Consciousness-Temporal SC PDF
Consciousness-Temporal SC PDF
Temporal Consciousness
http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/fall2010/entries/consciousness-temporal/
from the Fall 2010 Edition of the
Stanford Encyclopedia
of Philosophy
1
Temporal Consciousness
moments later). Watching a 120 minute action movie results in a two hour
stream of auditory and visual experiences (along with accompanying
thoughts and feelings), and this stream runs concurrently with the playing
of the movie. Quite generally, our conscious states, irrespective of their
kind or character, seem to occur in the same temporal framework as the
events in the wider world – even if their precise timing is not easy to
ascertain. But this is by no means the whole story. Our consciousness
may be located within time, but there are also ways in which time or
temporality might be regarded as manifest within consciousness. Our
episodic (or autobiographical) memories supply us with access to our own
pasts; thanks to such memories our earlier states of consciousness are not
altogether lost to us: they can be recreated (or relived), albeit imperfectly,
in our present consciousness. And of course there are past-oriented
emotions, such as remorse or regret or shame: through these the past can
influence our present feelings, often in powerful ways. While there is no
future-directed counterpart of memory, we can anticipate future
happenings (more or less accurately, more or less eagerly), and
experience future-directed emotions: fear, dread, hope – and these too can
exert a powerful influence of our present states of consciousness.
While this may seem obvious, it can also seem problematic. We can
remember the past and anticipate the future, but we are only directly
aware of what is present – or so it is natural to say and suppose. But the
present, strictly speaking, is momentary. So if our awareness is confined
to the present, our awareness must itself lack temporal depth. Hence we
are led swiftly to the conclusion that our direct awareness cannot possibly
encompass phenomena possessing temporal extension. We are thus
confronted with a conundrum: it seems our awareness must extend over
time, but it seems it can't.
These labels are not standard – in this field there is little by way of
terminological uniformity – but they are as apt as any. All three models
are depicted in Figure 1 below. In each of the diagrams the horizontal line
represents ordinary clock-time. Although the Retentional and Cinematic
models both trade in momentary (or very brief) states of consciousness –
in the diagrams such states are represented by thin vertical lines – these
states are construed very differently. In the Cinematic case the
momentary contents seem momentary, and are static (they contain no
discernible motion or change); in the Retentional case the contents appear
to possess a brief temporal depth, containing as they do experienced
change and succession – hence the backward pointing arrows, intended to
signify the way in which the recent past is supposedly ‘retained’ in
present consciousness.
Ascertaining where the truth lies among the differing accounts of the
temporal contents of our immediate experience is interesting and
intriguing in itself. Although most forms of experience seemingly feature
succession and persistence – even the most primitive forms if James was
correct in characterizing infant consciousness as a ‘blooming, buzzing
confusion’ – it is not easy to understand how any form of experience can
have such features. The interest and importance of the debate does not
have such features. The interest and importance of the debate does not
end here, for each of the accounts of temporal awareness on offer has
significant, and very different, implications for our understanding of the
general structure of consciousness. In this entry we will be exploring the
principle features and motivations of the competing accounts, as well as
their strengths and weaknesses.
The Extensional and Retentional models are the two principle forms of
PT-realism. Proponents of the Cinematic model can subscribe to realism,
but most do not. The task facing PT-antirealists is in one respect the
easier of the two: unlike their realist counterparts, they are under no
obligation to provide an intelligible account of how it is possible for our
consciousness to embrace temporally extended phenomena. But in
another respect their task is the more difficult. Antirealists are under an
obligation to ‘save the (temporal) phenomena’: they need to supply a
2. A Brief History
2.1 Augustine
What now is clear and plain is, that neither things to come or past
are. Nor is it properly said, “there be three times, past present and
to come:” yet perchance it might be properly said, “there be three
times: a present of things past, a present of things present, and a
present of things future.” For these three do exist in some sort, in
the soul, but otherwhere do I not see them; present of things past,
memory; present of things present, sight; present of things future,
expectation. (Gale 1968: 44)
Since for Augustine it was also clear that the present must be entirely
without duration, and that our perception is restricted to what is present –
‘that only can be seen, which is’ (Gale 1968: 43) – we are led swiftly to
the conclusion that we can perceive or experience only what is contained
in a momentary present.
As it stands, the import of this passage is not entirely clear, for it is not
entirely clear what Locke mean when he talks of our ‘reflecting’ on
successions of ideas (i.e., experiences). If reflection simply means
Although Hume agrees with Locke over the origin of our concept of
succession, what he says about duration sits uneasily with Locke's
contention that we arrive at the latter concept by observing the distances
between impressions. For Hume,
Since a period of (total) silence between the hearing of two sounds would
not itself contain any change or succession – at least of an auditory kind –
the concept of duration cannot be derived from this period of silence, or
so Hume maintains. For an ingenious attempt to derive a consistent
doctrine from Hume's various (sometimes puzzling) remarks on time and
temporal concepts in the Treatise see Baxter (2007); for further useful
discussion see Bardon (2007).
Thomas Reid also takes issue with some of Locke's claims in his Essays
on the Intellectual Powers of Man (1785). For Locke succession is a more
basic concept than duration – since we arrive at the concept of duration
by reflecting on the distances between parts of successions – but Reid
argues the reverse is the case. For a succession to exist at all, its parts –
either particular impressions or the intervals between them – must
themselves already have duration: for if these parts were all entirely
lacking in duration, we would be dealing with a purely momentary
phenomenon, and hence something which could not contain any kind of
succession. Hence succession presupposes duration, and not vice-versa.
Since the claim that we are immediately aware only of what is present can
seem common sense of the plainest sort, it is not surprising to find Reid
endorsing it, and hence rejecting realism in favour of the antirealist
alternative. Reid recognizes that it seems equally common sensical to say
that we see bodies move – after all, we often talk in such terms: e.g., ‘I
saw her waving her arm’. In response he argues that such talk is perfectly
legitimate, provided it is construed in loose or popular sense, and not
taken strictly and literally.
Kant here is concerned with the necessary preconditions for thought (or
cognition) as well as perceptual experience, and his overall line of
argument is complex.[2] However, it is easy to grasp (at least part of)
what he has in mind. Anyone who inclines to realism, but also follows
Augustine in confining consciousness to the momentary present, faces the
difficulty of explaining how we can have an awareness of succession if
our consciousness consists of nothing more than a succession of
momentary snapshot-like experiences. Kant solves this problem by
More needs to be said, but Kant supplies at least the beginnings of one
plausible-looking account of how it might be possible for us to be aware
of change and succession in the way we seem to be. This ‘Retentional’
approach – recalling the terminology of §1.1 – soon found other
advocates, and is comparatively commonplace by the end of the
nineteenth century. Brentano recognized that reaching a clear
understanding how it is possible for us to directly experience succession
and persistence is central issue for phenomenology (or ‘descriptive
psychology’ as he preferred to call it). He also recognized that a mere
succession of experiences does not, in and of itself, add up to an
experience of succession. Brentano's solution is reminiscent of Kant's:
when listening (say) to an extended tone or melody, he argued, at each
moment you are aware of a momentary sound-phase, in the form of a
momentary auditory sensation, but you are also (and simultaneously)
aware of a series of representations (or retentions) of the immediately
preceding phases. The latter Brentano referred to as proteraesthesis. In
lectures in Würzburg in 1873 Brentano illustrated what he had in mind
with a diagram, similar to the one depicted in Figure 2, which depicts the
experiencing of a melody.
we are aware, but rather the way in which we are aware of it – there are
‘temporal modes of consciousness’. Initially he construed these temporal
modes in terms of differences in judgement (a represented content a is
judged be past to a certain degree); in the final phase of his thought he
opted instead for temporal modes of presentation: sensory objects can be
apprehended as past to differing degrees. See Chisholm (1981) and Kraus
(1976) for further details.
The naïve view rejected by Meinong may have its problems, but it also
has its defenders. The psychologist L.W Stern criticised Meinong's own
preferred model on phenomenological grounds. We are seeking an
account of how we can directly perceive change and persistence. Meinong
locates the perception of succession in reproductions of previously
experienced contents, housed in momentary episodes of experiencing.
How can apprehending these reproductions (or retentions) deliver a full-
blooded perception of succession? The only way to achieve what is
needed is to allow successions of properly perceptual contents to be
directly apprehended. For Stern this means acts of apprehension must be
temporally distributed:
2003, 2008). However, although it has its advantages, this model also
faces difficulties. How is it possible for contents that are all experienced
together, and also as present, seemingly to occur in succession rather than
simultaneously? Meinong pointed out a further potentially significant
problem. In virtue of what are the successive phases of a temporally
extended episode of experiencing unified? What prevents a temporally
distributed awareness from also being a fragmented one? This is a
difficulty Brentano, Meinong and other Retentional theorists avoid: if the
experience of succession is housed in momentary states of consciousness,
the problem of securing diachronic unity for temporally distributed
experiencings simply does not arise. Allowing consciousness to extend
through time may bring advantages, but it is not without costs.
The last decades of the 19th century saw the Retentional form of realism
also finding favour in Anglophone circles. James Ward's ‘Psychology’
entry for the ninth edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica (1886)
includes the following account of the experience of succession: ‘In a
succession of events, say of sense-impressions A B C D E .. the presence
of B means the absence of A and of C, but the presentation of this
succession involves the simultaneous presence, in some mode or other, of
two or more of the presentations A B C D. In presentation … all that
corresponds to the differences of past, present and future is in
consciousness simultaneously’. The second chapter of Shadworth
Hodgson's Metaphysic of Experience (1898) has the title ‘The Moment of
Experience’; it contains a lengthy phenomenological description of the
experiencing of a single C-tone. Arguing that the durationless present of
mathematics has no phenomenological reality, Hodgson concludes that so
far as our ordinary experience is concerned ‘the whole of it exists in
memory … the least possible empirical present moment is one, in which
the perception and memory (in the sense of simple retention) are
undistinguishable from one another.’ (1898: 60)
Both Ward and Hodgson are cited by William James in his influential
chapter ‘The Perception of Time’ in his Principles of Psychology (1890).
