On the Relation between Designing and Implementing in Permaculture – Part 1

In this second Making Permaculture Stronger inquiry, I consider the relationship between designing and implementing within current understandings of permaculture design process. My intention with this inquiry is to:

  • Review contemporary presentations of permaculture design process with a focus on the relation between designing and implementing
  • Explore an issue with the idea of completing a detailed design before commencing implementation
  • Look at how various permaculturalists have previously acknowledged this weakness
  • Look to relevant discussions and developments outside of permaculture for any useful tips or pointers
  • Articulate a way of thinking about design process that helps clarify the issue identified and suggests one pathway toward resolving it
  • share real design process examples to test and attempts toward an improved understanding of how design and implementation might be better related within permaculture design process

As always, the point is not to look critically at basic ideas in permaculture for the sake of it, but towards this project’s goal of strengthening weaknesses toward a stronger permaculture. If this goal resonates with you, I invite your input, comments, corrections, alternative conclusions – all are welcome. One thing I know is that I sure as heck don’t have the answers and that making permaculture stronger will only work if we launch wholeheartedly into such conversations together.1

High-Level Summary of Current Permaculture Understandings of Design Process

In the literature of permaculture, permaculture design process is presented as a specified sequence of generic steps, phases or actions.

I’ve collated nine clear, well-thought out examples in this table (click to enlarge):2

The idea, of course, is that if you are engaging in permaculture design, then running with one of these sequences is a sensible way of going about it.

It seems to me that there are no fundamental differences amongst these various sequences, at least at this top-level summary level. All are variations (some partial, some complete) on a theme in which:

  • In one order or the other, you tune into people and site.
  • You only then come up with a design, working from patterns (concept/schematic) toward details (master plan/detailed or patch design).
  • Design completed to a satisfactory degree of detail, you only then implement the design.
  • You manage/maintain/evaluate the implemented design, going back to tweak or adjust it as necessary.

One sequence implies implementation without listing it explicitly. Though four omit a post-implementation evaluation and feedback phase I either know for a fact or have no doubt the authors would agree on the importance of evaluation and feedback.

In terms of my focus in this inquiry, the upshot of this comparison is this: all these presentations agree that in a sound permaculture design process one completes a detailed design before starting the implementation of that design.

In the next post I’ll examine these nine design process breakdowns in more detail.


Homage to Bill Mollison

In Making Permaculture Stronger’s first post of 2017, I pay homage to the late, great Bill Mollison. Despite a rumour that the news of his death was a lie (a rumour he turned out to have actually started himself), it turns out Bill really did pass away September 24, 2016.

Bill was not only the senior co-originator of permaculture – he kickstarted the turning of permaculture into a global movement.

Bill Mollison, Melbourne, 2005

Bill described the moment of epiphany, the seed that later germinated into permaculture, as like a physical change in his brain, where it was like suddenly seeing a red carpet rolling up and down the hills of the forest. His epiphany was that humans might take natural systems as their ultimate models and teachers and start mimicking them in the ground-up redesign of our agriculture (and ultimately our culture).

In the early 1970s, it dawned on me that no one had ever applied design to agriculture. When I realised it, the hairs went up on the back of my neck. It was so strange. We’d had agriculture for 7,000 years, and we’d been losing for 7,000 years — everything was turning into desert. So I wondered, can we build systems that obey ecological principles? We know what they are, we just never apply them. Ecologists never apply good ecology to their gardens. Architects never understand the transmission of heat in buildings. And physicists live in houses with demented energy systems. It’s curious that we never apply what we know to how we actually live. (Bill Mollison in this interview with Scott London in 2005)

Thanks in large part to Bill’s genius for communicating his ideas (combining sometimes shocking and unbelievable statements with always brilliant, worldview exploding insight), not only does permaculture exist today, it thrives. As it continues to spread rapidly, it brings a method for generating real solutions and real futures to countless people around the world.

Without forgetting David Holmgren’s (and many others) crucial role, I thank Bill for making permaculture what it is, this amazing design system I only want to see becoming stronger and stronger. Paraphrasing Rob Hopkins, I want to see permaculture’s rapid horizontal spread being balanced and supported by ever-increasing depth at its core. Any such deepening work, however modest, I see as one way of honouring Bill’s remarkable contribution to humanity.

I like to think Bill would have been pleased each time a little bit of critical thinking and discussion led to helpful developments out there on the ground of real permaculture design, implementation, and management projects. I’ve no illusions that he wouldn’t have called any one engaging in such work a rude word from time to time, but keep in mind he called pretty much everyone a rude word in his later years, even when he really meant it as a compliment ;-). So it seems to go with these thick-skinned gnarly pioneer types.1

With this post, I take a moment to express my gratitude to you, Bill Mollison.

Gratitude for your inspiration.

Gratitude for living the life you did.

Gratitude for being who you were and for channeling your anger and lending your skills toward positive action in service of the global ecosystem you loved.

May the memory of your breath long continue to fan the fire you helped light and nurture.



A few classic Bill quotations (all from this 1991 interview):

The review started with, “Permaculture Two is a seditious book.” And I said, “At last someone understands what permaculture’s about.”

…if you’re an optimist, you could say permaculture is an attempt to actually create a Garden of Eden

Anyone who ever studied mankind by listening to them was self-deluded. The first thing they should have done was to answer the question, “Can they report to you correctly on their behavior?” And the answer is, “No, the poor bastards cannot.” (Bill Mollison)

“..if you lend your skills to other systems that you don’t really believe in, then you might as well never have lived. You haven’t expressed yourself.”

There’s no need for anyone else – we are sufficient to do everything possible to heal this Earth. We don’t have to suppose we need oil, or governments, or anything. We can do it.

and here are a few nice tributes/obituaries:


Conclusion to Inquiry Circuit # 1

We have arrived at the end of Making Permaculture Stronger’s first investigation. Just scraped in before year’s end – yeah!

We’ll be calling these investigations inquiry circuits. Each inquiry circuit exists to serve our overall goal of introducing, investigating, and ideally doing something to strengthen weak links in permaculture as a design system.1

The focus of this initial circuit has been the popular practice of defining permaculture design as, above all else, a process of assembling elements into whole systems. Drawing on Christopher Alexander’s critique of this way of understanding design, we have (hopefully) clarified the issue, enjoyed thoughtful commentaries from many permaculture designers, and shared two experimental design processes teasing and testing out Alexander’s contention that nature-mimicking design is primarily a differentiating (as opposed to an assembling) process.

Time will tell, we suppose, but at the end of the day, we hope the effort/exercise has been of service to a stronger permaculture.

In this post, we’ll summarise each of the constituent posts of this inquiry, we’ll review reactions from the permaculture community, and we’ll bring this inquiry to a close.

Post One: Christopher Alexander’s Neglected Challenge to Permaculture

This post looked at and gave examples of the permaculture literature’s tendency to define design as an assembling process, where a whole is built by joining parts (moving from details to pattern). It then shared Alexander’s critique of this approach, and his alternative view of nature-mimicking design as being better defined as a differentiating process, where a pre-existing whole is gradually transformed (moving from pattern to details).

This post garnered a fair bit of commentary and was republished both on resilience.org and in the August 2016 issue of Permaculture Design Magazine.

Post Two: A Conversation with David Holmgren

In this post we shared excerpts from an email discussion with David Holmgren about the initial post. Welcoming “critique on the lack of design process” in permaculture, David acknowledged that, in his words…

  1. there is a huge cultural bias towards details to pattern understanding and designing
  2. nature works from pattern to details
  3. we need most effort into creating design processes that effectively achieve this second pathway

…simultaneously stressing that “it is also important not to deny any utility in what we seek to critique,” suggesting that whole-to-parts and parts-to-whole modes of design might be construed as complementary but asymmetric aspects of a broader and more holistic understanding of design process including and valuing them both. Asymmetric in the sense that the overall direction is from patterns toward details, but where at times and as appropriate there is also a movement from details toward patterns.

Post Three: A Summary of Progress Made and Where to from Here

This post segued between identifying/clarifying/discussing the issue and our next goal of, amongst other things to:

  • hunt down, snare, and share any clear examples of differentiation-based approaches to design that already exist in the permaculture literature (whether in books or in other media)
  • come back to clarify the details of this differentiation-based approach.

At this stage, the goal of sharing some actual experiments in the design-as-differentiation approach was yet to occur to us. As an open-ended inquiry, we didn’t yet know where we’d end up or the exact steps we’d take in getting there.

Post Four: The Exceptional Case of Dave Jacke & Edible Forest Gardens

Here we showed how the ecological design process of Dave Jacke, developed from his own critique of design process in permaculture, is unique in the literature in bringing an authentic pattern-to-details, whole-to-parts flavour into the way he practices and communicates design. Here’s a representative quote (from Edible Forest Gardens Volume Two):

Once we have a solid scheme that resolves all the basic design issues, we work at a more detailed level. The detailed-design phase is where we take our chosen scheme and make it more exact, specifying the physical details in harmony with the big picture (p. 233)

Post Five: Christopher Alexander’s Challenge meets Darren J. Doherty’s Design Process – Part One of Two

In this post we looked closely at a sample design process of acclaimed permaculture farm designer Darren J. Doherty. Here’s one diagram of the resulting the design:

We tried to describe as accurately as possibly what Darren actually did in terms of the assembly/differentiation and whole/parts distinctions. In doing so we unearthed a conundrum:

On the one hand, we can use standard permaculture talk in its element-assembly sense to meaningfully describe what is going on [in Darren’s process]. On the other hand, Alexander appears to have a point, in the sense that despite the unfamiliarity of his language, everything he says in the above statements appears to be equally true of what is going on.

Post Six: Christopher Alexander’s Challenge meets Darren J. Doherty’s Design Process – Part Two of Two

In this post (this inquiry’s longest and most thorough) we attempted to resolve the conundrum by taking a closer look at the implications of four aspects of Alexander’s view as captured in this summary statement:

The whole comes first then gives birth to the parts by differentiating space in a sensible sequence.

After rather detailed inquiry with many twists and turns, we arrived at this conception of design (with the idea that it better captures what actually happens than the standard permaculture descriptions):

  • Starting with an existing configuration of a whole-space-comprising-a-configuration-of-already-differentiated-parts…
  • …further differentiating this whole…
  • …fluidly moving down, up, and sideways as necessary…
  • …both modifying what is there and conceiving (as potential) then introducing (as actual) new parts…
  • …that grow out of and hence harmonise with the whole…
  • …to support the evolution of that whole…
  • …as a rich network of interrelated parts…
  • …toward our desired outcomes of a resilient, abundant, human-supporting ecosystem (or whichever wording floats your boat).

…concluding that, among many other things:

differentiation not only fares a lot better as a coherent description of what is actually going on, but that differentiation more meaningfully describes the movement in design not only from a whole to parts, but from parts back up toward the whole.


Sure, we can’t get started without a whole, but we can then differentiate the tiniest part and move up from there if we like, to differentiate a larger part that includes this smaller part. Or we can drill down still further inside this tiny part and differentiate a part still tinier. Or, as a third option, we can move sideways, and differentiate a part or parts next to or overlapping this tiny part we initially differentiated.

Post Seven: Testing a Different(iation) Approach to Permaculture Design Process – Part One: Introductory

Prompted by the late, great Toby Hemenway’s comment that…

…if only someone would develop a methodology that shows how one can do what Alexander is suggesting…

…we introduced our intention to next share some experimental examples. Time for the rubber (design theory) to hit the road (design practice).

Post Eight: Testing a Different(iation) Approach to Permaculture Design Process – Part Two: An Example

Here we shared one simple differentiation-based example of the process arriving at this design:

Post Nine: Testing a Different(iation) Approach to Permaculture Design Process – Part Three: Another Example

Here we shared an even simpler example of the process arriving at this design:

Comments & Reactions

Starting out, we had no idea whether anyone would be interested in or see any relevance in all this. We’ve accordingly been delighted at the rich range of conversation, commentary, and feedback received. A primary goal of the making permaculture stronger project is sparking robust and constructive conversation and collaboration around permaculture’s weak links. So far, so good!

Summary of Different Reactions

To keep things simple, we could say that our fellow permaculturalist’s reactions to this inquiry have fallen into three main camps:

  1. Appreciative – “This is a useful/helpful distinction/direction/inquiry adding value and clarity to existing descriptions of what we do when designing – let’s explore this more” (e.g., David Holmgren, Toby Hemenway, Dave Jacke, Ben Falk)
  2. Neutral – “Hmm, this is kind of interesting but I’m not sure there is really an issue here?” (e.g., Robyn Francis, Rosemary Morrow)
  3. Dismissive – “This whole inquiry is deluded / flawed” (Peter Light)

Consider some representative examples of each.

Appreciative – “This is a useful/helpful distinction – let’s explore this more”

Maybe about 75% of the comments / reactions, both off and online, have fallen into this camp. Aside from discussions with David Holmgren and Dave Jacke, parts of which have been shared along the way, here are some additional examples:

A comment from Kate Pospisil:

Thanks Dan for this fantastic work and the discussions thus far. I have been grappling with these ideas about design and permaculture for a long time. As a landscape architect I think I have always designed by differentiation of the whole. I see the process as the relationships and the connections that exist first. At the macro scale initially and then into more detail. This is why I often comment that a bubble diagram is not a concept plan, but a tool in the design process. I have also always found the terminology of permaculture (words like ‘elements’ and terms like ‘functional analysis’) a bit foreign and difficult to connect with how I design. Words and language are important so I think your inkling has legs!

