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The Infinite Divisibility of Matter

David Pratt

If we take a material object, such as a loaf of bread, and keep cutting it in half, again
and again, will we ever arrive at a fundamental building block of matter that cannot be
divided further? This question has exercised the minds of scientists and philosophers
for thousands of years. In the fifth century BC the Greek philosopher Leucippus and his
pupil Democritus used the word atomos (lit. ‘uncuttable’) to designate the smallest
individual piece of matter, and proposed that the world consists of nothing but atoms in
motion. This early atomic theory differed from later versions in that it included the idea
of a human soul made up of a more refined kind of atom distributed throughout the
body.

Atomic theory fell into decline in the Middle Ages, but was revived at the start of the
scientific revolution in the seventeenth century. Isaac Newton, for example, believed
that matter consisted of ‘solid, massy, hard, impenetrable, movable particles’. Atomic
theory came into its own in the nineteenth century, with the idea that each chemical
element consisted of its own unique kind of atom, and that everything else was made
from combinations of these atoms. By the end of the century nearly all 92 naturally
occurring elements had been discovered, and progress in the various branches of
physics produced a feeling that there would soon be nothing much left for physicists to
do.

This illusion was shattered in 1897, with the discovery of the electron, the first
subatomic particle: the ‘uncuttable’ had been cut. This was followed by the discovery of
the proton in 1911 and the neutron in 1932, the two particles that make up the atomic
nucleus. In the decades that followed, subatomic particles began to proliferate like
bacteria, and today over 200 are known. Most of them are created from the energies
released in collision experiments in particle accelerators, and decay into more stable
particles after a fraction of a second.

To try to inject some order into this particle zoo, the ‘standard model’ was developed.
According to this model there are 12 fundamental particles of matter: six leptons, the
most important of which are the electron and its neutrino; and six quarks (since quarks
are said to come in three ‘colours’, there are really 18 of them).* Individual quarks have
never been detected, and it is believed that they can exist only in groups of two or three
– as in the neutron and proton. There are also said to be at least 12 force-carrying
particles (of which only three have been directly observed), which bind quarks and
leptons together into more complex forms.

*The announcement in April 1994 that promising evidence of the elusive ‘top quark’ had finally
been found was greeted by physicists with cries of joy. But the discovery of further evidence
for a particle known as the ‘pomeron’ at another particle accelerator the following month met
 with almost total disinterest, because this embarrassing particle does not fit into any existing
theory.

Leptons and quarks are supposed to be structureless, infinitely small particles, the
fundamental building blocks of matter. But since infinitesimal points are abstractions and
the objects we see around us are obviously not composed of abstractions, the standard
model is clearly unsatisfactory. It is hard to understand how a proton, with a measurable
radius of 10-13, can be composed of three quarks of zero dimension. And if the electron
were infinitely small, the electromagnetic force surrounding it would have an infinitely
high energy, and the electron would therefore have an infinite mass. This is nonsense,
for an electron has a mass of 10-27 gram. To get round this embarrassing situation,
physicists use a mathematical trick: they simply subtract the infinities from their
equations and substitute the empirically known values! As physicist Paul Davies
remarks: ‘To make this still somewhat dubious procedure look respectable, it is dignified
with a fine-sounding name – renormalization.’1 If this is done, the equations can be used
to make extremely accurate predictions, and most physicists are therefore happy to
ignore the obviously flawed concept of point particles.

The latest theoretical fashion in particle physics is known as string theory (or superstring
theory). According to this model, the fundamental constituents of matter are really one-
dimensional loops – a billion-trillion-trillionth of a centimeter (10-33 cm) long but with no
thickness – which vibrate and wriggle about in 10 dimensions of spacetime, with
different modes of vibration corresponding to different species of particles. It is said that
the reason we see only three dimensions of space in the real world is because the other
dimensions have for some unknown reason undergone ‘spontaneous compactification’
and are now curled up so tightly that they are undetectable. Because strings are
believed to be so minute, they are utterly beyond experimental verification; to produce
the enormous energies required to detect them would require a particle accelerator 100
million million kilometres long.

