Lately, I’ve noticed something different about the people around SMU: They act like robots. They have vacant eyes and blank looks on their faces. They seem disconnected from society, and they’re not paying attention to their surroundings. They don’t talk to anyone; they just walk to their own beats and mechanical rhythms.
When I look closer at these robots, I see little white wires hanging from of their ears and tucked secretively into jackets, purses and pockets. Wait, these aren’t robots; these are iPeople.
They stroll down the street constantly tuned in to their iPods. Once in a while you might hear one snapping to a mysterious rhythm or murmuring faint lyrics of a Beatles tune. But, you’ll never hear them say “hello” or “how are you,” because their little white wires do all the talking for them. With no sound at all, the wires say, “I don’t want to talk to you.”
When iPeople tune in to their music libraries, they tune out the rest of the world.
This epidemic is spreading quickly – there are at least 22 million iPod owners in the United States. Now that Apple is becoming a mass-market company, it is quick to come out with newer, hipper products. Its latest creation is the iPod Nano – the smallest version yet, so it really can fit in the smallest places. Apple has also recently teamed up with Motorola to create the ROKR cell phone that stores 100 songs. How convenient!
Now, you don’t have to turn off your iPod and be forced into five seconds of the real world before answering your phone to keep digitally distracted. Talk about anti-social.
Music has transformed from entertainment to an internal fixation. The Times Online columnist Andrew Sullivan writes, “Now I have my iTunes in my iMac for my iPod in my iWorld. It’s Narcissus heaven: We’ve finally put the “i” into Me.”
These white wires have become a part of a bigger problem in society: Americans are closing their minds.
People only read their favorite blogs that won’t challenge their beliefs. They listen to the radio stations that cater to a small market – for heavy metal fans, conservative talk or sports news. Cell phones can receive gossip text-messages from “Us Weekly” magazine about the latest on Brangelena and TomKat. Everything is carefully selected.
Technology has allowed us to live in our own iWorlds – where the chance of hearing music we would never download, meeting a stranger or listening to an opinion that forces us to think have all disappeared. We never expect the unexpected. Randomness is banished.
Even worse, how will we handle something tragic in our life that isn’t already in one of our playlists? I don’t remember seeing death or terrorism available on iTunes. We can’t select everything in life; society exists on the other side of the little white wires. If we don’t realize this, we won’t know how to deal with unforeseen news, or interact with others who – gasp – don’t listen to our same music. We can retreat to our iPods all we want, but at some point the battery is going to die – and then we’re stuck in the real world.
Music used to be used for social gatherings, such as concerts and parties. It was mostly a shared experience that brought people together. It gave them something to talk about, and people got to know each other by their similar tastes in music. But, the iPod has made music secret. Sullivan writes, “That bloke next to you on the bus could be listening to heavy metal or a Gregorian chant. You’ll never know. And so, bit by it, you’ll never really know him. And by his white wires, he is indicating he doesn’t really want to know you.”
What does this technology give us? Music anytime, anywhere. Entertainment for the treadmill or five-hour flight. A chance to slip away from reality.
In return, though, we are exchanging so much more. We miss out on sounds that bring fond memories: sounds of laughter, of rainfall, of play. We give up that connection between humanity, never giving or receiving an unexpected smile. We lose awareness of the streets we walk and everyone who populates them.
It’s time to relearn how to find stimulation from within before we retreat to a completely silent society, where people really are robots.
Put away the iPods. We will learn that the world has a beautiful soundtrack of its own – and it’s not confined to a little white box.
Annalise Ghiz is a junior journalism major. She may be reached at [email protected]
