You’re Not On The Phone For Safety

I recently wrote a post called It’s you, not me, where I spoke about behaviour in public and how increasingly frustrating I find it. Because this is something I encounter daily, it has become a regular point of pause. That pause, paired with some fairly rudimentary research, led me to a realisation that I suspect will attract negative attention.

That’s fine.

I’m also intentionally not sharing links in this post. The data is easy to find, and I’d much rather you arrive at your own conclusions by asking open ended questions via search engines or AI. Do me one kindness, though. Avoid closed questions like “Are UK streets more unsafe than ever before?” You’ll only be fed the answer you’ve already decided to believe.

Of course, there are exceptions. Location matters. Circumstances matter. Patterns of crime are uneven and often deeply local. But taken as a whole, crime in the UK has fallen significantly over the last ten years.

So what does that have to do with behaviour in public?

Well, the most common justification offered for why people are constantly on voice or video calls in public spaces is safety.

That explanation doesn’t hold up.

Phones are not being used primarily as protection. They are being used as something else entirely:

• A social comfort blanket.
• A performance of busyness.
• An avoidance of public vulnerability.
• A misplaced anxiety about strangers.

All while making the user more likely to become a victim of phone theft. One of the few crimes that remains both visible and prolific, despite increasingly effective policing and prevention efforts.

I know this with empathy, not abstraction. My phone and wallet were stolen last year in central London. I understand the unease. I understand the impulse to cling to something familiar. I understand that fear is not always rational, and that it doesn’t need to be in order to feel real.

But there is something more troubling at work here.

When phones are used as a kind of mental shield against imagined danger, they don’t reduce anxiety. They reinforce it. The narrative goes unchallenged. The habit becomes ritualised. A superstition dressed up as common sense.

You’re not staying safe. You’re rehearsing fear.

If anxiety is genuinely driving this behaviour, then it deserves to be addressed directly. Guidance from a GP is a good place to start. Short term therapy is widely available on the NHS, often beginning at six sessions with more offered where appropriate. There are also numerous free to low cost in person therapy options across the UK.

What I would strongly caution against is treating online therapy platforms as an equivalent substitute. Data security is not always robust. Practitioner vetting is inconsistent. And no app can replace the grounding presence of a qualified professional in a room with you.

In moments of acute vulnerability, mental health helplines exist day and night. They are there to help you confront anxiety as it happens, not mask it by calling a friend or family member out of habit.

And then, of course, there is the final caveat.

Some people who insist on being on the phone in public are not anxious, fearful, or vulnerable at all.

Some people are just completely unaware of how much space they take up in the world, demanding the attention of anyone who will give it, all times.

In those cases, the appropriate response is simple. Ask politely for the volume to be lowered, or speak to a member of staff where one is available.

Not every behaviour needs a diagnosis. Some just need boundaries.