In a world increasingly dominated by our smartphones, a growing number of people are embracing a radical new way of living – one where the phone is deliberately left behind. Welcome to the 'Offline Club,' where members gather in cities across Europe for extended periods without their devices.
On a recent Monday evening, I attended such an event at an Amsterdam café. The room fell silent as 40 strangers sat around a long wooden table and engaged in activities ranging from coloring to puzzles. For the next hour, we were free to do whatever – read, meditate, or simply exist without the distraction of our phones.
Laura Wilson, cohost of the Offline Club's London branch, describes this phenomenon as "a gentle rebellion." She believes that by leaving their devices behind, people can reclaim time for themselves and rekindle meaningful human interactions. For many, it's a remedy to the noisy, frenetic atmosphere of city life, where every moment is measured by alerts and reminders.
Attendees came from diverse backgrounds, each with their own reasons for joining this experiment in digital abstinence. Some were searching for an approximation of the contemplative atmosphere of their childhood Quaker meetings. Others sought to shake off their addiction to social media and phone-based communication.
For Sangeet Narayan, a Meta employee who emigrated to London from Bangalore last year, the Offline Club provided an opportunity to test his resolve against his own phone dependency. As he confessed after the event, "I feel I am addicted to my phone... The urge to see my phone—to open it, just for no reason."
The experiment proved surprisingly effective in creating a collective silence and atmosphere of genuine connection among strangers. Conversation flowed effortlessly as we discussed books, children, and social media – all while avoiding the crutch of our phones.
However, even without their devices, some lingering anxieties persisted. For instance, I found myself occasionally reaching for my pocket to check how much time had passed. Thankfully, these fleeting moments of panic gave way to a newfound sense of comfort in our collective silence.
As the evening drew to a close and people began to leave, there was an unmistakable air of rejuvenation among the group. Many reported feeling more energized than they had all day – a result that surprised even Eleanor, a first-time attendee who said she left feeling "weirdly feeling more energized."
As for me, I made my way home by tapping open Google Maps on my phone. It was only when I arrived and picked up the call from my partner that I realized how little control I still had over my digital presence – even in a world where I'd just spent two hours without my device.
The Offline Club is a small but growing movement across Europe, challenging our addiction to smartphones and inviting us to experience life at its own pace. It's not about abandoning technology altogether, but rather finding balance between our digital lives and the beauty of human connection – in the silence and amidst the noise.
On a recent Monday evening, I attended such an event at an Amsterdam café. The room fell silent as 40 strangers sat around a long wooden table and engaged in activities ranging from coloring to puzzles. For the next hour, we were free to do whatever – read, meditate, or simply exist without the distraction of our phones.
Laura Wilson, cohost of the Offline Club's London branch, describes this phenomenon as "a gentle rebellion." She believes that by leaving their devices behind, people can reclaim time for themselves and rekindle meaningful human interactions. For many, it's a remedy to the noisy, frenetic atmosphere of city life, where every moment is measured by alerts and reminders.
Attendees came from diverse backgrounds, each with their own reasons for joining this experiment in digital abstinence. Some were searching for an approximation of the contemplative atmosphere of their childhood Quaker meetings. Others sought to shake off their addiction to social media and phone-based communication.
For Sangeet Narayan, a Meta employee who emigrated to London from Bangalore last year, the Offline Club provided an opportunity to test his resolve against his own phone dependency. As he confessed after the event, "I feel I am addicted to my phone... The urge to see my phone—to open it, just for no reason."
The experiment proved surprisingly effective in creating a collective silence and atmosphere of genuine connection among strangers. Conversation flowed effortlessly as we discussed books, children, and social media – all while avoiding the crutch of our phones.
However, even without their devices, some lingering anxieties persisted. For instance, I found myself occasionally reaching for my pocket to check how much time had passed. Thankfully, these fleeting moments of panic gave way to a newfound sense of comfort in our collective silence.
As the evening drew to a close and people began to leave, there was an unmistakable air of rejuvenation among the group. Many reported feeling more energized than they had all day – a result that surprised even Eleanor, a first-time attendee who said she left feeling "weirdly feeling more energized."
As for me, I made my way home by tapping open Google Maps on my phone. It was only when I arrived and picked up the call from my partner that I realized how little control I still had over my digital presence – even in a world where I'd just spent two hours without my device.
The Offline Club is a small but growing movement across Europe, challenging our addiction to smartphones and inviting us to experience life at its own pace. It's not about abandoning technology altogether, but rather finding balance between our digital lives and the beauty of human connection – in the silence and amidst the noise.