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by Eva Ducruezet

Free: this is how human beings living in democratic societies describe themselves. The general idea, nowadays, is that as long as you are considered equal and are able to voice your opinion and defend your own beliefs, the power is in your hand. Gone are the chains of repression and tyranny that permeated ancient times and enslaved whole societies in the prisons of silence and immobility, forcing them to surrender all of their power to the ruler. All that is left now is one word, resounding gloriously in the back of our minds every time we compare our current situation with that of the past: freedom.

I used to feel that liberation every day, especially when I learned about foreign societies that had "remained" imprisoned by unscrupulous leaders who refused to relinquish their power and wealth to the people, however needy the latter were. Political police, torture, propaganda: all these horrifying stories whirled in my head and inevitably brought me back to the same evident conclusion, the fact that I was lucky to inhabit a "modern," "Western" country, and that my freedom, both compared to these unfortunate people and in absolute terms, was unlimited. Indeed, I had never felt any pressure of any kind to act a certain way, or hold specific beliefs at the expense of my own ideas. The origins of such a view of the world were the innate thought that only another human being, especially a man-have we ever seen a female dictator?-could take away my personal power and control my actions. For what else could?

Such had been my state of mind when I came to NYU-sixteen years spent holding the firm belief that I had control over my actions, probably silently injected in my mind by my proud parents, as well as by the French society in general and all that it entails: the media, school, politicians. It pervaded my mental life, and I whispered this doctrine to myself, as though humming a baby nursery rhyme, probably pacifying my unconscious claims the way the soft lullaby would console a newborn baby, making his tears subside and causing him to forget why he was weeping in the first place. I had never considered and thought about my life in other terms.

Originally not wanting to question this whole system of ideas, which would unavoidably cause great chaos in my mind, I started thinking about the recent turn that my life had taken, a few weeks ago. I have indeed defied all the expectations that I previously had concerning my future: I left my country, France, along with my family and my friends, to the benefit of New York City and the cutthroat yet greatly enriching environment of the Stern School of Business. This sudden shift obviously provoked reflection as to where I am now standing: what has changed in my life and personality, or what I thought would change and has not. As I was gradually identifying those changes, I came across a new way of thinking about them.

The writer Sven Birkerts blames humans for their inability to see beyond direct appearances, and for their reduction of complex things to mere objects. In The Idea of the Internet, he therefore prompts us to think of these things as ideas instead of objects. This would force us to acknowledge that they have broader consequences than we might otherwise admit. Taking the example of the Internet, he declares: "I find myself less preoccupied with the system itself-how it all works, what it can and cannot do-and much more with the importance of the idea of the Internet, and in what ways. . .[it] impinges on our cultural life" (118). Instead of considering the obvious changes which had occurred in me, I therefore started analyzing the more subtle yet important ones that had affected me mentally.

While using that method to analyze these changes, I noticed that I had psychologically evolved, in ways that were apparent but that, up until then, I had not ascribed to my living in a new place: I had of course gained new traits of character, but I also had adopted new views concerning, particularly, privacy and rules. For example, I observed that I had organized my life on the basis of my roommates, without consciously deciding to do so. Indeed, I have learned to reserve my private activities, such as listening to a kind of music that I know my roommates will probably not enjoy, or talking to my friends on the phone, to moments when they are absent from the room. Likewise, I respect my roommates' need for calm whenever they have to study and thus refrain from having loud activities during these moments. What struck and intrigued me was the fact that none of us had ever agreed on such behavior, but the three of us instinctively picked it up as soon as we had moved in. A silent law was therefore passed amongst us, which forces us to act this way, and which has made me unconsciously reconsider the idea of privacy: when I now think about it, I view it as an opportunity for an individual truly to be himself instead of basing his activities on other people's needs or desires. As I further questioned myself upon these issues, I began to think that the cause of this change was my dorm room.

