So, a recent article, written in a respectable scientific medium, argues that Time-travel (or at least Time-reversal) is impossible. I have written on this before, and even tried to offer a layman's version of just why Time-reversal ought to be impossible, or at the very least, will lead to the total destruction of the time traveller. Basically, if you reverse the Time-stream, you also reverse the laws of nature, such as the law of gravity. Everything would explode.
Monday, November 2, 2015
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Sunday, September 13, 2015
File Under Time: Time Runs Backwards in Blackholes
Another Science article on the reversal of Time in Blackholes. Interesting because it refers to "thermodynamic time", which is to say, to the reversal of the laws of thermodynamics, whereby orderly systems tend towards chaos. Inside the blackhole, apparently, these laws operate in reverse.
Link to Phys.Org
Link to Phys.Org
Saturday, August 29, 2015
1K in August 2015
Just a thanks to all my readers. I reached 1,000 views this month for the first time. Onward and upward!
On the Necessity of Watching "Dr. Who": Or, On Why I Should Be the Next Dr. Who
Hello, Who fans (you know who you are).
So obviously, me being a blogger on the concept of Time, I have to talk about Dr. Who, the Time Lord, the guy who jumps around time and space, 99% of the time with a semi- to totally- beautiful consort, taking on enemies to the human race, and showing his lovely consort the glories of the universe.
As a Time-blogger, I would love to be as in love with Dr. Who as the rest of you. Alas, I am not. I find it difficult to even make it through the second season of the reboot (granted, this is my second third attempt).
I watch Dr. Who because I feel the necessity of commenting on all things Time-related, and increaasingly this has come to include Time-Travel. Of course, if I were Dr. Who, well, I'd have a much different story to tell; one that made distinctions between time-acceleration and time-reversal, that did not rely on cheap CGI and rashly applied cosmetics to get its point across.
The whole problem for me is that there is a grand possibility in this sort of show of making wonderful arguments regarding the fatuous realities of Time and Space, but instead, most of the time, we only get to the heights of the Doctor's platitudes about how the human race is special and how the Doctor himself is an indispensable guardian of human interests.
So much for the sagacious capacities of an intergalactic time traveller.
If I were Dr. Who, the human race would only appear on the rarest of occasions, like a Christmas special in which the Doctor mentioned jolly old St. Nick, because he found the gifting culture of a certain 20-limbed species so fickle by comparison, or perhaps mentioning the Buddha, because who the hell wants to galavant across the stars and time and space in a Police Box with Rose Tyler?! </perfunctory Rose rant>
But srsly, folks, Dr. Who is a Time Lord, a being who wields something in the neighborhood of cosmic power. The ability to affect the fate of humanity, and pretty much every other species, if only he were not so much more concerned with being adorable and chivalrous by his serial lady-friends.
I get it. The Who Show has a certain pattern, one that gives multiple British actors and actresses the opportunity to galavant through rapidly assembled stage-sets, an opportunity which can only lead up from there. But if I were Dr. Who, things would be different. Plots would of necessity bridge seasons, and it would perhaps take five for a single plot point to be made. And the Doctor would be spending a lot more time engaged in clandestine activities. And that point would be: Dr. Who is not who you think he is. He's a friggin' Time Lord, after all.
So obviously, me being a blogger on the concept of Time, I have to talk about Dr. Who, the Time Lord, the guy who jumps around time and space, 99% of the time with a semi- to totally- beautiful consort, taking on enemies to the human race, and showing his lovely consort the glories of the universe.
As a Time-blogger, I would love to be as in love with Dr. Who as the rest of you. Alas, I am not. I find it difficult to even make it through the second season of the reboot (granted, this is my second third attempt).
I watch Dr. Who because I feel the necessity of commenting on all things Time-related, and increaasingly this has come to include Time-Travel. Of course, if I were Dr. Who, well, I'd have a much different story to tell; one that made distinctions between time-acceleration and time-reversal, that did not rely on cheap CGI and rashly applied cosmetics to get its point across.
The whole problem for me is that there is a grand possibility in this sort of show of making wonderful arguments regarding the fatuous realities of Time and Space, but instead, most of the time, we only get to the heights of the Doctor's platitudes about how the human race is special and how the Doctor himself is an indispensable guardian of human interests.
So much for the sagacious capacities of an intergalactic time traveller.
