In a world where smartphones have become an extension of the hand and notifications have become a way of life, the elite suddenly took a step back. Not about the past, but aside – with push-button “dialers” that collect no data, no distractions or manipulation. This is not nostalgia. This is a survival strategy in the age of digital addiction. And if the creators of the technology themselves shy away from them, perhaps it's time to reconsider not only how we use our gadgets but also why.
Security over convenience: when phones are a national threat
For most users, a data leak is an abstract threat: “Oh, they'll steal your photos or your search history.” For senior managers, fund owners, politicians and investors, this is a direct threat to capital, reputation, and even physical safety.
Modern smartphones are more than just a communication device. This is a sensor platform that continuously scans: your location, behavior, biometrics and voice.
One hack, one vulnerability in the application – and your competitors will have a map of your meetings, the names of negotiators, drafts of strategy documents. Push-button phones don't have cameras, don't support third-party apps, and don't send analytics to the cloud. It's not “smart” – and that's why it's trustworthy.
This is not paranoia. In 2023, Bloomberg reported that the Pentagon issued a ban on personal smartphone use in high-security areas, including due to the risks of remotely turning on microphones. Top managers followed a similar path but more quietly.
Brain on diet: why the elite are afraid of cutting back
Neuroplasticity—the brain's ability to adapt to external stimuli—works against us. The more often we switch attention between tasks, the weaker our prefrontal cortex – the area responsible for planning, self-control and deep thinking.
Stanford research (2022) shows that people who check their phones more than 50 times a day have
– 28% lower cognitive stability,
– the ability to do “deep work” is reduced by 35%,
– Cortisol levels increase even while waiting for notification.
For the average user, this manifests itself as “brain fog” in the evening. For a businessman – in a failed transaction. For an investor – in one wrong decision in the stock market, where one second = millions. The wealth of the elite does not come from stocks and real estate. It is in mental clarity. And if smartphones obscure it, it's taken out of the equation.
Time is currency: productivity and digital noise
A smartphone is not a tool. This is a mechanism to monetize attention.
Every notification, every like, every “endless scroll” is designed by a team of neuromarketers and behavioral scientists. Their KPI is time in app. Your attention is a commodity.
Social network algorithms use principles of behavioral psychology:
– variable rewards (like slot machines),
– predictable/unpredictable reinforcement (“what if there is a like?”),
– social comparison (ratings, views, subscribers).
This creates a cycle of addiction exactly like addiction to gambling or sweets. Just instead of sugar – dopamine from digital consent.
For someone whose job it is to make decisions based on analysis, this noise is dangerous. One hour without distractions = 5 hours of “multitasking”. It's no surprise that Elon Musk blocked communications at meetings and that Bridgewater founder Ray Dalio instituted “quiet hours.” no amenities. The push-button phone is a radical but effective solution: it only rings when necessary. And this is luxury.
Mental hygiene: how not to become an object of control
The most alarming aspect is not the data collection but its impact. Algorithms don't just serve ads. They form:
– your idea of “norm” (through content selection),
– emotional background (through colors, rhythm, music in TikTok/Reels),
– even political beliefs (via personalized feeds).
As Dr. Jeffrey Holland, a neuropsychologist at MIT, notes:
“A person who consumes algorithmically selected content for more than five hours a day loses the ability to think autonomously. His decisions begin to reflect not his personal experience but his consumer profile.”
Rich people understand this – and they protect not only their money but also their mental independence. Giving up your smartphone is not Luddism. This is an act of self-determination:
“I choose what to pay attention to.”
Digital minimalism: not denying, but filtering
Important: we are not talking about a return to the 1990s. This is not an ideology but a tactic. Elite choose:
Tools to perform tasks: laptop for work, e-books for reading, push-button phone for emergency contact, separate “smart” device – tightly controlled (e.g. iPad without SIM card, Wi-Fi only, analytics turned off). temporal boundaries: “digital sabbath,” screen-free hours, gadget-free zones (dining room, bedroom). manual control: turn off all notifications, except calls from relatives; Use apps in “cinema mode” (no comments, no recommendations).
As Tim Ferriss wrote:
“Don't ask how many tasks you can cram into a day. Ask how many important decisions you can make with a clear mind.”
Are you the subject or the object?
Paradoxically, the technology that promised to liberate us has become the main instrument of control.
Check it out yourself:
– Can you not check your phone for the first 30 minutes after waking up?
– How many times in an hour do you “automatically” pick it up – for no reason?
– Do you feel worried if your phone is weak or left at home?
This is not a “bad habit”. This is a sign of addiction. And the elite does not condemn – it warns, acts through choice, not preaching.
Giving up your smartphone is not a comeback. This is a step forward: towards awareness, towards autonomy, towards remaining human in a world where algorithms increasingly decide for us. Technology must serve. And not formed. Don't manipulate. Don't run out. If the very people who created the system leave it, isn't it time we asked a simple question:
Who controls whom—me with my phone… or him with me?
