The Locusts Have No King

Or, What Are You Doing with Yourself?
(Mon Dec 18 02:41:48 CST 1995)
Note to the reader: This is unfinished, and probably will be for some time. In the meanwhile, see Is the Primordial Soup Done Yet?
When I committed myself to doing my research on self-organization, because my adviser is not in the physics department, I had to submit a one-paragraph description of my line of research. I wrote it in my best academic bureaucratese, and it's pretty bad:
In recent decades, self-organizing phenomena have attracted the interest of workers in many fields of physics (pattern formation, non-linear dynamics, statistical mechanics, non-equilibrium thermodynamics, plasma physics, etc.), as well as mathematicians, biologists, engineers, complex systems theorists, and even social scientists. Surprisingly little work, however, has been done on quantifying self-organization, or even providing rigorous definitions and criteria. The aim of this research is to formulate a quantitative, theoretically well-justified indicator or measure of self-organization, which could be feasibly applied to actual experimental data or theoretical models; or, failing that, to show that apparently promising paths towards such an indicator are really dead ends. Cellular automata will be used as a ``test-bed''. In addition to their intrinsic interest, CAs are at once simple enough for their ``mechanisms'' to be understood in detail, readily computable, and sufficiently general that they can capture the essentials of many physical situations, including important instances of self-organization.
Well. If that hasn't put you off completely (oi, those scare-quotes!), I'll try to unpack it.

At first sight self-organization is a really ancient idea --- after all, Democritus and Lucretius didn't admit any Organizer. But they also didn't admit any real tendency towards organization. They were saying, quite correctly, that an infinity of monkeys at typewriters, typing for eternity, will produce every possible book. The modern idea seems to originate with Descartes, and is that the normal operation of natural laws will tend to organize the universe, at better-than-chance rates; no Great Architects need apply. (Of course Descartes' didn't call it ``self-organization''; in fact that word isn't even in the OED, though ``self-assembly'' is.) Nothing really solid came of this until the last century, with Darwin and Wallace (Diderot was brilliant, but D'Almbert's Dream is pure hand-waving); then statistical mechanics; then D'Arcy Thompson; Needham &c.; and any number of other developments which in retrospect were precursors. The real boom, and I believe the word ``self-organization'' itself, came after the second world war --- the founders of cybernetics were very interested --- and most especially since the '70s.

Without exception, everyone has relied on a ``I know it when I see it'' test for self-organization, even those (such as Ilya Prigogine, NL and philosopher-manqué) who think it is the Key to the Mysteries of the Universe. I have discovered one attempt at a rigorous definition; said definition entails that self-organization is a contradiction in terms, and the author --- with admirable courage for someone publishing in a proceedings volume entitled Principles of Self-Organizing Systems --- recommends that the name be abandoned. (That paper is also remarkable for being the only one in that volume to discuss general principles.) [Addendum, 27 February 1996: Klimonotvich's book on The Structure of Turbulence does attempt to frame a rather general measure of self-organization. I'm still reading it, so I'm not quite confident of the details. Watch this space.]

This sort of reliance on intuition is unsatisfactory for two reasons. First, we're mathematical scientists, dammit, and we want numbers; at the very least we want rigorous tests. Second, intuitions about old subjects are more reliable than intuitions about new ones, for obvious evolutionary reasons. We recognize colors almost infallibly, emotions pretty well (but not well enough to defeat actors, con-men or poker faces), and are even decent when it comes to art, smut and visual symmetry. To expect us to have strong, reliable intuitions about an idea which wasn't even explicitly formulated sixty years ago, is absurd. (There have been big arguments about whether turbulent fluids, or ecological succession, are self-organizing.) Obviously self-organization does happen, and is important in pattern formation and biology (termite mounds are a really classic instance) and even, it appears, economics. (I shall write more about uses of self-organization anon.)

Possible Measures

So what I want to do is quantify self-organization, to measure it. The most obvious way to do this is to measure organization; if something's becoming more organized, and it's not being re-arranged by an external source, then it is either chance or self-organization. Presumably if the effect is both strong and replicable, it's not chance.

``Don't Think, Look and See!''

Our intuitive judgements as such do not lend themselves to quantification. I suppose you could hook yourself up to a polygraph and see how large your response is, but graduate students can get pretty blase.

