“Of what a strange nature is knowledge! It clings to the mind when it has once seized on it, like a lichen on the rock.”
This is one of my favorite quotes from Mary Shelley’s famous Gothic novel Frankenstein, which I’ve been reading in one of the fall courses. It’s from the scene where the creature admires the human skill of acquiring knowledge. By secretly observing human living from the small hole in his cottage, the creature deepens his knowledge of the complexity of the human world, only to find himself unsatisfied. While all the knowledge enlightens him to dream of an ideal self, such a thrilling, insightful experience drives him to compare himself with others, bringing a strong sense of shame and anger toward his ugly, miserable figure.
This part led me to think about knowledge: Does knowing make us unhappy?
I associated ‘lichen-like-a-rock knowledge’ with the spread of internet use. The accumulation of knowledge enabled humans to create technology like the internet that we can no longer live without. The internet allows us to access information from across the globe and stay connected with people anywhere, anytime. We no longer need to visit libraries and bookstores to look for the articles needed to write an essay when we can browse a wide variety of resources with a few clicks. When we’re out on a trip overseas and don’t know the language, we don’t have to take time to make exaggerated hand gestures, hoping the person would understand when we have automatic translation systems installed on our devices. We rarely receive letters and phone calls from friends when we can always open our social media accounts to find out how their lives have been. The internet has altered our lives in so many ways that I think it’s impossible to imagine a world without it, especially for my generation.
I never end my day without using electronic devices. I feel like, for nearly half of the day, I’m staring at the screen. I get on the train to the campus to find ninety percent of the people with their heads tilted to the small panel in their hands. And I become one of them.
By the time I realized, the internet was there. I remember when my parents took me to Best Buy, just a few minutes drive from our house in northern Indiana, to get me a phone. As soon as I got home, I peeled the thin plastic layer wrapped around that iconic, white, smooth packaging to find a brand-new iPhone 5 neatly set in the box. An hour later, after I opened the box, I was using the internet without any trouble and immediately created my social media account. Without recognizing the fascination of this epic brainchild of modern times, it was already part of my life as if it had been with me ever since I was born. Without realizing it, I slid into the world of the internet.
The other day, I picked up my phone from the dining table to find a notification from the news app, which instantly caught my eye: the Australian government passed a social media ban on children under 16. The moment I saw the pop-up, one simple question came to my mind: what will happen to those under 16 who already have social media accounts? It was at the end of the day, I was very exhausted. I didn’t click the notification pop-up. I walked to my room, tapping the Instagram icon to find random reels.
The next day, I was watching the evening news program and, again, saw the exact report about Australia’s social media ban. This time, I took a moment to check the news. The controversy over this topic was that while parents find the measure appropriate in protecting their children from any threat and online negativity, the young generation is concerned that they would lose the platform to stay connected with their friends.
Surprisingly, the news caught my attention and stayed in my head as if it were an issue I shouldn’t ignore. I was no exception in this discussion. No matter how hard I tried to unplug myself, I automatically picked up my phone to tap the app icons. Maybe from the anxiety that I might miss something the world already knew, I flipped my phone to turn it on. Suddenly, I realized this wasn’t a good idea and forced myself to push the side button to turn it off. We’ve gone too far, I thought. The internet, the online platforms. These were made to enrich our lives by offering us convenient access to diverse information and people we otherwise didn’t or couldn’t encounter. Yet, we struggle more than ever before. I feel like we’re sometimes drowned in loads of information about topics and people we know and don’t know well, including minor ones about what random people did on the weekends or what they ate for lunch. And I feel like these pieces of information, regardless of how important they could be to ourselves, unconsciously alter how we live and think, sometimes leading us to compare ourselves with random people or make us feel isolated when we’re not exposed to the internet. The more I gather information online, the more I get stuck in the internet’s ways of thinking.
Further encouraged by the news, I began to look for ways to unplug myself without forcing myself to do so. In every small scene of living, I’m trying not to take out my phone. I search online for news articles and academic sources, but I sometimes stop by the bookstore on my way home just to wander around to see if I can find any interesting novels. I do use automated translation, but I find the greatest pleasure in communicating through my words, especially when I’m learning in this department. Social media is a nice way to stay connected, especially with friends living abroad, but I don’t think I need to know what every user does 24/7. Living a life full of ‘knowing’ is nice, but I feel like I’m living in a world where I feel compelled to know what I don’t necessarily need to know. To me, the internet, the virtual world full of knowledge, is ‘a lichen on the rock.’ Since the day I learned about it, I have found myself completely trapped in the world and couldn’t find a way to get out. But how do I unlearn this? Perhaps I’m learning how to unlearn.
I think back to the question: Does knowing make us unhappy? Isn’t knowing something supposed to broaden our perspectives and allow us to understand the world more deeply? How do we define knowledge, or, in other words, how should we sort out what pieces of information are necessary or unnecessary to know to keep our minds flexible in the open-yet-closed internet platform when we shouldn’t be too ignorant or too sensitive about the world we live in?
As always, I struggle to learn and unlearn new things simultaneously as I step into the knowledge-filled world of the internet.
Angles 