From (the late) Toby Hemenway:

Excellent article. I think Alexander’s concept is much closer to how permaculturists actually design, by starting with something that is already a whole and then differentiating and integrating additional factors into it. The issue is mostly that our language has not caught up to our practice–it has taken Western science close to 500 years to more accurately describe how science is actually done (Popper and Kuhn, for example). We thought it was done by the hypothetical-deductive process for centuries, as it is such a tidy model, but that turns out not to be how science is practiced at the bench and in the field. So I’m not surprised that permaculture is taking a few decades to figure out what we do in practice. Thinking in terms of relationships and organic wholes rather than collections of parts is foreign to our culture and not easy for anyone from Western culture to do. This article should speed that process. Now, if only someone would develop a methodology that shows how one can do what Alexander is suggesting, because Pattern Language and his other books still describe the process as design by accretion of parts, not as differentiation. Thanks, Dan, for the inspiration. I always enjoy revising my thinking to more accurately bring theory and practice into better congruency.

From Will Hooker:

I am a landscape architect and taught small scale landscape design in a department of horticulture for 35 years. In the mid 90’s I became concerned about where our world (specifically led by our design professions) was headed, and in searching for answer, I found the ‘umbrella’ of permaculture. I became certified in 1994, began teaching and introductory Pc course at my university in 1997, and in 1999-2000, I took a year-long sabbatical study leave to travel around the world in an effort to better learn what permaculture was really all about. In the course of my travels, I visited eleven nations, around 250 separate sites, out of which around half were pure permaculturally designed residences and institutions. Of the 125 Pc places, I counted only five of them as being what I considered to be beautiful/inspiring. As one practitioner I visited (who happened to have one of the five beautiful sites) stated, “Permaculture aesthetics suck!” Unfortunately, I have had to agree.

For years, I rationalized this as relating to new permaculture converts moving too quickly – these folks got excited about permaculture, dropped everything in their lives, bought a piece of land, and immediately built a shelter, planted a garden, put in fruit trees/water catchment/herb spirals/etc., and all in a very abbreviated time frame. Their designs/arrangements were/are not thoughtful or inspired, but simply a result of an attitude that said, “Let’s get this done quickly because we have to live here as well as live off the land.” I now think that your’s and Alexander’s discussions give a deeper meaning to what is behind poor permaculture design.

I think part of the problem is that a typical PDC does not adequately prepare its graduates to actually do good design. Having been a teacher of design for decades (where I used Christopher Alexander’s books as texts), it became clear to me that even an intensive 2-4 years of studying a set of courses covering the basics of reading and designing the land is not sufficient to create good designers. It takes a good deal of experience, and on one’s own land, that it best learned by going slow. Mollison’s and Holmgren’s advice, i.e., “Start at your doorstep,” rings very true. Unfortunately this can often lead to aggregation rather than differentiation, even for the best designers among us.

I am gathering a group of local permaculture and landscape designers whom I trust to continue a conversation on permaculture design based initially on your’s and Alexander’s articles. I believe that it is critically important that permacuture designs become beautiful. I agree with Toby Hemenway in that we are a young discipline, and that it will take time and the evolution of our teaching in making permaculture design beautiful, inspiring, and to borrow Alexander’s word from “A Timeless Way of Building,” alive.

From a comment by Benjamin Taylor:

…I’m only a recent PDC grad and this is really helping to refine what I learned in the course. So thank you.

It seems to me that the great benefit of starting with the whole and facilitating its differentiation into parts is that you keep sight of the whole throughout the process. The obvious risk of element-assembly is that you lose sight of the whole as you focus in on the parts. Someone might object to this and say “Hey you simpleton, just by focusing in on the elements doesn’t mean I can’t look back to the whole every now and then to make sure things are all clickin’ together nicely”.

But, once the elements have been formulated there is the risk that the designer simplifies the whole landscape to be the elements he/she has envisioned. Put another way, you miss the spaces between the elements that aren’t part of a direct relationship. Anything that isn’t elements and their relationships becomes a little blurry and out-of-focus.

As Taj wrote too in an earlier thread, by thinking that parts and relationships are all that makes up the whole, we may miss the more subtle yet extraordinary aspects of the landscape, like its impact (and continuity with) our inner landscape, to name one.

I was discussing this with my partner who’s a holistic health practitioner to see how she (and another naturopaths) handle this whole/parts directional conundrum. She said their basic approach is to start with whole, then move into parts, and situate them within the whole again. When a patient/client first comes in, the whole is the first priority of the practitioner. What is their first impression? What is their skin colour like? Is their hand warm when we shake it? Do they grip firmly or kind of just flop limply? What is their posture like? How do they project their voice? etc.

Then they give time to the patient/client to talk about why it is they have come there and to learn a little about them. And only after that, does the naturopath start to look into patterns and particular bodily systems in greater detail. At the end of that process, they represent the parts graphically, draw connections between details and then take an overall sense of what is happening across the entire bodymind. From whole to parts to whole. My partner said, which I thought was pretty sage, that by starting off with the whole, it’s simpler to envelop the parts back into the whole at the end, as you’ve retain a sense of what it was like in the first place.

Another interesting point I picked up was that she – and I think most naturopaths – has a philosophy of what the whole is, to make it easier to actually envision the whole in the first place. In her field, the body has a living intelligence, the vital force, that constantly acts within the body’s systems to overcome obstacles, vitalise the body and address imbalances. Therefore, reflecting back to how these changes aid and abet the particular person’s vital force and its unique challenges, supports keeping this reference point of the whole to look back to.

This made me wonder whether there would be such a reference point for permaculture? And even if there was, would this help keeping the whole in sight or hinder it by superimposing an idea on the whole which would be better kept clear and undefined? If I had to have a swing at what that would be for permaculture it would go something like this: each landscape is constantly adapting to the unique forms, forces of play, energy and resources that is within its domain. The land is doing something based on what it has and what it is exposed to. Therefore the land has direction and has movement – could we almost say it has a plan. As permaculture designers on the land we are tuning into what the land is doing, or what happens on the land – on this unique space that is nowhere else – and working with the direction it is already taking, the forces that are already at play. We dance with the land leading. So perhaps our reference point to the whole is: are we moving with the natural intelligence and forces of this land?

Neutral – “This is interesting but I’m not sure there is really an issue here”

Maybe 20% of the feedback and reactions we’ve had have been along these lines. Here are some examples:

Australian permaculture elder and distinguished permaculture designer Robyn Francis:

Wow, interesting, I never realised that permaculturists thought of design as simply an assembly of elements, so I’m in shock. Much of what you’ve put forward here resonates with what I’ve always taught and practiced as design process, “From Patterns to Details”. First get the big picture patterns in context – starting from bioregion and neighbourhood (geo-physical & social patterns, I’ve developed my own ESM tool for this), and clarify the strategic plan (vision, aims, objective, values). Then the patterning more immediate external influences (sector analysis) and mapping the patterns within the site itself (site analysis). Here I find Ian McHarg’s exclusion overlay process particularly useful as a tool for mapping the ‘higher order’ ecological needs of the site (I call this “listening to the land”) plus other restraints (buffer zones, legislative, planning), which then provides a context to move into conceptual bubble planning, functional analysis, flow patterns & analysis, which lead into spacial patterns and relationship between systems (zonation), then last, but not least the placement and patterning of the individual elements as the design details. Assembling or patterning the relationship of the elements always come last and within the context of the big-picture patterns.

From a (September, 2016) email correspondence with renowned permaculture elder and educator Rosemary Morrow:

I am very interested in your thinking.  I am not at all sure that the two approaches don’t end up with the same result.

We also acknowledge this interesting response by Anthony Briggs, where he argues that the element-assembly and pattern-to-details approaches both have their merits and it would be a mistake to exclude either form your toolbox.

Dismissive – “This whole inquiry is deluded / flawed”

Although rare (less than 5% – just one person that we know of so far) an interesting reaction is that of dismissing the premise/worth of the whole inquiry.

Peter Light published a rebuttal to this post in the November 2016 edition of Permaculture Design Magazine entitled No Challenge,2 where he concluded:

…I find no difference in permaculture’s approach to design and Christopher Alexander’s, and conclude that any imagined differences have arisen because of an incomplete and imprecise reading of both; a failure to make distinctions between different uses of the word “whole” and different stages of the design process; a lack of differentiation between components every time they are mentioned; a false understanding of how permaculture design starts; and a confusion between the process and the finished product.

Though we were rather astonished to find someone who has read both permaculture and Alexander saying in print that “I find no difference in permaculture’s approach to design and Christopher Alexander’s…” we were most grateful for Peter taking the time to articulate and share his thoughts and getting his thinking out on the table.3 In particular, Peter stresses the lack of a clean-cut split between…

…two separate stages of design work: the on-ground implementation of a design, in the first case; and the formulation of a design in head and on paper, in the second case.

…as a fatal flaw in our analysis. Ironically, our next inquiry circuit will target this very assumption that design (“in head and on paper”) and implementation (“on-ground”) are separate things as itself a flawed or weak link to be strengthened.

In any case, we thank Peter and all commentators for taking the time to get involved in this conversation. Whether the ultimate response to such exercises in internal self-reflection and constructive self-criticism is to:

  • increase one’s faith in current understandings of permaculture design (possibly becoming clearer about those understandings in the process)


  • to prompt the evolution and strengthening of these understandings

Then as far as we’re concerned the exercise is well worth while.


Though it is time to wrap this inquiry up and move right on along, we have thoroughly enjoyed the process, have learned a lot along the way, and have come out of it with a transformed understanding of design process that we’re finding incredibly helpful in our own design practice.

All in all, we have accepted (both intellectually and in practically applying) Christopher Alexander’s proposal that to generate nature-mimicking systems we must first mimic the processes nature uses to generate those systems. Specifically, Alexander has claimed that the progressive, sequential differentiation of a pre-existing whole is one key aspect of such processes, where the whole and its parts dance forward together and each step adaptively enhances and grows out of what is already there.

This is not necessarily to deny the utility of the conventional permaculture emphasis on design as a process of assembling parts. But it is to expose this emphasis as problematically partial and limiting, especially when we come to try and talk about, write or teach what is actually happening inside sound permaculture design process.4

Our inquiry has validated the substance of Alexander’s challenge, culminating in the detailed, step-by-step documentation of two real, successful design processes explicitly guided by a differentiating process.

At the very least, emphasising nature-mimicking design as (primarily) a differentiating process:

  • Is a literal description of an important part of what is happening inside nature’s self-creation processes  and hence any nature-mimicking design processes
  • Makes it much harder if not impossible to impose ideas (be they herb spirals, swales, or whatever) from outside (a widely acknowledged and chronic issue in much permaculture design and implementation projects)
  • Is highly relevant to an energy-descent future, where due to energy constraints, we will be forced to move away from a “create a blank slate then add parts” mentality back to differentiating, reconfiguring, transforming the already existing whole-and-its-parts.5
  • In our experience / experiments, supports a smooth, easily sharable process generating design configurations highly attuned and adapted to people and place.

Let us close by stressing that this has been an inquiry toward improved accuracy in our descriptions of what we do when we do permaculture design well. Take it home one more time Toby Hemenway:

The issue is mostly that our language has not caught up to our practice…

…I’m not surprised that permaculture is taking a few decades to figure out what we do in practice. Thinking in terms of relationships and organic wholes rather than collections of parts is foreign to our culture and not easy for anyone from Western culture to do.

On that note, we thank you for coming along on the ride with us (including those of you just quietly reading without commenting). A happy new year to you, and if you’re inclined to stay tuned we look forward to taking making permaculture stronger forward into fresh territory come 2017.

Testing a Different(iation) Approach to Permaculture Design Process – Part Three: Another Example

Note: We dedicate this post to the memory of renowned permaculture author and teacher Toby Hemenway. Toby was the author of the best-selling permaculture book in the world (Gaia’s Garden) as well as his more recent The Permaculture City. He passed away yesterday. We feel blessed to have had Toby’s participation and supportive comments on Making Permaculture Stronger. Indeed, this post and the two last posts were directly prompted by a comment he made (as you’ll see in our conclusion below). Rest in peace Toby. This post is for you.

In the last post we shared an experimental example of permaculture design conducted as a process of differentiating a pre-existing whole into parts (as opposed to assembling parts into a whole, as design is more typically defined and discussed in the literature of permaculture design).

In this post we share another example.

On the afternoon of June 30, 2016, we talked, walked and worked with a friend, Adam, on the overall design of the five hectare (12.5 acre) block of land Adam shares with his partner Tink.

Though we’d done some paid consultancy for Adam and Tink on this property in the past (focused more around the house), we were on this occasion visiting as friends, and just having a bit of a casual play with ideas. This gave the session a relaxed feel that was most conducive to how smoothly it all unfolded.

The land is located on New Zealand’s Kapiti coast, about an hour’s drive north of Wellington:

Here is a basemap of the property (including contour lines at 50cm intervals – yep we’re definitely on the side of a hill!):

During this session our focus excluded the home and surrounding gardens which you can see here, along with the most prominent neighbour’s home:

Our focus was the grassed paddock areas comprising the bulk of the property:

Tuning into the People

Clarifying a Destination

Sitting in the dining room with a view out over the space, we started by reviewing Adam and Tink’s plans for this part of the property.

We didn’t even write it down, but the spirit of what Adam shared was something like:

A beautiful, manageable mixture of open & treed areas making places animals including ourselves can happily frolic, wander, gather.

Desired Areas

The wishlist was straightforward:

  • Trees for shelter, fuel, food, fodder, birds, beauty
  • Grazing areas (for an anticipated future menagerie of livestock)
  • Possibly a dam as a sensible use of the valley

Tuning into the Site

As per what you’d expect in any permaculture design process, we next tuned into some of the most significant aspects of the site that the design configuration had to factor in. Here are some of them.


As you might expect from viewing this wind rose from Wellington1 which is just down the road and one of the windiest places in the country…

…strong winds from the north were a big deal on this site (note that the shape of the hill the property is on blocks the strong southerlies evident on the wind rose):

The Valley

The valley running across the property toward the north-west as shown here was the most prominent topographical feature.

The Views

The shape of the land combined with the location of the window of the room (dining room and kitchen) Adam and Tink spend most of their inside time created an interesting pattern of parts of the property visible and not visible through that window:

Moving to the neighbour’s views, they enjoyed ocean views across Adam and Tink’s property which Adam and Tink wanted to honour and maintain.


