Showing posts with label multiplicity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label multiplicity. Show all posts

5 Nov 2015

Terence Blake on Deleuze’s Philosophies of Difference and Multiplicity


by
Corry Shores

[
Search Blog Here. Index-tags are found on the bottom of the left column.]


[Central Entry Directory]
[Terence Blake, entry directory]



This is a post by Terence Blake regarding Deleuze’s philosophies of difference and multiplicity. I had previously thought difference to be a more fundamental concept, but now I am no longer so sure.

DELEUZE: philosopher of difference or philosopher of multiplicity

“I argue that Deleuze’s philosophical evolution involves a passage from a problematic of difference to one of multiplicity. There is nothing explicit to mark this passage, but … there is an “epistemological break”, a rupture in Deleuze’s preferred conceptual vocabulary. After his encounter with Guattari, Deleuze ceases talking in terms of difference, and sticks to multiplicity.

Given this change, which I find to be a progress, I see no reason to confine Deleuze to the category “philosopher of difference”. Deleuze always presented himself as a pluralist and a philosopher of multiplicities, long before DIFFERENCE AND REPETITION. So I think it is a mistake to give too much prominence to the concept of difference.”
(Blake)


From Terence Blake, ‘DELEUZE: philosopher of difference or philosopher of multiplicity’

https://terenceblake.wordpress.com/2015/06/07/deleuze-philosopher-of-difference-or-philosopher-of-multiplicity/



24 Aug 2015

Somers-Hall, (5.4), Deleuze’s Difference and Repetition, ‘5.4 The Three Characteristics of Intensity (232–40/291–300)’, summary


by Corry Shores
[Search Blog Here. Index-tags are found on the bottom of the left column.]

[Central Entry Directory]
[Deleuze Entry Directory]
[Henry Somers-Hall, Entry Directory]
[Henry Somers-Hall’s Deleuze’s Difference and Repetition, Entry Directory]

 

[The following is summary. All boldface, underlining, and bracketed commentary are my own. Proofreading is incomplete, so please forgive my typos and other distracting mistakes. Somers-Hall is abbreviated SH and Difference and Repetition as DR.]



Summary of


Henry Somers-Hall


Deleuze’s Difference and Repetition:
An Edinburgh Philosophical Guide


Part 1
A Guide to the Text


Chapter 5. The Asymmetrical Synthesis of the Sensiblence

 

5.4 The Three Characteristics of Intensity (232–40/291–300)

 



 

Brief summary: 

Extensity, which is of the realm of the extensum, is fundamentally different from intensity, which is of the realm of the spatium. The most important difference is that intensity is more fundamental than extensity, since extensity takes on its features as a result of intensity explicating into certain extensive expressions. The main distinguishing feature is their divisibility: The extensum, as it is extensive, is a multiplicity that is homogeneously divisible, meaning that each division produces parts that are of the same nature. Two meters (of something) can be divided into two equal (and identical) parts. The spatium, as it is intensive, is a multiplicity that is heterogeneously divisible, meaning that each division produces parts that are of a different nature. Each moment, our consciousness synthesizes the past with the present into a whole mental state. But each successive moment of consciousness is qualitatively different from prior ones. For example, with each new note of a melody, the character of that melody as a whole changes. Were we to divide our consciousness between the way it once was when we heard a prior note with the way it is now, having heard more notes that have altered the melody’s character, we would have two parts of consciousness that differ qualitatively. Thus, they differ in nature. Deleuze emphasizes three important features of intensity: 1) because it is not metrically homogeneous like extensity, it does not divide into equal parts, and thus intensity includes the unequal in itself; 2) since an intensive difference does not involve one thing being the negation or denial of another, but rather is a matter of pure differential relations, intensity affirms differences; and 3) because it explicates into extensities, intensity is an implicated, enveloped, or embryonized quantity.

 




Summary



SH now asks, “what are the characteristics we find in intensity? We first note important differences between intensity and extensity. When you combine two extensive magnitudes, like two spatial distances, you get one whose value is the numerical total of the two. That is not how intensive magnitudes work, however. For example, if you combine fluids of different temperatures, the new temperature is not the addition but rather the average of the two. “intensity understood prior to its location in extensity will have different characteristics to extensity itself” (174). So for Deleuze, the “nature of | the extensum and the spatium as a whole are radically different,” but he also focuses on the differences between intensive and extensive elements and also the differences in the ways each kind of element relates to others of its own type (174-175). Deleuze’s account discusses cardinal and ordinal numbers, while all the while in the background is Bergson’s account of two multiplicities. [SH discusses Bergson’s multiplicities in his Hegel, Deleuze… book, Pt2.Ch3.Sb4]. For Deleuze, intensity has three characteristics: 1) it includes the unequal in itself, 2) it affirms differences, and 3) it is an implicated, enveloped, or embryonized quantity (SH 175).


1) Intensity includes the unequal in itself.
SH will follow Delanda’s analysis in his Intensive Science and Virtual Philosophy. Extensive quantities, we noted, maintain their nature when added, [and perhaps intensive quantities do not. If intensive quantities change their nature when added, I am not entirely sure how the prior example of combining fluids with different temperature applies, since I would think they keep the same nature even if they average. For, they would form a fluid with its own temperature that could be added to yet another, repeating the same process.] Extensive quantities “can be measured numerically, and […] these measurements are comparable (or commensurate) with one another” (175). [The next ideas are slightly complicated, but they are straightforward. It seems we need to establish different orders of ordinal numbers, since within each order certain values are suggested or desired, but that order cannot express them. Another order is then posited which can express those other values. So we begin with natural numbers, which do not have decimal values between them. So among the natural numbers, we have 2, 7, and 8, for example. We can divide 8 by 2 and get 4, which is also a natural number. But if we divide 7 by 2, we get something greater than 3 but less than 4. So we need to turn to another order of numbers, fractions, which would give us seven halves, in this example. But fractions do not allow all quantities to be expressed, since for example there is the value of pi, for which there is no exact ratio of integers that could express it. So we need another order of numbers, the real numbers (which will include both rational numbers, that is, those that can be expressed in fractional form, as well as irrational numbers, which cannot be expressed fractionally). So again, within each order, there is an incommensurability that cannot be expressed within that order and which thus calls for another order to express it.]

As Deleuze notes, this difference reflects one of the key features of extensive magnitudes: that they can be measured numerically, and that these measurements are comparable (or commensurate) with one another. Now, if we look just at the natural numbers (0, 1, 2, 3 . . .), we find that frequently we come across magnitudes that cannot be expressed in these terms. For instance, provided we remain with the natural numbers, we cannot divide 7 by 2, as the result is not itself a natural number. The obvious solution to this difficulty is to introduce another order of numbers that does allow us to relate these two quantities to each other, in this case, fractions. Similarly, we will discover that fractions do not allow all quantities to be related to one another, leading to the instigation of a new order of numbers: real numbers (such as √2 or π). In each case, we have an incommensurability between quantities that cannot be cancelled within the order of numbers themselves, but only by instigating a new order of numbers.
(SH 175)

[So we note that fractions proceeded from natural numbers, and reals from fractions.] Now we ask, from what order of numbers do natural numbers proceed ? (175). We turn now to the difference between ordinal and cardinal numbers. Cardinal numbers can have identities in the sense of forming equivalents and compositions. So the difference in value from one to three is the same as from two to four (175). Ordinal numbers, however, “just give us a sequence without requiring that the difference between the elements is the same in each case (thus, the difference between first and third does not have to be the same as the difference between second and fourth)” (SH 175). [Cardinal numbers can be said to have a metrical distance. For example, the “distance” between one and three is the same “distance” as between two and four. (That of course sounds right, but I wonder if numerical differences obtained through subtraction imply a geometrical sort of distance like on a number line. I guess the idea is that so long as the differences between units are standardized, that this creates a sort of metric.)] Ordinal numbers can also be thought of as having distances, but it is not metrically consistent or measurable like with cardinal numbers [so first is more distant from third as it is from second, but that does not mean we can say there is the same distance from first to second as there is from second to third.]


