The Emergence of Complexity
We begin with a thought experiment. The earth is young. The
moon is in its terrestrial orbit and has just been pelted with
asteroids. The earth’s surface varies among bare, cold lava,
molten lava and shallow water. An atmosphere thick with combustion
products and water vapor already swirls around the earth. At this
time, every particle on the surface of the earth is constrained
and conditioned in several ways. There are solar radiation, lunar
gravitation, terrestrial gravitation, revolution, rotation and
inclination. There are also the earth’s geomagnetic fields, the
beginnings of the Coriolis force and the beginnings of currents in
large bodies of fluid. All of these forces are independent of each
other in the sense that they all act on any surface particle
simultaneously. These forces do not line up one behind the other
then act one after the other. They act together and they act
constantly within their natural variations.
These conditions interfere with one other. That is, their
independent actions condition or place limits on each other. We
commonly use the term “interaction” to describe this kind of
situation. But “interaction” seems to beg the question of what is
actually going on among these multiple, simultaneously acting
forces. The effects of solar radiation on the earth’s surface, for
example, are continually limited by the effects of revolution,
rotation and inclination. The effects of terrestrial gravitation
on surface fluids are continually limited by the effects of lunar
gravitation and vice versa. The effects of terrestrial and lunar
gravitations are continually limited by the Coriolis force and
vice versa. An example of interference is a rainbow. We usually
don’t notice that gravity interferes with other possible
trajectories of water drops, that falling water interferes with
other possible trajectories of sunlight, or that human eyes
interfere with other possible trajectories of refracted light. We
admire the rainbow. But various kinds of interference take place
within a rainbow.
Now we ask, Does complexity exist yet on the young earth? We
take this question to mean, at the least, Can we describe the
early earth’s surface conditions in linear terms only? By linear,
we understand a situation that can be described mathematically
with sums and averages. (Holland 15-23 (1995), 121-122 (1998);
Mainzer 2-8; Waldrop 64-66) We now ask the question again, but we
focus on that part of the earth that, according to all scientific
hypotheses on the origin of life on earth (Caruso 64; geo.utep.edu;
Kauffman 288-9 (1993) [a useful summary of hypotheses];
ic.ucsc.edu), was a necessary condition for that origin: water.
Can we imagine, at such an early time in the history of the earth,
that we can describe the action of fluids on the earth’s surface
with sums and averages only? Or, to put the question in another
way, Can we imagine that at that time there were no nonlinear
interactions in the fluids on the earth’s surface?
Why is this question important? It is important because, in
order to use complexity theory to help explain the origin of life,
we need to be clear about how complexity could have happened on
the early earth’s surface. We may approach this question through
the following definition of complexity:
In system theory, complexity means not only nonlinearity but
a huge number of elements with many degrees of freedom…. All
macroscopic systems like stones or planets, clouds or fluids,
plants or animals, animal populations or human societies consist
of component elements like atoms, molecules, cells or organisms.
The behaviour of single elements in complex systems with huge
numbers of degrees of freedom can neither be forecast nor traced
back. The deterministic description of single elements must be
replaced by the evolution of probabilistic distributions. (Mainzer
3) (cf., also, Brown 421-2; Holland (1) 310-11; Kauffman 401
(1993); Martin 263; Schuster 384)
The fluid on the early earth's surface certainly did consist of
“component elements like atoms…[and]…molecules”. The simultaneous
action of several different forces certainly involved “huge
numbers of degrees of freedom”. But, were there nonlinear
interactions?
Let us consider a body of water of arbitrary size on the
surface of the ancient earth. We position ourselves at a fixed
point in space from which we can observe the water surface
relative to the fixed stars. As the earth inclines, the water
surface describes a vertical path. We decompose the vertical path
into an arbitrary number of points. We then observe that under
terrestrial rotation each point describes a circular wave. We now
observe that circular wave under terrestrial revolution about the
sun. Each circular point-wave, created by combining inclination
and rotation, now describes an oval helix. Next we observe the
same surface, in its dynamic configuration as oval helix, under
lunar gravitation. Under lunar gravitation, the surface swells and
shrinks. If we assign a point to the high tidal swell and a point
to the low tidal shrink, then observe those points under
inclination, we see the vertical path, not as a concave line but
as a concave wave. If we observe those point-waves, since they
occur regularly but dissimilarly through time, under rotation, we
see those point-waves describing a wave composed of layers of
undulations. We now observe the concave layered wave under
terrestrial revolution about the sun. Under terrestrial
revolution, the layered wave becomes a layered, oval helix with
concave coils. Or, it is a branching, layered, spiral wave.
A branching, layered, spiral wave has some interesting
characteristics. Visually, such waves can be seen in the computer
realizations of the Mandelbrot set, such as the first, second and
fourth images in Section 4 of Gleick‟s Chaos (between pp. 112 and
114). A spiral wave continually twists and folds itself. It is a
constrained bifurcation that branches and collects force in local
attractors. But since this description takes place in
configurational space rather than physical space, the twisting has
no visible, substantial effect unless we assign different values
of some kind, such as different colors, to different phases of the
multiple trajectories of the water's surface. If, for example, we
assign red to the southern half of the vertical path and blue to
the northern half of the vertical path, and allow the colors to
mix, then, under inclination we see red becoming violet and blue
becoming violet. Under rotation, we assign one color to the
trajectory of the surface in daylight and one color to the
trajectory of the surface at night, and prevent mixing but make
the colors transparent to each other. We see undulating, colored,
concave sections of a sphere moving in and out of each other as
they oscillate vertically between red to violet and blue to
violet. Now we observe those undulating, concave sections of a
sphere under terrestrial revolution around the sun, and we add a
different hue of a different color to each month of the 365-day
year. We prevent mixing again but make the colors transparent to
each other. By transparent to each other I mean that when the
earth enters the time period of a particular month, the color of
that month becomes dominant so that it can be seen through all of
the other colors although it does not mix with any of them. It
becomes brighter for the moment of that month while the other
colors become dimmer.
Another way to understand the behavior of a branching, layered,
spiral wave is that it repeats and varies. All of the constraints
under consideration here are permanent with respect to the surface
of the earth. They vary within limits but none of them ever
disappears entirely or ever entirely overwhelms the other
constraints. These constraints may be understood as “nonlocal
rules” in Schuster‟s sense: “The rules, harmless as they look at
first glance, carry their enormous power by being nonlocal….”
(410; bold in original; cf. Brown 426, on “emergent structural and
dynamical properties of communities” as “top-down,” not “bottom
up”; also, Bak 482, “global organization” italics in original; cf.
