Amanda Lagerkvist - Existential Media A Media Theory of The Limit Situation
Amanda Lagerkvist - Existential Media A Media Theory of The Limit Situation
Existential Media
A Media Theory of the Limit Situation
A M A N DA L AG E R K V I ST
1
3
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers
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Press in the UK and certain other countries.
ISBN 978–0–19–092556–7
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190925567.001.0001
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Printed by Integrated Books International, United States of America
In memory of Johannes
Philosophizing starts with our situation.
—Karl Jaspers, Philosophy, vol. 1 (1932/1969), 43
Contents
Preface ix
Note on Sources xv
I . E X I S T E N T IA L I Z I N G M E D IA
1. Limit Situations (of the Digital): Restoring Karl Jaspers for Media
Theory 19
2. Into the Slow Field: The What, the How, and the Why 48
3. Existential Media Studies: Lineages and Lines 64
4. Existential Media: Propositions and Properties 100
I I . D IG I TA L L I M I T SI T UAT IO N S
I will never know if I chose this project or it chose me. It came into being at the
limit of personal loss and in the middle of a life course of care work and a passion
for scholarship interrupted by experiences beyond the pale. I thus found myself
in a limit situation. Alienated from my vocation, which suddenly seemed far-
thest removed from its original ethos, I was sifting through my possibilities for
something more worthwhile. The irony of searching for a different grounding,
only to be thrown into the groundlessness of Kierkegaard’s universe, meant that
I subsequently found myself toiling further in the obscurities of existentialism.
These experiences ultimately brought me to an encounter with Karl Jaspers’s lu-
minous philosophy. Life experience is a helpful colander. In a limit situation, the
gems and pearls of existence, the godsends and paragons among fellow humans,
one’s priorities and core values—all filter themselves out in an almost brutal light.
One especially severe truth emerged from the process for me both personally
and professionally. It lay there blazing, incandescent, and unforgiving, obliging
me as a scholar: media studies lacked the proper concepts to fully heed realities
of pain, existential suffering, loss, and our being vulnerable in and with media.
From that moment on, this demanded my full attention. It was time to remedy
and reinvent, as well as to rediscover and return to big issues and old truths about
life while, in that pursuit itself, shedding novel light on media life. I felt that if it is
to mean something, to be of import in a wicked world, it was high time that our
field get serious, as well as slow down. It was time to turn to existential philos-
ophy. This was a hunch turned into an insight that eventually became a vision,
a project, a network, and a young field of coconspirators and friends: existential
media studies.
Death was unfashionable, but it remained a fact. In the era of the internet, it
was suddenly everywhere, having returned to contemporary everyday life in full
online manifestation and avid materialization. We thus need to begin with death,
online mourning, and the digital afterlife if we are to address what it means to
be human, mortal, embodied, and bereaved in our age of media. Encountering
the bereaved and their realities, whose life stories of loss constitute the heart of
this book’s message, dwarfed everything else. I extend my deepest gratitude to
the informants who bravely shared the unspeakable with me: parents, siblings,
spouses, idealists, support persons, and powerhouses of the NGOs Vi Som
Förlorat Barn (VSFB) (We Who Lost a Child), Vi som förlorat någon mitt i livet
(VIMIL) (We Who Lost Someone in the Middle of Life), and Spädbarnsfonden
x Preface
(The Fund for Infants). What I learned about grief in our technological era has
forever changed the way I see and do research. Although I can never account
fully even for my piecemeal grasp of these heartbreaking life experiences, I have
tried my best to give these difficult realities, and the voices they belong to, a def-
erential treatment in my text. One thing is clear: each meeting and story will
always stay with me.
None of this would have been possible without the confidence placed in me
by the Wallenberg Foundations over the years, and the several excellence grants
from them that I have been grateful to receive. In this context I must first thank
Kristina Riegert, Karin Becker, and Astrid Söderbergh Widding at Stockholm
University (SU), who nominated me for Wallenberg Academy Fellows (WAF)
in 2012, leading to my appointment as a fellow in 2013. Through the funding
I received from the Knut and Alice Wallenberg Foundation (KAW) as WAF,
I headed the project Existential Terrains: Memory and Meaning in Cultures
of Connectivity (2014–2018) in the Department of Media Studies at SU. My
deepest gratitude goes to KAW, as well as to the Marcus and Amalia Wallenberg
Foundation, for additional support that made extended empirical ground-
work possible. Theory development has been enabled by funding from the
Marianne and Marcus Wallenberg Foundation, within the WASP-HS program,
which funds the ongoing project BioMe: Existential Challenges and Ethical
Imperatives of Biometric Artificial Intelligence in Everyday Lifeworlds. Said
project, of which I am head, is hosted by the Uppsala Informatics and Media
Hub for Digital Existence in the Department of Informatics and Media (IM) at
Uppsala University: http://www.im.uu.se/research/hub-for-digtal-existence.
Ideas need funding but also a fertile soil in which to grow. The importance of a
supportive, welcoming, and inspiring environment cannot be overstated. They
say it is most fertile in the valleys, and this is exemplified to the full in my ac-
ademic home since 2019, IM at Uppsala University, where I have encountered
a profound interest in media philosophy among peers in Information Systems
and Human Computer Interaction, coupled with a deep appreciation for the pro-
ject among my colleagues in Media and Communication Studies. An especially
warm and heartfelt thanks to Mats Edenius for his abiding support and intellec-
tual curiosity. It’s truly a rehabilitation to encounter such deep professionalism
in academic leadership. There is always a chance and a hope for us when such
discerning beings devote themselves and their passions to the university.
This book project has been nourished over several years, and it has ended
during the pandemic moment, which instantly brought my concerns onto the
radar of the entire world and provided an overload of stimuli. It was also a con-
firmation of the thrust of those existentialist truths about limit situations, life-
line communication, and existential vulnerability that we had made such efforts
to champion. Over the years of this book’s conception and development, I have
Preface xi
been fortunate to receive feedback on it and on the broader venture from the
best of the best. José van Dijck has backed the project from the very start. It
has been such a gift to be supported and guided by a stellar scholar in the field,
whose devotion to younger researchers sets an example for all of us. I am at a
loss for the right words to express my awe, respect, and gratitude for the gen-
erosity and support of John Durham Peters, who has provided so much more
than reading over the years: an invaluable intellectual mentorship and a true
friendship.
A heartfelt thanks as well to those eminent media scholars who read previous
versions of the full manuscript, or particular chapters during different phases of
their development, providing rich and instrumental feedback: Benjamin Peters,
Joanna Zylinska, Bo Reimer, Jefferson Pooley, Margaret Schwartz, and Jonathan
Sterne. Specialists in death studies, phenomenology, digital social research,
and interaction design also gave vital feedback on key chapters: Tony Walter,
Ulrika Björk, Simon Lindgren, and Teresa Cerratto-Pargman. My brilliant team
of scholars and critics in the BioMe project are such Mensch—truly singular
and admirable individuals, whose qualities cannot be mimicked! I am deeply
thankful for their sharp and rich comments and suggestions, and for cheering
me all the way: Jenny Eriksson Lundström, Maria Rogg, Jacek Smolicki, Matilda
Tudor, and Charles M. Ess. The last-mentioned cannot be thanked enough for
his unwavering loyalty and friendship, and for openhandedly devoting himself
and his philosophical interests to our common existentialist stride, across both
projects and over many years.
Across the world, moreover, I am blessed with the most precious of intellec-
tual companions and friends in media studies: Amit Pinchevski, Paul Frosh,
Anna Reading, Vince Miller, Andrew Hoskins, Sun-ha Hong, Jonas Andersson
Schwarz, and Dorthe Refslund Christensen. Allies in the field of media, religion,
and culture wholeheartedly supported my ideas even in their infancy, and have
shown inspired interest in their subsequent development: Johanna Sumiala, Mia
Lövheim, Knut Lundby, Tomas Axelson, Mona Abdel-Fadil, Joyce Smith, Lynn
Schofield Clark, and Peter Horsfield. I thank my first brave collaborators in the
field—the Existential Terrains project—buttressed especially by the camaraderie
and commitment of Michael Westerlund and Yvonne Andersson. The last-men-
tioned also represents the Swedish Media Council in the reference group. I ex-
tend my deep thanks also to the rest of the stakeholders and professionals with
whom I have been privileged to work: Lars Björklund of the Sigtuna Foundation,
Kjell Westerlund from Samarbete för människor i sorg (Collaboration for People
in Bereavement), Ulf Lernéus of Sveriges begravningsbyråers förbund (Swedish
Funeral Directors’ Association), Johanna Nordin from MIND (Association
for Psychic Health), Cecilia Melder from Nätverket för existentiell folkhälsa
(Network for Existential Public Health), Göran Gyllenswärd from Randiga
xii Preface
her unfailing loyalty. My sunshine boys, Johan, Vilmer, and Love: thank you for
being there through fire and water, and for your love, which always lights up the
shores of our shared existence.
Amanda Lagerkvist
Hide
August 8, 2021
Note on Sources
This is the limit, tragedy, but also the great opportunity of our
times: when data +computation are not a merely technical deal
anymore, they assume an existential value for their characteristic of
being our only credible way to experience complex, global, intercon-
nected phenomena.
This requires an enormous transformation: to our values, to our
sense of solidarity, to how we perceive the ecosystem we live in. In
one word: to our culture.
—Salvatore Iaconesi, March 12, 20201
In a culture where the digital is embedded in everything, there seems on all counts
to be no limit to its thrust. Intuitively, this may feel absolutely true. Corroborated
by rhetorical claims by the digital corporations within today’s platform ecology,
and by the limitless capitalization of life, this truth also resonates most impor-
tantly with everyday lived experience in a culture where digital technologies are
imbricated in practically all spheres of the human lifeworld. Environmental,
but also wearable and incorporated, these digital media forms are interwoven
with our bodies, while our embodied selves and globally distributed traces are
entangled with the technologized everyday. Reflecting and shedding important
light on these developments, a recent tide of new materialist media philosophical
theorization has relentlessly stressed media’s vital role in sustaining life itself.2
In this perspective, often reliant on Martin Heidegger’s philosophy of originary
technicity and fundamental ontology, media are mundane and therefore deeply
existential, since humans are in fact co-conditioned recursively by technologies,
1 Salvatore Iaconesi, message posted to the AoIR List, March 12, 2020.
2 See, for example, Sarah Kember and Joanna Zylinska, Life after New Media: Mediation as Vital
Process (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2011), which proposes a vitalist account positing mediation
as describing the hybrid process of the emergence of life itself, of becoming, in which human and
nonhuman entities are entangled. In John Durham Peters’s seminal media materialist, elemental
media philosophy, stress is placed on media’s role in sustaining life. The Marvelous Clouds: Toward a
Philosophy of Elemental Media (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015), 28.
Existential Media. Amanda Lagerkvist, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2022.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190925567.003.0001
2 Existential Media
3 In the tradition of originary technicity, of which Martin Heidegger and Jacques Derrida are the
most prominent representatives, the long Western tradition of thinking about technologies as ex-
trinsic to being human is refuted. For an overview, see Arthur Bradley, Originary Technicity: The
Theory of Technology from Marx to Derrida (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011). This position
has proponents across a wide array of different intellectual currents within posthumanism and the
new materialism. In media theory more specifically, see Friedrich Kittler, “Towards an Ontology of
Media,” Theory, Culture & Society, 26, nos. 2–3 (2009): 23–31, https://doi.org/10.1177/026327640
9103106. For recent examples of works that profess to the approach of originary technicity within
media studies, and that are drawn into the Heideggerian orbit in offering all-out media ontologies,
see Paddy Scannell, Television and the Meaning of Live: An Enquiry into the Human Situation
(Cambridge: Polity, 2014) and Tim Markham, Digital Life (Oxford: Polity, 2020). By contrast, J. D.
Peters offers a more ambivalent engagement with Heidegger’s ontology, and pursues its implications
within a metaphysical reappropriation in The Marvelous Clouds. I return to these new media
ontologies in c hapter 3.
4 In La Cura, Iaconesi used his own medical data to “propose a global repositioning of disease in
society,” with an eye to reclaiming “our bodies and identities by creating a participatory open source
cure for cancer.” https://www.artisopensource.net/projects/la-cura/, accessed October 7, 2021.
Introduction 3
traverse individual and global scales. In this book, I define existential media as
both the priors and the limits, the frame and the edge, the building blocks and
the brinks of being. They constitute the antinomies of the modern human sit-
uation, and they therefore require responsivity and responsibility. In our pre-
sent datafied world, it is thus a truism to say that media matter. Yet this fact is
now greatly magnified, as contemporary life finds itself perched on the limits.
The implications as well as discontents of our media situation are potentially also
changing.5 Taking these transformations seriously means recognizing that, in
the unbearable intimacy of emergency of the predicaments at hand—as religious
studies scholar Sam Mickey has put it6—alternate contours of what media can
mean are revealed. The crystallized challenges ultimately open out, I argue, to a
media theory of limit. This requires, as I aim to show in this book, a revisiting of
the tradition of existential philosophy, particularly through the writings of one
of its largely forgotten luminaries, Karl Jaspers, who offered a mediation between
the two main emphases of the tradition of existentialism: the instrumental/ma-
terial and the subjectivist/moral (to which I will return in c hapter 3). Here I will
be drawing on and expanding upon his concept of the limit situation, which he
defines as encounters with death, crisis, guilt, and conflict (as well as with birth
and love, we might add). These are moments in life that may be transformative if
we seize them as we face the limits of what we can control. In fact, limit situations
point to the basic existential condition of limit, and reveal our being to ourselves
“in a partial way by pointing to the presence of ‘gaps’ in the world and the failure
of all efforts to understand the world in terms of itself.”7 Jaspers’s philosophical
anthropology, with its insistence upon uncertainty and the humbling limits of
knowledge, and its reluctance to proclaim any ontological enclosures, is an ex-
ample of what artist and media scholar Joanna Zylinska calls a “post-masculinist
rationality.”8 This is a move that requires the courage to face the uncertainties of
that which cannot be controlled, and to allow something truly different and un-
predictable to emerge. Hence, this book proposes that returning to the insights
of Jaspers, and rehabilitating while reframing them, may offer such less likely
routes ahead for media theory.
Taking its cue from these interventions, this book argues that, even as media
are literally life-defining, they are not without limit, and they speak to and about
limits and limitations in a variety of ways. The limit situation is chosen as a
5 Friedrich Kittler famously defined media as determining our situation. See Friedrich A. Kittler,
Gramophone, Film, Typewriter (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1999), xxxix.
6 Sam Mickey, Coexistentialism and the Unbearable Intimacy of Ecological Emergency (Idaho Falls,
2014), 15.
4 Existential Media
privileged reality which allows for bringing limits, in all their shapes and forms,
onto the radar when interrogating digital existence. To enter into these terrains,
the book chooses one margin that has the peculiar characteristic of sooner or
later encompassing us all—the mourning and struggling of human beings at the
limit—as the privileged site for rethinking media. Placing those who are poised
on the edge—the mourners, the disabled, or those who are tarrying, waiting,
illness-stricken, bereft, stumbling, disenfranchised, meek, and marginalized—at
the center of media studies makes a difference. First of all, it brings to our atten-
tion the fact that ontologically we are not only technological; we are also finite
beings. Human existence itself, to state the obvious, is and has always been lim-
ited and precarious. Life is a life within limits. Our bodies are limited by their
boundaries. They age and they decay—reminding us of their mortality, of evap-
oration, vulnerability, and finitude. Or as critical disability scholar Tobin Siebers
puts it: “History reveals one unavoidable truth about human beings—whatever
our destiny as a species, we are as individuals feeble and finite.”9 Hence if tech-
nologies are us, as the posthumanist credo has it, mediation cannot merely be a
vital process; existential media are also media of and within limits.
In contemporary debates, stress is placed on the limitless enforcements and
extractions of surveillance capitalism.10 Datafication implies that our bodies and
inmost lives are mined; our existential needs are extracted, rendered as behav-
ioral data, without meaningful consent and without limit. And as digital tech-
nologies have achieved this intimate and arguably all-encompassing role within
the lifeworld—spanning everything between life and death—they have also be-
come increasingly autonomous. As life-giving, environmental forces, they con-
jure up more than inevitable developments or endless possibilities to transcend
obstacles. They even seem to offer up eternity, and the gift of being able to foresee
the future. As media theorist Wendy H. K. Chun has pointed out, their predic-
tive aspirations and anticipatory behavior make them into sorcerers of sorts, in
which humans are inclined to place limitless trust.11
While these profound implications of pervasive datafication are incontrovert-
ible, existentializing media, however, has the advantage of interrupting the most
9 Tobin Siebers, Disability Theory (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2008), 7.
10As a range of media critical commentary has pointed out of late, there is in fact no limit to the
appropriation of the human and social world by data, as humanity is precariously faced with all-per-
vasive forms of datafication. See, for example, Shoshana Zuboff, “Big Other: Surveillance Capitalism
and the Prospects of an Information Civilization,” Journal of Information Technology, 30, no. 1
(2015): 75–89, https://doi.org/10.1057/jit.2015.5, and The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight
for a Human Future at the New Frontiers of Power (London: Profile Books, 2019); Nick Couldry and
Ulises A. Mejias, “Data Colonialism: Rethinking Big Data’s Relation to the Contemporary Subject,”
Television & New Media, 20, no. 4 (2019): 336–349, https://doi.org/10.1177/1527476418796632; and
Mark Andrejevic, Automated Media (London: Routledge, 2020).
11 Wendy Hui Kyong Chun, Programmed Visions: Software and Memory (Cambridge, MA: MIT
Press, 2011).
Introduction 5
Vocabulary of Information Society and Culture, ed. Benjamin Peters (Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 2016), of the semiotics and implications of the digital. This conceptual triptych
prompted a realization which also became pivotal for how I weighed a postdigital subtitle for this book
against the digital option. Although there are distinct and irreducible dimensions of what I call the
digital limit situation, I found that signposting the digital for a formulation of this theory was never-
theless insufficient (a matter I return to in c hapter 4, where I offer a few definitions of keywords). The
implications of reconceiving media as existential media apply more broadly. In addition, all media are
digital media today, while arguably also offering many features that are very similar to analog media
forms, as Florian Cramer has recently discussed. In turn, this makes the concept of the postdigital in a
literal sense very useful. This is why I here propose moving toward a media theory of the limit situation.
For a much more tech-savvy and sophisticated discussion, see Cramer, for whom the postdigital is de-
fined “literally as a perspective that finds the distinction between digital and non-digital to be less clear
than it seems when it is rigorously inspected, and also less useful and relevant than it often seems.” For
Cramer, the postdigital perspective breaks with the new media paradigm. He argues that “most of the
principles of new media as defined by Manovich . . . are not specific to digital technology.” These five
principles, namely numerical presentation, modularity, automation, variability, and transcoding, were
commonly employed, as Cramer argues, “in experimental arts before the availability of computing,
and [they] continue to be employed in non-computational practices such as artists’ books and artist-
run handmade film labs. Conversely, one could even argue that the hegemony of smartphones, with
their closed operating systems and app ecosystems, have since the 2010s greatly constrained, if not
cancelled out, four of Manovich’s five principles of new media: modularity (the possibility of com-
bining digital information), variability (the possibility of making variations and versions), automa-
tion (the possibility of programming) and transcoding (the possibility of translating media into other
formats). For users, a vintage analog 16-or 35-mm film editing table or a reel-to-reel tape recorder
now meets those new media criteria better than does a social media app like TikTok.” Florian Cramer
and Petar Jandrić, “Interview: Postdigital: A Term That Sucks but Is Useful,” Postdigital Science and
Education, online first (March 31, 2021): n.p., https://doi.org/10.1007/s42438-021-00225-9.
13 Benjamin Peters, “Digital,” 95, italics added.
14 John D. Peters, “Proliferation and Obsolescence of the Historical Record in the Digital Era,” in
Cultures of Obsolescence: History, Materiality, and the Digital Age, ed. Babette Bärbel Tischleder and
Sarah Wasserman (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), 79–96. The long-standing relationship
between death and communication itself will be discussed in chapters 3 and 7. Additionally, it should
be noted here that my project resonates with several attempts to bring finitude more broadly into
thinking about media. See, for example, Leah Lievrouw, who speaks of decaying and dead media,
pointing out that the limitations of the dream of digital eternity and limitless recording also stem
from the technologies themselves, as they are imperfect, ephemeral, and soon-to-be obsolete. She
stresses the impossibility of total recall, both in digital culture and outside it, and the inevitability
of loss: “However, the idea of total, loss-free digital capture of all knowledge and information, or
6 Existential Media
They are not the first to suffer loss. They try to keep it all in perspective, to think
of the myriad things that have been lost. Such as: The Ark of the Covenant.
The city of Atlantis. The Dead Sea Scrolls. El Dorado. The Holy Grail. Amelia
Earhart somewhere over the Pacific. Pompeii buried beneath volcanic ash. The
RMS Titanic at the bottom of the sea.
Other lost things are lost slowly, over time, rather than in one fell swoop.
Such as: Loss of feeling, of life and limb. Loss of blood. Loss of memory. Loss
of looks, of faith and time. Loss of sanity. Teeth lost under the pillow. Long-lost
relatives—ignored, forgotten, pretended away.16
The story ultimately underscores that some types of loss, such as losing a child,
override all other lost things. But the quotation also points to the basic givens
of limit and loss in existence, which we can neither ignore nor readily resolve.
This fundamentally existential insight—that there is a limit to life, to energy,
to bodily and mental strength, to desire, to beauty, to youth, to intelligence, to
achievement, to movement, to success, to resilience, to clout, to power, to com-
munication, to media—also resonates, as already suggested, with thinking
within critical disability studies. For example, in interrogating the broad and
complex meanings and lived realities of fatigue, media scholar Jonathan Sterne
‘perfect remembering,’ should be viewed skeptically. In the first place, the total capture and recall
of a society’s (or even an individual’s) works and activities has never been, and is unlikely ever to
be, possible. All cultures forget; digital culture is no exception. Historically, the overwhelming ma-
jority of human knowledge has been lost, destroyed, sabotaged, pulled out of context, excluded from
the record, suppressed, or never recorded at all. Conclusions are inevitably drawn on the basis of
incomplete, contradictory, and divergent information. There is little about culture today to suggest
that these processes have changed in any fundamental way as a consequence of digital communica-
tion technologies.” “The Next Decade in Internet Time,” Information, Communication & Society, 15,
no. 5 (2012): 629, https://doi.org/10.1080/1369118X.2012.675691. See also Chun, who discusses the
undead of information in Programmed Visions, 133ff. See too Deborah Lupton, who reconceives of
data as lively and then worn out, dying, and dead in The Quantified Self: A Sociology of Self-Tracking
(Cambridge: Polity Press, 2016), 36–44, and Amanda Lagerkvist, “The Media End: Digital Afterlife
Agencies, and Techno-existential Closure,” in Digital Memory Studies: Media Pasts in Transition, ed.
Andrew Hoskins (New York: Routledge, 2017), 48–84, where I discuss ending media—that is, dis-
connection—in the context of offering a typology for the digital afterlife.
ending: being able to die away from it. Søren Kierkegaard, The Sickness unto Death by Anti-Climacus,
trans. Alastair Hannay (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1849/1989).
16 Amina Gautier, The Loss of All Lost Things (Denver: Elixir Press, 2016), 23–24.
Introduction 7
This approach may form a coalition here with existential media studies. As al-
ready noted, the theory of finitude par excellence is existential philosophy. As
much as its focus on death must be thoroughly qualified,19 this book argues there
is reason to keep finitude on the radar to highlight limit and vulnerability as a
corrective to figurations that invoke unbounded forces. Furthermore, it is pos-
sible to situate limit as the very site of birth and rebirth, which is the offering of
Karl Jaspers’s concept of the limit situation. Importantly, however, this is not to
rehearse the claim that death decisively overrides all other formative experiences.
existence. Critics have argued that the existentialists are simply wrong to emphasize death as the site
of authenticity and to portray being-toward-death as the resolute road to the truthful human life.
The critique rests on two grounds. First, as Ronald Kastenbaum concludes after reviewing the field of
terror management theory, which took Kierkegaard to heart in psychology (via the writings of Ernst
Becker), the alleged importance of death anxiety, and the proclaimed universal mortal terror among
human populations, could not be confirmed in empirical and clinical reality. In other words: “Death
makes us anxious. But so does life.” “Should We Manage Terror If We Could?,” Omega: Journal of
Death and Dying, 59, no. 4 (2009): 291, https://doi.org/10.2190/OM.59.4.a. Second, critics of exis-
tentialism deem the existentialists to be myopically obsessed with their own death, at the expense
of a more socially aware outlook on life in solidarity with others. They also argue that existential
philosophers lack a more broadly conceived view of the human condition, inclusive of natality, for ex-
ample. Today, phenomenologists themselves have also moved the epicenter of existentialist concerns
to questions about birth, life, and vulnerability. For a problematization and diversification of the focus
on mortality in existentialism, see Sara Heinämaa, “The Sexed Self and the Mortal Body,” in Birth,
Death and Femininity: Philosophies of Embodiment, ed. Robin May Schott (Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 2010), 73–97, and “The Many Senses of Death: Phenomenological Insights into
Human Mortality,” in Death and Mortality: From Individual to Communal Perspectives, ed. Outi
Hakola, Sara Heinämaa, and Sami Pihlström (Helsinki: Helsinki Collegium for Advanced Studies,
2015), 100–117.
8 Existential Media
20 In fact this can also be found, according to Christoph Mundt, in Jaspers’s thinking, which takes
the limit situation of death as referring to finality both in life and of life, broadening the implications
of finitude beyond the individual to mankind itself, and to the universe. “Jaspers’ Concept of ‘Limit
Situation’: Extensions and Therapeutic Applications,” in Karl Jaspers’ Philosophy and Psychopathology,
ed. Thomas Fuchs, Thiemo Breyer, and Christoph Mundt (Berlin: Springer, 2014), 170–171.
21 See Shahram Khosravi, ed., Waiting: A Project in Conversation (Bielefeld: Transcript, 2021).
Introduction 9
and in conversation with recent tides of theorization in, for example, media phi-
losophy, feminist new materialism, critical disability studies, the environmental
humanities, anticipation studies, and the field of metric cultures.
The limit situation of loss is today at play in cancer blogs and support groups
of virtual mourning, where people through social networking grieve as in pre-
modern societies—together. Empirically, therefore, this book attends to mourning,
commemorating, and speaking to the dead online as well as to the digital afterlife.
These are proliferating phenomena that have attracted growing attention in the
burgeoning interdisciplinary field of death online research, to which this work owes
a debt and hopes to contribute. Over the last ten years, scholars in this field have
been exploring how the very concepts of both death and mourning have changed, as
people live on socially online after biological death, for extended periods of time. In
addition, they have observed a sense of deprivatization of death and mourning, as
death has become desequestered and has returned to everyday life in the West. Social
media have thus ushered in a series of social, spatial, and temporal expansions of the
realms of death and mourning.22 The field has grown rich in empirical detail. My
hope is to begin to offer a theoretical framing and an anchoring of the discussions
in this field through existential conceptualization—that is, through a media theory
of the limit situation. Finally, due to the roles these practices and phenomena play
in the lifeworld in ultimate moments, media may also in themselves heighten both
vulnerability and uncertainty in the present age. This, too, compels us to study them
existentially.
A further aim here is to draw upon and critically engage some of the themes
within the new materialism. For example, I see its focus on more than human
webs of care or on distributed ethics and agency as productive diffractions and
openings, which nevertheless need to be pieced together through existential
media inquiry.23 Here I argue that Jaspers’s existentialism will make limits visible,
22 See, for example, Tony Walter, Rachid Hourizi, Wendy Moncur, and Stacey Pitsillides,
“Does the Internet Change How We Die and Mourn?,” Omega: Journal of Death and Dying, 64,
no. 4 (2011–12): 275–302, https://doi.org/10.2190/OM.64.4.a; Tony Walter, What Death Means Now
(Bristol: Policy Press Shorts Insights, 2017); and Jed R. Brubaker, Gillian R. Hayes, and Paul Dourish,
“Beyond the Grave: Facebook as a Site for the Expansion of Death and Mourning,” Information
Society, 29, no. 3 (2013): 152–163, https://doi.org/10.1080/01972243.2013.777300. Studies of such
phenomena in the burgeoning field of death online research show a desequestering as well as a de-
ferral of death in contemporary society: see Amanda Lagerkvist, “New Memory Cultures and
Death: Existential Security in the Digital Memory Ecology,” Thanatos, 2, no. 2 (December 2013),
https://thanatosjournal.files.wordpress.com/2012/12/lagerkvist_newmemorycultures_than2220
131.pdf. See also Connor Graham, Wally Smith, Wendy Moncur, et al. “Introduction: Mortality in
Design,” Design Issues, 34, no. 1 (2018): 3–14, https://doi.org/10.1162/DESI_e_00472.
23 I am grateful to Benjamin Peters for suggesting that turning to the original metaphor of limits
in mathematics can be illuminating, since there is an analogy to my efforts to theorize the limit.
Limit does a kind of magic in mathematics. In Infinite Powers: How Calculus Reveals the Secrets of the
Universe (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2019), Steven Strogatz defines “the Infinity Principle”
as that which lets us divide a finite, dynamic situation into an infinite number of small pieces and
numbers, and then to sum these together to get a finite understanding. The paradox implies a
10 Existential Media
as well as help reintegrate the prismatic fragments into a different and produc-
tive figuration. This will amount to what feminist philosopher Rosi Braidotti
calls a “politically charged practice of alternative representation. It is a way of
bringing into representation the unthinkable, in so far as it requires awareness
of the limitations as well as the specificity of one’s locations.”24 Hence, the fig-
uration makes it possible to envision an otherwise, and acts as a spotlight that
illuminates aspects of one’s practice that remained in obscurity, bringing to light
potentials therein. But existentializing media is also compelled by the need to
bring to the surface, in line with Jaspers, what was already known deep down.
Such a reawakening intuits and in effect requires a creative remapping of what
media may mean, and how we can approach them anew.
As I have argued at length elsewhere, the digital age is now revisited by classic
existential questions and themes, while also facing partially novel existential
challenges and opportunities.25 In the present day and age, the limit situation takes
on a particular meaning. Salvatore Iaconesi illuminates such particularities when he
vividly remarks: “A cancer and a global pandemic perfectly show the coexistence of
two dimensions: the individual and the ecosystem: and the problems that come with
it: which are complex and, thus, irreducible.”26 In line with Iaconesi, I retain a focus
on the individual as that hurting body, who is always already relational and inter-
subjective (as Jaspers would be the first to argue), and who is part of the biosphere.
Pushing toward a reconceiving of media, as they connect us, as we are hurting, to the
bigger picture—to the global agonies—he similarly draws attention to the fact that
in our world, this tragic dimension has a lot to do with data and computation.
The complex phenomena of our planet can be only experienced through enor-
mous quantities and qualities of data, and through the computation needed
to collect them, and to process and represent them. How can I experience cli-
mate change (as a global phenomenon, not just because it is hotter in my city)?
COV19? Poverty? Etc Data, data, data, and computation.27
condition in which we can only approach, but never reach, infinity. Infinite numbers also seem to dis-
solve every single number yet rely on them. The profound takeaway, I believe, is that simply remem-
bering this about numbers reveals that the finite and infinite belong to each other, constituting a basic
irresolvable paradox, an antinomy. But it also highlights the fact that thinking with limits means
allowing for dividing up something finite into fragments that may then be reintegrated, forming a
different figuration through which old truths can be as new.
24 Rosi Braidotti, “Teratologies,” in Deleuze and Feminist Theory, ed. Ian Buchanan and Claire
state that “complexity doesn’t have ‘solution.’ It has a life, a way to cope with it, but not a solution in the
sense of being able to reduce it to a point. There’s no App for it.”
27 Ibid.
Introduction 11
28 Here I am indebted to Jacek Smolicki, who has been developing the concept of the transversal
in the context of both artistic practice and media theorization. See Smolicki, “Minuting: Rethinking
the Ordinary Through the Ritual of Transversal Listening,” VIS—Nordic Journal for Artistic Research,
no. 5 (2021), https://www.en.visjournal.nu/minuting-rethinking-the-ordinary-through-the-ritual-
of-transversal-listening/. Nick Couldry and Andreas Hepp analyze such scales in terms of “deep
mediatization,” which resonates with my transversal ambition here. The Mediated Construction of
Reality (Oxford: Polity, 2016).
29 Recently, this type of civilizational critique of technology has gained new proponents, and
strong voices have taken on the task of formulating what is at stake for today’s media situation. Nick
Couldry offers such crucial normative discussions on media ethics: that is, on what life is good to
lead and how media play into it. He asks, consequently, “Will we look back on the early twenty-first
century as the time when the practical necessity for an ethics of media and communication came to
be realized and a permanent new domain of ethics emerged?” Couldry, Media, Society, World: Social
Theory and Digital Media Practice (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2012), 181. According to Shannon
Vallor, this is a time faced with acute technomoral needs for humanity, Technology and the Virtues: A
Philosophical Guide to a Future Worth Wanting (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2016). See also Zuboff,
Age of Surveillance Capitalism; and Brent Frischmann and Evan Selinger, Re-engineering Humanity
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018).
12 Existential Media
30 This I call the existential body. Importantly, in reintroducing the body into the digital,
N. Katherine Hayles distinguished between the hegemonic body as a cultural construct, and embod-
iment as that which captures an individual and experiential articulation of discourse. In this per-
spective there is no body, there are only bodies: “Embodiment is contextual, enmeshed within the
specificities of place, time, physiology and culture, which together compose enactment. Embodiment
never coincides exactly with the body. . . . Relative to the body, embodiment is elsewhere, at once
excessive and deficient in its infinite variations, particularities and abnormalities.” When We
Became Post-human: Virtual Bodies in Cybernetics, Literature, and Informatics (Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 1999), 196–197. Inspired by this insight, I propose that we consider a plurality
of embodied modes of being human in the digital limit situation: the notion of the existential
body is meant to capture being concrete singular beings in plurality. See also Amanda Lagerkvist,
“Embodiments of Memory: Toward and Existential Approach to the Culture of Connectivity,” in
Memory Unbound: Tracing the Dynamics of Memory Studies, ed. Stef Craps, Pieter Vermeulen, and
Lucy Bond (New York: Berghahn Books, 2016). In feminist new materialist theories of embodiment,
there are no pure bodies. Bodies must be conceived as dynamic entities that exist in becoming, in a
yet-ness and thus in anticipation. For an overview, see Clara Fischer and Luna Dolezal, eds., New
Feminist Perspectives on Embodiment (Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018). While this
is important, I am also hesitant about defining bodies in terms of limitless becoming, since I am not
primarily interested in nomadic and expansive bodies, which seem to rely on a template of able-
bodiedness and movement. Instead, I am loyal to bodies at the limit that recognize limits. Alison
Kafer reminds us, however, to avoid, on the other hand, seeing disability as a predetermined limit.
Refusing a fixed definition of disability, she allows the boundaries of the concept to be open. She
locates disability in a wide and complex net of features that do not pertain to any particular indi-
vidual, yet which pathologize and oppress them as they get associated with these particular features.
Feminist, Queer, Crip (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2013). Tobin Siebers, in Disability
Theory, critiques the contradictory ideology of ability in our culture, which sees bodies as irrelevant
and perfectible at the same time. The critique of able-bodiedness across these scholarships will it-
self, I suggest, accomplish precisely the needed balance between the processual and pluralistic view
of disability and embodiment, and the existential insights about the value of respecting limits and
embodied limit experiences.
31 Elsewhere I have explored how existential security is sought, achieved, or lost in our digital era,
with an eye to gaining detailed knowledge about how fundamental existential issues are pursued
when people’s lives and memories are increasingly shaped in, by, and through digital media forms.
See Lagerkvist, “New Memory Cultures.” The quest for existential security rhymes with what Jaspers
calls the living process as a quest for order, for individually and collectively creating and securing a
“shell” of belief systems, in the face of what he calls the antinomies of life; that is, basic irresolvable
paradoxes. These antinomies are especially activated in the limit situation. The shells of existence, for
Jaspers, are worldviews and patterns that are predictable and safe, that make it possible to navigate in
the world, and that enable pathfinding. Media, I submit, are also such shells, which may offer a sense
of existential security. Yet this concept is obviously an oxymoron and should never be taken too liter-
ally. Existential security can only be striven for; it can never be unconditionally reached. It can only
be temporarily achieved, since the shells always break and break anew. Cf. Christoph Mundt, “Impact
of Karl Jaspers’ General Psychopathology: The Range of Appraisal,” in One Century of Karl Jaspers’
General Psychopathology, ed. Giovanni Stanghellini and Thomas Fuchs (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2013), 48.
14 Existential Media
32 Edward S. Casey, “Edges and the In-Between,” PhaenEx, 3, no. 2 (Fall–Winter 2008): 2, https://
doi.org/10.22329/p.v3i2.643. He argues similarly that “edges set forth the place of creation; they es-
tablish the scene of such creation, and thus determine where it is happening” (3, italics added).
Introduction 15
But there is another distinctive feature of the project. An allegory that may
seem overstated immediately comes to mind: tectonic collision. Rooted in ex-
istential philosophy, existential media studies collides head- on (simply by
moving so utterly slowly in a world on speed) with the tectonic plate of the ne-
oliberal platform economy33 and its hybrids of technocratic formalism and
instrumentarianism (increasingly also fixtures of academic life). Here we also
smash into the banishing of human-centric concerns by technoscientific bureau-
cracies, and the cult of objectivism and datafication. More carefully, and hopefully
in productive ways, we jam on another side into the plate of the posthumanist
vanguard that sets out to problematize and oust remaining forms of classic hu-
manism, while existential media studies seek to critically retool it. A fourth plate
will be willfully blindsided: it is the calcification of a broad range of long-term
approaches inside and outside of media theory that display a neglect of existen-
tial vulnerability—a term I will return to in the ensuing chapters, and theorize in
connection with media, embodiment, limit, and profound accountability.
According to geologists, tectonic collisions produce enormous amounts of en-
ergy through which something may emerge: “Sometimes an entire ocean closes
as tectonic plates converge, causing blocks of thick continental crust to collide.
A collisional mountain range forms as the crust is compressed, crumpled, and
thickened even more.”34 This comparison may strike one as contrived, but it does
set the imagination in motion. Could offering an existential conceptualization
of digital-human vulnerability at the limit, through a respectful appropriation of
Jaspers’s philosophy—in conversation and collision with theoretical currents—
bring about an alternate, thickened figuration? I am convinced that, at the limits
of named formations, and through their unexpected brush, something may
come into being through which key stakes and virtues at the heart of humanistic
media studies may reclaim their centrality. The goal of this book is nothing more
and nothing less than to take media studies to its limits, as it were, by daring to
linger, to stay with the moment, and to slow down in the face of the realities of the
digital limit situation.
33 See José van Dijck, Thomas Poell, and Martijn de Waal, The Platform Society: Public Values
in a Connective World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018); and Paul Edwards, “A Platform Is
Infrastructure on Fire,” in Your Computer Is on Fire, ed. Thomas S. Mullaney, Benjamin Peters, and
Kavita Pjilip (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2021).
34 https://www.nps.gov/subjects/geology/plate-tectonics-collisional-mountain-ranges.htm.
PART I
EXI ST E N T IA L IZING M E DIA
1
Limit Situations (of the Digital)
Restoring Karl Jaspers for Media Theory
Existential Media brings existential philosophy, and its key concerns about what it
means to exist, into a serious conversation with media studies. In this pursuit, I am
guided by one of its least famous and most original voices: the German existentialist
philosopher Karl Jaspers (1883–1969). I thereby continue and carry the torch on-
ward, after momentary first contacts between media theory and Jaspers’s existential
philosophy.1 I have taken Jaspers’s ideas to heart, as he defines philosophizing as
belonging to all human beings. And as Jaspers puts it in his series of lectures at the
University of Gröningen in 1935: “Whoever even once thought he heard softly the
authentic philosophical note can never tire of trying to communicate it.”2
I envision restoring some of the wisdom of this scholarship for media theory,
by creatively reading Jaspers guided by leading experts and Jaspers scholars.3 The
1 See Ronald D. Gordon’s dialogic reading in “Karl Jaspers: Existential Philosopher of Dialogical
Communication,” Southern Communication Journal, 65, nos. 2–3 (2000): 105–118, https://doi.org/
10.1080/10417940009373161. Gordon’s point is that Jaspers is undervalued overall in communica-
tion studies, despite his important philosophizing about communication. Also see John D. Peters’s
“nondialogic,” impersonal, and pragmatist readings, which very briefly mention Jaspers, but which
seem to have taken stock of his thinking on communicative breakdown in theorizing interruption as
constitutive of communication itself. Speaking into the Air: A History of the Idea of Communication
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999), 16–17 and 276. The concept is furthermore employed
in Nick Couldry’s adoption of Paul Ricoeur’s reading of Jaspers, which focuses primarily on ethics.
Media, Society, World, 180–210.
2 Karl Jaspers, Reason and Existenz: Five Lectures, trans. William Earle (Milwaukee: Marquette
consulted some of the key works on Karl Jaspers’s philosophy, including, for example, Hannah
Arendt, “What Is Existential Philosophy?” and “Concern with Politics in Recent European
Philosophical Thought,” in Essays in Understanding, 1930–1954: Formation, Exile and Totalitarianism
(New York: Schocken Books, 1946/1994), 163–187 and 428–447; Walter Kaufman, ed., Existentialism
from Dostoyevsky to Sartre (New York: Plume Books, 1956), 22–33; Paul Arthur Schlipp, ed., The
Philosophy of Karl Jaspers (La Salle, IL: Open Court, 1957/1981); Charles Frederic Wallraff, Karl
Jaspers: An Introduction to His Philosophy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1970). A more
recent and very instructive work on Jaspers’s philosophy and politics is Chris Thornhill, Karl
Jaspers: Politics and Metaphysics (London: Routledge, 2002). Peter-Paul Verbeek provides a sophisti-
cated appreciation of Jaspers’s philosophy of technology in What Things Do: Philosophical Reflections
on Technology, Agency and Design (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2005), 15–46.
Filiz Peach offers a thoughtful discussion on several key concepts in Jaspers’s philosophy in Death,
“Deathlessness” and Existenz in Karl Jaspers’ Philosophy (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press,
2008). Other important sources are Helmut Wautischer, Alan M. Olson, and Gregory J. Walters, eds.,
Philosophical Faith and the Future of Humanity (New York: Springer, 2012); and Peter E. Gordon, who
Existential Media. Amanda Lagerkvist, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2022.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190925567.003.0002
20 Existentializing Media
objective is to remedy what I see as an existential deficit in media theory (this will
be further explained in c hapter 3), by providing a focalization on his concept of
the limit situation as a heuristic framing device—a productive “concept-meta-
phor”—for beginning to reframe and refigure media existentiality.4 While the
limit situation is real, it is also a name given to that which cannot be objecti-
fied. Hence approaching it, following Jaspers, is only possible through a partial
unraveling of the ciphers of being, such as symbols and artistic works, as well as
through careful philosophical thinking.
This book argues that our era of massive technological transformations and of
calamitous global crises is a limit situation, both for individuals and for society.
The stakes are existential, political, and ethical. As I hope to show, the digital limit
situation profoundly coshapes the material and symbolic worlds we inhabit via
media. While existential media pertain to aspects of being human that have been
of concern for humans for centuries (as I will discuss further in chapters 3 and
4), the digital limit situation also encompasses new and binding realities. In ad-
dition, existential media mediate the universal limit situations, and when they do
so, they constitute themselves as new ones that human beings not only are condi-
tioned by but also are called upon to take responsibility for.
This chapter begins with a brief introduction to Jaspers’s philosophy and its
reception, as well as to the development of his philosophy of technology. I then
go into his ideas about the limit situation as formative for being human in the
world, while expanding on his thinking to begin to describe the key traits of the
digital limit situation. Existential media studies, as I then go on to show, seeks to
demonstrate how originary technicity relates to originary human vulnerability.
Having substantiated the definition of the digital limit situation in light of this
aim, I finally offer a theorization by thinking further with limits, which allows
me to introduce the essays at the heart of Part II of this book.
puts Jaspers’s work in cultural context in “German Existentialism and the Persistence of Metaphysics,”
in Situating Existentialism: Key Texts in Context, ed. Jonathan Judaken and Robert Bernasconi
(New York: Columbia University Press, 2012). See also a brief discussion of Jaspers in relation to
Heidegger in Udo Thietz, “German Existence-Philosophy,” in A Companion to Phenomenology and
Existentialism, ed. Hubert Dreyfus and Mark A. Wrathall (Chichester: Blackwell, 2009).
4 Here I follow Sarah Pink et al., who describe thinking with concept-metaphors, which are “par-
tial and perspectival framing devices,” as offering “a means of describing . . . emergent qualities” of
the technological environment, both materially and symbolically. Sarah Pink, Minna Ruckenstein,
Robert Willim, and Melisa Duque, “Broken Data: Conceptualising Data in an Emerging World,” Big
Data & Society, January–June 2018, 1–13, https://doi.org/10.1177/2053951717753228. Concept-
metaphors, through their partial offerings, are similar to Jaspers’s ciphers of being (for example,
artworks, philosophical ideas, and poetic myths) that point toward the Encompassing that we are and
that is the World—that is, toward the nonobjectifiable dimensions of existence—without ever fully
capturing them.
Limit Situations (of the Digital) 21
As the intellectual historian Chris Thornhill has shown in Karl Jaspers: Politics
and Metaphysics, Jaspers’s philosophy presents an entire and unique branch of the
tradition of existential thinking, with important contributions to diverse fields
of philosophical inquiry—such as hermeneutics, anthropological perspectives
on religion, ethics, the critique of idealism, and the end of metaphysics—as well
as to political debate. His existentialism was extremely influential in the 1920s
and 1930s, and also and especially in the late 1940s and 1950s, leaving discern-
ible impressions on the works of Hans-Georg Gadamer, Alexandre Kojève, and
Hannah Arendt. His work has, however, not been uncontroversial, as it became
associated with both the conservative intellectual culture of the late-Weimar
era and later with the postwar German administration, more specifically the
Adenauer era post-1949, and its liberal-conservative consensus. In his day,
Jaspers was quite famous as a public intellectual, but his philosophy has also ex-
perienced a relative marginality. In Thornhill’s account, this is due to how Georg
Lukács, Ernst Bloch, and subsequently associates of the Frankfurt school, such
as Theodor Adorno, categorized his thinking as an expression of political indif-
ferentism and acquiescence. They further deemed “its pathos of the suffering ex-
istential interior” to be veering “towards a heroic mythology of the self, which
deflects from consideration of the material conditions of genuinely redeemed
subjectivity.”5 On close inspection these readings are, according to Thornhill, in-
correct. Jaspers’s deep antitotalitarian convictions and commitment to questions
about German guilt, responsibility, and solidarity with the victims of the war,
for example, prove otherwise. He also shifted toward a critique of the Adenauer
administration. Inspired by Hannah Arendt, he argued for the necessity of a
liberal-republican public sphere, which he saw as the communicative foundation
for democracy; and he moved “towards a more radical theory of active democ-
racy which eventually influenced the writings of the early Habermas.”6
While his work did enjoy publicity, Jaspers’s name lacks the luster of fame that
once shone on, for example, Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, and his
work has not been credited with the same glistening prestige as the oeuvre of
one of his colleagues: Martin Heidegger.7 Yet this is also precisely why it is such
existentialist for the future, since there was a solidity and continued relevance in his work: “The con-
tinuity of Jaspers’ thought remains unbroken. He is an active participant in modern philosophy, and
he will continue to contribute to its development and speak with a decisive voice in it.” Arendt, “What
Is Existential Philosophy?,” 182. As he became the least famous of the existentialists, this may be ei-
ther a flaw of judgment or a prescient forecast for an even later age.
22 Existentializing Media
I once found in the University of Iowa Library a book last borrowed, according
to the checkout stamps, in 1938 that was so alive and smart, so full of things
I absolutely had to know, and which spoke to me with the freshness of the
morning and no must or smell of the crypt about it. Where had it been all those
years? What had kept it alive? Its author, Karl Jaspers, was long dead and so his
brain was not the keeper of its flame.8
Indeed, Peters activated the book in a Kittlerian sense, since it had outlived
its author. And yet he was evidently activated by it: reawakened, as Jaspers no
doubt had hoped, to its flame of elucidation. Jaspers’s insistence upon truth and
its complex connections to communication and communicative breakdown,
his searching for the ultimately incomprehensible real (or what Jaspers calls the
Encompassing), and the irreducibility of that real to the absolutes of any system,
philosophical school, or conceptualization, also makes him highly relevant
for those who identify as pragmatists and neorealists or who are speculatively
inclined.9
Karl Jaspers was born in 1883 in Oldenburg, Germany, into a liberal Protestant
family. His mother was the descendant of generations of farmers in the re-
gion, and his father was a trained jurist who worked as the director of a bank.