It was thank to James discussion that ‘the specious present’ entered the
vocabulary of both philosophers and psychologists. James gives E.R. Clay
credit both for the term, and for recognizing that the ‘sensible present’ has
duration; he quotes him thus:
While it is not clear from this passage quite how Clay construed the
specious present, it evidently has some apparent duration – enough to
contain the seeing of a shooting star – hence its difference from the strict
(durationless or mathematical) present.[3] James claimed the latter to be
‘an altogether ideal abstraction, not only never realized in sense, but
probably never even conceived of by those unaccustomed to philosophic
meditation.’ (1890: 608) For James the only present with experiential
reality is the specious present: ‘the original paragon and prototype of all
conceived times is the specious present, the short duration of which we
are immediately and incessantly sensible.’ (1890: 631) In another
Around the turn of the 20th century Bergson's writings on time and
consciousness had considerable influence. In his Time and Free Will: An
Essay on the Immediate Data of Consciousness (1899) he began his
campaign against the ‘spatializing’ of time, and in this campaign the
In a more conventional vein, the early years of the 20th century see
Husserl developing an account of time-consciousness along Retentional
lines. Husserl attended Brentano's lectures between 1884–6; inspired by
them, he decided to devote his energies to philosophy rather than
mathematics. If Husserl's phenomenology can be viewed as a
development of Brentano's descriptive psychology, so too can his
accounts of time-consciousness. In elaborating his own position, in
lectures in 1904–6, although he begins with criticisms of what Brentano
and Meinong had to say on the topic, the position he ends up with is along
the same general lines. Husserl may not have adopted the term ‘specious
present’,[4] but he did hold that we have a seemingly direct awareness of
change and persistence amongst the objects and processes we perceive
over short intervals. He also held, plausibly, that as our streams of
consciousness flow on, we have an awareness of their so doing. As for
how this is possible, he thought it must involve past phases of
consciousness somehow being ‘retained in grasp’ in later moments of
consciousness. In this passage we find the ‘wonder of time-
consciousness’ disclosing itself to him as he hears the rumble of an
approaching coach:
The broad outlines of Husserl's position may be perfectly clear, but the
details pose more of a challenge. Husserl's terminology underwent regular
changes: his wrote of ‘primary memory’ prior to adopting ‘retention’;
rather than the ‘specious present’ or ‘presence-time’ Husserl prefers in his
early writings to talk of ‘the original temporal field’; in later writings he
adopts other language: ‘primal present’, ‘flowing present’, ‘living
present’. This terminological evolution goes hand-in-hand with doctrinal
evolutions. Husserl wrote voluminously on time-consciousness
throughout his career but never found a position he was happy with for
long – in his lectures from 1907–10 he found fault with the position he
elaborated in the 1904–6 lectures – and he never published a definitive
statement of his position. His early lectures, along with some additional
material, edited by Heidegger and Edith Stein, appeared in 1928 – and in
English as The Phenomenology of Internal Time-Consciousness (1950). A
fuller picture emerges from the material on the topic gathered into
Husserliana X. For his subsequent thinking other sources come into play:
the Bernau (or L-manuscripts) contain notes on time-consciousness dating
In Anglophone circles in the same period, the realist position was being
advocated by leading figures such as Broad and Russell. According to the
latter,
Unlike Russell, who did not elaborate greatly on these matters, Broad
went on provide quite detailed analyses of the structure of temporal
consciousness. The account developed in Scientific Thought is of a
distinctive kind. It is constructed around acts of awareness that are
themselves momentary, but which apprehend phenomenal contents
distributed over a short interval of time; a stream of consciousness
consists of dense sequences of such acts, with the consequence that the
contents apprehended by neighbouring acts largely overlap. Since Broad
agrees with Stern that our consciousness extends a short distance through
time his approach can be classed as Extensional. But since Broad also
maintains – along with Brentano, Meinong and Husserl – that our
immediate experience of change involves contents being presented to acts
of awareness that are strictly momentary, it is not an Extensional view of
the ordinary sort: for Stern and those in the Extensional camp, the acts of
awareness (or episodes of experiencing) in which dynamic contents are
apprehended are themselves temporally extended. For this reason Broad's
position is probably best classed as a Partial Extensionalism. In any
event, this hybrid approach is not without its difficulties – see Mabbott
(1951) – and in his later An Examination of McTaggart's Philosophy
(1938) Broad develops an account along more orthodox Retentionalist
lines.
At first glance each of these problems may look very serious, even
insuperable. It is not for nothing that many have despaired of finding a
coherent account of the specious present. However, when we turn to
explore the Retention and Extensional approaches in more detail, we shall
see that these difficulties may not be as serious as they can initially seem.
enjoy during our waking hours? Indeed, can they combine in the way
required? Analogous questions can be posed for the specious presents
posited by Retentional and Extensional theorists: how do they manage to
combine to form such streams?
4. Cinematic Models
4.1 Cinematic Realism
do not present motion or change, they are akin to static snapshots – their
occurrence in rapid succession succeeds in generating all the change,
succession and motion we find in our experience – or so the Cinematic
realist claims. The basic feature of the model are depicted in Figure 3. On
the left we see a punctual beam of awareness, the smooth, steady advance
of which generates a sequence of momentary snapshot-like contents (of a
falling object, in this instance), only a small selection of which is shown
on the right.
second) will ‘freeze’ all but the fastest of motions: the facial expression
of victorious sprinter at the precise moment they crossed the line can thus
be revealed. If our consciousness takes the form of a series of momentary
(or extremely brief) ‘exposures’, won't the contents of our consciousness
be similarly static or frozen? As an additional bonus the Cinematic realist
can easily explain at least one aspect of the continuity of consciousness. If
a stream of consciousness is composed of a gap-free sequence (or
continuum) of momentary (or extremely brief) states, it is not surprising
that we can be continually aware for hours at a stretch. The Modest
Continuity Thesis (§3) is thus easily accommodated.
Unfortunately for the Cinematic realist, closer scrutiny reveals that each
of these proposals is problematic. A moving ‘beam’ of awareness could
The point can be made a slightly different way. To employ the usual
terminology, a succession of experiences is one thing, an experience of
succession is quite another. Suppose there are ten people, P 1, P 2, P 3 …
P 10 standing in line with their eyes closed, but directed at a tennis game
taking place nearby. If first P 1 opens their eyes momentarily before
closing them again, followed immediately by P 2, then by P 3, all the way
to P 10, then we have a succession of ten experiences, each revealing the
on-court action at a particular moment. But there is no experience of
succession: all each person sees is a momentary still image, and these
momentary experiencings are completely isolated from one another.
Accordingly, the resulting sequence of experiences do not add up to an
experiencing of movement or change. Although it may not be quite so
obvious, the model of temporal consciousness proposed by the Cinematic
What of the cinematic analogy itself? Isn't the fact that we see motion on
TV and movie screens evidence that successions of motion-free images
can give rise to an experience of motion? Although there is a sense in
which this is correct, it is of little or no assistance to the Cinematic realist.
seen quite clearly as stills; if the pace picks up – to around 10 fps, they
start to look somewhat blurred; if the pace picks up still further – to 20 or
25 fps – something remarkable happens: the images come alive, and we
suddenly start to see genuine (and very clear, non-blurry) motion. This
phenomenon – known as ‘illusory motion’ or ‘the phi phenomenon’ was
first explored in the 19th century by Exner, and has been much-studied
since then (not surprisingly, since it underpins televisual industries). But
while it is real enough, the phi phenomenon is of little assistance to the
Cinematic realist. What the latter needs is an account of how successions
of momentary conscious states, each possessing entirely static contents,
can give rise to the experience of motion. Static images are indeed being
displayed on a cinema screen while we view a movie, but not only are
these onscreen stills not themselves experiences, they do not register in
our visual experience as static images: what we actually seem to see
onscreen are objects in motion. Phenomenologically speaking, the stills
are invisible. Given this, all the phi phenomenon clearly and
unambiguously demonstrates is that a rapid succession of brief perceptual
stimuli (each deriving from a brief on-screen image) can be transformed
by our visual systems – after a good deal of processing – into experiences
which feature motion. These perceptual stimuli are not themselves
experiential in nature, consisting as they do of showers of photons (or,
alternatively, patterns of electro-chemical activity on the surface of the
retina).
In the absence of any plausible account of how change and succession can
feature in our immediate experience, the Cinematic model cannot be
regarded as a promising form of realism. Its difficulties do not end here.
The Cinematic model certainly conforms to the Modest Continuity Thesis
– it is compatible with our streams of consciousness being continuous in
the sense of gap-free – but it is otherwise with regard to the Strong
Continuity Thesis. According to proponents of the latter, the sense we
have that each brief phase of our streams of consciousness flow into their
successors is underpinned (or generated by) the existence of real
This failure will not matter for realists who reject the full-blown Jamesian
conception of streamal continuity, but for those realists who find the case
for Strong Continuity compelling, the failure is a serious one.
For Reid the apparent contradiction between strict philosophical truth and
common sense (and common experience) is superficial: ‘It arises from
this, that philosophers and the vulgar differ in the meaning they put upon
what is called the present time, and are thereby led to made a different
what is called the present time, and are thereby led to made a different
limit between sense and memory’ (1855: 236). Reid argues that our
ordinary talk of ‘seeing’ things move is intelligible, at least on its own
terms, because in ordinary life we generally construe the present in a
loose and flexible way. If it suits our purposes – and it often does – we
allow ‘the present’ to denote a period of time, rather than a durationless
moment. (There is no need for the period to be short: we sometimes refer
to the present decade or century.) And since temporal intervals can
contain change and movement, our ordinary ways of talking are not in the
least paradoxical:
Although it may well be that the most compelling evidence for the
realist's claim that motion (and other forms of change) feature in
immediate experience is straightforwardly phenomenological – that's just
the way our experience seems to be – there are empirical findings in
psychology and neuroscience which point in the same general direction.
We have already encountered (in §3.1) the phi phenomenon (or ‘illusory
motion’). In the simplest of cases – as observed by Plateau in 1850 and
Exner in 1875 – what is in reality a pair of lights some distance apart
flashing alternately, is perceived as a single light moving back and forth.
