In a world that follows you: how have smartphones impacted our relationship with physical space?
2020 has started with a bang. I’ve been extremely fortunate to visit Australia for a family reunion in Perth, and to see my Scouser friend Zoe who travelled East and never returned. Having just had my Christmas break, I was a little worried about going away so soon and where this would leave me with my work. But of course it really doesn’t matter where I am, because with a smartphone and internet connection, my world will follow me wherever I go.
This is why I have chosen to write about location for the first article of the Smartphones and Society season. As smartphone usage rises worldwide, and our consumption habits also increase, we often ask the question as to why these devices are so impactful. Above their ever-expanding wide range of tools, converging the role of many other technologies, their small size and portability allow us 24/7 online access and communication.
Unlike the majority of the articles on this site, there is a lack of sources underlying my argument. This is due to my rather traditional note-taking archival system, which mainly exists within my notebooks in England. The writing is therefore mostly derived from observations on this trip, and from the experience of always being on the move, online and offline.
It’s all in your pocket
Illustration by Oliver McAinsh.
As a freelancer, I work in almost total solace, and can negotiate my own working hours and location with ease. This holiday, my office has taken place outside, inside, stationary and in transit, in the plane, the beach, and by the pool (apologies for the shameless bragging, this is unintentional. I’m normally in my dining-room, sheltering from the Liverpool drizzle).
The flexibility of my working pattern was once predicted in Joshua Meyrowitz’s influential book, No Sense of Place (1985). Meyrowitz was fascinated by the impact of technology on the experience of place and social experience:
‘Electronic media affects us... not primarily through their content, but by changing the “situational geography of social life”. ’ (p6)
Meyrowitz cultivated his perspective from an era dominated by television, the ‘secret revelation machine’ which exposed information about the world which would have otherwise remained hidden. Television broke the physical barriers which buildings once carved, bringing outside events, concepts and cultures closer, expanding one’s perception and knowledge of the world. Meyrowitz’s statement is more so than ever, accurate today in the age of smartphones. These devices haven’t just changed how we perceive the outside world, they have enabled our private and personal lives to follow us wherever we go. Nicholas Carr describes this mobile phenomena:
‘As networked computers have shrunk to the size of iPhones and Black-Berrys, the feast has become a movable one, available anytime, anywhere. It’s in our home, our office, our car, our classroom, our purse, (and) our pocket’.
And with this portable universe, we have also been blessed with 24/7 knowledge. No question is answerless with the power of the almighty Google at our fingers, so we have a tool which we can find out anything within reason.
As our smartphone consumption habits continue to rise, the central question that even Google cannot answer, is: are smartphones changing our brain and behaviour, and are the effects long-lasting? Having not yet lived with these devices for an entire lifetime, a concrete answer is unfortunately undeterminable. Sociologists, psychologists, neurologists and scholars alike, have expanded this research field as they too seek answers. Historically, we have always feared emerging mass-media technologies, as their rising use accelerates upon introduction. Many argue that our fears against smartphones simply follow a similar pattern, and will wane as they become normalised across generations. When I ask myself how smartphones differ from technologies such as television, cinema and analogue radio, the largest difference is their portability. If we can carry these technologies with us wherever we go, I would argue that their impact will undoubtedly be maximised in comparison to these previous examples.
Absent presence, from atoms to bytes.
A fairly contentious subject which is constantly brought up by critiques of the digital age, is the separation between physical and virtual space. Much of these perceptions are rooted at the turn of the 20th century, where to go online, one had to connect to a dial up modem on a computer plugged into a wall. Online visits would often last for only short periods of time, constrained by the cost of connection. Cyberspace was used as a term to describe the virtual space of the internet, giving it the impression as the antithesis of reality.
Nick Couldry and Anna McCarthy discuss the materiality of the virtual in their text, Mediaspace (2003):
‘The concept of virtuality belongs to this anti-concrete sense of spatiality, as it is premised on the idea that electronic media create an experience unmoored from the physicality of the body, of work and leisure spaces, (and) of the environment’ (p2).
As they explore this notion, they argue that the politics of media images and economics cannot be separated from the politics of the physical environment. This is an extremely valid argument, as most of what we access is tied to our lives in physical space. As smartphones bring our work and relationships closer, our experiences become influenced by a number of individuals and organisations, based at multiple physical locations.
