Roger Collier

I belong to a minority group, and though I fear my words will draw jeers from mainstream society, which looks down on my kind, I am compelled to speak on behalf of my people -- a people who are shrinking in number, who are often misunderstood and who have never downloaded a ringtone.

According to a recent report from the International Telecommunications Union, 67 per cent of the world's population own cellphones. I, however, am among the 33 per cent who don't. I have nothing against cellphone users -- to each their own and whatnot -- but I take issue with the prevailing notion that cellphones are essential to modern life. That's grade A bunk.

You might think I'm some cranky old fart who longs for simpler times, but I'm not. I'm only 35, which puts me squarely in semi-young-fart territory.

I don't fear technology. In fact, I have an electrical engineering degree and once worked in high-tech. I'm not a lover of gadgets but I do own a few, including an iPod, a netbook and a digital alarm clock that not only crows like a rooster but also makes nature sounds (crashing waves and jungle ambience).

That said, I realize people who write I'm-no-Luddite-but columns sound fuddy-duddyish. Criticizing popular technology is a loser's game.

George Packer, a writer for the New Yorker, recently received a cyber beat-down after describing Twitter as "information hell," leading him to conclude that "techno-worship is a triumphalist and intolerant cult that doesn't like to be asked questions." Despite the risks, however, I must speak for my people, the cell refuseniks, who commune with their fellow man the way nature intended: on Facebook.

It's not that cellphones aren't useful. In certain situations, there is nothing more useful -- like when your car breaks down half-way between Nowheresville and Hicktown, for instance, or when you are buried alive. But occasionally useful is far from essential. Not that you would know it from how the media often describes cellphones.

According to The Economist, cellphones are "as essential to human functioning as a pair of shoes." A reporter for The New York Times wrote that people without cellphones must make "painstaking plans" to navigate the world, such as picking a "time and a landmark to meet friends." Painstaking? So choosing a spot to meet a buddy and showing up on time is now considered a meticulous plan? I had no idea I was such a tactical genius.

Most conversations people have on cellphones are trivial, to be frank. I don't know how many times I've seen someone flip one open on the bus and say, "Hey, it's me. I'm on the bus." People use cellphones mostly because they are bored or lonely or too lazy to plan ahead.

In a recent interview, the writer Michael Lewis, who is smarter than Zeus, said he finds "the whole effusion of communications technology bewildering. All you have to do is overhear a certain number of cellphone conversations to see that the vast majority of what people say and write to each other is totally pointless." After looking up "effusion" on dictionary.com ("something that is effused"), I can confidently say that I concur.

High-strung business types no doubt consider themselves exceptions. Their conversations are always pressing, never trivial, and they must always be reachable, day and night, because heaven forbid they miss a call. Their companies would go bankrupt overnight. Thousands of employees would be cast into the streets, their families thrown into financial peril. Think of the children!

Unless you're a pediatric brain surgeon or the guy at Starbucks who pours my grande Sumatra every morning, you're not as important as you think.

There is nothing wrong, of course, with wanting a cellphone. Buy the sleekest model on the market. Yak like a teenage girl. Who am I to judge? I spend hours each week scouring the Internet for vintage sneakers; I can waste time with the best of them.

But when I hear someone say they can't live without a cellphone, my eyes roll. It's silly when adults confuse needs with wants, like children. It's not difficult to get by without always being 10 digits away from interruption. I get by just fine, and I have a boss, a wife, children, friends, parents and the same responsibilities we all do. So, if you're a refusenik like me, don't be ashamed. Say it loud. Say it proud. Or better yet, say nothing and read a book. Leave the talking to the chattering masses.