Showing posts with label space. Show all posts
Showing posts with label space. Show all posts

25 May 2017

Bergson (4.2) Matter and Memory, “Indivisibility of Movement,” summary

 

by Corry Shores

 

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[The following is summary. Boldface in quotation and bracketed commentary are my own. Proofreading is incomplete, so please forgive my typos. Citations give the pages for the 1939 French edition first; then the 2004 English. Or they will indicate the publication’s date before the page number. Paragraph enumerations and section divisions follow those in the French edition.]

 

 

Summary of

 

Henri Bergson

 

Matière et mémoire

Matter and Memory

 

Ch.4

De la délimitation et de la fixation des images. Perception et matière. Âme et corps.

The Delimiting and Fixing of Images. Perception and Matter. Soul and Body

 

4.2

Tout mouvement est indivisible

Indivisibility of Movement

 

 

Brief summary:

We often think of motion as having parts corresponding to the space it travels through and to the length of time it takes to complete. But in fact, movement is absolutely indivisible, spatially and temporally. We find evidence of its indivisibility both in our experience and in the absurdities of Zeno’s paradoxes. {1} In our experiences of our own actions, like of our hands moving from point A to point B, we feel it as one continuous, unified (although complex) action that we are aware of during a unified and flowing act of consciousness. We do not experience our hand’s motion as divisible into smaller segments, and surely not infinitely divisible. However, after the action is completed, we think abstractly about the space covered, and we understand it as having the properties of a geometrical line. We thereby conclude that our hand occupied an infinite series of points or positions in the course of its movement. We furthermore think that to each position there corresponds an indivisible instant of time when it was there. But in reality, given the indivisibility of motion, we can only say that while it is moving, it indeterminately does so as it changes place through duration. And if we artificially do make cuts in time and try to coordinate them to points in space, the best we can say is that at some moment the object is passing at some point. It never determinately occupies a point. Under this artificial view where we abstractly divide up time, we must [use paraconsistent reasoning to] claim that at some instant the object occupies not simply one point. The only way an object can determinately occupy a single position is if it stops moving. So Bergson distinguishes (under this artificialized view of the abstract time and space of movement): {1} passage at a point, from {2} halting at a point. The other evidence we have of the indivisibility of motion is the absurdity of Zeno’s paradoxes; in other words, the reason his conclusions are absurd is because he begins with the false assumption that the space or the time of motion can be thought of as being apart from the motion itself and as having the geometrical properties of a line. In “the Dichotomy” and “Achilles” arguments, the space traversed is infinitely divided; but we should have begun by assuming it cannot be, thereby avoiding the absurd conclusions. In “the Arrow” argument, the points or positions that the arrow passes through are understood spatially and thus as immobile. Zeno’s error then is that he wrongly took this also to mean that the arrow’s motion is composed of immobile poses at each point. Instead, we should have assumed either that the motion cannot be decomposed into component positions, or if we do admit of such an abstraction, we cannot say that at some instant it is determinately in (or halting at) one position; rather we should say that it is covering more than (or passing at) one position. And in “the Stadium” argument, Zeno wrongly assumes that the durations of the movements are not inherent to them but are rather determined by the objects’ speeds in relation to the relative distances covered. He also wrongly assumes that there is not one duration common to all movements, as for example the single flowing duration of an observer of the entire situation.

 

 

 

 

Summary

 

“Movement is indivisible; it is only the trajectory of a moving body that is divisible”

 

4.2.1

[It is a fact that every movement is absolutely indivisible.]

 

Bergson says that the following claim is not a hypothesis, but is rather a fact often mistaken for a hypothesis [or somehow confused with hypotheses related to it]: “Every movement, inasmuch as it is a passage from rest to rest, is absolutely indivisible”.

I. - Tout mouvement, en tant que passage d'un repos à un repos, est absolument indivisible.

Il ne s’agit pas ici d’une hypothèse, mais d’un fait, qu’une hypothèse recou­vre généralement.

(1939: 209. Text copied from UQAC)

 

I. – Every movement, inasmuch as it is a passage from rest to rest, is absolutely indivisible.

This is not an hypothesis, but a fact, generally masked by an hypothesis.

(2004: 246. Text copied from Mead Project)

 

 

4.2.2

[When we move our hand from point A to B, we are conscious of a single act of a unified, indivisible motion. The spatial path the hand produced is infinitely divisible, and we are tempted to say the motion is too.]

 

Bergson demonstrates this by having us consider a motion of our hand, which we move from point A to B. We are consciously aware of a single act made of one continuous motion and not of a segmented set of motions. Our vision detects a line between points A and B, which are divisible, however. We are tempted at first to say that the motion is divisible like the space traversed.

Voici, par exemple, ma main posée au point A. Je la porte au point B, parcourant d’un trait l’intervalle. Il y a dans ce mouvement, tout à la fois, une image qui frappe ma vue et un acte que ma conscience musculaire saisit. Ma conscience me donne la sensation intérieure d’un fait simple, car en A était le repos, en B est le repos encore, et entre A et B se place un acte indivisible ou tout au moins indivisé, passage du repos au repos, qui est le mouvement même. Mais ma vue perçoit le mouvement sous forme d’une ligne AB qui se parcourt, et cette ligne, comme tout espace, est indéfiniment décompo- | sable. Il semble donc d’abord que je puisse, comme je voudrai, tenir ce mouvement pour multiple ou pour indivisible, selon que je l’envisage dans l’espace ou dans le temps, comme une image qui se dessine hors de moi ou comme un acte que j’accomplis moi-même.

(1939: 209-210. Text copied from UQAC)

 

Here, for example, is my hand, placed at the point A. I carry it to the point B, passing at one stroke through the interval between them. There are two things in this movement: an image which I see, and an act of which my muscular sense makes my consciousness aware. My consciousness gives me the inward feeling of a single fact, for in A was rest, in B there is again rest, and between A and B is placed an indivisible or at least an undivided act, the passage from rest to rest, which is movement itself. But my sight perceives the movement in the form of a line AB which is traversed and this line, like all space, may be indefinitely divided. It seems then, at first sight, that I may at will take this movement to be multiple or indivisible, according as I consider it in space or in time, as an image which takes shape outside of me or as an act which I am myself accomplishing.

(2004: 246. Text copied from Mead Project)

 

 

4.2.3

[Were a moving object to occupy a determinate position, it would actually not be in motion; for, objects in motion occupy space indeterminately. We must distinguish occupation at a point, which is what happens when a moving object stops its motion, from passage at a point, which happens when a moving object is still in motion in a certain area. Motion is not divisible like space is. (Instead, we must think of a moving object always as going beyond any of the points it is located at during some ((small)) interval of time.)]

 

[His next points are very important, but I may not restate them perfectly well. He writes: “Yet, when I put aside all preconceived ideas, I soon perceive that ... even my sight takes in the movement from A to B as an indivisible whole, and that if it divides anything, it is the line supposed to have been traversed, and not the movement traversing it”. Maybe the idea here is that the line traversed by the hand is a mathematical abstraction projected upon the real space of the motion, and that we did not directly perceive it; we rather only perceived the motion itself as it was happening. His next point is the important one here. He seems to distinguish occupation at a position (or point) and passage at (or through or across) a position or point: “It is indeed true that my hand does not go from A to B without passing through the intermediate positions, and that these intermediate points resemble stages, as numerous as you please, all along the route ; but there is, between the divisions so marked out and stages properly so called, this capital difference, that at a stage we halt, whereas at these points the moving body passes.” It is still not perfectly clear to me what it means to pass at a point rather than to halt at a point. To halt at the point means to determinately occupy it, with that occupation being no different than were it at rest at that point. The only way I have so far to understand passage at a point is that it is not determinately occupying it like it would at rest, meaning perhaps that it is both there and not there at the same time, or at least that it is there and near there at the same time. Does this mean that at a certain moment it occupies a fuzzy or blurry region where no precise location can be specified? In that case, passing at a point would still mean residing throughout a small surrounding region, or in other words, occupying many positions at once. Bergson next writes: “Now a passage is a movement and a halt is an immobility. The halt interrupts the movement ; the passage is one with the movement itself.” It is clear how the halt interrupts the movement. But what does it mean for the passage being one with the movement? If he means “passage” as the total passage, that would not seem interesting to say (‘the movement from A to B is the passage from A to B’), and it would not make “passage” be parallel to “halt”, which happens at a point. So perhaps he means “passage” here as passage at a point or at least passage in the region of some point. Were that the case, then it would mean that passage at (or around) a point is one with the whole movement itself, and this is a much more interesting claim, although not one I fully comprehend. It would suggest that although we might want to say the object at a certain time is at a certain location,  it would be more accurate to say that it is passing that location, and that passage is not distinguishable or disentangleable from the whole motion enveloping that part. Let us pursue this concept. Is this so, because ... {1} The whole movement occupies an indivisible block of time, and thus we cannot pinpoint some instant where it is at some location. Rather, during a block of time it is within a block of space. We might call it the “block-block” theory of motion, in keeping with Russell’s “at-at” theory. (This interpretation stays closely to the wording “the passage is one with the movement itself”. But it seems odd to say that the duration of time admits of no partition where the position of the object cannot be narrowed down. If we watch an ant move across a sidewalk while cars drive down the adjacent road, surely we can say that after so many cars go by, the ant is still on the first half of the sidewalk, and after so many more go by, it is on the other half. In other words, even if I see the motion of the ant as unified, it is not so obvious to me that the space-time locations cannot at least be distinguished relative to one another. And surely we are not saying that during a certain passage of time, it is always in all locations all throughout that time. The object is in some region at one phase and another region at another phase. So I am not convinced yet that Bergson is making a generalized block-block conception.) (Or is the passage the same as the whole movement for the reason that ...) {2} Because the object is always in motion, it cannot be determinately located at any point; for, then it is at rest. It must instead, at some instant, be indeterminately at some point. One reason this could be is that at some instant, it is located at more that one point, or it is located between successive points in an infinitesimal interval. He next writes: “When I see the moving body pass any point, I conceive, no doubt, that it might stop there;” (here we are thinking of the motion in its present activity, and we think at any moment it might stop at its given location) “and even when it does not stop there, I incline to consider its passage as an arrest, though infinitely short, because I must have at least the time to think of it;” (and even though its motion does not pause, we think that we might have caught it at an infinitely brief part of its movement where it occupies a specific position. But I do not know what he means by “because I must have at least the time to think of it.” Perhaps he means that at some moment we think of it being there, and since that thought occupies a moment we might assume the motion we observe also can be contained in that moment of thought. But I doubt that is the meaning, however;) “but it is only my imagination which stops there, and what the moving body has to do is, on the contrary, to move.” (This might mean that as we are watching the movement, we imagine its continuously varying location in space, and since our imagination of that movement can pause, we assume the movement can be understood as having very brief pauses where it occupies a determinate position, corresponding to where our imagination stops following the progress.) “As every point of space necessarily appears to me fixed, I find it extremely difficult not to attribute to the moving body itself the immobility of the point with which, for a moment, I make it coincide ; it seems to me, then, when I reconstitute the total movement, that the moving body has stayed an infinitely short time at every point of its trajectory.” (So because we imagine these positions during its motion, we then think we can reconstitute the motion by connecting the fabricated points or positions.) “But we must not confound the data of the senses, which perceive the movement, with the artifice of the mind, which recomposes it. The senses, left to themselves, present to us the real movement, between two real halts, as a solid [247|248] and undivided whole. The division is the work of our imagination, of which indeed the office is to fix the moving images of our ordinary experience, like the instantaneous flash which illuminates a stormy landscape by night.” (These passages reiterate the point that the senses perceive the unified whole of the motion, but the imagination is what artificially creates the cuts dividing it. The interesting part here is the vibrant metaphor of the flash of lightning giving us a snapshot of a dark stormy scene being like the way the imagination makes instantaneous immobile snapshots of activity).]