A more dramatic (and ubiquitous) illustration of the same tendency is
television and cinema, where a mere 25 frames per second suffices to
produce a perception of smooth motion. It seems that when our visual
systems are supplied with stimuli which are merely suggestive of
movement they are eager to supply us with vivid experiences of motion
itself. This is not all. Studies of the visual systems in the brain have
revealed areas – in particular the region known as V5 – which specialize
in motion-detection. Interestingly, the condition of cerebral akinetopsia, a
form of motion-blindness, has been linked to damage in the V5 area. An
afflicted patient, known as LM,
This too is suggestive: if, as the antirealist claims, motion never features
in the immediate experience of normal human perceivers, what is it that
As Aristotle noted, if you stare at a waterfall for a short period, and then
turn your gaze to the bank beside it, you will see part of the bank
(seemingly) start to move in an upwards direction. This phenomenon is
commonly called ‘the waterfall illusion’ (or motion aftereffect), and the
illusory motion is of an intriguing sort. You will not see a part of the bank
detach itself from its surroundings and drift up towards the sky. Rather,
you will see the contents within a fixed and immobile region of the bank
– roughly the size of the waterfall you were staring at previously – losing
their normal solidity and becoming fluid-like. Although these contents
seems to be flowing upward, they do so without changing – at least in a
clear and unambiguous way – their location with respect to the rest of the
bank.[8] As for an explanation of what is going on in such cases, Le
Poidevin (following Richard Gregory) suggests that perhaps we can
discern here the workings of two distinct neural mechanisms. One
‘registers what we might call “pure motion”, i.e., gives rise to the
impression of motion without any associated sense of change of position.
It is this system that is responsible for the sense of perceiving motion as
happening now.’ (2007: 89) A second system, relying on short-term
memory, tracks and compares the alterations in location over time. This
second system is not concerned with telling us about presently occurring
motions, rather it gives rise to the sense that objects have changed their
positions relative to one another. Hence Le Poidevin's proposal. Perhaps
our ordinary experience of motion does, after all, consist of nothing but
momentary static snapshots – in accord with Cinematic antirealism – but
these momentary experiences seem dynamic thanks to the activation of
the ‘pure motion’ mechanism in our visual system. These snapshots do
not actually feature movement, but as the waterfall illusion illustrates,
movement – at least in the form of change of position over time – is not
required for the vivid impression of motion.
Although this is a more promising line for the antirealist to take, it also
faces difficulties. As Le Poidevin recognizes, it is not obvious that the
proposed explanation can be generalized: even if the existence of the
These issues about temporally dynamic contents aside, there remains the
more general question of whether the Cinematic antirealist can deal in a
satisfactory manner with the continuity of consciousness. If not, the
Cinematic model itself would be less than fully unsatisfactory, even if it
could provide a credible account of our short-term experience of motion
and change. In this regard, the points made in connection with the realist
version of the Cinematic approach (in §4.1) also apply to the antirealist
version of the Cinematic approach (in §4.1) also apply to the antirealist
version. Whereas Modest Continuity poses no difficulty at all, the
confinement of phenomenal unity to the contents of momentary states
(see Fig. 4.2) means that Strong Continuity is unattainable.
With regard to the continuity issue, as noted in §3, a position along these
lines has been advocated by Dennett. If asked whether our typical visual
fields are fully continuous, even when one of our eyes is closed, most of
us are inclined to answer in the affirmative: when we look at (say) a white
wall, we see an uninterrupted expanse of white. In such cases we are
certainly unable to detect a beachball-sized fuzzy dark expanse lying just
to one side of the central axis of vision. But the physiology of the eye
suggests there should be a ‘blind spot’ at that location, corresponding to
the region of the retina occupied by the optic nerve which is devoid of
light-sensitive cells. As for why we do not detect a blind region in our
visual field, the standard – and on the face of it, plausible – answer is that
our visual systems engage in some ‘perceptual interpolation’ or filling-in:
our brains extrapolate from the stimuli reaching the light-sensitive cells in
our brains extrapolate from the stimuli reaching the light-sensitive cells in
the region of the retina immediately surrounding the blind-spot, and
fabricate experience to fill the relevant region of the visual field
accordingly.
Dennett points out that there is alternative to this account. Rather than
‘making up’ experience in this manner, perhaps our brains simply fail to
notice that there is a lack of visual information deriving from the hole-
region: after all, an absence of information is not the same thing as
information about an absence. Never having received information from
this region, the brain simply works on the assumption that nothing special
is going on there: ‘The brain doesn't have to “fill in” for the blind spot,
since the region in which the blind spot falls is already labelled (e.g.,
“plaid” … “more of the same”) (1991: 335). In effect, since we have a
belief about what the blind region contains – typically, ‘more of the same’
– why should the brain go to the trouble of generating experience as well?
Dennett goes on to suggest that this treatment of spatial holes can
plausibly be extended to temporal holes (gaps in the continuity of
experience) also. Our visual experience is constantly interrupted by our
eyes darting about during saccades. We don't notice the resulting holes or
gaps in our experience, but they don't need to be filled in because we're
not designed to notice them. More generally: ‘One of the most striking
features of consciousness is its discontinuity – as revealed in the blind
spot, and the saccadic gaps, to take the simplest examples. The
discontinuity of consciousness is striking because of the apparent
continuity of consciousness.’ (1991: 356)
In response realists will fully accept that we believe that change and
continuity (of the Modest and/or Strong forms) are features of our
immediate experience. What they are unlikely to accept is the Dennettian
proposal that (in effect) these features of our experience reduce to these
beliefs. They will claim – and on the face of it, plausibly – that we know
there is more to our consciousness than our beliefs about our
consciousness. We know this because we have direct introspective access
to the content and character of our experiences, and typically, our beliefs
about the character of our experiences are informed by what introspection
reveals. Hence if we believe our visual field is spatially continuous, it is
because – when we direct our attention and introspect – we find precisely
this; similarly, if we believe our immediate experience exhibits continuity
and embraces change, it is because these same features are to be found in
our experience. Prudent realists will accept that our judgements about the
character of our experience are fallible. But they will also point that our
judgements are less likely to err when they concern the more basic and
ubiquitous features of our consciousness, and – arguably – change and
continuity are among these features. The situation would be different if
the antirealist could provide reasons for being particularly sceptical about
our judgements concerning change and continuity – reasons for thinking
that our beliefs about these features of our experience are more dubious
than the belief that colour, sound or warmth are experienced. It is
certainly possible to argue – and some antirealists have (e.g., Plumer
1985) – that we know these beliefs are false because it is impossible to
provide intelligible account of how we can be directly aware of change or
movement. We will be considering such arguments when we come to
assess the viability of the various realist proposals.
5. Extensional Models
While PT-realists agree that change, persistence and other temporally
extended phenomena can feature in our immediate experience, they
disagree over the experiential structures which make this possible.
Cinematic realists hold that all our experiences of change are the product
of gap-free successions of momentary stream-phases, each possessing
momentary – and static, motion-free – phenomenal contents. As we saw
in §4.1, although this version of realism can seem appealing, it is also
problematic, in several respects. Proponents of the remaining principal
forms of realism, the Extensional and Retentional approaches, allow that
the contents of our consciousness are themselves dynamic – they can
contain or present succession and persistence – but they disagree about
the manner in which these contents exist within consciousness. On the
Retentional view, which we shall be looking at in more detail in §6, the
dynamic contents are housed in episodes of consciousness that are
Figure 5.
Both ‘C’ and ‘D’ here denote the actual ‘live’ experiencings of tones C
and D, rather than memory-images or any other form of after-the-event
representation. The specious present they jointly compose is a (short-ish)
period of continuous experiencing, spread through ordinary time.
Although D occurs later than C, it is also experienced as following on
Figure 6.
Enough has been said – for present purposes at least – about individual
specious presents. The next task is to examine how individual specious
presents, construed in a broadly Extensional manner, combine to form
continuous streams of consciousness. As we shall see, on this issue there
are significant divergences of opinion among Extensional theorists –
divergences which impact significantly on the general structure of
temporal consciousness.
Figure 7.
Something along the lines of this ‘Discrete Block’ (as we might call it)
conception of a stream of consciousness has been advocated by Sprigge,
Bradley and (perhaps) Whitehead.[13] But while it has a simplicity that
may well be appealing, it is also problematic.
Essentially the same point can be made in terms of the distinction drawn
in §3 between the Moderate and Strong Continuity theses. If our streams
of consciousness were structured in the way envisaged, there would be no
gaps in our experience – no periods during which nothing is being
experienced – and so the key requirement of Modest Continuity is
satisfied. But the Strong Continuity Thesis requires more: as well as an
absence of gaps, all the successive brief phases which make up a single
stream must experientially connected to their immediate neighbours –
each must be experienced as flowing into its successor. The Discrete
Block model evidently falls short in this respect.
Figure 8.
The earlier and later parts of the temporal spread apprehended by the
momentary act of awareness depicted in Figure 8 are evidently
experienced together – they are diachronically co-conscious – and they
are also experienced as a succession. This spread of content is
experienced as a temporally extended whole, in conformity with James'
characterization of the specious present as a ‘duration-block’. There is
however, one significant point of divergence: whereas James held that the
specious present both backward and forward (or future-directed)
elements, for Broad it is entirely backward-looking: it stretches from the
present point of time a short distance into the past.
experienced successions the Discrete Block model fails to register are all
effortlessly captured by Broad's theory. This is easily appreciated with the
assistance of Figure 9.
Figure 9.
In the light of what has been said so far, it would be natural to suppose
that Broad would identify individual specious presents with momentary
acts and the contents these acts apprehend (e.g., the combination A1[C-D]
would count as a single specious present). In fact he opted for another
position. Agreeing with James that strictly durationless experiences (or
apprehensions) are abstractions, Broad insists that a viable account of
sensible duration must rest on the foundation of continuous periods of
sensing. Since he defines the duration of the specious present in terms of
momentary acts, strictly speaking temporally extended acts do not
possess specious presents; however, they do possess close analogues of
these: what is (in effect) the specious present of an interval of sensing S is
The second worry is whether Broad's model can secure the continuity of
consciousness in a way that is acceptable to the realist. At the heart of
Broad's account are acts of sensing which apprehend temporally extended
contents. Since in the case of a continuous stream of consciousness these
acts form a dense continuum, there is no difficulty with ‘gaps’ in
consciousness, and so Broad's account meets the requirements of the
Modest Continuity Thesis. It is not clear, however, that it meets the
Figure 10.
