1.17 Matter “hyle”

Matter

Section 17 (first updated 12.23.2020)

The substrate—or matter—is the reflection of the abstract. The ultimate nature of existence, in this sense, begins with what we call the “abstract”, because it is essentially non-material; that is, it exists prior to form, as pure potentialcapable of taking the shape of any matter or substance. The first principle of existence is thus associated with the abstract, not because it is detached from reality, but because it represents the possibility of all realities. The existence of any physical object requires a preceding plane—a rational structure or design, however implicit—in order to be realized or fulfilled in material form. Even if one were to claim that the original cause of existence was purely random, its development thereafter exhibits a movement toward structure, pattern, and purpose. This movement is what gives rise to what we perceive as design in the natural world.

Yet, just because a substance is fundamentally abstract does not mean it is opposed to the material. On the contrary, the abstract and the material are two sides of the same substance. They are not separate realms but moments in a unified process—what philosophy might call dialectical unity. The abstract becomes material only through form, and matter becomes intelligible only by virtue of its abstract essence.

Let us then ask: How is matter fundamentally an abstract substance?

Matter, when stripped of its particular forms—such as shape, color, texture, and function—is nothing other than potentiality. It is capacity, the “what-can-be” rather than the “what-is.” This potentiality is inherently abstract because it is not tied to any one particular manifestation. Just as a blank canvas is not a painting, but the possibility of infinitely many paintings, matter in its purest conception is not yet the world of objects—it is the substratum for those objects to arise. The abstract does not exist outside of matter, but within it, as its formless foundation, its conceptual reality.

Therefore, to say that matter is abstract is to recognize that it carries within itself the principle of form, order, and intelligibility—not as something imposed from without, but as something intrinsic to its very being. It is abstract not in the sense of being removed from the world, but in the sense of being the universal through which all particulars emerge.

Matter, Perception, and the Heap Paradox

Matter, in classical Ancient Greek philosophy, is referred to as “hylē” (ὕλη), a term loosely translated as “stuff.” The idea of “stuff” refers to a kind of undifferentiated material substrate, a collection or convolution of particular material things not yet distinguished by form or structure. For example, when we say, “There’s a bunch of stuff over there,” we indicate that there is a mass of material wherein a particular object may be found, but the mass itself is not perceived as made up of distinct, intelligible parts.

The term “stuff” thus denotes not only materiality, but also the possibility of discerning individual objects within a greater whole. When a group of material objects bundle together into what we might call a “heap”, the individual parts of that heap become undifferentiated in the eyes of the observer, taking on a single perceived quality—a unity of multiplicity. In such cases, perception no longer tracks each particular, but rather perceives the whole.

Perception and the Limits of Differentiation

Perception, however, cannot identify or isolate every detail within a single observed entity. This is because perception operates selectively: it is either observing the whole, which includes the many parts within its visual or cognitive frame, or it is picking out one object within the group, excluding the rest.

But this dichotomy is itself paradoxical. Every object within a heap—any single part—may also be viewed as a heapof smaller components. A rock is composed of minerals, those minerals are made of molecules, which in turn are composed of atoms. So, when one picks out a single item, one is also, perhaps unknowingly, perceiving another heap, just on a different scale.

As the Ancient Greeks phrased the question:

“When does a pile of sand become a heap of sand?”¹

This is known as the Sorites Paradox (sōritēs, from the Greek σωρίτης, meaning “heap”). The paradox raises the problem of vague predicates:

• If one grain of sand is not a heap, and
• Adding one grain doesn’t turn a non-heap into a heap,
• Then no matter how many grains you add, you seemingly never get a heap.

And yet, at some point, intuitively, we do say, “That’s a heap.”
The paradox shows that our language and categories lack clear-cut boundaries, especially when transitioning from quantitative accumulation to qualitative change.

The Ethical Relation Between Idea and Object

Now, turning back to the relation between idea and object, the text concludes with a profound point:

The only way an idea can confirm its truth is if it becomes an object.

That is, thought seeks its own fulfillment in reality. The idea must objectify itself in order to validate its meaning. This is not a passive process where the object is simply given—rather, the idea must make the object. This process of objectification is not mechanical, but ethical, because it involves responsibility, intention, and creative effort.

The object, then, is the ethical determination of the idea—it is the idea’s task to realize itself, and through that realization, know itself. This reflects Hegelian themes: the self-conscious mind does not find truth in the world as already-made, but rather comes to know truth through its own activity, by producing and recognizing itself in the object².

