Science
As a key figure in the discovery of the Higgs boson, the author Tonelli serves as both an expert physicist and a deeply humanistic guide in the book.
The word 'matter' often conjures a familiar image: dull dust, solid rock, and billiard ball-like atoms. We picture a universe built from these tangible, solid particles—quarks and all—strictly obeying the laws of physics. This is the classical view.
Upon this seemingly rock-solid foundation, entire systems of thought have been constructed, from theologies and ideologies to philosophical frameworks and methods of scientific investigation.
In his latest book, Matter: The Magnificent Illusion, veteran particle physicist Guido Tonelli challenges this traditional understanding.
As one of the discoverers of the Higgs boson, whose associated field gives particles their mass, Tonelli is uniquely positioned to explore this subject.
He embarks on a journey through the latest advancements in physics, tracing the evolution of our vision and experience of matter through philosophy, religion, art and science. Ultimately, Tonelli reveals how modern science is dramatically reshaping our perception of the physical world.
This link is not isolated. Its equivalent in Greek is hyle, a word for wood or timber, which shares a root with the Latin silva, meaning forest or substance.
In Spanish and Portuguese, this ancient connection endures, where wood is still called 'madera' and 'madeira'. Tonelli points out that for a peasant, the madre (mother) is the stump, the innermost part of a tree from which new shoots are generated. This along with the nature goddesses tradition evokes the image of matter not as cold and inert, but as a matrix—a vegetal womb producing soft, workable new life. It is the docile, versatile source material capable of adapting to any function.
In this light, Tonelli reclaims the word from its paradoxical modern usage, evoking the connectedness of the sacred feminine to the etymology:
The transformation is complete. Matter now stands as a matriarchal archetype, establishing the core theme for the rest of the book.
Tonelli then proceeds to provide a detailed historical account of the origins of atomism in the ancient Hellenist world. The narrative transports the reader to the classical city of Abdera, and the philosophical school founded by Leucippus and Democritus, developing atomism. Though speculative, he arrives at atomism through a logical process. Abhorring infinite division of matter plays an important role.
To Democritus, matter cannot behave like Zeno’s space, points out Tonelli. He also innovated the concept of void, in which the atoms moved endlessly. Aristotle and Plato criticised this idea. For Plato, matter was a dark receptacle of perfect divine forms from a non-material world. For Aristotle, matter is corporeality, a constitutive element of things, which nevertheless remains indeterminate.
From the Rutherford gold foil experiment in 1908 that proved atoms to be mostly empty with a positive charged core, emerged the now-famous idea of electrons orbiting like small planets around the core nucleus. But it created the need to explain how the positive-charged protons overcome the electrostatic repulsion being bundled together and why an orbiting electron not radiate energy and spiral into the nucleus in an instant, causing all matter to collapse.
The discovery of the neutron by James Chadwick in 1932 helped explain isotopes but deepened the first mystery: what force could bind both charged protons and neutral neutrons?
The answer began to emerge with the concept of two new nuclear forces. The strong interaction was the "monstrous" force holding the nucleus together, while the weak interaction, theorized by Enrico Fermi, explained radioactive decay. This set the stage for a new understanding of matter, where forces themselves are mediated by the exchange of particles. Tonelli in his inimitable style writes:
Then comes the crucial question, if atoms are mostly space then why cannot we transform ourselves, gods like, into clouds and other forms?
Tonelli explains that while we are mostly empty space at the subatomic level, we cannot pass through solid objects because of the electromagnetic repulsion between the electron shells of atoms.
To understand why we can't simply change into a gas, he introduces us to the phenomena of material consistency and binding energy. When we touch any material object, the so-called contact is nothing more than the repulsion between external electron shells, in which charges of the same sign circulate, which therefore repel each other. Binding energy is the energy required to break the bonds holding a system together. Using the electron-volt (eV) as a unit, he establishes a clear hierarchy of forces: weak chemical bonds can be broken with very little energy (fractions of an eV), while shattering a proton to free its constituent quarks requires immense energy (a GeV, or a billion eV).
This crucial adaptation, ‘together with the development of language, kickstarted our neuropsychic development.’ (p.74)
In connecting these dots, Tonelli offers a perspective-altering insight - that the most elemental forces of matter are the very architects of our biological and social evolution.
It is a profound insight that these complex human traits all arise from the sense of touch, a phenomenon rooted in the simple, mutual repulsion of electron shells. While this approach is, in a sense, reductionist, Tonelli uses it not to arrive at a deterministic materialism, but to reveal a holistic web of intricate causation.