Holland “Constrained Generating Procedures,” 125-42 (1998)) Solar
and lunar gravitation, and solar and lunar radiation, for example,
are energy that “enters the system uniformly…and leaves the system
locally.” (Bak 485 (1994)) Any particle of the surface of that
water, or any thing in that water, can be visualized as going
through the same changes with the same combination of nonlocal
constraints. There seems to be no barrier to affirming that that
body of water is a complex system in Mainzer‟s sense of “a huge
number of elements with many degrees of freedom” (3).
But do nonlinearities exist there? We answer this question by
running mental simulation with color mixing. We have already
assigned red and blue and seen them mix to violet. We now assign
red, blue, yellow, green, orange and violet arbitrarily to six of
the months and a different hue of each of those colors arbitrarily
to the other six months. Running the thought experiment, we soon
see only the color gray. Gray is an emergent property of the
dynamics of the system in color, where we understand emergence as
“a process that leads to the appearance of structure not directly
described by the defining constraints and instantaneous forces
that control a system.” (Crutchfield 516) Gray appears not because
any of the original colors is gray—gray “cannot be explicitly
represented in the initial and boundary conditions” (Ibid.)—but
because the colors affect each other, interfere with each other,
or, interact with each other by modifying hues until only gray
remains. Gray cannot be predicted from the original colors by sums
or averages.
Therefore, gray is a nonlinear, emergent product of the system.
The process has undergone emergence because “the architecture of
information processing has changed in such a way”— blending—“that
a distinct and more powerful level of intrinsic computation has
appeared”— gray—“that was not present in earlier conditions.”
(Crutchfield 526) Gray is also emergent both in Bak‟s sense that
it is not an obvious consequence “of the underlying dynamical
rules” (26 (1996)) and in Holland‟s sense that “more comes out
than was put in” (112 (1998)). Therefore, in Mainzer‟s sense, at
least, we have a complex system. Indeed, anything on the early
earth's surface was already in some sense a product, result, or
consequence of the interaction of planetary constraints.
Complexity as an emergent property of interacting constraints
seems to be at least as old as the surface of the earth and
certainly older than any living thing. But do we have a complex
adaptive system? Most workers in complexity theory consider life
to be a complex adaptive system, or, cas (e.g., Holland (1995)
1-40; Kauffman 191-209 (1993); Lewin 44-62; Mainzer 85-99; Waldrop
294-99; Cowan et al, etc.). But there is no reason or cause for
adaptation in our system. The body of water with its surface can
continue to go through its complex changes forever without
changing in any significant way. What is missing?
We have nonlinearity, emergence, large numbers of components
acting simultaneously (or, acting with parallel-processing
[Kauffman 10, 220, 237, 442 (1993)]) and a large number of degrees
of freedom. (Brown 424; Holland (1995) 50-2; Mainzer 230-1;
Waldrop 106-13, etc.) The first missing component is adaptive
feedback.
Feedback can be understood as reactive and as adaptive. An
example of reactive feedback is a thermostat. There is a linear,
binary decomposition of energy into power and information. Thermal
energy as power changes the orientation of a heat sensor. The
physical change in orientation transforms as electricity into
information that governs the on/off position of a heat source.
This feedback process cannot alter any aspect of itself. An
example of adaptive feedback is dog trying to jump over an
unfamiliar chasm. The dog explores the chasm visually and
physically until the qualities of the chasm connect with the
potentials of its own body. The dog then decides to jump over the
chasm or not to jump over. It is not programmed either to jump or
not to jump. It could also lie down on its side of the chasm or it
could make its way down one side of the chasm, cross the chasm
floor then climb up the other side. Unlike a thermostat, it does
not have exclusive binary states or attractors into or onto which
it must fall in reaction to the energy it gets as information from
the chasm.
Feedback requires that a system of some kind decompose energy
into information and power. Examples of such decomposition are the
instruments, such as microscopes, telescopes, stethoscopes,
cameras, radar, television, telephone, internet and many kinds of
probes, that contribute not even a millivolt to the usable energy
of the planet but require much energy to carry out their functions
of recording, interpreting and disseminating information. Light
telescopes, for example, decompose the energy coming from
celestial objects into wavelengths of various kinds that transform
through the instruments into various kinds of information.
Human beings use that information to alter the instruments,
themselves or, in the case of instruments used locally, the
observed and measured phenomena. All of those instruments are
components of feedback systems designed and operated by human
beings. But all of those systems are modeled on the feedback
systems we have found in life. Life requires feedback.
Adaptive feedback is missing in the water surface system and so
it is not a complex adaptive system. Nor is it a living thing. Can
we move from the complex system of a body of water to a cas? We
recall that, in our simulation, we focused on the water surface.
This focus facilitated our visualization but it did not exclude
all the other particles, both of and in the water, from going
through the same dynamics as the water surface. We can expand our
focus to see that all of the earth, every particle of it, can be
mapped through the same dynamics. Every part of the earth can be
visualized as moving in layered spiral waves. If something is
going to last for a long time on earth, then it would have to be
capable of going through those dynamics with the least possible
damage. Since most of the earth‟s surface is water, and most of
the earth‟s interior is fluidic, the most durable terrestrial
substance seems to be fluid. So, the interaction of constraints
creates the first condition of living matter: that living matter
must be as much like fluid as possible. Living matter cannot be
like soil or rock, because both of those dissolve or melt or
otherwise lose their integrity. Living matter also cannot be fluid
only because then it would be no different than other fluids such
as water. Living matter must therefore include fluid, or fluid
like substances, with some other formations. What must those be?
If it is not fluid, and it is not earth, and it is not air,
then it must be able to accommodate all of those with as little
damage to itself as possible. But accommodation implies that
living matter must be able to react and respond to the varying
conditions of water, land and air. We have already seen that the
body of water, as complex as its dynamics are, can still become
ice or vapor under the appropriate combination of constraints. For
living matter to change so much would eliminate its integrity as
living matter. Therefore, living matter must be able to do
something that water, soil and air cannot do. It must be able to
change itself. Somehow, feedback must emerge. How?
We can approach this question by looking back through the
millennia of human habitations. Human beings typically choose to
live on edges. The largest cities in the US are on coasts that
situate human living on an edge created by the interference of
continent and ocean. The largest inland US cities situate human
living on edges created by the interference of land and some form
of fresh water, either river or lake or both. From the Cliff
Dwellers of the US Southwest to the Cave Dwellers of Spanish
Santander, we see human beings again and again choosing to live in
caves. Why? What is so special about a cave? A cave is an edge, a
limen, a peculiar space created by the interaction of three
different kinds of order: the order of enclosed rock, the order of
exposed land, and the order of open air. Human beings cannot live
in wholly enclosed rock. We cannot live in wholly open air without
land support. And, we cannot live on wholly exposed land without
some kind of enclosure. A cave gives us partially enclosed rock,
partially exposed land, and partially open air. None of the orders
entirely overwhelms either of the others. Each one goes only so
far, or, illustrates the principle of AFRIGO: As Far As It Goes.