To simplify, the soils were richer on the 3/4 of the property closest to the home, then their quality dropped off down the back.

Unfolding the Design

Getting Started

We started the unfolding process by having a bit of play with a pencil on a print-out of the basemap:

Let’s now unpack this and show an approximation of how the design was unfolded using a step-wise differentiating process. As mentioned above, we at the very start had differentiated the property at large from the homestead area as shown here. Our aim was to zoom into what is here numbered 2:

We then initially differentiated this focal area into three main sub-chunks: the west-sloping area below the home, the valley running north-west through the property, then the remaining extent, which was a very subtle ridge also facing north-west:2

As this threefold pattern emerged, we earmarked Area 1 for proximity-to-house-appreciating market gardens, future dwelling locations, and general amenity landscaping possibilities. We also tentatively, and without much regard for scale or even the contour lines, further differentiated the valley into a dam wall (2a), a retained body of water (2b) and a ribbon of dam-side plantings (2c):

Under our gentle encouragement, Area 3 in the above diagram then split itself into an area for grazing (the area closer to and visible from the house) and an area for a woodlot (respectfully numbered 3 and 4 below).

Almost in the process of differentiating out the woodlot area, this area further subdivided itself into three bands – 4a for relatively shorter trees, 4b for medium-height trees, and 4c for the tallest trees:

This differentiation was based on the idea of making that entire swath of property visible from the house (as defined by the taller, medium and shorter trees which in this configuration would all be visible) as well as increasing solar access for all three tree heights due to the approximate orientation of the bands with respect to north.

At about this stage we went for a stroll with the intention of finding and doing something about the flaws that our desk-top doodlings were sure to contain aplenty.

The first thing we discovered on a closer look is that a dam was not a viable option for the valley. Not enough flow to justify the expense and effort of building it and not an issue to get a vehicle across during most months of the year. So we nixed that idea and decided to instead look at plantings to accentuate this relatively lush and sheltered area (more on which later):

A second discovery was realising that the extent of the area we’d earmarked for the woodlot felt excessive and that we could shrink it down to allow a more open area (numbered 4 in the above diagram) that might be open pasture or comprise widely-spaced deciduous trees than in future could be grazed between and underneath.

A third development was realising we’d neglected to harmonise with the preexisting shelter plantings of (young and somewhat struggling) natives along much of the two long sides of the property. So in the below diagram we link the woodlot in with the idea of thickening those up (in the above diagram labelled 5d & 5e).

Further Iterations

About here we moved on from our roughly scribbled jottings onto the computer where as well as getting things more to scale, we kept iteratively transforming the configuration towards being better adapted to place and people.3

Here is as far as we got, all based on gradually improving from the starting steps shared above:

In getting to this point, our guiding question continued to be “what issues does this configuration either leave unresolved or actually create?”

One unresolved issue was how to enhance and work with the valley area. What came up here as an alternative to the unviable dam idea was differentiating the space into three new sub-areas – a moisture loving and beautiful deciduous tree (such as weeping willow) clump in the low point, flanked by two clumps of productive and beautiful large deciduous trees needing fertility and drainage (such as walnuts and chestnuts). These trees would have to exceed 20m in height before they even started to impede the view of the main grazing area from the house (in effect, along with the configuration of the rear woodlot plants, the whole property would eventually be visible from the home, even if some it only as tree tops).

An additional example was that in thickening up the perimeter shelter belt along the south-eastern boundary, we would both be putting effort into shelter where shelter was not required and potentially encroaching on the neighbour’s ocean views. So as you’ll see in the diagram above we left the natives unthickened on the south-eastern boundary but left the thickening in place on the north-western boundary (where the trees could get to at least 20m in height before compromising the neighbour’s view – until then they would actually be blocking the view of an unsightly new highway at the bottom of the hill).

Another example was realising that with the addition of a further strip of trees running along the south-eastern boundary between the valley and the home, we could complete a long sinuous wildlife corridor extending from the so far unmentioned ‘tortured'(poor soils plus extreme winds) forest south-west of the property (as you can see here if you’re interested). This would also provide a fully shaded walking path for summer meanderings.


So ends the second report of an experiment in explicitly conducting permaculture design as a differentiating process. This is not to say that we permaculturalists do not already do something along these lines. Indeed, we almost certainly do. We just don’t tend to say that is what we do! As Toby Hemenway has put it:

I think Alexander’s concept is much closer to how permaculturists actually design, by starting with something that is already a whole and then differentiating and integrating additional factors into it. The issue is mostly that our language has not caught up to our practice… …I’m not surprised that permaculture is taking a few decades to figure out what we do in practice.

Toby’s observation accords with our own impression, as documented previously, that the literature of permaculture design has emphasised the idea of design as an assembling, joining, or connecting process. This emphasis has obscured the fact that the reality of sound permaculture design process, when it is embodying the principle of designing from patterns to details, is more accurately construed as a process of transforming a pre-existing whole by differentiating the one whole into two parts, and then further differentiating those parts, and so on.

We would love to hear from any permaculturalists out there reading this as to how it is all landing for you. Specifically we’d love to hear your answers to these questions:

  • Do the two design process examples we’ve just shared resonate as consistent in general terms with how you would describe the process you use, have read about, or have been taught? If so, how so? If not, how not?
  • Are you aware of any existing design process examples or definitions in the permaculture literature that explicitly discuss design process in this way?4 If so please let us know where they are hiding and let’s acknowledge them!
  • Do you feel that this entire inquiry/discussion is contributing to the goal of making permaculture in its design system sense stronger, better able to generate nature-mimicking systems, internally more consistent? If not, what sort of work would you see as better serving this end?

Thanks for reading, thanks in advance for any comments you’d care to share, and in our next post we’ll review and bring to a close this inquiry circuit, which has been the first of many. We’ll then be returning to Making Permaculture Stronger’s big picture and share and inviting input on plans for where we’ll head next.


Testing a Different(iation) Approach to Permaculture Design Process – Part Two: An Example

Carrying on from the previous post, here we share an experimental example of permaculture design when conducted explicitly as a process of differentiating a pre-existing whole into parts.

In November 2015, we collaborated with a team of eighteen co-designers to complete a design process with two clients (Mitch & Mel) and their 55-acre small farm holding north west of Melbourne, Australia. Our 18 co-designers were participants on a two-week intensive permaculture design course where completing a real design project was a requirement of the course.

Though we’ll summarise key aspects of the process as a whole, we’ll focus primarily on how we used a differentiating process to gradually unfold and refine a landscape layout particular to the context of these people and this place.

Note that this example is shared as nothing more than one early experiment in approaching design as a differentiating process.

The People

Aside from establishing rapport and a healthy working relationship with the clients, our process initially focused on clarifying a destination for the project along with identifying, filtering, condensing, and sequencing the key desired areas the design had to accommodate.

Clarifying a Destination

Due to their availability, we met with the two clients separately on successive days.

Franklinford Interview Mel

The team interviewing Mel on day one. No shortage of note-takers.

A bonus was focusing on what they each individually wanted out of the property first and only then accommodating these two (overlapping but distinct) sets of desires into the articulation of an overall destination for the project.1

We gradually transformed a relatively raw collection of desires:


Into a relatively refined draft articulation of what Mel and Mitch wanted to be true of their place:

Our place honours a diversity of natural landscapes thriving with wild areas, flowing water and productive, manageable fields and forests. We are abundantly self-sufficient as we work with pride to nourish and rejuvenate our land into a sanctuary that cocoons us and all its inhabitants in life and serenity

This statement was not what we wanted for Mel and Mitch. It was our attempt to hone in on the essence of what they wanted for their lives on this property. After receiving their enthusiastic approval, we now had a provisional destination for the project – something we could use to guide the rest of the design process toward.2

Desired Areas


Based on what we’d all picked up from our conversations with Mel and Mitch, we next listed a bunch of different areas or activities they wanted to incorporate into the whole of their life on the property.

Rendered Franklinford Wishlist

From the perspective of trialling a differentiation-based approach to design, this was a dangerous moment. Why? Because we appear to have a bunch of elements just begging to be assembled! As explained in an earlier post:

…until we appreciate the distinction between a generic potential part and an actual designed-in part, it is easy to mistakenly think of the elements on a wish list as already defined actual things or elements. From there it is hard to avoid the trap of construing the design task as assembling these prematurely defined elements. The process of design is then inevitably understood as the process of combining these elements where, if anything, the parts birth the whole.

We circumvented this trap by treating these things not as pre-existing parts to assemble into a whole, but as desired areas and activities to be identified or differentiated from within the already-existing whole. Only after this happened would they move from being generic potential parts to actual parts of the system being designed. If you like, you could say that these items are nominees or applicants for the position of being part of the target system. Part of our role as designers is to interview them and find out if, and if so in what form, they might be suited to the job.

Trap avoided, we still had the problem that an individual act of differentiation starts with one thing and differentiates it into two things. Yet looking at this collection of almost 30 discrete items, we can easily become overwhelmed and confused about where to start. Further, many of the things lure us into jumping right into a level of detail or resolution that is premature. The trap we were attempting to avoid again invited us to pull out the base map, grab something, pop it in somewhere, grab the next thing, place it relation to the first thing, and so on. But again, in the interests of trying something different, we resisted.

Instead, before moving on, we refined the wishlist into a form conducive to a differentiating process (as opposed to an assembling process).

Refining the Wishlist (via Filtering, Condensing & Sequencing)

In this step we moved from nearly 30 things to just five high-level areas. Along the way some things got filtered out, somethings got condensed into broader areas, and then these broader areas were sequenced with reference to a simplified version of Yeomans’ scale of permanence:

  • 1. whole farm water system (harvest, storage, distribution including water features)
  • 2. access ways for animals (humans and other livestock) and vehicles (farm bikes right up to heavy trucks)
  • 3. trees (further clustered into a. everything but nuts and b. nuts)
  • 4. the homestead (the details of which, such as the house, orchards, parklandish gardens, domestic animal housing etc etc we put aside for a subsequent and more specific design process for that area once the mainframe pattern for farm as a whole had revealed itself to us)
  • 5(a&b). pasture or open land generally including an area for the future market garden

Here’s the diagram we used during this process…

Wishlist Cluster

…where the understanding was not that we were assembling primary elements into secondary sets, but that we were revealing the deeper patterns or areas the initially listed items already naturally sat within. To compensate for the silent monopoly of element-assembly thinking in our (perma)culture, this point deserves emphasis.

So, for example, with the trees our thinking wasn’t so much “oh – great, we can assemble the shelter belt and the woodlot and the nut groves and form one larger tree system with them.” It was more “okay so these would all be aspects sitting within the whole-farm tree system – if we figure out roughly where that whole system is going, we can worry about chopping3 it up into woodlot, shelter, etc, later on. But let’s get the overall pattern of the tree system as a whole right first.” A subtle distinction, perhaps. A subtle distinction with significant design process implications.

Another point is that though we sequenced the main areas according to the scale of permanence, in different design process contexts different sequences will be appropriate. The main thing is to carefully design the sequence such that you can make earlier design decisions/differentiations that will not be upset by later decisions/differentiations and thus require you to backtrack and completely undo something you’ve already done. It is also important to not get attached to whatever sequence you create, such that you can adapt the actual sequence itself as appropriate as the process moves forward.4

Something Begins to Stir

In a real sense, even though we hadn’t yet tuned into the actual physical space in any detail, we were getting, simply from the destination and the identified, filtered, condensed and sequenced desired areas/activities, an inkling of what the whole might some day include and feel like. We could start imagining what it might be like to be here, based on the sorts of areas involved and the desired overall feeling for the place. More so than when we started, we were already able to garner a fuzzily defined inkling of what was to come.

The Place

Having made a solid start on tuning into the people, we moved our attention to the place.5

During this stage we got a lot done in a short time by breaking up into a series of small teams, each with a specific landscape-mapping task.


Here is the site aerial photo and boundary (dotted-low resolution contour lines can also be seen, bottom-right you can see the current building envelope in white). Folk from the northern hemisphere please note that north is up in base maps from this part of the world.



One team mapped the directionality and seasonality of incoming energies such as fire, wind, water, & views:6



One team mapped the place according to the overall topographical features. Here is a low-resolution summary:



One group did a lot of digging and mapped the boundaries between the two main underlying geologies on the place (note the close but imperfect correspondence of the main ridge and the basalt section):



Though we’ve lost track of the map, another group mapped the relative depth and type of topsoil right across the place.


Another team mapped water movements:


Land Units

Below is a very rough sketch we drew to get across the sort of thing we were after here – in a sense the culmination of tuning into the site – which is combining all the previously garnered information along with carefully walking the site to map the existing pattern of differences across the site. Sometimes something like this is called area analysis, or land unit, component, or system analysis.7


Essentially we are differentiating the landscape based on its own existing character.8 The more we can be with the place with an open, listening, inquiring spirit, the more of this character the place reveals to us. David Holmgren (1994) nicely explained both the nature and point of this process:

Identifying underlying natural land types reveals different qualities. For example, what looks like just a field may have well drained and poorly drained areas. These differences form a basis for land division into basic units.

The boundaries between land types then become lines for infrastructure such as access, shelter belt etc. It also makes it much harder to do stupid things, (like a tractor bogging in a wet corner).

Landscape laid out according to natural land forms has an underlying sense to it that makes it more likely that people will manage it sensibly.

Broadacre landscapes that have lost hedgerows offer incredible opportunities not only to put those features back in but to put them back in a different place, that is, according to the underlying structure, soil types etc. With infrastructure like shelter, access, water etc. we should try to reinforce those natural boundaries; when we do, we create a landscape that has a natural harmony.

When you only have one product or crop, the logic is to try to turn all that land into a place for that crop. When you have multiple land uses like forestry, aquaculture, grazing, horticulture, you can find a place for everything in that landscape.

