Abstract
“Complexity sciences” are an interdisciplinary and transnational domain of study that aims at modeling natural and social “complex systems.” They appeared in the 1970s in Europe and the United States, but were boosted in the mid-1980s by the Santa Fe Institute (SFI) under the formula of “science of complexity.” This small but famous institution is the object of the present article. According to their promissory ambitions and to the enthusiastic claims of some scientific journalists, complexity sciences were going to revolutionize all of knowledge and even private and public actors who had learned to master them. In the light of this, one would expect to observe a well-established and autonomous research and educational field, capable of reproducing itself through professional institutions. Yet this is not the case. To explain the paradox, I propose to combine different models of history and sociology of emergent and declining domains, in order to give account of the rise and failure of complexity sciences.
Keywords
Introduction
“Complexity science” is an interdisciplinary and transnational field of study that aims at modeling natural and social “complex systems.” These are defined as big ensembles of heterogeneous elements which, by interaction, produce emergent properties that are not deductible from their microscopic level. 1 Some examples of complex systems are genetic networks, ecosystems, cities, the Internet, financial markets, and epidemics. “Complex systems sciences,” as the field is also called (especially in European countries), gather a group of natural, engineering, and social scientists that approach their typical study objects through mathematical, physical, and computational tools. The most common inquiry methods used by complexity specialists are statistical physics, dynamical systems mathematics, agent-based modeling, network theory, genetic algorithms, spin glasses, and cellular automata. Throughout the world there are several hundred research groups displaying complex systems among their operational keywords, sometimes reunited in complex systems institutes. 2 Scientists often loosely know each other, meet at international conferences, and sometimes collaborate at a distance.
This domain of study appeared in the 1970s in Europe and the United States, but it was boosted in the mid-1980s by the Santa Fe Institute (SFI), a private research center based in New Mexico which does not host permanent faculty nor grant degrees. This small but famous institution is the object of the present article, for it has largely contributed to disseminating the term “complexity science(s)” to several fields of knowledge and to popular culture through general audience books. According to some human and social scientists, complexity sciences have exerted a revolutionary power over all of the natural and social sciences, as well as over general culture (painting, architecture, literature, cinema, etc.), providing either a new theory capable of explaining disparate phenomena or a new philosophical paradigm. 3 Such claims, however sincere, closely resemble the promissory discourses held by complexity scientists themselves, who announced their nascent domain as the “science of the XXI century.” 4 In its official reports or “bulletins,” the SFI used to present itself as a “multidisciplinary collaboration in pursuit of understanding the common themes that arise in natural, artificial, and social systems.” Stretching the idea further, SFI’s enthusiast biographers – sometimes its own members, sometimes independent writers – wrote that the objective of this research center was “to catalyze the complexity revolution in science as a whole,” 5 that SFI is “the leading center for the study of complexity in all its manifestations,” 6 and that its theoretical aspiration is to build a “theory of everything.” 7 Chaos theory had benefitted from much attention both in the media and in academia during the 1970s and the 1980s, 8 and complexity science à la Santa Fe picked up the slack, partially inheriting some of the excitement that chaos theory had generated in public and scientific reception until then. Scientific historian and writer James Gleick had already identified “chaos theory” as the “third great revolution in the physical sciences,” after relativity and quantum mechanics. 9 Similarly, complexity science storytellers compared SFI scientific production to something revolutionary for knowledge in general and for society at large. According to physicist Heinz Pagels – active in chaos theory and sympathetic with the New Mexican institute – complexity science was going to transform the nations able to master it into “the economic, cultural, and political superpowers of the next century.” 10
Yet, not all the books dedicated to the SFI were so laudatory toward it. For example, British-American writer Roger Lewin commented on the just quoted declarations of Pagels in the following way: “That’s quite a claim for a science that as yet has perhaps a few dozen active practitioners, a science that most people have never heard of, and if they have, ask: Is that the same as chaos?” 11
SFI founders’ ambitions were truly vast: “Either the . . . Institute will be a new scientific institution of historic importance and dimensions, or it will not be,” one can read in a 1984 discussion paper. 12 Back then, the founders wished to raise up to 230 million dollars – 80 million for the establishment of forty chairs, 60 million for hiring a hundred scientists, 20 million for laboratory facilities, offices, and seminar classes, and the rest for other functioning needs. 13 (The institute will never reach those sums.) 14 Intellectually, they aimed at creating a new paradigm for all sciences, to make them more rigorous through mathematical and computational tools – the institute was among the first research institutions to be connected to the ancestors of the Internet (New Mexico Technet and ARPANET). 15 Politically, they wanted to solve “real world” 16 problems. In 1988, George Cowan, a physical chemist from the Los Alamos National Laboratory (LANL) and first president of the SFI (Table 1), launched with a few others an interdisciplinary program of research and simulation, in order to predict the geopolitical future of the planet in the Cold War context. 17
SFI presidents.
In the light of such promissory ambitions and claims, and before the banalization of the complexity idiom beyond the strict circle of the domain representatives, one would expect to see an established field of inquiry, with its institutions, its autonomy, and its capacity to reproduce and self-sustain. But it is not the case. How to explain the paradox? By mobilizing different approaches to the study of emergent domains, in the following pages I will show that, from a sociological viewpoint, complexity sciences failed to institutionalize. Their cultural influence is undeniable – it suffices to see how wide spread in science and in common language are some of its core terms and concepts, such as “complexity,” “complex (adaptive) systems,” “networks,” “edge of chaos,” “tipping point,” etc., all terms that were disseminated by general audience publications. Yet, the generalization of an idiom or a set of metaphors does not imply that we face a scientific field in the Bourdieusian sense. As we will see, complex systems specialists form a loose, international community, which has its paradigmatic models, tools, and practices, as well as its institutions and venues. But such a community cannot be apprehended through any of the classical concepts that sociology and history of science offer, such as “discipline,” “specialty,” “interdiscipline,” etc. For this reason, at a moment in which social studies about the collaboration between different disciplines increase incessantly, the present article is a contribution both to the thin literature about the decline of research domains, and to the much more abundant literature about interdisciplinarity. 18
Two histories of the SFI exist. 19 One is the above mentioned Mitchell Waldrop’s 1992 best seller Complexity. The other account of the institute is contained in historian of science Lambert Williams’ PhD thesis, entitled Modeling, Building, Writing: A History of Nonlinear Dynamics and Complex Systems. 20 By telling together the history of chaos theory and of complexity sciences, Williams has claimed that “the popular science genre [is] something constitutive of fields, and not just post-facto vehicles for reporting on them.” 21 In this sense “literary strategies . . . helped to manufacture chaos and complexity science.” 22 According to him, complexity science is a quasi-discipline, not a full one.
While Waldrop’s text is mainly based on interviews and Williams’ on the critical analysis of the above-listed popular books, the present research relies on these materials but integrates them with SFI’s institutional archives. 23 While I confirm and extend Williams’ thesis, about the role of bestseller books in establishing a field, I will additionally offer a thorough approach to giving an account of complexity science’s rise and institutional failure. To do this, I get inspiration from an approach which describes fledgling domains by taking into account the various intellectual and institutional strategies their founders and supporters deployed to gain legitimacy.
The first section of the article discusses the different models available in sociology and history to give accounts of emergent domains, and of their institutional failure. The second section is divided into nine subsections, each one of which is dedicated to one of the strategies the SFI put in place to establish its credibility as a research center, and that of complexity science as a respectable domain of research in general. The conclusion/discussion will comment on complexity science’s institutional failure in becoming an autonomous field of research.
Three theoretical models for emergent domains
The few existing histories of the SFI are the product of scientists and enthusiastic journalists who gravitated around it. Most of these reports are fractional and partial, sometimes neatly hagiographic. They always focus on a few people involved in the institute and miss addressing SFI’s archive materials – never fully exploited before now. The originality of this article lies in two aspects: first, its empirical material, composed by SFI bulletins, 24 annual reports, internal reports, research projects, flyers, and correspondence; by fifty interviews with SFI scientists and staff; 25 and by an ethnography conducted at the institute from September 19 to October 7, 2016. The second specificity of this text is its theoretical approach based on the mixing up of different models to analyze the way scientific entrepreneurs fabricate a new domain of scientific activity.
