The Universe Expanding into Nothing

The most enduring image of modern cosmology is that of the expanding balloon. Dots drawn on its surface drift apart as the balloon swells. This is meant to suggest that galaxies recede from one another, not because they are moving through space, but because space itself is stretching. At first glance, it seems an elegant metaphor: intuitive, even charming. But beneath its appeal lies a trap.

The metaphor smuggles in a background that is not there. The balloon expands into something: the surrounding air, the room that contains it. Even when physicists insist this is not what they mean—that the universe expands into nothing—the metaphor already betrays them. The very act of picturing expansion requires a container. The background seeps in unbidden.

This is not a minor problem. It reintroduces, by sleight of hand, the very ontology relational thinking rejects: space as a pre-existing stage, empty and waiting to be filled. The universe, in this picture, is an object floating in a void. But if we follow relational ontology, no such backdrop exists. Space is not a receptacle. It is not there to be stretched or occupied. It is nothing over and above the relations themselves.

Expansion, then, is not a swelling into the void. It is a re-scaling of relations internal to the system. The “distance” between galaxies increases because the metric of their relation shifts. There is no outside, no beyond, no invisible container. The metaphor misleads precisely because it tempts us to imagine one.

The problem with “expanding into nothing” is not just conceptual sloppiness; it is metaphysical regression. It drags us back to a Newtonian stage-play where the set exists before the actors arrive. Better to see expansion for what it is: a transformation of relational possibility, not a growth into emptiness.

The balloon metaphor is enchanting—but every time we picture it, we picture the wrong thing.