Before school began this year, I was on track for buying my first smartphone. I had an old school Nokia flip phone that was usable but falling apart. The AT&T store only offered three “new” flip-phone models, and they were all bulkier and less attractive than my Nokia. There were plenty of smartphones to choose from, and many — sans data plan — would have been virtually free. Almost all my friends had converted to smartphones at some point; maybe it was my time, too.
Although I knew maintaining a smartphone would be expensive, when I was at the AT&T store and was told exactly how much one would cost, my enthusiasm chilled considerably. I could afford it, but were the proposed benefits of a smartphone really worth hundreds of dollars a year? I left the store empty-handed, intending to think things over for a couple days.
Ultimately, I figured that I could get by fine with my Nokia. And perhaps my life is better without a smartphone. Let’s examine some situations where a smartphone is supposedly beneficial. I often find myself in thrift stores wanting to get a better sense of an item’s value. With a smartphone, I can just consult Google. Without one, I will call a family member or friend who has Internet access. It’s always good to have a chat with those close to you, even if just for a minute. Or take this summer, when I found myself lost wandering the streets of European towns and cities. With a smartphone, I would open a GPS app and continue on. Without one, I had to ask strangers for directions. Everyone helped me – some told me about interesting places to check out along the way, others started up conversations that lasted anywhere from a couple minutes to many hours. And when I actually needed Internet access, I would find an Internet cafe and restrict my time on the web to only the most essential tasks. I didn’t travel to another continent to visit ESPN.com, after all.
These are just a few instances where, if I had the latest technology, I would have missed out on valuable human interactions. Over time, if I forgo enough of these opportunities, might my overall ability to interact with people diminish? There is an abundance of research, for instance, on how modern technologies undermine fundamental human traits like empathy. Often, this effect is subtle. Complicating matters is the fact that we are rarely, if ever, far enough removed from modern technologies to realize how they transform us. It took me a summer without a computer to realize that, whenever I am in a room with a laptop and Internet connection, my life changes. I stay inside more, I go to bed later, I read fewer books, I am not as willing to socialize with others. Cable TV has the same effect, and having quick access to both devices at home is nightmarish.
My laptop broke before coming to Stanford, and I almost didn’t buy a new one for these very reasons (not to mention that the cluster computers are more than adequate). And yet, I bought an HP. Why? I don’t even know. I am certain my life would have been more fulfilling without one. Of course, the technologies I’ve listed can foster interpersonal communication, too. Perhaps the best strategy is moderation, yet in practice this is difficult to achieve. If I were to purchase a smartphone, I worry that I might recognize the ways in which it is negatively affecting my life, but ultimately I would be addicted, unable to act on that realization. That is why — for now — I’m a proud owner of a Nokia 6350.
Want to buy Adam’s new laptop? Caution – it’s not a Mac. If interested, email him at [email protected].