Figure 11.
Its proponents intend the Overlap Model to capture not just the structure
of a sequences of tones, but of entire streams of consciousness. If the
Overlap theorists are right, such streams are composed of successions of
stream-phases which overlap by sharing common parts, in the manner of
C-D-E-F. However, on close scrutiny the description just given of the
structure of even this simple sequence turns out to be inadequate. By
supposing that SP X exists, in addition to SP 1 and SP 2 we capture an
experienced transition (or specious present) which actually exists, but
which gets ignored by the Discrete Block model. But does Figure 11
include all the experienced transitions which exist in the case of C-D-E-
F? Given the continuous character of our experience, probably not: for
just as D-E is experienced as an extended whole, so to is the tone-pattern
Figure 12.
Figure 13.
So much for the bare bones of the Overlap version of Extensionalism. For
further elaboration and discussion see Dainton (2003, 2009).
If these claims are true, the Extensional model (in its Overlap mode) has
secure foundations. But are they? Strawson (2009: Part 5) argues, in
effect, that direct experiential connections between successive stream-
phases are invisible to introspection; for further discussion see Dainton
(2004: §4).
(2004: §4).
This influential line of argument leads directly to PSA, and thence to the
associated Retentional model of temporal consciousness. Although the
difficulty may seem serious, the Extensional theorist has an effective line
of reply: the argument in question can be seen as simply begging the
question. Recall the way in which the Extensional theorist construes an
individual specious present, as depicted in Figures 5 and 6: a single
specious present is viewed as a temporal spread of contents that are all
experienced together, i.e., that are diachronically co-conscious. Right at
the heart of the Extensional model is an assumption concerning the nature
of phenomenal unity. The assumption is precisely that phenomenal unity
is not confined to contents that are momentary and simultaneous, it can
embrace contents that are spread (a short distance) through time.
Accordingly, provided the envisaged succession of phases [P1, P 2, P 3 …
P n] are related in this manner – they are diachronically co-conscious, and
so are experienced together – they already constitute an experience of
succession, and nothing further is required. Now it could be that the
Extensional theorists are misguided in making this assumption: perhaps
phenomenal unity cannot extend over time in the way they claim. But
since the line of argument set out in the previous paragraph simply
ignores the mode of phenomenal unity posited by Extensional model
Since Extensional specious presents comprise earlier and later phases that
are experienced together, in a single unified (albeit extended) state of
consciousness, it may well be that Extensional models are incompatible
with the Presentist conception of time, according to which only what is
present is real. For two phenomenal contents C 1 and C 2 be experienced
together, to be diachronically co-conscious, both C 1 and C 2 must surely
both exist. But if Presentism were true, when C 1 is present C 2 would be
non-existent, and when C 2 is present C 1 would be non-existent.
Extensional theorists will not be overly worried by this consequence,
which they will construe as a reason for rejecting the Presentist
conception of time. See §7.2 for further discussion of this issue.
Still more recently, Pelczar has argued (forthcoming A and B) that the
Extensional model rests on an inadequate conception of the temporal
microstructure of consciousness. An Extensional specious present is a
chunk of experiencing which extends over a second or so of ordinary
time, so it will inevitably possesses temporal parts – the still briefer
chunks of experiencing of which it is composed – and the briefest of these
parts will be strictly momentary episodes of experiencing. Since on the
Extensional model it takes an interval of time to experience change or
succession, these momentary stream-phases will not contain any
experience of change: their contents will be entirely static in character.
This is problematic, argues Pelczar, because we have good reason to
believe it is impossible for such experiences to exist. The grounds for this
are phenomenological: ‘When I have an experience as of some smooth
continuous change – when watching a leaf drift to the ground, for
example, or listening to a steadily rising tone – my experience does not
contain or decompose into a series of experiences that are not as of
change’ (forthcoming A). Since the briefest of experiences that we can
conceive or imagine contains some element of change, or passage – or so
6. Retentional Models
Having looked in some detail at two of the main forms of PT-realism –
the Cinematic approach (in §4.1) and the Extensional model (in §5) –
there remains the third: the Retentional model. Although the Retentional
model itself comes in several variants, its proponents share a distinctive
conception of the structure of temporal consciousness. Whereas
Extensional theorists hold that our immediate experience of change and
succession occurs within specious presents which are themselves
extended through time, Retentional theorists hold that individual specious
presents lack temporal duration, but have contents which succeed in
presenting (or representing) temporally extended phenomena. As
standardly conceived, a Retentionalist specious present consists of a
complex of experiential contents, comprising an instantaneous (or near-
instantaneous) phase of immediate experience, together with a collection
of representations – retentions – of the recent past, all packaged into an
episode of experiencing that is momentary; a stream of consciousness is
composed of a continuum of these momentary episodes.[18]
angles to it. On the face of it the Extensional approach is the more natural
way for a realist to go: the most obvious and straightforward explanation
of how we can be directly aware of change and persistence is to hold that
our direct awareness can span an interval of ordinary time. By contrast,
the Retentional view can seem almost perverse: why think that our
apparently immediate experience of change and persistence is in fact
packaged into momentary (or extremely brief) slices of experience? Since
it is by no means obvious how this can be, Retentionalism is not the
obvious way to go. Yet a good many of the most famous names
associated with the specious present – James (at times), Husserl, Broad
(in his later work on the topic) – have opted for the Retentional approach.
Before looking at Retentional models in more detail, it is worth pausing
to consider the motivations which have led such philosophers to move in
this direction.
natural to start from the assumption that our experience of change and
persistence arises from a combination of two factors: a momentary phase
of present experience and simultaneously apprehended reproductions or
retentions of just-past experiences.
Let us suppose that for the past minute or so you have just been watching
the pointer moving around a dial; the pointer has been moving
sufficiently quickly that you are able to see it in motion. Let us further
suppose that your experience of change is occurring within the confines
of a succession of specious presents, and that each of the latter consists of
a momentary phase of perceptual experience together with a sequence of
retentions of recent experiences. For present purposes, we can think of
retentions as a special form of past-directed mental representations that
are triggered in an automatic (and involuntary) manner after each
momentary phase of experiencing. This basic Retentional model is
depicted in Figure 14.
Figure 14.
they don't seem in the least less present (in the temporal sense) as a result.
Since Broad is silent on this issue, he presumably takes presentedness to
be a primitive property, whose character and mode of functioning cannot
usefully be elucidated. Nonetheless, it remains mysterious how any
phenomenal property could do the work required.
6.2.2 Brentano
Brentano has rather more to say on this issue. We saw earlier (§2.4) that
Brentano was the first to expound a Modal Retentional model in any
detail, and that his views went through several changes. Initially he
sought to explain the difference between present sensations and
proteraestheses (in effect, retentions) in terms of different kinds of
experiential objects: he held that proteraestheses are composed of
intentionally unreal objects that are apprehended under a ‘modifying
attribute’ of a (certain degree) of pastness. He came to view this as an
error, in part because he believed past, present and future form a
continuum, a view which is difficult to hold onto if present experiences
are real, and past and future ones are not. In later writings he suggested
that the difference between the contents of an ordinary sensation and a
proteraesthesis is to be located in the way we are aware of them. He first
explicated these differences in temporal modes in terms of differences in
judgement : a represented content a is judged be past to a certain degree,
a content b is judged to be past to a greater degree, and so forth. In a
further change of view he rejected judgements in favour of temporal
modes of presentation: sensory objects can be apprehended as past to
differing degrees. In his essay ‘Our intuition of Time is a Continuum of
Modes of Presentation and Acceptance’ he writes:
When that which was first of all given as present appears as more
and more past it is not other objects which are accepted as
The reasoning behind this shift in position sheds useful light on the
motives which move Retentional theorists. Brentano believed that while
we can never know with certainty that primary objects of consciousness
exist, we can know with certainly that secondary objects exist, and are as
they appear. Accordingly, if the secondary object of a proteraesthesis
were a just-past act of sensing, we could know with certainty that we
ourselves, as the subject of that act, existed a few moments ago. But
Brentano held that we have no such knowledge: it is logically possible
that we have only just now come into existence. By making the primary
object the past tone, rather than the sensing of this tone, the unwanted
consequence is averted. For further detail see Chisholm (1981),
Albertazzi 1999 (59–65), Krauss (1976), Moran (1996).
6.2.3 Husserl
We saw in §2.7 that for Husserl the specious present (or in his
terminology, the ‘original temporal field’ or ‘living present’) is a tripartite
episode of experiencing consisting of three ingredients: momentary
primal impressions, a continuum of retentions (or ‘primary memories’),
and forward looking protentions (a distinctive kind of expectation). On
the important question of the nature of retentions, Husserl's views
changed significantly over the many years during which he wrestled with
these matters – his notes and sketches suggest he never found an account
he was entirely happy with.
The still living tone, the tone ‘still’ standing in the view of the
temporal intuition, no longer exists; and what pertains to its
appearance is not a ‘tone-sensation’ (an actually present now) but
an ‘echo’ of the sensation, a modification that is no longer a
primary content in the sense of something actually present (not an
immanent tone-now). On the contrary, it is something modified: a
consciousness of past sensation. In this consciousness, however,
no actual tone can be found, only a tone that has been. (1991: 336)
Although Husserl was certainly very much aware of the continuity issue,
his account of how individual specious presents combine to form streams
of consciousness is, in many respects, very similar to the pictures painted
by Brentano and Broad. Husserl supplied several time-diagrams to
illustrate the details of his theory, several are along the lines of Figure 18
below.[20]
From what we have seen so far, with the exception of the protentional
aspect of consciousness, there are no significant differences between this
Husserlian theory and Broad's later model. But differences there are.
Unlike Broad, Husserl addresses the Strong Continuity Thesis – albeit not
in so many words – and has a good deal to say about the experiential
relationships between neighbouring specious, relationships which (he
believes) suffice to secure the kind of continuity in consciousness which
actually exists. What he has to say on this topic is difficult to interpret,
and his views underwent changes, but they are by no means devoid of
and his views underwent changes, but they are by no means devoid of
interest.
