Veins and energy

Veins and energy

Every thing and event has a certain articulation and a certain power of existing. Let us call them their veins and energy. On the one hand everything has veins, is articulated. For example, the desk in front of which I am sitting, has a flat top plate, two side plates, some drawers. Each of them is further articulated, they are composed of fibers of wood, which in turn are composed of certain molecules, etc. up until the elementary particles. These articulations have also a certain cohesion: drawers fit into slots in the desk and the desk itself can be moved in one piece; for instance, if I want to have a better access to the window, I can drag away the desk that presently is situated in front of the window against the wall. Indeed, it is articulated also in its external relations: it is against the wall, next to a cupboard and a book-shelf, It is part of the articulation of my room. And my room, of course, is part of the articulation of my house, which is again part of the articulation of the city, country, continent, Earth, Solar System, Milky Way, Universe. So, my desk can be understood, on the one hand, on the background or horizon of its internal articulations (up until elementary particles) and on the background or horizon of its external articulations (up until the whole Universe).

Furthermore, the desk is also articulated in my interactions with it, it affords certain actions in relation to it. For example, I can write on it. I can put things on top of it or into the drawer or even tug away under it. I can lean upon it or even stand on it (my desk is strong enough). Perhaps if I had a stove and If I was very cold, I could take it to pieces and burn it, to warm myself. And certainly it can be put into a huge variety of other uses (but not just any use: I cannot drink it, I cannot ride it to the outer space, etc.). In those interactions the desk manifests its capacities to affect and be affected. On the one hand it affects other things: exerts a certain pressure on the floor, holds a computer, a cup, some books on it, other things in its drawers, its corner affects me with pain when I accidentally bump into it, etc. And it can be affected in several ways: be put things upon, be written upon, be put things into, be bumped into, be burnt, be stood upon etc. As its capacities are manifested in relation to other things, they are always bidirectional, it affects and is affected at the same time, and the things it interacts with are also at the same time affecting it and affected by it.

On the other hand, everything has a certain energy, a certain power of existing. The same desk persists through time. I do not perceive any activity on its part, but I know that the atoms, the interactions of which hold it together, are full of activity: electrons move around the nuclei and between them, they exchange virtual photons with the nuclei, protons and neutrons in the nuclei wobble, quarks in the protons and neutrons incessantly move, so that the bulk of the mass of a proton is formed by the energy of the quarks, not their mass, the quarks exchange virtual gluons that bind them together, etc. Behind the seeming still life of a desk there is an incredible amount of activities of different kinds, that are expressed in my life-world by the desk that persists.

Also, the way the desk affects other things and is affected by them, is expressed in actions and involves energy. And my interactions with the desk involve actions and energy, both actual and virtual. I write on it, I put a cup on it, I lean on it, stand on it, bump into it. In all those cases the desk is part of certain activities, and with its own doing and persisting (e.g. maintaining a stable flat surface) enables them (and perhaps frustrates them, when it becomes rotten and does not hold together any more, but breaks down). Those actions and activities need not be always actualized, but from my familiarity with desks I already know their affordances and by a simple look can gauge its probable behavior, certain characteristics (expected sturdiness or flimsiness of its structure, smoothness or ruggedness of its surface, etc.). Those expectations may not be always correct, but most often they are, and I can be towards the desk in a virtual, implicit, enfolded way; in the presence of the desk my field of actions comprises already certain things I can do with the desk, it participates in my power of existence.

This description can be applied to all levels of complexity. For instance, an atom has certain articulations, veins: a nucleus (which has further articulations) and a certain number of electrons that are distributed on different layers and orbitals. And this determines the veins or structure of its interactions with other atoms: with what kind of atoms does it interact, and how (usually not combining with inert gases; combining with another atom that has a complementary situation of valence electrons, prone to donate them if the atom lacks electrons to complete a shell, or accept them if the atom could complete a shell by giving away electrons; forming chemical or ionic bonds, depending on the respective electronegativities; or forming other types bonds, depending on other factors; how fiercely or slowly it interacts, etc.).

