The Associated Press recently reported that a survey of cell phone users revealed some shocking results. It turns out that six in ten cell phone users find it annoying to be in the presence of other cell phone users. Nonetheless, eight in ten users find cell phones to be "convenient," a boon to their busy lives.
I am not nostalgic, nor do I fear an impending Orwellian "negative" utopia. I am in favor of stem cell research and increased NASA funding; technology does not scare me. I'm writing this column on an iBook laptop. Cell phones, however, are an exception to the rule. They are an integral part of the modern world, and each day brings more of the devilish things into our pockets. For example, Spain is estimated to have more cell phones than people (around 40 million) in the next several years. Across the Western (and Eastern, for that matter) hemispheres, Vodafone, Cingular, and their competitors are selling countless phones every day.
So what's wrong with a little convenience, right? If you've got a phone, ask yourself why? "I can talk for free to my family in the evenings," you're probably thinking. Maybe, "It's just for emergencies," or, "I don't want to miss a party/meeting/social event!" I don't dispute any of those reasons, because once upon a time I also had a cell phone (after four months I gave it up). No landline phone can provide you with the mobility and easy accessibility of a mobile phone. There are some creative plans out there that fit particular communications lifestyles for less money than other options. But you see, these are the problems.
To begin with, don't ever let any Bowdoin student with a cell phone tell you that they're short on cash. You're talking to someone who is spending (unless their parents are subsidizing their luxury) roughly twenty dollars or more each month on cell phones. To put it in other terms, that's roughly three six-packs of Shipyard Export each month for a second phone line. That comes out to over 200 hundred bottles per year spent on communications beyond the already subsidized local phone line and high-speed internet.
Still more importantly, cell phones cut down the individual privacy of their owners. You'll undoubtedly protest, "But you can turn it off when you don't want calls!" Of course you could, but who would? Who really turns off their cell phone every time that they're looking for a quiet moment? And more so, who really wants to have to remember that prerequisite? Before mobile phones, driving was a private enterprise, limited to the passengers of a car. When you left your house (and phone), you were unreachable, inaccessible, limited to your thoughts and those of your immediate companions. That's what's scariest about the cell phone, that it opens each of us to nearly unlimited access and expands our moments as social beings.
What do we fear so much? Is it any wonder that we feel stressed when we leave less and less time to be unavailable to the world? With our cell phones strapped on tight, our computers notifying us as soon as we receive email, and instant messages popping up every minute on the minute, we're rarely alone with ourselves anymore.
The cell phone isn't the only culprit, and it is a mistake to blame it too strenuously. A careful, responsible user who really did leave it sitting in a drawer at home most times might actually avoid the stress of being eternally available. No, this has been coming for a long time, and the shrinking of private, intimate alone time comes along with each innovation. What we need to remember, however, is "how we got along before cell phones," and to allow ourselves freedom from our social network, the concerns of work, and the rest of the world. We need to protect our alone time and remember how to communicate without the aid of text messages and "smilies."