Taken to the human realm, consider this; as a higher level, complex, self-organizing system emerges, is created, e.g., the psyche, are not the "laws" that govern that system created in the process.
One edit I would suggest would hold the human psyche to be perhaps somewhat less "emergent" than we are tempted to see it. That is, research is continuously showing that there is more and more "consciousness" in animals than we once (anthrocentrically) believed. As Gazzaniga's book prologue states (if what his research has shown holds up over time), the selected mutation for the significant increase in cortex size in humans may be related to a couple "genetic switches" . . . but in many other respects, the human brain is structured and operates like other ape and mammal brains. And it is not hard to observe in human behavior numerous patterns that are fundamentally similar to animal behavior patterns.
What I mean to get at is that many of the laws of the human psychic system are equally laws of mammal and especially ape brains/psyches . . . and so those laws have preceded the system of the human psyche by millions of years. It remain a mystery to me just how much of our consciousness is "new" as opposed to the result of an increase in the degree of a few genetic codings. That is, I suspect that the human brain's unique system is based on retoolings of previous "psychic" traits existing in apes and perhaps all mammals. I don't recall the favored term in complex systems theory, but with this retooling, a few basic tweaks on a fundamental level can lead to what seems (from the outside perspective) to be a massive systemic change. In this case, human soul and culture.
I remain more hesitant than Kauffman and some others who are true believers in complexity . . . although perhaps it is my attitude that is more archaic and superstitious. That is, I feel we do best to approach natural complexity very cautiously . . . the way we would approach anything wild and alien, the way we would approach a god. It is tempting for us to appropriate complexity for our belief systems, but the thing about this emergent complexity is that it cannot, I think, be contained by our egoism. And if we are not sufficiently capable of constructing and perceiving our egoism as a margin of error in our observation and theorization, we will form a spiritualistic (participation mystique) relationship with complexity. This is one of the reasons I'm usually hesitant to embrace gadgety neologisms (which abound in complex systems theory). Where bunches of abstract terms adhere to ideas, it's a pretty safe bet to assume that the egoic factor still holds a great deal of sway over the theory and therefore limits the accuracy of the scientific observation of data.
Complex systems theory exposes us to a brave new world that we still know very little about. Equally, we still don't have an adequate understanding of ego psychology . . . or ego/Self psychology. My generic advice to all of us is to formulate a strong understanding of egoism before we dive in head first to complex systems. Complexity has a numinous effect on us . . . and I think that much of what has been considered divine and inspirited throughout human history is, more accurately, naturally complex or the product of emergence from complexity. But we are incapable of understanding natural complexity from Nature's perspective. That is, we can't keep track of all the iterations and interrelationships of the systems quanta and subsystems in our conscious minds at once. Our perceptions and comprehension are severely limited . . . and as a result, we have no option in the attempt to understand complexity than to construct reductive paradigms.
It makes for an interesting paradox, this study of complexity, because it is a human limitation that any study must utilize and depend on reductionism. So, to say that we should eliminate or decrease reductionism strikes me as simply impossible. Essentially, I think that to propose that we can understand complexity sans reductionism is a form of hubris or inflation . . . and I see hints of that in the zeal and ideology of Kauffman (even as I sympathize with much of what he has to say). It is important, I think, to recognize that natural complexity is not something we can make ourselves the masters of. It can't be bent to human belief and behave as we wish it to. That wildness and vastness is the very defining essence of complexity.
In Kauffman's thinking I feel there is an inadequate counterbalance of ego psychology, i.e., the understanding of human perception and projection . . . of what exactly gets projected and why. And how we might learn to better account for this. This accounting for the ego goes hand in hand with accounting for the Self-as-Other, I feel . . . and so it requires a pragmatic implementation of individuation. By pragmatic individuation, I especially mean to indicate the parts of the Work that come post-Coniunctio. I.e., not just depth, descent, and "expansion of consciousness" (which is, I feel, mostly connected to the pre-Coniunctio dissolution stage), but the bean-sorting kitchen work of trying to bring the newly expanded psychic system into a manageable and functional order.
As for reductionism, I think it has become necessary to differentiate some forms of reductionism from others. There is a kind of 19th century, positivistic, "scientific" materialism that sought to reduce naturally complex things to very simple paradigms. That's what Jung always railed against. But what we know about this sort of reductionism today (and are rapidly learning) is that it turned out in many cases to not be scientific at all. Primarily because it underestimate Nature's complexity and projected onto the observed natural object a kind of egocentrically reduced Other. That is, I think that this kind of reductionism comes from a inflated and unself-aware egoism that looks down upon non-egoic natural complexity as if it were clearly inferior to human "consciousness".
Jung was justified to criticize this attitude, I think . . . but it has left us with a dangerous legacy, because it pushes us toward spiritualism, which is essentially rooted in the underestimation of matter in very much the same way that 19th century materialism was. I see that kind of materialism and spiritualism as tow sides of the same coin. Both are egocentric devaluations of matter/Nature. It is hardly any wonder that the end of the 19th century had an intellectual climate that was half romantic spiritualism and half positivistic materialism. Jung, in my opinion, lived a life between these two 19th century polarities, trying to find a way to pull them together.
I think that the "solution" to that Platonic split is to be found in a deep revaluation of matter (which is what I think the alchemists were on about symbolically and psychologically). Reductive spiritualism would have to give way to a non-spiritual understanding of natural complexity. But what we so often see in fringe and pseudo-science today is something very different. We see the spiritualization of complexity and matter . . . and in my opinion, this approach is a regressive throwback. I don't think we need to start calling the same old (egocentric) god, complexity. Instead, we need to start observing and accepting the complexity that underlies our egocentric notions of divinity. I.e., the complex materialism that enables us to experience intricate abstraction and reductionism in the way we do, emergently.
There is distinct and abundant materiality in our abstractions and reductive paradigms, in our thoughts, our beliefs, and in our languages. I mean things like intuitive physics, our generic sense of force and action, space and relationship, causality, etc. No abstraction can free itself from these materialistic terms and still make any sense or be of any use to us. That is a humbling lesson in natural complexity, I think, because it demonstrates how a limited number of fundamental, material building blocks + iteration + variable interrelationality can lead to infinite emergence. But the lesson I take from this personally is one of humility, because I know I cannot master this complexity and subject it to egoic reduction (and call that scientific). In order to be scientific, I have to admit that the comprehension of complexity is beyond my capacity and control. To reduce it (to an egoic paradigm) is to misunderstand it . . . so long as one believes in the reduction's truth. And that belief is the dangerous temptation of paradigm building.
But if our (unavoidable) reductions are taken as functional fictions and allowed to be plastic and adaptive, to seek both resilience and elegance in the face of continuous change and flux, then we might be able to use these reductions as place holders or "observation decks" from which we can identify some of the natural and material elements around them. But in order to maintain and develop functional fictions, we need to be able to valuate the "signified", the thing itself. Where valuate is not to know or control, but to respect its Otherness without trying to conform it to egoism. If we fail to do this, we end up observing and studying our own egoic projections (and not recognizing them as projections) . . . as seems to happen today in the theoretical edge of quantum physics, And, from what I've seen, complex systems theory as well.
We need a mechanism through which we can know when what we are observing is actually egoic projection. That mechanism is the kind of psychology I would like to help build/revise/champion. And perhaps that is where the potential scientific usefulness of psychology really lies . . . in a functional construction of egoism (as differentiated from parts of the psyche that do not abide directly by conscious will).
