Consciousness, besides detecting time’s arrow, also roughly measures the passage of time. It has the right idea of time-measurement, but is a bit of a bungler in carrying it out. Our consciousness somehow manages to keep in close touch with the material world, and we must suppose that its record of the flight of time is the reading of some kind of a clock in the material of the brain—possibly a clock which is a rather bad time-keeper. I have generally had in mind in this connection an analogy with the clocks of physics designed for good time-keeping; but I am now inclined to think that a better analogy would be an entropy-clock, i.e. an instrument designed primarily for measuring the rate of disorganisation of energy, and only very roughly keeping pace with time.
A typical entropy-clock might be designed as follows. An electric circuit is composed of two different metals with their two junctions embedded respectively in a hot and cold body in contact. The circuit contains a galvanometer which constitutes the dial of the entropy-clock. The thermoelectric current in the circuit is proportional to the difference of temperature of the two bodies; so that as the shuffling of energy between them proceeds, the temperature difference decreases and the galvanometer reading continually decreases. This clock will infallibly tell an observer from another world which of two events is the later. We have seen that no ordinary clock can do this. As to its time-keeping qualities we can only say that the motion of the galvanometer needle has some connection with the rate of passage of time—which is perhaps as much as can be said for the time-keeping qualities of consciousness.
It seems to me, therefore, that consciousness with its insistence on time’s arrow and its rather erratic ideas of time measurement may be guided by entropy-clocks in some portion of the brain. That avoids the unnatural assumption that we consult two different cells of the material brain in forming our ideas of duration and of becoming, respectively. Entropy-gradient is then the direct equivalent of the time of consciousness in both its aspects. Duration measured by physical clocks (time-like interval) is only remotely connected.
Let us try to clear up our ideas of time by a summary of the position now reached. Firstly, physical time is a system of partitions in the four-dimensional world (world-wide instants). These are artificial and relative and by no means correspond to anything indicated to us by the time of consciousness. Secondly, we recognise in the relativity theory something called a temporal relation which is absolutely distinct from a spatial relation. One consequence of this distinction is that the mind attached to a material body can only traverse a temporal relation; so that, even if there is no closer connection, there is at least a one-to-one correspondence between the sequence of phases of the mind and a sequence of points in temporal relation. Since the mind interprets its own sequence as a time of consciousness, we can at least say that the temporal relation in physics has a connection with the time of consciousness which the spatial relation does not possess. I doubt if the connection is any closer. I do not think the mental sequence is a “reading off” of the physical temporal relation, because in physics the temporal relation is arrowless. I think it is a reading off of the physical entropy-gradient, since this has the necessary arrow. Temporal relation and entropy-gradient, both rigorously defined in physics, are entirely distinct and in general are not numerically related. But, of course, other things besides time can “keep time”; and there is no reason why the generation of the random element in a special locality of the brain should not proceed fairly uniformly. In that case there will not be too great a divergence between the passage of time in consciousness and the length of the corresponding temporal relation in the physical world.
The Scientific Reaction from Microscopic Analysis. From the point of view of philosophy of science the conception associated with entropy must I think be ranked as the great contribution of the nineteenth century to scientific thought. It marked a reaction from the view that everything to which science need pay attention is discovered by a microscopic dissection of objects. It provided an alternative standpoint in which the centre of interest is shifted from the entities reached by the customary analysis (atoms, electric potentials, etc.) to qualities possessed by the system as a whole, which cannot be split up and located—a little bit here, and a little bit there. The artist desires to convey significances which cannot be told by microscopic detail and accordingly he resorts to impressionist painting. Strangely enough the physicist has found the same necessity; but his impressionist scheme is just as much exact science and even more practical in its application than his microscopic scheme.
Thus in the study of the falling stone the microscopic analysis reveals myriads of separate molecules. The energy of the stone is distributed among the molecules, the sum of the energies of the molecules making up the energy of the stone. But we cannot distribute in that way the organisation or the random element in the motions. It would be meaningless to say that a particular fraction of the organisation is located in a particular molecule.
There is one ideal of survey which would look into each minute compartment of space in turn to see what it may contain and so make what it would regard as a complete inventory of the world. But this misses any world-features which are not located in minute compartments. We often think that when we have completed our study of one we know all about two, because “two” is “one and one”. We forget that we have still to make a study of “and”. Secondary physics is the study of “and”—that is to say, of organisation.
Thanks to clear-sighted pioneers in the last century science became aware that it was missing something of practical importance by following the inventory method of the primary scheme of physics. Entropy became recognised although it was not found in any of the compartments. It was discovered and exalted because it was essential to practical applications of physics, not to satisfy any philosophic hungering. But by it science has been saved from a fatal narrowness. If we had kept entirely to the inventory method, there would have been nothing to represent “becoming” in the physical world. And science, having searched high and low, would doubtless have reported that “becoming” is an unfounded mental illusion—like beauty, life, the soul, and other things which it is unable to inventory.
I think that doubts might well have been entertained as to whether the newcomer was strictly scientific. Entropy was not in the same category as the other physical quantities recognised in science, and the extension—as we shall presently see—was in a very dangerous direction. Once you admit attributes of arrangement as subject-matter of physics, it is difficult to draw the line. But entropy had secured a firm place in physics before it was discovered that it was a measure of the random element in arrangement. It was in great favour with the engineers. Their sponsorship was the highest testimonial to its good character; because at that time it was the general assumption that the Creation was the work of an engineer (not of a mathematician, as is the fashion nowadays).
Suppose that we were asked to arrange the following in two categories—