Topology

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

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.