Category Archives: understanding math

Representations III: Rigor and Rigor Mortis

In a recent blog post , I talked about the particular mental representation (“dry bones”) of math that we use when we are being “rigorous” – we think of mathematical objects as inert, not changing and affecting nothing. There is a reason why we use this representation, and I didn’t say anything about that.

Rigor requires that we use classical logical reasoning: The logical connectives, implication in particular, are defined by truth tables. They have no temporal or causal connotations. That is not like everyday reasoning about things that affect each other and change over time. (See Note 1).

Example: “A smooth function that is increasing at $x = a$ and decreasing at $x = b$ has to turn around at some point $m$ between $a$ and $b$. Being smooth, its derivative must be $0$ at $m$ and its second derivative must be negative near m since the slope changes from positive to negative, so m must occur at a maximum”. This is a convincing intuitive argument that depends on our understanding of smooth functions, but it would not be called “rigorous” by many of us. If someone demands a complete rigorous proof we probably start arguing with epsilons and deltas, and our arguments will be about the function and its values and derivatives as static objects, each thought of as an unchanging whole mathematical object just sitting there for our inspection. That is the dry-bones representation.

In other words, we use the dry bones representation to make classical first order logic correct, in the sense that classical reasoning about the statements we make become sound, as they are obviously not in everyday reasoning.

This point may have implications for mathematical education at the level where we teach proofs. Perhaps we should be open with students about images and metaphors, about how they suggest applications and suggest what may be true, but they have to “go dead” when we set out to prove something rigorously. We have been doing exactly that at the blackboard in front of our students, but we rarely point it out explicitly. It is not automatically the case that this explicit approach will turn out to help very many students, but it is worth investigating. (See Note 2).

It may also have implications for the philosophy of math.

Note 1: The statement “If you eat all your dinner you can have dessert” does not fit the truth table for classical (material) implication in ordinary discourse, where it means: “You can’t have dessert until you eat your dinner”. Not only is there a temporal element here, but there is a causal element which makes the statement false if the hypothesis and conclusion are both false. Some philosophers say that implication in English has classical implication as its primary meaning, but idiomatic usage modifies it according to context. I find that hard to believe. I don’t believe any translation is going on in your head when you hear that sentence: you get its nonclassical meaning immediately and directly with no thought of the classical vacuous-implication idea.

Note 2: I used to think that being explicit about the semiotic aspects of various situations that take place in the classroom could only help students, but in fact it appears to scare some of them. “I can’t listen to what you say AND keep in mind the subject matter AND keep in mind rules about the differences in syntax and semantics in mathematical discourse AND keep in mind that the impersonality of the discourse may trigger alienation in my soul AND…” This needs investigation.

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Representations II: Dry Bones

In my abstract math website here I wrote about “two levels of images and metaphors” in math, the rich and the rigorous. There are several things wrong with that presentation and I intend to rewrite it. This post is a first attempt to get things straight.

When we are trying to understand or explain math, we may use various kinds of images and metaphors about the subject matter to construct a colorful and rich representation of the mathematical objects and processes involved. I described some of these briefly in the previous post on representations.

When we set out to prove some math statement, we go into what I called “rigorous mode”. We feel that we have to forget about all the color and excitement of the rich view. We must think of math objects as totally inert and static. The don’t move or change over time and they don’t interact with other objects or the real world. In other words, pretend that all math objects are dead.

We don’t always go all the way into this rigorous mode, but if we use an image or metaphor in a proof and someone challenges us about it, we may rewrite that part to get rid of the colorful representation and replace it by a calculation or line of reasoning that refers to the math objects as if they were inert and static – dead.

I now think that “rigorous mode” is a misleading description. The description of math objects as inert and static is just another representation. We need a name for this representation; I thought about using “the dead representation” and “the leached out representation” (the name comes from a remark by Steven Pinker), but my working name in this post is the dry bones representation (from the book of Ezekiel).

Well, there is a sense in which the dry bones representation is not just another representation. It is unusual because it is a representation of every mathematical object. Most representations, images, metaphors, models of math objects apply only to some objects. You can say that the function $y = 25 – t^2$ “rises and then falls” but you can’t say the monster group rises and falls. The dry bones representation applies to all objects. Its representation of that function, or of the monster group, is that it is one object, all there all at once, not changing, not affecting anything, a kind of

dead totality.

