written by Diana Sette
(re-published with permission from Permaculture Design magazine "#99 Ecological Restoration online edition" www.permaculturedesignmagazine.com)
I
did not always think of ecosystems as I do now. If you would have asked me ten
years ago as a Religious Studies and Literature undergraduate at Drew
University what an ecosystem is, I probably would have said it was a marsh with
frogs eating dragonflies pollinating daisies photosynthesizing, or maybe a
rainforest with monkeys and jaguars and fish and hissing cockroaches. Now, when
I hear the word ‘ecosystem,’ I think of something completely different. I
imagine a city. I imagine a no-name town off some major highway almost
completely paved over with asphalt and maybe an occasional pile of dyed
woodchips in a coffin of pavement. Are these not ecosystems too, just extremely
degraded to the point where there is barely any sign of life aside from a car
driver pumping gas and a courageous dandelion? I also envision communities of
people, and the design of a neighborhood. I imagine urban farms, and
intergenerational interracial exchanges connecting people and cultures across
invisible boundaries. I imagine a family, the trillions of microorganisms
living on my hand or in my gut, or the complex web of memories, thoughts, and
feelings that comprise a single human being. If an ecosystem is a set of
relationships, are we not ourselves and the communities within which we live
not also incredibly complex and intricate ecosystems? Unfortunately, with
patterns of oppression like racism, classism, sexism, ageism, and ableism,
among the other degrading -isms, most of us are living in greatly damaged
ecosystems. As the writers of the recent Rights of Nature & Mother Earth
put it, we must “recognize that there is no separation between how we treat
nature and how we treat ourselves” (1). For the process of ecological
restoration to have the greatest impact, we must start work in the area upon
which we can have the greatest influence: the ecosystem within. I had no idea
when I started on this journey that ecological restoration would bring me here.
Becoming aware of
ecosystems
I
grew up in a suburb outside of Philadelphia, a town with a strong Colonial
history (George Washington’s military headquarters were based there) and a
pattern of urban sprawl. Some of the development was a product of white flight,
and some of it was the product of a mostly white population climbing the
economic class ladder that requires the colonizing of country and moving into a
McMansion in order to be ‘successful.’ I remember it being heartbreaking for me
as a child to watch the construction of our new home. It was the second phase
of a new housing development called Forest Glen. I was entering fourth grade,
and I was devastated to move into this new cookie-cutter home with brightly
dyed green turf and a tree sapling out front. I was moving away from my
community of friends to live where a young forest glen had been decimated in
the name of my family. I saw only destruction. Perhaps, this was my first
understanding of living within a damaged ecosystem.
The
house didn’t feel like home to me. I felt as if I were moving onto ancient
burial grounds, having taken over someone or something else’s home with no
acknowledgment, let alone sacred reverence, for the place, or wildlife that had
lived there before. All the trees were cut, lawns were rolled out, and template
houses were erected in assembly-line fashion. I felt at the core of my being
how myself, my family, our neighbors, and the developers were responsible for
the destruction of this ecosystem. The nature of the development demonstrated a
cultural belief that nature has no rights and no value aside from potentially
adding to property value.
I
was around ten years old at the time of my move. What could I do? All I could
think to do was protest by refusing to sleep there the first weekend we moved
in. My parents allowed my protest and did their best to make the house
welcoming and cozy for me. They were providing for me the best way that they
knew how.
In
the years following, I watched as more and more old farms and abandoned forests
were divided into parcels and sold to developers who quickly paved them and
turned them into strip malls. I remember thinking, isn’t there anyone who has
lived in this place long enough who will stop this horrible urban sprawl?! By
the time I was a teenager, my protests elicited responses like, “this is what
progress looks like.” When I finally moved away from that town at the end of my
high school years, I felt like a refugee. My homeland had been destroyed. I no
longer had a home connected to the land. I left in search of a place to live,
because the culture surrounding me seemed one of death and decay despite the
glitz.
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Illustration by
Diana Sette based on chart from Millennium Ecosystem Assessment.