String theorists have discovered a peculiar abstract symmetry (or mathematical trick),
known as duality. This has helped to unify some of the many variants of the theory, and
has led to the view that strings are both elementary and yet composite; they are
supposedly made of the very particles they create! As one theorist exclaimed: ‘It feels
like magic.’2 While some physicists believe that string theory could lead to a Theory of
Everything in the not-too-distant future, others have expressed their opposition to it in
no uncertain terms. For instance, Nobel Prize winner Sheldon Glashow has likened it to
medieval theology, based on faith and pure thought rather than observation and
experiment, and another Nobel laureate, the late Richard Feynman, bluntly dismissed it
as ‘nonsense’.3

An alternative approach which is currently being investigated by a small number of

physicists is that subatomic particles are vortices in an underlying medium – a primitive
fluid or ether.4 Physicist David Bohm regarded ‘elementary’ particles as complex,
relatively constant forms produced by patterns of motion at some deeper, implicate,
level of reality. He adds:

One may suppose that this deeper level of movement may be analysable
into yet finer particles which will perhaps turn out to be the ultimate
substance of the whole of reality. However, the notion that all is flux ...
denies such a supposition. Rather, it implies that any describable event,
 object, entity, etc., is an abstraction from an unknown and undefinable
totality of flowing movement.5

Recent evidence from particle collision experiments is believed to suggest that quarks
and electrons do have internal structure and are not in fact elementary.6 Clearly no
particles can be absolutely structureless and dimensionless, though they may well be
smaller than can currently be measured. As Bohm points out, between the shortest
distance now measurable in physics (10-16 cm) and the shortest distance in which
current notions of spacetime are believed to have meaning (10-33 cm), there is a vast
range of scale in which an immense amount of yet undiscovered structure could be
contained. This range is roughly equal to that which exists between our own size and
the known ‘elementary’ particles.7 10-33 cm is called the Planck length, and physicists
believe that on this scale the fabric of space becomes an effervescing froth of
spacetime bubbles. But while this may be the smallest distance that has any meaning
for us, there is no reason to assume that the concept of space has absolutely no
meaning beyond it. As Bohm says, the Planck length is only a limit on the applicability of
our ordinary notions of space and time, and it is quite arbitrary to suppose that there is
nothing beyond this limit at all.8 Instead of bringing us to a ‘rock bottom’ level of reality,
10-33 cm may merely bring us to the bottom level of our own physical world.

In The Secret Doctrine, published in 1888, H.P. Blavatsky writes:

It is on the doctrine of the illusive nature of matter, and the infinite divisibility
of the atom, that the whole science of occultism is built. It opens limitless
horizons to substance informed by the divine breath of its soul in every
possible state of tenuity, states still undreamt of by the most spiritually
disposed chemists and physicists. (SD 1:520)

This implies that there is an infinite number of states of matter, all but a few of which
have rates of vibration beyond our range of perception. And all the infinite grades of
matter can be regarded as different phases of one universal divine essence of
consciousness-life-substance.

Blavatsky provides a compelling argument for the infinite divisibility of matter. She
quotes Alexander Butlerov, a renowned Russian chemist, who also took a serious
interest in spiritualistic phenomena. He attacked as contradictory the orthodox scientific
opinion of the time that an atom was indivisible and yet elastic:

Without any elasticity, the atoms could not manifest their energy ... [But]
what are the conditions requisite for the manifestation of elasticity? An
elastic ball, when striking against an obstacle, is flattened and contracts,
which it would be impossible for it to do, were not that ball to consist of
particles, the relative position of which experiences at the time of the blow a
temporary change. This may be said of elasticity in general; no elasticity is
possible without change with respect to the position of the compound
particles of an elastic body. This means that the elastic body is changeful
and consists of particles, or, in other words, that elasticity can pertain only to
those bodies that are divisible.

