Nature'S Numbers: - Basicbooks

NATURE'S
NUMBERS
The Unreal Reality of Mathematics
IAN STEWART
• BasicBooks A DIvIsIOn of HarperCollinsPubllshers

The Science Masters Series is a global publishing venture consisting of original science books written by leading scientists and published by a worldwide
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGiNG-iN-PUBLiCATiON DATA Stewart, Ian. Nature's numbers: the unreal reality of mathematics I Ian Stewart
p. cm. - (Science masters series) ISBN (}...465-07273-9 1. Mathematics-Popular works. l. Title. II. Series. QA93.S737 1995 95-10238 510-dc20 ClP
95 9697 98 +/RRD 9 8 7 6 54 3 2
CONTENTS
Prologue: The Virtual Unreality Machine vii
The Natural Order 1
1 What Mathematics Is For 13
J What Mathematics Is About 31
4 The Constants of Change 47
S From Violins to Videos 61
6 Broken Symmetry 73
7 The Rhythm of Life 93
8 Do Dice Play God? 107 , Drops, Dynamics, and Daisies 127
Epilogue: Morphomatics 145

Further Reading 151
Index 155
PROLOGUE
THE VIRTUAL UNREALITY MACHINE
I have a dream.
I am surrounded by-nothing. Not empty space, for there
is no space to be empty. Not blackness, for there is nothing to
be black. Simply an absence, waiting to become a presence. I think commands: let there be space. But what kind of
space? I
have a choice: three-dimensional space, multidimensional
space, even curved space.
I choose. Another command, and the space is filled with an all-
pervading fluid, which swirls in waves and vortices, here a
placid swell, there a frothing, turbulent maelstrom.
I paint space blue, draw white streamlines in the fluid to
bring out the flow patterns.
I place a small red sphere in the fluid. It hovers, unsup-
ported, ignorant of the chaos around it, until I give the word. Then it slides off along a streamline. I compress myself
to one hundredth of my size and will myself onto the surface of the
sphere, to get a bird's-eye view of unfolding events. Every few
seconds, I place a green marker in the flow to record the
sphere's passing. If I touch a marker, it blossoms like a time-vii
viii PROLOGUE
lapse film of a desert cactus when the rains come-and on
every petal there are pictures, numbers, symbols. The sphere
can also be made to blossom, and when it does, those pictures, numbers, and symbols change as it moves.
Dissatisfied with the march of its symbols, I nudge the
sphere onto a different streamline, fine-tuning its position
until I see the unmistakable traces of the singularity I am
seeking. I snap my fingers, and the sphere extrapolates itself
into its own future and reports back what it finds. Promising ...
Suddenly there is a whole cloud of red spheres, all being car- ried along by the fluid, like a shoal of fish that quickly
spreads, swirling, putting out tendrils, flattening into sheets.
Then more shoals of spheres join the game-gold, purple, brown, silver, pink .... I am in danger of running out of col-
ors. Multicolored sheets intersect in a complex geometric form. I freeze it, smooth it, paint it in stripes. I banish the
spheres with a gesture. I call up markers, inspect their
unfolded petals, pull some off and attach them to a translu- cent grid that has materialized like a landscape from
thinning
mist. Yes!
I issue a new command. "Save. Title: A new chaotic phe-
nomenon in the three-body problem. Date: today."
Space collapses back to nonexistent void. Then, the morn-
ing's research completed, I disengage from my Virtual Unreal-
ity Machine and head off in search of lunch.
This particular dream is very nearly fact. We already have
Virtual Reality systems that simulate events in "normal"
space. I call my dream Virtual Unreality because it simulates anything that can be created by the mathematician's
fertile
PROLOGUE ix
imagination. Most of the bits and pieces of the Virtual Unreal-

ity Machine exist already. There is computer-graphics soft-
ware that can "fly" you through any chosen geometrical object, dynamical-systems software that can track the evolv-
ing state of any chosen equation, symbolic-algebra software
that can take the pain out of the most horrendous calcula-
tions-and get them right. It is only a matter of time before mathematicians will be able to get inside their own
creations.
But, wonderful though such technology may be, we do not
need it to bring my dream to life. The dream is a reality now,
present inside every mathematician's head. This is what mathematical creation feels like when you're doing it. I've
resorted to a little poetic license: the objects that are found in
the mathematician's world are generally distinguished by
symbolic labels or names rather than colors. But those labels are as vivid as colors to those who inhabit that world.
In fact,
despite its colorful images, my dream is a pale shadow of the
world of imagination that every mathematican inhabits-a
world in which curved space, or space with more than three dimensions, is not only commonplace but inevitable.
You
probably find the images alien and strange, far removed from the algebraic symbolism that the word "mathematics"
con-
jures up. Mathematicians are forced to resort to written symbols and pictures to describe their world-even to each
other.
But the symbols are no more that world than musical notation
is music.
Over the centuries, the collective minds of mathematicians have created their own universe. I don't know where it is
situ-
ated-I don't think that there is a "where" in any normal sense of the word-but I assure you that this mathematical
universe seems real enough when you're in it. And, not
X PROLOGUE
despite its peculiarities but because of them, the mental universe of mathematics has provided human beings
with many of their deepest insights into the world around them.
I am going to take you sightseeing in that mathematical universe. I am going to try to equip you with a
mathematician's eyes. And by so doing, I shall do my best to change the way you view your own world.
NATURE'S NUMBERS
CHAPTER I
THE NATURAL ORDE'R
We live in a universe of patterns.
Every night the stars move in circles across the sky. The
seasons cycle at yearly intervals. No two snowflakes are ever exactly the same, but they all have sixfold symmetry.
Tigers
and zebras are covered in patterns of stripes, leopards and
hyenas are covered in patterns of spots. Intricate trains of
waves march across the oceans; very similar trains of sand
dunes march across the desert. Colored arcs of light adorn the sky in the form of rainbows, and a bright circular halo
some-
times surrounds the moon on winter nights. Spherical drops
of water fall from clouds.
Human mind and culture have developed a formal system
of thought for recognizing, classifying, and exploiting pat-
terns. We call it mathematics. By using mathematics to organize and systematize our ideas about patterns, we have
dis-
covered a great secret: nature's patterns are not just there to be admired, they are vital clues to the rules that govern
natural
processes. Four hundred years ago, the German astronomer Johannes Kepler wrote a small book, The Six-Cornered
Snowflake, as a New Year's gift to his sponsor. In it he argued
2 NATURE'S NUMBERS
that snowflakes must be made by packing tiny identical units
together. This was long before the theory that matter is made
of atoms had become generally accepted. Kepler performed
no experiments; he just thought very hard about various bits
and pieces of common knowledge. His main evidence was the sixfold symmetry of snowflakes, which is a natural
conse-
quence of regular packing. If you place a large number of
identical coins on a table and try to pack them as closely as
possible, then you get a honeycomb arrangement, in which
every coin-except those at the edges-is surrounded by six
others, arranged in a perfect hexagon.
The regular nightly motion of the stars is also a clue, this
time to the fact that the Earth rotates. Waves and dunes are clues to the rules that govern the flow of water, sand, and
air.
The tiger's stripes and the hyena's spots attest to mathematical regularities in biological growth and form.
Rainbows tell
us about the scattering of light, and indirectly confirm that
raindrops are spheres. Lunar haloes are clues to the shape of
ice crystals.
There is much beauty in nature's clues, and we can all rec-
ognize it without any mathematical training. There is beauty,
too, in the mathematical stories that start from the clues and
deduce the underlying rules and regularities, but it is a different kind of beauty, applying to ideas rather than
things. Math-
ematics is to nature as Sherlock Holmes is to evidence. When
presented with a cigar butt, the great fictional detective could deduce the age, profession, and financial state of its
owner. His partner, Dr. Watson, who was not as sensitive to su~h
matters, could only look on in baffled admiration, until the master revealed his chain of impeccable logic. When pre-
sented with the evidence of hexagonal snowflakes, mathe-
THE NATURAL ORDER I
maticians can deduce the atomic geometry of ice crystals. If you are a Watson, it is just as baffling a trick, but I
want to show you what it is like if you are a Sherlock Holmes.
Patterns possess utility as well as beauty. Once we have learned to recognize a background pattern, exceptions
suddenly stand out. The desert stands still, but the lion moves. Against the circling background of stars, a
small number of stars that move quite differently beg to be singled out for special attention. The Greeks
called them planetes, meaning "wanderer," a term retained in our word "planet." It took a lot longer to
understand the patterns of planetary motion than it did to work out why stars seem to move in nightly circles.
One difficulty is that we are inside the Solar System, moving along with it, and things that look simple from
outside often look much more complicated from inside. The planets were clues to the rules behind gravity and
motion.
We are still learning to recognize new kinds of pattern. Only within the last thirty years has humanity become
explicitly aware of the two types of pattern now known as fractals and chaos. Fractals are geometric shapes
that repeat their structure on ever-finer scales, and I will say a little about them toward the end of this chapter;
chaos is a kind of apparent randomness whose origins are entirely deterministic, and I will say a lot about that
in chapter 8. Nature "knew about" these patterns billions of years ago, for clouds are fractal and weather is
chaotic. It took humanity a while to catch up.
The simplest mathematical objects are numbers, and the simplest of nature's patterns are numerical. The phases
of the moon make a complete cycle from new moon to full moon and back again every twenty-eight days. The
year is three hundred and sixty-five days long-roughly. People have two
4 NATURE'S NUMBERS
legs, cats have four, insects have six, and spiders have eight.
Starfish have five arms (or ten, eleven, even seventeen,
depending on the species). Clover normally has three leaves:
the superstition that a four-leaf clover is lucky reflects a deep-
seated belief that exceptions to patterns are special. A very curious pattern indeed occurs in the petals of flowers. In
nearly all flowers, the number of petals is one of the numbers
that occur in the strange sequence 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89. For
instance, lilies have three petals, buttercups have five, many
delphiniums have eight, marigolds have thirteen, asters have twenty-one, and most daisies have thirty-four, fifty-
five, or
eighty-nine. You don't find any other numbers anything like as
often. There is a definite pattern to those numbers, but one that
takes a little digging out: each number is obtained by adding the previous two numbers together. For example, 3 + 5
= 8, 5 + 8 = 13, and so on. The same numbers can be found in the spiral patterns of seeds in the head of a sunflower.
This par-
ticular pattern was noticed many centuries ago and has been widely studied ever since, but a really satisfactory
explana-
tion was not given until 1993. It is to be found in chapter 9.
Numerology is the easiest-and consequently the most
dangerous-method for finding patterns. It is easy because anybody can do it, and dangerous for the same reason. The
difficulty lies in distinguishing significant numerical patterns from accidental ones. Here's a case in point. Kepler
was fasci-
nated with mathematical patterns in nature, and he devoted much of his life to looking for them in the behavior of
the
planets. He devised a simple and tidy theory for the existence of precisely six planets (in his time only Mercury,
Venus,
Earth, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn were known). He also discovered a very strange pattern relating the orbital period
of a
THE NATURAL ORDER S
planet-the time it takes to go once around the Sun-to its distance from the Sun. Recall that the square of a number is
what you get when you multiply it by itself: for example, the
square of 4 is 4 x 4 = 16. Similarly, the cube is what you get
when you multiply it by itself twice: for example, the cube of
4 is 4 x 4 x 4 = 64. Kepler found that if you take the cube of the distance of any planet from the Sun and divide it by
the
square of its orbital period, you always get the same number.
It was not an especially elegant number, but it was the same for all six planets.
Which of these numerological observations is the more
significant? The verdict of posterity is that it is the second
one, the complicated and rather arbitrary calculation with
squares and cubes. This numerical pattern was one of the key steps toward Isaac Newton's theory of gravity, which
has
explained all sorts of puzzles about the motion of stars and
planets. In contrast, Kepler's neat, tidy theory for the number of planets has been buried without trace. For a start, it
must be wrong, because we now know of nine planets, not six.
There could be even more, farther out from the Sun, and
small enough and faint enough to be undetectable. But more important, we no longer expect to find a neat, tidy
theory for
the number of planets. We think that the Solar System con-
densed from a cloud of gas surrounding the Sun, and the number of planets presumably depended on the amount of
matter in the gas cloud, how it was distributed, and how fast
and in what directions it was moving. An equally plausible gas cloud could have given us eight planets, or eleven;
the
number is accidental, depending on the initial conditions of the gas cloud, rather than universal, reflecting a general
law of
nature.
• NATURE'S NUMBERS
The big problem with numerological pattern-seeking is
that it generates millions of accidentals for each universal.
Nor is it always obvious which is which. For example, there
are three stars, roughly equally spaced and in a straight line,
in the belt of the constellation Orion. Is that a clue to a significant law of nature? Here's a similar question. 10,
Europa, and
Ganymede are three of Jupiter's larger satellites. They orbit
the planet in, respectively, 1.77, 3.55, and 7.16 days. Each of
these numbers is almost exactly twice the previous one. Is that a significant pattern? Three stars in a row, in terms of
position; three satellites "in a row" in terms of orbital period.
Which pattern, if either, is an important clue? I'll leave you to
think about that for the moment and return to it in the next chapter.
In addition to numerical patterns, there are geometric ones. In fact this book really ought to have been called
Nature's Numbers and Shapes. I have two excuses. First, the title sounds better without the "and shapes." Second,
mathe-
matical shapes can always be reduced to numbers-which is
how computers handle graphics. Each tiny dot in the picture
is stored and manipulated as a pair of numbers: how far the dot is along the screen from right to left, and how far up
it is
from the bottom. These two numbers are called the coordi- nates of the dot. A general shape is a collection of dots,
and
can be represented as a list of pairs of numbers. However, it is often better to think of shapes as shapes, because that
makes
use of our powerful and intuitive visual capabilities, whereas
complicated lists of numbers are best reserved for our weaker and more laborious symbolic abilities.
Until recently, the main shapes that appealed to mathematicians were very simple ones: triangles, squares, pen-
THE NATURAL ORDER 7
tagons, hexagons, circles, ellipses, spirals, cubes, spheres,

