Our culture suffers an epidemic of disconnected narrow analyses. Almost every single news article, opinion piece, insight from pundits, bestseller book, or internet screed fails to absorb a broad-enough view to fully contextualize this moment in time. What remains can be effectively useless or invalidated by a more complete and enveloping context.

A small but growing cadre of folks promote “systems thinking,” broadening the boundaries to acknowledge complex relationships “external” to the considerations of typical works. Whether those broader elements involve biophysical, planetary, anthropological, ecological, or more-than-human considerations, the effect can dramatically change conclusions and prescriptions.

So, systems thinking can make positive contributions. But it has a dark side as well. Novice engagement in this heady practice can serve to amplify a nasty human habit of deluding ourselves into believing that we can master it all—that our crude maps are essentially-complete captures of all relevant aspects of the territory. Encouraged by climbing atop a “big-boy” horse without falling off, one might be tempted to think they can gallop their way into a more perfect system for humanity on Earth. I’ll make the argument that the horse of hubris is inherently unrideable, and that the best lesson from systems thinking is that systems tend to be far too complex for our meat-brains to master. We’re not going to think our way to paradise. Any place deserving the name “paradise” has never been constructed by humans, but by a Community of Life over deep time.

Clash of the Narrow

One might say that Do the Math has its roots in challenging narrow analyses to take a more systems-based perspective. The following bullet points offer examples.

• Growth can’t last. Since the global economic system is predicated on growth, this blind spot is of enormous import.
• Fossil fuels are finite. Since modernity is still 80% fossil-powered, an enormous adjustment looms.
• Food supply has been made heavily dependent on fossil fuels, whose inevitable decline very likely partners with a population decline.
• Renewable energy not only has material limitations, but aims to keep the most destructive planetary force in 65 million years fully powered.
• A sixth mass extinction appears to be underway, calling into question every aspect of modernity.
• Imagining the Likes to be separable from the Dislikes exposes pervasive cognitive limits.
• Narrow temporal blinders hinder acknowledgement that modernity is a brief flash.
• Though we fancy ourselves as being separate from nature (“above” it; transcendent), this is woefully self-centered and short-sighted. We are nothing without the rest.

It is exceedingly rare that the torrent of information to which we are exposed acknowledges any of these foundational points—let alone all at once. Okay, the finite nature of fossil fuels gets occasional attention in the mainstream, but only because fossil fuel scarcity threatens economic “health.” Compounding the narrowness-predicament is that news outlets demand constant novelty in headlines, so that the most serious broad-and-persistent threats (like sixth mass extinction) are not tolerated as standing headlines, and therefore become “invisible.”

Perils of Partial Expansion

The complexity of the universe, of Earth, of living communities, and of modernity itself—as a subset of the previous three—operates at many scales and layers. Thus, it it always possible to take a step back and partially contextualize some tidbit of factual information into a more systemic perspective. Every news article does some of this—otherwise it would come off as just a data dump. But besides being wrapped in invisible mythology, there are systems, and there are systems. In other words, in a multi-scale situation, scope matters—in time, space, species considered, etc.

Someone who explicitly values systems thinking will tend to draw wider boundaries than is normally done. The results often recommend actions diametrically opposed to prevailing “wisdom” based on narrow-boundaries. In fact, a hallmark of complex systems is that pushing directly on one “parameter” invokes many unintended consequences that collectively overwhelm and easily reverse the intended result. We often use the term “whack-a-mole” to describe the phenomenon.

For instance, suppressing forest fires makes them far worse when they ultimately and inevitably do happen. Eliminating a drug kingpin can generate even more violence and more cleverly-concealed entrenchment. Introduction of invasive species to control a specific “pest” can spiral to a far greater negative impact than the original “pest” ever constituted (see cane toads for an example). Adoption of agriculture for food security actually introduces the threat of famine by crushing ecological diversity. Promotion of renewable energy technology gooses the economy so that fossil fuel use rises. Improved efficiency results in more widespread adoption and total use (Jevons’ rebound effect).

The common thread is that complex systems can be utterly counter-intuitive—seemingly paradoxical (by the way, a paradox almost always indicates trying to apply logic while missing key contextual perspectives).

