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Abstract

rsion of the book “Deep Work” by Cal Newport, I became aware of just how destructive compulsive phone-checking was for me. In the book, Newport stresses the value of flow states and deep, uninterrupted focus for not only productivity, but overall happiness too. Once I understood this, I knew I had to take action, immediately.</p><p id="9db6">In honesty, my attempts felt completely futile. The rapid-fire attention-switching of social media completely destroys your ability to focus for long periods of time, and has the really unpleasant effect of making the rest of reality seem under-stimulating, boring. If you don’t fill your time with something else, the urge to check out of boredom becomes nagging, then painful. If you check, even for a text message, you might open other apps out of habit, like YouTube or Instagram, and now you are at high risk of falling down the content rabbit hole and wasting another hour. Blockers don’t work — and trust me, I’ve tried them.</p><p id="a13c">Trying to put distance between myself and technology has been a<b> deeply</b> frustrating experience. I felt like my dreams were being stolen from me, minute by minute — how was I supposed to become a writer if I couldn’t even sit down and read? But I couldn’t help myself. A miserable, slow, grinding spiral.</p><h2 id="97b7">Enter the Dumb Phone</h2><p id="af8d">This winter, I decided to give myself a seasonal theme, inspired by this <a href="https://youtu.be/NVGuFdX5guE?si=Afh_YyJM05z9oA6z">amazing video</a> by CPG Grey on YouTube. I committed to “Mindfulness” as an area to focus on, and thus began my “Winter of Mindfulness”, wherein I would make more mindful choices to shift my life in a mindful direction overall, whatever that meant to me.</p><p id="150b">In the book “Digital Minimalism”, another of Cal Newport’s that I read as a consequence of my winter theme, I learned that the key to a healthy relationship with technology is <i>mindfulness — </i>only using technology that serves your values, and that serves them effectively. This idea really resonated with me and my theme; so, in the spirit of my Winter of Mindfulness, I turned an eye over to my smartphone, and the dwindling list of things I now used it for.</p><p id="56ee">I needed to be able to text and call people — fine. Being able to search online was nice, but a gateway to constant connectivity, so it had to go. Music? A nicety, but not essential, and, if I was being completely honest, used mindlessly to distract myself. Everything beyond that was either anathema or actively dangerous to my future, demanding my time and attention and giving me nothing. As I was becoming more mindful, I found myself us

Options

ing it less and less, wanting to be further and further away from it, but needing to begrudgingly bring with me regardless in case of emergency.</p><p id="30f4">So when I heard that advice about moped thieves from my uncle, I went to the supermarket right away, and bought a dumb phone.</p><p id="f92f">It’s barebones. It can do calls, it can do texts. It has a web browser that doesn’t work because, for one, it’s incompatible with the SIM card I bought for it, and for two, the phone can’t seem to manage a wi-fi connection. It’s perfect. With the Nokia in my pocket, I was finally free to cut the cord and leave the smartphone behind.</p><p id="a8e2">Not to mention that I love it. There’s a real charm to a phone like this, a goofy charm, like one of those small dogs who’s tongues stick out no matter what — nine clicky-clacky number buttons means you get the full 2004 experience of hitting the seven key four times just to type the letter S, the pre-installed ringtones are garish and silly, and upon disconnecting the charging cable, the phone will gleefully inform you that “The Charger is pluged out” (Not a typo.)</p><p id="db73">Frankly, in a world full of software predicated on predatory business models and ruthlessly split-tested to be as efficient at extracting every morsel of value from you as it possibly can, it feels genuinely wonderful to use a device so simple and honest. Carrying my smartphone around felt like carrying the One Ring in my pocket; it was always a drain on my willpower, always tempting me to pick the worse option for my time. The dumb phone wants nothing from me. It beeps only when a close friend or family member messages me, and it beeps politely at that, for it serves but one master — me.</p><h2 id="3037">In Conclusion</h2><p id="d90d">A dumb phone won’t make your internet addiction magically disappear. However, if any of what you’ve just read resonated with you, I recommend you spend twenty quid and get an ancient phone off of Ebay. Do it even just for the novelty factor.</p><h2 id="ce70">Some final advice:</h2><ul><li>If you don’t fancy getting a new phone, there are likely ways to lobotomise the phone you have already; google it.</li><li>I always recommend putting your dumb phone in the exact pocket you would always pull out your smartphone from, to disrupt the habit.</li><li>Most importantly, have a laugh with it— I recommend googling “free nokia ringtones”, installing the gaudiest ones you can find, and then making family and friends call you. Make it a talking point of it — enjoy it, seriously, it’ll mitigate the more maddening bits of it.</li></ul><p id="8298">That’s all. Thanks for reading.</p></article></body>

I Bought A Dumb Phone To Fight My Internet Addiction, And I Love It

I might even buy a dumber one.

Two Weeks Ago

Two weeks ago, before setting out on a week-long venture to London, I purchased a Nokia 110 for twenty pounds at my local supermarket — a family member had warned me that my regular smartphone might prove a target for pickpockets and moped thieves, and that it would be good to have a backup just in case. I couldn’t fault the logic, but frankly, it wasn’t the primary reason I ended up buying it; the real reason is that over the last year, I’ve genuinely grown to despise my smartphone.

