Are your digital affairs in order? A new pro-bono clinic can help

From family photos stored on the cloud to social media posts cataloging life’s pivotal moments, to music, art and stories we create and share online, the digital world is infused with representations of who we are.

What happens to that digital legacy after we die, and how do we manage the virtual heirlooms our loved ones leave behind?

A picture of Digital Legacy Clinic members

Digital Legacy Clinic Founder Jed Brubaker (second to the right) talks with students (left to right) Daniel Sullivan, Rory O’Flynn, Dylan Thomas Doyle and Jack Manning. (Credit: Patrick Campbell/CU �鶹ӰԺ)

CU �鶹ӰԺ’s new Digital Legacy Clinic has answers.

“Whether you are making plans for your own passing or maybe you have lost a loved one and are dealing with their digital affairs, it can be an overwhelming process at a time of life that is already really hard,” said clinic founder Jed Brubaker, an associate professor of Information Science. “What you are supposed to do and how to do it is not always clear and, unfortunately, most tech platforms don’t have systems in place to help. That’s where we step in.”

Launched this month, the first-of-its-kind clinic operates similarly to a pro-bono law clinic, with specially trained Information Science students providing free advice and troubleshooting for the public.

As Brubaker points out, the average internet user has as many as , from Google drives loaded with cherished snapshots to Pinterest accounts containing favorite recipes and Ancestry.com accounts tracing family trees back for generations. Yet, according to one forthcoming paper from his lab, only 13% of platforms have features expressly designed to address the end-of-life needs of their users.

“Companies think about designing for all kinds of different aspects of our lives, from birthdays to wedding anniversaries,” he said. “But they have overlooked perhaps the most profound one of all, which is when those lives come to an end.”

7 ways to preserve your digital legacy

Have a plan in place before you die. Even a simple plan is better than none.
Use built-in features like Facebook’s Legacy Contact (which Brubaker’s research inspired), to designate a postmortem steward who can memorialize and manage your social accounts. Apple also has a Legacy Contact feature and Google provides support through its Inactive Account Manager feature.
Start small. Rather than crafting a comprehensive inventory of all accounts, start with one or two that mean the most to you.
Focus on the content. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, focus on the most important data first. Many people start with digital photos or social media and then expand outwards from there.
Identify someone you trust to put in charge and tell them why it is important that you want those accounts preserved.
Share your passwords with that person. This can help, but with the advent of biometric authentication (through fingerprints or facial recognition) and two-factor authentication (which sends a text to users before letting them into their account) this can get complicated when the user has died.
Tell your family what you want: Family and friends want to respect your wishes and not knowing what you want can be stressful.
Source: The Digital Legacy Clinic at CU �鶹ӰԺ

Why you need a plan

In 15 years of studying what he calls ‘the digital afterlife,’ Brubaker has uncovered a host of heartbreaking reasons it’s worth making an end-of-life plan for our data. Facebook pages – left inaccessible to anyone but their creator – can linger long after that person has died, leaving algorithms to send eerie birthday notifications or ‘memories’ to grieving loved ones.

Family members without passwords frequently hit roadblocks when trying to access photos or videos from the deceased’s Google or iCloud storage accounts.

Original art, music, stories or professional work shared via digital platforms or personal websites can be deleted and lost forever if unaccounted for.

And the sheer volume of data can be daunting for the those tasked with sorting through it after someone dies.

“If grandma dies and you have to sort through her attic, at least you know where the attic is, you know where the key is and you know where the attic ends,” said Brubaker. “When it comes to our digital spaces, they are almost infinite. We keep putting more and more stuff in there and while some of it matters, some of it doesn’t.”

Because tech companies, by nature, tend to have minimalist customer service departments, surviving family members often face endless hold times and unanswered messages, exacerbating their grief.

“Our analysis revealed that most platforms offer minimal functional support and that many end-of-life needs are impossible to meet or rely on unsanctioned workarounds,” said Dylan Thomas Doyle, a former hospital chaplain-turned PhD candidate and clinic service provider.

Working the workarounds

After years of studying such problems, Brubaker turned to a colleague a few years ago to wonder aloud if there was an organization that helped people through this process.

“As I was saying it, I realized it: ‘Oh. We are that group. We need to create this.’”

With a $550,000 National Science Foundation CAREER Grant, he got to work, developing a new class that information science students (a blend of technology and behavioral science) helped build the clinic from the ground up.

To prep for the launch, they have taken sensitivity training, consulted with lawyers and dug into the technical intricacies of dozens of platforms. They’ve also handled a few dozen cases already.

In one, they helped a grieving widow preserve her late husband’s blog about his long battle with cancer. In another, they helped a mother who had lost her daughter to suicide stay connected to her memorialized Facebook account after a technical glitch kicked her off.

“It’s been a really powerful experience to hear their stories and be able to help them,” said graduate student Daniel Sullivan.

Classmate Rory O’Flynn, an artist, said that being part of the clinic has prompted her to reflect on how she would want her own legacy preserved.

Would she want to have her Instagram profile memorialized so her friends could visit it? Who in her family would get the password to access her sketches?

“The younger generation, especially, has this perception of the internet as kind of the whole world. We leave all these digital footprints out there, but the average citizen isn’t thinking about this at all.”

Love letters

Brubaker stressed that the clinic does not provide advice on financial matters – like how to access bank accounts or retirement funds. Fortunately, the designers of those systems have thought through what happens after someone dies, and there are policies and laws in place to help ensure their end-of -life needs are met, he said.

In a sense, the personal stories, family histories and cultural heritage embedded in our virtual heirlooms are even more valuable than material objects, he said.

He said he hopes his research and the new clinic will inspire tech companies to do more to preserve these digital treasures.

“One hundred years from now I hope no one cares what my bank account number was. But those text message threads - like modern-day love letters - or Instagram posts congratulating you on your wedding. Those matter. It would be a tragedy if all that is lost. We’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

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