HOW EVERYTHING EMERGES AND
WHAT HAPPENS AFTERWARDS
CONTENTS
WHAT IS
EVERYTHING
FOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT FOOD
WHAT IS DESIRE
WHAT IS HISTORY
WHAT IS POTATO
WHAT IS PATTERN
WHAT IS CHEMISTRY
WHAT IS INSTABILITY
WHAT IS TRANSITION STATE
CHEMISTRY OF PATTERNS
PATTERN HISTORY
THE LIFE OF THINGS
CHEMISTRY OF DESIRE
INCONCLUSIVE CONCLUSION
This essay continues previous explorations in simplicity and complexity.
WHAT
IS EVERYTHING
Today I feel closer to answering this
question than almost 30 years ago when I began to think about it
seriously. The question itself seems to have lost its arrogance.
My short answer is: evolving complex
systems (life, mind, society, language, culture, science, technology,
economy, etc.) emerge from extremely simple structures (configurations)
that can be crudely represented as points (generators) connected with
lines (bond couples) in certain order. Configurations are the skeletons
of everything commensurable with human experience. Whatever can happen
to such structures amounts to either breakup or formation of bond
couples. Systems containing such structures can be more or less stable,
depending on the stability (strength) of their bond couples.
Unstable evolving complex systems can
exist if they are supplied with energy, dissipate part of it as heat,
and retain the difference to maintain the unstable labile
order. I call them exystems. (from X-systems; X stands
for ECS: Evolving Complex Systems). Sooner or later they die
anyway, i.e., lose their instability, altogether or in parts, but the
spread between sooner and later is enormous.
Biochemical systems are, probably,
at the lowest level of evolving complex systems. They satisfy
the description in the previous two paragraphs. Social
structures, languages, cultural institutions are examples of the upper
middle levels.
Most probably, life emerges in
unstable labile chemical systems by gradual, step by step, growth of
complexity. At the dawn of life, periodic processes (fluctuations of
temperature and light, tides, seasons, and natural catastrophes) keep
the initial simple systems unstable (off equilibrium) until they find
the way to use solar radiation to do that on their own. This is
possible exactly because life originates in simple systems
capable of growth and complexification. Search in
small systems is more efficient than in large ones. An
exystem must be small to emerge.
While for the physicists who thought
about emergence of life the complexity of living structures was a
mystery (the probability of the self-assembly of life as we know it is zero), there is
nothing mysterious for a chemist in a stepwise increase of complexity.
The mechanism of energy utilization for maintaining a chemical system
in an unstable state is also well known. It is a very simple chemical
trick used by all life forms.
Remarkably, we can observe the process of emergence in all
detail while studying history of human institutions. All
Columbus needed to discover America was money. All nature needed to
discover life was molecules of ATP (adenosine triphosphate), the "pocket
change of living cells" coming from the $1000 bills of food molecules
(John Balmier). Plants make it from the little grains of gold—photons
of light—with which the Sun
showers the Earth.
The
unstable systems search for stability, i.e. move toward a steady state (minimum of
entropy production). The search means
breaking up some bond couples and locking others. This can be achieved
by growth: making more new bonds between atoms than losing old
ones. While still unstable, larger
systems are more stable because the changes are mostly local and
do not destroy the entire large system. The unstable systems can grow,
modify, and repair themselves. Stable configurations tend to remain in
their stable state without change or are destroyed by
strong impacts. Growth, therefore, may increase stability.
What are
the upper limits to growth is an open question since the Club of Rome first asked it in Limits to Growth
(1972), but they certainly exist.
Life exists in a narrow interval of
instability (edge of chaos, as some say). It is unstable enough to
change, grow, and move, but stable enough to have a genetic blueprint
of itself.
After life emerges in chemical systems and enters
evolution, it leads to all evolving complex systems we know and to new
and yet unknown ones. This is why chemistry
and its abstract generalization in the form of Pattern Theory (Ulf
Grenander) are essential for understanding how everything
emerges and what happens afterwards.
It is impossible to know
EVERYTHING, but the basic concepts of chemistry and Pattern Theory open
a way to understanding it as a whole. In the understanding of
human matters pattern is the counterpart of a mathematical
formula in the movement of planets, atoms, and subatomic particles. We
probably understand the world because we think in patterns.
My short answer is long enough, but its
explanation could be much longer. The evolving collection of essays at complexity and simplicity is only a
low evolutionary form of an exploration of this confusing subject.
EVERYTHING is still waiting for a young enthusiast who would pursue fun
and glory in the sky with more zeal than tenure and beach house on
earth. Nevertheless, in this Essay I am trying to give if not the
shortest than the next to the shortest presentation of the entire
topic. In order to do that I start with a tiny speck of EVERYTHING: a
couple of unordinary books.
FOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT FOOD
In his two latest books Michael Pollan has presented to a wide audience
a cornucopia of interesting ideas and observations, among them four
ideas of general significance.
BOOK 1: The
Botany of Desire: A Plant's-Eye View of the World (Random
House, 2001)
IDEA 1 :
Plants use humans as
much as humans use plants
Thus,
as much as the gardener manipulates a plant, trying to enhance its
desired qualities, the plant (potato, apple) manipulates the gardener
to solicit his care.
This idea immediately attracted
attention of readers because of its dog-bites-man appeal. The typical
plant is an epitome of immobility and passivity. Moreover, the typical
plants have no eyes and, most probably, no senses.
