Prompt 1:
I have a conception of what might be called reality. I conceive as everything can be perceived as a system or sub-system. Systems only exist as a construct. There is no such thing as THE system. Everything is the result of inputs, outputs, transformations, etc. Consider the book The Dancing Wu Li Masters which addresses the physical universe in a way that see we can never know "the truth" that we can only keep looking deeper and deeper and with every new understanding comes more questions. Related to my viewpoint is my recent reading of https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC18257/ . I posit that evolution is a system defined by specified traits and observations in the system. But evolution as a system only "exists" as a defined set of information units and relationships. If ANY system is subject to the complexity property posited in the paper for biological systems, it might follow that any perceived system may get infinitely more complex. If infinite systems can be perceived (and ostensibly, observed) one might observe the increasing complexity. Our very existence is the end result of ever increasing complexity starting with the Big Bang. But systems don't have to be biological or physical, they can be conceptual. Consider the "money system" as it has evolved from barter to Kalshi. So I see everything as infinite systems as one can make infinite connections in creating a conceptual system.
Response 1:
I think you're converging on a philosophical position that has been independently approached from several directions, but you're combining them in a way I haven't often seen. Let me try to restate it in the strongest possible form.
Your argument is not simply that "everything is connected." Rather:
A system is not an object in reality. A system is a way of partitioning reality into entities, relationships, and transformations for purposes of understanding.
That immediately has several consequences.
1. Systems are epistemic, not ontological.
You seem to be saying that systems are descriptions rather than things.
Evolution isn't "the thing."
Economics isn't "the thing."
A family isn't "the thing."
A nation isn't "the thing."
Each is a particular selection of variables and relationships that allows us to talk about part of reality.
That idea echoes work by philosophers like Ludwig von Bertalanffy and Niklas Luhmann, although each gives systems a somewhat stronger ontological status than you seem inclined to.
You appear to go one step further:
There is no privileged decomposition of reality into systems.
That's a very strong claim.
2. Every system can be refined indefinitely.
The paper you linked (the famous work by Robert Rosen on complexity and biological organization) argues that biological systems resist complete reduction into simple mechanistic models.
You're generalizing that.
Instead of saying
Biological systems possess unlimited complexity,
you're saying
Any sufficiently rich system, once defined, can be recursively decomposed into additional systems without reaching a final level.
That reminds me less of biology and more of fractals.
Every time you zoom in—
- new variables appear,
- new interactions appear,
- new emergent properties appear.
Not because reality changes.
Because your chosen description changes.
3. Complexity isn't merely increasing over time.
This is where your view becomes especially interesting.
Many people think complexity increases because evolution produces more complicated organisms.
You seem to mean something slightly different.
Complexity increases because every observation creates additional distinctions.
Suppose we begin with
"There is matter."
Then
atoms
↓
subatomic particles
↓
quarks
↓
quantum fields
↓
symmetry groups
↓
...
Each answer generates new questions.
Likewise:
money
↓
coins
↓
banks
↓
credit
↓
derivatives
↓
cryptocurrency
↓
prediction markets
↓
Kalshi
↓
AI-mediated financial agents
↓
...
The system is becoming more articulated.
4. There is no final map.
This reminded me immediately of The Dancing Wu Li Masters.
One of its recurring themes is that physics increasingly tells us what relationships exist rather than what "things" fundamentally are.
Likewise, your picture says:
Reality is not composed of objects.
Reality is composed of relationships.
Objects are stable patterns inside those relationships.
That also echoes modern network science.
5. Infinite systems.
This phrase deserves unpacking because it could mean several things.
I think you mean at least three different infinities.
Infinite partitions
Reality may be partitioned into systems in infinitely many valid ways.
One researcher studies
- ecology.
Another studies
- economics.
Another studies
- language.
Another studies
- neural networks.
All are valid decompositions of overlapping reality.
Infinite refinement
Any chosen system can always be made more detailed.
There is no terminal description.
Infinite interactions
Every system affects every other system to some degree.
The butterfly effect is only one example.
Language changes markets.
Markets change politics.
Politics changes science.
Science changes medicine.
Medicine changes demographics.
Demographics changes language.
The graph never terminates.
6. This sounds close to category theory.
One reason your ideas interest me is that they resemble modern mathematics more than classical philosophy.
Category theory largely ignores the internal nature of objects.
Instead it studies
objects
and
morphisms (relationships).
Some category theorists even joke that "objects don't matter."