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I
went away to college at Drew University in New Jersey and lived in ‘The Earth
House.’ There I lived with a Vermonter, and another friend with a connection to
that state (2). I visited the rural countryside of Vermont for the first time
soon after. I was struck by un-mowed lawns with wildflowers and vibrant local
food coops in almost every little town center. My naive suburban upbringing
probably contributed to my rose-colored glasses perspective, because everyone I
met seemed to know how to cook and garden. People waved to each other passing
by on the road, and knew each other’s names at the convenience store.
Initially, it was hard to believe that this place was for real.
I
learned so much during my time living there. I lived in community while working
at Rock Point School, a residential high school for at-risk youth where care
for self and care for others were key (3). Later, I spent several years living
and working at the Bread and Puppet Theater in a community that drew people
from all over the country and world to make radical political puppet theater
shows and live on the land (4). We made puppets giant and small from garbage
pulled from the waste stream, including cardboard, bottle caps, and the inner
tubes of bicycle tires. We insisted that art is for everyone, not something
exclusive to art museums or galleries. We ground flour by hand, baked sourdough
bread, and raised chickens and veggies to sustain our community. The number of
residents staying at the farm ranged from 3 to 200 throughout the year. In the
summer, I slept in a decommissioned school bus refurbished as a cozy abode. We
heated our old farmhouse through the Vermont winters by wood stove and fed
ourselves from the stored harvest.
From
five years of living in the Bread and Puppet company full-time, I grasped the
concept of the commons. I learned what it takes to live in community through
conflict and celebration. I participated in effective grassroots political
action, and engaged with the thriving world of microbes. I lived in alignment
with the cycles of nature. Foraging through the forests on the 200 acres (80
ha), I learned which mushrooms and plants were edible, and then cooked them
together with others in the summer kitchen on rocket stoves. I felt in my heart
how a garden without art was only half the story. Having grown up in the
suburbs of the mid-Atlantic, I had had no prior understanding of the potential
of this type of cultural reality. My inner ecosystem was transformed in a deep
way through living in a larger thriving ecosystem overflowing with abundant and
resilient relationships.
I
never would have guessed that five years and a marriage later, I would move to
the post-industrial rust belt of Cleveland, OH where I live currently.
Transitioning from the ecosystem of the Northeast Kingdom to Cleveland was a
huge cultural shift. Cleveland is the most racially and economically segregated
city in America (5). The city has over 12,000 abandoned properties and over
27,000 vacant lots (6). Cleveland is notorious for her Cuyahoga River catching
fire 13 times due to egregious pollution. Cleveland is a prime example of a
degraded ecosystem. Even though land was plentiful and cheap in Cleveland,
growing on formerly abandoned city lots in declining neighborhoods seemed like
a very different type of relationship with nature—one potentially lacking in
connection. In addition to that, a city
so segregated presented an opportunity for cultural exchange, and
cross-pollination across socio-economic and racial boundaries.
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Early growing season in Gather ‘Round Farm, Cleveland,
OH. Teepees and trellises await the eager tendrils of beans, cucumbers, and
other climbers, and the care of urban gardeners.
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Surprisingly
enough, it was only a month or so after moving to Cleveland where I found
myself feeling a deep connection with nature and Mother Earth’s wild spirit. I
was at a community potluck at Gather ‘Round Farm, an urban permaculture garden
farm in the Near West Side of Cleveland. I had heard of permaculture, although
I didn’t know too much about it. Gather ‘Round was built atop a former parking
lot. Every path was curvy and intimate alongside raised beds of intercropped
heirloom abundance. There were chickens and a little waterway that flowed
through the garden. Art made from found objects littered the lot, creating
magical alcoves. Folks at the potluck were of all walks of life, coming from
different economic, racial, and social strata. Everyone gathered to share
community and the organically grown vegetables and other wild edibles in a
delicious chili-filled soup. Sitting alongside a brick-lined bonfire and
staring up into a star-filled sky, I stopped noticing the cars driving past on
the main avenue. I was utterly inspired by the transformation and resiliency of
the space. I was encouraged by meeting the all-women volunteer collective who
cared for the land. They were empowered with a strong sense of social justice
and commitment to community through grassroots action and inclusivity. I knew
then I was a permaculturist, and understood the principle of “integrate, not
segregate” on a biological and cultural level.