cones, and so on. All of these shapes can be found in nature,
although some are far more common, or more evident, than others. The rainbow, for example, is a collection of
circles,
one for each color. We don't normally see the entire circle,
just an arc; but rainbows seen from the air can be complete
circles. You also see circles in the ripples on a pond, in the
the human eye, and on butterflies' wings.
Talking of ripples, the flow of fluids provides an inex-
haustible supply of nature's patterns. There are waves of
many different kinds-surging toward a beach in parallel
ranks, spreading in a V-shape behind a moving boat, radiating
outward from an underwater earthquake. Most waves are gre-
garious creatures, but some-such as the tidal bore that sweeps up a river as the energy of the incoming tide becomes
confined to a tight channel-are solitary. There are swirling
spiral whirlpools and tiny vortices. And there is the appar-
ently structureless, random frothing of turbulent flow, one
of the great enigmas of mathematics and physics. There are similar patterns in the atmosphere, too, the most
dramatic
being the vast spiral of a hurricane as seen by an orbiting
astronaut.
There are also wave patterns on land. The most strikingly
mathematical landscapes on Earth are to be found in the great
ergs, or sand oceans, of the Arabian and Sahara deserts. Even when the wind blows steadily in a fixed direction,
sand
dunes form. The simplest pattern is that of transverse dunes, which-just like ocean waves-line up in parallel straight
rows at right angles to the prevailing wind direction. Some- times the rows themselves become wavy, in which case
they are called barchanoid ridges; sometimes they break up into
8 NATURE'S NUMBERS
innumerable shield-shaped barchan dunes. If the sand is
slightly moist, and there is a little vegetation to bind it
together, then you may find parabolic dunes-shaped like a
U, with the rounded end pointing in the direction of the wind. These sometimes occur in clusters, and they resemble
the teeth of a rake. If the wind direction is variable, other
forms become possible. For example, clusters of star-shaped dunes can form, each having several irregular arms
radiating
from a central peak. They arrange themselves in a random
pattern of spots.
Nature's love of stripes and spots extends into the animal kingdom, with tigers and leopards, zebras and giraffes. The
shapes and patterns of animals and plants are a happy hunt-
ing ground for the mathematically minded. Why, for example,
do so many shells form spirals? Why are starfish equipped
with a symmetric set of arms? Why do many viruses assume regular geometric shapes, the most striking being that
of an
icosahedron-a regular solid formed from twenty equilateral
triangles? Why are so many animals bilaterally symmetric?
Why is that symmetry so often imperfect, disappearing when
you look at the detail, such as the position of the human heart
or the differences between the two hemispheres of the human
brain? Why are most of us right-handed, but not all of us?
In addition to patterns of form, there are patterns of move-
ment. In the human walk, the feet strike the ground in a regu-
lar rhythm: left-right-Ieft-right-Ieft-right. When a four-legged creature-a horse, say-walks, there is a more complex
but
equally rhythmic pattern. This prevalence of pattern in loco- motion extends to the scuttling of insects, the flight of
birds,
the pulsations of jellyfish, and the wavelike movements of fish, worms, and snakes. The sidewinder, a desert snake,
THE NATURAL ORDER 9
moves rather like a single coil of a helical spring, thrusting its body forward in a series of S-shaped curves, in an
attempt to
minimize its contact with the hot sand. And tiny bacteria pro-
pel themselves along using microscopic helical tails, which
rotate rigidly, like a ship's screw.
Finally, there is another category of natural pattern-one
that has captured human imagination only very recently, but
dramatically. This comprises patterns that we have only just learned to recognize-patterns that exist where we
thought
everything was random and formless. For instance, think
about the shape of a cloud. It is true that meteorologists clas-
sify clouds into several different morphological groups-cir- rus, stratus, cumulus, and so on-but these are very
general
types of form, not recognizable geometric shapes of a conven-
tional mathematical kind. You do not see spherical clouds, or
cubical clouds, or icosahedral clouds. Clouds are wispy, formless, fuzzy clumps. Yet there is a very distinctive
pattern
to clouds, a kind of symmetry, which is closely related to the
physics of cloud formation. Basically, it is this: you can't tell
what size a cloud is by looking at it. If you look at an elephant, you can tell roughly how big it is: an elephant the
size of a house would collapse under its own weight, and one the
size of a mouse would have legs that are uselessly thick.
Clouds are not like this at all. A large cloud seen from far
away and a small cloud seen close up could equally plausibly
have been the other way around. They will be different in shape, of course, but not in any manner that systematically
depends on size.
This "scale independence" of the shapes of clouds has been verified experimentally for cloud patches whose sizes
vary by a factor of a thousand. Cloud patches a kilometer
10 NATURE'S NUMBERS
across look just like cloud patches a thousand kilometers
across. Again, this pattern is a clue. Clouds form when water
undergoes a "phase transition" from vapor to liquid, and
physicists have discovered that the same kind of scale invari- ance is associated with all phase transitions. Indeed,
this statistical self-similarity, as it is called, extends to many other
natural forms. A Swedish colleague who works on oil-field
geology likes to show a slide of one of his friends standing up
in a boat and leaning nonchalantly against a shelf of rock that
comes up to about his armpit. The photo is entirely convincing, and it is clear that the boat must have been moored
at the
edge of a rocky gully about two meters deep. In fact, the rocky
shelf is the side of a distant fjord, some thousand meters high. The main problem for the photographer was to get
both the
foreground figure and the distant landscape in convincing focus. Nobody would try to play that kind of trick with an
ele-
phant.
However, you can play it with many of nature's shapes,
including mountains, river networks, trees, and very possibly
the way that matter is distributed throughout the entire universe. In the term made famous by the mathematician
Benoit
Mandelbrot, they are all fractals. A new science of irregular-
ity-fractal geometry-has sprung up within the last fifteen
years. I'm not going to say much about fractals, but the dynamic process that causes them, known as chaos, will be
prominently featured.
Thanks to the development of new mathematical theories,
these more elusive of nature's patterns are beginning to reveal their secrets. Already we are seeing a practical impact
as well as an intellectual one. Our newfound understanding of
THE NATURAL ORDER II
nature's secret regularities is being used to steer artificial

