I'm Phillip Dolitsky and I'm an Addict. And I Need Help
A vulnerable post
“The Thinker”
Holding his chin
thinking
how to
hold the chin
and watch the computer
do
the thinking.
—William Marr, Autumn Window
I used to frequent AA meetings. Thank God I have never had a problem with alcohol, and very rarely have more than sip of gin a few times a month; I am not—nor have I ever been—a drinker. In a future post I will explain what compelled me to attend those holy meetings, but until then, I simply want to take a page from their playbook.
Hi everyone, I’m Phillip Dolitsky and I’m an addict. I’ve been struggling with my addiction for the better part of six years, although it’s gotten noticeably worse over the past two. I am constantly tempted to use and willpower is no match for its allure. I’ve tried it all, nothing seems to help. Despair is on the horizon. I desperately crave the day I can live without its gravitational pull. I want to be better. I need to be better.
That’s not exactly the way Samsung described their S20 FE that I seem to always have in my hand, but such is my relationship with the damn thing. I am terribly addicted to my phone. And addiction here is no hyperbole.
When I first told some friends that I am addicted to my phone, I encountered one of two immediate reactions. The first was “yeah, same” at which point the conversation usually stopped, perhaps allowing for an awkward silence until someone’s phone buzzed. The second reaction was a version of the following: “You, Phil? Addicted to your phone? But you read so many books and write so many articles! How can that be?” That reaction makes me want to either laugh or cry. It perfectly illustrates much of the problem with smartphones and the social media they allow us to access- my Twitter feed, however popular it may be (narrator: it isn’t) shows only one part of my life, namely, the part I wish to show. So you all see my ramblings about war and literature, but you don’t see the countless hours I spend doom-scrolling through [name your app] until the wee hours of the morning. You don’t see the herculean effort I have to make to write an email without getting distracted, nor do you see how terrible my reading habits have been as of late. The addiction is real, hidden behind my gilded Twitter feed and occasional publication.
In addition to making me incredibly distraction prone, having a smartphone and using it as I have has made me incredibly restless. I am always in a rush, often to nowhere. My patience has dropped a thousand-fold. In its place has been toxic productivity, the feeling that if I am not doing something inherently productive at any given moment (such as reading or writing or researching), I am standing still on a downward escalator instead of attempting to walk up it (I was seriously ill with COVID and yet that did nothing to stop me for trying to be productive). And believe me, I don’t wish to quit my smartphone addiction so I can be more productive. On the contrary. There are few things in this world I long for than the ability to peacefully stare out of a window, cigarette in hand (metaphorical, for now), surrounded only by my own thoughts, much like Sherlock Holmes at the end of a tough case. Just to feel present, at home, at peace, at equilibrium—that is what I crave. That that will also make me more productive is both well documented and a welcome side effect.
Our modern world is so heavily reliant upon the latest and greatest tech, that any calls to resist further indulging in the allure of techno-utopianism risks being accused of advocating for Ludditism. In some ways, guilty as charged but only when you understand what the Luddites were on about. The Luddites were not anti-technology. Their only crime was advocating that the worker, the human person, be at the center of life, not the machine, which is a position that up until yesterday was universally acknowledged as being right and just and noble. Machine should serve man, not the other way round. That should not be too much to ask for. It is certainly all I am asking for.
I will spare the reader with all the negative statistics about smartphone and social media usage. We know them to be at least as dangerous as drug use. But, as Sir Roger Scruton argued, they are probably worse. If I light up a Hestia Cigarette, I undoubtedly cause myself bodily harm, but I do nothing to destroy my moral nature. At least smoking, Sir Roger noted, “still leaves the soul in charge and the moral sense undamaged.” Smartphones, on the other hand, provide easy access to infinite content, much of which will undoubtedly destroy the moral nature of the user through social media, pornography and more. I tend to agree with Sir Roger that “it seems to me far more important to keep my children away from television than from ‘environmental tobacco smoke.’"
I end where I started. In every AA meeting, the participants not only share their troubles, but the group helps guide their recovery along the 12 Steps. So far as I can tell, there is no 12 Step Program to help smartphone addicts, although there should be one. Instead I turn to you, my readers, in a humble plea: help me. What has worked for you to break your addiction? Have you completely ditched your smartphone for a dumbphone, an action I seem to contemplate regularly? Are there certain apps that have truly helped curb the addiction? Please let me know what efforts have proved resilient to willpower. Strategies that are the equivalent of “just move the beer to the basement refrigerator” have never worked once in history, and I wish not to hear of their equivalent strategies in the phone realm either.
I waited to send this post until right before Passover. Perhaps the central theme of the Passover holiday at large, the Seder in particular, is the recognition that we all are in the grips of a personal Egypt. That we are all slaves to a stronger, more distracting power that steers our attention away from our values and from God. But redemption is possible, however unfathomable it may be standing in front of a raging sea. So it is here.
Wish me luck on the journey to a happier, healthier mind, free from the death grip smartphones hold us in.