There is a fascinating article in today’s Los Angeles Times about a growing problem faced by archivists: Although this is the information age, we actually have less archived information that is capable of passing the test of time. Numerous examples are given in the article, including NASA data tapes, records of political actions, records of military actions, etc. Not only is the physical format of the data ephemeral, but we’re losing the ability to read old formats, and it is too easy to delete information.
This is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. Those who know me know I’m involved with a railroad museum. At this museum, volunteers restore trains and trolley’s from the pre-1960 era. Just imagine if in 50 years the museum had to restore one of today’s computer-controlled light rail cars. Could they get the microprocessors? The software? The manuals? The control circuits? These are not things that can easily be made in a machine and wood shop, as old train parts can. Restoration might not be possible; and things would be reduced to static displays.
Look at my highway pages: I get information from old maps and old planning documents. But for newer changes, I’m relying on PDF files posted on the web. What happens when these disappear? Will I be able to read CD-ROMs of information? Think CDs will always be around? Think again. I remember archival material from my parent’s accounting office that was on 3.5″ reel-to-reel tape. Seen a player for that recently? What about 8-Track?
It is even a personal problem. Who among us hasn’t deleted a disk of pictures by accident? How do we know that generation’s hence will be able to see our pictures, or even know how to read a .jpg or .png file?
Permanence takes space, and is by definition analog. We can comprehend photographs from 100 years ago. We can still decode Edison wax cylinders. The printed word on paper is always decodable (handwriting less so). Those cuneform tables are still understandable. But what would you do with a WordStar file, a Supercalc Spreadsheet, or a 9-track tape with key documents formatted in Script.
We may be doomed to forget the past, simply because we can’t read it anymore.
