Growing up on a tropical island in Papua New Guinea, my identity felt deeply intertwined with the world around me. The lush, vibrant landscapes and the rhythms of the natural world were more than just a backdrop—they were an active force shaping who I was. It was a truth I felt instinctively: we are the sum total of those around us and our surroundings. But it took the work of French philosopher René Girard to give this intuition a name: mimetic desire.
Girard’s revolutionary idea is simple yet profound: our desires are not our own. We don’t desire an object on its own merits; we desire it because we see someone else, a “mediator,” desiring it. This hidden urge to imitate the desires of others is the engine of human culture, shaping everything from our creative pursuits to our most violent conflicts.
Creativity: A Legacy of Desire
My earliest and most vivid lesson in mimetic desire unfolded in a makeshift darkroom. My father was a passionate photographer, and I would watch him, mesmerized, as he worked in the red-lit darkness, a space filled with the scent of chemicals. He would take ordinary-looking strips of film, swish them in trays, and then miraculously, images would appear. I was intrigued by the process and the magic of seeing a moment from the outside world develop into a physical memory.
My father, the original mediator of my desire, saw my fascination and gave me a black and white film camera. It was more than just a gift; it was an invitation to participate in a ritual I had long admired. My desire to take photos was not born in a vacuum; it was a direct imitation of his. This is the creative cycle. We learn from and are inspired by our mentors, imitating their passions until we find our own voice.
Agroecology: Desiring a Different Kind of World
This lesson in imitation would reappear in a different form years later, in my passion to grow things. My food forest obsession is a conscious rebellion against a destructive form of mimetic desire. For over a century, a powerful, collective desire has driven our approach to agriculture: to dominate nature for maximum efficiency and profit. This industrial mimesis has led us to desire vast monoculture fields and perfectly uniform produce, a desire uncritically copied from the factory model.
Agroecology, in contrast, is the choice to imitate a different model: nature itself. My food forest is an attempt to mimic the elegant, self-sustaining principles of a natural ecosystem—its biodiversity, its nutrient cycles, and its resilience. It’s a choice to desire a regenerative relationship with the earth, born from observing the quiet abundance and inherent harmony of a forest. We are choosing a new, healthier mediator of desire.
The Scapegoat and the Path to Social Justice
Mimetic desire, left unchecked, leads to a devastating outcome. When multiple desires converge on the same object, it creates rivalry and conflict. As these rivalries multiply, a community can descend into a mimetic crisis—a state of chaotic, all-against-all violence. To resolve this, Girard argued, societies unconsciously turn to a single, innocent victim, a scapegoat, whose expulsion or sacrifice restores a temporary peace. The scapegoat is falsely blamed for the community’s problems, and the violence is often justified as righteous.
This is the central theme of my previous research. In my paper, “How Might a Girardian (Scapegoat Theory) Reading of Zimri and Cozbi’s Assassination in Numbers 25 Challenge a Theology of Sacred Violence,” I explored how this ancient mechanism operates within a sacred narrative. The work of social justice is profoundly tied to this insight: it is the constant, difficult work of exposing and dismantling the narratives and systems that enable us to scapegoat others to resolve our own internal tensions.
Strategy: The Conscious Choice
In business, politics, and personal development, the most effective strategy is one that consciously recognizes and resists the pull of mimesis. In a world where companies endlessly copy each other and individuals chase fleeting trends, a truly innovative path is created by those who choose their own desires. This isn’t about being different for the sake of it, but about identifying a genuine, non-rivalrous vision and building a strategy around that.
Ultimately, Girard’s work gives us more than just a theory of desire; it gives us a tool for liberation. It teaches us that while we may be the sum total of our influences, we are not helpless pawns. By understanding the forces that shape our desires, we can choose our mediators more wisely. We can choose to imitate the resilient wisdom of nature, the compassionate desire for justice, and the creative impulse to build something new. In doing so, we begin to consciously shape not just our own lives, but the very world we inhabit.
