Indiana Jones and the Search Engine of Revelation

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 blogs, wall posts, twitters, 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 naïve 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 Pompey, 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 settings 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?

After all when King Tut's sarcophagus was interred in the Valley of the Kings it would have been presumed that he'd rest in peace there forever, unmolested by future academics and trophy hunters. But today's grave robbing is tomorrow's archaeology and notions of eternal rest and sanctity go out of the window when there are museums to fill and academic papers to write.

So who's to say what we think is secure and hidden today will remain so when the digital archaeologists of the future begin peeling back the layers of history?

Will that photo of you drinking tequila with a dodgy stripper at Dave's stag night one day be exhibited next to the Elgin Marbles at the British Museum as a genuine 21st century artefact?

Could that Twitter post about the amazing bacon sandwich you had for breakfast spark a mountain of dissertations on post-millennial eating habits?

Will a future fedora-clad hero be navigating the pitfalls of your Myspace page for hidden nuggets of long-forgotten knowledge or Googling your Wordpress blog armed only with a nice cup of tea and a chocolate hobnob?

Which not makes for only a sobering prospect next time you're uploading those incriminating photos the morning after an office party, but also a presents a rather depressing thought for future movie-goers everywhere.

Indiana Jones and the Search Engine of Revelation? Give me a giant boulder, a legion of Thuggee guards and a runaway mine cart any day.