The team responsible for mapping land units first went through coarsely:


And then in more detail (there was a detailed note for each number on a separate page detailing the unique quality of each spot):


Unfolding the Design

We were now ready to move more explicitly from what was to what might be. We now had:

  • a destination statement for the whole (the property including the people)
  • a list of high-level desired areas and a base sequence or order for dealing with them
  • a satisfactory discernment of the existing pattern of differences or land units across the site

Take One

The moment of truth had arrived. We handed out copies of the base map to everyone in the design team. We reviewed all that had come before. We each picked up a pen. We each separately sketched in a provisional configuration for the mainframe water, access, tree, pasture and homestead areas.

In doing so, we were consciously differentiating the whole space into sub-spaces.

Bringing our various sketches together, many of us were surprised to find something like a 90% correlation in the overall pattern of what we’d each drawn. Here is the rough sketch we then made to summarise what the various sketches tended to agree on:


Let’s walk through the process of of generating this rudimentary first pass.9 As vague as it looks, as a few messy squiggles, herein lies the rudimentary kernel from which all subsequent steps in the design process unfolded.

First Stroke

Starting with water 10 and access considerations (for reasons discussed earlier), we first drew a line representing a proposed layout for the requested new driveway:11


This layout corresponded (more or less) to both:

  • the break of slope between the main ridge and the surrounding flatter land
  • the change in soil that roughly ran along this same line

This meant that:

  • it wasn’t too steep to make construction overly difficult/expensive or too low so as to get too wet in winter
  • it allowed the entire property to be seen upon entering or leaving (making it easy to keep an eye on trees and animals etc)

The upshot was that we’d simply drawn a line highlighting the already-existing and prominent line of  difference between two primary land units, areas, or parts of the site:12


Second Stroke

We subsequently moved our attention to what we’ve here called Area 2. We in turn differentiated this into an area lending itself to trees (Area 3), and areas that lent themselves to more open pasture (Area 2). The primary line of delineation between these two new areas was, again, a pre-existing line, edge, or boundary on the site; in this case the spring-fed creek running through the top of the property in a west to south-westerly direction.

As with the driveway, there were sound functional reasons for this delineation. One was that, once established, the tree systems need less (visual and physical) attention than the livestock systems, thus making sense to be further away. Another was that in this location the treed area provides desirable shelter to the pasture area from the prevailing hot summer winds and hence a primary direction of fire risk.

Third Stroke

About here it occurred to us to differentiate an extension to Area 3 (trees) that would pick up and include the riparian strip running along the creek marking the south-western boundary of the property, while extending right around to provide a shelter belt and wildlife corridor around the south-easter perimeter. We’ll call this Area 3b.

In this case, unlike the examples above, the line of differentiation here was not about accentuating a naturally pre-existing demarkation in the landscape. Here it was more about running roughly parallel to, and very roughly about 15-20m out, from the property boundary. In this sense, its form was defined by a more arbitrary pre-existing feature – where surveyors had previously happened to have located the property boundary. For this reason we indicate it here with a slightly fainter and dashed line (that would likely become a fence in future).

Once again, this line of differentiation made functional sense from a shelter and wildlife corridor perspective, and spoke especially to the client’s desire for the place to feel like a cocooning sanctuary.

Fourth Stroke

About here we focused in the now slightly smaller Area 2, which we now differentiated into two additional areas – one that lent itself to more extensive pasture (Area 2), and one that lent itself to more intensive uses such as horticulture, market gardening, and possibly the planned homestead (Area 4).

In this case the line of differentiation was also more subtle, coming down both to a possible place for a vehicle access path to the northern part of the property (and a pre-existing gate there) and also the extent of the more naturally sheltered, richly soiled pocket of land to the east of this line.


To summarise, we had drawn four lines across or within the property. In doing so we had differentiated four high-level areas (five if you were to treat 3a and 3b as distinct).

Note that the lines of differentiation…

…and the areas differentiated…

…are like the two sides of the same coin. You can’t have two areas without something differentiating the one from the other, and you can’t have a differentiation without some areas being differentiated!13

The Plot (not to mention the driveway) Thickens

Let’s now come back to the driveway, the creek internal to the property, the second-tier vehicle access way or track to the northern part of the property.

The plot thickens when we acknowledge that these lines, edges, or boundaries not only distinguish different areas from one another. They themselves constitute areas (if long and relatively thin ones) in their own right.

In other words, we had not in fact only differentiated four big blob-like areas. We had differentiated four big blob-like areas and three narrow stretched-out areas. So after drawing just three lines we had in fact differentiated seven discrete areas!14

A Last Few (More Detailed) Differentiations within the Driveway Area

Now take the driveway as its own area. During the process we zoomed our focus into this area, and, as indicated roughly on the raw first concept design shown above, differentiated it into several subsidiary sub-areas.

Firstly, as much as a driveway it constituted a water catchment surface and diversion drain that would allow runoff from the main road outside the property as well as the new driveway itself to be harvested and gently directed to a storage point high in the landscape (which we didn’t get as far as highlighting on in this first pass).  As explained in a previous post, Darren J. Doherty calls this particular patterning of driveway and drain an in sloped gradient catchment road:


So as shown in the top of the diagram above, here we differentiated the driveway area in two sub-areas: the road itself and the drain next to (and uphill of) it.

Secondly, along with the adjacent row of deciduous, fire-retardant trees it made sense to plant directly below (and possibly above) the new driveway, the driveway (as an un-vegetated and hence non-flammable) surface made a useful contribution to resilience to wild-fire (a priority in this area).

So now, the driveway, while initially differentiating the property as a whole into two broad areas, itself constituted an area containing several subsidiary areas – those taken up by the fences, trees, drivable surface itself, and drain (here just showing the option of just a single fence and row of trees below the driveway):

Taking this into account, if we include the road, drain, and ribbon of trees as sub areas within a (single or double) fenced strip running around the ridge, and if we include the internal stream and secondary proposed vehicle access track as areas in their own right, we now have 7 high-level areas some of which contain internally differentiated subsidiary areas (3 & 5):

All in all, using a sequential differentiating process, we had generated a tentative preliminary configuration of areas – a high-level pattern for the design. Our next task was finding out what was wrong with this configuration by getting out there and crash-testing the map against the territory.

Take Four

In conjunction with revisiting the site and bumping our vague preliminary initial ideas up against the reality of the site, we went through a very similar process three more times. Each time the overall configuration or form of the design got better. Each time the parts became more refined, organ-like, or organised. They hung together with more and more coherence on each subsequent pass.

The key focus was walking and scanning the site for conflicts, tensions or issues that whatever version of the design we were up to either had failed to resolve or had actually created. We were effectively searching for places where the reality of the site trumped or dictated updates in our designed ideas about it. Whatever we did next in the process then attempted to resolve those tensions.15

Skipping versions two and three, here is the fourth version we got to after much conversation, re-walking, and re-checking.

We won’t bore you by repeating the entire sequence of differentiations generating this more refined configuration of parts. In essence it was the same process, but by benefiting from what had come before it resulted in a layout better adapted to both the site and what the clients wanted their life there to feel like:

Our place honours a diversity of natural landscapes thriving with wild areas, flowing water and productive, manageable fields and forests. We are abundantly self-sufficient as we work with pride to nourish and rejuvenate our land into a sanctuary that cocoons us and all its inhabitants in life and serenity

The clients felt the potential of the design to help them realise their vision, and loved what we’d come up with. In their words it positively altered their whole perspective on their property. As far as implementation goes, in the last few weeks the new driveway has been fully installed and Mitch and Mel are delighted with the outcome (A likely outcome in our experience when legendary local permaculture earth mover Graeme Jennings is behind the wheel):

This is not to say what we got to is perfect. It is not. But as far as the design team and the clients were concerned, it was a solid step in the right direction, and sufficient to guide their next steps in developing the place, during which they will get feedback allowing them to further refine what happens next.

David Holmgren (2002) writes that:

Complex systems tend to evolve from simple ones that work, so finding the appropriate pattern for that design is more important than understanding all the details of the elements in the system

We hope that with this example we have unfolded something in the ballpark of an appropriate pattern for this site.

We’ll add an aerial photo of the new driveway when it becomes available, in which no doubt we’ll see further improvements on where we got to with the design that came out of the process of adaptively implementing that part of it.


We have just seen in some detail an example of an approach to permaculture design flowing from the alternative approach to permaculture design we have been exploring in previous posts (starting here). It is true of this example that it:

  • Started with an existing configuration of a whole-space-comprising-a-configuration-of-already-differentiated-parts…
  • …further differentiated this whole…
  • …fluidly moving down, up, and sideways as necessary…
  • …both modifying what is there and conceiving (as potential) then introducing (as actual) new parts…
  • …that grow out of and hence harmonise with the whole…
  • …to support the evolution of that whole…
  • …as a rich network of interrelated parts…
  • …toward our desired outcomes of a resilient, abundant, human-supporting ecosystem (and specifically Mel and Mitch’s vision statement)

Diagrammatically the process was clearly more an instance of this:


than an instance of this:


To close, recall that part of the prompt for sharing this example this comment from renowned permaculture author Toby Hemenway:

Now, if only someone would develop a methodology that shows how one can do what Alexander is suggesting…

For that matter, a different version of the same prompt had earlier come from permaculture co-originator David Holmgren. While not dismissing the utility of integrative or parts-towards-wholes thinking and design, David agreed that, in his words (bold italics added for emphasis):

  1. there is a huge cultural bias towards details to pattern understanding and designing
  2. nature works from pattern to details
  3. we need most effort into creating design processes that effectively achieve this second pathway

Well, Toby, David, hopefully you agree that this is one broad-strokes example, however rudimentary or flawed its details may be.

Being that one example is never enough, however, in our next post we’ll go ahead and share another.


Holmgren, David. “Ethics and Principles of Permaculture” (transcribed from a workshop recording by Chris Dixon). August 1994.
Holmgren, David. Permaculture: Patterns and Pathways Beyond Sustainability. Melliodora, 2002.


Testing a Different(iation) Approach to Permaculture Design Process – Part One: Introductory

I think Alexander’s concept is much closer to how permaculturists actually design, by starting with something that is already a whole and then differentiating and integrating additional factors into it. The issue is mostly that our language has not caught up to our practice… …I’m not surprised that permaculture is taking a few decades to figure out what we do in practice. Thinking in terms of relationships and organic wholes rather than collections of parts is foreign to our culture and not easy for anyone from Western culture to do. … Now, if only someone would develop a methodology that shows how one can do what Alexander is suggesting… (a recent comment on an earlier post in this inquiry by best-selling permaculture author Toby Hemenway)

With this post we enter the home straight of our first inquiry circuit into a weak link in conventional definitions and understandings of permaculture design process. This weak link is the simple idea, deeply entrenched in permaculture and in our culture at large, that design is a process of assembling elements into wholes:

We can just assemble the components and have faith that the symphony will come forth – and it does – that’s the crazy thing – you put the pieces of the puzzle together in beneficial interrelationships – this is just all that permaculture is, and the symphony starts to play. We don’t have to know how to do it all, because we don’t, we will never know how to do it all. All we have to do is start assembling the pieces. (Ben Falk in the closing statement of the 2015 permaculture documentary Inhabit: A permaculture perspective)

We have shared Christopher Alexander’s challenge to this idea, along with the differentiation-based approach he favours. We have benefited from David Holmgren’s perspective on the matter and seen Alexander’s alternative approach at large in the work of celebrated permaculture designer Dave Jacke. We have found that while on the surface of things both approaches made sense of Darren J. Doherty’s design process, that on examination the element-assembly interpretation falls apart, leaving us with the suggestion that sound design instead:

  • Starts with an existing configuration of a whole-space-comprising-a-configuration-of-already-differentiated-parts…
  • …further differentiates this whole…
  • …fluidly moving down, up, and sideways as necessary…
  • …both modifying what is there and conceiving (as potential) then introducing (as actual) new parts…
  • …that grow out of and hence harmonise with the whole…
  • …to support the evolution of that whole…
  • …as a rich network of interrelated parts…
  • …toward our desired outcomes of a resilient, abundant, human-supporting ecosystem (or whichever wording floats your boat / is appropriate to what you’re designing).

Given the discrepancy between all this and how permaculture designers usually write, talk and think about design, there has been a surprising (and encouraging) amount of support for the conclusions we’re reached so far. It seems the time is ripe for the critical and constructive revisiting of permaculture’s foundational ideas.

Yet the conclusions we have reached so far carry a challenge of their own. To repeat part of Toby Hemenway’s comment…

Now, if only someone would develop a methodology that shows how one can do what Alexander is suggesting…

Well said Toby – it is high time for the rubber (the ideas we have been exploring) to hit the road (actual design process). Let us not forget here that Dave Jacke’s ecological design process is an impressive example of exactly this. But we would like Dave to have some company, and see many, many more documented examples of permaculture design grounded in the differentiation of wholes.

Toward that end, in the two posts to follow, we’ll share two simple experiences of taking a differentiation-based approach to permaculture design process.

Christopher Alexander’s Challenge meets Darren J. Doherty’s Design Process – Part Two of Two

Note: This post is a direct continuation of Part One. It is our most substantial post to date, to the extent a table of contents is in order. Accordingly, regardless of whether you make it through the body of the argument, please at the least check out the post summary and series conclusion. The conclusions we reach below not only further challenge permaculture’s foundational design understandings, but provide the context for where we’ll be heading next with this inquiry (testing the ideas developed here out on the ground).

The Dilemma

In Part One of this Two-Part series, we examined Darren J. Doherty’s designing/drawing in of a new whole-farm water and access system comprising a new driveway, drain and two dams:

In trying two different ways of simply describing what we saw, we got ourselves stuck on the horns of a dilemma.

On the one hand, we can take the standard permaculture approach and describe these actions as a process of assembling elements into a whole.

