Eliezer: Here's another example similar to ones other people have raised, a story I heard once, that might explain why I think it's an important and useful concept.
Supposedly, in the early nineties when the Russians were trying to transition to a capitalist economy, a delegation from the economic ministry went to visit England, to see how a properly market-based economy would work. The British took them on a tour, among other things, of an open-air fresh foods market. The Russians were shown around the market, and were appropriately impressed. Afterwards, one of the senior delegation members approached one of his escorts: "So, who sets the price for rice in this market?" The escort was puzzled a bit, and responded, "No one sets the price. It's set on the market." And the Russian responded, "Yes, yes, I know, of course that's the official line. But who really sets the price of rice?"
The Russian couldn't conceive that an organization as complex as the open air market could have assembled itself; he was sure someone must have designed it in order for it to work. It had to have been set up. But markets and prices are an emergent phenomenon; the price isn't set by one person and doesn't have any one cause. And yet the markets function.
Similarly, a lot of people seem to have a mental model of democratic institutions that says it's a non-emergent phenomenon: if you write a constitution and hold elections, you get a democracy with the rule of law. Others (including myself) claim that democracy and rule-of-law are emergent phenomena: if they don't exist, there's no specific set of actions a central actor can take that will cause them to exist. They exist because of millions of decentralized and uncoordinated actions of individuals without specific direction. If you hold the first view, projects like the establishment of the new Iraqi government make sense: we set up a government with a constitution and elections, so it should become a free democratic state. If you hold the second view, the project is insane: freedom and democracy require millions of individual and low-level cultural shifts that can't be imposed from above, so there's no way for us to turn the nation into a democracy. My point here isn't that one view is right or wrong, although I have a firm belief. My point is that it's highly relevant to our foreign policy to ask whether democracy is emergent or not.
Usually when you say, "You can't just impose X from above," you're claiming X is an emergent phenomenon; the hallmark of a non-emergent phenomenon is that it's possible for a single actor to take a series of actions that either cause or prevent it.
The failures of phlogiston and vitalism are historical hindsight. Dare I step out on a limb, and name some current theory which I deem analogously flawed?
I name emergence or emergent phenomena—usually defined as the study of systems whose high-level behaviors arise or “emerge” from the interaction of many low-level elements. (Wikipedia: “The way complex systems and patterns arise out of a multiplicity of relatively simple interactions.”)
Taken literally, that description fits every phenomenon in our universe above the level of individual quarks, which is part of the problem. Imagine pointing to a market crash and saying “It’s not a quark!” Does that feel like an explanation? No? Then neither should saying “It’s an emergent phenomenon!”
It’s the noun “emergence” that I protest, rather than the verb “emerges from.” There’s nothing wrong with saying “X emerges from Y,” where Y is some specific, detailed model with internal moving parts. “Arises from” is another legitimate phrase that means exactly the same thing. Gravity arises from the curvature of spacetime, according to the specific mathematical model of General Relativity. Chemistry arises from interactions between atoms, according to the specific model of quantum electrodynamics.
Now suppose I should say that gravity depends on “arisence” or that chemistry is an “arising phenomenon,” and claim that as my explanation.
The phrase “emerges from” is acceptable, just like “arises from” or “is caused by” are acceptable, if the phrase precedes some specific model to be judged on its own merits.
However, this is not the way “emergence” is commonly used. “Emergence” is commonly used as an explanation in its own right.
I have lost track of how many times I have heard people say, “Intelligence is an emergent phenomenon!” as if that explained intelligence. This usage fits all the checklist items for a mysterious answer to a mysterious question. What do you know, after you have said that intelligence is “emergent”? You can make no new predictions. You do not know anything about the behavior of real-world minds that you did not know before. It feels like you believe a new fact, but you don’t anticipate any different outcomes. Your curiosity feels sated, but it has not been fed. The hypothesis has no moving parts—there’s no detailed internal model to manipulate. Those who proffer the hypothesis of “emergence” confess their ignorance of the internals, and take pride in it; they contrast the science of “emergence” to other sciences merely mundane.
And even after the answer of “Why? Emergence!” is given, the phenomenon is still a mystery and possesses the same sacred impenetrability it had at the start.
A fun exercise is to eliminate the adjective “emergent” from any sentence in which it appears, and see if the sentence says anything different:
Another fun exercise is to replace the word “emergent” with the old word, the explanation that people had to use before emergence was invented:
Does not each statement convey exactly the same amount of knowledge about the phenomenon’s behavior? Does not each hypothesis fit exactly the same set of outcomes?
“Emergence” has become very popular, just as saying “magic” used to be very popular. “Emergence” has the same deep appeal to human psychology, for the same reason. “Emergence” is such a wonderfully easy explanation, and it feels good to say it; it gives you a sacred mystery to worship. Emergence is popular because it is the junk food of curiosity. You can explain anything using emergence, and so people do just that; for it feels so wonderful to explain things.
Humans are still humans, even if they’ve taken a few science classes in college. Once they find a way to escape the shackles of settled science, they get up to the same shenanigans as their ancestors—dressed up in the literary genre of “science,” but humans are still humans, and human psychology is still human psychology.