Biographers describe Jaspers’s childhood by the North Sea as quiet and idyllic,
but also shadowed by an undiagnosed illness.10 In 1910 he married Gertrud
Mayer (1879–1974), who was of Jewish ancestry, and the sister of his close friend
and collaborator Ernst Mayer. Jaspers is considered an exponent of existen-
tialism, but one might describe him intellectually as a threshold creature or an
academic shape-shifter. He studied the humanities and law as a young man at the
University of Heidelberg, but then proceeded during his career first into medi-
cine, then through psychiatry and psychology, and finally into philosophy. His
work was original and unconventional. His interest in philosophy grew, but he
had been unsympathetic toward philosophy professors from a young age, since
he found them dogmatic and concerned with abstract value systems with no im-
port. Instead he pursued what he believed was the original method of philos-
ophy, inspired by Plato. When he was finally given a full professorship by the
appointment committee at Heidelberg in 1921, it was against the will of the phi-
losophy professors, who sought to block his advancement and who saw him as
an impostor.11
So, what was he up to that made the philosophers proper feel they needed to
hold their ground? Jaspers is not setting forth a new metaphysical theory or a new
hypothesis about the physical world or the nature of being human. He wishes in-
stead to reawaken us to our human situation. Limits, communication, plurality,
responsibility, and uncertainty are keywords that I identify with his philosophy,
and they are intimately related to his acknowledgment of human vulnerability.
Jaspers’s key influences include Søren Kierkegaard, Immanuel Kant, his mentor
Max Weber, and his friend Hannah Arendt. Stricken with illness from child-
hood, with a disease that was later fatal, he developed bronchiectasis (a chronic
dilation of the bronchial tubes) during adolescence, which led to lifelong illness
and disability due to cardiac decompensation. One may speculate whether these
facts were formative for the development of his thinking. It does not seem far-
fetched to trace the roots of much of his philosophizing to such biographical
circumstances, but Jaspers was also trained as a psychiatrist, and before moving
into philosophy he worked clinically and also made seminal contributions to the
field. For example, his well-known General Psychopathology introduced Edmund
Husserl and Wilhelm Dilthey into the psychiatric discipline. The psychiatric es-
tablishment in the United States and elsewhere is deeply, if remotely, in debt to
Jaspers. His main legacy in the Anglo-American world may in hindsight have
been through the massive influence of his colleague and student Kurt Schneider,
who developed his famous “Clinical Psychopathology” (which has been in-
strumental for the development of the criteria used in diagnosing depression)
proceeding from Jaspers’s fourth edition of the General Psychopathology from
1946. As opposed to other forms of psychiatry, which were bent on observing
behavior objectively, the aim of the Jaspersian-Schneiderian phenomenological
approach was to elucidate the patient’s own inner experiences. Hence, Jaspers’s
commitment to understanding mental illness as a kind of primordial limit situ-
ation—from the perspective of meaning, relations, and experience—must also
be recognized in the development of his philosophical thinking. At any rate,
according to Hannah Arendt, Jaspers properly picked up the torch from Søren
Kierkegaard in his insistence on the utter exposure and groundlessness in human
existence.12
11 See Charles Fredric Wallraff ’s introduction to Jaspers’s life and writings, in Karl Jaspers, 3–10.
12 Arendt, “What Is Existential Philosophy?”
24 Existentializing Media
The anomies and alienations of the modern world of the nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries were, of course, not only the soil of Weberian sociology;
these many complex problems equally vexed the existentialists.13 Consequently,
and echoing Kierkegaard, Jaspers saw in his Man in the Modern Age, from 1931,
a problematic depletion of meaning and value, the result of modern technolog-
ical culture of quantification in which “essential humanity is reduced to the ge-
neral.”14 For Jaspers this had wide consequences for limiting humanity: “Limits
are imposed upon the life-order by a specifically modern conflict. The mass-
order brings into being a universal life-apparatus, which proves destructive to
the world of a truly human life.”15 In addition, he was concerned that “the uni-
versalization of the life-order threatens to reduce the life of the real man [sic] in a
real world to mere functioning.”16
The renewed relevance of Jaspers’s early systemic critique notwithstanding,
it will obviously need an updating today. For example, important debates in
critical data studies have problematized not only how technological systems
are exploiting our datafied lives; they have also shown how they are rehearsing
and amplifying, instead of checking, human prejudice, bias, and stereo-
typing.17 Media scholars furthermore argue that today the distinction between
the technological and the existential realm has dissolved.18 As I described in
13 F. H. Heinemann, Existentialism and the Modern Predicament (New York: Harper & Row, 1958).
14 Karl Jaspers, Man in the Modern Age, trans. Eden Paul and Cedar Paul (London: Routledge,
1931/2010), 49.
15 Ibid., 44.
16 Ibid., 45. In this vein, philosophers of technology as well as media critics of all shades have often
claimed that technology alienates us from ourselves as human beings, hollowing out both meaning
and value, and causing a crisis for agency, presence, and authenticity. Indeed, this type of framing has
a long history in the philosophy of technology and includes key contributions from the existentialists.
Heidegger famously argued that we are essentially “enframed” by technological systems: they re-
veal our world to us and conceal it from us; they dangerously call upon us to perceive it, and our
fellow human beings, in a particular way: as a “standing-reserve” for exploitation. Martin Heidegger,
The Question Concerning Technology and Other Essays, trans. William Lovitt (New York: Garland
Publishing, 1977). The way he apprehensively mused about the dangers of autonomous technology
echoes in recent philosophizing about the digital age of automated operations “lacking in tem-
poral or existential duration” as they replace spirit, agency, and thinking itself. Byung-Chul Han, I
Svärmen, trans. Ola Wallin (Stockholm: Ersatz, 2013), 66, my translation. Similar critiques have been
launched by the literary scholar Laurence Scott in The Four-Dimensional Human: Ways of Being in
the Digital World (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2016). Exploring the existential dimensions
of our contemporary era, he argues that it is the everywhereness of digital media, and their creation of
a fourth (i.e., virtual) dimension, that makes them all-encompassing and omniscient. In this fourth
dimension, we are facing pocket-size shipwrecks, craving instant validation that fails to arrive; we live
in a social media hive of buzz that is silent (lacking fullness) at heart, and we have come to accept a
reverse mass peephole onto other people’s intimate spheres and private lives.
17 In critical data studies, see seminal works by Safya U. Noble, Algorithms of Oppression: How
Search Engines Reinforce Racism (New York: NYU Press, 2018); Cathy O’Neil, Weapons of Math
Destruction: How Big Data Increases Inequality and Threatens Democracy (New York: Crown, 2016).
18 According to Ganaele Langlois, social media have become “meaning machines” that, through
data mining, “orchestrate, and derive value from, one’s sense of being and existence,” establishing
the protocol for our very sense of “meaningfulness.” Ganaele Langlois, Meaning in the Age of Social
Media (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), 106.
Limit Situations (of the Digital) 25
the introduction, the existential register has been colonized by software that
participates directly in our affective experiences. This has several implications.
First, these accounts upset the prevailing and seemingly harmonious forms of
“being in and becoming with the technological world,” in Sarah Kember and
Joanna Zylinska’s coinage,19 by disclosing important aspects of being human in
the digital age that relate to current forms of connective capitalism. At the same
time, we must not fail to appreciate the sense of consolation, meaning, and prac-
tical consummation that existential media also afford. It is also necessary here,
therefore, to incorporate contemporary empirical insights from media sociology
and anthropology that are inspired by (post)phenomenological and new mate-
rialist understandings of the onto-epistemological dimensions of human-data
assemblages. Big Data and biometric technologies, for example, are both part of
the body politic and meaningful, entangled, and habitual media, with varied and
contextually bound uses and meanings. Even if they exploit, surveil, and reduce
humans, as Jaspers would say, they are also productive, as they bring into being
new forms of knowledge and social relations, new assemblages and webs of eve-
ryday life-flow, and new data subjectivities and forms of embodiment.20
Acknowledging the weight of these observations, I, however, take my main
lead from Jaspers in this book in placing particular emphasis on limits—as well
as on how they relate to radical uncertainty, openness, idleness, and fecundity
in the present—to offer prompts for remapping and readdressing why media
matter. In The Origin and Goal of History, published in 1953, Jaspers developed
his understanding into a cautiously more optimistic conception of technology,
by offering a different theory of limit: “The appraisal of technology depends
upon what is expected of it. A clear appraisal presupposes clarity concerning
the limits of technology.”21 This means we must also take into account fallacious
prejudices against technology, as well as hyperbole and outrageous myths about
its capacities: “The limits of technology lie in those presuppositions of all tech-
nological realizations which can never be overcome.”22 There are several limits of
technology. The first is that technology is a means and requires direction:
The limitation of technology consists in the fact that it cannot exist out of itself,
but is always a means. This renders it equivocal. Because it does not set itself any
goals, it is beyond or before all good and evil. It can serve the purposes of salva-
tion or calamity. In itself it is neutral toward both of them. This is precisely why
it requires direction.23
With this claim, Jaspers distances himself from what he sees as two inadequate
positions on technology. The glorifying perspective sees technology as a liberation
from nature and a realization of man’s true environment; the despising perspec-
tive is equally problematic, and only captures a partial truth about technology.24
Both positions are, according to Jaspers, untenable, and he thereby nuances his
earlier position in Man in the Modern Age, where he saw technological develop-
ment as inherently destructive. However, he retains parts of his earlier critique
in emphasizing other limits of technology that have to do with the fact that tech-
nologies are restricted to the mechanical, to the lifeless, and to the universal.
They thus aim at types and at mass production; therefore, technologies are “in-
expressive, impersonal, inhuman.”25 Finally, he stresses limits in terms of limited
resources: “Technology is bound to substances and forces that are limited—the
quantity of raw materials and energy resources is finite—and bound as well to
human beings, whose labor keeps it going.”26
What is required is moving from intellect to existential reason, thereby recov-
ering “a sense of responsibility, for technology.”27 In fact, in Die Geistige Situation
der Zeit from 1955, Jaspers argues that technology can either “distance us from
nature, to make room for using it thoughtlessly and mechanically,” or “bring us in
a new proximity to the investigated nature.”28 On the positive side in Jaspers new
postwar relationship to technology, it must therefore be noted, we find his stress
on the possibility of a new closeness to nature, a beauty in constructs and an ex-
tension of perception. Importantly, Jaspers develops his understanding of tech-
nology further by asking himself how to understand the experience of beauty
of technological artifacts. As Ciano Aydin and Peter-Paul Verbeek argue: “He
claims these experiences are not found in the pure efficiency of technological
workings, nor in redundant ornamentations, but in ‘the solutions that lie in the
things themselves, as if they were found in a quest for eternal, pre-given forms.’ ”29
Hence, for Jaspers the power that humans exert upon reality also discloses its
transcendent character, here invoked by the Platonic image. Jaspers shows that
technologies function not only because of human intervention per se. Humans
23 Ibid.
24 Verbeek, What Things Do, 39.
25 Jaspers, Origin and Goal, 120.
26 Ibid., italics added.
27 Ibid., 42.
28 Cited in Ciano Aydin and Peter-Paul Verbeek, “Transcendence in Technology,” Techné: Research
30 Ibid., 308.
31 I will return to this discussion about transcendence in technology in chapter 7.
32 Verbeek, What Things Do, 39.
33 Jaspers, Origin and Goal, 119.
28 Existentializing Media
our assumptions about it: “The Encompassing is not only that which embraces
and underlies everything empirically knowable and objectifiable in the world,
but is also that which transcends the subject/object dichotomy.”34 As Richard
F. Grabau, the translator of Jaspers’s Philosophy of Existence, puts it:
It is Jaspers’ name for the form of our awareness of being which underlies all our
scientific and common-sense knowledge and which is given expression in the
myths and rituals of religion. But it can never become an object. Awareness of
the encompassing is achieved by reflection upon our situation. As we reflect we
realize that all objects we are aware of, including religious ones, are determinate
beings situated in a larger, encompassing context or horizon. We can enlarge the
extent of our knowledge but we can never escape the fact that it is fragmentary
and only indefinitely extendable. It has limits. We are always within a horizon.35
that is, Existenz—and the transcendent mode of being itself, of the world—that is, Transcendence.
Transcendence signifies a dimension of reality that is ultimately nonobjectifiable. Peach, Death, 37.
As Peach further points out: “Jaspers claims that human beings are able to transcend the empirical
world by means of philosophical thinking. But to achieve this one must have a clear understanding of
the immanent, which in turn may lead to awareness of Transcendence.” Ibid.
38 Karl Jaspers, Philosophy II (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1932/1970), 178, italics added.
39 Ibid., 177.
Limit Situations (of the Digital) 29
situatedness is “a reality for an existing subject who has a stake in it, a subject
either confined or given leeway by the situation in which other subjects, their
interests, their sociological power relations, and their combinations or chances
of the moment all play their parts.”40 Empirical existence belongs to a material
world of basic desires, and it can be captured by data: “At each moment I exist
by given data, and I face given data to which my will and my actions refer. This is
how I am for myself as empirical existence, and how the definite world to which
I have access exists for me as a datum I can mold. The real situation confines
me, by its resistance, limits my freedom and ties me to restricted possibilities.”41
In addition, we are consciousness in general, which pertains to the faculty of ab-
stract thinking, logos, and mathematics. Finally, human beings are spirit, which
encapsulates our attempts to create a whole, a worldview, out of fragments in, for
example, ideologies and religions.
But there is yet one form of potential being, as realized Existenz. This form
defies objectivity. It defines human beings in authenticity, singularity, and inward-
ness—but also through transcendence: that is, in truth in/as communication (as
I will expound further in chapters 3 and 4). Existenz is, for Jaspers, “the being of a
person at the limit.”42 Hence, beyond concrete human situatedness in an everyday
life of sociological power struggles,43 Jaspers also recognizes that there are those
moments in life when humans must awaken themselves to address what is at stake
in the present. These, the second type of situations, are what he terms the limit
situations of life: “Situations like the following: that I am always in situations; that
I cannot live without struggling and suffering; that I cannot avoid guilt; that I must
die—these are what I call limit situations.”44 The limit situation, Jaspers argues,
calls upon the individual human being to act or seize the moment, and it entails the
possibility of realizing one’s “Existenz”: “The limit situation of being definite calls
upon Existenz to decide its destiny.”45 He further maintains that “we become our-
selves by entering with open eyes into the limit situations.”46 Realized Existenz is a
potential for each of us, but also something we may fail to be.
40 Ibid.
41 Ibid., 185.
42 Thomas Fuchs, “Existential Vulnerability: Toward a Psychopathology of Limit Situations,”
(Grenzsituationen) in Psychologie der Weltanschauungen (Berlin: Springer, 1919); and then de-
veloped it further in Philosophy II (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1932/1970,), and briefly
mentioned it in General Psychopathology, vols. 1 and 2, trans. J. Hoenig and Marian W. Hamilton
(Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1913/1959/1997). It has been variously translated in the
literature as “boundary situation,” “limit situation,” and “ultimate situation.” For an overview of the
different types of limit situations, see Alfons Grieder, “What Are Boundary Situations? A Jaspersian
Notion Reconsidered,” Journal of the British Society for Phenomenology, 40, no. 3 (2009): 330–336,
https://doi.org/10.1080/00071773.2009.11006692; and Mundt, “Jasper’s Concept.”
45 Jaspers, Philosophy II, 185.
46 Ibid., 179, translation modified.
30 Existentializing Media
something which appears only in the guise of the encounter, as something that
“happens to us,” surprises us, throws us “out of joint,” because it always inscribes
itself in a given continuity, as a rupture, a break, or an interruption. According
to Lacan the Real is impossible, and the fact “it happens to (us)” does not refute
its basic “impossibility”: the Real happens to us (we encounter it), as impossible,
as “the impossible thing” that turns our symbolic universe upside down and
leads to the reconfiguration of this universe.51
Jaspersian Grenzsituationen,” Journal of the British Society for Phenomenology, 41, no. 3 (2010): 319–
324, https://doi.org/10.1080/00071773.2010.11006722.
51 Alenka Zupancic quoted in Katerina Kolozova, Cut of the Real: Subjectivity in Poststructuralist
Philosophy (New York: Columbia University Press, 2014), 93–94, italics added.
Limit Situations (of the Digital) 31
For Jaspers the limit situation is precisely such an impossible possibility, a rup-
ture that makes a world of difference. Limit situations, I furthermore argue, are
irreducible to any postmetaphysical framing, since we cannot use reason to over-
come them. They are instead sites of profound antinomy. They bring into sharp
focus basic antinomical structures of existence and of being human. As Jaspers
argues, they are contradictions of life that we simply have to live with.52 They dis-
close and uncover the world, and they do not spare us: “In every limit situation,
the rug is so to speak yanked from under my feet.”53 In the limit situation some-
thing is thus broken; the protection from the limit inside the consolidated shells
(as Jaspers calls them), or shelters of the world as we once knew it, is gone.
Salvatore Iaconesi, whose message opened this book, conveys precisely such
a shipwreck of comfort and security. But this brokenness is also what goads
Iaconesi’s creativity. In the reality of the digital limit situation, important values
are thus at stake, for us both as individuals and as a society. Hence the limit situ-
ation refers, as Jaspers explains, to those “unconditioned moments of human ex-
istence, in which intense impulses expose us to the limits and motivate us to seek
higher or more reflected modes of knowledge.”54 Importantly, for Iaconesi, the
current limit situation is in all its complexity opening up to change, and to what
media scholar Paul Frosh calls a recognizing of the world.55 As Iaconesi puts it,
“With/after tragedy comes Agnition: the ability to understand, recognize and
transform/adapt.”56 Similarly, in Media, Society, World, Nick Couldry follows
Paul Ricoeur’s appropriation of Jaspers’s concept of the limit situation, drawing
upon the fact that the limit situation has something unruly about it, which forces
and enables us to rethink our moral choices and ethical perspectives. Couldry
alludes to a widely shared sense that “new ways of doing things with media must
be found,” and argues that “the multiple uncertainties associated with the era of
digital media may require us to think, in some respects for the first time, about
52 “The opposites belong to each other, so that I cannot get rid of the one side, which I fight and
would like to remove, without losing the whole polarity and, thus, that which I in reality want.”
Karl Jaspers, Psychologie der Weltanschauungen (Berlin: Springer, 1925), 250, translated in Fuchs,
“Existential Vulnerability,” 302.
53 Jaspers, Psychologie der Weltanschauungen, 249, translated in Fuchs, “Existential Vulnerability,”
302.
54 Jaspers, General Psychopathology, 326. See also S. Nassir Ghaemi, “Existence and Pluralism: The
the normative implication of life with media.” Hence, “It is out of such limit situ-
ations that new domains of ethical thinking are born.”57
This is important, and it resonates with my aims. As I hope to show in what
follows, however, there is in fact even more to it. In that reflected mode, a deeper
sense of being human in togetherness also emerges, and along with it a deeper
sense of accountability. Jaspers holds that limit situations call upon human
beings—as echoed in Iaconesi’s plea to us—to collectively and individually act
in order to become ourselves. This means seizing the present moment, in both
abeyance and careful attendance. It compels a form of action that is, however
(and perhaps paradoxically), closer to the realm of nonaction than to resolutely
planned deeds, which further implies that “to boundary situations we react
meaningfully not with planning and calculation but with a totally different ac-
tivity: the bringing into being of one’s possible Existenz; we arrive at self-being by
entering open-eyed into boundary situations.”58
A Jaspersian focus on limit situations safeguards humans, as much as it
reinvents or rediscovers them. But to do so in any shape or form is somewhat con-
troversial in the currents of posthumanism and new materialism, which relent-
lessly call for decentering the Human: that is, the liberal humanist subject. This
rallying call—that we for empirical, philosophical, and political reasons must
open ourselves to the more than human in scholarship and life—also projects
that this issue of originary technicity is in fact unresolved, unrecognized, and
contentious. Adrian MacKenzie even argues that, entrenched within our very
understanding—or lack thereof—of our technical being, there is something not
yet finished or finally settled. Human collectives are exposed to an ongoing tech-
nological dynamism, an ontological reality that is both foundational and veiled
from them: “The concept of technicity refers to a side of collectives which is not
fully lived, represented or symbolized, yet which remains fundamental to their
grounding, their situation and the constitution of their limits.”59
This book proposes that what is in fact unsettled—and in effect unsettling—is
how our originary technicity interplays with our originary human vulnerability,
particularly but not exclusively in illness, disability, mourning, and mortal em-
bodiment. I suggest, without aspiring to any final resolution, that resetting the
parameters for this debate existentially will provide other possibilities for begin-
ning to fill this semantic void, for softly lifting the veil. In fact, via these lived and
diverse experiences without a name, one arrives in familiar existential terrains
where it is incumbent to query how humans make and do not make sense of the
We are in the middle and the end is not in sight. We are waiting, which is among
most people’s least favorite thing to do, when it means noticing that you have
taken up residence in not knowing. We are in terra incognita, which is where
we always are anyway, but usually we have a milder case of it and can make our
pronouncements and stumble along.62
Importantly, Solnit recognizes that the limit situation is in fact perennial and
belongs to the human condition itself. Yet sometimes, as she ponders, we are
forced to fully realize this fact and to surrender to it. Our life is always a terra in-
cognita, but in certain historical moments, as well as during particular instances
in the individual life course, this is piercingly plain and our being vulnerable
becomes acutely felt.
To be thrown into the digital limit situation furthermore means, I hold, be-
coming in and with the rapidly changing technological world, in displacement.
This is because this given yet emergent connective world also implies both new
existential challenges and possibilities. To be thrown—at the edge—thus means
to be both cast in indeterminacy and situationally bound by limits and limita-
tions that are simultaneously technological and cultural. I thus conceive of being
thrown into the limit situation as thoroughly related to the concept of vulnera-
bility, which is both ontological and social at the same time.63 Acknowledging
this, and by also invoking the limit, feminist media theorist Margaret Schwartz
describes the connections between thrownness and vulnerability and historicizes
the limit situation at the same time:
62 Rebecca Solnit, “On Letting Go of Certainty in a Story That Never Ends: Finding Communion
in the Fairy Tales We Tell,” Literary Hub, April 23, 2020, italics added, https://lithub.com/rebecca-sol
nit-life-inside-this-strange-new-fairytale-doesnt-have-to-be-lonely/.
63 Catriona MacKenzie, Wendy Rogers, and Susan Dodds, “Introduction: What Is Vulnerability
and Why Does It Matter for Moral Theory?,” in Vulnerability: New Essays in Ethics and Feminist
Philosophy, ed. Catriona Mackenzie, Wendy Rogers, and Susan Dodds (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2014); Judith Butler, Precarious Life: The Powers of Mourning and Violence
(London: Verso, 2004).
64 Margaret Schwartz, “Thrownness, Vulnerability, Care: A Feminist Ontology for the Digital Age,”
in Digital Existence: Ontology, Ethics and Transcendence in Digital Culture, ed. Amanda Lagerkvist
(London: Routledge, 2019), 84, italics added.
Limit Situations (of the Digital) 35
saturation. The towering prospects of AI, biometric futures, deep learning, and
autonomous media systems add to such complexities and bring about, I argue, a
heightened sense of uncertainty. Our thrownness entails a fragility (intrinsic also
to our originary human technicity), but this fragility is at the same time a source
of fecundity: it enables the opening of a space for productive action in relation
to the situation into which we are thrown. This book aims to show that our com-
munication culture offers both partially new and partially old existential burdens
and challenges and new spaces and possibilities for the exploration of existential
themes and the profundity of life. The examples that follow will showcase the
ambiguous conditioned potentiality, and radical and potentially intensified un-
certainty, of being and becoming human today, in and with technology.
The particulars of the current moment also show how different forms of
precarity clash. This is the irreducible aspect of the digital limit situation, which
moves the concept beyond its original formulation by Jaspers. For Iaconesi this
is precisely the case, and as he predicts a world of colliding vulnerabilities: “This
tragic character of the situation is exactly the condition which we’ll start to face
in the crises that are about to start coming up systematically: climate change,
migrations, poverty, health, access.”65 Furthermore, in the digital limit situation
old categories seem to be blending and getting mixed up; familiar dichotomies
are not holding.66 In the age of large-scale technical ensembles of information,
deeply ingrained ultimate human experience in the moment and at the limit, which defies our under-
standing, and thus has less to do in the first instance with offering a way to conceive of ourselves anew
as a collective, than with an unrelenting sense of dislocation—both individually and collectively. It is
thus a moment of unimaginable pain and rupture, where surrendering to “I don’t know what to do”
carries within it a potential for something unforeseen.
67 Nikolas Rose makes this point: “Indeed, the individualized humanism of bioethicists and med-
ical philosophers emerged alongside the 19th century individualization of the living body within
clinical medicine. But this humanism now encounters human life whose very meaning is being al-
tered by biology, biomedicine and biotechnology. ‘The philosophical status’—indeed the very on-
tology—of human beings is being reshaped through the decisions of entrepreneurs as to where to
invest their capital and which lines of biomedical research and development to pursue.” Nikolas Rose,
“The Politics of Life Itself,” Theory, Culture and Society, 18, no. 1 (2001), 20, https://doi.org/10.1177/
02632760122052020. For important overviews of these changing circumstances and material shifts,
as well as a retheorization of human nature, and the entanglement of humans in morethanhuman
contexts within posthumanist feminist and queer theory, see, for example, Cecilia Åsberg and Rosi
Braidotti, eds., A Feminist Companion to the Posthumanities (New York: Springer, 2020); Anneke
Smelik and Nina Lykke, eds., Bits of Life: Feminism at the Intersections of Media, Bioscience, and
Technology (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2008).
68 Edward S. Casey, The World on Edge (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2017).
69 See Chris Russill and John D. Peters, “Looking for the Horizon: An Interview between John
Durham Peters and Chris Russill,” Canadian Journal of Communication, 42, no. 4 (2017): 683–699,
http://doi.org/10.22230/cjc.2017v42n4a3276.
Limit Situations (of the Digital) 37
first is the proposition that media are of the first ontological order, as they ground
us in being. They are literally earthbound—geophysically defined and defining.
They are “our infrastructures of being.” The second destabilizes the first: it
gravitates toward a recognition of problems posed by dynamic objects, or un-
fixable processes that take fleeting form, the cloud being the chief metaphor and
mobilizer of this approach. Peters’s media theology embraces the strangeness of
the world: it tells a story of the impossible possibility of being both grounded
in media environments and conceiving of and being and becoming in and with
them as evanescent and nonrepresentable, dynamic, and unfixed objects.
Retaining this paradox, offsetting what seems fixed and unfixed, Existential
Media aims to propose how we may rethink media existentially as constituting
both the building blocks and the brinks of being. Existential media allow life to
thrive (a feature elaborated in c hapter 6 on lifeline communication). Yet they
may also allow for precisely the opposite: for life to ultimately dry out, for ex-
ample when humans become hemmed-in barrens of quantification in an all-
encompassing logic of metrics (as will be examined in c hapter 5 on grief and
numbers), or subjected to enforced norms of technological solutionism and
inevitabilism (as I will discuss in chapter 8 on AI imaginaries and the loss of a
phenomenological near future). I suggest that media are and always have been
existential, also due to their open-endedness, this ambiguity of their heteroge-
neous, multiple potential meanings and real-world implications. Media are anti-
nomies. They may shield and soothe, they may aggravate and diminish, they may
sustain life and demolish it—both prospects are in the balance. Or rather, these
prospects are two sides of the same coin. Reconceiving of digital media as exis-
tential media thus entails acknowledging that they contain both openings and
limitations, afford both safety and indeterminacy, and more profoundly, that
their very possibilities may also simultaneously constitute their vulnerabilities.
This is what Simone de Beauvoir called the ethics of ambiguity, which refers to
the ability to see two or more sides of a phenomenon at once; the virtue of being
able to harbor irreducibilities and paradoxes, remaining poised at the limit.70
This importantly embraces the role of tensions and irreducibilities as the starting
point. In the words of Sam Mickey: “Existentialist freestyle comes with a feeling
of the groundlessness of what many take to be grounds, and indeed, a feeling for
the untenability of any simple distinction between groundless and grounded, not
to mention any simple distinction between openness and closure.”71
In this vein, the book carefully situates the approach in the footsteps of
Jaspers’s philosophy, which “lives on the limits” and turns “both to what lies within
70 Simone de Beauvoir, The Ethics of Ambiguity, trans. Bernard Frechtman (Paris: Gallimard, 1947/
1948).
71 Mickey, Coexistentialism, 32.
38 Existentializing Media
and to what lies without.”72 Existential Media will contribute a philosophy of limit
for media theory and push toward reconceiving of our media situation in light of
a multifocal sense of limits—in terms of brinks, thresholds, edges, ridges, limi-
nality, restrictions, interruptions, margins, fringes, peripheries, precincts, brims,
boundaries, horizons—rather than endless progress, a move that will afford
them multifaceted roles, toward which all the chapters in this book gravitate.73
In the next section, I will discuss the ways in which we may further think with
limits in media theory, beginning by sketching out some key contours of con-
temporary theorization that have a bearing on my aims. In this pursuit, I will also
briefly introduce the essays at the center of Part II of the book. Mobilizing limits
differently, the limit cases discussed in c hapters 5–8 shed light on core themes
in existential philosophy (materiality, thrownness, care, relationality, respon-
sibility, anxiety, freedom, and ethics) as they pervade particular instantiations
and dilemmas within the digital limit situation. They also elicit a series of provi-
sional namings of subforms of existential media, glossed earlier in the introduc-
tion: metric media, caring media, transcendent media, and anticipatory media.74
In contemporary cultural and critical theory, there is a noticeable turn away from
worn humanistic concerns and frayed human-centric concepts and framings.
For example, a wealth of discourse in the new materialism and posthumanism,
as already mentioned, dispenses with “the Human,” and thereby of anthropo-
centric obsessions with the limits of death and finitude. In fact, some forms of
posthumanism themselves conjure up the limitless in an ontology of the vital;
subjectivities and technologies alike are here processual, flowing, and vibrant.
The “I” within demarcations and limits is here replaced, importantly, by nonsub-
jective affective forces of flow, vibrancies of matter across both technologies and
bodies. Its conceived world does not halt such human-machine ensembles or
halt at them; beings are beings in relationality, and subjects are subject to inten-
sities of feeling.75
72 Earle in Jaspers, Reason and Existenz, 10, italics added.
73 Jonna Bornemark’s suggestion for how to interpret Jaspers’s limit situation provides some cues.
She points out that Jaspers’s limit situation may be parsed in two different ways. We can conceive of
limits quite straightforwardly from the vantage point of the given limits of the situation, as already
hinted at from the outset (life as a “life within limits”). We can also conceive of situation as limit,
which widens the purview and opens up to thinking about the antinomy of radical freedom subject
to limitation. Bornemark, “Limit-Situation.”
74 Clearly these can and should be productively supplemented, and even conceptually confronted,
with other forms, such as biomedia, eco-media, haptic media, intensive media, and poetic media.
I will not be doing this enough, so the task still awaits us.
75 See Nigel Thrift, “Intensities of Feeling: Towards a Spatial Politics of Affect,” Geografiska
Today the limit to representationalism is also the authority of the real, which has
returned and speaks uninterruptedly, if sometimes mysteriously, through forms
of pre-or posthermeneutical metaphysics.77 As discussed earlier, J. D. Peters’s
contribution to this neorealist debate situates elements and environmental
media as a limit against “the corrosiveness of hermeneutics of suspicion,”78 and
retains the idea of an altogether mediated universe. Turning to infrastructure as
an inconspicuous place to reach out to this reality and to the modest things in
our hands—the stuff that shapes hands-on experience, marvelous in all its sim-
plicity—he argues that specimens of the real reveal themselves through irreduc-
ibly natural-cultural forms. Elemental media are such revelations.
In everyday life, infrastructures bring about worlds within which embodied
and situated humans are able to dwell: “Worlds possess a capaciousness that
enables a sense of dwelling within them,”79 writes Paul Frosh. Here we move
about and along the “lines,” that is, those habitual and taken- for-
granted
structures within the everyday lifeworld that Shaun Moores has emphasized.80
of Screens,” in Screen Genealogies: From Optical Device to Environmental Medium, ed. Craig Buckley,
Rüdiger Campe, and Francesco Casetti (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020), 216–217.
79 Frosh, The Poetics, xx.
80 Shaun Moores, Digital Orientations: Non- Media-Centric Media Studies and Non-representa-
tional Theories of Practice (New York: Peter Lang, 2018). For a critical evaluation of this approach
40 Existentializing Media
But infrastructures also delimit and even deny movement through their borders
and boundaries. Hence it is equally possible to conceive of these real and tangible
media—for example, the screen, the interface, and the biometric waist watch, the
algorithm, the search engine, the iPad, the social media group, the network, the
face-recognition technology—as limits. As conduits of meaning, information,
entertainment, and ideas, these are also evidently limiting. As infrastructures
that set the parameters of being, they fend off and filter out. They set precincts
that confine and constrain both discourse and bodies.
In this way, media also appear as literal barriers or borders: literal limits. For ex-
ample, as highlighted in “critical border studies,” the border is datafied, governed,
and disciplined by algorithms, producing a within and a without, a rigid limit that
restrains and allows. Smart borders with biometric passports, and risk-profiling
that segregates mobilities, constitute insurmountable mounds that also define
and regulate the movements of particular bodies: their (im)possible projections
in time and space.81 This is its very rationale: to both open and delimit possibility
and movement. In a world of quantification, these infrastructures of being are
of a numerical order—mundane data are made up of statistical calculations that
correlate individual bodies with large sets of data, while nailing them to their
data portraits. This is especially disquieting in cultures of bereavement, where
the ethos of quantification clashes head-on with fundamental phenomenological
and existential values, needs, and insights, as I will analyze in c hapter 5, “Metric
Media: Numerical Being, Marginal Beings, and the Limits of Measuring.” Here,
Jaspers’s and Husserl’s skepticism about numerical reduction will be brought
into conversation with Steven Connor’s provocative defense of numbers, as well
as the central debates on metric cultures and datafied lifeworlds.82
Media are in medias res, habitual media in the middle of our activities, ena-
bling our lives.83 Hanging in midair in the current moment therefore also means
to be in a world of ultimate media presence. Media are there for us, and their
infrastructural always-thereness, their around-the-clock divertissements, their
following Sarah Ahmed’s thinking, see Matilda Tudor: “Queering Digital Media Spatiality: A
Phenomenology of Bodies Being Stopped,” Feminist Media Studies, online first, September 28, 2021.
81 As Louise Amoore shows, biometric borders also extend into the governing of boundaries of
daily life, separating safe from dangerous, legitimate from illegitimate, etc. Louise Amoore, “Biometric
Borders: Governing Mobilities in the War on Terror,” Political Geography 25 (March 2006): 336–351,
https//:doi.org/10.1016/j.polgeo.2006.02.001. A recent intervention that also discusses biometric
passports is Mahmoud Keshavarz, The Design Politics of the Passport (London: Bloomsbury, 2020).
82 Btihaj Ajana, Governing through Biometrics: The Biopolitics of Identity (Basingstoke:
Palgrave Macmillan, 2013); and Ajana, ed., Metric Culture: Ontologies of Self-Tracking Practices
(London: Emerald, 2018).
83 They are both middle agents in the Latin etymological sense, implying a notion of causation as
that which comes between cause and effect (the means =the media) and situated in the middle as the
infrastructures of being, as foreground and background, as the materials that enable us and the ledges
we hang on to for dear life.
Limit Situations (of the Digital) 41
Khan’s story conjures up the sense in which existential media become lifelines
to latch onto, in order to keep carrying on, upholding the routines of life in the
shadow of finitude and under the threat of disintegration. Stressing that media
are “things in the middle,” J. D. Peters argues that their very nature is to “show
up wherever we humans face the unmanageable mortality of our material exist-
ence: the melancholy facts that memory cannot hold up and body cannot last,
that time is, at base, the merciless and generous habitat for humans and things.”86
This is particularly true in moments of utter significance, during crises and in
life-defining situations, when our vulnerability is principally felt and our security
is shaken. Media in the middle, I suggest, are thus also media at the limit. They
84 Peters ascribes this to the televisual, but it applies also to the habitual network: “Television, like
trauma, and like weather, is both hideously mundane and fatally disruptive. It is like a bomb, always
threatening to go off—we interrupt our regularly scheduled programming for this news bulletin—
but otherwise full of empty time.” Peters, “Like a Thief in the Night: Watching and Witnessing,” in
Testimony/Bearing Witness: Epistemology, Ethics, History and Culture, eds. Sybille Krämer and Sigrid
Weigel, Washington DC: Rowman and Littlefield (2017), p. 202.
85 Imran Khan, “Death at a Distance: Zoom Funerals in the Time of coronavirus,” Al Jazeera, April
are seemingly salvific and also deeply ambivalent as we—in all our asymmetrical
diversity—are poised on the rims of our individual and collective lives.87
When crisis is upon us already, media seem to be an even more deeply ambiv-
alent affair. In other words, we enter techno-existential
vulnerability. For Imran
Khan, there was also a strong sense of technological enforcement, embroiled
within the experience of loss itself: “Six weeks ago I had never even heard of this
app, and now it was embedding itself in this personal and intimate moment of
grief,” he stresses in bewilderment. Scholars have pointed to a kind of natural-
ization occurring through creep within the logic of surveillance capitalism.88
Through sneaky habituation, phenomena never craved or even imagined be-
come and feel rapidly indispensable and natural. But they may also appear as
surprise, accident, and shock—not simply in terms of a sensory overload to the
“synaesthetic system,” as Walter Benjamin argued, but actually also in techno-ex-
istential terms. The fact that technologies are both “poison and cure,” as Jacques
Derrida emphasized,89 thus receives a new meaning as human beings are thrown
into the digital limit situation. As Khan’s words are written in the middle of the
misadventure and pain of loss, and also in a major crisis for the world, his tes-
timony illustrates that media continuously offer themselves up and without
warning, also as technologies for mitigation, care, and relief.
Curing or caring dimensions pertain to them as they frame and enable us. In
this vein, as the pandemic was upon the world, Rebecca Solnit decided to turn
to fairy tales for comfort, and to read them aloud to others—families, children,
passers-by—online. Stories with beginnings, middles, and endings thus became
such “things to hold onto.” Evidently the internet itself was the infrastructural
enabler, the condition of possibility, the provisional frame for these mediations:
Sometimes I could see as I read the stories that a thousand people were on-
line with me and I would propose that if we were all inside the same story and
the story was being heard in a thousand rooms then we were somehow in a
thousand-room palace together, and I would find a spaciousness in the tale and
the connection to unseen others that felt a little like Prince Andrei’s sky and
hoped that others found it with me. . . . We were all in that moment in the unex-
pected together and it was a good place to be.90
87 Indeed, we are collectively and yet asymmetrically at the mercy of a capitalistic life form
draining itself along with the planet’s resources, in what seems to be the end times for our species.
See Claire Colebrook, “End-Times for Humanity,” Aeon, June 1, 2017, https://aeon.co/essays/the-
human-world-is-not-more-fragile-now-it-always-has-been.
88 Fischmann and Selinger, Re-engineering Humanity; Zuboff, Age of Surveillance Capitalism.
89 Jacques Derrida, “Plato’s Pharmacy,” in Dissemination, trans. Barbara Johnson (Chicago:
Here, in transient yet significant moments of being there together online, in the
connective presence of thousands of unseen others, she experienced what I will
explore thoroughly in chapter 6, “Caring Media: Beings on the (Life)line,” where
I further engage voices in critical disability studies and feminist new materialism,
including recent debates on care. Here a strong sense of relationality emerges in
the shared vulnerabilities of grief and loss. Hence, media in the middle and at the
limit become handrails/balustrades, with which to steady ourselves as we move
about and along the lines, or as we are forced to establish new ones. Media are
lifelines, confirming such cohabitation of the existential trials at hand. As I will
discuss further in the above-mentioned chapter, they are importantly habitual,
haptic, processual, and deeply material. They make patterns predictable, enable
mundane routine, and facilitate a being there for one another online. There is
comfort—a sense of existential security—in these predictable existential media
that will afford some sense of control, even if limited and transient. In this em-
phasis on ordinariness, on the boring aspects of existence, is also reflected a
human tendency to long for routine, pedestrian environments, and foreseeable
situations in which to dwell. Solnit argues that this yearning is so strong that
humans are even prone to retroactively rewrite the hazards that befell them, as
something they had in fact predicted: “The unforeseen happens regularly, and
then not a few people forget that it does and look forward to a foreseeable future
all over again and pretend they foresaw what surprised them, flatten the bump
back into their smooth version of reality.”91
But in addition, at the limit, at the threshold, we also experience the limits of
what we can control. The very haphazard quality of the limit situation relates to
the profound fact that most of the time, we do not know. As Solnit also puts it, in
the limit situation “we have taken up residence in not knowing.”92 As we set out
from limit situations, it is clear that they may involve sense-making and authentic
encounters and practices of care. But since they are constituted by ambivalence
and recalcitrant, elusive meaning, they also entail inevitable limits in the shape of
tracings and suspensions. Hence, what the limit situation reveals is not only that
we are compelled to see and with open eyes resolutely appreciate what lies before
us in the present moment. Here we also face the limits of our aspiration to com-
prehensive knowledge, to certainty, and to a resolution. As Jaspers argues: “For
the most devastating threat to truth in the world is the overwhelming claim
to the absolutely true. In the certainty of the moment the humility of the en-
during question is indispensable.”93 We thus need to keep philosophizing, to en-
dure querying as we are thrown into not knowing. Summarizing a long career of
91 Ibid.
92 Ibid., n.p.
93 Karl Jaspers, Way to Wisdom: An Introduction to Philosophy, trans. Ralph Manheim (New Haven:
What may be called “religious experiences” may thus be reflecting crucial aspects
of the limit situation; they defy our imagination and our knowledge; they are
beyond our command. Jackson remains curious about the central place of that
extrahuman dimension in human life and culture. Existential Media is guided
by a similar conviction; it will thus further linger in shadows of the known and
the knowable, and on the edges of experience itself. This enables drawing us near
what can only be affectively felt, marveled at, or in effect believed. This moves us
both theoretically and empirically toward the antinomies of digital existence. In
chapter 7, “Transcendent Media: Caring for the Dead, Relating at the Threshold,”
I attend to particular forms of communication at the limits and persevere in
querying about these limit experiences.95 Here one finds a discernible yearning
for connection, for relating and thus communicating at the threshold, visible in
practices of speaking to the dead online—a feature of the digital afterlife under
investigation in the field of death online research. I contribute to this debate by
naming these existential strivings to transcend the chasms of being. This, I sug-
gest, includes a notion of the digital afterlife that reiterates fantasies about disem-
bodiment. But as I go on to suggest, with support from Thomas W. Laqueur, who
argues that what defines our humanity is to care for the dead in a material sense,
the body is in fact making a forceful return within this realm—setting limits and
thus offering a corrective. The chapter takes stock of the dynamic tension be-
tween disembodiment and re-embodiment in online cultures of bereavement
94 Michael D. Jackson, lecture “Studying Religion in the Post- 9/11 World: The Importance of
Taking Religion Seriously from a Humanities Perspective in Troubled Times,” Center for the Study
of World Religions Symposium, Harvard Divinity School, September 11, 2013, https://www.youtube.
com/watch?v=623Eovasu-U&t=5s.
95 This aspect of existential communication will be further elaborated in c
hapter 4.
Limit Situations (of the Digital) 45
and in after-death communication, and suggests that the latter in fact reveals
contours of a postinteractive mode of being human in the digital era.
Hence, to think with limits also means to think fundamentally beyond them,
as they are verging on something else. In this land of strangeness, however, one
also finds other invitations to cross the boundaries, in terms of transgressing,
altering, and making a difference at the frontiers.96 This leads to another way of
thinking of limit as edge. As Edward S. Casey reminds us in his important book,
The World on Edge, edges supply a porous boundary: “Although edges are effec-
tive as demarcating and delimiting . . . , they can also be quite porous and resil-
ient. Even edges that serve to contain may also, in certain other respects, serve to
open up.”97 He furthermore argues that the limits set by any form, such as media,
space, or other frames, do two things: “Edges, then, bear up and bear out that
which they edge.”98
In a similar vein, in reconceiving of Derrida’s deconstruction as a “philos-
ophy of the limit,” feminist critical law scholar Drucilla Cornell conceives of
the limit as threshold, which resonates in crucial ways with Jaspers’s thinking.
Importantly for my purposes here, the threshold is for Cornell both inside and
outside at the same time, while simultaneously opening the inside to what lies
beyond. According to Cornell: “This link, the ‘threshold,’ is both the invitation to
cross over, the call to interpretation, and yet a barrier to full accessibility.”99 The
threshold calls us beyond itself, while constituting itself as a fence to any full real-
ization of the human project, for instance in the realm of Cornell’s prime interest,
law: “This double-edged, contradictory threshold—at once a call to the ‘beyond’
of justice and a barrier to the realization of perfect justice—is what confronts the
judge.”100 Thresholds thus entail a possibility for movement and change, and a
96 Charles E. Scott puts the potential of the border like this: “I believe they are also sites that we
can be aware of, that we can feel them even when we cannot cognize them—sites where, on the very
borders of our identities and familiar worlds, we can experience the impact of what we do not know.
In such situations people can be attuned to what they do not understand, and some of these situations
can include sources of vitality for addressing and responding to the differences between us that en-
gage us.” “Cultural Borders,” Research in Phenomenology, 42, no. 2 (2012): 159.
97 Casey, “Edges and the In-Between,” 1.
98 According to Casey, edges thus bear up—the edges of instruments such as a computer offer
what Heidegger called “reliability.” Withdrawing from attention, the edges “act to situate it in the
midst of what we experience. They bear it up.” But importantly, they also bear out, moving laterally
through the edges: “As falling away from centrated perception, edges direct attention to whatever lies
outside them in the environing circumstance in which they, and that which they delineate, are set.”
Casey, The World on Edge, xv–xvi.
99 Drucilla Cornell, Philosophy of the Limit (New York: Routledge, 1992), 111.
100 Also see Elisabeth Weed, who argues that “the threshold is pivotal to Cornell’s project of
liminality of prospects: “The threshold is the opening up to the Other, the Other
without which there is no ethics.”101 The dead end of aporia is an opening that
offers a transformative potential. There is a way out.
To sum up: to articulate technology with limits, finitude, and vulnerability is
one way to approach the realities of the digital limit situation, and one way to
begin to name them. As Jaspers argues, this can never be achieved within any
complete understanding. Nevertheless, I suggest there is potential in thinking
with limits in a multivalent sense for further remappings in media theory.
Hannah Arendt summarizes the paths of Jaspers’s philosophy, pointing to this
merit of limits, as they in fact fragment:
Arendt’s final point is crucial. By bringing forth the heuristic of the digital
limit situation to describe this uncertain moment, before which we are called
to awaken ourselves collectively, we can underline the urgency and severity of
those cataclysmic and often contradictory forces of the present moment—the
new axial (or coaxial) age, as Sam Mickey terms it, following Jaspers.103 The dig-
ital limit situation compels thinking about the gravity of the situation and the re-
sponsibility we have for it. However, these conditions of uncertainty invite hope
and reopen the future horizon—a trait of the digital limit situation that I will
explore further in chapter 8, “Anticipatory Media: Futurability on the Brinks
of Time.”
I thus end this book by bringing home my basket full of “fragmentations of
Being”: that is, variations on limits reconfigured into a pattern with the help
of the existential framework. Here I conduct an analysis of discourses about
the future with media, pitting them against important debates in anticipation
studies. In conversation with a range of thinkers, I examine the inevitabilism
of AI imaginaries and ask: what could reawakening ourselves to our existential
selves and needs, as Jaspers endeavored for humans to do, mean for promoting
an inclusive and open future of techno-existential, ethical, and ecological sus-
tainability, care, and anticipation? This leads in this instance to how limits can
also be conceived of in terms of responsiveness and responsibility. Privileging the
mourner—the invisible singular coexister—as a site of access to indispensable
alternate knowledge, and to methods of hope, I argue that a human future—in
and with our technologies—needs to be reclaimed, since anticipation is an ex-
istential faculty that belongs to us, and caring for the future present is therefore
our utmost task (even when it may seem impossible, as mourners will teach us).
Care is importantly not a theoretical exercise, or something that pertains to the
practices or deficiencies of someone else; it is, as I will argue, the very task ahead
of the humanities and social sciences themselves if they move onto the front lines
of the limit situation. Indeed, as has been suggested in recent brave attempts to
fold the edge into media studies, this move will also make visible the disciplinary
regime itself.104 In other words, attending to limits may force us to scrutinize
our own practices and values—our axiology. In order to do so, we need to linger
at the edge, and at times to cross over it. In other words, we need the courage to
enter into the slow field. In the next chapter, I discuss the ethos and ethics fos-
tered in the existential terrains of connectivity, and the politics they require, by
also introducing methodological considerations and the materials studied.
