The stats paint the dependency: The USA has 311 million people, 311 million personal computers, and 328 million active cell phones.
Another stat underscoring digital reliance: six billion cell phones on a planet with seven billion people. Even impoverished Bangladesh — a nation of 150 million with 26 percent living below its poverty line of $2 per day in earnings — has 100 million phones, two for every three people. Italy has three phones for every two people, while Russians statistically own the most — two per person.
Even the humble television set, a single-use device previously found in 99 percent of American homes but today found in only 97, seems omnipresent.
Like it or not, this stuff surrounds us. Whether talking about phones, PCs, or TVs, our heads have become signal towers — and there are times I detest (and resent) it.
The life I live today is far different than how my family navigated the weeks, months, and years of my upbringing. Since the more we invent to simply our lives, the more complicated it becomes — I often reflect back on those “good old days” and fantasize about chucking technology and reclaiming the basics of a calmer, more orderly life.
This, of course, is a fool’s folly because life this day is basically unconnectable. Everything seems to rely on digital communication in one form or another — and things seem to be steadily getting worse, not better.
As an example of how extreme (and silly) businesses have gotten, two weeks ago I was shopping and couldn’t check out because the store’s computer-driven registers were down. When I suggested they just add up the prices of my few items and let me pay in cash, the clerk’s face blanched in horror.
“No,” she said, “we can’t do that.”
When I explained how easy it would be, and that they could keep the change, she resisted such a perilous thought. I wondered if “carry over” math is still taught in school’s but did not criticize. Instead I left my items and walked out. Sale lost. Reason? Absence of logic.
Whenever paralysis trumps common sense, I am not a fellow long to stay. This is why I believe the next big terrorist strike will be a cyber attack. Cripple the networks, cripple the mind. When grids go down, people freeze — clueless to adapt.
In the old days I lived for the occasional stamped letter delivered by the postman. Today I hope one of 50 emails is worth reading and wish when I typed UNSUBSCRIBE a human on the other end cared enough to follow through.
I also used to enjoy the mystery of a ringing telephone. People were on the other end, not computers. Now I screen my calls and rarely answer an unrecognized number, which means a high percentage of calls roll to voice mail. Computers don’t leave messages. They just call you back, regardless what list you register your number.
The morning paper used to be my eager portal of new learning, a thick missive of real news, written by professional writers trademarked by trustworthy, fact-based reporting. Knowledge jumped from the newspaper, transferred from the page to the fingertips, to the bloodstream, to the mind. There was something magic about printer’s ink.
Today the magic has evaporated. These days the newspaper is thin with little surprise and no longer reveals the “news.” It’s value has been supplanted by a tidal wave of internet haste — a landfill of half-truths, rumors, and junk.
I had wanted to unplug for a long time, at least the past year or more, and finally did. I unplugged for a week — and now that the week is over I can honestly say . . . I sure do miss it.
Here are the four hurdles the dopamine-addicted mind goes through when dealing with technology withdrawal:
- Internal conflict. A relentless assault of self-justifying reasons why it’s okay to get back in digital touch, each tempting you with a coaxing finger, whispering for you to return to the safety and comfort of the digital bosom.
- Curiosity. People who shape their lives into ones of relentless touch, but suddenly are alone with none, will find the darkness of no social reaffirmation extremely uncomfortable.
- Stress. The mind imposes “What if” worry about missing big news, both good and bad. The tease of not knowing is a very exotic dancer. “What if I miss something?” screams.
- Boredom. Digital technology creates the addiction to “fidgety busy.” When forced to fill time by looking around and thinking, taking action, reading, or some other “old school” solution, technology addicts are at a loss what to do. The digital crutch is gone — now what?
Even though I was anxiously looking forward to unplugging, dealing with it was still a struggle, especially the first 72 hours. If felt like a flashback decades ago to stopping cigarettes, a forefront-of-the-mind kind of distraction.
After surviving those first three days I sort of enjoyed being unplugged — and felt the enjoyment increasing by the day.
At five days the worst was behind me. Filling time with more fulfilling tasks or activities was fun and easy, and, at times, inspiring. Plus I felt better. Happier. More upbeat. In control. Sharper.
By the end of my unplugged week I was fiercely proud of my immersion and protected it, ruing that it would end when life forced re-immersion into the septic chicanery of digital turbulence. When the string was broken by a blaring TV, the noxious noise hit like a dentist drilling a nerve. Nothing about the TV’s sight or sound was appealing.
I am not much of a TV person and need the computer more than the phone or texting, but I work for myself and am reliant on today’s technology to earn a living according to mainstream expectations.
And so I do . . . but I shall always worship the silence.