Footnotes

See G.W.F. Hegel, Phenomenology of Spirit, esp. the section on Self-Consciousness. Hegel argues that the subject knows itself by externalizing its concept and recognizing itself in its objective realization—a process that is ethical, not merely theoretical. ↩

This is the classical Sorites Paradox, discussed by philosophers like Eubulides of Miletus (4th century BCE), and revived in modern philosophy in discussions of vagueness, particularly by thinkers like Bertrand Russelland Peter Unger. ↩

Hegel points to a very important distinction in philosophy: that between appearance and essence.  The material in this sense is the concentration of its infinite actuality into a finite potentiality. Actuality exist in the abstract and so in this sense it is actualized and therefore if anything exists it is this actuality. This actuality is however what we understand as the infinite- but the word “infinite” means the eternal process of relation between variables that are finite. On their own, each variable is finite, together they are infinite. And so the very essential principle mediating the infinite and the finite so as to be the same unity- that unity we call actuality- is the principle of process.

The distinction between appearance and essence: certain aspects we take for granted given their appearance in that we take the appearance A) how the idea is received to the senses and B) how the object is so as to be received by the senses. For example, mind-body dualism confuses the mind with the body. Chemical reactions, but instead the essence of mind is consciousness. The body expands from that source outwards. Descartes misses that the essence of mind is actually consciousness, he was right to say that they are different but he took that difference as being separate which is to define one concept only by the trait of the other, i.e., the nature of the body being divisible and separable into pieces is not applicable to the soul.

The Relation Between the Infinite and the Finite

The relation between the infinite and the finite is often assumed to be inherently contradictory. For example, Anselm of Canterbury, in his famous ontological argument, identifies God as that which cannot be explained¹. In other words, whatever explanation is used to describe God, God is not that. God always becomes the opposite of His own explanation, because any definition or concept of God necessarily limits Him—constraining the infinite to the finite.

According to traditional religious thought, God cannot be limited to a finite description, because the very definitionof God entails that He is unlimited, infinite, and beyond conceptual capture. Thus, no matter what one says aboutGod, the word “God” functions not as a definition, but as a signifier of limitlessness. A finite description of God becomes self-contradictory precisely because it contradicts the essence of what it intends to describe.

However, a key counterargument to this view is made by Hegel, who critiques such an abstract conception of infinity. Hegel argues that a God who is so transcendent as to be inaccessible to thought becomes empty—a void of meaning and determination². If God is entirely beyond comprehension, then He becomes indistinguishable from nothingness. In other words, an infinite that cannot enter into relation with the finite is meaningless. Hegel maintains that thought is the medium through which the infinite becomes actual. The demonstration of thought is the power of substance to become real. Without thought, God becomes a desolate abstraction, stripped of any real presence or function in the world.

Hegel’s Critique of the Christian Tradition and the Personification of God

Hegel critiques the regular Christian tradition for attempting to bring the infinite nature of God into finite terms, primarily by personifying the divine through miracles, narratives, and historical events described in the Bible. While such stories serve to render the abstract nature of God more concrete and accessible to human understanding, Hegel argues that this process distorts the essence of God by subjecting Him to the limitations of finite human experience.

In other words, by depicting God through miraculous interventions, historical appearances, or moral allegories, religious tradition reduces the unconditioned infinite to conditioned human categories. The divine becomes constrained by temporal, spatial, and cultural forms that fail to fully convey the true nature of the infinite. For Hegel, this attempt at concretization results not in a clearer image of God, but in a distorted representation, since God’s infinity cannot be adequately captured through the limited medium of historical events or human stories.

However, Hegel does not reject the idea that God enters history. God is the ideal of history. On the contrary, he places God within the very fabric of historical development—but not as a supernatural force that changes history through miracles. Rather, God is the end toward which human history progresses. This is an inherently teleological view, drawn from Aristotelian metaphysics, where all movement in nature and thought is directed toward a final cause or purpose. Thus, for Hegel, God is both the beginning and the end: the origin as pure concept, and the telos as the actualized Idea in history.

This movement of history, however, is not smooth or ideal. It is filled with brute events, conflict, suffering, and apparent meaninglessness. Historical processes rarely appear ethical or divine in the moment. But when viewed in retrospect, with a philosophical eye, history reveals itself as a developmental process—one that unfolds toward the ideal. What often seems chaotic or regressive is, in the larger context, part of the dialectical movement toward greater complexity, self-consciousness, and freedom.

Importantly, Hegel does not equate development with ethical progress in every moment. History does not advance in a moral straight line. Instead, it progresses in a dialectical spiral: each stage negates the previous, while simultaneously preserving it in a higher synthesis. Thus, the course of history is one of increasing sophistication, structural complexity, and eventually the realization of Spirit (Geist) in and through human institutions, ideas, and cultures.

