See What’s Buried in the Swiss Bunkers Turned Into Secretive Data Centers




Not all data centers are the same. There are cloud storage mega-centers all over Silicon Valley that take care of our smartphone camera rolls and contacts lists. There are the NSA’s data centers, which do similar things but the permissions are (at least in theory) different.


In his series Deposit, Swiss photographer Yann Mingard reveals another type of data storage facility: the privately owned bunker space within which individuals, companies and even nation-states secure their most precious code, papers, and in some cases, genetic material. These data centers aren’t intended to intercept or analyze data; they’re merely meant to protect the contents from virus, loss and—most of all—from snooping.


Mingard’s exquisite darkened images of data centers from Switzerland, Sweden, and the United Kingdom form the fourth and final chapter of Deposit, a sprawling four-year project which meditates on the anxieties of contemporary life. Deposit delves deep into the real and perceived threats to human survival, and the emerging technologies that promise security.


The photos reveal another type of data storage facility: the privately owned bunker space within which individuals, companies and even nation-states secure their most precious code, papers, and in some cases, genetic material.


Though finely crafted views of these subterranean sites, Mingard’s images are not homage to them. He feels the hyper-secure storage industry is indicative of a widespread desperation to protect what we have as we careen toward uncertain times.


“We’re in a grey zone between the past and the future,” he says. “We have nostalgia for the past, but our efforts looking toward the future and to climate change are ones of anxiety. Between the present and the future are the politics and economics of crisis.”


Mingard is hip to the changes, as his hometown of Neuchâtel is base to one of Switzerland’s largest data-storage companies. The country as a whole leads the secure storage industry. This makes sense for a culture with a reputation for blind neutrality and discretion when dealing with the assets and bank accounts of the world’s minted.


Swiss centers hold the possessions of Russia, Kazahkstan, Qatar and other Arab nations, says Mingard. “But it’s all denied, of course.” Recently, an unnamed Asian government negotiated to store all its digital assets in Mount10, at the data center known as “The Swiss Fort Knox” in Saanen-Gstaad.


As well as digital archives, clients store physical archives. Foreign clients, including Americans, have flooded in to purchase protection. Airstrips are located close by, and glossy brochures promote former military bunkers’ security features.


“It’s pure marketing,” Mingard says. “The employees perform [for clients' visits] and the look must be exciting, like James Bond. The staff wear different uniforms depending on the proclivities of the client—civilian clothes if the client is a controversial political figure.”


The data centers that were set up to pander to the wealthiest individuals were the most difficult to access, says Mingard.


“No one’s working down there. There are no lights on! It’s a cave into which you put seeds each month, and then close the door.”


The darkened look of his images and the carefully negotiated access in Deposit are related. Mingard knew access wouldn’t be easy, and so he had to know exactly what type of shot he wanted before entering. As he had shot specimens against dark backgrounds previously for other parts of the series, he decided to continue the palette with his interior studies of the data centers. It was a practical solution.


“These are bunkers,” he says. “No one’s working down there. There are no lights on! It’s a cave into which you put seeds each month, and then close the door. A specimen is kept in a plastic bag, in an aluminum bag, in a plastic box, in a concrete bunker, under the ground, in minus 30 degrees!”


The shroud of darkness also is a portent to a future of withered biodiversity. All the plants and animal specimens in storage were shot ex-situ, extricated from nature.


“We’re losing our biodiversity. We’ve pretty much conceded that we cannot conserve nature in situ,” says Mingard who is increasingly worried by the involvement of private companies in the preservation of humanity’s shared biological assets.


“If humans collect their own sperm it is their own business, but the collection of crop seeds is in the public interest,” he says before pointing out that of the 1,500 seed vaults around the world many are administered or funded in part by NGO’s such as Rockefeller and Gates Foundations, or corporations like Syngenta, Pioneer, and Monsanto.


Before becoming a photographer, Mingard was a gardener trained at the Ecole de Marcelin. Through his images, he wants us to think about how we deal with nature and its loss, and he wants us to think about our definitions of the natural. The final image in the book (and the final image in this gallery) is a vial containing Shakespeare’s sonnets, a Martin Luther King speech, a jpeg photo and a copy of the 1953 article by Crick and Watson describing the structure of DNA. The information is encoded and stored in synthesized DNA form.


The natural is being reduced to numbers and letters, and so it is natural (pun intended) that Deposit ends inside the data centers.


“Information and code is the currency of the future. It is what drives the past to the present to the future,” says Mingard. “Maybe you and I will be reduced to code and stored? Reduced to virtually nothing. This vial seems empty. You see nothing.”


Data centers are “the end point of everything” says Mingard, but he isn’t trying to be fatalistic about the indexation, archiving and codifying he has witnessed.


“I’m not cynical; I am just looking at the developments,” he says, “I was surprised to see geneticists, scientists, politicians and the public so fearful. People are pessimistic. “



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