One of the main theoretical ideas explored in our forthcoming book The Global Smartphone (out on the 6th of May, 2021) concerns the concept of ‘Beyond Anthropomorphism’. To be anthropomorphic normally implies a machine such as a robot that looks increasingly like a person. The smartphone is beyond anthropomorphic, first because this issue is not one of appearance. Rather, its intimacy with human beings comes by inveigling its way into the very heart of our social relationships and as an extension of our individual personality.

I have previously suggested that the best analogy today for the smartphone would be with the figure of the ‘daemon’  in Philip Pullman’s trilogy His Dark Materials. The ‘daemon’ is an animal and this suggests that perhaps by considering our relationship to animals we might better appreciate these possibilities. I am currently writing up ethnographic work from my Irish fieldsite of Cuan, concerning people’s relationship to their pet dogs. In this case, what is meant by anthropomorphism is that the sensibilities that are extended to dogs are growing ever closer to those that we extend to people.

There were many examples of these trends. The first is the way dogsitting has become more like babysitting. It used to be that families went on holidays and took their dogs to kennels. But the dog may have become so fully integrated into family life that the absence of the family is now much more traumatic. People in Cuan prefer to try to leave the dog either with a regular friend or relative or with a dogsitter, that is again regularly used, so that the dog has an independent relationship with the person they are staying with and the experience is much less traumatic.

A second example would be with the rise of environmentalism and the green movement. This has several parallels with the treatment of dogs. For many people, the high-status dog is no longer a pure breed, but rather what is called a ‘rescue dog,’ perhaps one that has been left when the previous owner has died or the children rejected their Christmas present. Many people in Cuan now actively seek out such ‘recycled’ dogs in preference.  A further development is that those who oppose bio-medical health interventions have similar views when it comes to their dogs, so that we see a rise in the use of acupuncture and other complementary therapies both in relation to the dogs’ physical and mental health.

A third example is one that relates perhaps to the context of Ireland, where funerals are such a major part of sociality. It seems that even people who have great difficulty affording veterinary bills will pay the extra 200 euros to have their dogs cremated and keep the ashes. Finally, there is also the rise of concern for mental wellbeing and recognising conditions such as depression in dogs. Occasionally, this may extend to prescribing antidepressants, but mostly, it is about mental stimulation for the dog, which is done primarily through giving it tasks.

There are two current trends in philosophy that seem to speak to a trajectory of Beyond Anthropomorphism. One is called Post-Humanism (e.g. Braidotti 2013) and the other Object-Orientated Ontologies, which was introduced in the work of Graham Harman.  There has certainly been discussion as to whether treating dogs as part of kinship implies a shift beyond the anthropocentrism of seeing humans as the measure of all things and thereby evidence for post-humanism. Most discussions (e.g. Charles 2016, Haraway 2016) suggest otherwise. The examples described above are better seen as anthropomorphism, that is projecting human qualities onto dogs.

When it comes to smartphones, however, the case seems much stronger. In many ways, the emphasis in journalistic discussion is on how human beings have changed as a result of the smartphone, rather than projecting human idioms onto them. I don’t however, feel that either the approach from Post-Humanism or that of Object-Orientated Ontologies capture the nature of this relationship. Our book The Global Smartphone is really about the extraordinary dynamic through which we constantly transform smartphones in use as they simultaneously change our capacities. There is an older tradition within material culture studies (see Miller 2005) that refused to reduce objects to social relations but emphasised instead their mutual constitution and thereby seems like a firmer base for creating a philosophy of the smartphone.

Braidotti, R. 2013 The Posthuman. Polity Press.

Charles, N. 2016 Post-Human Families? Dog-Human Relations in the Domestic Sphere. Sociological Research Online 21 (3) 2016

Haraway. D. 2016 The Companion Species Manifesto: Dogs, people and significant otherness 91-198 in Manifestly Haraway, University of Minnesota Press.