From this perspective, God is not merely a figure in ancient stories, but the ideal toward which history moves, and in that way, He is also its origin. God is not in time as a personified being, but rather revealed through time as the unfolding rational structure of reality—what Hegel calls the actualization of the Idea in the world.

God as the Active Process in History

God does not merely stand outside of history as a passive, transcendent ideal; rather, God plays an active role within history, as that which is developed through it. For Hegel, God is not simply a pre-existing being who intervenes in historical time through miracles or commandments. Instead, God is the process by which the world—and more precisely, the mind—comes to know itself. History is this unfolding process of divine self-discovery.

This is not a novel idea. It finds its classical origin in Aristotle, though it likely predates him. In Book Lambda of the Metaphysics, Aristotle argues that the ultimate activity in the universe is the activity of the unmoved mover, or God—and that the highest activity is thought (nous). If God is perfect and does the best of all things, then God’s eternal activity must be thinking the best thought. What is that? It is thinking about thinking itself—or thought thinking itself (νοήσεως νόησις)¹.

Hegel transforms this Aristotelian insight into a historical and dialectical framework. For Hegel, God is Spirit(Geist), and Spirit is not static. Spirit becomes what it is only through a process of self-relation and development. History, therefore, is not just a series of disconnected events, but the story of Spirit becoming conscious of itself. In this way, human history is divine history, and every stage of human development is a moment in the unfolding of the Idea—God’s realization in the world².

So, the divine is not outside history looking in—it is immanent in history, working through human consciousness, culture, philosophy, art, religion, and political life. God, in Hegel’s terms, is not complete until history reaches the point where Spirit recognizes itself in and through finite human experience. Thus, God is both the origin and the end of history, and the active movement in between.

This idea from Hegel contradicts the traditional religious notion of God, which maintains that if God develops throughout history, then He must have lacked something initially and only gained it later. In that case, God would not be truly infinite, since development implies limitation or incompleteness. From the religious standpoint, God must be eternal, unchanging, and complete—the highest in every way, forever.

Footnotes

1. Aristotle, Metaphysics XII (Lambda), 1074b33–1075a11. Aristotle describes the unmoved mover as pure actuality, whose eternal activity is thought thinking itself (noēsis noēseōs). This becomes one of the foundational concepts for later theological and metaphysical models of divine perfection. ↩
2. See G.W.F. Hegel, Phenomenology of Spirit and Lectures on the Philosophy of Religion. Hegel writes that “God is God only in so far as He knows Himself,” and this knowing is actualized through the historical development of Spirit in the world. ↩

Hegel’s Resolution: The Unity of Finite and Infinite

Hegel resolves the contradiction between the infinite and finite not by separating them, but by showing that they are dialectically related. Both the finite and the infinite coexist, and their relation is not a problem, but rather the resolution of philosophical thought.

The ordinary understanding of contradiction assumes that if the finite exists, then the infinite cannot, because the presence of finitude seems to limit what is supposed to be limitless. For example, the classic problem of evil in theology asks:

If God is all-powerful and perfectly good, why does evil exist in the world?

Wouldn’t the presence of evil negate God’s omnipotence or moral perfection?

However, this line of reasoning rests on the mistaken belief that the presence of the finite diminishes the infinite. Hegel argues instead that this view fails to grasp the true nature of infinity. If the presence of finitude limits the infinite, then it merely demonstrates what finitude is: that which negates. But conversely, if the infinite is truly infinite, then it must include the finite within itself, overcoming and preserving it in a higher unity³.

This is not contradiction in the logical fallacy sense, but dialectical contradiction: a movement whereby opposing terms are sublated (aufgehoben)—negated, preserved, and transcended in a higher concept. In this light, the finite does not destroy the infinite, nor does the infinite annihilate the finite; rather, each requires the other to become fully actualized.

Language, Logic, and the Trap of One-Sided Thinking

The failure to grasp this dialectical unity results in a dead-end—a paralysis of language and logic. This happens when the thinker becomes stuck in a binary view, unable to see how apparently contradictory terms can complement and determine one another. Hegel’s approach challenges the thinker to move beyond static oppositions, such as infinite vs. finite, God vs. evil, thought vs. being, and instead see how each concept evolves through its relation to its opposite.

In this view, truth is not the static absence of contradiction, but rather the living process of resolving contradiction through thought. The infinite does not merely transcend the finite; it engages with it, forms it, and fulfills itself through it. In theological terms, God is not the unknown beyond; He is also the self-revealing immanent—the God who enters history, nature, and reason.

