Drafting a will is not a normal activity for a college student on a free afternoon. It seems even more preposterous that he or she would be writing instructions for handling non−material belongings, such as activities in cyberspace.
Although the destiny of someone's online identity after death might seem depressing or trivial, the proliferation of online media has spawned discussion about what to do when the inevitable occurs.
A recent article in The New York Times Magazine, "Cyberspace When You're Dead," tells the story of the unexpected death of popular blogger Mac Tonnies and how his belongings on the Internet were handled by his relatives, colleagues and fans. Throughout the process, questions arose over what should be preserved or deleted and who makes these decisions.
"Intellectual property, including any media, should be passed on to the beneficiaries of the individual," Professor of Engineering Karen Panetta, who is also the co−director of the Multimedia Arts Program at Tufts, said.
In order for this process to go smoothly, individuals have to find a way to inform others about their wishes before death. The best way for beneficiaries to find out about the online presence one wants to leave behind is to tell them in person beforehand, according to Associate Professor of Computer Science Alva Couch.
"The person should have some control over what happens through regular channels, such as a will," Couch said. "The default control should be just like that for real property."
However, just as with a cemetery site, preservation in cyberspace is not free. Couch predicts that in the future social networking sites will adopt a "delete unless paid to retain" policy for legacy data. The prospect of people paying for the preservation of their online legacy has inspired numerous entrepreneurs.
Legacy Locker, for example, claims to have almost 10,000 subscribers to its digital estate−management service. Another service, DataInherit, allows users to update digital legacy data via an iPhone application.
Putting competition aside, these firms co−sponsored an event called Digital Death Day in May 2010 as part of an annual online−identity conference near San Francisco. The primary goal was to spark discussion about the consequences of death in the online world, according to the website.
Although this dark business seems to have a bright future, the user base of these companies is relativity small. According to a survey by FindLaw.com, only 45 percent of Americans, and just one in six between the ages of 18 and 34, have a will.
Presumably even fewer have thought about the afterlife of their digital property. This may be explained by the fact that young people, who are normally not near death, are the primary users of the online world.
"When you haven't yet determined the destiny of your material possessions," Jorge Montolio−Conde, an exchange student, said, "how are you supposed to know what to do with your virtual ones?"
Given the large amount of recreational online activity, some may not consider what may be deleted — or saved — after death.
"We are fooled to believe that all of our digital information wouldn't suffer any change or be destroyed after our death, unless we have requested this," Montolio−Conde said.
In other words, many people simply don't see the need for companies like DataInherit. Others might be aware of such firms, but still wouldn't trust them to handle their digital death.
"I'm far more worried by the prospect of having my identity stolen by the same companies whose purpose is to provide ‘vital' services to my dead self," freshman Evan Moulson said. "I'm way too much of a privacy freak to become a customer of such a company."
Moulson also finds that creating a digital will is "kind of creepy." For many people, pondering mortality is a flat−out gloomy — and, frankly, low−priority — process.
In fact, social media sites themselves just recently started paying attention to this problem. For example, Twitter in August 2010 established its policies in the case of the death of a subscriber.
Facebook is another place where this issue is prominent. After the sudden death of a Facebook employee in 2005, the company adopted an option to request that a profile be switched to "memorial" mode, which alters the profile into a commemorative site where eulogies and remembrances can be written.
"Everyone has different ways of expressing their grievances, so I think it's fine if they write on a Facebook wall in an attempt to keep in their hearts someone who has passed away," freshman Deepika Bhargo said.
An opposite, but equally strong, argument comes from an anonymous piece of writing in the most recent issue of the Tufts Public Journal, a publication that accepts anonymous contributions from members of the Tufts community. Under the title "I hope no one writes on my Facebook when I die," the author urges the readers to "put that energy into keeping the people you love close, because you never know when they're going to go."
One solution to dealing with digital identity after death is filtering what is put online initially. The great majority of cyber activity is worthless, according to Howard Woolf, the associate director of and director of media technology for the Experimental College. Woolf has noticed that social media encourages superfluous material, lessening the impact of what may actually be informative and entertaining.
"Know that the boring … and endlessly repetitive content needs to be excised if the fresh and the interesting content is to have any chance of surviving oblivion," Woolf said.
