WHAT IS MATH?

 



math with color


People seem to think that mathematics is something special — a kind of magic language that when tinkered with properly makes it possible for mortals to unravel mysteries about the universe hitherto known only by God.

I see it differently. Mathematics isn’t a language per se. Although mathematics can be (and is) explained by language, math itself is a collection of rules and symbols that makes it possible to avoid the encumbrances, flourishes, and ambiguities of language. It accomplishes this feat by defining things and their relationships in strictly limited — but important — ways.


euler formula hatEuler Identity – Khan Academy


Math involves symbols and rules that aren’t explained inside the equations. It is the lack of words that gives math its mysterious and magical reputation. But once everything is defined and understood, applying the contrived but logical rules of mathematics enables folks to manipulate equations to uncover previously hidden and non-intuitive relationships among the things they have defined.

What am I saying exactly? I am saying that it is possible to use words alone to describe the process of solving and manipulating an equation, which can lead to insights into the relationship of the things in the equations. But these words will make the process of computation cumbersome, impractical, and confusing.

Spoken language contains noise and nuances that interfere with the manipulation of carefully defined relationships between narrowly defined variables. Yes, the no-nonsense logic and bare bones precision of mathematics as well as the reduction of things to a few carefully chosen attributes enables mathematicians to apply rules to discover consequences that might otherwise remain undiscovered.

But the tightness of mathematical construction makes it a tool which is almost useless for describing and analyzing many subtle yet vivid experiences of a conscious mind — like beauty, the feel of an orgasm, or the experience of grief. For these realities of conscious experience, mathematics has a reputation for being irrelevant.


euler ring     Euler Identity – Wikipedia


Spoken language gives conscious humans the messy modeling mechanism they need to connect with each other to share and understand the more nuanced experiences of life. The messiness and ambiguity of spoken language makes the unique intimacies of human communication possible. Mathematics, despite its elegance, doesn’t do intimacy well.

The Euler Identity, illustrated above, is sometimes presented as an example of the mysterious power of mathematics. But if anyone takes the time to think about it, what does the equation say?  It says that minus one plus one equals zero.



Complex Plane


The explanation is easy.   -1 can be rewritten as e raised to the power of i times π because of simple rules, which place on a circle of radius 1 all the values of e raised to the ith power times anything.

The number that sits next to i is the angle in radians where the result lies, right?  In this case, an angle of π radians (180°) takes the value 1 (at 0°, or 0 radians) to half-way around the circle to the value -1. 

Easy… , right?

Despite the reputation of equations for precision, it turns out that physicists and other scientists struggle to make mathematics match the results of real-world measurements.  It has to do with the problem of scales, mostly.

The electrical force is a trillion times a trillion times a trillion times greater than the force of gravity at the scale of electrons and protons. At the scale of quarks, it’s one-hundred-thousand times greater still.

It’s one example.

The non-technical public is unaware for the most part that astronomical observations involving the movement of stars, planets, and other celestial bodies — or the results of observations made of the subatomic world (no matter how carefully contrived) — fail as often as not to provide results sufficiently in agreement with mathematics to be of any practical use until they are massaged a little.

Fudge-factors are a big component of doing real science. People have won Nobel prizes for inventing fudge-factor protocols to fix things.

It’s true.

Renormalization, perturbation theory (for phenomenon both small and large), Green’s functions, propagators, Feynman diagrams, and many other adjustments and tweaks make up the contortions and modifications that scientists overlay onto their beautiful equations to make them work.

They claim to have good reasons for all the tinkering; it’s complicated down there among the quarks or up there, among the quasars; there are nuances and messiness and ambiguity in the underlying reality of nature that no one can see or fully understand — not now; not anytime soon; perhaps not ever.

At subatomic scales, a tangled mess of virtual particles — which come into and out of existence more or less spontaneously — often gets the blame for the mismatch between mathematical elegance and the cold reality of experimental results.

On the scale of the universe, dark matter and energy (which have yet to be detected or observed) are sometimes blamed for anomalies. Click on the link in this paragraph to learn more.

It’s possible that no system involving mathematics can be contrived by humans to bring the satisfaction of knowing everything for certain; nothing we are able to invent will bring a tranquil end to the pain of cognitive dissonance that seems to drive our species to wonder and explore to find the satisfying answer.

On the other hand, perhaps mathematics is more complex and goes further than we know. Methods may yet be discovered to make mathematics and physics match-up with better accuracy and precision.

Recent work by Cohl Furey and others on numbers known as octonions is showing tantalizing hints that internal properties like the force and charge of particles and their external manifestations like mass and spin are connected in peculiar ways that might be described by a more fully developed mathematics.

Dixon algebra (a combination of four division algebras) is a tool that people are using to collaborate in the search for a path forward. So far, success eludes them.  Some experts are hopeful, but many express skepticism.

