Leaders of the male-dominated longevity movement are promoting “biohacks” to followers willing to spend thousands of dollars to extend their lives.
Robbie Bent has a measured and strict lifestyle. He takes 10 different supplements and works out five times a week. He weighs ground beef before cooking to track his protein intake. He uses red lights at night to improve his sleep. He regularly spends thousands of dollars on routine medical tests, including MRIs, to detect possible future health problems.
To outsiders, his actions may seem extreme. But in the world of longevity, where health and fitness enthusiasts go to great lengths, often at great expense, to extend human life, Mr. Bent’s approach is downright relaxed. Google “longevity” and you’ll find thousands of videos and podcasts dedicated to pushing the boundaries of technology, fitness and health in the quest for longevity.
The goal of many is to extend the “healthy period” (the period of life during which a person remains healthy) and, of course, life expectancy – to 140, 160 or even 180 years.
At the extreme are Silicon Valley billionaires, including entrepreneur David Asprey, who regularly undergoes stem cell treatments and intravenous injections in the hopes of living to 180, and tech executive Brian Johnson, who takes 100 supplements a day and spends $2 million a year to achieve his simple goal: “Don’t die.”
Dr. Peter Attia is a Toronto-born physician, podcaster, author and one of the most influential people in the longevity field. Sipa US/Reuters
But the longevity influencer world is dominated by two figures: Peter Attia, a Toronto-born, U.S.-based physician and podcaster whose book Longevity: The Science and Art of Living Longer has sold more than a million copies; and Andrew Huberman, a Stanford neuroscientist and host of Huberman Labs, a show with more than 5.5 million YouTube subscribers.
People around the world have adopted Mr. Huberman and Dr. Attia’s “protocol” — a “routine” in longevity parlance. They take the supplements Mr. Huberman and Dr. Attia recommends. Follow Mr. Huberman and Dr. Attia’s exercise recommendations. Eat (or fast) the way Mr. Huberman and Dr. Attia recommends. Follow Mr. Huberman and Dr. Attia’s advice on fitness trackers, medical testing, and cold showers.
Many of them are men. With few exceptions, the movement’s leaders have been men. Many people often focus on the topic of masculinity. For example, increasing testosterone is a common concern. These longevity influencers offer a plan, a guide to living in a stressful, fast-paced world — a way to cope with vulnerability. They give people a sense of control — or at least the illusion of it.
“My life is stressful. I think everyone’s life is more stressful now,” said Mr. Bent, 40, a former investment banker and tech CEO.
He became fascinated with the idea of ​​longevity about a decade ago, during a particularly difficult period in his life. The startup he founded in Toronto went bankrupt. He was drinking alcohol and using cocaine.
But then Mr. Bent discovered Vipassana meditation, which led to ayahuasca retreats, which led to “lifehacker” podcasters like Tim Ferriss, and eventually to Mr. Huberman.
He was depressed, but soon he was drawn to the idea and the promise: his brain and body could be restored. With hard work and self-discipline, you could conquer your body and mind. Become stronger.
“I felt like I was playing a video game and as I got into my rhythm I got better,” he said.
It seemed like, “If I have a good routine, I’ll be happier.” Not just happier, better. Superman.
Since the dawn of humanity, we have searched for the key to eternal life. The Epic of Gilgamesh is an ancient Mesopotamian poem written on clay tablets around 2100 BCE and is considered the oldest written history in human civilization. It tells the story of a quest for immortality.
Since then, our history has been filled with stories of men and women who tried and failed to find a solution to death’s problem—a fountain of youth that could turn back time. Pope Innocent VIII injected himself with children’s blood. Diane de Poitiers, Henry II’s 16th-century mistress, drank gold.
Thanks to enormous advances in science and medicine over the past century, people have indeed begun to live longer. From 1921 to 2021, life expectancy in Canada increased from 57 to 81 years.
We are now seeing a rapidly aging population. Almost one in five Canadians is now over 65. Today, Canadians are living longer. What’s more, they also expect to live healthier lives.
Health was around before the longevity industry existed. Before Mr. Bent heard of Andrew Huberman, Gwyneth Paltrow had built a $250 million empire called Goop, which targeted women’s anxieties and fears about health and aging and sold her unique brand of aspiration and hope—the illusion of control.
Longevity can be thought of as health 2.0. But here, numbers have replaced softness and “self-care” with the language of science, technology, and finance. These are not habits, they are “investments.” Not routines, but “protocols.” Not habits, but “biohacking” and “optimization.”
In this world, lifestyle messages are packaged according to traditional male norms. There’s Dr. Atiyah with his muscular frame and Mr. Huberman with his beard, tight black T-shirt and piercing eyes. It’s not just about feeling strong, it’s about looking strong — by showing off strength, lifting weights and running with rocks on your back.
In this world, men – at least traditionally – avoid weakness, avoid asking for help, and instead overcome vulnerability through work and restraint.
For example, men are, on average, less likely to visit a doctor or get regular medical checkups. A 2019 Cleveland Clinic survey found that 72% of American men would rather clean toilets than see a doctor. The reason for their avoidance? Shame about asking for help and a desire to appear strong.
Joel Wardinger, a 45-year-old corporate lawyer from Toronto, runs every day in Viewmount Park in North York as part of his exercise routine.