The cave dweller has a partially enclosed space that is better for
safety from attack by other humans or wild animals than a space
that goes on and on through a mountain. The cave dweller has a
partially open space that is better for breathing and ventilation
than a wholly enclosed space.
The cave dweller has a partially open space that is better for
access and protection than either a wholly closed space or a
wholly open space. In a cave, each order goes only so far, which
is As Far As It Goes: AFRIGO. The same can be said for living on
the edge of an ocean, a sea, a river, a lake, a forest, a jungle,
a swamp or a desert. Moreover, when human beings live beside
trails, roads, paths, highways, railroad tracks, waterways and
airfields, they live on the edges of orders. The tiny human
settlement beside the north-south railroad track through the
Sonora Desert in northern Mexico, situates human living between a
transportation system and a particular ecosystem. The
transportation system alone cannot support that settlement. The
desert ecosystem alone cannot support that settlement. But human
beings can live on the border created by the meeting of both
orders. Thus, the proponents of life at the edge of chaos have it
half right. Life is at the edge, but not of chaos. Life is at an
edge created by the interactions of different kinds of order. In
the early earth scenario, the orders of molten rock, surface
water, atmosphere and cold rock each went only so far. Where they
met there were edges, limen, lacunae, spaces, interstices,
boundaries and borders where none of the orders wholly dominated
the dynamics of the situation. In that kind of place, another
order was possible. In that kind of place, life was possible.
Existence, Persistence and Reproduction
We begin again on earth. The earth is just far enough away from
the sun to avoid the extremes of temperature that characterize
Mercury’s surface and just close enough to avoid the perpetual
cold that characterizes the planets that are further away.
Relative to life on earth, we can understand Mercury’s sun-baked
surface as one kind of order. We can understand its dark, frozen
surface, as well as the frozen bodies of the outer planets, as
another kind of order.
The earth is between and on the edges of these two kinds of
order. Its interplanetary position forces it to experience both
periods and areas of temperature extremes. The interplanetary
position of the earth interacts with its constant motions of
rotation, revolution and inclination.
Rotation and inclination limit the coldness and heat of any
part of the earth’s surface due to fluctuation in solar radiation.
Revolution provides a range of intensity of solar radiation for
all parts of the earth. Distance and constant motions together
create a field of solar radiation that supports and limits life on
earth. For example, organisms that need constant or regularly
recurring extreme temperatures do not exist on earth. Besides the
sun, the moon provides additional physical fields that influence
life on earth.
The part of earth that receives the most direct influence from
the sun and the moon is the envelope of life. The envelope existed
prior to the appearance of any life on earth. The enduring
characteristics of the envelope are planetary constraints in the
sense that they condition everything that exists in the envelope.
For something to come into existence in the envelope, it must meet
the minimum condition that its characteristics do not contradict
characteristics of the envelope in any major ways. For something
to persist in the envelope, it must meet the further condition
that it is flexible with respect to the characteristic changes of
the envelope (cf. Goodwin 209; Holland (1998) 183-4). For
something to reproduce in the envelope, it must meet the final
condition that its offspring can survive relative to the
characteristics and the typical changes of the envelope. As Cowan
and Pines state, “Persistence of the phenotype rather than
achievement of arbitrarily defined optimality in a hypothetically
stable environment is the most realistic measure of success.”
(711)
Another way to engage this topic is to reconsider the assertion
made by many complexity theorists that life occurs in a realm of
complexity poised between chaos and order (Kauffman 29-31 (1993),
Lewin 57-62, Waldrop 222-235). In a summary of this view, Kauffman
states:
…we found evidence that parallel-processing, nonlinear,
dynamical systems…crystallize order….we found evidence that a
phase transition occurs between frozen ‘solid’ and chaotic ‘gas’
behaviors. Between these two extremes lies a ‘liquid’ region
with nearly melted frozen components, poised at the edge of
chaos. Such systems appear able to carry out the most complex
computations and yet may harbor sufficiently ordered fitness
landscapes that the systems are able to evolve well….we shall
uncover evidence that natural selection, in a selective
metadynamics, may drive coevolutionary systems to a liquid state
poised on the edge of chaos. At present, it is an attractive
hypothesis that complex coevolving systems ultimately tend to a
state in which each system internally is poised at the edge of
chaos and that all such systems may coevolve to the edge of
chaos as an ‘ecosystem.’ (237)
In my view, this hypothesis has strengths and weaknesses. It
has several strengths. First, it converges with the view being
presented here in rejecting miraculous or accidental views of
life’s origin. As Kauffman states it, life is “an expected,
emergent, collective property of complex systems….” (287 (1993))
The edge of chaos hypothesis also brings the idea of simultaneous
events, in parallel-processing networks, into evolutionary theory
and makes the idea of nonlinearity explicit in conceptualizing
evolution. Certainly, causal chains in natural systems continually
interact. They do not simply line up and wait to add one to the
other.
Neither the sunlight, the falling water, nor the observer is
the rainbow. But when they all are and interact, there is a
rainbow. A rainbow emerges with (and) in the interaction. Thus,
the hypothesis foregrounds dynamics as a central part of our
understanding and with it the idea of emergence, which is also
required by nonlinearity. The extension of the edge of chaos
hypothesis to evolutionary biology also allows us to consider one
of the main contentions of this paper, that, “*s+ome of the
sources of order lie outside selection.” (Kauffman 408, italics in
original (1993))
The final strength of the edge of chaos hypothesis that I want
to note here is the inclusion of the idea of computation as an
organic process. Once we free the idea of information from the
spoken and written word, we can understand that the “form(ing)” in
“information” is the effect of information on whatever receives
it. We may say that when the photon strikes the electron, it
informs the electron of a transformation in which both are
involved and that may be measured in terms of either velocity or
location. Likewise, when the photon strikes the chloroplast, it
informs the carbon dioxide and water of a transformation in which
all three are involved and that may be measured in terms of plant
growth and release of oxygen to the ambient air.
The hypothesis also has weaknesses. I note, first, the need for
a more precise definition of the key phrase “edge of chaos.”
(Mitchell 511) Second, the statistical mechanics of phase
transitions in inorganic matter can go only so far in modeling
life. The limitation of such a “purely probabilistic approach”
consists at least in part of its exclusion of the geometrical and
topological aspects of dynamical systems. (Mitchell 498) In order
to appreciate the simultaneous, nonlinear and emergent aspects of
life, we must step out of the imagery of statistics and mechanics.