Footnotes

Hegel calls this movement sublation (Aufhebung), which involves negation, preservation, and transcendence simultaneously. The finite is negated, but also preserved, as a moment in the development of the infinite. ↩

See Anselm, Proslogion, where he defines God as “that than which nothing greater can be conceived.” Any attempt to define or describe God falls short of this absolute, which creates a paradoxical and apophatic theology (the theology of divine ineffability). ↩

See G.W.F. Hegel, Phenomenology of Spirit, and Science of Logic, where he critiques the notion of the “bad infinite” (an infinite that stands opposed to the finite, never fully realized). Hegel instead promotes the “true infinite,” which includes and overcomes finitude within itself. ↩

The process is essentially active, and thus it ceases to be actuality if it is not activity. The nature of actuality is that it is activity¹. This Aristotelian principle differentiates itself from Platonic philosophy: if the Forms are to be considered substance, then they must also be substantial—in other words, they must possess the capacity to cause activity, or be constituted themselves as activity². They are not eternal in the sense of being static, inactive conceptions merely present for all time. Rather, they must be maintained in existence eternally—that is, there must be an eternal activity.

This eternal activity manifests as what we understand to be the substrate—that is, matter—because matter is the potentiality in which actuality implants its infinity as the finite³. In this way, the process of transferring actuality into potentiality reveals potentiality itself as a reflection of actuality. This reflection is the essential principle of activity—which we will come to call self-consciousness—because it is only when this activity knows itself that it becomes true. And it comes to know itself only by way of making itself concrete.

Thus, the concrete captures its working in the abstract. This raises the question: How do we observe this abstract working in the concrete? Where is the substrate in which the abstract imprints itself in order to conceive itself? We witness this imprinting in the historical process of life, which finds its culmination primarily in the human being⁴.

Footnotes:

This Hegelian reading of history as the unfolding of Spirit (Geist) reaching self-consciousness in humanity is key to understanding the dialectic in Phenomenology of Spirit. ↩

Aristotle distinguishes between dynamis (potentiality) and energeia (actuality), arguing that actuality is a form of completed activity, not merely a static state. See Metaphysics IX.6, 1048b18–35. ↩

In contrast to Plato’s Forms as eternal, immutable ideas (eide), Aristotle’s substance (ousia) must be capable of change and causation to be truly real. This critique is especially articulated in Metaphysics VII. ↩

Aristotle conceives of matter (hyle) as potentiality, which receives form (actuality). See Physics II and Metaphysics VII–IX for detailed discussions. ↩

Matter, Impenetrability, and the Abstract

Empiricism holds that matter is impenetrable, grounded in the notion that atoms are indivisible and indestructible. At a certain infinitesimal scale, there exists an element of incorruptibility—entities not subject to decay. This stands in contrast to everyday experience, where all objects in spacetime deteriorate over time. Precious metals like gold are valuable precisely because they decay slowly; in common parlance, we measure value by resistance to decay. In Islamic thought, God is seen as the measure of all things: a pure and eternal substance—singular, unchanging, neither generated nor degenerated.

This observation sheds light on physical corruptibility, but not on what it means to be a corporeal element. The term corporeal stems from the Latin corpus, meaning body. The empirical fact of impenetrability reinforces the idea of maintaining an object’s conception: this conception remains intact even as the object undergoes change. The object may move or transform, yet its substratum persists in identity—distinct from its animate aspect, namely its energy, which underlies what it means to be a physical object.

Energy, Thought, and Impenetrability

The energy of a physical object—its inanimate, enduring side—is its conception: the abstract capacity for the object to transition from one potential form to another. In philosophical terms, this energy is the “thought” of the object. As Charles Sanders Peirce expresses, “an idea without efficiency is impossible”—meaning, a concept must carry the power to actualize itself, just as a court requires a sheriff to execute in function and not merely in name¹.

Yet, interestingly, an idea is not necessarily the product of a single body, even if derived from it. Extracting a triangle from an object with triangular aspects doesn’t mean the object created the triangle. A triangle is universal—present potentially in all bodies and independent of any particular one. In this way, the thought of a triangle is impenetrable, unlimited in supply and applicability—just as the substratum of matter remains conceptually impenetrable.

Abstract Thought and Its Primacy

Abstract thought best fits the definition of impenetrability, because it cannot be reduced further. This doesn’t imply that thought exists and matter does not; rather, matter is penetrable. Any physical object can be broken down into smaller bodies. Atomists argue for a limit to this infinite regress—the atom—which signifies a point where matter enters into pure abstraction. The atom itself becomes an abstract substrate, not perceptible by senses, but defined as matter’s impenetrable nature. This loops us back to the original assertion: abstract substance is inherently impenetrable, capable of taking infinite forms.