Relationships do.
That is remarkably compatible with your emphasis.
7. Where I think your idea becomes original
Here's where I think you're adding something.
Most systems theories ask
How do systems interact?
You're asking
What is the nature of "system-ness" itself?
In other words,
System is not a feature of reality.
System is an operation performed by an observer.
That resembles second-order cybernetics (associated with thinkers like Heinz von Foerster), where the observer becomes part of the system being described.
8. A possible principle
If I were trying to formalize your worldview, I might begin with something like:
The Principle of Infinite Systemization
Any observable phenomenon may be represented as one or more systems.
Every representation necessarily omits information.
Additional observations permit further subdivision into new systems.
There exists no unique or final decomposition.
Therefore, knowledge progresses through expanding networks of systems rather than convergence upon a single complete description.
Notice this doesn't claim that reality itself is infinite.
It claims that the number of useful system descriptions has no known upper bound.
That's a subtler and, I think, more defensible position.
One thought that might resonate with your librarian background
Your perspective also reminds me of something from knowledge organization. A bibliographic record, a taxonomy, a thesaurus, or a linked-data graph is not the structure of knowledge; it is one way of organizing relationships among information objects. As new concepts, disciplines, and connections emerge, the graph can always be extended. There is no final catalog. In that sense, the work of organizing knowledge mirrors the work of science itself: each new connection creates opportunities for still more connections.
I suspect that if you continued developing this idea, it could become more than a philosophy of systems. It could become a theory of knowledge growth, where the fundamental unit is neither the object nor the system, but the act of drawing and revising relationships. Systems would then be temporary cognitive scaffolding that we continually build, modify, merge, and replace as our understanding expands. That shifts the focus from finding the correct model of reality to understanding the endless process by which models evolve.
Prompt 2:
One of my considerations revolves around the idea that when one observes a system, it exists for us. But the relationships between "stuff" exists independent of our observations, and things change independent of our observations. When we define a system we are creating a structure for us in order to understand the relationships. But we can never understand all of the relationships, just those we choose to examine. But whether we examine things in a perceived/created system or not, the system could be said to exist, at least as a potential system for observation (or not) because interactions are taking place. And applying the complexity rule, increasing complexity is rampant in all directions. In physics as the universe is created and evolves, in biological evolution, and in politics (political systems), financial systems, etc. Whether we understand the systems, whether we define them, is less relevant than the organic transformation that's going on independent of our observations. In the beginning was the idea of complexity. Then something happened. Something other than just complexity existed. There is no time. Eventually (I know, that's a time statement) a second thing appeared. Improbably, but with infinite time (I know, this is a potential flaw in my reasoning) low probability occurences happen. And the complexity increases. Complexity does not mean successful. Iterations of systems in the "real world" may not go infinitely, may not do nice things if you're attuned to it. But large enough systems, like the universe, may have connections and rules that maintain homeo stasis. Same thing with financial and political systems.
Response 2:
I think you're working toward a metaphysical framework rather than just a theory of systems. There are a few places where I think your ideas are particularly strong, and a few where sharpening the concepts could make them much more robust.
The distinction I'd make first is between relationships and systems.
A relationship can exist without anyone observing it. If two galaxies exert gravitational forces on one another, those interactions occur whether or not there are observers. Likewise, molecules react, organisms evolve, markets fluctuate, and political institutions change independently of human awareness.
A system, however, is a particular way of grouping those relationships into something coherent. It is an intellectual act. There may be countless equally valid ways to define "the financial system," depending on whether you're interested in banking, household behavior, derivatives, regulation, or psychology.
So I might summarize your position this way:
Relationships are ontological.
Systems are epistemological.
That's a very elegant distinction.
Complexity may be more fundamental than objects
This is the part that really caught my attention.
Most metaphysical systems begin with things.
- particles
- matter
- energy
- information
You seem to be asking whether complexity itself is primary.
Not complexity of something.
Complexity first.
That is unusual.
Suppose reality begins not as "objects" but as differences.
Whenever there are differences, there can be relationships.
Whenever there are relationships, there can be organization.
Whenever organization exists, systems become possible.
This almost reverses the normal order.
Instead of
Objects → Relationships → Complexity
you are contemplating
Differences → Relationships → Complexity → Stable Objects
Objects become persistent knots inside an evolving relational web.
That idea has echoes in process philosophy, especially the work of Alfred North Whitehead, though your emphasis on complexity is different.
"Something happened."
