The Life Behind Things :: Psychology Technology Personal Narrative Papers

The Life Behind Things 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 feature beliefs, the force-out is in your hand. Gone are the chains of repression and tyranny that permeated old-fashioned 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 bypast freedom.I used to feel that liberation every day, especially when I learned about foreign societies that had remained imprisoned by unscrupulous leading who refused to relinquish their power and wealth to the people, however needy the latter were. semipolitical police, torture, propaganda all these horrifying stories whirled in my head and inevitably br ought me back to the very(prenominal) evident conclusion, the fact that I was lucky to inhabit a modern, occidental country, and that my freedom, both compared to these unfortunate people and in absolute terms, was unlimited. Indeed, I had neer felt any pressure of any kind to act a certain way, or hold specific beliefs at the expense of my profess ideas. The origins of such a view of the world were the innate thought that plainly a nonher human being, especially a man-have we ever seen a egg-producing(prenominal) dictator?-could take away my personal power and control my actions. For what else could?such(prenominal) had been my state of mind when I came to NYU-sixteen years spent holding the blotto 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 corrupt nursery rhyme, probably pacifying my unconscious claims the way the soft lullaby would encourage a newborn baby, making his tears subside and causing him to lead why he was weeping in the first place. I had neer considered and thought about my life in other terms.Originally not wanting to question this whole system of ideas, which would unavoidably cause peachy chaos in my mind, I started thinking about the recent flex that my life had taken, a few weeks ago.