Truth as Abstract and Impenetrable Substance

The power of abstract substance is truth, because truth is self-evident. It neither requires external validation nor can itself be broken down into lesser components, unlike material objects. While thought content may be contested, the form of thought is indisputable. When we describe an object as triangular, we’re imposing form on matter. But the concept of triangle transcends any particular object—it is an impenetrable aspect of matter, akin to energy.

Footnotes

Peirce emphasizes that an idea must have efficiency—the capacity to bring about effects. A concept without this is absurd. Although the exact quote isn’t located in his Collected Papers, the sentiment aligns with his pragmatist principle: ideas are defined by their conceivable effects—their practical bearings.(iep.utm.edu, en.wikipedia.org) ↩

Matter, Potentiality, and the Making of Form

1. Matter is Not an Independent Entity
   Matter is not anything in and of itself. It is not self-subsisting, nor for itself. Rather, matter is the undifferentiated sum of possibilities—raw material awaiting the emergence of a real and single form.¹
2. Perception and the Reality of Potential
   When you make contact with someone or something, it is the firing of sensory nerves that produces sensations like solidity, brittleness, and texture.²
   An object directly engaged by sensation is considered real because it is acting on a potential. When we say that every possible event “exists” in some sense, the distinction between what exists in reality versus what is merely potential is whether that potential is actively participated in.
   To be real is to participate in a potential—so that this potential, which always exists, becomes real for the duration of its participation.³
3. The Impossibility of Infinite Determinations in the Same Space
   A plane filled with an infinity of simultaneous determinations would be contradictory: each possibility would interfere with and distort the others—up would contradict down, and so forth. Thus, infinite possibilities are not scattered across space. Rather, they are disclosed within their limitations—revealed as finite selections from infinity.⁴ These finite parts appear to us as objects.
4. Fractals as a Model of Infinite Possibilities
   The object we recognize as a single, distinct entity is the result of infinitesimal variations bound within a common form. Fractals beautifully represent this structure: infinitely recursive patterns that retain self-similarityat every level of magnification.⁵
   Consider a leaf: its visible shape is formed by countless cellular processes—each a potential configuration. These possible versions of the leaf aggregate into the object we perceive as a single, coherent material. Just as we might say, “there’s a bunch of stuff over there,” this “stuff” consists of clusters of undifferentiated potential, which form the raw material out of which distinct forms are realized.
5. Scale, Relation, and Form
   These clusters—which are themselves relations—produce different perceptible outcomes depending on scale. At the macroscopic level, an object appears as solid or brittle. Yet at smaller scales, the constituent relationshipsthat make up the object are not themselves material from the perspective of the whole.
   It is only when taken together, as a system of relations, that these possibilities compact into the appearance of a material form with sensible qualities like hardness, smoothness, or flexibility.⁶

Footnotes

This reflects the concept of emergence in systems theory: higher-level structures arise from the interaction of simpler elements, none of which individually contain the full properties of the whole. ↩

See Hegel’s Science of Logic, especially the Doctrine of Essence, where he critiques the notion of matter as self-subsistent. Matter, he argues, is always mediated through form and concept. ↩

This understanding is consistent with classical empiricism, especially Locke and Hume, who held that sensations are produced by contact between sense organs and external stimuli. Modern neuroscience supports this in terms of sensory nerve activation. ↩

Aristotle introduces this in Metaphysics Book Θ (Theta), where actuality (energeia) is the fulfillment of potentiality (dunamis). A thing is actual when its potential is being realized. ↩

This is reminiscent of Hegel’s dialectic in the Phenomenology of Spirit, where the infinite is not a static beyond but revealed through the limits of the finite. ↩

Benoît Mandelbrot introduced the term “fractal” in the 1970s to describe complex geometric shapes that exhibit self-similarity across different scales. Philosophically, fractals provide a way to visualize how the infinite can appear within the finite. ↩

Matter, Potentiality, and the Emergence of Form

1. Matter as Undifferentiated Possibility

Matter is not a substance in and of itself. It is not self-subsistent, nor does it exist for itself. Matter, in its purest sense, is not a concrete “thing” but the undifferentiated sum of possibilities—the raw substrate awaiting form. It does not have an intrinsic identity until it is shaped by a concept, a determination, or a form.

