Editor's note: This column is part of 'Why Do We?' — a weekly video series hosted by culture expert Martin Lindstrom that untangles unique quirks of human behavior. Click here for the full series page.
When the iPhone came out in 2005, I wasn't among the first in line, but I did buy one. Two weeks later, surprised that my new device was doing exactly what it was designed to do—addicting me—I replaced it with a no-frills Nokia, which I used for the next thirteen years.
Then, on January 15, 2018, I put my Nokia in a drawer forever. Why? Because I'm haunted by the image of myself looking at my phone to the exclusion of everything else around me. Mostly I remember resenting that a cartoonish cube of metal and glass had taken control of my life. The "endless and proper work" of paying attention is an essential part of the work I do. Why would I use something that compromised my ability to be great at my job?
Even though I'm currently in my sixth year without a phone, I decided to reach out to Nir Eyal, named by The M.I.T. Technology Review as, "The Prophet of Habit-Forming Technology," to try to get to the bottom of phone addiction and understand why we check our phones even though we haven't received any notifications.
Eyal is the author of Hooked: How to Build Habit-Forming Products and Indistractable: How to Control Your Attention and Choose Your Life, selling over 1 million copies in over 30 languages.
The conversation proved fascinating — despite our differences, I was amazed to find an astounding number of similarities. I also came away having learned a few tricks that I still use to this day.
Say, for example, you're at a business dinner and one of the patrons is constantly looking down at their phone. Instead of ignoring them, Nir's strategy is to confront them with concern: ask them in a sincere way: "I can see that you're on the phone a lot – is everything okay – is there anything I can do to help?"
As we dug deeper towards the root question that inspired our sit down, Nir's explanations brought me back to my own decision to get rid of my phone. Our phones are a form of armor. A shield. A light saber. A one-handed defense against our own fear, anxiety, aloneness, self-consciousness, stillness, sadness, and insignificance. A notification means someone cares. It means that we're important.
I get it.
And yet, when I'm walking along the street and someone glued to his or her phone crashes into me, followed by a quick, rueful "Sorry..." I can't help feeling an irrational rage. "Don't you understand what you're doing?" I want to say. Is this really how you want to spend your one wild and precious life?
Uncommon Knowledge
Newsweek is committed to challenging conventional wisdom and finding connections in the search for common ground.
Newsweek is committed to challenging conventional wisdom and finding connections in the search for common ground.
About the writer
Martin Lindstrom is the author of several New York Times best-selling books, including "Buyology," "Small Data," "Brandwashed," and "The Ministry ... Read more
