26. Two Years for Every Hour

26

Two Years for Every Hour

Julian van der Wouden·7 min read

Nobody decides to become a zombie. It just happens scroll by scroll.

So I did the arithmetic. It takes two numbers: one already on your phone, and one you would rather not think about.

The number your phone keeps for you

How many years of my life will I spend scrolling?

Take your daily screen time in hours, multiply it by the years you have left, and divide by 24. Say you are 30 and reach 78, the average lifespan in the United States. That leaves 48 years. Every hour a day on your phone then comes to two full years. Four hours a day is eight years.

Two years for every daily hour. That is the whole formula, and it holds for anyone with 48 years ahead of them. One hour a day: two years. Three hours: six. Five hours: ten.

Those are years around the clock, nights included. Count only the hours you are awake, sixteen a day, and four hours of scrolling becomes twelve years of waking life.

The 78 comes from the CDC, the U.S. government's public health agency: in 2023, life expectancy at birth was 78.4 years. Your own number may be higher or lower. The formula stays the same.

Where do I find my own daily average?

On an iPhone, open Settings and tap Screen Time. On Android, look for Digital Wellbeing in Settings. Both show a daily average for the past week. That is the number to work with. In the study below, people's own guess ran almost an hour under the measured time.

How it crept up on me

Did I ever decide to use my phone this much?

No. I put off getting a smartphone for as long as I could and kept a phone that only made calls and sent texts. People laughed at it for years. When I finally gave in, I assumed the habit would pass me by. It arrived in small moments, one at a time, on no particular day.

In line at the store. On the tram. During a movie. Five minutes into a book. On a walk through the woods, and eventually on my bike and behind the wheel. Every moment with too little going on had to be filled with something. At no point did I choose that. I only noticed it once it was already true.

A row of black silhouettes waiting in line beneath a starry sky
In line. One of the places I caught myself reaching for it.

That is where the zombie picture goes wrong. In the movies there is a bite, a moment, a before and an after. With a phone there is no moment. There is only a count.

Eighty-five times a day

In 2015, researchers at the University of Lincoln in England measured that count. They found 23 volunteers at the university, most of them students in their early twenties, and put an app on each of their Android phones that logged every moment the screen came on and went off, for two weeks.

What did the participants do?

They lived their ordinary lives with the app running. Every evening they wrote down how long they thought they had used the phone that day. After the two weeks they came back to the lab and estimated one more thing: how many times a day they picked the phone up. Then the researchers laid the guesses next to the log.

How often do people actually pick up their phones?

The log said 85 times a day. The guess had been 37. On total time the volunteers were roughly right, guessing about four hours against a measured five. On the number of pickups they were nowhere close, and the people who guessed high were not the ones the log showed picking up most.

Why does none of it feel like a decision?

Because most of it is over before a decision could form. More than half of those 85 pickups lasted under 30 seconds. A glance at the lock screen, a swipe, done. The researchers concluded that these quick checks are habits, carried out without a deliberate choice. Nobody decides 85 times a day. The hand decides.

Over 48 years, that is about a million and a half pickups. Not one of them a choice.

That same year, Langenscheidt, a German dictionary publisher, named Smombie its youth word of the year, the publisher's yearly pick from teenage slang: smartphone plus zombie, a person who stares at the screen without noticing what is around them. The word is funny. Eighty-five times a day is arithmetic.

Where the zombie gets a say

How do I get some of those years back?

Start with the pickup, since that is where the years leave. Put the phone face down for one minute and watch what your hand does. The first time it moves, you have caught a check in the act. Once you can see one, you can decide about it. That is the only place a decision was ever available.

A black silhouette standing before a lit doorway with empty hands, feet still on the near side, beneath a starry sky
Face down for one minute. This is where the decision lives.

Are the hours on my phone all wasted?

No. A call with someone you love, a map in a strange city and a long read on the train are all screen time. The formula has no opinion about the hours. It shows what they add up to, so you can ask a different question: which of those years would you choose again, with the ending in view?

What I keep coming back to

In South Korea, in the last days of my career as a pilot, I took part in a seminar where strangers rehearse their own death. For six hours we walked through our own last day, and at the end I lay down in a coffin and the lid was closed over me. It did what no screen-time chart had done: it put the hours I have left back in my own hands. The Last Hour Experience is the guided audio journey through your imagined final hour. For that hour there is nothing to scroll. The question I would bring to it is what your hand reaches for instead.

Questions people ask

Is four hours a day on my phone a lot?

Compared with the people in the Lincoln study, whose phones logged five, it is ordinary. That is the point. Ordinary hours are the ones that add up to eight years without anyone noticing, because nothing about them ever looks like a problem at the time.

Does deleting social media give me the years back?

Some of them. The apps take the hours, but the pickup is the habit, and a hand that has learned to reach will often find another app. Count your pickups for a week first. If the number barely moves after you delete something, the habit was never in the app.

Why does time disappear while I scroll?

Because a pickup of under 30 seconds leaves almost nothing to remember, and the log in Lincoln showed more than half of all pickups were that short. A day made of them ends with the hours gone and nothing to show for them. The time was spent in pieces too small to keep.

What do I do with a minute I don't fill?

Look at what the phone was about to cover. A line, a silence, a wait for someone who is late. Those were the moments it kept stepping into. Stand in one for the full minute and notice who is there and what you can hear. That minute is the first of the years you get back.

Sources

Mortality in the United States, 2023, the yearly report from the CDC, the U.S. government's public health agency, with life expectancy at birth of 78.4 years.

Beyond Self-Report: Tools to Compare Estimated and Real-World Smartphone Use, the 2015 study by Sally Andrews, a psychology researcher, and colleagues at the University of Lincoln in England, published in PLOS ONE, a science journal that anyone can read online for free. The 23 participants, the two weeks of logging, the 85 pickups against the guessed 37 and the checks under 30 seconds all come from there.

Smombie, youth word of the year 2015, described by the Society for the German Language, an association that follows how German is used. The word was chosen by the dictionary publisher Langenscheidt.

My own story of the phone that only made calls and sent texts is told in the video on The Deeper Story.

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