In history and sociology of sciences, the researcher has at his/her disposal several theoretical models. Among them, four seem to be the most common. The first one is what we can call the teleonomic-gradualist model. The epitome of it is Nicholas Mullins’ history of the Phage Group, which was at the origins of molecular biology. 26 In his model, the American sociologist identifies four stages to retrack the emergence of a new research domain: (a) the paradigmatic group formation, where some scientists start working on a common subject; (b) the formation of a weak social network and a first terminological common ground; (c) the stage of clustering, where scientists start drawing boundaries and founding the first institutions; and (d) the institutionalization of the domain, through the establishment of education devices and the hiring of new researchers to perpetuate it. Another classic that pertains to this first category is the collective book entitled Perspectives on the Emergence of Scientific Disciplines, published in 1976 by Gérard Lemaine, Roy MacLeod, Michael Mulkay, and Peter Weingart. 27
A series of problems affect this model type. In the first place, despite their attention to social networks dynamics, Mullins and the others are mainly cognitive-centered. The political sphere (writ large) is neglected – scientists are only seen as researchers, never as scientific entrepreneurs or as strategists. Second, the accounts of this type somehow presuppose a teleonomy in the evolution of new fields, following the Kuhnian tempos of science stages – “normal science–crisis and revolution–new normal science” – as if every emergent domain followed the same evolutionary pathway and the same gradual steps. One of the things that characterize complexity science is that some forms of institutionalization preceded the epistemic content – the former setting up the conditions to produce the latter.
Second, a category that can be called the professional autonomy model includes several specialists who emphasize one or another of the following elements, which are often all present in their works: the role of education and university degrees, courses, and PhD curricula in order to perpetuate the fields by the training of neophytes; 28 the institutionalization of fields through the classical venues of science (societies, conferences, journals, departments, committees, facilities, etc.); 29 and the role of social support, which can come from the state, industry, the general public, or all of them. 30 In many of these cases, the approach has a flavor of sociology of work, since the role of scientists is analyzed under the professional dimension – certified competences are requested for specific tasks (education, research, industry, governmental needs, etc.) and are rewarded through ad hoc occupational categories, social functions, salaries, and budgets. 31 Despite its interest, this approach fails to take into account other aspects of the fabrication of scientific fields, among which is the role of promotional discourses and strategies.
A third approach for describing emergent domains is the promise-based model which comes from Science & Technology Studies (STS) works on “expectation communities.” 32 Within this framework, nascent technoscientific fields are described by analyzing their discursive regime based on future promises. Here, expectations serve to create a R&D agenda, to gain legitimacy and power, and to obtain symbolic and financial credit. The expectations framework analyzes the normativity of promises, which are in its view operational ways to self-fulfill the promises themselves. 33 However, the power of this framework appears to be its very limit – the role of promises is certainly fundamental in emergent processes, but it is not the only pertinent dimension to take into account. Scientific entrepreneurs always address several fronts at the same time.
A fourth approach is interesting for us here and it can be called the legitimacy-based model. If nourished by the precedent one, this framework is very powerful and extremely pertinent in describing our study object here. Following a science studies approach, historians Pierre-Olaf Schut and Matthieu Delalandre have described the rise and decline of speleology in France. 34 In order to analyze this discipline in all its epistemic, ontological, professional, instrumental, and institutional depth, they have considered nine foci that contributed to make it exist: scientific texts, societies, journals, conferences, teachings, Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (CNRS) commissions, research centers, clubs, and amateur federations. According to them, speleology does not disappear in terms of objects and techniques, which are gradually incorporated into other disciplines like biology and geology, but it does disappear from French institutions, which means that its educational reproduction, as well as its administrative existence and social identity, are no longer perpetuated.
Such a social-cognitive approach – which will be followed in the present article – is drawn from science studies, is compatible with the Bourdieusian approach of Yves Gingras – who has analyzed econophysics, a complexity science-related specialty that developed “in the shadow of physics” 35 – but contradicts the dualistic and cognitive-centered approach of historian Reba Soffer. The latter has written an article titled “Why Do Disciplines Fail?” in which she analyzes the failure, until the 1950s, of sociology in being established as a discipline in Britain, whereas in the United States, France, and Germany the field had managed to take root much earlier. 36 In her account, Soffer explains the lack of implantation success of British sociology because of the lack of “vitality” of its ideas, compared to those of American, French, and German sociologists – in her view, institutions are neatly separated from, and secondary to, ideas. Here the distinction and hierarchy between the social and the cognitive will not be made. In the present text I adopt the legitimacy-based model – which integrates the professional autonomy one – and get inspiration from the promised-based one, in order to analyze why a domain like complexity sciences failed to establish as an autonomous field, even if it still continues to exist under certain forms.
The strategies of legitimation
Historically, the SFI was not the first social group reclaiming the study of complex systems in the scientific world. Nevertheless, the New Mexican center was the first institution that has worked, in a strategic manner, to give body to a new research domain that it has named the “science of complexity.” As one can read from a project that the institute had sent to the National Science Foundation in 1990 to obtain funds: “Our broad program of research on complex systems (…) can help define the principles of a general science of complexity.” 37
The explicit, committed, and collectively organized character of the SFI endeavor in the creation of such a new “science” is what motivates my choice of tracing back the history of this institute instead of that of other centers, groups, or individuals. The last of these, however, ended up going to and associating with the American institute during their career.
The list of elements that Schut and Delalandre take into account for speleology is not exhaustive, and its composition can vary depending on the field under study. For complexity science, the following ways of legitimation can be identified: (1) founders’ social networks, (2) the role of media and popular books, (3) the role of federal agencies, foundations, and big enterprises, (4) the role of scientific publications, (5) the role of summer schools, (6) the role of pedagogical projects, (7) the role of integrative workshops, (8) the role of scientific journals, and (9) the role of prizes and rewards. 38 If some of these strategies were unsuccessful, the first two proved to be the most effective.
Founders’ social networks
Why did SFI’s founders decide to begin such a project at the end of their careers? Prior to answering this question we have to distinguish between at least two types of SFI members. A first category is those whose social, symbolic, and economic capital is sufficient that their implication in the field of complexity is not done in view of self-affirmation in academia. This is precisely the category of SFI’s founders who justified their endeavor because of their multiple interests, 39 the need for a new scientific paradigm in science, and the will to contribute to solving major issues affecting society. A second category of actors includes scientists who were situated in a position of weakness, due to their youth and/or to their scientific marginality. This is the category of the first SFI members who – according to their own account – lamented isolation because of their interdisciplinary approach to science. These researchers sought in SFI a home, in addition to a means of gaining scientific credibility.
Among the founders, one of them – physicist Edward Knapp – enumerates Herbert Anderson, Peter Carruthers, George Cowan, Stirling Colgate, Darragh Nagle, Nicholas Metropolis, Louis Rosen, Richard Slansky, Alwyn C. Scott, David Campbell, and himself from the Los Alamos National Laboratory; Gian-Carlo Rota from MIT, David Pines from the University of Illinois, Anthony Turkevich from the University of Chicago, Murray Gell-Mann from Caltech, and John Rubel from the Department of Defense. 40
The group of “Senior Fellows” from LANL and their friends from other institutions gathered regularly between 1982 and 1984, before sealing the birth of their institute. During such meetings, participants debated about a series of fundamental aspects for the creation of the center, as Knapp explains: “what would be the best scientific focus for the institute, what should be the scale, what was the right mix of students and faculty, how best to broaden the initial group of founders, and the like.” 41 As Gell-Mann explained in 1994, “[i]n the beginning, we couldn’t see clearly what sorts of emerging scientific syntheses we should seek.” 42 Cowan related that everyone had their own idea of what they wanted. 43 For instance, Metropolis initially proposed cognitive science as the central theme of the SFI. 44 Only after several discussions were complex systems established as the general object upon which to apply interdisciplinarity. 45 Also, initially the founder group wished to install natural sciences laboratories in the future campus, 46 but the neighborhood 47 and the administration of Santa Fe stopped them from doing it. 48
In May 1984 the founding group officially established the legal entity. Since the name “Santa Fe Institute” was already used by a therapeutic service in the area, they temporarily called it the “Rio Grande Institute.” 49 In October of the same year the center received the “nonprofit” label from the Internal Revenue Service. In 1985, as soon as the therapeutic center closed, the founders modified the institute bylaws to give it the name it has kept until today. 50 At that time the SFI possessed neither staff nor a physical headquarters. As Knapp later related: “We joke that our early home was a desk drawer in Trustee Art Spiegel’s office in Albuquerque, and we progressed to a Santa Fe post office box before we had a place of substance.” 51 In 1985, SFI rented an office in a building in Santa Fe for its two employees, the polyvalent Ginger Richardson and the development director Ron Zee. 52 In 1987 the institute was installed at 1120 Canyon Road, in the Cristo Rey Convent. 53 This move marked the period in which the institute became widely known, first in the United States, then in Europe and the rest of the world. In July 1991 it was to be temporarily situated at 1660 Old Pecos Trail while waiting for the fundraising for, and the acquisition and renovation of, its final home. 54 Partially thanks to a donation by Cowan to purchase a mansion in the Santa Fe hills, the institute found its final headquarters at 1399 Hyde Park Road in July 1994.