When we do so, we see the next and most important weakness of the
edge of chaos hypothesis: life does not occur on an edge of chaos.
Life is order between orders. Life is not order between order and
chaos. The seared, sunlit surface of Mercury is not chaos, it is a
kind of order. The icy, gaseous atmosphere of Saturn is not chaos,
it is a kind of order. The surfaces of both planets are
gravitationally constrained by the masses of which they are the
surfaces and they are likewise constrained by the presence and
absence of solar radiation. Both surfaces exhibit long-term
stability in the presence of perturbations and both surfaces have
strong exclusionary boundaries with respect to forms that matter
can take on them. Thus, neither surface can be adequately
described by the technical dynamics of chaos.
Also, as far as we can tell, neither the sun-drenched surface
of Mercury nor the sun-starved surface of Saturn can support life
as we know it. Likewise, the parched sands of the central Sahara
and the deep ice of central Antarctica are not chaos. They are
both kinds of order on the earth’s surface. But their combination
of solar radiation, moisture and soil supports very little life.
Our challenge is to understand and explain the origin of life
on earth. The edge of chaos hypothesis is inaccurate with respect
to the constraints of life on earth. Living organisms as we know
them can survive temperatures above and below their normal range,
presence and absence of solar radiation above and below their
normal range, and aridity and humidity above and below their
normal range. As long as none of those extreme conditions lasts
too long, the organisms can survive. But extreme physical
conditions such as the high temperatures on the solar side of
Mercury, or the low temperatures on the dark side of the moon, do
not need to be characterized, either metaphorically or
technically, as chaos. They are simply different kinds of order.
But they are kinds of physical order that do not support life as
we know it in earth’s envelope. Again, life is a phase of order
between the extreme compression of earth’s interior and the
extreme decompression of outer space. Above and below are abiotic
regimes. Molten lava from below and ultraviolet light from above
both interfere with living matter to the point of destroying it.
But molten lava and ultraviolet light are not necessarily chaotic
regimes. They can be understood as orderly regimes that do not
support life.
The evolution to the edge of chaos hypothesis also begs some
important questions. One nexus of these questions is the
relationship between computer simulations and natural processes.
The frequency with which computer simulations generate three or
four types of order (Kaufmann 191-94, 214-21, 255-61 (1993);
Hubler 346-7; Ray 176; Waldrop 224-35), among which is chaos, as a
technical mathematical phenomenon, has interesting implications.
It does seem to be the case that there are special properties of
mathematical systems, of binary mathematical systems, and of
binary mathematical systems in a computer as an electromechanical
environment or medium. Under repetition and variation, these
systems or programs do produce mathematically distinguishable
regimes, one of which is chaos. From the rich fractality of the
Mandelbrot set (Mandelbrot 180-89; Gleick 83-118) to the tenacious
universality of the Feigenbaum number (Gleick 171-81; Hao 19-27,
160-87), numbers, whether single integers or digital strings, are
made to work on themselves. When their own products are fed back
into their own processes, orders repeat and vary. This fact
suggests that feedback drives the coupling of repetition and
variation, or, that feedback is necessary for repetition and
variation to happen together, that is, for reproduction. It is not
clear, though, that chaos technically defined can be shown to
exist in non-experimentally controlled natural processes (Cornberg;
Holland (1994) 317; Kauffman (2) 149-51; Kiel 284-5) or that the
feedback in computer computations and simulations is the same as
that in natural processes (Kaufmann 286 (1993); Lewin 79-83).
Because of the ambiguity of the fit of computer simulations to
natural processes, we must continue “to look at nature”
(Crutchfield 631) as directly as possible.
We may consider early existents in the envelope such as clouds,
rainbows and volcanoes. All of them meet the minimum condition
that their characteristics do not contradict characteristics of
the envelope in any major ways. For example, all of them require
terrestrial gravitation for their existence. All of them require a
specific atmosphere, especially one with water vapor, for
condensation and precipitation, and oxygen, for the oxidation
involved in the burning of lava.
Clouds and rainbows, moreover, require solar radiation for
evaporation and refraction. However, none of them is flexible with
respect to characteristic changes of the envelope. Wind driven by
Coriolis force or by convection can disperse clouds. Solar
radiation can re-evaporate the moisture of clouds thus ending the
existence of particular clouds and particular rainbows.
Tectonic movements can end the existence of particular
volcanoes and terrestrial rotation and inclination can change
prevailing local temperatures so that the fiery life of particular
lava flows comes to an end.
Living things demonstrate existence, persistence and
reproduction. The history of life is replete with life forms that
quickly bloomed and as quickly withered. They persisted for some
generations then perished in the contradictions between their
characteristics and those of the envelope. Unrecorded in the
fossil record, though, are those momentary existences that were
live-births but had features that unsuited them even for an
average life span. Besides those that appeared and persisted then
perished and those that appeared, existed briefly then perished,
are those that existed, persisted and reproduced. We visit some of
the latter by way of preparing to take up again the question of
the emergence of feedback.
Eyes, Stomachs and Foliage
In order to understand complexity in biological phenomena, we
need to overcome hypostatization of selection. Even the most
innovative and critical thinkers in biology tend to treat
selection as an irreducible atom of explanation. For example,
Kauffman states:
The balance between the self-organized properties typical in
the ensemble and selection then depends upon the extent to which
selection can move the population cloud to parts of the ensemble
which no longer exhibit the typical order. (16 (1993))
…if selection can only slightly displace evolutionary systems
from the generic properties of the underlying ensembles, those
properties will be widespread in organisms not because of
selection, but despite it. (24; italics in original (1993))
Selection, in a kind of selective metadynamics and as if by
an invisible hand, may act on individual members of a species to
alter the statistical structure of their fitness landscapes and
the richness of their couplings to other partners so as to
attain ecosystems poised at the phase transition between order
and chaos. (280 (1993))
Let us not give up explanation to invisible forces. Let us
suppose that, for the purposes of explaining the origin of life
and its subsequent development, we must deal with energy and its
various forms and combinations. In the universe, there is one kind
of thing that comes into existence, does not transform other
energy for its own persistence and does not reproduce. There is
another kind of thing that comes into existence, does transform
other energy for its own persistence and does reproduce. The
second kind of thing is living matter. Wherever there is living
matter, there is transformation. Wherever there is transformation,
there is selection.