On the other hand, Christopher Alexander’s alternative way of describing this same thing – as in the exact same actions – as differentiating a whole into parts also appears to accurately capture what is actually going on.

The dilemma is that the two descriptions directly contradict one another – the one emphasising the assembly of parts or details into patterns, the other emphasising the differentiation of wholes or patterns into details.1

Resolving the Dilemma

This two-part series is part of a larger inquiry that started when we accepted Alexander’s challenge. Accepting this challenge means giving Alexander’s living process perspective2 serious attention towards any value it might offer permaculture.

In the interests of resolving this dilemma, in what follows we’ll take a closer look at the implications of four aspect of Alexander’s view for the standard permaculture approach to design.3

Four Integral Aspects of Alexander’s Approach to Living Design Process

The following sentence is one attempt to summarise Alexander’s alternative to permaculture’s core understanding of design:

The whole comes first then gives birth to the parts by differentiating space in a sensible sequence.

We can tease this sentence into four distinct (if overlapping) emphases:

The whole comes first – then gives birth to the parts – by differentiating space – in a sensible sequence.

We have previously used this diagram to illustrate this approach (where the numbers represent the sensible sequence):


We will now consider each of these four aspects in turn, clarifying them using Alexander’s own words, then asking of each:

  • whether it is a true description of Darren’s design process
  • what if anything of value it might add to permaculture’s existing design process understandings
  • whether these discussions help us toward resolving our dilemma

The whole comes first…

In Alexander’s words:

…it is always the whole… which comes first. Everything else follows… (2002a, p. 87)

At each stage in its evolution the process – when a living one – always starts from the wholeness as it currently exists at that moment (2002b, p. 216)

…the response to the land… must be rooted, always in the whole, in the cultural and human whole and the land and the ecological and natural wholeness of that place which forms the context of our work (2002b, p. 344)

This contention is clear: all design process begins with a whole. A whole with a current state, as in a current configuration of parts.4

Do we see this happening inside Darren’s Process?

As observed in the previous post, Darren did indeed start his design process with a complex whole. This whole comprised the land in its current state and the clients in their current state. What we see in the video is Darren tuning into the site aspect of this whole and only then working toward its coherent reconfiguration in regenerative directions.


The whole of the landscape Darren started with – what he sometimes refers to as the “board on which the game is played.”

Does this add anything to the standard permaculture description?

As self-evident as starting with a whole seems, this point breaks tradition with how design is usually defined in the permaculture literature. There, as shown here, the elements or parts are said to come first, and only then assembled or integrated to form a whole, which comes second.5 Bill Mollison was very clear in this emphasis:

Permaculture, as a design system, attempts to integrate fabricated, natural, spatial, temporal, social and ethical parts (components) to achieve a whole. (The Designers’ Manual, 1988, p. 36)

While it might be argued that this is not what Mollison really meant to say, it is what he did say, and what he, and many others that followed him, have said repeatedly.6 The statement is clear – start with a variety of different parts and then integrate them into a whole. The parts come first, the integration comes second, and the whole comes third.

Henri Bortoft (1996) eloquently summarised this way of thinking:

We are accustomed to thinking of going from parts to whole in some sort of summative manner. We think of developing the whole, even of making the whole, on the practical basis of putting parts together and making them fit. In this conventional way of thinking, we see the whole as developing by ‘integration of parts.’ Such a way of seeing places the whole secondary to the parts, because it necessarily implies that the whole comes after the parts. It implies a linear sequence: first the parts, then the whole. The implication is that the whole always comes later than its parts (p. 9).7

Again, there is nothing controversial in the claim that this is an accurate characterisation of Mollison’s approach:

For the final act of the designer, once components have been assembled, is to make a sensible pattern assembly of the whole. (Bill Mollison, The Designer’s Manual, 1988, p. 70)

Such statements aside, anyone who knows anything about permaculture design knows that it includes a thorough analysis of at least the site (if not also the clients) early on. It draws on a sophisticated suite of methods for tuning into relevant characteristics of the site as a pre-existing whole. This is presumably one of permaculture’s great strengths! Yet the point remains that the permaculture literature’s key definitions and descriptions of what design actually is omit or neglect reference to the whole coming first (in favour of stressing the elements and their assembly). Bizarrely, this prominent internal contradiction has not, to our knowledge, been previously recognised or discussed.

What does this Mean for our Dilemma?

Standard definitions of permaculture design are, at the very least, misleading about the fact the whole site being designed pre-exists any parts that are introduced. Yet at the same time, as we found in Part One, there is a more narrow sense in which the parts do indeed appear to precede the whole. In the case of Darren’s design process, for example, the new water-harvesting-transporting-storing system is a whole that was complete only after Darren had added the road, the drain and the two dams.

This realisation appears to resolve part of our dilemma – it is true that we start with a whole. Yet, in the process of adding parts, it is simultaneously true that we not only change the whole, meaning that in a real sense we create a new whole, as in a new version of the old whole, but that we also create new sub-wholes that were previously absent, such as the whole water system.

Alexander’s description thus focuses more broadly on the fuller picture of what is going on in a way consistent with, but not reducible to, permaculture’s narrower focus on certain sub-wholes.

With this promising start, let us move on to Alexander’s further claim that the whole…

…then gives birth to the parts…

In Alexander’s words:

…each part [e.g., the driveway] is given its specific form by its existence in the context of the larger whole [e.g., the farm] (1979, p. 369)

…the whole gives birth to its parts… (1979, p. 370)

In nature… the parts are induced by the whole and created by the whole. The whole is not created out of them. The flower is not made from petals. The petals are made from their role and position in the flower (2002a, pp. 86-87)

Alexander here contends that in a living process of design, parts arise in and from the context of the whole, where their resulting shape and layout responds to the context in which they find themselves.

Do we see this happening inside Darren’s Process?

Within Darren’s process, the form of the fencing,  driveway, and dams were all (tentatively) sketched in based on a feel for the reality of the whole site and the current configuration of its parts (pre-existing and new). The form of the driveway, for instance, while adding a new part, also grew out of the break-of-slope delineation that was already present. So again, this point seems common sense, and uncontroversial: The shape, size, orientation and so on of every part – whether paddock, tree belt, dam, emerged adaptively in response to the current state of the whole.

Does this add anything to the standard permaculture description?

Again, this appears to be a case of something any experienced permaculture designer would dismiss as a truism that nonetheless remains oddly absent from the core definitions of design in the permaculture literature.

There, the implication is that the whole is something that results from element assembly, not something that gives birth or gives rise to the actual form of the elements in the first place. The implication, if any, is that the parts give birth to the whole.

It thus does indeed does add something to the standard permaculture description.

What does this Mean for our Dilemma?

A couple of important points arise here.

The first has to do with where the parts come from. For while the location and form of the new dams, say, is determined by the context of the pre-existing whole landscape, it is not true that the landscape by itself ‘gave birth’ to the dams. It was involved in the birthing process, we can’t deny that, but to fully understand the genesis of the dams we have to enlarge our conception of the whole to include the clients. For it was the clients who requested the dams.8 As we saw Alexander stating earlier:

..the response to the land… must be rooted, always in the whole, in the cultural and human whole and the land and the ecological and natural wholeness of that place which forms the context of our work (2002b, p. 344)

If we enlarge the primary whole in question to include the clients and their culture, vision, etc, then it becomes true to say that the parts did arise from within this larger whole. But there is more going on here.

The second point is that there are key moments of transition inside Darren’s design process whereby the idea of a road, or drain, or dam gets transformed into an actual road, or drain, or dam. Let’s say that Darren in conversation with the clients establish their desire for a new driveway. At that point the driveway is a generic idea or concept, in that its actual location and form have not been determined. It is simply the possibility of a new driveway. At this stage it is pure potential. Only inside the process does it become this new driveway. Only inside the process does it take on form and become an actual, real, defined entity.9

You might say that the idea of the driveway was conceived by the clients, then actually birthed by and out of the landscape inside Darren’s design process.

The permaculture literature glosses over if not completely misses this distinction. There, the design process typically starts with a ‘wish list’ of desired elements:

The elements in a typical small farm might include: house, greenhouse, garden, chicken pens, water storage tank, compost pile, beehives, nursery area and potting shed, woodlot, dam, aquaculture pond, windbreak, barn, tool shed, woodpile, guest house, pasture, hedgerow, worm beds, and so on. These can be moved about, on paper, until they are working to best advantage (Mollison & Slay, 1992, p. 6)

As we have seen, whether a road, dam, chicken house, or fence, these ‘elements’ start as generic culturally appropriate desirables that the design process actualises or makes real. Jumping straight from a wishlist to talk about moving them about on paper (as in the common permaculture exercise of juggling cutout elements into optimal assemblies) can distract us from the fact that one of the jobs of the design process is to translate the generic ideas of these parts into actual components within the evolving whole being designed.


We saw in the Darren design example that the form of the driveway, drains and dams only came into existence inside the design process where they arise from and within the whole. It wouldn’t make sense there to talk about “moving them around on paper,” for such talk implies that they already have been given some sort of form.

To be clear, we are not denying the useful role such exercises can play within design process.10 It is just that until we appreciate the distinction between a generic potential part and an actual designed-in part, it is easy to mistakenly think of the elements on a wish list as already defined actual things or elements. From there it is hard to avoid the trap of construing the design task as assembling these prematurely defined elements. The process of design is then inevitably understood as the process of combining these elements where, if anything, the parts birth the whole.

Let’s now bring this discussion to bear on our focal dilemma. What does all this mean for the relative usefulness or accuracy of the two contrasting descriptions of what was going on as Darren designed in the driveway, drain, and dams?

In the Alexander-informed description, if we enlarge what we mean by the whole sufficiently, we have seen that it is indeed the case that the whole not only births the parts, but conceives them.

In the permaculture (element assembly) description, on the other hand, the idea of element assembly only makes sense if the form of the elements or parts are defined ahead of time.

The design task then becomes simply figuring out where these preformed elements will sit in relation to each other. When we tune into the distinction between the idea of each parts as a generic desirable and the actual part as a formed entity, however, the element-assembly approach, despite its superficial coherence, starts to become inherently problematic.

For as any experienced permaculture designer would surely attest, the point of the design process is to bring forth the parts (and hence their relations) within and from the whole, such that the parts honour, enhance and harmonise with the whole (in the very process of evolving the whole in desired directions). When we distort this reality with talk of pre-existing parts we merely drop in and assemble to create (or birth) the whole, we depart from not only the reality of what we want to do, but from the reality of what is actually going on.11

Let us now move on to consider Alexander’s view of how the whole births the parts, which is…

…by differentiating space…

In Alexander’s words:

every individual act of building [or in this case farm design & implementation] is a process in which space gets differentiated (1979, p. 365)

…a living process helps us achieve living structure by differentiating space… (2002b, p. 210)

Each pattern is an operator which differentiates space… (1979, p. 373)

Alexander talks of differentiating space rather than adding or integrating or assembling parts.12

Now the concept of differentiation presupposes some larger thing or whole that is being differentiated.

Consider the difference between the verb cut and the verb join. To cut requires something to cut! It requires a preexisting whole thing. To join, however, requires only a minimum of two separate (i.e., unjoined) parts. It requires no preexisting whole, and indeed if anything implies that the whole will come about as a result of the joining.

It is no different with the verbs differentiate and assemble. Alexander uses the word differentiation in the sense of making one thing into two (or more) things. To differentiate is to make distinct, to make different.13

But this is only the first part of this aspect of Alexander’s approach – the idea that the core act within design is differentiation. The second part is the nature of the stuff so differentiated – the stuff Alexander consistently refers to as space. Here, not only is the core act within a design process differentiation, the core thing being differentiated is space. This emphasis challenges the culturally persistent Cartesian/Newtonian paradigm in which design is primarily about fiddling with solid objects in a backdrop or container of empty space. Here is one statement in which Alexander tries to explain his issue with this deeply entrenched doctrine:

Each act of building [or designing], which differentiates a part of space, needs to be followed soon by further acts of building [or designing], which further differentiate the space to make it still more whole.

This is commonplace in nature: and indeed, it is just this which always manages to make the parts of nature whole.

Consider the leaves of a tree. At first sign it seems as though the leaves are solid, and the air between the leaves is merely space. But the air between the leaves is as much a part of nature as the leaves themselves: it takes on shape as strongly as the leaves themselves; and like the leaves, it is given its shape by the influences which work on it.

Each leaf has a shape which is determined by the need for strength, the growth of the material, and the flowing of the sap within the leaf. But the air between the two leaves is given its shape as definitely. If the leaves are too close together, the air between the leaves cannot act as a channel for the sunlight which the leaves need; and there may not be enough breeze there to ventilate the leaves; if the leaves are too far apart, the distribution of the leaves on the twigs and branches is inefficient, and the tree will not get enough sunlight to support it. Every part you look at is not only whole in itself, but is part of a larger whole, has wholes all around it, and is itself made up entirely of wholes.

This is essential to the way that nature works: and all of it is generated by the processes of successive differentiations, each one helping to fill gaps, and mend gaps in the whole (1979, pp. 482-483)

In Alexander’s view, space is not merely the backdrop of design – as hard as this can be to grasp from within the confines of the element-assembly (mechanistic) paradigm, it is the fundamental medium or stuff we are working with when designing landscapes. Indeed, in this view landscaping is one type of space-scaping.

Do we see this happening inside Darren’s Process?

As we saw in Part One, at each step in his design process, Darren is inserting differentiations into the three-dimensional fabric of the unfolding whole site. As he tentatively draws in the new driveway, for example, he is differentiating the paddock area above the new driveway from the paddock area below it. Zooming in, he is also modifying and hence differentiating the shape of the land the driveway flows through, as shown here:


So it is true to say that as the design process unfolds that space is being reshaped. The fabric of the landscape/spacescape is morphing:

In the process of differentiation… the parts appear as folds in a cloth of three dimensional space which is gradually crinkled (Alexander, 1979, p. 370)

Does this add anything to the standard permaculture description?

