Aesthetic Evolution: Transforming Sustainability into Desire

I was recently invited to speak to university students studying sustainability in Sweden. The session was intended to be interactive, and the organizers specifically mentioned that I was one of the few people who not only research sustainability but also actively live and practice it. I eagerly anticipated sharing my insights with these bright, young students, most of whom were in their twenties. I decided to craft visually appealing slides, breaking away from the usual text-heavy academic style, hoping that the students would find my practical experiences intriguing.

However, it became evident that my approach wasn’t as engaging as I’d hoped. While the students were curious and open to the discussion, I couldn’t help but feel out of place, or as I perceived it, somewhat “uncool.” In that moment, I felt like the older generation reminiscing about the virtues of growing one’s own peas. It was an eye-opening experience, highlighting an observation I’ve had throughout my journey in the sustainability field - sustainability is often considered aesthetically unappealing.

Before I delve deeper into this, it’s worth noting that the antiquated image of the stereotypical ecological hippie in Birkenstocks with dreadlocks is outdated. Concepts like tiny houses, minimalist lifestyles, zero-waste products, and sustainable fashion have successfully made sustainability beautiful. However, these trends are predominantly rooted in capitalist structures, primarily revolving around consumption. Even minimalism, which advocates for simplicity, can endorse specific minimalist products, such as the ideal travel dress, contributing to the cycle.

The sustainability I’m deeply interested in goes beyond these surface-level changes; it’s about transforming fundamental structures, cultivating alternative ways of understanding, being, and taking action that redefines our relationships with ourselves, other beings (human and non-human), the universe, and everything in between. Concepts like “Mother Nature,” “GAIA,” “kinship,” “kindness,” and “compassion” are integral to this, and they resonate with me on a profound level.

But there’s an “and yet.” These concepts, though significant, often lack an element of sensuality or allure. Take “Mother Nature,” for instance; it’s not a concept that tends to spark romantic attraction. The vocabulary surrounding environmentalism, sustainability, or regeneration is often lacking in sensuality. Even when they promise a harmonious existence with the natural world, it’s worth considering whether perfect harmony might diminish the eroticism of the relationship. If being an environmentalist were associated with a certain sensuality or desire, perhaps a greater appeal for ecologically friendly behaviors would follow.

When I think of the life I aspire to live, it’s one filled with allure - a life where I’m captivated by the world, by every being I encounter. In my experience, the most joyous way to exist is when I’m akin to having a crush on everyone and everything I come across. When I’m deeply infatuated with someone, it fills me with energy, kindness, generosity, patience, and a sense of humor that can laugh in the face of challenges. It’s this vibrant, “crush-worthy” aspect of life that I seek. What if sustainability, environmentalism, or regeneration could offer that kind of allure?

In some circles, there’s a notion of “nature as a lover” that ties into the field of queer ecology, exploring the intersection between queer theory and environmentalism. While this approach does bridge a crucial gap in the environmental movement, it still may not completely address the aesthetic gap.

Another perspective comes from eco-philosopher Andreas Weber, who connects love and the erotic to ecology, framing love as a practice of enlivenment. He describes the erotic as a genuine life principle that pulses through the bodies of all life forms. This premise focuses on our inherent erotic desire for the more-than-human world.

However, the broader question remains: how can we make sustainability, environmentalism, or regeneration alluring? How can we nurture the sensuality and desire inherent in our connections with the natural world? Instead of providing definitive answers, I’d like to leave this as an open question for contemplation. Perhaps by immersing ourselves in this question, we can begin to transform our relationship with environmentalism from a moral obligation into an innate desire.