Exploring the interconnected nature of reality, how complex systems change, why focusing on organisational methods is a promising strategy, and how we can make all of this relevant to work on social change by focusing on tangible practices.
An explosion of wealth inequality, the rise of the far right, geopolitical shifts, regional wars, climate and ecological breakdown: We are experiencing an escalating global polycrisis – a crisis that consists of multiple, causally entangled, mutually reinforcing (economic, political, social, ecological) crises “that must be understood and addressed as a whole.”1Marginnote polycrisis1Lawrence, Janzwood & Homer-Dixon (2022) ↩
The polycrisis is a consequence of the extractive nature of our modern civilisation, shaped by a culture of capitalism, centuries of colonialism enabling it, and the systems of dominance and separation underpinning it.
It’s easy to lose hope once one has grasped the severity of all this. But that we feel so powerless in the face of it has a lot to do with our conception of ourselves “as individuals, alone and separate”2Marginnote individualism2Bollier & Helfrich (2019), Introduction ↩ – a narrative the dominant system is relentlessly pushing on us in order to keep going.
Without wanting to oversimplify the multicausality of the mess we’re in, we think – like many thinkers, activists, scientists, spiritual leaders and traditional knowledge holders before us – that at the heart of this dominant system is the assumption of separation: The false belief that we are separate from our bodies, emotions, other living beings, communities, and the Earth as a whole.
The consequences of this belief can be illustrated with a parallel from biologist Michael Levin’s work on cancer cells. When a cell is disconnected from the bio-electrical networks it shares with its neighbours, it doesn’t know that it’s part of a larger whole anymore, and it falls back to the behaviour of a single-cell organism: it starts to reproduce rapidly, forgetting its function and role in the larger organism and instead putting it at risk of destruction. Once the cell is healed, i.e. once its mechanisms for listening to other cells’ signals are reenabled, it reverts to being an integral member of the larger whole and contributes to its health.3Marginnote cancer3Levin (2022), 21 ↩
By cutting ourselves off, we create fractures in the feedback loops that enable the life and wellbeing of the larger-scale systems we’re part of and dependent on, making modern civilisation fundamentally unsustainable. Exploitation, injustice and ecological breakdown are the logical effects of a way of living based on separation.
A way of living that enables long-term sustainability and justice for all will be based on the awareness of our interrelated existence and actions that reflect this interconnection. We long to remember, feel and act in this way, as among the despair we see people trying to create collective movements and initiatives to organise differently.
The work we present here is done in appreciation of the energy, time, creativity, and care people are contributing in service of a future for all. In support of this work, it is a proposal for reimagining how we can relate and work together for a common purpose in ways based on the assumption of interconnection.
Working at the intersection of theory and practice, we have developed an approach for a different way of organising, an approach that is emergent and ever-evolving. We hope it contributes to a wider systemic shift – working from the belief that, as David Bollier and Silke Helfrich put it, “the question is not whether an idea or initiative is big or small, but whether its premises contain the germ of change the whole.”4Marginnote germ-of-change4Bollier & Helfrich (2019) ↩
In exploring the theoretical foundations of our work, we had to reflect on why certain systems of knowledge are dominant in our culture – and why we ourselves choose particular theoretical perspectives. This is a constant inquiry, part of our efforts to decolonise our thinking, research, and activism. We recognise that there are different ways of knowing and research that are not present in a Eurocentric education and whose epistemological traditions may actually be better suited for grounding an approach to organising based on interconnection.
Our context is dominated by European traditions; even though some of the contributors to this paper belong to different places in the Global South, they have been educated in a system based on Eurocentric traditions of knowledge. This limits us, but it also creates a shared language between us – and hopefully with the early readers of this paper, with whom we want to connect and create a dialogue.
Wishing that with time we will shift the dominant narrative of what knowledge is and looks like, within the limits of our shared language, we have chosen complex systems theory as our main conceptual framework (for now), because its perspective resonates with other (non-dominant) knowledge systems in multiple ways:
Using this framework, one can consider virtually everything as a system — atoms, molecules, cells, individual human beings, communities, societies, ecosystems. Each of these systems is composed of smaller systems, while being part of larger ones. They overlap and interact, creating a dynamic web of interconnected systems — each influencing and being influenced by others, across scales and dimensions.