First, the idea of differentiating space as opposed to inserting and assembling elements carries certain advantages. For one, it helps avoid the common mistake in permaculture of imposing prematurely formed elements on a site without due attention to context. This is surely a lot more possible when you think about design as primarily a process of inserting and assembling elements.

As permaculturalists regularly decry, it is all too possible to insert and assemble inappropriate elements. Whether it’s a bad case of the hugelkultur hiccups, swale fever, herb spiral addiction, or mad chicken tractor disease, certain cliched elements get peppered about in a way that cripples the integrity of the design process and its ability to generate deeply appropriate design solutions.

If, like Alexander, you instead stress differentiation as the fundamental design act, then your first question is what are we differentiating here?14 Just as it is impossible to cut a piece of paper without paying attention to the piece of paper being cut, it is impossible to differentiate a space without paying attention to the space being differentiated. Here, inappropriately imposed cookie-cutter solutions take a hit simply in virtue of how we conceptualise what it is we are doing.

Second, Alexander’s emphasis on space as that which is differentiated informs a different and more inclusive perspective on what a part is. In the permaculture literature, parts or elements are almost exclusively conceptualised as physical objects. Again:

The elements in a typical small farm might include: house, greenhouse, garden, chicken pens, water storage tank, compost pile, beehives, nursery area and potting shed, woodlot, dam, aquaculture pond, windbreak, barn, tool shed, woodpile, guest house, pasture, hedgerow, worm beds, and so on (Mollison & Slay, 1992, p. 6)

As Alexander emphasises above in discussing the tree, for him the spaces between (and inside) the objects are equally functional and integral parts within the fabric of the whole. So as the driveway gets sketched in (or graded in for that matter) the driveway and the newly defined paddock space to the west (uphill) and to the east (downhill) are equally parts. Indeed, if anything Alexander emphasises the form of the empty spaces as more important than the physical objects.15 He stresses the importance of making the spaces between the objects what he calls “positive” and recommends visualising this space as if it were solid as part of the design process in order to bring its shape out into the open and to consciously make it flow, function & hence feel as well or good as possible.

Consider the drain. Firstly, the drain isn’t a physical object. The word element starts to seem a bit forced, a bit meagre. The drain is a reshaped stretch of earth – effectively a slightly off-contour scratch. Here’s a photo of the newly cut driveway & drain (to the left you can see Darren doing some finer-grained scratching with a keyline plow):

Yandoit New Driveway

Secondly, the concave shape of the drain, as in the profile and size of the space defined by the drain base, is what makes it work (or not). So here Alexander’s terminology seems to more usefully point out what matters, rather than speaking of the drain as an element which implies some bounded physical object or building block.16

In summary, this aspect of Alexander’s view adds two important perspectives to the standard permaculture approach.

First, stressing differentiation rather than assembly forces an engagement with the whole being differentiated that beginning permaculture designers are notorious for neglecting.17

Second, the idea of design as the differentiation or reconfiguration of space removes permaculture’s awkward and detrimental dichotomy between ‘elements’  as primary and the bits of space in between as secondary (where the resulting all-important shape of these in-between bits becomes accidental as in whatever is left over after the element-assembly game is done).

What does this Mean for our Dilemma?

The crux of the dilemma is the fact that on the surface of things the same act can be meaningfully described as both differentiation of a whole into parts and assembly of parts into a whole.

Though this inquiry is revealing serious shortcomings with the notion of design as element assembly, it is still true to say that looking at the designed system as a subwhole (comprising the road, drain and dams), we see a set of closely related parts. In this sense we see an assemblage. Now surely an assemblage implies some assembly. If design results in assemblages, and the way to get assemblages is to assemble, and to assemble you first need some parts to assemble, then what is all the fuss about, right? Isn’t it self-evident that design is thus a process of element assembly? Isn’t this an unquestionably true logical necessity?

Not so fast, says Alexander. Not so fast. For it turns out that differentiation can equally contribute to or create assemblages as interrelated configurations of parts. In his words:

It is important to grasp that each differentiation adds relationships and brings more interdependence among the centers [Alexander’s preferred word for parts]. Of course, as a result of the many adaptations, and the growing centers and properties, the structure slowly becomes thick with relationships. It is getting denser and denser all the time. And it is vital, for success, that the process is able to keep on cramming more and more relationships (2002b, p. 201)

Hang on a second, the way we cram in more relationships is not by assembling parts but by further differentiating the whole? This is Alexander’s contention. It is a contention supported whenever we actually observe the growth of an organism.

Consider for instance Alexander’s example of an unfolding embryo (see here). An embryo develops from a sequence of differentiations that begins with a single cell. The result is a complete human baby – a phenomenally complex assemblage comprising billions of functional relationships. Yet, unlike a car, a lego spaceship, or, if you follow the books, a permaculture-designed garden, it was not assembled. It was differentiated.

This is a startling conclusion. For it calls into question what at first appears an obvious way of reconciling the diametrically opposite approaches to design we are here investigating. In this apparent solution, we suppose that both approaches are equally critical co-partners inside sound design process. But now we’ve seen that unlike element-assembly, which we are finding problematic even on its own terms, differentiation works both when moving from whole-to-parts and moving from parts-to-whole. Further, even when we insist on talk of assembling elements within permaculture design, what we actually see is the differentiation of parts.

This realisation marks a pivotal juncture in our inquiry. Up till now we have been conflating differentiation with moving from a whole towards parts (as opposed to moving from parts toward a whole). What we have just discovered is that we can decouple the act of differentiation from any particular directional commitment (in the sense of moving either up or down in the resolution of our focus). Sure, we can’t get started without a whole, but we can then differentiate the tiniest part and move up from there if we like, to differentiate a larger part that includes this smaller part. Or we can drill down still further inside this tiny part and differentiate a part still tinier. Or, as a third option, we can move sideways, and differentiate a part or parts next to or overlapping this tiny part we initially differentiated.

We now see yet another reason for favouring differentiation over assembly as the core design act: it applies equally to moving from larger to smaller parts and from smaller to larger parts. Assembly, on the other hand, only works in the latter direction – you can’t assemble larger parts into smaller parts.

When we consider that assembly, unlike differentiation…

  • creates a false dichotomy between the elements assembled and the space between them.
  • is consistent with neglecting the whole space being designed such that in this view of design elements prematurely formed are routinely imposed (as opposed to finding their form as they come into being as parts of the designed space). Not just as a mistake for beginners who didn’t pay attention to their book or teacher, but as an inevitable side-effect of the underlying conceptualisation of what design is

….we start to realise that though it initially appeared to be an equally useful description of Darren’s design process, the element-assembly approach is ridden with inherent issues. These issues have persisted for over 40 years of conceptualising design as element-assembly. They show no sign of abating. It therefore appears this approach inevitably compromises sound design process and is thus overdue for a serious rethink.

…in a sensible sequence.

In Alexander’s words:

Unfolding, the essential feature of all living processes — which we may also call differentiation — comes about, and succeeds, because it always occurs in a certain kind of sequence. It goes step by step, we already know that. But it goes step by step in a certain order (2002a, p. 300)

The crux of every design process lies in finding the generative sequence for that design, and making sure that sequence is the right one for the job (2002b, p. 317)

…the actual creation of the sequence… is one of the most crucial aspects of the design task (1979, pp. 382-383)

Do we see this happening inside Darren’s Process?

Affirmative. Darren is partial to a good sequence, as evidenced by the fact that the Regrarians Platform guiding his design process literally is a sequence. A default sequence adopted then adapted from P. A Yeomans’ Scale of Permanence:

  • Climate (including the personal and cultural climate) – which Darren calls the rules of the game
  • Geography – Which Darren summarises as the board on which the game is played
  • Water
  • Access
  • Forestry
  • Buildings
  • Fencing
  • Soils
  • Marketing (added by Darren)
  • Energy (added by Darren)

By and large, Darren moves from the top toward the bottom of this sequence, in general designing in dams, drains and driveways before considering the layout of tree systems, internal fencing, livestock and so on. This means that things that are relatively harder to influence and more permanent are, as a rule, considered before things that are relatively easy to influence and less permanent.

As you’ll see in the video, Darren started differentiating the layout of tree systems and paddocks (not to mention many other details like tanks and pipes) earlier and in a more fluid and shifting sequence that I have shown here. But in general he did and does move from the mainframe ‘skeleton’ created by water and access systems to flesh it out with different kinds of tree systems, fence & gate layouts, and so on down through the scale. Here is a profile sketch showing some of the extra detail that unfolded around the drain/driveway system. One thing gave rise to other things, where the sequence was crucial.


Does this add anything to the standard permaculture description?

While some kind of sequence is implicit, if not explicit, in most presentations of permaculture design, a corollary of construing design as element assembly is a kind of detachment from any particular sequence, at least in terms of which parts are assembled first. Permaculture design methods such as random assembly encourage just that, and in practice a permaculture designer will often look about until a compelling reason for placing a particular element somewhere arises. That element in place, whatever elements make sense to plug in to that element are inserted, and so on.

This is a bit like playing lego but without the assembly instructions. One has a vague feeling for what one is after, grabs a piece, and goes from there. In this approach design starts with a list of parts and a board (landscape) to assemble them on. Although heuristics like water-access-structures-plants-animals (WASPA) or the scale of permanence are often given lip service18 and indeed used to some extent, the actual design process becomes a trial-and-error sequence of clicking or connecting everything together. The implicit assumption is that there are any number of different sequences or pathways to the goal of an assemblage of interconnected elements.

In contrast, Alexander emphasises that getting what he calls the sequence of unfolding right is imperative to an authentically organic, living or adaptive design process. In his differentiation-centric approach, each differentiation is also a transition within, and a transformation of, the evolution of the whole. Here, the parts just differentiated help define the new whole from which the next differentiation takes its leave. He argues that the key to the generative power of this approach is getting the sequence just right:

a structure is truly generated, and perceived as such, and perceived as having life, only when it has unfolded from a nice, beautiful sequence of differentiations — and this is perhaps the most important point of all. (2002b, p. 320)

The power and relaxedness that come from a proper sequence are immense (2002b, p. 322)

So while the idea of sequence perhaps itself adds nothing fundamental to permaculture that we haven’t already discussed, Alexander does add a much, much stronger emphasis on the idea of getting the sequence just right in a continuously adaptive process. Reading the permaculture literature you can easily get the impression that the exact sequence used in a particular process is a secondary concern. For Alexander, it is the crux of the matter.

What does this Mean for our Dilemma?

Designers like Darren (or Dave Jacke) are rare in explicitly discussing the importance of a sensible sequence.19

For our purposes here, however, we can summarise our discussion about this aspect of Alexander’s approach as a matter of relative emphasis. Like most of what Alexander has to say, there is more to it than this, but we can for now conclude that this aspect does not directly contradict anything inside permaculture’s foundational understandings of design that we haven’t already covered. Besides, teasing out the ramifications of what the core act of design is (be it assembly or differentiation) is already bordering on biting off more than we can chew. Best we leave further inquiry into the way in which repeated instances of this core act are sequenced for another time.


This post started with the dilemma we inherited from the last post: we can describe some of the same core acts we saw inside Darren J. Doherty’s design process as both the differentiation of a whole and the assembly of parts. This fact renders inadequate our prior conclusion that these two acts are complementary partners inside design process.

We then looked at four aspects of Alexander’s approach to living design process: The whole comes first – then gives birth to the parts – by differentiating space – in a sensible sequence.

In exploring these aspects toward resolving our dilemma, we saw serious cracks appearing in the element assembly view that has dominated permaculture for over 40 years.

Along the way we discovered that differentiation not only fares a lot better as a coherent description of what is actually going on, but that differentiation more meaningfully describes the movement in design not only from a whole to parts, but from parts back up toward the whole.

The view of design we are left with has a clear recommendation concerning the idea of design as assembly: Let it go.20 To try and recap all the nooks and crannies we’ve just explored, in its place we are left with a view of design something more like:21

  • Starting with an existing configuration of a whole-space-comprising-a-configuration-of-already-differentiated-parts…
  • …further differentiating this whole…
  • …fluidly moving down, up, and sideways as necessary…
  • …both modifying what is there and conceiving (as potential) then introducing (as actual) new parts…
  • …that grow out of and hence harmonise with the whole…
  • …to support the evolution of that whole…
  • …as a rich network of interelated parts…
  • …toward our desired outcomes of a resilient, abundant, human-supporting ecosystem (or whichever wording floats your boat).

Series Conclusion

I think Alexander’s concept is much closer to how permaculturists actually design, by starting with something that is already a whole and then differentiating and integrating additional factors into it. The issue is mostly that our language has not caught up to our practice. (a recent comment on an early post in this inquiry by best-selling permaculture author Toby Hemenway)

Let us not mince words. We have exposed permaculture’s default approach to design as mistaken, misleading, contradictory, and counterproductive. We have explored the beginnings of an alternative approach more aligned with the reality of sound permaculture design process. This alternative approach, for which thanks are due to Christopher Alexander, promises superior service toward permaculture’s stated objectives than permaculture’s own currently dominant approach.

Thus ends this two-part series. We invite critical review, detailed questioning, and hearty discussion of these conclusions. We invite you to point out our inevitable wrong turns, mis-takes, weak links. But if the ideas developed here stand firm,22 we invite permaculture colleagues around the world to consider tentatively accepting them as part of a provisional pathway forward. This would be something to celebrate. This would be an example of collaboratively acknowledging and addressing our foundational weak links toward making permaculture stronger.