The book with the catchy title,
masterfully composed and exquisitely written, did not disappoint the
readers. I had made a note of the author's name and was looking forward
to Pollan's next book. It did not disappoint me,
either.
BOOK 2: The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of
Four Meals (The Penguin Press, 2006),
The second book seems even richer than
the first. Three of author's ideas, although less flashy than IDEA
1, attracted my attention. My interpretation, however, may not
necessarily coincide with the author's intent.
IDEA 2:
The growing supply of
energy increases complexity of its consumption
The growing surplus of corn production in the USA
resulted in the emergence of new industries. Among them,
production of whiskey and industrial farming of animals. While these
facts are well known, Michel Pollan treats them as a pattern of a very
general nature. In my interpretation, a quantitative growth of
production of a single plant results in increasing variety of
other products that count as energy source for animals, humans, and
their machines. The non-trivial aspect of this
obvious fact is the emergence of the hard to define complexity,
for which we do not have a single measure. It arises from the growth of
a single measurable physical value: weight of produced corn.
IDEA 3:
The growing complexity
of supply creates instability and uncertainty of demand
Along with the growing complexity of
industries and their products, a counteractive trend emerges. A great
complexity of food supply overwhelms the consumer and creates choice
bottlenecks, through which food industry in developed countries pushes
its enormous variety down the consumer's throat. A new type of
complexity, very much reminiscent of weather, emerges: waves of
food fads, i.e., alternating approbation and disapproval of various
products, in a rather chaotic manner. A whole new business of food
fashion and anti-fashion emerges to steer the traffic of food to and
from the shelves and toward the affluent eater's table.
The business of advertisement and
counseling is typical for the affluent society overwhelmed with
complexity of choice. This happens with all
consumer goods.
The "omnivore's dilemma,"� or anxiety
of
abundance, is also a pattern. We can see it in the entire area of
consumption: with gadgets as well as information. We see it also in
food for thought and soul.
I simplify my life with Consumer
Reports with all their shortcomings. The giant of Google has grown
right before my eyes, fatting its calves on the endless prairies of
information and it is now looking for companies to munch, too. The area
of information is in the constant flux: the newspapers as we know
them are the next to go. The countless blogs would require several
lives to read them all, but with little nutrition.
IDEA 4: All food comes from the
sun
Sunlight, exchanged for the coins of
ATP, brings the grass from the soil, the cattle feed on grass, the
chickens pick up grass, seeds, and insects, the food digested by the
animals and birds fertilizes the soil, and humans feed on animals and
plants.
This highly consequential idea is by no means
original, but Michael Pollan illustrated it in a fine way by his
description of truly organic farming that utilizes maximum of solar
energy.
A
chemist immediately notices that minerals (for example, compounds of
potassium and phosphorus, probably, also of nitrogen) are missing from
this picture. They are carried off the soil with food and must be
replenished. In order to launch a close to perfect cycle of matter, all
plants, animals, and humans should live and die on the farm.
WHAT IS DESIRE
This is how Michael Pollan remembers
the moment when IDEA 1 emerged in his mind:
I realized that the bumble bee and I had a
lot in common.
The bumble bee feeds on the plant and
pollinates it. The author interacts with the plant in
the role of a gardener who feeds on the plant and modifies it to his
tastes. As the insect and the plant form a
single system of mutual dependence, so do the
gardener and the plant. In the language of abstract systems, the bee
and the plant are interacting components of a system as much as
the gardener and the plant are components of another system,
overlapping with the first over the plant. All three are components of
a larger system.
Having emphasized the reciprocal
relations between the gardener and the plant, Michael Pollan
seems to hold back.
When I talk about
these plants cleverly manipulating us, I'm obviously using figurative
language. We dont have a very good vocabulary for talking about how
other species act on us,about their agency. We see the world as if
were the thinking subject, and then youve got that subjects object.
And so, you know, I pull the weeds, I plant the potatoes, I harvest the
crops. But this is just a limitation of our language (source).
I part here with
Michael Pollan's brilliant books that uniquely convey the amazement the
old naturalists felt for the wonders of nature. I use his four
ideas as an introduction into my next attempt to explain (first of all,
to myself) how everything emerges and what happens afterwards. The
second part is the easiest to answer: history. The first part, however,
is more intricate: out of simplicity.
If so, there is a chance to find a
"good vocabulary"� and language without limitations, at least, give it
a
try. And, by the way, arent we in fact
both thinking subjects and thinking objects?
We say that the gardener desires
certain properties of the plant. Why cannot we say that the bee
desires certain properties of the plant and the plant desires
certain properties of the gardener?
The anthropomorphic terms desire,
goal, purpose, love, hate, fear, joy, anxiety, despair,
satisfaction, manipulation, use, domination, submission, will, hope,
etc. relate to humans and systems of humans. Are they the artifacts of
the language or signs for something applicable beyond human matters?
We have been endlessly arguing about
similar questions since the appearance of modern robots and computers,
i.e. for more than half a century. Do they or do they not? Can they or
cannot? We certainly attribute memory to them, and
even acknowledge that it is better than our own. But,
unlike the blueprints of exystems, it cannot mutate. In this
sense, computer is not alive. In this sense bureaucracy is dead.