The more deeply people travel into the complexities of mathematics and science the more elusive truth seems to become; perhaps God is not a mathematician; maybe Einstein was right when he said, God does not play at dice.

A die is cast into the lap, yes, but its decision is from the LORD, according to an old proverb of Solomon.

Can it really be true that understanding the world is beyond the limitations of all life on the earth — beyond the abilities of the most brilliant minds that have lived or ever will live?

Is it possible that the universe cannot be understood by any conscious life anywhere in the universe for all time?

If so, it’s time to kneel.

Billy Lee           

SEGREGATION AND THE GATED COMMUNITY

The word community sounds egalitarian to most people. And gated?  No word has a  fairer proportion of safety to airy openness in the image it conveys to the mind.


Gated community near Orlando, Florida.

Florida is a land flowing with gates and communities. It is a Promised Land of sun, leisure, warm pools, and exclusivity. For the past month Bevy Mae and me have been vacationing inside this paradise at a house at one such community near Naples, Florida. It took three references, photo ID, and all cash up front to get us in here.

We are grateful for our good fortune. And we are in a really safe place. But when thinking about the state of affairs which has excluded as many as 94% of all Americans from the possibility of living here — if only for a few weeks — it makes me sick to my stomach. And of course, if you don’t live here you can’t be here — not even to drive through.


gated community 2


The compound we live in is huge. While biking in it the other day I was amazed to stumble on another gated community inside ours. It has a lake and huge houses. The gated occupants of our community aren’t allowed in their community even though their community is inside our community. Apparently, there are layers of gated communities. I never knew that.

As a teenager, I lived for two years in Key West, Florida. This was before the Civil Rights Act of 1964. It was totally segregated down there. The only black person I ever saw was our maid. She was an articulate thirty-year-old woman and really beautiful. I liked her a lot and talked with her every chance I got, usually about politics. From her I learned how difficult life was for black people in Key West at that time — and maybe just as importantly, that a lot of black people actually lived in Key West.

She said she supported the incumbent Democrat for Congress who was then running against an upstart Republican — a young guy always on the radio always complaining about how rich his opponent was. She liked the Democrat, she said, because he once bought park benches for her neighborhood.


integration segregation


At Key West High School the powers-that-be were considering the admission of a black kid from a “good” family. His dad was an officer in the U.S. Navy, I think. In the school cafeteria over lunch I made the mistake of saying I saw nothing wrong with going to school with “Negroes” (as they were then called by polite people).

“What!” some kid yelled. “You want to eat with niggers?”  Soon a crowd gathered. I stood my ground, and no one beat me up. The South was changing, but only a little.

One thing Key West didn’t have back then — no town did in those days — was gated communities. We had a military base that was gated — I lived on it — but the gates were for security against the hated Communists. We didn’t have terrorists or any other sort of enemies of the state. All that was to come later.

After World War II, the South and some parts of the North enforced segregation with a civilian militia called the Ku Klux Klan. It was a quasi-religious/military-style organization self-tasked with extra-judicial punishments of Negroes who violated the unwritten codes of the South.

If a black family bought a house in a white neighborhood, the militia would burn it down. Sometimes, so as not to smoke-damage nearby homes, the KKK would bomb the house; or if young white children lived nearby they might burn a cross in the front yard to frighten the occupants into leaving.

Lynchings  — common after the First World War — were, by the 1950s, less common.


Ku Klux Klan


After dozens of documented actions against Negroes — and perhaps hundreds or thousands of undocumented ones — white neighborhoods did not need gates, or walls, or fences to remain segregated.

Eventually, after years of separation, the white people who lived in these communities came to believe — many of them — that black people chose not to live next to them, because they preferred “their own kind.”

Terrorism? It didn’t exist in the United States of America in those days. The first time I heard the term was in college. Terrorism, then, was always directed against Israel, for some reason, almost always by Palestinians. The reasons why were never clear.

I don’t know what white people say today is the reason black people don’t live in the gated communities of Florida. I haven’t lived here long enough to learn.

I would bet that in some town somewhere in this huge state a black family lives in a gated community. Maybe more than one. I can imagine people pointing to that family as proof of my being uncharitable to the good people of Florida and to people everywhere who live in these spaces.

But it seems plain to me — fifty years after Congress, the President and the Supreme Court declared segregated housing illegal — black people don’t live in these desirable communities. Why is that?

I don’t know. I met a black man down here the other day. He told me he had been a Marine who helped liberate Kuwait during the first Gulf War.

He cleans the pool. Maybe I’ll ask him.

Billy Lee

THE PARROT NEXT DOOR


image

Inside the shadows of the lanai next door lurks a loquacious parrot. Bevy Mae and me can’t see him, but we know he’s in there, because he talks — a lot.

We want to meet him. But we are visitors on vacation, and it doesn’t seem quite right to walk up to the neighbor’s front door and announce, “Hi, we’re the neighbors from up north. Can we see your talking parrot?”

