There is something that moves us. Something that, without us realizing it, guides us. Something that, without us noticing, changes us day after day. And strangely… we only begin to free ourselves from it when we stop chasing, when we stop trying to belong, when we disconnect from the outside world and begin to connect with the inner world within us.

It has always been fascinating to observe how a person, completely unrelated to us, on the other side of the planet, can create something—a song, a film, a video game—that we find either pleasing or unpleasant. This happens everywhere: in cinema, in video games, in school, at work… in every space where human beings interact.

So an inevitable question arises: how is it possible that people with no direct connection share such similar tastes?

Every time that question appears, one constant emerges: the invisible hand.

The first time I read about this concept was in an economics book, associated with Adam Smith. In simple terms, it can be understood like this: imagine a company that sells the best light bulbs at a very low price. Other companies react by lowering their prices or improving their quality. The result is that the consumer gains more options. One company might lose and lay people off, while another grows and hires. And without anyone directly planning it… society reorganizes itself.

That small example makes something clear: the invisible hand is not something mystical, but rather the result of multiple interactions—direct and indirect—that end up shaping reality. Although this concept originates in economics, it can serve as a reference for observing patterns that extend beyond markets.

And this is where it becomes truly interesting, because those interactions do not only affect markets… they also affect how we think.

Over time, these dynamics create invisible structures that are implicitly transmitted and eventually become embedded in human intuition. And that intuition… replicates itself.

Today, digital technology is designed so that users can intuitively understand how to use it. You know where the “back” button is without anyone explaining it to you. You know how to swipe, tap, navigate. This happens because a pattern already exists, a structure that has been internalized.

And that pattern does something important: it allows us, even without knowing each other, to share behaviors.

This same principle scales. It does not only apply to interfaces, but also to tastes, decisions, and even ideologies.

Think about something as simple as saying “bless you” when someone sneezes. Who taught that? Why do we not do the same when someone coughs? Or think about cinema: why do certain types of music instantly create tension? Because over time, specific sounds—often inspired by operatic or symphonic styles—have been associated with fear. And now, even if we are not aware of it… we feel it.

Here is where a key concept comes in: information structures.

An information structure is a set of patterns—social, cultural, moral—combined with raw data that, when put together, form a coherent shape. We may not understand each piece individually, but together, they make sense.

And this is the important part: these structures influence our decisions, often without us realizing it.

To understand why this is so powerful, it is necessary to look at two fundamental problems of the human condition.

The problem of being begins at the most basic level. From a young age, we learn to say—“I am”—, yet we rarely stop to question what that actually means. If you ask someone who they are, most will answer with their name. But we are not our names.

Human beings are social by nature. We observe, copy, and adapt. We learn what to do in order to belong, and in that process, we begin to modify ourselves. “I should dress like this.” “I should behave like this.” “I should be liked.”

And without realizing it, we can end up becoming a copy of a copy of a copy, as mentioned in Fight Club.

The social and cultural problem complements this. Society defines behaviors. For example, tipping in America is seen as a positive gesture, while in Japan it can be interpreted as offensive. It is the same action, but with completely different meanings.

This creates expectations, patterns, and invisible rules. When observing groups—whether in schools, universities, or workplaces—it becomes clear that people tend to cluster around similar patterns.

And then something crucial happens: when the problem of being is not resolved, and social structures are strong, external influence becomes almost inevitable.

Now imagine an entity—not as something religious, but as a thought experiment. An entity that knows what you like, what you consume, what you think, and what you fear. One that also understands the information structures that shape your perception.

Such an entity could influence what you buy, what you listen to, what you decide, and what you believe.

And here is the unsettling part: that entity already exists.

It is important to distinguish between cultural, social, ideological, and inspirational influences. Not everything comes from the same source. However, these elements intertwine and end up moving many things beneath our awareness.

For example, a movie that everyone is talking about naturally draws more people to watch it. Not necessarily because everyone finds it good, but because it becomes visible. It appears in conversations, in advertisements, the actor gains recognition… and with it, more opportunities.

Something similar happens with consumption. During events like Black Friday, advertising intensifies, conversations revolve around deals, and almost without realizing it, a sense of urgency appears. Sometimes we buy not because we need something, but because of the context that has been created around it.

And even then, that behavior is not neutral. It benefits companies, generates economic movement, creates jobs… and to some extent, satisfies the buyer as well.

We are surrounded by systems that constantly collect information: what we watch, what we search for, what we buy, what we listen to. Platforms like Spotify or Google build increasingly precise profiles.

Now imagine all of that connected into a single profile, a single digital identity.

That would allow messages to be designed specifically for each person, with almost surgical precision.

And with artificial intelligence—where even thoughts are shared—this profile becomes even deeper.

The systems that once operated implicitly… now have more information than ever before.

It does not seem possible to eliminate them, because the system we live in depends on them… or perhaps it was the system itself that created them.

So inevitable questions remain: can we refine our information structures? Can we distinguish which ideas are truly ours? Or are we reacting to patterns we cannot even see?

The problem is no longer just how preferences emerge, but who is actively shaping them.

And perhaps… the most important question is not whether we can escape, but whether we are capable of observing.