Art Spiegel was an entrepreneur who had been introduced to the group by Cowan. 55 As the bulletins reiterated several times, “Cowan is often credited by his colleagues as the stimulus behind the Santa Fe Institute.” 56 In a parallel way, Spiegel is described by Knapp as “very important in getting the Institute off the ground.” 57 The archives are full of letters that he had sent to notable contacts in Santa Fe – entrepreneurs and managers in all domains, as well as scientists and local art dealers – to invite them to the first fundraisings. 58 The SFI budget for the first year was about 100,000 dollars, mainly due to Spiegel’s activity and to senior fellows’ donations. 59 The importance of the founders’ social and symbolic capital in launching the institute is exemplified in the friendship that united Cowan to Spiegel. 60
The two had met in 1958 at a private dinner at the house of some common friends in Los Alamos. Their first collaborations focused on the animation of cultural activities in order to “compensa[te] for Los Alamos minimalism.” 61 The neighborhoods of what had been the headquarters of the Manhattan Project during World War II were indeed a relatively desertic area, which had been developed since then by the scientists. To get SFI started, LANL fellows activated their personal networks at several levels.
In 1986, SFI’s members increased from eight to seventeen. That same year, Ginger Richardson was hired by Cowan as polyvalent secretary in order to organize the first scientific events and write the first research projects. 62 She later became responsible for public relations and was made supervisor of the institute education sector. 63 In the meantime, Cowan was assisted by three vice-presidents, by the president and vice-president of the Board of Trustees, as well as by the secretary. 64 In 1987, the Board of Trustees counted twenty-seven members, among them scientists, entrepreneurs, and ex-politicians. The Scientific Advisory Board had forty members, some of which overlapped with the Board of Trustees. 65 That year, the institute started the “Visiting Fellows” program, with six members (among whom were some of the founders). The program would last one to twelve months and provide fellows with an accommodation allowance, an office, research fund support, and a salary. The number of associates increased gradually to reach a hundred members in 1993 – this number has stayed constant until today. 66 The visiting fellows’ only obligation has always been to spend at least one week per year at the institute – mostly coinciding with an integrative workshop. Some people stay longer, even a year for those on a sabbatical break. Among the represented nationalities, British, French, German, and Indian were the first. Rapidly new entries came in from Europe, Latin America, and Israel. In 2007 the “External Faculty” represented eighteen different countries. 67 Despite the fact that SFI’s “community was highly influential in East Asia” and in particular in China, 68 no member ever came from that area.
To do an assessment of the first years of the institute, Cowan wore the hat of a sociologist: The issue of complexity has been popping up everywhere. The Santa Fe Institute has given it a little more credibility, I think, because the names attached to it are prestigious. We have a roster of National Academy types and Nobel winners, which suddenly did something very important for the whole notion, that is, to make it look more respectable.
69
SFI’s founders were conscious of the strategic usage of their social, symbolic, and economic capitals: “We were picking the people, not the topics.” 70 During one of the founding meetings, Metropolis subordinated the success of their scientific enterprise to the presence of some very famous people. 71 Symbolic capital often goes hand in hand with social capital: “[Gell-Mann, Pines, etc.] knew everybody. They could just pick up the phone.” 72 Moreover, some of these scientists were also entrepreneurs and have often directed substantial sums to the SFI to secure its functioning – Cowan for instance had founded a private bank in Los Alamos and had become a millionaire.
SFI and media reflectors were pointing to the “stars.” But what about the other members’ prosopography? As soon as SFI opened up to postdocs, the researchers coming in were difficult to categorize in some established field. For the first ten or fifteen years, most of them found in complexity science a living, strategic, temporary, and sometimes perennial shelter. SFI’s unconventional environment was constantly praised by its associates, who declared that in comparison they had always felt restricted and inhibited in traditional academic spaces. 73 Such a self-representation and narrative of the institute drove a fascination in students and the general public.
In the institute’s narrative, its objective was to create the conditions to explore new and risky scientific territories. 74 In a retrospective interview published in the 2014 bulletin, Richardson considered that the mission had been achieved: “[the] success . . . [of] many . . . SFI postdocs, belies the founders’ early worries that a segue into complexity science could be a career killer.” 75 In fact, the problem of recruitment of complex systems researchers still is a preoccupation of the SFI’s, and of complexity specialists in general. In his doctoral thesis, Williams mentioned some examples of people who had had “difficulties of reintegration” into academia after an SFI internship for the very reason that they belonged to different domains, and to no one in particular. 76
Despite its modest size, the SFI is today widely known in the academic environments of several countries in the world – yet it is not always praised. Estimators show sympathy for the institute and claim the imitation of some of SFI’s characteristics in their practices and institutions. Selective estimators distinguish between specific people and periods of the institute’s story, and thus discard and distance themselves from some of them. Finally detractors either criticize the excessive hype around complexity and minimize SFI’s successes, 77 blame its dominant masculinist and crypto-Catholic culture, 78 denounce SFI’s neoliberal take, 79 or complain about its reductionist approach. 80
During the first years of the institute, the Senior Fellows’ symbolic capital attracted some quite well-known researchers to ally with them in their enterprise (e.g. computer scientist and psychologist John Holland from the University of Michigan, chaos physicists Doyne Farmer and Norman Packard from LANL). Furthermore, the founders’ prestige has increased the visibility and credibility of young and marginal researchers throughout SFI’s history (e.g. computer scientist Christopher Langton, the controversial founder of Artificial Life, and Welsh economist Brian Arthur, known for “complexity economics”).
Later on though, the SFI needed to find a new source of symbolic capital, especially after journalist John Horgan had criticized, on the pages of the Scientific American, complexity science for being “flaky” and the SFI for being “fact-free.” 81 In the mid-1990s it was clear to the Board of Trustees that the Senior Fellows’ prestige was no longer enough. SFI hence diversified its strategy and tried to attract rising “stars” in order to boost both the institute and the stars’ visibility. An ongoing case of this win-win association is that of computational complexity specialist Christopher Moore. Another example is represented by Greek-Brazilian statistical physicist Constantino Tsallis, who had made acknowledged contributions in the field of thermodynamics. Another example is the postdoc stay of the network theorists Duncan Watts and Mark Newman toward the end of the 1990s. 82 These researchers managed to collect so much scientific capital that American universities today compete to have them by offering generous salaries and important responsibilities. This is because they utilized consolidated techniques from statistical physics; they applied these techniques to new, exotic objects (social and genetic networks, epidemics, etc.); they publicized their work through general audience channels; they had efficacious institutional strategies; and they managed to perpetuate their specialty through academic teaching, conferences, and journals. But this is not the case for all complexity specialists. “[S]everal prominent SFI researchers,” as Williams wrote in his thesis, “essentially vanished from view when their time there was up” 83 – whatever the country, if they want to persist and exist independently of complexity institutes and funds, complexity scientists have to pass traditional disciplinary tests.
The role of media and popular books
Most popular SFI books cannot be considered as secondary literature, but rather as what French historian Wolf Feuerhahn has called indigenous histories – that is, “histories of a discipline produced by the actors of the discipline themselves.” 84 But what to say about enthusiastic accounts of SFI and complexity science given by certain journalists? Even if, as far as I know, they did not get any benefit from the institute, their stories contributed to entertaining a certain narrative about it. In their books the SFI appears as “the” place for interdisciplinarity and complexity science in the world.
