Masanobu Fukuoka's Natural Farming

Mr. Fukuoka wanted to create a productive environment where nature would have free rein. But where to begin? No one he knew had ever tried that sort of thing before, so he had no mentor to show him the way. He noticed that the plants present in the orchard were limited to citrus trees and a few shrubs, and while some scraggly weeds grew up here and there, the exposed soil had eroded down to the hard, red subsoil. In such a situation, if he simply did nothing, nature would continue in a downward spiral. Because people had created this unnatural condition, he felt a responsibility to repair the damage.

To loosen the soil, he scattered seeds of deep-rooted vegetables such as daikon radish, burdock, dandelion, and comfrey. To clean and enrich the soil, he added plants that have substantial, fibrous root systems, including mustard, radish, buckwheat, alfalfa, yarrow, and horseradish. He also knew he needed green manure plants that fixed nitrogen, but which ones? He tried thirty different species before concluding that white clover and vetch were ideal for his conditions. The roots of the white clover form a mat in the top few inches of the soil so they are effective at suppressing weeds. The vetch grows well in the winter, when the white clover does not grow as readily.

It is important to note that when Mr. Fukuoka carried out experiments such as these, it was always with the goal of solving specific practical problems. They were never done just for their own sake or to try to understand nature—simply to get feedback.

To improve the deeper layers of the soil, he first tried burying organic material such as partially decayed tree trunks and branches that he collected from the surrounding woodlands. Eventually he concluded that this approach gave far too little return for the effort it required. Besides, his goal was to create a self-sustaining system, which, once established, would take care of itself. He decided to let plants do the work instead.

He planted nitrogen-fixing acacia trees here and there among the citrus as well as other trees and shrubs that were hardy and improved the soil deep down. The acacia trees grew quickly, so after eight or nine years he would cut them down and use the wood for firewood and as a building material, leaving the roots to decay over time. As he removed the trees, he planted others in different places so there was always soil-building going on.

Eventually, the soil became deep and rich and the structure of orchard came to resemble that of a natural woodland with tall overstory trees, midsized fruit-bearing trees, shrubs, vines, and a ground layer of weeds, perennials, medicinal plants, mustard, buckwheat, and vegetables. White clover grew everywhere as a permanent, soil-enriching ground cover. By the time I came to the farm, there were more than thirty different kinds of fruit- and nut-bearing trees in the orchard, as well as berries of all kinds, vegetables, and native plants in each of the different layers of the food forest. There were also chickens and geese running around, a few goats, some rabbits, and bee hives. Birds, insects, and other wildlife were everywhere and shiitake mushrooms were growing on decaying logs which were lined up in shady areas under the trees.

One principle that Mr. Fukuoka followed as he worked out the details of his farming technique was to consider how one could do as little as possible. This was not because he was lazy, but because of his belief that if nature were given the opportunity it would do everything on its own. As he wrote in The One-Straw Revolution, The usual way to go about developing a method is to ask 'How about doing this?' or 'How about doing that?' bringing in a variety of techniques one upon the other. This is modern agriculture and it only results in making the farmer busier.

My way was just the opposite, he continued. I was aiming at a pleasant, natural way of farming which results in making the work easier instead of harder. How about not doing this? How about not doing that?—that was my way of thinking. I ultimately reached the conclusion that there was no need to plow, no need to apply fertilizer, no need to make compost, no need to use insecticide. When you get right down to it, there are few agricultural practices that are really necessary.

When Mr. Fukuoka first inherited the orchard, however, most of the natural systems had been damaged so badly that he had to do many tasks himself that later became unnecessary. Once the permanent soil-building combination of plants had become established, for example, he no longer needed to fertilize. In the early years, until he established a diversity of plants and habitats for insects, he had to grow chrysanthemum plants from which he derived the natural insecticide pyrethrum. He used this to control aphids and caterpillars on his vegetables. Once the soil improved and the natural balance of insects was restored, this too, became unnecessary. Eventually there was very little Mr. Fukuoka needed to do. He scattered seeds and spread straw, cut the ground cover back once each summer and left the cuttings right where they were, replaced some trees and shrubs from time to time, and waited for the harvest.

He got the idea for his rice growing one day when he passed a rice field that had recently been harvested. There he saw new rice seedlings growing up voluntarily among the weeds and straw. Mr. Fukuoka had already stopped plowing his rice fields, but from that time on he stopped flooding the paddies. He stopped growing nursery beds in the spring and then transplanting the young shoots to the main field. Instead, he broadcast the seeds directly onto the surface of the field in the autumn when they would naturally have fallen to the ground. And instead of plowing to get rid of the weeds, he learned to control them by scattering straw and growing a more or less permanent ground cover of white clover. In the end, as with the orchard, Mr. Fukuoka's way of growing rice eliminated all but the simplest of tasks—sowing seeds, spreading straw, and harvesting. He relied on nature to take care of the rest.

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Natural farming does not use any of the products of modern technology. While still attaining high yields, it creates no pollution, and the soil improves each year. If Mr. Fukuoka was able to get yields comparable to those of the other farmers in Japan, who use all the latest tools of science and technology, create pollution, grow sickly plants, and ruin the soil, then where was the benefit of human understanding and technology? After just twenty-five years, he had proven his point.