It’s safe to say that most of Gen Z would tell you that too much screen time has in one way or another badly affected their life. Whether it’s doom-scrolling on TikTok rather than doing your essay or staying up until 2am watching YouTube video essays on the end of James Charles’ career, most of us have been in the firing line of an over-consumption of media, where we felt no impulse but to consume. To rid themselves of their dopamine addiction, many of my peers have considered either quitting social media, un-downloading the apps from their smartphone or completely converting to a dumbphone. I opted for the latter.

For the past one and a half months I have been somehow surviving in this day and age with a Nokia 2660 Flip Phone (in the colour skylight blue). My transition to the dumb phone wasn’t entirely intentional. At the start of this year I had an exchange program lined up, and prior to these travels I was going through a rough patch of immense stress and anxiety. Some of the stress was out of my control, but how I was dealing with it — or not dealing with it — was through distractions delivered via Instagram reels and Youtube videos. I decided that I would quit cold turkey when I came back Down Under in the second half of the year. I didn’t initially deliver on the promise, but after my phone was stolen in Lisbon and my old iPhone SE broke down, the previously-purchased flip phone became a godsend considering my post-Euro-travel bank account. So, nearly two months in, what is life actually like with a flip phone?

The transition to a dumbphone was surprisingly easy. The old habit of being on a phone for texting or other convenience reasons was forgotten, and the mental health perks to this new way of life, particularly being less consistently stimulated, became apparent. I never missed the feeling of being technologically stimulated, but for the first few weeks it did feel irregular. My levels of stress and anxiety decreased as there was no Facebook to check when waiting for the bus, or Messenger group chats to respond to when I became uncomfortable with the silence. 

Rather, these pauses when on-the-go became enjoyable and are, what I believe to be, a catalyst to the less anxiety-ridden mentality where my feelings and thoughts are now welcomed. As an overthinker, it initially seems daunting to not have a diversion from your thoughts, but the opposite has been the case for me. The more time you have to think, the less extraneous thinking you do. As stereotypical as it may sound, it is true that by disconnecting from the outlet of intangible media, the more tenacious your connection to the tangible environment around you.

These benefits to my mental health may be of no surprise to you, but what are the downsides?

The biggest initial implication and consequence of this new lifestyle was, and continues to be, having no instant music. Discovering and listening to music has always been a major source of joy and comfort for me, and I could easily consider this as a core facet of my identity. I had never seen my consumption of music to be a part of the problem, but after not having this accessible listening when driving to work, on my way to uni, or when getting ready, it became clear that it too was an unnecessary inhibitor for my quietude. My habit of always listening to music was preventing me from simply existing without being prompted by a ‘mood’ or ‘genre’ from an artist or album. Although I still occasionally listen to music whilst cleaning the kitchen, the practice has become purposeful rather than habitual. 

However, the main inconveniences of the flip phone are the day-to-day services which one naturally has access to on an advanced device. There are of course small daily tasks that are inconvenient, such as not being able to respond to uni emails on-the-go or not being able to order through the QR code at cafes. A more difficult hurdle is no longer being able to use e-banking and instantly transfer money, resulting in a lot of calls and extra budgeting. On the brightside, being extra conscious of my daily spending account has helped me save from overspending. 

Many of these interactions with in-charge-personnel, including the ANU, affirmed a distinct cultural assumption that one is always accessible; how else could we function without technology? Everyone assumed I had a smartphone, and not everything was resolvable without one. A concern became apparent; a future where I am dependent on and expected to own a piece of equipment which must be superseded every few years, seemed innately bitter and unsustainable for the societal or autonomous condition. 

In regards to those around me, the biggest complaint has been the texting issue. It is clear that my dumbphone (which is without WhatsApp or Messenger) has become more painful to my peers than to myself. However, thanks to my laptop it became habitual to message friends through these apps when I could, and ‘sign-off’ when I was on foot; if they needed me they would text me and expect a call back (typing on a numerically-padded buttons is painful for the sender and receiver). 

Yet over time, this felt like a cop-out. As a student, my laptop is quite accessible, and the amount I check Messenger and WhatsApp has increased since my downgrade. My screen time on streaming services such as Netflix and Binge, as well as YouTube (which I am a sucker for) also increased. Additionally, although my time on social media has significantly decreased, I am still checking Instagram and Facebook once a day. The purpose of my dumbphone was to have less distractions in my life and make time for means of livelihood which I actually enjoyed. My continued usage of such media initially frustrated me – why couldn’t I quit cold-turkey?

However, I have concluded that fully abstaining from any form of instant-media is not a pragmatic reality. Technological media is and will continue to be a part of our lives regardless of our wishes. Realistically, I have reached my goal of less anxiety and stress, and I have spent more of my time on self-fulfilling hobbies. The appeal for this new way of life with less instant-media surprisingly turned out to be rooted in a new ease of the day-to-day; where accessibility to distractions in moments of silence has not been an option. This removal has made me more conscious of my actions when consuming any form of media, instant or not.

All our lives now revolve around convenience, from smart e-banking, to quick international messaging, to the sharing of thoughts and feelings through a TikTok at the touch of a button. Our culture is being moulded to slot into this new way of life, and when it sets in, I’m unsure as to whether living with a dumbphone would be possible in the next 10 years or so. But these few weeks have also affirmed that the rising of a more technologically-interconnected lifestyle is not a framework leaving us anytime soon, nor is it something we can resist. We must learn how to balance this technical aspect of life without suffering from its imposition. 

I left behind my smartphone because I had an addiction or, at the least, a dependency on social media. This switch in my life is something I am quite grateful for and is not something I am considering changing in the foreseeable future. However, given the integration and quick access of technological-media from many avenues, it’s safe to say that converting to a dumbphone will not curb your social media or dopamine addiction, nor is it sustainable. But it may be a good place to start.