Yearning for No Service
This morning, a nationwide cellular outage affected major carriers, especially AT&T and US Cellular. Plenty of pundits are speculating on whether the cause was as benign as a solar flare, or as disturbing as an attack by China or Russia. In the meantime, there’s something else we might ponder.
As I too awoke to see the “No Service” symbol on my phone, there was something oddly comforting about it. As I then browsed the reactions of others, I saw that many of them likewise found peace among the reduced connectedness.
Most people find great value in their phones (else they wouldn’t have them), and they want to be able to contact people in an emergency, but the knowledge that there may be fewer beeps today brings with it a sense of peace.
It makes one wonder to what degree the way we live is alien to who we are and how we were made. When a friend of mine recently suggested that we drive to the beach for a weekend and leave our phones behind (actually, she said “throw them in the ocean”), my immediate response was wistful, for the sense of longing was neutered by the practicality of how I need to be available to people. That reaction stands true for most of us. As our connectivity has increased, so has the expectation of our being connected. It can even be considered rude or inconsiderate to be unavailable.
We simultaneously crave peace and yet are addicted to input. Older generations rightly bemoan Generation Z and Millennials who can’t sit through a lunch with another without pausing to look at their phones. They’re right that it’s rude, but it’s something that they are not immune too, even if they may be less affected, having known a world before this was the norm. When sitting alone at a coffee shop, even older generations turn to their phones. A few generations ago, they would have been comfortable enjoying their coffee, alone with their thoughts. For longer stays, they might have even brought a book.
If you asked anyone which manner of living he thought was healthier for man’s mind, you would be hard pressed to find someone who thought our obsessive phone use was the healthiest choice. Talking about addiction to one’s phone might sound like Reefer Madness or the hysteria about rock music, but we all know that this isn’t good for us.
Imagine this: You’ve disabled beeps on the apps that don’t need to bother you, yet messages and calls from loved ones still come through. You turn your screen off and set it on the table next to you. How long can you go before you feel the compulsive desire to turn the screen back on, just in case you missed a beep? It’s that constant stimuli that we both crave and which erodes our sense of peace.
Maybe you can’t take a beach trip without your phone this weekend. Me either. But consider working and fighting to maintain the peace that is more in accord with your nature. Turn off the unnecessary notifications. Break from your phone. Pay attention to how many times you’re reaching for it. Learn to think, feel, and pray alone.
Hi Sarah, I have been turning my phone off in the evening around 5:00 lately. I also have been leaving my phone home ocassionally while running errands. It feels great, as if a noose was removed from my neck. I'm slowly leaving the phone off longer, and leaving it home more. It's like weaning off an addictive drug, it can be done and you will feel better. Good luck with your progress.
As a boomer, I am one who has lived before the PC/internet/smartphone era. I can also say I have used them longer than younger generations.
Smartphones are great communication tools. It’s great to be able to text your wife to pick up something at the grocery store when she is there. However they are not very good for communicating in depth. Email is a little better, but not nearly as good as writing a letter. And sadly, letter writing is a skill lost to almost everyone under 55. I doubt even 5% of those under 55 have ever written a letter.
Slower communication has many benefits. I was a volunteer in the Peace Corps in the mid-80’s and lived in Africa. Air mail letters took weeks to arrive. Because communication with family and friends was so infrequent, letters were composed with more thought and depth. Because the travel time for the letters was so long, you felt compelled to take time and compose and develop your thoughts. I still have the letters written to me, and some of my family members saved my letters and gave them to me when I returned and I treasure them. I’m afraid that, unless one is writing weekly Substacks, like Sarah, most younger people rarely have an opportunity to regularly practice writing skills and develop their thoughts. Written communication has devolved to a string of emojis.
Of course smartphones can also be a constant source of distractions. These distractions can keep in-person conversations shallow. The constant distractions interrupt deeper thought and conversation. I feel older people manage them better because they know a life before constant notifications and seek that out. It’s harder for younger people to manage because they don’t know anything else.
I have heard that “dumbphones” are becoming more popular. I hope that trend continues.