The first book to offer a portrait of some personalities linked to the New Mexican institute (namely physicists Normand Packard, Doyne Farmer, and James Crutchfield) is Chaos, written by the New York Times journalist James Gleick. 85 Published in 1988, this book has become one of the best-selling science books ever.
In 1992, Waldrop published Complexity: The Emerging Science at the Edge of Order and Chaos. The year before he had signed an editorial contract with Simon & Schuster after having reported for Science about an Artificial Life conference. According to his testimony, he spent two weeks at the institute in order to have a look at some archives and especially to conduct interviews with some of its members. 86 His book rapidly sold several thousand copies and today tops 100,000.
Also in 1992, British science writer Roger Lewin published the almost identically titled Complexity: Life at the Edge of Chaos. 87 Like Waldrop, Lewin reported SFI’s self-promotional discourse, anchoring his tales to some key personalities.
Williams gives an interesting analysis of these books to explain their success. One of the narrative strategies is, according to him, personalization. Protagonists are often presented as misunderstood geniuses, who are as marginal as they are inventive, as eccentric as they are fascinating. They are depicted as rebels, visionaries, explorers, and dynamic people that do not give up before the obstacles of reactionary academia. Protagonists are often presented with their nicknames in order to create identification and proximity. In some cases the fascination for complexity is complemented by a bent for mysticism – sometimes Buddhist, sometimes Catholic.
If journalists have a predilection for hagiographic accounts, in their own texts SFI members focus more on theories and models. 88 Between 1994 and 1999 the books about the institute rarefied, probably as an effect of the critiques they had received. At the end of the 1990s complexity became popular again thanks to a new wave of celebrative publications. 89
Conscious of the importance of such publications, SFI’s Direction sent Waldrop’s book to donors in order to promote the institute. In his review of Complexity published in the 1992 winter bulletin, SFI biologist Harold Morowitz argued something that confirms Williams’ thesis: “in these days a journalist is also an actor, for support of research is geared to fame, and fame comes in part from inclusion in books of this type.” 90 For example, despite his interlocutors always using the plural, Waldrop’s narrative of a singular “complexity science” has had performative effects by suggesting the feeling of a cohesive and coherent community – just as Gleick did with chaos theory. Several representatives of complexity science in the United States and in Europe have testified that these texts played a role in their adhesion to the field.
Besides books, SFI has always given attention to media in general. 91 Newspapers, TV, radio interviews, YouTube, and general audience conferences are all venues considered to be of critical importance. Media produce cascade effects on obtaining funding, on member enrollment, and on the credibility of the institute. The frequent references to media coverage that the institute has made in its communication material are proof of this. 92
The role of federal agencies, foundations, and big enterprises
Because of their social status and their rich biographies, the Senior Fellows had, as a long-standing member of the library staff said to me, an agenda with “lots of connections,” 93 from federal organizations like the National Science Foundation (NSF) and the Department of Energy (DoE) (on which the LANL depends), in the world of big money, banks, and enterprises, as well as in that of politics and think tanks (Gell-Mann, for example, had been an advisor to the RAND Corporation for years). At this level of prestige and political proximity, the distinction between professional collaborations, intellectual esteem, personal friendship, and lobbying is hard to make.
The first funding from the NSF came in 1988 as a result of a meeting organized by Cowan between the SFI’s founders and Erich Bloch, the director of the agency. For the institute, the advantage of NSF support was few bureaucratic constraints compared to other federal endowments. 94 Despite the absence of a dedicated section for interdisciplinary projects, Bloch found a solution to fund the SFI. As Cowan explained in his memoirs, this consisted in “taxing each of the divisions in order to provide $250,000 a year in support of the Institute.” 95 Two more people were crucial in securing NSF funding over the long term – physicists Edward Knapp and Robert Eisenstein. The first had been the president of the NSF from 1982 to 1984 and the second of the NSF Physics Division from 1992 to 1997. Knapp indeed testified that: “Perhaps my connections with the Federal government stemming from my days at the NSF and at [Universities Research Association] helped us.” 96 In 2004, Eisenstein was appointed as the new SFI president: “[he] brings those qualities to the presidency of an institution he’s known for some 10 years. Early on during his tenure at the NSF, he was responsible for directing many of the funds that came to SFI from there.” 97
Later on, some of the federal agencies’ funds came in to support computer scientist Christopher Langton’s agent-based simulation called Swarm (an open-source simulation package used to model the interaction of a high number of social or biological agents and their emergent collective behavior). In April 1994, the SFI received a scholarship of US$323,000 from the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) – the military and the intelligence were interested in an application of this platform in order to solve problems “related to the way troops adapt to changing circumstances on the battlefield. The army wants to know how much local decision-making power troops on the ground should be given and how much of that decision-making power should remain in the hands of commanding officers.” 98 According to the first librarian of the institute, Margaret Alexander, Ellen Goldberg “decided not to take DARPA money anymore, because it was kinda dark and scary.” 99 In fact, as a mathematician from the institute told me, some of the resident scientists keep responding to DARPA calls on a personal basis, but not without internal resistance, namely from postdocs. 100
Since the beginning, the funding coming from foundations was also very important. In 1987, substantial contributions came from Russell Sage, Alfred Sloan, Richard Lounsbery, and the Heinz Company. 101 In 1988, John and Catherine MacArthur were added to the list. 102 If some of them became regular donors to the SFI, some others have come in and out. Overall, the place of foundation funding gradually decreased to 30 percent in 1996. 103 By 2006 it had diminished to only 6 percent of the total budget. 104 Yet during the 2010s, individual, family, and philanthropic foundations again became very important and constituted up to half of the SFI budget. 105 This was mainly due to the decrease in individuals’ and trustees’ gifts, and to investment loss after the 2008 economic crisis; the director of communications of the SFI explained that “[a]s the economy gets tight, people . . . want more and more tangible results. And we are a theoretical institute and we are never gonna produce tangible results.” 106 As the federal agencies fundraiser explained to me, government funds stayed the same before and after the Lehman Brothers’ crash thanks to the “American Recovery and Reinvestment Act” from 2009, 107 but if private donors were the main contributors before the crash, foundations took their place afterwards. Some years following the crisis, the contribution of private and foundation donations equalized, while the investment income increased in size. Figure 1 illustrates the evolution of funds over three periods, including the first phase under Cowan’s direction (1991), the second one led by Goldberg (1997), and the post-2008 crisis (2013).

The evolution of SFI funding in three different periods, from the 1991, 1997, and 2013 Annual Reports.
Less data are available about Senior Fellows’ and other SFI members’ relationships with private foundations. It is nevertheless arguable that the founders had close contacts with that world too. For example, Gell-Mann had strong connections with the MacArthur Foundation – one of the first and most assiduous of SFI’s financers. 108 From 1979 to 2002 he had directed the organization, with the freedom to give funds to whomever he thought worthy. 109
What Figure 1 shows but does not explain are companies’ gifts. Since the first important workshop organized by the institute to put physicists and economists together to work on financial economics, the SFI entertained excellent relations with big corporations like Citigroup. Its CEO John Reed was indeed one of the first and most important funders of SFI’s research projects with his “$250,000 to study the global economy.” 110 Cowan explained that, in 1987, Robert Adams – a member of the SFI board and head of the Smithsonian Museum in Washington – spoke with Reed about the institute, suggesting that he “come to Santa Fe with a few of his staff to talk about some of the problems in international finance that his company was attempting to solve.” 111 Reed was keen for new mathematical models to avoid loss from economic crises and stock exchange crashes. 112
According to SFI’s philosophy, “[c]ompetitive peer-reviewed grant funding provides credibility for the Institute’s science, while the availability of unrestricted funds from contributions allows investment in cutting-edge, high-risk ideas.” 113 Another opening to the world of enterprises occurred in 1988 with the entry of some new members in the Board of Trustees from the oil and weapons sectors. 114 Here again, contacts preceded SFI’s birth. Trustees were co-opted among the founders’ friends, as was the case for Robert Anderson from the Hondo Oil Company who was brought in by Cowan. 115 In 1989, other funders were added to the list – among them Barclay’s and the Trinity Capital Corporation. 116 In 1990 the number of foundations was nine and that of companies twelve, with some new entries such as IBM, Morgan Stanley, and Volvo. 117 That same year the Board of Trustees got new members from the aeronautics, finance, and informatics sectors. 118 For several years most of the SFI trustees came from Silicon Valley and Wall Street. 119 Yet it was under Goldberg’s presidency (1996–2002) that private and business donations increased to two-thirds of the institute’s funding.