Cells collaborate to form human bodies, humans co-create and are socialised in communities, communities shape and are shaped by wider societal and ecological systems, which in turn have effects down to our individual cells (think of generational trauma or environmental carcinogens). And all of these systems are in an ongoing relation within the living Earth (a.k.a. Gaia).
This means that nothing exists in isolation; everything participates in co-creating the conditions of its own becoming. In other words, everything is interconnected – which means, as biologist Kriti Sharma puts it, “considering things as mutually constituted, that is, viewing things as existing at all only due to their dependence on other things”.5Marginnote mutually-constituted5Quoted in Escobar (2018), 101 (author’s emphasis). This insight is at the heart of complexity theory as well as the Buddhist doctrine of the “co-arising” of everything and many indigenous philosophies. ↩ This subverts the idea that things are primary and their connections secondary – according to this view, it’s the connections that come first.
In complex systems theory, this is spelled out using the concept of constraints – conditions that influence and shape the behaviour of elements within a system. Constraints are not just limits or restrictions, but enabling structures6Marginnote enabling-constraints6Juarrero (1999) ↩ that make certain patterns or actions possible while limiting others. Constraints are the conditions for new, higher-order systems to emerge. As Alicia Juarrero puts it succinctly, “no constraints = no form or structure”7Marginnote structure7Juarrero (1998), 238 ↩.
The cells in our bodies are an example of this: They are connected in such a way that they can’t move freely or act autonomously anymore – but it is exactly because they are connected in this restrictive way that they are able to collectively form organs, tissues, and our whole organism. (Which is, of course, just one connection in an immense network of constraints).
Another example is language: Grammar, syntax, and vocabulary limit what we can say – but this limitation is exactly what allows us to have meaningful communication, create stories, poetry, and transcend time and place. On the other hand, grammar, syntax, and vocabulary are themselves shaped by local context, dialects, slang and daily use.
Emergence is not the absence of constraints, but the productive interplay between dynamic freedom and structural limitation.8Marginnote interplay8Kauffman (1995) ↩ In this way, higher-level patterns can influence or constrain the behaviour of lower-level components by shaping the conditions under which they interact. At the same time, the interactions at the lower level will constrain what patterns can emerge and stabilise at the higher level. This mutual shaping is central to how complex systems evolve and sustain themselves and is sometimes called “circular causality”.9Marginnote circular-causality9Varela & Thompson (1991) ↩
Whether we see the constraints in question as internal or external to a system depends on our frame of reference and our position within the system. For example, we first encounter culture as an external constraint on us, but with socialisation, education and repetition, it becomes internalised10Marginnote culture-internalised10See, e.g., Butler (1990) and (1997), drawing on Foucault and Derrida ↩ in the form of values, norms and practices, limiting or expanding the way we can make sense of things. Once culture is internalised, people interacting with each other will over time create patterns in higher-level systems that reflect it – culture is externalised again, reinforcing itself in a positive feedback loop.11Marginnote culture-externalised11Morin (2008) ↩
All of this means: The question is not if the world is interconnected – on a fundamental level, it is. The question is whether our social systems reflect this fact. And at the moment they do not: They are characterised by disconnection on many levels – from our emotions, our bodies, other people, other communities, the more-than-human systems, and overall from nature. Western society as a whole is a system characterised by patterns of separation.
These patterns of separation can be seen in higher-level systems such as the economy, politics, or education, and in how our ways of organising them reflect extractive and individualist values. We also find them in internalised constraints such as belief systems and narratives into which people have been socialised and educated within our culture, and that have become the pillars of how people make sense of the world.
All of these systems are complex. If we want to change them, we need to understand how complex systems change.
We can’t impose changes on such systems, i.e. make them behave in a certain way. A complex system is not like a machine – there is no centralised control, no blueprint, no handbook for how to change its behaviour. Its behaviour emerges from a multitude of interactions and changes dynamically in response to changes in its environment – it arises from the constraints it is embedded in.