Since ordinal numbers do not operate on the basis of metrical units spanning between their values, “the kinds of operations we can perform with cardinal, natural numbers cannot be performed, meaning that we cannot produce equalities within this domain. Rather, it is only by the addition of a common measure between numbers (and thus the conversion of ordinal numbers to cardinal numbers) that we can begin to talk about equalising quantities” (176); [we then turn to a Deleuze quote. It seems we first need to understand the spatium as having distances enveloped in it, which might be like how the syntheses of space somehow explicate extensive space from an intensive spatium. What is happening here is a bit vague in my mind. The next thing is that when ordinals are converted to cardinals, it involves such an explication of the spatium.] “ ‘In fact, ordinal number becomes cardinal only by extension, to the extent that the distances enveloped in the spatium are explicated, or developed and equalised in an extensity established by natural number’ (DR 233/292)” (SH 176). SH continues:

We can note that, in these cases, we have a model that parallels the account of intensity we have seen so far. An uncancellable difference (intensity) gives rise to a new domain (extensity) within which that difference is cancelled. ‘Here, however, we rediscover only the duality between explication and the implicit, between extensity and the intensive: for if a type of number cancels its difference, it does so only by explicating it within the extension that it installs. Nevertheless, it maintains this difference in itself in the implicated order by which it is grounded’ (DR 232/292).
(SH 176)

We saw how heat was cancelled in its own domain of energy and temperature [but this is not a case of intensities in the intensive spatium, but rather of intensities explicated into the extensive physical world of energy transfers.] Yet, intensity is not equalized in its own domain of intensity. It can only be equalized after being explicated into the constituted realm of extensities. “Whereas in the thermodynamic model, difference is cancelled within its own domain, leading to the idea of the heat death of the universe, for Deleuze difference can only be equalised in a constituted realm, leaving it unequalised in its original domain” (176). Cardinal numbers, as we have gathered, presuppose extensive space. [I am not sure I get the next point about time and ordinal numbers. The Bergson quote seems to be saying that a succession of increasing numbers needs a spatial structure, since without it, each successive number would displace the prior and we would never have more than just one thing at a time. Then it seems SH is saying that Deleuze follows Bergson’s claim that a) cardinal number requires space, and also that b) there is a temporality to ordinal numbers, perhaps since they are understood only in terms of their succession, but I am not sure I follow correctly, and c) this temporal succession requires space. The final point that quotes from the Deleuze lecture, in the SH quotation below, I do not grasp so well. Time arises in an ordinal series. But it arises secondarily as a spatialized time. Perhaps the idea is that is that the pure form of time is somehow intensive, and in some way it is ordinal succession, and out of it somehow arises an extensive time of cardinal succession. I probably have that wrong, and even so, I do now grasp how that works. Let me quote:]

As cardinal numbers are constituted from elements that are absolutely identical with one another, they presuppose an extensive space. Bergson makes the point as follows [the following up to citation is Bergson quotation, and bracketed text within it and within the next Deleuze quotation is SH’s]:

And yet [numbers] must be somehow distinct from one another, since otherwise they would merge into a single unit. Let us assume that all the sheep in the flock are identical; they differ at least by the position which they occupy in space, otherwise they would not form a flock. But now let us even set aside the fifty sheep themselves and retain only the idea of them. Either we include them all in the same image, and it follows as a necessary consequence that we place them side by side in an ideal space, or else we repeat fifty times in succession the image of a single one, and in that case it does seem, indeed, that the series lies in duration rather than in space. But we shall soon find out that it cannot be so. For if we picture to ourselves each of the sheep in the flock in succession and separately, we shall never have to do with more than a single sheep. In order | that the number should go on increasing in proportion as we advance, we must retain the successive images and set them alongside each of the new units which we picture to ourselves: now, it is in space that such a juxtaposition takes place and not in pure duration. (Bergson 1910: 77)

Thus, Deleuze follows what he takes to be Bergson’s claim that ‘space [is] a condition of number, even if only an ideal space, the time that arises in the ordinal series arising only secondarily, and as spatialized time, that is to say as space of succession’ (L 00/00/70).
(SH 176-177)

[All this material was to explain how intensity includes the unequal in itself, but I am not sure how to sum up how that is so. I suppose that it contains the unequal within itself, because equalization is only possible when intensity is explicated and thus when it is not within itself. Therefore, it seems, within intensity is only unequality somehow. The ordinals for example do not have a standarized metric, so in a sense their differences are unequal, perhaps.]


2) Intensity affirms difference.
The first claim “aimed to show that intensity couldn’t be understood in terms of extensity” (177). The second claim is that intensity “also cannot be understood as a quality” (177). Deleuze supports this claim with another one: qualities are understood  in terms of negation, but intensity, when characterized by difference, is not understood in terms of negation. Recall how for Aristotle’s notion of definition, the difference between species involves a negation. [see again for example section 1.6, and before that section 1.2. As we noted, in Aristotle’s system of division, things are differentiated on the basis of clear defining limits that determine what is special and proper to each thing. These limits serve to define what makes one thing what it is and what makes something else not that thing but rather something different entirely, and thus Aristotle’s system makes use of negation.]

As we saw in Chapter 1, within the Aristotelian notion of definition, a difference presupposes negation. That is, when we wanted to talk about the essence of man, we did so by attributing a property to him called a difference. This difference allowed us to divide the genus into two opposed classes: the rational and the non-rational. Negation was thus fundamental to the process of definition, and to the specification of properties. We can sum up this characterisation of difference with the claim that if x differs from y, x is not y.
(177)

[For the next point, recall from section 1.4 how for Scotus, there is a difference in quantitative intensity between God’s infinite perfection and the finite perfection of our world. So also, our finite (im)perfection is not to be understood as a negation of God’s infinite perfection. Rather, we are different degrees on the same scale of the intensive variation of being. We also saw, again from section 1.6, how the negation-based models involve a notion of extensive space, since if one thing is not another, they cannot occupy the same place, whether that by physical space or a sort of “conceptual space” you might say. But intensive differences never involve one being a negation of another. I am not entirely sure I understand how to conceive intensities, unlike extensities, which I can picture in my mind more readily. I wonder if the idea is something like this: say you have two intensive magnitudes of heat, with one being greater than the other. What makes one have its own value is understood only by its relation to the other, or to some third value, perhaps zero (or becoming-zero or infinitesimally-away-from zero or something like that). Since each of the intensive values is such only in relation to the other, what defines each of them is not that one is the negation of the other, (that it is “not the other”), but instead that together they differentially relate, and it is that relation itself which defines them jointly. Perhaps one problem with this heat example I used is that differences in heat are not intensive in the way we mean it here, since they have been explicated in such a way that they may be assigned numerical values which themselves are extensive. At any rate, the next idea I think comes from a possible objection, which is that an intensity can diminish to zero, thus intensities can be negated. But Deleuze notes that when it comes to physical intensities, there is no zero value. I am not sure, but perhaps the idea is that intensities can get smaller and smaller to the infinitely small, but never to zero, and when we say ‘zero’ for some intensive value, we really mean infinitely little. I am not entirely sure why this is. Maybe it is because intensities are always the difference between values, but total zero has no value and thus it cannot enter into a differential relation with other intensities.]

As we saw in Chapter 1, this constraint on the concept of difference was not inherent to difference itself, but only difference thought in terms of extensity. Scotus’ intensive conception of difference avoided the need to define it in terms of negation. We can, in effect, note that the introduction of negation into difference rests on the need to see contrary properties as not inhering in the same object, or occupying the same ‘space’. Since intensity is prior to the emergence of both objects and (extensive) space, these restrictions do not apply to it. As Deleuze points out, even if we do look at intensity as it occurs within extensive space, we do not find the strict absence of intensity: ‘It is said that in general there are no reports of null frequencies, no effectively null potentials, no absolutely null pressure, as though on a line with logarithmic graduations where zero lies at the end of an infinite series of smaller and smaller fractions’ (DR 234/294).
(SH 177)

[The next idea is that negation can be applied to properties, but not to intensities. From the Plato example, one instance of a property seems to be ‘equal to’ or at least just physical size. But I am not sure what would be other properties. They would not for example I guess be the ones mentioned above, like frequency and pressure. They would be extensive sorts of things I suppose like spatial dimensions, and perhaps physical distributions of component parts (or maybe not, if density is an intensity). But I wonder if these properties includes color, which can be understood quantitatively (and perhaps intensively) in terms of light wave frequency or qualitatively, with each basic color being different in kind from the others (blue is not more or less of something than red is, in how it appears). At any rate, for the next idea, recall how for Plato, contrary properties, like objects that under certain conditions appear equal, and under others appear unequal, shock us to think more about the Ideas we use. Deleuze also thinks that contrary qualities have this power. Yet, Plato thinks that the shock turns our mind toward timeless Ideas. Deleuze, however, thinks that the contrary properties arise because their source is (somehow) intensive difference. Thus, these shocking moments are an invitation to think more directly about the intensive basis of thought.]