Today the institute is provided with a “strategic partnership” office, which operates in three sections. One is in charge of collecting public funds from federal agencies through the search for new scholarships and the writing of projects to respond to the calls. Another one is in charge of searching for and keeping in contact with individual contributors. The third fundraising tool is the “Business Network for Complex Systems Research” (or BusNet): even if the SFI Mission Statements of 1986 stated that one of the objectives of the institute should be to “serve the industry,” 120 the BusNet was not created until 1992. In 2015 it was renamed the “Applied Complexity Network” (or ACtioN) by the current president, David Krakauer. 121 Its task is to provide consulting services to enterprises, non-governmental organizations, and administrations.
The role of scientific publications
In March 1987, the SFI started a collaboration with the Addison-Wesley Publishing Company, with the aim of releasing a series of books under the name “Santa Fe Institute Studies in the Sciences of Complexity.” 122 The series included conference and summer school proceedings, as well as individual and collective monographs.
In a 1989 bulletin, the person responsible for scientific editions, Ronda Butler-Villa, explained the importance of such publications in an article entitled “Getting the Word Out”: “the publications program provides the only tangible evidence of what is being accomplished [at the SFI].” 123 Butler-Villa explained that 1,500 copies of volumes were generally printed, half of which were commonly sold in the first six months, while the other half were stocked in bookshops. No one of these volumes has ever overcome the symbolic bestseller threshold of 10,000 copies.
The editorial strategy was changed in 1992, with the perspective of reducing the printing costs and increasing the efficacy of such publications. 124 In 1994, the number of titles was fifty, but the high cost of production gradually dissuaded both SFI and the editor from adding new ones. 125 Even if, in 1998, the contract with Addison-Wesley was replaced by a new one with Oxford University Press, 126 Richardson explained that “these volumes lost with time their value. . . . As time went on, there were many new ways to spread the word.” 127
A section of the SFI bulletin has often been dedicated to scientific article announcements. In the 1991 fall–winter issue the institute mentioned the increasing number of specialized publications authored by its affiliated members: twenty-eight in 1990, thirty-one in 1991. 128 In 2007, Geoffrey West highlighted the scientific excellence of SFI members by pointing to the prestige of the journals in which they publish: “Although SFI is dedicated to risk-taking and supporting more speculative investigation, our researchers continue to be published and recognized in leading scientific journals”; 129 “[o]ur researchers routinely publish in top journals including Science, Nature and the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. In fact, in 2007, we had more than 100 publications in such journals.” 130 In their turn, Nature and Science roundly shared their enthusiastic support for SFI and contributed to its scientific legitimacy by regularly dedicating their journalistic and promotional sections to its activities: “The journal Nature touted SFI as a place where ‘through the interaction of talented people there may well arise new visions of how the world is put together,’ and Science described it as an intellectual playground where scientists knocked around new ideas ‘like volleyballs’.” 131
It is important to note that not all of these articles covered the field of complexity sciences – the reference is thus to any scientific article published by SFI members, so as to realize a form of capital transfer from more established fields to the emerging one.
The role of summer schools
As sociologists of sciences Kate Bulpin and Susan Molyneux-Hodgson have shown, educative devices are important in the creation of new technoscientific domains. 132 In the case of complexity sciences, a specific bachelor’s degree does not exist while master’s degrees and PhDs are very rare. 133 The device that importantly contributed to getting complexity science into existence was the Complex Systems Summer School (CSSS).
This was conceived by Peter Carruthers and first launched in 1988. 134 Mike Simmons, one of their kingpins, described CSSS as an occasion to reinforce the academic existence of the institute and to “maintain SFI’s position in the forefront of this exciting new field of complexity.” 135 At the beginning the target was the United States. With time, the students diversified in terms of the nationalities represented. 136
The first CSSS was organized with the support of several research centers, universities, and federal agencies. For the second summer school, some Silicon Valley companies provided computer materials for free. 137 For several years the event took place at the local Saint John High School. 138 There were five initial students who had been mainly brought in by physicist Philip Anderson. 139 A workshop session in order to ensure that participants could all handle modeling software was also organized. The school remained without charge for unconfirmed scientists until 2008, after which people had to pay. Today students, post-docs, and faculty pay US$4,500, while other professionals pay US$6,000.
Since the beginning the institute attributed an important place to this educational device. First, to produce new complexity adepts in America and around the world, and second, to fix the international standards of complexity science: “the [SFI Lectures in Complex Systems] series’ cumulative effect is not only to record what has already been done in the field but also to contribute to defining complexity’s future evolution.” 140
CSSS lectures were published as proceedings by Addison-Wesley. Overall, SFI published half a dozen volumes as a result, before it was considered not to be viable anymore. 141 CSSS and their publications were important for the establishment of some common ground for complexity science inquiry tools. 142 These varied through time and scientists were invited to innovate by creating or bringing in other means of inquiry. CSSS was also a place for socialization: “Well over a thousand students have participated since its debut in 1988, three points. ‘Each brings the SFI mode of thinking back to his or her home institution’.” 143
The success of the summer school led the institute to organize a winter version in January 1992 in Tucson (Arizona), the first of a long series that, through the “International Outreach Program,” touched China, Eastern Europe, and South America. 144 The program was reinforced in 2013 with the implementation of a series of Massive Open Online Courses. 145
The role of pedagogical projects
Another pedagogical device that SFI put in place at the beginning of the 1990s had an even longer-term perspective – it concerned students from secondary level to postdoc.
The first program of this kind was organized in spring 1990 and involved undergraduates. 146 Students could participate in one of the research programs held by the institute, or spend a study period under the guidance of an SFI member. 147
In 1991 the institute opened up the possibility for PhD candidates to write their thesis under the supervision of one of its members. 148 In 2002 the program was financed by the NSF and gave freedom to candidates to choose their topic. They had to spend two and a half months in residence. 149
The postdoctoral was launched in 1989 and used to last one to three years. 150 eBay’s founder, Pierre Omidyar, became one of the strongest supporters of SFI postdocs. Besides his gifts to the institute and his participation on the Board of Trustees, in 2008 Omidyar implemented a funding program for some postdoctoral scholarships for which candidates can freely choose their topic 151 and are supposed to become complexity science ambassadors. 152
During 1992–3, the SFI launched its first education program in high schools. 153 With the support of a grant from the Pinewood Foundation, around sixty students from all Santa Fe high schools participated in a cycle of conferences held by a few members of the research center. The one and a half hour meetings were organized once a month and included a question time to answer students’ queries. Another device started in 1998 and lasted several years. It implied the usage of agent-based models in order to teach students the basis of coding and a decentralized way of thinking. 154
Some years later the SFI extended its pedagogical activities into secondary-level schools and deployed resources to train hundreds of teachers in using computational tools so that they could transmit SFI’s approach to 6–12-year-old children. The program was called the “New Mexico Adventures in Modeling.” 155 In the light of the political interest in STEM, the SFI anticipated that complexity sciences would become pivotal in the twenty-first century. 156
The role of integrative workshops
The integrative workshops represented the sole public activity of the institute until 1986 and are still organized today. Halfway between a conference and a summer school, this kind of event can last one or two weeks, and attract two to three dozen participants. Each attendant is a speaker and contributes by teaching – during a brainstorming phase – the other members how the chosen study object is approached in his/her discipline. In the phase of synthesis, attendees propose possible bridges between different disciplines. 157
Since its first research projects in 1986, the SFI has claimed to work on “complex adaptive systems” or CAS, in reference to evolving aspects of living and social systems. The founding workshop of CAS was held in 1986 with the support of the Alfred Sloan Foundation. 158 If until the mid-1990s integration was mainly sought for building a general theory of complexity, after Horgan’s disruptive article in Scientific American and under Goldberg’s presidency interdisciplinary efforts were redirected toward local general theories. 159 Some workshops in particular contributed to providing visibility for the institute. This is the case regarding the 1987 meeting between physicists and economists entitled “Founding Workshop on Evolutionary Paths of the Global Economy.” 160
More or less multidisciplinary, such workshops have covered a vast array of subjects and, as soon as the institute got up to full speed, more than twenty were organized each year. 161 They have been the place to weave collaborations, establish new fields of research and specialties, and contribute to creating the myth of the SFI as an open-minded and stimulating intellectual environment. 162
The role of scientific journals
To found a new domain, it is necessary to launch a scientific journal. In 1990, Simmons announced the foundation of Complexity: An International Journal of Complex and Adaptive Systems. 163 The first editorial director was biologist Harold Morowitz. Mathematician John Casti assisted him as executive editor. 164 Simmons explained the reason for the journal as follows: “Even as complexity is emerging as a new field of research, it is in danger of fragmenting into a number of disjoint subfields that will not communicate adequately with each other because each will be served by its own specialized journals.” 165 Complexity was conceived as a space of integration between different models in the perspective of founding a common theory of complex systems. First published in 1995 by John Wiley, it was conceived as a quarterly, international, and electronic journal. But it never benefitted from great visibility and reputation, especially in light of the abandonment of the project of an integrated theory of complex systems by the SFI itself after Horgan’s article. Several of my interviewees explained to me that they prefer to publish their best articles in traditional disciplinary journals, which also have higher impact factors.