104 As argued by Jeremy Moore and Nicole Strobel: “By folding the edge into media studies, we are
attending to the ways that these vital interests map onto considerations of media objects, practices,
and institutions. Doing so can help us better understand the ways boundaries are drawn through
technological, social, or environmental assemblages, the ways we ourselves draw boundaries and
distinctions around the things we study, and the potential costs or rewards of crossing these bound-
aries or going over the edge.” Moore and Strobel, “Introduction: At the Edge,” Media Fields Journal,
no. 14 (2019): 3, http://mediafieldsjournal.org/introduction-at-the-edge/.
2
Into the Slow Field
The What, the How, and the Why
1 See Matilda Tudor’s dissertation, “Desire Lines: Towards a Queer Digital Media Phenomenology”
(Huddinge: Södertörn University College, 2018) for a queer feminist, phenomenological, and exis-
tential approach to digital culture. For a recent contribution to existential media studies focusing
on involuntary childlessness on the internet, see Kristina Stenström, “Involuntary Childlessness
Online: Digital Lifelines through Blogs and Instagram,” New Media & Society, October 2020, 1–18,
https://doi.org/10.1177/1461444820968907.
2 Cf. Amanda Lagerkvist, Matilda Tudor, Jacek Smolicki, Charles M. Ess, Jenny Eriksson
Lundström, and Maria Rogg, “Body Stakes: An Existential Ethics of Care in Living with Biometrics
and AI” (under review).
Existential Media. Amanda Lagerkvist, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2022.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190925567.003.0003
Into the Slow Field 49
voices in three different national and cultural contexts—Italy, the United States,
and Qatar—that over a couple of months between March and April 2020 shared
their thoughts and concerns online. What they have in common is that they are
vocalizing in public, in full visibility in the midst of the ongoing pandemic mo-
ment, the techno-existential stakes of this limit situation. In the acts of speaking
and sharing stories from their individual lives, challenges, illnesses, and bereave-
ment—connected to the global crisis—their voices were digitally mediated in
various outlets, in turn shaping and reshaping the bigger picture: the digital limit
situation.
Yet the margins of loss and ailment are, of course, also inhabited by much less
public figures, with much less access to this type of visibility. Sometimes they
gather in NGOs for the bereaved with a strong internet presence, or set up a
blog in the online environment. Their voices, life stories, and media practices,
which I was privileged to take part in and to follow from 2015 to 2018, form the
foundations of both the ethics and the essays of this book. Empirically, this book
places a specific but not exclusive emphasis on death and bereavement in the
digital context, and thereby contributes, as discussed in the introduction, to the
burgeoning research field of death online research. This field has researched dif-
ferent phenomena of online grief and the digital afterlife. For example, it has fo-
cused on mourning communities online and on web memorials where you may
create a memory through posting images, texts, sounds, and so on, in order to
commemorate the deceased, or where you can light digital candles. It has also
attended to memorialized Facebook profiles where you can express grief through
status updates, wall posts, photographs, and condolences in the commentary
fields. Web memorials also appear in the shape of private home pages, in similar
spaces in the hands of the funerary sector; they can also be administrated by an
NGO or enabled by the key, giant players of the platform society.
As this book will explore, parents construct memorials online mainly to
preserve their dead children in an effort of trying to cope, of trying to rebuild
a world that has collapsed, and in affirming that they are indeed parents of
the dead child, laying claims to it having existed in the world.3 One mourning
mother of Spädbarnsfonden, Sofia, explains why she chose to express her grief
via Instagram and stresses this aspect of preservation:
I personally want to share our story. For me it’s a way to let my child continue
to live on despite the fact that she died, and I see the medial traces that I leave
as something beautiful that I hope will be preserved for all time. I have even
3 Dorthe Refslund Christensen and Kjetil Sandvik, “Death Ends a Life, Not a Relationship: Objects
as Media on Children’s Graves,” in Mediating and Remediating Death, ed. Dorthe Refslund
Christensen and Kjetil Sandvik (Farnham: Ashgate, 2015).
50 Existentializing Media
started to write a book so as to ensure that Embla is really preserved even if I die
tomorrow.4
For another mourning parent and member of the NGO VSFB, Esbjörn, the point
of setting up a memorial Facebook group was similarly to preserve his daughter
(who drowned while diving) in memory but also to contribute in a concrete way
through material means to the community of divers, so that this tragedy does
not have to be repeated.5 As these two voices begin to illustrate, this research
concerns highly sensitive topics. My study places the mourners and their ways of
being (online) at the center of both media theory and methodology and fosters
an ethics at the same time.
qualitative internet research. See Christine Hine, Ethnography for the Internet: Embedded, Embodied
and Everyday (London: Bloomsbury, 2015); and Annette Markham, “Ethnography in the Digital
Internet Era: From Fields to Flows, Descriptions to Interventions,” in Qualitative Research, ed. David
Silverman (Los Angeles: Sage, 2016).
Into the Slow Field 51
I have done five different studies in all. Among persons who identify as
mourners, I have conducted fieldwork and interviewed people who navigate
and inhabit the existential terrains of connectivity in dire times of loss. Three
studies were undertaken among online mourners: one was of parents who have
built online memorials for their dead children (and in two cases siblings for their
dead sister and brother). Another study was about an online support group for
mourners who had lost someone in the middle of life; the third was of a group of
parents who mourn their stillborn child. Interviews and fieldwork were carried
out between 2015 and 2018, and three groups were studied. All of them involve
members of NGOs with a strong online presence; the first two also belong to the
umbrella organization Samarbete för människor i sorg (SAMS) (Collaboration
for people in bereavement). SAMS is politically involved in a struggle to “make
grief a natural part of life,” by de-medicalizing mourning and by introducing a
reform for grief leave on a par with parental leave in Sweden.
Vi Som Förlorat Barn (VSFB) (We who lost a child: http://www.vsfb.se/) was
set up among a group of bereaved parents in 1993 in Gothenburg. It offers sup-
port meetings for parents and siblings in physical spaces all over Sweden, in-
cluding in summer camps, and it educates people who wish to support others
in their grief. Since 2011 it has had a Facebook group, now with over twenty-six
hundred members. This study started out in February 2015 with initial contacts.
I chose to conduct in-depth interviews with core individuals belonging to this
nonprofit association. I also conducted follow-up interviews, both in physical
space and via email. In the case of this group, I focused on their establishment
and maintenance of an online memorial, which meant that I sat next to the
parent or sibling in question as he or she showed me the memorial, talked about
it, and explained what it meant to him or her and how it came into being; as well
as how he or she uses it and the satisfactions and dissatisfactions of the commu-
nicative practices that have evolved in that space.
Vi som förlorat någon mitt i livet (VIMIL) (We who lost someone in the
middle of life: http://www.vimil.se/) has different local cells all over Sweden. It
was set up online by six afflicted women and one man in 1999. It has over one
thousand members. Approximately 85 percent of the members of VIMIL are fe-
male, and most of them have lost their partners. There has been a gradual in-
crease of male members in the past five years. Interviewees say the membership
is very broad, and that people from different social strata, cultural backgrounds,
and parts of the country meet there. VIMIL’s activities have both online and
offline dimensions: meetings in physical spaces, the chatroom, the guestbook,
the possibility to light a digital candle, the membership phone line, and the
Facebook group that started in 2010, and which for many constitutes the hub.
I studied communication in their open guestbook on their home page from a
focused period in 2014, as well as other PR materials from their website, and
52 Existentializing Media
7 Yvonne Andersson was responsible for gathering the materials for our study, but we worked on
the analysis together. See also Yvonne Andersson, “Blogs and the Art of Dying: Blogging with, and
about, Severe Cancer in Late Modern Swedish Society,” Omega: Journal of Death and Dying, online
first (July 12, 2017): 394–413, https://doi.org/10.1177/0030222817719806.
8 The research has been approved by the Regional Ethics Board of Stockholm (dnr 2016:77–31).
It also follows the guidelines of the Swedish Research Council (CODEX, http://www.codex.vr.se/en/
Into the Slow Field 53
philosopher, ethicist, and media scholar.9 In particular, I have tried to apply what
he (following Judith Jarvis Thomson) calls the “Good Samaritan Approach,”10
which I have interpreted and applied as follows. Due to the highly sensitive na-
ture of the research topic, informants have been approached with a high degree
of ethical sensitivity and consideration. I have shared a “Letter of Introduction”
with them specifying the aims of the research and their right to withdraw, to
see transcriptions, and to comment upon and complement the interviews.
Before entering into a community, even when observing open forums that were
not password protected, I introduced myself in a letter to the administrators.
I thereby asked for permission to conduct the study and introduced the pur-
pose and objectives of my project. Voluntary informed consent was sought in all
the interviews I conducted. The informed-consent process was initiated at the
very first contact with potential informants, as well as in the letter of introduc-
tion, where the purpose and aims of the project were thoroughly described, the
role of informants within the project was explained, and my intention to pub-
lish the study was declared. All informants, furthermore, have been guaranteed
confidentiality and anonymity. Informants have been anonymized, and those
mourners who have mourned anonymously in an open group have been doubly
anonymized. I have considered the risks involved in using direct quotations
that can be accessed through full-text search, and by means of which individ-
uals might potentially be identified. Since I have translated all quotations from
Swedish, and since the open forums I examine were anonymized from the begin-
ning, I believe it will be nearly impossible to track down any mourner from the
quotations I provide. Finally, I have chosen not to conduct long-term (partici-
pant) observation in any closed support groups, out of respect for the mourners’
wishes. In a few cases, however, I was allowed into a memorial group or into
a memorialized profile by a bereaved parent. At the risk of losing some of the
embedded cultural meanings in the materials, I chose only to observe, not to
participate. Participating would have been interesting, but I felt it methodolog-
ically inconsistent and ethically problematic to interfere, to engage in support
conversations, or the like.
index.shtml) and of the Association of Internet Researchers: “Ethical Decision-Making and Internet
Research: Recommendations from the AoIR Ethics Working Committee (Version 2.0),” https://aoir.
org/reports/ethics2.pdf.
11 Race can, according to Robert Bernasconi, in fact be defined as a border concept, and the pro-
cess through which we see race—that is, the racialization process—may be ultimately defined not
through its center, but through the fact that its core lies at its edges. Bernasconi, “Crossed Lines in the
Racialization Process: Race as a Border Concept,” Research in Phenomenology, 42, no. 2 (2012): 206–
228, https://doi.org/10.1163/156916412X651201.
12 Cf. Kate Caldwell, “We Exist: Intersectional In/Visibility in Bisexuality & Disability,” Disability
and the Connective Presence of Mourning on the Internet,” PhD dissertation (Department of
Informatics and Media, Uppsala University, 2021).
Into the Slow Field 55
The limit situation of loss can perhaps be understood as bordering on the void in
these terms. At least it constitutes a semantic void. Clearly such experiences, as
much as pain itself, often seem nonrepresentable. As Heyes argues:
Journal, 14, no. 3 (2002): 20, http://www.jstor.org/stable/4316922. In critical disability studies, nota
bene, there is a reluctance to define who counts as “disabled.” See, for example, Nirmala Erevelles,
who is not looking to describe anyone as disabled; instead, she prefers intersectional and histori-
cally embedded materialist accounts of disability. Nirmala Erevelles and Alison Kafer, “Committed
Critique: An Interview with Nirmala Erevelles,” in Deaf and Disability Studies, ed. Susan Burch and
Alison Kafer (Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press, 2010), 219.
15 Heyes argues that such edge experiences cannot even be called “experiences.” More precisely,
she distinguishes between three types of “edges” of experience: “asking how the interruptions of un-
consciousness can be thought for a politics of experience; revealing the normative constitution and
exclusions of experience as temporal; and asking after the possibilities of experience at the limit of
subjectivity.” Cressida J. Heyes, Anaesthetics of Existence: Essays on Experience at the Edge (Durham,
NC: Duke University Press, 2020), 24.
16 Kolozova, Cut of the Real, 88, italics added.
56 Existentializing Media
I hold, along with Jaspers, that while it is no doubt fruitless to aspire to any com-
prehensive representation of experience, the limit situation is nevertheless a de-
fining subjective reality. But rather than remaining hedged by the Foucauldian
axiom of discourse to define the conditions of possibility for our reality and for
experience, what is needed is a different methodology for approximating these
edge experiences through listening.18 Hearing out voices that have been unheard
is a key mission for all emancipatory projects. Some forms of marginalization
are less recognized; margins can be more or less acknowledged, more or less vis-
ible, more or less vociferous and palpable, as much as people can be more or less
on the line, due to pathogenic forms of oppression and discrimination. Some
margins, moreover, have a strong political voice; others have weaker ones that
require more attentive listening. The invisible unknown can in fact only be heard.
As Don Ihde therefore infers: “It is to the invisible that listening may attend.”19
This requires of the scholar the art and courage of listening and doing nothing.
It turns the evental site of loss into a privileged site for alternative knowledge
and for curation. Listening is conceptualized by Igor Klyukanov as “an encounter
with radical alterity.” He suggests, consequently,
Listening, therefore, is always listening to the Other; this view highlights the
ethical underpinnings of communication. . . . In this light, the so-called “active
listening” betrays somewhat oxymoronic overtones: it is “active” insofar as it is
(passively) positioned in relation to alterity: as mentioned above, one listens to
the Other.20
The approach thus implies active passivity. I have enacted this ethics as well, in
balancing closeness and respectful distance in my listening practices. This praxis
itself taught me new and profound things about life and research, highlighting the
combination of the meaning of phronēsis as the capacity and virtue of reflective
italics in original.
20 Igor Klyukanov, “Listening into the Air: Notes on the Sacred Nature of Communication,”
Listening: Journal of Communication, Ethics, Religion and Culture (Fall 2013): 205.
Into the Slow Field 57
ethical judgment, as well as practical wisdom per se. These voices humbled me
to open myself to alternate ways of thinking, being, and knowing. This led me
in turn to formulate different ways of figurating digital existence and media life
from the vantage point of being(s) in distress. Hence the registers of both af-
fective encounters and sound deliberation, and of both discursive and techno-
logical bounds (conditions of possibility) and embodied lived experiences (of
limit conditions as well as limit situations) in these unseen margins of loss and
bereavement helped me define existential media and their properties (to be elab-
orated in chapter 4) in full awareness of limits and limitations to the endeavor.
The upshot is now before the reader, and its broader bearings are for her to judge.
In any case, as already suggested, existential media studies calls for slowing
down, claiming there are innate, deep-seated qualities that can only be learned
and known through the pace and practices of careful listening and waiting in
respectful acknowledgment of others’ inviolability. Thinking with limits, as we
have seen, resonates with sensibilities toward full stop, silence, obscurity, forget-
ting, termination, end, puncture, finish, void, invisibility, pause, inexplicability,
interruption, enigma, and uncertainty. But it also resonates with a slow pace and
gentle listening. The project here relates to Heyes’s account of “the lived experi-
ence of anaesthetic time that serves as counterpoint to this contemporary existen-
tial situation.”21 This situation is pervaded by what Heyes terms postdisciplinary
time, which comprises reconflations of work and life (work every moment), mul-
titasking, and constant generalized anxiety about what may happen in the next
moment. She concludes by “suggesting that postdisciplinary time should recon-
figure how we think about agency, even further away from an individual account
that is premised on a temporally extended self, and toward a much more skep-
tical analysis that recognizes the value of not-doing.” Furthermore, “Anaesthetic
temporality . . . is a sensical response to postdisciplinary time, as a way of sur-
viving in an economy of temporality that is relentlessly depleting.”22
Resonating with this, I hold that mourners have a rhythm—a rhythm of life
in the shadow of the grand interruption—that needs to be respected and which is
contrary to internet time, and to the 24/7 rhythms of late-modernity capitalism.23
At the limit, hurting and responsible beings are indefinitely pendant. They are
also dependent upon each other as well as upon media; their mourning and sup-
port are forged and reforged by technologies. The wanderings and dwellings,
as well as blunderings and flounderings, of the coexisters (mourners and those
struck by illness) across these terrains divulge an utter alterity. Lingering in their
proximity, we may find new answers to old questions, or alternate questions
No one is immune from the power structures that have informed all knowledge
production, including our own disciplinary centers and peripheries, and which
keep reproducing rampant injustices and norms of exclusion and inclusion.24
Within such hierarchies some are allowed and entitled to speak for all, to explain
the world for all the rest. Disciplines discipline and produce borders and obe-
dient bodies that will uphold the structure, often in a culture of fear and under
a code of silence. Existential media studies will offer an alternative: it does not
pretend to speak from nowhere and for everybody. Evidently, even as the digital
limit situation applies to all, such a transcendental we is very hard for all to oc-
cupy. Clearly this we is easier to inhabit for certain privileged bodies who may
with much more ease and sense of entitlement lay claim to it. Any such univer-
salist and transcendental naivete will founder on several painful and acutely illus-
trated realties that sharply bring into focus profound asymmetries, differences,
and deep injustices between groups.25 It must also be noted that, as scholarship
in critical race theory has highlighted, the very definition of “being human” is
based on excluding certain groups of people, defined by their skin color, from its
constitution.26
24 Cf., for example, George J. Sefa Dei, Reframing Blackness and Black Solidarities through Anti-
colonial and Decolonial Prisms (Dordrecht: Springer, 2017), 177–203; Kimberlé Crenshaw, Seeing
Race Again: Countering Colourblindness across the Disciplines (Berkeley: University of California
Press, 2019).
25 See Jonathan Corpus Ong and Diane Negra, “The Media (Studies) of the Pandemic
Moment: Introduction to the 20th Anniversary Issue,” Television and New Media, 21, no. 6
(2020): 555–561, https://doi.org/10.1177/1527476420934127.
26 As the novelist and philosopher Sylvia Wynter argues, “ ‘Race’ was therefore to be, in effect,
the non-supernatural but no less extrahuman ground (in the reoccupied place of the traditional
ancestors/gods, God, ground) of the answer that the secularizing West would now give to the
Heideggerian question as to the who, and the what we are.” Wynter, “Unsettling the Coloniality
of Being/ Power/Truth/Freedom: Towards the Human, after Man, Its Overrepresentation— an
Argument,” New Centennial Review, 3, no. 3 (Fall 2003): 264, http://www.jstor.org/stable/41949
Into the Slow Field 59
And yet this pain must be carefully heeded. As Judith Butler has argued in
Precarious Life: The Powers of Mourning and Violence, mourning can actually
be understood as a site of a minimal and qualified we. Acknowledging vulner-
ability will furthermore change its meaning, she argues. I suggest that acknow-
ledging our own vulnerability is a good place to start in order to acknowledge the
hurt, distress, and injustices suffered by others. It will open up, as Butler further
argues, to a sense of shared vulnerability.27 Shared vulnerability, Suzanne Bost
maintains, makes it possible to parse “wounds as openings to become vulnerable
and available (present) to others.” Bost thus proposes an “ethics of care based on
crossing boundaries between individuals and recognizing dependence and vul-
nerability.”28 This is a leitmotif for existential media studies. With this in mind,
we may, along with Jean-Luc Nancy, call for a different we: “Let us say we for all
being, that is for every being, for all beings one by one, each time in the singular
of their essential plural.”29 But even more than that, I follow Joanna Zylinska,
who argues in Minimal Ethics for the Anthropocene:
It needs to be signaled right from the start that the very “we” of the argument
that will ensue is also already posited as a problem, referring as it does to what
philosophy and common sense have designated as “humans” but also opening
onto a complex and dynamic network of relations in which “we humans” are
produced as humans and in which we remain entangled with nonhuman enti-
ties and processes.30
In this spirit, a “we” recurs in this book. In full yielding to the profound diversities
of the human situation, there are also circumstances of shared vulnerability that
will trouble clear-cut categories, offering a chance to overcome the insurmount-
able differences often assumed to exist between fixed groups. This existential re-
ality of a we will thus complicate matters further. In fact, there are sometimes less
874. Furthermore, “This construction [serves] as an indispensable function of the continued pro-
duction and reproduction of our still hegemonic biocentric and ethnoclass descriptive statement of
the human, Man, as the first represented to be a universally applicable ‘descriptive statement’ of the
human, because overrepresented as being isomorphic with the being of being human itself—and de-
pendent, for its enactment, on a new ‘space of Otherness’ principle of nonhomogeneity in the reoccu-
pied place of the earlier rational/irrational line. This principle would be embodied in the new line
that W. E. B. Dubois was to identify as the Color Line: that is, as a line drawn between the lighter and
the darker peoples of the earth, and enforced at the level of social reality by the law likely instituted
relation of socioeconomic dominance/subordination between them.” Ibid., 310.
sharp or straight lines in the existential terrain, and this applies broadly.31 For
example, Jaspers himself was a Northern European white man of privilege; yet
he suffered from chronic illness from birth, and as mentioned previously, he was
married to Gertrud Mayer (1879–1974), who was of Jewish descent. The couple
were destined for a concentration camp and would likely have been sent there
on April 15, 1945, if they had not been saved by the US Army during the libera-
tion of Heidelberg on April 1.32 German philosophy has an aura of prestige, yet
Jaspers is not the name you would invest in for a certain revenue. Instead, his
thinking has itself been marginalized in many quarters of philosophical debate.
It thematizes limits, and it offers no classic comprehensive philosophical system
to resort to—no fundamental ontology to systematically build on. Instead, it
offers a reawakening to some key aspects of existence that could help us formu-
late different points of departure for both thinking and being.
As Ronald D. Gordon, who seems to be brooding over the unbearable light-
ness of being in the field of communication studies, suggests:
It may be fitting as the spiral of history unfolds that our existential sensibilities
be reawakened by Jaspers’s works. In order to have a resurgence of “heart” and
“soul” in our scholarly studies, we first need to revive our own “soulful” engage-
ment with our subject matter, humans communicating. Jaspers at least offers a
beginning.33
31 In critical race theory, similarly, scholar of black literature and culture Alexander G. Weheliye
has argued for moving toward imagining what the human could mean, beyond the opposition be-
tween the universal and the particular, and by inviting the margins of the Other into his alternative
vision. Drawing on Wynter’s work, he claims that “black studies provides a conceptual precipice from
and through which to imagine new styles of humanity. This spot should be understood neither as an
identitarian land claim concerned with particular borders nor a universal terra nullius, but instead as
a ceaselessly shifting ground that voyages in and out of the human.” Weheliye, “After Man,” American
Literary History, 20, nos. 1–2 (Spring–Summer 2008): 322, italics added, https://doi.org/10.1093/alh/
ajm057. Furthermore, he raises questions about the specific racialized contours of suffering due to
political violence, and concludes: “Generally, this problematic is considered in either traditionally
humanist (suffering is human) or particularistic (suffering is experienced only by those groups upon
which it is inflicted) terms. Yet these stances rely on the same logic that deems one incompatible with
the other, since the humanist brand would erase particularities in favor of a universalist sweep and
the particularistic variant insists on its irreducibility by excluding all nonmembers from the group’s
affliction. What would it mean to place these two seemingly antithetical viewpoints in relation to each
other without comparing them?” Ibid., 325. Searching for the category of the human, Weheliye is
looking to define it through experiences at the margins that have been heretofore neglected. He thus
locates prospects for a new human in the domains of the experiences and styles of the black Other.
32 See Kirkbright, Karl Jaspers, 187ff.
33 Gordon, “Karl Jaspers,” 108.
Into the Slow Field 61
margin and revisits the concerns of existentialism, while also jeopardizing the
intellectual infrastructures of some quarters of media studies and their new
normalcies. This means it interrogates the ethos of the discipline in the process,
and challenges some of its norms and epistemic foundations. This requires of us
that we ask ourselves, as Sam Mickey puts the coexistentialist either-or: “Where
do you want to be? Do you want to be in a state of narcosis, deluded and passion-
less, anesthetisized by formulas and certainties, or would you rather be in a state
of emergency, vulnerable to the extreme urgency of passion, exposed to the un-
predictable exigencies of the world?”34
Permit me a provocation: So where do we as scholars of media want to be?
Do we want to participate in the mindless reinforcement of particular forms of
epistemic violence? Do we want to embrace the regimes of certainty and their
concomitant power structures and exclusions? Do we want to side with the
normativity of a masculinist, detached, autonomous, white, able-bodied sub-
ject of efficiency and invincibility? Do we thereby want the ideology of ability
to shape our values and interests? Do we want overworked superhumans to be
the norm?35 Do we thereby want to reproduce the normalization and idealiza-
tion of a nonafflicted, uninhibited, ever-resilient march toward entitlement? One
may legitimately ask what such limitless research subjects can in fact perceive
of the world. One also has reason to worry about what will escape them. Even
more alarmingly, one may wonder what kind of worldview and values will pre-
vail through them. This is a march with great costs, above all for finite embodied
and situated beings in the world, but also for our very knowledge about media
and our world, since it is bound to be seriously skewed when modeled upon
ideals of limitlessness. I argue in this book that, in order to keep or find its “heart
and soul,” media studies must overturn these ideals and face the unbearable in-
timacy of emergency of the digital limit situation, challenging its implications,
asymmetrical exigencies, and power relations. Otherwise, I contend, important
knowledge will be lost.36
34 Mickey, Coexistentialism, 7.
35 Humans have always worked hard, but in our society, as Cressida J. Heyes argues, norms of
“increasing productivity, managing challenges of focus and distraction, and iteratively postponing
adequate rest and leisure have a distinctive contemporary timbre.” Anaesthetics of Existence, 76.
36 Here I follow in the footsteps of James W. Carey, who argued for both historical consciousness
and heightened self-reflexivity in relation to the contemporary context that we are always part of
(and risk unconsciously reproducing) as scholars: “If we accept the contingency of starting points
(the time and place where we reside) ‘we accept our inheritance from and our conversation with
our fellow human beings as our only source of guidance’ (Rorty, 1979). To attempt to evade this con-
tingency is to hope to become a properly programmed machine, which is what graduate education is
so often.” Communication as Culture: Essays on Media and Society (New York: Routledge, 1989), 75,
italics added.
62 Existentializing Media
Clearly, the world and the field are transforming and this legitimately requires
new methods and approaches.37 At the same time, however, there is an ever
greater need to step back and take some time to find our bearings, instead of
chasing targets in the wake of the all-pervasive datafication. Indeed, partici-
pating uncritically in the ideology of dataism and the logic of quantification—
thus trying to mimic the big in big data for the sake of legitimacy—will lead to
the reproduction of certain strong incentives for knowledge production that
only respect those truths that numbers will convey. To embrace alternative and
mixed methods for the purpose of plurality and new insight is not the problem;
on the contrary, they may indisputably render important outcomes. The point is
that we must not datafy at the expense of analytical depth and critical thinking.
Put differently, as the meanings of our dominant media technologies are both
transforming and remediating old dilemmas for modernity, we need to provide
perspective, rather than simply emulating their inner logic. Existential media
studies will thus abstain from the recent uncritical celebration of measuring,
for three reasons: first, since this is the very lifeblood of the economy and of the
world; second, because human life and being itself, following Jaspers, is in fact
nonobjectifiable; and, finally, because a credulous embrace risks resuscitating a
particular cult of objectivism at the expense of those singular-plural bodies on
the line in the world. Right now, and more than ever, we also need something else.
Hence, I submit that the phronēsis in slowing down is in itself an act of rebel-
lion and refusal: it is hammering as in Nietzsche and humbling as in Jaspers; but
in both senses it is an interception. Jonathan Judaken sums up the existential
tendency, which I follow, “to celebrate the rebel without a utopian belief in final
solutions, or the end of history and to waylay any politics of power that fails to
recognize human frailty.”38 Centering on mourners, while also relating the dis-
cussion to the illness-struck and the disabled, this book waylays any thinking
on media, and thus any politics of power, that fails to recognize perennial yet
socially and contextually dependent vulnerability, and its relationship to care,
responsibility, and the virtues of waiting and slowing down. As with “slow tech-
nology” or “slow food,” there is value and virtue in the inert, in dwelling and lin-
gering, in loitering and waiting, in acknowledging and respecting limits. In the
need to return to questions that nag us as researchers, to stories that compel us
to stay with them and that may keep us sleepless, another lesson can be learned.
Existential media studies appreciates that some forms of knowledge production
will not only benefit if we slow down; they also in fact require of us that we em-
brace the rhythms of life within limits and that we work and write, philosophize
37 Simon Lindgren, Data Theory: Interpretive Sociology and Computational Methods (Oxford:
Polity, 2020).
38 Judaken, “Introduction,” 8, italics added.
Into the Slow Field 63
and live, and act and be idle in full acknowledgment of our own limits and of our
responsibilities. Moving in this way across the edge of some of the ideals that cur-
rently shape disciplinary practice in parts of the field is an act in deep alignment
with the history of existentialist praxis. As Judaken puts it:
Best appreciated as a weed—a wild plant growing where it might not be wanted
and struggling for existence with what has been normatively sanctioned for
cultivation—existentialism has planted the seeds for ways of being human that
are nourished by a return to foundational issues. The fruits of its offspring are
forms of life worth living.39
Existential Media hopes to offer such fruits. It suggests it is time for media studies
to attune to the profundity of life, and to sound out and critically interrogate
the lived and often complexly ambiguous and diverse experiences of a digitally
enforced lifeworld. On my way to doing so—by proposing possible forms and
features of existential media—I will in the next chapter outline some of the basics
of the existential philosophical project, and how existential media studies draws
inspiration from different emphases within the tradition. This will be followed
by c hapter 4, where I sketch out possible definitions, with Jaspers’s philosophy as
my prime source of inspiration. Having received the flame from Jaspers, I make
no pledge to offer any completion of thought—merely a series of provisional
figurations and remappings. What I can promise, however, is that I will not re-
frain from planting existential seeds—even where they might not be wanted.
39 Ibid.
3
Existential Media Studies
Lineages and Lines
Existential media studies, as I have suggested, sits at the heart and soul of the
concerns of media studies. Our media have always been existential—a fact
that has not been sufficiently recognized in media research. As Paddy Scannell
reflects: “The question of existence—the meaning of ‘life’—is everywhere present
and nowhere considered in . . . media and communication studies.”2 Scannell
has a point. Up until this very quivering moment, when existential themes and
concepts and to some extent framings have gained traction, there has been with
important exceptions an existential deficit in media studies. There is credence
to his points when we remain in the past, which I demonstrate in this chapter.
Such claims could to some extent be repudiated, however, if we turn to debates of
late where existential themes and concepts—such as ontology, being, belonging,
anxiety and vulnerability—seem finally to have been brought to the table in
debates on digital media, both within but perhaps even more patently outside
of media and communication studies.3 Yet what these important currents still
colleagues, who have addressed lived experiences of datafication, algorithmic anxiety, and entangle-
ments of humans and mundane data in everyday life. See, for example, Sarah Pink, Debora
Lanzeni, and Heather Forst, “Data Anxieties: Finding Trust in Everyday Digital Mess,” Big Data
& Society, January 31, 2018, 1–14, https://doi.org/10.1177/2053951718756685; and Sarah Pink,
Shanti Sumartojo, Deborah Lupton, and Christine Heyes La Bond, “Mundane Data: The Routines,
Contingencies and Accomplishments of Digital Living,” Big Data & Society, June 27, 2017, https://doi.
org/10.1177/2053951717700924. One must also mention Zizi Papacharissi’s project The Networked
Existential Media. Amanda Lagerkvist, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2022.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190925567.003.0004
Existential Media Studies 65
Self, which illustrates the broadening of the purview of the field to include issues of, for example, birth,
life, and death: Zizi Papacharissi, ed., A Networked Self and Birth, Life, Death (New York: Routledge,
2018). A nascent interest in the themes championed within existential media studies can also be found
in media geography. See Paul Adam and André Jansson, eds., Disentanglements (New York: Oxford,
forthcoming). By contrast, we can observe this new interest also in recent doctoral theses that pursue
an existential approach precisely by giving due attention to the tradition, for example by drawing
on Kierkegaard and Arendt, respectively: Patricia de Vries, “Algorithmic Anxiety in Contemporary
Art: A Kierkegaardian Inquiry into the Imaginary of Possibility,” PhD dissertation (Erasmus School
of Social and Behavioral Sciences, Erasmus University Rotterdam, 2020); Timo P. Kylmälä, “Life of
Artifice,” PhD dissertation (Tampere University, 2019).
4 It should be noted that an explicitly existential approach to digital media is visible across other
fields. In the philosophy of technology, Hubert Dreyfus has been addressing digital developments
through the lens of Kierkegaardian philosophy, for example in the lecture “Kierkegaard & the
Information Highway,” UCB Art, Technology, and Culture Colloquium, 1997; and in On the Internet
(London: Routledge, 2001/2008). Byung-Chul Han also addresses the culture of connectivity, from
an existentialist perspective, in I Svärmen. In the sister discipline of human-computer interaction
(HCI), an interest in existential philosophy can be traced back to the mid-2000s at least. See Petter
Karlström, “Existentialist HCI,” CHI 2006, Reflective HCI workshop, 2006, https://people.dsv.su.se/
~petter/Existential_HCI.pdf; and Ann Light, “Empirical Vernacular Philosophy, or towards an
Existential HCI,”BCS HCI’08, Workshop on Critical Issues on Interaction Design, 2008, oai:shura.
shu.ac.uk:3627. More recently, Victor Kaptelinin has developed the perspective in “Technology
and the Givens of Existence: Toward an Existential Inquiry Framework in HCI Research,” and
“Making the Case for an Existential Perspective in HCI Research on Mortality and Death,” CHI
EA ’16: Proceedings of the 2016 CHI Conference, May 2016, 352–364. In the field of critical digital
humanities, Btihaj Ajana, in Governing through Biometrics, has presented a philosophically sophis-
ticated approach to ethics and embodiment in biometric cultures, which also focuses on biopolitics,
while relating it to existential phenomenology and in particular to Adriana Cavarero, Paul Ricoeur,
and Jean-Luc Nancy. In a contribution to game studies, intellectual historian Luis de Miranda
discusses how classic existential questions and limit situations can be addressed and simulated in
hybrid digital-human—that is, what he terms “anthrobotic”—environments: “Life Is Strange and
‘Games Are Made’: A Philosophical Interpretation of a Multiple-Choice Existential Simulator with
Copilot Sartre,” Games and Culture, 8, no. 1 (2018): 825–842, https://doi.org/10.1177/155541201
6678713.
5 The exception is the broad appropriation of Heideggerian philosophy and ontology. As already
shown in the introduction, media scholars with philosophical interests have frequently referred to, or
even adopted, a Heideggerian perspective on technology. An early example of a phenomenological
intervention into digital culture inspired by Heidegger is Joohan Kim, “Phenomenology of Digital-
Being,” Human Studies, 24 (2001): 87–111, https://doi.org/10.1023/A:1010763028785. For scholar-
ship that draws on Heidegger’s insights without resorting to offer a fundamental ontology, see Sarah
Kember and Joanna Zylinska’s seminal work Life after New Media, which argues for a vitalist ap-
proach that does not fix media, but sees them as always part of mediation as a process through which
we become human in and with the technological world. Another example of a Heidegger-inspired
analysis of digital culture that draws on his enframing concept is that of Vince Miller, who shows
how social media have ushered in ethical havoc in digital culture through its de-severing from phys-
ical copresence as the key site of ethics and judgment. A Crisis for Presence (London: Sage, 2015).
David Gunkel and Paul A. Taylor conduct an interesting reading of Heidegger’s philosophy in light
of its offerings for understanding media, in Heidegger and the Media (New York: Polity, 2014). For
66 Existentializing Media
other examples of Heidegger’s influence on particular concepts and framings, see furthermore Liam
Mitchell, “Life on Automatic: Facebook’s Archival Subject,” First Monday, 19, no. 2 (2014), http://firs
tmonday.org/article/view/4825/3823; and Wendy Hui Kyong Chun, Updating to Remain the Same
(Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2016); as well as Lagerkvist, “Existential Media.” For recent examples
of works attracted to Heidegger’s fundamental ontology that apply it painstakingly, albeit with very
different interpretations of its implications in terms of, for example, politics and metaphysics, see
Scannell Television; Peters, The Marvelous Clouds; Markham, Digital Life.
6 As Ulrika Björk discusses, the question of guilt and responsibility has, however, not been central
in the existential phenomenological tradition, with the exception of the works of Hannah Arendt and
Karl Jaspers, who also exchanged communications about the topic of responsibility and account-
ability after the end of the war. They both agreed and disagreed about how to ground concepts of
metaphysical guilt, political solidarity, and universal responsibility. See “Om skuld och universellt
ansvar,” Tidskrift för politisk filosofi, 3 (2013): 22–34, https://www.politiskfi losofi.se/fulltext/2013-3/
pdf/TPF_2013-3_022-034_bjork.pdf.
7 I have suggested elsewhere that classic themes in the philosophy of existence—such as death,
time, being there (absence and presence), and being-in-and-with (the self and community)—could
be harnessed and reworked, upgraded and mobilized, in order to unpack our digital existence.
Lagerkvist, “Existential Media.”
Existential Media Studies 67
Our media have always been existential to the extent that they are concerned
with trying to make sense of who we are and why we are here—particularly
in the modern age. And yet on a more perennial note, in the most ancient of
narratives, the epic of Gilgamesh, for example, similar issues of meaning and
how to live a virtuous life together are bountifully rehearsed.8 Hence the exis-
tential, in this sense, seems to refer to questions that have been with humanity
across the millennia, profiting and persecuting us throughout. This is evident
in the concerns of representational media across history (from, for example,
petroglyphs, cave paintings, and Greek tragedies) that enable sense-making in re-
lation to the precariousness of life and the basics of “why are we here”—a feature
later exercised in, for example, modern novels and fictional film, and in televi-
sion serials and more “transmedial” narrative forms of today.
But media can also be existential through their medium specificity. According
to Roland Barthes, photographs embody time itself. They are therefore pro-
foundly existential in their capacity as a punctum that moves and haunts us.
Photographs punctuate historical continuity and attest to both existence and
nonexistence (mortality): “The Photograph does not call up the past. . . . The
effect it produces upon me is not to restore what has been abolished (by time,
by distance) but to attest that what I see has indeed existed.”9 Photographs are
thus pure evidence that authenticate what has been. In that way they always re-
mind us of death. Digital media display other temporal complexities with exis-
tential repercussions. Some have conceived the digital itself as timeless, because
it never ages, thereby loosening the temporal anchoring of memory, placing us
in absolute presence or in a state of constant upgrading—an enduring ephem-
eral—based on the nonhuman clock of endless repetition of the new.10 As
Wendy Chun has explained: “If our machine’s memories are more permanent,
if they enable a permanence that we seem to lack, it is because they are con-
stantly refreshed so that their ephemerality endures.”11 On reflection, it seems
then that the absolute present is intriguingly at once infinite: the network con-
ceived as a stream of both—an eternal now, as it were. By contrast, in our age
of ecological crisis, another materialist form of digital temporality emerges as
This illustrates that digital time has complex and contradictory existential
bearings. Turning to another chief theme within the tradition, the question of
the self, we will note how existentialism both famously and infamously sets out
from trying to establish the meanings of individual personal existence. As the
phenomenologist Jonathan Judaken argues:
12 Richard Maxwell and Toby Miller, Greening the Media (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012).
13 Lievrouw, “The Next Decade,” 629.
14 Judaken, “Introduction,” 6, italics added.
Existential Media Studies 69
Where then is selfhood in media theory? Long-standing debates in media and cul-
tural studies have shown in rich detail how media reflect and reinforce, compel and
construct certain identities, in both a collective and an individual sense.15 In a more
materialist vein, Brian Rotman has attended to how the self emerges as a ghost ef-
fect of dominant media, and thus processually as a subject of technology.16 This is
also currently reflected in the construction of the self in social media, which has
been highlighted in works by critics showing how social media forge networked in-
dividualism and neoliberal subjectivities, accumulating value online; or when selves
are performed within gestural economies of affection, as people are in the habit of
taking selfies.17 As we are swimming in oceans of selves and selfies, however, such
proclivities in fact invoke their other: community and communality.
This communal dimension of the existentiality of media is visible across his-
tory in the ritualistic events of particular media forms through which, as James
Carey famously put the point, “the maintenance of society in time” and “the
representation of shared beliefs” were made possible.18 This has been acknowl-
edged in analyses of television, or in the imagined communities of newspapers,
where media and popular culture seemingly fill the function of religions and
offer communion. Online sociality includes such communal rituals which have
many shades today, as well as numerous positive rewards. Scholars have also
highlighted how they foster a sense of compulsory connectivity and conformist
behavior, which as mentioned brings Jaspers’s concept of the shell—echoed in
Heidegger’s Das Man—to mind. In addition, online culture has been deemed to
make us, as Sherry Turkle argued more than a decade ago, alone together—that
15 See, for example, an overview in Gail Dines et al., Gender, Race and Class in Media: A Critical
10407391-2006-023.
17 As I argued in the introduction, media studies has focused more—despite the massive expo-
sure of the self in the age of social media—on the social, and it has largely forsaken a sophisticated
theory of selfhood. This is also, as I will expound further in the next chapter, why we need an exis-
tential approach to the self as coexister (see c hapter 4). There are, however, important exceptions.
The self has been discussed in the age of social media and datafication by, for example, Beverley
Skeggs and Simon Yuill, “Capital Experimentation with Person/a Formation: How Facebook’s
Monetization Refigures the Relationship between Property, Personhood and Protest,” Information,
Communication & Society, 19, no. 3 (2016): 1–17, https://doi.org/10.1080/1369118X.2015.1111403.
See also Zizi Papacharissi’s A Networked Self project: https://zizi.people.uic.edu/Site/Thoughts/Entr
ies/2010/12/10_A_Networked_Self.html. See too Ilana Gherson, “Selling Your Self in the United
States,” PoLAR: Political and Legal Anthropology Review, 37, no. 2 (2014), 281–295, https://doi.org/
10.1111/plar.12075; Frosh, Poetics of Digital Media, 114–137. Recently, Jefferson Pooley has also
launched a series of online publications focusing on online performances of the self: Social Media
and the Self (Media Studies Press, Open Reader Series, 2021): https://www.mediastudies.press/sms.
18 For James Carey “Communication is a symbolic process whereby reality is produced,
is, as discussed, to drain our very notion of, capacity for, and lived experience of
being together.19
Hence, both selves and communities have in actuality played immensely
complex roles in the media history of modernity. Consequently, in the quest to
existentialize media, to remain too focused on selfhood and subjectivity (and in
turn on the classic relationship between individual freedom and anxiety) might
be lopsided. And yet existentialism does stay with the self, in terms of envisioning
an existential and more authentic self. This is illustrated in Hannah Arendt’s sem-
inal appreciation of the school of existential philosophy, in which she puts the
main emphasis on the human exception: that is, on Kierkegaard’s approach to
den enkelte—the singular human being, whose task involves “becoming sub-
jective.”20 As we shall see, Jaspers picks up from Kierkegaard but complicates
matters of individual subjectivity substantially: he pushes them off their edges
as he invites the Other into its very constitution. The self, as Jaspers argues, is al-
ways in relation. Or as Jean-Luc Nancy put it decades later: being is always being
singular-plural: “Being cannot be anything but being-with-one-another, circu-
lating in the with and as the with of this singularly plural coexistence.”21 In order
to develop my conceptualization of existential media further, and to situate it
along the concerns of our wicked era, I now turn to existential philosophy, to
further map the lineages of my project. If we are to advance this approach, I hold,
we will need to define the existential by anchoring it further within the tradition.
Yet we must pause before we even begin. The fact is that it is always too late—
and never too late—for existential philosophy. The reason behind this par-
adox is that existential philosophy raises questions about what it means to be
human, in a modern world, after the fact. In the nineteenth-century writings
of Søren Kierkegaard (1813– 1855), Fyodor Dostoevsky (1821– 1881), and
Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900), as well as in the writings of the existentialists
of the twentieth century, the mainspring was the modern world itself, with all its
offerings and anomies; its technological and scientific developments, its voids
and displacements, its wartime moral collapses and atrocities. Born out of facing
loss (of civilization and of cosmology), searching for human value and dignity,
for a justification for the singular unique human being, and for the integrity of
19 Sherry Turkle, Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other
humanity after the death of God, the tradition searched for new ways of legiti-
mizing and grounding human existence.
The outlook may seem dismal, even to the point of forlorn, but the main point
is that existentialism is always situated, and always thoroughly related to a con-
crete world situation in which questions about the meaning of existence are ac-
tivated anew.22 Existential phenomenology was also the product of a particular
historical, cultural, and religious context. In a productive way, the philosopher
Charles E. Scott both acknowledges this fact and describes Continental thought
as inherently mutational:
Scott argues that the tradition has a strong regional quality in its emergence,
which makes visible the boundaries and power structures of race and gender
within. But he also traces “definitive mutations” that he feels are “bound
to occur in the dynamic and variegated interactions that take place as the
Continental tradition crosses borders and undergoes linguistic, cultural, and
political translations.”24 With this in mind, we may also note that calls for
existentialism seem to be continually strewn across modern life, especially
during peaks of technological development, social upheaval, and great uncer-
tainty. And it seems equally true, as the phenomenologist Steven Crowell has
shown, that Existenz-philosophie has qualities that make it discoverable and
useful for each new generation. Its legacies and influences can be felt across
many fields.25
However, existentialism will always rebuff being forced into straitjackets
of categorization and systematization. Specialists also agree there is not one
agreed-upon definition, and that existentialism is about refusing to confine
Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000), 109.
27 For an overview of Ricoeur’s discussion, see Stewart and Mickunas, Exploring
Phenomenology, 64–65.
28 Meanwhile, and symptomatically, few of the existentialists called themselves precisely that.
According to Hubert Dreyfus and Mark A. Wrathall, both Sartre and Heidegger can be claimed by
both phenomenology and existentialism. Heidegger defined himself primarily as a phenomenol-
ogist, despite distancing himself from Husserlian phenomenology. He can be called an existential
phenomenologist, despite claiming that existentialism was a flawed continuation of the modernist
project. Due to his reliance upon Kierkegaard and his focus on Dasein’s authenticity, Dreyfus and
Wrathall place him firmly in this camp. “A Brief Introduction to Phenomenology and Existentialism,”
in Dreyfus and Wrathall, Companion.
29 Heyes, Anaesthetics of Existence, 18, italics added.
Existential Media Studies 73
Feeling a need for existentialism, as already suggested, has been a recurring trope
across the past century. For example, existential phenomenology became broadly
fashionable in the United States in the 1950s, particularly in the field of psychology.
Rollo May’s work on anxiety, inspired by Kierkegaard, opened “the anxiety closet,”
according to Robert Kastenbaum, and began churning a culture in which death had
previously been tabooed:
Death had been writ large by World War II, and its casualties included confi-
dence and belief. The intensified quest for meaning took several forms, notably
the amorphous movement that became known as existentialism. We started to
hear more of “the human condition,” and we ventured into the “theater of the ab-
surd” to encounter characters searching for an author while waiting for Godot.
Seers opined that we had entered “the age of anxiety,” and Bernstein wrote a piano-
drenched symphony to prove it. Anxiety and self-reflection were in; mortality
could not be that far behind. Although mum was still the word, mortal fear/anx-
iety was starting to leak into a never-say-die culture. A signal development was the
publication of a doctoral dissertation under the title, The Meaning of Anxiety. Rollo
May’s book (1950) and lectures were for many their first persuasive encounters
with existentialism.30
This was followed by the cultural anthropologist Ernst Becker’s The Denial of Death
from 1973; a complete diagnosis of Western culture from the vantage point of
Kierkegaard’s verdict on the fate of unique personal existence in a society of mass
industrialization and conformity. In the 1980s, Becker’s work engendered new fields
of psychological scholarship, empirical work, and arenas for debate and subse-
quent controversy. An existentialist “turn,” in the guise of the new science of “than-
atology”—which had edged away from theological and religious hegemony—was
thus in place. In addition, beyond the academic world, the profound societal trans-
formations and turbulences of the Cold War, the development of a consumerist
society, and the emergence in turn of a counterculture (including the civil rights
movement as well as the women’s, environmental, and peace movements) carried
values, aspirations, and themes cognate with the messages of existentialism about
human freedom, dignity, accountability, and choice. Existential philosophy was in
affinity with changes in the air.
And yet existentialism has also had a checkered repute, particularly due to
the politically controversial choices of path by two of its most famous represent-
atives: Jean-Paul Sartre and Martin Heidegger.31 Apart from such moral lapses,
30 Kastenbaum, “Should We Manage Terror,” 273. Kastenbaum evaluates the emergence and devel-
opment of terror management theory, which was a combination of social science and existentialism.
31 On May 1, 1933, ten days after being elected and taking up the position as vice-chancellor of
the University of Freiburg, Martin Heidegger joined the Nazi Party. Jean-Paul Sartre never joined
74 Existentializing Media
the French Communist Party, but he was a communist. He visited the USSR in 1954, and he has been
charged with a serious lack of judgment with regard to political developments in the Soviet Union.
1972), 161.
33 Along this path, numerous scholars have questioned whether it is possible to talk about human
existence at all. This is a key instinct in several forms of posthumanism, a reason why the tradition of
existential philosophy seems to have fallen under their radar or is often discarded altogether.
