Foucault and Dog Shit

My dog was sniffing, searching for that perfect spot.  After a couple more turns, he lowered his hind legs, placing them in front of his forelegs, and then took a gigantic dump.  It started steaming once it hit the grass, which was still covered by melting patches of snow from earlier today.

Luckily, I had a little flashlight attached to his poo bag.  I flicked that sucker on and shined the light over patches of mud, ice, and decaying leaves.  “There you are, you little bastard.”  Feeling accomplished, I grabbed the steaming pieces of dung and started to tie the bag closed. 

And then it happened.  While trotting triumphantly across a field, my foot squished into something.  For a moment, my stride was broken and I felt a sticky traction from beneath my foot.  “Shit! I hope that’s not shit!”

Maybe it was mud?  Or maybe it was dying leaves?  Or maybe I was just imagining the feeling?  But, as we neared the trash can, I could feel that something caking into the riveted soles of my favorite Nike Air Max’s.  I almost didn’t want to look, but did anyway.  And then, voila!  There it was.  A thick gauze of caramel brown dog shit smeared across the bottom of my sneakers.   

This got me thinking: Why is it that I seem to step in more dog shit during the winter?   Dog owners will feel me on this.  If you pay attention, you might notice that there seems to be more unclaimed dog shit in the winter than in other months. Is it because people become less responsible in colder months?  Does the cold make them more likely to skip out on picking up their furry friend’s droppings?  Or, is there something else at work here?

I think Michel Foucault can help us understand what I think is a seasonal phenomenon.  In Discipline & Punish, Foucault draws from Jeremy Bentham’s conceptualization of the panopticon as a mode of surveillance and social control.  The panopticon was a building designed with a single watchtower in the middle of a ring of individualized cells containing inmates.  By shining a light on each cell, inmates would feel that they were always under surveillance by a guard (real or imagined) sitting in that watchtower. 

Foucault famously borrowed from Bentham’s ideas when writing about modern forms of surveillance and social control.  He wrote, “He who is subjected to a field of visibility, and who knows it, assumes responsibility for the constraints of power” (202).

I think a similar thing shapes practices around dog shit in parks.  In warmer months, people feel comfortable sitting on benches and hanging out in parks.  Some parks have festivals with music and attract crowds of people.  Others have their share of homeless folks seeking refuge in alcoves, youth smoking cigarettes or weed, and any variety of other public characters hanging out in parks.  I’ve been struck by Toronto’s park scene.  There are lots of them and they each have a different character.  But, when the temperature drops and the days grow shorter, these characters disappear.  The parks become mini ghost towns.  And with this, so too does the illusion of surveillance.  

Anyways, this is a little ramble about dog shit and Foucault. I hope you like it.  If not, I hope you're at least somewhat entertained at my misfortune.  And remember: Keep your eyes open and check the soles of your shoes!