Selection is not an invisible hand; it is not a conscious
choice; it is not a force in non-living matter; and, it is not a
divine intervention. It is differential action, whether the
difference is the drowning of weaker caribou when the river is
high, or rejection of mutated molecules by a membrane, or
efflorescence of intestinal bacteria when a change in ph occurs.
Once we view the envelope as a complex intersection and
interaction of constraints (cf. Kauffman's “ensemble theory,”
462-5 (1993)), then set it in motion as the earth actually moves,
existence, persistence and reproduction are inevitable. Selection
then appears not as a discriminating force intervening somehow
from a site external to the envelope, nor as an agency of choice,
no matter how non-anthropomorphic, that discriminates among
possibilities. It appears as an emergent property of living
matter.
More broadly, mutation, drift and (differential individual)
survival interact to select the traits of living matter that
persist and reproduce. Selection is not an effect of a fitness
function external to the dynamics of living matter (Gell-Mann 44).
Selection is an emergent property/process/result of the dynamics.
And why not? Selection is a feedback process that continually
adjusts organic processes on all scales. Selection is life dealing
with itself. But this happens only because there are constraints
that are effective across morphogenetic variations and
morphogenetic variations that are effective across fluctuations in
constraint action. We see repetition and variation tightly
interacting throughout the biosphere. Constraints require
repetition. Or, repetition requires repetition. Variation requires
variation. In this sense of life as tautology, life mirrors the
structure of its constraints and varies the reflections across
spatiotemporal scales of existence, persistence and reproduction.
Kauffman states:
There are good grounds to think that, when a variety of
different developmental mechanisms are integrated into a
compound mechanism, the integrated mechanism will constrain
the morphologies which emerge to a small subset, each of which
occupies a large volume of state space and parameter space.
Rather than causing complexity, integration of developmental
mechanisms may generically yield simplicity and order. (637;
italics in original (1993))
We can elucidate the action of planetary constraints on the
morphogenetic space of the envelope, earth’s biosphere, by
considering eyes, stomachs and green plants. Whether we look at
birds, fish, insects, reptiles or mammals, we see that their eyes
tend to be on the side of the body that is closest to the sun. In
the same species, stomachs tend to be on the side of the body that
is closest to the center of the earth. The higher location of eyes
accommodates the organism to the most important source of light
and a frequent location of dangerous falling objects and of
approaching predators. The lower location of stomachs accommodates
the organism to the strongest local source of gravity that
establishes the orientation for greatest stability of everything
on earth.
Since adaptation traditionally takes particular environments,
or niches, as units of evolutionary explanation, it makes no sense
to characterize the locations of eyes and stomachs as successful
adaptations. Since adaptation traditionally refers to
morphogenetic developments in particular species, rather than
across all the genera of living things, it makes little sense to
characterize those locations as adaptations. The locations of eyes
and stomachs are rather like the dependence of all living things
on water, air, and sunlight: water, air and sunlight were
preexisting conditions of the environment in which life first
appeared. Organisms did not adapt to the existence of water and
air any more than they adapted to the existence of solar radiation
and terrestrial gravitation. The first organisms appeared in the
complex fields of force and possibility constituted by those
conditions. The first phases of living matter had to mirror those
conditions in order to exist. Those phases had to accommodate the
constant changes in those conditions in order to persist. The
first phases of life had to incorporate, transform and
discriminate those conditions as helpful or harmful in order to
reproduce.
It seems to make more sense to characterize the relationship
between early life and planetary constraints as accommodation.
Life imitates nature. Living matter is a far from equilibrium
system so it cannot be completely described or predicted by
thermodynamic theories. Living matter is not composed of logically
related symbolic quantities so it cannot be completely described
or predicted by mathematical theories. Living matter is not
composed of discrete, electromechanical bits so it cannot be
completely described or predicted by computer simulations. Living
matter is not composed of morphologically constrained phonemes so
it cannot be completely described or predicted by natural
languages. Living matter is better understood as a continuous
system (Cowan 633) that uses earth’s basic substantial orders—
solid, fluid, gas, fire (electricity) and metal
(mineral)—organizing them into processes that are not solely
governed by the specific parameters of any of those orders. Life
imitates nature but does not copy it. Life repeats nature and
varies it.
When we look at foliage, we see striking similarities among all
organisms that root in the earth and grow perpendicularly to the
earth’s surface. The two most pertinent similarities for this
discussion, apart from the accommodation to a specific atmosphere,
specific moisture types and availability, and specific soil types,
are the structural features of trunk and leaves. Green things show
larger, heavier, denser parts closer to the center of the earth
and smaller, lighter, finer parts closer to the sun. Terrestrial
stability follows from the denser part and terrestrial persistence
as well as reproduction follows from the finer parts. It again
makes no sense to characterize these structural features as
adaptations in a traditional sense. Rather, the constraints of
terrestrial surface and gravitation and of solar location and
radiation seem to have acted upon living matter in a strongly
formative manner.
We may venture somewhat broader generalizations about eyes,
stomachs and foliage. Anything that wants to swim, crawl or fly
parallel to the earth’s surface must accommodate the sun and the
earth by having eyes closer to the sun and stomachs closer to the
earth. Anything that wants to grow perpendicularly to the earth’s
surface and in a direction opposite to the center of the earth
must be thicker, heavier and denser closer to the earth and
thinner, lighter and finer closer to the sun. If we consider the
envelope as the morphogenetic space for all of life on earth, then
the planetary constraints of solar radiation and terrestrial
gravitation are structural forms of the envelope to which living
matter must conform from the beginning. We distinguish such
original conformation from traditional adaptation by recoding the
former as accommodation. We can provisionally distinguish between
accommodation and adaptation. Accommodation relates more to
function than to survival while adaptation relates more to
survival than to function.
We may understand other organic traits as accommodations. For
example, all flying things have body parts that cleave the air
more or less horizontally, that is, parallel to the earth's
surface. Since there is no question of linking bee, bat and
seagull diachronically, their similar body parts must be seen as
accommodations to the constraint of air. Similarly, all swimming
organisms have body parts that pull and push the ambient water in
a direction roughly opposite to the organism's direction of
motion. Since there is no question of linking alligator, shrimp
and whale diachronically, these body parts must be seen as
accommodations to the constraint of water.
Finally, we may ask, Why do so many living things have
symmetrical body parts? The original morphogenetic answer would
seem to be that bodily symmetry is an accommodation to terrestrial
gravity. Gravity works on all terrestrial objects constantly and
completely. If an object is denser in one part than in another,
that part will move toward the center of the earth more easily
than the less dense part. Such movement destabilizes the object.