This means if we want to change a complex system, we need to change these constraints so that new patterns can emerge. Then we need to observe these new patterns and decide whether they are beneficial or not (in our case: whether they enable more awareness of interconnection), and react by either amplifying the changes or mitigating them.
This is how change happens in complex systems: by promoting changes in the reciprocal interactions across levels in a process of trial and error.
This leads us directly to the following questions: Which constraints can we change? And what impact can we have when changing constraints?
As everything we do collectively is organised in some way, the organisational methods we use are key constraints on everything we do together – they shape and limit what we can do. At the same time, we have some power to change these constraints – we can, within limits, choose to organise this way or that way.
Ways of organising enable larger-scale patterns and structures to emerge, in the current status quo a dominant system characterised by patterns of separation, which in turn amplify certain behaviours and suppress others. This is because our modern ways of organising – be it hierarchical, democratic, by consensus or by consent – are all framed in an ontology of separation: Organising is perceived as solving the problem of coordination between individuals who are separated by their goals and preferences. This reproduces and reinforces a system based on separation and opens the doors for the assimilation of any significant change back into it – we likely taint even our successes.
This is why we propose to develop new ways of organising that are a) rooted in an ontology of interconnectedness, i.e. increase our awareness and experience of interconnection and b) more effective, i.e. better help us oppose systems of oppression and create infrastructure to meet our material needs in the face of collapse. If they arise from an assumption and experience of interconnectedness, they can fundamentally challenge rather than reinforce fundamental ideas underpinning this system; if they are indeed more effective, these new organisational methods will get adopted increasingly widely and spread across the system.
In practical terms, new ways of organising means doing concrete things differently: how we work with other people, grow food, or provide shelter, for example, will be based on and encourage interconnectedness rather than separation as in our current systems.
The methods we use will have an impact on us as individuals, the relations between us, and our context and specific situation. As a result, more and more constraints change, spreading through the network of constraints like a rumour or an infection. This enables new patterns in our larger-scale and higher-order systems to emerge – patterns of interconnectedness.
When enough of its network of constraints has changed, a system can undergo a non-linear shift from one overall configuration to another. Complex systems theory describes such shifts using the concept of an attractor. Attractor states are system configurations to which the system is “attracted”. In these states, “all the different constraints and interactions are balanced,”12Marginnote balanced12Evans, Knappett & Rivers (2009),464, using a conception from physics introduced into complexity theory by Murray Gell-Mann and Stuart Kauffman ↩ and the system is stable. The energy needed to “push” it out of this state again is too high, so the system stays there.
Attractors can be imagined as valleys of different depth in the “energy landscape” through which the system moves13Marginnote energy-landscape13Evans, Knappett & Rivers (2009),464, using a conception from physics introduced into complexity theory by Murray Gell-Mann and Stuart Kauffman ↩. Once it is in one of these valleys, it’s hard for the system to get out, and the deeper the valley is, the harder it gets. What we earlier called our dominant separation-based system can also be described as an attractor state that our modern civilisation is in, one it won’t easily leave.
But in highly complex, living systems like societies, the different constraints and interactions can only stay balanced in a constant process of balancing, of adjustment and adaptation. A stable living system is in a dynamic, not a static equilibrium, it has to constantly change in order to stay the same.
Such a system can get out of balance in different ways: Because it has become too rigid and can’t adapt to changing circumstances anymore; this is one way to describe what is happening to our civilisation since we have fractured feedback loops by cutting ourselves off. Or because interactions of its components create destabilising feedback loops, e.g. between wealth inequality and elite power, leading to widespread discontent and ultimately the demise of long standing social arrangements. Or new patterns of lower-level behaviour spread and set off a cascade of emergence, in the end transforming the overall system, like with the invention of agriculture or the so-called industrial revolution.
What happens in all of these situations is that the status quo becomes unstable – the system leaves its attractor state. Its energy landscape has changed, and it begins to move around in it; it enters a “liminal space” between stable configurations. This is what we think is starting to happen all around us at the moment: Hitherto dominant systems on all scales are beginning to get wobbly, starting to move around in their energy landscapes, entering liminal spaces.
