by René Guénon
5
The Qualitative Determinations of Time
If space is not pure quantity, time appears to be still less so: temporal magnitudes as well as spatial magnitudes can be spoken of, and in both cases continuous quantity is involved (for there is no occasion to pause to consider the strange conception of Descartes, according to which time is constituted of a series of discontinuous instants, so that it becomes necessary to assume a constant repetition of the act of ‘creation’, the world otherwise always vanishing away during the intervals of temporal discontinuity); nevertheless, there is a big distinction to be made between the two cases, arising from a fact to which attention has already been called, namely that space can be measured directly, whereas time can only be measured by relating it back in some way to space. What is measured is never really a duration, it is the space covered in a certain length of time in the course of a movement of which the law is known; and as any such law expresses a relation between time and space, it is possible, when the amount of the space covered is known, to deduce therefrom the amount of time occupied in covering it; and whatever may be the artifices employed, there is actually no other way than this whereby temporal magnitudes can be determined.
Another observation leading to the same conclusion is the following: the only phenomena that are situated in space as well as in time are those that are properly called corporeal; phenomena belonging to the mental order, such as are studied by ‘psychology’ in the ordinary sense of the word, have no spatial character, though, like other phenomena, they are developed in time; and the mental, since it belongs to subtle manifestation, is, within the individual domain, necessarily nearer to essence than is the corporeal; the nature of time thus being such that it can reach into the subtle domain and therein condition mental manifestations, the conclusion must be that the nature of time is more qualitative than that of space. While on the subject of mental phenomena, it may be added that, once they are seen to be akin to that which represents essence in the individual, it is quite useless to look for quantitative elements in them, and it is still more useless to try to reduce them to quantity; the things which the ‘psycho-physiologists’ determine quantitatively are not really in themselves mental phenomena, as is imagined, but only some of their corporeal concomitants; in such investigations there is nothing that comes anywhere near to contact with the intrinsic nature of the mental, and so nothing that can explain it in the smallest degree; the absurd idea of a quantitative psychology surely represents the fullest development of the modern ‘scientistic’ aberration.
All this being so, if it is right to speak of ‘qualified’ space, it is all the more right to speak of ‘qualified’ time, which means that there must be fewer quantitative determinations and more qualitative determinations in time than in space. ‘Empty time’, moreover, has no more an effective existence than has ‘empty space’, and in this connection everything that has been said about space could be repeated about time: outside this world there is no time, just as there is no space, and inside it, realized time contains all events, just as realized space contains all bodies. In certain respects there is something like a symmetry between space and time, so that they can often be alluded to in terms that are more or less parallel; but this symmetry, which is not found with respect to the other conditions of corporeal existence, arises rather on the qualitative than on the quantitative side, as is indicated by the difference already pointed out between the determination of spatial magnitudes and temporal magnitudes, as well as by the absence, in the case of time, of a quantitative science of an order comparable to that of the geometry of space. Moreover, on the qualitative side symmetry is conspicuously apparent in the correspondence existing between spatial symbolism and temporal symbolism, of which many examples have been given elsewhere; in fact it goes without saying that whenever symbolism is in question the essential part is played by considerations of quality and not of quantity.
It is evident that periods of time are qualitatively differentiated by the events unfolded within them, just as the parts of space are differentiated by the bodies they contain; it is not therefore in any way justifiable to regard as being really equivalent durations of time that are quantitatively equal when they are filled by totally different sequences of events; it is indeed a matter of current observation that quantitative equality disappears completely from the mental appreciation of duration in the face of qualitative difference. Someone may perhaps argue that qualitative difference is not inherent in duration itself, but only in what happens within it; it therefore becomes necessary to enquire whether there be not something in the qualitative determination of events that originates from time itself; and it seems that such is recognized to be the case, at least implicitly, when, as constantly happens in ordinary speech, the particular conditions of this or that period are referred to. This seems indeed to be even more obvious in the case of time than in that of space, although, as explained, qualitative elements are far from being negligible when the situation of bodies is in question; and it could even be said, in the final analysis, that a particular body cannot be situated indifferently in any place, any more than a particular event can happen indifferently at any time; but here the symmetry is not perfect, because the situation of a body in space can vary through the occurrence of movement, whereas that of an event in time is rigidly determined and strictly ‘unique’, so that the essential nature of events seems to be much more rigidly tied to time than that of bodies is to space; and this again confirms that time must have in itself the more markedly qualitative character.