When we do math, we hold several representations of what we are working with in our heads all at once. When writing about them we use metaphors in passing, perhaps implicitly. We use symbolic representations embedded in the prose as well as graphs and other visual representations, fluently and usually without much explicit notice. One of those representations is the dry bones representation. It is specially associated with rigorous reasoning, but other representations occur in mathematical reasoning as well. To call it a “mode” is to suggest that it is the only thing happening, and that is not always true. In fact I suspect that it the dry bones representation is rarely the only representation around, but that would require lexicographical work on a mathematical corpus (another kind of dead body!).

I expect to rewrite the chapter on images and metaphors to capture these ideas, as well as to give it more prominence instead of being buried in the middle of a discussion of the general idea of images and metaphors.

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Representations I

This is the first of a series of blogs about representations in mathematics in a very broad sense.

Every kind of representation associates one kind of object with another kind of object, with the association limited to certain aspects of the objects. The way this association is limited is not always or even usually made explicit. There are many examples of different sorts of representations on the abstractmath website in the understanding math chapter, particularly in the articles on models and representations, and on images and metaphors. I intend to reorganize this material because my understanding of the situation has changed over the past year, so I will say some things here in g&g and hope for an informative reaction.

This posting is a summary of the various kinds of representation I want to talk about. The links above have more detail about many of them.

A representation can be physical, mental or mathematical, and what it represents can be a physical process or a mathematical object or other concepts.

Examples

  • The printed graph of a function or an icosahedron made out of plastic are physical representations of math objects.
  • What you picture in your mind when you think about the graph of a particular function is a mental representation of a math object.

  • Your visualization of a particle going faster or slower on a path may be a mental representation of both a physical process and a function of time that models the movement of the particle.
  • A matrix representation of a group, or a string of digits in base 10 notation, are mathematical representations of a mathematical objects.
  • The function describing the movement of the physical particle just mentioned is a mathematical model of a physical process.

Terminology
Words used for special types of representations are models, images, and metaphors.

  • A model may be a mathematical representation of a physical process.
  • A model in logic is a mathematical representation of a logical theory (which is a mathematical object).
  • A model may also be a physical representation (usually 3D) of a geometric object, such as that plastic icosahedron.
  • An image is a physical representation, a picture, of a mathematical object.
  • In Mathematics Education, the word “image” (concept image) is used to refer to a mental representation of a math object which may or may not be pictorial.
  • Metaphors

    Metaphors are one of the Big New Things in cognitive science and the word has had its meaning extended so much from the grammatical meaning that it may be referred to as a conceptual metaphor.

    • When you say the function f(x) = x^2 “goes to infinity when x gets large” you are using a metaphor.
    • When you think of the set of real numbers as an infinitely long line you are using a conceptual metaphor.

    Stay tuned…

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    Mighty Mathematician Shows Idiosyncrasy

    I started attending a dance aerobics class about eight years ago. For the first few weeks I had considerable trouble because I copied what the instructor did, and everyone else copied the mirror image of what the instructor did. When she raised her right arm I raised my right arm and everyone else raised their left arms.

    Pretty soon I learned to do what everyone else did, except for occasional lapses. This morning I thought about mentioning this idiosyncrasy on this blog and got confused enough that I had to stop dead and start over — and then it took me starting over twice to get back into the exercise.

    I thought smugly that this was all because I am a Mathematician and understand Coordinate Systems intuitively. Or at least because I am a Boy and can Read Maps Intuitively. However, none of the other mathematicians and scientists in the class were doing this.

    Two people occasionally reverse what they do on purpose and pretend to bump into other people. They do this very skillfully. One is an English Professor and the other is a botanist. They are both much better at this dancing thing than I am.

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    More about neurons and math

    In the last post I talked about a neuron assembly in the brain that when it fires makes you feel you have been in the current situation before, and another neuron assembly that makes you feel that you are dealing with a persistent object with consistent behavior. I want to make it clear that I don’t know precisely how these brain functions are implemented, and I know of no research literature on these topics.

    Brain research has shown that many different kinds of behavior, including thinking about different real and unreal things, causes activity in specific parts of the brain. I claim that the idea that there is a déjà-vu site and a persistent-thing-recognizing site is plausible and consistent with what we know about the brain. And they are far more plausible than any explanation of déjà-vu as coming from past lives or any explanation that mathematical objects are real and live in some ideal non-physical realm that we have no evidence for at all.

    Another point: If our perception that when we think about and calculate with math objects we are dealing with things that are “out there” comes from the way our brains are organized, then we mathematicians should feel free to think about them and talk about them that way. We are making use of a brain mechanism that presumably evolved to cope with physical reality, as well as a general metaphor-mechanism that everyone makes use of to think about both physical and non-physical situations in a productive and creative way.