Entropy, Correlation, Scales

When I was an undergraduate at Berkeley, I took a course on ``Mathematical Methods for Scientists and Engineers'' from Professor N. in the applied math department. He was either constantly on speed or had Tourette's syndrome, and was vastly entertaining (also, I hasten to add, a very effective teacher). One of his more entertaining asides went approximately as follows:
Feynman has this beautiful passage about how you get the same sort of mathematics in the most different parts of physics, and isn't it wonderful and mysterious for nature to do this? That's fucking bullshit; the motherfucking physicists just think of the same goddam thing over and over again.
(You understand why I don't give his name.) In this spirit, in my talk on this subject last spring, I mentioned focused on some of the ideas which occur to physicists over and over again --- entropy, correlations, and scaling. (In fact I bored my audience to tears talking about scaling and correlation in phase transitions.) Ultimately I'll write something elegant and lucid about them here, and explain why decreasing entropy does not (always) violate the second law of thermodynamics, but for the moment see the notes to my talk.

Since giving the talk, I've read Wolfram's interesting paper on ``Statistical Mechanics of Cellular Automata'' (in his Cellular Automata and Complexity); he uses entropy and correlation functions as evidence that some CAs self-organize, but others do not. He doesn't see any need --- at least not there --- to justify these measures, and complains they're crude. I suspect their crudity is a veritable feature; see below.

Ashby's ideas about dynamical systems selecting against unstable states and for stable ones are (I think) most naturally formalized by saying that the entropy of the distribution of states decreases as that distribution accumulates on the attractors.

One thing I need to work out is whether an increase in a length-scale or stronger correlations imply a lowered entropy.

Pattern Recognition

Every pattern is a certain kind of organization, a certain (more or less vague) structure. If you have a good detector for this pattern, and it recognizes it now and did not before, either it's not working perfectly, or the pattern has emerged in the interval.
  1. You can ask how much of the system is covered by the pattern at a given time, and whether or not this is increasing. (I'm speaking spatially because it's easier to picture; converting this to the temporal case should not be too difficult.) Similarly, you could treat the pattern as a hypothesis, and see big the deviations from it are.
  2. You can look at how complicated the pattern itself is; James Crutchfield and the computational mechanics group at Santa Fe are doing fascinating work along these lines. (They don't look at quantification per se, so much as position in a hierarchy of automata. That is just as technical as it sounds --- I'm intimidated by some of it --- but Crutchfield's ``Is Anything Ever New?'' is quite comprehensible.) Query: is it self-organization if the pattern becomes more complicated or less? (Unfortunately this gets us into the mire of measuring complexity, and I prefer to tackle these things one at a time.)
  3. You can look at both the complication of the pattern and the area it covers, and try to combine them into a single measurement. Query: what if the pattern becomes less organized, but more of the system conforms to it?
  4. You can say that any data we look at, any theory we examine, will have some pattern, that there's no such thing as ``completely disorganized'', only one or another sort of organization (---if I worked at this I could get an excuse to quote Chuang Tzu), and look at the transition from one pattern to another. (I imagine this as somewhat like resolving a vector into its components.)
  5. If you can somehow define ``patternless'', you build a patternlessness-recognizer. If it signals you less strongly as time goes on, either its batteries are running low or whatever it's watching is becoming patterned, organized.

A problem with pattern-recognition is that there are no recognizers-of-pattern-in-general, merely recognizers-of-some-more-or-less-general-pattern, so they're really only useful if we already know the kinds of patterns are likely to emerge. The most vague and general patterns reduce to things like ``not every possibility is equally likely'' or ``there are connections between one part of the pattern and another'', which is to say, to things like the entropy and correlations. This is why I said that I suspect the crudeness of entropies and length scales as pattern-detectors is an advantage: they can't tell you much about what the pattern is, but they do tell you it's there.

Levels of Organization

For most of the century, if not longer, biologists have talked a great deal about ``levels of organization'', and we've probably all seen the diagram in bio. textbooks: monomers make up polymers make up membrances make up organelles make up cells make up organs make up organisms make up populations make up ecosystems make up --- well, you get the idea. (Joseph Needham's book on Order and Life is still about the best presentation of the idea.) Presumably one sort of self-organization would be the emergence of a new level of organization, in a system which previously lacked it --- provided, of course, it was not imported from the outside. (Colonization of new islands isn't self-organization, is it?)

The biologists seem happy with this story, so let's assume it works for living things. We don't know how to recognize a really new level of organization, and it's not at all clear whether the concept can be usefully extended beyond biology. We may agree that a snowflake is at a higher level than its constituent water molecules (one? two? more?) but what about a blizzard, or a snow-drift, or a glacier?

See further the notebook on this.

Related Stuff

Rolling Log Gathers No Moss: Stuff I'm responsible for (not all of it written with self-organization in mind):