Also, an atom of course has a certain energy or impetus, both inside the nucleus (strong force) and between the nucleus and the electrons (electromagnetic force). By this energy it keeps on existing and also is able to interact with other things, to influence them and be influenced by them, to affect and be affected.

This is not exactly the same as the distinction between fermions and bosons we discussed above, under the section “Cut”, the first giving the basis for juxtaposition and the second for interaction. The concepts of veins and energy applies to both of them: both fermions and bosons are articulated in a certain way, i.e. have certain characteristics (spin, mass, etc.) that make them distinct from one another. And both have a certain energy (though not all of them have rest mass) by which they exist, and affect and are affected.

Constraint and work

These two notions of veins and energy can be brought together with Terrence Deacon’s concepts of constraints and work, and made more specific through this connection.

Constraint is what constrains, limits a system in a certain way. This is fundamental to all individuation: all entities and systems that can be detected, have a characteristic behavior, or behave in some ways, not in all ways. If an entity or a system behaved in a completely unrestrained manner and was not constrained or channeled in any way, we would be utterly unable to detect it, to distinguish it from something else.

For Deacon, there are two important aspects to the constraints. First is the positive role of negativity in constraints: constraints bar an entity or a system from certain behaviors or characteristics, and by this very exclusion or limitation the system is individuated, i.e. it plays an essential and positive role in individuation. Considering the chemical elements and molecules in a cell, only a fraction of possible chemical reactions take place in any time and place or it; if they would all happen, life would be a mess, life would not be possible. Chemical reactions in a cell have to be constrained, ordered in highly specific ways, both spatially and sequentially. An entity or system comes into being, distinguishes itself by suppressing, eliminating certain behaviors, by being constrained or channeled into certain other behaviors.

Second important aspect of a constraint is that it is not material. By investigating an entity or a system you can detect its tendencies, its attractors, its exclusions, but you cannot touch them. You cannot put an attractor under a microscope, although you can investigate the attractors of a system in a scientifically rigorous way. The attractors are embodied in the physical system, yet not as material components, but formal constraints. This aspect is important in order to avoid materialistic reductionism. Formal constraints, formal structure can have their own efficacy. In describing a system, it may not be so important to account for all of its material components, their relations and placements, but rather the structural singularities of the system as a whole. For instance, the singularities of H2O around freezing and boiling points, or the singularities of different types of water flow, that we mentioned above, in the “Cut”. And certain differences in initial conditions may not be important, if they all belong to the basin of the same attractor, and vice versa, certain infinitely small differences may in some systems lead to very different attractors.
For example, when you heat a water recipient from below, then at a certain point the so-called convection cells are formed, big clockwise or counter-clockwise flows of water, and one of these cells will catch a large amount of water molecules, whose behavior is determined rather by the fact of belonging to the basin of attraction than to its precise coordinates in the recipient. On the other hand, microscopic disturbances in the formative stage of a snowflake give macroscopically different snowflakes. 

Deacon's second fundamental concept is work. In order to account for different levels of complexity, Deacon distinguishes between work and energy in general. All systems contain certain energy (which remains globally constant), but work cannot be extracted from all systems. All energy has certain constraints, but additional constraints may be necessary for some work to be extracted (and new kinds of entities, more complex structures to be built). For instance, in a gas in thermal equilibrium there are spontaneous movements of gas molecules, each of whose behavior is constrained in its internal characteristics and also by external interactions with other molecules, but no work can be extracted from it, unless some macroscopic constraint is imposed, some asymmetry in concentration of molecules, temperature gradient, etc. Only then some global work is produced.

Deacon distinguishes between “orthograde” processes that go on spontaneously without external intervention, and “contragrade” processes, that result from some external intervention. In the example above, each molecule’s movement is orthograde, and its interactions with other molecules (or container’s walls) produces contragrade change, by which the previous movement changes. Ortho- and contragrade depend on the chosen level of observation. For example, if a proton travels through the space in a linear and uniform way, then we can say that at the level of the proton no work is done, no difference is made. But a proton consists of three¹ distinct quarks, and from their viewpoint, work is done, because three orthograde processes (those of the quarks) are bound together, they constrain each other and produce another level of complexity, that of a proton.

