Escaping the Tyranny of the Smartphone
When I was a kid, people were smoking cigarettes everywhere. That has something to do with the environment I grew up in—poor, rural America—but it also says something about the time period. It just didn’t seem odd for people to be lighting up in a restaurant full of kids. I’m told that when my parents were kids, it was even worse: people smoking in hospitals, on airplanes, in schools. Nowadays we look back on this and say, “What on Earth were we thinking?”
I often wonder whether we will look back and say something similar about the way we currently use our phones.
I wonder whether we will ever say to our grandchildren: “When I was younger, it was perfectly ordinary to see people crossing the street with their eyes glued to their phones. You had to beep to get them to look up. People crashed cars by the millions because they couldn’t stay off their phones long enough to drive from place to place.”
Phones can do some amazing things. And they can, of course, be used responsibly. The trouble is that they often aren’t used responsibly, and many people seem unable to fix this. People decide that they want to be more present, more connected, less caught up in the stressful whirl of social media. And yet, try as they might, the sweet siren song of the smartphone keeps calling them back.
Where does this pull come from? Whence this urge to grab the phone and flood the mind with images, with videos, with endless scrolling and tapping and texting?
So often we misdescribe it. We think we are being drawn toward connecting, toward sharing. And in a sense, of course, that’s true. We get to check in with what’s going on “out there”— what’s going on with our friends, with whatever community we’ve decided to plug into. But this kind of “checking in” is thin gruel for a real mind that craves real connection. We are physical creatures rooted in a physical world, and we need more than digital sustenance.
What’s really happening here, I think, is that we have become unable to tolerate the pace, the rhythm, and the essential uncooperativeness of the real world. When we reach for our phone to seek connection, often we are really saying, “I can’t bear this world for one second longer. I want something else.” (If boredom could talk, these would be its words.)
The more we get pulled in, the more the mind gets used to being dragged along at that digital pace. Don’t like what you’re seeing? Swipe a finger. Find something new. Don’t like what you’re doing? Tap the screen; open a new app. Don’t like your surroundings? The people you’re with? Here— immerse yourself in some enticing images: other people, other places; beautiful, fun, captivating. No need to bear with whatever’s going on in that lackluster, uncooperative place called the “real world.” Come on over here. Here you get to be in charge. You get to pick what you see, what you hear, what you watch.
And so the mind darts around, getting hits of pleasure here and there, switching something on, switching something off, scrolling, skimming, skipping, laughing, watching, grabbing, pausing, replaying, liking, disliking, saving, jumping, commenting… in endless loops that never really arrive anywhere. And then when the mind comes out of this digital daze it feels unsettled, disoriented. It feels unable to handle the slowness, the lack of stimulation. It can’t sense into the subtler pleasures available to one who has learned patience. So we grab the phone and dive in for another hit. Eventually the mind becomes unable to stand on its own; it becomes dependent on the snappy convenience of the digital screen.
Over time we adapt to that pace, and we start to feel uncomfortable with anything slower. It becomes harder to do things that take time and patience and careful attention, things that unfold at a non-digital pace— like reading a book for pleasure, or soaking in the stars, or just listening to the wind in the trees. We become accustomed to the digital glow with its frenzied pace, barely registering what we have seen before we are on to the next thing.
This past spring, a student of mine asked her classmates an interesting question. On any given night, if you just stopped yourself at random, right in the middle of a scrolling session, would you be able to remember the last three videos you’d just watched?
Not one of them said yes.
* * *
“The soul is dyed the color of its thoughts.” So says Marcus Aurelius, the great Stoic philosopher. It’s a simple but profound statement, one that captures an essential truth about the human spirit. Angry thoughts make for an angry mind; they leave us feeling hot and cramped and ready to snap. Loving thoughts make for a loving mind; they leave us feeling open, spacious, and bright. This is a beautiful teaching, one that you can explore in great detail in the intimate realm of your own experience.
The soul is dyed the color of its thoughts– what does this mean for a mind that is scattered in a thousand directions, sent reeling by the endless bombardment of images, videos, and half-baked commentary? What does it mean for a mind that can no longer rest, a mind that has forgotten how to linger? What is the color of a fractured and anxious mind?
When I first thought about that question, I pictured something fiery and intense: a pulsing red or purple. But on reflection I came to picture something more like a dull grey. Watered down, diluted. No vibrancy. No energy. Depleted. A dull and aching shade of grey, wan and lifeless.
* * *
We would not be in this situation if it were easy to escape. The tyranny of the smartphone is a central problem for the modern mind. What does a wise response look like?