Toutefois, en écartant toute idée préconçue, je m’aperçois bien vite que je n’ai pas le choix, que ma vue elle-même saisit le mouvement de A en B comme un tout indivisible, et que si elle divise quelque chose, c’est la ligne supposée parcourue et non pas le mouvement qui la parcourt. Il est bien vrai que ma main ne va pas de A en B sans traverser les positions intermédiaires, et que ces points intermédiaires ressemblent à des étapes, en nombre aussi grand qu’on voudra, disposées tout le long de la route ; mais il y a entre les divisions ainsi marquées et des étapes proprement dites cette différence capitale qu’à une étape on s’arrête, au lieu qu’ici le mobile passe. Or le passage est un mouvement, et l’arrêt une immobilité. L’arrêt interrompt le mouvement ; le passage ne fait qu’un avec le mouvement même. Quand je vois le mobile passer en un point, je conçois sans doute qu’il puisse s’y arrêter ; et lors même qu’il ne s’y arrête pas, j’incline à considérer son passage comme un repos infiniment court, parce qu’il me faut au moins le temps d’y penser; mais c’est mon imagination seule qui se repose ici, et le rôle du mobile est au contraire de se mouvoir. Tout point de l’espace m’apparaissant nécessairement comme fixe, j’ai bien de la peine à ne pas attribuer au mobile lui-même l’immobilité du point avec lequel je le fais pour un moment coïncider ; il me semble alors, quand je reconstitue le mouvement total, que le mobile a stationné un temps infiniment court à tous les points de sa trajectoire. | Mais il ne faudrait pas con­fondre les données des sens, qui perçoivent le mouvement, avec les artifices de l’esprit qui le recompose. Les sens, laissés à eux-mêmes, nous présentent le mouvement réel, entre deux arrêts réels, comme un tout solide et indivisé. La division est l’œuvre de l’imagination, qui a justement pour fonction de fixer les images mouvantes de notre expérience ordinaire, comme l’éclair instantané qui illumine pendant la nuit une scène d’orage.

(1939: 210-211. Text copied from UQAC)

 

Yet, when I put aside all preconceived ideas, I soon perceive that I have no such choice, that even my sight takes in the movement from A to B as an indivisible whole, and that if it divides anything, it is the line supposed to have been traversed, and not the movement traversing it. It is indeed [246|247] true that my hand does not go from A to B without passing through the intermediate positions, and that these intermediate points resemble stages, as numerous as you please, all along the route ; but there is, between the divisions so marked out and stages properly so called, this capital difference, that at a stage we halt, whereas at these points the moving body passes. Now a passage is a movement and a halt is an immobility. The halt interrupts the movement ; the passage is one with the movement itself. When I see the moving body pass any point, I conceive, no doubt, that it might stop there; and even when it does not stop there, I incline to consider its passage as an arrest, though infinitely short, because I must have at least the time to think of it; but it is only my imagination which stops there, and what the moving body has to do is, on the contrary, to move. As every point of space necessarily appears to me fixed, I find it extremely difficult not to attribute to the moving body itself the immobility of the point with which, for a moment, I make it coincide ; it seems to me, then, when I reconstitute the total movement, that the moving body has stayed an infinitely short time at every point of its trajectory. But we must not confound the data of the senses, which perceive the movement, with the artifice of the mind, which recomposes it. The senses, left to themselves, present to us the real movement, between two real halts, as a solid[247|248] and undivided whole. The division is the work of our imagination, of which indeed the office is to fix the moving images of our ordinary experience, like the instantaneous flash which illuminates a stormy landscape by night.

(2004: 246-248. Text copied from Mead Project)

 

 

 

4.2.4

[Again, we mistake the line traced by the object with the motion that did the tracing. The motion is not divisible into immobile spatial points.]

 

[Bergson restates these notions: the line that we think the moving object draws is divisible and composed of points which are immobile, but the movement itself is not made of such rests and never determinately occupied these points.]

Nous saisissons ici, dans son principe même, l’illusion qui accompagne et recouvre la perception du mouvement réel. Le mouvement consiste visible­ment à passer d’un point à un autre, et par suite à traverser de l’espace. Or l’espace traversé est divisible à l’infini, et comme le mouvement s’applique, pour ainsi dire, le long de la ligne qu’il parcourt, il paraît solidaire de cette ligne et divisible comme elle. Ne l’a-t-il pas dessinée lui-même ? N’en a-t-il pas traversé, tour à tour, les points successifs et juxtaposés ? Oui sans doute, mais ces points n’ont de réalité que dans une ligne tracée, c’est-à-dire immo­bile ; et par cela seul que vous vous représentez le mouvement, tour à tour, en ces différents points, vous l’y arrêtez nécessairement; vos positions successi­ves ne sont, au fond, que des arrêts imaginaires. Vous substituez la trajectoire au trajet, et parce que le trajet est sous-tendu par la trajectoire, vous croyez qu’il coïncide avec elle. Mais comment un progrès coïnciderait-il avec une chose, un mouvement avec une immobilité ?

(1939: 211. Text copied from UQAC)

 

We discover here, at its outset, the illusion which accompanies and masks the perception of real movement. Movement visibly consists in passing from one point to another, and consequently in traversing space. Now the space which is traversed is infinitely divisible ; and as the movement is, so to speak, applied to the line along which it passes, it appears to be one with this line and, like it, divisible. Has not the movement itself drawn the line ? Has it not traversed in turn the successive and juxtaposed points of that line ? Yes, no doubt, but these points have no reality except in a line drawn, that is to say motionless; and by the very fact that you represent the movement to yourself successively in these different points, you necessarily arrest it in each of them ; your successive positions are, at bottom, only so many imaginary halts. You substitute the path for the journey, and because the journey is subtended by the path you think that the two coincide. But how should a progress coincide with a thing, a movement with an immobility ?

(2004: 248. Text copied from Mead Project)

 

 

4.2.5

[We want to think that there is a continuous correlation between the geometricized spatial trail of the moving object and the temporal duration of that motion. But duration is something alive and active in the present, and what happens in that duration is not determined by past moments, just as the motion is not either. So in truth, duration is not continuously correlated with the spatialized trail. That furthermore means that we cannot correlate the indivisible points in the geometricized trail with indivisible instants in the duration of the motion. (Instead, we should see the duration of the motion as the living present of that movement, which has no parts to be divided.)]

 