The book proceeds with a deeply personal account by Tonelli of the Higgs boson discovery, presenting it as the culmination of decades of scientific pursuit. It is a gripping, first-hand narrative of the discovery at CERN. He describes the immense effort of building the CMS detector (Compact Muon Solenoid, his "kid") and the roller-coaster of analysing the data.
The climactic moment arrives on his birthday, November 8, 2011, when two independent teams report an anomaly at the same mass, 125 GeV. His immediate response to his colleagues—who, though avoiding the word ‘discovery’, wait in hopeful anticipation—is: ‘Now I just want you to do everything you can to make it disappear.’ (p.100). This perfectly encapsulates the rigour of the scientific method of trying to exhaust all other possibilities of error and other factors, before accepting it as a discovery.
This innate yearning is beautifully captured in the etymology of ‘desire’ (de-sidera), a feeling of separation from the stars and a desperate search to reconnect with the cosmos. Science masterfully answers this yearning.
Tonelli explains that stars are enormous spheres of plasma, a fourth state of matter where immense gravitational pressure ignites nuclear fusion. This fusion process is the engine that creates all the heavier elements. The first generations of massive ‘megastars’ lived short, violent lives, forging elements up to iron and scattering them across space in supernova explosions. Our Sun and solar system formed from this enriched interstellar dust.
As the book progresses the reader is treated to one of the most humbling realities of modern cosmology: all the matter we know and can see—stars, planets, gas, and dust—constitutes a shockingly small fraction of the universe. Tonelli begins by highlighting this paradox: stars appear to be the most massive objects we know, yet they make up less than one percent of the total mass of the universe. The search for this missing mass leads to dark matter. Tonelli recounts the pioneering work of astronomer Vera Rubin, whose studies, in the 1970s, of velocities of the peripheral stars in the spiral galaxies, provided definitive evidence for its (dark matter) existence.
Stars on the outskirts of galaxies were moving too fast; they should have flown off into space unless they were being held in place by the gravitational pull of a vast, invisible halo of matter. This dark matter, which does not emit or absorb light, is now believed to make up about 27 percent of the universe's mass.
Its true nature remains one of the greatest mysteries in science, with possibilities ranging from new types of elementary particles to primordial black holes.
The final, and largest, component of the cosmos is dark energy. Its discovery in 1998 was a complete surprise. Astronomers found that the expansion of the universe is not slowing down due to gravity, as everyone expected, but is accelerating. This implies the existence of a mysterious repulsive energy inherent to the vacuum of space itself, a concept that ironically revives the cosmological constant arbitrarily proposed by Einstein.
From here, Tonelli takes us through the origins of the Big Bang Theory to eventually a most profound revelation: the universe was born from a quantum vacuum, and its total energy is zero.
This discovery radically alters the question of creation, as there is no longer a need to seek an immense source of energy for an object that ultimately costs nothing to produce. The universe, in this sense, could have arisen spontaneously. The Big Bang was therefore not a creation from nothing, but a 'great metamorphosis’ of one vacuum state into another, an event that, requiring no energy, could happen free of charge and evolve over billions of years, constrained only by the inviolable laws of physics.
From all this, what happens to our own understanding of matter? Tonelli writes as we near the end of the book:
Matter, Mythology and Ideology
An important feature of this book that distinguishes it from many other books is the way it unhesitatingly moves back and forth with mythology.
Tonelli is a physicist, not a mythologist, and yet the insights provided by him help us understand at least partially the processes behind the emergence of mythologies. However all the mythological narratives which Tonelli uses are Hellenistic.
Tonelli opens his argument by revealing the profound etymological connection between 'matter' and 'mother', immediately reframing his subject not as a passive receptacle but as an archetypal creative power.
This re-evaluation of our origins finds its stunning conclusion in the discoveries of modern cosmology. Here, the reader discovers that the universe itself, with a total energy of zero, is fundamentally a form of vacuum. Matter, in this final view, emerges as a magnificent illusion, and the quantum fluctuations of the void become the true wombs of creation.
In fact Hindu Puranas and Darshanas with their better organic and inseparable bonding as well as their nurturing of epistemological and ontological diversity, can provide a better adapted set of imageries and metaphors, semantic tools and epistemological frameworks.
Consider for instance, the descriptive power within the Sri Lalita Sahasranama, where the Goddess is invoked as Mata (the Mother) and simultaneously as Mahamaya, the great cosmic illusion. She is the creative energy in inanimate matter (Jadashakti) and also the foundation of the illusory universe (Mitya-Jagat-Adhisthana).
