Reach out and touch someone
A closer group of people had rarely been more alone.
There we were, six of us, representing three generations, sitting in the sunroom, each presumably with sentiments to express, questions to ask, and stories to tell. Yet, instead of eye-contact, conversation and connection, each was glued to his or her smartphone, one engrossed in a tiny cat chasing big dog video, one reading an obliquely racist Facebook posting from a former college classmate (whom I really should get around to unfriending), another exchanging teenage hormone-infused text messages…
No matter what the experts are telling us, our multi-tasking abilities are quite overrated.
Engaging our ears to another’s speech while our eyes are fixated on streams of bite-size digital content is akin to sucking and blowing at the same time. It ain’t gonna happen.
But it wasn’t always this way.
Around the time the first consumer telephones made their way into our lives, American writer Ambrose Bierce lamented the fact that they actually bring undesirable people closer: “TELEPHONE n. An invention of the devil which abrogates some of the advantages of making a disagreeable person keep his distance.”
In the 1970s and ’80s, in an effort to boost long-distance revenues, Bell lauded the unique ability of their devices to create moments of genuine connection and emotion. Those of you old enough will recall their syrupy (yet brilliant) “Reach Out And Touch Someone” TV advertising campaign. Moving images of grandmothers listening to toddlers’ first words prompted consumers to place costly calls with much greater frequency.
The latest mutation in the evolution of telephone technology, however, might be the most antisocial apparatus in history. Unlike the telephone, and contrary to the fears of Bierce or the aspirations of Bell, the smartphone is a device of diversion, distraction, and ultimately disconnection.
The epidemic is upon us.
The tool that once brought us closer now drives us inevitably apart. Examples are rampant. A university instructor friend exasperates daily as she looks up from her notes at students staring into their crotches with silly smirks on their illuminated faces. When I was in school, a student staring at his crotch for extended periods of time would not be smirking, but would rather be overwhelmed by feelings of anxiety and regret.
Even that most primeval and meaningful moment – that of the shared meal, be it at home or in restaurants – has been ravaged by the smartphone. The waiter… waits… to take the order while the customer holds up a distasteful index finger and continues his life or death blathering. Family members rush from the table to hail each beep, ring and vibration from the never-far-from-reach handset. “Is that yours or mine!!!???” as tones are frantically differentiated. Romantic couples that ought to be staring into candle-lit eyes, instead scan streams of tweets, physically together yet emotionally deserted.
Something’s gotta be done.
At our home, we are embarking upon an experiment of smartphone-free zones and events. Sunroom, mealtime, and the binge watching of our newest favourite BBC crime drama are the objectives. I’ll let you know how it goes. In the meantime, please share your thoughts and your smartphone stories.
Do you agree? If so, what are you and your family doing to improve connections and to reach out and touch someone?