Geometry

By Helmut Hofer and Derek Bermel 

This image (produced with a Java applet by Alec Jacobson at http://alecjacobåson.com/programs/three-body-chaos) shows color­ful trackings of the paths of satellites as they evolve from a simple single orbit to a complex multicolored tangle of orbits.

I can’t understand why people are frightened of new ideas. I’m frightened of the old ones.—John Cage

Helmut Hofer, Professor in the School of Mathematics, writes:

Last September, the School of Mathematics launched its yearlong program with my Member seminar talk “First Steps in Symplectic Dynamics.” About two years earlier, it had become clear that certain important problems in dynamical systems could be solved with ideas coming from a different field, the field of symplectic geometry. The goal was then to bring researchers from the fields of dynamical systems and symplectic geometry together in a program aimed at the development of a common core and ideally leading to a new field—symplectic dynamics.

Not long before, in my 2010 inaugural public lecture at IAS, “From Celestial Mechanics to a Geometry Based on the Concept of Area,” I had described the historical background and some of the interesting mathematical problems belonging to this anticipated field of symplectic dynamics. The lecture began with a computer program showing chaos in the restricted three-body problem. This problem describes the movement of a satellite under the gravity of two big bodies, say the earth and the moon, in a rotating coordinates system in which the earth and the moon stay at fixed positions. The chaos in the system is illustrated by putting about ten satellites initially at almost the same position with almost the same velocity.

When the system starts evolving, the program shows colorful trackings of the paths of the satellites as they evolve from a simple single orbit to a complex multicolored tangle of orbits, once the orbits of the different satellites start separating.

In his conjectures, now collectively known as the Langlands program, Robert Langlands drew on the work of Hermann Weyl (above), André Weil, and Harish-Chandra, among others with extensive ties to the Institute.

It has been said that the goals of modern mathematics are recon­struction and development.¹ The unifying conjectures between number theory and representation theory that Robert Langlands, Professor Emeritus in the School of Mathematics, articulated in a letter to André Weil in 1967, continue a tradition at the Institute of advancing mathematical knowledge through the identification of problems central to the understanding of active areas or likely to become central in the future.

“Two striking qualities of mathematical concepts regarded as central are that they are simultaneously pregnant with possibilities for their own development and, so far as we can judge from a history of two and a half millennia, of permanent validity,” says Langlands. “In comparison with biology, above all with the theory of evolution, a fusion of biology and history, or with physics and its two enigmas, quantum theory and relativity theory, mathematics contributes only modestly to the intellectual architecture of mankind, but its central contributions have been lasting, one does not supersede another, it enlarges it.”²

In his conjectures, now collectively known as the Langlands program, Langlands drew on the work of Harish-Chandra, Atle Selberg, Goro Shimura, André Weil, and Hermann Weyl, among others with extensive ties to the Institute. 

Weyl, whose appointment to the Institute’s Faculty in 1933 followed those of Albert Einstein and Oswald Veblen, was a strong believer in the overall unity of mathematics, across disciplines and generations. Weyl had a major impact on the progress of the entire field of mathematics, as well as physics, where he was equally comfortable. His work spanned topology, differential geometry, Lie groups, representation theory, harmonic analysis, and analytic number theory, and extended into physics, including relativity, electromagnetism, and quantum mechanics. “For [Weyl] the best of the past was not forgotten,” notes Michael Atiyah, a former Institute Professor and Member, “but was subsumed and refined by the mathematics of the present.”³

The simplest case of the fundamental lemma counts points with alternating signs at various distances from the center of a certain tree-like structure. As depicted in the above image by former Member Bill Casselman, it counts 1, 1–3=–2, 1–3+6=4, 1–3+6–12=–8, etc. But this case is deceptively simple, and Bao Châu Ngô’s final proof required a huge range of sophisticated mathematical tools.

The proof of the fundamental lemma by Bao Châu Ngô that was confirmed last fall is based on the work of many mathematicians associated with the Institute for Advanced Study over the past thirty years. The fundamental lemma, a technical device that links automorphic representations of different groups, was formulated by Robert Langlands, Professor Emeritus in the School of Mathematics, and came out of a set of overarching and interconnected conjectures that link number theory and representation theory, collectively known as the Langlands program. The proof of the fundamental lemma, which resisted all attempts for nearly three decades, firmly establishes many theorems that had assumed it and paves the way for progress in understanding underlying mathematical structures and possible connections to physics.

