This article is part of The Hivemaker's Code series:
- Article 1: Introduction
- Article 2: How do Ecosystems Grow?
- Article 3: Cooperating on Blockchain
- Article 4: The Satoshi’s Dream
- Article 5: Anonymity in the Cryptosphere
- Article 6: Democracy and Decentralization
- Article 7: Is Net Neutrality Important for Blockchains?
- Article 8: Why Interoperability is the Bedrock of Digital Freedom
- Article 9: The Way Forward
How do Ecosystems Grow?

All By Themselves.
Authors: Oliver Lukitsch, Michal Matlon, Gregor Žavcer, Thomas Fundneider, Markus Peschl, Lena Müller-Naendrup
In 1993, James F. Moore published an article in Harvard Business Review. Inside, he presented an idea that was quite unusual at that time. He claimed that business networks, consisting of interacting companies, products, and users, could be understood similarly to natural ecosystems.
Moore argued that business ecosystems contain various species interacting with each other. And the types of those species co-evolve, just like species in a biological ecosystem.
In hindsight, none of this should surprise us. Early evolutionary biology and ecology were heavily influenced by economics. We know, for example, that the economist Thomas Robert Malthus influenced Charles Darwin.
On the other hand, humans are biological beings that evolved and are still embedded in living ecosystems. Moreover, our economies are nothing more than a technological extension of our natural ecosystems (for better or worse).
Today, the understanding that social and economic systems are ecosystems is widespread. New technologies have always given rise to new niches and even newer technologies, just as the emergence of new species has often given rise to newer species developing and inhabiting newly created niches.
The flower enabled the bee. Web 1.0 enabled email and websites, but also Web 2.0, involving social media, blogging, and online games. And that, in turn, spawned the vision of Web3.
But is it justified to call today’s heavily digitized socioeconomic systems ”ecosystems”? After all, they seem more disembodied, functionalist, and mechanized than any pre-digital or biological ecosystem could ever be.
To answer these questions, we take a brief detour to the basic principles of evolutionary ecology, Darwinism, and the concept of niche creation. The latter, in particular, is critical to understanding why a digital ecosystem can be genuinely alive and exhibit ecological characteristics initially considered unique to biological ecosystems.
What is Life Anyway?

