On Sept. 8, 2009, to honor Oprah Winfrey at the start of her 24th season, the city of Chicago blocked one of the busiest commercial streets for an outdoor taping of her show. When Winfrey arrived onstage, there were over 21,000 cheering fans on Michigan Ave.

Then, when she introduced the Grammy-Award winning Black Eyed Peas, who were performing their song “I Gotta Feeling,” in its seventh week at number one on the charts, no one moved. When the song started, there was one girl in the front row waving her arms—while the rest of Chicago stood still. Then, as the band began singing the special Oprah version of their original lyrics: “Today’s the day/Let’s live it up/24 years/Let’s give it up,” another six audience members started mimicking the lone girl’s movements. By the time the band reached, “Jump off that sofa/Keep watching Oprah,” about two dozen had joined in on the choreography. As the song swelled, so did the crowd. Soon the Black Eyed Peas had 21,000 people on the street dancing in synchrony.

The scene was awe-inspiring: Winfrey’s jaw dropped as she took out her camera phone, clearly taken aback by something her staff had planned without her. On a sunny September day in Chicago, a lone girl launched thousands of bodies into movement. Live on Oprah, then watched over three million times on YouTube, the flash mob had finally hit the mainstream.

This year the term “flash mob” entered the Merriam-Webster Dictionary as “a group of people summoned (as by e-mail or text message) to a designated location at a specified time to perform an indicated action before dispersing.” Groups like Improv Everywhere have made “flash mob” and “urban prank” common terms. Their Grand Central Station Freeze, where over 200 individuals stood frozen for five minutes in the busy commuter hub, has received nearly 20 million views on YouTube. There have been pillow fights on the streets of San Francisco and an impromptu musical about napkins performed in a mall food court. The purpose of these events is not to mock the public by disturbing their routines but rather to release people from the monotony of everyday life.

The staff on Oprah created a flash mob that successfully tricked the Grande Dame of daytime. At the end of the performance she spoke almost as coherently as Tom Cruise when he did the “jump off that sofa” dance on Oprah. In breathy disbelief she gushed, “That is so cool! That is so cool! That is the coolest thing ever! How did you all do that? Chicago, I love you. Oh my god, that was the coolest thing ever!”

One of the defining aspects of a flash mob is its disappearance. A public scene that can take months to orchestrate can be over in 30 seconds. In the end, people are instructed not to laugh or socialize with the other mobsters—they just walk away. The effect is powerful for the viewer, but what about for the participants? What good comes out of the conceptualizing, the organizing, the instructing, and the enacting? When it’s all over it can be watched on YouTube, but the event can never be relived. The energy that people spend on flash mobs dissipates in an instant.

When Americans in the twentieth century first encountered a surplus in goods, it occurred to some manufacturers that products could not last forever, physically or aesthetically, if they wanted to sell more and more. With this realization came the conception of the planned obsolescence that permeates through our contemporary culture. In the olden days, appliances like the Singer Sewing Machine had replaceable parts. Today, if an iPod breaks, you do not fix it. You go out and buy the newer model that came out a month after you purchased the since-outdated and broken one. The flash mob is therefore parallel to the iPod: It freezes once and then is thrown away.

Oprah preaches self-appreciation and dedication. The mantra she preaches to her audience is to “surround yourself with people who will support and encourage you.” But in a world where 21,000 people can participate in the making of a unique, powerful, and memorable moment and then simply walk away, are we investing our time in people who will simply disappear after the dance?

Today, short-term pop-up stores are replacing mom-and-pop stores. Retailers rent spaces for a period up to a few months and build specialty stores. Temporary pop-up stores have been found to attract more visitors than the traditional “institutions” of yesteryear; people are investing in novelty. In an article on the Prada Foundation’s two-month pop-up bar in London, the Double Club, journalist Elizabeth Day referred to the venue as “a Studio 54 for the flash mob generation.”

In the flash mob generation there is no Cheers: When even bars are made to last a few short weeks or months, there cannot be a place where everybody knows your name. How will our generation develop bonds and support when most aspects of life are literally changing in a flash?

Chances are television networks will find a way to preserve Oprah forever. However, aside from watching Oprah in the morning, what kind of loyalty and dedication can the flash mob generation have? In a world where you need to check your e-mail every minute and monitor your Twitter through every meal, if you blink, will you simply miss the moment and the mob?

Ari Berkowitz is a sophomore in Berkeley College.