The
alignment of social justice, environmental justice, and community came to be my
understanding of ecological restoration. I spent the next year observing two
vacant lots next to my house on the East side, and getting to know my neighbors
in a primarily African-American neighborhood before cooperatively creating
Possibilitarian Garden, an urban permaculture garden and community orchard
grounded in racial equity, food, and social and environmental justice.
Possibilitarian Urban Regenerative Community Homestead, or PURCH, is the name
we use to include the cooperative living house and community workshop space
alongside the garden on two formerly vacant lots. Permaculture design presents
solutions to the problem of ecological degradation, and now we have the
opportunity to co-create working ecological models. Who knew I’d be here now?
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Nestled under a mulberry, a common Cleveland city tree, and next to elderberry and a stand of mugwort, these flock of free range chickens have a happy city home. Using an adjustable tunnel made creatively with old wire fencing and hose, hens are given access to different open areas of the garden throughout the season. GRF and its surrounding community support fought and won the fight to raise chickens in the city, pioneering chicken laws in Cleveland for years to come.
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What is ecology
anyway?
Permaculture
is grounded in ecological theory. Audrey Tomera in Understanding Basic
Ecological Concepts (7) defines ecology as “the science that deals with the
specific interactions (relationships) that exist between organisms and their
living and nonliving environment.” Therefore, permaculture is simply the
observing of and designing for optimal relationships between organisms and
their living and nonliving environment—permaculture is ecological design.
Bill
Mollison and David Holmgren, permaculture’s founders, were both trained
ecologists. Holmgren dedicated his 2002 book, Permaculture: Principles and
Pathways beyond Sustainability (8) to Eugene Odum, one of the founding
scholars of ecology who brought ecological thinking to the mainstream with his
book Fundamentals of Ecology (9). Interestingly, there are conservation
ecologists, urban ecologists (10), deep ecologists, ecosystem ecologists, civic
ecologists (11), human ecologists, evolutionary ecologists, schoolyard
ecologists (12), microbial ecologists (13), and even ecosystems ecologists!
Each ecology field is based on the study of relationships—the fields differ in
the lenses with which they study those relationships (14).
Older
ecological design studies tend to not include humans, never mind that most
ecologists will agree that humans now have the largest impact on every
ecosystem on this planet. Urban and social permaculture is the cutting edge for
research and practice in ecological systems, as more the half the world’s
population lives in urban environments. Within the permaculture movement, more
buzz is growing around urban and social ecosystems. Recent books like
Hemenway’s The Permaculture City: Regenerative Design for Urban, Suburban
and Town Resilience (15) contribute to the increasing study of urban
ecologies.
Assessing ecosystem
health
Analyzing
separate ecosystem elements to assess ecosystem impact (and arguably for other
purposes as well as discussed below) is where I see the greatest divergence
between colonized and indigenous ecological thinking. For example, in 2011, the
Millennium Ecosystem Assessment (16) broke down the ecosystem services into
four main categories: provisioning, regulating, cultural, and supporting
services (17). The direct and indirect contributions of ecosystems listed are
extensive, ranging from providing food, shelter, and clean water, to creating a
sense of place and spiritual experience.
Identifying
ecosystem services is one way to assess ecosystems. It is important to note,
however, that to engage with the ‘ecosystem services’ assessment tool is to
work in opposition to indigenous people’s ‘Rights of Nature,’ which demands
“the rejection of all market-based mechanisms that allow the quantification and
commodification of Earth’s natural processes, rebranded as ‘ecosystem services’
” (1).
I
respect and honor this perspective, as I have felt how assessing ‘ecosystem
services’ using monetary value is the first step to commodifying something with
deeper qualitative and priceless value. I remember the first time I saw
‘ecosystem services’ signified by an old centennial oak. Hanging on a sign
pole, a big tag marked what the tree’s monetary worth was. It communicated to
me that the tree was paying its due, and therefore was allowed to stick around
for a little bit longer until humans decided it wasn’t worth it anymore.