If I were Dr. Who, the human race would only appear on the rarest of occasions, like a Christmas special in which the Doctor mentioned jolly old St. Nick, because he found the gifting culture of a certain 20-limbed species so fickle by comparison, or perhaps mentioning the Buddha, because who the hell wants to galavant across the stars and time and space in a Police Box with Rose Tyler?! </perfunctory Rose rant>
But srsly, folks, Dr. Who is a Time Lord, a being who wields something in the neighborhood of cosmic power. The ability to affect the fate of humanity, and pretty much every other species, if only he were not so much more concerned with being adorable and chivalrous by his serial lady-friends.
I get it. The Who Show has a certain pattern, one that gives multiple British actors and actresses the opportunity to galavant through rapidly assembled stage-sets, an opportunity which can only lead up from there. But if I were Dr. Who, things would be different. Plots would of necessity bridge seasons, and it would perhaps take five for a single plot point to be made. And the Doctor would be spending a lot more time engaged in clandestine activities. And that point would be: Dr. Who is not who you think he is. He's a friggin' Time Lord, after all.
Saturday, August 22, 2015
The Spirit of Change: Time in Descartes, Kant, and Hegel
One of the most well-known analytical philosophers of the 20th century, Bertrand Russell, once referred to Hegel as "the hardest to understand of the great philosophers," for which reason, many subsequent analytical philosophers (particularly those who have little tolerance for obscurity in philosophy) have come to assume that this implied that Hegel had nothing of importance to say. Yet, we should note that Russell did not simply call him "the hardest to understand", but also called him a "great philosopher", so that the double entendre should not be lost on us, but at least ought to prevent analytic thinkers from dismissing his insights entirely.
The task of analytic logic is thoroughly wedded to the critical practice of assessing the arguments of thinkers, analytical or otherwise. As such, analytic philosophers may express vexation at times in dealing with obscure writing, since this compounds the difficulties of assessing the merits or demerits of a grand philosophical work. What would be ideal (for the analytical critic) is for the author to express his or her whole philosophical system in terms that plied closely to the subject-predicate propositions described by Aristotle, or else, to make ample use of the declarative copula.
Hegel's writing is at least descriptive of the spirit of history, as is largely his intention, but the various foci of his writing include such things as concepts as such, ideas as such, notions as such, spirit as such, rights as such, freedom as such, and so on. These are, taken by themselves, resilient against analytical attempts to define and indicate as phenomena, since they are ultimately noumena, or in the German, dingen-an-sich. Their very natures as conceptual sources produces many of the difficulties of assessing them in terms of their ultimate or ideal meanings, and the ways we define them in our tendencies toward utilizing them for making ontological and moral arguments. That is, they do not easily lend themselves to criticism by way of theoretical assertions regarding what they are or are not, but only by means of a kind of historical test, which leads thinking to regard certain matters as intuitive and correct, regardless of whether history has in every case provided a people with the full manifestation of the thought. To make plainer what I mean, consider that not every natural human right has been secured and protected by every government in history. And yet, we do have a certain rational intuition which would lead us to suppose that a right remains a right regardless of its absence or presence in law. A right is a thing in itself, and not simply something seen or not seen, something whose existence or non-existence stands solely upon its realization within an historical framework.
This was one of Hegel's most important insights, that concepts belong to noumenological thinking, and that they were transcendental sources for moral thinking. But Hegel is not to be credited with inventing this idea (so much less would he have been able to argue it if he were!). Indeed, he received the idea at least in part from Immanuel Kant, who made clear how the the spirit of change resides in the spirit of self as Time. In the Critique of Pure Reason, Kant explains that time is the internal, synthetical form of sensuous intuitions, This can be further clarified by noting what he regarded as the external form of sensuous intuition, Space. As such, Kant framed the mind-body dichotomy in a way that clarified Descartes' basic maxim, cogito; ergo, sum: I think; therefore, I am. This Internal form, of self-as-Time, provides us with much of the substance we find in Hegel's idea of the self as the spirit of change. Karl Marx inherits this same idea in his famous criticism of Feuerbach, wherein he argues that the goal of philosophy is not simply to describe the world, but to change it.
Such a vision, wherein the person can be a force for change, because their internal hermeneutical constitution is itself comprised of the ultimate force for change (Time), echoes an ancient idea that was perhaps first stated in the Bhagavad-Gītā, wherein Kṛṣṇa claims an identity with Time. It is perhaps no mere coincidence then, that Hegel was disposed to quote Kṛṣṇa in his own work on the spirit of history.