Thus, whereas negation can be applied to properties, we never actually discover the negation of an intensity, but only its difference from other intensities. Deleuze here supports Plato’s insight that the fact that objects | can possess contrary properties presents a shock capable of leading to thinking. Rather than seeing these contrary properties as leading us to contemplation of a timeless realm of Ideas, Deleuze argues that they refer us to a field of intensive difference responsible for the change in qualities we find in the world around us. What makes the qualities in becoming contradictory is that they actualise an underlying intensive difference, and it is this difference that provides the real opening to thought.
(177-178)


3) Intensity is an implicated, enveloped, or embryonized quantity.
SH explains that this third characteristic of intensity is derived from the first two. [We now make a distinction between cardinal numbers and qualities. Cardinal numbers are divisible, but qualities are not. The reason we can divide cardinal numbers is because both their unity and their division are matters of mental actions. They are unified insofar as we mentally treat the value as a whole unit, but they are divided insofar as we regard them as a collection of smaller values. There is also discussion in the quote about continuity and discontinuity. I do not follow it readily, so I will just quote it and return to it if it factors in later. The next idea is that intensity can be divided, but not like extensities can be, since intensity is not metrically homogenous.  But I do not understand how it can be divided. What we know is that if you divide an intensity, it changes the nature of what was divided, with the example being Bergson’s notion of consciousness or duration. I am not exactly sure how you divide consciousness in the first place, and then how the result of the divisions would be different in kind. Perhaps we might check section Pt2.Ch3.Sb4 from his Hegel, Deleuze book. But it gets a bit clearer when we look at the Bergson example (I am just not sure how it works for intensive things other than consciousness). He notes how if we listen to a melody, each new note or moment changes the character of the melody as a whole, just as each new moment of consciousness more generally changes the whole of consciousness on the whole. It seems Bergson gives one way in this melody example how we might divide our consciousness. He says that we can dwell on one note, while the melody continues developing in the moving present, and when we do so, we notice a difference between how the melody sounded back when that note was playing with how it sounds now, after more development has taken place. It seems then we can “divide” consciousness temporally by considering different moments making up present consciousness. What we notice is that each is different qualitatively. (One moment of the melody is not more or less than another. They instead have different characters). I am not sure Bergson would consider consciousness an intensity, but perhaps it is meant to illustrate more the idea of a type of multiplicity, of which Deleuze includes intensities, which change in nature when divided. For, SH’s next point is that the two types of multiplicity (ones that when divided produce parts that are the same in nature and ones that when divided produce parts that are different in nature) “can be mapped onto the extensive and intensive in a relatively straightforward manner” (179)]

Finally, as a third characteristic, ‘intensity is an implicated, enveloped, “embryonised” quantity’ (DR 237/297). This third characteristic is derived from the previous two. We have seen that cardinal numbers are divisible. Deleuze makes the claim in a lecture on Bergson that this is because, since they are a collection of equal units, dividing them is simply an intellectual operation [the following up to citation is Deleuze quotation]:

The divisibility of the unit; for a number is a unity only by virtue of the cardinal colligation, that is to say the simple act of the intelligence that considers the collection as a whole; but not only does the colligation bear on a plurality of units, each of these units is one only by virtue of the simple act that grasps it, and on the contrary is multiple in itself by virtue of its subdivisions upon which the colligation bears. It’s in this sense that every number is a distinct multiplicity. And two essential consequences arise from this: at once that the one and the multiple belong to numerical multiplicities, and also the discontinuous and the continuous. The one or discontinuous qualifies the indivisible act by which one conceives one number, then another, the multiple or continuous qualifying on the contrary the (infinitely divisible) matter colligated by this act. (L 00/00/70)

Qualities, on the other hand, are not divisible. It makes no sense to talk of dividing rationality, or animality, for instance. Now, intensity is not like quality, in that it can be divided. It is not composed of equal elements, however, but is rather a sequence of asymmetrical relations, such as we find with the ordinal numbers (it is asymmetrical in that second is defined by being ‘in between’ first and third, but first and third are not ‘in between’ second). Thus, ‘a temperature is not composed of other temperatures, or a speed of other speeds’ (DR 237/297). If an intensive multiplicity is not simply constituted from pre-existing elements, then division is true division, leading to a change in the nature of what is divided. Here we can turn to Bergson’s alternative form of multiplicity. For Bergson (at least at this stage of his philosophical development), this alternative form of organisation is that which we find in our conscious | states, although for Deleuze this mode of organisation is not simply a feature of our perception of the world, but rather of the world itself. As we can see, Bergson’s account of the perception of a melody presents clearly the way in which dividing non-extensive multiplicities leads to a change in their nature [the following up to citation is Bergson quotation]:

Pure duration is the form which the succession of our conscious states assumes when our ego lets itself live, when it refrains from separating its present state from its former states. For this purpose it need not be entirely absorbed in the passing sensation or idea; for then, on the contrary, it would no longer endure. Nor need it forget its former states: it is enough that, in recalling these states, it does not set them alongside its actual state as one point alongside another, but forms both the past and the present states into an organic whole, as happens when we recall the notes of a tune, melting, so to speak, into one another. Might it not be said that, even if these notes succeed one another, yet we perceive them in one another, and that their totality may be compared to a living being whose parts, although distinct, permeate one another just because they are so closely connected? The proof is that, if we interrupt the rhythm by dwelling longer than is right on one note of the tune, it is not its exaggerated length, as length, which will warn us of our mistake, but the qualitative change thereby caused in the whole of the musical phrase. We can thus conceive of succession without distinction, and think of it as a mutual penetration, an interconnexion and organization of elements, each one of which represents the whole, and cannot be distinguished or isolated from it except by abstract thought. (Bergson 1910: 100–1)

The two different notions of multiplicity can be mapped onto the extensive and intensive in a relatively straightforward manner [the following up to citation is Deleuze quotation:]

Therefore there are two types of multiplicity: one is called multiplicity of juxtaposition, numerical multiplicity, distinct multiplicity, actual multiplicity, material multiplicity, and for predicates it has, we will see, the following: the one and the multiple at once. The other: multiplicity of penetration, qualitative multiplicity, confused multiplicity, virtual multiplicity, organized multiplicity, and it rejects the predicate of the one as well as that of the same. (L 00/00/70)

These two forms of multiplicity can be related to the extensum (extensity in general), and the spatium (the field of intensive difference as a whole).
(178-179)

[Recall the three spatial syntheses from section 5.3. Quoting from our brief summary: “1) Intensive differences are localized by being distributed into various spatial locations, and they move from place to place according to how they interrelate and interact (in thermodynamics, for example, heat moves from its location to where cold is located, normally). 2) The extensive space into which these intensities are distributed and the qualities belonging to those things in extensive space come about somehow by means of intensive depth. 3) These distributions of intensities and their explications into extensive properties and other qualities continues to remain fresh and in a perpetual state of renewal.”] “The three spatial syntheses show how these two multiplicities are related” (SH 179). [It seems the idea is that they are related by the process of explication. I think I grasp what the results of explication are (namely, explicated intensities in the extensive realm, perhaps in the form of numericalized intensive properties, extensive properties, and qualities) but as a process or activity, I still do not quite understand how explication works. I have questions like, where are the deeper intensive differences that become explicated? Are they in the same location as the explicated ones? How does the transition from one realm to the other transpire? Or is it that there are extensive givens, but acting on them somehow are forces of variability, and explication is the effects of the variation?] SH concludes this section by turning us to the next one: “The final question to be addressed is how the intensive multiplicity is | related to the Idea. In answering this question, we will also have to deal with the problem of individuation, or the emergence of the subject from an a-subjective field of intensity” (SH 179-180).

 

 

 


Citations from:

Somers-Hall, Henry. Deleuze’s Difference and Repetition. An Edinburgh Philosophical Guide. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University, 2013.



Or if otherwise noted:


DR:
Deleuze, Gilles. Difference and Repetition, trans. Paul Patton, New York: Columbia University Press, 1994/London: Continuum, 2004.


L:

Deleuze, Gilles, lecture of date 00/00/70.
French:
http://www.webdeleuze.com/php/texte.php?cle=107&groupe=Conf%E9rences&langue=1
English: 
http://www.webdeleuze.com/php/texte.php?cle=111&groupe=Conf%E9rences&langue=2



Bergson, Henri (1910), Time and Free Will, trans. F. L. Pogson, London: Allen and Unwin.


DeLanda, Manuel (2002), Intensive Science and Virtual Philosophy, London: Continuum.

 



 


 


 

 




 

1 Jan 2013

Pt2.Ch3 Somers-Hall’s Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation. ‘Bergsonism.’ summary


by
Corry Shores
[Search Blog Here. Index-tags are found on the bottom of the left column.]

[Central Entry Directory]
[Deleuze Entry Directory]
[Henry Somers-Hall, Entry Directory]
[Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation, Entry Directory]


[Note: All boldface and underlining is my own. It is intended for skimming purposes. Bracketed comments are also my own explanations or interpretations.]


 

Henry Somers-Hall

 

Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation.

Dialectics of Negation and Difference

 

Part 2: Responses to Representation



Chapter 3: Bergsonism



Very Brief Summary:

Bergson’s method of intuition discovers a continuously integrated heterogeneous multiplicity, as found in duration, which is the opposite ideal limit to pure extension, as both are extremes to which matter/duration tends in its expansion and contraction. This discovery is part of his critique of homogeneous media that allow for the external relating of atomic parts, like homogeneous space and spatialized time. Bergson’s heterogeneous duration better explains life processes, and it reveals a sort of order that is not based on a structuring of atomic parts.


