How we think about X
It is notable that many questions posted at MathOverflow are like, “How should I think about X?”, where X can be any type of mathematical object (quotient group, scheme, fibration, cohomology and so on). Some crotchety contributors to that group want the questions to be specific and well-defined, but “how do I think about…” questions are in my opinion among the most interesting questions on the website. (See note [a]).
Don’t confuse “How do I think about X” with “What is X really?” (pace Reuben Hersh). The latter is a philosophical question. As far as I am concerned, thinking about how to think about X is very important and needs lots of research by mathematicians, educators, and philosophers — for practical reasons: how you think about it helps you do it. What it really is is no help and anyway no answer may exist.
Inert and eternal
The idea that mathematical objects should be thought of as “inert” and “eternal” has been around for awhile. (Never mind whether they really are inert and eternal.) I believe, and have said in the past [1], that thinking about them that way clears up a lot of confusion in newbies concerning logical inference.
- That mathematical objects are “inert” means that the do not cause anything. They have no effect on the real world or on each other.
- That they are “eternal” means they don’t change over time.
Naturally, a function (a mathematical object) can model change over time, and it can model causation, too, in that it can describe a process that starts in one state and achieves stasis in another state (that is just one way of relation functions to causation). But when we want to prove something about a type of math object, our metaphorical understanding of them has to lose all its life and color and go dead, like the dry bones before Ezekiel started nagging them.
It’s only mathematical reasoning if it is about dead things
The effect on logical inference can be seen in the fact that “and” is a commutative logical operator.
- “x > 1 and x < 3″ means exactly the same thing as “x < 3 and x > 1″
- “He picked up his umbrella and went outside” does not mean the same thing as “He went outside and picked up his umbrella”.
The most profound effect concerns logical implication. “If x > 1 then x > 0″ says nothing to suggest that x > 1 causes it to be the case that x > 0. It is purely a statement about the inert truth sets of two predicates lying around the mathematical boneyard of objects: The second set includes the first one. This makes vacuous implication perfectly obvious. (The number -1 lies in neither truth set and is irrelevant to the fact of inclusion).
Inert and eternal rethought
There are better metaphors than these. The point about the number 3 is that you think about it as outside time. In the world where you think about 3 or any other mathematical object, all questions about time are meaningless.
- In the sentence “3 is a prime”, we need a new tense in English like the tenses ancient (very ancient) Greek and Hebrew were supposed to have (perfect with gnomic meaning), where a fact is asserted without reference to time.
- Since causation involves this happens, then this happens, all questions about causation are meaningless, too. It is not true that 3 causes 6 to be composite, while being irrelevant to the fact that 35 is composite.
This single metaphor “outside time” thus can replace the two metaphors “inert” and “eternal” and (I think) shows that the latter two are really two aspects of the same thing.
Caveat
Thinking of math objects as outside time is a Good Thing when you are being rigorous, for example doing a proof. The colorful, changing, full-of-life way of thinking of math that occurs when you say things like the statements below is vitally necessary for inspiring proofs and for understanding how to apply the mathematics.
- The harmonic series goes to infinity in a very leisurely fashion.
- A function is a machine — when you dump in a number it grinds away and spits out another number.
- At zero, this function vanishes.
Acknowledgment
Thanks to Jody Azzouni for the italics (see [3]).
Notes
a. Another interesting type of question “in what setting does such and such a question (or proof) make sense?” . An example is my question in [2].
References
2. Where does the generic triangle live?
3. The revolution in technical exposition II.
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Hi Charles —
I enjoyed your discussion of my prose style several months back. I just wanted to let you know that it’s almost always been an uphill struggle to get certain copyeditors to understand that what I was doing wasn’t a mistake or self-indulgence–that there was good sense to it. I still haven’t succeeded (and sometimes, I’ll admit, in some cases I became willful and went overboard with the italics. I once noted to an editor of a prominent journal that “shall” and its cognates dropped out of the vernacular before I was born. That didn’t stop them from not only imposing the stiff “shall” into my prose but unsplitting a number of valuable split infinitives as well. The struggle for readable prose continues. Thanks for your comments.
Jody Azzouni
This reminds me of an issue in formal semantics of natural language, the dispute between ‘realists’ using model theory (e.g David Lewis) and ‘antirealists’ trying to use deductive methods. People such as Ernie Lepore (1982) `what model theory can’t do’ have argued very convincingly to me that philosophically, the claims of model-theoretic NL semantics made no sense, but, empirically, the deductive approach has gotten pretty much nowhere in the last 40 years: virtually all of the interesting work on compositional semantics (how utterance meanings are put together form word meanings) is based on the model-theoretic approach launched by Montague in the late 60s.
So model theory just seems to be the right way to think about compositional semantics, in spite of its apparent philosophical dodginess as a theory of NL semantics (Paul Andre Mellies also has a bit of discussion of realism vs anti-realism towards the beginning of his Panorama paper, echoing Lepore’s point, it seems to me).
Oops, addition: what the model theory provides that convinced antirealists ought to be able to appreciate is non-constructive accounts of NL entailment; one would expect that people could do this with deductive/proof theoretical methods, but in fact, the work just doesn’t seem to get done that way.