Volume 67, Issue 8

The Global Village and Why I am Leaving

by Jesse Mandell

At 8:55 this morning my alarm went off, wrenching me from my few hours of rest and existential solitude. Before any thought, any cognition of Modeh Ani Lefanecha had entered into my cortex, I found myself reaching for my keyboard and mouse. Before I had fully gained consciousness – even opened my eyes – I was reaching for my umbilical cord to the world, my 9:00 AM information fix. My name is Jesse Mandell and I have a problem. I am hooked, mind, body and soul to the sweetest drug, the opiate of the masses of this generation, the internet. My addiction is so severe that the only thing that will stop me is a power outage. It’s the instant gratification that gets me. The veritable stream of information that is at my fingertips, all I have to do is point and click and vast oceans of information are downloaded to the hard disk that is my brain. Endless news briefings, conversation, even free music and shopping are mine with minimal effort. This new found opiate is used in many different ways be many different people.

The most prevalent use of the internet, at least among yeshiva students seems to be the downloading of endless gigabytes of music and movies. I often observe students, overtired and bleary eyed vainly trying to copy notes or pay attention in class after a long night of downloading. I myself cannot fathom the hours of life wasted by students watching the download status bar of the Kazaa sharing client. No longer do young people flock to the local record shop to get the greatest works of Miles Davis, Ravi Shankar, or The Clash, it is all available online at minimum effort and absolutely free of charge. No longer must I buy a copy of the overpriced Woodstock boxed set to here Jimi Hendrix’s famous “Start spangled banner” with the click of a mouse it is mine. This sharing of music has far reaching effects. According to an article by the BBC, Music sales worldwide were down five percent in 2001, costing the music industry over a billion dollars. Aside from the fact that music sharing online may be illegal, it denies royalties to artists.

This new method of music dissemination explores the concept of “why go outside and shop when you can stay inside and do so.” I admit, I myself have occasionally purchased clothing or other products online but I am shocked an appalled at the sheer amount of online shopping that goes on at Yeshiva. I have stood in line at the productions office waiting to pick up mail and seen yeshiva students with gargantuan boxes overloaded with the latest deals from office max or the Gap. True, because of Yeshiva’s disadvantageous location it is indeed easier to order that oh so loved pair of khakis or spindle of blank cd’s online than to actually go to the store and purchase said items. My response to this whole phenomenon is “why would one stay inside and shop when they could go outside?” This city offers many venues for shopping, from the posh boutiques of Fifth Avenue to the smaller independent retailers of SoHo. I find it disappointing that students would rather spend their time looking online at products when half the fun of buying something is going out, the thrill of the hunt, of tracking it down and subduing said object with your credit card. Furthermore, shopping online can only hurt local businesses that do not have websites.

I feel the greatest effect of the internet is manifest in the way that the average student, myself included communicates, by AIM or Another Idiotic Message. If I may give an example to reinforce my point:

Jewboy08: hey

Jewgirr79: hey

Jewboy08: how was your Shabbos?

Jewgirl79: good, yours?

Jewboy08: good

How many of us have found ourselves in a similar soul-crushing conversation? These vocabulary exchanges, devoid of content or feeling sap most energy left over after the average yeshiva student’s long arduous day. Neither of the people has anything valid to say to one another but they insist on conversing for some inexplicable reason, feeling too guilty to tell the other person “ttyl”. AIM degrades human communication to the point where I see Yeshiva students wildly blinking their eyes and flailing their arms in a vain attempt to communicate, having lost the power to carry on a real conversation. AIM removes the interesting, quirky details that make up the human experience from conversation. Instead, they are revealed in unworthy tidbits online, as they happen. Our language itself seems to be in imminent danger of degeneration; the vast expanse of the English language has been reduced to the “brb” and “lol.” I personally have tried to stop using AIM altogether to avoid the protracted conversations I am used to having.

The computer with its dizzyingly high internet connection has become the greatest plaything of our age. It puts worlds in front of us at blazing speed and removes them just as quickly. The modern American student can surf the inventory of the Louvre or take a virtual tour of the Via Dolorosa without leaving the comfort of their dorm room. But this new found voyeurism comes at a price. With the movement of music comes possible copyright infringement, with online shopping comes the drop in sales at stores without websites and with the invention of AIM, degeneration of human interaction and language itself. A person must ask him- or herself if these tradeoffs are truly worth it. Perhaps as use of the internet matures, new ways of sharing music and modes of conversation will be developed, possibly negating their ill social effects. On the other hand, there is the chance that humans will become more and more dependent on the internet, eliminating most chance for personal interaction. I myself am planning on turning my computer off and taking a nice long break from the world of mass communication, just as soon as I finish this article and find a nice pair of shoes, online of course.¨

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