The ancient Greek term for matter, hyle, roughly translates to “wood” or “stuff.” Aristotle used this term to indicate that matter is the passive principle of change—something that takes form but does not provide form by itself.¹ Matter without form is formless—it is pure potentiality, and only in the presence of actualization does it attain intelligibility and reality.

2. Perception, Reality, and Participated Potential

When we engage with the material world—touch a surface, observe an object, or hear a sound—what we are actually encountering is not the “thing-in-itself,” but the result of sensory participation in a potential. The firing of sensory nerves, producing the feeling of solidity or brittleness, is the body’s way of actualizing potential into conscious awareness.

To say something “exists” in reality is to say it is participated in, not merely possible. That is, the distinction between something real and something merely possible lies in activation. A possibility that is being participated in—e.g., a thought made conscious, or a potential form that is currently active in the world—is “real” for the duration of its participation.²

3. The Limits of Infinite Possibilities in One Plane

A thought experiment: what if every possible form or determination existed in the same space at once? What if “up” and “down,” “hot” and “cold,” and all other contradictory determinations were present simultaneously in one plane of reality?

Such a reality would be logically incoherent. The infinite possibilities would mutually distort and cancel each other out. For something to be “up,” it cannot at the same time and in the same way be “down.” Therefore, infinity cannot exist in undifferentiated simultaneity. Rather, it must exist in limitation—in differentiated form, picked out from infinity by some boundary or condition.³

This act of limiting—of giving a boundary to possibility—is what allows form to emerge from chaos.

4. Fractals and the Generation of Form from Possibility

A helpful model for visualizing how possibility becomes form is the fractal. A fractal is a self-replicating pattern that contains infinite complexity within finite boundaries. In fractals, each part reflects the whole, yet each level of magnification reveals new detail. The process never ends—it is infinite within the finite.⁴

Consider the leaf of a tree. What we see as a single, unified object is actually the manifestation of countless cellular processes. The leaf is composed of countless potential micro-variations (cells, molecular arrangements, reactions) that cohere into a single form at a certain scale. These infinitesimal potentialities “clump together,” like undifferentiated matter, to give the appearance of a definite, tangible object.

We often say there is a “bunch of stuff over there,” indicating a loose aggregate of potential forms. These “clusters” of possibility are not themselves definite objects, but rather raw relational networks—interactions that, when compacted at a certain scale, produce perceivable form.

5. Scale and the Emergence of Materiality

These relational clusters form distinct outcomes at different levels of analysis. What appears as solid, brittle, or smooth at the human scale may dissolve into invisible interactions at a microscopic level. The constituent parts—atoms, molecules, quantum states—do not appear “material” from their own scale. Rather, materiality emerges from their relations.⁵

This raises the important insight that what we perceive as a “material object” is simply the coherence of relational data across space and time. Solidity, for example, is not an intrinsic property of atoms—it is the result of electromagnetic interactions, atomic spacing, and nerve responses in the human body.

Thus, matter is not an object, but a process. It is a temporary stabilization of potential into actuality.

6. The Atom and the Return to Abstraction

Classical empiricism argued that matter is impenetrable, citing the indivisibility of atoms as a foundation. The atom, from the Greek atomos meaning “uncuttable,” was thought to be the smallest, most fundamental unit of matter—indestructible, incorruptible, and eternal.⁶ Yet, modern physics has revealed this to be a simplification. Atoms themselves are made of subatomic particles, and even those exist in probabilistic clouds rather than fixed positions.

Here, the concept of impenetrability becomes abstract again. The atom is no longer a tiny billiard ball; it is a field of mathematical possibilities, a statistical wave function. It is no longer tangible, but conceptual. Therefore, the most fundamental level of matter returns us to abstract thought.

We come full circle: the idea that matter is impenetrable leads us back to abstraction as the only impenetrable substance.

7. Truth as Abstract Substance

Abstract thought is the most consistent candidate for the title of “impenetrable.” It cannot be broken down into anything other than itself. When we claim that a triangle is a universal form, this is not a material statement but a logical one. The triangle can take on infinitely many instantiations, but the concept remains unchanged.

This is why truth is not just a proposition or a statement—it is a substance. It is impenetrable because it is self-evident; it needs nothing outside itself to be what it is. Truth is the power of form without material dependency.

Charles Sanders Peirce said, “An idea without efficiency is impossible.”⁷ Thought, to be real, must affect the world. It must act. This action is its energy, its ability to transition matter from one form to another. Thus, thought is not separate from matter, but its most essential quality.

Conclusion: The Primacy of Abstract Substance

Material objects are, in truth, penetrable. You can divide them, break them, or analyze them into smaller parts. But abstract forms—such as logical structures, geometrical identities, or pure ideas—are impenetrable. They do not break apart into something else. They only replicate, relate, or instantiate.