The object falls, tips or wobbles. For a living organism, such
destabilization costs energy to correct and diverts attention from
activities such as feeding, mating and protection. Destabilization
uses energy and creates danger. Bodily symmetry relative to the
center of the earth would seem to provide a basic physical
stability that would be of great value for persistence and
reproduction. In what is perhaps the most compressed and elegant
example of these ideas, the structural symmetry of trees maximizes
exposure to solar radiation and maximizes stability in relation to
terrestrial gravitation. This viewpoint may help us to understand
why redwood trees, rather than some bird or mammal, are the
largest living things on earth.
There is no doubt that in considering these traits or
characteristics as accommodations, we are dealing with many
different kinds of feedback systems. Feedback as a process of
something responding to its own condition with changes in the
condition’s components that it controls, is characteristic of all
living matter. As a universal characteristic of living matter,
feedback is not the result of selection. Rather, like the use of
air, water and minerals by all living matter, which is a result of
planetary constraints on surface existence, it is an accommodation
like eyes on the top and stomachs on the bottom. Feedback is also
necessary for reproduction. The reproductive cycles of plants and
animals depend partly on organism response to change in
environmental conditions, such as increased darkness, increased
light, increased cold or heat, increased moisture or moonlight,
etc. These reproductive cycles also depend partly on changes in
the organism to which the organism responds by changing color,
shape or scent, by seeking a mate, nest-building, burrowing, etc.
Feedback is a necessary process for the reproduction that
distinguishes living matter from other kinds of matter. Various
sciences have established the existence of many feedback loops in
the biosphere (e.g. Gleick 61-5 [population biology], 167-70
[meteorology], 278-80 [ecology]; Kauffman 11-12 [molecular]) .
These loops act as causal chains that move various kinds of
matter/energy from one connectivity to another connectivity in
which various kinds of responses to that incoming energy alter
some aspect of the incoming energy and the connectivity in which
that energy originated. Our questions then become, How did
feedback become part of living matter? Or, How did feedback become
able to reproduce? And, if feedback is a result of matter
accommodating surface constraints until a new form emerged, how
might that emergence have taken place? We go into the sun and the
shower in the next section to explore these questions.
In the Shower, In the Sun
Of particular importance for a discussion of the origin of life
is the use of energy. Using energy requires transformation. Water
and wind power are both transformed into motive power and
electrical power. Food energy is transformed into functional power
for cells. Light energy is transformed into informational power
through telescopy and photography. And electrical energy is
transformed into many kinds of power and information, such as in
computers. We may decompose the notion of energy into two parts,
power and information. Whenever a living thing uses energy, it
decomposes and transforms energy into these two parts. Living
things use some part of solar radiation as power for growth.
Living things use some part of radiation as information,
especially for vision or other kinds of light-sensitive processes.
Some examples may help us to understand the decomposition of
energy and its transformation into information and power. When we
take a shower, we turn on the water and wait for it to reach a
certain temperature. We gauge the comfort of the temperature by
feeling the water with our hand. We use the thermal energy of the
water as information for adjusting the mixture of cold and hot
water. Once the temperature is right, we step into the water. We
then shift our attention from the thermal energy of the water as
information and use the energy of the water for its power of
cleansing. When we go to sunbathe, we use the radiant energy of
the sun as information about location and intensity. Depending on
the kind of exposure to the sun we want, we choose a particular
location and prepare our exposure with certain types of clothing,
shading devices and sun screen. Once we have completed our
preparation, we shift our attention to the sun’s energy as power
to tan us.
In both situations, we decompose thermal, hydro and solar
energy into two parts, information and power. When we decompose
energy, we increase available and accessible information and
power. We cannot gain more information without this decomposition,
and we cannot gain more power without this decomposition. To gain
more information, we must have and use more power. To gain more
power, we must have and use more information. We may assert that
there is a direct relationship between increase in information and
increase in power and between increase in power and increase in
information. The history of the experimental sciences shows this
relationship, for example, in the increased use of electricity for
the production of scientific knowledge. The increase in scientific
knowledge has increased our capacity to produce electricity, such
as through nuclear fission. The consequence of decomposition for
the history of ideas is also worth noting. The fact that the
decomposition is hardwired in the human species explains both the
existence of the truth and power problem in human affairs and the
absence of any final solution to that problem in religion,
philosophy or science. In the recent intellectual history of
complexity theory, the decomposition of energy into information
and power is nicely reflected in Wolfram’s “Principle of
Computational Equivalence…: that all processes, whether they are
produced by human effort or occur spontaneously in nature, can be
viewed as computations.” (715)
The decomposition of energy into power and information is thus
a necessary step in feedback. That is, some aspect of the energy
in a situation must be able to connect with the origin of the same
energy in a way that changes that energy. In a thermostat, for
example, the heat from the furnace changes the ambient air
temperature which in turn changes the position of an element that
in turn alters an electric current that turns the furnace on or
off. The entire system of furnace, circuit and thermostat,
however, cannot change its behavior beyond its preset limitations.
It can use feedback to operate but it cannot use feedback to
learn. Learning results when feedback transforms “a complex system
into a complex adaptive system” (Johnson 139).
In a cas, a combination of positive and “negative feedback
entails comparing the current state of a system to the desired
state, and pushing the system in a direction that minimizes the
difference between the two states” (Ibid. 140). The comparison of
current state with desired state requires a process of taking
something from the situation then using it to orient further
action in the situation. A lion tracking a zebra may see the zebra
walking towards it then running away from it. In either case, the
lion uses sensory abstraction from the situation to orient its
further action. It takes information to orient its use of power:
information orients power. The organism perceives, chooses and
adjusts. The decomposition of energy into power and information is
thus necessary for choice as an ability to reorient the use of
power. The lion reorients from crouching in the grass, waiting for
the zebra to walk to it, to running after the zebra to catch up
with it. By acting on its choices, the lion learns.
From the relatively simple software of Jefferson and Taylor’s
Tracker (Johnson 59-63), to the most refined changes in
interpersonal relationships, feedback is necessary for learning.
Learning allows “more successful programs *or strategies or
organisms+ to emerge.” (Ibid. 62) We measure the success of the
organisms by their repetition through reproduction. We can
understand that many kinds of feedback existed in the growing
envelope during the millions of years of earth’s existence before
life emerged. But we don’t understand yet how matter developed the
ability to use feedback for learning, contained the feedback
within a molecule, a cell, an organ, or a skin and reproduced that
container with the feedback in it. We may further conceptualize
the decomposition of energy through the lens of the origin of life
theory that RNA once served as “both bearer of information and as
agent of chemical activity, before the appearance of organisms
exhibiting separate genotype and phenotype.” (Gell-Mann 19) The
genotype would be the materialization of information and the
phenotype would be the materialization of power. In RNA molecules,
the phenotype and genotype “are not conceptually identified,
because the genotype is the information in that thing—RNA, or a
bit string, or whatever—and the phenotype is its activity in
acting as an instruction.” (Gell-Mann in Cowan 664 (1994a)) And,
as Cowan and Pines state, “The organism which houses the genotype,
provides energy to extract, process, and generate information, and
transmits its heritage to future generations, is the phenotype.”
