3 The Theory of Everything

Few phrases in modern physics carry as much weight — and as much peril — as the “theory of everything.” It promises, implicitly and explicitly, an ultimate, final account of reality: a single, coherent framework capable of explaining all physical phenomena, from the tiniest quark to the vastest cosmic expansion. String theory is often presented as the prime candidate for this grand unification.

Yet this phrase — “theory of everything” — is itself a profound category error.

First, it confuses the map with the territory. A theory, no matter how elegant or far-reaching, is a symbolic system: a structured representation of potential phenomena, a web of constraints and predictions. It is not reality itself, nor is it capable of capturing reality in totality. To speak as though a theory could be “everything” is to mistake a construal for existence, to reify the model as the world rather than a frame for making sense of the world.

Second, it naturalises closure. By claiming to be a theory of everything, the discourse suggests that reality is now knowable in full, that ontological questions can be settled definitively. From a relational perspective, this is illusory. What a successful theory does is construct a new symbolic architecture — it provides a framework for alignment between phenomena, experiment, and interpretation. That framework is contingent, perspectival, and always provisional. Stability does not equal finality. The universe is never “fully captured” by any symbolic system.

Third, the metaphor imposes a quasi-theological narrative. By framing physics as the search for “everything,” it invokes echoes of omniscience, of ultimate comprehension. Humans are cast as discoverers of reality’s final secrets, a position that is as much cultural mythology as scientific methodology. This temptation has long been recognised in history — from the alchemical dream of universal elixirs to the Pythagorean hunt for cosmic harmonies. String theory’s promise of ultimate unification is seductive precisely because it resonates with this narrative.

Finally, the “theory of everything” metaphor obscures the relational and constructive nature of science. Knowledge is not a passive uncovering of pre-existing truths; it is the co-instantiation of symbolic alignment across observers, instruments, and formal models. String theory, or any candidate TOE, does not dissolve this relationality; it extends it. What we call unification is a synthesis of perspectives, a stitching together of domains into a coherent symbolic frame — not the revelation of a hidden, pre-existing essence.

The corrective is clear: no theory can be a theory of everything. The pursuit of unification is a pursuit of alignment, coherence, and explanatory power within symbolic architectures. It is a profoundly human achievement, remarkable in its ambition, but always perspectival, always provisional.

To speak otherwise — to speak of a final theory — is to misread the nature of theories themselves, to forget that science is an ongoing act of framing, not a one-off act of ultimate capture.