Are Time and Consciousness Interdependent ?

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A diagram of space-time looks like a three-dimensional drawing of a bell. See one at http://quothethesaint.tumblr.com/post/75541923759/ancient-media-the-big-bang

 

 The inside of the bell contains galaxies separated by space.  Oriented from left to right, with the “bell” laying on its side, the “Big Bang” event is the tiny point on the far left.  Proceeding from left to right, the “bell” begins to take shape, with an initial rapid expansion, then a more gradual expansion, and finally, an accelerated expansion.

This procession from left to right is intended to represent the progression of time, from its initial beginning, through the past, and into the present.  If one continues the progression, one can diagram the future.  However, the problem is that we do not know if the future will be of infinite duration, or if time will eventually end.

The progression of time, however, is itself a bigger problem.  The diagram is static.  It does not move; it does not progress.  It is all of one piece, one structure.  In the diagram, time does not pass.

If this is the case, if the entirety of time is static, then why does time seem to progress from past, to present, and thence to future?

The only explanation for this is consciousness.  Our consciousness experiences time.  More to the point, our consciousness experiences time as a flow—a flow of experiences—a memory of past experiences, the consciousness of the present experience, and the anticipation of an unknown future.

This explanation, however, does not fit the diagram.  The diagram illustrates all of time as a single, unchanging reality.  In the diagram, the absolute certainty of the past is mirrored as an absolute certainty of the future. 

We do not, however, experience time in this way.  To us, the future is uncertain, and it is uncertain because it can be, to use a word imprecisely—“changed.”  For example, if I predict that a certain course of my action will result in tragedy, I perceive that I can prevent that future tragedy by changing my course of action, through an effort of will.

If this is a correct interpretation of our experience of time, and if our experience is not an illusion, then it strongly implies that the diagram should not be static, but rather, dynamic.  It is almost as if time itself moves through an even larger reality of some sort, a reality that might be analogous to time.  In other words, our smaller subset of time moves through a larger set of time. 

Granted, that may not seem to make sense at first, but physics already postulates that our universe is part of a multi-verse.  Since our one universe incorporates space-time, then our space-time might be part of a larger framework of both space and of time.  Just as space is dynamic, so might also time be alterable.

Going further along this line of thought, we might characterize eternity as both being outside of time, and also, dynamic.  Life in eternity might be, not a boring experience of sitting on a cloud, playing a harp, but a joyful adventure which continually enriches our experience.

Of course this is a heavy dose of speculation, but I think, not unreasonable.

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Free Will, Determinism, or Something Else?

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The question of whether we have free will, or whether we are biological robots doing only (and exactly) as nature compels us to do, presents problems which the best minds have struggled to resolve.  An article by Roy F. Baumeister at https://slate.com/technology/2013/09/free-will-debate-what-does-free-will-mean-and-how-did-it-evolve.html seeks to offer a third possibility.  Is there, in fact, a compromise position?  Or is there something that is truly a third way?

 

If we answer simply that, yes, we do have free will, then we run afoul of physics—at least the current paradigm which guides physics research.  The current theory of physics relies on something called, determinism.  A familiar way of describing determinism is to use the familiar analogy of a row of dominoes.  Tip the first domino and it knocks over the second, which knocks over the third, and so forth.  This simple chain of cause and effect exhibits the physics principle of causation, which in however complex a form, applies to everything that happens, including the choices we make.  Another way of expressing this principle is to cite the maxim that, everything in physical nature can be explained by other things in physical nature; no other explanation is needed.  Free will simply does not exist.  It cannot.

 

Therefore, if we do have free will, we must conclude that physics, in its current state, is wrong.  Stated another way, there is something more than physical cause and effect which results in physical events.  If I am confronted with the choice between turning left or turning right, the physical event of my turning is not dictated by the dominoes that have previously fallen.  It is determined by something that physics has not defined, something like a spirit or soul, something not of this physical world.

 

That conclusion is considered heresy in physics, not just heresy, but by purists, a despicable falsehood, either the delusions of fools, or the intellectual crime of superstition.

 

The irony is this:  if a person believes in free will, but if at the same time there is no free will, then that person did not choose to believe in free will.  That belief was forced upon him by preceding physical events.  Then, how can he be blamed?

 

The online article at Slate, by Roy F. Baumeister, cited above, makes a valiant attempt to resolve the issue, in a way that the author seems to hope, might be acceptable to both sides.  The effort fails.  It basically concludes that free will is actually what we only think is free will.  We think so, due only to the complexity of the mechanics of how we make decisions—but they are still mechanics, after all, not the truly independent decision of a sovereign entity.

 

The doctrine of free will does not necessarily assert that every decision we make is independent of physical causes.  On the contrary, all our decisions are at least partially influenced by physical causation, and the degree of that influence may be overwhelming in many cases.  Some of our actions are so routine that we do not bother to use our power of free will.  But, at its core, there is no compromise.  As to whether free will is possible, or not possible, that is either yes, or no. 

 

If we are to accept that we never, ever, have any power to act volitionally as independent, sovereign agents of physical causation in nature, then we must accept unavoidable absurdities.  One of them has already been mentioned, which is that our belief or disbelief that free will is possible, is not the result of our investigation of the facts, but rather, the result of an inexorable chain of physical causation. 

 

There is a greater issue—in fact, two of them.  One of them asks, are we active participants in our own lives, or merely passive observers?  The other issue asks, does physical nature just happen to give rise to living, conscious, volitional beings—or is physical nature designed around us, to be our habitat?

 

It quickly becomes apparent, then, that the question of free will is not isolated from other profound questions.  It involves the fundamental essence of natural reality.  It addresses our own reality as either biomechanical machines, or spiritual beings in physical form. Moreover, it involves the great mysteries of science, religion and philosophy.