Progressivism, as the political identity of this spirit may be indicated always looks to the future as a source of novelty and improvement, even while keeping one eye toward a criticism of all that already exists. Here, one's ability to see the world temporally—as consisting of past, present, and future—also provides one the ability to anticipate what is yet to come (in harmony with the spirit of progress), while keeping at bay all attempts to turn it back through mere nostalgia for what must finally perish, and which may resent its own finitude for fear of death.
Descartes' Cogito gave birth to Modern philosophy, and amplified the insights of German Idealism. Both Kant and Hegel owe much to Descartes for giving them a starting point from which to imagine the world. The spirit of Time gave itself expression through the Transcendental philosophy of Kant, and through the Historiology of Hegel. Understanding the implications of Hegelian philosophy would seem thus to require us to consider the conceptual development of Time through this period.
The task of analytic logic is thoroughly wedded to the critical practice of assessing the arguments of thinkers, analytical or otherwise. As such, analytic philosophers may express vexation at times in dealing with obscure writing, since this compounds the difficulties of assessing the merits or demerits of a grand philosophical work. What would be ideal (for the analytical critic) is for the author to express his or her whole philosophical system in terms that plied closely to the subject-predicate propositions described by Aristotle, or else, to make ample use of the declarative copula.
Hegel's writing is at least descriptive of the spirit of history, as is largely his intention, but the various foci of his writing include such things as concepts as such, ideas as such, notions as such, spirit as such, rights as such, freedom as such, and so on. These are, taken by themselves, resilient against analytical attempts to define and indicate as phenomena, since they are ultimately noumena, or in the German, dingen-an-sich. Their very natures as conceptual sources produces many of the difficulties of assessing them in terms of their ultimate or ideal meanings, and the ways we define them in our tendencies toward utilizing them for making ontological and moral arguments. That is, they do not easily lend themselves to criticism by way of theoretical assertions regarding what they are or are not, but only by means of a kind of historical test, which leads thinking to regard certain matters as intuitive and correct, regardless of whether history has in every case provided a people with the full manifestation of the thought. To make plainer what I mean, consider that not every natural human right has been secured and protected by every government in history. And yet, we do have a certain rational intuition which would lead us to suppose that a right remains a right regardless of its absence or presence in law. A right is a thing in itself, and not simply something seen or not seen, something whose existence or non-existence stands solely upon its realization within an historical framework.
This was one of Hegel's most important insights, that concepts belong to noumenological thinking, and that they were transcendental sources for moral thinking. But Hegel is not to be credited with inventing this idea (so much less would he have been able to argue it if he were!). Indeed, he received the idea at least in part from Immanuel Kant, who made clear how the the spirit of change resides in the spirit of self as Time. In the Critique of Pure Reason, Kant explains that time is the internal, synthetical form of sensuous intuitions, This can be further clarified by noting what he regarded as the external form of sensuous intuition, Space. As such, Kant framed the mind-body dichotomy in a way that clarified Descartes' basic maxim, cogito; ergo, sum: I think; therefore, I am. This Internal form, of self-as-Time, provides us with much of the substance we find in Hegel's idea of the self as the spirit of change. Karl Marx inherits this same idea in his famous criticism of Feuerbach, wherein he argues that the goal of philosophy is not simply to describe the world, but to change it.
Such a vision, wherein the person can be a force for change, because their internal hermeneutical constitution is itself comprised of the ultimate force for change (Time), echoes an ancient idea that was perhaps first stated in the Bhagavad-Gītā, wherein Kṛṣṇa claims an identity with Time. It is perhaps no mere coincidence then, that Hegel was disposed to quote Kṛṣṇa in his own work on the spirit of history.
Progressivism, as the political identity of this spirit may be indicated always looks to the future as a source of novelty and improvement, even while keeping one eye toward a criticism of all that already exists. Here, one's ability to see the world temporally—as consisting of past, present, and future—also provides one the ability to anticipate what is yet to come (in harmony with the spirit of progress), while keeping at bay all attempts to turn it back through mere nostalgia for what must finally perish, and which may resent its own finitude for fear of death.
Descartes' Cogito gave birth to Modern philosophy, and amplified the insights of German Idealism. Both Kant and Hegel owe much to Descartes for giving them a starting point from which to imagine the world. The spirit of Time gave itself expression through the Transcendental philosophy of Kant, and through the Historiology of Hegel. Understanding the implications of Hegelian philosophy would seem thus to require us to consider the conceptual development of Time through this period.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
If God is Time, then Godliness is Timeliness?