The role of prizes and rewards
Yet another strategy for establishing a field is to create specific awards that compensate the people working in it, but complexity prizes are very rare in academia. 166 Once more, the SFI has thus leaned on the symbolic capital of other disciplines’ prizes. That is why, in the course of the Bulletin issues, the institute celebrated all its members’ awards (career prizes or those for best articles, medals, nominations to the National Academy of Science, scholarships, simple marks of esteem from newspapers, etc.). 167 The conditio sine qua non for scientists to appear in these listings was their belonging to the institute, not the fact of being awarded for research in complexity science. 168
In Bourdieu’s terms, this operation can be seen as a form of capital conversion: scientists’ symbolic capital gained in more traditional frontiers of science has been used to legitimize SFI and its science through a sort of mirror effect.
Conclusion and discussion
There are roughly two phases in the history of complexity sciences. The initial one (1984–95) saw the first members living on the margins of the scientific field, in the shadow of SFI’s Senior Fellows’ scientific capital and their objective of a general theory of complex systems. In this phase, the domain benefitted from an important media exposition, until Horgan’s dismissive article. The second phase (1995–today) saw the domain regaining momentum and credibility, thanks to the more sober profile of its exponents, the eviction from the SFI of some of the most hyped scientists, as well as the scientific and media rise of network theory – which largely contributed to the appearance of complex systems institutes and calls for projects in Europe, Asia, and Australia between 2005 and 2015. 169
But if “[t]he central function of the institutionalization of the disciplinary community consists in preserving the permanence of the disciplinary activity through reproduction of its potential,” 170 then complexity sciences cannot be considered as a discipline. They have a social existence only in some institutes and in very few, anecdotal, and heterogeneous degree courses, summer schools, master’s degrees, and PhDs. At the same time, complexity specialists still have theoretical affinities, show reciprocal acknowledgements, weave research collaborations, and meet in complexity conferences. After a golden age – lasting from the 2000s to the beginning of the 2010s – of funding dispensed in the United States, Europe, Asia, and Australia by public authorities with the aim of developing complexity sciences, they have never managed to create the conditions for their autonomous reproduction. While they continue to have some kind of socio-epistemic existence, it is clear they live in the interstices and in an intermittent fashion. 171 Complexity sciences appear as a second, non-essential skin to researchers that inscribe in this label. Such a secondary existence is typically shown by the fact that researchers mention the domain – if it is mentioned at all – in second, third, or fourth place in their CVs and self-presentations. Also, while industries, banks, and administrations do hire data scientists, the jobs of complexity scientists are, as far as I know, more unique than rare.
What kind of sociological object are complexity sciences then? In the light of the material exposed in this article, this domain looks like a peculiar kind of meeting space and promissory discourse about interdisciplinarity. Complexity sciences can be defined as an association of fledgling and/or marginalized specialties that ally under the same label – sharing the same tools and views 172 – in order to reach common or similar scientific and institutional objectives. They can be described as a “conglomerate” more than a stable, unique, and coherent entity. 173 They indeed configure as a socio-epistemic space whose unity is loose enough to embrace variable and pluralistic theories and practices, with the aim of providing a temporary refuge or a perennial home to scientists who may be hard to classify. Domains like complexity sciences perhaps need to be qualified with a new specific term. This may be the subject of forthcoming work.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
The PhD thesis chapter version of this article has been read and commented on by my supervisor Francis Chateauraynaud and by historian Dominique Pestre, whom I both thank here for their generosity. I also thank the Media Cultures of Computer Simulation of Leuphana University in Luneburg (Germany) for their junior fellowship which provided me with the ideal conditions to finalize my thesis. Finally, I am grateful to the two anonymous reviewers for their excellent comments and advice.
Conflict of interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
1.
Melanie Mitchell, Complexity: A Guided Tour (Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), p.13.
2.
3.
John Urry, “Complexity,” Theory, Culture & Society 23, 2–3, (2006), 111–17; Brian Castellani, “Brian Castellani on the Complexity Science,” Theory, Culture & Society blog, 2014, <
>; Mark Taylor, The Moment of Complexity: Emerging Network Culture (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003); Cliff Hooker (ed.), Philosophy of Complex Systems, Vol. 10 (Amsterdam: Elsevier/North Holland, 2011).
4.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 24 (2009); the European community had similar statements; see for example: IXXI, “Communiqué de presse: L’Institut rhônalpin des systèmes complexes au cœur de la recherche du 21ème siècle!” (Lyon: IXXI, 2005).
5.
Mitchell M. Waldrop, Complexity: The Emerging Science at the Edge of Order and Chaos (New York: Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, 1992), p.327.
6.
Robert Axelrod and Michael D. Cohen, Harnessing Complexity: Organizational Implications of a Scientific Frontier (New York: The Free Press, 1999), p.16.
7.
Jeffrey Kluger, Simplexity (New York: Hyperion, 2008), back cover.
8.
James Gleick, Chaos: Making a New Science (London: Sphere Books, 1988).
9.
Gleick, Chaos, p.6.
10.
Heinz R. Pagels, The Dreams of Reason. The Computer and the Rise of the Sciences of Complexity (New York: Bantam Books, 1989).
11.
Roger Lewin, Complexity: Life at the Edge of Chaos (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1992).
12.
SFI, “Discussion Paper Concerning the Conception, Creation and Operation of the Rio Grande Institute. May 15, 1984,” box “SFI Early Docs Development Archives.”
13.
SFI, “The Aims of the Rio Grande Institute. Draft 5/30/84,” box “SFI Early Docs Development Archives.”
14.
The budget was US$571,000 in 1987; it rose to over a million in 1988. Another important threshold was exceeded in 1994, when the funds approached US$4 million; since the 2000s, SFI’s budget has stabilized at around US$12 million.
15.
SFI, “Report of the Computational Resources Committee to the Annual Meeting of the Science Board of the Santa Fe Institute. March 11, 1988,” box “SFI Board Meetings 1988.”
16.
An expression often used to mark the distinction with digital simulations.
17.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 3, 1 (1988).
18.
Julie Thompson Klein, “A Taxonomy of Interdisciplinarity,” in Robert Frodeman, Julie Thompson Klein, and Carl Mitcham (eds.) Oxford Handbook of Interdisciplinarity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), pp.16–30; Frank Siedlok and Paul Hibbert, “The Organization of Interdisciplinary Research: Modes, Drivers and Barriers,” International Journal of Management Reviews, 16, 2 (2014), 194–210.
19.
Another account of the SFI is: Stefan Helmreich, Silicon Second Nature: Constructing Artificial Life in a Digital World (Berkeley, Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1998). But it focuses on a subgroup of SFI members, Artificial Life.
20.
