Monday, August 12, 2002 |
|
Feature |
|
Is digital backup
worth the effort?
You can read centuries-old books,
but not decades-old computer archives
by Dough Alexander
IN
a dimly lit room in a monastery in Egypt's isolated Sinai Peninsula, a
Texan monk is fighting to save history. The dusty library of St.
Catherine's Monastery is the home to one of the world's most important
collections of ancient manuscripts — some dating back 1,500 years.
These include the Codex Syriacus, a 5th century Bible. Father Justin,
using hi-tech photographic equipment and a computer, has dedicated years
to reproducing these brittle tomes onto compact discs, to preserve them
for future scholars.
His work is admirable -
but is it in vain? Chances are those CDs will be unreadable in a few
decades, unless the world can find a better way to preserve digital
information.
This isn't an age-old
problem of conserving ancient books. It's a modern-day dilemma that
exposes the Achilles' Heel of a technology-driven world.
A large share of
information produced today in practically all areas of human activity is
compiled and designed to be read on computers. But this trove of digital
information may disappear - unless actions are taken today to conserve
this material.
This affects everyone
and anyone who enjoys listening to music CDs, watching DVD movies or
browsing the gluttony of knowledge on CD ROMs. Even if these ubiquitous
silver disks survive the next 40 years - which is unlikely - chances are
computers in 2042 won't be capable of reading what will then be
considered 'ancient technology'. If this sounds alarmist, just think of
those 5.25-inch floppy disks used in computers of the eighties. Emails,
images from digital cameras, Internet Websites, computer documents,
videos, digital art - they're all at risk. "It's being called the
digital time bomb," says Helen Shenton, head of collections care at
the British Library. "If we don't do something we're going to lose
the whole lot."
It's already happening.
Last year Reuters
reported that a California neurobiologist had asked NASA for data that
Viking probes sent back from Mars in the mid-1970s. The American space
agency turned up 25-year-old computer tapes in a format that couldn't be
read. Only the programmers knew the software. And they are dead.
In 1986 the British
Broadcasting Corporation launched an ambitious project to create the
modern equivalent of the 11th-century Doomesday Book, which gave a
snapshot of England in 1086.
More than a million
persons participated in the massive undertaking, and the results were
recorded on specially designed videodiscs. While visitors to the British
Library can still see the original 916-year-old book, the BBC's efforts
from only 16 years ago remain unreadable by today's technology.
These blunders expose
technology's downside. Computer software and hardware are constantly
replaced by ever more powerful new generations that ultimately become
incompatible with their predecessors. Within a few years digital
material - sounds, graphics, databases, Internet links - becomes
inaccessible.
The British Library,
Britain's legal depository, has been working with national archives and
libraries worldwide to find ways to preserve digital information. Its
own efforts involve transferring digital information to a format that
can be accessed by current and future technologies.
Such efforts require
transferring digitised information to newer formats as technology
advances - a costly process that sacrifices the authentic format. Others
suggest 'emulators' - devices that mimic older technology - to ensure
that outdated material can still be read.
Some computer
scientists argue that digital storage is so cheap that everything should
be archived and, if needed in future, use "digital
archaeology" to retrieve it.
These differing
thoughts divide archivists, governments, scientists and businesses on
the best way to store bits and bytes. UNESCO (United Nations
Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation) has been working to
define a standard to guide governments' digital preservation efforts.
The UN agency has started a consultation process to produce guidelines
to ensure the world does not lose invaluable work by scientists and
artists and so that future historians aren't deprived of information
about today's world. Storage technology isn't infallible, either.
Magnetic tapes - used in audio-cassettes, videotapes and computer disks
- erode over time. CDs and CD-ROMs aren't expected to last more than two
to three decades.
The Washington-based
Council on Literary and Information Resources (CLIR), which has been
working with the US Library of Congress, says the problem is both a
storage and technological obsolescence.
"The problem is
serious largely because storage formats are not stable and equipment
becomes obsolete," CLIR President Deanna Marcum says. "The
real danger isn't that information will be lost but how this information
can be accessed in the future."
CLIR has been
advocating for those who produce digital material to physically identify
at creation how information has been recorded - the solution could be as
simple as sticking a label on a disk.
"At the time of
creation, think about what needs to happen to this material in the
future and do what you can to let people know how this information was
created," she said.
"Problems can be
prevented if time and attention is given to the long-term maintenance of
digital information."
Those who make a career
out of peering into the future see opportunities in saving digital
history.
"What we've got to
do is come up with a storage plan, every city should have one,"
Canadian futurist Frank Ogden says. "We have to create a whole new
type of institution, essentially."
Ogden, also known as Dr
Tomorrow, suggests digital information should be stored in repositories
deep inside mountains or underground to guard against war, global
warming and radiation. These vaults should have what Ogden calls a
"technology museum" where old machines are kept.
Lessons can be learnt
from the global leaders of digital archiving. Pharmaceutical firms, oil
exploration
corporations, toxic waste industry and the scientific community - all
are charged with the task of conserving records beyond a lifetime.
Yet despite the best
efforts to protect all those bits and bytes, the irony remains: those
fragile parchments that have gathered dust in St. Catherine's Monastery
for 15 centuries have already lasted far longer than any digital medium
ever will.
— Gemini News
|