What if we move to a yet simpler level, e.g. to a photon that travels through the space in a linear and uniform way? In that case (if we do not posit strings or other more elementary phenomena, which would simply transpose the discussion one step) we should say, that the same two aspects apply to it. On the one hand, work is done for the photon to exist. But in this case it is not a conjunction of several processes (as quarks in a proton), but a conjunction of the process in relation to itself. As discussed above, in the section “Cut”, a photon occupies a certain stretch of time-space, it has a certain duration and extension, albeit a minimal one. But it is by this very duration and extension, by this (very small) contraction of space-time, by this work, that it exists. At the same time, from the viewpoint of its possible interactions with other entities, it does not do work (if it travels in a linear and uniform fashion). So here it is of the same level of complexity, that we say – from different viewpoints – that it does work and that it does not.

What is considered as orthograde and what as contragrade, may depend on level and context, but the important thing is that the encounter of two or more orthograde processes may produce a contragrade process that may belong to a higher level of complexity. Deacon discusses at length two such leaps in complexity: from thermodynamic to morphodynamic and from morphodynamic to teleodynamic systems. Thermodynamic processes are ordinary physical processes that follow the second law of thermodynamics and the necessary rise of disorder in a system. Morphodynamic systems are produced when thermodynamic processes so constrain each other that they produce orderly forms (albeit at the expense of a rise in disorder in a larger system). For instance, when H2O molecules are constrained around the forming snowflake, so that an orderly hexagonal structure is formed. Or when huge amounts of hydrogen atoms are compressed by gravity, so that nuclear fusion reactions start, and a star is formed. Teleodynamic systems start from autocatalytic sets (discussed by Stuart Kauffman, and developed by Deacon), when some of the products of a chemical chain of reactions are used as ingredients for the initial reaction (Deacon also shows how the inner metabolism and capside formation for outward protection can evolve, mutually reinforcing each other). In this system there evolves a normativity about how things should be and how they should not be, which is the basis of the nutrient seeking and damage avoiding behavior of living beings.

All those leaps in complexity are obtained by the organization of lower-level orthograde processes, creation of new constraints: the hexagonal structure of a snowflake, the structure of a star, or the goal-oriented requirements of living organisms. Although all processes lead to the rise of disorder, from their difference, from their encounter a local rise in order can be established, in the presence of suitable conditions and energy inflow.

To sum up, Deacon's notions of work and constraints are useful to describe the complexification and clarify the role of energy and veins. Deacon shows how from the conjunction of different orthograde processes a contragrade process may result, so that from a general growth of disorder a local order can be built. Some of these new orders may represent a new level of complexity (like morphodynamic in relation to thermodynamic or teleodynamic in relation to morphodynamic), a new kind of constraints or veins. And in the framework of these new constraints, new kind of work can be done (e.g. teleodynamic requirements may be superimposed on simple chemical reactions that in themselves are not goal-oriented). In case of the constraints or veins, Deacon shows how they are efficacious as formal causes, and how they distinguish an entity from what it is not (and thereby also connects to it).