What about desire? For the last twenty
years, on a growing number of occasions I have had fleeting feelings
that my computer, and especially my current Dell computer with Windows
XP, has a desire to infuriate me with its unpredictable and
unexplainable behavior. I punished it by turning off its energy supply
and rebooting, which seemed to work, although not always. I begin to
think that the only reason behind that was the desire of Microsoft to
push another operating system down my wallet, but the next moment I
suddenly realize that there is no proof that Microsoft is human and can
desire. It is a corporation with humans as one kind of components:
a
system as much driven by economic hunger and prone to entropic decay as
a human body driven by hunger and subject to aging and death.
It uses me by making me use its products. My computer uses
me, too, with the purpose of propagating the species Fenestrae
micromollae .
WHAT
IS HISTORY
Weather (which I linked to Pollan's IDEA
3) has often been used by scientists as an epitome of complexity
within the framework of ordered chaos. A whole wave
of books and articles on chaos and complexity arose and subsided
between the late 1980s and 90s. Practically each of them mentioned a
butterfly in Hong Kong creating a hurricane over Florida, with some
geographic variations.
I find no use for the butterfly, but
the phenomenon of weather may help us understand the phenomenon of
history. I prefer history to a more ambiguous term: evolution. The
latter is used in natural sciences to denote any gradual process going
through a series of identifiable steps. It applies also to a particular
case of origin and evolution of life, society, or paper clip. The term
has a whole spectrum of meanings. On the contrary, history is usually
understood as history of humankind from cave people to kings and slaves
and further to the demise of the kings and the redemption of the
slaves. Human history includes the histories of all man-made things,
ideas, and institutions, as well as the history of the entire Earth
under the impact of humans.
The view of
planet Earth as a single system in which everything is connected was
passionately expressed by Russian geochemist Vladimir
Ivanovich Vernadsky
(Владимир Иванович Вернадский,
1863-1945).
Vernadsky, who remains well remembered and esteemed in America, and
kind of cult figure in Russia, regarded Earth as result of three waves
of evolution that started at different times but have been running
concurrently since: geosphere (minerals and fluids) , biosphere (life),
and noosphere (human matters). The latter is the stage at which humans
begin to change the entire planet by means of
rational activity (which our posterity may deem irrational). But this
subject deserves a separate and closer look.
By history I mean not a particular history of something but
a fundamental property of exystems.
The author of the hyperbolic metaphor
known as butterfly
effect was meteorologist Edward Lorenz. He first
introduced it as a butterfly in Brazil causing a tornado in Texas.
Some suggested he responded to somebodys image of seagull
wing causing the change of world weather. A link was also drawn to Ray
Bradburys story A Sound of Thunder (1952) about the traveler
to the past who stamps a butterfly and back in his time finds history
changed.
In The Butterfly
and the Tank (1938) by Ernest Hemingway, about deadly consequences
of a prank, human life is a fragile butterfly under the tank of war,
quite like a mobile home under the tornado.
The history of the butterfly
effect itself is an example of emergence and subsequent
evolution of a small component of human culture. Geographic variations
play the role of mutations. The butterfly effect, in terms of Pattern
Theory (see next section), is a pattern of "large consequences from
small causes"� and the variations are regular configurations embraced
by
the pattern.
A butterfly may or may not cause a
tornado. But the original story of Ray Bradbury, itself with roots in
H. G. Wells The Time Machine, which I trace far back to the
Sumerian cuneiform dream books, seems to imply a more rigid chain of
cause and effect. Therefore, somewhere in the history of this metaphor
a more significant mutation occurred.
The weather in the little State of
Rhode Island today has no direct relation to the weather a year or a
century ago. Even though an exact prediction is not possible, the
prognosis partially depends on the weather yesterday and even more on
the weather an hour ago. It also depends on the weather within 200
miles west, north, and south of Rhode Island and is still sensitive to
what happens at 2000 miles in those directions. The rain comes from the
West, hurricanes from the South, and the freezing cold from the North.
Hardly anything comes from the East
The weather today also depends on
climate and the climate has a history. The history of climate may
include one time catastrophic events, like volcanic eruptions. Climate
also has unique long range events, such as the emergence of oxygen in
the atmosphere, attributed to the growth of algae and plants, last ice
age, and something we do not even know.
History happens on a different scale as
compared with weather. It is unique and irreversible.
Thus, the shrinking of the ozone layer and its subsequent
partial restoration as result of the ban on
chlorofluorocarbons around 1990 was a short time
unique event. It has confirmed the idea of Vernadsky that any history
on earth is ultimately global.
I would use a metaphor of a ballroom
dance competition (only because it impresses me more than any sport
except soccer) to illustrate the difference between the weather and the
climate or everyday human life and human history. We could also look at a dog show, but dance
has a pronounced two-dimensionality, which the dog show has only to a
limited degree.
If the weather can be compared with a
dance on a floor, in which the movement patterns may repeat and the
exact positions do not, history is the entire sequence of performances
that can happen only once in the competition and never repeat again.
The difference is that the program of the competition is known in
advance, while history is not (unless you believe King Solomon).
Nevertheless, everyday life, i.e. the weather of our
existence, can be predicted in many instances for a long time ahead. As
far as a competition with elimination is concerned, although the
program is known, the exact sequence of events that will go to the
annals of ballroom dancing is unpredictable.
Another detail will add more to the
comparison: this year ballroom competition has only a limited bearing
on the next year results. In human history what
happened four or fourteen hundred years ago may have more influence on
tomorrow than what happened yesterday.