[We now get a clear statement from Bergson that there can be no real indivisible instants. Let us go part by part. “What facilitates this illusion is that we distinguish moments in the course of duration, like halts in the passage of the moving body.” (The illusion I think is the illusion that motion is made of the spatial points that the imagination projects upon it.) “Even if we grant that the movement from one point to another forms an undivided whole, this movement nevertheless takes a certain time;” (I am not sure why it is formulated this way as if there is a conceptual tension between a movement being whole and it lasting a duration of time, but that is the point here;) “so that if we carve out of this duration an indivisible instant, it seems that the moving body must occupy, at that precise moment, a certain position, which thus stands out from the whole.” (So since we have established a correlation between the temporal and spatial extents of the motion, and since this correlation is continuous with the motion, we think that if we pinpoint some precise indivisible moment in time, we will find the object at some precise spatial location. Note here that he portrays this understanding of the instant as seeing it as standing outside the flow of the motion’s duration. In other words, the temporality of the motion is such that it is internally “organized” or integrated, and any attempt to pinpoint a precise moment would be to extract it from that internal integration somehow and thus to no longer make it a real part of that duration.) “The indivisibility of motion implies, then, the impossibility of real instants;” (Here he is saying that if the motion is indivisible, this means it must be both spatially and temporally indivisible. I am not entirely sure I understand why, but it might be because the correlation between time and space is continuous, and we are assigning them both the same properties of a geometrical continuum like  a line. For the same reason it never occupies a determinate point of space it also does not occupy a determinate point in time. If that is the case, then perhaps he is giving a “block-block” theory of motion where the best we can say is that a unified act of motion involves a block of time and a block of space, but no further determinations can be made whatsoever regarding more precise locations and phases within those blocks;) “and indeed, a very brief analysis of the idea of duration will show us both why we attribute instants to duration and why it cannot have any.” (He continues:) “Suppose a simple movement like that of my hand when it goes from A to B. This passage is given to my consciousness as an undivided whole.” (This is the same example before of the hand moving from A to B, only now there is emphasis on our consciousness of this passage.) “No doubt it endures ; but this duration, which in fact coincides with the aspect which the movement has inwardly for my consciousness, is, like it, whole and undivided.” (So the movement of the hand is undivided, and so too is the duration of its motion, corresponding to the undivided duration of our consciousness of the motion.) “Now, while it presents itself, qua movement, as a simple fact, it describes in space a trajectory which I may consider, for purposes of simplification, as a geometrical line;” (we have encountered this notion many times. The hand traces a path in space, and that traced path can be understood as a geometrical line;) “and the extremities of this line, considered as abstract limits, are no longer lines, but indivisible points.” (The idea here seems to be that the traced line has ends to it, which as terminations of the line, are not lines but are rather points.) “Now, if the line, which the moving body has described, measures for me the duration of its movement, must not the point, where the line ends, symbolize for me a terminus of this duration ?” (He seems to be saying that since we coordinate the spatial extent with the temporal extent, and since the spatial ends are terminations of the line, they must correspond to temporal termination points to the duration.) “And if this point is an indivisible of length, how shall we avoid terminating the duration of the movement by an indivisible of duration ?” (The spatial terminating point is indivisible, so the temporal terminating point must be also ((or else the spatial and temporal extents would not be correlated)).) “If  the total line represents the total duration, the parts of the line must, it seems, correspond to parts of the duration, and the points of the line to moments of time.” (Since the whole temporal and spatial extents correlate, and because that correlation is continuous, that means any part of the one must correspond to its counterpart in the other. It is not stated here if the parts should be understood as intervals or as points, but it would seem to apply to both sorts.) “The indivisibles of duration, or moments of time, are born, then, of the need of symmetry; we come to them naturally as soon as we demand from space an integral presentment of duration.” (I think he is saying that since we make this strict correlation between space to time, that means so long as we think space is made of indivisible points, we must also conceive there being indivisible instants). “– But herein, precisely, lies the error. While the line AB symbolizes the duration already lapsed of the movement from A to B already accomplished, it cannot, motionless, represent the movement in its accomplishment nor duration in its flow.” (I am not entirely sure here, but the idea might be the following. We said before that the line traced can only be understood in this spatial way after the motion is completed and the line is finished. It was not clear why, but that was the claim. Thus this spatial line can only be thought of as corresponding to a finished duration and not to the duration as it is happening. I am still not sure why this is exactly, beside simply appealing to the claim that the motion is indivisible in action but divisible in completion. But why? Does it have something to do with indeterminacy of where it is going or whether it will continue or not? Is it because the motion is in the present ((and is open to unpredictable variation) but the spatial and temporal trail are in the past, which is fixed and determined?) “And from the fact that this line is divisible into parts and that it ends in points, we cannot conclude either that the corresponding duration is composed of separate parts or that it is limited by instants.” (Here he seems to be calling into question the correlation between time and space. He seems to be saying that time must be understood as duration in his sense rather than in the sense of a geometrical sort of line, and thus we cannot say that duration is made of indivisible parts. But most interesting here is to say that the duration does not terminate at instants. Does he mean that it does not terminate? Does he mean that it terminates, but in an indeterminate way?)]

Ce qui facilite ici l’illusion, c’est que nous distinguons des moments dans le cours de la durée, comme des positions sur le trajet du mobile. À supposer que le mouvement d’un point à un autre forme un tout indivisé, ce mouvement n’en remplit [211|212] pas moins un temps déterminé, et il suffit qu’on isole de cette durée un instant indivisible pour que le mobile occupe à ce moment précis une certaine position, qui se détache ainsi de toutes les autres. L’indivisibilité du mouvement implique donc l’impossibilité de l’instant, et une analyse très sommaire de l’idée de durée va nous montrer en effet, tout à la fois, pourquoi nous attribuons à la durée des instants, et comment elle ne saurait en avoir. Soit un mouvement simple, comme le trajet de ma main quand elle se déplace de A en B. Ce trajet est donné à ma conscience comme un tout indivisé. Il dure, sans doute; mais sa durée, qui coïncide d’ailleurs avec l’aspect intérieur qu’il prend pour ma conscience, est compacte et indivisée comme lui. Or, tandis qu’il se présente, en tant que mouvement, comme un fait simple, il décrit dans l’espace une trajectoire que je puis considérer, pour simplifier les choses, comme une ligne géométrique ; et les extrémités de cette ligne, en tant que limites abstraites, ne sont plus des lignes mais des points indivisibles. Or, si la ligne que le mobile a décrite mesure pour moi la durée de son mouve­ment, comment le point où la ligne aboutit ne symboliserait-il pas une extré­mité de cette durée ? Et si ce point est un indivisible de longueur, comment ne pas terminer la durée du trajet par un indivisible de durée ? La ligne totale représentant la durée totale, les parties de cette ligne doivent correspondre, semble-t-il, à des parties de la durée, et les points de la ligne à des moments du temps. Les indivisibles de durée ou moments du temps naissent donc d’un besoin de symétrie; on y aboutit naturellement dès qu’on demande à l’espace une représentation intégrale de la durée. Mais voilà précisément l’erreur. Si la ligne AB symbolise la durée écoulée du mouvement [212|213] accompli de A en B, elle ne peut aucunement, immobile, représenter le mouvement s’accomplissant, la durée s’écoulant ; et de ce que cette ligne est divisible en parties, et de ce qu’elle se termine par des points, on ne doit conclure ni que la durée corres­pondante se compose de parties séparées ni qu’elle soit limitée par des instants.

(1939: 211-213. Text copied from UQAC)

 

What facilitates this illusion is that we distinguish moments in the course of duration, like halts in the passage of the moving body. Even [248|249] if we grant that the movement from one point to another forms an undivided whole, this movement nevertheless takes a certain time ; so that if we carve out of this duration an indivisible instant, it seems that the moving body must occupy, at that precise moment, a certain position, which thus stands out from the whole. The indivisibility of motion implies, then, the impossibility of real instants ; and indeed, a very brief analysis of the idea of duration will show us both why we attribute instants to duration and why it cannot have any. Suppose a simple movement like that of my hand when it goes from A to B. This passage is given to my consciousness as an undivided whole. No doubt it endures ; but this duration, which in fact coincides with the aspect which the movement has inwardly for my consciousness, is, like it, whole and undivided. Now, while it presents itself, qua movement, as a simple fact, it describes in space a trajectory which I may consider, for purposes of simplification, as a geometrical line; and the extremities of this line, considered as abstract limits, are no longer lines, but indivisible points. Now, if the line, which the moving body has described, measures for me the duration of its movement, must not the point, where the line ends, symbolize for me a terminus of this duration ? And if this point is an indivisible of length, how shall we avoid terminating the duration of the movement by an indivisible of duration ? If [249|250]  the total line represents the total duration, the parts of the line must, it seems, correspond to parts of the duration, and the points of the line to moments of time. The indivisibles of duration, or moments of time, are born, then, of the need of symmetry; we come to them naturally as soon as we demand from space an integral presentment of duration. – But herein, precisely, lies the error. While the line AB symbolizes the duration already lapsed of the movement from A to B already accomplished, it cannot, motionless, represent the movement in its accomplishment nor duration in its flow. And from the fact that this line is divisible into parts and that it ends in points, we cannot conclude either that the corresponding duration is composed of separate parts or that it is limited by instants.

(2004: 248-250. Text copied from Mead Project)

 

 

 

“Zeno transfers to the moving body the properties of its trajectory: hence all the difficulties and contradictions”

 

4.2.6

[Zeno’s paradoxes of motion involve a confusion of the space travelled with the motion itself and its real duration. In “the Dichotomy” and “the Achilles” arguments, the space traversed is infinitely divided, forgetting that motion itself cannot be. In “the Arrow” argument, the immobility of the points of the space travelled are wrongly thought to mean that the arrow’s motion is composed of immobile poses at each point. And in “the Stadium” argument, we wrongly think that the duration of the movement should be calculated based on the relative spatial distances covered, and we forget there is one duration that comprehends all the motions involved.]

 

Bergson claims that all of Zeno’s paradoxes of motion result from this error of confusing the properties of real motion and real duration with the properties of geometrical lines. Zeno was guided by common sense to conceive the movement in terms of the trajectory or traversed path, and he was guided by language to conceive of movement and duration in terms of space. Common sense and language, for their own purposes, treat becoming as a thing, and thereby ignore “the interior organization of movement”. In practical life, there are two facts that lead common sense to spatialize the movement: {1} the fact that every movement describes a space (by “describes” perhaps he means draws a path through or at least happens within), and {2} the fact that at every point of this described space the moving thing might stop. Zeno mistakenly holds these to be facts of motion. [Bergson then speaks of Zeno’s four arguments. They are summarized within parts II.C-E at this entry. The first one he calls “the Dichotomy”. I cannot tell if it refers to the paradox I numbered II.D or II.E. In II.D, the moving object, before reaching its destination, must first get half-way there. But before reaching the halfway point, it must get half that way (a quarter of the total distance). Since the distance is infinitely divisible, there is always a new halfway mark set away at some distance. In other words, it can never get past its starting position, because it can never reach a first halfway point. In II.E, we begin by noting that within a finite extent of motion, there are still an infinity of points for the moving body to cross. But arriving upon any point requires a finite amount of time. Thus, to cross the infinity of points within a finite range of motion will still take an infinite amount of time. Bergson describes it as: “By the first argument (the Dichotomy) he supposes the moving body to be at rest, and then considers nothing but the stages, infinite in number, that are along the line to be traversed we cannot imagine, he says, how the body could ever get through the interval between them.” (Note: the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy and the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy list the dichotomy argument as the halving one.) Bergson’s comment here is not that we should conclude motion is impossible but rather that it cannot be constructed from a series of immobilities. (Bergson also says that this is “a thing no man ever doubted”, but Russell’s theory of motion  in fact tries to construct movement this way.) Bergson says that the real question is whether or not the moving object passes through an infinity of points. He emphasizes again that the spatial trajectory is infinitely divisible but the movement (or the component movements) is not. The second Zeno argument is “the Achilles argument”. Here the Tortoise leads Achilles at the start of the race. To catch-up, Achilles needs to reach the Tortoise’s advanced position. Suppose he does. By that time, however, the Tortoise has advanced further. So long as they are both moving, the Tortoise will always lead, no matter how far ahead he is. This paradox, Bergson notes, requires that we consider the paths traversed as distinct from their movements and thereby as infinitely divisible. Rather, Achilles running is made of a number of bounds and the Tortoise a number of steps, and since Achilles’ bounds are much greater or faster, he will overtake the Tortoise. Zeno’s third argument is “the Arrow”. Here a moving arrow has a certain length, and that length equals the amount of space (the part of its path of movement) it occupies at any moment. But if it always occupies no more than its own length of space, then it is never moving (because it is never changing location). Here Bergson again reminds us that we are confusing the space of motion with the motion itself. Bergson then turns to Zeno’s fourth argument, “the Stadium”, about which Bergson writes, “which has, we believe, been unjustly disdained, and of which the absurdity is more manifest only because the postulate masked in the three others is here frankly displayed”, then in a footnote he explains what he means. (In this case, you have three objects of equal length and running on parallel tracks, moving past one another. The first one is stationary, and the other two move in opposite directions at the same speed, and coming together like so:

--AAAA--        --AAAA--

BBBB----   =>   --BBBB--

----CCCC        --CCCC--

The conclusion in Aristotle is that “half a given time is equal to double that time” and in Bergson “a duration is the double of itself.”  Think now of just B’s motion in relation to A’s. Suppose it is going one meter per second and each segment is one meter. It traveled two A segments, so it must have taken two seconds. Now consider B’s motion in relation to C’s. In the same motion, it passed four C’s. So it must have also taken four seconds to complete that same motion. (Possibly I have this wrong, but it is not very obvious how we reach the conclusion and thus how we are to portray the situation.) Now, for this to work (at least with how I set it up) and for us to follow what might be Bergson’s point here, we need to look at the assumptions that lead us to this conclusion. {1} The speeds of B and C are constant, and the lengths of A, B, and C are all the same. {2} The duration of the entire event is not absolutized; rather, it is calculated on the basis of the object’s given speed in relation to the distance traveled. {3} the spatial coordinates of the situation are not absolutized but are rather relativized, and thus the distances we use in our calculations are determined by an arbitrary selection of any two of the given bodies. Thus B can be said to move two different distances in the same stroke and thus its motion consumes two different durations. (I am ignoring other possibilities, like we compare the time of B’s movement to that of C, because I think it comes out the same but is less directly paradoxical.) From what I can tell, Bergson’s claim is that Zeno does not think of a real duration shared by all three and given directly to a consciousness aware of the entire event (I am thinking here of the simultaneity notion in Duration and Simultaneity §42 and discussed in Deleuze’s Bergsonism §76.) Bergson instead thinks the duration can be represented in terms of the space covered, as we see in our calculations. In other words, instead of the duration being understood (correctly) as part of all the motions and thus being just as indivisible as they are, duration is instead thought (incorrectly) to be a by-product of the space covered at a certain speed. (I might be misreading, so check the text below.) Bergson concludes this paragraph by reemphasizing that these paradoxes do not do justice to the lived duration of the motion and rather deal with its contorted abstraction in the mind, and he says all this discussion leads us to the conclusion that there are in fact real movements (the topic of the next section).]

Les arguments de Zénon d’Élée n’ont pas d’autre origine que cette illusion. Tous consistent à faire coïncider le temps et le mouvement avec la ligne qui les sous-tend, à leur attribuer les mêmes subdivisions, enfin à les traiter com­me elle. À cette confusion Zénon était encouragé par le sens commun, qui transporte d’ordinaire au mouvement les propriétés de sa trajectoire, et aussi par le langage, qui traduit toujours en espace le mouvement et la durée. Mais le sens commun et le langage sont ici dans leur droit, et même, en quelque sorte, font leur devoir, car envisageant toujours le devenir comme une chose utilisable, ils n’ont pas plus à s’inquiéter de l’organisation intérieure du mouve­ment que l’ouvrier de la structure moléculaire de ses outils. En tenant le mouvement pour divisible comme sa trajectoire, le sens commun exprime simplement les deux faits qui seuls importent dans la vie pratique : 1º que tout mouvement décrit un espace ; 2º qu’on chaque point de cet espace le mobile pourrait s’arrêter. Mais le philosophe qui raisonne sur la nature intime du mouvement est tenu de lui restituer la mobilité qui en est l’essence, et c’est ce que ne fait pas Zénon. Par le premier argument Ca Dichotomie) on suppose le mobile au repos, pour ne plus envisager ensuite que des étapes, en nombre indéfini, sur la ligne qu’il doit parcourir : vous chercheriez vainement, nous dit-on, comment il arriverait à franchir l’intervalle. Mais on prouve [213|214] simple­ment ainsi qu’il est impossible de construire a priori le mouvement avec des immobilités, ce qui n’a jamais fait de doute pour personne. L’unique question est de savoir si, le mouvement étant posé comme un fait, il y a une absurdité en quelque sorte rétrospective à ce qu’un nombre infini de points ait été parcouru. Mais nous ne voyons rien là que de très naturel, puisque le mouvement est un fait indivisé ou une suite de faits indivisés, tandis que la trajectoire est indéfiniment divisible. Dans le second argument (l’Achille), on consent à se donner le mouvement, on l’attribue même à deux mobiles, mais, toujours par la même erreur, on veut que ces mouvements coïncident avec leur trajectoire et soient, comme elle, arbitrairement décomposables. Alors, au lieu de reconnaître que la tortue fait des pas de tortue et Achille des pas d’Achille, de sorte qu’après un certain nombre de ces actes ou sauts indivisibles Achille aura dépassé la tortue, on se croit en droit de désarticuler comme on veut le mouvement d’Achille et comme on veut le mouvement de la tortue : on s’amuse ainsi à reconstruire les deux mouvements selon une loi de formation arbitraire, incompatible avec les conditions fondamentales de la mobilité. Le même sophisme apparaît plus clairement encore dans le troisième argument (la Flèche), qui consiste à conclure, de ce qu’on peut fixer des points sur la trajectoire d’un projectile, qu’on a le droit de distinguer des moments indivi­sibles dans la durée du trajet. Mais le plus instructif des arguments de Zénon est Peut-être le quatrième (le Stade), qu’on a, croyons-nous, bien injustement dédaigné, et dont l’absurdité n’est plus manifeste que parce qu’on y voit étalé dans toute sa franchise le postulat [214|215] dissimulé dans les trois autres1. Sans nous engager ici dans une discussion qui ne serait pas à sa place, bornons-nous à constater que le mouvement immédiatement perçu est un fait très clair, et que les difficultés ou contradictions signalées par l’école d’Élée concernent beau­coup moins le mouvement lui-même qu’une réorganisation artificielle, et non viable, du mouvement par l’esprit. Tirons d’ailleurs la conclusion de tout ce qui précède :

II. – Il y a des mouvements réels.

(1939: 213-215. Text copied from UQAC)

1 Rappelons brièvement cet argument. Soit un mobile qui se déplace avec lune certaine vitesse et qui passe simultanément devant deux corps dont l'un est immobile et dont l'autre se meut à sa rencontre avec la même vitesse que lui. En même temps qu'il parcourt une certaine longueur du premier corps, il franchit naturellement une longueur double du second. D'où Zénon conclut « qu'une durée est double d'elle-même ». - Raisonnement puéril, dit-on, puisque Zénon ne tient pas compte de ce que la vitesse est double, dans un cas, de ce qu'elle est dans l'autre. - D'accord, mais comment, je vous prie, pourrait-il s'en apercevoir ? Que, dans le même temps, un mobile parcoure des longueurs différentes de deux corps dont l'un est en repos et l'autre en mouvement, cela est clair pour celui qui fait de la durée une espèce d'absolu, et la met soit dans la conscience soit dans quelque chose qui participe de la conscience. Pendant qu'une portion déterminée de cette durée con­sciente ou absolue s'écoule, en effet, le même mobile parcourra, le long des deux corps, deux espaces doubles l'un de l'autre, sans qu'on puisse conclure de là qu'une durée est double d'elle-même, puisque la durée reste quelque chose d'indépendant de l'un et l'autre espace. Mais le tort de Zénon, dans tolite son argumentation, est justement de laisser de côté la durée vraie pour n'en considérer que la trace objective dans l'espace. Comment les deux traces laissées par le même mobile ne mériteraient-elles pas alors une égale consi­dération, en tant que mesures de la durée ? Et comment ne représenteraient-elles pas la même durée, lors même qu'elles seraient doubles l'une de l'autre ? En concluant de là qu'une durée « est double d'elle-même » Zénon restait dans la logique de son hypothèse, et son quatrième argument vaut exactement autant que les trois autres.