    This point of view about metaphors has a lot of literature: see the section “about metaphors” here.

    Again, it is a reasonable hypothesis that the metaphor-mechanism is implemented in some physical way in the brain that involves neurons and their connections.

    To sum up, when we mathematicians think and act like Platonists we are using some of the main mechanisms of our brain for learning and creativity, and we should go ahead and be Platonists in action, without feeling embarrassed about it and without subscribing to any idealistic airy-fairyness.

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    Mathematical Objects are "out there"?

    (This article is continued in More about math and neurons).

    Sometimes we have a feeling of déjà vu in a situation where we know we have never been before. I have had two very strong occurrences of that in my life. One was when I saw St Cuthbert’s Church in Wells in England, and the other was the first time I saw St Martin’s in the Fields in London. Now my ancestors are mostly from England, some even from the south of England (the English ancestors of most white southern Americans are from the north of England, as are some of mine). Was this ancestral memory? Was it memories from a Previous Life? Well, I didn’t believe that, but the feeling was remarkably strong.

    Many years later I discovered the reasons for the feelings in both cases. Adelbert Stone Chapel on the Case Western Reserve University campus in Cleveland (where I taught for 35 years) is an exact copy (on the outside) of St Cuthbert’s Church. Independent Presbyterian Church in Savannah is a three quarters size copy of St Martin’s in the Fields, and when I lived in Savannah as a teenager I frequently rode past that church on the bus.

    There is presumably a neuron assembly (or something like that) in the brain devoted to recognizing things “I have seen before”. No doubt this can be triggered in the brain by mistake. Being triggered does not have to mean you had a previous life, it may mean a mistake in the recognition devices in your brain. The fact that I eventually understood my two experiences is in fact irrelevant. If you have the feeling of déjà vu and know you haven’t been there before and you never are able to explain it it still doesn’t prove you had a previous life or anything else supernatural. The feeling means only that a certain part of your brain was triggered and you don't know why.

    When I deal with mathematical objects such as numbers, spaces, or groups I tend to think of them as “things” that are “out there”. Every time I investigate the number 42, it is even. Every time I investigate the alternating group on 6 letters it is simple. If I prove a new theorem it feels as if I have discovered the theorem.

    There is also presumably another neuron assembly that recognizes that something is “out there” when I have repeatable and consistent experiences with it. Every time I push the button on my car door the door will open, except sometimes and then I consistently discover that it is locked and can be unlocked with my key. Every time I experiment with the number 111 it turns out to be 3 times 37. If some math calculation does not give the same answer the second time I frequently find that I made a mistake. I know this feeling of consistent “out there” behavior does not prove that numbers and other math objects are physical objects. The feeling originates in a brain arranged to detect consistent behavior. The feeling is not evidence that math objects exist in some ideal space.

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    Thinking without words

    Several times in my life I have been infuriated by people contradicting something I said that I knew was true. (“You can’t cross the border between Georgia and North Carolina. They don’t border each other”. I have only done it about fifteen times.)

    One of the most annoying are the people who tell me I can’t think without words. This seems to be the opinion mostly of logicians and computer scientists (but I think only a minority of them). When I am concentrating on math or on a physical repair job I USUALLY think without words. And in many other situations as well. The result is that when someone asks me what I am doing I am literally at a loss for words. I have to deconcentrate and come up with a verbal explanation of the nonverbal thinking I was doing. Which makes me look as if I don’t “know” what I am doing.

    When I need to memorize the sequence 6785 (part of our car’s license number) I visualize the numbers 5678 with the five leapfrogging over the other numbers to end up on the right. I don’t say the numbers, I picture them. This has enabled me to write down the license number on the motel application without having to drop my bags and dash out the door to look at the car, which is usually parked the wrong way for me to see the back end.

    When I stare at a chain of gears to see which way one of them goes when I turn another one, I visualize the turning of each intermediate one, one at a time. I don’t say or think “clockwise, counterclockwise” and so on, I see them turning and I feel kinetically the top of one going clockwise moving to the right – I sort of feel MY top (shoulders and arms) moving to the right.

    When I see a pullback diagram I feel the upper left corner being pushed down and to the right so as to be the last corner of all the squares with the same bottom and right edge. I don’t think the words “pullback square” unless I am in the process of trying to formulate a claim about it.

    I learned that I do this from reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. That really wasn’t the main point of that book but it is what I remember most vividly from reading it.

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