relentless pursuit of productivity, a new trend has emerged, one that promises to unlock superhuman focus and efficiency: 'monk mode'. In stark contrast to the genuine spiritual pursuit of monastic life, it appears as an exaggerated and misguided attempt at maximizing productivity. This self-imposed isolation and restriction of social interactions, digital distractions, and even leisure activities is marketed as a gateway to unparalleled success. However, this obsession with productivity is not just unsustainable; it's yet another manifestation of the pervasive culture of hustle and grind.

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Monk mode is mad, bad and sad

On the face of it, monk mode looks innocuous. In a blog post about it on the World Economic Forum (sidebar: lol at the WEF entering the productivity discourse) it describes monk mode as “the practice of solely working on one task and not giving in to distractions — including phones.” That sounds like decent advice for anyone who wants to get stuff done. It’s what Cal Newport talks about in Deep Work and the founding principle of the Pomodoro Technique. I don’t have a problem with hunkering down to focus on a singular task. I try to do that every day. I don’t call that monk mode, though, I just call it … working. 

But in some corners of the internet, monk-mode devotees go well beyond time management advice. It’s no longer a simple strategy for getting some work done or sticking to a goal, it’s a reorganising of your whole life to be as productive as possible. A literal devotion to achievement.

In the language of monk mode, people talk about “protocols” and “non-negotiables”. You’re supposed to be in monk mode for a stretch of up to 90 days. I can’t do more than 3 hours of deep work a day and that’s not consistent across the week! Many people who do monk mode also follow extreme fitness regimes, like the carnivore diet and the “mental toughness programme”, 75 Hard. They don’t drink or go out late. Sure, there are health benefits to eating well and exercising, but taken to the extreme these are antisocial at best and unhealthy at worst.   

My friend's decision to live in a monastery is guided by a strong belief in a higher power. I don’t know what it’s like to have that kind of calling, but I do understand it. I don’t, however, see the drive behind adopting the monk-mode life. In a YouTube video titled “How I WON Productivity” which has over 800,000 views, the monk moder talks about the “real results” of living that way. But he doesn’t give any concrete examples. Instead, he says that he’d already made his first million dollars before he started monk moding.

Nonetheless, he’s convinced that’s when his life “propelled to a different level” and says: “Ever since I implemented monk mode, I don’t know why, but I’ve taken on bigger and bigger challenges in my life.”

I've been paying attention to the productivity movement for some time now, and I've noticed a curious trend in recent years: as the most successful productivity gurus achieve greater heights, they seem to gravitate towards a monastic lifestyle. They embrace minimalist principles, shedding possessions and embracing a clutter-free existence. They delve into the teachings of Stoicism, seeking wisdom to navigate life's challenges with resilience and equanimity. And they intensify their commitment to discipline, instilling stringent routines, extreme challenges and unwavering self-control.

Just like numerous productivity fads before it, the monk mode approach has evolved from a mere tool into an overarching lifestyle choice. For those who embrace it wholeheartedly, it becomes an integral part of their identity. Living a disciplined life becomes a badge of honour, a virtue to be exulted.

tl;dr: capitalism!

The allure of monk mode lies in its promise of liberation from the constant demands of modern life. It's a siren call to those who feel overwhelmed by the sheer volume of tasks and the relentless pressure to perform. The idea is to temporarily step away from the distractions of the external world and delve into a state of deep concentration, akin to a monastic retreat.

However, this retreat comes at a cost. It reinforces the notion that our worth is measured by our output and that our time is precious currency to be spent on achieving goals. It encourages us to view ourselves as machines, capable of endless productivity if we just detach from our humanity. 

At its core, monk mode embodies the fallacy that maximizing productivity equates to maximizing success. It’s an embodiment of the most problematic elements of capitalism, telling us that we're never enough and that we need constantly to push ourselves to the limit. It promotes the idea that by stripping away our social connections, hobbies, and even personal relationships, we can harness our willpower to achieve unprecedented feats. This belief, however, fails to recognise that true fulfilment and sustainable success come from a holistic approach to life, one that encompasses balance, well-being, and meaningful connections.

The difference between monk mode and a monastery is that in a real one, you live in commune with others. “Real” monks are not simply living alone in solitude; they’re part of a close-knit community, bound by shared values, practices, and a common purpose. This communal aspect plays a crucial role in their spiritual development. Monk mode, on the other hand, isn't a retreat – it's a self-imposed prison. 

When my friend first shared his plans to join a monastery, I was concerned about how it would impact our friendship. I assumed that dedicating oneself to a religious life meant severing ties with the outside world. But my fears proved unfounded. Of course, our friendship looks different now, but at its core, it’s the same. We meet up, chat on the phone, have intense conversations about the meaning of life, gossip about mutual friends.

Turns out, even monks eat ice cream.