satellites to new destinations with far less fuel than anybody
had thought possible, to help avoid wear on the wheels of
locomotives and other rolling stock, to improve the effective-
ness of heart pacemakers, to manage forests and fisheries, even to make more efficient dishwashers. But most
important
of all, it is giving us a deeper vision of the universe in which we live, and of our own place in it.
CHAPTER 2
WHAT MATHEMATICS IS FOR
We've now established the uncontroversial idea that nature is
full of patterns. But what do we want to do with them? One thing we can do is sit back and admire them.
Communing
with nature does all of us good: it reminds us of what we are. Painting pictures, sculpting sculptures, and writing
poems are
valid and important ways to express our feelings about the world and about ourselves. The entrepreneur's instinct is
to
exploit the natural world. The engineer's instinct is to change
it. The scientist's instinct is to try to understand it-to work
out what's really going on. The mathematician's instinct is to structure that process of understanding by seeking
generali-
ties that cut across the obvious subdivisions. There is a little
of all these instincts in all of us, and there is both good and
bad in each instinct.
I want to show you what the mathematical instinct has
done for human understanding, but first I want to touch upon the role of mathematics in human culture. Before you
buy
something, you usually have a fairly clear idea of what you
want to do with it. If it is a freezer, then of course you want it
to preserve food, but your thoughts go well beyond that. How much food will you need to store? Where will the
freezer have
to fit? It is not always a matter of utility; you may be thinking II
14 NATURE'S NUMBERS
of buying a painting, You still ask yourself where you are
going to put it, and whether the aesthetic appeal is worth the
asking price. It is the same with mathematics-and any other
intellectual worldview, be it scientific, political, or religious.
Before you buy something, it is wise to decide what you want it for. So what do we want to get out of mathematics?
Each of nature's patterns is a puzzle, nearly always a deep
one. Mathematics is brilliant at helping us to solve puzzles. It
is a more or less systematic way of digging out the rules and
structures that lie behind some observed pattern or regularity,
and then using those rules and structures to explain what's going on. Indeed, mathematics has developed alongside
our
understanding of nature, each reinforcing the other. I've men-
tioned Kepler's analysis of snowflakes, but his most famous
discovery is the shape of planetary orbits. By performing a mathematical analysis of astronomical observations
made by
the contemporary Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe, Kepler
was eventually driven to the conclusion that planets move in
ellipses. The ellipse is an oval curve that was much studied by the ancient Greek geometers, but the ancient
astronomers
had preferred to use circles, or systems of circles, to describe
orbits, so Kepler's scheme was a radical one at that time.
People interpret new discoveries in terms of what is
important to them. The message astronomers received when
they heard about Kepler's new idea was that neglected ideas from Greek geometry could help them solve the puzzle
of pre-
dicting planetary motion. It took very little imagination for
them to see that Kepler had made a huge step forward. All
sorts of astronomical phenomena, such as eclipses, meteor showers, and comets, might yield to the same kind of
mathe-
WHAT MATHEMATiCS is FOR IS
matics. The message to mathematicians was quite different. It was that ellipses are really interesting curves. It took
very lit-
tle imagination for them to see that a general theory of curves would be even more interesting. Mathematicians
could take
the geometric rules that lead to ellipses and modify them to
see what other kinds of curve resulted.
Similarly, when Isaac Newton made the epic discovery
that the motion of an object is described by a mathematical
relation between the forces that act on the body and the accel-
eration it experiences, mathematicians and physicists learned
quite different lessons. However, before I can tell you what
these lessons were I need to explain about acceleration. Acceleration is a subtle concept: it is not a fundamental
quan-
tity, such as length or mass; it is a rate of change. In fact, it is a "second order" rate of change-that is, a rate of
change of a
rate of change. The velocity of a body-the speed with which
it moves in a given direction-is just a rate of change: it is the
rate at which the body's distance from some chosen point
changes. If a car moves at a steady speed of sixty miles per
hour, its distance from its starting point changes by sixty miles every hour. Acceleration is the rate of change of
veloc-
ity. If the car's velocity increases from sixty miles per hour to
sixty-five miles per hour, it has accelerated by a definite
amount. That amount depends not only on the initial and
final speeds, but on how quickly the change takes place. If it
takes an hour for the car to increase its speed by five miles per hour, the acceleration is very small; if it takes only
ten sec-
onds, the acceleration is much greater.
I don't want to go into the measurement of accelerations.
My point here is more general: that acceleration is a rate of
change of a rate of change. You can work out distances with a
.6 NATURE'S NUMBERS
tape measure, but it is far harder to work out a rate of change of a rate of change of distance. This is why it took
humanity a
long time, and the genius of a Newton, to discover the law of
motion. If the pattern had been an obvious feature of dis-
tances, we would have pinned motion down a lot earlier in
our history.
In order to handle questions about rates of change, New-
ton-and independently the German mathematician Gottfried Leibniz-invented a new branch of mathematics, the
calcu-
lus. It changed the face of the Earth-literally and metaphori-
cally. But, again, the ideas sparked by this discovery were dif-
ferent for different people. The physicists went off looking for other laws of nature that could explain natural
phenomena in
terms of rates of change. They found them by the bucketful-
heat, sound, light, fluid dynamics, elasticity, electricity, mag-
netism. The most esoteric modern theories of fundamental
particles still use the same general kind of mathematics,
though the interpretation-and to some extent the implicit worldview-is different. Be that as it may, the mathemati-
cians found a totally different set of questions to ask. First of
all, they spent a long time grappling with what "rate of
change" really means. In order to work out the velocity of a
moving object, you must measure where it is, find out where it moves to a very short interval of time later, and
divide the
distance moved by the time elapsed. However, if the body is
accelerating, the result depends on the interval of time you
use. Both the mathematicians and the physicists had the same intuition about how to deal with this problem: the
interval of
time you use should be as small as possible. Everything
would be wonderful if you could just use an interval of zero,
but unfortunately that won't work, because both the distance
WHAT MATHEMATiCS is FOR 17
traveled and the time elapsed will be zero, and a rate of change of DID is meaningless. The main problem with
nonzero
intervals is that whichever one you choose, there is always a
smaller one that you could use instead to get a more accurate
answer. What you would really like is to use the smallest pos-
sible nonzero interval of time-but there is no such thing, because given any nonzero number, the number half that
size
is also nonzero. Everything would work out fine if the interval
could be made infinitely small-"infinitesimal." Unfortu-
nately, there are difficult logical paradoxes associated with
the idea of an infinitesimal; in particular, if we restrict ourselves to numbers in the usual sense of the word, there is
no
such thing. So for about two hundred years, humanity was in
a very curious position as regards the calculus. The physicists
were using it, with great success, to understand nature and to predict the way nature behaves; the mathematicians
were
worrying about what it really meant and how best to set it up
so that it worked as a sound mathematical theory; and the
philosophers were arguing that it was all nonsense. Every- thing got resolved eventually, but you can still find strong
dif-
ferences in attitude.
The story of calculus brings out two of the main things that
mathematics is for: providing tools that let scientists calculate
what nature is doing, and providing new questions for mathe-
maticians to sort out to their own satisfaction. These are the
external and internal aspects of mathematics, often referred to
as applied and pure mathematics (I dislike both adjectives, and I dislike the implied separation even more). It might
appear in this case that the physicists set the agenda: if the
methods of calculus seem to be working, what does it matter why they work? You will hear the same sentiments
expressed
18 NATURE'S NUMBERS
today by people who pride themselves on being pragmatists. I
have no difficulty with the proposition that in many respects they are right. Engineers designing a bridge are entitled
to use
standard mathematical methods even if they don't know the
detailed and often esoteric reasoning that justifies these meth-
ods. But I, for one, would feel uncomfortable driving across that bridge if I was aware that nobody knew what
justified
those methods. So, on a cultural level, it pays to have some
people who worry about pragmatic methods and try to find out what really makes them tick. And that's one of the
jobs
that mathematicians do. They enjoy it, and the rest of human-
ity benefits from various kinds of spin-off, as we'll see.
In the short term, it made very little difference whether
mathematicians were satisfied about the logical soundness of
the calculus. But in the long run the new ideas that mathe-
maticians got by worrying about these internal difficulties
turned out to be very useful indeed to the outside world. In
Newton's time, it was impossible to predict just what those uses would be, but I think you could have predicted,
even
then, that uses would arise. One of the strangest features of
the relationship between mathematics and the "real world,"
but also one of the strongest, is that good mathematics, whatever its source, eventually turns out to be useful.
There are all
sorts of theories why this should be so, ranging from the structure of the human mind to the idea that the universe is
somehow built from little bits of mathematics. My feeling is
that the answer is probably quite simple: mathematics is the
science of patterns, and nature exploits just about every pattern that there is. I admit that I find it much harder to
offer a
convincing reason for nature to behave in this manner. Maybe
the question is back to front: maybe the point is that creatures
able to ask that kind of question can evolve only in a universe with that kind of structure .•
Whatever the reasons, mathematics definitely is a useful
way to think about nature. What do we want it to tell us about the patterns we observe? There are many answers. We
want to
understand how they happen; to understand why they hap-
pen, which is different; to organize the underlying patterns and regularities in the most satisfying way; to predict
how
nature will behave; to control nature for our own ends; and to
make practical use of what we have learned about our world.
Mathematics helps us to do all these things, and often it is
indispensable.
For example, consider the spiral form of a snail shell. How the snail makes its shell is largely a matter of chemistry
and
genetics. Without going into fine points, the snail's genes
include recipes for making particular chemicals and instruc-
tions for where they should go. Here mathematics lets us do
the molecular bookkeeping that makes sense of the different chemical reactions that go on; it describes the atomic
struc-
ture of the molecules used in shells, it describes the strength
and rigidity of shell material as compared to the weakness and pliability of the snail's body, and so on. Indeed,
without
mathematics we would never have convinced ourselves that
matter really is made from atoms, or have worked out how the
atoms are arranged. The discovery of genes-and later of the
molecular structure of DNA, the genetic material-relied
heavily on the existence of mathematical clues. The monk Gregor Mendel noticed tidy numerical relationships in
how
'This explanation. and others. are discussed in The Collapse of Chaos. by Jack Cohen and Ian Stewart (New York: Viking. 1994).
20 NATURE'S NUMBERS
the proportions of plants with different characters, such as
seed color, changed when the plants were crossbred. This led
to the basic idea of genetics-that within every organism is some cryptic combination of factors that determines many
features of its body plan, and that these factors are somehow
shuffled and recombined when passing from parents to off- spring. Many different pieces of mathematics were
involved
in the discovery that DNA has the celebrated double-helical structure. They were as simple as Chargaff's rules: the
obser-
vation by the Austrian-born biochemist Erwin Chargaff that
the four bases of the DNA molecule occur in related propor-
tions; and they are as subtle as the laws of diffraction, which were used to deduce molecular structure from X-ray
pictures
of DNA crystals.
The question of why snails have spiral shells has a very
different character. It can be asked in several contexts-in the short-term context of biological development, say, or
the long-
term context of evolution. The main mathematical feature of the developmental story is the general shape of the
spiral.
Basically, the developmental story is about the geometry of a creature that behaves in much the same way all the
time, but
keeps getting bigger. Imagine a tiny animal, with a tiny proto-
shell attached to it. Then the animal starts to grow. It can grow most easily in the direction along which the open rim
of
the shell points, because the shell gets in its way if it tries to
grow in any other direction. But, having grown a bit, it needs to extend its shell as well, for self-protection. So, of
course,
the shell grows an extra ring of material around its rim. As
this process continues, the animal is getting bigger, so the size
of the rim grows. The simplest result is a conical shell, such
as you find on a limpet. But if the whole system starts with a
bit of a twist, as is quite likely, then the growing edge of the shell rotates slowly as well as expanding, and it rotates
in an
off-centered manner. The result is a cone that twists in an ever-expanding spiral. We can use mathematics to relate
the
resulting geometry to all the different variables-such as
growth rate and eccentricity of growth-that are involved.
If, instead, we seek an evolutionary explanation, then we
might focus more on the strength of the shell, which conveys
an evolutionary advantage, and try to calculate whether a long
thin cone is stronger or weaker than a tightly coiled spiral. Or
we might be more ambitious and develop mathematical models
of the evolutionary process itself, with its combination of random genetic change-that is, mutations-and natural
selection.
A remarkable example of this kind of thinking is a com-
puter simulation of the evolution of the eye by Daniel Nilsson
and Susanne Pelger, published in 1994. Recall that conventional evolutionary theory sees changes in animal form
as
being the result of random mutations followed by subsequent
selection of those individuals most able to survive and repro- duce their kind. When Charles Darwin announced this
the-
ory, one of the first objections raised was that complex struc-
tures (like an eye) have to evolve fully formed or else they
won't work properly (half an eye is no use at all), but the
chance that random mutation will produce a coherent set of
complex changes is negligible. Evolutionary theorists quickly responded that while half an eye may not be much
use, a half- developed eye might well be. One with a retina but no lens,
say, will still collect light and thereby detect movement; and
any way to improve the detection of predators offers an evolu-
tionary advantage to any creature that possesses it. What we
have here is a verbal objection to the theory countered by a
11 NATURE'S NUMBERS
verbal argument. But the recent computer analysis goes much
further.
It starts with a mathematical model of a flat region of cells,
and permits various types of "mutation." Some cells may
become more sensitive to light, for example, and the shape of the region of cells may bend. The mathematical model
is set
up as a computer program that makes tiny random changes of
this kind, calculates how good the resulting structure is at
detecting light and resolving the patterns that it "sees," and
selects any changes that improve these abilities. During a simulation that corresponds to a period of about four
hundred
thousand years-the blink of an eye, in evolutionary terms-
the region of cells folds itself up into a deep, spherical cavity
with a tiny iris like opening and, most dramatically, a lens.
Moreover, like the lenses in our own eyes, it is a lens whose
refractive index-the amount by which it bends light-varies from place to place. In fact, the pattern of variation of
refrac-
tive index that is produced in the computer simulation is very
like our own. So here mathematics shows that eyes definitely
can evolve gradually and naturally, offering increased sur-
vival value at every stage. More than that: Nilsson and Pel-
ger's work demonstrates that given certain key biological fac- ulties (such as cellular receptivity to light, and cellular
mobility), structures remarkably similar to eyes will form-all
in line with Darwin's principle of natural selection. The mathematical model provides a lot of extra detail that the
ver-
bal Darwinian argument can only guess at, and gives us far greater confidence that the line of argument is correct.
I said that another function of mathematics is to organize
the underlying patterns and regularities in the most satisfying
way. To illustrate this aspect, let me return to the question raised in the first chapter. Which-if either-is significant:
START 176 steps 538 steps
808 steps 1033 steps 1225 steps
1533 steps 1829 steps
FIGURE t. Computer model of the evolution of an eye. Each step in the computa- tion corresponds to abOllt two hundred
years of biological evolution.
14 NATURE'S NUMBERS
the three-in-a-row pattern of stars in Orion's belt, or the three-
in-a-row pattern to the periods of revolution of Jupiter's satel-
lites? Orion first. Ancient human civilizations organized the
stars in the sky in terms of pictures of animals and mythic
heroes. In these terms, the alignment of the three stars in Orion appears significant, for otherwise the hero would
have
no belt from which to hang his sword. However, if we use
three-dimensional geometry as an organizing principle and
place the three stars in their correct positions in the heavens,
then we find that they are at very different distances from the Earth. Their equispaced alignment is an accident,
depending
on the position from which they are being viewed. Indeed, the
very word "constellation" is a misnomer for an arbitrary accident of viewpoint.
The numerical relation between the periods of revolution of 10, Europa, and Ganymede could also be an accident of
viewpoint. How can we be sure that "period of revolution"
has any significant meaning for nature? However, that numerical relation fits into a dynamical framework in a very
significant manner indeed. It is an example of a resonance, which is
a relationship between periodically moving bodies in which
their cycles are locked together, so that they take up the same
relative positions at regular intervals. This common cycle
time is called the period of the system. The individual bodies may have different-but related-periods. We can work
out
what this relationship is. When a resonance occurs, all of the
participating bodies must return to a standard reference posi-
tion after a whole number of cycles-but that number can be different for each. So there is some common period for
the
system, and therefore each individual body has a period that
is some whole-number divisor of the common period. In this case, the common period is that of Ganymede, 7.16
days. The
period of Europa is very close to half that of Ganymede, and that of 10 is close to one-quarter. 10 revolves four
times around
Jupiter while Europa revolves twice and Ganymede once,
after which they are all back in exactly the same relative positions as before. This is called a 4:2:1 resonance.
The dynamics of the Solar System is full of resonances.
The Moon's rotational period is (subject to small wobbles
caused by perturbations from other bodies) the same as its period of revolution around the Earth-a 1:1 resonance of
its
orbital and its rotational period. Therefore, we always see the
same face of the Moon from the Earth, never its "far side."
Mercury rotates once every 58.65 days and revolves around
the Sun every 87.97 days. Now, 2 x 87.97 = 175.94, and 3 x 58.65 = 175.95, so Mercury's rotational and orbital periods
are
in a 2:3 resonance. (In fact, for a long time they were thought
to be in 1:1 resonance, both being roughly 88 days, because of
the difficulty of observing a planet as close to the Sun as Mer-
cury is. This gave rise to the belief that one side of Mercury is incredibly hot and the other incredibly cold, which
turns out not to be true. A resonance, however, there is-and a more
interesting one than mere equality.)
In between Mars and Jupiter is the asteroid belt, a broad
zone containing thousands of tiny bodies. They are not uni-
formly distributed. At certain distances from the Sun we find
asteroid "beltlets"; at other distances we find hardly any. The explanation-in both cases-is resonance with Jupiter.
The
Hilda group of asteroids, one of the beltlets, is in 2:3 reso-
nance with Jupiter. That is, it is at just the right distance so
that all of the Hilda asteroids circle the Sun three times for
every two revolutions of Jupiter. The most noticeable gaps are
at 2:1, 3:1, 4:1, 5:2, and 7:2 resonances. You may be worried
that resonances are being used to explain both clumps and
16 NATURE'S NUMBERS
gaps, The reason is that each resonance has its own idiosyn-
cratic dynamics; some cause clustering, others do the oppo-
site. It all depends on the precise numbers.
Another function of mathematics is prediction. By under-
standing the motion of heavenly bodies, astronomers could
predict lunar and solar eclipses and the return of comets.
They knew where to point their telescopes to find asteroids
that had passed behind the Sun, out of observation?-l contact. Because the tides are controlled mainly by the position
of the
Sun and Moon relative to the Earth, they could predict tides
many years ahead. (The chief complicating factor in making
such predictions is not astronomy: it is the shape of the conti-
nents and the profile of the ocean depths, which can delay or advance a high tide. However, these stay pretty much
the
same from one century to the next, so that once their effects
have been understood it is a routine task to compensate for them.) In contrast, it is much harder to predict the
weather.
We know just as much about the mathematics of weather as
we do about the mathematics of tides, but weather has an
inherent unpredictability. Despite this, meteorologists can make effective short-term predictions of weather patterns-
say, three or four days in advance. The unpredictability of the weather, however, has nothing at all to do with
randomness-
a topic we will take up in chapter 8, when we discuss the con-
cept of chaos.
The role of mathematics goes beyond mere prediction. Once you understand how a system works, you don't have to
remain a passive observer. You can attempt to control the sys-
tem, to make it do what you want. It pays not to be too ambi-
tious: weather control, for example, is in its infancy-we can't make rain with any great success, even when there are
rain-
clouds about. Examples of control systems range from the
thermostat on a boiler, which keeps it at a fixed temperature,