34 See an overview in Martin Woessner, “Habermas: Up from Heidegger,” Los Angeles Review of
While I believe all these dimensions play into why there seems to be, with im-
portant exceptions, an existential deficit in media theory, the impetus for me to
pursue this approach has also been more specific discoveries closer to home. The
existential deficit seems to be in plain sight, when we turn to the intellectual his-
tory of media studies—that is, to “communication theory” itself. Historiographies
of the hybrid field of media and communication studies reveal that the field
displays a neglect of existential perspectives, themes, and keywords.35 A lack of
serious engagement with the classic texts and key authors has also been salient
(again there are important exceptions). Fiercely forged in the formworks of mo-
dernity and modernist thinking, the earliest doctrines have been critiqued for
their conceptualization of the powerful effects of media (through ascribing to
the early studies ideas about the hypodermic needle or the magic bullet model),
but they have also been redeemed in different ways. Revolting against an alleged
regime of certainty, through invoking more “critical” perspectives, has been
a key strategy for those who sought to oppose the dominance of the legacy of
Lazarsfeld and his collaborators at the Bureau of Applied Social Research at
Columbia University, which had downplayed the claims of powerful media
effects.36 Beyond the opposition between administrative and critical research,
35 For example, this is clear in Jefferson D. Pooley’s “Communication Theory and the Disciplines,”
in The International Encyclopedia of Communication Theory and Philosophy, ed. Klaus Bruhn Jensen
and Robert T. Craig (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 2016). The lack of engagement with existentialist
thought in the conception of the field is evident as Pooley overviews its earliest forms, tracing its
birthright to media-related research in the social sciences and rhetoric, and to public opinion re-
search conducted among self-identified communication researchers in psychology, political science,
and anthropology. Another overview of key stakes for media theory that displays its lack of interest
in existential concepts can be found in Toby Miller’s overview of the incarnations of Media Studies
1.0 and 2.0. Miller nevertheless offers visions for Media Studies 3.0 along some of the lines I picture
for existential media studies, stressing the need for a plurality of methodological approaches in a
postdisciplinary sense, and centering on diversity and sustainability. See “A Future for Media Studies,”
in How Canadians Communicate III: Contexts of Canadian Popular Culture, ed. Bart Beatly, Derek
Briton, et al. (Edmonton: Athabasca University Press, 2010), 43. The lack of existential approaches
is also plain if we turn to key inventories of the field and readers in media studies over the past
decades. See, for example, Oliver Boyd Barrett and Chris Newbold, Approaches to Media: A Reader
(London: Arnold, 1995); Paddy Scannell, Media and Communication (London: Sage, 2007); Sue
Thornham, Caroline Bassett, and Paul Marris, eds., Media Studies: A Reader (Edinburgh: Edinburgh
University Press, 2009); Meenakshi Gigi Durham and Douglas Kellner, Media and Cultural
Studies: Keyworks (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2012). One seeming exception is Robert T. Craig
who argued for the need for a dialogical-dialectical argumentation across the existing rhetorical, se-
miotic, phenomenological, cybernetic, sociopsychological, sociocultural, and critical approaches within
the emergent field. The existential phenomenology he includes in his mapping, however, is limited to
its dialogic forms and centers on otherness and non-mediated authenticity. Craig, “Communication
Theory as a Field,” Communication Theory, 2, no. 9 (May 1999): 119–161.
36 The regime of certainty corresponds to what Todd Gitlin famously called the “dominant para-
digm” when, back in 1978, he described and criticized the scientific ideals of quantification in admin-
istrative media sociology and communications studies in the social sciences. “Media Sociology: The
Dominant Paradigm,” Theory and Society, 6, no. 2 (1978): 205–253.
76 Existentializing Media
however, my argument is that we can still put queries about the place, or dis-
placement, of originary existential vulnerability within these traditions—for in-
stance, in the classic schools of media sociology concerned with media effects,
or uses and gratifications, which centered on relationships between media use,
human behavior, opinion, sociality, and well-being. Indisputably, classic worries
about “the masses” were formulated in certain nativist contexts and from high
ground, where the lonely or chaotic masses are always somewhere else than the
detached sociologist himself. And yet the critics of the dominant paradigm do
not fare much better. Unsurprisingly, as we have seen, the radar was set on other
matters in the schools of critical theory and political economy, as if there were no
existential or spiritual dimensions in life worth attending to.
I believe this is one piece of the puzzle. One could argue that this birthright
reproduced up until recently a tendency to overlook frailty—including mortal
embodiment, human anxiety, and existential hurt and travail—in general in-
tellectual frameworks lacking in their formation and development a concept of
tragedy, a ripe notion of vulnerability (in both diversity and in our common hu-
manity), a sense of limit and endings, and a serious engagement with suffering
and trauma.37 This seems evident when we look, for example, at cultural studies,
in its earlier predominant forms as exemplified in the works of Meaghan Morris
or Stuart Hall. Here we will find that meaning, identity, and culture as well as
power and resistance were similarly conceived of within a taken-for-granted sec-
ular framework of the everyday.38 Likewise, if we turn to the debates on culture
and globalization, we find a plain denouncement of existentialism. In a book
from 1999, for instance, John Tomlinson explicitly disregarded the connection
between the realm of “existentially significant meaning” and the problem of ex-
istence as “formulated either in the ontological anxieties of existentialist philos-
ophy, or in the range of formal religious responses to the human condition.”39
Tomlinson provided a reading of what the existential meant for people in moder-
nity, by choosing to reduce such existential meanings to the mundane activities,
narratives, and expressive forms through which individuals make sense of their
personal lives, and through which the everyday takes shape (such as going to the
mall and listening to pop music). Apart from providing a very limited framing
for conceiving of media life, this reproduced a cheerful understanding of human
37 Clearly, the works of Lilie Chouliaraki on the spectatorship of suffering in the media age,
and more recently of Amit Pinchevski on media and trauma, contradict any sweeping general-
ization. Lilie Chouliaraki, The Spectatorship of Suffering (London: Sage, 2006) and “Mediating
Vulnerability: Cosmopolitanism and the Public Sphere,” Media, Culture & Society, 13,
no. 1 (2012): 105–112; Amit Pinchevski, Transmitted Wounds: Media and the Mediation of Trauma
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019).
38 See an overview in, for example, Simon During, ed., The Cultural Studies Reader (London:
Routledge, 2007).
39 John Tomlinson, Culture and Globalization (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1999), 20.
Existential Media Studies 77
40 See Annette Markham’s pioneering work Life Online: Researching Real Experiences in Virtual
and Knut Lundby, Rethinking Media, Religion and Culture (London: Sage, 1997). Its subfield, dig-
ital religion, has been providing productive new analytical foci on people’s changing relationship to
transcendent and existential dimensions in life. It has focused on uncharted and vernacular forms
of existential meaning-making in the realm of digital media in ways that resonate with existential
media studies. See an overview in Mia Lövheim and Heidi Campbell, “Considering Critical Methods
and Theoretical Lenses in Digital Religion Studies,” New Media & Society, 19, no. 1 (2017): 5–14,
https://doi.org/10.1177/1461444816649911; and Heidi Campbell, “Religious Communication and
Technology,” Annals of the International Communication Association, 41, nos. 3–4 (2017): 228–234,
https://doi.org/10.1080/23808985.2017.1374200. For a recent example, see also Heidi Campbell
and Ruth Tsuria, eds., Digital Religion: Understanding Religious Practice in Digital Media
(New York: Routledge, 2021). For an overview of this field’s relationship to existential media studies,
see Lagerkvist, Digital Existence.
78 Existentializing Media
turn gives rise to and responds to existential questions. As this book will show,
this is particularly the case in the context of crisis, as we face death and loss, when
we reach the limits of what we can comprehend and thus communicate.
It has sometimes been argued that death has been overlooked in media theory—
a position I consciously reproduced in my earlier rhetorical gesturing. To main-
tain that death is denied in media studies is, however, a somewhat tenuous
position. For instance, as we have already seen, death plays a central role in
key works in media and photography theory.42 Acknowledging death in media
theory has actually been trending in the past decades, and more and more at-
tention has been paid to media and mortality in various works, for example by
Charles McIlwain, Barbie Zelizer, Johanna Sumiala, and Margaret Schwartz.43
This is not least the case in the young interdisciplinary field of death online, to
which media and communication scholars have been and are making impor-
tant, seminal contributions at the time of writing.44 There has also been a broad
debate in media, cultural, and cinema studies about spectral media, exploring
the liminal position of technologies in between life and death—that is, the ways
in which media seem to conjure up the dead and bring them into connective
reach. This is exemplified in the works of media scholars such as Jonathan Sterne
42 As already discussed, Barthes sees photographs as existential media, since they are time itself.
For Susan Sontag, photography has a dual function of making the known unknown and the fan-
tastic commonplace; in fetishizing mortality by claiming to constitute the immortal, photographs
turn, in a commodifying way, both people into icons and the world into a department store or mu-
seum without walls. Furthermore: “Photography also converts the whole world into a cemetery.
Photographers, connoisseurs of beauty, are also—wittingly or unwittingly—the recording-angels
of death. The photograph-as-photograph shows death. More than that, it shows the sex-appeal of
death.” Susan Sontag, “Introduction,” in Portraits in Life and Death, ed. Peter Hujar (1976).
43 See, for example, Charlton D. McIlwain, When Death Goes Pop: Death, Media and the Remaking
of Community (New York: Peter Lang, 2005); Barbie Zelizer, About to Die: How News Images Move
the Public (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010); Johanna Sumiala, Media and Ritual: Death,
Community and Everyday Life (London: Routledge, 2013); Margaret Schwartz, Dead Matter: The
Meaning of Iconic Corpses (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2015).
44 See, for example, Dorthe Refslund Christensen and Kjetil Sandvik, “Sharing Death: Conceptions
of Time at a Danish Online Memorial Site,” in Taming Time, Timing Death: Social Technologies and
Ritual, ed. Dorthe Refslund Christensen and Rane Willerslev (London: Routledge, 2013); Dorthe
Refslund Christensen, and Stine Gotved, “Online Memorial Culture: An Introduction,” New Review
of Hypermedia and Multimedia, 21, nos. 1–2 (2015): 1–9, https://doi.org/10.1080/13614568.2015.988
455; Anu Harju, “Imagined Community and Affective Alignment in Steve Jobs Memorial Tributes on
YouTube,” in Systemic Functional Linguistics in the Digital Age, ed. Sheena Gardner and Slân Alsop
(Sheffield: Equinox, 2016), 62–80; Tamara Kneese, “Mourning the Commons: Circulating Affect in
Crowdfunded Funeral Campaigns,” Social Media +Society, January–March 2018, 1–12, https://doi.
org/10.1177/2056305117743350; Tama Leaver, “Co-creating Birth and Death on Social Media,” in
Papacharissi, A Networked Self; Linden, “Death Online.”
Existential Media Studies 79
45 Jonathan Sterne, The Audible Past: Cultural Origins of Sound Reproduction (Durham, NC: Duke
University Press, 2003); Simone Natale, Supernatural Entertainments (University Park: Pennsylvania
State University Press, 2016); Tom Gunning, “To Scan a Ghost: The Ontology of Mediated Vision,”
Grey Room, 26 (Winter 2007): 94–127. For important works on relationships between tech-
nology and transcendence, occultism and science, and media development and philosophical
idealism, see also Eric Davis, TechGnosis: Myth, Magic, and Mysticism in the Age of Information
(Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 1998/2015); Joe Milutis, Ether: The Nothing That Connects
Everything (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2006); Stefan Andriopoulos, Ghostly
Apparitions: German Idealism, the Gothic Novel, and Optical Media (New York: Zone Books, 2013).
Also see an overview in María del Pilar Blanco and Esther Pereen, eds., The Spectralities Reader: Ghosts
and Haunting in Contemporary Cultural Theory (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 199–206.
46 Jeffrey Sconce, Haunted Media: Electronic Presence from Telegraphy to Television (Durham,
NC: Duke University Press, 2000); Jeremy Stolow, ed., Deus in Machina: Religion, Technology and the
Things In-Between (New York: Fordham University Press, 2013).
47 Stolow, Deus in Machina, 5.
80 Existentializing Media
in Western intellectual history (as will be further discussed in chapter 7). Death
and the dead are key vectors in his analysis of how communication itself has been
conceived, as an idea.48 He suggests that modern media are existential precisely
because they enable the dead to be smoothly re-presenced all over, and because
they destabilize our certainty about whether we are in congress with people afar,
or with the ultimate others—those on “the other side”: “The two key existential
facts about modern media are these: the ease with which the living may mingle
with the communicable traces of the dead, and the difficulty of distinguishing
communication at a distance from communication with the dead.”49 Speaking
into the Air thus puts a great emphasis on limit, finitude, gaps, and interruptions,
while underlining the value and the potentials of reconceiving of communication
for world disclosure and for the heeding of otherness. It underscores this mes-
sage as it devotes itself to alien forms of communication, with extraterrestrials,
machines, and animals to open up “horizons of incommunicability.”50 Speaking
into the Air also pursues a pragmatist and communitarian mission, stressing the
prospects of communication for forging communities and ways of life. Taking
my cue from this approach, I reconceive of communication itself in the fol-
lowing. I explain the way in which I do so later, in relation to Jaspers’s philosophy
of communication. Drawing on Jaspers allows me to “invert” communication,
thereby emphasizing that, in the limit situation, the inability to communicate
is the very moment of capability. Limit is a source of fecundity. Before I do so,
however, we will need a foundation to help us assess, paraphrasing Peters, the key
existential facts about digital media culture. We need to turn to ontology.
In a volume from 1994, Defining Media Studies: Reflections on the Future of the
Field, which collected essays discussing the future of media and communication
studies in the new millennium, Gregory J. Shepherd suggested a sense of onto-
logical deficit in media studies.51 He maintained that something foundational
was missing in the discipline. It lacked and failed to produce what each discipline
promotes, which was a unique ontological view of existence and its material and
symbolic artifacts. Hence, he argued, we have fallen short in communication
Studies: Reflections on the Future of the Field, ed. Mark Levy and Michael Gurevitch (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1994), 91–99.
Existential Media Studies 81
52 Shepherd is also cited in Gordon, who builds on his argument. See “Karl Jaspers,” 110.
53 Thornill, Karl Jaspers, 19.
54 Heidegger, Being and Time and Question Concerning Technology.
82 Existentializing Media
certain common arguments with the alternative, more historicist line of exis-
tential theory, centered around Heidegger and Rosenzweig. This line of thought
argues that the specificity of human life is only meaningfully expressed in a
historically formed worldly community and that existence discloses its fun-
damental resources only through processes of practical self-interpretation in
common life.
These authors saw the truth of human existence as a quality “commonly elab-
orated in and by the people (Volk), and which presents itself to its members as
truthful participation and belonging.” Jaspers’s mediation between exception
and authority, argues Thornhill, “is thus clearly an attempt to bring together
these two contrary lines of reflection in the existential tradition.”55 He concludes:
in American Studies as Media Studies, ed. Frank Kelleter and Daniel Stein (Heidelberg: Winter,
2008), 3–23.
60 Peters, The Marvelous Clouds, 89.
84 Existentializing Media
By isolating the acute parts of our world that we should control, it effaces the
existential fact that we live environmentally, dependently, in apparatuses not of
our own making, starting with the womb itself. The fear that technology could
impose itself externally on humans is a form of denial that humans are already
beings made by art, although I would be the last to deny that some forms of
technology need vigorous criticism.61
61 Ibid.
62 Ibid., 17.
63 Ibid., 2. He therefore suggests that media studies has the grandiose ambition of being “a suc-
cessor discipline to metaphysics, as the field which accounts for the constitution of all that is.”
Ibid., 320.
Existential Media Studies 85
is a part of.64 Peters’s project is thus ultimately its own version of, and vision for,
media theology.
In the Poetics of Digital Media, Paul Frosh develops Peters’s ontology by
emphasizing that media are poetic infrastructures, with world-making and
world-disclosing capacities. Media are poetic forces that conjure up the unreal,
the unknown, and the illusory, through which a manifold of enfoldings of worlds
(real and fictional) within worlds, and the manifestation of those multiple worlds,
are brought into being. Frosh argues for recognizing media as adjacent forms.
The premise, in a nutshell, is that media are systems for the production and
disclosure of worlds. Media are poetic infrastructures: they are generators and
conduits of poeisis as an existential power. The commonplace ideas that media
create overtly fictional worlds, while at the same time constructing our sense of
the real world, society, community and the body politic, are rooted in the poetic
capacities of media.65
Accompanying this are two assumptions thoroughly aligned with the mission
of existential media studies. The first sees media as having profound existential
significance: Frosh describes them as a “means for living, reflecting upon and de-
fining our lives within shared human conditions and limitations.”66 The second
assumption puts the stress on the present moment and the thoroughly technolo-
gized culture in which we live, in ways that resonate deeply with a media theory
of the digital limit situation.
New approaches in contemporary debates on media and communication,
such as nonrepresentational and non-media-centric media studies, have sought
to go beyond a narrow focus on media as determinants of the social, cultural, or
political developments studied. Scholars have been drawing upon the phenom-
enological triad of space, time, and embodiment, thus aiming to dislodge the
media from the center of attention, seeking out, for example, codependencies
with other aspects of everyday life. These approaches have made important
contributions that render media life, and our life in and with media, more
64 As discussed earlier, for Peters—who draws on the instrumentality of both Heidegger and prag-
matism—the focus is on everyday things, on mundane practices, on the infrastructural and instru-
mental. He sides with the pragmatists and their cousins across the Atlantic, not only because of this
human inclination toward the routine and humdrum, but because these thinkers have in common
the capacity to marvel: they “know that any effort to fathom the fathomless will only measure our
bottomless capacity for wonder.” As Peters explains: “They welcomed a fruitful instrumentality as the
key to what makes us humans. The pragmatist lineage shares with Heidegger the intuition that being
is found in everyday practices, algorithms and programs. Both Heidegger and the New Englanders
turn to the basic and show what is locked up in a meadow, ship or pair of shoes. Both share the infra-
structural intuition that what is generally taken as obvious is not obvious at all.” Ibid., 45.
65 Frosh, Poetics of Digital Media, xiii.
66 Ibid., 3.
86 Existentializing Media
complex, since they fully integrate the ontological preconditions for being and
becoming with technology in relationality and diversity. This is common coin
today, visible across influential posthumanist or (post)phenomenological works
in media theory.67 On reflection, however, they often conjure up a form of seam-
less, even harmonious, cohabitation and coevolution with technologies. One
might still ask, I suggest: where in this continuum of bodies, environments, tech-
nologies, and affects is originary suffering, death, trauma? Where is existential
vulnerability?
Addressing suffering from the vantage point of fundamental ontology, Tim
Markham has offered a forceful case in Digital Life for yet another Heideggerian
approach to media theory. By rehearsing the perspective of originary technicity,
he portrays solidarity and ethics as phenomena emerging out of preconscious
(antisubjectivist à la Heidegger) forms of communitarian practice in an unre-
flective drive-by mode of online movement through media environments. In the
vein of Paddy Scannell, whose existential phenomenology adamantly identifies
as noncritical, Markham paints an adversary that sees digital culture as inau-
thentic, and which therefore seeks to disconnect from “all of this meaningless
digital stuff ” that impedes true human enlightenment about who we are and why
we are here. The approach reflects a full appreciation of how digital culture is
deeply enmeshed in the lifeworld. This is also a methodological condition, which
is why he critiques any abstracting from the digital in terms of stepping back, to
gain perspective on its world disclosure; from its habitual webs of meaning and
praxis, and most importantly from its ontology of flow and movement. We have
to dive in—there is no other option: “The originary technicity of being means
that only that which appears as ready-to-hand can appear at all; there is nothing
outside of graspability as a resource in an environment whose affordances are
given by the history of technology.”68 Furthermore, understanding is “a ready-
to-hand facility, something we just do as we go about our everyday lives,” which
implies that it is that “going-about that instantiates our grasp of our mutual
complicity and interdependency with sufferers one and all.”69 Again, the con-
clusion is that the mundane world “is every bit as ontologically generative as
any ‘deep’ apprehension of the human condition.” Self-being is thus propelled
through locomotions of “transient buzz of recognition,” rather than through
“realizing some final moment of subjectification.”70 In contrast with Peters and
67 See, for example, Mark Deuze, “Media Life,” Media, Culture and Society, 33, no. 1
bracketing out such metaphysical concerns altogether. Thus, any serious con-
sideration of what a digital ethics might look like should start from the ubiqui-
tous distractions of our cluttered lives rather than seeking to take an abstracted
position outside of this endless noise and light. Starting in media res, it soon
becomes apparent that the low-level anxieties of digital life—not intimations
of the abyss but generalized feelings of listlessness and dissatisfaction—are not
problems to be tackled but that which keeps us in motion.71
Media are essentially about the life flow. Nothing can be learned from the abysmal
rifts that shatter the webs of meaningful and meaningless mediated distractions,
and open up craters in our world that will obstruct keeping us in movement.
Evental sites, which also belong to life, are deemed irrelevant for approaching our
world of media. This is an approach that precludes edge experiences à la Cressida
J. Heyes, experiences that cannot be named, that defy the habitual webs of eve-
ryday existence of dwelling and moving about. The approach effectively places
such experiences at the limit under the radar, but as this book will demonstrate,
these have digital instantiations, implications, and resonances. The tendency
that I have traced to the early schools, which has remained a fixture in the tradi-
tion since—the existential deficit within media and communication studies—is
replayed: the “we” in this story is re-established as that collective body which is
not itself living with any disability or hindrances. The we is thus normate, unin-
hibited, and always in movement. The preponderant tendency in media studies
to unawaringly privilege privileged parts of our populations, or as my mourners
call them—“those who remain nonafflicted”—is here reiterated in the overem-
phasis on movement: “And it is above all motion that comes to establish every-
thing that a digital ethics should promote and protect—commonality, difference,
complicity and responsibility in the here and now.”72 We are simply propelled
to be ethical as we move restlessly from one thing to another in practical en-
gagement, since it is “through that impatient, skeptical gaze, always darting from
one thing to another, that we understand the actuality of our being-in-the-world
with others. Understanding is a thoroughly practical act, constituted in motion,
not something achieved by stopping and staring into the eyes of the suffering
other.”73
This also has, as was noted in the introduction, a planetary dimension. We may
here trace another proverbial understanding of the existential, which invokes the
existential risks to our species. These pertain to our utter and sheer existence, our
survival. Hence existential media are here seen as world-makers and potential
world-destroyers—often in deep ambiguity (this I will discuss thoroughly in the
concluding chapter). This puts media ontology in a different light: it is more than
intriguing food for sophisticated thought, since it makes media momentous and
critical for our situation. Hence, this definition takes us right back to the brinks
of existence, discussed in the introduction, as well as to the building blocks of the
elemental approach: to those infrastructures that set the parameters of our very
existence. Existential media studies thus carves out an overlapping yet also dis-
tinct space that transcends some of the concerns of media phenomenology and
also of ontology. Moreover, it edges away from any crude or too one-dimensional
focus on cheerfully living with our data, or moving about our world equipped
with media in quite harmonious ways.
In order to capture the interplay of lifeworld, experience, and technological
conditions along several scales, I suggest a transversal approach that elucidates
other dimensions of the techno-existential register, from the vantage point of
beings on the line. We are at a point in time when no one can deny that life entails
crises that are both formative and generative, and that in navigating terrains of
shared techno-existential and environmental vulnerability, human beings are
positioned between earth, sea, and sky, amid a multiplicity of planetary beings
and imperiled nonhumans. Life, I suggest, is therefore a precarious media life—
that is, a digital limit situation—through the combination of rapid technological
shifts, emergent social norms in digital cultures, the elusive workings of pow-
erful algorithms, and the harvesting of individual life data within surveillance
capitalism. Moreover, such contingencies are now occurrent alongside unprece-
dented ecological emergency.
Here I take my cue from Joanna Zylinska, who always presciently rattles
discourses in media theory and critical debate more broadly. In Minimal Ethics
for the Anthropocene, she argues for moving beyond ontology and into a more
speculative and open realm of feminist critique and artistic imaginary. She
stresses the importance of telling ourselves stories, and of finding ways to live
a good life with respect for singular beings in distress across the human and
nonhuman domains and entanglements, despite the fact that the world stands
at the brink. She is in search of what constitutes goodness in this precarious
geohistorical moment and identifies possibilities in artistic sensibilities that pro-
duce ideas with things and events. This is a call for new forms of fragmented
philosophical intervention beyond masculinist searching for systems or forging
whole ontologies and worlds:
90 Existentializing Media
For Jaspers, communication is our human destiny, but it is always at heart a lack
and an unfulfillment, which may in turn spawn something unexpected. As we
saw previously, in theorizing selfhood Jaspers retains a focus on inwardness, yet
he resolves Kierkegaard’s apparent attachment problem as he interrupts the very
idea of a self-sufficient self. As the psychiatrist Nassir Ghaemi has shown, “By
acknowledging human identity as limit, that is through what it is lacking he finds
a source of human possibility in the plural and these plural possibilities define
our freedom.”78 Jaspers argues accordingly that “to come to myself as I perish
is the phenomenon of self-being.”79 And: “Aberrant from the self, being is the
sea of light in which every part of the ego has been submerged and dissolved; as
self-being, it is the mutual illumination of souls revealed to one another in pre-
sent eternity.”80 Jaspers thus brings forth the idea that we are not isolated beings,
Jaspers, as far as I know, is the only philosopher who ever protested against
solitude, to whom solitude appears “pernicious” and who even wants to ex-
amine every thought, every experience, every subject as to what they signify
for communication. Are they of a kind that will help or are they of a kind that
will prevent communication? Do they seduce one to solitude or do they excite
communication?82
It is so much his comprehensive essence that both what man is and what is for
him are in some sense bound up with communication. The Encompassing
which we are is, in every form, communication; the Encompassing which is
Being itself exists for us only insofar as it achieves communicability by be-
coming speech or becoming utterable.86
Here we may note that Jaspers exemplifies, perhaps more than anyone else, the
fact that existential philosophy (as Arendt argued) both pinpoints and brings us
back from our human individual isolation, in its emphasis on openness, incom-
pleteness, dependency, and communication as inevitable parts of life.87 Being is
thus conceived as already being-with, and existence as always already coexistence
with others.88 We are singular-plural. Relationality is key. Here Jaspers’s thinking
resonates with Jean-Luc Nancy’s “coexistentialist” works, which “articulate a
sense of withness (the ‘co’-), of coexistence such that we can affirm the struggle to
say we for all being that is, for every being, for all beings one by one, each time in
the singular of their essential plural.”89
Jaspers further conceives of self-being in relation to communication and/as
truth. For Jaspers, communication and truth go together. This is because, as he
puts it, “To be genuinely true, truth must be communicable.”90 Moreover, what is
true only becomes true when we communicate together:
has no assured stability: it is constantly on the move. Once it has gained a posi-
tion it presses on to criticize it and is therefore opposed to the tendency to free
oneself from the necessity of all further thought by once and for all accepting
irrevocably fixed ideas. It demands a careful thoughtfulness—it is therefore
the opposite of mere capriciousness. It leads to self-knowledge and knowledge
of limits, and therefore to humility—and it is opposed to intellectual arrogance. It
demands a constant listening and it is able to wait—it is therefore opposed to the
narrowing furies of passion.92
93 See a discussion in Wendy Farley, Eros for the Other: Retaining Truth in a Pluralistic World
case for other forsaken aspects and forms of communication. Respecting limits
and laying claims to gaps and interruptions as constitutive of communication,
we find that communication becomes more about “making do with fragments”
and about “patience amid imperfections.”98 Here, at “the bounds of observable
communication,”99 the prospects for existential communication are enacted.
To sum up the deliberations this far, I argue that rather than staying within the
comfort zone of ontology as that sanguine “going about in worldliness,” our task
is to begin to define vulnerability existentially with deepest respect for diversity,
in order to describe, too, how it relates to limits, as well as to media and to the
technological transformations of the digital limit situation. The digital limit situ-
ation cannot be subjected to objective knowledge, nor can it be minimized. It will
inevitably draw us nearer the “sufferers”—some of them are already us, all of us
are potentially them. Here at the limit, as Iaconesi’s words make clear, there is an
overbearing necessity to respond, through ethical action and nonaction (slowing
down, as the ill must often do). Jaspers’s philosophy of communication offers a
chance to step back in order to step in. Poked by the need for both silence and
connection and permeated by both strivings and nonstrivings, it enables both
affective and informed decisions. It also offers ways to forge a pragmatic, tem-
porary, yet ever so essential connective “we,” as discussed in chapter 2. Jaspers
shows, through a focus upon existential communication, that we are imperfect
beings in utter dependence and in utter precariousness. How then does human
vulnerability further relate to the digital limit situation?
Media are, as already established, existential media in the ontological
sense—coconstituting what it means be human and the worlds we inhabit. But
this entangles them with lived experience, and with experiences of suffering.
Reliant upon devices that enable our lives, digital media are therefore existential
media also in an anthropological sense—that is, as we share and explore exis-
tential issues in connection with loss and trauma online, for example on digital
memorials, in rituals of lighting digital candles, in blogging about terminal ill-
ness, and on suicide sites. As already discussed, existential media studies aims
to follow Jaspers’s project of offering also through his philosophy of communi-
cation, a mediating bridge between ontology of the historicist and infrastruc-
tural strand, and lived experiences of vulnerability of the (inter)subjectivist and
exceptionalist strand. But the plot thickens, since vulnerability has today become
100 Vulnerability today both obscures power asymmetries between groups and portrays, through
social policy interventions, certain groups as precarious in highly problematic and paternalistic ways.
See Anu Koivunen, Katariina Kyrölä, and Ingrid Rydberg, eds., The Power of Vulnerability: Mobilising
Affect in Feminist, Queer and Anti-racist Media Cultures (Manchester: Manchester University
Press, 2018).
101 In the last few decades vulnerability has been a brand, uniting beings within what Laurent
Berlant calls “intimate publics.” Through an exaggerated focus on victimhood, sex, and identity,
she argues, a form of utterly privatized citizenship has emerged (in the United States), which has
redirected political and critical energies into a formless opinion culture of sentimentalism and con-
sumerist subjectivity. Lauren Berlant, The Queen of America Goes to Washington City: Essays on Sex
and Citizenship (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1997), 3. These intimate publics are often
occupied by women or disenfranchised groups, who in these spaces of recognition, reflection, and
belonging see their personal needs refracted through the general, and who find ways to live their
lives or manage their ordeals. Their members are thus consumers with a shared worldview, and with
shared emotional knowledge. Lauren Berlant, The Female Complaint: The Unfinished Business of
Sentimentality in American Culture (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2008).
102 See Carsten Stage, Networked Cancer: Affect, Narrative and Measurement (Basingstoke: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2017). Vulnerability has also emerged as an attractive subject position with a disposition
of earnestness, whether we are talking about politicians, corporate leaders, public figures of fame,
university professors, etc. Testimonies of personal vulnerability are enormously valuable—a cur-
rency for neoliberal self-constitution in the competition for attention on the global arena. One could
see the recent upsurge in respecting vulnerability in scholarship as to a certain degree part of this
trend. Critics trace a reluctance among a group of self-professedly vulnerable to self-reflexively dis-
cuss issues of privilege, power, and power abuse, whether in terms of gender, race, or sexuality, for
example. Scholars point to how this even amounts to a new form of fragility—the sense of misunder-
stood righteousness. Ylva Habel, “Little Pink: White Fragility and Black Social Death,” in Koivunen,
Kyrölä, and Rydberg, The Power of Vulnerability.
96 Existentializing Media
103 Lilie Chouliaraki, “Victimhood: The Affective Politics of Vulnerability,” European Journal of
of vulnerability. They identify three main sources of vulnerability: inherent (ontological), con-
textual (social), and pathogenic (oppressive due to discriminatory systemic violence). To this
they add two states of vulnerability: dispositional and occurrent. Mackenzie, Rogers, and Dodds,
“Introduction: What Is Vulnerability?”
105 Butler, Precarious Life, 41.
106 Ibid.
107 Timm Knudsen and Stage, Global Media, 3.
108 Ibid.
Existential Media Studies 97
and therefore more grievable than others.109 There is, however, a profound open-
endedness to the upshots of mediated vulnerability. Hence, mediation can curb,
impede, or support the acknowledgment of vulnerability. There are clear asym-
metries in terms of how vulnerability is ascribed to different cultural groups
on the margins. In sum, vulnerability, according to Timm Knudsen and Stage,
functions as an energizer directing attention toward certain bodies, and stim-
ulating an urge to respond and a motivation to imagine a world that handles
vulnerabilities differently and much more constructively. Vulnerability can thus
also be a social force containing agential potentialities.110 This event nature of
mediated vulnerability reflects on Iaconesi’s project, harking back to those
irreducibilities I seek to capture through the notion of the digital limit situation.
In addition (and the existentialist would say that this cannot be stressed
enough), vulnerability is not a word to be thrown around lightly. Here we need
a different framework: we need a sophisticated and self-reflexive understanding
of vulnerability. According to Judith Butler, acknowledging and articulating
vulnerability changes its meaning. Inspired by this, infusing my reading with
Jaspers’s imperative to take responsibility, I submit that simply saying vulnera-
bility implies accountability. Simply articulating or laying claims to vulnerability
(our own and others’) is a moment of self-disclosure and of deep obligation, as
Jonathan Sterne also maintains. Hence, an existential concept of vulnerability
will help us realize that we are obliged to carefully take note of others in their al-
terity, pain, and dependence upon us, and responsibly check our own actions and
their consequences. If we do not act, in the knowledge of how others suffer from
our inaction, we have what Jaspers calls metaphysical guilt, the basis of which
is simply a lack of the solidarity between humans that stems from the simple
fact that they are humans.111 This imperative will save the concept from tactical
poachers. Yet, without downplaying the above-mentioned problematic political
and material realities of tactical vulnerability, I find that an existential defini-
tion will complicate matters even further since, as I discussed in chapter 2, it will
simultaneously shunt aside any excessively static or one-dimensional notions
of vulnerability. As Carsten Stage, for example, reminds us via his studies on
cancer narratives online, this form of vulnerability among entrepreneurial
cancer bloggers quite often combines the needs of entrepreneurial and sincere
112 Mark Coeckelbergh, Human Being @ Risk: Enhancement, Technology, and the Evaluation of
Vulnerability Transformations (New York: Springer, 2013). Samuel Weber argues that media provide
such protections from vulnerability, while often failing to accomplish their goal of shielding us from
our precariousness: “Like all technology, the development of electronic media follows the ambivalent
law, or graphics, of prosthetic supplementarity: an extension of human capacities it simultaneously
distances and undermines what it extends, exacerbating the vulnerabilities of the finitude it seeks to
alleviate and protect.” Samuel Weber, “Religion, Repetition, Media,” in Religion and Media, ed. Hente
De Vries and Samuel Weber (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2001), 52.
113 Daphna Yeshua-Katz and Ylva Hård af Segerstad, “Catch 22: The Paradox of Social Media
Affordances and Stigmatized Online Support Groups,” Social Media +Society, 6, no. 4 (2020): 1–12.
114 Frank Pasquale, The Black Box Society: The Secret Algorithms That Control Money and
115 Jaspers, “On My Philosophy,” in Kaufman, Existentialism from Dostoyevsky to Sartre, 167, italics
added.
4
Existential Media
Propositions and Properties
This book argues that today, more than ever, media are tied to ultimate aspects
of life and being itself. The phenomenologist Don Ihde reminded us in the 1970s
that all “human-machine relations are existential relations in which our fate and
destiny are implicated, but which are subject to the very ambiguity found in all
existential relations.”1 Today we may suggest that the machines to which Ihde
referred still have this ambiguous quality and that they have simultaneously ex-
panded and evolved: they have become environmental, embedded, embodied,
and emplaced in the lifeworld. But even more profoundly, they seem to be our
“tools of existence,” and thereby to constitute the very ground on which we stand,
including our ways of making sense of it—our “shell” or our “ciphers” of being, as
Jaspers calls them—while at the same time bringing about the contingencies of a
life lived in utter thrownness within the technologically mediated limit situation.
The upshot is that existence is now explored through, experienced in relation
to, and defined by these tools in a dynamic relationship of mutuality, tension,
ambivalence, and change.2 Following Jaspers, I wish to stress their antinomical
structure. To encircle such ambiguities, the sense of both fate and fortune, of
both hope and hazard in the digital limit situation, is one of the objectives of
this book.
Drawing inspiration from the existentialist tradition, existential media
studies offers ways to retool media theory. But its wider aim is also to represent
a retooled form of humanities research. It is in this sense a call to protect the
imperiled practice of humanistic scholarship, while developing its potential in
a postdisciplinary manner. Existential media studies is thus an exercise in what
I see as the main mission of the humanities. It is in depth a philosophically and
ethically motivated project, challenging the omission of our shared existen-
tial vulnerability, in media theory and beyond. It is thus also, as we have seen,
a political and critical project. Empirically grounded in contemporary existen-
tial terrains of connectivity, it also provides perspective on being human, in our
Existential Media. Amanda Lagerkvist, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2022.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190925567.003.0005
Existential Media 101
case of being human in and with media. The goal of this final chapter of Part I is
to synthesize some of the key discussions in the opening parts of the book into
some hopefully handy definitions of central keywords (media, digital, and com-
munication), followed by a rigorous conceptualization of a different subject for
media theory, the coexister, in light of the role existential media studies assigns to
existential vulnerability, care, and responsibility. The ultimate aim, finally, is also
to define the key stakes and properties of existential media.
As for keywords, a few clarifications are in order. First, this book puts an em-
phasis on limits, but this should not be understood as conceptualizing media as
objects that have clear-cut edges: clearly any media form is the result of practices
and processes, of beliefs and ideologies embedded in material and historical
contexts, with open-ended, transitional, and importantly manifold implications.3
Consequently, Existential Media sees media multifocally. This approach requires
a broad media concept that allows us to conceive of media as representation and
signification, interrelatedly. Furthermore, and by moving beyond their well-
known representational dimensions, we can see media as sites (where some-
thing happens), containers (where something is stored), environments (which
set the scenes and provide support through infrastructure), conduits and objects
(instruments and stuff that sustain/convey the meaning and produce the action),
and vessels of transmission and movement (means that take us and our messages
somewhere). Allowing for media to emerge in all their productive ambiguity
also implies approaching them in an about-face manner. This follows from J. D.
Peters’s philosophy of elemental media, which posits media as environments and
environments as media. Media are here defined as “strategies and tactics of cul-
ture and society, as the devices and crafts by which humans and things, animals
and data, hold together in time and space.”4 Conceived as tools of existence, ex-
istential media also evoke the skills of craftsmanship—the creative promise that
media may set worlds and futures into motion through our careful crafting. As
we have seen, moreover, existential media offer moorings, and they are indeed
mundane. But they are also momentous and therefore morally demanding. They
are both the building blocks and the brinks of being.
Second, as has been laid out, developing an approach to media as existential
media in our present age inevitably implies focusing on digital media forms, par-
ticularly forms of grief communication and commemoration on social media,
online memorials, blogs about terminal illness, and the transcendence industry;
legacy avatars and digital wills. But this book also sees more recent forms of dig-
ital media in the shape of anticipatory systems, AI, and biometrics as existen-
tial media. Following Benjamin Peters’s discussion of the digital, it is useful to
define its specific characteristics as counting the symbolic (like fingers: digitals)
and indexing the real (the indexical, which has a direct relationship to reality,
without becoming submerged in it). This in turn allows for manipulating so-
cial imaginaries (that is, iconically resembling or imitating and influencing
perceptions of the world).5 And yet, as the observant reader has already noted,
I have taken the postdigital framework quite literally here. As already explained
in the introduction, I choose in this book to talk about a media theory of limit
and of the limit situation, rather than signposting the digital—even as digital
limit situations nevertheless stand at the heart of my discussion. This means
my definition of existential media will attend to some of the distinctive features
of those digital media forms under investigation, as well as the ways in which
they inform and coconstitute the digital limit situation. But it will also point be-
yond the currents of dominant media and will aspire to say something broader
about how we can reconceive media through existential sensibilities and possible
refigurations. Finally, via Jaspers the concept of communication itself, as already
hinted at in the previous chapter, is inverted through a focus on silence and dis-
connection. This requires its own section and context.
For Imran Khan, the journalist and mourner whom we met in c hapter 1, the
experience—as he is hurled, chased, and enabled by tech along the rim—of en-
forced “salvific” and pragmatically endorsed “new media” is puzzling, and even
a bit frightening:
It is the kind of thing you would expect to read about in a dystopian novel far
removed from your own reality. But perhaps we are all living a dystopian reality.
One that stops us from having the one thing that technology will never replace: the
embrace of family in a time of grief; the ability to sit and share memories together
in person.6
5 Peters, “Digital.”
6 Imran Khan, “Death at a Distance,” italics added.
Existential Media 103
Sleep is the limit case for anaesthetic time. We must sleep to live, but it’s hard
to grasp whether (or how) sleep is part of “lived experience.” It represents an
immediate and involuntary suspension of existence and a total respite from
postdisciplinary time. This sensory void represents a limit, an encounter (for
better or worse) with complete withdrawal from temporal experience, in-
cluding from the exhaustion of contemporary fantasies of autonomy.9
Other feminist philosophers, such as Linda Alcoff and Rosi Braidotti, have
declared the vulnerable female body as that substratum which is off the grids of
intelligibility, and as a limit to logocentrism. For posthumanists, the body is also
that entity which evades representation because of its connection to lack, to ex-
cess, and to the monstrous. It is a site of privileged connection to limits, resist-
ance, hope, and escape.10 And as we have already seen, disability theory offers a
trenchant and dynamic setting of limits. According to Tobin Siebers, the disabled
form of experience that stands outside discourse and the constitution of the subject; the bracketing
of ‘cultural differences’ enables us to identify the essence of embodied experience in the context of
sexual abuse, in a way that sidesteps the constructions of cultural misogyny.” Heyes, Anaesthetics of
Existence, 36. Rosi Braidotti argues that philosophizing through the body will lead to confronting
boundaries and limits. “Teratologies,” 160. For Adrian MacKenzie, similarly, “Body and time mark
104 Existentializing Media
limits for thought. To think the ‘body’ or to think ‘time’ is to run up against the limits of thinking. Body
and time challenge the prerogatives of thought.” Transductions, 1, italics added.
sustain human interaction and of communicative practice itself.13 Media are also
media of limits in the shape of disconnection, break(down), shortage, interrup-
tion, and finitude, and as such also of fecundity.14 My focus invokes a veneration
of closure, since it is linked to the inexorable aspects of human existence: to those
undervalued qualities of hiding, waiting, and lingering within our technocratic
societies of surveillance, transparency, and quantification, and within the new
orthodoxies of connectivity. This approach sees disconnection and finitude as
an inevitable and valued aspect of existence. As Jaspers argues, embracing finite
ends is necessary for human flourishing, and clinging to the dream of the en-
during is a waste of time and effort:
Since our digital existence is an irreducible tension field and a striving, it also
includes the act of opting out, signing off, or erasing the trace; a choice between
either staying within the confines or transcending them—either remaining
within or detaching from connectivity through techno-existential closure. This
applies to our digital lives while we are still here, as well as to the management
of the digital afterlife (as I will discuss in chapter 7). As argued in this vein by
Brett Frischmann and Evan Selinger: “We defend the idea that one of the most
important constitutional questions of the twenty-first century is how to sustain
the freedom to be off, to be free from techno-social engineering, to live and de-
velop within undetermined techno-social environments.”16 Many have similarly
stressed the right to be forgotten and the right to regain control, as well as the
need for a responsible approach to development in this area, echoing Jaspers’s
insistence in The Origin and Goal of History on the need to steer technology in a
beneficial direction.
Disconnection can also be theorized as an impending prospect within con-
nectivity itself. Media scholar Tero Karppi theorizes disconnection as innate in
13 John D. Peters, “The Gaps of Which Communication Is Made,” Critical Studies in Mass
postphenomenology, and the anthropology of emergent design that reconceive of data in terms of
breakage, repair, and ultimately growth. See, for example, Pink et al., “Broken Data.”
15 Jaspers, Philosophy II, 196.
16 Frischmann and Selinger, Re-engineering Humanity, 269. Frischmann and Selinger furthermore
offer a call to freedom: “(1) Freedom from programming, conditioning, and control engineered by
others. In our modern technosocial world. We call this the freedom to be off. (2) Freedom of will and
practical agency. In our modern techno-social world, we call this the freedom from engineered deter-
minism.” Ibid., 270.
106 Existentializing Media
Hence, as the existentialists knew, when everything goes silent and there is no
signal, or when we break away from connections, or fail to communicate, some-
thing profound also comes to life. As both Jaspers and Emmanuel Levinas
stressed, limit as much as vulnerability can be such resources of fecundity.21 For
example, in full recognition of both suffering and exposure in the limit situation,
Jaspers furthermore argued that “[it] is possible for a more profound serenity to
rest on grounds of inextinguishable pain.”22
This focus on finitude and failure, on breakdown and hence on limits,
prompted Paul Ricoeur to critique Jaspers’s philosophy as a philosophy of mis-
carrying—of pessimistically seeing guilt as invincible past pardon or redemp-
tion. Ricoeur’s reading also saw guilt in Jaspers’s thinking as something both
metaphysical and moral, since it was part of the constitution of existence, yet
17 Karppi, Disconnect.
18 Likening constant connectivity to norms of straight lines of connection, Sundén sees technolog-
ical decay and “disconnect” as queer capacities. Relational technologies are fractured and unreliable.
The break, she argues—that is, disconnection—can be a metaphor for alternative ways of being and
staying together. Sundén, “Queer Disconnections.”
19 J. D. Peters, “Beauty’s Veils: The Ambivalent Iconoclasm of Kierkegaard and Benjamin,” in The
Image in Dispute: Visual Cultures in Modernity, ed. Dudley Andrew (Austin: University of Texas
Press, 1997), 13.
20 Jaspers, Philosophy II, 67.
21 See Amit Pinchevski, By Way of Interruption: Levinas and the Ethics of Communication
activated and deepened through action. For Ricoeur, this makes understandable
“the whole orientation of the philosophy of Jaspers toward foundering rather
than toward ‘rebirth.’ ”23 Jaspers’s stress on existence as a mode of reflexive ex-
perience also triggered critique. Lukács’s allegation that Jaspers’s “thinking is
held together by an ‘irrationalist pessimism,’ ” according to Chris Thornhill, “was
chiefly responsible for the reception his work received.”24 I read Jaspers quite
differently. I see his thinking as prompting an “inversion model” of communi-
cation, which implies that the shortcoming is the very moment of possibility.
Hence, in that communicative breakdown which is another instantiation of the
limit situation, something more profound may occur: the communal realization
of our being as Existenz with other Existenzen. And thus: “The unfulfillment of
communication and the difficulty of bearing its shipwreck become the revelation
of a depth which nothing other than Transcendence can fill. If God is eternal,
still for man truth is a developing truth, indeed a truth developing in commu-
nication.”25 This is the breakthrough to existential communication, possible for
all beings. Jaspers defines existential communication as a form that can never
be copied or modeled: “Each time it is flatly singular” before the other who is
“this one only.”26 This is the moment of mutual cocreation of selfhood and of
togetherness.
In light of Jaspers’s radical quest for reawakening us to these potentialities of
being human, the mission for existential media studies implies envisioning beings
who display intersubjective responsiveness and responsibility. Articulating vul-
nerability is in fact an act of obligation toward the other. For as Jaspers puts it: “I
cannot be myself unless the other wants to be himself [sic]. I cannot be free un-
less he is free; I cannot be sure of myself, unless I am sure of him. In communica-
tion I feel responsible not only for myself but for the other, as if he were I and I were
he; I do not feel it set in until he meets me half-way.”27 This is where an alternate
subject emerges for media theory.
Toward Coexisters
When we place the mourning human being centrally, the need for a different
form of subjectivity emerges—one that may shed new light on and complement
23 See Paul Ricoeur, “The Relation of Jaspers’ Philosophy to Religion,” in Schlipp, Philosophy of
Karl Jaspers, 633. See a discussion in Charles Courtney, “Reading Ciphers with Jaspers and Ricoeur,”
Existenz: An International Journal in Philosophy, Religion, Politics and the Arts, 1, nos. 1–2 (Fall
2006): 9–15, https://www.existenz.us/volumes/Vol.1Courtney.pdf.
24 Thornhill, Karl Jaspers, 222 n. 14.
25 Jaspers, Reason and Existenz, 104.
26 Jaspers, Philosophy II, 54.
27 Ibid., 52–53, italics added.
108 Existentializing Media
the more usual suspects (the audiences, the media citizens, media consumers, en-
trepreneurial selves, savvy users, early adopters, or dividuals) of various factions
of theorization.28 This approach both reclaims and resituates subjectivity as it
at once centers on and destabilizes “the Human.” Hence, existentializing media
requires a paradigmatic change of casting.