From a liminal space, new configurations will emerge – new attractor states a system can approach and ultimately inhibit. Which attractor states that might be is not predictable – for a system being in a liminal space means being highly sensitive to small changes in constraints. In other words, the system is extraordinarily malleable – which makes the work we propose here, to change the constraint of how we organise, as urgent as it makes it promising.
As humans, we have beliefs and emotions and are embedded in cultures that shape, limit and enable how we experience somatic and conceptual information, reflective processes, artistic creativity, intuitions and so on. This structure of perception or worldview is called an ontology, and it frames what we can see as real and suppresses other potential ways of perceiving reality. It is a fundamental constraint on what we can think and do.
As Bollier & Hellfrich put it:
We naturally believe that the reality we perceive is self-evident and universal – common sense – but, in truth, any view of reality is based on some underlying presuppositions about the nature of the world. Our beliefs are shaped by invisible assumptions affected by culture, history, and personal experience.14Marginnote framing14Bollier & Hellfrich (2019) ↩
These ontologies establish a frame, they define what can be seen, known, sensed, emerge or be acted upon. To paraphrase John Maynard Keynes: The difficulty is not bringing up new ideas, but unlearning old ones as they permeate our thoughts.15Marginnote unlearning15Keynes (1936), Preface ↩
The ontology of modern Western societies goes back to Descartes, who separated the immaterial mind from the physical body, promoted reason over any other type of knowledge, and believed in the inherent superiority of (some) humans. This way of seeing the world has been replicated for centuries and imposed on others through colonialism.
The ontology of separation has constrained the way we relate to other humans, the natural territories we live in, our ancestors, and the more-than-human systems. Ways of organisation emerging from this society and based on this ontology will always reproduce and reinforce the separation that they have arisen from and are constrained by.
Ontologies operate on multiple levels at once – they are both higher-level systemic constraints and internalised, embodied ones, depending on the frame of reference. Because we are working with organisational methods, which can be seen as external constraints, we’re interested in working with ontologies as internalised constraints.
Ontologies can be examined, challenged and transformed through decolonial work, intercultural dialogue, and profound relational experiences. People can reconfigure their ontologies16Marginnote reconfigure-ontologies16Cadena & Blaser (2018), A World of Many Worlds ↩ to imagine other possibilities of how we can live (and organise) that are not yet visible to us now. Moreover, as ontologies change, they will become part of feedback loops to influence higher-level systems.
We borrow the concept of an ontological shift from the work of Bollier & Helfrich. It includes the language we use to describe the world and the narratives that shape the way we experience and make sense of the world. After exploring which beliefs create the most separation, the fundamental ontological shifts we want move to are:
An ontological shift requires long-term work in dismantling colonial and modernist narratives and freeing our sensemaking from their framing.17Marginnote modernity17Machado de Oliveira (2021) equates the concepts of Modernity and Coloniality. ↩ As we liberate ourselves from some narratives, we will reweave symbolic meanings emerging from situated context and other factors we cannot account for now.
The fact that we become what we are through relations has been named differently depending on time, place, context and field of study. For indigenous peoples, this ontology has long been their way of living and interpreting the world. As an example, ‘all my relations’ is a common phrase that can be traced back to the Lakota expression Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ, which also translates as ‘we are all related.’
Different ancestral traditions from North to South America, from Polynesia to Africa and all across Asia and SWANA18Marginnote swana18West Asia / Southwest Asia and North Africa (SWANA) replaces “Middle East and North Africa” since “Middle East” reflects a Eurocentric and colonial cartographic perspective. ↩ used to embody this ontology, and many still do. Ancient traditions in what now comprises Europe are harder to trace because of fundamental historical shifts like imperial Christianity (with internal colonisation), Enlightenment rationalism, and industrial capitalism, which “overwrote” large parts of this heritage.