to the medieval practice of coppicing woodland. Without a
sophisticated mathematical control system, the space shuttle
would fly like the brick it is, for no human pilot can respond quickly enough to correct its inherent instabilities. The
use of
electronic pacemakers to help people with heart disease is another example of control.
These examples bring us to the most down-to-earth aspect of mathematics: its practical applications-how
mathematics
earns its keep. Our world rests on mathematical foundations,
and mathematics is unavoidably embedded in our global cul-
ture. The only reason we don't always realize just how
strongly our lives are affected by mathematics is that, for sen-
sible reasons, it is kept as far as possible behind the scenes.
When you go to the travel agent and book a vacation, you don't need to understand the intricate mathematical and
physical theories that make it possible to design computers
and telephone lines, the optimization routines that schedule
as many flights as possible around any particular airport, or
the signal-processing methods used to provide accurate radar
images for the pilots. When you watch a television program, you don't need to understand the three-dimensional
geometry
used to produce special effects on the screen, the coding
methods used to transmit TV signals by satellite, the mathe-
matical methods used to solve the equations for the orbital
motion of the satellite, the thousands of different applications
of mathematics during every step of the manufacture of every component of the spacecraft that launched the satellite
into
position. When a farmer plants a new strain of potatoes, he
does not need to know the statistical theories of genetics that
identified which genes made that particular type of plant
resistant to disease.
28 NATURE'S NUMBERS
But somebody had to understand all these things in the
past, otherwise airliners, television, spacecraft, and disease-
resistant potatoes wouldn't have been invented. And some-
body has to understand all these things now, too, otherwise
they won't continue to function. And somebody has to be
inventing new mathematics in the future, able to solve problems that either have not arisen before or have hitherto
proved intractable, otherwise our society will fall apart when
change requires solutions to new problems or new solutions to old problems. If mathematics, including everything
that rests on it, were somehow suddenly to be withdrawn from our
world, human society would collapse in an instant. And if mathematics were to be frozen, so that it never went a
single
step farther, our civilization would start to go backward.
We should not expect new mathematics to give an immedi-
ate dollars-and-cents payoff. The transfer of a mathematical
idea into something that can be made in a factory or used in a
home generally takes time. Lots of time: a century is not unusual. In chapter 5, we will see how seventeenth-century
interest in the vibrations of a violin string led, three hundred
years later, to the discovery of radio waves and the invention of
radio, radar, and television. It might have been done quicker, but not that much quicker. If you think-as many people
in our
increasingly managerial culture do-that the process of scientific discovery can be speeded up by focusing on the
applica-
tion as a goal and ignoring "curiosity-driven" research, then
you are wrong. In fact that very phrase, "curiosity-driven
research," was introduced fairly recently by unimaginative bureaucrats as a deliberate put-down. Their desire for
tidy pro-
jects offering guaranteed short-term profit is much too simple-
minded, because goal-oriented research can deliver only pre-
dictable results. You have to be able to see the goal in order to
aim at it. But anything you can see, your competitors can see,
too. The pursuance of safe research will impoverish us all. The
really important breakthroughs are always unpredictable. It is
their very unpredictability that makes them important: they change our world in ways we didn't see coming.
Moreover, goal-oriented research often runs up against a
brick wall, and not only in mathematics. For example, it took
approximately eighty years of intense engineering effort to develop the photocopying machine after the basic
principle of
xerography had been discovered by scientists. The first fax
machine was invented over a century ago, but it didn't work
fast enough or reliably enough. The principle of holography
(three-dimensional pictures, see your credit card) was discov-
ered over a century ago, but nobody then knew how to produce the necessary beam of coherent light-light with all
its
waves in step. This kind of delay is not at all unusual in
industry, let alone in more intellectual areas of research, and
the impasse is usually broken only when an unexpected new
idea arrives on the scene.
There is nothing wrong with goal-oriented research as a
way of achieving specific feasible goals. But the dreamers and
the mavericks must be allowed some free rein, too. Our world
is not static: new problems constantly arise, and old answers often stop working. Like Lewis Carroll's Red Queen,
we must
run very fast in order to stand still.
CHAPTER J
WHAT MATHEMATICS IS ABOUT
When we hear the word "mathematics," the first thing that
springs to mind is numbers. Numbers are the heart of mathematics, an all-pervading influence, the raw materials
out of
which a great deal of mathematics is forged. But numbers on
their own form only a tiny part of mathematics. I said earlier that we live in an intensely mathematical world, but
that
whenever possible the mathematics is sensibly tucked under
the rug to make our world "user-friendly." However, some
mathematical ideas are so basic to our world that they cannot stay hidden, and numbers are an especially prominent
exam-
ple. Without the ability to count eggs and subtract change, for
instance, we could not even buy food. And so we teach arith-
metic. To everybody. Like reading and writing, its absence is a major handicap. And that creates the overwhelming
impres-
sion that mathematics is mostly a matter of numbers-which
isn't really true. The numerical tricks we learn in arithmetic
are only the tip of an iceberg. We can run our everyday lives
without much more, but our culture cannot run our society by
using such limited ingredients. Numbers are just one type of object that mathematicians think about. In this chapter,
I will I.
11 NATURE'S NUMBERS
try to show you some of the others and explain why they, too,
are important.
Inevitably my starting point has to be numbers. A large
part of the early prehistory of mathematics can be summed up as the discovery, by various civilizations, of a wider
and
wider range of things that deserved to be called numbers. The
simplest are the numbers we use for counting. In fact, count-
ing began long before there were symbols like 1, 2, 3, because
it is possible to count without using numbers at all-say, by counting on your fingers. You can work out that "I have
two
hands and a thumb of camels" by folding down fingers as
your eye glances over the camels. You don't actually have to
have the concept of the number "eleven" to keep track of whether anybody is stealing your camels. You just have to
notice that next time you seem to have only two hands of
camels-so a thumb of camels is missing.
You can also record the count as scratches on pieces of wood or bone. Or you can make tokens to use as counters-
clay disks with pictures of sheep on them for counting sheep,
or disks with pictures of camels on them for counting camels. As the animals parade past you, you drop tokens into a
bag-
one token for each animal. The use of symbols for numbers
probably developed about five thousand years ago, when such
counters were wrapped in a clay envelope. It was a nuisance
to break open the clay covering every time the accountants wanted to check the contents, and to make another one
when
they had finished. So people put special marks on the outside of the envelope summarizing what was inside. Then
they real-
ized that they didn't actually need any counters inside at all:
they could just make the same marks on clay tablets.
It's amazing how long it can take to see the obvious. But of course it's only obvious now.
WHAT MATHEMATiCS is ABOUT II
The next invention beyond counting numbers was fractions-the kind of number we now symbolize as 2/3 (two
thirds) or 22/7 (twenty-two sevenths-or, equivalently, three
and one-seventh). You can't count with fractions-although two-thirds of a camel might be edible, it's not countable-
but
you can do much more interesting things instead. In particu-
lar, if three brothers inherit two camels between them, you
can think of each as owning two-thirds of a camel-a convenient legal fiction, one with which we are so comfortable
that
we forget how curious it is if taken literally.
Much later, between 400 and 1200 AD, the concept of zero
was invented and accepted as denoting a number. If you think
that the late acceptance of zero as a number is strange, bear in mind that for a long time "one" was not considered a
number
because it was thought that a number of things ought to be
several of them. Many history books say that the key idea here was the invention of a symbol for "nothing." That
may have
been the key to making arithmetic practical; but for mathematics the important idea was the concept of a new kind
of number, one that represented the concrete idea "nothing." Mathematics uses symbols, but it no more is those
symbols than music is musical notation or language is strings of letters
from an alphabet. Carl Friedrich Gauss, thought by many to be
the greatest mathematician ever to have lived, once said (in
Latin) that what matters in mathematics is "not notations, but notions." The pun "non notationes, sed notiones"
worked in Latin, too.
The next extension of the number concept was the inven-
tion of negative numbers. Again, it makes little sense to think of minus two camels in a literal sense; but if you owe
some-
body two camels, the number you own is effectively dimin-
ished by two. So a negative number can be thought of as rep-
14 NATURE'S NUMBERS
resenting a debt. There are many different ways to interpret
these more esoteric kinds of number; for instance, a negative temperature (in degrees Celsius) is one that is colder
than
freezing, and an object with negative velocity is one that is
moving backward, So the same abstract mathematical object
may represent more than one aspect of nature.
Fractions are all you need for most commercial transac-
tions, but they're not enough for mathematics. For example,
as the ancient Greeks discovered to their chagrin, the square
root of two is not exactly representable as a fraction. That is, if you multiply any fraction by itself, you won't get two
exactly. You can get very close-for example, the square of 17/12 is
289/144, and if only it were 288/144 you would get two. But it isn't, and you don't-and whatever fraction you try, you
never will. The square root of two, usually denoted .,,)2, is
therefore said to be "irrational." The simplest way to enlarge
the number system to include the irrationals is to use the so-
called real numbers-a breathtakingly inappropriate name, inasmuch as they are represented by decimals that go on
for-
ever, like 3.14159 ... , where the dots indicate an infinite
number of digits. How can things be real if you can't even
write them down fully? But the name stuck, probably because real numbers formalize many of our natural visual
intuitions
about lengths and distances.
The real numbers are one of the most audacious idealiza- tions made by the human mind, but they were used happily
for centuries before anybody worried about the logic behind
them. Paradoxically, people worried a great deal about the next enlargement of the number system, even though it
was
entirely harmless. That was the introduction of square roots for negative numbers, and it led to the "imaginary" and
"com-
WHAT MATHEMATiCS is ABOUT IS
plex" numbers. A professional mathematican should never