I posit the coexister as the key subject in the dawning project of existential
media studies. Drawing inspiration from, yet expanding on, Jaspers’s thinking,
I keep humans in the loop in a multivalent sense: hence they are differently sit-
uated yet sharing in the conditions of deep relationality, as embodied, mortal,
technological, bereft, and ethically responsible beings.29 This means the prin-
cipal inhabitant of the digital ecology, our principal subject in media studies,
is not a being in full control. She sometimes stumbles, falls, misunderstands,
struggles, is vulnerable, hurting, speechless, and with no solution. The coexister
is at a loss, bewildered, and in search of meaning before the abyss. But she may
also experience moments of ultimate meaning, community, support, and full-
ness, as she navigates through the torrents of our digital existence. As suggested
earlier, being singular-plural implies, importantly, “a nuanced and diversified re-
lationship with others regarded as unique singularities who co-inhabit a world
together.”30 Such coexistentialist insight is also the road ahead in further tackling
that tricky issue of a “we” in existential media studies (as suggested in c hapter 2).
Coexisters are communicative yet often silent, self-aware yet clueless, singular
yet plural beings—navigating the limit situations of life in the digital age. As is
clear by now, the coexister is therefore not the discrete rational and moral sub-
ject of old-school humanism, who is certain, independent, and disembodied.
Beyond myths of a sovereign and all-knowing subjectivity, the coexister is nei-
ther omniscient nor “the measure of all things.” Nor does the coexister coincide
28 It must here be noted that there exist approaches that seek out more problematic and existen-
tially riskier dimensions of media users and of digital existence. The traditional user has also been
thoroughly compromised already, in light of, for example, an affective media landscape in which
pain, disaster, and torture are increasingly mediated, which triggers intensities of feeling, aversion,
and repulsion among users, as Anthony McCosker has shown in Intensive Media: Aversive Affect
and Visual Culture (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013). Vince Miller illustrates how mundane
media use can be a site where we are exposed to a series of shocks, due to an ambiguous sense of
(in)vulnerability online. “The Ethics of Digital Being: Vulnerability, Invulnerability, and ‘Dangerous
Surprises,’ ” in Lagerkvist, Digital Existence. Such media realities trigger a range of negotiations and
responses, bringing into view the need for different conceptions of being a human in digital existence
that complicate any straight-cut “user.”
29 Similarly, Kelly Oliver has famously suggested a different subject, and a different form of what
she calls “respons(e)ability,” from the vantage point of doing away with antagonism as a default set-
ting for thinking about the other, and of seeking recognition, which belongs to that Hegelian logic.
She argues for a concept of a witnessing subjectivity that is called and normatively obliged to act
ethically. The process of witnessing is here defined as the possibility of address and response. This puts
ethical obligation at center. Kelly Oliver, Witnessing: Beyond Recognition (Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 2001), 191, italics added.
30 Casey “Edges and the In-Between,” 7.
Existential Media 109
with the affective forces replacing the liberal subject in the new materialism. The
coexister exists in responsive openness to the present and the future. In conse-
quence, existentiality in the age of media includes and retains an idea about self-
hood, yet very clearly reclaims being human beyond any fantasy of the liberal
humanist subject of certainty and autonomy.
We must remember that the coexister is a shaken being, and is there-
fore also watchful and often sleepless with machines as company. Here, it
seems the coexister will be invoked as a witnessing subject who is responsibly
awake, elicited, and reawakened. Yet we must recognize that the coexister is in
mourning, fatigued or otherwise marred. The limit situation calls her beyond
herself—and often also, importantly, beyond her habitual media situation. In
order to cope, there is the act of both connecting and silently disengaging media,
for the sake of sanity and existential health. In any case, coexisters are witnessing
subjects attentive to what’s online—to the world—but also to limits. The internet
never sleeps, but the coexister is embodied and must do so.
Related to yet extending beyond Heidegger’s Mitsein, the coexister is not only
being-with-others—that is, other people—but also a being within the biosphere.
Contingent upon limits of both knowledge and self-awareness, she exists to-
gether with other humans, machines, and more than humans. As we have seen,
Jaspers argues that this form of self-being is actually lacking at core and can only
be realized through other beings. This means the coexister is that being who
strives and hopes: that realizable Existenz, who possesses the human potential for
flourishing, which we always do in deep relationality both with fellow humans
and with animals, tools, machines, and networks. Indeed, one can find an em-
bryo here in Jaspers of what we would today call a posthumanist ontology, since
for him, as Jaspers expert Helmut Wautischer points out, “This ability to pattern
oneself transcends human existence into a domain of Being where self-realiza-
tion takes place in the context of communication with others. Such an Other can
be any entity ranging from the mineral-, plant-, or animal kingdoms to humans,
transcendence, and god.”31
In this urgent context of deep techno-existential saturation and ecological
emergency, upholding that frail being and crafting the conditions for her flour-
ishing is the key issue facing us still. Yet, it must be noted, stressing experiences
of exposure should not be conflated with reiterating perspectives on users and
audiences as fragile and lonely crowds duped by media. Existential media studies
is not detached social science, so it will stubbornly break it to you: we are all
coexisters! And since vulnerability can, as Karl Jaspers argued, be a position of
fecundity, the coexister is not simply prey to the forces of modernity.
Coexisters are the forgotten ones, for example by positivism and its descendant
modernist disciplining of subjects (and of death itself); by contractualism in
moral philosophy, which posited humans as independent, rational agents; by so-
cial constructivism, which saw vulnerability as merely linguistically constituted;
and by posthumanism, which in its overemphasis on decentering the human
sometimes inadvertently forgets the meek and the mourners, the terminally ill,
the illness-stricken or idle, the disabled or disenfranchised—that is, those who
are bullied and disregarded and oppressed, who have already been abandoned by
an entire age of doctrinal “progress,” speed, and systemic and epistemic violence.
Hence, in light of the fact that the technoscientific bureaucracies, the authori-
tarian logic and ideology of neoliberal economies, the computer engineers, the
cadres of the neurosciences, and even increasingly humanities scholars them-
selves seem to have evacuated their equations of the human, I wish instead to
reinvent and rediscover her. This means in the first instance safeguarding human
subjectivity, sociality, relationality, situatedness, corporeality, agency, spirit-
uality, suffering, failing, brokenness, the search for meaning—and ultimately
the responsibility that springs from both embeddedness in technologies and
thrownness into the digital limit situation.
As discussed in the previous chapters, this book argues that the deep entangle-
ments of digital technologies in our lifeworld are both unsettling and as of yet un-
settled. Accordingly, living in an open-ended technological era requires us to take
responsible action, to reclaim agency through crafting the future in the present.
Complexities abound. Philosophers speak of “distributed responsibility,” interro-
gating the potential for machines to be ethical.32 Other forms of posthumanism
typically do away with subjective choice or deliberation as what mobilizes ethical
judgment, arguing for locating ethics and transformative potential in incarnate
relationality or cognitive assemblages.33 As N. Katherine Hayles argues, tech-
nical beings and living beings are involved in a “continuous reciprocal causation,
in which both groups change together, in coordinated and indeed synergistic
ways.”34 Hayles stresses that change is always shot through with the materiality of
32 Peter-Paul Verbeek, Moralizing Technology: Understanding and Designing the Morality of
Things (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011); Luciano Floridi, “Faultless Responsibility: On
the Nature and Allocation of Moral Responsibility for Distributed Moral Actions,” Philosophical
Transactions: Series A, Mathematical, Physical, and Engineering Sciences, 374, no. 2083 (2016),
https://doi.org/10.1098/rsta.2016.0112.
33 Karen Barad argues that “responsibility is not an obligation that the subject chooses but rather
First, we cannot escape the vulnerability of our existence by making risk sub-
jective or objective. This means we have to face vulnerability Angst as opposed
to fear for particular risks: we have to realize that we are existentially vulner-
able and that we are naked. Therefore, it is a kind of bad faith to locate risk
exclusively in the outside world . . . or in our own mind. We have to face our
being-vulnerable. Second, since we co-shape our vulnerability, we must also
take responsibility for the design of vulnerability.38
35 N. Katherine Hayles, Unthought: The Power of the Cognitive Nonconscious (Chicago: University
I do think there is such a thing as the human condition, and that it involves
earth, world, other people, labor, work, time, speech, action, birth and death,
promise and forgiveness. But the human condition is recursive; it is a condi-
tional condition: our actions change the conditions they act in, especially since
they change us; we speak and act, and as we do we change the conditions in
which we speak and act.39
The circulation of care as everyday maintenance of the more than human web
of life, conceived as a decentered form of vibrant ethicality, as an ethos rooted
in obligations made necessary to specific relations, offers cues to that imagina-
tion. A notion of care as a doing rather than a moral intention is the entry point
here . . .40
And yet, in the limit situation of interrelated calamitous crises, with severe
consequences for our survival—when the world and the planet are screaming
at us to take responsibility—it is pivotal to analyze ethics, care, and responsibility
transversally through ciphers of roundness and circulation that wrap around, in
a manner inclusive of both human deliberation and nonhuman entanglements.
Following Puig de la Bellacasa, media scholar Margaret Gibson and colleagues
observe that the pandemic moment has created a situation of collapse between
mourner and witness and between the giver and the receiver of care. In other
words, and as I have emphasized, we are all coexisters. In the present moment:
We are asked to take seriously the role and reciprocity of care ethically, concep-
tually, and in practice. . . . The textures of grief and loss engulfing the world as it
struggles with the pandemic—and more generally climate disaster—require a
more complex, comprehensive, and nuanced model for care as a crucial part of
not only contemporary but also future-making practice.41
Hence our care work, as I discuss further in chapter 8, is a practice of creating the
future itself in the present moment of the digital limit situation. Joanna Zylinska
suggests “an ethics that makes sense—and that senses its own making.” This
accentuates the “ethical call of the universe, in its temporary stabilizations”42—
a statement with which Jaspers would thoroughly agree. Hence it is possible to
argue, without downplaying the materialist insights, that hearing this call and
taking responsible action for these developments constitutes our utmost task. In
fact, responsibility is the cornerstone of Jaspers’s political philosophy and ethical
theory, “which sees human life as self-creating, autonomous and plural, but also
supremely, if not universally, accountable.”43 I hold that we need the coexister,
who remolds existence in humble self-realization and in care for the world,
practically and ethically. As I have argued, coexisters are thrown into, while also
being cocreators of, the contemporary digital limit situation: a whirlpool of dig-
italization, datafication, and increased automation. Deeply entangled, they still
possess the capacity to act and choose and respond—and anticipate—yet within
limits and never in isolation. In that way, as I discuss further toward the end of
this book, coexisters are in fact competent to collaboratively chart a future in
carefully attending to the present.
This coexister will emerge throughout the book in different guises across the
various chapters. The coexister seeks connection in pain. But she is to an equal
41 Margaret Gibson, Larissa Hjorth, and Jaz Hee-jeong Choi, “Introduction: Caring Media
Futures,” International Journal of Cultural Studies, 24, no. 4 (2021): 563, https://doi.org/10.1177/
13678779211015252.
42 Zylinska, Minimal Ethics,16.
43 Thornhill, Karl Jaspers, 6.
114 Existentializing Media
degree encumbered and anxious, weighed down by loss; she may seek company
in silence. She can also be vigilant and watchful, sometimes trying to discon-
nect from ubiquitous technologies by disengaging from literally disengaging
media: media that have lost their grip on her or made her feel existentially
ungratified. With this alternative subject, different ways of conceiving and of
recognizing media come into view. Subjugated by the quantification of loss and
bereavement, she comes into sight as a numerical being reduced and enabled
by infrastructures of data and numbers, while simultaneously facing a celebra-
tory common culture of metric media (chapter 5). She appears both as the bereft
mourner and as the relational and courageous wobbler on the brink of the abyss,
who darts herself out there to grab the lifelines of caring media (chapter 6). She is
the striver and searcher who remembers the departed, and relays messages to the
dead online, thus relating at the thresholds of transcendent media (chapter 7).
The coexister is therefore also called upon to reopen the future horizon, and thus
to reclaim existential media as anticipatory media (chapter 8).
time. As they throw us, they further call on us to actualize ourselves through them
(the moral task of “becoming subjective,” as Kierkegaard called it). They involve
indeterminacy, uncertainty, anticipation, ambiguity, and ambivalence—that is,
opening limits that may in turn be productive.
Third, existential media thereby speak to and about originary human (yet une-
venly distributed) embodied vulnerability and deep relationality. This is the very
source of what Jaspers calls our communicative destiny when we fail to reach out
yet strive to do so. Existential media thus play pivotal roles in the mundane quest
for meaning or in the struggle with nonmeaning, in our attempts and failures to
forge a common world. They transcend limits, overcoming and shielding us from
our vulnerability while also creating new vulnerabilities, setting other limits that
both enable and impede. They are coconstituted by our will and need both to be
with others and to remain in solitude; to both connect and disconnect, as a result
of our being in dependency and in unbearable intimacy. They thereby activate
the tension in existence between silence and communication.
Finally, existential media demand responsivity— and thereby self- aware
singular-plural beings, the coexisters, who individually and collectively take
responsibility, transcend the givens, or remain waiting—also and importantly
by setting limits. Existential media are thereby imperative and urgent; they de-
mand responsible action, critique, ethical choice, and an ethics of care. Even an
either-or. They also activate the dynamic intertwinement between not acting (as
in rejecting business as usual) and responsive action (as in taking responsibility)
through the virtues of slowing down before the face of the other, before the Earth
and before Being itself.
As I have argued already, inspired by Jaspers’s mediating philosophy, exis-
tential media studies endeavors to bridge the technological and the experien-
tial by bringing them into concert. The chapters that follow attempt to do so.
Spanning the registers of the techno-existential, they all pertain to the discussed
dimensions and properties, although some of these will be more distinctly ar-
ticulated through the particular limit cases that appear across this arc. Metric
media illustrate key aspects of our material infrastructures of being, of our un-
certainty, and of our thrownness. Caring media also throw and ground us; and,
as in the case of transcendent media, they speak to and about shared vulnera-
bility and communicative and connective relationality. In perpetuating openness
before the contingencies of life in the digital limit situation, however, existen-
tial media practices also value the silence of the disconnect, spurring a sense of
heightened responsibility before the Other and the situation at hand. This is in
fact a condition of possibility for anticipatory media, which demands respon-
sive action and ethical judgment. Moreover, these forms of existential media all
call us back to our embodiment. This also means attending to our sense of con-
creteness, our historicity in our present moment, our capabilities for projecting
116 Existentializing Media
ourselves, and our limits for doing so, which compel us to be still—to remain
idle, silent, and waiting. This means this book is written in a deep awareness of
diversity. In addition, such a perspective both firmly acknowledges vulnerability
as a given of human existence across time—stressing both the hardship and the
struggle in any human life whether in scarcity or postscarcity cultures, and the
diverse expressions of suffering and injustice—and simultaneously accentuates
what distinguishes the current predicaments of the digital age.
As we have seen, contemporary scholarship has moved in the direction of
the banal, habitual, taken-for-granted, and mundane, positing them as prime
movers in the analysis of digital media culture. This book shares that intuition.
Yet there is equal perspicacity in the Jaspersian conviction that the limit situa-
tion is of utmost importance. Existential Media will therefore choose the rare
view that it is possible—and in effect essential—to fuse such inclinations toward
the banal with Jaspers’s emphasis on the exceptional moment. I cannot but sur-
render to Jaspers’s mediation between the two lineages of the existentialist tradi-
tion, most vigorously expressed in his claim that limit situations are constitutive
for realizing important aspects of human existence, within the plural registers
of being that he envisions. Complementing scholarship that posits existential
meaning-making as primarily an everyday activity, I will propose a figuration
that recognizes how the mundane and the extraordinary cofound (while often re-
maining separate fields of experience in secular cultures) the existential terrains
of connectedness and connectivity.
Hence, existential media studies is prepared to look for alternative frameworks,
to search for alternate ciphers of being that bring a variegated array of limits into
view. What is needed is a multifocality of vision, an insistence upon the ever so
important role of nuanced parole beyond the impoverished languages of politics,
media discourse, and academic jargon. This is where I turn next: to designations
and destitutions of language, data, and numbers, enmeshed in the lines of be-
reavement online, along which the coexisters are ambivalently strung.
PART II
DIG ITA L L IMIT SI T UAT IONS
5
Metric Media
Numerical Being, Marginal Beings, and the
Limits of Measuring
Numbers can hurt, because they really count. Birgitta, age fifty-two, lost her
teenage daughter Maria in a car accident. The family decided to shut down Maria’s
Facebook profile, but they opened a memorial page for her on the same plat-
form themselves later on in the grief process. When I meet Birgitta (a committed
member and support person of the NGO VSFB) at the train station in her home-
town, she explains in the car as we ride to her house that one of the most trou-
bling aspects of this age of mourning online has to do with numbers. For Birgitta,
there is traffic on the page, but a lack of human signs of tender care. The equation
“viewed by 75, one comment,” she says, “hurts.”1 It’s as if the number reveals that
people do not care, and the numbers of people who pass by feels to her like indif-
ference and cruelty. A few months after one of these painful experiences, she was
desperately calling out to the memorial group (where she posts a lot of images of
Maria’s grave) to show signs of validation for her dead daughter. She asked the
group members to show a minimal sign—a heart or a like, for instance. And she
tried to be self-reflexive about her own needs. Birgitta’s posting stirred up a lot
of emotions in the group. One of Maria’s friends even suggested she had hit her
Existential Media. Amanda Lagerkvist, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2022.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190925567.003.0006
120 Digital Limit Situations
head on something. Some members tried to explain their choices, both in the
open thread and in private messages to Birgitta, and that consoled her. Birgitta’s
other daughter, Annika, was their interlocutor. She felt her mother was getting
too obsessed by “this thing about how many likes and how many comments and
who is commenting.” “I told my mother,” she says, “I’m also one of those people
who do not like or comment, so you are attacking me too.’ ” She does not herself
have notifications on, which makes her miss a lot. Annika further tried to explain
that “they are also mourning still and having a hard time . . . but they don’t feel
that you need to like all the time.” Annika says, “We are so many who do not post
anything. But it does not mean we have forgotten her or moved on; it is just many
of us do not feel the need to go in and comment and like and upload all the time.
But we mourn in our own way. . . . We feel life has to continue outside of this,
you know.” But she could understand her mother as well: “I mean, it’s not hard
to push the like button.” When Annika ends our interview, she displays a natural
attitude of tallying. She continues: “At the same time, it’s better if it’s been viewed
by ninety than viewed by two or that no one enters the page at all. So if people are
entering and just watching, there’s at least movement, you know.”
In this case, grief crashes head-on not just with the browsing subjectivities that
Birgitta took offense at—of those who do not linger, post, or engage, instead just
browsing through the feeds2—but also with an entire ethos of quantification: a
particular ideology that has fast emerged where numbers are taken to reveal the
hidden truths of being and of value, of selfhood and of the body. I take this ide-
ology to reflect an ontology of numbers that I see as the characteristic essence of
our global networked era and culture, as manifested in its attitudes, aspirations,
and material affordances. This chapter seeks to disclose the workings of this on-
tology in the reality of the limit situation. “Ontology, whatever else it is, is usu-
ally just forgotten infrastructure,” argues John D. Peters.3 In line with the concern
in media theory to make environments visible by bringing them back from ob-
livion, I will attempt to shed light on this ontology to disclose its naked truths in
full visibility at the evental site of suffering and loss. More specifically, I aim to
reveal its workings in realities that are unnamable and unspeakable, to analyze
the role of numbers and numbering in grounding us in existence when that exist-
ence has been completely shattered. I thus take numbers as the starting point of
an investigation into how originary technicity and originary suffering are visibly
and tangibly entwined. In relation to online condolences—that is, of liking (or
neglecting to like) an expression of utter exposure and bottomless grief—this
means examining ontology in terms of what it feels like in the body to grieve
in a doctrinal context of quantification. How do we understand the expressed
hurt that some bereaved people feel when not receiving enough likes or visitors
at the site of their commemoration? What type of security or consolation lies in
a number?
To begin to address these questions, I zoom in on the ethos of taking notice
of numbers as affirming, consoling, or discomforting in the coping process. The
chapter shares research on a group of bereaved parents who have built memorials
to their dead children, and on two siblings who commemorate their dead brother
and sister. As will be evident, mourners are not just enabled by the practices they
participate in and co-forge. They do this ambivalently in a sociotechnological
context veering forcefully toward ideals of absolute certainty that fix embodied
beings to certain “truths” beyond their phenomenologically perceivable reality
and that distribute value and opportunity unevenly.4 Throughout I will argue
that Jaspers’s existential philosophy, and Edmund Husserl’s approach to metrics
as well, will be useful and instructive in order to both phenomenologically per-
ceive and to critically interrogate the turn to numbers. But first, we need to take
a closer look at the ideology-cum-ontology of numbers and the consequences of
inscription—and thereby inscription of value—in the age of computation.
The sense in which digital media are indeed our infrastructures of being is per-
haps felt most intensely today in the realms of the data-driven life of biometric
technologies, which have brought the ethos of quantification into the most in-
timate spaces and onto the material body itself.5 In metric culture, Btihaj Ajana
notes, we can observe “at once a growing cultural interest in numbers, as well as
a culture that is increasingly shaped and populated with numbers.”6 She stresses
their enforcements on us:
Being awash with such amounts of data has made our own existence increas-
ingly shaped, defined and even ruled by data and numbers. Identities and so-
cial interactions are becoming more and more perceived in quantitative terms,
framed and ranked within a reputation economy (e.g. Facebook likes). Health,
well-being and happiness are now being measured and assessed through a
4 See Sun-ha Hong, “Surveillance, Sensors and Knowledge through the Machine,” in Lagerkvist,
Digital Existence; Sun-ha Hong, Technologies of Speculation: The Limits of Knowledge in a Data-
Driven Society (New York: NYU Press, 2020).
5 José van Dijck, “Datafication, Dataism and Dataveillance: Big Data between Scientific Paradigm
and Ideology,” Surveillance and Society, 12, no. 2 (2014): 197–208; Bthaj Ajana, Governing through
Biometrics, and “Introduction: Metric Culture and the Over-examined life,” in Ajana, Metric Culture.
6 Ajana, “Introduction,” 2–3.
122 Digital Limit Situations
Clearly, biometric technologies, such as health apps, are tools of existence with
the help of which we navigate and make sense of, locate, and orient ourselves;
they bear up and bear out, as Edward Casey would say. For Ajana, who reminds
us that “biometrics” literally means the measurement of life, they also allow for
us to accrue a sense of value. Furthermore, as millions of people routinely re-
cord themselves and their physical activities, calorie intake, sleep, and other
behavioral patterns, in order to improve themselves and their lives, she argues
that their “bodies and minds are turning into measurable machines and informa-
tion dispensers, in the quest for personal development, productivity, health and
better performance.”8 As citizens and inhabitants of the digital ecology self-track
and self-quantify, and consent to being surveilled through biometric sensory
data capture, our existential media are thus for good or ill metric media. This
ethos invests numbers and data with an almost religious and revelational po-
tential (as will be explored further in c hapter 8). The predictive process seeks
to fix and demarcate users in a set of correlations amounting to a kind of meta-
physics of seeing into the likely future. But user adaption and tracking also boils
us down in the process, with purported precision, to a number, a human type,
a user category—for example, the “high net worth individual”—which thereby
returns the “truth” about us, to us. In addition, machine-learning algorithms op-
erate through a combination of various calculative practices, producing subjects
in relation to what the machine can predict about our desires and opinions.
They order and (re)produce our world, shaping how we see, think, and behave
at the same time.9 Importantly, we must note here that the links between the
mourning and mortal body, on the one hand, and prediction and quantification,
on the other, run deep in our culture. In “The Politics of Life Itself,” Nikolas Rose
7 Ibid., 2.
8 Ibid, italics added. Ajana here expands on Eugene Thacker’s concept of biomedia, which in his
work describes the confluence of molecular biology and computer science—that is, the field of bio-
informatics—but which she takes to signify the growing presence of biometrics in human existence.
Following Thacker, she uses the term to refer to media that transform “the body into machine-read-
able codes while also encouraging the biological-as-biological.” The biological and the technolog-
ical are seen as mediating each other through the process. Biomedia, she argues, are more than a
concept and a technology; they are, rather, the conditions in which both the concept and the tech-
nology are “tightly interwoven into a situation, an instance, a ‘corporealisation.’ ” Governing through
Biometrics, 21–22.
9 Geoff Cox, “Ways of Machine Seeing: An Introduction,” Aprja, 6, no. 1 (2017), https://doi.org/
10.7146/aprja.v6i1.116007.
Metric Media 123
Risk here denotes a family of ways of thinking and acting, involving calculations
about probable futures in the present followed by interventions into the present
in order to control that potential future. Mortality and morbidity were key sites
for the development of conceptions of the future as calculable, predictable, and as
dependent upon identifiable factors some of which were manageable.10
more and more quantifiable and open to mathesis. The world has become
more and more a field of numerical operations. Theoretically, forms of math-
ematics have been developed, from probability to calculus to fluid dynamics
and beyond, which enable mathematical account to be taken of natural pro-
cesses. Practically, a vast array of instruments has been developed which allow
for quantitative accounts of processes, including psychological processes, to
be developed, augmented by computing machineries that are able to calculate
ratios and relations far faster and more accurately than we can. There are many
who view this with a kind of angry panic, and do everything they can to de-
fine and defend the dwindling realm of the nonnumerable from the action of
numbering.12
12 Steven Connor, “Quantality: The Mathematical Futures of the Humanities” (2015): 8, http://
stevenconnor.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/quantality.pdf.
13 Steven Connor, Living by Numbers: In Defence of Quantity (London: Reaktion Books, 2016), 128.
14 Toni Morrison, Nobel Lecture, December 7, 1993, italics added, https://www.nobelprize.org/pri
zes/literature/1993/morrison/lecture/.
Metric Media 125
Morrison pinpointed that when nuances are lost, exposed groups are subject to
violent reduction, simplification, and increased oppression. How we speak and
how we act, and with which media inscriptions and through what channels, are
intimately linked, and have powerful consequences for the world we bring into
being. This limitation of knowledge due to deprived discourse—when the tech-
nology of language is ransacked, affecting the real world of the subjugated in the
process—is undoubtedly magnified in political discourse and public conversa-
tion today. Undergirded by platform sociality and their logic of quantification
and exploitation, within the economies of action and attention, as professor of
economy Shoshana Zuboff calls them, autocratic forces have kidnapped lan-
guage, impoverishing and hijacking the very meaning of discoursing in public.
As Benjamin Peters reminds us in Digital Keywords: A Vocabulary of
Information Society and Culture, language for Raymond Williams was not a
transparent window to the world, but a key technique through which worlds
are brought into being. He therefore points to the ways in which keywords work
today, making the media technologies of the information age into “terminolog-
ical technologies—media from dictionaries to train stations, to computers, to
Siri interfaces, all terminals that function in the language of the user; without
specific keywords, terminological technologies don’t work.”15 He shows as well
that, for Raymond Williams, who defined the keywords of another age—such
as culture, class, industry, and democracy—these were colored by the industrial
era itself. Datafication currently colors those keywords that make our world real
and reflected back to us in particular ways. Now, as in the past, there is power in
words and in the techniques for inscribing language. Information technologies
“shape our current cultural, social and political lives” as they “inscribe, circulate
and pulse” through society.16
Hence, how we think and speak about the datafied world influences the world
deeply. The material agencies and specificities of digital media are thus insep-
arable from the forceful sociotechnological imaginaries of the networked age.
We think with media metaphors that have the power to set a world in motion,
to create new actualities. One may therefore propose that, if we think of our uni-
verse as a numerical universe, this does not simply depict the fact that computers
carry out tedious calculations in order to create those simulations we call dig-
ital life, as N. K. Hayles has discussed.17 They will also, I wish to add, shape how
we envision our place in it—physically, morally, and emotionally. From this per-
spective, they may also inform, and craft in the process, a culture and even an on-
tology of calculus and quantification: that is, material realities that feed back into
our imaginaries, defining and delimiting being itself.18 According to Ajana, this
is precisely the case when, through self-tracking data, both new ontologies and
new metaphors are emerging, as well as new ways of seeing the body and the self.
Hence, in the present day and age, as Zuboff and others have shown, data
shape our realities in a literal sense. Data as language and operation nail us to
very specific sets of knowledge about us. The Truth thus resides within the dig-
ital envelope, and within the numerical and quantitative logic through which it
operates, since there is seemingly more knowledge about us to be gained from
mining our online traces or quantifying ourselves digitally than through pure
phenomenal experience and perception, whether of ourselves or of the world.19
Boosted by what José van Dijck calls dataism—that is, newfound beliefs in data—
these truths have resurrected an “unproblematic” form of objectivism.20 Forged
and reinforced by the juggernaut machineries of big data, the ethos of quantifi-
cation seems to have accomplished a rewiring of human sensory experience and
sensibilities to privilege the numerical, the discrete, and the ranked. Increasingly,
moreover, we are at the same time nailed in this literal age to a name (on “the
real-name internet”), a letter combination, a pronounced pronoun tagged to
our correspondences, a diagnosis, a status, a worth and value, a personality type,
and a predicted future of individual prospects, behavior, and action.21 But even
more importantly, the looting of language also has the consequence, as Morrison
observed, of estranging minorities. For example, this is evident in the racist and
18 The media-theoretical question at stake “as number, quantity and calculation are entering into
more and more of what we are and do,” as Steven Connor argues (2015, n.p.), has in fact to do with
the nonneutrality of technology. A solid lineup of media philosophers and media archeologists
across various camps of the new materialism emphasize, along with, for example, Martin Heidegger,
Marshall McLuhan, and Friedrich Kittler, the molding forces of media in their materiality. See
Kember and Zylinska, Life after New Media; Wolfgang Ernst, Digital Memory and the Archive
(Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2013); Peters, The Marvelous Clouds; Mitchell and
Hansen, Critical Terms.
19 See a discussion in Grant Bollmer, Inhuman Networks: Social Media and the Archeology of
Connection (New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2016); and Hong, Technologies of Speculation.
20 There are several intertwined sources of explanation for this cult of data. It originates foremost
in a renewed form of “formal rationality,” including a logic of technical efficiency that has under-
pinned bureaucracies throughout modernity, as Max Weber argued. Max Weber, Theory of Social and
Economic Organization (New York: Free Press, 1964), 184–212. Apart from the increasing efficiency
of the machines themselves, this assemblage is constituted by, first, economic austerity models that
have held sway since a couple of decades back in Western liberal democracies, engendering an un-
critical devotion to instrumentarian fact and formalism. Paved more recently with good intentions to
counteract the spasms of neoauthoritarian, autocratic, post-truth spectacles of alternative “facts”—
bred by the viralities of the affective internet—a series of analyses along this hellish road have attrib-
uted the above-mentioned problems to the “vices” of postmodern relativism and its “mess” of plural
voices and identities. The unmistakable need to save science from conspiracy theorists (and the am-
bition to reafford science a place where it can efficiently and authoritatively solve the crises that it has
coproduced) has also created this overemphasis on data and numbers, allowing them to invade all
parts of human life and activity, offering urgent promises and sought-after prospects that currently
overshadow the risks of reductionism within the human lifeworld.
21 O’Neil, Weapons of Math Destruction.
Metric Media 127
sexist norms embedded in the search engines and the algorithms. Datafication
sets discriminating limits. It in-fences and operates through oppressive and re-
ductionist and asymmetrical procedures, which are currently fortified by the
subtending datafication of the lifeworld, which re-engenders a numerical under-
standing of humans, their bodies, lives, and environment—their habitat as well
as their social world. They lay claims on being itself. As Morrison knew, this has
very real effects, especially for those already on the line. For people whose lives
are taking place on the margins, reductionism is more than inconvenient and
a little disturbing, causing minor grievances and light anxieties. It is a foe that
threatens their existence.
The chosen margin in this book is mourning communities in post-Christian
Sweden. In a cultural order that privileges STEM orientations to reality and
practices utilitarianism, and in which humans are seen as reducible, some beings
(more than others) are consequently effectively reduced. But equally important
is the fact that, as already discussed, an ethos of numbering spawned by techno-
logical processes of all-pervasive datafication is now infesting this realm. Before
I turn my attention to the mourners, I will revisit the heated question of num-
bers and the lifeworld—which was an important impetus behind the emergence
of the tradition of existential phenomenology—and then rehearse some of the
debates that have flanked the developments of metric media.
The question remains today: are numbers and computation innate to what makes
us human—or increasingly innate to human existence today—or in effect alien
to it? Intuitively, there is a qualitative and insurmountable difference between
the realm of measurement, algebra, computation, and calculus and the realm of
those profound—whether abysmal, mundane, or dazzling—human experiences,
their moral imperatives and indeterminate open- endedness22— that is, be-
tween numbers and the lifeworld. The lifeworld, the world of living experience
(Lebenswelt), is in fact for Edmund Husserl a world of human cultural interpene-
tration. It is both support and counterpoint to the world of science. The lifeworld
is “the world of the pre-given, familiar, present, available, surrounding world, in-
cluding both ‘nature’ and ‘culture’ (however they may be defined), that envelops
22 N. Katherine Hayles, whose work always straddles the humanities and the natural sciences, calls
old-school notions about “the human” into question, but still maintains that there are in fact dynamic
tensions and qualitative divergences between “the human lifeworld and the (relatively) inhuman
world of massive numerical calculation.” Hence between human and computer, between human
narratives and virtual simulations. See How We Think, 6.
128 Digital Limit Situations
us and is always there as taken for granted.”23 The lifeworld also provides “a set
of horizons for all human activity.” It constitutes the “ ‘fundament’ for all human
meaning and purposive activity.”24 The lifeworld is thus inhabited by us through
the natural attitude.
As already noted, in classic existential philosophy and phenomenology, being
human in itself defies numbers and measurement. The threat to human existence
of being engulfed by numbers, and reduced by scientific thought, was one key
imperative for the emergence of the philosophical traditions of existential philos-
ophy and transcendental phenomenology.25 This is also the case for Karl Jaspers,
who reacted fiercely against a modern age of reductionist quantification.26 As
humans are always more than they can know, and more than we can know about
them, they are not reducible to calculus. And as we saw in the previous chapter,
entering into what Jaspers calls existential communication demands our whole
being, which is singular and thus irreducible to numbers, quantification, and
data: “Instead of its actions being governed by objective rules derived from the
entirety, the boundary situation of being definite calls upon Existenz to decide
its destiny.”27 Human beings are nonobjectifiable, argued Jaspers. Opposition to
objectification prompted him to declare that being human is always more than
knowledge can capture, because we are a work in progress. But in addition, and
even more profoundly, the human is always more than we can measure.
Hannah Arendt formulated this register in her reading of Kierkegaard’s key
tenets for a new concrete contents of philosophy, in which chance was, along
with death and guilt, an overriding dimension. Chance implied “the guarantor
of a reality that is given and that, precisely because of its incalculability and the im-
possibility of reducing it to thought, overwhelms me.”28 The stress in this tradition
is thus on the irreducibility of existentiality to both numbers and reason, and on
the unpredictable as key in human existence. Husserl devoted his life’s work to
the problems of scientific thinking and the question of the mathematization of
nature. He faults modern science as an intellectual edifice for substituting the
“mathematically substructed world of idealities for the only real world.”29 For
Husserl, the reductions of scientific conventions of knowledge production miss
what being human is essentially about. This obscuring also takes place in the
a Literary Review, March 30, 1846; Jaspers, Philosophy II; Edmund Husserl, Crisis of the European
Sciences and Transcendental Phenomenology (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1954/1970);
Martin Heidegger, Discourse on Thinking (New York: Harper & Row, 1966).
26 Cf. Wallraff, Karl Jaspers, 114ff.
27 Jaspers, Philosophy II, xx.
28 Arendt, Essays, 175, italics added.
29 Husserl, The Crisis, 48–49.
Metric Media 129
embrace of objectivism in philosophy itself, and comes with a price: “The move
towards naturalism in modern philosophy mirrors the scientific embrace of nat-
uralism and objectivism, with a consequent loss of a way of understanding values
and indeed a complete misunderstanding of the ‘enigma of subjectivity.’ ”30
A human being, Husserl thus argued, is a mystery.31 David Carr, a translator of
Husserl’s work, also summarized this perspective in a succinct manner: “Having
forgotten the abstractive and idealizing role of scientific thought, the philosoph-
ical interpretation comes up with an ontological claim: to be is to be measurable in
ideal terms as a geometrically determined configuration.”32 The consequence is
that “we take for true being what is actually a method.”33 In other words, science’s
bestowal of sense—its worldview—confuses a method for trying to gain know-
ledge about the world with the Truth about the world. In Husserl’s critique, both
rationalism and empiricism confuse the map with the terrain.34 Scientific reduc-
tionism is thus the target of these classic schools of thought.35
Such concerns from the existentialists of the previous century seem pro-
phetic for our era also. Ironically, a work that was among the first to “panic” at
the dawn of what has become our media age, and to echo the concerns of the
existentialists, was produced by a computer scientist from MIT who had devel-
oped a chatbot in 1964–66. In his famous book from 1976, Computer Power and
Human Reason: From Judgment to Calculation, Joseph Weizenbaum worried
about the “ever more mechanistic image” of humanity and about the sad fate of
human judgment that he forecast as the unwanted consequences of a limitless
belief in computers and robots.36 He had developed Eliza, a chatbot and plausible
question-answering system that impersonated a psychotherapist. Weizenbaum
was staggered to realize that some people, including clinical psychologists
themselves, actually thought that his creation should be employed as a working
thinking, in a late publication: “Calculative thinking computes. It computes ever new, ever more
promising and, at the same time, more economical possibilities. Calculative thinking races from one
prospect to the next. Calculative thinking never stops, never collects itself. Calculative thinking is not
meditative thinking, not thinking which contemplates meaning which reigns in everything that is.”
Heidegger, Discourse on Thinking, 46. The ethos of counting, as Heidegger suggests here, is connected
to the logic of capitalism and its ever-expanding goals. Calculative thinking is part of the essence of
technology, which further “enframes” nature for the purpose of turning it into a standing reserve
for exploitation, and by turning humans into beings that order and relate to the world in precisely
this way.
36 Joseph Weizenbaum, Computer Power and Human Reason: From Judgment to Calculation (San
Francisco: W.H. Freeman, 1976). See a discussion also in Noah Wardrip-Fruin and Nick Montfort,
The New Media Reader (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2003), 367–368.
130 Digital Limit Situations
37 Ibid., 268.
38 Arendt in Weizenbaum, Computer Power, 13–14.
39 In 2009, for example, the designer Johanna Drucker warned the humanities against becoming
too engrossed in computational methodologies and their premises and promises of objectivity. She
saw a risk the humanities would become infatuated with computation and thereby invoke its intellec-
tual assumptions of British analytical philosophy and the Vienna Circle, as well as structural linguis-
tics. According to Drucker, these all share in the tradition of mathesis universalis, which if embraced
threatens to cause instrumentalizing effects across many disciplinary fields. Instead, she holds out a form
of “ ‘speculative computing,” as a way to push back against objectivism and the cultural authority of num-
bers. Drucker, SpecLab: Digital Aesthetics and Projects in Speculative Computing (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 2009). See also Jaron Lanier, You Are Not a Gadget: A Manifesto (New York: Vintage, 2011).
40 Louise Amoore, “Data Derivatives: On the Emergence of Security Risk Calculus for Our Times,”
Theory, Culture & Society, 28, no. 6 (2011): 20 and 39, italics added, https://doi.org/10.1177/02632
76411417430.
41 Ibid.
Metric Media 131
biocentric data that use human bodies as means to an end. But she also seeks to
nuance this, holding that we must not reduce what biometric data mean to objec-
tification and the isolation of the physical element from the person: “While this
argument is valid to some extent,” she argues, it does not “account for the myriad
dynamics entailed within the interface between technology and the experi-
ence of embodiment.”42 It attributes too much agency to technology. Even more
problematically, however, it falls into the trap of technological determinism,
where technology is perceived too one-dimensionally as having stable, inherent
features that subsequently exert direct and nonambiguous influence on the ex-
ternal world. Hence, if we isolate technology from its contingencies, its diverse
and unforeseen uses or uncertain implications, which may generate a plurality
of courses of action, we wind up exposing what characterizes its technological
specificity but not its multivalent meanings.
In a similar spirit, Benjamin Peters problematizes the direct, mimetic relation-
ship between metric media and the world. He shows that the digital in fact does
more than counting—it also actually points to the world, without ever becoming
the world. And yet the literal ambition to define and dictate is there: digital
media manipulate social imaginaries, with real-world consequences.43 But there
is also friction in this understanding of world-making. As critical data studies
scholar Safya Noble has shown, black girls, for example, are mercifully so much
more than, and altogether different from, what we can learn about them from
searching on their designation in the digital domain of search engines.44 Hence
there is limit to digital rendition, while its numerical operations through oppres-
sive algorithms is a powerful force with impacts on the world, especially on the
disenfranchised and those on the line. I propose that this very complexity and
open-endedness accounts for the existentially and ethically challenging realities
of the interrelatedness of numbers and the lifeworld, in the digital limit situation.
By contrast, Steven Connor argues self-assuredly and cunningly for an unper-
turbed position: for finding enjoyable ways of becoming interested in how num-
bers are now inevitably and irrepressibly entering into—or revealing their innate
role within—the human lifeworld, across all boards:
We need not here be delayed by the question of the truth, or to put it a touch
more numerically, the adequacy, of the claim that there are qualitative truths
that are under no circumstances renderable as quantities. It is rather with the
experience of having to see, or what may be the same thing, being increasingly
able to likely to see, the natural and human world under the aspect of number,
45 Connor, “Quantality,” 9.
46 Connor, Living by Numbers, 12.
47 Connor, “Quantality,” 24.
48 Ibid.
49 As Connor argues, “We create inherence, the way in which things seem to hold together,
through making things coherent, matching them up with other things. If we want to understand the
nature of war, or love, or intelligence or a zebra, I put a bookmark in the place where it is, until I have
completed a series of operations that will fix it in its place relative to all other kinds of thing that it
might be, so that it then seems to function as its own bookmark.” Ibid., 6–7.
50 Ibid., 5.
51 Ibid., 23.
Metric Media 133
AL: What was the most important reason for choosing to create a memorial, and
what has it meant to you—if you try to summarize it in a few sentences?
Sara: The most important reason was to have a place where Niklas’s imprint can
be found, a proof of him having lived and that he is highly loved and deeply
missed. A place where I, Niklas’s friends, and others we know can collect their
thoughts and memories of him, and a place where I (and others who want to)
can express their love, grief, and loss.
52 Ibid., 8.
134 Digital Limit Situations
The essential role of the Facebook memorial for preservation is also clear for
Rickard, a banker and father aged fifty, who lost his son Emil in a sporting ac-
cident three years ago, and who memorialized his profile. The Facebook group
meant a great deal to him, especially in the beginning, as a communal space; and
it continues to do so now on anniversaries and birthdays. These web memorials
offer mourners a means to “narrate” the death, braiding mourning and meaning-
making in intricate and thorny ways.53 This is also an inherently social practice.
Participation in different kinds of digital grief forums, such as memorial groups,
thus brings the bereaved together in their grief work, to form a shared com-
munity of memory. Mourning in social media thereby adopts the premodern
form of grieving together—communally.54 These memorial spaces also increase
opportunities to maintain and enhance the relationships and bonds with the de-
ceased. They enable what mourners themselves often describe as healthy contin-
uing bonds with their loved ones who have passed (a phenomenon I will return
to in chapter 7).55 As I will suggest in the following, numbers also play a powerful
role here.
I ask informants to reflect upon the role of numbers in the grief process.
Rickard says the big numbers of active people in the beginning were really im-
portant to him. In the end, the really tight friends are the ones who remained on
the memorial page, and they continued to write fairly regularly.
53 Dennis Klass and Michael Robert, “A Social Constructionist Account of Grief: Loss and the
with the aim of reaching an endpoint. These theories often described closure as detachment from loss.
See, for example, the work of Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and David Kessler, On Grief and Grieving: Finding
the Meaning of Grief through the Five Stages of Loss (New York: Scribner, 2005). The continuing-bonds
approach criticized the paradigm of “stages of grief ” and vehemently abandoned the notion of letting
go as the sign of wellness. Within the new paradigm, scholars posit grief as something that does not
resolve itself through detachment from the deceased. Healthy grief, they argue, is rather experienced
through creating a new relationship with the dead. See Dennis Klass and Tony Walter, “Processes
of Grieving: How Bonds Are Continued,” in Handbook of Bereavement Research: Consequences,
Coping, and Care, ed. Margaret Stroebe, Robert O. Hansson, Wolfgang Stroebe, and Henk Schut
(Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, 2001), 431–448; Dennis Klass, “Continuing
Conversations about Continuing Bonds,” Death Studies, 30, no. 9 (2006): 843–858, https://doi.org/
10.1080/07481180600886959. The technological developments of today interestingly mirror, and
possibly reinforce, the continuing-bonds theory in bereavement discourse, which seems to have been
given its perfect technological match through the development of the internet.
Metric Media 135
Rickard: Yes, yeah, so . . . in some sense life has to move on, you know. But ab-
solutely it was a major. . . it was a very major support initially . . . as a security
blanket. You go in there and check . . . and the fact that you can return to the
time when he was alive and look at those conversations then . . . There are
many photos, films, and stuff that he uploaded there and so . . . you can go in
and have a peep at them.
Numbers did count: they were helpful initially in the coping process—they were
even a security blanket—but Rickard is trying to be pragmatic about the fact that
the numbers do go down.
With the help of a tech-savvy friend, Olle, age fifty-eight, built a memorial
home page in loving memory of his teenage daughter Elsa, an aspirational artist
and poet, who committed suicide after many long years of depression. Preserving
Elsa is key to Olle. He has had large numbers of visitors, and he anticipates large
numbers in the future as well—a fact in which he takes pleasure: “So it pleases
me, you know, because that way Elsa’s work is being seen or read . . . or what-
ever. . . . But she’s alive somehow in . . . on the page.”56 Before meeting Olle for a
second interview, I sent him new questions, including one about numbers, and
I return to them in the interview:
AL: This bullet point about numbers, what did you think of that? This bit about
the importance of many likes, many visitors, and many hearts?
Olle: You know, we don’t get that many. . . . Likes or hearts we don’t get here, but
we get, just . . . I can see afterward what the statistics look like. . . . And yes,
it’s true, it pleases me that many people are there, that totally speaking there
are very great numbers. And it continues to be like that, despite the fact that
nothing has really happened there for a very long time . . .
AL: How would you feel about a drop? To see markedly that there are fewer and
fewer visitors? Now you know how many there are per day, but if it went down,
how would you feel then? Would you feel anything at all? Would you care
about that . . . number?
Olle: No, it leads its own life . . . you can’t do much about it. I wouldn’t be able to
do much.57
Olle, like Rickard, is pragmatic about a drop in numbers. But in response to the
question about how he would feel if the memorial shut down, Olle says he al-
ready has plans to upgrade it in order to save it into the future. So he has a friend
working on it to make it compatible with mobiles, Androids, iPhones, and iOS,
because right now it’s difficult to read on these. It needs a new life in “this world of
media,” and “it’s of course in order to make it visible to even more people, since it is
likely that more and more people will sit there with their iPads or phones . . . rather
than big computers. This is a way to meet new needs, because I was clueless about
this, but her friend let me know that . . . they could not open the page.”58
So the page is about to be updated and made more accessible to more people.
The idea is that a greater number of people would soon be able to access Elsa’s
artwork and poems, as well as the memorial video that was uploaded to the home
page by relatives. Although it feels natural for Olle to take these steps, he also
emphasizes that there has already been a massive audience on the home page,
and he stresses the medium’s potential for reaching big numbers:
Olle: You have to consider that today it’s been visited by approximately three hun-
dred thousand people. . . . These visitors are not unique, of course, but there are
still so many clicks, if you think that way. . . . So if we published a book (and had
an edition of five hundred or a thousand books), I mean we would have shared
it among those close, but most people would have placed them on a shelf and
never touched them. So it’s a great difference.
For some of the bereaved, there is also stress on the number of caring messages,
emoji, and comments, as numbers are significant for the experienced sense of
support. But one may wonder in this context about the role played by numbers
for bereaved persons in pre-web societies. According to Ian Hacking, quanti-
fication was in fact part and parcel of the very start of death’s modernization.
He argues that, through the rationalization of death, which began in the 1680s
with statistical evidence, one could make visible how death rates were higher, for
example, in certain urban areas than in the countryside.59 Statistics thus disen-
chanted death and enabled a new way of thinking about death as neither random
nor an act of God, but as something statistically though not individually predi-
cable. This is the basis on which the life insurance industry now depends. There
were certainly predigital precedents and cultural norms for quantifying grief.