Lambert Williams, Modeling, Building, Writing: A History of Nonlinear Dynamics and Complex Systems, PhD thesis (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 2012).
21.
Ibid., p.52.
22.
Ibid., p.188.
23.
I have taken pictures of roughly 90% of the forty-eight boxes present at the SFI, the complete list of which is contained in my PhD thesis: Fabrizio Li Vigni, Les systèmes complexes et la digitalisation des sciences. Histoire et sociologie des instituts de la complexité aux États-Unis et en France (doctoral dissertation, Paris: Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales, 2018). For space reasons, only a few documents will be mentioned in this article.
24.
SFI published forty issues of its Bulletin from 1986 to 2014. The articles were written by SFI staff members and resident scientists, but mostly by freelance journalists. It was sent to the members of the Board of Trustees, research officers, SFI advisors, scientists, and donors (past and potential), as well as to university, industrial, and governmental directors. Its aim was to inform such a public about the scientific and administrative programs of the institute. The Bulletin was published once or twice per year. With 5,000 copies printed, it was available for free upon request. Later, its publication was only electronic and old issues were digitalized. In the mid-2010s the bulletin was discontinued because it was considered too expensive and less efficient than the SFI newsletter Parallax, the SFI “Annual Report,” and the many general audience venues. Such a fundraising tool is an important document for it contains promotional, financial, and institutional elements that have to be taken as such, in order to illustrate the institute’s strategies. Moreover, because of their easier accessibility through the Internet, I will mention the bulletins for factual elements (dates, facilities, and staff modifications, etc.), every time that the information they give is cross-checked with institutional archives.
25.
Only the ones with the staff and with scientists holding management jobs will be mentioned here; the other ones mostly concern theoretical, practical, ontological, and political issues other than the SFI legitimation strategies. The knowledge they provide about the intellectual, material, and normative dimensions of the American institute and of complexity sciences at large remains in the background of this piece, but is and will be exploited in other works of mine.
26.
Nicholas C. Mullins, “The Development of a Scientific Specialty: The Phage Group and the Origins of Molecular Biology,” Minerva 10, 1 (1972): 51–82, 51–2.
27.
Gérard Lemaine, Roy Macleod, Michael Mulkay, and Peter Weingart, Perspectives on the Emergence of Scientific Disciplines (The Hague: Mouton & Co. and Paris: Maison des Sciences de l’Homme, 1976).
28.
Jean-Louis Fabiani, “À quoi sert la notion de discipline?” in Jean Boutier, Jean-Claude Passeron, and Jacques Revel (eds.) Qu’est-ce qu’une discipline? (Paris: EHESS, 2006), pp.11–34; Kate Bulpin and Susan Molyneux-Hodgson, “The Disciplining of Scientific Communities,” Interdisciplinary Science Reviews, 38, 2 (2013): 91–105.
29.
Martin Guntau and Hubert Latkau, “On the Origins and Nature of Scientific Disciplines,” in William R. Woodward and Robert S. Cohen (eds.) World Views and Scientific Discipline Formation (Dordrecht: Springer, 1991), pp.17–28; Timothy Lenoir, Instituting Science: The Cultural Production of Scientific Disciplines (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1997).
30.
Karl Hufbauer, “Social Support for Chemistry in Germany during the 18th Century: How and Why Did it Change?” Historical Studies in the Physical Sciences, 3 (1971): 205–31; Sara Angeli Aguiton, La Démocratie des chimères (Lormont: Editions Le Bord de l’eau, 2018).
31.
Doris S. Goldstein, “The Professionalization of History in Britain in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries,” Storia della Storiografia, 3 (1982): 3–26; Yves Gingras, “L’institutionnalisation de la recherche en milieu universitaire et ses effets,” Sociologie et sociétés, 23, 1 (1991): 41–54; Richard Whitley, The Intellectual and Social Organization of the Sciences (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984).
32.
Nik Brown, “Hope against Hype: Accountability in Biopasts, Presents and Futures,” Science Studies, 16, 2 (2003): 3–21; Mads Borup, Nik Brown, Kornelia Konrad, and Harro Van Lente, “The Sociology of Expectations in Science and Technology,” Technology Analysis & Strategic Management, 18, 3–4 (2006): 285–98.
33.
Peter Miller and Ted O’Leary, “Mediating Instruments and Making Markets: Capital Budgeting, Science and the Economy,” Accounting, Organization and Society, 32 (2007): 701–34; Brice Laurent, Les politiques des nanotechnologies: Pour un traitement démocratique d’une science émergente (Paris: Éditions Charles Léopold Mayer, 2010).
34.
Pierre-Olaf Schut and Matthieu Delalandre, “L’échec d’une discipline: montée et déclin de la spéléologie en France (1888-1978),” Revue d’histoire des sciences, 1, 68 (2015): 81–107.
35.
Yves Gingras and Christophe Schinckus, “Institutionalization of Econophysics in the Shadow of Physics,” Journal of the History of Economic Thought, 34, 1 (2012): 109–30.
36.
Reba Soffer, “Why Do Disciplines Fail? The Strange Case of British Sociology,” English Historical Review, 97, 385 (1982): 767–802.
37.
SFI, “A Proposal to the National Science Foundation for a Broad Research Program on the Sciences of Complexity at the Santa Fe Institute, Santa Fe, New Mexico”, July 1, 1990, box “Ronda’s unsorted archives”, p.3.
38.
Astonishingly, the only classical legitimation instrument that SFI did not rely on is the one of scientific societies. A Complex Systems Society does exist at the international level and SFI participates in it, but it is an extension of the European society for complex systems, which was founded at the beginning of the 2000s by a group of researchers from France, the UK, and Italy: <
>.
39.
SFI founders entertained a specific self-mythology, in which they claimed high-level scholarship and an insatiable curiosity.
40.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 9, 2 (1994), p.0.
41.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 4, 1 (1989), p.21.
42.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 9, 2 (1994), p.25.
43.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 19, 2 (2004), pp.4-5.
44.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 15, 1 (2000), p.26.
45.
SFI, “Concluding Comments, October Workshop,” box “SFI Board Meetings September 9, 1984–March 9, 1986.”
46.
SFI, “Articles of Incorporation of Rio Grande Institute. May 22, 1984,” box “Santa Fe Institute Archival Materials Relating to Acquisition of The Hyde Park Road Campus.”
47.
SFI, “S.F. Institute’s Plan Worries Neighbors, Bob Quick, the New Mexican,” box “Santa Fe Institute Archival Materials Relating to Acquisition of The Hyde Park Road Campus.”
48.
SFI, “Santa Fe City Code. Land Development,” box “Santa Fe Institute Archival Materials Relating to Acquisition of The Hyde Park Road Campus;” SFI, “Informational Report. Santa Fe Institue Request for Special Exception. March 22, 1993,” box “Santa Fe Institute Archival Materials Relating to Acquisition of The Hyde Park Road Campus.”
49.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 9, 2 (1994), p.16.
50.
SFI, “Bylaws of the Santa Fe Institute. Santa Fe, New Mexico. As Amended on November 3, 2013,” box “2015–2016 SFI Promotional material.”
51.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 9, 2 (1994), p.0.
52.
Interview with Ginger Richardson, March 5, 2017.
53.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 9, 2 (1994), p.16.
54.
Ibid., p.17.
55.
George Cowan, Manhattan Project to the Santa Fe Institute: The Memoirs of George A. Cowan (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2010), pp.72–3.
56.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 9, 2 (1994), p.3.
57.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 5, 2 (1990), p.9.
58.
SFI, “Letters of Arthur Spiegel, 1985,” box “SFI Early Docs Development Archives.”
59.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 19, 2 (2004), pp.8–9.
60.
Cowan, Manhattan Project, p.143 (note 55).
61.
Ibid., p.72.
62.
Interview with Ginger Richardson, March 5, 2017.
63.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 3, 1 (1988), p.20.
64.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 1, 1 (1986), p.14; SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 5, 1 (1990), p.8.
65.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 2, 1 (1987), pp.12–14.
66.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 8, 2 (1993), p.38.
67.
SFI, “Santa Fe Institute 2009 Annual Report,” (2009), p.6.
68.
Interview with William Tracy, October 5, 2016.
69.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 3, 2 (1988), p.5.
