Have Smartphones Destroyed a Generation?

Have Smartphones Destroyed a Generation?

More comfortable online than out partying, post-Millennials(miˈlenēəl) are safer, physically(ˈfizikəl), than adolescents(ˌadlˈesənt) have ever been. But they’re on the brink(briNGk) of a mental-health(ˈmentl) crisis(ˈkrīsis).

By Jean M. Twenge

One day last summer, around noon, I called Athena(əˈTHēnə), a 13-year-old who lives(liv) in Houston, Texas(ˈteksəs). She answered her phone—she’s had an iPhone since she was 11—sounding as if she’d just woken up. We chatted about her favorite(ˈfāv(ə)rət) songs and TV shows, and I asked her what she likes to do with her friends. “We go to the mall,” she said. “Do your parents drop you off?,” I asked, recalling my own middle-school days, in the 1980s, when I’d enjoy a few parent-free(ˈpar-,ˈpe(ə)rənt) hours shopping with my friends. “No—I go with my family,” she replied(riˈplī). “We’ll go with my mom and brothers and walk a little behind them. I just have to tell my mom where we’re going. I have to check in every hour or every 30 minutes.”

Those mall trips(trip) are infrequent—about(inˈfrēkwənt) once a month. More often, Athena and her friends spend time together on their phones, unchaperoned(ˌənˈSHapəˌrōnd). Unlike the teens of my generation, who might have spent an evening tying up the family(ˈfam(ə)lē) landline(ˈlan(d)ˌlīn) with gossip(ˈgäsəp), they talk on Snapchat(snap), the smartphone app that allows users to send pictures(ˈpikCHər) and videos that quickly disappear. They make sure to keep up their Snapstreaks(strēk), which show how many days in a row they have Snapchatted with each other. Sometimes they save screenshots of particularly ridiculous(riˈdikyələs) pictures of friends. “It’s good blackmail,” Athena said. (Because she’s a minor(ˈmīnər), I’m not using her real name.) She told me she’d spent most of the summer hanging(ˈhaNGiNG) out alone in her room with her phone. That’s just the way her generation is, she said. “We didn’t have a choice to know any life without iPads or iPhones. I think we like our phones more than we like actual people.”

I’ve been researching generational differences for 25 years, starting when I was a 22-year-old doctoral(ˈdäktərəl) student in psychology(sīˈkäləjē). Typically(ˈtipikəl), the characteristics(ˌkariktəˈristik) that come to define(diˈfīn) a generation appear gradually(ˈgrajo͞oəlē), and along a continuum(kənˈtinyo͞oəm). Beliefs and behaviors(biˈhāvyər) that were already rising(ˈrīziNG) simply(ˈsimplē) continue to do so. Millennials, for instance, are a highly individualistic(ˌindivijo͞oəˈlistik) generation, but individualism(ˌindəˈvijo͞oəˌlizəm) had been increasing since the Baby Boomers(ˈbo͞omər) turned on, tuned in, and dropped out. I had grown accustomed(əˈkəstəmd) to line graphs(graf) of trends that looked like modest(ˈmädəst) hills(hil) and valleys(ˈvalē). Then I began studying Athena’s generation.