First, some background.

Internet Addiction

I have been cripplingly addicted to the internet for the majority of my life.

Being on the younger end of Gen Z, I started on social media at around age thirteen, and it’s fair to say that a combination of Instagram, YouTube, and video games completely dominated my free time.

We all know it’s bad, but it’s hard to stop watching; internet content is shockingly addictive nowadays. You’re likely familiar with the experience of picking up your phone at the slightest hint of boredom, opening YouTube or Instagram without even thinking, and then, after two hours of doom-scrolling, regaining consciousness and realising you don’t remember a thing about what you watched.

In my case, my use became seriously problematic — at the height of my social media consumption, I would spend almost all day scrolling, every day. Though this was a very dark time for me regardless, it’s hard to tell if this was a cause, or a symptom, or both.

After listening to the audiobook version of the book “Deep Work” by Cal Newport, I became aware of just how destructive compulsive phone-checking was for me. In the book, Newport stresses the value of flow states and deep, uninterrupted focus for not only productivity, but overall happiness too. Once I understood this, I knew I had to take action, immediately.

In honesty, my attempts felt completely futile. The rapid-fire attention-switching of social media completely destroys your ability to focus for long periods of time, and has the really unpleasant effect of making the rest of reality seem under-stimulating, boring. If you don’t fill your time with something else, the urge to check out of boredom becomes nagging, then painful. If you check, even for a text message, you might open other apps out of habit, like YouTube or Instagram, and now you are at high risk of falling down the content rabbit hole and wasting another hour. Blockers don’t work — and trust me, I’ve tried them.

Trying to put distance between myself and technology has been a deeply frustrating experience. I felt like my dreams were being stolen from me, minute by minute — how was I supposed to become a writer if I couldn’t even sit down and read? But I couldn’t help myself. A miserable, slow, grinding spiral.

Enter the Dumb Phone

This winter, I decided to give myself a seasonal theme, inspired by this amazing video by CPG Grey on YouTube. I committed to “Mindfulness” as an area to focus on, and thus began my “Winter of Mindfulness”, wherein I would make more mindful choices to shift my life in a mindful direction overall, whatever that meant to me.

In the book “Digital Minimalism”, another of Cal Newport’s that I read as a consequence of my winter theme, I learned that the key to a healthy relationship with technology is mindfulness — only using technology that serves your values, and that serves them effectively. This idea really resonated with me and my theme; so, in the spirit of my Winter of Mindfulness, I turned an eye over to my smartphone, and the dwindling list of things I now used it for.

I needed to be able to text and call people — fine. Being able to search online was nice, but a gateway to constant connectivity, so it had to go. Music? A nicety, but not essential, and, if I was being completely honest, used mindlessly to distract myself. Everything beyond that was either anathema or actively dangerous to my future, demanding my time and attention and giving me nothing. As I was becoming more mindful, I found myself using it less and less, wanting to be further and further away from it, but needing to begrudgingly bring with me regardless in case of emergency.

So when I heard that advice about moped thieves from my uncle, I went to the supermarket right away, and bought a dumb phone.

It’s barebones. It can do calls, it can do texts. It has a web browser that doesn’t work because, for one, it’s incompatible with the SIM card I bought for it, and for two, the phone can’t seem to manage a wi-fi connection. It’s perfect. With the Nokia in my pocket, I was finally free to cut the cord and leave the smartphone behind.

Not to mention that I love it. There’s a real charm to a phone like this, a goofy charm, like one of those small dogs who’s tongues stick out no matter what — nine clicky-clacky number buttons means you get the full 2004 experience of hitting the seven key four times just to type the letter S, the pre-installed ringtones are garish and silly, and upon disconnecting the charging cable, the phone will gleefully inform you that “The Charger is pluged out” (Not a typo.)

Frankly, in a world full of software predicated on predatory business models and ruthlessly split-tested to be as efficient at extracting every morsel of value from you as it possibly can, it feels genuinely wonderful to use a device so simple and honest. Carrying my smartphone around felt like carrying the One Ring in my pocket; it was always a drain on my willpower, always tempting me to pick the worse option for my time. The dumb phone wants nothing from me. It beeps only when a close friend or family member messages me, and it beeps politely at that, for it serves but one master — me.

In Conclusion

A dumb phone won’t make your internet addiction magically disappear. However, if any of what you’ve just read resonated with you, I recommend you spend twenty quid and get an ancient phone off of Ebay. Do it even just for the novelty factor.

Some final advice:

If you don’t fancy getting a new phone, there are likely ways to lobotomise the phone you have already; google it.
I always recommend putting your dumb phone in the exact pocket you would always pull out your smartphone from, to disrupt the habit.
Most importantly, have a laugh with it— I recommend googling “free nokia ringtones”, installing the gaudiest ones you can find, and then making family and friends call you. Make it a talking point of it — enjoy it, seriously, it’ll mitigate the more maddening bits of it.

That’s all. Thanks for reading.