Brief Summary:

Bergson is critical of homogeneous notions of space, like Kant’s and Spencer’s. More basically, he is critical of homogeneous media that allow for parts to be related externally, which for Bergson is spatialization. This spatialization has been wrongly applied to time so to create an atomic model of time as made of discrete parts, but it cannot explain the movement between moments. Bergson’s method of intuition uncovers duration, which is a continuously integrated heterogeneous multiplicity like Riemann space/manifolds. It better explains biological processes like embryonic development, and it can describe the order of a system that would seem disordered to an analysis looking for a structure of atomic elements.



Summary

 

In the previous part, we examined representational theories in the history of philosophy, with a little of Deleuze’s and Hegel’s responses. Kant’s transcendental apperception, represented in the ‘I think’ accompanying every inner act, is a unity that allows for the unities in our understanding’s concepts, our intuition’s synthesized manifolds, and as well the unity between concepts and intuition, which enables us to representationally articulate judgments in subject-predicate form. But Deleuze’s logic of incompossibility also explains our ability to make judgments of the world without the help of representational unities. Aristotle and Russell propose hierarchical logical systems of the division of things, but these systems lead to paradoxes and the inability to explain change on account of their law of excluded middle. Hegel’s solution is a productive sort of contradiction.

 


In this part we will examine Deleuze’s and Hegel’s responses to representation. Deleuze’s is based on Bergson’s theory of multiplicity. Bergson critiques Kant’s notion of space and more importantly his notion of the transcendental apperception for being a homogenous medium in which discrete atomic elements take on external relations. This notion of space begins with Euclid, runs through the development of physics and mechanism, and is found even in Herbert Spencer’s evolution theory, which says that we evolved to have a priori representations of the homogenized space of the world. But the world and our knowledge of it does not always match. Bergson’s method of intuition uncovers this mismatch, primarily with regard to the concept of duration. In the first phase, we sense something missing about the theory, and in the second we put aside our assumptions to come up with a better theory. When examining the atomic conception of time, which transposes homogenous space onto time, we sense how it is unable to explain the transition between discrete moments, and we are then led to conceive of duration as a continuously integrated heterogeneous multiplicity, like Riemann’s space/multiplicity. Unlike homogenous spatialized time, heterogeneous duration better explains biological phenomena like embryonic growth, where surfaces give way to new surfaces with unique topological features not implied in prior ones. But a closer look at Bergson’s multiplicities finds that they are really two ideal limits toward which the same ambiguous matter/duration can tend in its expansion to extension and contraction to pure duration. There is no pure space without time, nor is there pure duration without extension. Duration is vibrational, and even when matter is considered in its most extended form, with its parts being the most externally related, still these parts are tiny slight vibrations of duration. Matter is succession to its least degree, just as succession is matter to its least degree. So Bergson’s theory is dually monistic and dualistic, as it has two principles different in kind that are intermixed by a continuous scale of variation from one to the other, with neither being able to stand on its own. A heterogeneous multiplicity might seem disordered, but this is only when analyzing systems into discrete externally related parts. Heterogeneous multiplicity merely expresses a different order than homogenous multiplicity. Deleuze will use this concept to portray a field of variation that is ordered and determinate on account of its thoroughgoing internal differentiation, even if discrete entities in it cannot be discerned.



Somers-Hall, Henry (2012) Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation. Dialectics of Negation and Difference. Albany: SUNY.

Pt2.Ch3.Sb5 Somers-Hall’s Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation. ‘Conclusion.’ summary


by
Corry Shores
[Search Blog Here. Index-tags are found on the bottom of the left column.]

[Central Entry Directory]
[Deleuze Entry Directory]
[Henry Somers-Hall, Entry Directory]
[Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation, Entry Directory]


[Note: All boldface and underlining is my own. It is intended for skimming purposes. Bracketed comments are also my own explanations or interpretations.]


 

Henry Somers-Hall

 

Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation.

Dialectics of Negation and Difference

 

Part 2: Responses to Representation



Chapter 3: Bergsonism



Subdivision 5: Conclusion




Brief Summary:

Bergson critiques the representational-based model of homogeneous space by using his method of intuition to articulate duration and the world in terms of a continuously integrated heterogeneous multiplicity. Deleuze will build from this concept to explain without representationalist ideas how the world is determinately structured.


Summary


Previously we examined Bergson’s two multiplicities, extension and duration, which are two ideal limits toward which matter/duration can tend in its expansions and contractions. Continuous heterogeneous multiplicities are not disordered but are rather ordered in different ways than the discrete homogeneous multiplicities that we might normally consider to be ordered.


Now Somers-Hall concludes the chapter with review and preparation. We saw how Bergson’s duration goes beyond a spatialized time. This was a part of a critique of representation [because discrete homogeneous multiplicities are representational in that they are made of self-same parts whose identities can be represented. In continuous heterogeneous multiplicities the part’s do not have representable identities because at the basis there are only differential relations and no atomic terms being related.] Deleuze will develop Bergson’s metaphysics in his own transcendental empiricism. Also, Deleuze will give an account of the determinate structure of the world without resorting to the categories of representation. (89)

 

Somers-Hall, Henry (2012) Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation. Dialectics of Negation and Difference. Albany: SUNY.

Pt2.Ch3.Sb4 Somers-Hall’s Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation. ‘Bergson and the Two Kinds of Multiplicity.’ summary


by
Corry Shores
[Search Blog Here. Index-tags are found on the bottom of the left column.]

[Central Entry Directory]
[Deleuze Entry Directory]
[Henry Somers-Hall, Entry Directory]
[Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation, Entry Directory]


[Note: All boldface and underlining is my own. It is intended for skimming purposes. Bracketed comments are also my own explanations or interpretations.]


 

Henry Somers-Hall

 

Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation.

Dialectics of Negation and Difference

 

Part 2: Responses to Representation



Chapter 3: Bergsonism



Subdivision 4: Bergson and the Two Kinds of Multiplicity




Very brief summary:

Bergson’s two multiplicities, extensity and duration, are two ideal limits toward which matter/duration can tend either by expanding or contracting. The continuous heterogeneous multiplicity that characterizes duration is not disordered, but merely ordered in a different way, because it is thoroughly differentiated.

 

Brief Summary:

Bergson has two interacting multiplicities, extensity and duration. They can be conceived in their purity, but in actuality duration/matter expands and contracts toward these two conditions which are ideal limits but not real possibilities. Bodily sensations are more extensional, and mental states are more durational. Extensity is not spatiality, which would be completely devoid of duration. Rather, duration is a vibration, and at its most extended there is still tiny vibrations of duration. This vibration is like the motion of succession, which cannot be removed entirely from matter. Bergson’s theory is dually monistic and dualistic: dualistic because there are two principles different in kind, but monistic, because they are merely two ideal limits of one process of expansion and contraction of matter/duration. A heterogeneous multiplicity might seem disordered because it does not have discrete analyzable parts that can enter into explicit external relations to one another. It is more like a mess. But for Deleuze’s theories, this does not mean that the world that is given to us is an abyss or disorder; for, it is thoroughly differentiated even if not into atomic self-identical (and representable) parts. According to Bergson, what we might call disorder is really order of another kind, just not the kind we were looking for in that analysis which deems it disorder.


Summary


Previously we examined Bergson’s method of intuition, which uncovers a multiplicity that is continuously-integrated and heterogeneous. It is based on mental duration, but it applies to biological processes like embryonic development.


Now we turn to Bergson’s multiplicities. Bergson has two multiplicities, and we will examine how they interact. Bergson says that we have two realities, one that makes itself and one that unmakes itself. But we are not to regard this in dualistic terms. Consider the Cartesian problem. If mental phenomena are unextended, then how do they relate to the extended world of our experience? For Bergson, all sensations are primarily extensive. In the previous section, we saw that Bergson criticizes Kant for not recognizing that there can be degrees of spatiality. Also for Bergson, mental states interpenetrate one another. A sensation or event can approach spatiality to a greater or lesser degree. So mental life [insofar as it is expressed extensively in this way] exhibits extensity just as much as physical objects. [There are two sorts of multiplicities in Bergson, the discrete multiplicities of space and the continuous integrated multiplicities of mental life]. At first this might seem to blur the two types of multiplicities. But this is only so if we (a) equate spatiality with extensity and (b) regard extensity as an absolute characteristic that is either present or absent. But extensity and spatiality are not the same for Bergson.