I believe that in human matters the
best way toward understanding how everything emerges and what happens
afterwards is to avoid definitions and use illustrations. The reason
for that is the property of history which I call novelty. As soon as we
invent the typewriter and learn to use it, the computer comes and
knocks the typewriter off into the dustbin of history. As soon as we
invent a floppy disc to store what we type, flash memory without moving
parts comes and we fill up the garbage dumps with floppy disks.
The dazzling, extravagant, or elegant French kings,
ruthless Chinese emperors, and solemn Russian czars leave the global
stage now populated by their theatrical and cinematographic shadows.
The crowd on the global stage pushes aside the mighty America through
economic and political novelties the significance and consequences of
which are fiercely disputed, while even climate and weather stir up a
global controversy. This is history and it happens only once, unlike a
movie that we can rewind or run fast forward
One might note that science also moves
ahead through changes in theories and paradigms, but this exactly what
it means to have history. Science has its history. History does not
have its science.
The problem with human matters is that
history knows no reproducible experiments. Theoretical science, in
spite of the initial enthusiasm around the systems theory, can tell us
very little about the fate of humans on our planet. True,
this little is extremely important, but it was said by physicists.
In order to exist, life on earth,
society, economy, and even culture (just look at what is happening to
the struggling Public Radio and classical music in America) need a
source of energy in the currency of money. The main long term source of
energy for evolving complex systems on earth is the sun. The mineral or
nuclear fuel is a temporary source not just because its resources are
limited (the limits are, strictly speaking, not known) but because the
products of its burning or fission put limits on the growth of energy
consumption.
This is an inverse
omnivores dilemma: how to get the one and only resource—money—for
an
overwhelming variety of desire. This is the problem
of omnispender.
WHAT
IS POTATO
Potato, Solanum tuberosumis, a plant with
delicately fragrant flowers, is one of the heroes
of Michael Pollan's Botany of Desire.
So the
question arose in my mind that day: Did I
choose to plant these potatoes, or did the potato make me do it? In
fact, both
statements are true. I can remember the exact moment that spud seduced
me,
showing off its knobby charms in the pages of a seed catalog (page xv).
It is also
one of the characters in Pattern Theory.
The cover of Ulf Grenanders Elements
of Pattern Theory (Johns Hopkins Univ.
Press, Baltimore, 1996) displays
a potato (Figure 1).
The small squares on its surface are areas selected for the
analysis of color.
Figure 2, borrowed
from the book (p. 139), shows examples of potato shape. Those on the
right have some irregularities.
I will try to describe here a very
simplified and de-mathematized interpretation of what the mathematics
of potato is about.
The problem is how to distinguish
between a regular potato and an irregular one.
First, we have to
decide what is regular and what is not. The concept of regularity can
be applied to anything variable: shape, human behavior, diagnostic
microscopy, financial transactions, X-ray and MRI images, food,
and literary styles. Those properties are entirely dependent on our
judgment. Of course, the concept of regularity evolves with time in
each area, which is best illustrated by food, fashion, and style.
The
regularity of US politics is an intriguing subject. It is often discussed whether the Iraq War follows the pattern of
the Vietnam War.
Figure 2 presents
shapes of four real potatoes, two of them with sprouts, from pictures
processed by a computer and reduced to contours.
To address the problem of regularity,
let us start with a potato shape which we consider regular
beyond a shadow of a doubt and call it template. In other
words, the template is the embodiment of potatoeness, as the
best-in-show dog exemplifies the standard of the breed. Certainly, more
than one tuber can claim to be ideal potato, but if we have
disagreements, we can always vote. We can
also regard the potato template as a superposition of different
suggestions with the number of votes for each.
Next, in order to create a space for all
regular potato shapes, and not just the template, the
following mathematical procedure is used. We start
with the template, which is a closed curve, and find transformations of
the curve that generate other curves but preserve
regularity. We can do without the exact mathematics
and I would only mention in passing that, at least for the curves, this
is the subject of group theory, a very abstract area of mathematics.
Obviously, rotation and scaling up or
down (Figure 3A to 3C) preserve the shape, although the scaling
may have its limits: a pea-size potato is certainly irregular. We
have to set the limits of regularity.
Regularity is entirely in the eye of
the beholder. This is one reason why I emphasize we.
I do not do that if a property is in the eyes of
mathematics. Mathematics does not set standards of regularity.
Once regularity is set, mathematics enforces it.
Next, local variations of curvature
(how small? how local? we decide) do not encroach on the
potatoeness. Some areas are convex and some are
concave, there are dimples and bumps, but on a smaller scale than the
entire well rounded potato.
This also applies to human
body, but the fashion standards do encroach on humanity and, I suppose,
hurt millions of women.
The curve in Figure 3D is
slightly different from the template 3-1.
This is something trickier to standardize in order to
entrust computer with a camera to decide whether a particular potato in
the focus is regular or not. To do that we have to develop a
mathematical representation of potato shape, Figure 3E and 3F.
We start with a crude representation of
the curve as a polygon (Figure 3E) and
refine it by increasing the number of sides (3F). By tracking
the polygon in certain direction, we deal only with the length of a
side and its angle, or just the angle between the neighboring sides.
The sides simply do not have anything else.
We admit that the sides of the polygon
can vary at random within certain limits, and we set the
limits of local variation. Of course, the polygonality must be
preserved as part of potatoeness and the contour line should be closed.
This completes the analysis of potato shape. Instead of
the awkward potatoeness we can now start using the term potato shape pattern.