It seems a little forward, like something kids might do, right?

Every morning the parrot wakes us up with cries of “Lisa!” and “Chuck, Chuck!” When Chuck and Lisa don’t come running (and so far they haven’t) he can throw a bit of a hissy-fit and bang his cage like a tin can. Sometimes he hurls what sounds like obscenities.

I don’t want our neighbors — who I’ve met by the way; sweet folks from South America — to imagine that my wife and I don’t anything but adore their bird. We really do.

The parrot has an astounding repertoire of words and phrases that are nothing short of amazing. His Burt Lancaster accents and phraseology make me believe he may have been in the movies.

We will keep you posted on all the cute things he says and does.

image

4:30PM   The talking parrot was well behaved this afternoon. He said the following:

Charlie! Ow! Come ‘ere!
Hush up!
Hey Dad!
Charlie! Wee ooh!
Charlie! Wee ooh!
Chuck! Chuck!
Tweet! Wee ooh!

(etc. etc.)

10:00PM Friday  We didn’t hear the parrot today. Really miss him.

6:30 PM Sunday  The Parrot is back! Here is a transcript:

Wee ooh! Wee ooh! Hello.
Ee yooh. Tweet. Woo. Charlie!
What!? Joe?
Hey. Hey. Get out here!  [obscenity]
Hey! Hey girl. Hey. Hey.  [obscenity]
Charlie?  [farting sounds]
Hey girl  [whistles]
Hey John!
Tweet. Tweet. Tweet.
Doll?
Hey dad!  Hey dad!  [squeak]
Whoo! Whoo! Chirp. [bangs cage]
Charlie. Charlie. Wee ooh.
Chirp. Chirp.
Hey!  Help!
Whew!

(etc. etc.)

Billy Lee

SHOULD THIS BOOK BE FINISHED?

My book is called “Journal.”


Sanitorium, USSR
Sanatorium. Name and location unknown.

Writing Journal has inflicted upon me a certain pain and anguish of mind and soul. Yes, I wrote it — secretly, furtively — in the sanatorium pictured above. But I forewarn you. Journal is a work of fiction. It is not real. Why don’t you believe me?

Nothing happened except between the twisted wires of my tortured mind. I swear it.

Journal is unfinished. Indeed, it cannot be finished — not without your consent; not without your cooperation. Will you cooperate? Will you allow this book to bubble forth from the sewer of my polluted soul?

May I interview you in the privacy of my basement?

Be advised. I’m not normal. I endured twelve years in the psychiatric hospital pictured above. They used me like a lab rat then released me after the Soviet Union collapsed.

Any reminders of that fiendish hell — even those hiding inside the ephemeral anamnesis of a forgotten oil painting — inject fibrillations of fear into my drug-damaged heart.

The asylum is located somewhere inside the old Soviet Republic. I can’t say exactly where, because they never told me.

But they did do things to me. Unusual things.


starship troopers operation scene
Inside Russian Sanatorium. UPD unclassified photo.

Today I am free and live inside the United States under an identity created for me by the NSA’s Unusual Persons Division. I am grateful of course to the UPD for my new life. In fact, I couldn’t be happier.

HA!

You see, I am a survivor.

I’m alive!

Sigh… Burp…  Oh yes. I’m real.

Free.

Authentic.

Journal is fiction.

Yes, the events I suffered to describe never happened. 

You seem to be a trusting sort; young; innocent. May I confess? May I share a secret? Will you keep it and never tell? It means so much.

You can be the very first one to help me.  I need your love so bad. Surely, someone understands. 

Twelve years in the funny farm… 

Guess what?

I’m still insane!

Billy Lee

WHAT IS LIFE?

This February marks the 71st anniversary of the lecture series What is Life? presented at Trinity College in Dublin, Ireland by quantum physicist Erwin Schrödinger — best known today for his Schrödinger’s Cat thought experiment.


baby in bubble


In these lectures Schrödinger correctly described — ten years before James Watson and Francis Crick published their work on the structure of DNA (for which they won the Nobel prize in 1962) — many of the important and essential markers of the yet undescribed and undiscovered molecule that we now know determines everything about us and all other living things.

The lectures are remarkable for their prescience and clarity — they have an almost prophetic quality about them — but what I found most interesting (and it’s all interesting to me) are Schrödinger’s observations in the Epilogue, which he labeled On Determinism and Free Will.


fish escapes fish bowl


After some warm-up remarks he says:

But immediate experiences in themselves, however various and disparate they be, are logically incapable of contradicting each other.

So let us see whether we cannot draw the correct, non-contradictory conclusion from the following two premises: (i) My body functions as a pure mechanism according to the Laws of Nature. (ii) Yet I know, by incontrovertible direct experience, that I am directing its motions, of which I foresee the effects that may be fateful and all-important, in which case I feel and take full responsibility for them.

What follows might blow your mind.  

What is Life?

Billy Lee