So even though sensations can express extensity to greater and lesser degrees, this does not mean that the experiences are spatial. We cannot divide extensity the same way we divide space. The more an experience [or just something in general] is extensive, the less it is durational. At the maximum of extension, experiences are discontinuous, and one moment with its physical conditions can predict the next. At the extreme of extensivity, matter would be completely spatial, and duration would no longer enter the picture. (86d) Being extensive is one tendency of matter, its other tendency is being durational. So for Bergson, Kant is right to consider space an a priori intuition, but this is not the only way objects are presented to the subject [for they can also be given less extensively and more durationally.] Science completely separates all entities from one another, which allows it to have useful analytical tools. But this view also does not completely match reality. The collapse of the Newtonian system, with its Euclidean foundations, is a result of this.


But extension never reaches the limit point of pure spatiality. Bergson begins with psychological duration, but he wants to generalize it to the world. Deleuze carries out this project by critiquing the classical representationalist paradigm. In Bergson’s psychological deduction, we begin with what is most removed from externality and least penetrated with intellectuality. (87) This brings us the closest to pure duration and furthest from the mathematical instant. We will need to regard the past as gathered up into the present as an undivided whole. In this moment we are the freest and the furthest from the mechanistic explanations of our actions. The past would no longer be a series of discrete events. It is instead an organic continuum. [In the mechanistic model, events are reversible. So we could conceivably trace backwards from the present to the past. This is because the past moments and the present one are considered as externally related to one another. But if moments interpenetrate, and the whole past is given now, there are no singular present conditions which can predict those of other moments, past or future. What happens next is not determinable on the basis of what happens now, because what happens now is a disentangleable mixture of everything that has already happened. This makes the present moment of durational progress undetermined and creative.]

As the past is contracted into the present as an interpenetrating multiplicity, action becomes creative, since we are no longer dealing with the (reversible) configuration of discrete elements. (87)

So this contracts duration into the current creative moment of action. If we relax the contraction of the past into the present [like when we sit back and daydream about how events led up to now, expanding the images out in our mind and allowing them to take up external relations to one another,] “we find that gradually the past coalesces into “ ‘a thousand recollections made external to one another’ (CE, 201).” (87d) But we can never bring duration to pure extensity, “Extensity is never equivalent to matter.” (88a) For, even in the most extended presentation of duration, when we are the closest possible to pure extensity, still there are very small vibrations, and even the shortest of them has a very slight vibration, “ at bottom, we have ‘'elementary vibrations, the shortest of which are of very slight duration, almost vanishing, but not nothing’ (CE, 201).” [So matter, extension, space is never without temporality. Because it is vibrating slightly, it contracts other moments with the present; for a vibration can only occur when there is some progress of time, only if there is succession. This also means that time itself does affect material characteristics. And as well, this means that we cannot have a pure duration without extension, because the vibrations need that there be something extensive to be in temporal motion. But this is not the vibration of a material atom. It is rather duration as a vibration, as a sort of motion of succession. So when we contract these vibrations, we have a more pronounced movement into an undetermined future, and hence more novelty.]

Bergson is thus proposing a vibratory model of extension. In doing so, Bergson is trying to overturn one of the key dogmas of the mechanistic view, that the interval of time over which a body is observed does not change its material characteristics, or, as Whitehead writes, "the lapse of time is an accident, rather than of the essence of the material." Instead, if we view matter in terms of a wave form, or vibration, it becomes clear that extensity, as a movement, carries temporality with it as a fundamental property. Extensity, under a pulsational theory of extension, requires a time for matter to "pulse." It should be noted that Bergson here is not talking of the vibration of an atom but rather a vibratory notion of duration itself: "there are movements, but there is no inert or invariable object which moves: movement does not imply a mobile" (CM, 147). Thus, the act of contraction leads to the drawing together of a larger part of these interpenetrating vibrations, leading to greater novelty. If we instead focus on the individual vibrations, we discover the simple repetition much like that found in a solid musical tone. Just like a musical tone, however, the durational character cannot be completely eliminated without eliminating the event itself. For similar reasons, the idea of pure duration, free from all extension, would seem to be impossible. What we have instead is a mixture. (88)

Thus Bergson here presents a theory that is dually monistic and dualistic. It is dualistic because it has two principles that are different in kind, namely, the contractive tendency toward pure duration and the extensive tendency toward pure matter. It is monistic, because duration is never either of these two, but always a degree of mixture between them. Consider Bergson’s vitalism in these terms: “the living organism is merely different in degree from the inorganic.” (88)


Recall our discussion about Schopenhauer and abyss.  Traditional philosophy has explained the foundation for the subject-predicate logic of states of affairs either as stemming from a supreme I, which is either a transcendental subject or an absolute being, or as being grounded on something indeterminate, an undifferentiated abyss. For Schopenhauer, for example, in the world there is an absence of categories governing our phenomenal experiences. Deleuze rejects this, because for him the empirical field is thoroughly differentiated rather than formless. Now with Bergson’s concept of multiplicity, we can further grasp Deleuze’s alternate proposal. Deleuze notes, with reference to Bergson’s discussion of philosophy’s treatment of order and disorder, that (a) the concept of order is thought to contain more than the notion of disorder [order is more than merely the lack of disorder], however (b) the concept of disorder is usually thought only in terms of order, as being a lack of order. The problem with this conception of order is that is presupposes that there is an unstructured neutral field to be ordered. [Rather, things have different sorts of organization, and something is ordered to the degree that it satisfies the way we are thinking things should be organized in that instance. So if we call a system disordered, it is because we were hoping for regularities and structures of some kind. What we call a disordered system when seeking regularities might be ordered when we are seeking a system capable of creative reconfiguration, in which case its parts would be organized or ordered for such an outcome, where the regularized system would be lacking the organization or order we are looking for.]

While order may appear to be an objective category, reflecting reality, Bergson will argue instead that "reality is ordered exactly to the degree in which it satisfies our thought" (CE, 223). Bergson gives the example of opening a book on my shelf at random, glancing at it, and uttering, "This is not prose," a statement that does not refer to the present absence of prose on the page but rather a failure of the book to meet the expectations that we have of it. In a similar way we may have picked up a book of prose, and said, "This is not poetry," having had a similar disappointment. In this example, it is clear that there are two varieties of structure at play and that it would be foolish to assert that underlying the two structures of prose and poetry there was a language, itself without structure, to which one or other of the structures could be added. To argue in this way would be to construct a false problem. The same holds true for the idea of order itself, which is posited as organizing a previously neutral field. In the idea of this field, we once again find the notion of a homogenous space that forms the ground for the structure of the system. We also find the Aristotelian idea of negation as exclusion, in that disorder is defined as the absence of being. Instead, what Bergson wishes to put forward is the idea of a difference of orders. This idea, which departs from the rigid exclusivity of Bergson's example, comes about through the belief that both kinds of order coexist as tendencies within the same system. (89)





.

 

 

Somers-Hall, Henry (2012) Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation. Dialectics of Negation and Difference. Albany: SUNY.

Pt2.Ch3.Sb3 Somers-Hall’s Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation. ‘Bergson’s Method of Intuition.’ summary


by
Corry Shores
[Search Blog Here. Index-tags are found on the bottom of the left column.]

[Central Entry Directory]
[Deleuze Entry Directory]
[Henry Somers-Hall, Entry Directory]
[Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation, Entry Directory]


[Note: All boldface and underlining is my own. It is intended for skimming purposes. Bracketed comments are also my own explanations or interpretations.]


 

Henry Somers-Hall

 

Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation.

Dialectics of Negation and Difference

 

Part 2: Responses to Representation



Chapter 3: Bergsonism



Subdivision 3: Bergson’s Method of Intuition




Very, very brief summary:

Bergson’s method of intuition uncovers a multiplicity that is continuously-integrated and heterogeneous. It is based on mental duration, but it applies to biological processes like embryonic development.

Very brief summary:

Bergson’s method of intuition uncovers mismatches between the world and our knowledge of it, on the basis of our intuitions of duration. In the first phase, we sense something missing in a theory. In the second, we put aside our assumptions to determine the problem and offer an alternative. This method leads us to describe the duration of our mental life as being continuously self-integrated and heterogeneous rather than made of discrete atomic parts. It is based on Riemann multiplicities, and it applies to processes in the world as well. As an embryo develops, it generates new surfaces with topological properties not implied in prior surfaces.