There have, for instance, been, and still are, general cultural expectations about
who should be mourned and for how long in different societies. In some socie-
ties, these expectations were actually quantified. In upper-class Victorian society
in Britain, for example, a particular number of months in mourning for each
kind of relationship was specified.60
58 Ibid.
59 Ian Hacking, The Emergence of Probability (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975).
60 Lou Taylor, Mourning Dress: A Costume and Social History (London: Allen & Unwin, 1983);
Patricia Robson and Tony Walter, “Hierarchies of Loss: A Critique of Disenfranchised Grief,”
Omega: Journal of Death and Dying, 66, no. 2 (2012–13): 97–119, https://doi.org/10.2190/om.66.2.a.
Metric Media 137
But counting likes, as a measurement of the value of the person lost, and
indirectly of the weight of the loss, also amounts to a quantification of sup-
port. How does this work in the offline world of bereavement? In a study of
the congregation of mourners at funerals in a British context, Tara Bailey and
Tony Walter focused on the whole group who attended the funeral in ques-
tion—beyond the principal mourners and family. A good funeral was thus one
where many people attended, confirming that the deceased had lived a rich
and varied life; poor attendance signified a “bad funeral.” Attendance was thus
taken to signify the value of the person who had died. The number of attendees
was experienced as a “tribute,” and it was also important who attended. Bailey
and Walter conclude that
for mourners, a meaningful assembly was one which, in their perception, stood
testament to the value of the deceased person’s life. This value was viewed by
mourners to be evident both quantitatively (how many were there) and qualita-
tively (who was there). Furthermore, a meaningful assembly meant collectively
supporting both the deceased person’s family and other mourners. In these
ways, we see the extra contribution to mourners’ experience made by “people
against death.”61
If we reason in line with Connor, the numbers of visitors and comments ap-
peal in themselves to quantitative susceptibilities, and to what we may describe
as a “being-toward-validation”—which seems to be part of the human situa-
tion overall, but which gains a new, strong presence in the digital limit situa-
tion. General aspects of “the Facebook phenomenon,” as Esbjörn (a mourning
father who lost his eighteen-year-old daughter in an accident whom we met
61 Tara Bailey and Tony Walter, “Funerals against Death,” Mortality, October 11, 2015, 163, http://
dx.doi.org/10.1080/13576275.2015.1071344.
138 Digital Limit Situations
in chapter 2) calls it, thus feed into the vulnerabilities of bereavement online.
But the numerical mode of being—or ethos of quantification—also produces
ensuing vulnerabilities. It can become “too much” for some parents and siblings
to be preoccupied with volume and scale. Annika, age twenty-two (whom we
met in the opening paragraphs of this chapter, and who lost her sister in a car
accident a few years back) stresses that there is a big risk for some people to get
“stuck” in this space of mourning both literally and figuratively, in “the likes
and hearts and comments” because that is “when she feels alive somehow, when
people upload stuff and talk about her and so on.”62 For Rickard, too, it is crucial
not to get obsessed with numbers or to become bitter. One must make a choice,
as he saw it, “between the bright side or the dark side” in life after loss.63
As scholars have discussed, these new patterns of mourning and remem-
bering online also raise concerns. There have been studies showing that digital
resources may increase and amplify negative ruminations, a sense of getting
stuck in grief.64 Technologies of the digital limit situation enact a perpetuation
of the dead person’s presence, enabling continuity in relating to the dead. Or as
some researchers stress, these digital technologies of memory and preservation
offer means for coping. But the deep-felt attachments to the technology are also
deeply ambivalent. As Esbjörn who built a Facebook memorial in memory of his
dead daughter states when asked why he did so: “The point of it all? A way to pre-
serve her. But for some bereaved parents who post many images and emotions,
it can become too much.” This is not exclusively a problem for digital commem-
oration. Esbjörn recounts a story about a mother who lost her son, and who cre-
ated a gigantic altar in her home for him, “like a super home page” in physical
space. Esbjörn was in touch with the mother for a while, but he felt she was too
absorbed by these strung-out expressions of grief, which made her unable to
relate and reach out: “She was just too much!” For Esbjörn himself, the idea of
constructing a vital memorial place on Facebook prompted strong feelings of
65 Jennifer Pybus, “Accumulating Affect: Social Networks and Their Archives of Feelings,”
in Networked Affect, ed. Ken Hillis, Susanna Paasonen, and Michael Petit (Cambridge, MA: MIT
Press, 2015).
66 And it seems social media can become particularly sticky for those in an exposed situation, as
exemplified in Esbjörn’s utterance. The stickiness may have to do with what Edmund Husserl calls
“protention”: the sense in which we are always set in motion to anticipate the next moment and the
new (I will return to this in chapter 8). Our screen culture has colonized that very sensibility, entailing
strong forces that drag us back in all the time.
67 Skeggs and Yuill, “Capital Experimentation,” 380.
140 Digital Limit Situations
enterprise of contemporary social media and performs her value. Finally there
is the “dividual” in operation, as they explain: “Facebook projects singularity as
a responsibility of the user so as to claim integrity of its data sources, whilst si-
multaneously ‘dividuating’ that data into multiple aggregate representations to
be monetized as targeted ad space.”68 Facebook is involved in monetizing eve-
rything, including protest. Skeggs and Yuill conclude that “the protesting self is
conditioned under similar strategies as the enterprising self, indeed the protester
becomes a kind of self-enterprise, or re-shaped as such.”69
What about the mourning self? In mourning contexts, authenticity and ide-
alism are taken for granted. What distinguishes mourners from the subjects of
value is that beyond the neoliberal underlying goal for the self of multiplying
skills and alliances online,70 support takes place without ulterior motives and in
an idealistic manner. When mourners and their supportive memory practices
online are placed center stage, a different way of being digital becomes visible.
The value accumulation of the neoliberal subject will not accurately describe
what these practices are about. A numerical mode of being is in this context be-
yond a calculative subject amassing immaterial property. Instead, what emerges
is a relational and suffering being who is defined by lacking, wanting, being be-
reft. It is in this mode of being that numbers enter into the picture for conso-
lation. Rickard, for instance, stresses the role of confirmation through numbers,
especially in the initial phase of mourning, but also later:
AL: If you wrote something back then, was it important that many people
answered? That you got many likes?
Rickard: Yeah, that’s the case and it’s still the case. . . . It’s, you know, when you
write something there . . . now it does not become a self-confirmation, so it’s
not in the same way. But, again, it’s like this. . . . More people than myself are
still thinking about this.
Hence, Rickard distinguishes the need for confirmation by many from the role
of numbers for self-promotion or self-validation, as among the subjects of value
in the nonafflicted world. As Rickard says, these validations are not about self-af-
firmation, but instead about comfort or about the sheer confirmation that he is
not alone—that there are others who think of Emil, and that makes him still exist
somehow. The mourning subject online is thus a profoundly relational being.
Similarly, Sara confirms that these spaces are a vaccine against the loneliness that
68 Ibid., 384.
69 Ibid., 392–393.
70 For a discussion of the neoliberal self online, see Ilana Gershon and Allison Alexy,
“Introduction,” in Anthropological Quarterly, special collection: “The Ethics of Disconnection in a
Neoliberal Age,” 84, no. 4 (Fall 2011): 799–808, https://doi.org/10.1353/anq.2011.0056.
Metric Media 141
is innate to loss and mourning, and underscores the relational role of these sup-
port spaces:
AL: Can you develop what you mean by becoming dismayed if the domain were
to shut down? Or if some technical failure occurred that erased the memorial
page? How do you think other relatives would react if these spaces for com-
memoration and support disappeared? How important have they become for
mourners?
Sara: It’s really beyond my control. It can happen, and I would be very sad and
angry if it happened without my deciding it. Like I said earlier, it is proof that
he existed. But if it were to happen, I would probably create a new memorial.
If these spaces of loss and bereavement disappeared, I think people would feel
very lonely. Just knowing there are other siblings in the sibling group makes
me feel less alone.
Here, as I will show in more detail in the next chapter, the sheer knowledge
of the fact that the group exists, as a lifeline, is essential for the mourner.
Communication in these contexts often bears the marks of simplicity, with stan-
dardized forms of acknowledgment such as hearts and likes. Support need not
be lengthy or effusive: one small heart may suffice in response to one’s having
discharged oneself of so many feelings. Hence lifeline communication is both
instrumental and emotional, both phatic and emphatic. For some mourners, one
small heart is actually enough. For others it is sometimes insufficient. The dif-
ferent needs clearly depend on the context. Sara explains:
AL: How important do you think it is for mourners today to receive many likes in
the support group or in a memorial space online? Can you reflect on that a bit?
Sara: It’s probably more important than you want to admit. . . . In the support
group it is “enough” for me with hearts and likes not to feel alone, since I know
that those who write there know what it’s like to have lost a sibling. But on my
own Facebook page or blog, I’m much happier if someone takes the time to
write a sentence about my brother, to share a memory or something else they
have thought about or felt. It’s too simple to just press “like” or send a heart.
For other mourners, likes and hearts are important—precisely what they long
for—and there is real dismay when numbers go down. What makes Birgitta’s case
stand out is the honesty with which she addressed the mourning community
about her pain in the face of the lack of numerical validation. The ontology of
numbers is rarely stripped of its aura like this, and its workings through the lived
ethos of quantification are seldom laid bare. Yet the issue clearly resonates across
mourners’ stories. It is not hard to grasp what Birgitta is going through, while, as
142 Digital Limit Situations
Sara says, these norms make you both comply and feel reluctant to admit having
done so.
The dead leave an immeasurable void behind, and yet no sphere in digital ex-
istence escapes measurement. In this chapter, I have discussed the most diffi-
cult experience a human being can have—losing a child (or sibling)—and how it
relates to the ethos of quantification of our time. I have related a numerical sense
of being in the world and its monetizing features to the way that technology
forcefully molds how people see and value themselves. And I have discussed
how those who have departed are experienced as valued through the numbers
of attendees at the memorial site online. In these mourning practices, value and
the sense of comfort and support (as well as nonsupport) are translatable into a
measurable number. I have disclosed the vulnerabilities involved in a numer-
ical being-toward-validation, and the sense in which making the most impor-
tant things in life depend on numbers, data, and computation increases human
precariousness.
According to Steven Connor, whom I’ve been both drawing on and engaging
with in this chapter, the humanities like to think they have special expertise
precisely in the field of value. In a grotesque manner, however, they affirm only
one principle of value: the invaluable and “whatever goes beyond any kind of
measure or commensurability.”71 Connor mocks the humanities for their insist-
ence on not counting: “I would be interested to know how many pounds have
been poured over the years into keeping persons and institutions alive who are
earnestly dedicated to demonstrating variations of the proposition that all art
is quite useless or its value entirely immeasurable in terms of anything else.”72
Connor goes on to suggest, moreover, that “the important questions in art
and experience have in fact always vibrated with number.”73 He is correct that
humanists, like authors, poets, and artists, are often interested in the “invalu-
able.” To clarify and specify, this means a solid interest in the indeterminate, the
open-ended, and the paradoxical. Our interest revolves around what lies in the
shadows, at the limits of our understanding: the role of the ambiguous, the am-
bivalent, the absurd, what does not measure up or correspond. Hence, humanists
stress the value of what can’t be fixed in place, squarely nailed or boiled down,
what can’t be solved through equations or valued in points or credits. This stress
reverberates with a wisdom akin to and probably indebted to Husserl’s plea. I will
venture to concede with Connor, therefore, that not just the vibrancy of numbers
but also the serious, critical, or indeed playful engagement with a purportedly
quantifiable world itself—its imaginaries, vernaculars, and material effects—has
always been a key concern for humanists and artists. That measurement is in-
deed part of our being, needing no further substantiation. Grief is therefore not
immune to numbers. But perhaps more than anything else in this world, loss is
the very bedrock of being human, beyond reductive numbering and measuring.
Hence, while it may be accurate that “there can be nothing that is entirely re-
sistant to being numbered,”74 there is still resistance contained within the most
profound experiences of being human. To be human is not only to be practically
involved and embedded, or ethically implicated and prodded; it is also to resist
in existentialist terms, to make a leap or to simply defy the pressures of falling
into line.
For mourners the dead are somehow still existent—in being valued and hon-
ored through the numbers of visitors on the online memorial site. But the inept-
itude and inevitable failure of any project that resorts to measuring techniques
to account for the lived experience of the endless voids of loss speaks its own
volumes. The predilection to and futility of our numerical mode of being, and
how it effectuates itself in relation to nonbeing, is precisely the theme of the poem
“Loss” by the Swedish poet Ingrid Arvidsson, which is used in numerous eulo-
gies on memorial pages in Sweden. The poem thematizes the chasm between
quantity and the lifeworld:
Anyone who has suffered loss will recognize that in so many ways it is, as
Arvidsson captures beautifully, immeasurable. For skeptics, quantified loss
attests to the exploitative character of the digitally enforced lifeworld. Predictive
machines create “value” for us and set standards for valuation that enter into the
74 Ibid.
75 “Saknad,” Ingrid Arvidsson, Livstecken: Dikter (Stockholm: Bonniers, 1964), my translation, p. 29.
144 Digital Limit Situations
very heart of being. The problematization of a world in which more and more
is becoming enclosed and even entrapped by numbers amounts to a very legit-
imate, albeit old, concern about the factuality and actuality of oppressive reduc-
tive numbers.
Rather than being lazy, silly, and ignorant in a zone of amenity—in which the
pastime is devaluing numbers as intrinsically meaningless or bereft of any value
for humanists, as Steven Connor caricatures—such humanistic probing stems
from the insight that reality is irreducible, and the ontology of numbers and the
ethos of quantification are precisely attempting to reduce it. Moreover, they are
accomplishing reduction, in ways that are powerful, diminishing, and some-
times painful for very real human beings—both mourners and others. Connor
theorizes reduction as inherent in numbering, but he holds that “we do not any
more have to regard numbering as final or definitive, a putting-to-death through
exactness. Number is no longer the end of any story.”76 He further argues re-
garding digital reduction that “translating things into numbers, or giving them
number-like qualities and relations, which essentially means dividing wholes
up into smaller parts, hugely multiplies the possibilities of what may be done
with these wholes.”77 That may be true, theoretically. But it seems such lofty the-
orizing has completely and mercifully escaped the power apparatuses of the
technoscientific bureaucracies and their cadres of assuming technocrats, for
whom numbers and digits have become our binding reality, and quite tangibly
so: end of story! We need to acknowledge that we are differently situated in the
technologically and numerically enforced lifeworld. We need to ask how it affects
those who do not straightforwardly gain from the current marriage between
the never-ending calculus of monetizing software and the enterprising selves.
We also need to address the fact that the winners of this world, the comfortably
networked who seem to be in control, are also those whom the tech giants in turn
monetize most effectively.78 Such persons, too, are vulnerable to forces beyond
their reach. Furthermore, of course, low-net-worth individuals remain solidly
affected and discriminated against by a world of numbering in their day-to-day
practices. The tedious task will therefore still remain for humanists (because who
else would undertake it?) to keep on critically reflecting upon anything presented
to us as the destiny of humanity. Simply proclaiming and embracing this idea of
a destining of our numerical being in the world may actually in itself attest to a
prospective digital destitution looming on the horizon. Numbers are part of our
being, but they are not innocent or without clout; they are powerful, since they
proximity and proper distance) and makes their practices of sharing their vul-
nerability understandable in precisely this rounded and inclusive form: “Each
being is the center around which a horizon opens and makes room for others to
become close.”80 Here, as we will see, humans as coexisters also have the poten-
tial to realize themselves in what Jaspers calls existential communication on the
lifelines of the internet. This aspect of the digital limit situation is the topic of the
next chapter.
80 Ibid.
6
Caring Media
Beings on the (Life)line
But the internet, for me, the internet . . . mobile phones and the in-
ternet, that’s the most important thing that has happened in my life
since the accident.
—Lotta, bereaved parent and wife, VSFB, interview in 2017
Lotta lost her entire family—her husband and two young kids—in a plane crash
many years ago. At that time, no one in her immediate lifeworld could relate to
the specific nature of her loss. This was during the early days of the global in-
ternet, and she found out about a chatroom for bereaved people in the United
States—one precisely devoted to bereavement arising from this type of catas-
trophe. She found others who knew in their bodies what she was going through.
This space became her lifeline, and in hindsight proved to be the most impor-
tant thing in her world for coping and getting through this unspeakable hard-
ship. From day one she was also part of a grief counseling program, which was
new in Sweden and which focused a lot on re-enacting, going near the site of
trauma, seeing the wreckage in material terms. In the limit situation, she recalls,
both the internet and this profoundly material practice were what saved her. And
yet she singles out the lifeline of the internet as the most momentous of these
experiences.
It is in this context, when meaningless reigns in the face of an expunged fu-
ture, that people turn to the internet as a literal lifeline, which provides a medium
for what I call lifeline communication. In this chapter I conceive of existential
media as such lifelines of care, closing in on coexisters in their utter diversity.
Some coexisters are passively part of communities; others actively forge them.
Some blog about their ordeals in illness; others act politically through NGOs or
work as volunteers in support networks. There are also those who just grab the
lifeline in a less active and more introverted way, seeking consolation in silence
and in waiting. As leading scholars in the field of death studies have argued, the
relatively new practices of virtual mourning and blogging about terminal illness
imply major shifts and challenges to the classic thesis of the denial and seques-
tration of death in Western culture: with social media, death has returned to
Existential Media. Amanda Lagerkvist, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2022.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190925567.003.0007
Caring Media 149
everyday life.1 But more than this, I argue, online practices centered on death
may also interrupt a type of masculinist tenancy of the existential. These online
environments are dominated by women from various cultural backgrounds,
walks of life, and levels of education. They come from both urban centers and
rural areas. They are a group of women who have chosen to express themselves—
and to live through cataclysmic times—in, on, and through social media sites.
As they bemoan severe illnesses or lament loved ones who have died, they are
partaking in a form of existential communication that can in some respects be
likened to what Jaspers called “existential elucidation” in the limit situation. This
takes place through both words and deeds, and also importantly through affec-
tive and emotional encounters online—when caring media connect the bereaved
and the dying as they choose to share their embodied vulnerabilities online.
Hence, I’m interested in what we may learn about death practices in the dig-
ital age, by inviting the voices of women who, in the wake of suffering loss and/
or encountering terminal illness, turn to the internet for support and relief. This
chapter thus sheds light on two contemporary online phenomena—blogs about
terminal illness and online support groups for bereaved persons—and it explores
what these mean for those acutely affected by suffering and loss. It will show that,
in the shadow of the grand interruption—the moment when the life narrative
itself is cut off due to imminent death or sudden loss—the online activities of
mourners and those struck by illness, and more profoundly the internet itself,
become literal lifelines, both individual and collective. But even as this medium
offers a number of positive allowances for those affected (at least during a cer-
tain period in mourning, for instance) this does not preclude parallel emotional
ambivalences in digital existence. As I hope to show in this chapter, existential
media as caring media fully embody this complexity.
1 Walter et al., “Does the Internet Change” and Walter, What Death Means Now.
150 Digital Limit Situations
Jaspers, which implies transcending acts of utter exposure. The purpose is fur-
thermore to think with media limits as banisters, handrails that have a function
and role of stabilizing and securing. Caring media may limit and mitigate our
fall, as we can lean against them. As literal lifelines, caring media may also save
our lives.
As discussed in the previous chapter, discussions of care and media often begin
with the dominant tendencies of a biopolitical order in which individuals are left
to fend for themselves. Self-care is a huge topic in North America, not least be-
cause of a lack of welfare programs—a lack making the lifeworld into a space
where one is left to care for oneself. But these forms of governmentality and thus
of care have traveled, and they are now part of the global neoliberal economy. In
this context, metric media can also be conceived of as caring media, since self-
quantification can be a form of self-care. But as critics are quick to point out, such
forms are often appropriated by neoliberalism, within a discourse of self-optimi-
zation, compliance, and capitalist productivity. Such ideals are evidently at odds
with the realities of both chronic illness and bereavement. This is where scholars
trace forms of radical care for the self to forms of activism emerging from un-
derstanding the importance of histories of pain, and presents of vulnerability,
violence, and suffering. Activist practices here have the capacity to point toward
“an otherwise” that is reliant upon but not contained within neoliberal self-care.2
In further stressing the social role of mediated, embodied vulnerability and care,
one may observe the importance of different forms of caregiving by civil society
actors in the digital context. This is also played out in different ways in different
parts of our neoliberal global world. Care work in our societies, as discussed
earlier, often occurs within those intimate, feminized publics tailored to certain
groups and identities—such as NGOS for the bereaved or for those suffering
from illness. But these are also forms of social activism that seek to fill the gaps
in a society that neglects those in need of care and fails to meet their needs, due
to both a structural breakdown in welfare services and a cultural absence of rit-
uals and means for dealing with loss. This is precisely what mourners involved in
NGOs for bereaved persons in Sweden explain as the rationale and motivation
behind joining and later committing to the group and its cause. There is a lack of
emotional support and psychological understanding overall in Swedish society
for people in bereavement, and a general neglect, for example, of the shattering
experiences of losing a child and what that does to the entire life and world of a
2 See Tamara Kneese and Hi‘ilei Julia Kawehipuaakahaopulani Hobart, “Radical Care: Survival
Strategies for Uncertain Times,” Social Text 142, 38, no. 1 (2020): 4, https://doi.org/10.1215/01642
472-7971067; and Gibson, Hjorth, and Choi, “Introduction: Caring Media Futures,” 563. Recent
conceptualizations of self-care in the age of digital media have drawn upon Michel Foucault’s ideas
of caring for the self in examining the relationships between the digital self and the feeling self. See
Ganaele Langlois, “Social Media and the Care of the Self,” in Lagerkvist, Digital Existence.
Caring Media 151
person. The default response, until very recently, has been that people need to
get over their grief rather quickly and to “solve” it in private. Intimate publics of
online mourning and illness are for many a remedy to this, and a safe haven in
which it is all right to mourn.3
Within the confines of their predicament and often at a loss for words or
compass, bloggers and mourners voice their utmost existential concerns in
hyperpublicness, and in what Suzanne Bost calls, as discussed previously,
shared vulnerability. This concept highlights the possibility of overcoming and
transgressing former boundaries between people. Bost regards the “unexpected
identifications and relationships forged by illness as an alternate foundation for
politics.”4 Here I wish to add to this debate the idea of shared vulnerability in and
through the digital as an aspect of caring media. Practices are now emerging as
the lived experience of embodied connectivity of the posthuman condition: of
recounting pain and bodily states online, of posting hearts and holding hands.
Hence, beyond a generic, philosophical self, there is a stress in recent theoriza-
tion on care and media on a situated self, engaged in complex sets of human
and more than human relations. Again, the Jaspersian relational, networked, and
interdependent as well as utterly hurting self is in fact invoked: thus what I call
the coexister. This relationality also extends to the human and/as machine nexus.
In resonance with this, caring aspects of interrelationships between human and
nonhuman caretaking devices are currently emphasized within posthuman
contributions to disability studies. Hence, existential media may be seen here as
grounding a disabled person in being, creating conditions for becoming other-
wise with technology. In the case of disabled cyborgs, according to for example
design scholar Laura Forlano, their bodies are both reliant upon and enabled by
technology, in a mutual relationship of caring.5 For mourners, by contrast, it is
their hearts that are chained to the machines. The technology is a lifeline and thus
a caregiver in itself.6 It is always on, and it offers constant consolation around the
3 Katrin Döveling, Ylva Hård af Segerstad, and Dick Kasperowski, “ ‘Safe Havens’: Online Peer
Grief Support and Emotion Regulation in Coping with the Loss of a Close Relative,” Conference
Paper, Sixth European Communication Conference, ECREA, 2016.
4 Suzanne Bost, “From Race/ Sex/Etc. to Glucose, Feeding Tube, and Mourning: The Shifting
Matter of Chicana Feminism,” in Alaimo and Hekman, Material Feminisms, 342.
5 Laura Forlano describes how such assemblages allow her disabled cyborg body to function: “In
caring for myself, I am enlisted into a practice of actively participating in, maintaining, repairing
and caring for . . . multiple medical technologies (rather than using them passively).” In Kneese and
Hobart, “Radical Care,” 5. For a problematization, however, of the ableist assumptions that often
connect cyborgism to disability through the idea of technological ‘fixes’ that are imagined to create
wholeness, see Kafer’s critical engagement with Donna Haraway in Feminist, Queer, Crip, 103-128.
6 Pamela Roberts and Lourdes A. Vidal explored this aspect of mourning online in the early pre–
Web 2.0 context, but the development of the internet has made this an even more accentuated trait.
“Perpetual Care in Cyberspace: A Portrait of Memorials on the Web,” Omega: Journal of Death and
Dying, 40, no. 4 (2000): 57–76, https://doi.org/10.2190/3BPT-UYJR-192R-U969.
152 Digital Limit Situations
7 Amanda Lagerkvist, “The Internet Is Always Awake: Sensations, Sounds and Silences of the
ject aiming to reveal “the often feminized and under-respected work of care. We’ll map what allows
us to ask for and give care well, and how ableism, racism, capitalism and sexism complicate who feels
worthy of care and who is expected to care.” https://brownstargirl.org/care-webs-experiments-in-col
lective-care/.
9 Timm Knudsen and Stage, Global Media, 37.
10 Ibid., 28.
11 Ibid., 32.
12 Rosi Braidotti, “The Politics of ‘Life Itself ’ and New Ways of Dying,” in New
Materialisms: Ontology, Agency, and Politics, ed. Diana Coole and Samantha Frost (Durham,
NC: Duke University Press, 2010), 201–218.
Caring Media 153
In order to probe lifeline communication in line with these interests, I will de-
velop my theoretical approach further in the next section, beginning with an
overview of the role of life in the turn to affect, scrutinizing its seeming neglect
of finitude and finally offering an alternative inspired by existential philosophy.
Within the recent intellectual currents of the affective turn, a centrality to “life
itself ” has been bestowed, and death has been willfully decentered. Buttressed by
new groundbreaking research in science and technology, the desire both within
and outside feminism was to push beyond social constructivism, and to remedy
the neglect of the enfleshed body in previous paradigms in the humanities and
social sciences.13 In a seminal article about affect, Nigel Thrift describes “good
theory” with reference to its distancing from mortality: “It has become increas-
ingly evident that the biological constitution of being . . . has to be taken into
account if performative force is ever to be understood, and in particular, the dy-
namics of birth (and creativity) rather than death.”14 Similarly, when assessing
important recent new materialist contributions in feminist science and tech-
nology studies and media philosophy, we find that life is all around. For instance,
in order to highlight the ever-accelerating speed of entanglements of biotech-
nologies, infotechnologies, and media, Anneke Smelik and Nina Lykke propose
a “bits of life” metaphor as a follow-up to Donna Haraway’s cyborg.15 And Sarah
Kember and Joanna Zylinska shed light on mediation as vital process, stressing
not only the exuberance but also the importance of media and mediation, un-
derstood as being-in-and-becoming-with technology. Following Karen Barad,
they emphasize that mediations are material-discursive practices—that is, mate-
rial (re)configurations of the world through which worldly limits, qualities, and
meaning take shape. Discursive practices are “intra-actions” with the world—
that is, border-making processes without end, a continuous becoming. In that way
they are, according to Kember and Zylinska, life-giving. Mediation is life; it is
another term for life: “for being-in and emerging-with-the-world.”16
In the preceding examples one discerns a stress on, perhaps a celebration
of, the animated and interrelated forces of matter, media, subjects, bodies,
and things—an emphasis on the autopoiesis and vibrancy of materiality, and a
conception of life as generative process. The debate conjures up a world that is
13 Constantina Papoulias and Felicity Callard, “Biology’s Gift: Interrogating the Turn to Affect,”
everywhere alive and in movement, processual and flowing: “In fact, it is evident
from new materialist writing that forces, energies, and intensities (rather than
substances) and complex, even random, processes (rather than simple, predict-
able states) have become the new currency.”17 As I apprehend it, in its stress on
ongoing processes, complex relations, and indeterminacy, the vitalist approach
may fail to recognize the universal absolutes and determining constants of death
and finitude. When vitality is emphasized, death sometimes seems entirely off
the radar; and when made visible—as, for example, in “The Politics of ‘Life Itself ’
and New Ways of Dying,” a key posthumanist intervention by Rosi Braidotti—it
is turned into a utopian abstraction.
Braidotti proposes a “postsecular affirmative ethics” to provide a social ho-
rizon of hope. Her ethics rethinks subjectivity in terms of “forces,” puts a wel-
come stress on bio-organic limits (bodies are mortal and can only take so much),
and proclaims that it “respects vulnerability.” But Braidotti goes on to under-
stand biopower “not only in the sense of the government of the living but also
with respect to practices of dying. By extension this means that our relationship
to pain, loss and practices of mourning needs to be reconsidered in biopolitical
terms.”18 This biopolitical reconception results in seeing death as “overrated” in
human existence.19 Posthumans will stoically approach it on a superindividual
level, soaring above and beyond human misconceptions about the importance of
our individual bodies, singular vulnerable selves, and overvalued species: “This
nonanthropocentric view expresses both a profound love for Life as a cosmic
force and the desire to depersonalize subjective life-and-death: This is just one
life, not my life. The life in ‘me’ does not answer my name: ‘I’ is just passing.”20
This is an astoundingly bloodless form of new materialism. While I thoroughly
agree with the criticism of the autonomous and rational subject and acknowl-
edge that humans are part of the biosphere as relational, affective, embodied, and
technological beings, I maintain it is problematic to eschew the subjectivity of
death and to truncate the depths of individual struggling and suffering. When
avoiding giving aggrieved individuals and tormented bodies their due consid-
eration, and in its coercive normative homily for moving to “the next stage,”21
the project may fail to produce a truly inclusive ethics. There is a clear risk that
new grand norms for being posthuman may become a straitjacket. The perspec-
tive is also at odds with the lived experiences of the death online field, which
have brought a series of spatial, temporal, social, and embodied expansions to
the realm of death and bereavement that already bespeak this so-called next
dress made out of my best scars, a seed library, a Gutenberg Bible, a thun-
derstorm to climb and buck in a small plane, a mountain range, a supernova
to map.
It’s trauma. It’s also a resource. A resource that isn’t just an individual one,
but one that connects me to other survivors and their collective knowledge.
Knowledge that we have used to survive, and that we could potentially use to
change the world, end rape culture, and create new forms of healing, family,
communication, and justice.27
Again, individual, embodied hurt, collective hurt, and the world are linked
through testimony on the internet that may, as Timm Knudsen and Stage argue,
engage others and set something important into motion. In a very interesting
contribution to new materialist feminism, Suzanne Bost has shown how the
vulnerable body can serve as a more inclusive point of departure for produc-
tive political agency, beyond the identity politics of gender, ethnicity, race, and
so on. The experience of vulnerability can unite people who hitherto have not
realized they have anything in common. In shared vulnerability, wounds open
out to others, and they make us present before each other.28 For Bost, a new
“ethics of care” can emerge based on crossing boundaries between people who
have in common their mutual recognition of being dependent and vulnerable.29
Inspired by Bost, and by placing coexisters in a round, at the center, I will in
the following sketch out the contours of an ethics stemming from those bodies
that are hurting, aching, bleeding, dying, and connecting—on the lifelines of the
internet.
In this section, I will delve into the notion of the lifeline and its various meanings
in the materials, in order to show how shared vulnerability online may offer a
basis for individual and collective support, solidarity, ethics, and agency, while
also disclosing how life and death are related in digital existence. The lifeline
appears in four different yet overlapping forms: it is salvific; it offers humani-
tarian presence; it is mundane and material; and it constitutes an ongoing project.
In what follows I will carve out what these signify, one by one.
In the sharing of useful information on practical matters concerning the law,
money, or other challenges in the wake of loss, the NGO VIMIL constitutes a
27 https://w ww.vice.com/en/article/bj9gpm/not-over-it-not-fixed-and-living-a-life-worth-liv
ing-whatever-gets-you-through.
28 Anzaldúa, cited in Bost, “From Race/Sex/Etc.,” 353.
29 Ibid., 360.
Caring Media 157
lifeline for its members. In interviews, however, mourners often use the con-
cept of the lifeline to describe an even more urgent sense in which VIMIL’s so-
cial media group has become essential. Without the group, some of the women
wonder if they would be alive today. Hence the lifeline is first of all salvific. In
interviews and other materials from VIMIL, it is stressed over and again that
the group is a literal form of rescue. Take the example of retiree Anna, a sixty-
two-year-old member of VIMIL who unexpectedly lost her husband three years
ago. When asked what the Facebook group meant to her, she elaborates on the
meaning of the lifeline:
It may sound harsh, but I think that I would barely have survived without this
Facebook group. . . . I was so determined from the day one not to take any
drugs that were sedating, no sleeping pills. So I did a lot of things to get some
kind of—to relieve the stress in my body. So I walked a lot, as much as I could,
from the beginning. I did not manage well, so I took a lot of treatments. I took
healing, all kinds of things to diminish the . . . not anxiety, but there were so
many feelings that I can’t even begin to describe them. But then I discovered
that when I joined the VIMIL Facebook group, you could just write and let
it out.30
There was no support to be gained from society. VIMIL was like a sanc-
tuary. . . . Everyone understood what it felt like, and you did not have to explain
or struggle to make them understand. You were met by warmth and compas-
sion. If I had not found VIMIL, I don’t think I could have sorted it out.31
But vulnerability can both unite and tear apart. Sometimes a loss is accompanied by
social loss. Bloggers bear witness to relationships breaking due to severe or terminal
illness. The crisis redraws the social landscape of both mourners and the sick. Old
friends disappear, but new ones arrive who completely understand the nature of the
ordeal. And yet their interactions are filled with respect for the inherent alterity that
the experience entails. This means lifeline communication materializes the “proper
distance” that the media scholar Roger Silverstone advocated as the desired ethics
for cyberspace, which entails concern for the other without assimilation.32 The
commentary fields of bloggers as well as interviews with mourners show the im-
portance of finding peers with similar experiences of exposure, in a meeting place
where the norm is empathic communication in a spirit of ethical solemnity and im-
mediacy.33 Hence the lifeline signifies, second, humanitarian charitable presence,
which is about receiving and giving support to others in similar situations, in an
accepting, nonjudgmental atmosphere. On its home page, the NGO refers to itself
using the notion of the lifeline precisely in the context of social support: “VIMIL is
often called the lifeline, which has proven to be a very suitable epithet. Many lifelong
friendships have been forged through VIMIL” (www.vimil.se). Here it is the actual
people who bond that constitute the lifeline.
The support need not be complex or verbose. To know that someone is lis-
tening is often enough. As Paula, a fifty-one-year-old cancer blogger says in
a post: “Feel my invisible hand in your hand. Together we are strong.”34 Or as
Margareta puts it: “A small heart is enough. You have been seen.”35 The lifeline
is there, allowing for those who wish to simply pour out their feelings, without
expecting long responses. Hence it is often just about the small hearts, and they
suffice, says Eva-Britt, a fifty-five-year-old entrepreneur and VIMIL member,
mourning her husband.36 There is in that respect a digital instantiation of af-
fect—in the sense of an ability to affect and be affected—operating on multiple
levels of sensation beyond mere linguistics.37 And for Anna, the communication
is likened to a big bosom:
Parables for the Virtual: Movement, Affect, Sensation (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2002).
Caring Media 159
And you got sympathy instantly! Everything from just a hug to someone
writing an even longer post to tell you, “I have also been through this,” and you
know it just describes their situation. It was like a mirror and a big bosom, and
you got hugs and it was all I needed.38
In fact, lifeline communication often follows a template format. This occurs both
through comments and emoticons. These express warmheartedness, often by
simple means, and convey a sense of just being there. This relates to J. D. Peters’s
theory of communication. For Peters, as we saw previously, meaningful commu-
nication is not reducible to the exchange of information (the transmission of a
particular message or content); nor does it necessarily imply a narrative. Peters
stresses instead, in resonance with Jaspers, the importance and value of commu-
nicative breakdown, and of simply being and being there—that is, of meaningful
presence. Where Peters emphasizes the value of physical presence and proximity
in a world of media saturation, I propose to further substantiate his position by
attending to the affective aspects of being there together, for one another, online.
One of the key gratifications for online mourners is simply to know that someone
is present, as well as to know it is possible to connect should the need make itself
felt. Eva-Britt explains the meanings of the lifeline, while stressing the impor-
tance of the physical encounters in her support group:
AL: Are the physical meetings the most important thing for you?
EB: Yes . . . and at the same time to simply know that they were there, so that
I could go there, sit down, and read what others thought, or what it was
like . . . and the thing that’s often discussed, the sense of it being there around
the clock. . . whatever the time . . . even if I did not go there in the middle of
the night. But I knew that I could go there and sit down to read or write or
do whatever I want. . . .Yes, you think about a lifeline, something to keep you
hanging in there, not hanging yourself with (laughter). . . . It’s an enormous
support. . . . But you choose yourself what kind of support you want, how
much, and when. I can choose myself; when I’m not in the mood for talking to
someone, I don’t. But I know they are there.
Anna describes an ethical praxis that has evolved tacitly, through which someone
in the group always takes on the rotating role of just being there, and confirming
her presence. And in a way, it is enough to know that the lifeline “is there all the
time.” If you are not up for it, moreover, as Eva-Britt also underlines, “You can
choose not to talk to people.”39 In Levinasian terms, one might say that this type
40 Cf. Amit Pinchevski, “Levinas as a Media Theorist,” Philosophy & Rhetoric, 47, no. 1 (2014): 67.
41 Jaspers, Philosophy II, 51.
42 Jaspers, Reason and Existenz, 62.
43 Hence, as Paul Frosh has illuminated, all engagements with media are always in themselves
embodied: media enable embodied realignment and palpable tangibilities in multisensory environ-
ments. Poetics of Digital Media, 30–31.
44 Lisa Sand, “När döden utmanar livet: Om existentiell kris och livslänkar som coping i pallia-
tive vård” [When Death Challenges Life: On Existential Crisis and Life Links as Coping in Palliative
Care], Socialmedicinsk Tidskrift, 1 (2013): 140–146.
Caring Media 161
Today, I finally realized that I could have been dead now. It’s difficult to write
it down, difficult to just think about it, but I have to. Can’t hide anymore. The
chemotherapy is over and it’s time to start the rehabilitation, but I know there is
no turning back. I can never be the same Jenny I was before.50
There is no way back to what was before; the life you once lived does not exist
any longer. Something fundamental has changed. The survivor is forced to create
a new life, which happens partially through mediation. For some, however, the
ongoing project is to record, mediate, and communicate until the very end.
The technology constitutes a final lifeline, filled with the struggles of the body.
A couple of days before dying, blogger Lisa wrote: “It doesn’t feel so good that the
body is giving in more and more. It’s one thing really replacing the other, and the
‘good days’ are more and more conspicuous by their absence. That’s all for now.”51
In her last posting a few days later, entitled “Goodnight,” she described the pains
and hardships of the day:
This day has really been horrendous! Have had such pains, difficulties in oxy-
genating enough, have had a temperature, and felt bad. Have had visitors that
I have not been able to receive. So you can say this has been one of my worst
days so far. Have either been in too much pain or been knocked out by all the
painkillers. Now this evening I’ve had moments that felt a little better.
Perhaps writing the post contributed to this momentary relief for Lisa? Perhaps
it was in this moment that mediation was life? Her post represents the most car-
dinal existential message of all, as simple as it is harsh: I write to you, therefore
I am (still). As Lisa’s final words online illustrate, using the technology of blog-
ging as a lifeline is thus very concretely a matter of life and death—of existence.
Lifeline communication is ultimately about more than coping with or writing
about life: it is about living life in the shadow of death or illness, even as the
end nears.
Hence social media in the shape of lifelines constitute, from the perspective of
coexisters, both the humdrum rhythm-of-life links that provide a sense of exis-
tential security—however transient and limited—and vital tools of existence in
the limit situation. They enable meaningful connective presence and allow for
diversity and silences. But it must also be noted that these technologies imply
ambivalences. Sometimes there is insecurity in relation to the vexed issue of who
is ultimately “watching,” and where these lifeline communications may wind up.
Anna, for instance, frets about whether VIMIL can guarantee personal integrity
in its use of Facebook, and she raises several questions about copyright.52 Lovisa,
a sixty-year-old VIMIL member working in the tourism industry who lost her
partner to cancer, stresses (not without ambivalence) that for some mourners the
online environment “has become their life, not just a lifeline, but life actually.”53
The lifeline is thus literal, involving risks for mourners of getting stuck: “But if
you read about this pain that some people express so vividly, and you’re there
writing and being active, even if several years have passed, I believe you don’t
really get over it. You’re stuck. . . . I think you have to make a leap.” Hence, as al-
ready discussed in relation to risks of getting stuck in grief and trapped by the
technologies themselves, the technologies afford both hazards and possibilities.
Mourners will be thrown into the digital limit situation, whereupon they latch
onto the lifeline—only to be digitally thrown, and thrown anew, in the face of
uncertainties as well as possibilities.
“These are authentic meetings,” says Anna. The support group, which she joined
quite early on in the grief process, literally saved her life. Eventually Anna be-
came a committed member of the board and a support person herself. One of
the most important things about these communities, she says, is that people
are prone to cut to the chase in their utmost grief and despair, to speak about
what really matters without clandestine motives, and far beyond the taken-for-
granted carefreeness and buoyancy of nonafflicted contexts. It seems, then, that
these meetings, connections, exchanges, and encounters represent a “cut of the
real.” Something takes place here that can only be accounted for from within
the authenticity of the moment itself. There is both a subjective sense of truth in
Anna’s claim about an absolute alterity and a significance to these connections
in the heaves of mourning, while they also occur on the leading social media
platform or in real-life encounters always deeply entangled with the digital in
different ways. In both respects, the strong sense of being there for one another
applies. This is a form of networked solidarity that is ultimately based in bodies
and embodiment, and in their mutual recognition of pain. Existential media as
caring media thus also speak to and about our shared vulnerability and deep
relationality. Caring media are infused with and come about as a consequence of
a sense of longing for connection with others in pain, on a level exceeding what
many of the afflicted individuals have experienced before in life.
In this chapter, I set out by discussing how the tenet of life, not death, has be-
come common coin in the turns to affect in the new materialism. The focus on
life does have an important bearing on the technologies and practices discussed
health stand before the abyss, and who live and die with the technology. Our
digital media are existential media in and through shared vulnerability online.
It is through the affective yet meaningful encounters with others that one can
encounter the depths within, and the depths of transcendence beyond. Lifeline
communication thereby adds force to the enduring existential claim about
human potentiality as expressed by Jaspers: “I and thou, divided in existence, are
one in transcendence.”54
When coexisters hold onto the lifeline—that is, onto the network and each
other in mediated copresence and through embodied connectivity—their shared
vulnerability transcends the limits and establishes new ones: media frames that
shield and soothe. Something emerges. It is a digitally mediated, simple promise
in the darkest of moments. It is the promise of being there, for one another—on-
line. Affective forms of caring for beings on the (life)line are thus triggered by the
frailty of bodies and the inexorability of death. But even more importantly, life-
line communication exemplifies major aspects of existential communication, in
which breakdown and interruption are not contra to, but inherent in and condu-
cive to ethical engagement as practice. Speechlessness may be both the medium
and the message. It can also constitute a particular form of care. I have discerned
this in the emphasis on the potential for connection as meaningful charitable
presence—through emoticons and simple validations—as well as in the respect
for interruptions and silences.
Communication at the very limits of existence broadens the existential reg-
ister beyond the habitual. Here we encounter, in full-fledged, hybrid form, a
blend of the extraordinary, the techno-spiritual, and the numinous. Jaspers sees
communication as our destiny, and transcendence as achievable in communi-
cation only. In the next chapter, such aspects of being human will be parsed as
representing existential strivings in relating to the dead and reaching out across
the abyss in the limit situation of grief and commemoration. Cuts of the real here
border on the thresholds of reality, as transcendent media open out to an else-
where of ultimate familiarity and otherness, in internet heaven.
AL: Can you describe in a little more detail how you know that Niklas can hear
you on the digital memorial and not by the physical grave?
Sara: It’s very difficult to explain, but I think the written word becomes so def-
inite, it remains, but spoken words disappear into nothingness (an empty
void). They land nowhere, although sometimes I’m thinking he can actually
hear my thoughts . . . and it feels good to think that way.1
Sara has mourned her brother Niklas online for over ten years. In chapter 5, we
learned that she built a web memorial on a home page in memory of her dead
brother, who died in an accident on a vacation trip abroad. Writing a diary there
directly to him has meant a great deal for her in her grief process, although she
also thinks of him and thereby talks to him that way. When she has written to him
online, however, she feels that her words have landed. Rickard, who lost his son
Emil in a skiing accident a few years ago, testifies to the importance of the Fathers’
Group he belongs to in the Gothenburg area. He talks about the need to give back
by supporting others who had been recently afflicted. In passing, right after our
interview was finished, he mentions the role of the digital grave, as that site where
his relationship with his dead son is easiest to maintain: “I just feel I can connect
so much easier with Emil on Facebook than by the grave.”2 The feelings expressed
by Sara and Rickard corroborate what has been observed in other contexts. Elaine
Kasket cites a British mourner who said similarly: “I feel she will see it if it’s on
her wall. If I were to leave a letter for her at the gravesite . . . when I can’t see what
I wrote to her, I feel like she won’t be able to see it too.”3 There is the permanence of
words, retrievable on the web, which makes the communication seem successful.
Hence, as has been noted by several scholars, talking directly to the dead in
online mourning environments is widespread. People speak to them in writing
Existential Media. Amanda Lagerkvist, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2022.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190925567.003.0008
Transcendent Media 167
4 Talking to the dead occurs in memorial groups on social media sites, on blogs, and in web
memorials on personal home pages, in closed support groups for the bereaved, and on sites where one
may post condolences and light a digital candle. The prevalence of after-death communication online
is not new. Scholars have been highlighting this for about a decade. See, for example, Jed Brubaker
and Janet Vertesi, “Death and the Social Network,” in Proceedings from CHI Workshop on Death and
the Digital (Atlanta: Citeseer, 2010), 3; Erin Staley, “Messaging the Dead: Social Network Sites and
Theologies of Afterlife,” in Digital Death: Mortality and Beyond in the Digital Age, ed. Christopher M.
Moreman and A. David Lewis (Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger, 2014), 9–22.
5 Margaret Gibson, “YouTube and Bereavement Vlogging: Emotional Exchange between
Gibbs, “Gravesites and Websites: A Comparison of Memorialization,” Visual Studies, 30, no. 1
(2015): 38, https://doi.org/10.1080/1472586x.2015.996395. See also Anders Gustavsson’s study of
online memorial websites in Sweden and Norway: “The concept that the deceased is somewhere in
heaven is very common. There she or he can meet with others who have died and live together with
them. . . . Existence in heaven is thus considered to be very similar to that on earth.” Gustavsson fur-
ther finds a widespread belief in the possibilities of communicating with the dead online.Cultural
Studies of Death and Dying in Scandinavia (Oslo: Novus, 2011), 147.
7 Tony Walter, “The Dead Who Become Angels: Bereavement and Vernacular Religion in the 21st
Century,” Omega: Journal of Death and Dying, 73, no. 1 (2016): 16, https://doi.org/10.1177/00302
22815575697.
8 Scholars have stressed that the dead online are often depicted as angels. Tony Walter
writes: “Angels, unlike souls, have wings, traversing the boundary between heaven and earth, be-
tween life and death; and unlike souls locked up in heaven, angels can read social media posts. Thus
technological development affords a new space for, if not creedal faith, then spiritual discourse.”
Walter, What Death Means Now, 105. This theme is furthermore visible in popular culture in the re-
enchanted West, which is overpopulated by angels, vampires, and other dead and undead creatures.
See Tony Walter, “Angels Not Souls: Popular Religion in the Online Mourning for British Celebrity
Jade Goody,” Religion, 41, no. 1 (2011): 29–51, https://doi.org/10.1080/0048721X.2011.553138;
Walter, “Dead Who Become Angels,” 16; Christopher Partridge, The Re-enchantment of the West,
2 vols. (London: T&T Clark International, 2004 and 2005). This can also be understood as a form
168 Digital Limit Situations
the network itself, they are always there around the clock. They are connected to,
and there is a sense of immediate and full connection.
