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Indiana Jones and the Search Engine of
Revelation
By Nick Lockey on Jun 22, 08 01 :03 PM in Creative industries
A whip cracks in the darkness of an ancient tomb. Flickering torchlight casts the
shadow of our fedora-clad hero as he stoops in the gloom, his hand sweeping away
ten thousand years of grime from a forgotten relic. As the dust falls away an ancient
clue is gradually revealed and the secrets of a long-dead civilisation come slowly
into focus.
Like practically every 20-something bloke I know, I've been swept up in Indiana
Jones fever, eagerly anticipating last month's release of Indy 4 by reliving all of those
backyard fantasies of fighting Nazis, dodging fiendish booby traps and snatching
priceless relics from highly improbable places.
Whether watching an ageing Dr. Jones creak his way through two hours of sci-fi
mumbo-jumbo was actually worth the 19 year wait is a matter for debate, but the
recent tidal wave of Indy mania got me pondering our own place in the annals of
recorded history.
And I came to the conclusion that we're a future anthropologist's dream come true.
I mean just think about it- the social networking boom of the early 21st century has
seen millions of ordinary people documenting the minutiae of their everyday lives
like never before.
From the momentous to the banal our actions and experiences are recorded in
millions of biogs, wall posts, tweets, tags and comments. Every inch of the planet is
put on display through Google Maps, YouTube videos, and Flickr photos.
Factor in the environmental doom-mongering about air travel, carbon credits,
dwindling resources and the homogenisation of our global culture, and it's no stretch
of the imagination to conclude that we might be the last generation with true
freedom to explore our planet and document the unique cultures we encounter.
But, with more and more social networking horrors stories emerging all the time,
many of us are already beginning to fall out of love with our urge to lay our lives bare
online. Indeed the full consequences of the social networking revolution may not be
felt for several years. Sooner or later, however, as those skeletons begin to tumble
from the digital closet and people find their careers, personal relationships and
personal privacy increasingly tarnished by the things they've uploaded in the past,
the social networking bubble will probably burst for good.
So in a nutshell, the present civilisation blogging and uploading its way to
distraction will have documented its existence in infinitely more detail than any
generation before it. And, when the inevitable fallout kills the craze all together and
we wise up to the consequences of what we have done, then it is likely that no-one
will ever be naive enough to do it again with such fervour, passion or candidness.
In short, we could be set to become like a digital version of the citizens of Pompeii,
caught in the fall-out of an impending digital disaster but with our lives perfectly
preserved around us; a perfect snapshot of a few short years at the turn of the 21st
century. Presuming that digital archives are transferred from generation to
generation over the next 100, 1000 or even 10,000 years, we could well turn out to
be the most scrutinised, analysed and discussed generation in history.
This should give us food for thought in terms of our current notions of online privacy.
Sure, you can beef up the security setting1s on your Facebook profile to Fort Knox
proportions today to stop your boss seeing your dodgy holiday snaps, but who's to
say you won't fall pray to the digital grave robbers of the future?