The truth is that time is not something that unrolls itself uniformly, so that the practice of representing it geometrically by a straight line, usual among modern mathematicians, conveys an idea of time that is wholly falsified by over-simplification; we shall see later that a tendency toward a pernicious simplification is yet another characteristic of the modern spirit, and also that it inevitably accompanies a tendency to reduce everything to quantity. The correct representation of time is to be found in the traditional conception of cycles, and this conception obviously involves a ‘qualified’ time; besides, whenever the question of geometrical representation arises, whether in fact it be set out graphically or only expressed through the use of an appropriate terminology, it is clear that a spatial symbolism is being made use of; all this may suggest that an indication of some kind of correlation may well be discovered between the qualitative determinations of time and those of space. A correlation can in fact be found: in the case of space, these determinations consist essentially in the directions; and the cyclical figuration effectively establishes a correspondence between the phases of a temporal cycle and the directions of space. In order to satisfy oneself of this, it is enough to consider an example chosen from among those that are simplest and most immediately accessible, that of the annual cycle, which, as is well enough known, plays a very important part in traditional symbolism,[23] wherein the four seasons are made to correspond with the four cardinal points.[24]
A more or less complete exposition of the doctrine of cycles cannot be entered upon here, although that doctrine is naturally implicit in and fundamental to the whole of this study; if the limits of the available space are not to be overstepped, it must suffice for the present to formulate a few observations more directly connected with the subject of this book taken as a whole, referring wherever necessary in later chapters to relevant matters connected with the doctrine of cycles. The first of these observations is as follows: not only has each phase of a temporal cycle, of whatever kind it may be, its peculiar quality that influences the determination of events, but the speed with which events are unfolded also depends on these phases, and is therefore of a qualitative rather than of a quantitative order. Therefore, in speaking of the speed of events in time, by analogy with the speed of displacement of a body in space, a certain transposition of the notion of speed has to be effected, for speed in time cannot be reduced to quantitative expression, as can be done in mechanics
when speed properly so called is in question. What this means is that, according to the different phases of the cycle, sequences of events comparable one to another do not occupy quantitatively equal durations; this is particularly evident in the case of the great cycles, applicable both to the cosmic and to the human orders, the most notable example being furnished by the decreasing lengths of the respective durations of the four Yugas that together make up a Manvantara.[25] For that very reason, events are being unfolded nowadays with a speed unexampled in the earlier ages, and this speed goes on increasing and will continue to increase up to the end of the cycle; there is thus something like a progressive ‘contraction’ of duration, the limit of which corresponds to the ‘stopping-point’ previously alluded to; it will be necessary to return to a special consideration of these matters later on, and to explain them more fully.
The second observation is connected with the descending direction of the cyclical movement, insofar as this movement is regarded as the chronological expression of a process of manifestation that implies a gradual separation from the principle, a point we have referred to often enough that further insistence on it can be dispensed with. It is only mentioned again here because, taken in connection with what has just been said, it gives rise to a spatial analogy of considerable interest. The increase in the speed of events, as the end of the cycle draws near, can be compared to the acceleration that takes place in the fall of heavy bodies: the course of the development of the present humanity closely resembles the movement of a mobile body running down a slope and going faster as it approaches the bottom; and even though certain reactions operating in a contrary sense complicate the matter to some extent (within the limits of the possibility of such reactions), nonetheless this comparison gives a very accurate picture of the cyclical movement looked at in a general way.
Here, then, is a third and final observation. The descending movement of manifestation, and consequently that of the cycle of which it is an expression, takes place away from the positive or essential pole of existence toward its negative or substantial pole, and the result is that all things must progressively take on a decreasingly qualitative and an increasingly quantitative aspect; and that is why the last period of the cycle must show a very special tendency toward the establishment of a ‘reign of quantity’. Moreover, the statement that this must be so for all things does not merely imply that it must be so as seen from a human point of view, but also that a real modification of the ‘environment’ itself is involved. Each period of the history of humanity corresponds specifically to a determinate ‘cosmic moment’, so that there must necessarily be a constant correlation between the state of the world itself, or of what is called ‘nature’ in the usual sense of the word and more especially of the terrestrial environment, and the state of mankind, whose existence is evidently conditioned by that environment. It may be added that total ignorance of such cosmic modifications is not least among the causes of the incomprehension of modern science whenever anything beyond certain limits is concerned; itself born of the very special conditions of the present period, this science is all too obviously incapable of conceiving other and different conditions, incapable even of the mere admission that anything of the kind could exist; thus the point of view that constitutes the definition of modern science establishes ‘barriers’ in time, which it is as impossible for science to break down as it is for a short-sighted person to see clearly beyond a certain distance; a true ‘intellectual myopia’ is indeed thoroughly characteristic in all respects of the modern and ‘scientistic’ mentality. Later developments of this theme will lead to a better understanding of the nature of these modifications of the environment, which can only be alluded to now in quite a general way; but it may already have occurred to the reader that many things nowadays regarded as ‘fabulous’ were not at all so for the ancients, and even that they may still not be so for those who have retained, not only the possession of certain aspects of traditional knowledge, but also an outlook that allows them to reconstitute the shape of a ‘lost world’, as well as to foresee, at least in its broad outlines, what will be the shape of a future world. For no other reason than that manifestation is ruled by cyclical laws, the past and the future are in analogical correspondence, so much so that, whatever the ordinary person may think, previsions of this kind have not really any ‘divinatory’ character whatever, but are founded entirely on what have been called the qualitative determinations of time.