On the contemporary Swedish internet, speaking to the dead online may
further take the shape of eulogies. The following example is a series of voices
mourning a childhood friend. These excerpts stem from a thread appearing on a
public memorial site, set up by the funerary sector:
I don’t get it. I have no idea what happened to you. How you passed. We lost
touch lately, but you were my best friend in elementary school. In (name of city
deleted). Despite this, I have to say I was deeply affected when I heard you are
gone. I really hope you are in a much better place. Where you are now. Rest in
peace! (Sabina)
Johanna, my darling fighter and friend! I can’t believe it’s true that I will
never see you again. But I hope we meet again in heaven ❤ (Maria)
I can hear your gorgeous laughter within, and I feel warm inside . . . I know
you are the strongest and most lovely star in the sky waking over your loved
ones . . . you are the most beautiful angel in the Kingdom of Heaven.!! You are
missed. (Nenne)9
of vernacular religiosity. Studies have shown that mourners feel the internet itself enables a connec-
tion to the beyond, to “heaven” and the sacred. See, for example, Nina R. Jakobi and Simone Reiser,
“Grief 2.0: Exploring Virtual Cemeteries,” in Internet and Emotions, ed. Tova Benski and Eran Fisher
(London: Routledge, 2014). As discussed by two sociologists of religion, Dick Houtman and Stef
Aupers, the sacred itself has been relocated in late modernity to the digital and to the self. Religions
of Modernity: Relocating the Sacred to the Self and the Digital (Leiden: Brill, 2010). These features
also pertain to the specificities of digital time and timelessness—that is, to “digital eternity.” Michael
C. Kearl, a sociologist of death, relates this to what he calls the immortalist zeitgeist in Western culture
as displayed in the phenomenon of the digital dead. “The Proliferation of Postselves in American
Civic and Popular Cultures,” Mortality, 15, no. 1 (2010): 47–63, https://doi.org/10.1080/1357627090
3537591.
Perspective,” Journal of Religion, Media and Digital Culture, 7 (2018): 50–66, https://doi.org/10.1163/
25888099-00701004.
Transcendent Media 169
are also, nota bene, references to angels and to heaven. There is the strong pre-
sumption that the dead girl is awake, that she possesses some kind of agency, and
that she is silently watching or hearing. Hence, and importantly, the dead person
is believed to be somewhere else right now. She is an angel existing in another
realm, but with a connection.
This chapter remains within the limit situation of loss, with a focus on contempo-
rary vernacular expressions of after-death communication as an important aspect
of caring for the dead in today’s society. At the same time, however, it pits these
practices against the fact that they belong to the broader emergence of a new cul-
tural form: the digital afterlife. In the digital limit situation, the transcendence in-
dustry mines this very realm of ultimate loss and longing. This presents a somewhat
unnerving scenario. Even as your name may have been spoken (or typed) for the
last time, in your digital afterlife you remain in eternal perpetuation. Your digital
“lights” are on, shining throughout seemingly eternal networks. Some links and
platforms from the era of Web 2.0 are alive, some are dead; but even so your web me-
morial remains somewhere in circuits of data that contain your textual and visual
remnants. If your survivors can afford it, your digital remains are then scraped and
you are recreated and resurrected robotically. You will never really die. And when
you are in bereavement, you move about the world supported by your digital tools
of existence, holding onto the all-pervasive digital dead whose memorials follow
you everywhere, protracted in time and space. Their digital bodies of substitution
remain as awake as the network itself, buzzing you, offering to chat with you around
the clock. The dead have thus also safeguarded, premortem, their postmortem pres-
ence in your life: you are receiving automated messages from the grave, and you are
interacting with the avatar bodies of the AI dead, who may evolve and learn. Hence,
since the end has somehow been ended by media, you face the task of mourning
in and through media that aspire to a full re-presencing of the departed. This is all
good, is it not? Or is something missing?
This scenario, as sacrilegious or uncanny as it may seem, is in some circles
of AI developers far from remote.12 Such a project seeks to transcend, enhance,
and expand the leeway of the human beyond all limits. At once it makes our
embodied state of being irrelevant for our understanding of what a person is.
13 The goal is to bring us back to life after death, through cybernetic download, data mining,
and a recomposing of our persons. The pledge is to immortalize humans through digital tech-
nology: the digital self can become eternal. In transhumanist fantasies about enhancement,
humans are envisioned as becoming invigorated by media: humanity (those who can pay) will be-
come software-based and hence immortal. Michael Kearl and Michael Hviid Jacobsen, “Time,
Late Modernity and the Demise of Forever: From Eternal Salvation to Completed Bucket Lists,” in
Christensen and Willerslev, Taming Time, Timing Death, 59–77. According to Jeanine Thweatt-Bates,
there is a major contradiction at the heart of the transhumanist upload scenario. In line with reduc-
tive materialism, it emphasizes the importance of science and sees the mind as reducible to biology.
On the other hand, it understands the mind as a pattern of information. In a dualistic manner, there-
fore, the human mind could be functional in a different substratum made up of a different form of
matter: silicon chips could be substituted for the gray matter inside the skull. Jeanine Thweatt-Bates,
Cyborg Selves: A Theological Anthropology of the Posthuman (Adlershot: Ashgate, 2012).
14 Peters, Speaking into the Air, 64. See also the discussion in Lisa Blackman, Immaterial
and textual epitaphs, severed from their bodies, both literally and representa-
tionally? Here the existentialist cannot resist asking: what are the possibilities
for closure, for coming to terms with finitude, or for reclaiming mortal embod-
iment within the growing practices online that allow for unprecedented contin-
uing bonds with the dead? The springboard for this chapter is the fact that caring
for the dead also implies reaching out, trying to communicate with them. This is
a perennial part of human history, although of course it also varies greatly across
cultures and religious contexts. This is fundamentally a communicative practice
where media—from the grave, to the prayer, to photographs, the diary, and the
digital memorial—are central. Here they are existential media on the threshold,
verging on something else.
Acknowledging that questions about memory and nonpresent interaction
with the living as well as the dead are fundamental to media theory, I will in
the following push to a fresh extreme the age-old connections among media,
memory, and death. Oscillating between two things here—between staying with
the mourner in her embodied moorings and trying to get a grasp on the prospects
and excesses of the transcendence industry of griefbots and avatars—is not in-
tended to diminish the value and meaningfulness of speaking to the dead on-
line, for those involved in this type of after-death communication. It simply shifts
perspective, in order to place these emergent practices within a thicker context of
contemporary currents of the digital limit situation, as well as along longer histor-
ical lines. This will be accomplished by underscoring a dynamic tension between
disembodiment and re-embodiment in this context, flanked by strange forms of
lack and fullness. Hence, as people reach out to connect with the dead online—
whether they do it emotionally, symbolically, spiritually, devoutly, realistically,
ironically, or metaphorically—they also activate age-old discourses about the
body and disembodiment, about media and technological transcendence. I thus
posit the digital afterlife as a cultural form that ultimately bespeaks its signifying
absence: the body. Indeed, this also recapitulates the crux of death practices and
after-death communication overall, as tombs, graves, and memorials are always
attempting to fill the void the dead have left: the grave is the originary medium.17
As discussed in c hapter 4, I embrace a broad media concept that sees media
as entanglements of matter, representation, and signification. In my examina-
tion of the intersection of death and the digital, I furthermore choose to see em-
bodiment as well as media multifocally. Following Margaret Schwartz’s work on
corpses in modern media history and culture, the body is seen here an object of
signification, and a symbol subject to ample representation and datafied recir-
culation.18 But dead bodies can also be seen as media that perform active work,
as both Laqueur and Schwartz maintain. In the ensuing analysis, I dwell on the
sites where we place them—physically and/or symbolically—as part of relating
at the limits of being. I thus probe the fate and position of embodiment, in order
to existentially appreciate and problematize both the digital grave and the digital
afterlife more generally.
Hence, I hope through these deliberations to provide a rich discussion of exis-
tential media as transcendent media: media that promise to transcend the ultimate
boundaries, by allowing for relating across the threshold. This makes it incum-
bent to also provide a philosophical context through a definition and discussion
of transcendence and its crucial relationship to technology. I briefly touch down
on Kant’s seminal distinctions; however, I parse its meanings and implications
further—in Jaspers’s philosophy, in postphenomenology and in posthumanism.
Before I do so, however, I will begin my contextualization synchronically, pro-
viding a typology of the digital afterlife and situating after-death communication
in its immediate context: the present moment of the digital limit situation.
I have elsewhere offered a provisional and processual typology of the digital af-
terlife.19 In contrast with other frameworks suggested by scholars with a primary
focus on political economy or ethical issues in this new domain,20 my typology
19 I offered a first mapping in “The Netlore of the Infinite: Death (and Beyond) in the Digital
Memory Ecology,” New Review of Hypermedia and Multimedia, online first (December 2014):
185–195, https://doi.org/10.1080/13614568.2014.983563, followed by a more elaborate typology in
“The Media End.” I framed my analysis by raising the issue of whether the inclination toward end-
less recording and eternalization in fact aggravates loss, as it heightens the sense in which loss itself
has been lost. That is, the more memories on stock (since data is big), the less the mnemonic sense;
the more traces of the dead, the less we may actually be enabled to remember them. I also queried
what happens to death as restful and peaceful when the network never sleeps and the dead are on-
line. Lagerkvist, “Internet Is Always Awake.” I recently developed the typology in the context of a
discussion of vernacular religiosity online, wherein I queried about how embodiment is at work in
such imaginaries. Lagerkvist, “The Digital Afterlife,” in Campbell and Tsuria, Digital Religion. These
discussions have been synthesized here, so as to offer a reframing within a media theory of the limit
situation. One problem of typologizing the digital afterlife is that these services and phenomena are
constantly changing and developing. And even though the companies trade in the eternal, they are
actually quite ephemeral, often with short life spans. As emergent start-up branches, they seemingly
go out of business more often than they succeed. Nevertheless, despite the short-lived features of
the digital afterlife, I suggest that the services covered here may indeed keep a somewhat persistent
toehold for the foreseeable future. However, I eschew trying to measure the general impact these phe-
nomena may have across demographic categories, cultural contexts, and groups.
20 In trying to map the digital afterlife, scholars within sociology, ethics, and media studies have
primarily targeted the managerial and “rational” aspects of emergent entrepreneurial projects within
the transcendence industry. They have argued for a political economy approach to the digital after-
life, thus studying the logic at work within its industries. Paula Kiel, “The Emerging Practices of the
Collective Afterlife: Multimodal Analysis of Websites for Post Mortem Digital Interaction,” paper
presented at AoIR 2016, Seventeenth Annual Meeting of the Association of Internet Researchers.
Berlin, 2016; Carl Öhman and Luciano Floridi, “An Ethical Framework for the Digital Afterlife
Transcendent Media 173
covers both afterlife phenomena and afterlife industries. This makes it possible to
stress that the digital afterlife is definitely like everything else dependent upon
the contemporary neoliberal economy. But it also enables an analysis of how
it is caught up with affective and emotional modes, even constituting a realm
of re-enchantment: a vernacular form of spirituality, or what I have elsewhere
called “a netlore of the infinite.” I argue here, in line with Laqueur, that our
relationship to the dead in the Western world essentially reveals that we have
never been disenchanted: “What is modern about the work of the dead in our
era is this: a protean magic that we believe despite ourselves.”21 This way I un-
derstand the digital afterlife existentially, and promise in the course of doing
so to look out for the body as well as its dis/locations, in the im/material world
of media.
The digital afterlife spans three types of afterlife phenomena. These comprise,
first, our digital traces: that is, our recirculated textual and visual remnants and
search traces on the internet, whether we are dead or alive. Today we would in-
clude our afterlife social media presence in this category. This type of presence
can be in the shape of Facebook ghosts—that is, active accounts of dead users
that entail a kind of nonhuman agency, where the dead show up in reminders.22
But this is often a field of human intervention through memorialization of the
profile. Through online memorializations, the social existence of the dead is pro-
longed after biological death, and their continued connective presence, as we
have seen in previous chapters, is a comfort for mourners.23 The digital afterlife
is hence, second, also part of the phenomenon of posthumous memory work
online. Last but not least, digital afterlife phenomena consist of after-death com-
munication: that is, talking to the dead online. As this chapter brings to the fore,
21 Laqueur, 27.
22 Encountering Facebook ghosts—that is, active accounts with dead users—is an estranging phe-
nomenon. This is also a space of temporal crisis and of creepy returnings. Facebook’s asynchronous
nature further results in temporal slippages, as users’ postings may permeate the network in unpre-
dictable ways. Brubaker, Hayes, and Dourish, “Beyond the Grave,” 95.
23 This in fact echoes the history in the nineteenth century of modern media, the introduction of
which implied that while “our bodies know fatigue and finitude . . . our effigies, once recorded, can
circulate through media systems indefinitely.” Peters, Speaking into the Air, 140.
174 Digital Limit Situations
the deceased are very often addressed directly on social network profiles and in
support groups; this is the predominant way in which after-death communica-
tion occurs online.
The digital afterlife furthermore relates to three types of afterlife industries that
also overlap. These are digital estate planners within the digital inheritance area
who promise to save your legacy and to preserve your digital assets and your
memory for new generations. These are often private pay services that provide
storage facility and digital estate planning, for instance digital wills.24 These estate
planners also offer services for digital closure that include the option of erasing
parts of your legacy. The Google Inactive Account Manager, for instance, will as-
sist you in choosing whether to save or delete yourself postmortem.25 These serv-
ices also offer the bereaved, in quite concrete terms, a choice either to preserve
the posthumous memory of their deceased relatives or to actively turn off their
digital lights. Such penchants can be observed most strikingly in software for
digital suicide—that is, for shutting down social media profiles.26 Attesting to the
need for such forms of closure today, one service, which offers mourners the pos-
sibility of shutting the digital lights of their loved ones, argues that “the one who
24 Everest, for example, is a Houston-based funeral caretaker that targets “millennials,” encour-
aging them to start planning and managing their digital afterlives. It has developed an app for stream-
lining end-of-life planning. The app is designed to help a person organize her entire online life in one
place—including passwords from social media accounts, newspaper subscriptions, and online bank
accounts—into a package of digital wills and estate arrangements. The package should also contain
funeral plans; and, as a facet of the contemporary personalization of digital memories, it also includes
the curation of future memories in multimedia memorial portfolios. Death apps are supposed to
allow people to give their loved ones unconditional control over all of their online accounts, by digit-
ally transmitting their passwords to their successors, who may retrieve this future anterior memory
package and dispose of it as they wish. DeadSocial, for its part, is a company that provides tools for
the management of death in the digital age. It offers help with reassembling the dismantled and dis-
tributed networked “person.” The type of person it targets is “the connected and creative” individual.
Working with several different actors in the end-of-life sector, such as healthcare agencies, funeral
services, and hospices, DeadSocial’s goal is to help society through a major transition. Its vision is
epochal: “We are living through the greatest period of change since the industrial revolution. Our
end of life wishes, the way we prepare for death, remember the deceased and grieve have recently
changed beyond recognition.” The company’s purpose is to summon up and reassemble our distrib-
uted fragmented traces, for the sake of society: “In a world where our communications are fragmented
and leave a trace, we serve the requirements of society when trying to relocate these traces in order to
collect and collate them” (ibid.).
25 https://myaccount.google.com/u/0/inactive?pli=1.
26 Scholars discuss the suicide machine in terms of decisive acts of political resistance against the
power exerted by neoliberal biopolitics through the business models of social networking sites, and
their excruciating user conditions. While stressing that the machine might represent what Matthew
Fuller calls “critical software,” Anna Munster traces to this phenomenon, more profoundly, the
emergence of a digital ethos that is “cognizant of finitude, consequence and even death” and which
sees a “sobering digital mood” emerging in digital life that acknowledges the dark consequences of
the military, informational, soft power subtending it. For Munster code is here, thus conducting it-
self “toward death,” but when we use the machine, we are not surrendering our online life. Instead,
through humor and sobriety the suicide act produces a “different constitution of digital life.” See
Anna Munster, “From a Biopolitical ‘Will to Life’ to a Noopolitical Ethos of Death in the Aesthetics
of Digital Code,” Theory, Culture and Society, 28, no. 6 (2011): 85, https://doi.org/10.1177/026327641
1417458.
Transcendent Media 175
finally cracks the hard nut of how to efficiently and comprehensively help people
with a digital cleansing will have succeeded. Such a company has a lot to win.”27
Companies such as Google, Twitter, and Facebook also offer users the pos-
sibility of handing over control of their accounts to their loved ones when they
die. Second, we find services for pre-or postmortem memory work and activity.
These are services that enable memorializing the dead online or saying goodbye
via automated farewell messaging. In addition to sharing practical informa-
tion about your digital legacy, passwords, and so on, these services allow you to
communicate from the other side, to send farewell messages, and to record film
clips with your last wishes to be shared after your passing.28 Here you can speak
to the living from the grave and plan messages to be sent at different points in
time in the future. You can congratulate your child on his seventieth birthday,
be telepresent at your daughter’s wedding after you have passed, or tell your wife
to move on and to stop mourning you once three years have passed since your
death. Implied in this crafting of future agency and of rigging messages from the
grave is the idea that the self should be in charge even after its passing. When we
are dead, we will in a spirited manner transfer messages to the living, and even di-
rect actions among them. Finally, there are recreation services for robotic resur-
rection: that is, legacy avatars, mind clones, griefbots, and chatbots, which offer
new ways of communicating with the dead and relating at the threshold. Even
more radical projects, in transhumanisn, offer up your robotic resurrection.
In sum, we may note that the digital inheritance area and its end-of-life serv-
ices are motivated by rationality: our digital estates have to be looked after and
managed. But the digital afterlife is arguably also a resource for vernacular forms
of spirituality.29 This vernacular, which one may easily locate within a Cartesian
27 CEO Efterhjälpen, interview, 2018. Following on from the European Commission court ruling
from May 2014, which states that Google is a data processor under European law, it is today possible
for citizens to make an erasure request of personal data to search engines such as Google. Several
“erase your history” software companies offer services of this kind. There are also funeral directors’
and undertakers’ services that allow you to save or delete your digital life. This involves making
conscious choices in relation to the either/or of salvaging or deletion. In Sweden, a company called
Efterhjälpen.se (Afterhelp) is an interesting example of a digital estate manager within what seems
to be a growing market. As one of the owners said in an interview: as we die, our relatives have more
than the funeral to attend to; they may also be in disagreement about our digital heirlooms and ac-
tive accounts. This man said there are sometimes splits in families relating to the digital remains: a
wife, for instance, accessed her dead husband’s account and posted content in his name, which stirred
a lot of emotions in his network. The mother of the deceased man did not want the account to be
maintained, but the wife was allowed to keep it (interview, June 2015).
28 The Israeli-based digital inheritance company Safebeyond offers such a service.
29 Brubaker and Vertesi argue that the material qualities of the medium may affect how after-death
communication is appreciated and understood. They stress how a sense of technospirituality pertains
to these practices: “The use of SNS to continuously communicate with a user in the afterlife and
engage in posthumous profile management can be framed as another example of ‘techno-spiritual’
practice.” Moreover, while the ethereality of the medium is often underplayed, “This quality may be
central to users’ experiences, explanations and emergent interactions with such intangible media.”
Brubaker and Vertesi, “Death and the Social Network,” 3.
176 Digital Limit Situations
30 For example, Richard Boyd works on a technology called Tanjo Animated Personas, which
models our ancestors from data and resurrects them in a form that lets us interact with them today.
His defines his solutionist and ambitious mission as “existential.” In this quest, Boyd also decided
to create a chatbot of his own father, who died in 2017: “From the first moment I encountered com-
puting, I have been interested in how we can use technology to solve our most existential problems.
I had a professor in college (UNC Chapel Hill) who told me that most of the problems humanity faces
are simply the result of bad ideas. This led me to think that with better ideas, aided by better tech-
nologies, we could solve those problems, potentially forever changing the course of human history.”
Fotis Georgiadis, “The Future Is Now: Artificial Intelligence with ‘Empathy,’ ” Authority Magazine,
November 16, 2018, https://medium.com/authority-magazine/the-future-is-now-artificial-intellige
nce-with-empathy-ba2395f0b27d.
Transcendent Media 177
are “the epitome of perfect communication,”31 since they are not impeded by
any fleshy freight. Importantly, spirit outplays the letter in the immediate com-
munion of angels.
As the angels are now online, they seem to be delivering a message of silence in
the midst of the buzz of the network. There is no expectation of receiving a mes-
sage from the grave.32 How should we interpret this? According to one possible
critical interpretation, communication with the dead can thereby be said to re-
flect the gist of the social media practices of our time: selves in constant connec-
tivity even with the ultimate others—the dead. Connecting with the dead, in this
reading, is to relay one’s self to the ubiquitous streams of connectivity, rather than
to sound out voices from the beyond or to aspire to an exchange with them. The
digital dead can be connected to, and the internet is a medium of imagined full
presence and constant connectivity. It is always awake, transcending both space
and time. It thereby entails new parameters of unprecedented media presence: the
sensuous always-thereness of the digital. The digital grave engages the senses
and offers a form of fullness. It is in our pockets and on our bodies, bustling and
moving and making itself felt while also being strangely unincorporated.33 The
disembodied digital dead are thus affectively and immediately present anywhere
and everywhere, which makes the transcendent medium into an environmental
force.34 It is simply there all the time and everywhere—thus seemingly dissolving
limits, as we have already discussed. This feature of the medium also reflects back
in interesting ways on the digital dead, who are as pervasive as the network itself.
It seems then that technologies are foundational for transcendence. In phil-
osophical and social thought, by contrast, a commonplace conceptualization of
the relations between technology, society, and humanity affords technologies
the role of limiting our relations to the transcendent and to what lies beyond
our control. This is reflected, for example, in Max Weber’s secularization thesis,
which describes the disenchantment of modernity. Such disenchantment, Weber
argued, was occurring through rationalization and intellectualization, and was
visible not least in the drive to master nature through technology.35 A broad
range of studies have upended and problematized this position, both empiri-
cally and theoretically. In Ghostly Apparitions, for example, Stefan Andriopoulos
discusses the connections between the philosophical arguments of German
tronic presence from point-to-point communication (as in telegraphy and wireless radio) to mass
broadcasting (network radio and television). Through this gradual transferal, “presence became less
a function of engaging an extraordinary yet fleeting entity across frontiers of time and space and in-
stead assumed the forms of an all-enveloping force.” Sconce, Haunted Media, 11, italics added.
35 See a discussion on this in Aydin and Verbeek, “Transcendence in Technology.”
178 Digital Limit Situations
idealism and the occultism and ghost shows of that era, showing how its repre-
sentatives appropriated optical media effects and spiritualist notions for various
purposes of argument. Immanuel Kant, for example, wrote about apparitions
philosophically at the same time that hidden magic lanterns were used to terrify
audiences with ghostly projections.36 Kant, Andriopoulos argues, transformed
the optical instrument into an epistemic figure for the limits of philosophy and
of knowledge.
When we look more closely at the concept of transcendence in Kant’s phi-
losophy, we learn that the transcendent refers to those experiences that cannot
be verified empirically, and which therefore cannot be deemed knowledge.
Or, more specifically, the transcendent for Kant refers to efforts to know what
cannot be known empirically: that is, as grounded in sense experience—prima-
rily, God, freedom, and the immortality of the soul. As he shows, starting in the
Paralogisms of Pure Reason in the first Critique, any effort to make a positive
claim of knowledge about any of these ideas is a misguided effort to push our
epistemological apparatus (the frameworks of time and space and the categories
of understanding) beyond their proper limits—Grenzen—namely, what is given
within empirical experience. The transcendental, in turn, refers to the conditions
that make knowledge possible—time and space as the frameworks of intuition
and the categories of understanding—which structure and thereby make our
empirical knowledge of the world possible.37 Hence, the transcendental refers to
that which makes it possible to grasp and understand the world in a more gener-
alized sense. Andriopoulos argues that this thinking was conceived within, and
therefore reflects, a particular material media context. His point is that German
idealism has a closer affinity to the technologies of Kant’s day than we might at
first think. Magical lanterns, brain phantoms, and concave mirrors thus aspired
to a form of transcendence. These illusions troubled Kant and made him skep-
tical, while informing his careful thinking at the same time, thus aiding him in his
pursuit. One could say they were transcendent media in a flawed and contorted
manner, even as they related to—and laid claims to magically mediate—the re-
ality of the unknown that his originary sense of the concept was meant to define.
Speaking to our deep human relationality, these illusory technologies express the
needs and inclinations to relate to something beyond the threshold, and as such
they can be called existential media.
would make them what they cannot become: an object of thought.” Death, 37.
180 Digital Limit Situations
calls “possible Existenz”) strives and fails. Failure in the shape of limits, absence,
and voids is here a key constituent of transcendence.
For Aydin and Verbeek there is, however, a second technoscientific and capi-
talistic form of transcendence understood in terms of experiences of overcoming
those very arduous existential limits. As discussed above, our internet culture
prides itself on excelling in this respect, while displaying the grand ambition of
enabling the transcendent in both new and old guises. As I’ve argued, the high
priests of Silicon Valley portray digital culture as holding out a utopian antidote
to the flaws, lacks, and limits of human existence. As suggested by Aydin and
Verbeek:
Drawing on Jaspers’s philosophy of technology, they then offer a third type of ex-
perience of transcendence. They suggest an understanding of transcendence that
relates to reverence for a bigger totality. Even as technologies can offer an over-
coming of obstacles and impediments, there is a limit to the control of nature, be-
cause nature in fact constitutes a cut of the real, or what they call a “transcendent
order”: something that precedes, supersedes, and in itself conditions any human
intervention. Hence, the fact that we are able to technologically intervene in the
world does not imply we can completely control the rules of life. Technological
meddling with nature is only possible if the structures and laws that enable us to
do so are recognized and to a certain extent obeyed. This indicates that techno-
logical power cannot exist unless we accept a transcendent order within which all
our actions and operations take place. This thus opens out to a numinous under-
standing, which accentuates limits that also speak to what lies beyond our aware-
ness—what in effect transcends as well as precedes our consciousness. Rather
than excluding transcendence, Aydin and Verbeek conclude, with support from
their reading of Jaspers, that technology mediates our relationship to it.
In accordance with this type of thinking on the coconstituting role of tech-
nology and the human condition, we often find in posthumanism and the new
materialism an openness to technological transformations of human experi-
ence. In Braidotti’s and Zylinska’s visions for posthuman becoming, for example,
42 Ibid.
Transcendent Media 181
The existentialist will instinctively snub the digital afterlife, including the
chatbots and avatars. Within the tradition of existential philosophy, there can be
more or less sustainable ways of being human in and with technology (here, dig-
ital media), and this also applies to death practices online. Existential philosophy
will remind us that the digital afterlife emerges in the face of three entangled
and nonnegotiable existential facts. First, existence is limited. This means that
it ends. Its limitations make it imperfect, strange, messy, and nonsensical. But
they are also what makes it meaningful, beautiful, and enhancing. The shortness
of life, which limits what we may know, in fact guarantees meaning.48 Existence
is thus forgetful. Memory itself is essentially selective, and meaning depends
on that condition.49 Finally, existence is embodied and, as such, vulnerable and
mortal. The body is the prime existential pivot of our unique yet deeply relational
selves.50 As Peters put it in Speaking into the Air, stressing the materiality and
bounds of both bodies and media:
More recently, Peters has furthermore parsed the faults of speaking to the dead
via media—that is, via mediums—while stressing the value of limit:
Judging from the results of spiritualism, the spirits of the dead are boring,
at least when they speak to us: they have no looming crisis to solve, no cycle
of bodily needs to attend to, no headlines to read or deadlines to heed, no
decisions to make, no people to welcome or ignore, no horizon of dying.
Finitude concentrates the mind. A postmortal spirit would be deprived of the
many powers that come from mortal embodiment, including the looming in-
evitability of death: How could we communicate with a being suffering from
such framelessness? Nothing sharpens the style like the prospect of dying.52
48 Cf. Michael Hviid Jacobsen, who argues that “trying to cope with, avoid, understand or live with
death and the knowledge of it is thus one of the main defining features of all human life and of any
kind of social and cultural organization. The apparent absurdity of a life lived-towards-death there-
fore turns into the very source of meaning in life. Without death, much of what we do, say, think or
plan would be incomprehensible or even downright meaningless. Hence death, just as much as life,
is a defining characteristic of human existence.” “‘Spectacular Death’: Proposing a New Fifth Phase
to Philippe Ariès’s Admirable History of Death,” Humanities, 5, no. 19 (2016): n.p., https://doi.org/
10.3390/h5020019; https://www.mdpi.com/2076-0787/5/2/19/htm.
49 The tension between memory and forgetting is a key antinomy in human existence. Forgetting
seems inevitably both a vice and a virtue of the human condition. Too often the past does not provide
a lesson, and too seldom do those who came before us set an example for us. But the ability to forget
is equally fundamental, and it constitutes a key dimension of our possibilities of reorienting ourselves
to the future.
50 Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenology of Perception (London: Routledge, 1945/2014).
51 Peters, Speaking into the Air, 65.
52 Peters, Promiscuous Knowledge, 281.
184 Digital Limit Situations
The human relationship to death and our bodily remains has changed dramat-
ically over history, as reflected in the sites where the dead have been placed.
Where we place the dead body, in Laqueur’s account, is also crucial for upholding
culture. In ancient times, burials always took place in fields outside the cities
and towns. With the establishment of Christianity, the dead were buried on
consecrated ground, next to churches in the cities. For over a thousand years
in premodern and early medieval Europe, Ariès argues, dead bodies, including
skeletons, were therefore part of human everyday experience. In a culture where
we were all mortal (Et Moriemur), death was tamed, expected, and ritualized.
53 Philippe Ariés, Western Attitudes toward Death (L’Homme devant la Mort) (Baltimore: John
The dead were buried in churchyards and assembled in charnel houses right
next to churches in the city center. Visible and jumbled in these messy spaces,
bones were deindividualized, safely awaiting Judgment Day in the custody of the
church’s sanctuary.54 The bodies of the saints were of course revered as relics, and
not to be buried in their vicinity (what Laqueur calls “necro-sociability”)55 was
not to be buried at all. The placement of the dead mattered a great deal.
The Reformation for its part implied, politically and theologically, that “the
dead were on the frontlines of the break,”56 argues Laqueur. Since the dead did
not need to be buried near the bodies of the saints anymore, a field or a meadow
or any other inconspicuous place would do. Luther himself suggested he
would like to be buried “in the Elbe or in the forest, rather than in the crowded
Wittenberg churchyard.”57 In reality, however, the Reformation had little effect
on the practices of commemoration and caring for the dead body. It seems the
big game-changer had to do with the metaphysical question about whether the
living could in fact intercede on behalf of the dead. This followed on from the
rejection of the doctrine of Purgatory, and it established a firm separation of
spheres between the living and the dead in Protestant countries—a dominant
feature of beliefs and practices in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. As
Purgatory had been abolished, Protestant forms of piety prohibited praying for
or speaking to the dead. But, as Laqueur shows, there is in fact a remarkable con-
tinuity in terms of the roles played by both tombs and dead bodies. So other than
ending the custom of praying for the dead, Protestantism did not imply any mon-
umental change when it came to these traditions. Despite the new proscription
on praying for the dead, the number of tombs actually seems to have increased
in the same era.
And the bodies of the dead with attendant monuments became even more
closely identified with the parish church and its most sacred spaces underneath
the altar than before, because monastic burial grounds were no longer an op-
tion and because space opened up with the removal of altar screens and shrines.
But all in all, the ancient tradition of building tombs for those who could afford
it found new energy in the Renaissance as a way of abiding with the dead. The
supposed rupture of the Protestant Reformation had relatively little effect on
the burial practices. . . . This because tombs, like the care of the dead more gen-
erally, were believed to serve deep civilizational purposes.58
54 Ibid., 22.
55 Laqueur, Work of the Dead, 41.
56 Ibid., 98.
57 Ibid., 99.
58 Ibid., 102.
186 Digital Limit Situations
a passion for effigies has emerged in this phase of modernization, according to Mark B. Sandberg,
resulting in a proliferation both of images and of missing persons. See Living Pictures, Missing
Persons: Mannequins, Museums, and Modernity (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2003).
62 Anthony Giddens, The Consequences of Modernity (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1990).
Transcendent Media 187
dead are present as pixels. Thus, even if death and death practices of grieving are
more visible again, the dead body is obviously still missing. Indeed, it is quite rare
(although it happens) that online mourners post images of the dead when they
are dead. In the digital afterlife, too, bodies are missing as dead bodies. Here then
we find a complicating fact—another relentless cut of the real—that cannot be
reduced and ignored in relation to death and digitalization. The digital afterlife
evinces practices that discard bodies, organs, sounds, and smells. In this way, it
can be argued, the technology rehearses technofuturist fantasies that ultimately
dismiss embodiment, emotions, femininity, and vulnerability.
Existentially speaking, however, death and loss are always at heart a question
of a vanishing and missing body. After a human being has suffered bodily decay
or damage, death implies further disintegration followed by disappearance. But
in the meantime, as Margaret Schwartz maintains, corpses mean as matter. The
corpse is a hybrid object, active and in movement. It is “a literal figure for medi-
ation, an object in transition between one kind of being and another.”63 En route
to exploring how bones, ashes, and names do their work in culture, Laqueur pro-
ductively distinguishes between the natural dead (as bodies, as matter), the so-
cial dead (as beings with a social existence), the not-quite-dead: the returning
dead and the undead (zombies).64 In line with Schwartz’s approach, the natural
dead, the social dead, and not-quite-dead belong to several interrelated orders
of signification, spanning the techno-existential spectrum of the material and
immaterial (yet being irreducible to neither). First, as Schwartz points out, the
corpse itself stands in an indexical relationship to a lost someone—it is a medium
to that subject. Second, the corpse is anthropologically the object of meaningful
rituals of remembrance; when embalmed, it is on display as a visual object, and
it is heavily figured as a realistic representation in photographic conventions.
The third order of signification, I propose, lets go of the material substrate of the
corpse and enters more fully into the ethereal (if also deeply material) spaces of
digital existence—that is, into the realm of digital memories of the social dead.
Here we find the digital dead. Without significant remains, they are placed on-
line via photographic reminders of their fully embodied lives; they are social-
informational beings. The notion of the digital dead, as I proposed earlier, can
arguably be claimed to feed into the myth of a disembodied and perhaps eternal
digital domain.
But what might the alternatives be to this in a (post)digital age? I will in the
following discuss two forms of bodily returns, which with different inferences
invoke the three existential facts I discussed at the outset: our being is one of
limitation, forgetfulness, and— as avowed throughout— embodiment. What
are the implications of rendering the body obscure, of culturally discarding the
flesh? One clue can be obtained from Schwartz, who argues that the dynamics of
visibility-invisibility of the dead body itself affects its digital afterlife. When dead
bodies become invisible, as she shows in relation to celebrity deaths of Michael
Jackson and Princess Diana, this foments a profusion of posthumous image pro-
duction. Such invisibility makes these bodies into a resource: since they cannot
decompose and disappear, they therefore remain productive.65 One could argue
that this logic is in place for the entire digital afterlife, beyond iconic public deaths
and bodies. Digital media are body proxies, in a culture of obscured corpses and
a disregard for embodiment. Hence the digital dead are represented in a produc-
tive glut, not only because human existence is now digital, but also due to the
overall invisibility of dead bodies across modern digital societies.
In dystopian sci-fi, we find negotiations of this posthuman condition, where
the culturally discarded body also engenders, as per Schwartz’s analysis, new
bodies of representation. In this genre, I suggest, the body plays the lead despite
its ambivalent status. The cyberpunk TV series Altered Carbon, adapted after
Richard K. Morgan’s novel by the same name, describes a future where embodi-
ment is crucial for being. Bodies are essential but only as disposables, and death is
overcome, since the mind is stored in a cybernetic “stack.” Hence, the temporary
body that the person/consciousness inhabits is quite indifferent to them: their
identity remains throughout changes of bodily gear. In the Black Mirror ep-
isode “Be Right Back,” as I have argued elsewhere, questions are raised about
the (im)possibility of grieving, when fully embodied yet nonsentient griefbots
enter into the realm of human bereavement, as replicas of the departed.66 Here
the authentic and original human body is invoked as that irreplaceable, primary
site of our unique humanity. Yet another angle on the body is presented in West
World, where immortal robots gradually awakened to sentience, built with skin
texture and with the four senses in place, are programmed with a human sense
of finitude—of being finite embodied beings—struggling immensely with the
injustices befallen upon them, but also with the mysteries of being alive, after
having been killed over and over.
Apart, I suggest, from dislodging mortal humans from their privileged
standing in History—as robots either feel precisely the same as we do, or rep-
resent a deeply alien epistemology—the main theme in these foretelling design
fictions of the AI dead is extinction. That is, they thematize limitation in the
guise of the mortality of culture and civilization, as well as invoking the death of
human supremacy, or alternatively its potential survival. This is accomplished via
the prism of the lost and reappropriated body. Cast in multiple roles, the body is
65 Ibid., 88.
66 Lagerkvist, “The Media End.”
Transcendent Media 189
The preceding discussion has shown that there are affinities and dependencies
between how the body disappears and how it then makes a variegated yet man-
ifest return in representational surplus within the digital afterlife of today—
something I also trace to cybernetics, cyberpunk, and the secular-rational tech
sector itself, including its visions for the AI dead. These all depend, one might
argue, on the prospect of extinction at the end times. The second example of re-
turn will bring me to another limit: I will end on a speculative note about bodies
reclaimed for earth, energy, and sound. I will thus be assessing a postdigital re-
sponse to a culture of discorporeality. As we will see these initiatives may allow
for reclaiming the body in heretofore unexpected ways: as vinyl record and as
light. Could the ecological approach to death enrich our relationship to our fini-
tude beyond the hegemon of digital eternity, and be a complement to the proph-
ecies of a posthuman becoming?
The postdigital response to the surfeit of the noncorporeal dimensions of the
digital afterlife, in which the dead linger as recirculated visual data, is perhaps a
turn toward the material. One example of what media activist Marcel O’Gorman
calls necromedia literally turns the dead body into a medium, as after cremation
it is pressed into a vinyl record.67 This service has been available in the UK for
some years. A company called AndVinily offers this weird concept, developed
by Jason Leach, who founded the EDM group and label Subhead in the 1990s.68
AndVinily converts the ashes of the deceased into a finished, vinyl record: “We
offer you the chance to press your ashes in a vinyl recording your loved ones
will cherish for generations. Live on from beyond the groove!” Profiting from
the nostalgia revival for vinyl in the United Kingdom and the United States, this
innovation may feel sacrilegious and creepy. But for some people it offers some-
thing else, a different value. Buyers are often terminally ill, and the prices start
at £3,000. AndVinily beseeches customers to consider the option: “When the
album that is life finally reaches the end, wouldn’t it be nice to keep that record
spinning for eternity?” In a new kind of ritual of re-embodiment, or rather re-
mediation, survivors can watch the pressing of the record. The record includes
twelve minutes of audio per side. It can contain the dead persons’ final words, and
it can also be a repository for memories and licensed music. Additionally, there
is an opportunity to hear simple popping and cracking, which essentially means
“hearing” the ashes. One can also choose a jacket with portraits by artists and
with details about the deceased person’s date of birth and death. It is also possible
to get customized music on the record, for an additional fee. The remediated re-
mains thus stabilize the memory of the dead person into a postdigital relic of
incomparable value, one imagines. Importantly, the memorial is once again
directly and indexically connected to the dead body—yet in a reappropriated
manner, through a recycling of the ashes. The vinyl itself, I suggest, represents
stability and history in a world of ephemerality. Since vinyl is of the past, the new
tomb of the departed is itself a media-historical relic of sorts. In existential terms,
however, it contains a limited biographical story, making possible a patchwork
wherein we selectively make meaning, cherish the dead, and preserve them in
living memory.
Turning the dead body into a medium is also the goal of ecologists of our time
who are concerned with finding new practices of burial, for the sake of both lim-
iting carbon emissions and finding space for all the urban dwellers of the fu-
ture. The “Sylvan Constellation” won the Future Cemetery design competition
in 2016, which was aimed at considering new ideas for urban burial. Here the
dead body is reinvented for new purposes, and it is turned into a recycled asset.
The decomposing dead will be turned into light, for their remains are to power
cemeteries. Addressing urban space limitations, this also reflects a desire for a
more eco-friendly death, and it explores a new use value for our digital after-
lives, each “lamp” containing an individual’s digital data alongside her remains.
Laqueur believes these initiatives seldom enjoy broad support, precisely because
they seem to toss out the body. They express an irreverent position in relation
to our human remains—a position that has never had a real purchase in our
culture. Nevertheless, it is refreshing to see an agenda of making the digital less
central, reimagining it as an aid—a supplement to what really matters—rather
than affirming it at the center of the cultural order. Perhaps, via this recycling of
the corpse into body lights, we can remember our connection to the planet and
Transcendent Media 191
the physical universe. By seeing bodies as mediums of light, at any rate, and by
attaching these effigies of light to the digital remains of the deceased, the pro-
ject offers a different way to conceive of the future of the body within the digital
afterlife. The digital is in fact an auxiliary resource, not a central shrine. Such
designs describe what embodiment could mean in a future where the ecological
crisis defines how humans are compelled to care for the dead. Interestingly, Tony
Walter also depicts the dead in our era as the “pervasive dead” who are span-
ning this range. When we keep the dead in living memory within the everyday
in the digital limit situation, this covers both the digital dead and a new relation-
ship to physical remains. Walter argues thus that people “express on social media
their continuing bond with the dead who pop up on the screens of friends and
acquaintances; the dead are addressed as angels with agency to hear and care;
and the body’s physical remains are pictured as an active part of the everyday
environment.”69
In these sections, I have encircled an important aspect of the relationship
between technology and transcendence today: the role of the missing and re-
turning body. The discussion has shown that the body, after having been dis-
placed in digital culture, has made forceful and assorted comebacks. This is even
evident, for example, from within those cyberpunk imaginaries that themselves
propel an expulsion of the classic humanist body. It is also clear from how the
AI dead are sometimes designed—with bodies. I have also stressed the impor-
tance of the places where the natural and social dead have been located across
history. Whether buried in the earth, stored as photographic images, embedded
in code and pixels, set up as avatar instantiations of automation, circulated as
data, or reappropriated as light, the dead act upon the present. The dead are
placed at various (media) sites, spanning the material and the representational.
I have thus tracked an active physical, symbolic, or iconic body throughout his-
tory, in culture, into our transient moment of the digital limit situation and its
discontents—going from the ossuary to the graveyard to the Victorian and then
digital cemetery, to the dead in/of both analog media and the ecological and
physical landscape.
Especially in postdigital cases of return, there are interesting fusions of the
dead body with media. I suggest there is a providence of sorts in these rearrivals
of the body via vinyl and light. They invoke how a deeper relationship to the
earth, to each other, and to the technologies within our lifeworlds may be brought
into being at the end of our times. Following Laqueur’s point about the work of
the dead in any society, these strivings speak to ultimate issues at the limits of
our mortality and humanity. They are occurring at a time of vast technoscientific
69 Tony Walter, “The Pervasive Dead,” Mortality, online first (January 3, 2018): 11, italics added,
https://doi.org/10.1080/13576275.2017.1415317.
192 Digital Limit Situations
AL: Do you speak or write directly to your dead child on the internet? Do you
believe there is a life after death and that you can connect with the dead
somehow?
Kristina: I often write directly to Sally, but I don’t believe in a life after this one. It’s
just a technical writing thing, it makes it more personal that way. . . . No, I’m not
experiencing any spirituality or contact with Sally through these support groups;
it’s instead a support for me, and a contact between me and other parents.72
She shares with me a full posting from her wall, which expresses a sense of con-
tinuing bonds with her dead daughter. This is not just the case emotionally; the
bond is also enacted through the actual practices of her everyday life:
Beloved Sally. It will soon be 3.5 years since you died; you have been dead for
so much longer than you lived. But I still plan for you in our lives. When Agnes
was about to begin kindergarten, you had been dead for over a year, but I was
still googling how to help the teachers to distinguish you and Agnes (giving
you different haircuts was the best tip). When we were moving, I planned what
to do with the rooms if you had been alive (you would probably have shared
a bedroom, all three of you, and had the big room as a playroom; sometimes
I thought you and Agnes would have shared the big room and Sebastian would
71 Ibid.
72 E-mail interview, November 2018.
194 Digital Limit Situations
have been given the small room). When we went to the zoo, I thought that
I would buy tickets for two three-year-olds. I still look out for you sometimes
in the playground, when I scan for where my children are. Sometimes it feels
a little bit crazy that it is that way, but sometimes it feels like a fine thing. But
mostly I think this is the way it is when you have one child too few. I miss you
forever, my finest Sally.
The ongoing presence of the dead child in Kristina’s material world is an expres-
sion of a particular form of time work. It makes for a parallel temporality, a future
that is lost but can be processed inwardly as well as outwardly as it unfolds.73
The online sharing of these efforts to make sense by weaving the dead child into
routines, activities, and practices, with others who also share this difficult experi-
ence constitutes the lifeline I discussed in the previous chapter. Simone has used
Instagram in her grief work, and she also writes a blog that she set up just after
her daughter Alva was stillborn. She felt a dire need to contact others in the same
situation for support, so her idea from the very beginning was to share.
This was also a way for me to communicate with my dead daughter and a way
to preserve my thoughts, feelings, and the grief also in order for her big sister
to be able to read when she gets older. Since Alva died, my Instagram has been
used mostly for that purpose, as an outlet for grief, loss, and emptiness, and to
confirm the child that exists for me although she is invisible—a way to remind
all my close ones that she still means something. . . . I often write directly to my
dead daughter online. It’s my way of communicating with her, a need that I have
and that I have needed to find a way to give vent to. I want to believe that the
soul lives on and that she is waiting for me on the other side. I have to believe it.
I cannot otherwise grasp how she could have died before even taking her first
breath. Sometimes I have felt that she is communicating with me through small
heart-shaped clouds in the sky, and so on. I need to believe that because it gives
me energy, hope, and a moment of joy.74
Mourners thus range from stressing that they communicate with the dead
without believing in an afterlife, that writing to the dead is purely therapeutic,
to professing a belief in a life after this one and in an embodied reunion with the
dead. The internet, in any one of these modes of reaching out to the dead, is a
73 For an in- depth discussion of this and other types of time work among bereaved parents,
see Christensen and Sandvik, “Sharing Death”; and Dorthe Refslund Christensen and Kjetil
Sandvik, “Inventing New Time: Time Work in the Grief Practices of Bereaved Parents,” in Time
Work: Studies of Temporal Agency, ed. Michael Flaherty, Lotte Meinert, and Anne Line Dalsgård
(New York: Berghahn, 2020), 139–157.
74 E-mail interview, October 2018.
Transcendent Media 195
75 Glennys Howarth, “Dismantling the Boundaries between Life and Death,” Mortality 5, no. 2
The present age is a watershed. We are living through a new Jaspersian axial
age of vast uncertainty and multifaceted challenges, writes Sam Mickey. In the
quoted scenario, he is also imaginatively foreseeing a coexistentialist awakening.
As he concludes, we stand on the brink of time, but we are also able to reopen the
future horizon. Mickey therefore suggests in the vein of Jaspers: “With the break-
down of traditional and modern immune systems under conditions of ecolog-
ical emergency it is not unreasonable to consider the possibility that humanity is
somewhere near—before, on, or past—the threshold of a new beginning, a new
axial age. . . . a beginning that gets in the political fray and affirms coexistence.”2
For Mickey this evokes Hannah Arendt’s concept of natality, which indicates the
possibility of a new beginning with every new person who is born into the world.
How to achieve a new beginning, and to be able to anticipate the future, was
precisely also the theme of the correspondence between Karl Jaspers and Hannah
Arendt. In the limit situation of the aftermath of the Second World War, they
Existential Media. Amanda Lagerkvist, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2022.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190925567.003.0009
198 Digital Limit Situations
pondered questions about how to live in the gap between the past and the future.
Jaspers had provided Arendt with a clue, in a paper from 1958, where he placed
emphasis on the present moment: “Give yourself up neither to the past nor to the
future. The important thing is to remain wholly in the present.”3 In that present,
Jaspers argued, we can begin to create a common world (that human artifice, as
Hannah Arendt called it) fit for all humans to inhabit. What roles can existential
media play today for achieving such a vision in the digital limit situation? Can we
reclaim anticipation as an existential need that belongs to us, and as a key facet of
our human condition of technicity? And how can we achieve a world not only of
technology but also for humanity in all its diversity, and for all living beings? To
begin asking ourselves such questions, without resorting too quickly to any neat
solutions or ready answers, is how we can inhabit the digital limit situation.
Paying particular attention to the limit situations of the digital, this book has
been seeking out the brims and the barriers of digital existence, with an eye to
philosophizing and recognizing our media situation. I have allowed limits a
seat at the table, as they are palpably felt in bodies at the limits of loss and ill-
ness, or when they suddenly appear in the punctum of an unexpected or wel-
come pause in moments of technical disconnect. They were also tapped into as
infrastructures that, through an impervious ontology of numbers, set the limits
of the lifeworld (metric media). Observant and still, in waiting and listening,
I also learned that limits were often enacted in mutual silences among coexisters
hanging in there, on the lifeline (caring media). I saw them instantiated in com-
municative yearnings at the threshold, and in the ways in which mourners
desisted from exacting rejoinders from the grave (transcendent media). I have
sought to bring limits into both visibility and audibility, as they are underplayed
and hidden away, silenced by default, and need to be consciously made manifest.
This I have attempted to do conceptually, philosophically, and empirically.
