In the popular rendition of Pandora’s Box, a curious woman unleashes a torrent of suffering, sickness, and death upon humanity by opening a forbidden container. Yet, another interpretation suggests the box held virtues like trust, grace, and restraint—principles that promptly escaped to Mount Olympus, far from human reach.
Perhaps it’s this ancient narrative that explains our modern susceptibility to gleaming devices that promise untold pleasures or pains, or even just a simple video showing us how to prepare feta or instant coffee in a new way.
Blame ancient myths, blame destiny, or blame the relentless algorithms of platforms like Instagram and TikTok. These systems are meticulously designed to keep us scrolling, tapping, and refreshing, forever chasing the fleeting validation of a like or a comment.
What began as a simple check-in with friends on social media has spiraled into a fierce battle of wills between humanity and our phones. Many of us are now resorting to increasingly extreme measures, physically restraining ourselves from our devices and even spending considerable sums to overcome our digital habits.
These efforts to go phone-free have themselves become a burgeoning online trend, gaining their own form of cultural currency.
[Image: A hand holds a brick as if it were an iPhone against the backdrop of a blue cloudy sky.]
Consider ‘Brick,’ a relatively new physical gadget. Users tap their phones against this small plastic square to disable access to specific apps. (The term ‘bricked phone,’ once technical jargon for a rendered-unusable device, has now entered common parlance.) To regain access, users must physically tap the brick—which costs around $60—a second time. Similarly, apps like Opal offer to block distracting applications and enforce ‘deep focus sessions’ for an annual fee of $99.99.
And this is not even mentioning the drastic steps parents and other adults have taken to pry children away from their phones. Schools across the United States have implemented cellphone bans, with some districts investing millions in lockable pouches to ensure students remain device-free during class.
However, adults alone possess the autonomy to enforce their own digital timeouts. Some readily admit the mild absurdity of the lengths they’ve gone to recently in their struggle against the siren call of their devices.
Last summer, Tiffany Ng, who authors the ‘Cyber Celibate’ newsletter, literally chained her phone to a wall in her home using an old belt and a coat hook for a week.
“I put a really uncomfortable rattan stool next to it trying to emulate the feeling of having a couch next to a landline in the past,” explained Ms. Ng, 25, in an interview. She quickly discovered, as she wrote on her Substack, that “doomscrolling only hits when you’re horizontal.”
[Image: Two side-by-side images. One of a person holding a brick to their ear, the other of a person holding a brick as if it were a phone in a car.]
‘Skin in the Game’
Our relationship with phones wasn’t always this tense. Once, methods of control were refreshingly simple, even quirky. Back in 2016, media mogul Arianna Huffington even sold a compact $100 bed designed to encourage people to ‘tuck in’ their devices nightly.
Many of us might have tried converting our vibrant phone screens to grayscale, hoping to make the content less alluring. Perhaps you’ve glanced at your screen time reports from Apple and Android. If these didn’t work, you might have leveraged built-in app limits, only to quickly realize how easily they could be bypassed.
This cultural shift—from excitement over constant cellphone and social media connectivity to deep anxiety about it—is a relatively recent phenomenon.
Just a decade ago, logging onto platforms like Facebook or Instagram meant encountering content primarily from real-life acquaintances. It felt possible to ‘reach the end’ of your phone, to scroll through all the day’s posts and then, with nothing left to see, set it aside.
Now, the infinite scroll, driven by algorithms that increasingly feed us content from strangers, can trap us in a perpetual loop.
A 2024 survey by the Pew Research Center revealed that approximately four in ten U.S. adults, and a majority of those under 30, admit to being on their phones “almost constantly.” In stark contrast, only 21 percent of U.S. adults reported the same in 2015.
[Image: A person on the city street holding a brick up to their ear as if holding a phone.]
Ava Pumpelly, a marketing professional residing in Washington, D.C., observed her phone habits becoming problematic during the pandemic. As a high school senior, she found it effortless to spend hours scrolling daily, especially in early 2020 before her school transitioned classes online effectively.
“I felt like there was nothing really to do other than, like, doom scroll and watch TV,” Ms. Pumpelly, now 23, recalled.
These patterns persisted through college, where she sometimes struggled to maintain focus. Post-graduation, the issue remained.
“I’m not ashamed to say that I for sure have an addiction to my phone,” Ms. Pumpelly confessed.
She recently adopted a ‘Brick’ to curb her social media scrolling when she needs to concentrate on work. The magnetic Brick is affixed to her refrigerator. Sometimes, Ms. Pumpelly, who works remotely, will ‘brick’ her phone and head to a nearby cafe to work. To access her apps, she must walk all the way back home.