(1939: 215. Text copied from UQAC)

 

The arguments of Zeno of Elea have no other origin than this illusion. They all consist in making time and movement coincide with the line which underlies them, in attributing to them the same subdivisions as to the line, in short in treating them like that line. In this confusion Zeno was encouraged by common sense, which usually carries over to the movement the properties of its trajectory, and also by language, which always translates movement and duration in terms of space. But common sense and language have a right to do so [250|251] and are even bound to do so, for, since they always regard the becoming as a thing to be made use of, they have no more concern with the interior organization of movement than a workman has with the molecular structure of his tools. In holding movement to be divisible, as its trajectory is, common sense merely expresses the two facts which alone are of importance in practical life: first, that every movement describes a space ; second, that at every point of this space the moving body might stop. But the philosopher who reasons upon the inner nature of movement is bound to restore to it the mobility which is its essence, and this is what Zeno omits to do. By the first argument (the Dichotomy) he supposes the moving body to be at rest, and then considers nothing but the stages, infinite in number, that are along the line to be traversed we cannot imagine, he says, how the body could ever get through the interval between them. But in this way he merely proves that it is impossible to construct, a priori, movement with immobilities, a thing no man ever doubted. The sole question is whether, movement being posited as a fact, there is a sort of retrospective absurdity in assuming that an infinite number of points has been passed through. But at this we need not wonder, since movement is an undivided fact, or a series of undivided facts, whereas the trajectory is infinitely divisible. In the second argument (the Achilles) movement is [251|252] indeed given, it is even attributed to two moving bodies, but, always by the same error, there is an assumption that their movement coincides with their path, and that we may divide it, like the path itself, in any way we please. Then, instead of recognizing that the tortoise has the pace of a tortoise and Achilles the pace of Achilles, so that after a certain number of these indivisible acts or bounds Achilles will have outrun the tortoise, the contention is that we may disarticulate as we will the movement of Achilles and, as we will also, the movement of the tortoise : thus reconstructing both in an arbitrary sway, according to a law of our own which may be incompatible with the real conditions of mobility. The same fallacy appears, yet more evident, in the third argument (the Arrow) which consists in the conclusion that, because it is possible to distinguish points on the path of a moving body, we have the right to distinguish indivisible moments in the duration of its movement. But the most instructive of Zeno's arguments is perhaps the fourth (the Stadium) which has, we believe, been unjustly disdained, and of which the absurdity is more manifest only because the postulate masked in the three others is here frankly displayed.1 Without entering on a dis- [252|253] cussion which would here be out of place, we will content ourselves with observing that motion, as given to spontaneous perception, is a fact which is quite clear, and that the difficulties and contradictions pointed out by the Eleatic school concern far less the living movement itself than a dead and artificial reorganization of movement by the mind. But we now come to the conclusion of all the preceding paragraphs: [253|254]

II. There are real movements.

(2004: 250-253. Text copied from Mead Project)

1 We may here briefly recall this argument. Let there be a moving body which is displaced with a certain velocity, and which passes simultaneously before two bodies, one at rest and the other moving towards it with the same velocity [252|253] as its own. During the same time that it passes a certain length of the first body, it naturally passes double that length of the other. Whence Zeno concludes that ‘a duration is the double of itself.’ A childish argument, it is said, because Zeno takes no account of the fact that the velocity is in the one case double that which it is in the other. – Certainly, but how, I ask, could he be aware of this ? That, in the same time, a moving body passes different lengths of two bodies, of which one is at rest and the other in motion, is clear for him who makes of duration a kind of absolute, and places it either in consciousness or in something which partakes of consciousness. For while a determined portion of this absolute or conscious duration elapses, the same moving body will traverse, as it passes the two bodies, two spaces of which the one is the double of the other, without our being able to conclude from this that a duration is double itself, since duration remains independent of both spaces. But Zeno's error, in all his reasoning, is due to just this fact, that he leaves real duration on one side and considers only its objective track in space. How then should the two lines traced by the same moving body not merit an equal consideration, qua measures of duration ? And how should they not represent the same duration, even though the one is twice the other ? In concluding from this that ‘a duration is the double of itself,’ Zeno was true to the logic of his hypothesis; and his fourth argument is worth exactly as much as the three others.

(2004: 252-253. Text copied from Mead Project)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Texts:

 

Bergson, Henri. 1939 [this one 3rd edn. 1990]. Matière et mémoire: Essai sur la relation du corps à l'esprit. Paris: Quadridge / Presses Universitaires de France.

PDF available online at:

http://catalogue.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/cb37237615p

PDF of 1903 edition at:

http://www.archive.org/details/matireetmmoiree01berggoog

Text copied from 1939 edition at:

http://classiques.uqac.ca/classiques/bergson_henri/matiere_et_memoire/matiere_et_memoire.html


Bergson, Henri. 2004 [says originally published by George Allen & Co., Ltd., London, 1912. But there is 1911 edition (below)]. Matter and Memory. Translated by Nancy Margaret Paul & W. Scott Palmer. Mineola, New York: Dover.

PDF of 1911 edition [8th printing 1970] at:

http://www.archive.org/details/mattermemory00berg

Text copied from 1911 edition at:

https://brocku.ca/MeadProject/Bergson/Bergson_1911b/Bergson_1911_toc.html

[chapter 4:]

https://brocku.ca/MeadProject/Bergson/Bergson_1911b/Bergson_1911_04.html

 

 

.

19 Aug 2015

Somers-Hall, (5.3), Deleuze’s Difference and Repetition, ‘5.3 Merleau-Ponty and Depth (229–32/288–91, 241–4/302–5)’, 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

 

5.3 Merleau-Ponty and Depth (229–32/288–91, 241–4/302–5)

 



 

Brief summary: 

Parallel to Deleuze’s three syntheses of time are his three spatial syntheses. 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. This is because the intensive depth responsible for them returns eternally, that is, it never ceases to inject newness and variety into the system, counteracting the entropy which would otherwise cause the system to eventually die.




Summary



We will want to explain the constitution of systems, which operate in extensive space. But we need to explain also the genesis of those systems as well as the space they occupy. [For some reason,] this is not something we can do from within space or extensity. [“If we are to explain the constitution of systems, Deleuze claims, then we cannot do so within space or extensity. Rather, we need to explain the genesis of space as well as the systems it contains” (SH 170). Perhaps the idea is that since we need to explain the origins of extensive space, we cannot assume it as a concept in our explanation.] [The next points are a little complicated, so let us first run through them. 1) For Kant, the intuition of time is given to a subject. 2) But this means that the subject is in a sense outside of time, and thus we cannot give an account of how the subject emerges within time. 3) Deleuze makes a similar point about space. 4) Spatial relations and properties can likewise be (perhaps erroneously) seen as given to a subject existing outside space. 5) Deleuze, however, proposed a view of the self that is not preconstituted and pregiven, but rather is something that is produced through passive synthesis. 6) There were three syntheses of time involved in the production of the subject (at least the third one is). 7) Similarly there are three syntheses of space. 8) We noted in the last section that on account of entropy we might think there is an arrow of time directed toward the heat death of the universe, that is, from particular, ordered systems to generalized disordered ones. 9) We also saw this arrow of time with the first synthesis of habit. (See by the way James Williams’ very excellent explanation of the arrow of time in the first synthesis. The memorial past is particular and determinate but the anticipated future is general and indeterminate, thus time of the first synthesis is asymmetrical, pointing like an arrow to the future). 10) (Perhaps we are not focusing on the first spatial synthesis here, because we discussed it in the prior section. It is hard for me to characterize it.) “The second spatial synthesis will give an account of how a horizon of intensive depth constitutes the qualities and localised intensities presupposed by thermodynamics”. And this synthesis of space can be equated with the temporal synthesis of memory. 11) Just as the in the third synthesis of time there was the pure intensity of the eternal return, in the third spatial synthesis there is pure depth as intensity.]

We have already seen in Chapter 2 that for Kant the intuition of time was given to a subject. | As such, an account of the emergence of the subject within time was rendered impossible. Deleuze makes a similar point here about space. So long as space is seen purely as an ‘anticipation of perception’ (DR 231/291), the subject will be seen as given. With the subject comes the constituted realm of qualities, as well as ‘the high and the low, the right and the left, the figure and the ground’ (DR 229/288) as structures that show themselves for a subject. In Chapter 2, Deleuze introduced the notion of a passive synthesis, that is, a synthesis that constituted a subject rather than presupposing one. Just as there were three syntheses of time, so there are three spatial syntheses. When we looked at the notion of entropy in the previous section, we noted that the system of differences of intensities constituted an arrow of time. This arrow moved from particular, ordered systems to generalised, disordered systems. This directionality from the particular to the general forms a rough analogue of the first temporal synthesis of habit. The second spatial synthesis will give an account of how a horizon of intensive depth constitutes the qualities and localised intensities presupposed by thermodynamics. This synthesis can be equated with the synthesis of memory. Finally, just as there was a third synthesis of time in terms of the pure intensity of the eternal return, there is a third spatial synthesis of pure depth as intensity. In this section, I want to go through the second and third of these syntheses.
(SH 170-171)


Recall from section 1.11 “how for Merleau-Ponty, forgetfulness of the perspectivism of our experience led us to posit a world of objects” (SH 171) [I do not remember how this worked. I think the idea was that objects are phenomenally constituted perspectivally, with our own being a center of origin, but this also means that given that our perspective is limited, objects are never entirely constituted. So we need to forget the perspectivalness of object constitution in order to regard the world as being made of objects that exist fully independent of any perspectival awareness of them]. [Objects are related to one another by phenomenal implication. The red carpet has a particular way its color appears. Just by looking at it, we implicitly are aware of the lamp shining down on it to give it that particular illumination we see. And likewise, the variations in shading imply the objects interposing between the light source and the carpet. So the phenomenal constitution of any one object already carries in it implicitly spatial relations to other objects affecting its appearance. And that distance is also depth.  That might be what SH means here:] “Within this world, objects were understood in terms of their relationships with other objects, that is, the distances they held to their surroundings. As such, we cannot explain the nature of constituted objects without also explaining the possibility of these distance relations: we need an explanation of space. In this regard, Merleau-Ponty’s analysis of depth is central” (171). [If we think about our field of vision, it extends up and down and left and right. So we directly perceive height and width. However, the layers of depth all stack up in a way that appears much more two-dimensional that in fact they are. However, there are clues in the relatively two-dimensional field of vision that tell us there is also a dimension of depth away from us. For example, things further away appear smaller and less apt to come into clear focus. Painters work with a two-dimensional surface but they place visual clues in the image so that we can view spatial relations of depth in the painting.]

