Introduction
The Systems Theory course has officially come to an end, and it’s time for me to reflect on my journey through it. This reflection isn’t just a summary of what I’ve learned; it’s more of a personal diary—a deep dive into how my understanding of the course content has evolved, and how it has resonated with my experiences in the Erasmus system. I’ll be honest: I’ve had a tough time grasping how the concepts and theories we studied are interconnected and how they apply to real-world situations. As a student of anthropology, I’ve spent years trying to dissect systems, but this course forced me to look at them from a completely new angle. What stuck with me the most, however, wasn’t just the knowledge itself, but the realization of my own biases and limitations in perceiving systems beyond my own frame of reference.
From the start, the course was a challenge. My Scandinavian mindset, which thrives on structure and organization, felt somewhat threatened by the chaotic and complex nature of systems theory. I found myself struggling to connect the dots—how do abstract theories of systems relate to tangible things in the world? How can these ideas help me in my personal and professional life? But this struggle itself, I’ve come to realize, speaks for itself about the key lessons I’ve learned. It highlights the very concepts of perception, interconnectedness, and interdependency.
Interconnectedness and some wonders
One of the first concepts that stuck with me was the idea that everything is interconnected. We discussed ecosystems in class, and although I was familiar with the term, I was struck by how the interconnectedness of things extends far beyond the obvious. A wolf’s howl, for instance, can influence the formation of a river. This simple example illustrated a crucial point for me: that everything, even in ways we don’t consciously notice, plays a part in the larger system. The more I reflected on this, the more I realized that I’m part of a cycle that I can’t control or even fully understand. This realization also made me feel a deep sense of peace and acceptance. It’s a reminder that there are things beyond my control, and sometimes, that’s exactly how it should be.
At the same time, the notion of interconnectedness opened my eyes to the idea that systems aren’t just about human interactions—they include non-human elements as well. As someone studying anthropology, I’ve always been focused on understanding human societies and cultures. But systems theory encouraged me to broaden my perspective. It made me consider how non-human entities, such as animals, plants, and even rivers, influence our lives. For example, the wolf’s role in shaping an ecosystem goes beyond mere metaphor; it has a tangible impact on how humans experience and engage with the world. And in a neuropsychological sense, these elements affect how our brains wire and rewire over time, forming our perceptions and behaviors. This was a new way of thinking for me, one that merged biological, environmental, and social influences into a single concept.
In a more concrete sense, the course prompted me to reflect on the role of social media in contemporary life. Given that the course included “social media” in its title, I was naturally curious about how systems theory could shed light on the relationship between humans and the digital world. Could social media be seen as a co-creative force that influences our daily lives and perceptions? Are we simply reacting to it, or is there a deeper, symbiotic relationship? These are questions I’m still grappling with, but the idea of symbiosis—of mutual influence between humans and technology—keeps resurfacing. Social media isn’t just a tool we use; it’s a force that shapes our thoughts, emotions, and behaviors in ways we often don’t even realize.
The collection vs. the system
One of the more philosophical lessons we had was around the difference between a collection and a system. It’s easy to think of a bus as a collection of parts: wheels, engine, fuel, and so on. But once those parts work together to fulfill the common purpose of transportation, they become a system. The bus driver, however, complicates this simple idea. Is the driver just another part of the system, or does he or she constitute an entirely separate system? This question forced me to think more deeply about how we define systems. What makes something a system? How do we categorize interactions within it? This exploration led me to another realization: systems theory isn’t about defining boundaries or labeling things as “systems” or “non-systems.” Instead, it’s about looking at relationships—the interconnections, interdependencies, and purposes that emerge from those relationships. This shift in perspective opened up new ways of understanding the world around me, where even seemingly different elements can turn into a meaningful whole.
The butterfly effect and networks
One of the more eye-opening concepts we studied was “sensitive dependence on initial conditions”—the butterfly effect. The idea that small changes can lead to significant outcomes resonated with me deeply. The example of the pendulum, where a slight change in angle can drastically alter its path, seemed to echo much of what we had learned throughout the course. It highlighted how interconnected everything is, and how small actions or decisions can lead to outcomes that we might never anticipate. This concept has made me more mindful of the decisions I make on a daily basis. It’s a reminder that even the smallest actions—whether they are a word we say, a choice we make, or an opinion we share—can set off a chain of events that shape the world around us in ways we can’t predict.
An apple and it’s journey
Reflecting on these interconnected systems also made me think about consumerism and how disconnected we’ve become from the processes that shape our everyday lives. Take something as simple as an apple, for example. In class, we did an “apple meditation,” where we reflected on all the people and processes that were involved in bringing an apple to our table. I found this activity particularly powerful. We rarely think about the farm workers, the truck drivers, or the countless others who make our lives so comfortable. In a capitalist system, we’ve become alienated from these processes, disconnected from the labor and the natural systems that keeps us alive. We no longer see the apple for what it truly is—a product of interdependence between humans, nature, and a network of systems. Instead, we see it as just a commodity to be consumedl. This sense of alienation from the natural world, from the seasons, and from the labor that supports us, is a direct consequence of the capitalist focus on surplus value and overproduction. The more I thought about this, the more I realized how important it is to reconnect with the systems that support us. We need to acknowledge the intricate web of relationships that bring things into our lives, whether it’s food, technology, or knowledge.
Co-creating a map
This realization ties into another activity we did during the course—co-creating a map of our respective home countries. At first, I didn’t see the relevance of this activity to systems theory, but as the map began to take shape, I started to see the connections. We were all part of a larger system of education, cultural exchange, and collaboration. Education itself, I realized, is a system that brings together different cultures, ideas, and practices into one interconnected whole. It’s a self-organizing system, much like the Erasmus program we discussed in class. Through interactions and adaptations, individuals from diverse backgrounds come together and create a new, emergent system. This kind of collaboration is a powerful example of how systems can emerge organically from the interactions of individual elements.
The very last one – subconsciousness creates systems
Finally, one of the most profound lessons I learned in this course came from a simple activity where we had to trust our subconscious to pick a card. I chose one with a woman sweeping the ocean, and it suddenly made sense to me how deeply this connected to the idea of emergence and interconnectedness. The image of the woman, sweeping the sea, felt like a perfect metaphor for the process of systems theory itself. Just as the waves of the ocean continuously move and reorganize, so too do the systems we study. There’s a rhythm to it, a trust that things will emerge and re-emerge, even when we don’t fully understand the process. It’s a beautiful and humbling reminder that the systems we’re part of are larger than ourselves, and that by trusting the process, we can allow these systems to unfold in ways we can’t predict or control.
Conclusion
In conclusion, this course on systems theory has been a journey of discovery and self-reflection. I’ve learned that systems are not static; they are dynamic, interconnected, and constantly evolving. I’ve realized that my perceptions are shaped by the systems I am part of, and that small actions can have far-reaching consequences. Most importantly, I’ve come to appreciate the beauty of interconnectedness—the idea that we are all part of a larger whole, and that our actions, no matter how small, contribute to the ongoing emergence of new systems. I hope to carry this understanding with me, applying it to my work in anthropology. Maybe it can help me to grasp how different people from different cultures navigate and connects with different systems.