What does this amount to in practice? Husserl again toyed with a variety
of options, and seemed to have difficulty in reaching a settled view.
According to one proposal he considered, a retention such as E* in Figure
18 does not merely represent the momentary primal impression to which
it is directed, it represents (or ‘intends’) an entire act-phase or streamal
cross-section. In more concrete terms, the retention in question not only
contains a representation of E (the original primal impression), it also
contains representations of all the retentions and protentions that were
experienced with E. Since each of these nested retentions and protentions
themselves represent entire act-phases, and so on ad infinitum (within the
limits of the specious present) we are clearly dealing here with a highly
complicated experiential structure. Thanks to this structure, later stream-
phases retain a rich awareness of their immediate predecessors. But in
other writings, Husserl envisages the continuity of consciousness being
secured by a somewhat different mechanism:
Figure 19.
chapter 6) for more on this. This complication aside, the basic picture is
reasonably clear. As with absolute consciousness, since the ego is not
itself a temporal object – it lies outside time, it is what creates or
constitutes temporality – and so the issue of what unifies the successive
phases of an ego (or an ego's awareness) simply does not arise.
6.4 Assessments
single unified phenomenal state. It is not obvious that such models are
compatible with the doctrine that reality itself is confined to the
momentary present. Accommodating the latter doctrine poses no
problems whatsoever for Retentional models.
The Simultaneity Problem (in its Retentional guise) may not in principle
be insuperable, but in addition to establishing the bare possibility of
objectively simultaneous contents appearing successive, Retentionalists
should also aim to supply an intelligible and credible account of how this
appearance is created. Retentional theorists subscribe to the doctrine of
PT-realism, and so believe that change, succession and persistence figure
in our immediate experience. We saw in §3 that some realists also
subscribe to the Immediacy Thesis, and hold that change, and other
dynamic properties, feature as vividly in our experience as colour or
shape. For deep-seated structural reasons, Retentional models have
difficulty in accommodating the Immediacy Thesis. If retentions have the
same force and vivacity as ordinary (presently occurring, first-order)
experience, as they do on the Non-Modal variant, there is the risk of
flooding consciousness with enormous quantities of surplus content –
content which we have no reason to suppose exists, as we saw in §6.2. It
is thus not surprising to find that Retentional theorists generally subscribe
to the Modal form of the doctrine, and hold that retentions lack the force
and vivacity of presently occurring contents. But this option also brings a
danger: if retentions are too unlike ordinary experience, there is a risk they
will prove incapable of doing the job they are intended to do: namely, be
the purveyors of our immediate impressional experience of persistence,
succession and change. To maintain that the dilemma is fatal to the
prospects of the Retentional approach would be premature. But Brentano
and Husserl's shifting position on the nature of retentions – recall the
appeals to unreal objects, judgements, primitive phenomenal features,
additional dimensions, temporal modes of presentation and the like – is
indicative of the difficulty of finding the right balance here, or so might
The word ‘red’ can represent the colour red without itself being red. If
the message ‘bring the red flag’ is successfully transmitted by Morse
code, red is signified by a temporal pattern rather than a spatial pattern.
To accommodate this sort of divergence the distinction is commonly
The latter distinction has entered recent debates by another route. The
school of contemporary ‘representationalists’ – e.g., Dretske, Harman and
Tye – hold that otherwise intractable-seeming problems can be
sidestepped by drawing on the distinction between vehicles and contents.
From the fact that the content of our experience is ‘red object over there’
or somesuch, we should not conclude that the vehicle of this content is
itself red. In a more general vein, experiences of colour are not
themselves coloured, experiences of sound are not themselves sonic. In
this manner, the problematic phenomenal properties – or sense-data, or
qualia-instantiations – retreat from the scene. They are pushed still further
away by the second main plank of the representationalist's approach: an
insistence on the ‘transparency’ of experience. By this they mean that in
ordinary perceptual experience, we have no awareness whatsoever of our
experiences themselves, we are simply aware of the (worldly) objects and
properties that are presented in or by our experiences. If our experiences
are invisible, there is no need to introduce properties of experience –
phenomenal properties, qualia, sense-data and such – in order to explain
the content and character of our ordinary perceptual consciousness.
Extending this general approach to the particular case of temporal
consciousness, Tye argues as follows. First of all, if we assume the
transparency thesis is true, the traditional assumption that it is
experiences that are related by succession or simultaneity is misguided:
The basic intuition with respect to unity through time is surely that
things and qualities we experience at successive times are
experienced as continuing on or as succeeding one another.
Consider again the case in which I have an experience of a red
flash followed by a green flash. Here I experience two colored
flashes as occurring one after the other. I do not experience my
experience of a red flash as succeeding my experience of a green
Accordingly, Tye holds that anyone seeking to account for our ability to
directly apprehend change by appealing to a unifying relationship
between experiences is also misguided: there simply aren't the token
experiences there to be unified; a given period or stretch of consciousness
is not composed of successive perceptions or experiences (203: 102). By
way of an alternative he offers a one experience view of streams of
consciousness: ‘The simplest hypothesis compatible with what is revealed
by introspection is that, for each period of consciousness, there is only a
single experience – an experience that represents everything experienced
within the period of consciousness as a whole.’ (2003: 97) As for the
manner in which succession itself is represented in the vehicles of
phenomenal content, since introspection provides us with no access to
these vehicles, Tye leaves the issue entirely open.
This mirroring of basic temporal features has given rise to the idea that, in
a manner of speaking, time represents itself. Mellor starts from the
premise that seeing e precede e* requires one to have a memory-trace of
seeing e while actually perceiving e*. Since memory is a causal process,
and causes precede their effects, it is only possible to perceive that e
precedes e* if one's perception of e occurs before one's perception of e*.
Hence Mellor's conclusion:
Mellor describes. James quotes Helmholtz, who maintained that the only
case in which
time really does pass. Of these a few share McTaggart's view that time
cannot pass because time does not exist. A more popular view, these days
at least, is the view that while time certainly exists, it is more akin to
space than it superficially seems. Proponents of the four-dimensional
‘Block’ universe – also known as eternalism – hold that there is no
ontological distinction between past, present and future, and that all times
are equally real. They further hold that there is no unique privileged
present time, and a fortiori that there is no such thing as a moving
present.[24] Block theorists face a significant challenge: Why does time
seem to pass if it doesn't? Part of the explanation lies in the way our
memories accumulate. Another part of the explanation lies in the
character of our experience. Time per se may not pass or flow, but there
is undeniably something akin to passage and flow in our immediate
experience, and this phenomenal passage does not require physical
passage, it can exist a four-dimensional Block universe. Or so proponents
of the latter maintain.
At the opposite extreme to the 4-D Block view is Presentism, the doctrine
that concrete reality is confined to the momentary present. Presentists
deny any reality to the past or future. Coming in between these extremes
is the Growing Block model. According to the latter, the past is real but
the future is not, and the sum total of reality is gradually increasing, by a
process of moment-by-moment ‘absolute becoming’. On this view the
present is merely the most recent addition to reality; it is also the interface
between being and non-being. The Moving Spotlight model is in one
respect akin to the standard Block model: it accords reality to all times
and events, including those yet to occur. It differs from the latter by virtue
of the fact that it incorporates objective passage into the universe, in the
shape of a privileged (and constantly advancing) present – indicated by
the blue line in Figure 20. Moving Spotlight theorists agree with Block
theorists that both the future and the past exist, but they tend to hold that
present events are (in some manner) distinctive. [25]
Is that the end of the story? Not necessarily, for the Extensional approach
is perfectly compatible with version of Presentism which grant to the
present a brief duration. It is only Presentism of the strictest form which
is irreconcilable with the Extensional approach – for further discussion of
this issue see Dainton (2001: ch.6 and §7.8, also forthcoming) and
McKinnon (2003: §10). The same manoeuvre will be necessary to secure
the compatibility of Extensional models with the Moving Spotlight
conception of passage. The latter is most plausible when the existence of
consciousness is confined to the present, so a strictly momentary
Spotlight is problematic for the Extensional approach. It is otherwise for a
Spotlight which possesses some brief duration.
As for the 4-D Block conception, it looks equally compatible with both
views of phenomenal temporality. The Retentional theorists' momentary
specious presents can exist in universes of this sort, as can those of
Cinematic theorists, but so too can the non-momentary specious presents
to be found in Extensional models.
There is obviously more work to be done here, and for further discussion
see Callender (2008) and Dainton (forthcoming). But it doesn't look as
though there are many straightforward or simple answers to the question:
‘What do the differing conceptions of the nature of time imply about the
nature of temporal awareness?’
PT-realists hold that Reid drew the line between sense and memory in the
wrong place: our immediate experience is not confined to an
instantaneous present, it extends a short way through time, with
Dennett is right that the evidence thus far presented can be interpreted in
each of these ways, but what should we make of this? The natural
response would be to hold that in the absence of any further plausible
interpretations of the evidence, then either the Stalinesque or the
Orwellian version of events must be true: if the latter, then the subjects do
experience the disk, if the former they don't. Dennett maintains that this
line of thinking is mistaken. In the case described, and others like it,
neither interpretation is correct, there is simply no fact of the matter as to
whether or not the subject's experience the disk or not: ‘the distinction
between perceptual revisions and memory revisions that works so crisply
at other scales is not guaranteed application … The boundary between
perception and memory, like most boundaries, is not perfectly sharp’
(Dennett and Kinsbourne, 1992: §2.2). The assumption that there must be
a determinate ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer to the question of whether or not the
subject saw the disk is grounded, he argues, in an appealing but mistaken
neo-Cartesian conception of experience. According to this conception, for
any given subject during their waking hours the question ‘What is
currently appearing on the stage of your consciousness?’ always has a
fully precise answer, an answer determined by the experiential contents
present in the relevant subject's consciousness. In place of this conception
he offers his ‘Multiple Drafts’ model. The latter is not easily summarized,
but it replaces the familiar Jamesian stream of consciousness with a
multiplicity of ‘informational vehicles’, and tightly connects the correct
ascription of experiences to subjects to what they say and do, and hence
what they remember: ‘We might classify the Multiple Drafts model then
as first-person operationalism, for it brusquely denies the possibility in
principle of consciousness of a stimulus in the absence of that subject's
belief in that consciousness’ (1991: 132).