(710) Once we connect information and power with genotype and
phenotype, or with “germ line and…somatic cells” (Smith 466), we
may take a further step into standard biological terminology by
using John Maynard Smith’s distinction between “metabolism and
information” (468) in which metabolism represents power and
information represents itself:
When you go through your major features of evolution, it
seems to me that, of the advances in metabolism and phenotypic
organization, some are advances and changes in the way that
information is organized and processed. There’s one other thing
that fits in here: there’s something interesting that goes on
when you get to each new level that has both metabolism and
information. There’s a sort of feeding in of both of them, but
when you have these little units, like individuals, you tend to
have specialization of what I would call metabolism. That’s what
these things do but they share the information and yet they
don’t precisely share the information. (Ibid.)
We proposed before that life could be understood as a tautology
of repetition and variation. That is, repetition requires
variation and variation requires repetition. Repetition and
variation are everywhere in the universe and everywhere on earth.
Everything that exists, except living matter, does not control the
repetition and variation of its own existence. Every non-living
thing is created and varied by forces that are distinct from the
thing. We may ask, How did matter come to be able to control its
own repetition and variation? We may assert that such control is
impossible without feedback. We may assert that feedback is
impossible in living matter without some degree of decomposition
of energy into information and power. We may then ask again, How
did matter become capable of feedback and how did feedback become
capable of reproduction? In the answer to this question is the
understanding of how matter became capable of containing a
feedback process that reproduces itself.
In the early envelope, there must have been a physical
mechanism that guided matter into feedback loops. How might that
mechanism have worked? In our first thought experiment, we
considered the surface of a body of water going through earth‟s
planetary motions. We summarized the dynamic combination of those
motions as a branching, layered spiral wave. The branching of the
wave carries out repetition and variation in one dimension. The
layering of the wave, which is also folding, carries out
repetition and variation in another dimension. Both branching and
layering are ways of comprising many different kinds of spiral
motions. Thus, the surface of the water, as well as everything in
it, is simultaneously involved in spirals within spirals within
spirals. These motions are constant conditions of everything in
the envelope, with the addition of motions such as inter-polar air
circulation, Coriolis force, gyres, currents, countercurrents and
Eckman spirals, which emerged with a thicker atmosphere and deeper
oceans. In a another section, we considered the idea of physical
characteristics of organisms as accommodations to constraints of
the envelope rather than as adaptations of species to particular
environments.
Now we are focusing on the transition between matter and living
matter by way of the emergence of feedback as reproduction. A
spiral is a system of repetition and variation. Whether its
diameter increases, decreases or remains the same through time, it
repeats and varies a dynamic orientation in space that creates a
coherent structure. A spiral as a dynamic entity that increases
spatiotemporally, does so by reproducing itself. A spiral is
porous without disconnection so regardless of the direction in
which a fluid such as water might flow through it, the spiral can
orient itself to the flow without losing its shape. The spirals
through which the body of water goes in our mental simulation
repeat and vary in multiple reproductions. Bodies such as earth,
moon and sun repeat the same motions within ranges of variation
that can be described in terms of a branching, layered spiral
wave, that is, spirals within spirals within spirals. The same
description captures dynamics of other terrestrial phenomena such
as low pressure areas, hurricanes, typhoons and tornadoes, ocean
currents and countercurrents, Eckman spirals and Langmuir
circulation. Or, we may look at the spirals as folds in a
continuous substance. We may then observe that everything that
lasts on earth folds in some way at some time, whether it is rock,
water or air. The fold may then be seen as the way in which denser
terrestrial matter accommodates the ubiquity of spirals in
terrestrial dynamics. Since DNA is ubiquitous in living matter, it
seems reasonable to consider the shape of DNA as an accommodation
rather than as an adaptation. We could then consider the DNA helix
as an accommodation of early living matter to the spiral as one of
the most common, pervasive and constant dynamics of the envelope.
A porous, flexible spiral would seem to be able to exist and
persist through any but the most extreme changes, such as ph or
temperature, in a liquid environment, anaerobic or aerobic. But
how would a spiral become a feedback system and how would it
become able to reproduce itself?
We may consider folding and breaking of a self-similar
structure as the original form of selfreproduction. Everything on
or near the surface of the earth folds, whether it is igneous
rock, ocean waves or cumulus clouds. Compression causes folding.
We may consider the earth, from the outer edges of the atmosphere
to the fiery core, as a gradient of density and compression.
Earth’s matter becomes more and more dense as it changes form
and type from the edge to the core. At the same time, compression
on any given particle increases. Thus, regardless of the type of
matter, folding becomes more and more frequent until the inner,
molten earth can be visualized as a continually mixing and folding
of hot, liquid rock. It would be highly unlikely if there were not
folding and breaking, or fracturing, in the formation of early
matter, including living matter.
We are reasonably certain that on the early earth there were
regions in which different kinds of orders met without dominating
each other or the entirety of the region. We may suppose that the
transition from living matter happened in one of those regions,
such as at the edge of a sea or at the edge of a volcanic vent on
an ocean floor.
We may consider the proposition that life originates when the
decomposition of energy into information and power becomes an
organic process. We may view mitosis and meiosis as a rhythm of
decomposition and recomposition of electrochemical energy that
serves as both information and motive force or power. In an
electromechanical environment such as a computer, the electricity
that drives the computer serves not only as the motive force or
power through its components but also as the substrate of its
information functions such as email messages and animated
graphics. In fields such as astrophysics and particle physics,
scientists have transformed more and more different kinds of
energy into either information or power or both. These
transformations have increased the complexity of our theories and
of our technologies. There does seem to be a rather direct
relationship between the elaboration of the decomposition of
energy into information and power and the development of
complexity.
Indeed, we may assert that computational capacity in living
organisms is the capacity to decompose energy into power and
information. This assertion allows us to reconsider the
controversy in evolutionary theory about the biological
development of complexity.
Change and No Change
We may open this reflection with two quotations about the
emergent organization of living systems:
…living systems are machines, all right, but machines with a
very different kind of organization from the ones we’re used to.
