It’s time capsule time. As the new century approaches, instant archaeology is being created by civic groups, schools, churches, businesses and a surprising number of families and individuals who have chosen to encapsulate the present for the presumed benefit of the future.
Renewed interest in time capsules is attested to by manufacturers, who report big sales increases. (A $20 “personal capsule” available in card stores could reach sales of tens (perhaps hundreds) of thousands by the end of the year.) The Smithsonian Institution, responding to a surge in inquiries, particularly from corporations, plans a seminar this fall on the proper preparation of capsules. And the International Time Capsule Society is experiencing a flurry of interest in its mission and its registry of completed capsules, the only listing of its kind.
“People used to think of time capsules as sort of eccentric kids’ stuff,” said Cathleen O’Connell, an independent filmmaker in Seattle who is completing a documentary on the subject. “But it’s an activity that has been legitimized by corporations, cities and builders to an amazing degree, and it’s also been democratized. Anyone can buy their own custom-engraved capsule now.”
While the boom in time capsules at century’s end is not surprising, what is perhaps surprising is the discussion over what to put in them–specifically, what information or data (and in what format) and what “realia,” the term experts use for objects that are telling indicators of an era.
Since much of our end-of-century reality is expressed in digital gadgets and digitized information, the discussion is that much more interesting. The digital is ephemeral, historically speaking, because the devices may not work in the future and the data will degrade, some quite quickly. For instance, when stored at room temperature, magnetic tapes can be expected to last only 20 years, CD-ROMs for 50. So-called analog items, like acid-free paper, do a lot better over the long term, say archivists and preservationists.
The paradox is that while technology has never allowed a broader spectrum of people to record more about their lives than now, today’s time capsules could prove even more irrelevant to historians and scholars than those of the past.
“The more technology-dependent the contents of a capsule, the more vulnerable,” said Paul Hudson, a founder of the International Time Capsule Society, at Oglethorpe University in Atlanta (www.oglethorpe.edu/itcs). “People should think much more simply, much more naively, about what to put in them. Sit down and write a message to the future with a No. 2 pencil on paper.”
People interested in a discussion of archival protection and resources, prepared by the Smithsonian’s Conservation Analytical Lab, might want to visit the simsc.si.edu/cal/timecaps.html site.
For some, there is no issue at all: Shoot a video and let our smarty-pants descendants figure out how to play it. Norman Davis, who helped in the recent burial of a time capsule in Englewood, N.J., to be opened in 100 years, said he had videotaped the ceremony up to the point of burial and included it in the capsule. “No one in 2099 will likely have a VCR, but that’s their problem,” he said.
Cary Hammer, a Web and video game developer, and his wife, Nadine Browning, plan to celebrate the coming of 2000 with a party, as do a few billion other people. But their party, at their home in San Francisco, will center on the burial of a time capsule in the back yard, and to that end, Hammer has bought a $55, 18-by-4-inch polymer tube from Future Archaeology of Manhattan.
Hammer is asking guests to bring items to be interred until 3000. “I like the idea of it, the pseudo-immortality of it,” he said of time capsules. “I want to walk around my house with a video camera and talk about everything in it, what our jobs are like, and put that tape in the capsule.”
There have been attempts throughout time capsule history to think through the problem of the unintelligible message, like one included on a medium that requires an obsolete device to “read” it (a book displays itself, but a CD-ROM must be “opened” with a separate device).
Short-term capsules also appear to be growing in popularity. Chris Chance, managing director of Future Archaeology (www.futurearchaeology.com), a capsule manufacturer that has sold nearly 4,000 capsules this year–up fourfold from last year–said many of his customers were planning to open their capsules in a mere 10 to 25 years.
Gregory Benford, a science-fiction writer, a professor of physics at the University of California at Irvine and the author of the new book “Deep Time: How Humanity Communicates Across Millennia,” does not approve. “Where is the sense of awe in that?” he said. “You might as well just send it to yourself through the mail.”
Jeff McCarty argues that burial is passe. He is founder and president of Original Time Capsule Co., in Greenfield, Ind., which offers capsule kits to commemorate personal events like graduations and births.
“People can’t relate to anything longer than a human lifetime,” McCarty said. “The trend is that people want to open up their own capsules. That’s what I’m planning for a capsule I created last year for my wedding. I’m going to open it in 10 years.”
The new preference for shallow time capsules may in itself reflect our technological obsessions, said Alexander Rose, executive director of the Long Now Foundation (www.longnow.org), a group in San Francisco that among other things is trying to spur opinion-makers to embrace longer-term perspectives by building a 10,000-year clock. “Short-term capsules are a reaction to technology,” Rose said. “They’re saying you can’t look beyond 5 to 30 years because that’s our technological cycle, the life cycle of our devices.”
Shallow time capsules do sidestep a basic conundrum: It has been estimated that for every thousand or so capsules that are buried, only one is found. The International Time Capsule Society even maintains a list of “Most Wanted” capsules, prominent examples that have not been found.
To think in short windows, some people say, undercuts the value of time capsules. Messages left unintentionally, like the remains of Pompeii, tend to have far more import than those handpicked by people, Benford said.
“One of the truths about capsules,” said O’Connell, the filmmaker, “is that they are as much for the here and now as they are for the future.”
The International Time Capsule Society offers these tips on organizing a time capsule:
– Pick a retrieval date. If it’s no more than 50 years later, the capsule may be opened by your own generation or your children’s.
– Choose an archivist or director. Committees are good to share the workload, but a single person needs to direct the project.
– Pick a container. A safe is a good choice; other possibilities include getting a time capsule from companies that sell containers made for this purpose. The interior must be cool, dry and dark.
– Find a secure location. Thousands of buried capsules have been lost, so burial is not recommended. It is important to mark the location with a plaque describing the capsule.
– Choose capsule items thoughtfully. Many items will have meaning into the future. Some committees try to pick items that include the sublime and the trivial. The archivist should keep an inventory of all capsule items.
– Have a formal sealing ceremony and give the capsule a name. Keep a good photographic record of the event, including the inside of the completed project.
– Don’t forget about the capsule. Try to renew the tradition of memory with anniversaries and reunions. Send out invitations to the projected opening.
– Tell the International Time Capsule Society about your capsule. The society keeps a database in an effort to register all known capsules.