To value the virtues of our condition of limit—our finitude, our human sus-
ceptible bodies, and the limitations of both knowledge and memory—is as we
have seen a classic point of departure within existential phenomenology, for cri-
tiquing the many problems wrought by technological modernity. For the exis-
tentialist, the digital limit situation also points to the necessity for closure. Here
we might suggest a different possibility in the face of the seemingly relentless
developments of digital media. Existenz-philosophie will always remind us—
even as we concede fully to the theory of human technicity—that the existential
may offer up some defiance to the digital. Even if everything is always already
mediated and coconditioned by tools and technologies, this does not imply that
all forms of human life are equally suitable, as already discussed in this book, for
a digital or numerical instantiation. Or as the philosopher Franco Bifo Berardi
3 Karl Jaspers, Philosophische Logic (1958), cited in Hannah Arendt /Karl Jaspers Correspondence,
Jaspers suggests that the technological mission to innovate and expand always
renews and perpetuates itself. Developers are always standing by, willing to take
on the enduring, gigantic task of overcoming the never-ending limits of our exist-
ence. But he also suggests, importantly, that even if a particular and limited goal
has been reached by the technologists, the quest for new technological innovations
to accomplish a wholesale encapsulation of our world is likely always to eagerly
re-establish itself. Hence, this process would envelope all of the earth and hu-
manity within “a single field of utilisation.” Jaspers sounds here like a herald from
the past speaking to our era. Today, computational technologies and the global in-
ternet are already in place to encapsulate the whole world. They are its deep back-
ground and flagrant foreground. They have offered a range of specific solutions
and enhancements of life. Yet, precisely as Jaspers foresaw, another technology is
4 Franco “Bifo” Berardi, Futurability: The Age of Impotence and the Horizon of Possibility
readily mounting once again on the human horizon, promising to deliver such
a single field, with ever greater efficiency. The course of history seems inevitable.
AI will bring about monumental changes to our entire societies. Echoing these
sentiments, former Latvian President Vaira Vīķe-Freiberga writes on the 75th an-
niversary of the United Nations, and predicts similarly that:
By 2045, when the United Nations Organization will be entering the second
century of its existence, the world will have changed in many substantial ways.
A significant part of these changes will be due to the pervading influence of
Artificial Intelligence (AI), which will have become more powerful and flexible
than it is now and more omnipresent in people’s lives.6
Numerous prophecies in the past few years have flooded public discourse, according
to which we are inexorably moving into a future driven by autonomous systems with
transformative consequences for families and households—for how we work, pro-
duce things, combat crime, and take care of our vulnerable, sick, and elderly.7 For
many visionaries, the horizons of AI promise to provide brighter solutions—increased
accuracy, efficiency, cost savings, and speed—to our many problems, and to offer en-
tirely new insights into behavior and cognition. For others, these horizons also presage
thresholds of the unknown, raising fears about new threats and existential risks to our
species from an AI superintelligence possessed of brainpower far surpassing that of
humanity.8 Yet for major agents, the main risk is falling behind in the race toward this
new future. Accordingly, commercial interests blend with chief geopolitical and mili-
tary wagers, as exemplified by North American stakeholders of the “AI race,” who aim
to ensure that “the coming AI century is an American one.” The Chinese government
and weapons industry, for their part, foresee that lethal autonomous weapons will be
commonplace by 2025, and claim that an ever-increasing military use of AI is “inevi-
table. . . . We are sure about the direction and that this is the future.”9
Boosted by corporate concerns about avoiding another AI winter, the ethical
imperatives raised by these technologies have called into being an entire industry,
which mobilizes, for example, investors, academia, governments, engineers, and
6 Vaira Vīķe- Freiberga, “UN75: AI in the Next Century of the United Nations,” https://www.
un.org/en/academic-impact/un75-ai-next-century-united-nations.
7 Kevin Kelly, The Inevitable: Understanding the 12 Technological Forces That Will Shape Our
America’s national security—and that of U.S. allies and partners—is more secure, its economy is
poised to flourish, and its norms and values underpin AI technologies worldwide.” https://www.
cnas.org/publications/reports/the-american-ai-century-a-blueprint-for-action. See also Gregory
C. Allen who reports for The Center for New American Security about the Chinese AI policy, here
citing Zeng Yi, a senior executive at China’s third largest defense company, Norinco, at the Xiangshan
Forum. See https://www.cnas.org/publications/reports/understanding-chinas-ai-strategy. See also
China State Council, “Made in China 2025,” July 7, 2015; English translation available at http://www.
cittadellascienza.it/cina/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/IoT-ONE-Made-in-China-2025.pdf
Anticipatory Media 201
think tanks to promote and secure sustainable, benevolent, responsible, and eth-
ical AI. The “New AI Alliance,” for example, puts the point as follows in its mis-
sion statement inviting the citizens of Europe to take part in a dialogue on AI
applications and ethics:
Taking responsibility for AI also means pausing in the present in order to col-
laboratively shape the future. Yet positing AI as both a medium to and a mes-
sage about (or even from) the future, measured as well as unbridled responses,
and utopian as well as dystopian scenarios, in fact allows this technology to
eclipse all other possible prospects.11 Here we might interpret Jaspers’s pru-
dence somewhat differently. Perhaps he is trying to make us see a connection
between, on the one hand, those particular moments in history when we are
inundated with prophecies of preordained, all-embracing transformations
through technology, and, on the other, the loss of an open, existential future. If
we stay attentive to this connection, might we in fact be able to read signs of an
end times of sorts?
Expectations of the next AI century are here saturated with what Donald
Mackenzie and Judy Wajcman call a “technological trajectory,”12 which is an in-
stitutional form of technological change that entails a “course of development
that seems natural and autonomous.”13 The massive mobilization of this future
across the board is thus awash with “illusions of inevitability”—that is, what
Zuboff in The Age of Surveillance Capitalism calls “inevitabilism.”14 This future
is now, as already discussed in the opening of this book, colonized by particular
italics added.
14 Zuboff, Age of Surveillance Capitalism, 194, 223–224.
202 Digital Limit Situations
15 Ibid., 197–200.
16 Ibid., 253.
Anticipatory Media 203
for science, economics, and public administration.”17 This in turn has engen-
dered the pursuit of empty futures. The hype around predictive AI is in effect
forging further this rampant form of modernity, which entails a “de-contextu-
alized future emptied of content” that is “open to exploration and exploitation,
calculation and control.”18
The purpose of this final chapter is to wrap up the main themes of this book,
through adding yet another form of existential media to our dangerous cocktail.
I will examine existential media’s anticipatory features and potentials, by scruti-
nizing the inevitability of AI-driven abstract futures, and by probing how such
imaginaries become living myths. I hope to achieve this by exploring how this
technology is embedded in broader appropriations of the future tense. In addi-
tion, I will return in particular to the fourth property of existential media: they
demand that we take responsibility. Hence I will discuss what ethics can mean,
beyond being embedded in the AI industry itself, and how we can conceptu-
alize anticipation existentially, in awareness of more than human webs of care
and significance. Here I see anticipation as centrally important to reclaim and
safeguard, and also as ultimately important for scholars of digital society and of
existential media to collaboratively theorize. I take my cue from Barbara Adam
and Chris Groves, who have stressed the role of the imagination and of acting
responsibly in creating futures in the present. Through a Heideggerian frame-
work, and in order to restore a sense that the future matters, they hope to offer
“some new conceptual coordinates for thinking about the ethical underpinnings
for our relationship with the future and for reshaping the legal and thereby the
political expressions of our responsibilities to it.”19
As I have shown in this book, Jaspers’s philosophy of communication and
limit offers precisely such new conceptual coordinates. His development—from
seeing destruction as inherent in technological development to seeing the future
of technology as more open, while still stressing the need to take responsibility
for the overall trend of development—is key. And yet his position in the early
phase also has some bearing on the digital limit situation. This is exemplified in
how Zuboff, in a classic move, opposes the “tyranny of prediction” to a “human
future,” reflecting a distinction in Jaspers’s early philosophy of technology (as well
as among many critics of modernity and mass culture in his generation) between
human value and technological deprivation. Echoing Kierkegaard, Jaspers saw a
problematic loss of meaning and of a life worth living resulting from unchecked
technological developments, in which humans were at risk. These developments
17 Barbara Adam and Chris Groves, “Futures Tended: Care and Future Oriented Responsibility,”
Bulletin of Science, Technology & Society, 31, no. 1 (2011): 17, https://doi.org/10.1177/027046761
0391237.
18 Adam and Groves, Futures, 2.
19 Ibid., 17–18.
204 Digital Limit Situations
lacked deep respect for singular unique beings, who were reduced to statistical
averages. As discussed in my introduction and throughout this book, mortality
and morbidity are deeply connected to the modern projects of calculating prob-
able futures. On the front lines, the illness-stricken, bereft, and mortal coexisters
have throughout the modern period been the target of such calculation. Today,
as we saw in c hapter 5, they are also part of predictive modeling, reduced to data,
and at the mercy of metric media. For Jaspers, the modern conflicts of mass so-
ciety brought about what he calls a universal “life-apparatus,” similar to an all-
enveloping utilities field—which implied most of all a reductive threat to real
people, who may in time be seen as mere cogs in a system, or simply forgotten
altogether. Today, these reductions and vulnerabilities are evident in algorithms
of oppression.20 In the following, I will place particular emphasis on human
precarity in light of these developments, for the future itself seems, at one and the
same time, to be precarious, conflicted, and fully predicted.
Indeed, the human capacity to anticipate, aspire, and look forward seems kid-
napped by machines and screens. For Zuboff, humanity’s entire future is there-
fore at risk. When the future tense itself seems lost, there are deep existential
stakes. Zuboff is passionately searching for an existential language to describe
this sense of demise and loss of possibilities for willing the future itself, in a world
of all-pervasive datafication and automation. “This act of will is my claim to the
future tense,” she argues.21 Echoing one influential strand of the existentialist
tradition, which submits that the very possibility of projecting ourselves into
a future22 is key to what makes us human, she holds that “the freedom of will
is the existential bone structure that carries the moral flesh of every promise,
and my insistence on its integrity is not an indulgence in nostalgia or a random
20 See Noble, who stresses the connection between what she calls big-data optimism and discrimi-
nation: “I do not think it a coincidence that when women and people of color are finally given oppor-
tunity to participate in limited spheres of decision making in society, computers are simultaneously
celebrated as a more optimal choice for making social decisions. The rise of big-data optimism is
here, and if ever there were a time when politicians, industry leaders, and academics were enamored
with artificial intelligence as a superior approach to sense-making, it is now. This should be a wake-up
call for people living in the margins, and people aligned with them, to engage in thinking through the
interventions we need.” Algorithms of Oppression, 168–169, italics added.
21 Zuboff, Age of Surveillance Capitalism, 329.
22 This is a theme in Heidegger, Being and Time; Jean-Paul Sartre, L’Être et le néant: Essai d’ontologie
phénoménologique (Paris: Éditions Gallimard, Philosophical Library, 1943); de Beauvoir, The Ethics of
Ambiguity; Alfred Schutz, The Phenomenology of the Social World (London: Heinemann Educational,
1972); and Hannah Arendt, Life of the Mind, vol. 2 (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1978).
Anticipatory Media 205
privileging of the pre-digital human story as somehow more truly human.”23 She
further reflects:
No matter how much is taken from me, this inward freedom to create meaning re-
mains my ultimate sanctuary. Jean-Paul Sartre writes that “freedom is nothing but
the existence of our will,” and he elaborates: “Actually it is not enough to will: it is
necessary to will to will.” The rising up of the will to will, is the inner act that secures
us as autonomous beings who project choice into the world and who exercise the
qualities of self-determining moral judgment that are civilizations’ necessary and
final bulwark.24
The question is, will big data, AI, and the machine learning of the present age, with
their technocratic, entrepreneurial, and capitalistic ethos, further impede, as Zuboff
details, our prospects for realizing ourselves through projects of our own will?
Or will they even relieve humans of the responsibility they have for their lives, for
each other, and for the planet? Do they in fact offer an escape from that responsi-
bility—for those Kierkegaardian choices that will the future? Should they be seen as
hollowing out human value, or in fact as enhancing it? And can both these things be
true at once?
Zuboff ’s freedom of will is important, but we actually need an even broader ex-
istentialist purview to address the existential stakes of AI horizons. As I will show,
consulting Jaspers enriches and complements the temporal subjectivities of, for
example, Heidegger’s sense-making and resolute yet antisubjectivist Dasein, and
Sartre’s subject that wills to will. Here we need to ask, in addition, whether these
technologies can become part of what Arjun Appadurai describes as an ethics of pos-
sibility, which is based on “those ways of thinking, feeling and acting that increase
the horizon of hope, that expand the field of the imagination, that produce greater
equity” within our aspirational capacities, so as to “widen the field of informed, cre-
ative and critical citizenship.”25 As I will argue in the following, the present moment
is in fact a time when human beings—in all our plurality—might potentially begin
to realize what Adam and Groves call a concrete practical future with technology.26
The presence of AI on the human horizon, accordingly, presents coexisters with a
momentous assignment.
In their seminal work in anticipation studies, Adam and Groves have identi-
fied a weakness within the abstract futures model: “The key problem for an empty
futures perspective remains that the future is not simply beyond the present but
is a latent and ‘living future’ within it.”27 They argue for turning to the existen-
tialist tradition in order to reconceive the living future, which we have to tend
to and care for, by caring for each other as well as for the objects, phenomena,
progressive ideas, and other beings that we share existence with. They conclude
that different forms of social action “facilitated by advanced technologies and
complex social structures need to be based around a different image of the fu-
ture.” One possibility, they argue, is the kind of “ ‘lived future’ that is articulated
in Heidegger’s . . . account of Dasein’s characteristic temporality,” in combina-
tion with perspectives from Hans Jonas’s biology. They hold that “the perspective
of a lived future, dependent on a situated subject whose being is an issue for it,
relates itself very differently to the living, latent futures of action that surround it
and in which it itself is embedded.”28 Here technologies play a major role, with a
bearing on how we may or may not anticipate the future. In order to further open
these vistas, I will offer a minor mapping exercise of key concepts, definitions,
and insights within anticipation studies. How do contemporary media futures
map onto the concept of anticipation itself? And what are the alternatives? How
can we conceive of anticipation existentially?
Media studies as a field has a peculiar and complicit relationship with media fu-
tures and their imaginaries. Media of the bleeding edge figure more or less un-
consciously as both pointers to, and foretellings about, the Future. Due to the
anticipatory features of data and predictive modeling, however, the relation-
ship between media and the future is changing. This in turn has prompted a
tide of explorations of the future tense in media studies, to which I also hope to
contribute.29
AI is anticipatory media, in several senses. First, we may note that the phe-
nomena we call AI seem to be, both as media technologies and as analytical
30 Brent Daniel Mittelstadt, Patrick Allo, Mariarosaria Taddeo, Sandra Wachter, and Luciano
Floridi, “The Ethics of Algorithms: Mapping the Debate,” Big Data & Society, online first (December
1, 2016): 1–21, https://doi.org/10.1177/2053951716679679.
31 Pentzold, Kaun, and Lohmeier, “Imagining and Instituting,” 2.
32 Ibid., 7.
33 Van Dijck, “Datafication, Dataism and Dataveillance”; Chun, Updating to Remain; Elena
Esposito, “Future and Uncertainty in the Digital Society,” Lecture at “Making Sense of the Digital
Society,” Alexander von Humboldt Institut für Internet und Gesellschaft, March 12, 2018.
34 Joanna Zylinska, The End of Man: A Feminist Counterapocalypse (Minneapolis: University of
Punctuated Time,” American Ethnologist, 34, no. 39 (2007): 409–421, and “Anthropology and the
Near-Future Concept,” in Handbook of Anticipation, ed. Roberto Poli (Cham, Switzerland: Springer
International Publishing, 2019).
208 Digital Limit Situations
new AI era itself illustrates this hybrid temporal modality of the “next” and the
“infinite.”
As already noted, this ideology of numbers and dataism invests data with al-
most religious and revelational potential. The predictive process seeks to fix and
demarcate users in a set of correlations amounting to a kind of metaphysics of
seeing into the likely future. This form of future orientation goes in the field of
anticipation studies under the name of forecasting.36 Forecasting “is the properly
predictive component of futures study. Its models tend to adopt either a very
short—as with econometric models—or a very long—as with climate change
models—temporal window”37—hence a combination of the next and the infi-
nite. It often focuses on quantitative models and methods for trying to capture
continuity. As already noted, Adam and Groves distinguish between two types
of futures: abstract and concrete futures. “Abstract futures . . . correspond to
forecasting extrapolations, or more generally to system dynamics modelling in
which the future is seen as a projection and a product of the past.”38 Such “pre-
sent futures” are “imagined, planned, projected and produced in and for the pre-
sent.”39 These are, for example, economic and scientific forecasts that colonize
the future from the present, through derivatory models of exploiting the future
for gain.40 We may thus place anticipatory AI within the precincts of an eco-
nomic and political order that “encourages us to fly blindly forward into the fu-
ture, trusting in the protection of forecast and scientific prediction.”41 That is,
“The practices through which these institutions construct futures effectively in-
stitutionalize irresponsibility, exploiting the future in the narrow interests of the
present.”42 As discussed previously, Zuboff has pinpointed the latest and most
pervasive of all such exploits of the future though forecasting. In this diagnosis,
the future has thus returned, via anticipatory media, which seem to have kid-
napped it at the same time.
To theoretically and imaginatively propose existentialist openings, one must
first possess a more fine-grained concept of anticipation. The field of anticipa-
tion studies distinguishes further between forecast, foresight, and anticipation.43
While forecasting implies prediction and calculus, foresighting is not predictive.
It produces a variety of possible futures. It is qualitative, and it focuses instead on
With support from anticipation studies, we can actually establish that the real
future is uncertain, thus containing uncontrollable and incalculable openness.
44 Ibid.
45 Ibid., 19, italics added.
46 Ibid., 28.
47 Prusak, cited in Poli, Introduction, 33.
210 Digital Limit Situations
But is life for the future the essential import of our work? I do not believe so.
For we serve the future only in so far as we realize the present. We must not ex-
pect the authentic only from the future. Even though this presentness cannot
in fact attain to durable consummation, in which I can rest and endure in time,
it is nevertheless possible in penetrating this actuality to penetrate in a sense
the eternal present in its temporal manifestation. The actuality of the truth in
time is, to be sure, as impossible to capture as an optical image,—but it is always
with us.48
Jaspers argues that a philosophy of the future must be able to take hold of the
riches and possibilities of the present, in which we can realize ourselves, as
we have already seen, as what he calls living Existenz with other Existenzen.
There is, furthermore, truth to being in presentness though practical engage-
ment. And carefully attending to the present is also how we can actually gain
any traction to thread our way forward, to edge through the vast complexities
of the wicked moment. This in effect is how we influence the future outcome.
In similarly asserting a future present, Chris Groves echoes Jaspers in insisting
on a concrete, embedded, relational, and existential future: “What presence does
48 Karl Jaspers, The Perennial Scope of Philosophy (New York: Philosophical Library,1949), 157.
Anticipatory Media 211
the future have, here and now, and in what way does our relation to it affect our
wellbeing and capacity for flourishing? Not any specific future, but the future as
an existential dimension of our relationship to others, to ourselves and to the
world.”49 This emphasis on the future present thus resonates with the limit sit-
uation, which if seized authentically and sincerely can be a site for opening new
futures. Importantly for my argument in the following, the human limit situation
is indeterminate and uncertain, and it can never be fully surveyed. Uncertainty
is thus key.
Zuboff relies on Hanna Arendt’s concept of will as “the organ for the fu-
ture”: “The power of will,” Zuboff argues, citing Arendt, “lies in its unique ability
to deal with things, ‘visibles and invisibles that have never existed at all. Just as the
past always presents itself to the mind in the guise of certainty, the future’s main
characteristic is its main uncertainty, no matter how high degree of probability a
prediction may attain’. ”50 As Zuboff maintains, the most foundational aspects of
human existence are today embezzled by surveillance capitalism, with the ulti-
mate goal of combating “chaos.” As she acknowledges, however, “Uncertainty is
not chaos but rather the necessary habitat of the present tense.”51
In the existentialist tradition, freedom and necessity/finitude—corresponding
to uncertainty and situatedness, openness and limits—are fundamental and ir-
reducibly interdependent dimensions of human existence.52 Uncertainty and
unhomeliness as connected to freedom thus belong to the human condition
itself. They can also, by contrast, be seen as a dimension of contemporary and
historically specific times of political, ecological, epidemiological, and tech-
nological crisis, with asymmetrical consequences for those affected.53 Guyer
ponders similarly:
One could perhaps reduce all this to an ahistorical “life in uncertain times”
or an ancient philosophy of risk “taken on the flood” (to quote Cassius in
Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar). There is, however, a historical specificity to uncer-
tainty now. It is an emerging chronotope . . . honed into technologies that can
deliberately unsettle and create arbitrage opportunities and gridlocks as well as
logistical feats of extraordinary precision and power.54
ample, Adam and Groves, Futures, 55. Anthony Giddens argues that we are in effect at the end times.
We are here after the end of nature, meaning there are few parts of the physical world in which we
have not intervened; and we are living after the end of tradition, which means we no longer live as if
we are ruled by fate. In the risk society, we also live “at the barbaric outer edge of modern technology”;
this is its defining characteristic. Here technologies are a “frontier which absolutely no one com-
pletely understands, and which generates a diversity of possible futures.” Giddens, “Risk Society: The
Context of British Politics,” in The Politics of Risk Society, ed. Ulrich Beck et al. (Oxford: Polity Press,
1998), 25.
Anticipatory Media 213
part of physical reality, and yet always in movement along with the eyes of the
beholders.58 Horizons are limits of our imagination. They are also fraught with
symbolism, with fears and hopes about technology. That way the horizon is al-
ways in essence an uncertain space, an opening, a coastline along which a ship
may suddenly appear and become visible as a threat, or a promise or a simple
sign of human life, labor, and routine. For Jaspers, in the metaphoric sense,
horizons are always there as prerequisites of what makes the world appear real to
us. We need them to envision and apprehend anything at all. Hence phenomena
and visions, bodies and things, always emerge against a backdrop. Accordingly,
what fills the horizons becomes crucial for our sense of reality. Horizons can
also be created and crafted with skill: thus they are also sites and metaphors for
futurability itself.
For Berardi, the indeterminacy of actual lived time is the condition of possibility
for futurability, which he defines as “a layer of possibility that may or may not de-
velop into actuality.”59 In our age, we are standing before a horizon containing a
massive dilemma:
The horizon of our time is marked by a dilemma: in the first scenario, the general
intellect will unfold and develop according to the paradigmatic line of the semio-
capitalist code. In the second scenario, the general intellect is combined into form
according to a principle of autonomy and non-dogmatic useful knowledge.60
How then to bring about such nondogmatic useful knowledge? In other words,
how do we dissolve the spell of the horizons of the new AI era, and bring about
alternatives? How do we act and “think what we are doing”61 in the present mo-
ment: the digital limit situation? By pausing—which is in the very nature of the
limit situation—we will note a cluster of complicating matters. First, the afore-
mentioned colonization of anticipation for profit also applies, in a disturbing
manner, to the uncertainties of being. Jane Guyer illustrates how the language
of “brinks” and “adventures,” “emergencies” and “indeterminacies,” has filled the
evacuated near future, both in popular and formal discourse and in economic
thinking and academic debate.62 And in the present moment, the limit situation
58 As Don Ihde puts it: “Progressing now within this simplified framework, I return to my visual
experience. I note that in ordinary experience there are certain patterns and resistances to the way in
which these structures function. For example, no matter how hard I try, I cannot extend my horizon
as limit. It remains at the ‘edge’ of the visual field, and as I turn my head it ‘turns,’ too, but in such a
way that it remains an absolute if vague ‘edge’ while what is central also remains before me.” Ihde,
Listening and Voice, 39, italics added.
59 Berardi, Futurability, 3.
60 Ibid, 6.
61 Hanna Arendt, The Human Condition (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958).
62 Jane Guyer, “‘On the Verge’: From the Possible to the Emergent,” HAU Journal, 6, no. 1
seems seized in AI projects such as “AI for Earth” or “AI for Good” at Microsoft,
or in the technologies launched for tracking contagion during the current Covid-
19 crisis.63 The tech agents are seizing their opportunity. Boosted by a righteous
project, framed within well-meaning goals and benign intentions of salvaging
the planet and the species, they are at the same time operating through the logic
of surveillance capitalism, and they are taking their imperative to mine the
depths of our lives even further. The digital-human limit situation is ultimately in
the hands of very powerful agents, with a gargantuan apparatus of rhetorical and
infrastructural means at their disposal.
It seems, then, that it is not enough to reclaim the future tense; it is also ur-
gent to lay claim anew to the very limit situation itself, and to ruminate metic-
ulously on its meanings and stakes. This implies an awakening. As Jaspers puts
it: “Awaking to myself, in my situation, I raised the question of being.”64 In fact,
for Jaspers, “Philosophizing starts with our situation.”65 This means we must
raise the most profound philosophical questions—together—in a search for new
light ahead: What is the meaning of our technologized existence? How do we
wish to live our lives together on the planet with machines? How can we diver-
sify AI-driven lifeworlds? Can autonomous systems be subject to a democratic
screening, a vetting, so as to guarantee a bedrock of nonnegotiable goals—per-
haps justice, equity, sustainability, nonviolence? And how does automation,
entangled with human needs and necessities, change our situation? How can
these technologies be harnessed to realize an existentially and environmentally
sustainable and concrete future that is embedded, embodied, and contextual?
Can they in fact become “technologies of the imagination” that generate some-
thing beyond the ethos of surveillance capitalists?66
The time has come, as many seem to agree in this moment, to recenter
concerns and agendas and to in fact reclaim a utopian future. In this spirit,
Zylinska follows Berardi in raising the questions about whether our future has al-
ready been expended, or whether it can still be redeemed.67 Drawing on Berardi’s
idea that there is a multiplicity of immanent possible futures, and invoking some-
thing close to the digital limit situation, Zylinska states:
The present moment, with its ecological and economic destructions, and the
material and discursive havoc wreaked upon our planet, seems to suggest
humanity is on a downward trajectory, that it has already ordered in its own
63 Naomi Klein, “How Big Tech Plans to Profit from the Pandemic,” The Guardian, May 13, 2020.
64 Jaspers, Philosophy, vol. 1 (1932/1969).
65 Ibid., 43, italics added.
66 David Sneath, Martin Holbraad, and Morten Axel Pedersen, “Technologies of the
expiration. Yet, contrary to the predictions of the various fetishists of the apoc-
alypse, I want to follow Bifo in arguing that our shared future has not yet been
totally spent, irrevocably conquered or deterministically designed. And so,
amidst the ruin of our current political thought, a possibility of another, more
utopian, future can perhaps be sought and fought for.68
Vulnerability in Resistance, 12–27; Akama, Pink, and Sumartojo, Uncertainty and Possibility, 45.
75 Marianne Hirsch, “Vulnerable Time,” in Butler, Gambetti, and Sabsay, Vulnerability in
Resistance, 80.
216 Digital Limit Situations
I encourage us all to take notice and to reconsider the affordances and the
consequences of our hyperreliance on these technologies as they shift and take
on more import over time. What we need now, more than ever, is public policy
that advocates protections from the effects of unregulated and unethical artificial
intelligence.78
Media scholar Mark Andrejevic sees a risk in offloading human agency and
judgment to machines; he wants us to move beyond the “ethical turn” and to re-
place it with “data civics”:
The fact that ethical guidelines may not reach far enough to address this form
of social de-skilling may help explain an ambivalent response toward the
burgeoning politico-academic-industrial promotion of an ethical turn (in
Artificial Intelligence, big data, data mining, and so on). At one level, this re-
sponse is driven by concerns that such programs could serve, at least on the
part of the tech sector and its political allies, as public relations strategies for
avoiding more stringent forms of regulation.79
For all four of these scholars, the emphasis should thus be put on a veteran method
of hope: the modernist form of intervention through near-future planning,
which implies regulating politically and legally the leeway, scope, and scale of
the current tech giants, and thereby controlling their development of AI in the
service of humanity. We may note that, by the same token, Jaspers sees the ge-
neral situatedness of human life as encompassing change within; it is in essence
transformable.80 From this perspective, even a future seemingly encapsulated by
prediction technologies reflects this essentially open-ended quality of the human
situation:
I have to put up with them as given, but not as definitely given: there remains a
chance of transforming them, even in the sense that I can calculate and bring
about situations, in which I am going to act as given henceforth. This is the
character of purposive arrangements. In technological, legal, political action we
create situations: We do not proceed directly toward a goal, we bring about the
situation from which it will arise.81
For Jaspers, in his relentlessly hopeful manner, these modernist plans thus also
contain openings. An alternative to the next AI century would be to place regu-
lated and controllable AI in the hands of human collectives as aids in the mun-
dane and deeply existential projects of sustaining relationships to each other and
to our planet. In order to bring about a century of care and attendance, as Jaspers
would probably suggest in his insistence upon limits, the wise thing would be to
sometimes pursue the option of automation, and sometimes not. Indeed, there
may be no-go zones for AI, not because the solutions do not yet exist, but because
we value something else. Only with a foothold firmly in the soil of a deep reali-
zation of the human situation—in the earthbound knowledge of the stuff we are
made of, and of our perennial needs and necessities—can the horizons of AI be-
come a deeply human-and planet-centered project.82
Efforts to politically steer, plan, and design must be combined with other
methods of hope as well, such as a focus on care and the human imagination.
In this vein Groves holds out new horizons of care, arguing for a political ethos
that enables establishing a relationship to the future “with a particular aesthetic,
ethical and epistemological orientation.”83 Following feminist ethicists Sara
Ruddick and Joan Tronto, he connects care with life, rather than with principles
divorced from life:
A future horizon of care is a different way of bringing the future into the pre-
sent than that which characterizes the quantifying and instrumentalizing
projections of the empty future. It domesticates uncertainty by beginning from
within relationality and connection rather than by beginning from an assumed
position of autonomy.84
This ethics of care is in close alignment with the goals of existential media
studies and its practices of careful listening, wrapping around (as in Bachelard’s
81 Ibid.
82 Cf. Arendt, The Human Condition.
83 Cf. Chris Groves, “Horizons of Care: From Future Imaginaries to Responsible Research and
roundness), and curating while keeping a proper careful distance. That is, caring
is also about dissolving oppressive horizons—those that remain detached and
exploitative of the future. The future is latent within what we do. As Fisher and
Tronto emphasize:
We suggest that caring be viewed a species activity that includes everything that
we do to maintain, continue, and repair our “world” so that we can live in it as
well as possible. That world includes our bodies, our selves, and our environ-
ment, all of which we seek to interweave in a complex, life-sustaining web.85
This comes close to Salvatore Iaconesi’s vision of La Cura. The word “cura-
tion” stems from the Latin word cura, which means to take care of, heed, heal,
cure, care for, and give attention to. Curation thus also has direct connotations
of curing, treating, and tending, as in Groves and Adam’s vision for tending to
the future in the present. In this sense, curating one’s own and other people’s
lives with technologies might mean a mindful and attentive attendance to
how we compose our relationships with technologies and each other within a
life-sustaining web. This also implies calibrating an awareness of the various
relationships that technologies form in the present, including those they have
formed and which act upon us now, and those that will take form beyond our
immediate perception in the future. This implies an intergenerational approach
to curating and caring.
The future also demands a role for the imagination, and imagining the fu-
ture is an existential practice.86 Hence imagination and creativity are crucial for
achieving an alternative that makes a difference.87 Jaspers explains the pivotal
role of the imagination for transformation: “It is precisely when they explain
nothing and are meaningless, by the criteria of rational consequence, causality
and end that myth and fairy tale can have great depth and infinite interpreta-
bility. . . . Only the language of imagination—so it seems—touches reality that
evades all objective investigation.”88 In discussing the role of the imaginary,
Zylinska proposes, in resonance with this, that “this possibility of envisaging a
different future and painting a different picture of the world may require us to
85 Fisher and Tronto in Joan Tronto, Moral Boundaries: A Political Argument for an Ethic of Care
Futures, Projects, Politics and Interests, ed. Will Rollason (Oxford: Berg, 2014), 28–47.
87 There are plenty of examples of this in projects that seek to design otherwise. Drawing on
Julie Cohen’s critique of individualism and her notion of “semantic discontinuity,” Frischmann
and Selinger stress a design principle that allows for building gaps and inconsistencies into our
technosocial engineering: “Often the imperfections in our techno-social systems, particularly
those that shape our everyday lives and practices, afford people with room to play.” Frischmann and
Selinger, Re-engineering Humanity, 275.
88 Jaspers, Philosophy of Existence, 83, italics in original.
Anticipatory Media 219
extend an invitation to nonhuman others to join the project and help redraft its
aesthetic boundaries.”89 Furthermore, she underlines that
For Jaspers, this type of awakeness is represented in our capacity to enter with
open eyes into the limit situation. I suggest that, in order to embrace such
alien epistemologies, we may—in addition to turning to the more than human
realm—explore the neglected and alien depths of the terrains of Existenz. The
limit situation is the long-lost relative who should be reunited with the family of
human imagination, play, creativity, aesthetic sensibility, and—as José Esteban
Muñoz stresses, drawing upon Ernst Bloch’s work on hope and utopia—aston-
ished contemplation.91 In fact, embracing the imaginary as well as contempla-
tion as part of that existential practice means summoning the radical openness
and indeterminacy of the limit situation and, thus, simultaneously moving be-
yond even that which we can imagine.92 Here I argue that the limit situation
offers up a possibility of capturing a neglected potentiality of being human.
Hence, the alternative often sought in animals and in machines is an ultimate
otherness that can also be found at the heart of what matters to us, and in our
very acts of rebelliously imagining and waiting while carefully attending. It is to
be found in acts that evade objectivism and that allow for a creative broadening
of both the human register and our anticipatory modes and media, beyond the
instrumental, logical, controlled, autonomous, certain—and in effect predicted
and absolutely predictable—idea of the Human and His Future with AI in the
new era.
I set out in this final chapter by discussing how AI succeeds in presenting itself
as that earth-shattering arrival on the human horizon at the end times, in which
some forms of religious and macroeconomic discourse share a stake. This, as
Zuboff has demonstrated, includes a pillaging for profit of the depths of human
experience, of humanity’s existential concerns. In addition, AI entrepreneurs are
at the time of writing aiming to benefit from the nonsurveyable and, as some
would argue, interlinked crises of our present age, attempting to fill that empty,
uncertain future of the next moment with inevitable datafication. One could
even argue that AI enterprises are rummaging at the brink of a destructive form
of life that they simultaneously co-and reproduce, while effectively closing the
very horizon of the future at the same time.
An important objective of this book has thus also been to offer an invitation be-
yond the prospects and limits of all-pervasive digital networks, including the “new
AI era” of predictive modeling, ubiquitous technologies, and dataism. The invita-
tion goes: let’s collaboratively imagine and craft a future of existentially sustainable
media. Let’s pause in the present to reflect on the future and thus engage it, and in-
deed to zealously philosophize in the spirit of Jaspers in order to bring something else
into being. Let’s seek out methods of hope, beginning with the act of embracing the
present moment—the digital limit situation—as a task. And let’s pick up the torch
from the Futures Anthropologies Manifesto and “probe, interrogate and play with fu-
tures that are plural, non-linear, cyclical, implausible and always unraveling.”93
Precisely here lies the assignment ahead for pursuing an integrative and genera-
tive form of humanities and social sciences that engages those who build the tech-
nologies, in the pursuit of a design for the benefit of an inclusive and open future of
existential and ecological sustainability. This posits postdisciplinary humanities as
a method of hope. Thus bridging “the two cultures” may mean, I suggest, exploring
an existential ethics in collaboration with those who engineer the systems, in the
joint practice of imagining the future at the limits of what can be imagined. The
digital limit situation means a chance to open up the present to other possibilities
than those that are visible, embedded, forecast, or scientifically conceivable: to the
indeterminate, open-ended, or completely unbelievable.94 Berardi suggests, for ex-
ample, the implausible scenario of a worldwide ethico-political awakening of all
the cognitive workers of the world: designers, programmers, AI builders who con-
trol the developments. That is where a new future may begin to take shape.
It seems clear that being able to anticipate Jane Guyer’s near future is phenom-
enologically required for our common life and well-being, and for existential
95 Or as Don Ihde explains: “Nietzsche, who much later placed into a dialectic the Apollonian and
the dark and furious Dionysian, affirmed that one must also accept a ‘god who dances’ as well as the
stability of Apollonian form.” Ihde, Listening and Voice, 14.
96 Jaspers, Philosophy of Existence, 83.
222 Digital Limit Situations
them. The practices of grieving through caring for the dead online, for example—
in reverent silence, in responsible abeyance and careful waiting—may be a tem-
plate in the present moment, when we must find responsible ways of taking on
and crafting futures present in and with existential media. If we are to cross the
frontiers of the digital limit situation, we must seize its uncertainties and see
human vulnerability in loss as a source of fecundity because it recognizes limit. We
can learn from the silent ones. And mourning bodies in themselves stand on the
rim, where limits are evinced, but where several potentialities may also open out.
A focus on the limit situations of the digital thus pushes, as already stated, to-
ward reconceiving of media in light of a multifocal sense of limits rather than of
endless progress. This will also enable us to recognize that existential media are in
fact anticipatory, which may complement Zuboff ’s ultimate remedy: reclaiming
will.97 The existential palette is broader and more nuanced. And even as we
reclaim the future tense, through our will to will, we can never be sure of the
upshot. In all lived-in practices, namely, “multiple dynamics interact in indeter-
minate ways.”98 Or in Jaspers’s words:
Nobody knows where man [sic] and his thinking are going. Since existence,
man and his world are not at an end, a completed philosophy is as little possible
as an anticipation of the whole. We men have plans with finite ends, but some-
thing else always comes out which no one willed.99
what resembles a Jaspersian mediation between subjectivity and practice: “I have long been inter-
ested, too, in related paradoxes of freedom: Could freedom live in accepting what is as well as in the
exercise of the will? Could freedom be found in an as-yet-unknown (and in-principle-unknowable)
future as well as in programmatic recommendations? Is freedom a quality of subjects, or a worldly
practice?” Heyes, Anaesthetics of Existence, 12.
98 Guyer, “Anthropology,” 377.
99 Jaspers, Reason and Existenz, 48.
100 Cf. Søren Kierkegaard, Enten-eller: Et livsfragment (Copenhagen, 1843).
101 Appadurai, Future as Cultural Fact, 286–287.
Postscript—Going Dark
Refusals in Slowness, Silence, and Waiting
Existential media are tools of existence. We forge them out of our own needs and
desires, and out of the riches and penuries of our being, in our search for some-
where to land and to safely belong. Ceaselessly daring to form new bridges and
new connections, which we are then obliged to rely upon, we both throw our-
selves out and are thrown into existence. Connections provide fragile lifelines of
support—filaments in Whitman’s poem. It is our reliance upon these as they bear
up and bear out—within limits and with open-ended implications—that makes
them so essential and deeply existential.
To be able to take note of the coexisters hanging there, in midair, requires
that we dare to slow down. It also calls for loyally remaining with the singular
human and the existential body in order to reconceive being human after
posthumanism. We need to place the embodied mourner and disabled or ailing
person, the coexister, focally for existential media studies, and as a first for a
media theory of limit. In hearing these voices on the edge, we have encountered
cuts of the real that move, guide, and anchor us. We, too, are coexisters who try to
navigate through the planetary and personal—as well as globally distributed and
locally enfleshed—realities of the digital limit situation.
Inspired by Karl Jaspers, who offered a mediation between the two main
emphases of the tradition of existentialism— the instrumental and the
Existential Media. Amanda Lagerkvist, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2022.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190925567.003.0010
224 Digital Limit Situations
subjectivist—this book has shown the crucial importance of being able to keep
both the technological and experiential, the material and moral, the mundane
and extraordinary dimensions of existence in play when conceptualizing media
today. As has been demonstrated, existential media studies will not retire from
asking uncomfortable questions, pushed to the margins within more established
or fashionable paradigms. It contends it is high time to reclaim being human
within a richer register, by also embracing what seems off limits. In this spirit,
I have begun in this book to offer a media theory of the limit situation.
This has also brought about a different tale for our age. Limits are not glitches
in the perfect system; they are features of the world and thus of existence. We
may note a disjunction between, on the one hand, what the internet means and
flags within our cultural imaginaries and, on the other, its complex realities. It
aspires to and promises an Eldorado of smooth connections, interactive imme-
diacy, and seamless presence within an imaginary of transcending tech—an im-
aginary that belongs to the cultural logic of modernity, and which has pervaded
media-historical epochs from the earliest dreams of the telegraph to the most ro-
mantic visions for cyberspace. This clashes head-on with a reality of both willful
and unwitting disconnection, and of actual and ambivalent deliveries in the limit
situation of loss.
This provides a useful starting point for an existential critique. Placing
mourners centrally has rendered crucial insights. For the coexisters, such breaks
may also, in a strange way, actually reflect back their own realism—their lived
realities of the limit situation, which entails the grand interruption of death and
loss. In addition, we learn from the coexisters that, even as the lifeline is there
around the clock, the comfort it offers actually lies in its always-thereness—not
in the constant online activity of the mourner herself. As we have seen, moreover,
memorials mean the world to the bereaved; however, the latter’s attachment to the
internet and to its grammar and ethos of quantification is as factual as it is ambiv-
alent. Coexisters remind us here of the need both for respectful communication
on the frail lifelines, and for silence and disconnection on the existential terrain.
In addition, since the medium displays a steadfast disregard for bodies, it
is actually reminding us all the time about its own limits. Its mythologies have
flatly and pompously established its position precisely by parading the displace-
ment of embodiment in a space of immediacy. Its alleged perfections and point-
blank fullness—most recently echoed in the promises of autonomous systems
and (close to our concerns) of the AI dead—ignore the fact that it flauntingly
fails to bring back that lost somebody. In other words, it doubly projects the void
that loss opens up. Finally, in what I call their postinteractive modes of being
human and caring for the digital dead, invoking the Jaspersian sense of tran-
scendence, coexisters display an alternative where the dead are respected in their
utter otherness, as silent angels, and where modes of being digital emerge that
Postscript—Going Dark 225
revere waiting and remaining suspended at the limit. In these instances, impor-
tantly, the medium also contains its own ends, gaps, failures, and voids, but also
its openings within itself. Media, I argue, are thus antinomies, belonging more to
the limit than we have been prone to see.
Ever since its inception, existential media studies has been raising scandalous
and playful questions about limits, and about media disintegration and discon-
nection: Can we shut down this monster? Do we have to live with it indefinitely?1
This sounds like blasphemy or insanity; but most importantly, as we are evolving
with machines and tools, it is of course a deeply unrealistic and also in many
respects unwanted scenario. The important and serious question is to what ex-
tent, and in what capacity, we can employ strategies of refusal within the digital
limit situation, or strategies for moving under the radar, as Olivia Banner puts it:
For some media studies and cultural studies theorists, there are benefits to re-
maining in the dark, to maintaining a queer and crip stance “against the fu-
ture.” Today’s computational networked technologies, in consort with global
neoliberal capitalism, aim for total visibility—or rather, they aim to force all
life into grids that are legible to their optics. Silence, refusing to participate,
“going dark,” are all viable tactics to take against the overwhelming colonisa-
tion of life for which Silicon Valley aims. That colonisation is predicated on
enlightenment logics of control at a distance; on rationalisation and the ration-
alisation of behaviour; on an underlying ideology of human improvement via
technology, with its strong echo of eugenics. Disability theory provides us with
ample insights that challenge these logics. We would do well to madden these
logics, to crip them—to value . . . “disordering logics.” This would be not only to
honour core disability studies insights—it would also conjoin disability theory
with other theoretical traditions, especially feminist and critical race theory.2
Existential media studies volunteers here to join forces with these crucial and
essential debates. Theorizing media at and of the limit, and in the limit situa-
tion, and continuing the calling of inverting communication as per Jaspers and
Peters after him, it supports the idea that silence—and slowing down, remaining
in waiting, going dark—is a fruitful site of refusal, of resistance, and of creation.
The world is on edge, pushed there by a normative recklessness of speed and
1 See, for example, Lagerkvist, “The Media End,” and “Digital Caesura as Fecundity: Limit
Situations of the Digital,” presentation at the DIGMEX conference “Digital Existence II: Precarious
Media Life,” Sigtuna Foundation, October 2017. For another playful example in this genre, see Zack
Blas’s art project I Hate the Internet, https://zachblas.info/events/i-hate-the-internet-techno-dystop
ian-malaise-and-visions-of-rebellion/.
2 Olivia Banner, “Disability Studies, Big Data and Algorithmic Culture,” in Interdisciplinary
Approaches to Disability: Looking Towards the Future, vol. 2, ed. Katie Ellis et al. (New York: Routledge,
2019), 55–56.
226 Digital Limit Situations
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230 Recommended Reading
For the benefit of digital users, indexed terms that span two pages (e.g., 52–53) may, on occasion,
appear on only one of those pages.
abeyance, 32, 215, 221–22 automation, 5n.12, 98, 104, 113, 191, 199, 204–
absurdity, 73, 81, 142–43, 183n.48 5, 214, 217
Adenauer era, 21 autonomous systems, 48, 98, 200, 214, 221
Adorno, Theodor, 21
affect, 38, 98, 132, 152–53, 158, 222 Becker, Ernst, 73
AI (artificial intelligence), 12, 34–35, 37, 101–2, Berardi, Franco, “Bifo” 198–99, 213, 214, 220
110–11, 123, 169–70, 180–81, 188–89, Berlant, Lauren, 95n.101
199–203, 205, 206–9, 211, 212, 213–14, big tech giants, 144–45, 216
215–16, 217, 220–21, 224–25 biometrics, 24–25, 34–35, 39–40, 65n.4, 121,
and anticipation, 206–7 122–23, 130–31, 201–2
and ethics, 200–1 birth, 2–3, 7–8, 7n.19, 52, 64–65, 112, 153, 193
and the future, 202 Bloch, Ernst, 21, 219
and the pandemic, 213–14 body/bodies, 10, 12–14, 30, 41–42, 44–45,
responsible, 111 71–72, 88, 96–98, 103–4, 114, 120–
ambiguity, 8–9, 35–36n.66, 37, 81, 89, 100, 101 21, 125–27
the ethics of, 37, 145, 204n.22, 211n.52, and affect, 38, 85–86, 153–54
222n.97 avatar, 169
ambivalence, 8–9, 41–42, 43–44, 48–49, cyborg, 151n.5
98n.112, 100, 114–15, 138–39, 138n.64, datafication of, 4, 40
143, 146, 162–63, 216, 224 definition of, 13n.30, 125–26
ambivalent status of the body, 188, 224 disabled, 13n.30, 103–4, 151–52, 151n.5
angels, 78–79, 166–69, 167–68n.8, 176–77, 190– discarding of in Western culture, 187–88
91, 192, 195, 224–25 and embodiment, 13n.30
Anthropocene, 67–68 existential, 123, 182–84, 223
anthropology, 24–25, 35–36, 69, 75n.35, failing, 169–70
98, 104–5 feelings in the, 72, 120–21
philosophical, 112 feminist definition of, 13n.30
anticipation frailty of the, 165
definition of, 208–9 human, 169–70
antinomy, 2–3, 8, 13n.31, 31, 38n.73, 100, 146, individualization of in clinical medicine in
183n.49, 224–25 the 19th century, 36n.67
media as, 37, 44–45 interwoven with digital media, 1–2, 12
anxiety, 7n.19, 8–9 , 33n.61, 37–3 8, 57, as limited, mortal, dead, 3–4, 41–42, 102,
64–65, 64–6 5n.3, 70, 73–7 4, 76–7 7, 122–23, 154, 162, 170–71, 182–83, 184–
157, 199 85, 186–87, 190–91
Arendt, Hannah, 14, 19–20n.3, 21, 21n.7, 23, mapped, 12
46, 66n.6, 70, 90–91, 112, 129–30, masculinist distance from, 169–70
155, 197–98 material, 121
on Kierkegaard, 128–29 as measurable machine, 122–23
on natality, 197 mind clones with, 188–89
theory of action, 155 mind-body dualism, 169–70
attendance, 137, 217, 218, 225–26 obedient, 58
234 Index
shared, 59–60, 96, 115–16, 146–47, 151–52, Weber, Max, 23, 177–78
156, 163, 164–65 Weheliye Alexander G., 60n.31
and social constructivism, 110 Weimar, 21
as social force, 96–97, 97n.110 Weizenbaum, Joseph, 129–30
tactical and systemic, 95–96 West World, 188
techno-existential, 42, 46, 89 World War II, 73–74, 197–98
and temporality, 215 Wynter, Sylvia, 58
waiting, 3–4, 8, 8n.21, 12, 33–34, 57, 62–63, Zuboff, Shoshana, 4n.10, 125, 126–27, 130–31,
104–5, 115–16, 148–49, 198, 219, 221– 201–2, 203–4
22, 223–26 Zylinska, Joanna, 59, 89, 113, 153,
Wautischer, Helmut, 109 207–8