Sven Birkerts' idea then started to take a clearer shape. Taking the example of air travel to illustrate his reflection, he explains that not only have our lives been made easier by the development of this means of transport, but that our whole representation of distance and of places has evolved. "[We] live in a social world conditioned by an understanding of time and space different from generations of forebears," where, for instance, "Los Angeles has become a locale that is [. . .] a function of access, of the number of hours it would take to get there [. . .] And therefore Los Angeles-the idea of Los Angeles [. . .]-is different" (118). Similarly, my whole idea of privacy and of the individual has been influenced by my dorm room, not the concrete space in itself, a cramped room delimited by four white decrepit walls, but the concept of a dorm room, and all that it involves. I indeed started to consider that, in addition to providing a living space for the students, this place had a real function. It sought to modify attitudes and possibly normalize them, through the regrouping of different people in a single room, and the implementing of specific rules (what we are allowed to do, and what is forbidden in the residence hall), in order to keep the university's community together and orderly. Although this may only be an assumption, I am sure that I am not the sole "victim" of this place and that almost every resident has been affected by the inhabiting of such a space, which proves its real power. These changes in my state of mind can really be considered as a psychological evolution, as it is highly probable that these new ideas will live on in my mind even when I go back home, just as the ideas that Birkerts explains in his essay have influenced my reflection and will probably remain in my head instead of fading with time.

Indeed, even Birkerts' essay, "The Idea of the Internet," though it appears as a mere piece of writing about the effect of the Internet over society, has managed to upset my idea of the material world, both by the rhetorical techniques that the author uses and by its implicit ideas ­ two of many "untold stories." Indeed, when I thought I was just reading and would remain a stranger and distinct entity from the text, staying in my position of reader and judging it according to my own standards and opinions, I was actually getting sucked in by the examples used by Birkerts to illustrate his ideas (air travel and global warming), the numerous question marks that triggered my own questioning, and the references to other thinkers (Sherry Turkle, Mikhail Bakhtin, and George W.S. Trow) that substantiated his conclusions. These techniques made me join the author in his thoughts. Furthermore, the latent idea that all things, and not only the Internet, affect our minds, succeeded in piercing through Birkerts' words and coercing me into pondering this generic issue, even though I became aware of the existence of this underlying idea in the text only after some reflection. Everything has some kind of power over us, even texts.

Birkerts, switching back from the example of planes to the Internet, his original concern, explains that aviation has therefore had more consequences on individuals than they are willing to admit, most probably because they are oblivious to the "second side" of what they consider as a plain "thing." He declares: "People accuse me of making far too much of the microchip and the electronic network. But if I sometimes profess a certain alarm, it is at least in part alarm about the large-scale refusal to contemplate the [. . .] fact that our picture of the world is being subtly but significantly altered" (119). Just as our society 'refuses' to see the effects of the Internet on our system of values, I had not accepted the transformation of my perceptions which room 1415 of Rubin residence hall had carried out on me. And maybe other objects also had and were silently instilling new ideas in my mind while I did not think much of it. For instance, just as Birkerts tells us, "What air travel has done to the idea of place, the Internet is [. . .] doing to the idea of individuality and isolated selfhood" (119). Indeed, since I have introduced AOL in my life, my frame of mind has changed. The black, massive machine connecting me to the Internet has broadened my view of the self. I can indeed "[slip] in and out of roles in ways that reflect its essential instability" (119), talking to people I would not have dared approach in 'normal' situations, and pretending to be in certain fictitious moods. Although this could be viewed as a simple change in my habits, and maybe in my personality, it can also be seen as a modification of my idea of the self, which is most probably now inscribed in my mind as a vast platform, available for any trait or mood I would like to project to other people.

In their essay "Welcome to the Postmodern World," the writers Maureen O'Hara and Walter Truett Anderson argue that this is the current, "postmodern" concept of individuals, which most people have gradually adopted. Could this mean that my evolution is only a particular case among a general, social development? This would prove the power that objects have at their disposal, as it would show that the change that the Internet has created in me is not due to my personality, but is indeed brought on by some outside force, a mere object.

