07 Sep “Permaculture 101” Series: There’s a Silver Lining in Every Cloud — And in Every Drought

Silver lining? In a drought like this one — a record-breaking, spirit-breaking, killing drought — how could there possibly be a silver lining?

One of the core principles of permaculture design is, "Obtain a yield." So, for example, let's say your yard is infested with snails. (Not a likely scenario in this drought, but just humor me for a moment, and imagine you've got a snail infestation.) The conventional response would be to try to eradicate the snails. Eradication is a high-energy endeavor that (if you're lucky) might end in zero snails. For a little while, anyway.

Compare this conventional solution with a permaculture approach. In permaculture, we set out to "obtain a yield" — we find a way to turn the "problem" into a resource.

Researching the possibilities, you learn that the snail overrunning your yard is a favorite food of ducks. You acquire a couple of ducks, who are happy to keep the snail population in check. And you yourself get added value: soil-enriching manure; delicious duck eggs; and perhaps, later on, duck meat. That's what we mean by "obtain a yield."

OK, so, back to the drought (which, unfortunately, unlike the snail infestation, takes no imagination whatsoever to bring to mind). What yields can we obtain from a drought?

Well, for starters, a water shortage, like any resource constraint, sparks innovation. We come up with new technologies (low-flow showerheads, for example); and we develop smarter habits (shorter showers; turning off the water while lathering up). And we build appropriate infrastructure. Atlanta's big drought helped popularize rainbarrels in that city. Ancient Native American cultures in the drylands had ways of shaping the soil and piling rocks to collect every precious drop of water. Now we're relearning these ancient techniques.

Another potential yield we can obtain from a drought is sounder policy. Our water policy in Austin needs some serious rethinking. For starters, our water use is way too high — around 177 gallons per day per person! And the "ambitious" target we're aiming for is 140gpcd, by 2020. A drought gives us the opportunity to notice that these volumes are sheer insanity. (By the way, 40 to 60 percent of the volume goes to watering lawns.) We have only to look out our windows to be reminded that our indulgence is totally dependent on pipes and pumps from Elsewhere, and on our willingness to keep draining our precious aquifers. When there's no drought, or when the drought is less severe, it's all too easy to remain in denial about this. We also need to rework the water utility's revenue model, so that the utility company doesn't have a vested interest in higher water consumption. As things stand, the utility suffers revenue shortfalls when we go into serious conservation mode.

Shifts like these aren't easy, or we would've make them by now. A severe drought can help us muster the political will to make such changes. We replace our lawns with native plants that provide habitat for pollinators and other wildlife … We become experts at biointensive vegetable gardening … We revive robust heirloom species … The list of yields we can obtain from a drought goes on and on.

BUT. What if the drought goes on and on, to the point that the wildfires are licking at your door? What if entire communities are having to be evacuated, as is happening right now? How are we supposed to obtain a yield now? What yield can we possibly obtain from a drought that has become an immediately life-threatening crisis? You may have noticed that a crisis of any kind offers gifts along with the tragedy. At the funeral of a loved one, you meet cousins you'd never set eyes on before. Or you have a real conversation with a sibling for the first time in decades. After 9-11, we saw a massive outpouring of compassion and generosity: neighbor to neighbor; and nation to nation. People put aside their differences and come together. When your neighbors are losing their homes; when your local farmers are watching crops and livestock die; when you can see smoke on the horizon and you're advised to evacuate — there's no time for differences. One person believes the drought was caused by humans, while another believes it's a punishment from God (or a plot by the Illuminati, or whatever). But when a crisis hits, we set these differences aside and cooperate. We build physical and social infrastructure that can become permanent assets. We make emotional connections that can turn into lifelong friendships. Another gift that a crisis can bring is a deep inner clarity that's less accessible to us at ordinary times. We see more clearly the folly of our everyday choices: of not getting to know our neighbors; of living too far from the things and people we love most; of choosing easy money over meaningful work; of choosing pride over mending a broken friendship. And from this space of clarity, we can more easily muster the will to bring our everyday choices more in line with our true priorities. 

This is true on a societal level too. Here we are, moving forward with plans to build a multi-thousand-mile pipeline to move oil that's been steamed from tar sands in a highly energy-intensive and environmentally damaging process. If we can even contemplate building that much pipeline, we ought to contemplate the possibility of building infrastructure to carry water from flooded areas to drought-parched areas. And why stop there? We could hone our skills and channel our resources to become a full-on, water-wizard civilization, drought-proofing our beautiful blue-green planet in the permaculture way by combining best practices from around the world and throughout history.

The drought is here, and it's not likely to end today.
Even if the rains come tomorrow; even if we immediately set up rainbarrels everywhere in Texas; even if we all roll up our sleeves and get out there with our shovels and prepare the ground with berms and swales and zai holes to welcome the rain — even if we were to do all of this right now, and the rains were to come tomorrow, the effects of this record-breaking drought would still be with us for a while. So as long as we've got this drought, let's be sure to obtain some yields from it. Real, lasting yields. Personal, and collective. Obtain a yield. It's the permaculture way! What harvest will you reap from the drought?

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Recommended resources

Brad Lancaster, harvestingrainwater.com (ancient techniques and modern innovations; cisterns and small earthworks and more – Brad has written what I consider to be the best books on water harvesting)

The Survival Podcast: Episode 711 – "Lessons from the Man Who Stopped the Desert" (audio podcast, about 1hr) Geoff Lawton: "Greening the Desert" on YouTube (video, about 5 min)