The simplest case of the fundamental lemma counts points with alternating signs at various distances from the center of a certain tree-like structure. As depicted in the above image by former Member Bill Casselman, it counts 1, 1–3=–2, 1–3+6=4, 1–3+6–12=–8, etc. But this case is deceptively simple, and Ngô’s final proof required a huge range of sophisticated mathematical tools.

The story of the fundamental lemma, its proof, and the deep insights it provides into diverse fields from number theory and algebraic geometry to theoretical physics is a striking example of how mathematicians work at the Institute and demonstrates a belief in the unity of mathematics that extends back to Hermann Weyl, one of the first Professors at the Institute. This interdisciplinary tradition has changed the course of the subject, leading to profound discoveries in many different mathematical fields, and forms the basis of the School’s interaction with the School of Natural Sciences, which has led to the use of ideas from physics, such as gauge fields and strings, in solving problems in geometry and topology and the use of ideas from algebraic and differential geometry in theoretical physics.

Robbert Dijkgraaf will become the ninth Director of the Institute, as of July 1, 2012.

On November 14, the Institute for Advanced Study announced the appointment of Robbert Dijkgraaf as its ninth Director, succeeding, as of July 1, 2012, Peter Goddard, who has served as Director since January 2004.

Below, Dijkgraaf speaks about his enthusiasm for the Institute and for using knowledge, creativity, and collaboration to further our understanding of a world of diverse facts, structures, ideas, and cultures.

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I am delighted to come to the Institute for Advanced Study, one of the intellectual centers of the world. The position of Director is highly distinguished, and the list of former Directors is quite intimidating. But I am particularly looking forward to combining at the highest level three elements that have been important in my professional life: the opportunity to collaborate with the very best scientists and scholars; to organize a stimulating environment for great talent from around the world; and to play an active role in science education, advocacy, and diplomacy to engage future generations.

Taking up my appointment as Director of the Institute will feel a bit like coming home. My family and I have only the best recollections of our stays in Princeton. I also expect that in many ways my life will become more focused. My present position as President of the Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences requires giving attention to many different areas, from elementary school programs to industrial affairs, from government policy to international relations. The Institute is remarkably effective as a place for concentration and inspiration.

By Matthew Kahle 

Matthew Kahle, Member (2010-11) in the School of Mathematics, writes about his interest in thinking about what it might be like inside a black hole. This illustration (Figure 1.), from Kip Thorne's Black Holes and Time Warps: Einstein's Outrageous Legacy (W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1994), suggests a few probabilities.

I sometimes like to think about what it might be like inside a black hole. What does that even mean? Is it really “like” anything inside a black hole? Nature keeps us from ever knowing. (Well, what we know for sure is that nature keeps us from knowing and coming back to tell anyone about it.) But mathematics and physics make some predictions.

John Wheeler suggested in the 1960s that inside a black hole the fabric of spacetime might be reduced to a kind of quantum foam. Kip Thorne described the idea in his book Black Holes & Time Warps as follows (see Figure 1).

“This random, probabilistic froth is the thing of which the singularity is made, and the froth is governed by the laws of quantum gravity. In the froth, space does not have any definite shape (that is, any definite curvature, or even any definite topology). Instead, space has various probabilities for this, that, or another curvature and topology. For example, inside the singularity there might be a 0.1 percent probability for the curvature and topology of space to have the form shown in (a), and a 0.4 percent probability for the form in (b), and a 0.02 percent probability for the form in (c), and so on.”

In other words, perhaps we cannot say exactly what the properties of spacetime are in the immediate vicinity of a singularity, but perhaps we could characterize their distribution. By way of analogy, if we know that we are going to flip a fair coin a thousand times, we have no idea whether any particular flip will turn up heads or tails. But we can say that on average, we should expect about five hundred heads. Moreover, if we did the experiment many times we should expect a bell-curve shape (i.e., a normal distribution), so it is very unlikely, for example, that we would see more than six hundred heads.