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Related Entries
Bergson, Henri | Brentano, Franz | consciousness | consciousness: unity of
| continuity and infinitesimals | Husserl, Edmund | time: the experience
and perception of
Acknowledgements
The relevant distinctions are most easily brought into play by considering
experiences that are directly triggered by environmental causes, i.e.,
experiences of the perceptual variety. Let us suppose that a certain event
N is of such a duration that it can be perceived as a whole (within a single
specious present), and that experience E is a perception of N. Following
Clay, let us suppose that N is shooting star, visible for around a second.
The perceiving of N is depicted in Figure 21 below, where matters are
viewed from the vantage point of the Extensional approach – we will be
considering the situation from a Retentional point of view in due course.
T) – this will usually be the amount of time a subject's sensory organs are
stimulated in response to the perceived event; [3] the objective duration of
the experience (E) produced by this stimulus (call this O); [4] the
subjective or phenomenal duration of E (call this S).
Figure 21.
Suppose there are (possible) worlds in which there are subjects whose
experience is akin to our own, but nothing resembling a physical world –
worlds of the sort described by idealists such as Berkeley and Leibniz. In
such worlds (if such there be) there are only phenomenal durations: there
are seconds* but no seconds. In our world there are (probably) seconds*
and seconds, but since we do not have a standard unit of measure for
phenomenal duration, in our everyday thought and talk about it we
naturally tend to use the objective measures. We use external time-
keepers, such as clocks or watches, to gauge the apparent lengths of our
experiences, and consequently we employ units such as ‘second’ and
‘minute’ to refer to both objective and subjective durations. Although
there is nothing to prevent our marking the distinction formally, as has
just been done here, for the most part doing so would serve little purpose:
the subjective character of the experience of looking at a blue sky for
three seconds (as measured objectively) does not, for the most part, vary
three seconds (as measured objectively) does not, for the most part, vary
greatly; it seems reasonable to suppose that if subjective and objective
durations were often markedly out of synch we would be unable to
engage with the world as effectively as we do. That said, there are
familiar occasions when phenomenal and objective time fail to march
precisely in step. When waiting for a watched pan to boil, an objective
minute can be filled by more than 60 seconds*, as the passage of
subjective time slows relative to the wider world. There may well be
more radical examples of the same phenomenon: some hallucinogenic
drugs are reported to leave subjects with the impression that they have
had vast temporal tracts of experience (centuries, epochs) in only a few
objective hours. And of course, the discrepancy can go the other way:
while enjoying ourselves it often seems that there are fewer than the usual
number of seconds* in a minute or hour; certain stimulants are said to
have the same effect.[29]
These distinctions all apply within the Retentional framework, albeit with
a few modifications, as shown in Figure 22.
Figure 22.
Although a good deal of empirical research has been carried out relating
to the experience and perception of time over short intervals, this research
has not generally been motivated by a desire to confirm or disconfirm one
or other of the competing conceptions of the structure of temporal
consciousness. [30] Even so, there are a number of results relevant to the
issues discussed thus far.
One issue to have been investigated is the manner in which very brief
stimuli register in experience. It has been found that stimuli of around 1
msec need to be separated from one another by in interval of around 30
msec if they are to be perceived as a succession – a result which holds
across sensory modalities. Stimuli which are separated by shorter intervals
are not perceived as distinct – though this ‘coincidence threshold’ varies a
good deal for the different sense modalities. For more on this see Section
3 of the supplementary document Some Relevant Empirical Findings
(Psychology, Psychophysics, Neuroscience). A related topic has also been
investigated: the minimal durations of perceptual experiences.
Experiences produced by very brief stimuli are often longer, objectively
speaking, than the stimuli themselves, but how brief (objectively
speaking) can an experience be? Results from psychophysics vary a good
deal, but answers range from 25 to 240 msec, depending on the task being
undertaken and type of stimulus. See Section 4 of the supplementary
document Some Relevant Empirical Findings (Psychology,
Psychophysics, Neuroscience) for further discussion and references.
Unfortunately, while estimates are not difficult to find, they tend not to be
measures of the specious present as we are currently construing it. In
1984 Fraisse concluded his review of the literature by suggesting that we
need to recognize three ‘orders of duration’:
These orders are the following (a) less than 100 msec, at which
perception is an instantaneity, (b) 100 msec – 5 sec, perception of
a duration in the perceived present, and (c), above 5 sec,
estimations of duration involving memory. … The perception of
duration, stricto sensu, is situate at a level above 100 msec and
within the limits of the psychological present as described by W
Rather more plausible is the figure of 0.75 seconds (or 750 msec) which
Benussi's tachistoscopic experiments led him to propose. Benussi was a
psychologist of the Graz school (influenced by Brentano and Meinong)
working in the early 20th century, and was well aware of the distinction
between the duration of a stimulus and the duration of the resulting
experience. Moreover, he construed the specious present in the same way
as Broad and Russell, as the maximum duration in which change or
succession can be experienced as a whole:
The first concerns the duration of the specious present. If we take the
specious present to be the (maximal) window through which we are
directly aware of change and persistence, then it is plausible to suppose
that it is of the order of a second or so. (If need be, repeat the experiment
mentioned in the previous section: clap your hands twice in row, and ask
yourself if you are still hearing the first clap as the second clap occurs.)
But James himself says that the most important part of the specious
present – its ‘nucleus’ – is around ‘the dozen or so seconds that have just
elapsed’ (1890: 611), and that this nucleus is surrounded by a vaguer
fringe of ‘probably not more than a minute ago’. Later on he repeats the
claim: ‘our maximum distinct intuition of duration hardly covers more
than a dozen seconds (while our maximum vague intuition is probably not
more than a minute or so)’ (1890: 630)
What are we to make of this? James takes the figure of a dozen seconds
from the experiments of Wundt and Dietze which, as James characterizes
them, sought to ‘determine experimentally the maximal extent of our
immediate distinct consciousness for successive impressions.’ (1890: 612)
Both experiments, however, actually measured the accuracy with which
fast sequences of brief sounds could be accurately recalled after exposure
to them. Wundt arrived at a figure of 3.6 to 6 seconds, whereas Dietze
settled on a maximum of 12 seconds – James opted for latter. Given the
When James' views as to the 12–60 second extent of the specious present
are combined with his ‘saddleback’ picture – of the specious present
having past- and future-directed components – it is easy to demonstrate
that absurdities follow. If this were the case, wouldn't a sprinter have a
dim awareness of the starters' gun up to half a minute before it actually
occurs? Mightn't 100 metre sprints be completed before the starting gun
even fires? (See Plumer (1985) for more along these lines.) But while
some conceptions of the specious present are undeniably problematic for
these reasons, other conceptions – conceptions which confine it to a
briefer interval, conceptions which do not entail detailed knowledge of
future events – are by no means as vulnerable to the charge of obvious
absurdity.
The next question: where did James stand with regard to the Extensional
and Retentional approaches? There are certainly occasions when he seems
committed to the existence of duration-blocks of the sort which form the
bedrock of the Extensional view. There are also formulations suggestive
of the Overlap Model, or something not far off it: ‘Objects fade of out
consciousness slowly. If the present thought is of A B C D E F G, the
next one will be of B C D E F G H, and the one after that of C D E F G
H I – the lingerings of the past dropping successively away, and the
incomings of the future making up the loss.’ (1890: 606). Perhaps most
importantly in this connection, James is famed for his rejection of
atomistic conceptions of the stream of consciousness, a rejection which
entails the existence of real experiential connections between
neighbouring stream-phases, or so one might naturally suppose. Certainly
in his later writings he was adamant on this point, as in these passages
from ‘A World of Pure Experience’[34]:
As for what we should make of this, perhaps the only safe conclusion to
draw is that while James certainly believed in the continuity of
consciousness, and the immediate experience of change and persistence,
he was also alert to the appeal of the Retentional account of how these
modes of experience are possible. Whether he was entirely content with
this account, it is difficult to say.[36] In his later writings on these matters,
with some relief, he embraced a neo-Bergsonian position, according to
which the flux of experience defies description in rational terms:
1. Motion Perception
Broad, Clay, Russell, Foster and other realists hold that motion (and other
forms of change) can be directly perceived. This notion receives some
support from findings relating to the workings of our perceptual systems
in general, and the visual system in particular.
Just as there are regions of the brains visual systems that specialize in
colour (e.g. V4), there are other regions – V3 and V5 (or MT) – that
specialize in motion detection. What is more, some of the systems and
pathways devoted to motion are – in evolutionary terms – among the
more primitive parts of the brain. [43] Region V5 is particularly intriguing
in this respect. It seems that all its neurons are concerned with motion in
one direction or another, and none with colour or shape; and unlike V3,
the neurons in V5 are concerned with large-scale motion detection, e.g.,
of whole objects, rather than mere edges. Also, damage to V5 is
associated with cerebral akinetopsia: the severely degraded ability to
perceive motion, as found in the patient L.M. (Zeki, 1991, 2004; Rizzo et
al, 1995). The latter's predicament was characterized thus:
The difference between L.M.'s experience and our own could not be
clearer or more dramatic: whereas we are able to see things moving in a
smooth, continuous manner, L.M. has lost this ability.
There is plentiful further evidence for the contention that our brains are
more than willing to generate experiences of motion. Perhaps the most
Evidently, our brains are more than happy to supply us with experiences
of motion at the least opportunity. And happily, the effect is not confined
to spots of light: it extends to sequences of complex images (e.g.,
photographs taken in rapid succession of a swarming crowd of people).
The frequencies which suffice to generate smooth apparent motion are not
great: only 24 fps are shown on cinema screens, whereas television uses
30 fps and computer monitors 60 fps or above.[45] Online examples of the
simple two-spot illustration of the phi phenomenon are easy to find, and
are well worth experimenting with.[46]
This assumption does not sit easily with what we know about the
workings of our perceptual systems. Light and sound both travel at a
finite speed – if you look at a distant star you are seeing it as it was years
earlier, irrespective of how present to you the star might seem. And when
the starlight finally reaches our eyes there are several further hurdles to be
crossed before any visual experience is produced in response to them: the
starlight has to trigger the light-sensitive cells in our retinas, these cells
have to transmit signals through the optical nerve, these signals have to be
processed by the visual centres of the brain. All this takes time.