Marking ecosystem services in this way promotes and protects current laws that
prescribe what Rights of Nature describes as “the ownership of ecosystems and
other aspects of the natural world…, upholding the control and dominance of
humans over nature” (18).
While
modern societies have clearly lost touch with indigenous wisdom regarding
ecosystem health and needs, it can also be useful and necessary (at least for
the time being during this Great Transition) for ecological designers to use
ecosystem assessment tools as a gateway to observing and understanding
ecosystems better. Tools like the EPA National Stormwater Calculator (19),
National Tree Benefit Calculator (20), climate and weather patterns, soil
quality tests, and other ecosystem services calculators and measurement tools
(21) track non-human systems. Demographic surveys and cultural histories of a
place provide foundational information for design considerations as well.
Having a grasp of cultural, economic, and social patterns for your design site
can be the keystone for truly resilient ecological restoration (22).
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Organic bed shapes form at Gather ‘Round Farm as beds
are designed around contours of the sunken parking lot to help capture water
and create the perfect environment for many native prairie plants.
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Moving forward
The
notion of owning ecosystems brings to light several of permaculture designers’
greatest risks in ecological design. If our cultural heritage is
non-indigenous, we most likely carry within our personal ecosystem patterns of
colonization, oppression, and subjugation. We must work cooperatively, and
engage and include various diverse voices of different demographic (and
species) background in the design process (23). Restorative ecological design
considerations can all be identified as issues of social and environmental
justice, and we must work to understand them as such if we hope to successfully
support Nature’s ability to restore her ecological systems.
This
observation brings us full circle. We must start with our inner ecosystem,
observing our thoughts, our patterns, and the ways our body, mind, and soul
interacts with itself. Whatever spirit with which we communicate will be what
we transfer to any other ecosystem, including our family, organization,
neighborhood, community, farm, or forest. We must bring awareness to
unconscious biases, privileges, and personal cultural beliefs in order to be
able to understand how we carry them forward as designers and how that impacts
our ability to co-create resilient ecological restoration.
To
that end, the global climate is changing fast, and new patterns are emerging
and transforming constantly, so we must trust our direct and attentive
observations. Do not overlook the force of nonliving factors, as living things
are in constant interaction with them. Honor that every being, living or not,
has a special ecological niche that only it can fill, and whether you
understand it or not, there is a reason they need to do what they do currently.
Allow that to direct your interactions and engagement with bumblebees, real estate
agents, drug dealers, microorganisms, artists, fences, trees and rocks. Be
inclusive. Remain curious. Value complexity. Work the edge, and work to
understand best you can, because even though it may be hard to see the value of
some element, keep all the pieces- we will need them all as we move forward to
restore our damaged and degraded ecosystems. The principles and ethics are a
road map and a check and balance; use them. Take action. Listen for feedback.
Respond with change. And when practicing ecological restoration, remember the
words of indigenous artist and activist Lila Mills who said, “If you have come
here to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your
liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.”∆
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Most plants at GRF
go to seed, creating a vibrant and abundant array of volunteer plants the
following season, as well as food for wildlife and pollinators.
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Notes
1. Biggs, Shannon & Tom B.K.
Goldtooth, eds. Rights of Nature & Mother Earth: Sowing Seeds of
Resistance, Love and Change. therightsofnature.org/tag/rights-of-mother-earth/
Nov 29, 2015.
2. One friend, Graham Unangst-Rufenacht,
is now an herbalist, edible landscaper, and owner of Robinson Hill Beef, a
grass-fed cattle business you can find on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/RobinsonHillBeef/. Another friend, Sarah Corrigan, later went
on to co-found ROOTs—Reclaiming Our Origins in Traditional Skills School—in VT.
rootsvt.com
3. Rock Point School in Burlington,
VT, is now one of the leading providers of renewable energy for the city of
Burlington with the construction of an extensive solar panel orchard. Also on-site are beehives and a maple sugaring operation and lots of wildflowers among other things... www.rockpointschool.org
4. Bread & Puppet Theater.
Breadandpuppet.org
5. Frohlich, Thomas C. &
Alexander Kent. “America’s Most Segregated Cities” 24/7 Wall St. 247wallst.com/special-report/2015/08/19/americas-most-segregated-cities/4/
August 19, 2015.