Instead of being designed from the top down, the way a human
engineer would do it, living systems always seem to emerge from
the bottom up, from a population of simpler systems. (Waldrop
278)
[According to Langton], “The most surprising lesson we have
learned from simulating complex physical systems on computers is
that complex behavior need not have complex roots…. Indeed,
tremendously interesting and beguiling complex behavior can
emerge from collections of extremely simple components. (Waldrop
279, italics in original)
There seems to be a persistent confusion about the technology
associated with these kinds of statements. We know that the single
most powerful force in the existence of every living thing on the
surface of the earth is solar radiation. After solar radiation,
there are such morphogenetic constraints as have already been
described, such as gravity, atmosphere, moisture, etc. The single
most powerful force in a computer is electricity. Are we to
suppose that the effects of electricity in its environment are the
same as, or closely similar to, the effects of solar radiation in
its environment? In computer simulation, what simulates the
constant and omnipresent influence of terrestrial and lunar
gravitational fields? What simulates the alternation of day and
night, of seasons, with their fluctuations of light, temperature,
humidity and barometric pressure?
What simulates space, whether the space is conceived along
Newtonian or Einsteinian lines? Of course we can enter into a
computer simulation having left out of account such planetary
conditions. Of course, then, we would get complicated behavior
from simple components. This is as obvious a result as the fact
that so many different particular chess games can be played with
the same pieces, the same board, by the same two people using the
same rules. Or, it is as obvious as the fact that with the same
deck, using the same rules, the same player, with or without
shuffling of cards, can generate so many different configurations
of solitaire. But it is not obvious that this kind of development
of diversity has happened in the origin and development of life.
It also seems odd that anyone would regard either the
simultaneous combination of these conditions or the
behavior of anything on the earth's surface simultaneously
involved in these conditions as simple.
The biological data most relevant to this issue can be easily
summarized:
„Look, forty thousand species of vertebrates, right? About
twenty-five thousand are fishes…no trends there. So, you start
with 55 to 60 percent of vertebrates with no trend to bigger
brains. Then you have eight thousand species of birds…again no
trend to bigger brains since their origin. Six thousand species
of mammals, a fraction of all vertebrates, and, yes, you do see
trends in some groups." (Stephen Jay Gould, in, Lewin 145)
As John Maynard Smith states,
The theory of evolution does not…predict that things should
get more complicated….Further, empirically, many organisms not
only do not get more complicated, but do not change at all with
time: crocodiles today are not greatly different from crocodiles
in the Jurassic. So the fossil record shows that organisms do
not necessarily change with time, let alone become more
complicated. (457)
…the vast majority of evolutionary lineages do not get
complicated. (469)
When the presence of larger and more complex neurophysiological
systems is seen in the context of all species, the picture of
evolution changes. There does not seem to be an “arrow of change”
(Norman Packard, in Lewin 139) in evolution but in the development
of a small number of species. Smith states that “There's no
intrinsic drive to get more complicated.” (469)
Rather than progress, the small stream of complexity seems to
be a compensation. Primates, and especially humanoid ones,
including homo sapiens, without teeth, claws, poison, camouflage,
speed or strength, depended on manual skills and the ability to
solve problems and forecast possible events. The conditions, or
constraints, of the primate/humanoid/human niche, favored manual
dexterity for tool making and reasoning for creating effective
strategies. My viewpoint does not clearly imply any kind of
progress in evolution. If life is a consequence of morphogenetic
constraints and if the morphogenetic constraints are stable
relative to evolution, then there does not seem to be any obvious
dimension in which progress could take place. Incorporation takes
place; accommodation takes place, and adaptation takes place. But
the idea that there is some kind of evolutionary dimension that is
not finite, upon which a capacity such as neural processing could
evolve without limit, finds no support here.
My viewpoint also does not include the frequent insistence of
some complexity theorists that “living systems always seem to
emerge from the bottom up” (Waldrop 278), or that “in
self-organizing systems, orderly patterns emerge out of
lower-level randomness” (Resnick 14). When viewing the envelope as
a complex system of interacting constraints, the conceptual
division of origins or causes into above and below, or top-down
and bottom-up, is unnecessary and irrelevant.
We may grant that there is a small arrow of change in the
limited stream of mammalian, primate, humanoid and human
evolution. But if the arrow is consistent with physics, then the
increase in computational power is an increase in entropy. It is
irreversible and it is an increase in disorder.
We may consider human civilization as a materialization of the
increase in the neurological complexity of the human brain. Human
civilization as a complex process of resource use and refuse has
increased disorder in nature and in the niches of many different
species other than human beings. We may consider the destruction
of the biosphere as an emergent property of our disorder. We may
also consider the various kinds of crises, such as starvation,
epidemic diseases, homelessness, chronic poverty, chronic
violence, increased cancer rates due to ozone loss and pollution
and extinction of species, as emergent properties of
collapse of complexity in Tainter's sense: “a rapid,
significant loss of an established level of sociopolitical
complexity.” (4; italics in original) Global warming, that is,
destruction of ozone, increase of UV radiation to earth's surface
and the diminishing of CO2/O2 cycles, is part of that disorder and
destruction. When we violate the constraints that create life on
earth, we create the conditions to destroy life on earth.
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© David Cornberg, Ph.D.
This is Copyrighted Material
NOTE
The above article is provided courtesy of Science Doubts:
Local articles by Art Ryan, the Editor of
www.sciencedoubts.com
Related Links
WORTH A LOOK
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How Nature Works: The Science of Self-Organized Criticality by
Per Bak |
In print, at least, what might seem arrogant comes
across as a kind of innocent, childlike enthusiasm, a lack of
concern for anything but the sheer joy of figuring things out.
His ruthless simplifications of geology, evolution, and
neurology pay off because, as Bak notes, his models describe
behavior that is common across these domains. This universality
means that trampling across others' turf is not only acceptable,
but almost mandatory, if the underlying principles are to be
exposed. Finally, for the most part, Bak wants the reader to
grasp the basic logic of his arguments; only rarely does he try
to persuade with flights of poetic language or brute
intellectual authority. |
|
Complexity: The Emerging Science at the Edge of Order
and Chaos
by Mitchell Waldrop |
Waldrop presents his narrative of
the "science of complexity in high screenplay style,
offering a cast of five main characters. In general, he
makes the emerging nature of complexity theory accessible to
the general reader. He dissipates his advantage, however, in
order to depict the personalities of the scientists he
discusses, using at least three of them-Stuart Kauffman,
Brian Arthur and Chris Langton-to act as interdisciplinary
infielders of sorts, who relay the theory itself through a
long subplot on structuring and funding the Santa Fe
Institute in the 1970s. Complexity theory most likely will
receive other, more rigorous examinations than Waldrop's,
but he provides a good grounding of what may indeed be the
first flowering of a new science.
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