Feral Ecologies: A Foray into the Worlds of Animals and Media Sara A. Swain A Dissertation Submitted to The Faculty of Graduate Studies In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements For the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy Graduate Program in Communication and Culture York University Toronto, ON September 2016 Sara Swain 2016 ii Abstract This dissertation wonders what non-human animals can illuminate about media in the visible contact zones where they meet. It treats these zones as rich field sites from which to excavate neglected material-discursive-semiotic relationships between animals and media. What these encounters demonstrate is that animals are historically and theoretically implicated in the imagination and materialization of media and their attendant processes of communication. Chapter 1 addresses how animals have been excluded from the cultural production of knowledge as a result of an anthropocentric perspective that renders them invisible or reduces them to ciphers for human meanings. It combines ethology and cinematic realism to craft a reparative, non-anthropocentric way of looking that is able to accommodate the plenitude of animals and their traces, and grant them the ontological heft required to exert productive traction in the visual field. Chapter 2 identifies an octopus’s encounter with a digital camera and its chance cinematic inscription as part of a larger phenomenon of “accidental animal videos.” Because non-humans are the catalysts for their production, these videos offer welcome realist counterpoints to traditional wildlife imagery, and affirm cinema’s ability to intercede non-anthropocentrically between humans and the world. Realism is essential to cinematic communication, and that realism is ultimately an achievement of non- human intervention. Chapter 3 investigates how an Internet hoax about a non-human ape playing with an iPad in a zoo led to the development of “Apps for Apes,” a real life enrichment project that pairs captive orangutans with iPads. It contextualizes and criticizes this project’s iii discursive underpinnings but argues that the contingencies that transpire at the touchscreen interface shift our understanding of communication away from sharing minds and toward respecting immanence and accommodating difference. Finally, Chapter 4 examines a publicity stunt wherein a digital data-carrying homing pigeon races against the Internet to meet a computer. Rather than a competition, this is a continuation of a longstanding collaboration between the carrier pigeon and the infrastructure of modern communications. The carrier pigeon is not external but rather endemic to our understanding of communication as a material process that requires movement and coordination to make connections. iv Dedication To all the animals I’ve ever encountered for bringing curiosity and wonder into my life, and who, with their strange, creaturely splendours, baited me into pursuing the big questions. v Acknowledgements It is commonly (and at times, infuriatingly) said that the best dissertation is a done dissertation. Now that it’s finished, this certainly feels true. At the same time, however, this platitude emphasizes the destination over the journey and the final form over the conditions of its production, ultimately giving short shrift to the painstaking process by which this project came to be. No doubt, the fine details of this exercise will only flatten and dull over time, until they eventually recede into obscurity. The following acknowledgements are meant to serve as a record of the process, a reminder that the means were just as valuable as the end result. This dissertation took a long time to come to fruition. I didn’t come to the Ph.D. with a particular project in mind. In hindsight, however, it feels like it was always incubating; it merely remained unarticulated and inchoate until the right conditions allowed it to finally crystallize. This process of crystallization was an incredible learning experience for me, illuminating not only the murky and maddening task of writing, but the constellation of factors that ultimately makes writing possible at all. Sure, there is something to be said for discipline, for committing to the writing, for willing oneself to simply sit down and write. This is often a luxury, however, and far easier said than done. To write requires focus which in turn demands a canny ability to be able to battle the constant and forceful distractions that constitute the realities of everyday life. It necessitates discipline but also the privilege to sequester oneself, and give oneself completely over to the writing. And then, even if one is able to successfully sustain such a retreat, it can have an equally detrimental effect. By spending too much time with the writing, and withdrawing too deeply for too long into thought, one runs vi the risk of becoming unmoored, and getting distracted in a different kind of way. It is a precarious