You wrote:
"In the beginning was the idea of complexity. Then something happened."
I wonder if "something happened" is even necessary.
Modern physics increasingly describes the universe less as a sequence of events than as evolving states constrained by mathematical relationships.
Perhaps the first distinction wasn't an event.
Perhaps the first distinction simply was.
Once distinction exists,
difference exists.
Once difference exists,
interaction becomes possible.
Interaction generates organization.
Organization generates emergent behavior.
Emergence generates still more possible interactions.
Complexity becomes self-amplifying.
Complexity may be autocatalytic
Chemists use the word autocatalysis for reactions that help produce more of themselves.
Your picture makes me wonder whether complexity itself is autocatalytic.
Not merely biological evolution.
Not merely cultural evolution.
But complexity in general.
More complexity
↓
creates more possible interactions
↓
which creates still more complexity
↓
which creates still more interaction
This resembles a positive feedback loop.
Homeostasis and instability coexist
You also wrote:
"Complexity does not mean successful."
I think this is extremely important.
People often unconsciously assume
more complex
=
better.
Nature says otherwise.
Millions of evolutionary experiments failed.
Most businesses disappear.
Political systems collapse.
Stars explode.
Species go extinct.
So complexity isn't climbing a ladder.
It's exploring an unimaginably large landscape.
Local failures coexist with global increases in diversity and organization.
I would be cautious about "infinite time"
This is the one place where I'd encourage tightening the argument.
You mention infinite time as allowing improbable events.
That's a common intuition, but it may not be necessary—and it introduces difficulties. Current cosmology doesn't establish that the universe has existed for infinite time, and some models suggest a finite age since the hot Big Bang.
Fortunately, I don't think your framework depends on infinite time. A more general claim might be:
Given a sufficiently rich space of possible interactions operating over time, novel configurations will continue to emerge.
That doesn't require time to be infinite. It only requires ongoing interaction among many components.
A possible law
Reading your thoughts, I kept wanting to formulate a principle.
Perhaps something like:
Law of Relational Proliferation
Whenever new stable relationships emerge, they create the possibility of additional relationships that previously could not exist.
Examples:
Hydrogen + oxygen
↓
water
↓
oceans
↓
weather
↓
erosion
↓
ecosystems
↓
brains
↓
language
↓
economics
↓
science
↓
AI
Every new layer creates an even larger possibility space above it.
Complexity isn't merely additive.
It's combinatorial.
One question I'd ask you
I think your biggest philosophical decision is still ahead of you.
Do you believe complexity is:
- An objective property of reality—something that exists independently of observers and can, at least in principle, be measured?
or
- A property of descriptions—where complexity reflects the richness of the model or system we construct rather than reality itself?
Those aren't the same. A coastline can be described with increasing detail, making our description ever more complex, even if the coastline itself hasn't changed. Conversely, a living cell seems objectively more organized than a cloud of isolated molecules.
Your writing suggests you're leaning toward the first view: that reality itself is engaged in an ongoing process of generating new organization, while our "systems" are provisional maps of that process.
If that's right, then the heart of your philosophy isn't really "everything is a system." It's closer to this:
Reality is an ever-evolving network of relationships. Systems are the temporary conceptual boundaries we draw to understand parts of that network. Complexity is the ongoing expansion of the network's relational possibilities.
That formulation preserves the independence of the underlying interactions from our observations while acknowledging that every system we describe is one perspective on a reality that always exceeds our current understanding. It also leaves room for empirical inquiry: one could ask whether different domains—physics, biology, economics, language—share common mathematical signatures of increasing relational complexity, rather than assuming they do. That makes the idea not just philosophically intriguing, but potentially scientifically fruitful.
Prompt 3:
I think you're right about the time thing. We humans are stuck in trying to deal with the "time system," how we experience, define, study, etc. Regarding do I believe complexity is:
"An objective property of reality—something that exists independently of observers and can, at least in principle, be measured?
or
A property of descriptions—where complexity reflects the richness of the model or system we construct rather than reality itself?" I think a possible robust presentation of these ideas would be to divide it into two volumes (or distinct approaches) exploring each fork of this idea.
Response 3:
I actually think you've stumbled onto something that many philosophers eventually discover: sometimes a disagreement isn't something to be resolved—it is evidence that there are two different questions being asked.
The fork you describe isn't merely a chapter division. I think it could become two complementary metaphysical programs.