This points to the damage the Eurocentric and colonial endeavour has done in attempting to erase and marginalise other ways of being in the world, imposing a social reality based on separation. Yet, indigenous knowledge systems embedded in an ontology and epistemology of interconnectedness have persisted, evolved, and are currently receiving a surge of attention from various academic fields under different terms such as relationality, interdependence, interconnection, and interbeing.
With this resurgence comes the risk of assimilation into a Modernist conception of knowledge that separates practices from the web of meaning they are embedded in. To mitigate this risk, we are creating a long-term relationship with indigenous partners to explore radically different approaches to listening and learning that have emerged from traditions of interconnectedness and decentre the conceptual thinking employed in assimilation.
When we talk about interconnectedness, we refer to both the experience, the felt-sense of interconnection, and the sense-making of that experience which makes us aware of the complex web that creates us through relations with our minds, emotions, bodies, other humans and communities in the present and the past, and with life in general (the Earth and the more-than-human systems).
As everything is interconnected, we don’t want to ‘create‘ ‘more’ interconnectedness. We want to unlearn assumptions of separation, become aware of interconnection, and open ourselves to the information flow of life to feel what is already reality.
In an extension of complex systems theory, Michael Levin proposes an approach that could be called “agency everywhere”:19Marginnote agency-everywhere19Levin (2022) ↩
Any complex system that pursues goals and uses strategies to attain them in a changing environment can be described as an agent.20Marginnote agent20Watson & Levin (2023), 5 ↩Agents are “the owner of goals, preferences and memories that don’t belong to their parts”; they operate within a specific problem space, can pursue goals of different sizes, and have a set of cognitive processes that allow them to navigate the problem space with some degree of competency.
Understood in these terms, a biological cell is just as much an agent as a human being – and so are communities and societies. There are good arguments that even Gaia should be quite literally understood as an agent.21Marginnote gaia21See, e.g., Frank, Grinspoon & Walker (2021). ↩ According to Levin’s approach, all of these systems have cognition and agency, just to varying degrees and in different ways.
We adopt Levin’s proposal because it allows us to develop a specific understanding of collective intelligence and experiences of interconnectedness:
Every agent, thanks to its cognitive processes, is intelligent to some degree. At the same time, every agent that is made up of smaller agents is a collective agent – an organism, such as a human being, made up of organs, tissue and cells, is a collective agent, as is a social movement made of organisations, people, and ideas. The behaviour of the collective agent emerges from the interactions of the smaller agents, and it constrains and shapes their behaviour in turn.
This means that “all intelligence is collective intelligence”22Marginnote collective-intelligence22Levin (2023), 1 (emphasis ours) ↩. The intelligence of a movement is the collective intelligence of the organisations, people, and ideas that make it up – but equally, our human intelligence is the collective intelligence of the organs, tissue and cells that make us up.
The intelligences on the different levels work in different “problem spaces”: Cells solve the problem of forming tissues and organs, organs that of forming an organism, an organism that of moving through a 3D world, including working in social movements, which, in turn, (try to) solve the problem of social change.23Marginnote problem-spaces23Levin (2022), 13 ↩ Each problem space requires a different model of the world.
This is why the intelligence of the higher-level system (the social movement, the human organism) is not the accumulation of the lower-level systems’ (organisations’, people’s, and ideas’; organs’, tissue’ and cells’) models of the world. Instead, the intelligence of the higher-level system rests in the model of the world it itself has.
This model doesn’t have to be explicit – can be embodied in body plans and habits, practices and norms, rules and incentive systems, places and physical structures that shape the behaviour of the system. For example, our human body plan reflects the existence of gravity, thereby modelling an aspect of our world, and it enables certain movements in a 3D world and makes others impossible without needing to think about it.
This “implicit” model is not the aggregation of our individual cells’ models of the world – those don’t solve the problem of moving through a 3D world, but of forming organs and tissues. The organism’s model is embodied in the system as a whole, in the way cells, tissues and organs are connected and interact.
Intelligence at a higher level depends on information flow between the systems on the lower level. Recall the cancer cell analogy: Only when cells are receptive and exchange information can they act collectively, as an organism, and not only as a population of cells. When their receptivity is turned off and they don’t exchange information, cells fall back to reproducing individually instead of forming organs and an organism together – there is no collective intelligence anymore.
