Flip Phones in New York

Blaming the damn iphone is getting tired.

We rarely predict what it is that will be missed about the present. Five years ago, the idea of bringing back the flip phone may have seemed like cultural insanity. Why not forge forward into the light, into individuality, into convenience? And yet, video after online video attempts to rid itself of ennui by locking away its devices for a week at a time. The Luddite teens of New York take it further, abandoning their smartphones and hosting strictly in-person meetings every weekend come rain or shine. There is a generational aspiration to be rid of the lethargy brought alongside the overwhelming connection of the Internet. We wish to live as the Luddites do, who, in their weekly retro-utopia, find community that may seem scarce in an increasingly fragmented world. Almost all fail to live in this way.

In many ways, it’s unsurprising that the Luddites are young. The group consists of older teens in high school, still bound by ties cemented through coming-of-age. One thing the education system provides is a tangible community of peers, forcefully integrated, which becomes less available after graduation. Throughout our school years, along with naivety and openness to connection, we have access to relationships that are intense and accessible in a way they may never be again. Because of their youth, the Luddites’ lives are materially interwoven, whether or not they regularly text one another. As we grow, individual identity gets the better of us, and choices become overwhelming. Togetherness is no longer a cultural priority, and is left in the dust as we pursue success in a personal form, rather than in a communal way. In such a hyper-individualistic world, we lose the incentive, as well as the opportunity, to prioritise interpersonal relationships, which begin to move online.

The New York-ness of the movement strikes me as well. Perhaps this movement could not have happened anywhere else in America, steeped in car culture. For the Luddites in New York, though, transport to meetings in Prospect Park is no problem, with options such as the subway or the bus. Failing that, walking is always an option. As well as having well-developed public transport, New York is cited as the most walkable city in the country, making it the most conducive to the birth of new communities, particularly for young people who may be ineligible or otherwise unable to drive, and the cost of fuel separates poorer people from communities as well. The privileges granted to cars over people deepens societal fragments, isolating us and encouraging us to confine ourselves to our homes.

More than that, through car culture and capitalism we are actively deterred from entering spaces that are not our home. Ray Oldenburg’s theory of third places comes to mind; simply, a place to go that is neither home nor a place of work or study. Perhaps a café, a gym, a theatre. What is noticeable about these places is that it becomes difficult to name any that don’t charge. Parks, yes, and libraries; both good options. The Luddites choose to utilise the park for their meetings. But what else? Where else are we granted the right just to be that is truly accessible? Even libraries as we know them are beginning to come to an end, after the UK government quietly began commissioning private companies to run them. If we were all to become Luddites, there would be nowhere for us to go.

So we don’t become Luddites. The escape from the smartphone as a cultural necessity, along with pursuit of tangible connection, have begun to be perceived as a point of privilege, a criticism the real Luddites received online after the New York Times published their article revealing the movement. Perhaps to some extent the privilege is there, as we feel the need to turn to the Internet as a pseudo-third place, settling for the watery feeling inherent to relationships held online. As the Internet opens up the world to us, so, too, does it distance us from our neighbourhoods, from local events, from the local park. What’s missing is the feeling. As relationships of all kinds play out over text messages, our bonds and communities begin to lose their colour. But it’s inescapable; our cultural obsession with individuality makes it so.

What we envy about the Luddites is their freedom to revel in community and in reality, which becomes more difficult as the grasp of capitalism sets in as we grow older. Ludditism isn’t just about the rejection of technology; it’s about embracing togetherness. I don’t believe technology should be abandoned, and I will not be joining the ranks discarding their phones. Even so, there is an undeniable and intentional shift away from palpable solidarity. It is becoming easier for us to draw apart, making it more important than ever to maintain community.