One of these things is a helpful and convenient tool, the other is a black hole of responsibility, obligation and funny dog videos. Photo: Hayley Nicholls.
Do you remember your first mobile phone?
Mine was a good old Nokia 3210. It featured one built-in game (long live Snake!), text messaging and a frangipanni-themed phone case which I felt projected my entire personality.
None of my friends had mobiles, rendering mine largely pointless. Nowadays, mobile phones are pervasive and it’s the humble home phone that nobody has.
Modern mobiles provide endless games, as well as music, movies and assorted apps. They send messages to anyone anywhere (or everyone everywhere, via social media). They are also cameras, money and even our driver’s licence.
The term “velvet handcuffs” refers to a situation where someone is comfortable and enjoying the benefits of their position, but also subtly limited in their freedom to move elsewhere or pursue other opportunities. Sound familiar?
I recently bought my daughter a “brick phone”. It’s cheap, pink and allows for communication without unleashing the entire internet on my innocent child.
One Sunday evening, feeling fed up with my own dopamine addiction and desperate to ditch the doomscroll, I swapped my smartphone for her Nokia 225 and tried living with it for a week.
Dear Diary…
Strapping on my sneakers for a Monday morning workout, I realised I would be lifting weights to the sounds of silence and birdsong.
Deciding that was too ridiculous, I opted for a meditative run and, given the limited functionality of the Nokia (no music, no Strava – no point!), I made the unbelievable decision to leave the phone behind.
I felt utterly untethered, truly alone with the world and peaceful in the knowledge that I simply could not be interrupted at any moment.
By Tuesday, my newfound freedom was rudely cut short. I would need to bend the rules for work as multiple online platforms require me to confirm my identity. To do this, I use an authenticator app.
As I reluctantly awoke the smartphone and the screen lit up, my spirits dropped. I felt immediate regret and a heavy sense of dread at this disappointing set-back; like quitting smoking and letting yourself down with a sneaky cigarette.
By Wednesday, I had a backlog of communications – What’s Apps left unread, permission slips to digitally sign, texts from various services with e-forms to fill in.
And so I sat down at my desk to do my correspondence, like an 18th-century lady of the court.
I realised that most of my communication these days feels harried and resentful, like everyone has been granted a 24-hour access pass to my attention and I’m obligated to constantly split myself into pieces and give portions away on demand.
On Thursday, my nine-year-old succumbed to the seasonal sniffles and used the sick day to craft a birthday gift for her teacher – a fabulously bedazzled pointer stick. It was such a resplendent creation and a sweet gesture. I needed a photo.
Only one problem: I haven’t owned a camera since before this kid was born. Disappointing.
On Friday, driving between appointments, I tried to reschedule a doctor’s appointment and discovered a new proverb: If a helpless human says “Hey Google!” and there is no robot around to hear them, do they feel like an idiot? Yes, they do.
Unable to make phone calls on the go, I was forced to exercise my working memory and aim to complete this task later, when I sat down “to do my correspondence”.
Saturday brought a slow morning, when I’d typically enjoy coffee and screen time in bed. Without my phone for entertainment, my seven-year-old was delighted to find Mum was happy to play Guess Who? over her morning coffee. What a treat – indeed, for us both!
Reflecting on the week, there were surprising practical benefits. Undemanding in every sense, the brick phone is lightweight (ironically), fitted happily in my pocket and held its charge almost the entire week!
The biggest challenges were similarly practical – the lack of music, camera, and ability to complete modern processes; all constraints brought to you by the “velvet handcuffs” effect.
But the most significant impacts were undoubtedly on my mental well-being, overall pace of life and attention span.
The addictive behaviours associated with modern phone use are real. And it’s an addiction society actively supports and encourages, without any attempt to mitigate the damage. There are no support groups or educational campaigns. Rather, phone addiction is accepted as a foregone conclusion and something we must learn to live with.
In practice, phone addiction was easy to give up. I suffered no withdrawals and felt immediate benefit. However, due to the integration of “smart” technology into every facet of our lives, I was continually encouraged – if not outright forced – to return to my addictive behaviour.
So, will I switch to a brick phone full-time? Sadly, no. As the week ended, I diligently put out my hands to return to my comfortable and convenient restraints. But maybe once a year I’ll make a jailbreak for a little digital detox.
