In an era dominated by digital technology, where social media serves as the modern-day photo album, the fragility of our digital memories has come under scrutiny. The concept of a “digital dark age” has been resurrected, challenging the notion that the internet preserves everything indefinitely. A stark reminder of this vulnerability emerged in 2019 when MySpace lost 12 years’ worth of music and photos, impacting millions. This prompts us to question: if platforms like Instagram or the entire internet vanished, would we still be able to access our cherished memories?
The term “digital dark age,” popularized by information and communication specialist Terry Kuny in 1997, suggests that our reliance on digital artifacts, such as photos and videos, may be misplaced. Contrary to the common belief that the internet is eternal, these digital relics are far from permanent. “Linkrot,” the phenomenon of URLs leading to deleted webpages, and “bit-rot,” where data becomes inaccessible due to technological obsolescence, illustrate the ephemeral nature of our digital footprints.
As technology evolves, issues related to data ownership and accessibility have begun to surface. Families grappling with the loss of loved ones face legal obstacles when trying to access their social media accounts. The transient nature of technology raises concerns about the ability of future generations to access data stored in now-obsolete formats, given the lack of backward compatibility.
Our contemporary lives are intricately woven into the digital fabric, from smart homes to contact-tracing technology. Yet, amidst the convenience, we may be oblivious to the fact that a new digital dark age is unfolding. The impermanence of data, coupled with the challenges of accessing outdated formats, raises critical questions about preserving our present for posterity.
The ownership of digital data, often controlled by private corporations, poses another challenge. Legal battles have arisen as families seek access to social media accounts of the deceased. A hypothetical shutdown of streaming services like Spotify or Netflix raises concerns about the ownership of the content that constitutes a significant part of our daily lives.
Amidst the digital revolution, concerns about environmental sustainability drive the shift to digital formats to reduce carbon footprints. However, the uncharted territory of e-waste, stemming from obsolete devices, begs consideration. Balancing environmental responsibility with data preservation becomes imperative in this delicate interplay between progress and sustainability.
Digital life, encapsulated by features like disappearing Instagram stories and vanishing messages on Snapchat and WhatsApp, reinforces the transient nature of our online presence. Yet, the urgency to preserve essential data remains. Data protection laws allowing the erasure of personal data have been enacted, but questions arise about the desirability of preserving data indefinitely, especially in the face of threats like identity theft and cyberstalking.
In the midst of these concerns, it is crucial to consider the practical aspects of preserving and protecting our digital artifacts. The loss of a phone prompts reflection on our reliance on digital crutches for information and navigation. It becomes evident that the responsibility of data preservation should not be relegated solely to digital archivists and preservationists but embraced by every individual.
To safeguard our digital memories, individuals can adopt practical measures. Creating multiple copies of important data across diverse devices, including SD cards, USB drives, DVDs, external hard drives, and network attached storage (NAS) boxes, ensures redundancy. Regularly migrating data to newer devices or formats guards against the creeping threat of bit-rot.
The call to (re)discover analogue trends echoes the importance of balance in our digital lives. From board games to vinyl records, embracing tangible, physical formats provides an alternative to the ephemeral nature of digital media. Services facilitating the conversion of digital photos into printed formats, albums, and artwork offer a tangible link to our memories.
Adopting the FAIR principles—making data findable, accessible, interoperable, and reusable—ensures that important data remains accessible not only for the individual but for future generations. Striking a balance between digital convenience and the longevity of our memories becomes possible through these principles.
For those encountering rotten links or missing data, initiatives like the Long Now Foundation’s Rosetta Project and the Internet Archive offer avenues for data preservation. The Long Now Foundation’s public access project and the Internet Archive, a non-profit library preserving digital books, movies, software, music, and websites, exemplify collective efforts to safeguard our digital heritage.
In conclusion, as we navigate the digital landscape, the imperative to preserve our digital artifacts becomes more pronounced. The fragility of our digital memories, coupled with legal and technological challenges, necessitates a collective commitment to safeguarding our present for the benefit of future generations. By adopting practical measures, embracing analogue alternatives, and adhering to principles of accessibility and preservation, we can strive to mitigate the risks of a looming digital dark age. The responsibility lies not only with institutions and preservationists but with each individual contributing to the tapestry of our collective digital history.
