On simplicity #6 • Reducing complexity
Complicating things is easy. Complexifying things is beautiful.
Whether we accept that hiding complexity is a flawed strategy or not, sometimes we need to get rid of complexity. For instance, when it interferes with creating more utility. For these situations, we have developed an antidote to increasing complexity.
Unsurprisingly, when one strategy stops working, the obvious thing to try is the exact opposite. We ended up with too much complexity and this turned out to be an actual problem, so let’s go and remove some.
Revealing the essential
There is a kind of selective process at work that help us identify which parts to remove to reduce complexity:
unnecessary things that are no longer needed
old features that have become obsolete
accumulated cruft that can be streamlined
grown structure that no longer pulls its weight
Getting rid of these things is a valuable way to reduce complexity. And we do have the capability to sense and judge what is irrelevant, unnecessary, inefficient, and confusing. We usually just don’t take the time to act on it. But if we do, what remains after becomes a little less complex and a little more intelligible. And if we keep doing it, we may reveal what is essential.
As the cleaning out of irrelevant structure continues, centers will be further intensified by simplification. Slowly, a state appears in which nothing unnecessary remains present and in which all irrelevant or confusing centers that irritate the structure or reduce the value or importance of other centers are removed. This simplification occurs in nature constantly.
Only the essential structure is allowed to remain, in a kind of simplification that is reminiscent of Occam’s razor.
The simplicity of the state comes about naturally as the result of the structure-preserving process.
— Christopher Alexander, NoO.II.2.14, How the fifteen properties appear in nature from the unfolding of wholeness
Constantly removing what is unnecessary, irrelevant, and confusing is an important strategy to reveal the essential and belongs into the toolkit for everyone who wants to make things simpler.
Craving complexity
Of course, like everything else, this can be taken too far. If we take reduction to its extreme, if we remove parts beyond the essential, we end up with minimalism. Yes, we can limit ourselves to simple things and avoid complexity altogether. And for some of us this seems to work well.
However, we happen to crave complexity.
A good story, for instance, has lots of details: characters, events, relationships, plot twists — there is a lot going on. If there wasn’t, we would be bored. We like a complex story, as long as it is told in a way that we can understand.
We like elaborate sets and costumes and effects — all that vivid detail that make a world come alive in a movie that tells this story. Yet we appreciate every element having its place, playing an important role in it. A great movie is complex, but every element is necessary, nothing is superfluous.
Video games. Same thing. We like to learn and so we discover how to play, the game world, the story. Before we know it, we have become an expert in all of these things, and what seemed impossible to do in the first hours of play is now “muscle memory” and we crave for the next challenge.
Complexity is what engages, fascinates, challenges us. It provides a rich texture of possible connections for us.
Too much complexity overwhelms and alienates us.
Too little complexity limits and bores us.
On the one hand we can’t ignore it and be complacent about endlessly accruing complexity behind abstract interfaces while unintelligibility proliferates.
On the other hand we also can’t swing the pendulum too far to the other side and avoid it at all costs: Extreme minimalism limits us and leaves us wanting more.
Principle 9: Simplicity. The building, inside and out, is made as simple as possible: this does not mean that it is minimal. It means that what is done (shape, and substance of each part) always helps the unity of the whole to be cemented. Things are chosen, like the smile of the buddha, to help connect one thing to another, until the whole is so perfect that it is indivisible.
— Christopher Alexander, NoO.II.16, Possibility of a form language for all future time
While removing parts is a necessary requirement for simplicity, it is not sufficient. Simplicity is not the absence of complexity, as I wrote in the introductory article:
Reduction is a great option, if unnecessary, irrelevant, or confusing parts are present. But is it sufficient? We may not be able to further reduce the complexity that’s left. We can, however, always reorganize it. More important than reducing complexity is how we organize the complexity that is there. Simplicity is not the absence of complexity, but the superior organization of complexity.
Complexity is not the enemy, it is an ally. In the same list, I also wrote:
We don’t really want to get rid of complexity, because complexity is what makes things interesting. Things without complexity are boring and trivial. Comprehensible complexity fascinates us. The more complex something is, while still being comprehensible to us, the more mesmerized we are. Think of music, games, art. We crave complexity. If it is presented to us in an intelligible way.
If we hide complexity behind interface abstractions, we rob ourselves of the chance to be fascinated by it.
If we remove complexity, there may not be enough left to interest us.
The problem is not that complexity exists, the problem is in its structural-functional organization.
Organizing complexity by generating it
How can we embrace complexity, and organize it in a way that it stays intelligible?
The high level of complexity we need in urban tissue, working and dwelling spaces, computer programs, etc., can only be attained when an existing, albeit latent, structure unfolds through differentiation to the needed level of complexity.
