Permaculture Courses: Higher Price, Lower Quality

The following is an English translation of an interview I gave recently. It may make some people cross. I’m talking about the situation in France and hoping it’s not the same where you are.

I’m not too keen on talking about myself. The people I’ve worked with — clients, old students, colleagues — will understand. Let’s just say I trained in Permaculture in 1990 and got my accreditation in 1992. Since then, I’ve worked as a Permaculture engineer and trainer in many countries, in both rural and urban settings, across temperate, Mediterranean, semi-arid, and tropical climates. I’ve been based in Brittany and France for the last 25 years.

I’ve always been clear on this: a Permaculturist is first and foremost a designer. Being a course leader is secondary. We designers use the Permaculture design protocol, with its principles, methods, and tools. We also have skills across many fields: agriculture, architecture, water management, soil science, and so on. The list is long. Some are designers with a specialty, like Permaculture engineers focused on architecture.

Our goal is to redesign our socio-economic, industrial, and territorial systems to enable a transition toward a livable world. One without poverty, injustice, substandard housing, pollution, basically, without all the obscenities of today’s world.

We, as designers, work across all sectors of the economy. Many are in agriculture, others in municipalities, others in cities.

People tend to confuse Permaculture engineering with a set of techniques. Often, gardening techniques: raised beds, mulch, etc.

This kind of reductionism is, frankly, pretty annoying. Permaculture is a holistic approach. When we start a design project, the first step is to gather as much data as possible: about the site (farm, neighborhood, business, village), about the people involved, their skills, their vision, about the geographic, geomorphological, soil, water, historical, and cultural contexts... The list is exhaustive.

I’ve never found another approach as holistic and rigorous as Permaculture. Reducing it to a set of techniques is to deprive ourselves of the most powerful tool we have to face our crises.

It’s an old debate. I clearly remember similar discussions back in 2008, during PermaFest. Some said, “Permaculture courses should be free.”

My view is clear:

Mollison suggested that people engaged in Permaculture should first focus on their own place, their project, and their community, to gain experience. Once they feel competent, they should go train others. I think that’s fine, but I believe it’s even better if they go on to design for others for a while and eventually offer training.

The next bit has tended to piss people off occasionally, but that’s how it goes. You can’t be popular with everyone.

If I’m competent enough to design my place, run my business, etc, and do the same for others, then that’s how I earn a living. If I can earn a good living that way, then I’m experienced and skilled enough to train others. It also means I can offer low-cost or pay-what-you-can training. Not free, because there are still costs: venue rental, food, logistics, etc., for 20, 30, or 40 people.

And the flip side of this approach is: if I’m not competent or experienced enough, if I can’t generate a surplus, then I’m not qualified to train others. Period.

This logic leads to a disturbing conclusion: the more expensive a course is, the less competent the trainers probably are. The cheaper a course is — or if it’s pay-what-you-can — the more competent the trainers are.

Yes, that’s the short answer, and it would seem, at first glance, to undermine what I just said. However, the longer answer is yes, I am paid, and so are the other members of the team. I am a member of the team that has the most experience. I’m paid the same as the other team members. We do the accounts at the end of our pay-what-you-want courses, subtract all the costs, and if there is a surplus, we share it out equitably. There is no way any of us is going to get rich with this system, but we cover our personal costs and usually have a bit over. If we were to depend on courses to earn our living, then we wouldn’t be able to continue. Our motivation isn’t financial; our mission is to train people up and give them the tools they need to get on with sorting out their projects, local communities, whatever.

Another thing to bear in mind is that I, for one, evolve what I teach and how I do it. I spend a lot of time following research and studying a long list of scientific disciplines. All of this happens ‘behind the scenes’. It means, for one, I don’t get bored with rote teaching, and the students are presented with the latest stuff. Whether it’s novel farming techniques, building strategies, economic theory, etc. I wouldn’t want to count the hours I spend doing this. I consider it to be a voluntary contribution to the people who follow my courses.

As an aside, another thing I find concerning is the number of projects that seem to depend on running courses for their financial survival. That and the projects that also seem to rely on volunteer labour. I’m not sure that either is viable in the long term.

First, the logic I just explained applies here too: the more expensive an online course is, the less competent the trainers probably are.

My view on the effectiveness of online Permaculture courses is that if they’re 100% online, they should be avoided. If they’re something like 30% online and 70% in-person, they can work. The logic is simple: take a carpentry course, for example. You can do part of it online — designing furniture or a wooden house. But the in-person part is essential: learning to handle tools, make joints, and physically understand constraints. That’s where you discover the limits of your design.

It’s the same for Permaculture. I can include a hugelkultur bed in a design because I understand the theory and I know how to build it. Because I’ve done it before. That’s why my courses have long included hands-on work. I remember a guy who announced that he’d never created a forest garden himself, but he could teach and show others how to do it. I wasn’t the only one unconvinced.

To wrap up on this topic, I’d say that fully residential PDCs are the best. Participant feedback confirms it. Living together for 10 or 12 days, helping with collective cooking, experiencing community life — it’s a life-changing experience. That’s how it was for me in 1990 at Chris and Lyn Dixon’s place.

No. We offer the courses, workshops, three meals a day, free camping, and, at the end, access to a digital resource library. In exchange, each person decides how much they want to pay. Simple and effective.

I know of other offers on the market that claim to be pay-what-you-can, but it’s often not entirely true. Many of them have hidden costs. The courses are open-price, but then you have to add on accommodation, food, visits, etc. I think that’s rubbish. You have to understand that Permaculture is an ethical approach. To me, offering expensive courses, which sometimes have hidden costs, or cheaper ones with hidden costs, is unethical. It makes me angry. These people haven’t understood what Permaculture is, nor how to live it.

Imagine if there weren’t ethical, experienced, and competent people offering accessible or pay-what-you-can training. The only people with access to Permaculture would be the wealthy. Nice, right? And that’s how we maintain the status quo that’s destroying the planet.

Yes. I want to invite all the French people who have taken a Permaculture course to get involved in the partial municipal elections in France in 2025. And to prepare for the municipal elections on March 15, 2026. It’s time we had people trained in Permaculture engineers in every town hall in France.