In our case, as humans living and working together in social systems, the information flow that enables collective intelligence is not the exchange of concepts, arguments and theories. That would be equivalent to misunderstanding collective intelligence as the aggregation of individual models of the world. Conceptual thoughts are only abstractions that our left brain hemisphere, our modelling mind, builds out of patterns it recognises in the stream of information that constantly flows through our soma, i.e. the network of the right brain hemisphere, nervous system, and ultimately all body cells, e.g. external and internal sensations, intuitions, and movement impulses.24Marginnote soma24McGilchrist (2009) ↩
This somatic information is the information that helps us coordinate our behaviours, synchronise our nervous systems, and build a bigger collective intelligence. For this information to have effects, we need to make it available in higher-order functions such as metacognition, decision making and planning: We need to pay attention and give weight to somatic information when we reflect on our thinking, make decisions or plan (instead of missing, ignoring or dismissing it) so it can guide us, acting as our contribution to and feedback from the larger collective intelligence at work.
In the Global North, Modernity and its hegemonic belief in the individual and the superiority of rational thinking have led to an individualistic conception of intelligence and to focusing conscious attention onto rational thought processes and away from somatic information. This means that vital information is missing from higher-order processes, which undermines our ability to engage with the world in a relational way and reduces our agency.
Paying attention to the information flowing through us means we become aware of our interconnectedness, and it enables a subjective and embodied experience of interconnectedness to emerge.
To pay attention to somatic information so that we can harness collective intelligence requires concrete practices: ways to create space for sensations, movement impulses, images and intuitions, to focus on and make sense of them – to listen in a radically different way.
Learning to listen in a radically different way involves questioning assumptions about what information is, the dominance of specific types of information in Modernity, and what I know to be true. As the inspiring work of the Gesturing Towards Decolonial Futures collective has pointed out, colonialism manifests not only in our social systems but also in embodied ways. This means that we need to shift our ontologies, but also rewire our nervous system away from separability.25Marginnote rewiring25See e.g. Duque (2025). ↩
The ‘normal’ listening mode is to have a very active mind, to make connections, jump ahead, hypothesise, associate and interpret what we register as information, which is usually of the type of information that we engage with using left-brain, rational-mind processes. This means to ignore other types of information available to us in the present moment, and to close ourselves off from other dimensions of knowing.
But somatic and beyond-somatic information is always available, in sensations, movement impulses, images and intuitions, emotions, rhythms and tones, gestures and smells, imaginaries and dreams. These and more are what enables collective intelligence to emerge.
We are developing practices for radical listening that help us attune to information flows muted by Modernity in a way that makes space and is receptive instead of imposing quick interpretations onto situations. Radical listening includes sitting with uncomfortable feelings, apparent contradictions and paradoxes where different realities co-exist at once.
Listening to and making sense of somatic information is a practice. We learn practices by doing and by embodying them. Take dancing as an analogy: we get better at it by dancing, not by thinking about it. But to do a practice properly, e.g. to dance salsa, we need to start by bringing conscious attention to the basic steps involved, in this example, quite literally the basic “forward step/backward step” pattern.
Over time, basic steps and simple patterns become habituated and we don’t need to think about them consciously anymore. They form a repertoire of simple building blocks which then enables context-specific adaptation and the creation of more complex and adaptive techniques.
In the same way, a repertoire of practices that are practised can enable adaptive techniques to emerge that support us to listen and make sense of somatic information in the wide variety of contexts in which we need to organise together. From these practices, new ways of organising emerge that are context-specific and can be quite different – but all of them better able to harness collective intelligence.
In other words, just as there are no blueprints for the complex systems we’re part of, there are no blueprints for organisational methods: They have to respond and adapt to specific contextual constraints and challenges – they need to be emergent strategies, not preconceived prescriptions.
Any methodology for developing new and useful organisational methods needs to focus on enabling emergence: on listening to and making sense of somatic information, and on enabling learning, trying, reflecting and and adapting new practices in concrete situations.
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