In sustainability sciences, the concept of “care” has become fundamental. This notion, which originated in ecofeminism, is understood as an ethical commitment to nurturing our planet and its living beings. It involves assuming responsibility and embracing a broad perspective that takes into account the concerns and vulnerabilities of other beings, as well as their material conditions, in all our actions. A widely cited and accepted definition by Joan Tronto describes care as “…activities we do to maintain, continue, and repair our world so that we can live in it as well as possible.”
This definition focuses on humans, and many commentators would argue that ethical commitment is a distinctly human capability. However, is care a uniquely human attribute? Ecofeminism often views care as a gendered activity, particularly highlighting how care work is typically associated with women and often goes unrecognized due to existing gender power structures in society. Care for the planet stands in opposition to male domination and exploitation. Nonetheless, Tronto’s definition appears neutral. For instance, when she refers to “our world,” in our geocience-inspired view of the planet, this would include the technosphere, . Does care extend to the technosphere? Certainly! Humans, primarily men, invest significant care in the infrastructure of modern society. Similar to women’s caregiving roles in the family, this care for the technosphere often goes unnoticed and operates in the background. This invisibility contributes to the neglect of infrastructure care, as evidenced by the deterioration and backlog of infrastructure even in the wealthiest nations, such as Germany and the United States.
The comparison with infrastructural care raises an important question: Is care ethical? When we take care of infrastructure, we adhere to a functional criterion, known as Zweckrationalität (goal-oriented rationality). If infrastructure is to fulfill its purpose, we must maintain it. Doesn’t this principle also apply to ecosystems? The World Economic Forum has identified the loss of biodiversity as one of the critical economic and societal risks of our time. Effective risk management necessitates caring for biodiversity, without invoking ethical imperatives.
As Puig de la Bellacasa has shown in her influential work, Western metaphysics and ontology play a significant role in individualizing the notion of ethical commitment, often leading to its privatization. When we consider our obligation to care for complex systems, such as ecosystems and infrastructure, this perspective fails to acknowledge fundamental aspects, such as the universal asymmetry of care. We care for someone or something, but this is rarely reciprocal; others need to care for us, and ultimately, we must also care for ourselves. In professional care work, ethical considerations often take a back seat as a means of self-care. Caregivers do what is functionally required while trying to avoid becoming too emotionally involved. However, this can be challenging. For instance, during the pandemic, many healthcare workers experienced feelings of failure and guilt as they helplessly watched their patients succumb to illness. In an ecological context, the same principle applies: people may feel overwhelmed by the ethical responsibilities of caring for the planet. Additionally, there is an argument that universalizing care can unintentionally reduce the accountability of key players in capitalism.
In light of these conceptual challenges, I propose a radical shift in perspective. I suggest that we view care not as an ethical action, but rather as an aesthetic one. This shift is crucial for developing a more inclusive, more-than-human understanding of care. One source of inspiration for this idea is Jakob von Uexküll’s incorporation of musical metaphors, which were popular during his time. The musical metaphor pertains to the “harmony” of ecological relationships, emphasizing the intricate temporal and spatial coordination within multi-species communities, famously illustrated in Darwin’s description of the “entangled bank.” We can appreciate this as the beauty of flourishing life.
Richard O. Prum has convincingly demonstrated that aesthetics is a category that extends beyond humans. He builds on a reinterpretation of Darwin’s theory of sexual selection, which has been overlooked in mainstream Neo-Darwinian theories over the past century. Other beings may not be capable of ethical reasoning, but they possess aesthetic agency and can appreciate aesthetic patterns in their interactions with the environment. Aesthetic action involves caring: birds care for their songs, spiders care for their webs, and hedgehogs tidy up their burrows. In fact, it is quite easy to reinterpret Tronto’s definition of care as caring for a beautiful world.
There is a catch: just as human aesthetics encompasses a range of diverse tastes, multi-species aesthetics does as well. In a society marked by steep power structures, the dominant groups impose their aesthetic preferences on everyone else. Therefore, democratizing aesthetics becomes both an ethical and political imperative. The same principle applies in a multi-species society. However, I think that there is another way to ensure the recognition of aesthetical diversity.
I previously discussed the concept of infrastructure; multi-species aesthetics involves designing environments that appeal to the aesthetic preferences of different species. However, as I have extensively argued elsewhere, multi-species design does not necessarily require ethical recognition. Instead, it can be grounded in the legal acknowledgment of possession and ownership by other species. Once we institutionalize multi-species co-ownership of the planet and its various habitats, aesthetic recognition becomes a legally mandated requirement.
Recently, I came across a fascinating example regarding the Cathedral of Cologne, one of the most famous Christian artifacts in the world, renowned for its aesthetic wonder. The municipality is planning to install new lighting to enhance its beauty even further. However, the Cathedral also serves as a habitat for hundreds of non-human species, including lichens, insects, and birds. Biologists have issued serious warnings that this new illumination will exacerbate light pollution and disrupt the lives of the multi-species community that resides there. We could approach this issue from an ethical standpoint. However, the public debate is contentious, and the designers claim to act responsibly. In contrast, once we acknowledge the rights of the other species that inhabit the Cathedral, such as the bats, we must also consider their aesthetic preferences and sensory experiences. This situation is similar to a neighbour who plays loud music that we find unpleasant. Other species thrive in darkness, and we cannot simply disregard their preferences by overwhelming them with our light pollution, which we deem beautiful. Therefore, we need to align the aesthetics of the Cathedral with the needs of a multi-species community.
The institutional combination of multi-species ownership and multi-species aesthetics could be a powerful conceptual alternative to the ethical account of care. It leads us back to classical notions of seeing the good and the beautiful as two sides of the same coin.
The technosphere, our agency, our planet 