leave home without them, but fortunately nothing in this
book will require a knowledge of complex numbers, so I'm going to tuck them under the mathematical carpet and
hope
you don't notice. However, I should point out that it is easy to
interpret an infinite decimal as a sequence of ever-finer
approximations to some measurement-say, of a length or a
weight-whereas a comfortable interpretation of the square
root of minus one is more elusive.
In current terminology, the whole numbers 0, 1, 2, 3, ... are known as the natural numbers. If negative whole numbers
are included, we have the integers. Positive and negative frac-
tions are called rational numbers. Real numbers are more gen-
eral; complex numbers more general still. So here we have five number systems, each more inclusive than the
previous:
natural numbers, integers, rationals, real numbers, and com-
plex numbers. In this book, the important number systems
will be the integers and the reals. We'll need to talk about rational numbers every so often; and as I've just said, we
can
ignore the complex numbers altogether. But I hope you under-
stand by now that the word "number" does not have any
immutable god-given meaning. More than once the scope of that word was extended, a process that in principle
might
occur again at any time.
However, mathematics is not just about numbers. We've
already had a passing encounter with a different kind of object of mathematical thought, an operation; examples are
addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. In general,
an operation is something you apply to two (sometimes more)
mathematical objects to get a third object. I also alluded to a
third type of mathematical object when I mentioned square
16 NATURE'S NUMBERS
roots. If you start with a number and form its square root, you get another number. The term for such an "object" is
function.
You can think of a function as a mathematical rule that starts
with a mathematical object-usually a number-and associ-
ates to it another object in a specific manner. Functions are
often defined using algebraic formulas, which are just short- hand ways to explain what the rule is, but they can be
defined
by any convenient method. Another term with the same meaning as "function" is transformation: the rule trans-
forms the first object into the second. This term tends to be
used when the rules are geometric, and in chapter 6 we will
use transformations to capture the mathematical essence of symmetry.
Operations and functions are very similar concepts.
Indeed, on a suitable level of generality there is not much to
distinguish them. Both of them are processes rather than
things. And now is a good moment to open up Pandora's box
and explain one of the most powerful general weapons in the mathematician's armory, which we might call the
"thingification of processes." (There is a dictionary term, reification, but it sounds pretentious.) Mathematical
"things" have no exis-
tence in the real world: they are abstractions. But mathemati-
cal processes are also abstractions, so processes are no less "things" than the "things" to which they are applied. The
thingification of processes is commonplace. In fact, I can
make out a very good case that the number "two" is not actu-
ally a thing but a process-the process you carry out when you associate two camels or two sheep with the symbols
"1,
2" chanted in turn. A number is a process that has long ago been thingified so thoroughly that everybody thinks of it
as a
thing. It is just as feasible-though less familiar to most of
WHAT MATHEMATiCS is ABOUT 17
us-to think of an operation or a function as a thing. For

