Burgelman (2000) employs the
metaphor of a labyrinth to describe the amount of information that is
available from which it is increasingly difficult to abstract. He
bases this on the analysis by Jacques Attali (1999), who argues that modern society employs
a positivist, linear form of thought, but the labyrinthine complexity
of the world makes linear thought increasingly ineffective. Instead,
he argues for a return to a non-linear, pre-modern mode of thought, in
which we escape from the labyrinth not by blindly forging on but by
considering the range of pathways available. Attali makes the obvious
connection between his labyrinth and the World Wide Web (1999, 63-5), pointing, amongst other things,
to the way in which the notion of 'information superhighway' is a
linear metaphor displaying a fundamental misapprehension of the
labyrinthine web that forms the Internet. There is resonance here for
archaeology — Attali's labyrinth is, in many respects, not
unlike Hodder's desire for fluidity and multivocality in the
archaeological record (1997), for
example.
This is also underlined by Holtorf (this volume), whose labyrinthine
multimedia presentation is amply illustrated by his diagram of
connections. Like Attali, Holtorf emphasises the need for a change in
modes of thought and reading — in both cases, however, whether
hypertext as currently implemented in HTML is an appropriate model
remains undemonstrated. As argued elsewhere (Huggett 2000, 18), hypertext only gives
the illusion of allowing the reader to construct their own narrative:
ultimately the author retains control of the narrative options by
creating the links in the first place. An 'open'
hypermedia system (for instance, see Davis et al. 1992; 1993; Rahtz
et al. 1992, 378ff; Wolle
2002) in which, for example, users can define their own links and
in which generic links can be set up and propagated throughout the
system (resulting in the possibility of real serendipity), is much
closer to Ted Nelson's view of hypermedia than the HTML
hyperlink but does not yet appear to exist in the wild of the
Internet. Furthermore, as reflected in some of the critiques of
Holtorf's work (most recently by Fagan 2002), not all would agree with the
enthusiastic embrace of multi-linear writing (for instance, see Denning, this volume). For example,
Shenk (1997) warns:
'In our restless technological optimism, we tend to look down on old
technologies as inferior, but we need to resist this …
Traditional narrative offers the reader a journey with a built-in
purpose. The progression of thought is specifically designed so that
the reader may learn something, not just from the parts of the story,
but also from the story as a whole. For all of its advantages,
hypertext has no whole. As the Web becomes integrated into the fabric
of our lives, mostly to our great benefit, we should employ
hyperlinking as a useful tool, but be careful not to let it govern the
way we think.'
Making sense of the sea of information, handling the multiple possible
interpretations, writing the archaeologies, may well require us to
move away from positivism and linearity in our use of information
technology just as much as in our theoretical standpoints. However,
through understanding how that technology operates on us, as well as
for us, we may take control of it and ensure that it not only serves
us better in what we as archaeologists already do, but also helps us
initiate new and innovative ways of thinking about the past.