About a month ago I began a series of posts, intending to use the term “ecosystem gardening” in the titles. This seemed like a good descriptor for what I do, but I had to change my wording almost immediately because I came across a website already using the name. I could have used “permaculture” because I've gotten over the fear of the permie police coming after me, but I decided on “whole system gardening" because it encapsulates well my philosophy of growing. Ultimately it's not really important to me what it's called. I try not to get hung up on labels and like to think that it's the content and message of my writing that will reach folks and keep them interested. Much of that content emphasizes the importance of finding site-specific solutions over pre-fab techniques.
I don't claim to follow any official method besides my own. I use wood chips, but don't do Back to Eden. I don't own a tiller and disturb soil minimally, but I don't do No-Dig. I like permaculture mainly because of Bill Mollison's insistence on keeping dogma out of it, and the fact that it's a process for decision-making, not a set of techniques. I understand the need for catchy phrases to pique readers’ interest, and a well laid out program to facilitate success for beginners, but it's easy to get fixated on the details, and miss the forest for the trees.
There are many fantastic and well thought out agricultural and gardening systems (as evidenced by the acronyms in the subtitle). It's not my intent to criticize or evaluate them, but rather to point out that adopting a particular method can never substitute for intimate knowledge of a specific piece of land. In Climate: A New Story, Charles Eisenstein writes:
“For a regenerative agriculture system to work, farmers need to relate to the land as to a unique individual. They must learn to listen to, see, and feel its needs and moods. Allan Savory goes without shoes to pick up subliminal information about the land he walks. The knowledge of a place builds over a lifetime and over generations, becoming embedded in a local culture.”
Seeking ideas to incorporate into your design, or a template as a jumping off point to begin the journey into ecologically friendly agriculture, isn't a bad thing. Ignoring the needs of the land and applying one-size-fits-all solutions, however, are antithetical to the ultimate goals of a regenerative agriculture. This is true not just because lack of knowledge of soil conditions, weather patterns, etc, precludes choosing appropriate techniques and results in short term failures. Long term success is also stymied and creative solutions never discovered when there is no intimate relationship with the land. Viewing the land as merely a space upon which to superimpose preconceived solutions is an outgrowth of the mindset that led to destructive, industrial agriculture in the first place.
In the first year of a permaculture project one is advised to merely observe. This year of inaction is often presented as time to get to know local weather, how the land drains, patterns of sun and shade, and the like. In other words, gather information so that when you finally impose your will upon the land, you do so more efficiently! It is uncommon to read or hear encouragement to identify all the living elements already there, or to delve into the history of the land. Even rarer is to come across advice to seek answers to questions Eisenstein poses, such as ‘“What does the river need? What does the mountain want? What is the dream of the land?”’In a nutshell, Eisenstein believes that to solve our massive environmental (and all other!) problems we must lose the mindset of industrial civilization and return to viewing the world as sacred and humans as an integral part of nature.
Seeking to implement a certain method or technique of agriculture is like purchasing and using a mass-produced tool rather than fashioning your own. A good example of this is the three sisters method of growing squash, corn and beans. Rather than viewing the three sisters as an ingenious technique developed for a specific place, it’s touted as a universal solution. The same could be said of shibboleths like herb spirals and hugelkultur. Gardeners hope to tap into indigenous or peasant wisdom by using certain techniques, completely missing the deep, prolonged connection to place that gave rise to such methods. More from Eisenstein:
“…we have a lot to learn from indigenous people who sustainably tended and enriched the lands and waters they called home. Sometimes this might entail learning from their actual methods, but more probably it is a matter of adopting the mentality that gave birth to those methods in the first place, since the environment of ten thousand or even five hundred years ago is probably lost forever…it means forging intimate, respectful relationships with nature in its specific, local embodiment.”
Building those relationships is entirely possible. The enormous interest in gardening is a hopeful sign, indicating a widespread need for literal connection with the earth. Methods such as permaculture and Allan Savory's holistic management are based on a direct and humble relationship with the land. Whether you follow an established system or not, being in kinship with the land you occupy is not only entirely possible, it is is what you were made to do. The survival of our ancestors depended upon their knowledge of nature—the ability to forge a relationship with our surroundings is baked into our DNA. With that thought in mind, it's time to get to work.
"Whole system" gardening sounds fine but I don't think you need to shy away from Ecosystem Gardening just because someone else has used that term...and how about Ecological Gardening? I think that including reference to the science of ecology in your moniker would be very appropriate given your ecologically-oriented approach. "Whole system" sounds too plain vanilla to me, and less descriptive of your actual approach. But as you said, it doesn't matter that much what you call it ...these are just my personal reactions :)