During the pandemic, Mr. Waldinger listened to Dr. Atiyah’s podcast. He now lifts heavy weights four times a week and uses a wearable sleep tracker — both of which Dr. Atiyah recommended.
Both Mr. Huberman and Dr. Attia urged men to be self-sufficient. They advocate prevention first, action second.
“By using what I call Medicine 3.0, we can prevent or at least significantly slow the chronic diseases that kill most people today, such as heart disease, cancer, dementia and diabetes,” Dr. Atiyah wrote in an email to The Boston Globe.
This means being proactive, he stressed: “Identify risk factors for heart disease early and treat them, even if the short-term risk is low.”
When Joel Wardinger, a 45-year-old corporate lawyer in Toronto, was in his mid-40s, he began to notice his body was changing. He says he was “getting my dad’s body.”
When Mr Waldinger turned 40, he began to notice that his body was beginning to take on a “dad bod.” That’s one of the reasons he began researching health and lifestyle changes.
That’s when the pandemic hit. He was consumed with the anxiety of washing groceries, juggling four children at home with work, and struggling to navigate often conflicting medical and life advice, trying to make the best decision to keep his family healthy and safe.
When it happened, his faith in our health care system was shaken. “It’s really disconcerting what’s going on,” he said.
What he meant was this: Our system is under a lot of pressure. More than 6 million Canadians don’t have access to a regular family doctor. A recent study by researchers at St. Michael’s Hospital in Toronto found that even those who do have a family doctor have trouble accessing them. Only about 35% were able to get a same-day or next-day appointment for an emergency.
Family doctors simply don’t have the time—or even the expertise—to give the kind of personalized advice that longevity podcasts offer: exactly what to do and when to do it.
This is a common sentiment among longevity enthusiasts. Many people express a general distrust or frustration with doctors or the public health system. Members of one of Attiyah’s Facebook fan groups often complain about their doctors and “outdated” practices. Others have gone further, expressing a general distrust of the government, mainstream media, and even big pharma. Even though they have complete — sometimes unconditional — trust in their longevity guru.
He lifts heavy weights four times a week, just like Peter suggested. He uses a wearable sleep tracker that Peter once recommended. He even built a $13,000 sauna at home, all on Peter’s recommendation.
“It was just slavish deference to Peter’s research, which I sometimes doubted,” he said. But he didn’t have time to do it himself. If he had done it himself, he would have eaten better and exercised more. He understands the irony, though he says, “I just don’t have the time.”
In August 2010, Mr. Patel and his pregnant wife were taken to hospital in Mississauga. Her waters had broken. But complications arose at the hospital. Doctors performed an emergency Caesarean section but were unable to stop the bleeding. They performed an emergency hysterectomy. Another operation was then performed.
It should have been the happiest time of Mr Patel’s life, but instead he spent it in fear. He and his wife had to face the bitter reality that their first child would also be their last. And they didn’t even have a choice.
Today, Mr Patel follows a strict diet aimed at longevity. He believes in these methods so strongly that he now runs a private health consultancy business.
Every morning, he wakes up and drinks sea salt water. He has stood barefoot outside in the sun. He has done weight training and tied his chest to regulate his breathing. He uses a “squat potty” to reduce the stress of going to the bathroom. He has used only linen bedding to “help wounds heal faster.” He only wears natural underwear because he says polyester lowers testosterone.
“There aren’t many external factors in life that we can control,” he said, “but when I can decide what I put in my body, I feel more confident.”
Samir Sinha, chief of geriatrics at Sinai Health, said some of the basic principles put forth by longevity experts like Mr. Huberman and Dr. Atiyah aren’t entirely new. Their daily routines are based on the same basic philosophy you’ll hear in any doctor’s office. Exercise. Pay attention to your diet. Sleep well.
But when it comes to more specific claims — such as so-called “biohacking” advice about supplements, cold showers or wearable health-tracking devices — Dr. Sinha says the evidence is sometimes weak.
Moreover, he says, recommendations for frequent routine medical testing may do more harm than good. Routine screening sometimes picks up medically insignificant lumps or nodules, he says, and “all of a sudden,” he says, “people are buried in a morass of unnecessary testing and treatment.” (Dr. Atiyah responded: “New ways of thinking tend to be controversial.”)
Timothy Caulfield studies the health and wellness industry, with a particular focus on how science is used or misinterpreted to sell consumer products. Timothy Caulfield
Timothy Caulfield, Canada Research Chair in Health Law and Policy at the University of Alberta, calls biohacking “science exploitation.” He studies the health and wellness industry, focusing on how science is often used or misinterpreted to sell consumer products. When it comes to popular longevity figures, he says, the evidence behind their claims is often weak.
For example, Professor Caulfield said Huberman was “very good at explaining the scientific principles and offering appropriate caveats.” “But you don’t think, ‘The evidence is only preliminary, the effect is small, I have to be careful with the science,’” he said.
Here’s what Professor Caulfield says about Mr Huberman’s longevity regime: 11-minute cold water baths at 10-15°C every week (“very little long-term clinical evidence”); 10 minutes in the sun every morning (“scientific nonsense”); red light therapy (“no evidence to support it”) and five to 20 minutes in a sauna three times a week (“very little evidence”).