The next question is: why? Why, during all these years of living and of handling and use of thousands of objects, have I not perceived the irrevocable morphing of my ideas and principles that these things have been exercising on me? I have blindly dismissed all possibilities that artifacts, places, and circumstances exert control over human beings, haughtily belittling their power over me, thinking smugly that democracy and that almighty, transcending freedom guaranteed more than they could deliver. And even if I have become conscious of the existence of new influences, the majority of people are still ignorant of them, vehemently denying the power of such things.

The origin of such a refusal to face the facts appears to be the very mentality that we promote and are raised in-the proclamation of our freedom. Indeed, our experience of the world is based on the assertion of our liberation: we interpret events and perceive objects through this model. And reject every other possibility. I used to consider the introduction of Internet, which involved accessing an immense array of kinds of information at an incredible speed and at any time of the day, and keeping in touch with friends living on the other side of the world very rapidly, through email and instant messages, as a reinforcement of our lack of restrictions and as another step in the development of democracy. While the positive material effects are undeniable, I have just come to realize, through Birkerts' text, that the Internet has in fact enslaved me in a certain way: it has, like a ghost, modified my view of the world, " the idea of connectivity truly becom[ing] a part of [my] sense of things" (119), transforming my patterns of communication along with my notion of the self, which ultimately affects every part of my world ­ of our world, as it concerns the whole society. Bateson considers that we "pattern" our experiences by thinking of them in a certain way, which makes us overlook important parts of the facts, keeping only a "dominant story." We see the world through our 'free' eyes, and interpret it the same way, pushing aside many untold stories, which nevertheless have an enormous power over us.

Sven Birkerts' text thus sheds a light on this unknown world, the life behind things, which control our behaviors and infiltrate themselves as though maliciously, the way a snake would. Taking this fact into consideration we begin to see that we are not free. Things, objects, places, events, texts, words have power over us; they noiselessly penetrate the warm intimacy of our individual minds, which we nevertheless like to think of as virginal, untouched by anyone but ourselves. Silently still, they take root in our heads and impregnate every single one of our values, ideas, and principles with their own unique color, turning them around and toying with them while hiding themselves from our conscious minds.

The acknowledgement that such a perpetual mental activity occurs inside us cannot be inoffensive. As Birkerts says of the Internet, "It is something more than a Time or Newsweek feature story." "We will no longer stand on the same ground; the atmospheres of relation will have changed." Indeed, we cannot change our whole perspective of the world around us and of our condition as human beings expecting that everything will remain unmoved, precisely because this 'everything' is based on how we perceive it. And even with the certainty that all things have a second side to them which acts on us, we cannot guarantee that we will fight against these influences; in fact, it is highly probable that we are too weak to defy this control and that it will remain in the form of untold stories forever. Moreover, do we really need to tell these stories? Can't we just carry on ignoring the double consequences of everything around us, claiming that all of the previous generations seem to have coped extremely well in their ignorance of such issues?

This brings me back to my first assertion: our blind pride in being free of the chains of the past, which all of our predecessors have suffered from during centuries of oppression, absolute monarchy, dictatorship, and intolerance, is based on the fact that we are not controlled by anything, since we live in a democracy. However, once we acknowledge the insidious power of things, it becomes obvious that the power of man can have other appearances than the blatant, common one in which powerful men dictate laws that muzzle the individual and stifle any kind of opposition: this power can express itself invisibly through objects and places in general, using them as a means of normalizing the society's behavior and values, stripping us of our individuality. The knowledge of what exactly is going on in our minds could therefore greatly reduce the chance of letting others reduce us to simple subjects, imposing upon us. As the French intellectual Michel Foucault claims, knowledge equals power. To know is to have control over ourselves and over other things, including those very things that have been transforming us since the beginning of human history. To know that my dorm room is changing my view of myself and others and to identify this change is to declare my independence.