But what happens when we enter virtual space? Do we become less present in our immediate environment? We all know what it’s like when you’re trying to have a conversation, and the other person keeps checking their phone. A polite person will say ‘excuse me, I just need to check something’, but many will go ahead without a comment. The younger generation have adopted an entirely new style of face-to-face interaction, where it is the social norm to sit around together in silence, consumed by individual smartphone activity. In many ways, these examples are simply governed by the individual’s own personal standards. Because smartphones are relatively new in society, there is no universal social norm. What one person finds rude, another will find ordinary. Given that one day our world will be reshaped by our youngest generation, I imagine that in the future, there will be no differentiation between spending time online or offline.
A central criticism of this dual inhabitation questions if people immersed online are really engaged with their surroundings. The biological function attention cannot physically focus upon two things at once. And if you think that you can, your attention will be shallow, flitting between the two tasks which cost more of your brain’s energy power than focussing on one task. So if you’re fully connected online, I would argue that there is a strong case to say that psychologically you are not really present within your physical environment. But this is not to say that to be engaged in virtual space that you are immersed in fiction.
Where two worlds meet.
During my travels in Sydney, I explored the charming neighbourhood Glebe, famous for its second-hand shops, cafes and laid-back atmosphere. After starting off on the shady patio of a gorgeous little bookshop cafe, I left to explore my new surroundings. I gravitated upwards, climbing the long central street which housed independent shops and crumbling Australian Victorian houses. But the longer I walked, the more anxious I felt, as I swivelled my head around to ensure I’d not missed anything out. Naturally I pulled out my phone and began zooming into Apple maps, checking out local tourist sites to plan where to go next.
In Jordan Frith’s 2015 book, Smartphones as Locative Media, he investigates how the experience of place changes with the introduction of mobile technologies. As we navigate our physical environment, smartphone devices are becoming increasingly important in shaping the decisions behind where we go, what we see, where we eat, and what we do. This resists the division often assumed between virtual and physical space, because in this case they are intertwined. In Glebe, my path was influenced by the digital information available, helping me experience my surroundings differently.
But why the anxiety during my search? There is a psychological term applied to the addiction to technology, which occurs because of the current levels of social media in our lives. Known as FOMO, or ‘fear of missing out’, this term refers to the discomfort, distress and jealousy that many people experience, when skimming social media such as Facebook or Instagram. The roots of this phenomenon are based in social comparison, where we compare ourselves with others as a way of fostering self-improvement and a positive self-image. Although this definition of FOMO does not apply to my above example, I pose a more literal sense of the phrase. Because smartphones give us access to unlimited information about our environment, they are increasingly used as an explorative tool. The potential of our experiences is maximised by these devices, decreasing the likelihood of visiting a bad restaurant or missing a cool shop. My anxiety was fuelled by my ‘fear of missing out’ opportunities in my physical environment, not the online social experiences which this phrase usually refers to.
Did the addition of online locative information improve and enrich my experience? And whose journey am I therefore exploring? If our experiences are collectively influenced by the same sites, such as TripAdvisor, Time Out, and Instagram, are we not all following the same pattern, dictated by media influencers and the general consensus online? Sometimes the best experiences we encounter, are based on the unpredictable and spontaneous decisions we make. Is this waning as we become increasingly driven by rates and trends? Unfortunately I know that mine is.
Conclusion
This has been quite a fascinating article to write and ponder about. It’s a topic which we experience every day, and has been particularly apt as I explore new bushland territories. As Meyrowitz predicted, smartphones really have changed our relationship with physical space. On one level its importance has reduced, as our relationships and work are no longer restrained by where we are located. Tasks have become increasingly digitised, making our online visits more plentiful and durational. This means that when alone, we are often drawn back to our devices, causing us to be psychologically present online, but physically present in space. But on another level, smartphones have changed how we interact with our environment. It impacts where we choose to go on holiday, where we stop to meet a friend, and which route we choose to drive on. We are all explorers with the world at our fingertips. Let’s just hope that by taking the imagination out of travel, we don’t destroy our sense of adventure.