Abstinence is, of course, one option. You could get a “dumb phone,” or you could be bold and get rid of your phone altogether. I personally laud these efforts, but as someone who works with teenagers I also understand that this more extreme approach is a non-starter for most people. For those who are unwilling or unable to simply abandon their smartphone, there needs to be some wise counsel about how to live wisely with this addictive and powerful gadget.
My first, and biggest recommendation is to do a planned phone detox. Figure out how to spend a day, or two, or five, entirely away from your phone. It will take some planning, and you will encounter some inconvenience, but it is absolutely possible. You can do it, and the insights it’ll yield will be well worth it.
While you are doing the detox, you should be sure to give yourself enough time to let the initial unpleasantness pass. You will likely be surprised at how quickly your mind remembers how to take pleasure in non-digital things. It also helps if you can make a bit of time to journal about your experience.
Finally, before going back to your phone, use the space of newfound clarity to create some concrete guidelines for yourself. What are three things you could do, and would do, that would improve your relationship with your phone? Let this question guide you; make a commitment; and stick to it for some specified amount of time. I recommend at least 1 month.
5 rules you might follow
When making habit changes of any kind, often what matters most is not that you choose the perfect system, but simply that you adopt some system or other. This helps to bring a sense of intentionality to the behavior you want to change, and that in itself goes a long way.
It’s the same with phones. Settling on a few clear rules that you do not break will help you to reclaim your sense of dignity around your phone. It will establish moments throughout the day where you’ll start to experience natural breaks from the screen. This will help you notice, without necessarily acting on, the compulsive habit to get absorbed into the screen. This is a huge victory.
Here is a list of some rules you might choose to adopt. They’re rules that have worked well for me and for students of mine who have done phone detoxes. They’re established with the following considerations in mind.
First, they are meant to be relatively simple and easy to remember.
Second, they are tied to “high impact” moments of the day — moments where you are likely to be drawn into your phone and where you can, with a bit of effort, easily resist that draw.
Third, they are not terribly inconvenient. They don’t require you to give up anything, and they don’t require a lot of thought in the moment about responsible engagement. This means they’re something you’ll be able to follow on autopilot after a short period of consistent practice.
These are just suggestions. Feel free to modify them as you see fit. The most important thing is that the rule is something you will actually follow.
No phone usage in bed. Ever. If it’s an emergency, stand at the side of your bed and use the phone. (This is what I do, at least. It leads to some absurdity; for example, when I want to lie down and use my phone, I sometimes have to get up, grab my phone, and lie on the floor next to my bed. This is a little ridiculous, but it keeps me from using my phone in bed!)
No phone usage in the bathroom. It sounds weird, I know, but you probably do it. Use bathroom breaks instead as a time to simply rest and check in with your state of mind. How are you feeling? Let yourself be bored. Do nothing. Get used to it and know that you’re training your mind to be comfortable again in its natural state. Notice if you have a tendency to view bathroom breaks as a moment to check out from the real world and absorb into the digital one. Let that go.
No phone usage at mealtimes. The point here is to regularly carve out some time when you would normally be tempted to check out, and to redirect your energy to something else. Focus on the food you are eating. Focus on the people you are eating with. Take in the sights and sounds. Use this as an opportunity to let your mind come out of its digital trance operate at a more natural pace. You might do this for all meals, or just for a specific meal (breakfast, for example).
No phone usage between evening and morning teeth brushing. This is a nice way to carve out some no-phone time as you approach bedtime. It will improve your sleep hygiene, and it will help your body and mind attune to a rhythm more suitable for this phase of the day. It will also keep you from getting digitally ensnared first thing in the morning. Give it a try. (You might think of this as a slightly stronger version of Rule #1.)
No active phone usage while in motion. This is perhaps the hardest of the 5 rules. If you pull out your phone to text, check the time, or check your notifications, stop walking for that brief moment. This is a good habit to build. If you need to send an email or a longer message, wait until you’re at a place where you can stop and pause. This will save you the embarrassment of being one of those people walking around with their heads in their phones. It will also help you start building some mindfulness and restraint around your phone usage. You’ll notice how often you pull out your phone for no real reason, and that will start to die down.
This rule is about “active” manipulation of the phone, which means you can still listen to audio or have a phone call while walking, driving, etc. But if you need to actively use the phone, e.g. to change the audio or make a call, practice stopping in order to make these adjustments. If you tend to use your phone while driving, this is a good way to break that habit. I personally do this while I am driving and it does occasionally introduce the inconvenience of not being able to adjust my GPS on the fly. That’s a price I’m willing to pay. Not only does it make me safer in my car, it also gives me a sense of control and dignity. I would rather lose a little time and get lost than be dominated by my phone.
There are many other additions or modifications one could make here. But I think this is a good place to start.