The Story of the Mobile Phone
A few months ago I was walking down the street in England and I heard this guy explain to his son:
“You see, Danny, in the old days before mobile phones…”
I didn’t pause to hear the rest. I was too struck that my past had already become someone else’s history. Danny had the same look on his face as I had when my parents had told me about the first days of television.
I walked on down the street and on either side there were phone shops entreating me to buy the latest camera/mp3 player/mobile phone with more minutes per month than I could possible use. Everywhere people were sitting in parks, cafes, walking down the street, all with phones pressed against their ears. Some of them had the invisible headsets that make it impossible to distinguish them from the insane who argue with themselves in public.
Had the world gone mad? Were we all that lonely and insecure that we needed our phones to ring twenty, thirty times a day -confirmation that there was someone on this planet who valued out existence? At least enough to press a few buttons and use up some of their monthly phone plan?
I remember that in the old days a hippy walking down the street with his mobile was practically advertising that he was a drug dealer. For a while people thought beepers were the cool thing, the communication buzzers that added bulge to your jeans pockets. However they soon switched from risking testicular cancer to the more fashionable perils of brain tumours and there was no looking back.
At times I hate them with a passion. I’ve lost count of how many beautiful conversations have been interrupted by an insistent Nokia. The moment of seduction, offering condolences to the bereaved, an incredible sunset. The best one I heard though was from an English woman who still shivered at the memory; she had been in church at the funeral of her husband’s aunt when she heard a phone ringing somewhere. Naturally, she assumed an indignant pout and started shooting silent glares around the pews. Who could be so gauche as not to turn off their phone before entering a funeral? The ringing stopped and then started again – clearly this was not a caller to be put off by an answering service.
By now even the vicar had halted his speech and hushed whispers were growing in volume within the acoustics of the old stone church. Suddenly she was seized by a growing panic as she realized that her handbag was shaking. She opened the flap and perceived in the same moment as the entire congregation that she was the culprit. She snatched the phone with shaking hands but as she had only bought it the week before she had no idea how to turn it off. With 500 pairs of eyes fixed menacingly upon her she fumbled with the buttons in vain. With each second her husband grew violently tense at her side.
Finally he did the decent thing and grabbed the phone from her now paralyzed hands, dropped it on the floor and stamped on it. That didn’t quite do the trick though and he was obliged to stand up and jump on the thing before silence was restored to the ceremony. Apparently no one saw the funny side and the vicar even rubbed it in with some stern words about propriety in the House of the Lord.
Mobile phones are probably one of the best examples of how technology can change the nature of social interaction, even how we see the world. Try watching movies made before 1998 and you’ll see a hundred different plot twists that would never have arisen had one of the protagonists been carrying a phone. A killer white shark is stalking you on your broken down boat? Call the coast guard and he’ll have you air-lifted out of there in minutes.
Another example: Call round to see a friend by chance and watch the expression of shock on their face as they open the door – ‘but, but you didn’t call first to check I was in!’ Did we really used to spend that much time locked out or lost or just plain hanging around place in silence and – god forbid – thinking about things? I mean, I don’t remember kicking my heels every day and wishing for the invention of portable communication.
Mobile phones are obviously excellent inventions that save lives and boost your social life if you don’t spend much time at home anyway. In theory you can turn them off before you go into the cinema or be like the Japanese who have them set only on vibrate so that they won’t offend anyone. Like any technology, if used responsibly there’s no problem.
But hello? Take a look around the planet – this is not a responsible species we’re talking about. It reminds me of the Calvin and Hobbes strip where Calvin says something along the lines of ‘Call this the 21st century? Where are the ray guns? The invisibility devices? Teleportation? I mean I still have to press the buttons on the remote control!’ Hobbes then observes that perhaps we could do with learning how to handle the technology that we already have.
Often it seems to me that our techy devices just amplify the human condition rather than change anything in particular. We were always a feckless, dissatisfied people but channel surfing made it visible. The neighbourhood teenager was always angry and troubled but now his ghetto blaster let everyone know about it. While we’re on the subject nervous, whiny people shouldn’t be allowed to have dogs because that’s exactly the same thing.
The point being that the way we use mobile phones just makes visible our neurotic tendencies like scratching a pencil over a drawing in wax.. We were always this nervous and insecure. Only now we have the device to play with in public and stroke when no one is looking.
The best thing about mobile phones though was observed by a friend of mine the other day. We were talking about getting phone numbers from girls and the whole drama of then calling them up. He remarked philosophically:
“The advent of mobile phones meant you never had to speak to a girl’s parents ever again. You always get through directly to her.”
Then again with caller ID, getting her to answer the damn thing is another story.