Voices: Do You Like to Watch?
If you want to get someone's attention... just whisper.
When I was a little girl, I would eavesdrop on my mother as she made her Sunday phone calls to friends and family. I was fascinated and never felt guilty or even had a concept that what I was doing might be wrong. It was how I kept informed.
However, the further modern technology entrenches itself into our lives, the more tears we shed for the loss of our individual and collective privacy. Our employers spy on us via secret cameras while we work. They monitor our e-mail. Analyze our purchases. In defense of our rights, many are incensed.
Though I understand the threat to an extent, the louder voice in my head just doesn't care. Illegal purchases aren't generally recorded over traceable systems, so what is it that people are trying to hide? Has society become so perverted that being true to ourselves has become too much of a risk?
Don't tell me you're afraid of them marketing your own interests back at you - they are going to do it with or without accurate research. Eventually they'll understand that science will never crack the intricacies of the human mind and they'll leave us alone. Until then, let them examine my store receipts - maybe they'll learn that someone is actually buying the tomitillos and they'll teach the kid at the register what a tomitillo is and where to find the code on the produce list.
If you have secrets to keep from your boss, from your co-workers, you're obviously not in the right work environment. If it's going to get you fired, send it from home. I know it's not pleasant to consider that someone is watching us, collecting information to use against us, but people do it with or without technology. Ever hear of something called a rumor? They've been around for years and people aren't going to stop spreading them.
My mother isn't the only victim of my eavesdropping. I pay close attention to the conversations of strangers, too. I watch people, sometimes casually, sometimes intently, but never maliciously.
Call me rude. Accuse me of lacking manners. I think it's more respectable to be concerned with my neighbors, my surroundings. We've allowed our country to disintegrate through minding our own business. How much longer do we need to keep this up? If you don't want me listening to your conversation, shut the door, leave the room. I will not stop. I will not apologize.
Confessional websites have recently begun to attract widespread attention. At notproud.com one may either post his or her own confession or browse through those of others categorized into the alluring categories of: pride, envy, sloth, gluttony, greed, lust, anger or misc. The site contains over 7,000 archived confessions and no one feels guilty for reading them. The website's manifesto reads, "Confessions are as we see ourselves. It is not always pretty, but it is often illuminating."
Our fascination is justified because, in this case, we are supposed to be interested. Those who post their confessions are seeking to unburden themselves. It's as if they must reveal or bare themselves before us. Our attention is a requisite component of the confession. This is why reality TV has exploded across the airwaves and grown and adapted. People may find the programming annoying, but no one has cited the participants with sins of pride or accused those of us at home for being meddlesome voyeurs.
The manipulative minds behind certain programs have been faulted only with excessive commercialism or for attempting to pass off staged moments for reality. "You said it would be real," we cry. "Don't try to trick us."
And there, lies the truth of the debate. We trick each other every day. We mask our physical flaws, try to look cool, and sound intelligent. We lie when we don't want to do something or didn't do something we were supposed to. What's wrong? Are you afraid I won't like the real you?
Truth has a way of reaching the surface no matter what we do to hide it. Look at Enron. Confess your secrets. Embrace your voyeur.
--alicia grega-pikul, 31 January 2002