Each differentiation, i.e. decision, is made in sequence and context. It is reworked right then and there until it is mistake-free, i.e., it takes into account all the connecting relationships. This must be done in sequence and context because the necessary information for a successful decision is not available prior to that step in the unfolding. […]
It is important to grasp that each differentiation adds relationships and brings more interdependence among the centers. Of course, as a result of the many adaptations, and the growing centers and properties, the structure slowly becomes thick with relationships. It is getting denser and denser all the time. And it is vital, for success, that the process is able to keep on cramming in more and more relationships, so that the mistake-avoiding adaptations can continue to be generated.
This “cramming” of complexity brings with it a need to constantly clean out any non-functionalities and leave only the most simple possible geometry in place. It is simple structure that allows for maximum relationships (you need only think of the sphere whose simplicity allows for so many properties at once). The transformations called simplicity, inner-calm, and the-void have as a direct function the task of keeping a structure clean of useless debris and open to the possibility of further useful differentiations.
In short, then, to make room for more and more relationships, there is a cleaning process going on in parallel with the differentiation process. The process keeps cleaning itself out. Any garbage that accumulates has to be flushed out. The process is simplifying itself, getting rid of debris, and leaving itself, at each moment, with the cleanest and most spare structure possible. Only then, can the system be certain that there will always be room for more relationships, and only then will it truly be possible to keep injecting further transformations and maintain a coherent structure. It is this simplifying process […], which makes the beauty and majestic structure we think of as deep primitive art, or nature generating nature, at its best.
A generated structure seeks to maintain and enhance its own internal geometric coherence, to avoid mistakes, and to be open to evolution and differentiation.
The [generated] structure seeks, above all, to avoid mistakes. To do it, it promotes an activity of structure-preserving transformations, to maintain coherence. In addition, to make the structure capable of containing the vast density of significant relationships which eventually builds up, the process is also cleaning the structure and simplifying itself continually, at the very same time that complexity is building up. To do this, the leveling and sharpening that is typical of a process trying to preserve relationships, and get rid of non-relationship stuff, so that a spruce, spare structure is being built, and we keep moving towards the fine, profound simplicity which is typical of the greatest art, and typical in nature. This is the only way a profound, well adapted structure can be built.
— NoO.II.6 Conclusion of the discussion on generated complexity
We need to unfold complexity carefully such that we:
differentiate to the needed level of complexity
simplify continually to maintain coherence
We need to complexify, differentiate and integrate, step by step, in a (potentially endless) feedback loop where every change we make reflects back to us and changes our perception and with it perhaps what will be the next step that we want to take. We participate in reciprocal realization.
If we follow this process we maintain and strengthen coherence — the character and identity of our creation.
Instead of simply adding more and more stuff to it, we grow with it.
Instead of shoving complexity behind interface covers and slowly forget about inner workings, we become intimately familiar with it.
Instead of dissociating from something that becomes more generic and replaceable, we feel deeply connected to it.
If we follow this process, we are not just making a thing, we are making meaning. We can only follow this process if we care. And if we care enough, it will be much easier for others to care about it too.
The essence of a successful construction process — I have discovered over the years — is that the team working on a given part of a building have the satisfaction of working on a psychological whole and making it complete. When they are finished with a particular phase of work, they have created a visible, palpable whole.
I do not mean by this that they have necessarily reached a completely finished part of a building. Indeed, that is the opposite of what I mean. What I mean is that at each important step, some new whole has been sufficiently delineated, and sufficiently filled in, so that one feels the new whole and grasps the way in which it contributes to the wholeness of the larger building. It is in this all-important psychological sense that an achieved whole which intensifies a given center is brought far enough along, so that its impact on the entire building, and its successful injection of more life into the building, becomes clear. That is where the team’s satisfaction and the craftsmen’s satisfaction comes from. They feel satisfaction because they have completed a whole. And they have been able to achieve this because their job description, or craft, gives them the leeway to have impact on the details of what they are doing, are therefore able to control the whole, in all its details, and can therefore create the subtle adaptations between the parts that are necessary to create a living whole.
— NoO.III.15.10 Working on integrated wholes
We are (still) surrounded by (some) things that “have been designed” in a different way. Not to maximize utility. Just to be optimally fitted to their environment.
Nature has no ability to consciously plan ahead or get stuck on maximizing for artificial concepts like revenue or engagement. Nevertheless it is operating within the bounds of a non-financial economy, having to carefully expend physical, chemical, and biological resources in order to sustain life.
Nature cares about life, so to speak.
Mirror of the Self is a fortnightly newsletter series investigating the connection between creators and their creations, trying to understand the process of crafting beautiful objects, products, and art.
Using recent works of cognitive scientist John Vervaeke and design theorist Christopher Alexander, we embark on a journey to find out what enables us to create meaningful things that inspire awe and wonder in the people that know, use, and love them.
If you are new to this series, start here: 01 • A secular definition of sacredness.
Overview and synopsis of articles 01-13: Previously… — A Recap.
Overview and synopsis of articles 14-26: Previously… — recap #2.
Another great way to start is my recent presentation Finding Meaning in The Nature of Order.