It seems not to matter just how much I have previously given myself to the study of Time; I still find myself thrown into disarray at the temporality of situations which had once given themselves the hue of longevity. Working for hourly wages has its own way of making employment feel permanent. As a worker, one becomes familiar with a certain environment, or work dynamic. The novelty of work situations gives way to the contemptuous breath of familiarity. And the life of work begins to feel tedious. Longevity here is not too far from the boredom of the daily grind, doing the same thing, over and over again, as a practice, as a way of perfecting one's craft, as a means of keeping one's head above the deluge of worldly responsibilities.
And yet, job security, sought at an hourly price, gives us only an illusion of permanence. In the competition for such security, the hierarchy of seekers plays out its game of the upwardly mobile and the peons of menial tasks. The hours pass, events transpire, actions are performed, some of these novel, some repetitious. The familiarity becomes a kind of comfortableness with the work at hand. Content to do the job prescribed for the moment, one gets lost in one's profession, managing the small-scale accomplishments that support the broader tasks. Time passes easily if one has enough energy for the task, slowly and gratingly if one is not well-rested or well-nourished.
Time announces itself at the key moments: the alarm clock, the beginning of the commute, of the work day, the various breaks for rest or meals, the end of the work day, payday, the beginning of the workweek, humpday, the beginning of the weekend. But other than these, which are regularly fixed, Time appears as a realization of exasperation. "It's such a long day!", says the man who cannot fix his mind in his work, or is fatigued by the extent of his labors. In fact, the day is no longer or shorter than any other, but the man cannot in his fatigue grasp this. His feelings mask the regularity of time, prolong its seconds, minutes, and hours, prevent his mind from overcoming the regularity of the passing of his life unto death.
And toward the man who arrives late for work, the masters of fate become disgruntled and soured. They cannot long forbear the tardy man unannounced, that unprofessional man whose cares allow time to pass unproductively. Such a slight is a secular sin, a sin against the religious feelings of the company's core values. Even accidentally, it will be noted as at least venial.
A busy professional will not even have time for idle chatter. His work is his religion, and the gods of monetary advancement jealously guard against those who fail to give their full attention to the tasks at hand. A man works for money, and so must earn the right to that money by showing his dedication and professionalism, his care for the profession.
And yet, for all this, little slips in his focus can degrade him in the eyes of his employers. If he is not as fast as the others, his employment threatens to become a burden to the company.
Within the secular world, professionalism is the one true religion.
And yet, job security, sought at an hourly price, gives us only an illusion of permanence. In the competition for such security, the hierarchy of seekers plays out its game of the upwardly mobile and the peons of menial tasks. The hours pass, events transpire, actions are performed, some of these novel, some repetitious. The familiarity becomes a kind of comfortableness with the work at hand. Content to do the job prescribed for the moment, one gets lost in one's profession, managing the small-scale accomplishments that support the broader tasks. Time passes easily if one has enough energy for the task, slowly and gratingly if one is not well-rested or well-nourished.
Time announces itself at the key moments: the alarm clock, the beginning of the commute, of the work day, the various breaks for rest or meals, the end of the work day, payday, the beginning of the workweek, humpday, the beginning of the weekend. But other than these, which are regularly fixed, Time appears as a realization of exasperation. "It's such a long day!", says the man who cannot fix his mind in his work, or is fatigued by the extent of his labors. In fact, the day is no longer or shorter than any other, but the man cannot in his fatigue grasp this. His feelings mask the regularity of time, prolong its seconds, minutes, and hours, prevent his mind from overcoming the regularity of the passing of his life unto death.
And toward the man who arrives late for work, the masters of fate become disgruntled and soured. They cannot long forbear the tardy man unannounced, that unprofessional man whose cares allow time to pass unproductively. Such a slight is a secular sin, a sin against the religious feelings of the company's core values. Even accidentally, it will be noted as at least venial.
A busy professional will not even have time for idle chatter. His work is his religion, and the gods of monetary advancement jealously guard against those who fail to give their full attention to the tasks at hand. A man works for money, and so must earn the right to that money by showing his dedication and professionalism, his care for the profession.
And yet, for all this, little slips in his focus can degrade him in the eyes of his employers. If he is not as fast as the others, his employment threatens to become a burden to the company.
Within the secular world, professionalism is the one true religion.
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