Chaos theory is a thing. And Trump is its pawn.
I love Chaos. Chaos theory, that is. Also, it frightens the willies out of me.
“Chaos theory is based on the principle that systems have nonlinear relationships between their variables, leading to unpredictable outcomes.” [From the AZo Quantum website].
I was reminded of Chaos as I read “Trump’s Single Stroke of Genius” by columnist David Brooks in The New York Times. [Bear with me. This will connect.]
Because there’s something universal about it, Chaos theory can be applied to anything I can think of, from weather patterns to marketing strategies to worldly empires. But to understand how it works on any individual system requires the application of something more structured: Complexity science, which “studies systems with many interacting parts that generate collective emergent behaviors.”
This is where the Brooks column comes in.
In the Trump administration, David Brooks sees clearly the framework of the Steve Bannon strategy; that is, “Keep throwing things at them. Make them chase their tails.” Whether Bannon would have recognized a point at which he should stop and take advantage of the chaos, I don’t know. It seems Donald Trump does not know enough to do that.
Brooks describes a “clear consuming hatred” he sees in this administration. And, as he points out, when one’s vision is single-minded and clear, it’s easier to drive change. To heck with worrying about the interwoven complexity of our nation and the world. Just throw everything against the wall, like so much ketchup.
I’m reminded of the phenomenon known as beginner’s luck, where experienced players assume the beginner knows what the hell he’s doing and they respond, ineffectively, to a non-existent strategy.
Anyone might be fooled into thinking that Trump had studied successful strategists who knew that bold initiative, especially if undertaken without predictable results, will set your enemies back on their proverbial heels; they won’t be prepared with a response. But those strategists would have been known for something less prestigious if they’d pushed forward without knowing what they would do when they had, as the saying goes, caught the parked car.
As for the Brooks column, so far/so good. But then he compares (aptly, I think) this administration to those of us who thought we had systems in place to prevent exactly the kind of chaos we’re living in. Like expert poker players with a neophyte at our table, we were initially shocked, then apoplectic, then flailing. As though Trump were anything like us, we analyzed his actions, looking for a plan, a pattern, a strategy.
Silly us. He doesn’t have one. He demonstrates this lack as he throws one thing after another toward some wall to see if it sticks. We see him change his mind depending on which of his advisors he spoke with last.
The slow process of analysis makes us fall further and further behind someone (i.e., Trump) who moves in fast-forward, damning not just the torpedoes but also the very ocean itself.
Then Brooks says something that makes my blood freeze: [paraphrasing] We tend to believe that if we spend lots of time and energy condemning this administration in writing, we have done something.
[Gulp]
Reading Brooks’ column spoke directly to three of my own fears:
In seeing complexity and highlighting its many aspects, an approach that has done more to divide us rather than serve as a winning strategy, we have become so indecisive as a whole that we can’t, as Brooks puts it, take our own side in a fight.
Collectively and individually we are too often paralyzed by a fear of failure, a fear Trump clearly lacks. We want to be sure our progress isn’t hurting anyone. He doesn’t care.
And my worst fear is that what I do best—write—is impotent in the face of unrelenting malevolence.
One aspect that’s key to the theory of Chaos is interconnectedness. I’m convinced Trump is astonishingly ignorant of the very concept of connectedness.
Trump’s actions are bringing more and more distress to everyone—including his supporters. Can we take advantage of that? Can we develop and communicate a clear vision? Can we see light shining through our nuanced, shades-of-grey approach? Brooks thinks we can. “My mission statement would be: America is great, and we will fight for what has made America great.”
Great mission. How to communicate it? Can we get it onto a bumper sticker? I don’t disagree with it, though I’m not sure it has enough punch to compete with the bullshit that got us here. I’m working on a three-to-five-word distillation that captures the essence of interconnectedness. And I’m open to ideas.
Meanwhile, back to Chaos….
One of the most important figures in Chaos theory was the mathematician Benoit Mandelbrot, known for the equation f(z) = z^2 + c which, despite its apparent brevity, can be graphed into amazingly beautiful designs. But their beauty camouflages the thing that scares me, which is also the same thing that gives me hope. That is, that when you graph this equation, it takes on a life of its own. The basic form—a misshapen bubble with smaller bubbles around it, all of which are essentially black voids where nothing exists—inserts itself persistently into the design that morphs and turns perpetually into more and more shapes and colors.
The secret, the thing with feathers, is that although that eternally inescapable black bubble will reveal itself repeatedly, buried deep in the paisleys of blue and purple and yellow and orange, just as endless are the beautiful shapes surrounding it. The beauty and the void exist in a kind of divine duality. They are dependent on each other. Without their dance, there would be nothing.
Chaos is not a black hole. It’s saved from that condition by complexity. Trump does not know this. He does not know how infinitesimally tiny he is, or how completely and inexorably he will vanish. And the repetitions of the black void give rise to the colorful beauty of complexity.
Those of us who work against the black void are those gorgeous plumes of color. That’s Brooks. That’s me. That’s you.
And the pawn in the black void is Trump.
If you’ve never seen a “zoom” of the Mandelbrot set, you’e in for a treat.
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I’m an inveterate observer of human nature, writing stories about understanding and connecting with each other. My primary goal is furthering acceptance of people who appear to be different from “us,” whoever that “us” might be. Check out my books on my website.
I'm always reluctant to attribute anything MAGA does to anything except rage and stupidity, but I think you're right about the chaos thing.
This feels so much like the waning years of the Roman Empire. Just pure decadence and insanity.