70.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 19, 2 (2004), p.8.
71.
SFI, “Concluding Comments, October Workshop,” box “SFI Board Meetings September 9, 1984–March 9, 1986.”
72.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 19, 2 (2004), p.8.
73.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 14, 1 (1999), p.11.
74.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 18, 1 (2003), p.3.
75.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 28, 2 (2014), p.45.
76.
Williams, Modeling, pp.166–7 (note 20).
77.
John Horgan, “From Complexity to Perplexity”, Scientific American, 272, 6 (1995): 74–9.
78.
Stefan Helmreich, Silicon Second Nature (note 19).
79.
Charles Gere, Digital Culture (London: Reaktion Books, 2002).
80.
81.
Horgan, “From Complexity” (note 77).
82.
Linton C. Freeman, The Development of Social Network Analysis: A Study in the Sociology of Science (Vancouver: Empirical Press, 2004).
83.
Williams, Modeling, p.166 (note 20).
84.
Wolf Feuerhahn, “Instituer les neurosciences sociales. Quelle histoire pour un nouveau label?”, in Bruno Ambroise and Christiane Chauviré (eds.) Raisons pratiques, 23 (2013): 115–37.
85.
Gleick, Chaos (note 8).
86.
Interview with Mitchell Waldrop, December 2, 2016.
87.
Lewin, Complexity (note 11).
88.
Stuart Kauffman, The Origins of Order: Self-Organization and Selection in Evolution (New York, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993); John L. Casti, Complexification: Explaining a Paradoxical World Through the Science of Surprise (New York: Harper Collins Publishers, 1994); Brian Goodwin, How the Leopard Changed Its Spots: The Evolution of Complexity (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1994); Murray Gell-Mann, The Quark and the Jaguar: Adventures in the Simple and the Complex (London: Abacus, 1994).
89.
For more titles, see Williams, Modeling, p.194 (note 20).
90.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 7, 2 (1992), p.7.
91.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 21, 1 (2006), p.2.
92.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 9, 2 (1994), p.16; SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 5, 2 (1990), p.2; SFI, “Santa Fe Institute 2007 Annual Report,” (2007), pp.28–31.
93.
Interview with Margaret Alexander, September 20, 2016.
94.
Interview with Ginger Richardson, March 5, 2017.
95.
Cowan, Manhattan Project, p.145 (note 55).
96.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 5, 2 (1990), p.10.
97.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 19, 1 (2004), p.4.
98.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 13, 1 (1998). p.21.
99.
Interview with Margaret Alexander, September 20, 2016.
100.
Interview with David Wolpert, October 6, 2016.
101.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 2, 1 (1987), p.15.
102.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 3, 2 (1988), p.2.
103.
SFI, “The Santa Fe Institute Annual Research Report,” (1997), p.22.
104.
SFI, “The Santa Fe Institute Annual Research Report,” (2006), p.97.
105.
SFI, “The Santa Fe Institute Annual Research Report,” (2013), p.19.
106.
Interview with John German, September 23, 2016.
107.
Interview with Elizabeth Johnson, September 28, 2016.
110.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 19, 2 (2004), pp.9–10.
111.
Cowan, Manhattan Project, p.148 (note 55).
112.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 24 (2009), p.27.
113.
SFI, “Santa Fe Institute 2009 Annual Report,” (2007), p.60.
114.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 3, 1 (1988), p.8.
115.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 4, 2 (1989), p.10.
116.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 4, 1 (1989), p.31.
117.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 5, 1 (1990), p.27; SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 6, 1 (1991), p.26.
118.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 5, 2 (1990), pp.6–7.
119.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 7, 2 (1992), p.47; SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 8, 2 (1993), p.4.
120.
SFI, “SFI Mission Statements, 1986,” box “SFI Concepts Mission Statements 1984–1989.”
121.
SFI, “ACtioN. Applied Complexity Network @ the Santa Fe Institute”, box “2015–2016 SFI Promotional material.”
122.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 2, 1 (1987), p.10.
123.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 4, 1 (1989), p.3.
124.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 7, 2 (1992), p.13.
125.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 9, 1 (1994), p.24.
126.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 13, 1 (1998), p.6.
127.
Interview with Ginger Richardson, March 5, 2017.
128.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 6, 2 (1991), p.35.
129.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 22, 1 (2007), p.1.
130.
SFI, “Santa Fe Institute 2007 Annual Report,” (2007), p.7.
131.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 19, 2 (2004), pp.4–5.
132.
Kate Bulpin and Susan Molyneux-Hodgson, “The Disciplining of Scientific Communities,” Interdisciplinary Science Reviews, 38, 2 (2013).
133.
The Open University in Milton Keynes (UK) offers one, with a focus on design and engineering; the Vermont Complex Systems Center at the University of Vermont (USA) proposes another one with a focus on data science; only the Department of Information Science and Technology at the University Institute of Lisbon seems to offer a program which covers the main SFI’s theories and tools.
134.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 13, 1 (1998), p.4.
135.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 3, 1 (1988), pp.16–18.
136.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 8, 2 (1993), pp.24, 26.
137.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 5, 2 (1990), p.12.
138.
139.
Interview with Daniel Stein, September 8, 2016.
140.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 6, 1 (1991), p.14.
141.
Interview with Daniel Stein, September 8, 2016.
142.
(1) Dynamical systems, fractals, and chaos; (2) cellular automata; (3) statistical physics; (4) spin glasses; (5) neuronal networks; (6) genetic networks; (7) network theory; (8) graph theory; (9) agent-based models; (10) self-organized criticality; (10) genetic algorithms; (11) game theory; (12) machine learning; (13) statistical tools for Big Data.
143.
SFI, “Santa Fe Institute 2010 Annual Report” (2010), p.14.
144.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 16, 1 (2001), p.27; SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 20, 1 (2005), p.12; SFI, “Santa Fe Institute 2008 Annual Report” (2008), p.17.
145.
SFI, “Santa Fe Institute 2012 Annual Report,” (2012), p.12.
146.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 5, 1 (1990), p.17.
147.
Ibid.
148.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 6, 1 (1991), p.17.
149.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 17, 1 (2002), p.15.
150.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 11, 1 (1995–6), p.16.
151.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 24, (2009), p.51.
152.
SFI, “Santa Fe Institute 2010 Annual Report,” (2010), p.9.
153.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 7, 2 (1992), p.34.
154.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 13, 2 (1998), p.3.
155.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 19, 1 (2004), p.7.
156.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 24 (2009), p.42.
157.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 5, 1 (1990), p.10.
158.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 9, 2 (1994), p.16.
159.
George Cowan, Complexity. Metaphors, Models, and Reality (Boston: Addison Wesley, 1994); SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 12, 2 (1997), p.7.
160.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 1, 1 (1986), p.12; SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 16, 1 (2001), p.24.
161.
SFI, “Santa Fe Institute 2007 Annual Report,” (2007), p.2.
162.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 8, 2 (1993), p.30.
163.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 5, 1 (1990), p.11.
164.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 9, 1 (1994), p.3.
165.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 6, 2 (1991), p.17.
167.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 15, 2 (2000), p.24; SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 17, 1 (2002), p.22; SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 22, 1 (2007), p.0.
168.
SFI, “The Bulletin of the Santa Fe Institute,” 8, 2 (1993), p.10.
169.
If one has a look at the dozens of complexity institutes in the world, one will notice that most of them focus mainly or exclusively on network theory and statistical physics.
170.
Guntau and Latkau, “On the Origins and Nature of Scientific Disciplines,” p.21 (note 29).
171.
Even if, as a computational complexity specialist from the SFI told me, “The current culture as I’ve been told by [the current president] David [Krakuer] is that there is no upper bond [to the residency at the institute] if you are still very active and very productive”: interview with Cristopher Moore, September 28, 2016.
172.
Fabrizio Li Vigni, “Le projet épistémique des sciences des systèmes complexes,” Philosophia scientiæ, 24, 1 (2020): 181–200.
173.
Ioana Popa, “L’attrait d’un label souple: Les ‘aires culturelles’ au prisme des programmes d’enseignement supérieur français après la Seconde Guerre mondiale,” Revue d’anthropologie des connaissances, 13, (2019): 113–45.
