Life Without a Mobile Phone

I am accustomed to working quietly in my office, and when a colleague enters, I ask her to be quiet until I finish. Some prefer to come and go later, but one told me she would remain silent until I was done.

Indeed, I worked quietly for a long time until I felt as though I were alone in the office room. I turned around to check, only to be shocked to see her staring directly at me. I said, “In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful, why are you silent and staring at me like a statue?” She replied that it was fine. I told her, “You are terrifying when you watch me like that. Pick up your phone and continue with social media.” She answered, “I don’t need to do that.”

This incident led me to question her at length: How? How can a person today remain silent for a long time without doing anything? I was surprised when she said that at home, she sits for hours without a phone, television, or even a book; instead, she remains silent for long periods in her room. I asked her, “How is your concentration?” She replied, “It is at its best.”

One day, I went to a clinic, where a man was standing with his mother, who was seated in a wheelchair, waiting for their turn. The man was holding his mother’s medical documents while simultaneously placing earphones in his ears and positioning his phone screen in front of him, watching an episode of a series.

We are dangerously addicted to using technology and social media, to the extent that a person who remains unoccupied for a long time raises suspicion and questions.

My home library is full of books, and I have decided to increase my daily reading hours so that I can finish reading all of them soon. At first, it was difficult; I noticed myself constantly fiddling with my phone and opening social media just to keep scrolling, not for any important purpose. At that point, I moved the phone away and sat in my reading chair to read the book.

I felt bored and as though I needed to do something—perhaps make coffee, tidy the room, or watch an episode of *Friends*. All these thoughts arose when I simply wanted to read a book. Is the book boring? No, but the feeling is new; I used to finish a book in two days, but now it stays with me for a month or two before I finish it.

What makes us think we need to do many things at once? Why don’t we give each thing its due share of time? Although I love organization greatly, I always feel that 24 hours in a day is too short compared to the tasks we want to accomplish. Most of the day is spent on work and sleep, leaving very few hours for tasks and achievements, or perhaps for exercise to compensate the body for lying down, sleeping, or sitting for long periods at work.

The idea of human life being limited and short makes one constantly feel unaccomplished, even if one is truly a productive person; the thirst for achievement never ends, and this is what makes us anxious about time. Yet the contradiction we live in is terrifying: we fear wasting time, yet we waste it on trivialities like endlessly scrolling through short videos. Our minds often seek comfort more than benefit.

Reading a book requires patience, focus, and effort, and sometimes enduring boredom if the author insists on mentioning irrelevant details in the novel. In contrast, the phone provides instant entertainment, new information every second—some of it misleading—and a temporary sense of pleasure and escape from the pressures of life and work.

We justify to ourselves that we have not severed family ties because our relatives are available on the phones in our hands, and we can call them at any time. Today, there is no need to dress up and go to the market; we can shop via our phones, and we can also work through them.

Many people today no longer go to an office to see their colleagues; instead, they work from home using laptops or mobile phones. In fact, I believe that the mobile phone was one of the reasons why young people have become reluctant to marry. Everyone is a friend and is present on social media, and no one feels lonely or isolated. Moreover, when they discuss family and marriage, they focus on the negative aspects, which reinforces young people’s convictions.

The question we should always ask ourselves is: If electronic devices and the Internet disappeared, could we still achieve things in our lives? After we have become accustomed to spending long periods working behind screens, mostly alone without people around us, what will happen to us when life returns to normal—when we visit each other in person without digital connections, and shop in physical stores?

I smiled and felt sad at the same time when I heard the song by the late artist Abdul Karim Abdul Qader: “There was no paper or mail in this world.”

He sang it at a time when people sent letters and waited weeks, sometimes months, for replies. Today, a message arrives in just one or two seconds. How can we bear to give up these advantages?