How much time? The delay is more difficult to measure than might
initially be thought. The obvious approach is to ask a subject to react to a
signal as soon as they perceive it – by pressing a button, say – and then
subtract the amount of time it takes messages leaving the brain to result in
a muscular movement. However, the reliability of this approach is
undermined by the fact that we are able to react to stimuli before they
become conscious (‘blindsight’ is a familiar instance of this). To
circumvent the problem some experimental ingenuity is required. Libet's
well-known results, deriving from direct stimulation of the brain during
neurosurgical operations, suggest that it typically takes around half a
The answer to our starting question seems to be ‘it depends’. And while
those with an interest in responding to changes in their environment in a
fast, real-time, manner will be heartened to learn that Libet's 500 msec
estimate may often be on the long side, it remains the case that a car
moving at a 100 kph traverses a fair distance in 200–250 msec, which
even under the best of conditions is the sort of time needed to see and
respond to a traffic light changing to red, or someone stepping onto the
road. Even at more modest speeds processing delays will have a
significant impact: a delay of just 100 msec mean that the apparent
position of a medium-paced moving ball – say 30 mph – will lag behind
its real position by over a metre.
These 19th century figures have largely survived the test of time. Pockett
(2003) recently attempted to replicate Exner's findings using
contemporary equipment. When shown two 1 msec flashes of LED light
in succession her subjects only began to see two flashes (rather than one)
when the illuminations were separated by at least 45–50 msec – very
much in line with Exner's results. In the auditory case, although subjects
could tell that a two-click stimulus was (in some manner) different from a
1-click stimulus when the clicks were separated by as little as 2 msec –
the stimuli were again 1 msec in duration – they could only begin to
discern two clearly distinct sounds when the separation rose to 10–20
msec, depending on the subject. This result suggests Exner somewhat
exaggerated our capacity for auditory discrimination. Pöppel's
measurements also suggest as much: irrespective of modality he found
that distinct events require a separation of at least 30 msec to be perceived
as successive (1997: 57). Hirsch and Sherrick's experiments also point in
this direction: they found that a mere 2 msec separation between sounds
was sufficient for subjects to judge that two sounds were occurring rather
than one, but an interval in the order of 20 msec was required before
subjects could reliably discern the order of the sounds (1961: 425).
However, as Fraisse (1984) notes, since it took a good deal of practice
before Hirsch and Sherrick's subjects achieved this score, a somewhat
higher figure may come closer to the norm. Hence Pöppel's more cautious
verdict may well be closer to the mark for most cases. Summarizing, the
picture is something like this:
Pairs of stimuli which are separated by less than the coincidence threshold
are experienced as one rather than two. Stimuli which are separated by
more than the coincidence threshold but less than the succession threshold
are experienced as two rather than one, but their order is indistinct. It is
only when the succession threshold is reached and surpassed that stimuli
appear to have a distinct temporal ordering (Ruhnau 1995). The fact that
the succession threshold is much the same for all sensory modalities
suggests that cross-modal integrative mechanisms may well exist.
Why do our brains treat stimuli which arrive over brief intervals as
simultaneous? It is by no means just a matter of insensitivity. Not only do
sound and light travel at very different speeds, our eyes and ears work at
different speeds too (our ears are faster). Consequently, our brains have a
good deal to take into account when attempting to work out what happens
when and where on the basis of the information it receives from
millisecond to millisecond. For more on how it manages to do as well as
it does see King (2005), Kopinska and Harris (2004), Stone et al (2001),
Stetson et al (2006); see Callender (2008) for an interesting exploration of
the philosophical relevance of perceptual ‘simultaneity windows’.
msec exposure of a small green disk at the same location, the resulting
experience is of a single yellow flash. If a 20 msec blue light is followed
by a 20 msec yellow light, a single white flash is seen. (Efron, 1967,
1973) It is clear how long this integration period lasts, but it is probably
less than a quarter of second (Koch 2004: 256).
We have just seen that stimuli separated by as little as 30 msec can give
rise to an experience of succession. However, it would be a mistake to
move directly from this result to the conclusion that the duration of the
resulting experiences are also have an objective duration of the order of
30 msec (and a corresponding phenomenal duration of approximately 30
msec*). As we have also seen, due to the phenomenon known as visible
persistence, the experience resulting from a single 1 msec flash of light
Seeking to build bridges between the cerebral and the phenomenal, Varela
has proposed that there may be important analogies between the
dynamical behaviour of neural cell-assemblies and Husserl's tri-partite
conception of the phenomenal present. More specifically, he suggests that
these neuronal ensembles can become synchronized for periods lasting
How is the past built in? By virtue of the fact that the current
position of the system is the culmination of a trajectory which is
determined by the particular auditory pattern (type) as it was
presented up to that point. In other words, retention is a geometric
property of dynamical systems: the particular location the system
occupies in the space of possible states when in the process of
recognizing the temporal object. It is that location, in its difference
with other locations, which “stores” in the system the exact way in
which the auditory pattern unfolded in the past. It is how the
system “remembers” where it came from. (1997: §38)
Because this ‘echo dates from one cycle ago, the next internal state can
enfold both present and past information. Then that new internal state,
combining present and just prior information, itself recycles … In
principle, this neuronal hall of mirrors can keep a pattern alive
indefinitely.’ (Lloyd 2004: 282). In his own research Lloyd exposed a
network of this sort – dubbed ‘CNVnet’ – to a large number of (suitably
encoded) ‘beeps’ and ‘boops’. These signals followed a fixed pattern:
beeps come randomly, but are invariably followed by boops a short (and
fixed) period of time later. With appropriate tweaking of connection
weights, the network eventually had no difficulty whatsoever in
predicting the timing of a boop after any given beep. Thanks to the
combination of recursive and predictive capacities, CVNet's hidden units
can reflect both the past and the future, in addition to the current cycle of
can reflect both the past and the future, in addition to the current cycle of
inputs.
Lloyd does not claim that his simple networks are actually conscious, but
he does see points of similarity with Husserl's tripartite analysis of
temporal awareness. Taking things a step further, he set artificial
networks the task of analyzing each other. He created a metanet, tuned to
respond to the hidden units of the CNVnet. After the usual training
(several million cycles), the metanet proved able to extract three sorts of
information from the hidden units: the current input, the next output, and
(with less accuracy) a record of the layer's entire past state. Might these
not reasonably be taken to correspond with Husserl's primal impressions,
protentions and retentions? Moving to real rather than artificial brains,
Lloyd (2002, 2004: ch.4) argues that it might prove possible to find some
confirming evidence for Husserl's analysis in the data pertaining to the
global condition of conscious brains that can be derived – using
sophisticated multidimensional scaling methods – from fMRI scans.
Simplifying a good deal, his working hypothesis is that if our
consciousness at any one moment contains a detailed representation of its
immediately prior states, this should be reflected in similarities between
the conditions of our brain over the relevant short periods: ‘images taken
close together in time should be more similar, compared to images
separated by greater temporal intervals’ (2004: 313). And, broadly
speaking, this is what he found. To round things off, he fed the fMRI data
to an artificial neural net. His aim, as with CVNnet, was to find out
whether the metanet could extract information about a brain's prior states
from a description of its later states. Again the results were positive:
‘Overall, the analysis suggests that patterns of activation in the human
brain encode past patterns of activation, and particularly the immediate
past’ (2004: 327).
by the agent); the model can also be run online, in parallel with the
modelled domain, in order to help filter noise from sensory
signals, and in order to overcome potential problems with
feedback delays. (Grush 2006: §4)
Figure 24.
Grush argues that the abilities of his systems to generate different (and
incompatible) trajectories at different times is a positive boon, for it
allows his model to accommodate a variety of ‘temporal illusions’. One
such is the cutaneous rabbit described by Geldard & Sherrick (1972). The
experiment involved devices capable of delivering controlled brief (2
msec) pulses to the skin being fitted along the arms of subjects.
Surprisingly, when the devices were clustered in just three tight
configurations – and the wrist, the elbow and in-between – and five pulses
were delivered to each location, rather than experiencing three tight
clusters of pulses (one at the wrist, one at the elbow and one in-between)
subjects report feeling a succession of evenly spaced pulses starting at the
wrist and terminating a the elbow (and often seeming continue a bit
further). There are several questions that can be asked about this, but
perhaps the most puzzling is: what is happening at the time of the second
pulse? Although this actually occurs at the wrist, it is felt further along
the arm, but at the time the second pulse occurs the brain can't yet know
that pulses further along the arm will be delivered. A similar problem is
posed by the colour phi phenomenon (Kolers & von Grünau 1976,
Dennett 1991: 114–123). When two differently coloured spots were
flashed on and off for 150 msec each – with a 50 msec gap – subjects
reported not only seeing a single spot moving back and forth (rather than
two distinct spots flashing on and off), they also saw the first spot
suddenly changing in colour mid-way along its path. Evidently, at some
level the brain is ‘deciding’ that it is more likely to be confronted with a
Taking a step back, the various attempts to put computational (or even
biological) flesh on the bones of Husserl's Retentional model are certainly
intriguing, and Grush makes out a plausible case for supposing that our
brains may contain internal modelling (or emulation) systems similar to
the ones he describes, at least from the perspective of the sort of
information processing they can carry out. But what conclusions should
we draw from this? It would certainly be a mistake to conclude, without
any further argument, that the existence within our brains of information
processing systems along the lines of the trajectory estimation model
entails that Husserl's theory (or some other form of Retentional model) is
true. Grush was right to criticize Varela, van Gelder and Lloyd for paying
insufficient attention to the distinction between brains and the properties
possessed by (or represented in) the experiences brains produce. From the
fact that momentary global brain states retain traces of their recent past,
we cannot conclude – without further argument – that momentary phases
Nihjawan (1994: 257) suggests that in such cases the rotating disk has
been visible long enough for the brain to be able to extrapolate its likely
future positions, and that it uses this information to deliver a perceptual
experience which lags less far behind the actual course of events than
would otherwise be the case. Since the occurrence of the flash is
unpredictable, its location cannot be extrapolated in this manner, and so it
seems to lag behind the arrow.
they put it: ‘these experiments indicate that the visual system consults the
ongoing input of information from the near future of an event before
committing to a percept’. (2000: 38). As for how we manage to catch a
moving ball, they suggest perceptual extrapolation is not needed, that
processing delays can be compensated by appropriate training of our
motor systems. [41]
Figure 26.