In this sense, matter is not the ground of reality. It is the expression of a deeper, immaterial, and logical structure—a set of abstract relations that manifest, momentarily, in finite forms. The final frontier of matter is thought itself.

Footnotes

Charles Sanders Peirce, Collected Papers, Vol. 5. Ideas must have effects or consequences to be meaningful or “real.” ↩

Aristotle, Metaphysics Book Θ (Theta), esp. 1045b–1046a. Also see Physics, Book I for the definition of hyle. ↩

This reflects the Aristotelian distinction between potentiality (dunamis) and actuality (energeia). ↩

Hegel, Science of Logic, “The Infinite.” Hegel critiques the idea of an “infinite” as a mere “bad infinite” (i.e., a mere negation of the finite), insisting instead that the true infinite is revealed through its limitations. ↩

Benoît Mandelbrot, The Fractal Geometry of Nature (1982). Fractals exemplify infinite complexity in bounded form. ↩

This principle is central to emergentism in contemporary philosophy of science: see, e.g., Terrence Deacon, Incomplete Nature (2011). ↩

Democritus and Leucippus first formulated the atomic theory of matter in the 5th century BCE. See: Kirk, Raven & Schofield, The Presocratic Philosophers. ↩

The fundamental exposition of truth requires it to take on a simple, abstract form rather than a compound one like a physical object. Describing the total nature of everything must begin somewhere with something specific. However, this specific starting point, in being primary, is not defined by any of the many definitions of matter—referred to as hyle, meaning “stuff”—but is perhaps best explained as a way of Being.

The Greeks used the word matter to refer to specific objects occupying places in the environment. But that alone does not explain the particularity that differentiates those objects or accounts for their different states of physicality.

Hegel writes:

“What is usually said of matter is:
(a) that it is composite; this refers to its identity with space. Insofar as abstractions are made from time and from all form generally, it is asserted that matter is eternal and immutable. In fact, this follows immediately, but such a matter is also only an untrue abstraction.
(b) It is said that matter is impenetrable and offers resistance, is tangible, visible, and so on. These predicates mean nothing else than that matter exists, partly for specific forms of perception, in general for an other, but partly just as much for itself. Both of these are determinations which belong to matter precisely because it is the identity of space and time, of immediate being apart from itself or of becoming.”
— Hegel, The Philosophy of Nature, §203

Matter, being a spatially and temporally extended composition, simply means that it exists for some specific faculty of perception, such as vision. But that alone does not tell us the quality that defines its particular nature. For example, a table made out of wood does not explain why it is a table—the same wood could be a tree. The matter of something merely indicates that some quality is present, without identifying what that quality is.

Aristotle associated the term matter with the general substrate of being. This does not merely mean that matter is the continuous medium in which different forms exist. The fact that matter is universally shared by all things does not tell us anything about what is being shared.

Matter is therefore not the source of specific ideas or identities but the means through which something specific is extrapolated. It is not that ideas are derived from matter, but rather that matter is the stuff used to realize particular things. This idea is so commonsensical that we take it for granted—we mold things out of clay, use wood to build houses, and so on. We use matter to shape and produce all kinds of particular things.

However, when it comes to fundamental objects studied in science, like living organisms or physical constants, we often do not apply this same understanding. In science, the origin or generation of a thing is not considered relevant to the study of what the thing is. In contrast, religious narratives capture this idea clearly—stories like the “creation of man from clay” found in Sumerian mythology and the Book of Genesis point to a profound metaphysical insight: that matter is the base material, but it is form, spirit, or idea that gives it meaning and identity.

Matter, Form, and the Primacy of Abstract Substance

1. Beginning with the Abstract, Not the Material

To embark on a fundamental exposition of truth, one must begin with something simple and abstract—not a compound like an object. Describing the total nature of everything starts with a specific yet abstract principle—a way of Being—rather than with hyle (“stuff” or matter). The Greek term “matter” typically denotes specific objects situated in space, but it fails to illuminate the particularity or qualitative distinction that makes those objects what they are.

2. Hegel on Matter: Identity of Space and Time

Hegel critiques conventional notions of matter in his Philosophy of Nature §203:

“(a) Matter is composite—reflecting its identity with space. If one abstracts from time and form, one might call matter eternal and immutable—but this is merely an untrue abstraction.
(b) Matter is said to be impenetrable, offering resistance, being tangible and visible. These predicates simply indicate that matter exists—partly for perception and partly for itself. These determinations belong to matter precisely because it is the unity of space and time, of being apart from itself, or of becoming.” (Marxists Internet Archive)

Matter, then, is not inherently defined by substance, but by its relation to both space and time—existing as the transition between the two, not as an independent presence.