Autonomy and Self-Organization
Before we wonder why digital ecosystems deserve to be treated as “living systems,” we should revisit the very basics of biology. What does it mean for an organism or object to be a living system?
Many biologists list a set of features only present in living organisms. These can be growth, sensitivity to external stimuli, reproduction, homeostasis, adaptivity and learning, and being composed of cells. Such definitions, however, do not fully capture the uniqueness of living systems.
The mathematical models of theoretical biology are based on more fundamental assumptions about life. For instance, the biologist Stuart Kauffman contends we must define life in terms of its “autonomy.” Living systems are self-organized systems. They bring about their very own organization.
You might find this definition too simple for something as complex as life. Though surprisingly spartan, it’s a definition that performs well. Stones do not organize themselves. Cars don’t organize themselves. Even intelligent machines organize themselves only because we designed them to do so. Not because they evolved that way themselves.
On the contrary, life was created by no one and for nothing. If it were not self-organized and autonomous, it would do nothing at all. Life came about by itself, simply reproducing its own emergent structure.
The biologists Humberto Maturana and Francisco Varela coined the term “autopoiesis” to capture this fundamental feature of life. According to them, life does not only create and organize itself. It also creates its very own domains of meaning, its niches. In doing so, it can sustain its unstable internal state against an unstable environment. Hence, life creates its very own environmental conditions for sustaining itself.
Bottom-Up Versus Top-Down: The Emergence of Life Forms
To a large extent, life is the engine of its own creativity. Life is profoundly autonomous. Since there can be nothing that transcends life and gives it form and meaning, there is only one “direction of creation”: life arose from the bottom-up. It just “emerged” from the self-reproducing patterns of interacting molecules.
These features of life do not only apply to individual organisms. They apply to single cells, individuals, groups, and entire ecosystems. Like a single organism constantly brings forth its own organization, so does the ecosystem. There is no external entity guiding the fate of an ecosystem. Its structure and organization emerge from themselves until they no longer do, and the ecosystem ceases to exist.
You might argue that there actually is something that shapes life, a force greater than its internal organization: natural selection. Natural selection is considered the driving force of evolution. It forces organisms to play by their own rules and, more importantly, by the laws of the environment around them. It imposes on life.
But is the course of evolution really determined by an external force? Is natural selection a substitute for the idea of a higher being, who was said to have formed all living things on earth? We will show you in a moment that even Darwin rejected the notion that natural selection is the sole driving force of evolution.
Misconceiving Darwin
Charles Darwin is as influential as he is misunderstood. He famously maintained that only the fittest survive. This claim is often interpreted as meaning that only the "strongest" survive. Just think of majestic lions and clever apes that dominate their ecosystems.
However, fitness has nothing to do with the strength or intelligence of individual organisms. Instead, it measures how a species can reproduce successfully in its environment. Staying alive is a collective, multigenerational project any species must pursue. In that sense, only the entire species matters.
True, Darwin uses the superlative: "Only the fittest are being selected by nature." This is true, but only because two species compete for the same resources. The fittest, in this sense, is the organism that uses the resources in a niche more effectively than its niche mates.
According to its intellectual father, evolution is not only about optimization and competition. It’s also about the inherent biological, natural creativity of evolutionary dynamics, as Stuart Kauffman notes. How do organisms produce the unique forms, functions, and abilities that make our ecosystems colorful and diverse?
Natural selection is a mechanism that selects already existing shapes and forms (or phenotypes, as biology calls them). But how do the various biological forms and shapes arise, to begin with?
Random mutation is often given as one part of the explanation. Yet, it forms only one piece of the puzzle resulting in a vast and increasing complexity of organisms. To make things worse, biologists consider it a highly effective survival strategy to stick with simplicity, be small, and produce lots of offspring at speed. It’s a strategy that works flawlessly for the amoeba but fails the elephant.
Being small, simple, and highly reproductive will always be effective for life. Bacteria will continue to populate our planet even after more complex life forms have become extinct. It is puzzling enough that complexity emerges at all. Therefore biology must explain why the forces of evolution cause more complexity in nature on earth, not less. Why is it feasible to evolve for large, complex, ecologically sensitive organisms like us?
The Problem of the Heap. Natural Drift as its Solution.
When does a heap become a heap? You may wonder why the topic of the evolution of complexity has led us to this question. You will soon see that it's vital to the question of how increasing biological sophistication arises.
There are two ways to explain the emergence of growing complexity. As we mentioned, some biologists have chosen to explain everything about the emergence of life's complexity with the concept of natural selection. But it's by no means anti-naturalist or "esoteric" to assume that natural selection is not all there is to biological evolution.
Other mechanisms have already been identified. The most important concept is the idea of "natural drift" or "genetic drift." Some properties of organisms can emerge without any selective pressure from the outside. They can materialize even though they are merely viable despite being necessary for survival and reproduction.
While it was a given for a long time that natural selection was the only mechanism driving evolution, so-called "neutral" theories emerged from the 1960s onward, attempting to explain how complexity arises in the absence of natural pressures.
One such theory, the "theory of constructive neutral evolution," argues that biological changes do happen even without selective pressure. The story goes like this: Evolution can bring forth so-called "silent" changes (that don't serve any purpose or function) and functional changes (that give rise to new functions).
Evolution proceeds without being imposed by the external environment when such changes occur by mutation and are passed on to new generations. It is purely constructive rather than selective.
Stephen J. Gould, for example, described the evolution of some traits that initially had no function or at least a different function. He calls such features "exaptations." Usually, you could think that as long as a biological trait cannot fulfill a function, nature has no "reason" for selecting it. Why should she? There is simply no advantage for an organism to have "useless" traits.
Nonetheless, such seemingly useless traits must first emerge to later grow into a functional unit. There's a clear-cut finishing line that defines when a complex structure (such as an organ) attains its identity: it's when it can obtain a purpose or function. And only once it does can it be selected by nature.
To give an example, think of the evolution of some skeletal structure that will, later in its evolutionary history, allow the descendants of some creature to fly. Note that the skeletal structure will not perform its purpose at the beginning of its evolution. It will resemble wings ever so slightly – but it's still a long way. First, it will exist for no reason at all. Hence, there are no grounds for “selection.” The structure will have to evolve over multiple generations without notable prospects of usefulness.
At some point in time, a distant descendant of the original creature will suddenly have a subtly different skeletal endowment than its immediate ancestor. The latter looks like a promising flyer, but he isn’t. For the former, however, it will be just enough to get it up into the air. Only then can we speak of a new organic feature that can be selected for its novel purpose.

The above story also affects how we think about ecological niches. Every organism on our planet occupies a niche. Niches provide a space where an organism has little competition for resources because it adapts to its environment in ways other organisms can't. It's simply a "nice place" for any organism to be. More importantly, you could say that an organism's niche defines its functions and place in nature - its purpose.
Life's ability to create new niches is a fundamental feature of biology. It is the lifeblood of evolution and the biological possibility to develop new life forms and meanings.
In the 1960s, the biologist Robert Paine carried out a series of studies to show how predators influence the diversity of species in an ecosystem. What happens if they are removed? Does the number of species increase if top-level predators prey less on ecosystem members?
Cattani, G. and M. Mastrogiorgio (Eds.) (2021). New developments in evolutionary innovation. Novelty creation in a serendipitous economy. Oxford: Oxford University Press.