But, in the multi-scale reality of our universe, this notion applies all the way out. Very few people (in fact, probably safe to say: no one) can reach the “outer scale” in terms of boundaries. So, our mental models will always be incomplete, and any recommended action risks a raft of unintended consequences that overwhelm the original intent. A true systems thinker isn’t the one who makes elaborate diagrams of nodes connected by lines in impressive form, but the one who expresses epistemic humility in the face of intractable complexity and refrains from proffering solutions. I am reminded of Taoist sages whose greatest accomplishments rest on not-doing.

Systems-Averse

I have developed an aversion to the word “system,” in fact. In particular, I try not to use the word “ecosystem” any more, substituting words like ecosphere, biosphere, or Community of Life. “System” sounds so engineered: deliberate; designed; fully-described; mapped-out; tamed; understood; all-inclusive. It falsely conveys a sense of mastery—a tendency that is fundamental to the predicament of modernity.

This is part of my concern about “systems thinkers” (a label that I never adopted for myself, for what that’s worth). And it’s a strange worry, because such people tend to be far more nuanced and aware than most experts: more prone to offer circumspect cautions and to expose otherwise-unappreciated downsides. So, at some level I would wish for more systems thinkers. On the other hand, as all such approaches are manifestly partial, I worry that overconfidence could result in continued hubristic overreach and negative unintended consequences. The goal isn’t to master the horse of hubris, but to recognize its unsuitability for riding.

My fear is in fact somewhat amplified by the recognition that systems thinkers tend to be among the sharper tools in the shed. It’s easy to get carried away by comparative intelligence. It can go to one’s head. “All these folks around me are morons, but I have the right answers.” Danger.

Moreover, implementing wider-boundary solutions potentially invites negative consequences at greater scales. In fact, one might say this is the story of modernity and how we got into this mess. Operating at local scales in band-level hunter-gatherer groups could have only so much negative impact. In tribal life, respect for ancient tradition and intimate connection to the local Community of Life tended to suppress rash actions carrying such negative consequences. Operating with a penchant for novelty and at a global scale—where individuals loose contact with the ramifications (out of sight, out of mind)—is clearly a recipe for disaster to the tune of a sixth mass extinction.

Lest I be misinterpreted, I’m not claiming that I have all the right answers: just expressing caution to heed our fundamental limits. The only “solutions” I tend to advocate are those worked out over ecological deep time, and not by the brains of modernity—including my own.

The Red Flag

I will happily listen to those who label themselves systems thinkers as long as they stress the fallacy of getting trapped in narrow analysis—exposing the negative consequences that can result from thinking—and acting—on any scale. That’s completely valid.

But my neck hairs stand up when the same people—well-aware of the dire cost of incomplete mental models—propose a superior mental model or system that corrects some identified mistake. You’ll hear the tell-tale preface often: “What we really need is a system that…” Whether it’s about economics, governance, energy, social programs, or even a “holistic” mix of these concerns (still inherently partial), the proposal tends to be about “doing modernity better,” but still in engineered form. It’s doubling down, failing to heed the core wisdom of ceding the conceit of control.

Thus, when anyone talks of a better system that will finally work for both Earth and humans, I applaud the more-than-human consideration but remain deeply skeptical that humans are capable of designing any system that works at the global, ecological scale. It’s not an ecosystem, but an ecology. It’s not centralized, but fully distributed.

What Does Work

Ecology is so unfathomably complex that the only way it works is via simultaneous interaction across a multitude of species, scales, and environments—in dynamic process. Our brains have no business trying to tame that tangled mountain. We might peer at small pieces in isolation through a telescope from the valley floor, appreciating their extraordinary beauty and inscrutability (while remaining oblivious to many relevant connections). But we are not capable of being king of the hill. No system we conjure in our meat brains merits any expectation of improving or even not-damaging this ancient edifice.

What we can do is find (or rediscover) our place within this mountainside community. Tuck in: humility, not hubris. The best result of systems thinking is to recognize our incapacity to master the system—or even that thinking of the whole as “a system” is itself misguided, since the whole defies adequate mental modeling. The “system” box can’t be made large enough to accommodate the true value of the universe. Don’t hurt yourself trying, because we’re all connected and get hurt together.

I thank Tim Crownshaw for insights relating to this matter.

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