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Opinion From the Editor
 Complexity Theory
by Jere Keys
jere@slmetro.com
While I did relatively well in high school mathematics, it was never a subject that held my interest. It was the same with most sciences, such as physics, chemistry and biology. I met all my college requirements with classes such as Math 120: Balancing Your Checkbook for Poets.
That said, there are things about science and mathematics that continue to amaze me. An old roommate, a physics major, would boggle my mind with the “for dummies” explanations of some remarkable theories and phenomena. As he would explain the quantum principals behind such things, I’d see them as metaphors for human culture and behavior.
I recently learned of another such theory that has captured my imagination. The simplest description I’ve found for complexity theory is: complex phenomena can arise from the interaction of seemingly simple elements.
Of course, I could be getting that all wrong and the science egg-heads might be laughing at me right now, but that’s okay.
Basically, my understanding of complexity theory boils down to a pretty cool concept. As an example, let’s talk about ginseng. For years, people have used ginseng to treat or prevent a variety of medical problems. Most scientists these days want to determine exactly which molecule it is that produces the desired result of lower blood pressure. If they cannot pin it down to a particular molecule or chemical equation, many will dismiss it as a psychological reaction—we “trick” our body into lowering our blood pressure. Complexity theory, on the other hand, supposes that the complex phenomena of lowered blood pressure isn’t the result of a single element or a psychosomatic response, but the result of the interaction of the many molecules, chemicals and psychological beliefs.
In other words, it’s not a single cause, but many causes combined in ways that are difficult to study under current scientific method. The interaction of elements—both chemical and psychological—would be near impossible to study under controlled conditions, and may vary greatly from one person to the next.
So what’s this got to do with the price of beer in a Salt Lake gay club? Well, there are metaphorical and practical applications of this theory when talking about the queer community.
Like the never-ending search for the “gay gene.” Is being a homo the result of a simple genetic code, or is it the byproduct of environmental factors? Is it a choice or is it something you’re born with? Maybe the answer lies in the frightening gray area that requires people to think. Maybe the only true root of a person’s sexual orientation or gender identity is born out of the incalculably complex interaction of biology and culture. Which side wins the argument if that’s the case?
Politicians don’t like complexity theory. It doesn’t make good sound bites. Is the disaster in New Orleans the fault of the federal government, local and state government, poverty, racism, the breakdown of nuclear families, or God’s wrath on us homosexuals? I’ve heard all those offered up as explanations for what happened.
As a metaphor, I like complexity theory as a model of how I see the queer community (and a multicultural society, for what it’s worth) as well. It’s from the mixture of many different types and points of view that complex and seemingly unimaginable results can be accomplished. When we combine our unique talents and personalities, only our imagination can limit the possibilities. It’s not a Pollyanna-esque platitude, it’s scientific theory. Or is that idea too complex?
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