By Jim Hagarty
2016
A friend of mine is a confirmed luddite. He is not impressed by most modern technology, especially all the little devices we like to use to make our lives better.
Luddites made their mark in England in the first part of the 19th century when they tore apart new machines that were being installed in factories. They could see that the automation would allow for their replacement by low-skilled workers at lower wages. The revolts were so bad, it took the military to put them down.
My friend is not quite so violent, but maybe he is a bit, in his own way. He assaults me with logic and I have to confess, it hurts.
We were together at a function last week when I pulled out my iPhone. He started off by asking me innocent-sounding questions about it, as though he might go out and buy one himself. He was setting a trap; I fell right into it.
“Are you addicted to it?” he wanted to know. The question set me back and I immediately rejected his suggestion.
“No, not at all,” I said. “I just love it.”
And I do love it, but all week his words have haunted me. And I have to admit he is right. I am addicted to the little machine.
There first indication he had hit a nerve came when I started getting defensive. No addict likes their addiction to be pointed out to them.
But my friend wasn’t done with me. He was persistent. He wanted to know why I loved it so much and every time I explained a feature of it, how wanted to know how that improved my life.
I finally thought of a parallel.
“It’s like a Swiss army knife,” I said. “It’s everything I need.”
I went on to explain how I can take photos, write notes, send text messages and emails, check my bank balances and transfer money from one account to another, buy and sell stocks, do a brief audio recording when I am writing a song and don’t want to forget the new tune, shoot videos, browse the Internet, read all the news that’s fit to print, watch movies on Netflix, watch TV news programs and sports events live, use a calculator and a timer, set my alarm clock, write new posts for this blog, get reminders of upcoming appointments and the list just goes on and on.
My phone has replaced a lot of other, bigger machines that I used to use to do all these things.
When my Dad was young on the farm, he and his father would spend days gathering and preparing enough firewood to heat the old house all winter. It was a major job. When the oil furnace was invented, Dad was first in line to buy one. He never got over not having to go to the bush for wood. I think he might have been addicted to his furnace.
My friend seemed to be somewhat satisfied with the army knife comparison. Maybe he has one.
But yes, it is true. I am addicted to my smartphone. And like all addicts, I will declare that it’s my life and if I want to throw it away looking at a little computer screen in my hand, I will.
Is it interfering with my life? Maybe. I don’t go out as much as I used to. Not watching much TV any more.
For now, it’s fun and keeps this retired old guy entertained all day long. Maybe some day I will have to enter some sort of program or detox. Hopefully that day is a bit down the road yet.
For now, I will Google “smartphone addiction” on my smartphone and study up all about it.