We can also measure a deviation of a shape from the template. We can
deform the template at random and still remain within regularity. We
can synthesize a lot of
shapes. But all that is mathematics of equations. In
human matters we can rarely do it, although Ulf Grenander and his
colleagues advanced this direction for various biological and medical
images and not just potato.
WHAT IS PATTERN
To define pattern, we need several things.
1.
Generator space, i.e. list of small indivisible components
of a structure.
Generators are minimal, atomic elements
of shape or any other representation:
molecule, social formation, skeleton, corporate structure, terrorist network.
The generator space, infinite in the case of potato,
consists of all oriented lines that form the sides of the polygon. The
potato shape generators differ angle. Each has two "hands"� to form a
chain. Generators can have a certain bond space: a
limited number of bonds with restricted ability to couple with other
bonds, quite like atoms of chemical elements. Other generators may be
less rigid in their ability to connect. Generators, the atoms of
EVERYTHING, are discovered in the process of analyzing reality.
2.
The local rules of bond formation between generators.
The generators of potato shape
connection have two potential bonds each and they can connect
consecutively, with no unconnected bonds left. The
connection is called bond couple. Figure 4 shows two generators
g1 and g2
and the way they form bond couples.
These generators connect at any angle. This is not always
the case. Atoms in molecules have narrow limits for the angles between
bonds, while the generators of corporate structure do not have angles
at all because they do not exist in geometrical space.
A set of generators connected by bond
couples in a certain way is called configuration. Thus,
molecules can be regarded as configurations of atoms.
3. The global
rules of connection between generators (could be absent).
In our example, it is the
requirement that the configuration is closed, i.e., cyclic. For
institutions, decisions, and classifications the tree-like connections
without cycles are regular.
4. Similarity
transformation.
It
is the transformation or a sequence of transformations that generates
a regular transformation from another regular
transformation or the template. It may include random choices i.e.,
casting a random number.
For
two-dimensional objects, relevant for human and computer vision,
similarity transformation often can be expressed mathematically. In
other cases the mathematical (analytical) form of the transformation is
difficult, impractical, or impossible. For example, I cannot imagine
any equations describing transformation of the configuration of the
Vietnam War into the configuration of the Iraq War or, for that matter,
the general patterns of victory and defeat. I do not even know in
advance whether they follow the same overall pattern, although they
certainly follow some partial patterns.
More exactly, the Vietnam War alone is not a pattern but a template. Together with the Iraq War it can lead to a pattern, to which the Gulf War, apparently, does not belong.
Configurations of history are, as a rule, singular and unique. The basic ideas of
Pattern Theory, however, are neither analytical nor numerical.
We
are the jury for the potatoes, but who is the judge for human matters?
It may seem that the
choice of template is also a necessary component of pattern,
but this is not so. We need a template for the purpose of selection
against a standard, which can be arbitrary. In
computer vision the template serves the purpose of image recognition.
Natural selection does not follow a template; it creates,
modifies, and destroys it. We can
speak about the template of a mammal, but only in very general terms.
In science and law a verbal definition serves as template.
In human matters the consensus regarding the definitions is an
exception.
We
can do without a template by simply comparing two configurations and
measuring an evolutionary (or historical) distance
between them. This principle is well known in
evolutionary genetics and image recognition.
This is the right
time to give another reason why I emphasize human presence (we)
in the choice of template. I attribute a very subtle and hard to catch
property to Pattern Theory: unlike physics, it is open to
novelty. When physics encounters a new phenomenon
it has to change itself, as it happened with quantum theory. Pattern
Theory requires a human participation in the choice of generators,
rules of connection, similarity transformation, and global regularity
each time it encounters an object. It is involved
in human matters by its very nature and if friendly to human presence.
If a novel pattern is detected, no conceptual correction is
needed.
I can
give only a negative tentative definition of novelty: a novel object is
impossible to recognize
correctly.
In
this way, which may seem an imperfection as compared with a graceful
physical theory, Pattern Theory is always ready to analyze and embrace
a new phenomenon and register its pattern, as well as recognize an old
pattern. It is fit for complex evolving systems. On
the contrary, any graceful physical theory is applicable to an area of
the world that has the same laws of nature as million years ago and
will have the same laws for at least a million years.
Pattern
Theory does not need to define its area of application. It fits
anything that can be represented in terms of points and lines, which is
most of Everything. Mathematical formula is a configuration, too.
For
the above reasons, Pattern Theory is not a theory in the sense a
physical theory is. It is a tool of understanding rather than
prediction. We cannot build a bridge over a river with Pattern Theory,
but we can build bridges to both past and future.
In
what sense PT is a theory, what it can do, and why do we need it? It
will be more appropriate to ask that after it attracts more people
outside its current academic sphere still limited by computer science.
Until then I would draw a parallel between patterns in human matters
and mathematical formulas and equations in physics. Pattern
Theory is, so to speak, the physics and chemistry of understanding the
world by humans, computers, and aliens. Why
physics? Because it can be quantitative. More important, it can measure
instability as irregularity. But what does it have to do with chemistry?
WHAT
IS CHEMISTRY
In
order to explain what chemistry is I would need a lot of space.
Chemical textbooks are murderously large and heavy. But with pattern
ideas already presented I can do it quite briefly.
Chemistry
for non-chemists is Pattern Theory of configurations with atoms as
generators. This is not what chemistry for the chemists is about, but
it is certainly one of its aspects. A molecule is a configuration.