balancing act. As such, one must learn how to live with and around the writing, when and how to take breaks from it, and to create and protect enough space to contemplate, to ruminate, to make connections, and develop them. No matter how quickly the ideas are planted or how diligently and committed one is to their development, they will not grow without the proper conditions. All of this to say, this has been a very challenging and enlightening experience. Not just to write such a lengthy project for such a protracted period, but to figure out how to best cultivate and nurture the conditions for its becoming. First and foremost, I want to express my deep gratitude to Jay for living patiently with me and my writing all these years. For letting me be when I yearned to be alone to collect my thoughts, and for being there, listening attentively when I needed to talk through my ideas. And finally, for outfitting me with the physical and technical supports I required to be able to write in the first place. In order to think deeply and write lucidly, I’ve discovered that my environment must disappear, retreat from my senses, and into quotidian dormancy. This makes writing particularly tricky, and I am eternally grateful for our cozy apartment at 14 Raglan for housing me all these years. For the most part, it provided me with a tranquil and quiet space to work, while enabling me to live in, with, and through that work. Thanks also, to our neighbors, known affectionately as the 14/16 Raglan crew, who made me feel at home, and tethered me to a community from the very night I arrived in Toronto. vii I also want to acknowledge the financial support I received from the Ontario Graduate Scholarship, as well as York University, the Communication and Culture Program, and CUPE 3903. I want to offer a warm thanks to Diane Jenner and Stephanie Margetts especially: their guidance was invaluable in helping me navigate the institutional and administrative checkpoints along the way. David Skinner and Kevin Dowler deserve mention here too: their professional and collegial mentorship when I was a TA for their classes was a highlight during my time at York. Writing requires a great deal of solitude, including extended periods of withdrawal from social life. This withdrawal is necessary and fruitful, but also exceptionally grueling. It is best done on the pretense that there is a community in which to return. In this regard, I want to thank my fellow graduate students who were there for me in varying capacities over the years, in classes we attended or TA-ed together, at GSA meetings, at conferences, or at a myriad of talks, mixers, and other extracurricular activities. Whether it was to commiserate, to share ideas and experiences about our research, or about the learned life more generally, their presence was treasured. In all kinds of little ways, they reassured me of where I belonged. Thanks—to name only a few—to Mike Baker, Andrew Bieler, Scott Birdwise, Constance Carrier-Lafontaine, Hilary Chan, Zoë Constantinides, Nicole Cohen, Paul Couillard, Emma Doran, Kris Erickson, Matt Feagan, Chris Korte, Michelle Coyne, Matt Croombs, Mike Curran, Diane DeChief, Tom Dorey, Luba Encheva, Alison Harvey, Quentin Hewlett, Mél Hogan, Randolph Jordan, Aleksandra Kaminska, David Kerr, Heather Maguire, Sara Martel, Sonja McDonald, Zach Meltzer, Aimée Mitchell, Eva Nesselroth-Woyzbun, Sanja Obradovic, Amy Ratelle, Kate Rennebohm, David Richler, Poppy Robbins, Jen Ryan, viii Kat Sark, Tamara Shepherd, Lina Shoumarova, Karen Smith, Mike Thorn, Lisa Timmermann, and Miles Weafer. A special shout out to Heather Gibb, a unique and marvelous human being and colleague who I met during my Master’s program at Concordia in Montreal. Though we have long lived apart she has remained a dear friend and confidante. I cannot thank her enough for reading and critiquing my work. Her shrewd feedback was incredibly helpful, and her companionship during this intensive process was absolutely indispensable. Many thanks to my supervisor Mike Zryd, my biggest advocate. His kindness, eagerness, and encouragement, as well as his wise council were fundamental to this process and deeply appreciated. Sincere thanks also to my committee members Janine Marchessault and Paul S. Moore for their patience, enthusiasm, practical advice, and incisive feedback from my course work to my comprehensive exams through to the dissertation. I am also eternally grateful to the examination committee: my generous and receptive readers Steve Bailey, Suzanne McDonald, and Dominic Pettman. Their eagerness and constructive feedback at the defence made for a livelier and more illuminating discussion of my work than I could have ever hoped for. After such a lengthy marathon, it was a definite delight to have such an engaged and generous group of readers to meet me at the finish line. Their careful consideration, astute observations, sharp questions, and genuine curiosity about my work meant a great deal to me.