Do you remember the first iPhone?

I got one for my birthday in 2008, and I found it to be a truly remarkable device. 

Need to send a quick email? It had you covered. 

Not sure how to get somewhere? No worries, just pull up Maps. 

Want to listen to music? All your songs were right there. 

It even had a flashlight! 

As Jonathan Haidt points out in his thought-provoking book, “The Anxious Generation,” the first generation smartphone was actually quite simple by today’s standards—a “digital Swiss Army knife.” And it was not originally designed to be addictive or monopolize attention. 

That all changed in the coming years with the emergence of push notifications, third-party apps, social media, and the front-facing camera. By the early 2010s, our smartphones had transformed from Swiss Army knives, which we pulled out when we needed a tool, to digital slot machines, which leverage variable rewards to make us addicted. 

Haidt’s book focuses on the catastrophic effects this transformation is having on the mental health of young people, a conversation we all need to be having. But for our purposes today, I’d actually like to concentrate on another group—the adults. And the question I’d like to pose to you this: Is your phone a Swiss Army knife or a slot machine?

I suspect we’d all like to answer the former. After all, who wants to admit you’re being psychologically hacked by app developers who are incentivized to monopolize as much of your time and attention as possible? But if we’re being honest with ourselves, I think there’s a lot more of the latter going on. 

That was certainly the case for me when I read Cal Newport’s book “Digital Minimalism” a few years back. Newport’s philosophy of digital engagement is quite simple:

1. Run a ruthless cost/benefit analysis of all your digital engagement

2. Focus your engagement on a small number of carefully selected online activities that strongly support your values

3. Happily miss out on everything else

After conducting an audit of my digital engagement, I was shocked by A) the total amount of time I was spending on my phone and B) the incredibly low ROI I was getting from that engagement.  In response, I deactivated all of my social media accounts except for LinkedIn, removed the web browser from my phone, and turned off all push notifications.

What kind of phone was I left with? A somewhat boring but useful Swiss Army knife that is there for me when I need a tool but not when I need to be entertained. I’ve made a lot of dumb decisions as an adult, but this was not one of them. I might be slightly less “connected” now in a certain sense, but I’m also far less distracted, anxious, and insecure. 

My goal here isn’t to promote a Luddite mentality, or to shame anyone into immediate, sweeping changes. I would just challenge you to do the same thing Newport challenged me to do:

1. Objectively evaluate the time you’re spending on your phone

2. List out both the costs and the benefits of that engagement

3. Make intentional decisions about future engagement that are in line with your values and goals—not Meta’s, Google’s, or TikTok’s.

Our phones can still be amazing Swiss Army knives when we get control of them. But when we don’t, we end up thoughtlessly ceding more and more of our precious time and attention to digital slot machines that rob us of the richness life has to offer.

A thought from a fellow traveler

I can’t thank you enough for the thoughtful responses that flow in after each newsletter. It’s by far my favorite part of this journey so far. In my previous newsletter, I contrasted finite game thinking with infinite game thinking, and one thoughtful reader applied the principle to politics. Here are his exact reflections:

Each election cycle, politicians force their constituents to play a “finite” game – where we’re told the stakes are as high as they’ve ever been and “democracy hangs in the balance.” But perhaps the most skilled & effective political leaders (Lincoln, Washington, etc.) were best at thinking of their role as part of an infinite game – where tough, unpopular decisions were required in order for the country to “win” in the long run.

I’d like to believe it’s possible for an infinite game leader to emerge in modern-day politics. Lord knows we need it. But it feels like we’re a long way from that reality right now.  

Carry on fellow travelers, we’ll talk soon.