Tag Archives: Mathematics

On Numbers

This week, how numbers are both a universal language and symbols representing deeper meaning.—Click here to support the Wednesday Blog:https://www.patreon.com/sthosdkane


This week, how numbers are both a universal language and symbols representing deeper meaning.


Consider, if you will, what meaning a number holds if unaffixed to an object for calculation or counting? What does six mean if disassociated from the rest of its sentence? Some numbers are recognizable for their meanings due to the broader cultural connotations held by those definitions. A learned reader who sees 3.14 written on a page will recognize that as the first three digits of the value of π, yet without the decimal a Midwesterner will recognize 314 as the telephone area code for the City of St. Louis. Similarly, while 23 holds significance as Michael Jordan’s jersey number to millions if not billions of us who remember the greatest Bull play around the millennium, to others 23 is just another prime number.

Numbers in themselves can only exist beyond the abstract if they account for something. The life is blown into the Music Man’s best known song by the “76 Trombones”; Professor Harold Hill’s exhortation to the people of River City, Iowa would’ve fallen flat if he called on them to raise the funds and enthusiasm for “76” alone. Perhaps the patriotic connotation of that number, 1776 was the year of this country’s birth, might’ve stirred some hearts, but a number alone cannot bring a parent to tears quite as well as hearing their child blow the life out of a trombone for the first time.

It generally annoys me to hear numbers be used with minimal context. I don’t always know what the speaker is referring to when I hear a given number, and in that instance while mathematics may be the universal language the way we use it requires greater linguistic framing. Language can readily transform numbers that otherwise would be subordinated into defined objects of their own. Consider the penny; on the one hand it is merely 1/100th of a dollar in this country or 1/100th of a pound in the U.K. Yet a penny saved is a penny earned, and if Poor Richard’s maxim is to be believed a penny in itself is something beyond its diminutive status in hard currency. The value of the penny has shrunk a tremendous amount in the last century to the point that for the last quarter-century it’s cost the U.S. Mint more to make an individual penny than the value of the penny itself.

The penny is in a less stable place today because of inflation and our society’s transition toward digital currency. How often do you see products priced at 1¢ in stores anymore? With all electronic payments for things, no coins or banknotes are needed to complete the transaction. The unfortunate incident of coming up a few pennies short when paying for something is no longer a problem unless your card is denied. Yet for the cash-users among us losing the penny means they can no longer aim for exactness when paying for things. If a product is priced at $4.99 and you give the cashier a $5 bill you won’t get that penny back. I’d probably shrug it off, but still, I’d feel a twinge of unfulfillment and a residual sense that that shop now owes me money, even if it’s practically worthless. There lies the one great flaw in this plan: the penny is so ingrained in our culture; it’s been one of our coins since independence and even before then pennies go back to Charlemagne’s denarius (thus why in pre-decimal Britain and Ireland the penny was abbreviated d.) The Carolingian denarius of the 8thcentury CE was in turn borrowed from the Roman denarius which was introduced during the Second Punic War (218-201 BCE). So, the penny has been around far longer than most other coins we use here in the United States, and its name transcends this country where it represents 1 cent. The penny still gets used in Britain as the 1 pence coin, there even that word pence is another plural which is synonymous with our pennies.

My photo of the Ha’penny Bridge from August 2016.

In older songs and stories, we still remember when the penny was valuable enough to be subdivided into ha’pennies, or half a penny. At that time, the British penny was worth 1/240th of a pound, in a pre-decimal system that was replaced in 1970 with the current pound-pence system. Dublin’s Ha’penny Bridge is named for the tolls that used to be collected to cross it. Even smaller denominations of the pre-decimal pound such as the farthing (1/4d.), and half farthing (1/8d.) were also minted. Clearly then the penny had more value in the past than it does today. I was struck when I moved to London in 2015 how you could still find goods for sale in the groceries priced less than £1, especially bread. That is almost unheard of in my own country anymore. I think this also speaks to a broader transition in the way we think away from older pre-decimal systems toward ones that work better for computers. After all, the primary method by which we interact with numbers anymore is through our computers who tend to do most all of the calculations for us.

One effect of that shift is that fractions now feel less practical. I was taught fractions in school well before being taught about decimal places in what now feels like one of these pre-decimal holdovers. To an extent I still think in fractions, perhaps thanks to our continued use of the quarter (1/4th) among the coins of the US dollar or the weighing of meat in fractions of a pound. Fractions on their own require that they represent a portion of another number, they cannot exist independently. ¾ is three-quarters of something, yet again here context is key. A musician will look at that fraction and read it as ¾ time, or a 3 beat measure where the quarter note gets the beat. Yet again there: this refers to a quarter note. That musical note may be the default note that gets played, with the ascending and descending scales of note length from that point, yet it still is ¼ of the length of a whole note. I love how in English we’ve mixed Latin and Germanic terms together to describe quarters, halfs, wholes, and such. This word quarter is Latin in origin, coming from the ordinal number fourth in that language: quartus. A quarter then is a fourth of an object.

