Phones Down, Look Around

Yes, I’m a journalist. I know how ridiculous that phrase, “phones down, look around” sounds. The mobile phone has kept me actively involved in my job fo at least two decades, and when I was in hospital a couple of years ago, my phone and laptop were lifelines. But lately, I’ve had enough of how they have staged a total takeover of our lives.

I know, I probably sound like a grumpy old man—but hear me out.

As someone who works in content creation, what worries me most is the “scroll.” People just flick through their feeds—scroll, scroll, scroll—as if nothing in the world is worth more than a few seconds.

I see colleagues agonising over every frame of a social post, only for it to be bypassed in a heartbeat.

I heard recently about a staffer on a high-profile Australian TV show who spent two days crafting polished content, only to find a random “blooper” of the presenter was twenty times more popular. It feels like we are pouring professional craft into a void.

But what really gets me is how the phone robs us of being present. We are missing moments of pure joy because our attention is fractured.

I was on a tram this morning and watched a father with his son, who was maybe four years old. The little boy was wonderful—full of life, asking a million questions, and trying so hard to engage his dad. The father was trying, too, but he couldn’t stop looking down at his phone.

Finally, the boy asked, “What are you looking at, Daddy?” The father replied that he was playing an online game with someone. It broke my heart. Here was this beautiful, fleeting moment of connection, and it was being traded for a digital game.

It’s also becoming a physical hazard. Navigating the city on a mobility scooter is hard enough without dodging “phone zombies.” Yesterday near Town Hall, three separate people ran into me within ten metres because they were glued to their screens. They seem to think they’ve developed a superpower that lets them navigate the world without looking at it.

The default setting now is to look down. On the train or bus, nobody looks at anyone else. You miss the world. You miss the chance to be kind, or even just the awareness to notice someone on a scooter waiting for a seat.

So, I’ve decided to say “no.”

I’ve stripped the social and work apps from my phone. I’m done chasing that dopamine hit or wasting my life on “urgent” emails during a commute. And guess what? I still manage to keep up with everything, just like I did in the days before my mobile phone.

I’m not throwing the device away; I’ll use it extensively on my forthcoming holiday for maps and photographs. But I’m going to use it with greater care.

I want to be present for the moments of joy, not distracted by a screen. I’m reclaiming my focus and my connection to the people around me. It’s time for phones down, look around. I’m keeping my head up—and frankly, I think I’m seeing a much more interesting world than the one on the screen.