6. A total of 12,179 vacant
structures equates to 8% of the city’s parcels; 27,774 vacant lots is 17% of
the city. 2015 Citywide parcel survey of Cleveland.
www.wrlandconservancy.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/WRLC_Loveland_Cleveland_Survey_Report_20151121.pdf
Nov 20, 2015.
7. Tomera, Audrey N. & A.
Tomera. Understanding Basic Ecological Concepts. Portland, ME: J
Weston Walch (2002).
8. Holmgren, David. Permaculture:
Principles & Pathways beyond Sustainability. Hepburn, Victoria:
Holmgren Design Services (2002).
9. Odum, Eugene. Fundamentals of
Ecology. Philadelphia: Saunders (1953).
10. Niemelä, Jari, ed. Urban
Ecology: Patterns, Processes, and Applications. Oxford, UK: Oxford
University Press (2011); Mark McDonnell, Amy K. Hahs, & Jürgen Breuste,
eds. Ecology of Cities & Towns: A Comparative Approach. Cambridge,
UK: Cambridge University Press (2009); “Nature of Cities,” a collective blog on
cities as socio-ecological spaces: www.thenatureofcities.com.
11. Krasny, Marianne E. & Keith
Tidball. Civic Ecology: Adaptation and Transformation from the Ground Up.
Cambridge, MA: MIT Press (2015).
12. Dank, Sharon Gamson. Asphalt
to Ecosystems: Design Ideas for Schoolyard Transformation. New York: New
Village Press (2010).
13. Antonio Gonzalez, Jose C
Clemente, Ashley Shade, Jessica L Metcalf, Sejin Song, Bharath Prithiviraj,
Brent E Palmer, & Rob Knight. “Our microbial selves: what ecology can teach
us.” EMBO Reports 12: 775-784.
embor.embopress.org/content/12/8/775 (2011).
14. Many ecological theories have
been developed, although many more are needed, as the world is quickly
urbanizing, and patterns are changing and transforming. Some ecological
theories include: island biogeography theory, metapopulation dynamics, human
ecology model, etc. Applying these theories in an urban versus rural context
may demonstrate variation in behaviors.
15. Hemenway, Toby. The
Permaculture City. White River Jct., VT: Chelsea Green (2015).
16. Millennium Ecosystem
Assessment: www.millenniumassessment.org
17. More specific definitions of
ecosystem services included at The Economics of Ecosystems & Biodiversity
(TEEB) website: www.teebweb.org/resources/ecosystem-services/
18. RoNME
19.
www2.epa.gov/water-research/national-stormwater-calculator
20.
www.treebenefits.com/calculator/
21. California ReLeaf’s website
includes additional ecosystem service calculators and measurement tools:
californiareleaf.org/resources/calculators-and-measurement-tools/
22. The City Repair Project based
in Portland, OR. www.cityrepair.org/ and Cleveland, OH www.neighborhoodgrants.org/city-repair-cle-closes-the-season/
are interesting examples of community permaculture design working towards
ecological restoration.
23. For a hefty start to
understanding social and cultural patterns, see the in-depth articulation of
social and architectural patterns in the following books: Alexander,
Christopher, M. Silverstein, & S. Ishikawa. A Pattern
Language. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press (1977); Jacobs, Jane. The
Death and Life of Great American Cities. New York: Random House (1961);
Schuler, Doug. Liberating Voices: A Pattern Language for Communication
Revolution. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press (2008) by Doug Schuler. Other ecology
resources include these journals: Ecology, Ecology & Society, Human
Ecology: An Interdisciplinary Journal, Human Ecology Review, and the
Journal of Political Ecology.
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