Our Digital Afterlives

Posted on Monday, April 22nd, 02013 by Charlotte Hajer
link Categories: Digital Dark Age, Technology   chat 0 Comments

dddgirl

In 02006, Long Now Board Member David Eagleman wrote in Nature:

There is no afterlife, but a version of us lives on nonetheless.

At the beginning of the computer era, people died with passwords in their heads and no one could access their files. When access to these files was critical, companies could grind to a halt. That’s when programmers invented death switches.

With a death switch, the computer prompts you for your password once a week to make sure you are still alive. When you don’t enter your password for some period of time, the computer deduces you are dead, and your passwords are automatically e-mailed to the second-in-command. Individuals began to use death switches to reveal Swiss bank account numbers to their heirs, to get the last word in an argument, and to confess secrets that were unspeakable during a lifetime.

In other words, a “death switch” is a way for us to pre-program an afterlife for our digital selves. Despite the relatively short lifespan of software platforms, it is likely that the data we post on the internet will live on – somewhere – after we ourselves expire.

Eagleman, along with several others, is urging us to think about what will happen to our digital legacy after death: to decide where we want our data to live, and who will have the privilege to engage with it. Do we want to place our legacy in the hands of an heir, or do we want our online presence to be erased? Alternatively, do we perhaps want to designate our own computers as executors of our estate, and have it send out friendly messages to our descendants every once in a while?

Over the past two years, a series of Digital Death Day “unconferences” has brought people together to talk about these kinds of questions. Evan Carroll and John Romano published a book and host an accompanying blog about ways to shape our digital afterlives. And most recently, Google introduced its Inactive Account Manager: a new tool that allows you to decide what will happen to your emails, photo albums, posted videos and personal profiles when your account becomes inactive.

Planning for our digital beyond is a way to save our own lives from receding into a digital dark age – and as such, it may be a way to keep something of ourselves alive after our bodies die. Eagleman muses:

This situation allows us to forever revisit shared jokes, to remedy lost opportunities for a kind word, to recall stories about delightfully earthly experiences that can no longer be felt. Memories now live on their own, and no one forgets them or grows tired of telling them. We are quite satisfied with this arrangement, because reminiscing about our glory days of existence is perhaps all that would have happened in an afterlife anyway.

  • michelle pitman

    I hope that Archivists & Librarians are being invited to those unconferences and are a part of this really very important conversation? It is important to remember that once, when a person passed away, their supposed ephemera and detritus could become amazing artefacts of their contribution to culture, the arts, science and literature.

    If the digital Emily Dickinson’s of our world now, decide to erase their writings from their digital notebooks, online or otherwise after they die, will our future be a poorer place for that? Is it better that we do not know a powerful mind existed? A poet shone through? I doubt those, who have discovered the joy of close reading Dickinson would agree.

    It’s not that I don’t support a person’s wish to do with their digital ephemera as they choose, just that, unlike paper and ribbons, digital ephemera is so difficult to stumble upon in drawers, long after its owner has died.


Next Article navigateright