Assuming that dust theory or the block universe or Barbourian timelessness are true… I fail to see how it matters to any of us.
Presumably, we are all timeful beings. I know I am (cogito, ergo tempus fugit), and I assume the rest of you are, too. Whether I and my memories and my perception of time passing only exist as collections of block slices or as neighboring nodes in the static quantum foam in configuration space or as relationships between specks of dust… or even as time-slices in a computer simulation, or as integers in MathSpace which is the only thing that really exists… it doesn’t matter. I still perceive time. And I bet you do, too.
If physics experiments and solid reasoning lead us inexorably to conclude that time, identity, and consciousness are mere illusions… well, they also lead us (or lead me, anyway) to conclude that those illusions are impenetrable. It’s impossible for me not to perceive time, to not perceive myself as myself, to not perceive my own consciousness.
What basis, then, is there for saying that time is not “real”?
What value does the concept of dust, blocks, or Barbour bring to our intellectual discourse, other than making for entertaining conversation among stoners?
Assuming that dust theory or the block universe or Barbourian timelessness are true… I fail to see how it matters to any of us.
Presumably, we are all timeful beings. I know I am (cogito, ergo tempus fugit), and I assume the rest of you are, too. Whether I and my memories and my perception of time passing only exist as collections of block slices or as neighboring nodes in the static quantum foam in configuration space or as relationships between specks of dust… or even as time-slices in a computer simulation, or as integers in MathSpace which is the only thing that really exists… it doesn’t matter. I still perceive time. And I bet you do, too.
If physics experiments and solid reasoning lead us inexorably to conclude that time, identity, and consciousness are mere illusions… well, they also lead us (or lead me, anyway) to conclude that those illusions are impenetrable. It’s impossible for me not to perceive time, to not perceive myself as myself, to not perceive my own consciousness.
What basis, then, is there for saying that time is not “real”?
What value does the concept of dust, blocks, or Barbour bring to our intellectual discourse, other than making for entertaining conversation among stoners?