Alexander, Christopher. The Timeless Way of Building. Oxford University Press, 1979.
Alexander, Christopher. The Nature of Order: An Essay on the Art of Building and the Nature of the Universe: Book One: The Phenomenon of Life. Vol. 1 of 4 vols. The Center for Environmental Structure, 2002a.
Alexander, Christopher. The Nature of Order: An Essay on the Art of Building and the Nature of the Universe: Book Two: The Process of Creating Life. Vol. 2 of 4 vols. The Center for Environmental Structure, 2002b.
Bortoft, Henri. The Wholeness of Nature : Goethe’s Way Toward a Science of Conscious Participation in Nature. Lindisfarne, 1996.
Jacke, Dave, and Eric Toensmeier. Edible Forest Gardens: Ecological Design and Practice for Temperate Climate Permaculture. Vol. 2. Chelsea Green, 2005.
Mollison, Bill. Permaculture: A Designer’s Manual. Tagari, 1988.
Mollison, Bill, and Reny Mia Slay. Introduction to Permaculture. Tagari, 1988.
Whitefield, Patrick. Earth Care Manual: A Permaculture Handbook for Britain & Other Temperate Climates. Permanent Publications, 2004.


Huge thanks to James Andrews and Dave Hursthouse (Phoenix) for invaluable feedback on earlier drafts this post.


Christopher Alexander’s Challenge meets Darren J. Doherty’s Design Process – Part One of Two


This post continues and deepens an inquiry into two contrasting understandings of design process.

Christopher Alexander challenges the standard permaculture view of design as a process of assembling pre-existing elements (or parts) into wholes. For Alexander, nature-mimicking or what he calls living design process differentiates pre-existing wholes into parts.

Ironically, Alexander’s approach is a better example of the well-known permaculture principle design from patterns to details than permaculture’s own default design approach, which contradicts it.

While accepting the validity of Alexander’s critique, and the need to develop better patterns-to-details design processes, David Holmgren1 cautions against construing the two approaches as mutually exclusive. Instead, he (tentatively) suggests whole-to-parts and parts-to-whole modes of design might be construed as complementary but asymmetric aspects of a broader and more holistic understanding of design process including and valuing them both. Asymmetric in the sense that the overall direction is from patterns toward details, but where at times and as appropriate there is also a movement from details toward patterns.

Our last post revealed2 that while Dave Jacke’s ecological design process moves primarily from wholes toward parts ah la Christopher Alexander, it at times also uses a kind of element assembly (what Jacke calls guild-build). In this sense Jacke’s process embodies precisely the kind of asymmetric relation between the two approaches proposed by David Holmgren.

In this post, we seek further clarity about the distinction and relation between these two design modes, toward our larger goal of increasing the correspondence between our descriptions of design process and the reality of design processThanks to Darren J. Doherty, in today’s post we have a rich portion of design process reality to immerse in.

Darren J. Doherty and the Regrarians Platform

Having completed almost two thousand design consultancy projects, Darren J. Doherty is one of the best-known and respected permaculture-associated professional design consultants on the planet. With his Regrarians Platform, he has evolved a design process for generating mainframe farm layouts equally conducive to ecological regeneration and financially viable production systems. You can watch this video sharing where he is coming from if you’d like to learn more about his approach.3

Like Dave Jacke, Darren has evolved (and continues to evolve) his design process at two complementary levels:4

  • the Regrarians Platform as a general process which might be applied to any farm anywhere5
  • specific instances of applying the platform to a particular farm

Both levels are essential. On the one hand, the general process only has value to the extent it delivers the goods on the ground (when applied to a particular farm). On the other, without communicating the general process, anyone hoping to replicate it can only copy the shape it took on a particular farm (which might not work elsewhere).

Here we will examine one case of applying the platform both as a window into the process in general and as a bit of design process reality against which we can test our target distinction (differentiating wholes into parts vs assembling parts into wholes) and assess how useful it is or isn’t at making sense of what is going on.

In 2013 Darren completed a whole-farm design process for Yandoit Farm, a 140-acre farm in Victoria, Australia. After a some site visits and consultations with clients Michael and Lisa, Darren sketched up a draft concept design:

What follows is a sequence of sketches and comments representing key themes in the way Darren applied his design process to generate this design. Keep in mind that the exact order is not as important as the overall flow, and that as you’ll see in the clip, Darren moved up and down in resolution or scale and from theme to theme much more fluidly that the following diagrams can hope to portray.

Following on from our introductory comments, we will tune into the reality of what happened inside this process to assess a) the extent to which the two approaches (differentiation and assembly) are present and b) if so, the nature of their relationship.

Entering the Process

Early-on a fellow named Colin showed up with an expensive piece of polystyrene which he proceeded to shake vigorously then throw into the air…

…resulting in this basemap – with 50cm contour lines overlaid on a high resolution aerial photo contour lines (north is up). You can see the existing driveway leading from the top left to the homestead area about halfway down on the left. You can also see a creek running from bottom to top defining the right-hand or eastern boundary.


Darren first sketched in a perimeter fence line something like this (where the west, north and east boundaries were already fenced, and east boundary wasn’t):


If you watch the clip you’ll see that Darren tweaks the details as he goes. Take for instance what happens at 5m:20s, where he fluidly refines the details of the just-drawn main perimeter fence based on the location of a pre-existing (heritage-listed) water channel (or “race”):

This introduces a subtlety with respect to the two different design approaches we are exploring (the differentiation of wholes vs the assembly of parts) and trying to relate to practice. Here’s what happened:

  1. roughly sketch in a perimeter fence
  2. based on details of the property that are then noticed, modify the shape of the perimeter fence

Three Interesting Points

As simple as these two steps seem, they raise several interesting points as regards the relation between wholes and parts inside Darren’s design process.

In the first step, two parts (a foreground and a background) were distinguished: i.e., the perimeter fence was drawn in. The foreground part then became the focal whole for the next step (as the whole property being designed). Hang on a second – what was a moment ago a part is now suddenly a whole!

So the first interesting point is that the terms “part” and “whole,” as used here to try and describe aspects of Darren’s process, are relative. On reflection, this is true in general:6 all wholes are simultaneously parts, and all parts are simultaneously wholes.7 What is a part and what is a whole is relative to our frame of reference. So “wholes containing parts,” “larger wholes containing smaller wholes,” “bigger parts containing smaller parts,” and so on, are all different ways of saying the same thing. We are dealing with a nested patterning of part-wholes within part-wholes within part-wholes, all the way up, and all the way down. And it turns out that when we talk of moving from the whole toward parts or from parts toward the whole we are simply discussing two different directions of travel through the same nested hierarchy of part-wholes.8 None of this will be news to permaculturalists, given that permaculture is a variety of systems thinking used to working at multiple levels of resolution. But at this stage it is important to eliminate any possible confusion about how we are using the basic terms part and whole.

A second interesting point is that Darren is initially moving from a whole (the wider landscape) to a part (the property under consideration). As just discussed, this part then becomes the primary whole for the rest of the process. Straight away, however, Darren was moving from a part (within this new whole) that caught his attention (a pre-existing water channel) back up to the whole (defined by the perimeter fence), and tweaking that whole so as to better harmonise with that part. Here we start to appreciate the artificiality of any rigid separation of moving from wholes to parts and parts to wholes inside healthy design process. Both are ever present in fluid interplay. As David Holmgren has observed (see introduction), if we try and reduce design to one or the other, we are distorting reality. Our goal instead should be trying to better understand their relationship. In this particular case, tuning into a part (the water race) resulted in some tweaking of the whole.

Another interesting point this leads to is the blatantly obvious fact that the site as a whole already has parts (including the water channel). In other words, the design process does not start with a clean slate or ’empty container.’ It starts with a whole area comprising a current configuration of parts. Now obviously it wouldn’t be much of a design process if these parts were left exactly as they were and nothing new was added. At the same time, it wouldn’t be much of a permaculture design process if the nature and configuration of any pre-existing parts wasn’t appreciated and taken into consideration (whether or not those parts end up being retained, modified, or removed). So whatever else is true of the process, it must simultaneously honour the whole and its existing configuration of parts as well as modifying this configuration and almost certainly introducing new parts to it.9

Keeping these three interesting (presumably uncontroversial) points in mind – let us move on.

Delineating the Break-of-Slope

Moving on with his process10 Darren draws in what he calls a break-of-slope delineation based on the site topography, the location of the existing entranceway to the farm, and the location of the farm homestead. This delineation defines the approximate position of a new drain and driveway weaving through the middle of the property:


To help visualise this break-of-slope delineation, which here takes the form of what Darren calls an in sloped gradient catchment road, here is a profile sketch:


Now in conjunction with drawing in this drain/driveway (herein abbreviated to just driveway), Darren provisionally identifies two dam sites.


Even though Darren is just getting started, this is more than enough new content to hit pause for a moment and consider these last few steps in terms of the assembly vs differentiation approaches.

Different Descriptions of the Same Thing

In the conventional language of permaculture design, we might describe what just happened as follows:

with close attention to the contours, Darren next added the driveway element, re-patterning the connection between the property entry and the homestead. He then linked the driveway and drain so they functioned to passively harvest and direct water to two new dams. Darren masterfully assembled all these elements into a functional whole pattern, stressing its draft status, where the details would be finalised in the act of marking out on site.11

At first glance this statement appears uncontroversial, using familiar language to accurately describe what we have just seen happening.

However, our focus here is the critical re-evaluation of our received ways of understanding and describing what we do when designing. In particular, in light of Christopher Alexander’s challenge, we want to try out his suggested alternative way of understanding what is happening. See if it has anything worth incorporating or taking on board before we dismiss it and get on with business as usual.

Let us first refresh ourselves with Alexander’s slightly unusual alternative way of speaking about these matters:

Within this process, every individual act of building [or in this case farm design & implementation] is a process in which space gets differentiated. It is not a process of addition, in which pre-formed parts are combined to create a whole: but a process of unfolding, like the evolution of an embryo, in which the whole precedes its parts, and actually gives birth to them, by splitting.

In the process of differentiation, the whole gives birth to its parts: the parts appear as folds in a cloth of three dimensional space which is gradually crinkled. The form of the whole, and the parts, come into being simultaneously. (1979, p. 365 & 370)


Merely additive processes (like the assembly of an erector set from fixed components that are arranged and rearranged) never lead to complex adaptation, or to profound complex structure.

The key to complex adaptation in a generated structure lies in the concept of differentiation. This is a process of dividing and differentiating a whole to get the parts, rather than adding parts together to get a whole” (2002, p. 197)

Acknowledging the unfamiliarity of this language (in particular the word “differentiation” has to be close to non-existent in the permaculture literature),12 is there any truth or value in this alternative way of describing what is happening?

Is there a sense in which, as he draws in the new driveway, Darren is differentiating space, in the sense of changing some of its shape, and in doing so dividing or distinguishing the whole property into parts?

In a straight-forward sense the act of drawing in this driveway certainly results in two, or more accurately three new parts: the part to the left, or above, the part to the right, or below, and the part in between, as in the actual driveway.13

Further, it seems we cannot meaningfully deny that in laying out the driveway Darren created what Alexander calls a “crinkle” in the space – a modification or fold in the three-dimensional cloth of the whole landscape.14

It is also true, as Alexander proposes is true in general, that the configuration of the driveway and two new dams arise in response to the pre-existing reality of the site as a whole. In other words, the whole of the site came before and defined the context in which the driveway and dams arose. In this sense again Darren is literally dividing or differentiating the whole, in the sense of creating new parts within and from it. The details and configuration of the parts are arising in response to the details and configuration of the whole farm. Though it is certainly changing, the whole is not arising in the sense of coming into existence only after parts have been assembled.

A Dilemma

If we are honest with ourselves, we have a conundrum. Indeed, we find ourselves impaled on the two horns of a rather perplexing dilemma.

On the one hand, we can use standard permaculture talk in its element-assembly sense to meaningfully describe what is going on. On the other hand, Alexander appears to have a point, in the sense that despite the unfamiliarity of his language, everything he says in the above statements appears to be equally true of what is going on.

This conundrum resists the resolution discussed in the introduction – the idea that moving from whole to parts via differentiation and moving from parts to a whole via assembly are two different but complementary actions within sound permaculture design process. For in this case we are not talking about two actions. In the case of drawing in the driveway, for instance, we have just seen that we can describe this same and single action in these two seemingly opposite ways.

We can say that at this moment in his design process, as he drew in the driveway, Darren was adding a part. It is true! He literally added a new driveway! Yes, he wrapped it into the reality of the site as he went. But the point stands – it wasn’t there before, and now it is there.15 Then, after he added the dams, he had assembled the essential parts or ingredients of a mainframe water harvesting whole system – with a catchment road surface connecting to a receiving and transporting drain connecting to receiving and storing dams. In this sense he has assembled a whole. Who in their right mind could deny this almost embarrassingly obvious description of what happened?

Yet it appears equally true to say, that in that very same act of drawing in the driveway, Darren was simultaneously changing the shape of the existing landscape and making it different, or differentiating it. Further, based on the outcome of this differentiation, he made two further differentiations in the form of the two dams. As depressions in the landscape, these are literally modifications of (or crinkles in) the shape of the land (currently in the mind but when implemented in the ground itself). And both the driveway and the dams came into being and in a sense were thus birthed from within the fabric of the whole farm, which preexisted and then inherited them.

Hence the dilemma. Rather than talking about the relationship between adding or assembling parts and differentiating a whole space as two different types of activities within a design process, we have just discovered that they can be apparently equally meaningful ways of describing the very same activity!

So where on earth do we go from here? How to make sense of this unexpected and confusing turn of events?

Is Alexander’s way of talking about this just a fancy way of saying what all permaculturalists already know? Is there really any need to change standard and pleasantly familiar ways of talking about permaculture design as element assembly? Do we accept one view and discard the other, maybe split into two opposing and quibbling camps? Do we think of them as like the equally valid ways you can describe light as a wave or particle? Do we try and create a middle-ground way or compromise that captures the best of both?

Conclusion, Another Diagram, and Until Next Time

While we take a break and muse on a strategy for steering this inquiry to some kind of meaningful conclusion (in Part Two), we leave you with a final diagram. Skipping much of the process that got him there, this diagram shows a later iteration16 of the whole-farm layout Darren ultimately generated.

