In the natural world, we often similar solutions evolve across many species because the solution space for challenges such as movement tends to be fairly small. This phenomenon, known as convergent evolution, illustrates that nature tends to converge on a small set of optimal strategies when faced with similar types of problems. One such strategy is the development of systems for coordination. The ability to act as a unified whole turns out to be a very useful adaptation for the functioning of any complex organism. Let’s take a look at why that is.

To thrive, animals must coordinate the actions of countless cells, tissues, and organs. This coordination is made possible by the nervous system and the brain, which integrate sensory input, process information, and orchestrate responses. Without such systems, a complex organism would collapse into chaos. Imagine a human body where each organ acted independently: the heart pumps without regard for oxygen levels, the lungs breathe without synchronizing with the muscles, and the limbs move without direction. Such an organism would have a very short existence. Coordination proves to be essential for orchestrating complex dynamic systems.

Of course, not all large organisms require such intricate systems. Take the Armillaria ostoyae, a fungus that spans thousands of acres. This organism thrives in a relatively static environment, relying on a network of mycelium to absorb nutrients and reproduce. Its structure is homogeneous, and its ability to adapt to rapid change is limited. While it is vast, it lacks the adaptability of animals. The need for coordination arises from the demands of the environment and the complexity of the tasks at hand. In dynamic, unpredictable environments, the ability to act in coordinated fashion becomes a survival imperative.

We can extend this principle beyond individual organisms to societies, which can be thought of as metaorganisms. Just as cells and organs work together within a body, individuals within a society collaborate to achieve shared goals. Societies, like organisms, compete for resources, and their competition exerts selective pressure. Those that can effectively coordinate labor and resources are more likely to persist and thrive. In small societies, coordination can be relatively simple. A tribe might have a leader who helps organize tasks, but much of the work is distributed among autonomous individuals, each specializing in a specific role, like hunting, crafting, or farming. The structure is flat, and communication is direct.

However, as societies grow, so too does the need for more sophisticated coordination. The transformation from a small tribe to a large civilization is a shift where quantity transforms into quality. With more people comes greater specialization, and with specialization comes interdependence. A blacksmith in a small town might work independently, but in a large society, blacksmiths become part of a broader network of producers, traders, and consumers. This interdependence demands systems to manage complexity, much like a nervous system manages the complexity of a multicellular organism. A group of people specializing in a particular profession is akin to an organ within a living organism.

This pattern emerges in all types of human organizations, from companies to governments. In a small team, direct communication suffices. Each member knows their role, and decisions can be made collaboratively. But as the organization grows, the lines of communication multiply exponentially. What works for five people becomes unmanageable for fifty, and impossible for five hundred. At this point, delegation becomes necessary. Departments form, each with its own leader, and these leaders coordinate with one another. Such hierarchical structure necessarily emerges as a solution to the problem of scale. It mirrors the way an organism relies on a brain and the nervous system to manage its many parts.

The need for coordination, in turn, gives rise to the need for authority. Authority is not inherently oppressive; it is a tool for managing complexity. In a software development project, for example, dozens of individuals might work on interconnected tasks. Frontend developers rely on backend developers to provide data, while backend developers depend on database administrators to manage information. If one team member fails to deliver, the entire project can stall. To prevent such breakdowns, the team must agree on shared norms, schedules, and decision-making processes. These agreements require a team lead to take charge in order to resolve disputes, set priorities, and ensure that everyone is aligned. This authority is not arbitrary; it emerges from the practical demands of coordination.

The same principle applies to large-scale industries. Modern factories, with their complex machinery and hundreds of workers, cannot function without a clear chain of command. Independent action gives way to combined action, and combined action requires organization. Authority, in this context, is not a top-down imposition but a bottom-up necessity. It arises because of the material conditions of production dictated by the scale, complexity, and interdependence of tasks.

Critics of authority often argue for absolute autonomy, but such arguments overlook the real and tangible need for coordination. Authority and autonomy are not opposites; they exist on a spectrum, and their balance shifts with the needs of the group. In a small, simple society, autonomy might dominate. In a large, complex one, authority becomes indispensable. To reject authority outright is to ignore the lessons of both biology and history: that coordination is the foundation of complexity, and that complexity, in turn, demands systems to manage it.

Authority, far from being a mere social construct, is a natural response to the challenges of scale and complexity. It is not inherently good or evil. Rather, it is an effective tool for addressing the needs of the group and the demands of the environment.