On the other hand, it seems unclear whether the suspension of this movement would involve a suspension of the evolution of frames of minds. Indeed, it appears that most, if not all, of our current system of values is the product of the influence of millions of things on man. Therefore, blocking the latter would cause our mind to settle and stop evolving.

I used to read a lot of books when I was in elementary school. Coming back from school, I would devour them one by one and calmly rejoice in the imaginary worlds that the author disclosed. Through this discovery of the magic of fiction, I am certain that the way I think of the link between language and emotion has changed, and that I have come to cherish imagination as a means of slipping out of myself and feeling another person's sensations. Without the books, I might not have evolved from the childish tendency to center on my own self. The same goes for societies. They need objects and places to affect them so that they can 'move on'.

Maybe the best solution would therefore be to find a compromise between these two alternatives, which would be to always be seeing things with critical eyes. Indeed, this would allow us to influence evolution. As the writer Robert Scholes declares in "On Reading a Video Text," "We would do well to pause and consider the necessity of ideological criticism" (479). Indeed, as I explained earlier, even Birkerts' essay has managed to control my thoughts by orienting them in a certain way. Re-reading this text while staying alert and wary would perhaps allow me to view it differently, in a way that will not influence my ideas as much as my first reading of it did. Another reading would allow me to perceive its flaws.

I have assumed, from my early reading that Birkerts examined the totality of the experience of the world. However, he does not clearly state that, and I may have been tricked by what I thought was implied. What is more, Birkerts' idea of the Internet and of all other kinds of technological advancements as an invisible catalyst in man's cultural evolution could be considered a great exaggeration. Indeed, such big changes cannot be incorporated in our daily lives while we remain totally oblivious to the changes in our way of thinking. My godmother once cautioned me about the Internet. Staring at my computer's screen where a couple of AIM windows were open, which I used to chat with some of my friends, she suddenly declared, "I don't like this kind of communication. . .it is almost inhuman." People know almost intuitively the changes that technology brings into our world, and they are aware that it is changing our culture. We can, if we put our minds to it, rebel by refusing to adopt the new visions. Even the power of my dorm room could be fought now that I know about its power over me, over us. While I believe, after having questioned myself, that everything has some kind of power over humans, I am not so sure that this form of control is invisible and irreversible. In fact, I am starting to adopt the idea that reason can reveal this "backstage" activity and therefore destroy it, if one thinks it is necessary.

In the critically acclaimed movie American Beauty, one of the main characters, Ricky Fitts, says, "I discovered that there is this whole life behind things," alluding to a moment during which he watched a plastic bag flying, floating and dancing in the air, swept away by the wind. At the moment, Ricky captures the ambiguity of the world, which may seem deceitful to some or even beautiful to others. It might be daunting, at first, to acknowledge that things have such power over our minds, but, in order to stay free, as we like to imagine ourselves, acknowledgement is a necessary step to take. Or, we might just let the world exercise its influence over us, let it keep injecting new untold stories in our minds, for the sake of the random and uncontrolled evolution of our culture. The choice seems to be ours.

Works Cited

"American Beauty". Dir. Sam Mendes. Universal, 1999.

Birkerts, Sven. "The Idea of the Internet." Encounters: Essays for Exploration and Inquiry. 2nd ed. Ed. Pat C. Hoy II and Robert DiYanni. New York: McGraw-Hill, 2000. 117-121.

Foucault, Michel. "Panopticism." Ways of Reading: An Anthology for Writers. 4th ed. Ed. David Bartholomae and Anthony Petrosky. Boston: Bedford, 1996. 176-206.

Scholes, Robert. "On Reading A Video-Text." Literacies. 2nd ed. Ed. Terrence Brunk, et al. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1994.

White, Michael and David Epston. "Story, Knowledge, And Power."The Composition of Our"selves." 2nd ed. Ed. Marcia Curtis. Dubuque: Kendall/Hunt, 2000. 64-77.

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