 

If the standard model of physical causation is wrong, then that opens exciting avenues of research which are currently considered to be heretical.  If, on the other hand, we truly have no free will, then we are actors on a stage, reciting lines that nobody wrote.  We are as futile as, as Shakespeare puts it, in Macbeth 5:5, a sound and fury signifying nothing, a tale told by an idiot.

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Crisis in Science

 

Science is on the brink, either of a stunning breakthrough, or the abyss of defeat. 

For centuries, science has progressed from superstition to discovery, and current predictions include the promise of solving nature’s greatest mysteries.   New discoveries, it is said, will lead to dramatic advances in technology that will usher in the dawn of the age of Star Trek.  Flying cars, miracle cures, and servant-robots are just some of the astonishing changes that are expected, changes that will revolutionize our lives beyond our present ability to imagine.  Could the earliest cavemen have imagined the impact that the discovery of fire would portend?  Could they have imagined nuclear power?

But not all the predictions include the beaming up of Scotty.  There is a principle of diminishing returns, less additional profit for each additional dollar of investment.  That principle may apply as mercilessly to science as it does to business.  Worse yet, for the hopes and dreams of future Captains Kirk, is the specter of a brick wall, or alternatively, of a vast canyon that cannot be bridged.

That brick wall may already have been encountered.  It is something we all know about, and yet, most of us underestimate.  We all take for granted our consciousness, but science can no longer take it for granted.  Science cannot explain consciousness.  It cannot even adequately define our inward experience of it, despite the fact that we all have it.  How do atoms give rise to organisms that can wonder about what an atom is?

We do, of course, explain it, but not in scientific terms.  Science struggles with the question, and so far, cannot leap across that grandest of canyons. 

Worse yet, for science, is the fact that science itself has made some astounding discoveries that indicate that consciousness may be, not merely a result of atoms, but rather, the foundation of them.  The most popularized example of this is demonstrated in what is called the double-slit experiment, something which every physicist knows about.  Videos about it are well worth looking up on your web-search-engine, but the main take-away is that atoms seem, according to many scientists, to behave very differently when a conscious observer is watching them.  In other words, consciousness may be, not a happenstance byproduct, without which the universe as we know it could exist, but rather, an underlying principle of the cosmos.  Read that slowly, because science may be flailing (and failing) to avoid that conclusion.

It is as if we had souls.  It is as if in addition to physical reality, there is a spiritual reality.  To many scientists, this is heresy.

Ironically, the acceptance of a new paradigm, a spiritual one, might actually rescue science, not end it.  If science can look upon the human brain, not as the generator of conscious thought, but rather its instrument, then new avenues of research become available.  Who knows what doors may be opened?

Who knew what the discovery of fire would bring about?

 

 

 

The Unseen Light; the Unheard Sound

There is a mildly humorous question which asks, when I close the refrigerator door, how do I know that the light goes out?

 

A related matter is expressed by the poetic maxim that, “A tree which falls in the forest when no one is around, makes no sound.” 

 

Both of these make a distinction between a physical event, and its perception.  We may assume that a tree that falls in the forest produces air vibrations, but sound is produced only when those vibrations result in someone hearing.

 

The basic question involves the relationship between objective reality and subjective reality.  The bias of the physicalist is to believe that the only reality is physical, and that subjective perceptions of reality are not themselves a separate reality, for they do not modify what is real.  In other words, the brain is objectively real, as are its reactions to other objects, but those reactions (perceptions) are simply other phenomena in physics.

 

On the other hand, there are those who say that only perceptions are real, and that physical reality is simply a concept produced by subjective thought.  We perceive colors, for example, in terms that cannot be expressed in objective terms, neither in words nor in mathematics.

 

This “either/or” mindset has resulted in two opposing philosophies, that of Physicalism and that of Idealism.

 

The Idealist has a strong argument from the outset.  He correctly points out that the only thing of which we can be sure is that we are conscious, or the famous maxim, “I think, therefore I am.”

 

This philosophical argument made strong inroads into physicalism with the advent of quantum physics.  Well-established experiments give strong indications that material things exhibit physical properties that are affected by, or even defined by, conscious perceptions.  Without conscious perception, physical reality is said to exist only as a formless void of probabilities, an abstraction.

 

However, the physicalist rebuts the interpretation of these experiments, affirming that it is the underlying physical reality, not its perception, that dictates the behavior of matter.  To the physicalist, thought and perception are physical interactions between atoms which, upon death or dissolution, cease to exist except as dispersed energy that has no consciousness.

 

The debate can go on endlessly, because both sides are absolutist, and insist that they are right, and that the other is wrong.

 

The truth does not lie in the middle, but off the chart.

 

The fundamental reality is neither consciousness nor matter, but reality itself.  Consciousness and matter interact with each other.  Neither is a product of the other, but rather, both are aspects of a hierarchy, a grand architecture of reality.

 

The central reality is unknowable.  How could it be otherwise?  Can the finite encompass the infinite?

 

While we cannot (of course) know the unknowable, we can receive knowledge from it.  We can receive it only in the amount which is beneficial for us, and only according to the capacity with which we are endowed.

 

As regards this, we can know (not of our own knowledge, nor as a result of our own intellect) that there is a Supreme Being, and that He has endowed us with three of His attributes:  Life, Consciousness and Free Will.

 

We can know that He created heaven and earth, the twin realities of spirit and matter.  He created us, and did so for a divine purpose.  We can also know that, because we have free will, we can choose whether to follow our divinely assigned destiny, or to rebel against it.

 

We rebelled, but our Creator did not abandon us to our dismal fate.  All the rest remains shrouded in divine mystery, but bit by bit we are guided along a difficult and painful path of sorrows, toward an eternal destiny that is more than worth our efforts.