As another tumultuous year slides to a close, I think the kids will be alright if a recent article about The Luddite Club is any indication. Last week, the New York Times published a profile on an informal club formed by New York high school students who want nothing to do with ubiquitous, standard-issue smartphones or social media. The group meets in a park, shuts off their phones (many of them wish they could have no cellphone whatsoever) and do what the youth of generations did before the rise of the connected culture: read books, paint with watercolors, talk, and complain that their parents are miserable because they spend too much time on Twitter.
In the story, members of the club report how much they found social media to be too consuming and troublesome, especially when real-life social connections were severed during the height of the pandemic. One young woman said that after she exchanged her smartphone for a flip phone, she was able to use her brain again and is writing more than ever. The club is inspired by Ned Ludd, who lived in England during the 18th century and folklore claims he eschewed technology, including the mechanized loom. He inspired others to take up his name and protest industrialization. I loved this story, especially when the teens shared the books that inspired them to turn away from the unreality of social media culture, as I was instantly thrown back into my own high school years, recalling how I wanted to live in the woods, too. I wanted to be a rebel, a misfit. I admire what these teens are doing, and after reading the article, I did exactly what would bar my entrance from the Luddites if they were accepting 40-year-old mothers from Montana: I tweeted the article.
In what seems to be the short time between the days of receiving an AOL disc to basically living on my own smartphone, I failed to realize that what the Luddites were after was a real-life connection, not an opportunity to stay entrenched in the digital world that seethes with disdain and misinformation – fraying bonds among strangers addicted to likes and the glow of a screen. It’s become a habit for me to read something I like or don’t and share it on my feed. With this story, I was overjoyed and wanted the Twitter minefield to read some good, hopeful news, instead of the muck and mire of its current ecosystem.
While I thought surely I’m different from the parents of the Luddites who insist on their teens having some type of a phone to stay in touch, I quickly realized how much I too am a part of a group of people who are conditioned to take life online. The Luddite Club might need a Rocky Mountain branch, and I’ll start by not tweeting my plans.
And then, perhaps, the parents will be alright, too.
Maggie Doherty is a writer and book reviewer who lives in Kalispell with her family.