As he notes, traditionally depth has been considered to be different from the other dimensions of height and breadth. Whereas those dimensions are directly perceivable by us, depth is imperceptible. If we take a naive view of painting, we can see a painting as presenting a number of signs that allow us to reconstruct a three-dimensional space on the basis of the two dimensions given by its surface (lines that converge to a point in the painting are used to recreate lines that remain parallel in space itself, more boldly coloured objects are taken to be closer to the viewer, etc.). On this reading, which Merleau-Ponty notes is the foundation of Renaissance painting (Merleau-Ponty 1964: 174), depth would be a construction on the basis of extensive magnitudes that are visible to us. | ‘Depth is a third dimension derived from the other two’ (Merleau-Ponty 1964: 172).
(SH 171-172)

However, [unlike with the painters using visual clues in the two dimensions of the painted image to indicate spatial depth] Merleau-Ponty does not attempt to derive depth from the other two dimensions but rather he sees depth as “that by which the given dimensions of extensity are given to us” (172). [I cannot figure out how this works. Maybe depth is to be understood as a more basic structure, like spatial juxtaposition itself. I am not sure what else depth would be such that the other dimensions would be made possible on its basis. So maybe the idea is that when we see depth, we see a unification of many different juxtaposed layers of extensive space. On the basis of this spatial synthesis we can order the points of space in height and width as being side-by-side. Or maybe somehow depth is to be understood simply as something like spatial variation in a very general sense. The following seems to be our best description of it, “Depth thus understood is, rather, the experience of the reversibility of dimensions, of a global ‘locality’ – everything in the same place at the same time, a locality from which height, width, and depth are abstracted, of a voluminosity we express when we say that a thing is there. (Merleau-Ponty 1964: 180)”. From this I still do not understand how it works. Let me quote:]

Merleau-Ponty’s claim about this form of understanding of depth is that, while it recognises the perspectival nature of our experience, this perspectivism ultimately sees perspective as a subjective feature of our representations of an objective and pre-existing spatiality [the following up to citation is Merleau-Ponty quotation]:

What I call depth is in reality a juxtaposition of points, making it comparable to breadth. I am simply badly placed to see it. I should see it if I were in the position of a spectator looking on from the side, who can take in at a glance the series of objects spread out in front of me, whereas for me they conceal each other – or see the distance from my body to the first object, whereas for me this distance is compressed into a point . . . For God, who is everywhere, breadth is immediately equivalent to depth. (Merleau-Ponty 1962: 255)

While representation attempts to derive the field of depth from the two given dimensions, thus characterising depth itself as an axis of extended space, Merleau-Ponty reverses this procedure. That is, rather than seeing depth as derived from the given dimensions, he sees it as that by which the given dimensions of extensity are given to us. Depth is not merely breadth seen from another angle, but rather is something different in kind that, by making possible a field of autonomous but interrelated objects, also makes possible the system of extensive distances taken as foundational by representation [the following up to citation is Merleau-Ponty quotation].

Once depth is understood in this way, we can no longer call it a third dimension. In the first place, if it were a dimension, it would be the first one; there are forms and definite planes only if it is stipulated how far from me their different parts are. But a first dimension that contains all the others is no longer a dimension, at least in the ordinary sense of a certain relationship according to which we make measurements. Depth thus understood is, rather, the experience of the reversibility of dimensions, of a global ‘locality’ – everything in the same place at the same time, a locality from which height, width, and depth are abstracted, of a voluminosity we express when we say that a thing is there. (Merleau-Ponty 1964: 180)

As Merleau-Ponty notes, this primordial depth here is no longer simply a ‘container’ for objects and qualities which are found within it. A consequence of this is that the genesis of quality and the genesis of space can no longer be seen as two separate projects: ‘We must seek space and its content as together’ (Merleau-Ponty 1964: 180). In ‘Eye and Mind’, he makes the claim that the enigma of depth is one of the primary inspirations of modern painting, and takes the work of Paul Klee and Paul | Cézanne as exemplary of the new project of showing ‘how the things become things, how the world becomes world’ (Merleau-Ponty 1964: 181).
(SH 172-173)


[So we are going along with this idea that somehow it is out of depth that the other dimensions are generated. Deleuze thinks this too. Again, I am not sure how this is for Deleuze, if for him this also applies in matters of perception. Merleau-Ponty does think that depth is non-extensive, but he does not equate it with intensity. Deleuze however does. Now we note how in the first “thermodynamic synthesis”, intensity was localized (perhaps because it was a matter of one particular temperature differential at some place in some system). Somehow (and I do not know how this works) in the second spatial synthesis intensity is what allows localization, since it is “a horizon that allows things and qualities to be constituted” (173). The spatial world has four features, and thus intensity is responsible for them: 1) the extensive distance between things, 2) the three dimensions of space which allows for things to have distance between them, 3) “the milieu of intensive differences recognised by thermodynamics as responsible for the appearance of qualities” (but I still do not know how that works), and 4) the qualities themselves that appear (in objects in space). The third synthesis of space is space just as an intensive quantity or pure spatium. Now, the second synthesis of space explains how intensity explicates into spatial extensity (the “how” part I still do not grasp). The next idea seems to be that this is as far as Merleau-Ponty goes, but since Deleuze sees depth as different in kind from the other dimensions and thus for him it is definable independently of extensity, then that means Deleuze goes further than Merleau-Ponty.]

This process by which a primordial depth is expressed in the form of qualities and extensions is, for Deleuze, the second spatial synthesis. ‘Depth as the (ultimate and original) heterogeneous dimension is the matrix of all extensity, including its third dimension considered to be homogeneous with the other two’ (DR 229/288). In a move that goes beyond Merleau-Ponty, he equates this non-extensive depth with intensity (‘Depth is the intensity of being, or vice-versa’ [DR, 231/290]). Now, we can note that while in the first thermodynamic synthesis, intensity was localised, in this second synthesis, intensity is rather that which allows localisation to take place – it is a horizon that allows things and qualities to be constituted. It is therefore responsible for four features of the spatial world: extensio, as the individual distances between objects; the extensum, as the three dimensions of space themselves (the frame of reference for the extensio); qualitas, as the milieu of intensive differences recognised by thermodynamics as responsible for the appearance of qualities; and quale, as these qualities themselves. Just as there were three temporal syntheses, here there are three spatial syntheses. The third synthesis of time was the pure form of time, prior to its expression in habit or memory. Deleuze describes the third spatial synthesis as ‘space as a whole, but space as an intensive quantity: the pure spatium’ (DR 230/289). While the second synthesis provides an account of the process by which intensity as depth generates the three dimensions (the explication of extensity), Deleuze notes that the fact that depth is different in kind from the dimensions it constitutes means that it is ‘definable independently of extensity’ (DR 230/289). The third spatial synthesis therefore goes beyond Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenological account by considering intensity independently of this process of the constitution of perspective.
(SH 173)


Just like with the third synthesis of time, Deleuze equates the third spatial synthesis with the eternal return (173). The eternal return is not like Plato’s doctrine of the circularity of time where the same situations repeat. [I do not follow the next points. Maybe the idea is that depth does not repeat but is prior to all things that do repeat. I will quote because I am missing the idea here:]

Just as Deleuze equated the third synthesis of time with the eternal return (2.8), in so far as it presented us with the pure field of intensity that gave rise to the two modes of temporality, the third spatial synthesis is also equated with the eternal return. Once again, as we saw in Chapter 2, Deleuze makes the point that the eternal return is not to be seen as something like the Platonic doctrine of an actual circularity of time, with a concomitant replication of a prior state of affairs. Rather than the eternal return being the claim that ‘things revolve’ (DR 241/302), | depth is precisely what is responsible for the constitution of things, and hence must be prior to them. Thus, ‘things must be dispersed within difference, and their identity must be dissolved before they become subject to eternal return and to identity in the eternal return’ (DR 241/302). If we are to think the unground from which things emerge, this unground cannot be thought in terms of things without leading to an infinite regress.
(174-175)


[I do not get the next paragraph very well. It seems the ideas are the following. For Deleuze, intensity generates extensity and the intensive differences distributed within extensity. Thermodynamics takes extensive space and its intensive distributions as givens. This means it is not aware that there is a creative and productive force that brings them about and that perhaps continues to somehow add energy or imbalance or life or something which would mean that there is not a certain heat death in the end. And maybe also the fact that intensity keeps injecting these anti-entropy factors into the world is like the eternal return, which is the continual repetition of new conditions in the world whose outcomes are not pre-calculatable.]

These three syntheses therefore explain why for Deleuze the increase in entropy proposed by thermodynamics is a transcendental illusion. Thermodynamics notes that intensive differences that we find already constituted and located in a spatial milieu tend to equalise themselves, but such an account only gives us half the picture. What is missing is the account given by the second and third syntheses whereby the extensive magnitudes thermodynamics presupposes, and with them the systems of intensive differences, are constituted. This presupposition that extensity is already constituted in effect rules out any consideration of these syntheses, thus leading to the transcendental illusion that intensive difference can only be equalised, but not constituted. The thought of depth is the thought of the eternal return because it is the thought of a field of intensity that is not cancelled by the laws of entropy. In fact, Deleuze claims that the eternal return is the thought of that which gives rise to the laws of nature, mirroring his analysis of repetition we looked at in the introduction (0.2). In the next section, we will address an issue brought up by this third synthesis. While we may have an understanding of intensity operating within extensive space (the difference in temperature between two locations, for instance), what does Deleuze mean by intensity defined independently of extension?
(SH 174)

 










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.


Merleau-Ponty, Maurice (1964), ‘Eye and Mind’, trans. Carlton Dallery, in The Primacy of Perception, Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 159–90.


Merleau-Ponty, Maurice (1962), Phenomenology of Perception, trans. Colin Smith, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

 



 


 


 

 




 

3 Feb 2014

Notes from Barry Dainton’s Time and Space for comparison with his “Sensing Change”


by Corry Shores
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[All underlining, boldface, and bracketed commentary are my own. Proofreading is incomplete, so mistakes are still currently present.]



Notes from Barry Dainton’s

Time and Space

for comparison with his “Sensing Change”



In Barry Dainton’s article “Sensing Change,” he describes his overlap model of the specious present of our phenomenal awareness.

Of course, anyone who believes that concrete reality is itself confined to what the present instant contains will find the Extensional approach problematic. If the past simply does not exist, contents located in the past cannot be co-conscious with contents located in the present. (This thought may well underlie the Retentionalist doctrine that only items that are momentary and simultaneous can be phenomenally unified.) But while this view of time—Presentism—may have some appeal at the level of commonsense, it does not sit easily with the four-dimensional space-time ontology that (many believe) Einstein’s theories of relativity require. By allowing phenomenal unity to connect contents that are separated by time as well as space, it is the Extensional approach that is more in tune with the findings of contemporary physics. (Dainton “Sensing Change” 380)

Dainton writes more about the four-dimensional space-time view of temporality in his book Time and Space. What might be implied in this is that Dainton’s overlap model is also more in tune with contemporary physics because it is extensionalist. So we will see if his writings in Time and Space might determine this.