example, we might talk of "square root" as if it were a thing-
and I mean here not the square root of any particular number, but the function itself. In this image, the square-root
function
is a kind of sausage machine: you stuff a number in at one end
and its square root pops out at the other.
In chapter 6, we will treat motions of the plane or space as
if they are things. I'm warning you now because you may find it disturbing when it happens. However,
mathematicians
aren't the only people who play the thingification game. The
legal profession talks of "theft" as if it were a thing; it even
knows what kind of thing it is-a crime. In phrases such as
"two major evils in Western society are drugs and theft" we
find one genuine thing and one thingified thing, both treated as if they were on exactly the same level. For theft is a
process, one whereby my property is transferred without my
agreement to somebody else, but drugs have a real physical
existence.
Computer scientists have a useful term for things that can be built up from numbers by thingifying processes: they
call
them data structures. Common examples in computer science are lists (sets of numbers written in sequence) and
arrays
(tables of numbers with several rows and columns). I've
already said that a picture on a computer screen can be repre-
sented as a list of pairs of numbers; that's a more complicated
but entirely sensible data structure. You can imagine much more complicated possibilities-arrays that are tables of
lists,
not tables of numbers; lists of arrays; arrays of arrays; lists of
lists of arrays of lists .... Mathematics builds its basic objects of thought in a similar manner. Back in the days when
the
logical foundations of mathematics were still being sorted
18 NATURE'S NUMBERS
out, Bertrand Russell and Alfred North Whitehead wrote an enormous three-volume work, Principia Mathematica,
which
began with the simplest possible logical ingredient-the idea
of a set, a collection of things. They then showed how to build
up the rest of mathematics. Their main objective was to ana- lyze the logical structure of mathematics, but a major
part of
their effort went into devising appropriate data structures for
the important objects of mathematical thought.
The image of mathematics raised by this description of its
basic objects is something like a tree, rooted in numbers and branching into ever more esoteric data structures as you
pro-
ceed from trunk to bough, bough to limb, limb to twig .... But
this image lacks an essential ingredient. It fails to describe how mathematical concepts interact. Mathematics is not
just
a collection of isolated facts: it is more like a landscape; it has
an inherent geography that its users and creators employ to
navigate through what would otherwise be an impenetrable
jungle. For instance, there is a metaphorical feeling of distance. Near any particular mathematical fact we find
other,
related facts. For example, the fact that the circumference of a
circle is 1t (pi) times its diameter is very close to the fact that
the circumference of a circle is 21t times its radius. The con-
nection between these two facts is immediate: the diameter is twice the radius. In contrast, unrelated ideas are more
distant
from each other; for example, the fact that there are exactly
six different ways to arrange three objects in order is a long
way away from facts about circles. There is also a metaphori-
cal feeling of prominence. Soaring peaks pierce the sky- important ideas that can be used widely and seen from far
away, such as Pythagoras's theorem about right triangles, or
the basic techniques of calculus. At every turn, new vistas
WHAT MATHEMATiCS is ABOUT J9
arise-an unexpected river that must be crossed using step- ping stones, a vast, tranquil lake, an impassable crevasse.
The
user of mathematics walks only the well-trod parts of this
mathematical territory. The creator of mathematics explores its unknown mysteries, maps them, and builds roads
through
them to make them more easily accessible to everybody else.
The ingredient that knits this landscape together is proof Proof determines the route from one fact to another. To
professional mathematicians, no statement is considered valid
unless it is proved beyond any possibility of logical error. But
there are limits to what can be proved, and how it can be
proved. A great deal of work in philosophy and the founda-
tions of mathematics has established that you can't prove everything, because you have to start somewhere; and even
when you've decided where to start, some statements may be
neither provable nor disprovable. I don't want to explore those issues here; instead, I want to take a pragmatic look at
what proofs are and why they are needed.
Textbooks of mathematical logic say that a proof is a sequence of statements, each of which either follows from
previous statements in the sequence or from agreed axioms-
unproved but explicitly stated assumptions that in effect
define the area of mathematics being studied. This is about as
informative as describing a novel as a sequence of sentences,
each of which either sets up an agreed context or follows credibly from previous sentences. Both definitions miss the
essential point: that both a proof and a novel must tell an interesting story. They do capture a secondary point, that
the
story must be convincing, and they also describe the overall
format to be used, but a good story line is the most important
feature of all.
40 NATURE'S NUMBERS
Very few textbooks say that.
Most of us are irritated by a movie riddled with holes,
however polished its technical production may be. I saw one
recently in which an airport is taken over by guerrillas who
shut down the electronic equipment used by the control tower and substitute their own. The airport authorities and
the hero then spend half an hour or more of movie time-sev-
eral hours of story time-agonizing about their inability to
communicate with approaching aircraft, which are stacking
up in the sky overhead and running out of fuel. It occurs to no one that there is a second, fully functioning airport no
more
than thirty miles away, nor do they think to telephone the
nearest Air Force base. The story was brilliantly and expen- sively filmed-and silly.
That didn't stop a lot of people from enjoying it: their criti-
cal standards must have been lower than mine. But we all
have limits to what we are prepared to accept as credible. If in an otherwise realistic film a child saved the day by
picking up
a house and carrying it away, most of us would lose interest.
Similarly, a mathematical proof is a story about mathematics that works. It does not have to dot every j and cross
every t;
readers are expected to fill in routine steps for themselves-
just as movie characters may suddenly appear in new sur-
roundings without it being necessary to show how they got there. But the story must not have gaps, and it certainly
must
not have an unbelievable plot line. The rules are stringent: in
mathematics, a single flaw is fatal. Moreover, a subtle flaw
can be just as fatal as an obvious one.
Let's take a look at an example. I have chosen a simple
one, to avoid technical background; in consequence, the proof
tells a simple and not very significant story. I stole it from a
colleague, who calls it the SHIP/DOCK Theorem. You probably know the type of puzzle in which you are given
one word
(SHIP) and asked to turn it into another word (DOCK) by
changing one letter at a time and getting a valid word at every
stage. You might like to try to solve this one before reading on: if you do, you will probably understand the theorem,
and
its proof, more easily.
Here's one solution:
SHIP
SLIP SLOP
SLOT
SOOT
LOOT LOOK
LOCK
DOCK
There are plenty of alternatives, and some involve fewer words. But if you play around with this problem, you will
eventually notice that all solutions have one thing in com-
mon: at least one of the intermediate words must contain two vowels.
O.K., so prove it.
I'm not willing to accept experimental evidence. I don't
care if you have a hundred solutions and every single one of
them includes a word with two vowels. You won't be happy with such evidence, either, because you will have a
sneaky
feeling that you may just have missed some really clever sequence that doesn't include such a word. On the other
hand, you will probably also have a distinct feeling that somehow "it's obvious." I agree; but why is it obvious?
41 NATURE'S NUMBERS
You have now entered a phase of existence in which most
mathematicians spend most of their time: frustration. You know what you want to prove, you believe it, but you
don't
see a convincing story line for a proof. What this means is that
you are lacking some key idea that will blow the whole prob-
lem wide open. In a moment I'll give you a hint. Think about it for a few minutes, and you will probably experience
a much
more satisfying phase of the mathematician's existence:
illumination.
Here's the hint. Every valid word in English must contain a vowel.
It's a very simple hint. First, convince yourself that it's true.
(A dictionary search is acceptable, provided it's a big dictionary.) Then consider its implications ....
O.K., either you got it or you've given up. Whichever of
these you did, all professional mathematicians have done the
same on a lot of their problems. Here's the trick. You have to
concentrate on what happens to the vowels. Vowels are the peaks in the SHIP/DOCK landscape, the landmarks
between
which the paths of proof wind.
In the initial word SHIP there is only one vowel, in the
third position. In the final word DOCK there is also only one
vowel, but in the second position. How does the vowel change position? There are three possibilities. It may hop
from one location to the other; it may disappear altogether and reappear later on; or an extra vowel or vowels may be
cre-
ated and subsequently eliminated.
The third possibility leads pretty directly to the theorem.
Since only one letter at a time changes, at some stage the word must change from having one vowel to having two. It
can't leap from having one vowel to having three, for exam-
pIe. But what about the other possibilities? The hint that I
mentioned earlier tells us that the single vowel in SHIP can-
not disappear altogether. That leaves only the first possibility: that there is always one vowel, but it hops from
position 3 to
position 2. However, that can't be done by changing only one
letter! You have to move, in one step, from a vowel at position
3 and a consonant at position 2 to a consonant at position 3
and a vowel at position 2. That implies that two letters must change, which is illegal. Q.E.D., as Euclid used to say.
A mathematician would write the proof out in a much
more formal style, something like the textbook model, but the
important thing is to tell a convincing story. Like any good story, it has a beginning and an end, and a story line that
gets
you from one to the other without any logical holes appear-
ing. Even though this is a very simple example, and it isn't
standard mathematics at all, it illustrates the essentials: in particular, the dramatic difference between an argument
that
is genuinely convincing and a hand-waving argument that
sounds plausible but doesn't really gel. I hope it also put you
through some of the emotional experiences of the creative
mathematician: frustration at the intractability of what ought to be an easy question, elation when light dawned,
suspicion
as you checked whether there were any holes in the argu-
ment, aesthetic satisfaction when you decided the idea really
was O.K. and realized how neatly it cut through all the appar-
ent complications. Creative mathematics is just like this-but with more serious subject matter.
Proofs must be convincing to be accepted by mathemati-
cians. There have been many cases where extensive numeri-
cal evidence suggested a completely wrong answer. One noto-
rious example concerns prime numbers-numbers that have
44 NATURE'S NUMBERS
no divisors except themselves and 1. The sequence of primes
begins 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19 and goes on forever. Apart from
2, all primes are odd; and the odd primes fall into two classes:
those that are one less than a multiple of four (such as 3, 7, 11,
19) and those that are one more than a multiple of four (such as 5, 13, 17). If you run along the sequence of primes
and
count how many of them fall into each class, you will observe
that there always seem to be more primes in the "one less"
class than in the "one more" class. For example, in the list of
the seven pertinent primes above, there are four primes in the first class but only three in the second. This pattern
persists
for numbers up to at least a trillion, and it seems entirely rea-
sonable to conjecture that it is always true.
However, it isn't.
By indirect methods, number theorists have shown that when the primes get sufficiently big, the pattern changes and
the "one more than a multiple of four" class goes into the
lead. The first proof of this fact worked only when the numbers got bigger than 10'10'10'10'46, where to avoid
giving the
printer kittens I've used the ' sign to indicate forming a power. This number is utterly gigantic. Written out in full, it
would go 10000 ... 000, with a very large number of Os. If all
the matter in the universe were turned into paper, and a zero
could be inscribed on every electron, there wouldn't be
enough of them to hold even a tiny fraction of the necessary zeros. No amount of experimental evidence can account
for the possibility of exceptions so rare that you need numbers that
big to locate them. Unfortunately, even rare exceptions matter in mathematics. In ordinary life, we seldom worry
about things that might occur on one occasion out of a trillion. Do
you worry about being hit by a meteorite? The odds are about one in a trillion. But mathematics piles logical
deductions on
top of each other, and if any step is wrong the whole edifice
may tumble. If you have stated as a fact that all numbers
behave in some manner, and there is just one that does not,
then you are wrong, and everything you have built on the basis of that incorrect fact is thrown into doubt.
Even the very best mathematicians have on occasion
claimed to have proved something that later turned out not to
be so-their proof had a subtle gap, or there was a simple
error in a calculation, or they inadvertently assumed something that was not as rock-solid as they had imagined.
So,
over the centuries, mathematicians have learned to be
extremely critical of proofs. Proofs knit the fabric of mathe-
matics together, and if a single thread is weak, the entire fab-
ric may unravel.
CHAPTER 4
THE CONSTANTS OF CHANGE
For a good many centuries, human thought about nature has
swung between two opposing points of view. According to
one view, the universe obeys fixed, immutable laws, and
everything exists in a well-defined objective reality. The opposing view is that there is no such thing as objective
real-
ity; that all is flux, all is change. As the Greek philosopher
Heraclitus put it, "You can't step into the same river twice."
The rise of science has largely been governed by the first
viewpoint. But there are increasing signs that the prevailing
cultural background is starting to switch to the second-ways of thinking as diverse as postmodernism, cyberpunk,
and
chaos theory all blur the alleged objectiveness of reality and
reopen the ageless debate about rigid laws and flexible
change.
What we really need to do is get out of this futile game
altogether. We need to find a way to step back from these opposing worldviews-not so much to seek a synthesis as
to
see them both as two shadows of some higher order of reality-shadows that are different only because the higher
order
is being seen from two different directions. But does such a higher order exist, and if so, is it accessible? To many-
espe-
cially scientists-Isaac Newton represents the triumph of
47
48 NATURE'S NUMBERS
rationality over mysticism. The famous economist John May- nard Keynes, in his essay Newton, the Man, saw
things differ-
ently:
In the eighteenth century and since, Newton came to be thought
of as the first and greatest of the modern age of scientists, a ratio-
nalist, one who taught us to think on the lines of cold and
untinctured reason. I do not see him in this light. I do not think
that anyone who has pored over the contents of that box which
he packed up when he finally left Cambridge in 1696 and
which, though partly dispersed, have come down to us, can see
him like that. Newton was not the first of the age of reason. He
was the last of the magicians, the last of the Babylonians and
Sumerians, the last great mind which looked out on the visible
and intellectual world with the same eyes as those who began to
build our intellectual inheritance rather less than 10,000 years
ago. Isaac Newton, a posthumous child born with no father on
Christmas Day, 1642, was the last wonder-child to whom the
Magi could do sincere and appropriate homage.
Keynes was thinking of Newton's personality, and of his
interests in alchemy and religion as well as in mathematics
and physics. But in Newton's mathematics we also find the
first significant step toward a worldview that transcends and
unites both rigid law and flexible flux. The universe may
appear to be a storm-tossed ocean of change, but Newton- and before him Galileo and Kepler, the giants upon whose
shoulders he stood-realized that change obeys rules. Not only can law and flux coexist, but law generates flux.
Today's emerging sciences of chaos and complexity sup-
ply the missing converse: flux generates law. But that is another story, reserved for the final chapter.
THE CONSTANTS OF CHANGE 49
Prior to Newton, mathematics had offered an essentially static model of nature. There are a few exceptions, the most
obvious being Ptolemy'S theory of planetary motion, which reproduced the observed changes very accurately using
a sys-
tem of circles revolving about centers that themselves were
attached to revolving circles-wheels within wheels within wheels. But at that time the perceived task of mathematics
was to discover the catalogue of "ideal forms" employed by
nature. The circle was held to be the most perfect shape possi-
ble, on the basis of the democratic observation that every
point on the circumference of a circle lies at the same distance from its center. Nature, the creation of higher
beings, is
by definition perfect, and ideal forms are mathematical per-
fection, so of course the two go together. And perfection was
thought to be unblemished by change.
Kepler challenged that view by finding ellipses in place of
complex systems of circles. Newton threw it out altogether,
replacing forms by the laws that produce them.
Although its ramifications are immense, Newton's approach to motion is a simple one. It can be illustrated using the
motion of a projectile, such as a cannonball fired from a gun at an angle. Galileo discovered experimentally that the
path of
such a projectile is a parabola, a curve known to the ancient
Greeks and related to the ellipse. In this case, it forms an
inverted V-shape. The parabolic path can be most easily
understood by decomposing the projectile's motion into two independent components: motion in a horizontal
direction
and motion in a vertical direction. By thinking about these
two types of motion separately, and putting them back together only when each has been understood in its own
right, we can see why the path should be a parabola.
SO NATURE'S NUMBERS
The cannonball's motion in the horizontal direction, paral-
lel to the ground, is very simple: it takes place at a constant speed. Its motion in the vertical direction is more
interesting.
It starts moving upward quite rapidly, then it slows down,
until for a split second it appears to hang stationary in the air; then it begins to drop, slowly at first but with rapidly
increas-
ing velocity.
Newton's insight was that although the position of the
cannonball changes in quite a complex way, its velocity
changes in a much simpler way, and its acceleration varies in a very simple manner indeed. Figure 2 summarizes the
rela-
tionship between these three functions, in the following
example.
Suppose for the sake of illustration that the initial upward
velocity is fifty meters per second (50 m/sec). Then the height of the cannonball above ground, at one-second
intervals, is:
0,45,80,105,120,125,120,105,80,45,0.
You can see from these numbers that the ball goes up, levels
off near the top, and then goes down again. But the general pattern is not entirely obvious. The difficulty was com-
pounded in Galileo's time-and, indeed, in Newton's-
because it was hard to measure these numbers directly. In
actual fact, Galileo rolled a ball up a gentle slope to slow the
whole process down. The biggest problem was to measure time accurately: the historian Stillman Drake has
suggested
that perhaps Galileo hummed tunes to himself and subdi- vided the basic beat in his head, as a musician does.
The pattern of distances is a puzzle, but the pattern of
velocities is much clearer. The ball starts with an upward
velocity of 50 m/sec. One second later, the velocity has
150 100 ------ --50 o ------ -o TIME 5 10 T 50
§ ~ 0~----~---r----~---r--~~---.---,.----.---,.---1
W>
-50
FIGURE 2.
10
TIME
Calculus in a nutshell. Three mathematical patterns determined by a cannonball: height, velocity, and acceleration. The pattern of
heights, which is what we naturally observe, is complicated. Newton realized that the pattern of velocities is simpler, while the
pattern of accelerations is simpler still. The two basic operations of calculus, differentiation and integration, let us pass from any
of these patterns to any other. So we can work with the simplest, acceleration, and deduce the one we really want-height.
52 NATURE'S NUMBERS
decreased to (roughly) 40 m/sec; a second after that, it is 30 m/sec; then 20 m/sec, 10 m/sec, then a m/sec
(stationary). A second after that, the velocity is 10 m/sec downward. Using
negative numbers, we can think of this as an upward velocity of -10 m/sec. In successive seconds, the pattern
continues: -20
m/sec, -30 m/sec, -40 m/sec, -50 m/sec. At this point, the can-
nonball hits the ground. So the sequence of velocities, mea-
sured at one-second intervals, is:
50,40, 30, 20, 10, 0, -10, -20, -30, -40, -50.
Now there is a pattern that can hardly be missed; but let's go
one step further by looking at accelerations. The correspond-
ing sequence for the acceleration of the cannonball, again using negative numbers to indicate downward motion, is
-10, -10, -10, -10, -10, -10, -10, -10, -10, -10, -10.
I think you will agree that the pattern here is extremely simple. The ball undergoes a constant downward
acceleration of
10 m/sec2• (The true figure is about 9.81 m/sec2, depending on
whereabouts on the Earth you perform the experiment. But 10 is easier to think about.)
How can we explain this constant that is hiding among the
dynamic variables? When all else is flux, why is the accelera-
tion fixed? One attractive explanation has two elements. The
first is that the Earth must be pulling the ball downward; that is, there is a gravitational force that acts on the ball. It
is rea-
sonable to expect this force to remain the same at different
heights above the ground. Indeed, we feel weight because
gravity pulls our bodies downward, and we still weigh the
same if we stand at the top of a tall building. Of course, this
appeal to everyday observation does not tell us what happens
if the distance becomes sufficiently large-say the distance