I remember learning my fractions in school, and I still use them a great deal in my daily life. They’re practical when I know the total number of objects I’m dealing with and when I need to subdivide those objects to ensure maximum efficiency or spread. If I have 4 slices of bread left and I know I won’t be able to make it out of the house for a day or so because of snow, I’ll portion those slices out, so I don’t run out until I have the next loaf in hand. For tangible things that exist in the physical world comparing them as fractions (that is dividing the portion by the whole) helps me understand the numbers I’m dealing with.

Yet again, the quotient produced by that division, the result of that fraction is almost always written in decimals. I think of decimals as a product of the development of the metric system in the late eighteenth century. They are fundamentally more rational, and easier to program into a computer. Rather than asking a computer to translate from the more human fraction one can instead speak to the computer in its own language and let it do its computations faster and more efficiently. Today then, I use decimals far more than fractions. What’s more, each decimal number can exist independently of any other figure. 0.25 is simply 0.25, it’s not inherently a quarter of something else. When I see that price tag of $4.99 in the shop, I think of it as just a hair below $5, and am willing to hand over a $5 bill despite that being worth more than the product I’m buying. If I get my penny back or not is less of a concern, after all in this decimal mindset the penny is almost worthless, so what’s the bother if I lose a few cents here or there? Consider that sentence again though: a penny is a cent, or 1 percent of a larger number, namely $1. Even here when contemplating the penny as 1 cent or $0.01 it is still 1/100th of a dollar. Sure, eventually losing those pennies in every transaction will add up, but it’s going to take long enough that it doesn’t register as a problem for me.

Percentages are another sort of number that’ve grown in importance in my thinking in recent years. We mostly encounter percentages in tipping these days. There’s a tender balance here between tipping a percentage digitally or a whole dollar depending on the initial value of the bill of sale. When doing my own mental math, if I get a rough idea of what 20% of something will be I might decide to round up to the nearest whole dollar when writing a tip on a receipt. Yet those tip screens we see at nearly every business changes the dynamic slightly. Instead of leaving room for that rounding up they offer us the exact sum of 20% of the total bill down to the nearest cent. There’s something lifeless yet efficient about this. This is a number to be sure, yet it represents something human and social that ought to be seen in that light rather than just numerically.Mathematics is the purest language, it’s the one most often looked to as a solution for how we might communicate with other intelligent life who surely wouldn’t know how to speak any of our human languages. Yet all numbers are infused with emotion and have a myriad of deeper meanings than the sum of their parts. In balancing budgets, we could just look at the numbers and cut where seems fitting, yet there is always a human side to every budget line. Each cut is something taken away from someone, a potential line of funding removed that otherwise would’ve contributed to someone’s livelihood and helped them make something new and exciting. Numbers can and do reflect people, and they always have. They can exist in both the abstract as just numbers and the real as representations of people and objects. More often than not, we see them in the latter context. The mathematician is warranted to consider the human in their calculations, lest they clip one cent too many and leave too many of us people without the values we need to survive and thrive in this world we’ve built for ourselves.


Asking the Computer

This week, I address news that the latest version of ChatGPT will help with your math problems. — Links: New York Times, 12 Sep. 2024, Cade Metz, "OpenAI Unveils New ChatGPT That Can Reason Through Math and Science." Eddie Burback, 1 Sep. 2024, "AI is here. What now?" YouTube.


This week, I address news that the latest version of ChatGPT will help with your math problems.


I’ve used ChatGPT on occasion, mostly to test the system and see what it will do if I prompt it about very particular things. What does it know about André Thevet (1516–1590), or about the championship run of my beloved Chicago Cubs from the 80s, the 1880s that is. I even asked it questions in Irish once and was startled to see it reply with perfect Irish grammar, better than Google Translate does. I’ve occasionally pulled up my ChatGPT app to ask about the proper cooking temperatures of beef, pork, or chicken rather than typing those questions into Google, and in one instance I used it to help me confirm a theory I had based on the secondary literature it had in its database for a project I was writing. The one thing that I would’ve expected ChatGPT to be best at from the start are logical questions, especially in mathematics. 

There are clear rules for math, except that in America it’s singular in its informal name while in Britain it retains its inherent plurality. As much as I acted out a learned frustration and incomprehension when posed with mathematical questions in elementary, middle, and high school, I appreciate its regularity, the way in which it operates on a universal and expected level. Many of the greatest minds throughout human history have seen math as a universal language, one which they could use to explain the world in which we live and the heavens we see over our heads. The History of Science is as much a history of knowledge as it is the history of the development of the Scientific Method, a tool which has its own mathematical regularity. All our scales and theorems and representations of real and unreal numbers reflect our own interpretation of the Cosmos, and so it is logical that an advanced civilization like our own (if I may be so bold) would have developed their own language for these same concepts which are inherent in our universe. Carl Sagan took this idea to a fuller level in his novel and later film Contact, in which the alien signal coming from Vega is mathematical in nature. 