In the first chapter of Time and Space Dainton introduces McTaggart’s distinction between A- and B-series. The temporal character of events in the A-series are understood in terms of their relation to the now-moment from which we see them. This means that events are understood as being located either in the present now, or in the future that comes after the present now or the past that happened before the present. Events understood in terms of the B-series however are not seen as though there is a origin point which can make these distinctions. An event can come before or after, or be simultaneous with another, like how we think of historical events, but the temporal character of the B-series is not one that allows for present, future, and past. (TS 11)

Dainton then makes the following distinctions.

• The Block view: all times and events timelessly coexist, and all are equally real; temporal passage is unreal.

• The dynamic view: temporal passage is real, and time is not an ensemble of coexisting times and events. In short, the block-universe view is false.

• The tensed theory: A- concepts such as past, present and future have an essential and ineliminable role to play in any metaphysically adequate account of the nature of time.

• The tenseless theory: B- concepts such as earlier than, later than and simultaneous with are all we need for a metaphysically adequate account of time. (TS 11-12)


Because the overlap model is one in which the present ceaseless passes, it would seem to observe the dynamic view and not the block view. The question is then, does the contemporary physics that Dainton refers to here also take the dynamic view? In the overlap model, it is the present which is extended and passing. Do physicist think in the four-dimensional view that there is a one second long present that passes through time?

In the third chapter Dainton looks more closely at the four-dimensional ‘block’ view of time, which might be the view he says is popular in contemporary physics and required by Einstein’s relativity theories.

Beginning the first section, titled “Time without Passage,” he writes:

Many contemporary philosophers are convinced that McTaggart was essentially correct: our world is a block-like four-dimensional ensemble, lacking a moving present, wherein all times and events are equally real. (TS 27)

A bit later he writes:

Of all the models of time that we will be considering, the B-theory is currently the most popular among philosophers and physicists, but in many respects it is also the strangest and most counterintuitive. (TS 27)

In the fourth chapter he further claims that for B-theorists time does not really have a moving now that flows with time’s passage:

But if the B-theory is true, time is not going anywhere: there is no moving “now”, no slippage into the past, no crystallization from mere possibility into present actuality. (TS 44)

In chapter 5 he formulates a particular claim that in chapter 6 he critically examines:

The world is a four-dimensional ensemble, and all times and events are equally real and coexist. (TS 63)

In the 6th chapter he examines presentism, which he mentions in the paragraph we cited from “Sensing Change”. Presentism thinks that only the present is real. Here in Time and Space he says something similar:

Once one becomes aware of the Block view, and the scientific considerations (especially Einstein’s special theory of relativity) that can be mustered in its favour, denying reality to everything but the present can easily come to seem absurd. (TS 81)

In the 7th chapter Dainton examines the phenomenology of time. He begins first with phenomenological data of the phenomena of change and persistence.

Let us start by gathering some basic phenomenological data. Our typical experience is a combination of persistence and change. You are, let us suppose, lying in a deckchair gazing at the sky, where you can see a few white clouds moving very slowly against the unvarying blue backdrop. You see the occasional bird overhead. Sometimes they circle around for a while, and often they fly right on by. When you do see a bird in flight you are directly aware of its motion: the flapping of wings; the sometimes fast, sometimes slow changes of position. You are as fully and immediately aware of these movements and changes as you are of the unchanging blue of the sky. The same holds quite generally for other modes of consciousness. We see change, but we also hear it (a rapid sequence of notes played on a piano), feel it (slowly move your finger across the palm of your hand) and imagine it (recreate in your imagination the final shot in a tennis tournament – a ball goes out, a player leaps with joy, the crowd roars). In addition, there can be changes in what we smell and taste, and in our emotional state (a surge of anger). And then there is the inner soliloquy, the conversation we have with ourselves in thought, conducted sometimes in words, sometimes in images, sometimes in neither, which rarely ceases during our waking hours.

All this is obvious: consciousness is alive with change and variation. More elusive is the subtle but distinctive sort of dynamism that is characteristic of unchanging sensations. Return to the deckchair scenario. For some moments now you have been staring at an empty region of blue sky and nothing has changed. Your inner monologue has (if only briefly) ground to a halt, you have seen no movement, your visual field is filled with an unvarying expanse of blue. But is your consciousness entirely still or frozen? Have you come to a complete stop? No. Throughout this period you remain conscious, and conscious of the blue presence continuing on; you have a (dim, background, passive) awareness of the blue constantly being renewed from moment to moment. This passive awareness of continuation and renewal is perhaps more vivid in the case of auditory experience. Imagine hearing a sustained but unwavering note played on a cello: you hear a continuous and continuing flow of sound. This feature – call it “immanent phenomenal flow” – is possessed by all forms of experience (think of the burning sensation on the tongue caused by biting on a chilli pepper), and is a dynamic feature of experience that is independent of changes of the ordinary qualitative sort (the chilli- induced burning is felt as continuing on even when its intensity and qualitative character remains constant). Phenomenal flow is especially important in the case of easily overlooked but ever- present bodily experiences: the feeling of one’s limbs being disposed one way rather than another, the feeling of being vertical rather than horizontal or upside down, the feelings of pressure on one’s skin caused by clothes, seats, shoes and so on. When we are not moving about, our bodily experience is largely unvarying in quality, and so goes largely unnoticed, but it remains a constant – and constantly flowing – presence within our consciousness. (TS 104)

Thus we may distinguish two temporal phenomenal traits, passage (change) and flow (persistence):

• our experience of change is as direct and immediate as our experience of colour or shape;

• our experiences possess the feature of phenomenal flow. (TS 104)

Phenomenal flow, by the way, involves an awareness of the newness even of persistent things in our awareness:

As well as providing an explanation of how we can have an immediate experience of change, the model provides an account of phenomenal flow, the impression we have that a qualitatively unvarying sensation is continuously refreshed and renewed. (TS 110)

We also note that again Dainton in this book, like in other writings including “Sensing Change” claims that contents in his awareness do not linger.

If the two- dimensional model were true, we could expect that:

experiences would never end abruptly, they would always linger on for a short while as they are represented in successive awarenesses as possessing diminishing presentedness;

• at each moment we would be aware of our current experience together with a constantly shifting complex of representations of recent experiences, and so our consciousness would be choked with the residues of recent experiences.

But this is wrong on both counts. As far as I can tell, my consciousness is not clogged up with fading residues of prior experiences, and experiences do not always linger; they sometimes do end abruptly. It could be objected, “Ah, but the residues are very brief. That’s why you don’t notice them. Likewise, for the shifting constellations of representations.” This reply is unconvincing. If we cannot discern the posited representations, there is no reason to suppose that they have any phenomenological reality, and hence no reason to suppose that they contribute to our actual experience of change and persistence. (TS 111)

[[Dainton also at times refers to the blur behind a fast moving object. In cases when he mentions these he does not explain why these are not instances of lingering contents, and in cases when he says we never have lingering contents, he does not mention cases of blurred moving objects in order to clarify how they are not instances of lingering.]]

We also note here that in “Sensing Change” Dainton says that what is in the extensive specious present of his overlap model is present because it has the full force and vivacity of present things.

What quality, added to a pain sensation, would make that sensation seem to be in the past rather than in the present? If I am now experiencing some sensation, won’t the experience seem to be occurring now irrespective of any peculiar qualities it might possess? Someone might say, “Presentedness is not an additional property that experiences have. It is akin to Hume’s ‘force and vivacity’. It is simply a measure of the intensity of an experience; as experiences lose presentedness they become progressively fainter, until they fade away altogether.” But this won’t work. Do some parts of the image in Figure 7.5 appear “more past” than others? [This figure shows a star-shaped image of light where the center is bright and diminishes toward the edges](112)

[[But when discussing non-extensional models, he examine a similar concept called presentedness, which is a quality that retentional contents have to diminishing degrees as they move further away from the present toward the past. He says that presentedness cannot be understood as Hume’s full force and vibrancy, because presently given weak phenomena like faint sounds or light do not now sound as if in the past. Those advocating for a diminishing presentedness might say that what makes the content seem more past is not merely its faintness as much as how much fainter it is from when it first presented itself. The faint sound now gets even fainter and as it does, and only as it does, it appears less and less present. It is also unclear how it is that Dainton’s criticism of presentedness does not apply to his concept of presence which is defined in exactly the same terms as presentedness. If a sound is currently very faint, does it seem less present than other concurrent sounds which are prominent? If not, how exactly do we make a clear distinction between presentness and presence with respect to currently faint phenomena?]]

When describing his overlap model, he explains how contents separated by others are not transitively co-conscious, and he also says that the specious present is less than a second.

Since the specious present is of limited duration (probably less than a second), the relationship of co- consciousness over time (diachronic co- consciousness) cannot be transitive. (114)

Later there is a paragraph which might help us better understand how the features of the overlap model might be in tune or not in tune with the contemporary physics understanding of time. It is not here clear if he is saying that moments outside the present are real in the same way as those inside the specious present. He only says that they are real in the present, but he puts in it a way that might suggest we cannot say something about the reality of those outside it.

However, in assessing the plausibility of what is being offered here, we must not lose sight of the model of time with which we are dealing. The overlap theory tells us that for me to experience C flowing into D, or D flowing into E, my experiencing of C must be co-conscious with my experiencing of D, and my experiencing of D must similarly be co-conscious with my experiencing of E. When two experiences are (diachronically) co-conscious, they are experienced together, in a unified temporally extended episode of experiencing. It is difficult to see how C could be related to D in this way if C is unreal when D occurs – and similarly for D and E. In order for C and D to be part of one unified experience, C and D must surely coexist. But according to the Dynamic Presentist, since C and D occur in succession, they do not coexist. (118)

[[A presentist might also say that to perceive C flowing into D is to perceive the passage between and thus to have both simultaneously in consciousness in that instant of their passage.]]

[[More generally speaking, it is not clear if the overlap model assumes time makes up a B-series, because the present has an extensive structure where successive moments co-exist, or if because the present is always in motion that it makes it not a B-series. If it is not a B-series on account of the movement of the present, then it is unclear how it is compatible with contemporary theories of physics which seem to construe time as B-series.]

