Is Offline the new luxury?
Nah...
There’s a popular myth circulating in wellness spaces and tech-adjacent circles: “offline is the new luxury.”1 It’s a seductive notion. One that frames disconnection as a rare privilege reserved for economic elites. But that framing is misleading. Disconnection isn’t a luxury; it’s a choice. A difficult one, yes, made harder by systems designed to commodify our attention and tether us to convenience. But a choice nonetheless.
Technology today is deeply embedded in our routines, remarkably convenient, and often celebrated for solving problems we didn’t even know we had. Still, let’s be honest about it. It’s not inescapable. Take this newsletter, for example. I’m not obligated to write it. I chose to spend part of my day crafting it for you. I could be walking my dog, reading a book, or playing chess with friends. All low-cost, joy-filled options not reserved for the elite. But today, I decided to share this instead.
This myth reminds me of how people talk about car culture in North America. “Living without a car is impossible,” they say. But what they really mean is that living without a car requires effort: planning your route, checking train schedules, allowing a little extra time for a bike ride. The infrastructure may favor cars, as it does with constant tech access, but that doesn’t make alternatives impossible. It just makes them inconvenient.
So when people say they can’t go offline, what they’re often admitting is this: “I’m unwilling to adjust my lifestyle for the sake of inconvenience.” That’s not luxury. That’s resignation dressed up as inevitability. Today, I want to share three tools that will help you carve out your own path toward disconnection and unravel this myth while we are at it.
Practice Offline
During my summer trip through Europe, I spotted a Nokia 105 in the hands of a man across the train. Quickly, I walked over and with my very little German asked if it would be ok to ask him some questions. He recognized me and we started chatting. I wanted to know why he’d made the switch, and how long it had been. His response echoed something I’ve heard often from many of you: “I was tired of how much time I spent on my phone. It was draining my energy.”
He’d been easing into a smartphone detox for about a year. It started with disconnected weekends, then gradually extended into his daily operations. Eventually, he built a system that allowed him to stay in the same line of work without the noise of constant pings from his phone. His laptop hosts his communication and work apps, while his everyday device for calls and texts is a Nokia 105. Many people in Europe, Asia, and beyond tell me how it’s not possible to exist in society without Whatsapp. Yet, here I was with a German native that was able to figure it out.
I asked him how he managed communication without access to the “almighty platform.” How did people adapt to his choice to be less reachable? He replied that it came down to slowly practicing offline living. His friends, colleagues, and family members got used to calling him instead of texting on weekends. As he carved out more offline space during the week, their habits gradually shifted too.
He acknowledged there were bumps on the road. In the beginning, he missed a few invites to grab a beer with friends because the message came through WhatsApp. Over time, the group prioritized planning and now they hang out together. His attitude was very nonchalant. “You lose some things,” he said, “but you also get something back.”
So, tool #1: If you're feeling the drain of constant tech use, consider starting small. Pick one day a week (maybe Sunday) and go offline completely. Let people know in advance, and invite them to call if it's urgent. Gradually expand that window: skip scrolling during meals, keep your phone out of the bedroom, and move key apps to your laptop. Communicate your intentions clearly to friends and coworkers, and you’ll be surprised how quickly expectations shift. You don’t need a Nokia 105, a Light Phone 3, or the Mudita Kompakt to reclaim your attention, but you do need a system.
Adopt Slow Media
The algorithm isn’t curious; it’s predictive. Tech giants persuaded us to trade away our data for convenience, then monetized that exchange. What we get in return is an endless feed that’s designed not to inform or inspire us. It’s meant to entrench our preferences and softly steer us toward products, subscriptions, and ideologies we’re already halfway sold on (by them….).
Here comes the familiar claim: “Jose!! Spotify is essential, and Google Maps is a must in today’s society.” No, friends. Music platforms that algorithmically serve what’s easiest to monetize, without fairly paying artists, aren’t the norm. Map apps that push ads before offering directions? Also not the standard we should accept. Before tech giants hijacked our preferences, we had locally curated guides and record stores that offered something different: humane recommendations. Real people with real taste who helped us discover, not consume.
We left all that behind around 2014, when smartphones became our default source for all things. They told us faster media meant better media. Ten years on, we’re drowning in AI slop. Choosing where your dollars go influences the media landscape. It either helps the faceless algorithm to continue thriving or puts food on the table for local artists. And anyone preaching that the only way is to rent your music and never own it? They’ve bought into the lie.
Now, is it easy to manually curate your music and learn your way around town without digital shortcuts? Not at all. It will take time. It will require energy. But once you’ve done it, you will have navigational skills that sharpen your senses and a mix tape to pass down to future generations.
Thus, we arrived at tool #2. Resist the algorithm’s grip on your curiosity. Go to the library, support the record store, learn how to make bread, or join a book club. Most of these are free. They are not a luxury. Don’t have some of these in your area? Start one. Be the change you want to see in the world. Choose to engage in the offline world by finding other people that want something better than rotting in the couch.
Life Engineering
And here we are, crossing the final frontier. Those claiming that “offline is a luxury” often do so from a place that assumes the system is immovable. That every job requires a constant ping. That love hinges on the app store. That accessing your bank account, going to concerts, or even dining out demands smartphone compliance. Seems unavoidable, right? Wrong.
You are not a passive participant in the regime’s design. You can choose restaurants that still offer paper menus. At the concert venue, there’s a ticket counter. Print your confirmation, bring your ID, and let them figure it out. After all, you gave them money! As for your bank’s app? Money’s tricky. If you’re in a tight spot, I’ve been there.
During my first seven years in the U.S., I used to check my balance before every purchase to dodge overdraft fees. Some days I went hungry because I didn’t have enough. The best advice I ever received? Learn how money works. Don’t let money play master. I give you the same advice and encourage you to take ownership in this area of life. Read one of these: I Will Teach You to be Rich, The Psychology of Money, Your Money or Your Life.
These systems may be wrapped in inconvenience, but inconvenience isn’t immovable. It’s navigable. Life engineering is a long term concept. You don’t ditch digital overnight. It’s not a one-click switch or a resignation letter. It takes time. It requires vision. It is a lifetime endeavor.
So about your job. Yes. Jobs are the hardest part of the digital minimalism journey. However, don’t get caught in false comparisons. A remote job isn’t inherently better or worse than being a plumber. What matters is whether your work supports the kind of life you want to lead. If you’re worn out from staring at screens all day, start exploring new paths. If your job demands nonstop connectivity and values metrics over people, consider finding a workplace where humanity outweighs hustle. Take the pay cut if that’s what it takes. Because your mental clarity is worth more than titles or a padded paycheck.
Finally, here’s tool #3. Begin crafting a life vision that is congruent with your desired connectivity. Get honest about how much digital engagement feels nourishing versus draining. Picture the rhythms of a day you’d actually enjoy. Let that vision be your compass as you build habits, choose work, and design spaces that reflect your values. After a while you’ll figure out that offline is not a luxury, it’s our default.
There is even an old documentary about it:
Changing jobs is a very radical suggestion. But I think people who are stuck sometimes need to recognize how much agency we really have.
Your point about how we pick and consume media since 2014 echoes some articles by Sam Kriss. He says we've gone through three phases since the infinite information age began:
1. The hipster - a human sorting algorithm looking for quality
2. The nerd - a person who essentially leaves their taste up to the algorithm
3. The zombie - best explained by the first few paragraphs of brain rot here. https://samkriss.substack.com/p/in-my-zombie-era
How quickly it all changed. At the turn of the century, "online" life was barely a thing for most of us no matter our age. I remember it. It was a good life. A full life.