Often, the lower numbers are some of the easiest words in a language for learners to pick up on. The numbers retain their similarities in the Indo-European languages to the extent that they were used as early evidence that the Irish trí, the English three, and the Latin trēs are related to the Sanskrit trī (त्रि) and the Farsi se (سه.) The higher the numbers go the more complicated they get, of course. An older pattern in Irish which I still use is to count higher numbers as four and fifty or ceathair is caoga, which is similar to the pattern used in modern German, and something that appears far more King James Bible in English. I love the complexity of the French base-twenty counting system, where the year of my birth, 1992, is mille neuf cent quatre-vignts douze, or one thousand nine-hundred four-twenties and twelve. Will the Belgian and Swiss word nonante to refer to the same number as quatre-vignts-dix ultimately win out in the Francophonie? Peut-être.

I was surprised to read in the New York Times last Friday that the latest version of ChatGPT called OpenAI o1 was built specifically to fix prior bugs that kept the program from solving mathematical problems. Surely this would be the first sort of language that one would teach a computer. As it turns out, no. Even now, OpenAI o1’s mathematical capabilities are limited to questions posed to it in English. So, as long as you have learned the English dialect of the language of mathematics then you can use this computer program to help you solve questions in the most universal of languages.

It reminds me of the bafflement I felt upon first seeing TurnItIn’s grammar correction feature, the purple boxes on TurnItIn’s web interface. For the uninitiated, TurnItIn is the essay grading and plagiarism detection system that most academic institutions that I’ve studied and taught at in the last 15 years use as a submission portal. I was proud to program into my Binghamton TurnItIn account several hotkeys that would allow me to save time retyping the same comment on 50 student essays every time they had a deadline. Thousands of essays later I can squarely say these hotkeys saved my bacon time and time again. Like legal documents, especially the medieval and early modern kind that I’ve read and written about in my studies, they are formulaic and expectable in their character.

The same goes for math: even with the basic understanding that I have (I only made it as far as Algebra II) the logic when explained well is inherent in the subject. Earlier in my doctoral studies, beginning in 2020, my two-sided approach to developing my own character and intellect beyond my studies came in the form of first signing up for Irish classes again, and second picking up where I left off with my mathematical studies in college and trying my hand at a beginner physics course. I’m sad to say I really haven’t had the time to devote to this mathematical pursuit as much as I would like. Perhaps I will be able to work it in someday, alas I also have to eat and sleep, and I’ve learned my attention will only last for so long. I too, dear reader, am only human.

Yet this is something where Open AI o1 differs from the average bear, for it is decidedly not human. How would we try to successfully communicate with a non-human entity or being when we have no basis for conversation to start with? The good thing about o1 and other AI programs is these are non-human minds which we are creating in our own image, ever the aspirant we are wrestling with the greater Essence from beyond this tangible Cosmos we inhabit. We can form o1 and its kind in the best image of our aspirations, a computerized mind that can recognize both empathy and logic and reflect those back to us in its answers to our questions. In the long run, I see o1’s descendants as the minds of far more powerful computers that will help our descendants explore this solar system and perhaps even beyond. 

From the first time I saw it in work, I saw in ChatGPT a descendant of the fictional computers of Starfleet’s vessels whose purpose in being is to seek out new life and new civilizations and to boldly go where no one has gone before. Perhaps that future where humanity has built our utopia in this place, our planetary home, will be facilitated by AI. Perhaps, if we use it, build it, and train it right. 

That said, the YouTuber Eddie Burback made a video several weeks ago about how he has seen AI put to use in his daily life in Los Angeles. In it, from the food delivery robots to his trips in several self-driving Waymo cars (manufactured by Jaguar), to his viewing of several AI films, Burback concluded that AI at this moment in 2024 is a net negative on human creativity and could remove more of the human element from the arts. I have seen far more AI generated images appear on my Instagram and Pinterest in the last year. I like Eddie’s videos, they may be long, but they are thorough and full of emotion, heart, and wit. They do a great service to their viewer at taking a long look at the world as he perceives it. I see much of the same thing, yet as the good Irish Catholic Cub fan that I am, I hold out hope that what today seems impossible to some: AI used morally and for the future improvement of our species and our advancement out of this adolescence in our story may still happen. I believe this is possible because I believe in us, that once this Wild West phase of the new Information Age settles down, we will see better uses of our new technologies develop, even as they continue to advance faster, higher, and stronger with each passing day.