Miller, D. 2005 Introduction Ed. Materiality. Chapel Hill: Duke University Press

Figure 1. Young man during a procession of El Señor de los Milagros in Arequipa, Peru. CCNC-BY Alfonso Otaegui

I did fieldwork among Peruvian migrants in Santiago, Chile, focusing on their experience of ageing as migrants. When talking about life in general, their stories of struggle and success, and their aspirations towards the future, conversations always turn to discussing what will happen when they will no longer be here: legacies that may or may not be passed onto the next generation, their children and their future and even what will happen to their own bodies.

I must highlight that I did fieldwork within a Christian brotherhood that honours a Peruvian patron saint, El Señor de los Milagros. Therefore, what is discussed in these paragraphs does not apply to all Peruvian migrants in Chile[i] The fact that the research participants are devout Christians, however, makes some findings more intriguing.

Burial is traditional among Catholics and, therefore, also among the participants of the study[ii]. Several of them recall going to the cemetery in Peru to honour their grandparents or even family members they had never met. Most of them, however, have come to the idea –some of them just recently, others before– that they would prefer to be cremated. In a way, this is a sacrifice that they are making for the sake of their children.

Throughout the conversations with the migrants who prefer cremation as a way of disposing of their bodies, two major explanations seem to appear. The first one is rather technical and pragmatic. If a migrant passes away in the destination country and wants to be buried in Peru, this presents many difficulties. Liliana, a 62-year-old accountant, recalls the story of her sister, who passed away in the United States. The bureaucracy of moving the body of a deceased person to another country was a nightmare, so finally, she decided that she should be laid to rest in the US. Repatriation would also have been extremely expensive. The other reason why one may prefer cremation can be attributed to changes in traditions. José, a 61-year-old lawyer, acknowledges this, in a tone that contains resignation and hints of nostalgia: ‘families used to go to the cemetery to put flowers on their dead ones…but that has been lost, they start to forget you…what would be the point [of a burial]? Even I go to the cemetery less often when I visit Peru’. José acknowledges that people tend to go to the cemetery less and accepts it as a natural change that comes with the new generations: some customs just get lost. He is starting to consider cremation, so if his children want to spread his ashes, they can do it. It seems that he wants to release his children from the duty of going to the cemetery. Elena, a 48-year-old nurse, is quite straightforward about this point: ‘cremation. It is the most pragmatic for my daughters, so they can forget about going to the cemetery and laying down flowers’.

There is a sense of not being a burden to their children, coupled with the acceptance that their children will not continue these traditions. There is also something about cremation and the portability of funeral urns that make this method especially suitable for these migrants: a moving burial for moving people. The story of Marcos, 56 years old, illustrates this point. Marcos has his mother and his father in Peru. He also has two daughters from his first marriage scattered across the two countries – one in Peru, the other one in Chile. His second and current wife and their son live in Chile. When talking about the future, the possibility of death and what happens afterwards, he states quite firmly: ‘Cremated. Half of me will be here, and the other half will be there’. His firm decision only became apparent two or three years ago. He acknowledges: ‘I used to say that I wanted to be buried in Peru. But then, my son said that I was only thinking about myself, and not about the son wanting to see his father’. Marcos says that was a good enough argument for being cremated. In the end, Marcos’s ashes –just like his life– will be scattered across two countries: the country of his mother and the country of his son.

[i] I do not intend to generalise about Peruvian migrants in Chile. I met most participants by joining Christian brotherhoods. Religion was, expectedly, an essential aspect of their lives. This fact does not necessarily mean all Peruvians in Chile are religious or that they are involved in brotherhoods.

[ii] The 1983 revised Code of Canon Law states: “The Church earnestly recommends that the pious custom of burying the bodies of the deceased be observed; nevertheless, the Church does not prohibit cremation unless it was chosen for reasons contrary to Christian doctrine.” (part II, title III, Can. 1176.3). Retrieved from https://www.vatican.va/archive/ENG1104/__P4A.HTM