> On 02-Apr-2019, at 9:18 AM, John Hopkins <jhopk...@neoscenes.net> wrote:
>
> The 'size' of the system is an externally applied abstraction in that, unless
> one is speaking theoretically, a 'system' is always a subset of wider system:
> a subset conveniently defined via limits (of interaction with that wider
> system) and so-called boundary conditions.
This hits the nail bang on the head. The diagram that Brian shared is a useful
reflection, and there is nothing substantive one can dispute about it. The
point is whether that diagram is a useful framework or launching pad for
deciding how one acts, and this is where I have concerns. To look at the
diagram (or any diagram for that matter) one must ask where the observer of the
diagram is - and it assumes there is a neutral ‘outside’ where the observer
stands in order to perceive the system as a whole, and the diagram offers
clarity to this gaze.
However, there is no neutral outside ever available. One is always within a
system, or rather, always within a hierarchy of systems, almost all of them
complex and polycentric. Just as when one is within a room one can never see
all four walls simultaneously, a position of observing from within a system
means substantive parts of the system will never be clearly visible to one’s
cognition.
This should be the starting point for any analysis. One has to work from the
inside out rather than the outside in, and begin with the following questions:
What are the boundary conditions that define the limits to which one's
cognition can clearly perceive the system?
How porous (or how impermeable) are these boundary conditions?
As a sentient being, the clarity and authenticity of my boundary conditions are
defined by the skin of my body. As one tries to expand awareness beyond the
body, this clarity reduces drastically (although there are practices by which I
can work to expand the limits of my clear cognition). I cannot treat the
limits of my skin as a closed and impermeable boundary, for that would violate
the second law of thermodynamics which states that any closed system moves
rapidly towards the maximum possible level of entropy (basically, what happens
when I die). If I am to continue to live, my body as a system must be open to
energy flows from the environment. These may be physical flows, such as air
and food, or they may be flows such as companionship and community which
preserve my inner mental health.
These energy flows must sustain the condition that the biologists Maturana and
Varela termed as ‘autopoiesis’, or ‘self-making’. The energy flows through my
body resist entropy and remake my body on a constant basis. Of course, this
process is on a declining scale and I will eventually die, but that loops into
a larger system of autopoiesis at a scale beyond individual bodies. As long as
I am alive, I can live only as an open system that achieves autopoiesis - a
term that some theorists have defined as ‘the ratio between the complexity of a
system and the complexity of its environment’.
Since I must think and act from the inside out, this implies that I must
perceive and organise my existence as within a nested hierarchy of complex
systems. My body, by itself is a complex system, but then works outwards
toward family, community, neighbourhood, city, and all of this must respect
being embedded within the earth (as Gaia?) - the primary complex living system
that no human can escape. The principle of subsidiarity must prevail here,
where the lowest level in the hierarchy is self-sufficient to the maximum
extent, and delegates what it cannot deal with upwards, and there is a chain of
communication in both directions along the hierarchy. Autopoiesis and
subsidiarity are the basic principles of life that cannot be violated.
Unfortunately the conceptual framework by which we perceive and organise
ourselves works in the opposite direction. The economic assumption of the
invisible hand as a means of managing complexity rests on the assumption of
each individual as a selfish maximiser of his/her own utility. In other words,
governance and market regulation seek to push us towards seeking to be closed
systems. And the ideal of the social contract treats the individual citizen as
politically passive, assumes that government possesses the expertise to offer
welfare to citizens through the rule of law, and each citizen will willingly
sacrifice a portion of liberty in order to partake in this welfare. This
provokes a top-down system that suppresses subsidiarity.
Any closed top-down system can resist entropy only through power, and since
power has an inherent impulse to conquest, we create a capitalist model that is
predicated on indefinite growth. As Kate Raeworth remarked, we have an economy
that must grow whether or not we thrive, whereas we need to thrive whether or
not the economy grows. There have been two major waves in the history of
global capitalism that have allowed the space for growth, and the two overlap
to some extent. The first was colonialism, which lasted till the mid-20th
century, and was halted by the turmoil of the world wars. The second was
globalisation, which started with the international gold standard, followed by
Breton Woods, and eventually led to the current neoliberal model epitomised (in
theory) by international trade agreements. This second wave is also coming up
against structural limits.
Eventually a closed top-down system will come up against problematic
consequences from the unwatched complexity in its environment. This could take
many forms. To name a few: (a) tribalism that leads to the collapse of
international agreements; (b) social revolution as a consequence of tribalism
(which can unfortunately tend to use violence and/or terrorism as its
strategies); or (c) the fallout of climate change and global warming. These
closed systems are doomed to failure, but we have to ask, ‘At what cost?’
The failure to recognise this leads to the surreal situation Douglas Rushkoff
describes in an article Patrice had posted earlier on Nettime, where Rushkoff
describes his meeting with a small set of very wealthy individuals who labour
under the illusion that Rushkoff has advice to offer on how to leverage
technology to remake their boundary conditions as impenetrable and impermeable
closed fortifications.
https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2018/jul/23/tech-industry-wealth-futurism-transhumanism-singularity
<https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2018/jul/23/tech-industry-wealth-futurism-transhumanism-singularity>
We must remember that if someone had proposed the idea of democracy to people
in the 14th century, they would probably have scoffed and dismissed it as an
impossibility saying such a thing has never existed in history. Democracy was
born in, and eventually evolved from, the thoughts of a few brave thinkers in
the Age of Enlightenment. We need to relive that effort, and the redesign of
the social contract on the principles of autopoiesis and subsidiarity is the
need of the hour.
Best,
Prem
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