6
The Principle of Individuation
The natures of space and time have now been dealt with adequately for the purpose in view, but it is necessary to return to the subject of ‘matter’ in order to examine a question not so far mentioned, in such a way as to shed a fresh light on certain aspects of the modern world. The scholastics looked on materia as constituting the principium individuationis; what was their reason for looking at things in that way, and how far was it justified? In order to understand what is involved in this question it is sufficient, without in any way going beyond the limits of our world (for no principle is here involved of a transcendent order with respect to this world) to envisage the relation of individuals to species; in this relation species is on the side of ‘form’ or essence, and individuals, or more exactly that which distinguishes individuals of the same species one from another, are on the side of ‘matter’ or substance.[26] There is nothing surprising in this, bearing in mind what has been said above about the meaning of the word εἶδος, which is at once both ‘form’ and ‘species’, and about the purely qualitative character of the latter; but the point needs some further elucidation, particularly, in the first place, in order to eliminate various terminological uncertainties likely to arise.
It has already been explained why the word ‘matter’ can give rise to misunderstandings; the word ‘form’ is perhaps even more liable to do so, because its usual meaning is quite different from that which it bears in scholastic language; it was used in its usual meaning when the consideration of form in geometry was alluded to above, but if scholastic language had been used instead, it would have been necessary to say ‘figure’ and not ‘form’; to have done so would however have been unduly contrary to established usage, of which account must inevitably be taken if misunderstanding is to be avoided, and that is why the word ‘form’ is always used in this book in its ordinary meaning, except when it is used with particular reference to scholasticism. For instance, the word is used in its ordinary meaning in the statement that, of all the conditions of a state of existence, form is the one that specifically characterizes that state as individual; it goes without saying that form in this sense must in no way be conceived as endowed with a spatial character, for it is so endowed only in our world, because it is there combined with another condition, namely space, and space belongs to the domain of corporeal manifestation alone. But this question then arises: does not form thus understood, rather than ‘matter’ (or if preferred, quantity), represent the true ‘principle of individuation’, since individuals are what they are by virtue of the fact that they are conditioned by form? So stated, this question represents a misunderstanding of what the scholastics in fact mean when they speak of a ‘principle of individuation’; in no sense are they referring to that which defines a state of existence as an individual state, for they seem never to have attained to a conception quite of that order; and in any case, from this point of view, species itself must be regarded as being within the individual order, for it is in no way transcendent with regard to the state so defined. The same point can be made in another way, by making use of the geometrical representation described elsewhere, and in that case, the whole hierarchy of kinds must be envisaged as extending horizontally and not vertically.
The real question of the ‘principle of individuation’ has a much more restricted range, and can be reduced to this: the individuals of any one species all participate in a common nature, which is that of the species itself, and is in all of them equally; how then does it come about th
at, in spite of this community of nature, these individuals are distinct beings, or even that they are in any way distinguishable one from another? It must be understood that individuals are now being considered only insofar as they belong to a species, independently of anything else that may be peculiar to them under other headings; the question could therefore well be formulated in this way: of what order is the determination which is added to specific nature so that individuals may become separate beings while remaining within the species? It is this determination that the scholastics relate to ‘matter’, that is to say ultimately to quantity, according to their definition of the materia secunda of our world; and thus ‘matter’ or quantity appears distinctly as a principle of ‘separativity’. It can also be said that quantity is a determination added to species, as species is exclusively qualitative and so is independent of quantity, but such is not the case with individuals owing to the fact that they are ‘incorporated’; and in this connection the greatest care must be taken to note that, despite an erroneous opinion only too widespread among the moderns, species must in no way be conceived as a ‘collectivity’, the latter being nothing but an arithmetical sum of individuals; a ‘collectivity’ is, unlike species, entirely quantitative. Confusion between the general and the collective is yet another consequence of the tendency that leads the moderns to see nothing anywhere other than quantity; it is this tendency which is constantly reappearing as a factor underlying all the conceptions characteristic of their particular mentality.