Brief Summary:

Bergson’s method of intuition uncovers the mismatch between our world and our knowledge of it (primarily with regard to the concept of duration) and it has two stages. In the first part, we sense something inadequate about a theory without knowing explicitly what the problem is. In the second part, we put aside our assumptions to arrive at a more adequate theory. For example, Russell's theory of time sees only static states and not the durational character of change, and so our method leads us to a conception of a heterogeneous continuous time. We come upon an atomic discrete view of mental states when we misapply a homogeneous view of time upon our mental life. Einstein's Riemann-inspired theory of space rejects the Euclidean assumption that the metric of space is consistent throughout. So Bergson's space/duration dichotomy as well presents two models of multiplicity. The first kind is a multiplicity of externally relatable atomic parts. The other kind, based on duration, is a continuous manifold of heterogeneous parts, such that division produces two new entities rather than two parts of the same thing. Such of concept of duration applies not just to mental states but also to developmental process as well, for example embryonic development. Here surfaces transform into new surfaces that are completely unlike prior ones. Each surface change creates a new region with its own topological properties. We cannot on the basis of the parts given predict how they will develop, because that development is not implied in the motions of the parts like in systems of inert bodies. So they are like Riemann space. Living systems show a reverse trend than the second law of thermodynamics calls for, because rather than moving toward symmetry and homogeneity, biological systems under genesis move toward greater complexity, heterogeneity, and self-differentiation. Such multiplicities are nonatomistic, process based, heterogeneous, continuous, and involve  a non-external temporality.



Summary

Previously we examined Bergson’s concept of homogenous space as the medium for any sort of discrete thing (either physical or conceptual) to take up external relations with other discrete things. This could perhaps characterize Kant’s a priori space, but it more importantly characterizes Kant’s ‘I think’ which is the homogeneous medium (as it is always the same self) by which mental representations are regarded as atomic and take on external relations by means of the synthetic activity of the I.


Now we turn to Bergson’s method of intuition, which uncovers the mismatch between the world and our knowledge of it. It is “the name of a two-stage process whereby a particular conceptual scheme is at first recognized to be inadequate and then effectively bracketed in order to return to an understanding of the phenomenon itself (for Bergson, the phenomenon of duration).” (78) But this method presupposes duration, so we are already acquainted with what we are examining. To see why this is not paradoxical, we consider again Aristotle’s and Russell’s theories. In their systems, Deleuze finds points of catastrophe where their logical schema break down. For example these systems break down when dealing with the highest and lowest parts of the hierarchies. [In phenomenology, we are intentionally aware of objects. The object is transcendent to our consciousness. If phenomenology will study the givenness of the object, then an ego apart from that object would regard there being many different acts of awareness of it by the same ego. So this fragments consciousness. However, the object itself gives itself in continuous time as already self-unified. Our egos then are derived from this unity. So the unified ego is not transcendent from consciousness but rather immanent to it, as a byproduct of it.] Deleuze also recall the breakdown Sartre uncovers in “Sartre's argument that the transcendental ego in fact leads to the fragmentation of consciousness.” (79) Now also recall Russell’s portrayal of time. He says we can only speak of the states of something at times one, two, etc. Time is the difference between them. Russell’s theory is consistent. But the first half of the method of intuition discovers that something is missing from this representation of time. Russell does not explain the actual movement of time, its durational character. In the next part of the method of intuition, we give content to the intuition that something is wrong or missing in an idea. To do this, we “make a strenuous effort to put aside some of the artificial schemata we impose unknowingly between reality and ourselves. What is required is that we should break with certain habits of thinking and perceiving which have become natural to us.’ ” (citing Capek. 79) Russell holds that Zeno’s arrow does not move. This is counter-intuitive, which leads to us being able to think outside the conceptual scheme that leads to this conclusion. So we do presuppose an idea of duration, but only one that provides the opening and motivation for a more rigorous account, so this presupposition is not viciously circular.


So we will look now at Bergson’s critique of the mechanistic model of space and time. For Bergson, our thoughts are not discrete entities but rather form a fluid organic whole. We come upon an atomistic view of thought when we misapply a physical model of space to consciousness. While seeing thought this way is useful, it prevents us from a true understanding of mental phenomena. Einstein then discovers a sort of space that resembles how Bergson sees our mind. Because it is a case of reality conforming to our mind, it is reverse of Spencer’s theory that our mind gradually comes closer to reality. Displacement of bodies now does affect their size and shape, and “Einstein's general theory of relativity reduces spatial entities to convolutions of space itself” (80) At the astronomical scale, “both internally and externally, the model of a homogeneous space central to both the models of Russell and to Kant breaks down.” (80) Einstein rejects a Newtonian model of space, and with that he rejects a Euclidean model of multiplicities.

For Bergson, what is at issue is not the nature of Einsteinian space, but instead the understanding of the relation between entities, which becomes radically transformed be tween an ontology that is based on | a Euclidean notion of multiplicity (Newton) and one that instead relies on Riemannian multiplicities (Einstein). (80-81) What is important Bergson in Riemannian geometry is “new possibilities of thought that are opened up by the new multiplicities.” (81)

With differential calculus, “the possibility of a new way of thinking of motion that is now opened up outside of the field of mathematics itself.” (81)

Deleuze’s renewed Bergsonism recognizes two concepts of multiplicity. This first kind is the spatial sort of externally related atomic parts. The other kind of multiplicity is grounded in the idea of duration. But first consider Aristotle’s and Russell’s spatialized conceptions of time, where time is broken down to parts that can no longer be divided. These parts are states of change. But time then is what happens between the states, so the states in a way are outside of time. Bergson’s duration, however, cannot be broken down into stable states, because it is thoroughly continuous.

If we take a quantity of inert matter, we can, on the classical model, break it down through a process of division until we reach a point at which no further division is possible. This is equivalent to the methods of logical analysis of Russell or Descartes. Given the fact that we have reached the simplest elements, we can now define change in the state of the original matter through displacement or the alteration of the external relations between these parts. Through this method of analysis, however, the state of the system remains, in a sense, outside of time: "A group of elements which has gone through a state can therefore always find its way back to that state, if not by itself, at least by means of an external cause able to restore everything to its place" (CE, 8). Such a concept of space also implies a parallel concept of time, | one that, as well as being in principle absolutely reversible, is also absolutely without duration. The concept of time is abstract, reduced to another dimension of space, so that we can conceive of time passing at whatever rate we fancy, in that it merely provides another axis along which events happen. In contradistinction to this conception, Bergson turns to systems that have a different kind of organization. "If I want to mix a glass of sugar and water, I must, willy nilly, wait until the sugar melts" (CE, 9). In this case, the time of the situation is not felt in the manner of an additional axis to the normal dimensions of space. Instead, my own reaction to the situation, my impatience, opens out onto a conception of time that holds out to me the experience of duration. The situation endures for me. Such a state does not have the same analytic structure. That it cannot be measured or broken down in the same way as the prior conception implies that a different form of metric is at work, and with this comes a conception of continuity opposed to the Russellian idea put forward in the last chapter. (81-82)


Čapek notes five main consequences in this move away from atomistic time.
[1] Processes are no longer viewed as having clearly defined elements external to one another.

[2] Processes can no longer ever be seen as complete.

For Bergson, the completion of a phenomenon can only make sense within the world of discrete objects and states. If a state is defined by discrete components, then there can also be no novelty, merely rearrangements of preexisting entities. Given a continuous becoming, novelty is a constant feature. If we consider a musical tone as reducible to a composite of discrete temporal intervals, then we are just presented with a brute repetition. If we see it as unfolding within time, each 'instant' will be different from the last, in that it will carry this past with it. (82)

[3] Time becomes heterogeneous. Changes in the durational qualities of the event, like Deleuze’s suggestion that we stir Bergson’s sugar water, create a new event, not the same event at a different speed.

[4] Because duration is heterogeneous, if we divide the event, we change the nature of that event [we obtain two new events rather than two halves of the first event].

[5] Time is no longer seen as a container in which events happen, so it is unlike the Newtonian model of time. Duration is just the unfolding of events itself.

The spatial concept of time is suited to systems containing just inert matter, and the durational conception of time applies to consciousness. Nonetheless, duration for Bergson is something that goes beyond consciousness and in fact applies to the world.


Consider for example the second law of thermodynamics. "the entropy of an isolated system not at equilibrium will tend to increase over time, approaching a maximum value ." (83) Somers-Hall illustrates it this way.

The law can be illustrated by the example of a room containing two gasses, for example, nitrogen and oxygen, each separated from the other by a central barrier. We can see such a system as presenting a high level of order, as each segment of the room contains just one kind of molecule. When the barrier between the two sections is removed, the free movement of molecules from one section to the other leads to a gradual mixing of the elements. Eventually, the system will reach a point of equilibrium, where the mixture of the molecules is relatively complete, meaning that the gas in the room has become homogenous. We can further represent this process as an increase in the symmetry of the system. The initial state of the system, differentiated into two defined areas, has a low level of symmetry, whereas, when the gas becomes mixed and reaches its equilibrium point, the amount of symmetry within the system has increased. (83)

However, in living systems we see the reverse trend. Instead of tending toward symmetry, they undergo differentiations. Hence a simple egg becomes a “manifoldly complex organism.” (83) But the second law does not contradict the formation of order, because order can result for example if it is added from outside the system. Bergson has an example where what seems like a dissipation is itself productive of new systematic processes and structures.

