During a late-evening reflection on quantum theory, relationality, and the curious possibility of opening a box only to discover that the expected cat is not there, an important philosophical question emerges. The question is not whether quantum physics accurately describes reality, but rather what happens when a theoretical framework encounters the limits of its own explanatory reach.
This question provides a fruitful point of encounter between the work of Karen Barad, the philosophy of Kitarō Nishida, and the perspective of relational monism.
Karen Barad, known for her theory of agential realism, argues that reality is not composed of isolated objects interacting from a distance. Rather, entities emerge through what she calls intra-actions, processes in which the participating elements do not pre-exist their relations but become determinate within them. Her work, strongly inspired by Niels Bohr’s interpretation of quantum mechanics, challenges the traditional distinction between observer and observed.
For readers interested in Barad’s original work, useful starting points include https://feministstudies.duke.edu/people/karen-barad and the article https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/feminism-science/#AgeRea.
From the perspective of relational monism, Barad’s contribution is significant because she moves beyond substance-based ontology and towards a relational understanding of becoming. Reality is not a collection of things but a field of dynamic differentiation. In this respect, her thought converges with one of the central intuitions of relational monism: relation is not secondary to being; relation is the condition from which all apparent entities emerge.
Yet relational monism also introduces a distinction that becomes crucial when discussing quantum theory. A scientific model is not identical with reality itself. Quantum mechanics may successfully predict observations, enable the construction of lasers, transistors, and magnetic resonance systems, and remain one of the most accurate theories ever developed. Nevertheless, predictive success does not automatically establish ontological identity between the theory and the world.
This is where today’s reflection becomes philosophically intriguing.
Suppose one imagines Schrödinger’s box and expects to find a cat. Upon opening the box, however, there is no cat. The superposition collapses instantly into a different question. The issue is no longer the state of the cat but the assumptions that motivated the search in the first place. Why was the cat expected? Why was the box imagined? Why was quantum theory invoked to describe the situation?
At this moment the focus shifts from the object to the field of inquiry itself.
The equation changes from a question about reality to a question about the structures through which reality is approached. If reality and quantum theory are identical, the inquiry reaches a dead end: 0 = 0. Nothing further can be asked because theory and reality coincide completely. If, however, quantum theory is recognised as a powerful but finite descriptive framework, a new horizon opens. The gap between description and reality becomes philosophically productive.
Relational monism interprets this gap not as failure but as discontinuity.
Discontinuity is not merely a break in continuity. It is the condition that makes inquiry possible. Every conceptual system operates within a field that exceeds its descriptive capacity. The moment a theory encounters its limit, the field reveals aspects that cannot be reduced to the language of the theory itself.
Here the proximity to Nishida becomes visible.
Kitarō Nishida, particularly in his concept of the place of absolute nothingness (zettai mu no basho), argued that reality cannot ultimately be reduced to objects, concepts, or logical determinations. Every determination arises within a more fundamental field that cannot itself be fully objectified. The ground of experience is therefore not a thing but a dynamic locus of emergence.
For an introduction, see the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy entry on Nishida Kitarō.
Nishida’s notion of place resonates with both Barad’s relational ontology and the field-based language of relational monism. Yet relational monism emphasises that this field is not an abstract metaphysical substrate. It is encountered phenomenologically as tension, asymmetry, responsiveness, and the continual possibility of rupture.
In this sense, quantum reflection becomes an ethical reflection as well.
The question is not merely what reality is. The question is how finite observers participate in a reality that constantly exceeds their descriptions. Scientific theories, philosophical systems, and conceptual frameworks function as relational instruments. They do not stand outside the field; they arise within it.
We are not external spectators looking at reality from beyond its boundaries. We are relations within relations, attempting to describe a field of which we ourselves are expressions.
This insight links Barad, Nishida, and relational monism in a particularly illuminating way. All three reject the fantasy of an isolated observer. All three challenge substance-based metaphysics. All three direct attention towards a more fundamental relational dimension from which distinctions emerge.
Where relational monism departs from both is in its emphasis on discontinuity as the generative source of ethicality, responsibility, and inquiry. The field is not merely relational. It trembles. It contains fractures, asymmetries, and unresolved tensions. It is precisely these discontinuities that make understanding possible.
The absence of the cat may ultimately be more philosophically important than the cat itself.
For when the expected object disappears, attention returns to the field from which the expectation arose. And it is there, within that field of relations, that the deepest questions begin.
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