There are similarities between some molecules and they are expressed
not by mathematical equations, but by fragments of structure. Thus, all
molecules with hydroxyls (like methanol, ethyl alcohol, ethylene
glycol, and isopropyl alcohol—all
household products—manifest
similar
chemical properties along with differences. Acetone is
different and there is another series of molecules with properties
similar to acetone.
This
kind of similarity transformation—change
anything but a certain block
of structure—is
something alien to the perception of images. But it is
akin to the perception of ideas. No wonder because shapes come from the
Euclidean space and ideas have no material existence. Molecules,
however, take an intermediate position. They are material objects in
Euclidean space, which matters for many chemical problems, especially
in biochemistry, but they are also ideas
about how one molecule differs from another regarding the connections
between the atoms.
To
illustrate this neglected side of EVERYTHING, Figure
5 compares three similarities.

Of course, all three columns contain
representations, not "real" objects. The difference between reality
and
its mental representation, however, is the oldest unsolved problem of
philosophy and we shall eschew it.
Chemistry answers a series of
questions; one of them is what happens during a chemical transformation.
Chemical reaction is a rearrangement of
bonds between atoms of one or more components. It is a transition from
one, initial, configuration to another, final. Usually (I omit a lot of
detail) the chemical transformations are reversible. The final
configuration immediately starts transition back to the initial one.
It all goes toward (more detail is omitted: it can go
sideways) the so-called chemical equilibrium in
which the mixture of the initial and final configurations has minimal energy.
(I omit even more detail here). If there is no such minimum, no
chemical reaction will run on its own because anything in nature can
run only down the energy slope. Unless something
pushes it up.
From this crucial "unless"
life emerges: there is a way to pump energy into the system and keep it
in the high energy final state, preventing from rolling down toward
equilibrium. This is what life is from the point of view of physics.
Not accidentally life emerges from a chemical system: chemistry can
provide a mechanism for that. This is the absolute square one of
life and it can be achieved in rather simple systems without proteins
and DNA. A biologists would not see anything alive in such
systems, but they open a way to systems of growing complexity and
ultimately to the life forms as we know it.
The
key word is ATP: adenosine triphosphate, a very simple thing (Figure
6) , which plays the role of money in the economy of living cell. The ultimate
source of ATP in plants is the sun light. (IDEA 4 of Michael Pollan's book).
ATP is the currency of energy and all living cells use the same
dollar bill of ATP. Animals, however, print their biodollars with the
energy of not light, but food. The entire majestic
complexity
of living nature and crazy complexity of human society have
evolved on the available source of energy (IDEA 2). As result, natural
history and, much faster, human history became a history of
instability and
continuous and contentious search for a greener pasture (IDEA 3).
WHAT
IS INSTABILITY
Unlike energy, instability is not a universally accepted, defined, and
understood property outside physics and mathematics. In my eyes it
makes it an ideal substitute for energy, which is a universally
accepted, understood, measured, but highly tainted by physics concept.
Without going into details, when energy
of the system increases, especially, in an non-uniform, local
manner, its instability goes up and stability goes down, which means
that the probability of the state with higher energy is less
than the probability of the state with a lower energy.
My personal problem with energy and
probability is that both are the most fundamental concepts of science
and, as anything truly fundamental, they cannot be defined to the
satisfaction of all who dwell on this foundation. They can be defined
for particular systems. I am interested in EVERYTHING and for me
stability/instability embraces all of Everything. Moreover, since human
matters are in the focus of my attention, stability is better
understandable intuitively than energy.
High stability means that the system
cannot be expected to change in near future, but we have no
idea when. High instability means that change is coming, but we
have no idea when. In mathematical statistics probability and
energy are related for well defined systems: the higher energy,
the lower probability. But in human matters we never deal with well
defined systems. One reason is that we do not know what people think,
but there are plenty of other reasons. One
of them is that we never encounter closed systems in real life. An open
system cannot be defined without some substantial knowledge about the
larger system that encloses it.
We talk about stability, stabilization,
instability, and destabilization regarding such poorly defined systems
as markets, fashion, weather, economics, politics, war, tastes,
careers, family relations, and love life. It is
also known in human matters as stress, tension, anxiety, uncertainty,
and frustration. This justifies in my eyes the use of instability
instead of practically synonymous energy and probability. Energy
is for inanimate matter of for a well defined part of life, as in
biophysics.
When we deal with the sun light and
mineral fuel as the source of physical energy for our civilization, we
can measure it in physical units only. We can predict with certainty
that any instability of the energy supply will cause instability of our
entire life, as it happens on small scale after a hurricane or tornado
interrupts power supply to our homes.
In chemistry we use energy instead of
instability. The great blessing of chemistry is that chemical
experiment today is simple (small kitchen counter will do), usually
fast (most results overnight), low cost, reliable, reproducible, and
scalable. This is why the chemists get their answers from experiment
rather than from equations. Besides, no equation can produce the
material sample in a vial. Moreover, we do not need to know the
absolute values of energy and can operate with differences.
WHAT IS TRANSITION STATE
The most important question we can ask
regarding large evolving complex systems is not what can happen with
them—anything
imaginable can indeed happen—but
when will it
happen. Most things that we imagine, like hitting the jackpot in
lottery, will never happen during our lifetime.
The answer is: it is what can happen faster that most
probably will happen indeed.
Transition state is the
fleeting, unstable, irregular configuration between the stable
initial and final ones. It is always very unstable in chemistry
because it is irregular. If the transition states were stable, anything
that happen in the world would immediately slide down to the most
stable equilibrium and freeze there. That will be the true end of the
world. The transition state limits the speed of a transformation from
one stable structure to another, see Figure 7.

