It's something you see a lot now: in the papers, on social media, comments, editorials, even reports from respected organisations. Our connected technology means that we're always wired up to communication, and we need to take the time to disconnect more.
The problem with this is that it makes too many assumptions about how we use our technology, the role it plays in our lives, and even how we live our lives in general.
Partly it's a generational thing, the technology you grew up with. Who could have imagined, 40 years ago, that today we would be able to walk around with a supercomputer in our pocket, wirelessly connected to the greatest distributed repository of information ever conceived? That we would be able to communicate, not just by voice, or even by video, but by rich real-time multimedia communication, with – potentially – anyone on the planet? To people growing up in much of the world today, it's the only thing they've ever known.
Now, there's ample studies been conducted showing the perils of “screen time” for the young. By and large, I would agree that it's good for people actually get face-to-face contact, socialisation, and physical play with their peers. For those with office jobs, there are obvious perils to being able to be contacted by your boss or colleagues 24/7, and there is a definite argument for keeping work email mostly at work. It has, however, developed in some cases into an outright demonisation of communication.
In itself, I see no problem with people being able to access their email, their texts, their groupware systems, any time they want. The perils mostly consist in being expected to do so, or in choosing to do so regardless of expectation and without sufficient regard to one's own well-being.
Now, children spending all of their time playing video games has been a concern since the ability to do so became widespread, and the ubiquity of smartphones vastly increases that ability. It has always been overblown, in my opinion, but not entirely misguided. Similarly, concerns about the vulnerability of children engaging in online interactions has a reasonable basis, and it is similarly exacerbated by ubiquitous connected devices.
As that concern for children enters the popular consciousness, it seems to me that it often translates into a concern for adults. Less for vulnerability, but more that something is being inherently lost through lack of interaction, as in non-social video games, or through interactions being online rather than in person. Online interactions are often considered inferior, or as though they barely count at all.
All in all, this leads to the idea of reducing our “screen time”, and emphasising the need to “disconnect”. But is this correct? Is it correct for some, but not others? Does it misunderstand the role of technology, or at least over-generalise from the experience of some people to the experience of all.
I know people who have taken conscious efforts to “disconnect” at times, only dealing with personal email on certain days of the week, say, or giving up social media for Lent. Refusing to use a smartphone not because of any difficulty they find in using these devices, but because they do not think they need an always-on, always-with-them connection to the internet. This has worked well for some people, and I wish them all joy of it and am glad they get benefit from doing so. However, there is a tendency to generalise from this to think that it will do good for everyone, and I cannot see how that can be so.
There are some people, through circumstance or inclination, find engaging online the easiest, the more rewarding fulfilling (at least net of difficulties), the most accessible means of maintaining that connection with individuals and the wider world. More practical and easier to keep their appointments and calendars “in the cloud”, rather than in a paper diary. Online references more helpful, or less of a burden, than a copious physical reference library. The ability to look up important information, be it personal or public, at any time, wherever they are, can be invaluable.
Some of us, by virtue of our impairments and of the society that disables us in consequence, are very limited in the amount we can do in person, out and about. The ability to be connected all the time at home is essential to our lives. When we are away from that connection, when we cannot know whether people have tried to contact us, when we can't let people know if we have a problem, it is a source of stress. Rather than the possibility of constantly being bombarded with communication, it is the stress of being unable to communicate, the stress of being disconnected that becomes a burden.
That is not to say it is the same as addiction. I do not doubt that there are cases of unhealthy obsessions with social media, say, or excessive, habit-forming engagement with video games. But just as it is not addiction to wish to keep taking a medication that allows you to function, it is not addiction to feel the need to have online communications when they are your principal method of interacting with the world.
The word “dependence” is a scary one, but it is easy to be too scared of it. Some disabled people are simply not capable of engaging with the world in the way others do, because those methods have been constructed over years by unimpaired people, for unimpaired people – or simply because their impairments mean that they can do very little physically active, or are tethered to their home by bulky, life-saving medical equipment, or plenty of reasons besides. Just as I am dependent on medication to be mostly awake when I am expected to be (or, really, awake more than asleep), some people are dependent on electronic communications to connect with the world. It is not shameful, it is not a flaw, it is not a failure (except perhaps a failure of society, but not even always that). It is simply the way things are for that person.
You might say “disconnect from the online world and connect with nature”, but nature is not the most accessible thing for some of us – or even if it is, the act of getting somewhere that allows us to “connect with nature” means that it is prohibitive to do so with any significant frequency. You might say “disconnect from the online world and connect with real people”, but the internet, our digital devices, are how we connect with real people.
Okay, you might say, but at least – if and when you do manage to get out into nature or socialise in person – turn your phone to silent, stop looking at your smartwatch, be present in that moment. It's a laudable idea, certainly, but it won't work for everyone. Having the reassurance of that connection is not a small thing to many people. Besides, we haven't even considered carers yet – many of whom are disabled themselves – who might be able to get away from their caring responsibilities only if they are able to come back quickly if something happens.
When you call for people to “disconnect”, to reduce their “screen time”, consider that the life and experience of others, the needs of others, may be different from your own. Don't assume that the negatives you associate with any phenomenon are universal. For some, disconnecting from digital communications is disconnecting from their whole life, and they don't deserve sympathy, scorn or judgement for that.
Before making that sort of call, or sharing your joy at the benefits you've gained from such an effort, think. Think the other people have different experience and different needs, and realise that some of them might hear you, might read your posts, might be affected by your pronouncements or policy recommendations. When you realise that, surely you will find it in yourself to factor that difference in to what you say.