Perhaps because of the recent technological leap in deep learning and neural network systems like AI, it seems we have increasingly focused on decentralized and flat-organizational relationships while considering hierarchical, tree-like, authority-cascading ones as something obsolete.
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While, of course, both are important perspectives for us to understand relationships, the focus tends to lean towards either/or. This choice reminds me of the difference between the human body structure and brain cell synaptic neural networks.
The former seems pretty universal—hierarchical and well-structured in the relationships among parts and wholes; moving from one to another in straightforward directions. In this situation, there is usually one or a few specific command and control centers, a certain authoritative entity that can be shared and cascaded. It’s traditional and, if anything, conventional. Most of the “old” type organizations and relationships are based on this perspective.
The latter is quite the opposite. There is no explicit center, no specific authority that the rest must follow. It’s decentralized—so flat that there are minimal layers or even no layers at all. It’s like brain cells: they are so freely interconnected. One can connect with another almost randomly—well, not truly random, but flexibly, depending on the needs of the moment. One cell can connect to another, whether very far or very near, regardless of layers and structures.
In such relationships, there are no rigid structures, only constant dynamics. Beyond the given structural framework, anything could take place. As such, this situation seems more compatible with creativity and innovation; something unexpected, even unimaginable, could happen serendipitously.
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It’s so free and flexible, beyond given authority. However, this freedom carries the danger of anarchy, chaos, and confusion. Yet from another perspective, these elements are necessary for creating something new. Chaos and confusion drive the search for order and clarity. But once order and clarity are achieved, the drive may be lost. Therefore, there must always be an element of chaos and confusion.
Using the analogy of Greek mythology, the former is Apollonian, and the latter is Dionysian, as described in The Birth of Tragedy by Friedrich Nietzsche. Chaos is necessary to awaken the drive to live dynamically. Order is too static, representing the death of progress—like resting in peace, which is calm and orderly but lacks the drive to move forward and the passion to find new ways.
Another analogy that comes to mind is the concept of the rhizome in post-structuralism, describing an assemblage that admits connections between any of its constituent elements, regardless of predefined ordering, structure, or entry points. This is a central concept in the work of French theorists Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari in their book A Thousand Plateaus.
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If the traditional, structural, hierarchical approach is like a tree model, the rhizome is more like underground root systems, anti-tree-like connections. It’s like the neural networks: one can connect to another and others so flexibly. Like roots underground, it looks chaotic and confusing. Nevertheless, or perhaps because of this, it can be the source of life, allowing us to become more “vital” in this situation.
It resists any effort at “categorization” or “systematization.” When we face chaotic phenomena or situations, we often can’t bear them. Even instinctively, we try to sort them out, to find “orders” or “patterns” within them. Such a “reductionistic attitude” is the source of our intelligence and sciences. We are creatures driven to find “laws” and “rules” in the universe. We can’t help but sort things out rather than embrace them as they are.
But this might only be one side of our existence—our Apollonian side, our tree-model-like entry point. Yet there is also the underground root. Perhaps unconsciously, we have the “ability” to embrace things as they are. We accept chaos as chaos, confusion as confusion. This is not an attitude of abandonment but of recognizing that chaos is the root of life, vitality, creativity, and innovation.
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That’s why, even in writing, we often find our raw, initial drafts more appealing and attractive—despite or because of their chaos and confusion. Once they are sorted, categorized, and well-cooked, the final products, while neat and polished, might feel boring.
We don’t love the well-crafted writings of brochures or PR articles—they are too good to be true. They sound anonymous, hence boring. It’s like a straight line drawn by a scale; we love freehand lines that are not straight, where the flaws make them more appealing and genuine. Perhaps we feel the same way about AI-generated content.
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While rhizome was a concept of postmodernism, which intended to “deconstruct” Apollonian orders and authorities, postmodernism has been somewhat forgotten over the decades.
Yet unexpectedly, because of neural networks and their flat organizational approach—or perhaps despite the same AI technology—we also find that AI-generated Apollonian traits are not favorable.
So now, once again, if you are tired of conventional tree models and their authorities, it’s time to look underground to check the roots, like rhizome. We could be emancipated, finding new life and vitality there, embracing chaos and confusion as they are. This, ironically, provides the courage to face the true face of the world and the universe.
Image by Anja
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