that separates the Moon from the Earth. That's a different
story, to which we shall return shortly.
The second element of the explanation is the real break- through. We have a body moving under a constant
downward
force, and we observe that it undergoes a constant downward acceleration. Suppose, for the sake of argument, that
the pull
of gravity was a lot stronger: then we would expect the down-
ward acceleration to be a lot stronger, too. Without going to a
heavy planet, such as Jupiter, we can't test this idea, but it
looks reasonable; and it's equally reasonable to suppose that
on Jupiter the downward acceleration would again be constant-but a different constant from what it is here. The
sim-
plest theory consistent with this mixture of real experiments
and thought experiments is that when a force acts on a body, the body experiences an acceleration that is
proportional to
that force. And this is the essence of Newton's law of motion.
The only missing ingredients are the assumption that this is always true, for all bodies and for all forces, whether or
not the forces remain constant; and the identification of the con-
stant of proportionality as being related to the mass of the body. To be precise, Newton's law of motion states that
mass x acceleration = force.
That's it. Its great virtue is that it is valid for any system of
masses and forces, including masses and forces that change over time. We could not have anticipated this universal
applicability from the argument that led us to the law; but it
turns out to be so.
Newton stated three laws of motion, but the modern approach views them as three aspects of a single mathemati-
54 NATURE'S NUMBERS
cal equation. So I will use the phrase "Newton's law of
motion" to refer to the whole package.
The mountaineer's natural urge when confronted with a mountain is to climb it; the mathematician's natural urge
when confronted with an equation is to solve it. But how?
Given a body's mass and the forces acting on it, we can easily
solve this equation to get the acceleration. But this is the answer to the wrong question. Knowing that the
acceleration
doesn't tell us anything
of a cannonball is always -10 m/sec2
obvious about the shape of its trajectory. This is where the
branch of mathematics known as calculus comes in; indeed it is why Newton (and Leibniz) invented it. Calculus
provides a
technique, which nowadays is called integration, that allows
us to move from knowledge of acceleration at any instant to
knowledge of velocity at any instant. By repeating the same
trick, we can then obtain knowledge of position at any instant. And that is the answer to the right question.
As I said earlier, velocity is rate of change of position, and
acceleration is rate of change of velocity. Calculus is a mathe-
matical scheme invented to handle questions about rates of change. In particular, it provides a technique for finding
rates
of change-a technique known as differentiation. Integration
"undoes" the effect of differentiation; and integrating twice
undoes the effect of differentiating twice. Like the twin faces
of the Roman god Janus, these twin techniques of calculus point in opposite directions. Between them, they tell you
that
if you know anyone of the functions-position, velocity, or
acceleration-at every instant, then you can work out the other two.
Newton's law of motion teaches an important lesson: namely, that the route from nature's laws to nature's behavior
need not be direct and obvious. Between the behavior we

observe and the laws that produce it is a crevasse, which the
human mind can bridge only by mathematical calculations. This is not to suggest that nature is mathematics-that (as
the
physicist Paul Dirac put it) "God is a mathematician." Maybe
nature's patterns and regularities have other origins; but, at
the very least, mathematics is an extremely effective way for
human beings to come to grips with those patterns.
All of the laws of physics that were discovered by pursu-
ing Isaac Newton's basic insight-that change in nature can be
described by mathematical processes, just as form in nature
can be described by mathematical things-have a similar
character. The laws are formulated as equations that relate not the physical quantities of primary interest but the
rates at
which those quantities change with time, or the rates at which
those rates change with time. For example the "heat equa-
tion," which determines how heat flows through a conducting
body, is all about the rate of change of the body's temperature; and the "wave equation," which governs the motion
of waves
in water, air, or other materials, is about the rate of change of
the rate of change of the height of the wave. The physical laws for light, sound, electricity, magnetism, the elastic
bending of
materials, the flow of fluids, and the course of a chemical
reaction, are all equations for various rates of change.
Because a rate of change is about the difference between
some quantity now and its value an instant into the future, equations of this kind are called differential equations.
The term "differentiation" has the same origin. Ever since New-
ton, the strategy of mathematical physics has been to describe
the universe in terms of differential equations, and then solve
them.
56 NATURE'S NUMBERS
However, as we have pursued this strategy into more
sophisticated realms, the meaning of the word "solve" has
undergone a series of major changes. Originally it implied finding a precise mathematical formula that would
describe
what a system does at any instant of time. Newton's discovery
of another important natural pattern, the law of gravitation,
rested upon a solution of this kind. He began with Kepler's discovery that planets move in ellipses, together with two
other mathematical regularities that were also noted by Kepler. Newton asked what kind of force, acting on a planet,
would be needed to produce the pattern that Kepler had
found. In effect, Newton was trying to work backward from behavior to laws, using a process of induction rather
than
deduction. And he discovered a very beautiful result. The
necessary force should always point in the direction of the
Sun; and it should decrease with the distance from the planet
to the Sun. Moreover, this decrease should obey a simple mathematical law, the inverse-square law. This means
that the force acting on a planet at, say, twice the distance is
reduced to one-quarter, the force acting on a planet at three
times the distance is reduced to one-ninth, and so on. From
this discovery-which was so beautiful that it surely con-
cealed a deep truth about the world-it was a short step to the
realization that it must be the Sun that causes the force in the
first place. The Sun attracts the planet, but the attraction becomes weaker if the planet is farther away. It was a very
appealing idea, and Newton took a giant intellectual leap: he
assumed that the same kind of attractive force must exist between any two bodies whatsoever, anywhere in the uni-
verse. And now, having "induced" the law for the force, Newton could bring the argument full circle by deducing the
geometry
THE CONSTANTS OF CHANGE S7
of planetary motion. He solved the equations given by his

laws of motion and gravity for a system of two mutually
attracting bodies that obeyed his inverse-square law; in those days, "solved" meant finding a mathematical formula
for their
motion. The formula implied that they must move in ellipses
about their common center of mass. As Mars moves around
the Sun in a giant ellipse, the Sun moves in an ellipse so tiny
that its motion goes undetected. Indeed, the Sun is so massive compared to Mars that the mutual center of mass lies
beneath
the Sun's surface, which explains why Kepler thought that
Mars moved in an ellipse around the stationary Sun.
However, when Newton and his successors tried to build
on this success by solving the equations for a system of three or more bodies-such as Moon/Earth/Sun, or the entire
Solar
System-they ran into technical trouble; and they could get
out of trouble only by changing the meaning of the word
"solve." They failed to find any formulas that would solve the
equations exactly, so they gave up looking for them. Instead,
they tried to find ways to calculate approximate numbers. For example, around 1860 the French astronomer Charles-
Eugene Delaunay filled an entire book with a single approximation to
the motion of the Moon, as influenced by the gravitational
attractions of the Earth and the Sun. It was an extremely accurate approximation-which is why it filled a book-and
it
took him twenty years to work it out. When it was subse-
quently checked, in 1970, using a symbolic-algebra computer
program, the calculation took a mere twenty hours: only three
mistakes were found in Delaunay's work, none serious.
The motion of the Moon/Earth/Sun system is said to be a
three-body problem-for evident reasons. It is so unlike the nice, tidy two-body problem Newton solved that it might
as
well have been invented on another planet in another galaxy,
58 NATURE'S NUMBERS
or in another universe. The three-body problem asks for a
solution for the equations that describe the motion of three masses under inverse-square-Iaw gravity.
Mathematicians
tried to find such a solution for centuries but met with aston- ishingly little success beyond approximations, such as
De-
launay's, which worked only for particular cases, like Moon/Earth/Sun. Even the so-called restricted three-body
problem, in which one body has a mass so small that it can be
considered to exert no force at all upon the other two, proved utterly intractable. It was the first serious hint that
knowing
the laws might not be enough to understand how a system
behaves; that the crevasse between laws and behavior might
not always be bridgeable.
Despite intensive effort, more than three centuries after
Newton we still do not have a complete answer to the three-
body problem. However, we finally know why the problem
has been so hard to crack. The two-body problem is "inte-
grable"-the laws of conservation of energy and momentum restrict solutions so much that they are forced to take a
simple
mathematical form. In 1994, Zhihong Xia, ofthe Georgia Insti-
tute of Technology, proved what mathematicians had long
suspected: that a system of three bodies is not integrable.
Indeed, he did far more, by showing that such a system can exhibit a strange phenomenon known as Arnold
diffusion,
first discovered by Vladimir Arnold, of Moscow State Univer-
sity, in 1964. Arnold diffusion produces an extremely slow,
"random" drift in the relative orbital positions. This drift is
not truly random: it is an example of the type of behavior now known as chaos-which can be described as apparently
ran-
dom behavior with purely deterministic causes.
Notice that this approach again changes the meaning of
"solve." First that word meant "find a formula." Then its
meaning changed to "find approximate numbers." Finally, it

has in effect become "tell me what the solutions look like." In
place of quantitative answers, we seek qualitative ones. In a
sense, what is happening looks like a retreat: if it is too hard to find a formula, then try an approximation; if
approxima-
tions aren't available, try a qualitative description. But it is
wrong to see this development as a retreat, for what this change of meaning has taught us is that for questions like
the three-body problem, no formulas can exist. We can prove that
there are qualitative aspects to the solution that a formula
cannot capture. The search for a formula in such questions
was a hunt for a mare's nest.
Why did people want a formula in the first place? Because in the early days of dynamics, that was the only way to
work
out what kind of motion would occur. Later, the same infor-
mation could be deduced from approximations. Nowadays, it
can be obtained from theories that deal directly and precisely
with the main qualitative aspects of the motion. As we will see in the next few chapters, this move toward an
explicitly
qualitative theory is not a retreat but a major advance. For the
first time, we are starting to understand nature's patterns in
their own terms.
CHAPTER S
FROM VIOLINS TO VIDEOS
It has become conventional, as I have noted, to separate mathematics into two distinct subdisciplines labeled pure
mathe-
matics and applied mathematics. This is a separation that
would have baffled the great mathematicians of classical times. Carl Friedrich Gauss, for example, was happiest in
the
ivory tower of number theory, where he delighted in abstract
numerical patterns simply because they were beautiful and
challenging. He called number theory "the queen of mathematics," and the poetic idea that queens are delicate
beauties
who do not sully their hands with anything useful was not far
from his mind. However, he also calculated the orbit of Ceres, the first asteroid to be discovered. Soon after its
discovery,
Ceres passed behind the Sun, as seen from Earth, and could
no longer be observed. Unless its orbit could be calculated
accurately, astronomers would not be able to find it when it again became visible, months later. But the number of
obser-
vations of the asteroid was so small that the standard methods for calculating orbits could not provide the required
level of accuracy. So Gauss made several major innovations, some of
which remain in use to this day. It was a virtuoso perfor- mance, and it made his public reputation. Nor was that his
6.
61 NATURE'S NUMBERS
only practical application of his subject: among other things,
he was also responsible for major developments in surveying, telegraphy, and the understanding of magnetism.
In Gauss's time, it was possible for one person to have a
fairly good grasp of the whole of mathematics. But because all of the classical branches of science have grown so
vast that no
single mind can likely encompass even one of them, we now
live in an age of specialists. The organizational aspects of
mathematics function more tidily if people specialize either
in the theoretical areas of the subject or its practical ones. Because most people feel happier working in one or the
other
of these two styles, individual preferences tend to reinforce
this distinction. Unfortunately, it is then very tempting for the outside world to assume that the only useful part of
mathe-
matics is applied mathematics; after all, that is what the name
seems to imply. This assumption is correct when it comes to
established mathematical techniques: anything really useful inevitably ends up being considered "applied," no
matter
what its origins may have been. But it gives a very distorted
view of the origins of new mathematics of practical impor- tance. Good ideas are rare, but they come at least as
often
from imaginative dreams about the internal structure of math-
ematics as they do from attempts to solve a specific, practical
problem. This chapter deals with a case history of just such a development, whose most powerful application is
televi-
sion-an invention that arguably has changed our world more
than any other. It is a story in which the pure and applied aspects of mathematics combine to yield something far
more
powerful and compelling than either could have produced
alone. And it begins at the start of the sixteenth century, with the problem of the vibrating violin string. Although
this may
FROM VIOLINS TO VIDEOS 6J
sound like a practical question, it was studied mainly as an