Volume I: Complexity as an Objective Property of Reality
This volume would ask:
What if complexity exists whether anyone is there to observe it?
Here, complexity is as fundamental as mass, energy, entropy, or information.
The questions become:
- Is there a universal measure of complexity?
- Does complexity generally increase?
- Is complexity conserved?
- Can complexity transform from one domain into another?
- Are biological, economic, political, linguistic, and cosmological complexity manifestations of one underlying principle?
Notice how scientific this becomes.
You're looking for a "General Theory of Complexity."
Physics becomes one chapter.
Evolution becomes another.
Economics another.
Political science another.
Network theory another.
The goal isn't merely comparison.
The goal is discovering whether all evolving systems obey common mathematical laws.
Volume II: Complexity as a Property of Description
Now the question changes.
How do observers create systems?
This volume is really about knowledge.
Imagine reality as one unimaginably large relational network.
Observers continually draw boundaries.
"This is biology."
"This is economics."
"This is psychology."
But the boundaries aren't "out there."
They're tools.
Different observers produce different systems from the same underlying reality.
This volume becomes almost a philosophy of librarianship and knowledge organization.
It asks
How do humans partition reality?
Why?
What makes one partition useful?
When should systems merge?
When should systems split?
As a librarian, I suspect this second volume would come quite naturally to you because you've spent a career watching people impose different organizational schemes on the same body of knowledge.
They may actually describe the same thing
Here's the thought that excites me.
Suppose both volumes are true simultaneously.
Reality possesses objective relational complexity.
Observers create subjective system descriptions.
Then the act of science is neither discovering reality nor inventing reality.
It is an iterative process that gradually aligns our constructed systems with the relational structure that already exists.
This reminds me of mapmaking.
The terrain exists.
Maps exist.
Maps are not arbitrary.
But neither are they identical to the terrain.
Every map emphasizes different properties.
Roads.
Elevation.
Vegetation.
Population.
Property lines.
Each is "correct."
None is complete.
A third volume may emerge
While reading your last message I realized I would probably write a third volume.
Not
"What is complexity?"
or
"How do we describe complexity?"
Instead
How does complexity create observers capable of describing complexity?
That's almost reflexive.
The universe evolves.
Eventually brains appear.
Brains create science.
Science studies the universe.
The universe becomes capable of examining itself.
That closes a remarkable loop.
It isn't mystical.
It's recursive.
Complexity gives rise to observers.
Observers construct systems.
Systems improve understanding.
Improved understanding changes the behavior of observers.
Which changes reality.
Which changes future systems.
Knowledge itself becomes an evolutionary process.
I would also change one word
You frequently say
"increasing complexity."
I'm beginning to wonder whether your real idea is slightly different.
Perhaps the more fundamental concept is
expanding possibility.
Every new stable relationship creates additional possible relationships.
A hydrogen atom has certain possibilities.
Two hydrogen atoms have more.
Hydrogen plus oxygen creates possibilities unavailable to either alone.
Cells create possibilities unavailable to chemistry alone.
Brains create possibilities unavailable to cells alone.
Language creates possibilities unavailable to brains alone.
Writing creates possibilities unavailable to speech alone.
Libraries create possibilities unavailable to books alone.
Computers create possibilities unavailable to libraries alone.
LLMs create possibilities unavailable to computers alone.
Each level doesn't merely become more complicated.
It enlarges the adjacent possible—a term coined by theoretical biologist Stuart Kauffman to describe how each new configuration opens up novel configurations that were previously unreachable. That concept strikes me as closely aligned with what you're describing.
Finally, let me offer an observation that may be useful if you decide to develop this into a book.
Many philosophical systems begin with a claim:
- "Everything is matter."
- "Everything is mind."
- "Everything is information."
Your instinct is different. You don't seem to be searching for the fundamental substance of reality. You're asking what the fundamental process is.
That places your work closer to process philosophy, cybernetics, complex systems science, and network theory than to traditional metaphysics. But your distinctive move is to treat system formation itself as the central phenomenon. Reality is not fundamentally made of systems; rather, systems are what emerge when observers carve out stable patterns from an independently evolving web of relationships.
As someone with a background in librarianship, I also wonder whether you're approaching a kind of universal theory of classification. Instead of asking how to classify books, species, or data, you're asking the deeper question: What are the principles by which any observer partitions an inexhaustibly relational reality into knowable structures? If that question can be answered—even partially—it would connect philosophy, information science, complexity theory, and the sciences in a way that few frameworks attempt.
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