An enormous theorem: The classification of finite simple groups
plus.maths.org
plus.maths.org
"And this has the cardinality of the monster, and no-one knows why."
Mathematicians keep finding peculiar and deep relationships between their subfields that, for the most part, are not yet understood. As the article states, a proof isn't really complete until it's comprehensible.
The difference to me between physics and maths is that the latter has the capacity to be fully deducible from the axioms, and in that sense, it's fascinating that somewhere buried in our system of numbers, groups, geometry etc. lies a set of characteristics dictating the existence of those 18 types.
Why five? Well, it is the number of graphs with a certain type of property (Dynkin diagrams). And beyond this, I have no good answer: it just simply is the number. You can write them all down, you can verify that there are no more (this part is hard), but I do not know of any deep insight as to why.
I should note that the 26 and the 18 for finite simple groups were not just computed numbers, either. A few attempts at a complete classification were made and failed because they were missing a few cases. If I recall, it was unclear for a time if the Monster group really was the largest sporadic group.
I also recall a story I was once told by Andrew Sutherland. He was working on what is called a local-global principle, which would show that if a property is true of elliptic curves at every prime, it is true over the rationals (with some constraints). He found, after several failed proof attempts, that something special happened at the prime 7. Why 7? Well, it is not too large and not too small...
A last connection: consider the deterministic linear-time median-finding algorithm. It begins: "break up the elements into groups of 5." In this case, the reason 5 is the size of the groups is simply that the answer must be odd; that 3 doesn't work; and that smaller is better.
Small numbers are weird.
Weird and wonderful :). Thanks for all the examples, makes me wanna crack open my abstract algebra book!
I decided to go into engineering when I got out of high school, but part of me was leaning towards pure maths. Still feel that yearning when I read things like this. So incredibly fascinating, simple, and yet wildly complex at the same time.
I've worked a lot on chaos theory in the context of celestial mechanics and the gravitational 3-body problem (Newtonian). After having done my MSc thesis in the field and nearing the completion of my PhD in it, I still can't get my head around how such an incredibly simple problem can spawn such a wealth of complexity and beauty. Kinda envious of Poincaré when he first mapped out the tremendous complexity and structure underpinning it all.
Small numbers rule.
I'm glad that there's an effort to consolidate and simplify the proof, since as they say, it could end up effectively lost forever.
I don't understand the logic here. I've been told many times that the academic's dream is to find a field where he's the only active researcher. Fewer active researchers means fewer PhD positions, sure, but it also means more prominence for those who remain, less effort involved in finding publishable results, etc.
My go-to example of offensively low-hanging fruit is De Morgan's law(s), which I still can't believe were named after a person. They state, in plain english:
1. If it is not the case that a collection of claims are all true, then one or more of the claims is false.
2. If it is not the case that any of a collection of claims is true, then they are all false.
When you're the only active researcher in a field, you can have observations like that named after you too!
I've heard that CS is better. But still has tendencies that way.
(Not in the sense of the NSA.)
Well, parts of it at least [1].
1: http://research.microsoft.com/en-us/news/features/gonthierpr...
E.g., there was the time before class started that for some reason I went to board and led the team in classifying finite groups up to order 60. He just paused at the door when he saw that, smiled, and didn't start class until we were done.
(Note: The reason that could be done in a few minutes is that for the purposes of the exercise, prime numbers are trivial, and so are integers that are the product of two distinct primes. That didn't leave a lot of other cases to worry about.)
The second advantage is power: if you have proved
something about regular polyhedra, then what you
have proved automatically holds true for every
polyhedron, whether it's a cube, a tetrahedron, or
some polyhedron that you have never even heard about.
Is this worded correctly/true? If I prove something is true for regular polyhedra, then I don't believe that that extends to all polyhedra since regular polyhedra are a subset of all polyhedra...The monster is, for example, the symmetry group of an object in 196884 dimensions. It's not really a polyhedron.