Levels of interpenetration

The veins or articulations are situated on different levels of interpenetration and the energy is respectively engaged on different levels. Let us take two examples: embryogenesis and creative writing. If we consider the development of a seed or an animal embryo, then we can observe the emergence of new articulations, new distinctions: a single cell is divided into two, two into four, four into eight cells, etc. We see how an animal embryo forms a morula, then hollow-centered blastula, then invaginates and forms a gastrula, and how organs become differentiated. There are divisions, cleavages, invaginations, cell migrations, etc. As those distinctions arise from earlier states where they were not detectable, we must infer that the potential to create the new actual situation with more differentiated articulations must have been in the previous phase, yet not in an actualized juxtaposed state, but in an intensive interpenetrating one. We know that there is no ready-made “homunculus” in a human fertilized oocyte that would simply grow in extension. The earlier phases of the embryogenesis do not resemble the later phases, but there is a creative unfolding of former more interpenetrating articulations into later more juxtaposed ones. That gives the embryogenesis also a certain plasticity. Especially in the early stages of development, it can overcome some drastic interventions. As Hans Driesch in his classic experiments demonstrated already a hundred years ago, it is possible to cut the embryos of the embryos of sea urchins in their 8-cell phase into half, rotate one of the halves 90 degrees, tie them together, and still have a normal development of the embryo (but only if the cut is made perpendicular to the animal-vegetal axis). It is also possible to cut a sea urchin’s embryo in 2-cell phase into two, and have two separate normal embryos, or tie together two different embryos in 1-cell phase, and have one normal embryo. This means that the sea urchin’s embryo is able to normalize itself even after those very radical interventions. This means also that the genes do not behave as a kind of rigid rule or “digital homunculus”, that would mechanically produce a certain embryogenesis, but they behave rather as notes for a lecturer to remind her of the elaborate ideas of her discourse: a multicellular organism is also very complex, and it would not be possible to construct it without some blueprint or “lecture notes”. But just as lecture notes by themselves do not give a speech, but require a lecturer, and a blueprint by itself does not build a house, but builders are needed to interpret it and let themselves be guided by it, perhaps overcoming on the go some unforeseen factors (using a different material here or there, making a reinforcement in some place, etc., so also in embryogenesis there is needed a whole complex mechanism to interpret the genes, to replicate, transport, translate them into proteins, and assembling them in an appropriate way an in an appropriate time. Most importantly, like builders have the know-how that cannot be exhaustively expressed in language and in the absence of which one is not able to make sense of the blueprint, so also the cellular mechanisms have the know-how how to make use of the genes (that in themselves are completely passive and do nothing; indeed, it may be argued that DNA molecules were selected for in the evolution because of their passivity, so that they do not change easily and can be used to store information in a relatively reliable manner). Of course, something may go wrong during the actualization process, the brain may not form, or the skull, or some organs may become duplicated, or normally duplex organs may not become double, or two embryos may remain attached in some part, etc., so that the embryo is folded more or less than normal, or some processes may not have been initiated at the right time. But often the embryogenesis does not fall apart altogether, but still tries to adapt to the new situation, and viable embryo(s) may be born.

Different levels of interpenetration mean also that energy works in different directions and on different layers. On the one hand there is the energy of actualization itself that brings about the embryogenesis, the differentiation of its parts, of its articulations. We may call it the “vertical” energy, which is the one that leads the actualization process through the levels of interpenetration. And then there is the energy that works on one level of interpenetration or juxtaposition, which we may call “horizontal” energy. Instances of horizontal energy are involved when one part of the embryo induces the formation of a certain organ, or when its actualization is meddled with in Driesch’s way, or in general, when it encounters an obstacle or an opportunity, so that it must introduce a modification in the process of embryogenesis (either foreseen in a normal development, or unforeseen due to some accident). Those two directions of energy are interrelated: a “horizontal” interaction (energetic involvement) modifies the “vertical” actualization process (the energy that carries the actualization). In this way it is adaptive.

Or let us take another example, creative writing. Suppose you are writing a poem or composing a speech. Usually you do not receive the poem or speech fully formed right away (although there are some reported cases of persons seeing the complete text in their mind’s eye, and simply writing it down; but in that case it may be asked whether it should be called creative writing, because the creation does not seem to take place in writing, but somewhere else). Usually we have a certain idea that does have certain articulations, we can “feel” them, and it is surely distinguishable from another idea of a poem or speech, but we may not know exactly what those articulations are; we may have a phrase or a couple of concepts, but we feel that they imply, in their obscure background, a host of further articulations that are not yet in our full command. In the process of composing the poem or speech we gradually actualize those articulations, bring them into clarity; what was interpenetrating, becomes juxtaposed in words and thoughts. And it is not a mechanical process, but a creative one that requires a special effort and involvement from our part, we must “give” ourselves to the idea, abandon ourselves in it, become interfused with it, interpenetrating in it. And most often this process of actualization itself changes or modifies our initial idea, the very fact of writing down a poem or a speech often gives us new ideas, induces new articulations. So, also here we see energy flowing in two ways, from interpenetrating to the juxtaposed (and back), and on a certain level of interpenetration or juxtaposition. For example, writing in English there are certain rules of grammar and habit, that require, after a certain phoneme or word, certain other phonemes or words, so that there is a certain automation on the actual, juxtaposed level of the language. Most of the interaction takes place on some higher level of interpenetration, when we “enter” into the poetic or philosophical ideas of a person, see their internal interpenetration, their interpenetrating articulations, and start to interpenetrate with them ourselves.