To avoid
repetitions, I refer the reader to other web pages of this site.
See Essays 8,
23, 25, 26, 27, 29, and 49 in simplicity and pdf
files Molecules and Thoughts,
Transition States in
Patterns of History, The New and the
Different, History
as Points and Lines , as well as almost all the other files in complexity.
Transition state in chemistry is well presented on the Web.
CHEMISTRY OF PATTERNS
Pattern Theory of transition states has not yet been developed, but
it is obvious that they can be naturally accommodated. Computer
experiments with pattern simulate transitions between two regular
configurations through an intermediate irregular one.
Figure
8 is a visual metaphor of a transition state between two regular
images.

I believe that full-blown chemistry
of patterns in
human matters is the most exciting goal for an adventurous
exystemologist. Alas, a grant is by no means guaranteed. But
you can do it just for the fun—and
maybe glory—of
it. The concept applies to
reorganized institutions, reforms,
wars, politics, electoral campaigns, decision making: to EVERYTHING.
PATTERN
HISTORY
Sometimes a historical change is quasi-reversible: while
complex configurations do not repeat, patterns do. For example, the
formerly stagnant history of Soviet Russia now offers patterns of
change. The old authoritarian patterns, however, come back.
When we speak about butterfly effect as a pattern
"large consequences from small causes," how
can we
measure the size of consequences and causes?
The most general measure is instability. It can be compared
with the waves of a stormy see. The stormy periods alternate with quiet
stretches. History of any nation looks like waves of
instability
—revolutions, wars,
invasions, calamities, fast
growth,
radical reforms—alternating with
periods of quasi-equilibrium,
peaceful
development, gradual progress, or gradual decline.
Figure 9, taken from History
As Points and Lines (Figure 21-7 ), is a typical example of history
as weather. Any point of the wavy line stands for a certain social
configuration. Some of configurations of history are given in the book.
They would look less naïve if drawn by
professional
exystemologists.

Figure 10, which is a modified
Figure 23-1 from Points and Lines, presents the first wave of Figure
9. Obviously, the alternation of ups and downs
in a sequence of events repeats on different scales in a sequence of
events. I call it quasi-fractal structure of history (Essay 49: Terrorism and
its Theorism , Appendix 3). I repeat here the two figures
from Essay 49, see Figures 11 and 12
(3 and 4 in Essay 49).
The word quasi points to the
main distinction of history: configurations never exactly repeat, quite
like the shorelines, but in time, not in space. The
map of history is never finished and a new Columbus is always welcome.
The broken red line
represents the overall trend. But the trend of what? Instability
is just energy, modified to fit EVERYTHING, and especially human
matters.
To
research the consumption of energy in the form of food, fodder, fuel,
and gunpowder during a stretch of history is an impossible task for me.
I can, nevertheless, hypothesize, that the red line in Figure
10 has a thermodynamic and/or kinetic origin: it is the graph of
dissipation of consumed energy in the form of human activity, murder,
and destruction. It reminds me of the development
and self-extinction of a bonfire, which is a chemical process. It can
be maintained by firewood thrown in along the way, but not forever.

To disturb
energy supply means to disturb the hornet nest of history. I suspect
that the analysis of energy consumption and dissipation would confirm a
lot of our intuitive guesses about the stretch of history we are in.
The entire modern history of Middle East is literally fueled by oil,
and a pattern historian could, in principle, shed light on the reasons
why at some conditions the energy of oil is dissipated in the form of
violent heat and at other conditions is used for creative growth of
ordered complexity.
Hint:
What matters is, probably, the height of the
transition barriers toward either production or violence in different
cultures.
From my non-professional point of view (no
common professional point of view exists in history), the French
Revolution was an outcome of enormous accumulation and concentration
of wealth by the King and aristocracy. France was a pile of dry
brushwood. The food shortages as result of price
hikes played the role of a spark.
A process of accumulation and concentration
of wealth in America seems to be a fragment of the same pattern and
another imperial, feeble-minded, and un-American
presidency might complete the configuration.
Consumption of energy is the crucial
dimension of any history, from evolution of species to the evolution of
National Public Radio. Dissipation of energy is equally
important. Probably the best measure could be production of order (or
chaos) per unit of energy intake, but such things are beyond my
competence.
I am aware of the attention of modern
historians to the economic aspects of history. What should be added is
the patterns of configurations and their transformations: the chemistry
of history displaying between the waste of ritual bonfire and the
creativity of work.
In Figure 12A the line segments of
different color represent trends with beginning and end, as
it is done in typical timelines of history. The circles symbolize the
necklace-like linear pattern of event sequence.
Figure 12B reflects the metabolism of
a system with history: various trends of history portrayed as colored
cigars, are constrained by a constant resource of
energy (sunlight is an example of such resource). The
constraint causes competition. The width of the sigar (or peapod)
corresponds, roughly, to energy consumption that results in complexity
and instability.
Figure 12C reflects
the complexification of an energy-constrained system. This pattern
applies to biological evolution. What we do not
know is whether the entire biological evolution is just a transition
state toward a steady state or, maybe, it is just a single cigar and
something else will squeeze it in the future. Biological evolution is,
no doubt, squeezed by human presence, but are humans losing their
biological nature? It looks like they do, but this
is a separate big subject, rather well explored, but not yet taken
seriously.