This is indeed Bergson's view of life: "Let us imagine a vessel full of steam at a high pressure, and here and there in its sides a crack through which the steam is escaping in a jet. The steam thrown into the air is nearly all condensed into little drops which fall back, and this condensation and fall represent a loss of something, an interruption, a deficit. But a small part of the jet of steam subsists, uncon- | densed, for some seconds; it is making an effort to raise drops which are falling; it succeeds at most in retarding their fall" (CE, 247). [83-84]


But this system can can be explained using the spatialized conception of time. Its events are determined, so it does not “exhibit the kind of novel creation of new forms that was one of the main characteristics of our second kind of multiplicity” (84). But consider instead the example of the egg. As this system changes, it undergoes radical alterations, differentiations, and emergences in its surfaces. [Because each surface change in embryonic development creates a new region with its own topological properties, it is like Riemannian multiplicity. We cannot on the basis of the parts given predict how they will develop, because that development is not implied in the motions of the parts like in systems of inert bodies.]

Returning to a more complicated system, the egg, we find, following Deleuze, "that the division of an egg into parts is secondary in relation to more significant morphogenetic movements: the augmentation of free surfaces, stretching of cellular layers, invagination by folding, regional displacement of groups" (DR, 214) . In this case, what is required is not a metric understanding of the space, but a topological understanding. What underlies the development of the embryo is not the arrangement of different molecules, but rather the folding of planes. While this can always be understood as the interaction of elements within a three dimensional Euclidean space, what such an approach cannot grasp is the fact that the motions that occur in the development of the embryo are not reliant on precise metric relations between discrete elements, but instead on relations of stretching and folding of a surface. While the mathematics of topology, which uses continuous rather than discrete functions, has been immensely successful in our understanding of the development of living systems, what is important is not the actual models themselves, but rather the fact that thinking in terms of Riemannian multiplicities, which underlie the topological approach, captures the sense of the transformations of the embryo in a way not possible through a metric analysis. What is of key importance in understanding these systems is therefore their process of generation, as it shows itself through this series of transformations. The embryo cannot be understood through the parts, but rather it must be seen through the process by which it has developed. "Take a division into 24 cellular elements endowed with similar characteristics: nothing yet tells us the dynamic process by which it was obtained--2 x 12, (2 x 2) + (2 x 10) , or (2 x 4) + (2 x 8) . . ." (DR, 216). In this case, therefore, the model of the mechanistic multiplicity has broken down. (84)

Also consider plant leaf generation. It “cannot be explained by a preestablished plan present within the genetic material of the plant. Instead we have a complex interaction of dynamic processes between the cells within the tip of the branches and the surface of the tip itself.” (84) In addition, “much modern work in embryology argues that many of the important processes in embryo development are the result of processes relying on differential speeds of development. The duration of the events is thus integral to their development.” (85)


Recall the previous five characteristics of Bergson’s new sort of multiplicity. We see that topological embrionic development expresses these characteristics. “It is nonatomistic, process based, heterogeneous, continuous, and also as the development of the organism takes place at a rate given by the differential relations of the various processes that form it, it no longer treats time as external.” (85) We would understand these phenomena using homogenous space and metrics, but this for Bergson imposes on them a logic not inherent to the nature of their workings. Because Hegel’s philosophy of productive contradiction also overcomes the limitations of static conceptions, we leave open questions regarding the relations between Bergson and Hegel. We now look more closely at Bergson’s two sorts of multiplicity.



Somers-Hall, Henry (2012) Hegel, Deleuze, and the Critique of Representation. Dialectics of Negation and Difference. Albany: SUNY.

2 Feb 2010

Forks of Time's Infinity. Borges. "The Garden of Forking Paths."





Forks of Time's Infinity


Jorge Luis Borges


Transl. Donald A. Yates.


[Deleuze refers to this story when speaking of bifurcating or forking paths of time (The Fold, Ch.5/Cinema 2, Ch.3). Consider how when making a decision, we are at a junction. Depending on what we decide, our lives could go down very divergent paths. What if we actually do go down both paths at once, but it happens just that we are the ones on this path, and the other version of us is on the other path? This is the basic idea of forking or bifurcating time, as described in this story. All possible divergences happen at once, and continue to branch, although sometimes converge again down the line of development.]

[The following is summary. You may read the original story here.]


The story opens with an anonymous narrator. Historical accounts say that a British offensive in World War I had to be postponed due the weather conditions. The narrator now describes a document which calls that account into question. It is a letter written by a Chinese professor of English, Dr. Yu Tsun. The first two pages are missing. We pickup in the middle, and the rest of the story is the content of the letter.

From what we may gather, it seems Tsun called the apartment of someone named Viktor Runeberg. The person who answered spoke German, but it was not Runeberg. Tsun hangs-up immediately, we might presume. Only after does he recognize the voice as being Captain Richard Madden's. Tsun regards this as evidence that Runeberg was either arrested or murdered.

Tsun thinks that he too will be either murdered or arrested by the end of the day. Madden works for England's intelligence. Tsun says he will be grateful for attaining the discovery, capture, or perhaps even the death of two German agents.

He goes to his room and locks himself. Lying on his cot, he wonders if really he will die.

Tsun then reflects on the nature of time. Events only happen now. Yet so much historical time has passed. Nonetheless, all that happens occurs presently. Tsun writes:

Then I reflected that everything happens to a man precisely, precisely now. Centuries of centuries and only in the present do things happen; countless men in the air, on the face of the earth and the sea, and all that really is happening is happening to me . . . [emphasis mine]

The recollection of Madden interrupts these thoughts. Tsun considers how Madden probably never suspected that Tsun obtained intelligence regarding the location of British troops. He then imagines German planes bombing those troops, and he wishes that before he is executed that he could pass that intelligence on to Germany. He wonders how he can report the information back to his Chief in Berlin, who knows nothing of Tsun's dealings with Viktor Runeberg.

Tsun is determined to find a way to pass the intelligence to his Chief. He checks his pockets. In them he finds:

an American watch,
a nickel chain and square coin,
a key ring with the incriminating useless keys to Runeberg's apartment,
a notebook,
a letter which I resolved to destroy immediately (and which I did not destroy),
a crown,
two shillings and a few pence [English coins],
a red and blue pencil,
a handkerchief, and
a revolver with one bullet.

There is another person who can transmit the message, and his location is listed in the phonebook. By train it would take no more than a half of an hour to reach his village, Ashgrove.

Tsun confesses he is cowardly. He did not spy for Germany's sake; he has little concern for the country. Rather, he suspected that the Chief feared Chinese people. It seems Tsun thinks that all Chinese men from the past live in him now:

I did it because I sensed that the Chief somehow feared people of my race--for the innumerable ancestors who merge within me. [emphasis mine]

Tsun wants to prove to the Chief that a Chinese person could save Germany's armies.

Tsun is aware that Madden would accost him very soon. He leaves his room and takes a cab to the train station. He buys a ticket and catches his train. From the window he sees Captain Madden try but fail to catch the train too.

Tsun tells himself that he won his first battle with Madden. He also assures himself that he will end victorious. As well he foresees that Madden will go on to commit "more atrocious undertakings." He then advises people who are about to commit such acts to assume that they have already happened.

The author of an atrocious undertaking ought to imagine that he has already accomplished it, ought to impose upon himself a future as irrevocable as the past. [emphasis mine]

He arrives as Ashgrove and gets-off the train. It is dark. One boy asks Tsun if he is going to Dr. Stephen Albert's house. Another boy tells Tsun that "The house is a long way from here, but you won't get lost if you take this road to the left and at every crossroads turn again to your left" [emphasis mine]. Apparently Ashgrove is like a maze. To get out of most labyrinths, one can follow the "left-hand" rule: glide your hand on the left-side wall and never pull it off. Eventually you arrive at the exit. As Tsun puts it: "The instructions to turn always to the left reminded me that such was the common procedure for discovering the central point of certain labyrinths" [emphasis mine]. Tsun then heads-off "down the solitary road. It went downhill, slowly. It was of elemental earth; overhead the branches were tangled; the low, full moon seemed to accompany me."

Tsun explains that he knows something about labyrinths. His great grandfather, Ts'ui Pên quit his job as governor in order to

write a novel that might be even more populous than the Hung Lu Meng and to construct a labyrinth in which all men would become lost. Thirteen years he dedicated to these heterogeneous tasks, but the hand of a stranger murdered him--and his novel was incoherent and no one found the labyrinth. [emphasis mine]

Tsun reflects on what the lost maze would have been like.