This physical separation proves effective. Even just being in a different room makes a difference, she noted.
“I live in the smallest little apartment in D.C.,” Ms. Pumpelly said with a laugh. “I’m so lazy that, like, just walking to the fridge is enough to keep me from unbricking.”
Erika Veurink, a newsletter writer in Brooklyn, advocates for free or low-cost ways to live offline, such as reading physical library books, wearing a watch, and sending handwritten mail. Yet, she too was drawn to the Brick and has been ‘bricking’ her phone on weekends for several months.
She acknowledges the irony of spending money on a device to prevent you from using another device you already own. However, she finds the cost itself can be a motivator.
“To be candid, I would have paid $500 for it because I am so desperate for something that works to get me off my phone,” Ms. Veurink stated. “What I was drawn to is, like, paying a little bit of money — that puts some skin in the game.”
She also pointed out the sometimes high cost of activities like Pilates or facials, noting that they offer the unexpected luxury of being forced to disengage from your phone for an hour.
[Image: Two side-by-side images of a woman looking at a device.]
Too Trendy?
As concerns about escalating phone use grow, analog tools are becoming fashionable alternatives, almost status symbols. Their price tags often signal a certain level of discipline and self-control.
Ms. Veurink mentioned that seeing a Brick featured in ‘what’s in my bag’ online content is quite common.
This visibility might be partly due to influencer marketing campaigns, as companies like Brick actively engage in them. Some Brick users, who were interviewed but not quoted in this article, shared that after posting positive reviews, the company reached out to compensate them for using their videos in advertisements. (Ms. Veurink clarified that she purchased her device independently and has no business relationship with the brand.)
“When we see that kind of organic enthusiasm, we sometimes choose to amplify those posts so their voices and perspectives reach a wider audience,” Kirsten Young, Brick’s vice president of marketing, explained in an emailed statement.
This isn’t the first time offline activities—like reading a book, writing a letter, or simply ‘touching grass’—have been co-opted and amplified by the relentless engine of content creation.
Instagram posts about ‘bricking’ or TikToks promoting the benefits of ‘dumbphones’—simple cellphones with limited features reminiscent of early flip phones—have also sparked debate. This comes at a time when many social media users are hyper-aware of any behavior perceived as ‘performative,’ a popular buzzword.
However, some experts warn of a genuine risk embedded in the trendy allure of these devices.
Caitlin Begg, founder of Authentic Social, a research lab focusing on sociology and technology, describes tools like Brick and the Opal app as part of a broader ‘analog ecosystem.’ Yet, she voiced concern that the ‘analog movement is becoming framed as an upper-class movement.’
Speaking from her landline, a 1980s model bought on eBay, Ms. Begg, 31, worries that digital detoxes and temporary phone restraints only address symptoms, rather than the core problem.
“They’re great for certain periods of time, but then you unblock and that hypercommunication is still there,” she observed. She also cautioned against “ascribing morality to screen time.”
[Image: A cat sniffs at a smashed brick while someone clutches a phone beside a laptop.]
“I do wish that we could reframe it a little bit because it’s a little more complicated than that,” Ms. Begg added.
Ms. Ng, the writer who famously chained her phone to a wall, admitted that the choice to abstain from phone use can be “easily romanticized.”
She posted about her homemade phone restraint on TikTok, and was surprised by the number of people who inquired about creating their own. She grappled with the apparent contradiction of using social media to advocate for greater presence in the real world, and how such content might be seen as ‘performative.’
Nevertheless, Ms. Ng found that sharing her efforts connected her with like-minded individuals. Discussing going offline is, counterintuitively, a highly online concept.
Though it’s not for everyone. Last December, Gregorios Thomas, 23, from Valley Cottage, N.Y., realized he felt happiest and most aligned with himself when he was offline: reading, working out, and meditating.
So, he decided to temporarily give up his phone. It wasn’t a complete technology blackout; Mr. Thomas allowed himself to use his family’s desktop computer and landline. Working two jobs, one in insurance and another at a movie theater, he informed his bosses that email or in-person communication during work hours would be the best way to reach him. He kept up with friends online via Discord and spoke to his sister on the landline a few times.
“When I started doing it, maybe for like the first few days, the realization of how I would bring my phone nearly everywhere was shocking,” Mr. Thomas said. Initially planning for two weeks, he extended the experiment for the entire month, finding it a highly productive period.
Regarding his method, Mr. Thomas emphasized that he felt no app or external device was necessary to restrain himself from his phone.
He simply turned it off and put it in a box.