The diagram highlights an overall patterning of areas to remain grassed paddocks and areas to be put into different kinds of forestry systems (you can also see the perimeter fencing, driveway, drain, dam, homestead envelope, and other considerations in the background):


Here we have a complex organic whole in which a generic overall procedure or process has been applied to generate a unique layout relevant to the realities of these people and this landscape.

In our next post (Parts Two of this two-part series) we’ll continue exploring the extent to which Christopher Alexander’s challenge might (or might not) help us more adequately describe the details of processes like this, and of sound permaculture design process in general. In particular, we’ll hope to shed more light on at least one resolution of the dilemma we have arrived at.

Meantime, we remain open to your feedback, guidance and advice as to next steps, as well as any mistakes or wrong turns we have made here that we can address next time. Thanks for your interest and support, and see you in Part Two.

Appendix: a Video and a few Photos of Darren’s Design Being Implemented

A clip showing some during and after shots of the main earthworks phase:

Darren’s working draft design sketch:


Darren measuring up the planned driveway with a bendy ruler as part of costing the earthworks:


Michael, Darren and earthmover Graeme marking out with laser level:


Tweaking the main dam details in situ (they’d be under water if they were standing there today!):



Alexander, Christopher. The Timeless Way of Building. Oxford University Press, 1979.
Alexander, Christopher. The Nature of Order: An Essay on the Art of Building and the Nature of the Universe: Book Two: The Process of Creating Life. Vol. 2. 4 vols. The Center for Environmental Structure, 2002.
Grabow, Stephen. Christopher Alexander: The Search for a New Paradigm in Architecture. Oriel Press, 1983.
Jacke, Dave, and Eric Toensmeier. Edible Forest Gardens: Ecological Design and Practice for Temperate Climate Permaculture. Vol. 2. 2 vols. Chelsea Green, 2005.
Koestler, Arthur. The Ghost in the Machine. Penguin Group, 1967.
Mars, Ross. The Basics of Permaculture Design. Permanent Publications, 1996/2006.
Mollison, Bill. Permaculture: A Designer’s Manual. Tagari, 1988.


I thank Darren J. Doherty and James Andrews for their feedback on an initial draft of this post.


The Exceptional Case of Dave Jacke & Edible Forest Gardens

Note: This post is a follow-on from Christopher Alexander’s Neglected Challenge to Permaculture

Chapters Three and Four of Dave Jacke and Eric Toensmeier’s Edible Forest Gardens Volume Two (2005) contain what is likely the permaculture literature’s most systematic and comprehensive presentation of sound design process.

Interestingly, the design process described therein (which Jacke prefers to call ecological rather than permaculture design process) almost completely avoids permaculture’s dominant view of design as a process of element assembly.

Not only is the presentation light on talk of element-assembly, it is remarkably consistent with Christopher Alexander’s differentiation-based approach to design.

While this is rare in the permaculture design literature, it shouldn’t come as a complete surprise. For one, earlier in the volume Jacke1 develops the beginnings of an impressive “pattern-language-in-process” for edible forest garden design. This effort is inspired directly by his reading of Alexander’s books The Timeless Way of Building (1979) and A Pattern Language (1977). For another, he writes:

[Christopher] Alexander expresses a deep philosophical viewpoint and a specific method of design we find compelling. Our task is not to explain that viewpoint or those methods here” (Edible Forest Gardens, Volume Two, p. 63)

Finally, he recently shared (in private conversation) that Alexander’s Notes on the Synthesis of Form (1964) was a pivotal influence on the development of his thinking around what he calls the goals articulation phase of sound design process.2

So it is not surprising, therefore, that you will struggle to find Jacke discussing design in the sense of element assembly. Consider some typical wordings:

The first stage of the design phase is the formation of the design concept. The design concept is the ‘big idea’ or organizing notion of the whole design for our site. Our goals statement tells us our mission, and our base map and site analysis and assessment tell us the context within which we will achieve that mission. The design concept defines our vision for achieving that mission in that specific context in its most essential or fundamental aspect. Ideally, all the design details flow from this vision and harmonise with it, support it, and manifest it” (p. 233)

“Schematic design expands the seed of the design concept to see how it manifests in somewhat greater detail…” (p. 233)

Once we have a solid scheme that resolves all the basic design issues, we work at a more detailed level. The detailed-design phase is where we take our chosen scheme and make it more exact, specifying the physical details in harmony with the big picture” (p. 233,)

“Resolve the basic patterns and large-scale issues first” (p. 249)

“…plant placement is one of the last kinds of design choices we make, because it is one of the most detailed decisions” (p. 249)

“Get the big picture right, then work into the more detailed issues” (p. 249)

“…don’t get caught up in detailed design until you’ve settled on the best scheme at a larger scale” (p. 250)

These statements contrast with the quotations previously shared from Bill Mollison’s The Permaculture Designer’s Manual (1988), Jessi Bloom and Dave Boehnlein’s Practical Permaculture (2015) and Toby Hemenway’s The Permaculture City (2015). There any talk about design process is dominated by a diversity of ways of saying that design is a process of starting with elements then assembling them into wholes.

Jacke is clearly coming from a different place with respect to what what sound design actually is. A place resonating effortlessly with statements from Alexander such as:

The form will grow gradually as you go through the sequence, beginning as something very loose and amorphous, gradually becoming more and more complicated, more refined and more differentiated. (A Pattern Language, 1977, p. 463)

In effect, as you build each pattern into the design, you will experience a single gestalt that is gradually becoming more and more coherent (A Pattern Language, 1977, p. 464)

Or, using the words pattern and details:

At every level, certain broad patterns get laid down: and the details are squeezed into position to conform to the structure of these broader patterns. Of course, under these circumstances, the details are always slightly different, since they get distorted as they are squeezed into the larger structure already laid down. In a design of this type, one naturally senses that the global patterns are more important than the details, because they dominate the design. Each pattern is given the importance and control over the whole which it deserves in the hierarchy of patterns (A Timeless Way of Building, 1979, p. 384)

Interestingly, Jacke doesn’t talk explicitly about design as a process of sequential differentiation as does Alexander. Nonetheless, his approach is fully consistent with this viewpoint. Jacke is consciously moving from wholes-to-parts, from patterns to details.

You can see this visually in the following three progressively more detailed design examples from Edible Forest Gardens (all sketched by Dave Jacke and appearing on pages 261, 263, & 270, respectively):

Design Example Sketch Habitat Bubble Diagram sketch by Dave Jacke from Edible Forest Gardens

Design Example Sketch Schematic Design Example by Dave Jacke from Edible Forest Gardens

Detailed Design Example Sketch by Dave Jacke from Edible Forest Gardens

These diagrams are adapted from Edible Forest Gardens, Volume II by Dave Jacke with Eric Toensmeier (October 2005) and are reprinted with permission from Chelsea Green Publishing.

These diagrams exemplify design when practiced as a process of successively more detailed differentiation. Of starting with wholes and working toward parts. There is no feeling of bringing in and connecting together elements. There is a feeling of the progressive unfolding or discovery of the design.


Dave Jacke has contributed the most comprehensive, conscious and clear treatment of sound design process yet seen in the permaculture literature. His ecological design process moves primarily from patterns towards details via the sequential differentiation of wholes into parts. This resonates with and indeed was to some degree inspired by the writings of Christopher Alexander (among other influences – see the postscript below).

In a recent conversation, David Holmgren emphasised the importance of creating design processes that respect and mimic the way in which nature works from patterns to details. To date (as previously discussed) most writing about permaculture design has been hindered by the culturally dominant, problematic, and self-contradictory belief that conscious design starts with details (or parts) and works toward patterns (or wholes).

A notable exception, Dave Jacke’s work deserves respect and attention as an example of a genuinely ecological design process, and almost certainly the deepest application of Christopher Alexander’s ideas within the permaculture literature to date.


Thanks to Dave for his permission to share some of his own (privately emailed) words arising firstly from his response to the post this post follows on from…

I have to say, though, that upon reading the latest post I wonder how much I actually do inhabit the paradigm of Alexander.  I have bought into the typical PC design paradigm significantly, too.  I don’t think I am immune to that perspective.  I actually think I combine both.  Not sure what I think about that—is that an advantage or not?

When I design polycultures I most often use the “guild build” process where I am literally assembling plants that may never have grown together before and trying to create functional wholes.  … However, the architectural design process of identifying a habitat bubble and differentiating it into patches and then articulating that into patch designs is very clearly aligned with Alexander’s approach.  And goals articulation is itself a process of acknowledging and attempting to articulate and differentiate the structure of the clients as a whole, in a way, as is site A&A.  I think of the design phase as relating those two streams (client and site) to see what patterns emerge from the relationship, which feels aligned with Alexander’s approach also.  So it’s all an interesting reflection process to hear how you see it and how I fit into it.
and secondly from his response to a draft of today’s post (where I asked if he was happy with my presentation of his approach before publishing):

You are convincing me that I am more embedded in Alexander’s perspective than I thought I was!  🙂  Interesting to have me quoted back at myself and have that effect my self-understanding!  But I would say that Alexander influenced this reality within myself, as did Walt Cudnohufsky and Don Walker at the Conway School of Landscape Design, AND, perhaps most importantly, my own inner body mind drive/yearning for a sense of wholeness in myself and the world, which is what led me to engage with permaculture in the first place.  And also has led me to step away from permaculture per se, by that name, a number of times in my career, because I have gotten fed up with the old paradigm that still runs through much of the movement and culture and practice and literature of permaculture.  In any case, writing EFG was part of my long struggle to integrate what I valued from Alexander’s work, with the approach of Ian McHarg (which was my initial introduction to conscious ecological design via Design With Nature), with what I learned at CSLD, and with what felt native to my own inner design process.  In fact, since EFG has been published and I have been teaching all over the place the last 11 years, I have even more fully integrated all of this and can now see many implications of conscious ecological design process for the growth and development of human beings generally and myself in particular, and how the deep fundaments of conscious ecological design processes connect directly to solving what I see as the fundamental problems underlying the current cultural crises we face as a species.  More on that sometime.  It goes far and deep and wide, though, I’ll tell you what, and I know I have only begun to plumb the depths and reaches of this interrelationship… I think that starting [the] quest for improving permaculture in the realm of design process is a brilliant place to start, because so much flows from that.  So much.

and subsequently…
I just should add that a key influence was also Marty Naumann, my undergraduate professor of ecology at Simons Rock Early College. He was a follower of  Odum–we used Odom’s textbook in my ecology classes. Marty taught systems ecology he did not teach reductionist ecology. He too had an intuitive grasp of holism. He and I resonated very well together. I didn’t learn ecological design from him but I learned ecology from him and it rose up in me as I was reading your posts back-and-forth with Mr. Holmgren that I need to include him as one of my significant influences in developing my design process.


Alexander, C. (1964). Notes on the Synthesis of Form. Harvard.
Alexander, C., Ishikawa, S., Silverstein, M., Jacobson, M., Fiksdahl-King, I., & Angel, S. (1977). A Pattern Language. Oxford University Press.
Alexander, C. (1979). The Timeless Way of Building. Oxford University Press.
Bloom, J., & Boehnlein, D. (2015). Practical Permaculture. Timberpress.
Hemenway, T. (2015). The Permaculture City. Chelsea Green.
Jacke, D., & Toensmeier, E. (2005). Edible Forest Gardens V2 (Vol. 2). Chelsea Green.
Mollison, B. (1988). Permaculture: A Designer’s Manual. Tagari.


A Summary of Progress Made and Where to from Here

Two posts back we clarified and documented permaculture’s core understanding of design as a process of assembling elements into wholes.

We also shared Christopher Alexander’s critique of this understanding, based on the observation that natural systems result from natural processes where the whole exists before the parts and forms the substrate only within or from which the parts emerge or unfold.

This lead into Alexander’s argument that genuinely organic or nature-mimicking design is more accurately defined as a process of differentiating wholes into parts.

Here are the diagrams we used to illustrate the difference:



The post ended by construing Alexander’s critique, along with his alternative understanding of design, as a challenge to permaculture designers, myself included.

The following and most recent post then shared excerpts from an email conversation with David Holmgren where, among other things, David agreed:1

1. there is a huge cultural bias towards details to pattern understanding and designing2

2. nature works from pattern to details3

3. we need [to put] most effort into creating design processes that effectively achieve this second pathway4

In this statement, one of permaculture’s co-originators and most highly regarded thought leaders endorses the validity, relevance and importance of Christopher Alexander’s neglected challenge to permaculture.

Assuming we’d like to accept this challenge, what would some sensible next steps look like? Here are some thoughts, in this order:

  • We hunt down, snare, and share any clear examples of differentiation-based approaches to design that already exist in the permaculture literature (whether in books or in other media)
  • We come back to clarify the details of this differentiation-based approach. Go a bit deeper into what it is and what it isn’t
  • We then make a first attempt at articulating the core or essence of what all sound permaculture design process has in common.5 We will start by asking what the distinct design approaches reviewed have in common. But my larger goal will be to push whatever we come up with all the way – to fathom what, if anything, all sound permaculture design process shares.
  • At this point we will summarise any progress, and having completed Making Permaculture Stronger‘s first ever full inquiry circuit, we’ll be ready to commence inquiries into other weak links (such as permaculture’s underpinnings in things like ethics, systems thinking & design principles).6 But let us see how things unfold. This is a big, juicy undertaking, and there is no reason to rush things.

This whole thing is about working towards a stronger permaculture by collaboratively identifying and addressing weak links.  It has been argued previously that a prime place to start the weak-link auditing process is with permaculture’s neglect of design process. We then discovered and are now focusing on issues with permaculture’s element-assembly view of design process. But all the while, as that specific journey unfolds, toward a currently unknown destination, we are are firming up some rules of play anyone can subsequently choose to use in tackling any of permaculture’s weak links they like.

Right then. More than enough of a segue. Without further ado, let us give a big warm welcome to the wonderful work of Dave Jacke.