Monday, January 10, 2011

Methods, Scientific and Otherwise

I'm taking a class in Syntax, the study of how we humans decide what language is and is not allowed to do. It's obviously real mysterious, but interestingly, the professor today introduced the Scientific Method using these steps:
  1. Observe and record data
  2. Organize data and find patterns
  3. Generate some hypothesis
  4. Test hypothesis with more data
  5. Evaluate results
  6. Refine/extend hypothesis
...that's the first iteration - of course this is circular and in the second round you end up just repeating steps 1, 4, and 5 (observe/record, test, evaluate) again and again. Reading Holmgren again made me think about how cerebral and rational his book is (and in fact when he acknowledges the contribution of his partner Su to the book, he talks about how she reminds him to trust his intuition more because he needs that). Still, I see some really important differences between the ways I am taught to observe and analyze the world as a linguist, and what I am starting to understand a permaculture designer does. The "scientific method" above isn't really much different from Mollison's or Holmgren's approach to describing and designing a site, but it seems so shallow, flimsy, and isolated, like a tomato sitting plant all by itself in a greenhouse in the winter with just a dim growlight far above it. The loops that Jon drew last week with phrases like "examine mental models" and "change or challenge assumptions" rather than "evaluate results", and "new prototype or strategy" rather than "refine/extend hypothesis" seems to speak to the real world so much more. Despite David's heady and model-laden approach to talking about permaculture in his book, it has such more interesting and inspiring words in it: act! transform! make choices! respond! As a linguist, these lexical and semantic data are compelling to me.

I think the process which we are embarking on (creating a design for a real site that will or at least might be actually implemented) has the potential to be daunting and complex - I mean look at that book Mollison wrote! How can a person keep track of all that? Reading this book calmed me down a little and made me realize that, rather than being indundated with facts and figures from all sides, data for us to manage and test and evaluate, we are surrounded by endless and consistent suggestions as to how to proceed, found in the patterns of nature and our own experience. Can we be disciplined and rational while throwing away the white coat and test tube, choosing to work collaboratively and receptively with nature and our own cellular reality? Shoot, man, I don't know! I'm ready to make a small change in my approach and see what happens.

1 comment:

  1. I've just been trying to concentrate on the patterns and let the details fall in place. Seems that if we create patterns based on the function of our needs, the aesthetic appeal gives the impression that we know what we're doing.
    Then our mistakes are viewed as intentional learning!

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