While this parallel does not imply that ancient seers knew of modern cosmology, it powerfully demonstrates that the language and conceptions needed to understand an illusory universe—and to probe its deepest mysteries—are already deeply embedded in Indic Darshanas.
Here, it is always good to use the caveat that Tonelli himself uses in the context of the parallels between ancient Greek schools of atomism and the reality that modern physics reveals:
Advaita Vedanta also converges on the idea that the reality, as it appears to our conventional senses, is fundamentally an ‘illusion.’ Tonelli's very title also provocatively states this, elucidating how modern physics reveals matter to be far from the solid, immutable substance it appears to be.
Advaita Vedanta, through its central concept of Maya, similarly asserts that the perceived multiplicity, distinctness, and apparent solidity of the world are illusory appearances superimposed upon the singular, non-dual Brahman.
However, there are crucial differences. In Advaita, consciousness (Brahman/Atman) is the ground of all reality, the very substratum upon which the ‘illusion’ of the world arises through its power (Maya) and is sustained till the naive realism is pierced. The path to liberation involves realising the identity of Atman and Brahman, thereby effectively dissolving the illusion through jnana.
Tonelli's scientific account, while revealing the ‘illusory’ nature of matter's solidity, does not posit a conscious ultimate reality or a direct causal link between consciousness and the physical manifestation of the illusion.
While quantum mechanics has its own discussions about the observer, these are not presented or even touched upon by Tonelli in the narrative. Tonelli's focus remains on the objective physical description, and through a thorough empirical and theoretical approach, he comes to the conclusion of the universe itself as a vacuum and our sense of solid matter, its permanence, becoming illusions.
A striking parallel emerges in Tonelli’s historical narrative, connecting the fate of the Renaissance philosopher Giordano Bruno with that of physicists in the Soviet Union, separated by centuries but united by a common antagonist: absolute ideology. Both cases reveal how a new understanding of matter can become a mortal threat to a dogmatic worldview.
In the 16th century, Giordano Bruno championed a philosophy reborn from the ancient philosophy of Lucretius, revealed in his vision of the divine feminine as the generative material and matriarchal principle of all existence. He envisioned an unlimited universe composed of atoms, where life, including humanity, arose through spontaneous natural processes.
This vision was in total opposition to the finite, divinely-ordered, geocentric cosmos that formed the foundation of the Church's authority. For daring to publicly disseminate these ideas, Bruno was subjected to a long trial by the Holy Inquisition and ultimately burned at the stake. His crime was not simply science, but a cosmology that philosophically displaced a theological monopoly on truth.
The new physics of relativity and quantum mechanics, despite being essential for Soviet military power, posed a severe philosophical threat. The Big Bang theory was condemned as a ‘cancerous tumour’ and ‘pseudo-scientific’ because a universe with a beginning was too similar to the biblical Genesis. Quantum uncertainty, the heart of Bohr and Heisenberg’s ‘idealistic visions,’ was deemed a ‘very dangerous’ idea.
The supreme irony, as Tonelli’s text highlights, is that the Soviet state did not contest the scientific content of these theories; indeed, its best scientists were masters of them, using their knowledge to build the atomic bomb. It was the philosophical interpretations that were persecuted. A materialism that included randomness, uncertainty, and a singular origin was an intolerable challenge to the Party's claim on a deterministic and eternal materialist truth.
In both instances, the established power—be it the Church or the Communist Party—was threatened not by specific scientific results, but by the revolutionary worldview that those results implied.
Both Bruno's revived atomism and the new quantum physics offered a vision of matter that was incompatible with the reigning ideology, demonstrating how dogmatic systems, whether theological or political, often react with persecution when a new description of reality threatens their hold on absolute truth.
In Matter the Magnificent Illusion, Guido Tonelli dismantles our common sense reality, revealing matter as a vibrant, shimmering, and ultimately illusory phenomenon. He masterfully brings together the history of atomism, the frontiers of cosmology, and the mytho-poetic roots of our oldest questions.
As a key figure in the discovery of the Higgs boson, Tonelli serves as both an expert physicist and a deeply humanistic guide. The result is a breathtaking journey that challenges our deepest prejudices about existence, from the solidity of a stone to the creative power of the void.
Ultimately, the book is a profound meditation on how we, as 'stardust', are intrinsically connected to the great cosmic story of creation and impermanence.