Here’s the introductory section to the final paper for my agroecology philosophy class. I’m supposed to be writing a summary of what I learned about various agricultural traditions, but I’ll be damned if I’ll tell you about biodynamic preparations (cow shit holes) or panchagavya or the 1,000 gods who live on the skin of a cow or why the three sisters planting technique is successful (nitrogen-loving, nitrogen fixing, shade plants, climbing plants, plants to climb, water efficiency blah blah blah) because I’m a social work major finding my agricultural justifications in permaculture. Bitches, this is my religion:
Agriculture in western North Carolina would benefit from the community and social integration that is a feature of many other agricultural systems. The relocalization process, part of the growing interest in local economic development and local agriculture, should go a step further by applying practices found effective in other agricultural traditions. An emphasis on integrating production methods with community resources and social life would help ensure the long-term viability of sustainable agriculture as an integrated habit, not an “alternative.” A sense of personal ownership over, responsibility for, and participation in the agricultural processes, methods, components and produce would do more to preserve sustainable agriculture than relying exclusively on capitalist exchange. A holistic worldview, recognizing the importance of components to the whole, is a feature in many heritage traditions of agriculture and in the philosophy of sustainability. Natural ecosystems, the constructed ecosystems of agriculture and the human systems interacting with these, are all part of the same whole which follows natural laws and processes. By understanding these processes and applying them to our activities, rather than attempting to amend and obliterate them, we increase yields, decrease effort, raise soil fertility, and ensure the survival of our agricultural systems and our survival as a species on a healthy planet.
This week I visited a friend who lives in an apartment complex close to town. His home is a 10 minute drive from town or a short trot to a bus stop. Adjacent to his apartment building is the playground serving a low-income community, the “projects,” a constructed space designed as a holding facility for the poor. While watching my son run with some of the local children I noticed first that there were no supervising parents for this pack, and that they had a game of going out to the grassy space behind the student apartments to pick buttercups, held in repurposed containers (plastic bottles and jugs). They went down to the creek for water and some older kids had a water fight while the younger ones made “flower soup.” They had invented a taxonomy for their local flora. I remembered eating purslane in soup in Mexico and wondered if any of the Latino kids’ mamas or grandmothers knew what to eat around here, thought about the Latina women’s group at the Agricultural Extension and their tomatoes and tomatillos and peppers, about the language of food as the language of sharing, of social cohesion, of cultural exchange, an insurance toward individual health and community well-being. I looked at the design of the houses over in the projects, the lack of windows, the way the houses were oriented toward the road and not to the slope or the sun. I wondered how high their heating and cooling costs must be, thought about how those costs keep people entrenched in poverty, and how the infrastructure providing basic resources is designed toward participation in the wage economy, exclusively toward financial resources, not toward natural resources available at the site. The houses are arranged in a ring, facing a wide circular “park” in the center, with mature trees carefully mulched and carefully mown grass and a neat paved floor for the dumpster. I felt the cool air rising from the creek, smelled the shade under the maple trees between the houses and the road, heard birdsong but saw no insects.
So in this space we have abundant natural resources, abundant social resources, and an infrastructure and resource philosophy which neglects and corrupts and damages these “free” means by which we could be thriving. Presently my backyard is too small to implement all of the agricultural philosophies and techniques I desire, but this constructed community provides a template for discussing solutions, and serves as a microcosm for solutions appropriate to Western North Carolina.
Now I’m going to write a grant (thank you, tax dollars & United Way) to redesign “the projects” with composting toilets, homebuilt solar panels*, passive-solar remodeling, greywater reclaimation into greenhouses and constructed wetlands, a community garden at the center park, community compost instead of a dumpster, a market garden on the back forty (so you can get in your work hours and get your welfare Medicaid for your kids), and what the hell, lets have some chickens, potluck nights, and a childcare cooperative. We can sell the tourists jewelry made from reclaimed trash. And, look, I’m teaching y’all job skills, let’s go change the world. Eat this, Habitat Houses (but compost it first).
*Hello University, thank you for this degree, please share your resources, expertise and enthusiasm with the people here who need to be empowered.