2. See Rosenberg (2005: ch.5), Blattner 1999: 190–210) for more on this.
6. See Strawson (2009: 5.6) for a more detailed exposition of his views on
continuity; for critical discussion of Strawson's position see Natsoulas
(2006), Dainton (2000/2006: §5.2).
des instants’). Poincaré is in sympathy with this, and points out that the
orthodox mathematical continuum ‘is only a collection of individuals
ranged in a certain order, infinite in number, true, but exterior to one
another. This is not the ordinary conception, wherein is supposed between
the elements of the continuum a sort of intimate bond which makes of
them a whole where the point does not exist before the line, but the line
before the point. Of the celebrated formula, ‘the continuum is unity in
multiplicity’, only the multiplicity remains, the unity has disappeared.’
(1952: 42). For more on this theme see Capek (1971), Part II.
10. ‘If we have a single experience of two items as being present, then,
surely, we experience them as simultaneous. Suppose we are aware of A
as preceding B, and of B as present. Can we be aware of A as anything
other than past? Of course we can have successive experience of items,
each of which in turn we see as present. But no single experience presents
all these items as present.’ (2007: 87) ; also see (2004: 111).
11. Can we pick out a briefer span – or even an instant – within the
duration of the specious present as the present? There is nothing to
prevent our doing so, but given its the brief span, dividing the specious
present in this way would serve little practical purpose. Clay seemingly
took the leading edge to be present in the strict sense; James was
evidently situating his vantage point in the middle region when he
referred to ‘backward’ and ‘forward looking parts.
12. There are further options: see Tye (2003: chapter 4) for an attempt to
combine something akin to an Extensional view with ‘representationalist’
account of perceptual experience; note, however, that Tye's account of the
specious present is in some respects idiosyncratic.
13. Sprigge (1983: ch.1) defends a view along these lines; Whitehead
believed that reality was composed of ‘drops of experience’ (1929: 25);
see Sprigge (1993: 276ff) for an introduction to Bradley's ‘finite centres
of experience’ – which Bradley himself regarded as inherently
problematic.
14. For further discussion of these see Mabbot (1951, 1955), Mundle
(1954), Foster (1979) and Dainton (2000: §6.2).
15. Tye argues that there is no problem here, on the grounds that it is a
mistake to conclude that a sound is heard as occurring several times
simply because there are several times at which it is heard (2003: 93–94).
But while it is logically possible for there be experiences which go
unnoticed by their subject, it remains the case that Broad's theory is
profligate to an extraordinary degree, requiring as it does a vast
censorship mechanism to conceal the innumerable surplus-to-
requirements experiences it generates. And as Phillips (2010: §4.1) notes,
Tye's proposal is incompatible with plausible doctrines concerning the
sort of epistemic access we have to our own experience.
16. ‘If A, B, and C succeed each other rapidly, A and B may be parts of
one sensation, and likewise B and C, while A and C are not parts of one
sensation, but A is remembered when C is present in sensation. In such a
case, A and B belong to the same present, and likewise B and C, but not A
and C; thus the relation “belong to the same present” is not transitive …
two presents may overlap without coinciding.’ (1913: 77–78)
very little indeed: ‘it may be that the whole series of experiences is
literally continuous (or at least dense)’, or so Foster suggests (1991: 248).
19. This diagram resembles the one provided by Broad himself (1938:
285), but he adopted a different (and perhaps less perspicuous) convention
for representing specious presents. Broad chooses to represent individual
specious by triangles, such as A-D-A***. He took the height of the
vertical lines to represent degrees of presentedness, so C has
presentedness C-A** in the specious present A-D-A***, and
presentedness C-B* in the specious present B-E-B** – the higher the
vertical, the greater the presentedness.
20. See Dodd (2005) for more on Husserl's various ‘diagrams of time’.
23. See Roache (1999) for an argument to the effect that the apparently
very different standpoints of Dennett and Mellor are in fact reconcilable.
24. Prominent defenders of this conception are not hard to find, e.g.
Minkowski (1908), Williams (1951), Smart (1980), Mellor (1981, 1998)
25. Broad introduced the ‘spotlight’ metaphor (1923: 59), though at the
time he subscribed to the Growing Block view; the Moving Spotlight
conception is perhaps best known for being the primary target of
McTaggart's assault on the reality of time. For a more recent defence of
the Growing Block see Tooley (1997); for a defence of Presentism see
Bourne (2006).
27. Peter Forrest advocates a form of the Growing Block model in which
consciousness only exists in the present; consciousness, he believes, is a
by-product of the ‘frisson’ generated at the interface between being and
non-being. (Braddon-Mitchell 2002; Forrest 2004, 2006). Since it is not
clear whether on this model consciousness is momentary or not, it is
difficult to know what its implications for the current issue are. It is also
difficult to know what its implications for the current issue are. It is also
worth adding that this model is rather speculative.
28. For further discussion of Dennett see the commentaries in Brain and
Behavioural Sciences following Dennett and Kinsbourne (1992); the
special issue of Inquiry (March 1993, 36(1–2), with essays by Clark,
Fellows & O'Hear, Foster, Lockwood, Seager, Siewert, Sprigge);
Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 1993, 53(4), with essays by
Tye, Shoemaker, Jackson; also Phillips (2009: chapter 5).
processing, see Mauk & Buonomano (2004). Kelly argues that the vast
bulk of empirical work is focused on just two questions: How do we
come to represent events as occurring at a particular time? Which events
to we experience as simultaneous? He draws this conclusion: ‘The puzzle
of temporal experience will not be resolved by empirical research of the
type now being done … [the relevant neuroscientific accounts] do not
have any bearing at all, in other words, on the question of how we are to
conceptualize perceptual experience from the point of view of the subject
so as to allow for the possibility of experiences as of continuous,
dynamic, temporally structured, unified events.’ (2005b, §7–7.1) Kelly
also believes that an alternative to the standard Retentional and
Extensional approaches will be needed.
31. Benussi preferred the term ‘psychic present’, construing the latter as
the ‘time required to apprehend the maximum number of elements of a
change in one single perceptual act’ Albertazzi (1994: 161); see also
Albertazzi (1996).
33. And when describing Wundt's attempt to measure the interval which
is remembered most accurately: ‘[this interval] of about three-fourths of a
second, which is estimated with the minimum of error, points to a
connection between the time-feeling and the succession of distinctly
apperceived objects before the mind. The association time is also equal to
about three-fourths of a second. This association time he regards as a sort
of internal standard of duration to which we involuntarily assimilate all
intervals which we try to reproduce, bringing shorter ones up to it and
longer ones down.’ (1890: 596–7)
35. Myers (1971: 355) notes that Boring claimed James' commitment to
this approach stemmed from a general doctrine concerning the temporal
character of introspection: ‘introspection was not believed to be a process
that takes time … But how then can a duration that takes time be
immediately known, since the duration, not being instantaneous, is itself
not all immediate?’ (1942: 576). Myers has his doubts: ‘I cannot connect
Boring's remarks with what James wrote in “The Perception of Time” in
The Principles of Psychology, because he never said that introspection is
instantaneous or that the duration of the specious present is specious’
(ibid.). Mabbot (1951: 165) usefully summarizes Boring's changes of
view on these matters.
38. While Lloyd is certainly aware that further work linking the levels is
needed, and that his discoveries merely reveal suggestive analogies which
may prove useful as guides for future research, he is perhaps guilty of not
giving this point sufficient emphasis.
39. Clark (1998) also takes dynamists such as van Gelder to task for
giving insufficient attention to the brain and its information processing
capabilities.
40. Grush notes that his interpretation of such cases is similar in some
respects to the multiple drafts model of Dennett (1991: ch. 5–6), but the
trajectory estimation model is not committed to a plurality of competing
simultaneous representations. In some respects it is also similar to the
‘fixed-lag smoother’ model that Rao, Eagleman and Sejnewski (2001)
employ to explain related temporal illusions (e.g. the flash-lag), but has
the advantage of not postulating a delay of around 100–200 msec between
sensory stimuli and their subsequent representations (Grush 2005b: 214–
216).
41. For an online variant of the flash-lag illusion see Flash-Lag Effect.
For a connection with debatable off-side decisions in football matches see
Baldo, M. Ranvaud, R. & Morya, E. (2002). For more on how successful
athletes deal with fast-moving balls, see Abernethy (1981), Bahill and
LaRitz (1984), McLeod (1987), McCrone (1993).
42. See Dainton (2009) for this interpretation; see Butterfield (1984) and
Callender (2008) for further discussion of perceptual time-lags.
43. Of the two most general visual pathways in primates ‘we find that it is
the older tectopulvinar pathway (evolutionarily speaking) that is more
involved in motion perception than the newer geniculostriate pathway.
There are some suggestions that the tectopulvinar pathway may be
entirely specialized for the perception of movement, along with the
control of responses that involve moving stimuli, such as some kinds of
eye movements’ (Coren, Ward, Enns: 360).
44. See Weichselgartner & Sperling (1985), Long & O'Saban (1989) and
Nisly-Nagele & Wasserman (2001) for further discussion and references
46. E.g., See Color Phi Phenomneon. For a presentation discussing two
varieties of the phenomenon, together with online examples, see Phi is
Not Beta.
passing scene enter his view continuously from one side of the window,
while others drop out of it at the other. Given a temporal rather than a
spatial extension, the moving window analogy corresponds with the idea
of a continuous “travelling moment” ’(1968: 396). Efron and Lee (1973)
argue that the experimental evidence which leads Allport to prefer the
Travelling Moment Hypothesis over its Discrete counterpart can also be
explained in terms of visible persistence.