Blavatsky comments:
 This is sufficient to show how absurd are the simultaneous admissions of the
non-divisibility and elasticity of the atom. The atom is elastic, ergo, the atom
is divisible, and must consist of particles, or of sub-atoms. And these sub-
atoms? They are either non-elastic, and in such case they represent no
dynamic importance, or, they are elastic also; and in that case, they, too, are
subject to divisibility. And thus ad infinitum. But infinite divisibility of atoms
resolves matter into simple centres of force, i.e., precludes the possibility of
conceiving matter as an objective substance. This vicious circle is fatal to
materialism. (SD 1:519)

In other words, anything which is absolutely indivisible – whether we call it a particle of

matter or a quantum of energy – would be entirely homogeneous and inflexible. But how
can something of this nature take part in interactions with other physical entities? If we
apply a force to it, the force must cause deformation and be transmitted through the
internal structure of the entity. But if it was truly homogeneous it would have no internal
structure, there would be no deformation, and the force applied would have to pass
instantaneously (infinitely fast) to the other side. Since this is impossible, everything
must be composite and divisible. It might be countered that the concept of elasticity
does not apply to particles as understood by modern physics, which are described as
fuzzy and indistinct, a ‘ghostly melee of half-forms’,9 which can be understood only in
terms of mathematical abstractions. But this is merely an evasion. Either these ghostly
entities are entirely homogeneous and undeformable, in which case they are pure
abstractions and exist only on paper, or they are inhomogeneous and deformable, in
which case they must be divisible.

Bohm points out that arguments on whether matter is fundamentally discrete or

continuous go back to the ancient Greeks, and at first sight the two points of view
appear to be incompatible.

However, on closer investigation it would appear that any theory of the

continuous nature of matter can in fact be based upon an opposing theory
involving discrete matter that is so fine as to have never manifested its
nature up to the present time. Conversely, any theory of the discontinuous
structure of matter can be explained as arising through the localization and
concentration of a continuous background.10

Physical particles can therefore be thought of as concentrations of an underlying,

continuous ether. But the ether is only relatively continuous. Further analysis would
show that it, too, is discontinuous, and these particle-like discontinuities would be
concentrations of a deeper, subtler ether, which in turn is relatively continuous, but
actually consists of even finer particles, which are in turn concentrations of an even
subtler ether, and so on, ad infinitum. Thus as we move from our own distance scale
beyond the Planck scale towards the infinitesimal, there is no reason to suppose that an
absolutely bottom level of matter, consisting of absolutely homogeneous particles, will
ever be reached. Between the two abstract limits of the infinite and the infinitesimal,
there is a limitless number of concrete, finite systems – atoms, planets, stars, galaxies,
etc. – each existing on a hierarchy of planes, from spiritual to material, and all their
constituent grades of substance are composite, divisible and inhomogeneous, though
the substances on higher planes or subplanes are relatively more homogeneous than
those on lower planes or subplanes.
At the start of the century, the atom was pictured as a miniature solar system, with the
nucleus corresponding to the sun, and the orbiting electrons to the planets. This view
was later rejected when it was found that electrons did not follow well-defined orbits but
seemed to be ‘smeared out’ around the nucleus in an electron cloud. Many physicists
have concluded that the microscopic world is completely different from the macroscopic
world: the subatomic realm is blurred, indeterministic and, according to some, even
nonobjective when we are not observing or measuring it; in short, it is completely alien
to ordinary experience and cannot be understood by reason and logic.

But perhaps this conclusion was overhasty, and there is a simple explanation for the
apparently weird nature of the quantum realm, an explanation connected with the much
smaller time and distance scales on which things happen at the subatomic level. An
electron is said to move at 600 miles per second, or 0.3% of the speed of light, just 30
times faster than the speed at which the earth revolves around the sun. However, the
orbit of an electron is so tiny that an electron revolves around the atomic nucleus an
incredible 4 million billion times every second. An earth year is equal to one revolution
around the sun, and an electron ‘year’ to one revolution around the nucleus. According
to ancient Hindu chronology, the manvantara or active lifetime of the earth lasts
4,320,000,000 years, and is followed by a pralaya or rest period of the same length,
with periods of manvantara and pralaya alternating endlessly. If we apply the same
figures to an electron, it would mean that an electron’s manvantara lasts about one
millionth of a second, following which it disappears from our plane for another millionth
of a second before reembodying again. In one of our seconds it would reembody nearly
half a million times.