Figure 12D shows
an expanding evolution on an unlimited resource of energy. We do not
have anything unlimited on Earth, but that has been the type of human
evolution since the Industrial Revolution. The question is, what is
going to happen next as result of the collapse of the oil bubble? Will
EVERYTHING, including living species, form yet another single
cigar rolled by human hands? Which social patterns will survive, which
ones will die off, and which ancient germs of history,
deep in the soil, will wake up?
In am on a shaky ground here but historians
with attention to economic aspects may sense some quite familiar in
mental contortions of a chemist.
THE
LIFE OF THINGS
I regard man-made Things as a new big
component of the system called planet Earth. Technos, or technosphere,
in the Vernadsky tradition, is thought to be brought to existence by
human desires.
I see in Technos a new super-kingdom of
life or, to be more exact, a separate evolving complex
system, on par with living organisms and human society. I am sure that
today Vernadsky would separate it from the
noosphere, but he died in 1945.
As animals diverged from plants
and humans later diverged from animals, the things have been diverging
from humans since the appearance of digital code, the thingish
equivalent of genetic code.
Here we come back to Michael
Pollan, a writer with interests comprising a very big chunk of
EVERYTHING. I believe that Things use humans as much as humans use
Things. I believe they desire each other as much as plants and
humans. They can also hate each other. I believe
that the belt of the suicide bomber is the killer as much as the bomber
himself. More important, Things can compete for
resources, and not just space, energy, and matter: the most strained
and hopelessly limited resource in our times is time itself.
I believe that the Things
with stored digital blueprints are the newest really big historic
evolutionary cigar-
, peapod-, lens-, or torpedo-shaped trend after the Industrial
Revolution (Figure 13). They have been
moving to the same position of domination that the humans are used to
in relation to organisms and things. They take good care of those who
takes care of them. They are our gardeners.
The
peapod in Figure 13 (compare with Figure 10) symbolizes a historic
period with events inside. We can see today only its present end.
Can we foresee its distant end?
This
is, of course, too much for this Essay. I have
been writing about this troubling for me subject mostly in simplicity, but this
time I can refer to the third section of my spirospero site: poetry
in English.
THE
CHEMISTRY OF DESIRE
To say that I desire a
candy as much as the candy desires me would be simply a statement of
our belonging to the same system. Economists and businessmen know that
very well. But what is desire from the point of view of a chemist? For
a chemist the world is not just pictures from putty balls and
toothpicks: it is a process. I am not familiar with
psychology of action and this is pure my guesswork.
My desire to possess a candy and my attempt
to get hold of it includes four participants, Figure 14.
Two of them are "real"� material objects: myself
and my
goal. Two others are my ideas of myself and my goal.
The process consists of
several stages. First, I perceive my goal,
next I evaluate it against my context (current state, long time
preferences, recent history, long time history, negative factors), and
then I actually decide whether I really desire to achieve the goal, and
if so, I act. The success may be guaranteed for a candy, but not
necessarily with more complex goals requiring more resources of energy
and time.
In Figure 15 the stages are:
1. Myself and the goal are the only
components of the system.
2. The image of the system appears on
the border between myself and the goal.
3. My image of myself joins the
system in the context.
4. The image of myself connects with
the image of the goal: I imagine possession.
5. I reach toward
the goal.
6A. The image of the goal does not
contradict the physical state: success.
6B. The image of the goal
contradicts the physical state: failure.
A pattern
chemist sees more.

Depending on various
external and contextual circumstances, I can interrupt the process at
any stable stage. Whether I move from stage to
stage, it depends on the instability of the transition state between
the stages. For the entire pathway from perception
to action, the instability profile looks as in Figure 16.
Whether it goes to the very end depends on the relations
between minimums and maximums along the way.
Personal relations, professional life, and especially love
are full of chemistry of this kind.
INCONCLUSIVE
CONCLUSION
The above is part of the picture in my
mind,which Michael Pollan's epic tribute to the
grass under the sun illustrates. We can see from a new angle the wars
for land, of which human history mostly consists.
They were waged, literally, for the place under the sun, only more for
grass than for humans. Grass was the first energy resource used by
humanity for conquering distance on land—on
horseback—and
conducting even more
wars. Grass and grain were the oil of
Middle Ages, tapped right from the sun. Our Western civilization
started, in Africa and Asia, in
areas where grass for food could grow well along the great rivers.
History is a record of human bonding to
land under the sun, their subsequent infatuation with dead Things
growing with roots immersed into dark oil, and gradual emergence of the
life of Things, with their own digital genome and the pending emergence
of the digital mind.
What is going to happen next?
Global bonding of humans to each other? Global beehive?
War of Things for parcels of our personal time? Dehumanization,
dematerialization, numerization, digitalization? Divorce between humans
and Things? Growth of a human-thingish Leviathan?
Exhaustion of resources and the end of the peapod of the Industrial
Revolution?

What
is going to happen?
What can happen faster.
Some questions
1. What do we gain, if anything, by regarding history in
the exystemic framework?
2. Buildings and idle machines may need maintenance, but not a constant
intake of energy. Why do we need to supply energy to maintain order in
an exystem?
3. Why would a system in steady state move to another steady state?
What is the driving force of change in exystems? Why are they
inherently unstable?
4. Do we really need historical stability?
5.Why are we
obsessed with growth? What are the hidden consequences of growth?
6. Can we predict anything in history?
I plan to expand this Essay at complexity.
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