exercise in the solution of differential equations; the work was not aimed at improving the quality of musical
instruments.
Imagine an idealized violin string, stretched in a straight
line between two fixed supports. If you pluck the string,
pulling it away from the straight-line position and then letting go, what happens? As you pull it sideways, its elastic
tension
increases, which produces a force that pulls the string back
toward its original position. When you let go, it begins to
accelerate under the action of this force, obeying Newton's
law of motion. However, when it returns to its initial position it is moving rapidly, because it has been accelerating
the
whole time-so it overshoots the straight line and keeps mov-
ing. Now the tension pulls in the opposite direction, slowing
it down until it comes to a halt. Then the whole story starts
over. If there is no friction, the string will vibrate from side to side forever.
That's a plausible verbal description; one of the tasks for a
mathematical theory is to see whether this scenario really
holds good, and if so, to work out the details, such as the
shape that the string describes at any instant. It's a complex problem, because the same string can vibrate in many
different
ways, depending upon how it is plucked. The ancient Greeks
knew this, because their experiments showed that a vibrating
string can produce many different musical tones. Later genera- tions realized that the pitch of the tone is determined
by the
frequency of vibration-the rate at which the string moves to and fro-so the Greek discovery tells us that the same
string
can vibrate at many different frequencies. Each frequency corresponds to a different configuration of the moving
string, and
the same string can take up many different shapes.
64 NATURE'S NUMBERS
Strings vibrate much too fast for the naked eye to see any
one instantaneous shape, but the Greeks found important evi-
dence for the idea that a string can vibrate at many different
frequencies. They showed that the pitch depends on the posi-
tions of the nodes-places along the length of the string which remain stationary. You can test this on a violin, banjo,
or guitar. When the string is vibrating in its "fundamental"
frequency-that is, with the lowest possible pitch-only the
end points are at rest. If you place a finger against the center of the string, creating a node, and then pluck the string,
it pro-
duces a note one octave higher. If you place your finger one- third of the way along the string, you actually create
two
nodes (the other being two-thirds of the way along, and this
produces a yet higher note. The more nodes, the higher the
frequency. In general, the number of nodes is an integer, and
the nodes are equally spaced.
The corresponding vibrations are standing waves, meaning
waves that move up and down but do not travel along the
string. The size of the up-and-down movement is known as the amplitude of the wave, and this determines the tone's
loudness. The waves are sinusoidal-shaped like a sine
curve, a repetive wavy line of rather elegant shape that arises
in trigonometry.
In 1714, the English mathematician Brook Taylor published the fundamental vibrational frequency of a violin
string in terms of its length, tension, and density. In 1746, the
Frenchman Jean Le Rond d'Alembert showed that many
vibrations of a violin string are not sinusoidal standing waves. In fact, he proved that the instantaneous shape of the
wave
can be anything you like. In 1748, in response to d'Alembert's
work, the prolific Swiss mathematician Leonhard Euler
FROM VIOLINS TO VIDEOS 6S
worked out the "wave equation" for a string. In the spirit of Isaac Newton, this is a differential equation that governs
the
rate of change of the shape of the string. In fact it is a "partial
differential equation," meaning that it involves not only rates
of change relative to time but also rates of change relative to
space-the direction along the string. It expresses in mathematical language the idea that the acceleration of each
tiny
segment of the string is proportional to the tensile forces act-
ing upon that segment; so it is a consequence of Newton's law of motion.
Not only did Euler formulate the wave equation: he solved
it. His solution can be described in words. First, deform the
string into any shape you care to choose-a parabola, say, or a
triangle, or a wiggly and irregular curve of your own devising.
Then imagine that shape propagating along the string toward the right. Call this a rightward-traveling wave. Then
turn the
chosen shape upside down, and imagine it propagating the
other way, to create a leftward-traveling wave. Finally, super-
pose these two waveforms. This process leads to all possible
solutions of the wave equation in which the ends of the string remain fixed.
Almost immediately, Euler got into an argument with
Daniel Bernoulli, whose family originally hailed from
Antwerp but had moved to Germany and then Switzerland to
escape religious persecution. Bernoulli also solved the wave equation, but by a totally different method. According
to
Bernoulli, the most general solution can be represented as a
superposition of infinitely many sinusoidal standing waves.
This apparent disagreement began a century-long controversy, eventually resolved by declaring both Euler and
Bernoulli
right. The reason that they are both right is that every periodi-
•• NATURE'S NUMBERS
cally varying shape can be represented as a superposition of an

infinite number of sine curves. Euler thought that his approach
led to a greater variety of shapes, because he didn't recognize
their periodicity. However, the mathematical analysis works
with an infinitely long curve. Because the only part of the curve that matters is the part between the two endpoints, it
can be repeated periodically along a very long string without
any essential change. So Euler's worries were unfounded.
The upshot of all this work, then, is that the sinusoidal
waves are the basic vibrational components. The totality of
vibrations that can occur is given by forming all possible sums of finitely or infinitely many sinusoidal waves of all
possible amplitudes. As Daniel Bernoulli had maintained all
along, "all new curves given by d' Alembert and Euler are only
combinations of the Taylor vibrations."
With the resolution of this controversy, the vibrations of a
violin string ceased to be a mystery, and the mathematicians
went hunting for bigger game. A violin string is a curve-a
one-dimensional object-but objects with more dimensions
can also vibrate. The most obvious musical instrument that employs a two-dimensional vibration is the drum, for a
drum-
skin is a surface, not a straight line. So mathematicians turned
their attention to drums, starting with Euler in 1759. Again he
derived a wave equation, this one describing how the displace-
ment of the drums kin in the vertical direction varies over time. Its physical interpretation is that the acceleration of a
small
piece of the drums kin is proportional to the average tension exerted on it by all nearby parts of the drumskin:
symbolically,
it looks much like the one-dimensional wave equation; but
now there are spatial (second-order) rates of change in two independent directions, as well as the temporal rate of
change.
FROM VIOLINS TO VIDEOS 67
Violin strings have fixed ends. This "boundary condition"

has an important effect: it determines which solutions to the wave equation are physically meaningful for a violin
string. In
this whole subject, boundaries are absolutely crucial. Drums
differ from violin strings not only in their dimensionality but
in having a much more interesting boundary: the boundary of a drum is a closed curve, or circle. However, like the
bound-
ary of a string, the boundary of the drum is fixed: the rest of the drumskin can move, but its rim is firmly strapped
down.
This boundary condition restricts the possible motions of the drumskin. The isolated endpoints of a violin string are
not as
interesting and varied a boundary condition as a closed curve
is; the true role of the boundary becomes apparent only in two or more dimensions.
As their understanding of the wave equation grew, the
mathematicians of the eighteenth century learned to solve the
wave equation for the motion of drums of various shapes. But
now the wave equation began to move out of the musical
domain to establish itself as an absolutely central feature of mathematical physics. It is probably the single most
impor-
tant mathematical formula ever devised-Einstein's famous relation between mass and energy notwithstanding. What
happened was a dramatic instance of how mathematics can
lay bare the hidden unity of nature. The same equation began to show up everywhere. It showed up in fluid
dynamics, where it described the formation and motion of water waves.
It showed up in the theory of sound, where it described the
transmission of sound waves-vibrations of the air, in which
its molecules become alternately compressed and separated. And then it showed up in the theories of electricity and
mag-
netism, and changed human culture forever.
6. NATURE'S NUMBERS
Electricity and magnetism have a long, complicated his-
tory, far more complex than that of the wave equation, involv-
ing accidental discoveries and key experiments as well as
mathematical and physical theories, Their story begins with
William Gilbert, physician to Elizabeth I, who described the Earth as a huge magnet and observed that electrically
charged
bodies can attract or repel each other. It continues with such
people as Benjamin Franklin, who in 1752 proved that light-
ning is a form of electricity by flying a kite in a thunderstorm;
Luigi Galvani, who noticed that electrical sparks caused a dead frog's leg muscles to contract; and Alessandro Volta,
who invented the first battery. Throughout much of this early
development, electricity and magnetism were seen as two quite distinct natural phenomena. The person who set their
unification in train was the English physicist and chemist
Michael Faraday. Faraday was employed at the Royal Institu-
tion in London, and one of his jobs was to devise a weekly experiment to entertain its scientifically-minded
members.
This constant need for new ideas turned Faraday into one of
the greatest experimental physicists of all time. He was especially fascinated by electricity and magnetism, because
he
knew that an electric current could create a magnetic force.
He spent ten years trying to prove that, conversely, a magnet
could produce an electric current, and in 1831 he succeeded. He had shown that magnetism and electricity were two
differ-
ent aspects of the same thing-electromagnetism. It is said that King William IV asked Faraday what use his scientific
parlor tricks were, and received the reply "I do not know,
Your Majesty, but I do know that one day you will tax them."
In fact, practical uses soon followed, notably the electric motor (electricity creates magnetism creates motion) and
the
FROM VIOLINS TO VIDEOS 69
electrical generator (motion creates magnetism creates electricity). But Faraday also advanced the theory of
electromag-
netism. Not being a mathematician, he cast his ideas in physi-
cal imagery, of which the most important was the idea of a
line of force. If you place a magnet under a sheet of paper and sprinkle iron filings on top, they will line up along
well-
defined curves. Faraday's interpretation of these curves was
that the magnetic force did not act "at a distance" without any
intervening medium; instead, it propagated through space along curved lines. The same went for electrical force.
Faraday was no mathematician, but his intellectual suc-
cessor James Clerk Maxwell was. Maxwell expressed Fara-
day's ideas about lines of force in terms of mathematical equations for magnetic and electric fields-that is,
distributions of
magnetic and electrical charge throughout space. By 1864, he
had refined his theory down to a system of four differential
equations that related changes in the magnetic field to changes in the electric field. The equations are elegant, and
reveal a curious symmetry between electricity and magnetism, each affecting the other in a similar manner.
It is here, in the elegant symbolism of Maxwell's equa-
tions, that humanity made the giant leap from violins to
videos: a series of simple algebraic manipulations extracted the wave equation from Maxwell's equations-which
implied
the existence of electromagnetic waves. Moreover, the wave
equation implied that these electromagnetic waves traveled with the speed of light. One immediate deduction was
that light itself is an electromagnetic wave-after all, the most
obvious thing that travels at the speed of light is light. But just as the violin string can vibrate at many frequencies,
so-
according to the wave equation-can the electromagnetic

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NATURE'S

• BasicBooks A DIvIsIOn of HarperCollinsPubllshers

8 Do Dice Play God? 107 , Drops, Dynamics, and Daisies 127

Epilogue: Morphomatics 145

imagination. Most of the bits and pieces of the Virtual Unreal-

tagons, hexagons, circles, ellipses, spirals, cubes, spheres,

nature's secret regularities is being used to steer artificial

thermostat on a boiler, which keeps it at a fixed temperature,

plex" numbers. A professional mathematican should never

us-to think of an operation or a function as a thing. For

150 100 ------ --50 o ------ -o TIME 5 10 T 50

if the distance becomes sufficiently large-say the distance

need not be direct and obvious. Between the behavior we

of planetary motion. He solved the equations given by his

meaning changed to "find approximate numbers." Finally, it

sound like a practical question, it was studied mainly as an

cally varying shape can be represented as a superposition of an

Violin strings have fixed ends. This "boundary condition"

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