Month: April 2001

We are a product of evolution, and are not surprised that our bodies seem to be well-suited to the environment.

Our leg bones are strong enough to allow for Earth’s gravitational pull – not too weak to shatter, not so massively over-engineered as to be wasteful.

But it could also be claimed we are special and the environment was formed and shaped for us.

This, as we know, is the basis of many religious ideas.

In recent years, such ideas have been expanded beyond Earth to look at the entire universe and our place within it.

The so-called Fine-Tuning Argument – that the laws of physics have been specially-tuned, potentially by some Supreme Being, to allow human life to arise – is the focus of Victor J. Stenger’s book.

Stenger presents the mathematics underpinning cosmic evolution, the lifetime of stars, the quantum nature of atoms and so on. His central is that “fine-tuning” claims are fatally flawed.

He points out that some key areas of physics – such as the equality of the charges on the electron and proton – are set by conservation laws determined by symmetries in the universe, and so are not free to play with.

Some flaws in the theory, he argues, run deeper.

A key component of the fine-tuning argument is that there are many parameters governing our universe, and that changing any one of these would likely produce a sterile universe unlike our own.

But think of baking a cake. Arbitrarily doubling only the flour, or sugar or vanilla essence may end in a cooking disaster, but doubling all the ingredients results in a perfectly tasty cake.

The interrelationships between the laws of physics are somewhat more complicated, but the idea is the same.

A hypothetical universe in which gravity was stronger, the masses of the fundamental particles smaller and electomagnetic force weaker may well result in the following: a universe that appears a little different to our own, but is still capable of producing long-lived stars and heavy chemical elements, the basic requirements for complex life.

Stenger backs up such points with his own research, and provides access to a web-based program he wrote called MonkeyGod.

The program allows you to conjure up universes with differing underlying physics. And, as Stenger shows, randomly plucking universe parameters from thin air can still produce universes quite capable of harbouring life.

This book is a good read for those wanting to understand the fine-tuning issues in cosmology, and it’s clear Stenger really understands the science.

But while many of the discussions are robust, I felt that in places some elements of the fine-tuning argument were brushed aside with little real justification.

As a case in point, Stenger falls back on multiverse theory and the anthropic principle, whereby we occupy but one of an almost infinite sea of different universes, each with a different law of physics.

In multiverse theory, most universes would be sterile (though we should not be surprised to find ourselves in a habitable universe).

While such a multiverse – the staple of superstring and brane ideas of the cosmos – is often sold as science fact, it actually lies much closer to the world of science speculation (or, to many, fiction).

We are not out of the fine-tuning waters yet, but Stenger’s book is a good place to start getting to grips with the issues.

For more such insights, log into www.international-maths-challenge.com.

*Credit for article given to Geraint Lewis*

Relating mathematics to questions that are relevant to many students can help address its image problem, argues Eugenia Cheng.

Mathematics has an image problem: far too many people are put off it and conclude that the subject just isn’t for them. There are many issues, including the curriculum, standardised tests and constraints placed on teachers. But one of the biggest problems is how maths is presented, as cold and dry.

Attempts at “real-life” applications are often detached from our daily lives, such as arithmetic problems involving a ludicrous number of watermelons or using a differential equation to calculate how long a hypothetical cup of coffee will take to cool.

I have a different approach, which is to relate abstract maths to questions of politics and social justice. I have taught fairly maths-phobic art students in this way for the past seven years and have seen their attitudes transformed. They now believe maths is relevant to them and can genuinely help them in their everyday lives.

At a basic level, maths is founded on logic, so when I am teaching the principles of logic, I use examples from current events rather than the old-fashioned, detached type of problem. Instead of studying the logic of a statement like “all dogs have four legs”, I might discuss the (also erroneous) statement “all immigrants are illegal”.

But I do this with specific mathematical structures, too. For example, I teach a type of structure called an ordered set, which is a set of objects subject to an order relation such as “is less than”. We then study functions that map members of one ordered set to members of another, and ask which functions are “order-preserving”. A typical example might be the function that takes an ordinary number and maps it to the number obtained from multiplying by 2. We would then say that if x < y then also 2x < 2y, so the function is order-preserving. By contrast the function that squares numbers isn’t order-preserving because, for example, -2 < -1, but (-2)² > (-1)². If we work through those squaring operations, we get 4 and 1.

However, rather than sticking to this type of dry mathematical example, I introduce ones about issues like privilege and wealth. If we think of one ordered set with people ordered by privilege, we can make a function to another set where the people are now ordered by wealth instead. What does it mean for that to be order-preserving, and do we expect it to be so? Which is to say, if someone is more privileged than someone else, are they automatically more wealthy? We can also ask about hours worked and income: if someone works more hours, do they necessarily earn more? The answer there is clearly no, but then we go on to discuss whether we think this function should be order-preserving or not, and why.

My approach is contentious because, traditionally, maths is supposed to be neutral and apolitical. I have been criticised by people who think my approach will be off-putting to those who don’t care about social justice; however, the dry approach is off-putting to those who do care about social justice. In fact, I believe that all academic disciplines should address our most important issues in whatever way they can. Abstract maths is about making rigorous logical arguments, which is relevant to everything. I don’t demand that students agree with me about politics, but I do ask that they construct rigorous arguments to back up their thoughts and develop the crucial ability to analyse the logic of people they disagree with.

Maths isn’t just about numbers and equations, it is about studying different logical systems in which different arguments are valid. We can apply it to balls rolling down different hills, but we can also apply it to pressing social issues. I think we should do both, for the sake of society and to be more inclusive towards different types of student in maths education.

For more such insights, log into www.international-maths-challenge.com.

*Credit for article given to Eugenia Cheng*