For the earth to reembody the same number of times as the electron in one second, it
would have to orbit the sun over 100 billion trillion times faster than it does at present –
things would certainly appear rather blurred, fuzzy, and ‘smeared out’. As G. de
Purucker says, the forces at work in the microscopic realm ‘are so minute and operate
with such smallness of field and rapidity of function that the details are bewilderingly
confusing’.11 All particle properties, motions and interactions are in a sense stroboscopic
illusions produced by the way our own time frame or rate of consciousness meshes with
the flickering reembodiments of the subatomic world; yet the overall effect is orderly and
lawful because it is an expression of the fundamental karmic law of harmony. In a
sense, it is not even the same electron orbiting the nucleus from one instant to the next,
since its own myriad constituents will also be constantly disembodying and
reembodying, and pursuing their own evolutionary journeys. Clearly, any model of
subatomic particles can never be more than an approximation to the inexhaustible
complexity of reality.

The analogy between an atom and a solar system may therefore be valid after all.
Perhaps there are beings on an electron for whom the electron appears just as solid,
stable and sedate as our own earth does to us. And these beings may be composed of
subatomic particles which seem to behave just as weirdly as our own subatomic world.
The earth itself may be a mere electron in the body of some supercosmic entity for
whom a second is equivalent to a million reembodiments of the earth, with the solar
system corresponding to an atom, a galaxy to a molecule, and sheets of galaxies to
macromolecules. Such analogies may be extended endlessly towards the infinitely
small at one end of the scale and the infinitely large at the other. This underlines the
sheer relativity of space and time. In infinite nature there are no absolutes, and no
limitations – except those stemming from our own limited understanding.
Although the details of each level of reality differ, the fundamental structural,
geometrical and evolutionary principles are the same. This is expressed in the law of
analogy: as above, so below; every microcosm mirrors the larger macrocosm of which it
forms part and is the macrocosm of its own constituent microcosms. In the words of H.P.
Blavatsky:

Analogy is the guiding law in Nature, the only true Ariadne’s thread that can
lead us, through the inextricable paths of her domain, toward her primal and
final mysteries. (SD 2:153)

References

1. P. Davies & J. Gribbin, The Matter Myth, Simon & Schuster/Touchstone, 1992, p.
244.
2. See Scientific American, January 1996, pp. 72-8.
3. P.C.W. Davies & J. Brown (eds.), Superstrings, A Theory of Everything?,
Cambridge University Press, 1988, pp. 180-4, 191, 192-8.
4. See E. Lerner, The Big Bang Never Happened, Vintage Books, 1992, pp. 369-72;
M.B. Cooke, Einstein Doesn’t Work Here Anymore, Marcus Books, 1983, pp. 1-
39; C.F. Krafft, Glimpses of the Unseen World (1956), BSRF reprint, 1986; C.F.
Krafft, The Ether and its Vortices (1955), BSRF reprint, 1987.
5. Wholeness and the Implicate Order, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1980, p. 49.
6. See New Scientist, May 11, 1996, pp. 28-31; New Scientist, April 5, 1997, pp. 32-
5.
7. D. Bohm & F.D. Peat, Science, Order & Creativity, Routledge, 1989, p. 94.
8. Wholeness and theImplicate Order, p. 193.
9. The Matter Myth, p. 141.
10. Science, Order & Creativity, pp. 72-3.
11. The Esoteric Tradition, TUP, 2nd ed., 1940, p. 854fn.

November 1997. Original article published in Sunrise, June/July 1996.

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