3. Aristotle’s Hylomorphism: Matter, Form, and Substance

Aristotle provides the classical framework for understanding matter through hylomorphism—the doctrine that every physical entity combines matter (hyle) and form (morphe) (Wikipedia, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy).

• Matter is pure potentiality, not actual by itself—it becomes what it is only when infused with form.
• Form offers actuality, defining what a substance is. It is more essential than matter, granting meaning and identity to matter (plato.sydney.edu.au, Wikipedia).

For example, clay (matter) becomes a statue only when shaped by an idea or design (form). Matter alone does not define identity—form does.

4. Matter as Raw Material, Not Identity

Thus, matter provides the substratum, but not the definition of an entity. A wooden plank doesn’t explain why it is specifically a chair or a tree—it simply offers the material. We—whether artisans or nature—use matter as raw material to shape particular forms. In everyday life, this seems obvious; but in domains like science and metaphysics, we often ignore this foundational relationship.

Ancient and religious narratives—such as the creation of humanity from clay—capture this insight: matter is the starting point, but form, idea, or soul animates and defines the being.

5. Matter, Concept, and the Actualization of Form

Hegel further articulates that matter is the realization of space and time—their “truth” manifest through motion and becoming (Marxists Internet Archive, Medium).

The familiar mechanical phenomena illustrate how the ideal (space, time, abstraction) transforms into reality, and vice versa—for example, distance replicating the effect of mass in mechanical leverage (Marxists Internet Archive). Matter is therefore neither abstract nor fully independent; it is the mediated unity of space, time, and form.

6. Framing Truth: Abstract Substance as Primary

Given this metaphysical backdrop, abstract substance—form, idea, notion, or truth—is the most fundamental reality, since matter always depends on it for definition.

When we speak of an object, like a leaf or a cup, what truly matters (philosophically speaking) is not the material, but the form—the abstract structure or idea that gives it identity.

Truth, then, is an abstract substance—self-evident, not needing any external support, and impenetrable in the sense that it cannot be broken apart into separate parts without losing its essential coherence.

7. Conclusion: Abstract Foundations and Material Manifestations

• Matter (hyle) is not self-defining—it is the raw material awaiting definition.
• Form or idea provides that definition, giving matter its identity and function.
• Hegel deepens this by showing that truth arises through the dialectical unity of space, time, and form.
• At the root of reality, abstract thought—truth—is the most genuine, enduring substance.

The Way as Form and the Nature of the Object

1. The Way Before the Thing

In Buddhism, the term Dào (道)—often translated as “the Way”—is understood not only as an ethical path but as the notion that truth is first a way or motion, not a static object. This view holds logical merit: action precedes outcome—what becomes real is achieved through activity, not isolated at the endpoint.

2. Object and the Concept of the Point Particle

In philosophy, an object can be likened to the point-like particle in theoretical physics: a dimensionless idealization lacking spatial extension, yet serving as the foundational model for describing things concisely¹. It’s not a tangible entity, but a potential being—the essence of objecthood abstracted from matters like size or shape.

This ideal particle coexists with ordinary material objects—entities bearing physical properties like mass or volume. In mechanics, it helps to imagine objects as point masses when size and structure are negligible; from afar, a finite object behaves indistinguishably from a point².

3. Abstract Objects and the Pitfalls of Reification

In both science and philosophy, the term “object” serves as an abstract tool to isolate and examine an event or phenomenon. It enables the segmentation of complexity into manageable units. But a key logical danger arises when these abstractions are mistaken for independent realities—a fallacy known as reification, where abstractions are erroneously treated as concrete entities³.

This mistake occurs when characteristics abstracted from an activity are considered detached and self-sufficient, divorced from their originating context.

Finally: every moment is itself a moment. Each present moment exists in relation to other moments, yet inherently preserves its own singular identity.

Footnotes

The fallacy of reification (or hypostatization) involves treating abstract ideas as if they were real, material entities. This is a common logical failure, particularly when distinguishing conceptual tools from realities. (Wikipedia) ↩

A point particle in physics is an abstraction with no spatial extension, used to model objects where size, shape, and structure are irrelevant to the analysis. (Wikipedia) ↩

In quantum mechanics, the point-particle model is complicated by the Heisenberg uncertainty principle, which asserts that even fundamental particles cannot be pinpointed to zero volume—they occupy a non-zero region due to inherent uncertainty. (Wikipedia) ↩