I imagined it inviolate and perfect at the secret crest of a mountain; I imagined it erased by rice fields or beneath the water; I imagined it infinite, no longer composed of octagonal kiosks and returning paths, but of rivers and provinces and kingdoms . . . I thought of a labyrinth of labyrinths, of one sinuous spreading labyrinth that would encompass the past and the future and in some way involve the stars. [emphasis mine]

While deeply musing, he says

I forgot my destiny of one pursued. I felt myself to be, for an unknown period of time, an abstract perceiver of the world. The vague, living countryside, the moon, the remains of the day worked on me, as well as the slope of the road which eliminated any possibility of weariness. The afternoon was intimate, infinite. The road descended and forked among the now confused meadows. A high-pitched, almost syllabic music approached and receded in the shifting of the wind, dimmed by leaves and distance. I thought that a man can be an enemy of other men, of the moments of other men, but not of a country: not of fireflies, words, gardens, streams of water, sunsets. [emphasis mine]

Tsun then arrives upon the rusty gate of Albert's house. He hears Chinese music playing from a pavilion. He feels welcomed.

A tall man holding a lantern approaches from inside the house. He says in Chinese: "I see that the pious Hsi P'eng persists in correcting my solitude. You no doubt wish to see the garden?" Hsi is the name of a Chinese consul. Tsun asks, "The garden?" and the tall man replies, "The garden of forking paths" [emphasis mine]. Tsun says this is the garden of his ancestor, Ts'ui Pên. Albert welcomes Tsun in.

They pass through a zig-zagging damp path, until arriving at a library of Eastern and Western texts. Albert explains he was a missionary in China before trying to become a Sinologist.

They sit down. Tsun expects Madden to arrive in about an hour.

An astounding fate, that of Ts'ui Pên," Stephen Albert said. "Governor of his native province, learned in astronomy, in astrology and in the tireless interpretation of the canonical books, chess player, famous poet and calligrapher--he abandoned all this in order to compose a book and a maze. He renounced the pleasures of both tyranny and justice, of his populous couch, of his banquets and even of erudition--all to close himself up for thirteen years in the Pavilion of the Limpid Solitude. When he died, his heirs found nothing save chaotic manuscripts. His family, as you may be aware, wished to condemn them to the fire; but his executor--a Taoist or Buddhist monk--insisted on their publication.
'We descendants of Ts'ui Pên," I replied, "continue to curse that monk. Their publication was senseless. The book is an indeterminate heap of contradictory drafts. I examined it once: in the third chapter the hero dies, in the fourth he is alive. As for the other undertaking of Ts'ui Pên, his labyrinth . . ." [emphasis mine]

Albert now shows Tsun Ts'ui Pên's labyrinth, pointing to a "tall lacquered desk."

"An ivory labyrinth!" I exclaimed. "A minimum labyrinth."

"A labyrinth of symbols," he corrected. "An invisible labyrinth of time. [emphasis mine]

Albert explains that the labyrinth was entrusted to him. He notes that Ts'ui Pên said both that he would write a book and that he would build a labyrinth. Albert explains

Every one imagined two works; to no one did it occur that the book and the maze were one and the same thing. [...] the confusion of the novel suggested to me that it was the maze. Two circumstances gave me the correct solution of the problem. One: the curious legend that Ts'ui Pên had planned to create a labyrinth which would be strictly infinite. The other: a fragment of a letter I discovered. [emphasis mine]

Albert shows Tsun the letter, writing by Ts'ui Pên; "these words written with a minute brush by a man of my blood: I leave to the various futures (not to all) my garden of forking paths. Wordlessly, I returned the sheet" [emphasis mine]'.

Albert explains how he tried to imagine what an infinite book would be. Would it be circular, a "book whose last page was identical with the first, a book which had the possibility of continuing indefinitely"? Albert then seems to suggest infinitely nested stories within stories: "I remembered too that night which is at the middle of the Thousand and One Nights when Scheherazade (through a magical oversight of the copyist) begins to relate word for word the story of the Thousand and One Nights, establishing the risk of coming once again to the night when she must repeat it, and thus on to infinity." He also considers a hereditary story. When the son becomes a father, he passes it on to his own son, and so on infinitely, but each time the next son adds a new chapter.

But none of these possibilities explained "the contradictory chapters of Ts'ui Pên." His clue is the letter that read: "I leave to the various futures (not to all) my garden of forking paths." He realized that the garden does not fork through space, like an actual labyrinth does. Rather, it forks through time. Instead of there being only one course that the narration follows, it instead follows all diverging lines of development at once.

“Almost instantly, I understood: 'the garden of forking paths' was the chaotic novel; the phrase 'the various futures (not to all)' suggested to me the forking in time, not in space. A broad rereading of the work confirmed the theory. In all fictional works, each time a man is confronted with several alternatives, he chooses one and eliminates the others; in the fiction of Ts'ui Pên, he chooses— simultaneously—all of them. He creates, in this way, diverse futures, diverse times which themselves also proliferate and fork. [emphasis mine]

Albert gives an example. He also explains how divergent paths can converge, although in a way that contracts diverging narrative tendencies.

Here, then, is the explanation of the novel's contradictions. Fang, let us say, has a secret; a stranger calls at his door; Fang resolves to kill him. Naturally, there areseveral possible outcomes: Fang can kill the intruder, the intruder can kill Fang, they both can escape, they both can die, and so forth. In the work of Ts'ui Pên, all possible outcomes occur; each one is the point of departure for other forkings. Sometimes, the paths of this labyrinth converge: for example, you arrive at this house, but in one of the possible pasts you are my enemy, in another, my friend. If you will resign yourself to my incurable pronunciation, we shall read a few pages. [emphasis mine]

Tsun notes that although Albert's face looked old, there was "something unalterable about it, even immortal" [emphasis mine]. Albert then reads two versions of one same chapter.

In the first, an army marches to a battle across a lonely mountain; the horror of the rocks and shadows makes the men undervalue their lives and they gain an easy victory. In the second, the same army traverses a palace where a great festival is taking place; the resplendent battle seems to them a continuation of the celebration and they win the victory.

The last sentence in both chapters is the same: "thus fought the heroes, tranquil their admirable hearts, violent their swords, resigned to kill and to die."

Tsun then feels something 'swarming' within himself. Is it perhaps the swarms of divergent fates awaiting him?

Albert explains that the novel often deals with a philosophical problem, "the abysmal problem of time." But then he asks Tsun why does Ts'ui Pên never use the word 'time' at all in the novel.

They discuss Tsun's suggestions. Then Albert notes that in chess, there is only one prohibited word, "chess." So because the Garden of Forking Paths is a riddle or parable about time, the one forbidden word is time: "to omit a word always, to resort to inept metaphors and obvious periphrases, is perhaps the most emphatic way of stressing it." Albert continues:

The Garden of Forking Paths is an incomplete, but not false, image of the universe as Ts'ui Pên conceived it. In contrast to Newton and Schopenhauer, your ancestor did not believe in a uniform, absolute time. He believed in an infinite series of times, in a growing, dizzying net of divergent, convergent and parallel times. This network of times which approached one another, forked, broke off, or were unaware of one another for centuries, embraces all possibilities of time. We do not exist in the majority of these times; in some you exist, and not I; in others I, and not you; in others, both of us. In the present one, which a favorable fate has granted me, you have arrived at my house; in another, while crossing the garden, you found me dead; in still another, I utter these same words, but I am a mistake, a ghost. [emphasis mine]

Tsun thanks him for reconstructing the garden. Albert replies that he does not re-create it in all possible times. He explains: "Time forks perpetually toward innumerable futures. In one of them I am your enemy" [emphasis mine].

Tsun feels that swarming feeling again. The swarm is the multiplicity of Albert's and Tsun's gathered around them simultaneously. Yet as this vision of multiplicity fades, there stands the real image of Captain Richard Madden. Tsun then says to Albert: "'The future already exists,' I replied, 'but I am your friend'" [emphasis mine]. Tsun asks for the letter again. As Albert turns his back to get it, Tsun shoots him with his revolver: "I fired with extreme caution. Albert fell uncomplainingly, immediately. I swear his death was instantaneous—a lightning stroke" [emphasis mine]. Tsun ends by explaining his murder: the information he needed to pass-on was that the British army is in the city of Albert. Getting Albert's name in the papers was his only means to convey it. Tsun explains:

The rest is unreal, insignificant. Madden broke in, arrested me. I have been condemned to the gallows. I have won out abominably; I have communicated to Berlin the secret name of the city they must attack. They bombed it yesterday; I read it in the same papers that offered to England the mystery of the learned Sinologist Stephen Albert who was murdered by a stranger, one Yu Tsun. The Chief had deciphered this mystery. He knew my problem was to indicate (through the uproar of the war) the city called Albert, and that I had found no other means to do so than to kill a man of that name. He does not know (no one can know) my innumerable contrition and weariness.


Jorge Luis Borges. "The Garden of Forking Paths." Transl. Donald A. Yates. Online text available at:
and