Screen addiction. Information overload. Brain rot. Terms that, if you’ve spent any time online, you’re probably familiar with. And, if you’re like me, terms that are probably pretty applicable. It’s not unusual for me to spend upwards of ten hours on my phone per day. Assuming I’m awake for about 16 hours a day, that’s over 60% of my day. Yikes. That kind of statistic for any type of activity is concerning.
Your mum isn’t the only one on your case about “that damn phone,” with science telling us that this kind of screen time might be cause for concern. “Internet addiction” (IA) is the commonly used phrase relating to excessive screen time. However, there’s no real consensus on its diagnosis, definition, or measurement, and the World Health Organisation (WHO) doesn’t consider IA to be a disorder. It’s also not clear whether “addiction” is an apt descriptor for excessive phone time, since the levels of severity of use are less than traditional, substance-based addictions. You know very well what I’m talking about.
What is clear, however, are the negative implications associated with excessive screen time. Adolescents identified by one study as having IA possessed higher risks of comorbidities (having more than one medical condition) including depression, anxiety, and stress. Another study found adult men self-identifying with IA presented patterns of dopamine receptors in the brain similar to cocaine addiction. This kind of pattern can result in increasingly heightened reward-seeking behaviour for that sweet, sweet dopamine hit (looking at you Subway Surfers).
Spooked by the science and chasing that Y2K aesthetic, I invested in a flip phone. The plan was simple: spend a week digitally detoxing by swapping the smartphone for a forest green Nokia 2660, courtesy of Dick Smith. For ease of reading (and because your attention span has been fried by TikTok, let’s be real), this article has been split into handy sections chronicling the good, the bad, and the ugly of my week with the Nokia 2660. Let’s commence.
The Good
First impressions were pretty positive. The phone arrived quickly, and the box included a pair of wired headphones (Apple and Samsung could never). Flipping the phone open for the first time felt like healing my inner 2000s child. Snapping it shut was even better – watch out, Blair Waldorf. The phone also came with an SD card that, with the help of a totally legitimate YouTube to Mp3 website, allowed me to download a couple of songs. There’s something inherently cool about listening to Chappell Roan on a phone that looks straight out of 2007.
Without a doubt, the best part of owning a flip phone were the reactions from other people. Whipping it out of my pocket was a sure-fire way to make people smile. During a gig at Yours, I brought it out to film the dance floor and was met with gasps and laughter. The design of a flip phone is just intrinsically charming. People were eager to get in on the video just to see what it looked like to be filmed on a flip phone. I’ve never felt so popular.
The Nokia was a fantastic icebreaker, and highly recommendable as a way to initiate conversation with people. The photos I captured with my new friends were a highlight. There's something about pixelation that brings an otherwise dull photo to life. Make no mistake, the camera quality is not great – like, at all. But if you’re willing to forsake quality for pure vibes, the Nokia 2660 does the job. Mirror selfies are primed and ready to be uploaded onto MySpace.
I would be amiss to not mention perhaps the best feature of the Nokia: Snake. With literally nothing else available on the phone to provide short-term entertainment, Snake became the main attraction. And I got so fucking good at Snake, y’all. Instead of doom-scrolling to pass the time, I was guiding a tiny digital reptile around the screen which was arguably just as banal but much more rewarding. I never managed to beat the game, but within a week I got pretty damn close.
Speaking of, doom-scrolling is much harder to do on a flip phone. The 2660’s ability to connect to the internet is zilch – hence its appeal to those looking to cold-turkey being online. Access to the internet was limited to my laptop, making for a much less addicting experience since the desktop layout of apps like Instagram and YouTube are just plain unappetising. My non-uni related screen time tanked. I went from ten hours a day to just under two. The flip phone may be an extreme switch, but if you’re looking to immediately slash your screen time, it works.
Finally, owning a flip phone just felt so much more fun than a smartphone. Perhaps it was the superiority complex of appearing just like every early 2000s movie cool girl. Or perhaps it was owning a phone which flipped and had big, pressable buttons. Rather than a device that was designed to suck you into its glass screen, I carried a conversation piece in my pocket. You really have to experience flipping open your phone to take a call to know what I’m talking about – the vibes are unmatched. Either way, I loved the idea of being a flip phone owner. The reality, not so much.
The Bad
While the idea of owning a flip phone was seductive, the reality of navigating life with one was decidedly less sexy. The Nokia’s inability to connect to the internet presented, in an increasingly online world, some difficulties. Going out clubbing without the ability to order an Uber home was hardly reassuring, and probably sounds like a safety nightmare to most femme-presenting people. Being so off-grid started to feel more and more like a vulnerability as time went on. As a chronic planner, having no access to things like Google maps, a menu pdf, or online reviews was a special, digital version of my personal hell.
Communication was also noticeably harder. The only way to keep in contact with my friends and family was through text, which is probably not most people’s preferred method of communication. And I cannot stress how much slower it is to text using a phone keypad opposed to a full keyboard. Perhaps if I was five years older and had my tweens to practise on a keypad I would have been better prepared.
Sadly, I have only ever used a screen to type, so the transition to buttons was not pretty. Texting my mum, “On new flip phone, talk later” required me standing in place on campus for two minutes, fighting with the keypad layout. It was giving boomer, but infinitely more embarrassing because I’m not even old. No doubt if I’d kept at it I could have brought my keypad skills up to speed, but the whole experience was so demoralising that I kinda just gave up. Once you’ve known the on-screen keyboard, it’s hard to go back.
Plans are so much more likely to be made on Messenger or Instagram these days, so texting felt like the virtual equivalent of Oliver Twist: cap in hand, begging for a hangout. Pair this with the texting speed of a Victorian orphan and I was on a fast track to FOMO, pushing me back onto my laptop and boosting my social media hours – sorta defeating the whole purpose of owning a flip phone in the first place. Is it Black Mirror of me to say I started to miss my smartphone?
The Ugly
The counter-culturalist in me hates to admit this, but I don’t think flip phones and I are meant to be. Respect to those who do. To use one is to actively reject more convenient, more advanced, and more addictive technology. The perils of a smartphone are also its strengths; the internet’s wealth of information, music, and utilities are only a tap or a scroll away. There’s so much tech wrapped up in our little glass rectangles that going without one becomes a hindrance once the novelty’s worn off. I use my smartphone as a notepad, a GPS, and a planner as well as a way to communicate; turning to the flip-side meant forfeiting all these too.
The way the world is moving also makes going flip-mode much trickier. We’re becoming increasingly cashless (bet you didn’t even realise the whole of campus is cashless), restaurants are starting to use QR codes rather than waitstaff, and having access to your email on hand is almost expected. The world is changing, and to use a flip phone felt like digitally digging my heels into the ground. She was verging on Luddite. Not cute.
To top this whole experience off, as if it could sense my aversion to becoming a full-time flip phone user, the Nokia 2660 died within a week of me acquiring it. So much for the glory days of the indestructible Nokia. I’m not entirely sure why this happened. The battery suddenly refused to hold charge for more than ten minutes, and I chose to take it as a sign from the universe. The 2660 now lives in my desk drawer: a sad, green reminder of the time I attempted (and failed) to go against the grain, to oppose an increasingly online world, and to fight my screen addiction.
But still, according to the WHO, I’m not technically addicted, so I guess I’m in the clear. Back to Insta Reels I go.