I wrote most of this column in July 2021, but never submitted it, fearing I would be quickly pigeonholed as just another old-man-grouch. But a group of Brooklyn teenagers, recently featured in The New York Times, have given me the strength and inspiration to come out of my technological closet with a shocking admission: I don’t have a “smart” phone and still don’t want one.

It’s not that the computers in everyone’s pockets are too complicated. I’ve written software documentation and luxuriate in the incredible advancements in writing, research, and communication. Early on, I pounded away on a Royal manual typewriter and cursed each typo that required starting the page over, risking a new, and different error. (I’m not a great typist, and erasable paper was frowned on for letters and manuscripts.) I also spent hours in libraries that might or might not have useful research information, work I often complete today in a few minutes. And I don’t miss the early 1990s, before e-mail and file transfer protocols, when I often made high-speed trips on back roads to deliver a floppy disk for a 5 p.m. business deadline.

So why didn’t I welcome this bit of technology and cradle it like a newborn, excited by the miracle of its birth and anxious to see its growth? Since it wasn’t crucial to my work, I was able to indulge my vague worries about the effects of cell phones on our everyday lives. Since then, many have become realities.

People who oppose new technology because of the social changes it causes are often called Luddites, comparing them to a group from the early 1800s. Am I just a typical, modern Luddite, a hypocrite who stands bravely against technological advancement while taking full advantage of its benefits? (Initially reluctant, I now happily use driving directions, restaurant suggestions, weather forecasts, and random facts from our many family devices.)

According to a 2011 article in Smithsonian Magazine, protesters in Nottingham, England in 1811 attacked a textile factory after a previous confrontation with British troops. They were angry about a near-endless war with France, and economic hardships, including a lack of food, partially caused by automated machinery that disrupted the hand-knitting industry. Their protests lasted until about 1816. Several protesters died, and many more were executed or exiled when convicted of the brand-new capital crime of breaking machinery.

The Luddites were a colorful, even humorous, group, sending documents from “Sherwood Forest” like Robin Hood, and following a fictitious leader inspired by an apprentice (possibly named Lud) who previously broke his textile machine with a hammer when an overseer criticized his work. Facing armed troops, a few wore women’s clothes, claiming to be the wives of Ned Ludd. Showing an advanced sense of irony, some assigned a blacksmith who had created some of the machines to make large hammers for breaking them.

But as ripe as they are for ridicule, the article suggests they are generally mischaracterized. Many were actually skilled knitting-machine operators protesting their working conditions, hours, and pay. Later, in 1829, famed Scottish writer Thomas Carlyle concluded that many people involved were also worried about the “mighty change” happening in their “modes of thought and feeling.” Carlyle said they were worried that the new machinery pushed people to become “mechanical in head and heart.”

In the same way, smart phones may be one step toward a “mighty change” in our “modes of thoughts and feelings.” To borrow Carlyle’s vivid image, I worry we are becoming “digital in head and heart,” our connections based on electronic images rather than real people, our world-view shaped by digital messages rather than established facts and personal experiences.

My social expectations have changed markedly in just 10 years. I’m not shocked to see a family or friends sitting together, with everyone staring intently at a separate phone. The Brooklyn teens formed a Luddite Club with a belief that “social media and phones are not real life” and spend a few hours each week enjoying each other’s company and reading, painting, or meditating without smart phones. Along with a variety of other benefits, they are self-aware enough to know they enjoy being “misfits” and are able to feel “a little superior” to their parents and other tech slaves.

The Luddites made a point with no lasting effect 200 years ago by breaking modern machinery. My current non-use of a smart phone will have essentially the same result. But at least I’ve got company.

Allen Woods is a freelance writer, author of the Revolutionary-era historical fiction novel “The Sword and Scabbard,” and Greenfield resident. His column appears regularly on a Saturday. Comments are welcome here or at awoods2846@gmail.com.

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