Different levels of articulation can be spoken of even more precisely. Beyond the interpenetrating or intensive articulations we may distinguish a “virtual” level of “perplicating” articulations or singularities. The idea comes from Gilles Deleuze, and has been developed, among others, by Manuel DeLanda. For instance, take a portion of water and start to freeze it. Up until a certain point the behavior of water molecules changes linearly and proportionally: the more you freeze, the slower the movements of water molecules get. But then, at a certain point, a sudden change occurs and the water freezes into ice, so that its molecules cease to move around like in the water and are fixed in solid crystals. Conversely, put a kettle with water on fire and heat it; the water molecules start to move faster and at a certain point the water molecules abruptly become gaseous, where its molecules become even more free to move in respect to each other than in water. Furthermore, when we start to heat cold water in the kettle, we can observe distinct phases of its movement. Initially there is simple heat transmission between molecules that are below and move faster, and those above that move slower. At a certain point this process is not sufficient to convey the energy, and big flows of water are formed that rise from the center and descent by the walls, the so-called convection cells. When the kettle is further heated, those regular cells are dismantled, and they give way to violent, turbulent flow of water. Here again we can observe abrupt changes in the behavior of the water. This means that the continuous change in the cause (gradual freezing or heating) is not enough to explain the discontinuities displayed by the water. A cause has to take into account the nature of the water, i.e. its articulations. Causes act “horizontally” on singular molecules and make them to move slower or faster, but it also meets “vertically” the more interpenetrating articulations of water that has some critical points where an abrupt change in behavior occurs (water freezes or evaporates, its flow switches between heat transmission and convection cells and turbulence). Those critical points (that are realized around 0 and 100 degrees Celsius on sea level for freezing and evaporating) we may call singularities.

The web of singularities forms the virtual articulation that is folded out in intensive spatio-temporal processes. If the intensities form levels of interpenetration, then the singularities form a zone of perplication. In order to better understand, what that means, we have to look into the genesis of time and space.

Every thing has both an actual and a virtual side by which they are contracted, by which they exist and endure. Those virtualities perplicate each other; every thing or being is like a folding of the virtual. The virtual is also the memory that retains all there has been, as well as the “cone” of the future. When a being is born, created, synthesized, it corresponds to a certain folding on the virtual side and to a certain bundle of energy on the other side. In its ontogenesis and in its interactions with other things, beings and environments, the individual develops its singularities, unfolds them, When it perishes, the bundle of energies is released, but the folding, that is a self-fold, remains perplicated in the virtual field. When a new thing or being is born, it may to a certain extent correspond to one of those foldings, and again unfold it. So, perhaps there would be a certain reincarnation, but this term is not pertinent: there is no soul that would transmigrate from one body to another. There is always the aspect of energy, and the virtual side, and if folds are unfolded “again”, it is a new individuation, although it may have so to say “privileged” access to a certain previous individuation. So, it would not be impossible to recall a “previous” life, but it is just another individuation that is connected by meaning to the one you are actualizing right now; and in principle, all the other individuations and unfoldings happening right now, are also connected to “yourself” and “are” you, just like that “previous” unfolding.

1Of course, it is a simplification; in a proton there are also gluons that glue the quarks together, and there are virtual quarks. So, the „three“ should not be taken too seriously; the main point is simply that there are distinct processes, a certain multiplicity of processes.