Then he specifically addresses the question of whether the overlap model is compatible with other metaphysically intelligible views of time, and he says that it is “neutral” with respect to them. First he looks at the block view, which is like the B-series conception. All moments have their place, none are present, and there is no flowing now. But the way he describes it here suggests that within the four-dimensional block a stream of consciousness is like a small part that is only aware of tiny moving portion of it. It does not explain the relationship between the movement of the stream of consciousness and the non-movement of the block. So he explains why it is that the specious present is only a small part of the whole block, but he does not explain why in the block a small part of it is moving.

What of the other models of time that we have considered and found metaphysically intelligible? For better or worse, the overlap theory seems entirely neutral with respect to these.

Consider the Block view. The overlap theory tells us that co-consciousness extends over short periods to create temporally extended “phenomenal presents”, that successive phenomenal presents overlap, and that the contents of these phenomenal presents have an inherent dynamic character. That our experience is structured in this way guarantees that we will have the impression that our consciousness is confined to a forward-moving present even if, in reality, past and future experiences are just as real as present ones. From the four-dimensional perspective, a stream of consciousness is akin to a glowing filament embedded in a long glass block; the filament is aglow throughout its entire length, but this is not discernible to the subject of these experience, who is only ever aware of those tiny stretches of experience joined by co-consciousness. (119)

Dainton contrasts his overlap theory to ones which conceive of the present as durationless. He claims that such models cannot account for the phenomenon of passage. But one argument against Dainton’s position, which he does not address, is that physics understands an instant of motion as being like the smallest part of passage. In one sense it is durationless in that it is not an extent of time, but it is not the same as a lack of temporality. It in a way is greater than a zero amount of time and less than any givable finite amount of time. At any such instant of motion, we can calculate the instantaneous velocity of the motion. In a sense, the object is both in motion and at rest. It is at rest because it does not travel any extent of space or occupy any extent of time, however it is in motion because it is still in passage between locations, and thus it can have a certain rate of making that passage even though no extend of time or space transpires. Dainton in fact discusses and describe this operation in physics, and he even notes that modern scientific and technological calculations depend on it. This suggests that the instantaneous view of parts of motion are compatible with contemporary views of time in physics. What is interesting is that he does not consider this view of the instant when examining possible models of time consciousness where the present is instantaneous. Could not the present in our phenomenal consciousness be an instant which is aware off the smallest part of change? He explains instantaneous velocity when discussing the at-at account of motion, which can solve Zeno’s paradox of the arrow. An arrow in flight occupies a series of points in space coordinated to instants in time where it is found at those locations. But it is not at motion in any of the points, so it is never at any point or moment in flight. Dainton explains how those who think time and space are continuous can reply that since the arrow was at a different location prior to any in its motion, then it is changing location across time and thus is in movement. It is at certain points at certain times, and at intermediate points between them. He then looks at the calculus way of looking at this to show how even in the instant the arrow would have an instantaneous velocity, which suggests that no matter how small of a part of its motion we look at, it is at motion in that instant.

17.1 The “Arrow”

Imagine an arrow in flight. At every instant during its flight, the arrow is at some specific location, occupying a volume of space that corresponds exactly to the arrow’s own size. Since instants are durationless, and motion takes time, the arrow is not in motion at (or during) these instants. Yet the arrow’s entire flight is composed of these instants, and nothing but these instants. If the arrow is not in motion at any of the instants that jointly make up its flight, it is not in motion at all.

This is Zeno’s “Arrow” paradox. The reasoning obviously generalizes – what holds for the arrow holds for any object in motion – and so if the argument is sound, motion does not and cannot occur. The argument is sometimes taken as being directed – along with “Stadium”, which we will be looking at shortly – against the doctrine that space and time are discrete, rather than continuous. While this may well be true for the Stadium, it is not obviously true in the case of the Arrow. In any event, the Arrow reasoning certainly poses a significant problem for those who believe space and time are continuous rather than discrete, the conception of the continuum with which we are currently concerned. If space and time are composed of dimensionless points, and the arrow’s flight involves its occupying a continuous succession of different locations, we are undeniably confronted with the problem of explaining how it is possible for the arrow to have moved, given that it is not (seemingly) moving during any of the momentary stages which constitute its flight.

The at-at theory

Those who subscribe to the orthodox conception of the continuum have a response to the Arrow challenge that is widely, although by no means universally, accepted as adequate. The proposal runs as follows. Whether or not an object is in motion at a given time t does not depend on the object’s condition or state at time t. Rather, it depends on how the object behaves at those temporal instants neighbouring t. If at these neighbouring times the object is at precisely the same location as it is at t, then we say that it is not moving at t; but if it is at different locations, then we say that it is moving at t. Since everyone can agree that an object is moving if it is changing its location over time, this simple account seems to give us all we might want. Or as Russell puts it, “Motion consists merely in the fact that bodies are sometimes in one place and sometimes in another, and that they are | at intermediate places at intermediate times” (1917: 84) [Russell, B. 1917. “Mathematics and Metaphysicians”. In his Mysticism and Logic. London: George Allen & Unwin]; hence the “at-at” label for this view.

It will be useful to take a closer look at what proponents of the at-at account are proposing. Suppose we start with an interval I1, running from half a second before t to half a second after t (see Figure 17.1). We calculate the arrow’s average velocity over I1 by dividing the distance travelled over the course of this interval by the time taken, which in this case is one second. This gives us an initial, reasonably accurate, approximation of the object’s velocity at t. To get more accurate approximation we repeat the procedure for a shorter interval I2, which is also centred on t, but running (we can suppose) from a quarter of a second before it to a quarter of a second after it. By working out the average velocities over shorter and shorter t-centred intervals we will generate increasingly accurate estimates of our object’s velocity at t itself. In standard fashion we now introduce the limit-value of the series at t: it is the average velocity to which the series of ever-decreasing intervals converges as the end-points of the intervals approach arbitrarily close to t itself. We can now stipulate that our object’s instantaneous velocity at t is simply this limit-value.

This procedure can be applied quite generally to deliver the instantaneous velocities of any moving object at any time. Indeed, the procedure just outlined is essentially that used in the calculus, where velocity is the “first derivative” of change of position with respect to time (acceleration, the rate of change of velocity, is the “second derivative”). Since the day of Newton and Leibniz, calculus has been at the heart of physics and applied mathematics, and it is undeniable that much of the success of the former is due to the latter; without the methods of the calculus we would not be able to calculate the rates of change of interdependent quantities in the precise and accurate ways our science and technology require. (TS 289-290)

Dainton. Time and Space fig17.1

Figure 17.1 from page 290 of Barry Dainton's Time and Space (2010 2d ed)

As we can see, time is understood here as an extension, and this is specifically Dainton’s claim, that contemporary theories in physics regard time as extensive in their four-dimensional models. Our question is whether or not the overlap model’s other features are compatible with this four-dimensional view. We might for example wonder, do these contemporary conceptions of time think that within the extent of time there is a one second long moving present? One way Dainton might locate something like this in Einstein’s special relativity theory is in how there is no absolute simultaneity. Events that in one frame seem simultaneous might in another seem successive.

In the context of STR, simultaneity is not absolute but frame-relative. Spatially separated events that are simultaneous from the perspective of one inertial frame are not simultaneous from the perspective of other inertial frames, and since the perspectives of all inertial frames are equally valid, there is no sense in the idea that the events in question are “really” simultaneous or not. (TS 322)

So the present cannot be seen as an instant that all frames share. So we consider all possible observations. In one such comparison, there will be events that in one frame seem simultaneous and in another seem successive, and we are looking at the pairing where magnitude of the extent of time in the succession of events is greatest for any other comparison of frames. This difference in magnitude would be the extensive present, because it is the extent of time during which all other observations fit the same events. So while in the frame where the events seem maximally successive, in another they are simultaneous. The presence in the simultaneous case is extensively stretched in the successive case, and this is the extent of the present. This brings us closer to seeing how the extensive overlap model might be closer to contemporary physics and Einstein’s relativity in particular, but there is still a lot that is not clear about this account. Does that mean that because our specious present is one second long, this extent of time is the greatest possible temporal difference between all frames in the universe? And are we suggesting that when we view the specious present we are somehow perceptive of the temporally difference between reference frames of which we are not otherwise perceptively aware of? Perhaps, but Dainton does not clarity if and how this might be so.


When discussing general relativity, Dainton more specifically addresses when it is compatible with B-series conceptions of time and dynamic conceptions of time. He writes that “Nothing in GTR is obviously incompatible with the Block conception;” (381) and “A certain class of GTR models are surprisingly friendly to those versions of dynamism that posit a universe-wide tide of becoming” (TS 381). However, in this section Dainton does not clarify whether or not in any version of relativity theory that there is a moving extensive present of a second or so in duration.

Thus at least in his book Time and Space, Dainton does not give us reason to think that all the important features of the overlap model of the specious present [the present is an extent of time of about one second long where all phases or contents of that present are equally present with those outside its scope being past and future] correspond with the features of time as conceived in contemporary physics and in particular in Einstein’s relativity theories. The main point of difference would be that while both see time as extensive, it is unclear if physical theories think there is a moving present of a length of about one second long. We recall how Dainton writes in “Sensing Change:”

But while this view of time—Presentism—may have some appeal at the level of commonsense, it does not sit easily with the four-dimensional space-time ontology that (many believe) Einstein’s theories of relativity require. By allowing phenomenal unity to connect contents that are separated by time as well as space, it is the Extensional approach that is more in tune with the findings of contemporary physics. (Dainton “Sensing Change” 380)

It seems that while extensional approaches in general are compatible with the way that contemporary theories of physics portray time as being part of a four-dimensional space-time manifold, the overlap model of the specious present as a specific extensional model of time does not correspond with the way that contemporary physics understands the ‘present’ within the extent of space-time. Thus unless Dainton can maker further clarification, it does not seem safe to claim that his overlap model is compatible with contemporary theories of time in physics.

Works cited:


Barry Dainton. (2010, 2nd edition [1st edition 2001]) Time and Space. Durham: Acumen.

Barry Dainton (2008) “Sensing Change.” Philosophical Issues, 18: 362–384.