How Pi Was Nearly Changed to 3.2 … and Copyrighted!

The sto­ry above—from our old friend James Grime of Num­ber­phile and Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty—has all the mak­ings of weirdo Amer­i­cana: bad ama­teur sci­ence, com­mer­cial ven­tures based upon the same, and a state leg­is­la­ture eager to embrace it all. In 1897, an ama­teur math­e­mati­cian named Edwin Good­win believed he’d solved an ancient prob­lem ruled insol­u­ble fif­teen years ear­li­er. He thought that he had squared the cir­cle and could rea­son­ably copy­right Pi as 3.2. Yes, that’s right, after his “dis­cov­ery,” Good­win, a native of Indi­ana, decid­ed to copy­right his proof so that any­one using it out­side of the state would have to pay him roy­al­ties.

But kind­ly, in a ges­ture of nativist good­will (or polit­i­cal oppor­tunism), Good­win decid­ed he would let his home state of Indi­ana use his proof for free for edu­ca­tion­al pur­pos­es. In fact, he said as much when he intro­duced a bill to the Indi­ana House of Rep­re­sen­ta­tives to rule his proof cor­rect and grant him sole pro­pri­etor­ship. And, as some­times hap­pens in sto­ries like this, the bill passed, unan­i­mous­ly, and the leg­is­la­tors were impressed. But one man wasn’t. By sheer chance, a pro­fes­sor of math­e­mat­ics hap­pened to be in atten­dance. While he declined to meet math­e­mat­ics hero Edwin Good­win, he did take it upon him­self to warn the Indi­ana Sen­ate of what was com­ing its way. Luck­i­ly for the state’s school­child­ren, the Sen­ate threw the bill out, but not before a half-hour spent  mock­ing its silli­ness.

But is the idea of squar­ing a cir­cle ridicu­lous? Dr. Grime cites one Indi­an math­e­mati­cian who pro­posed a some­what fea­si­ble solu­tion. And what exact­ly does it mean to “square a cir­cle”? If you don’t know (and I don’t), you’ll have to wait till next time on Num­ber­phile, when Grime and his team promise to explain it to us rubes.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Math in Good Will Hunt­ing is Easy: How Do You Like Them Apples?

The Enig­ma Machine: How Alan Tur­ing Helped Break the Unbreak­able Nazi Code

Incred­i­ble Men­tal Math Gym­nas­tics on “Count­down”

Josh Jones is a writer, edi­tor, and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him @jdmagness

The Math in Good Will Hunting is Easy: How Do You Like Them Apples?

Per­haps you remem­ber the scene (above) in Gus Van San­t’s 1997 film, Good Will Hunt­ing. MIT pro­fes­sor Ger­ald Lam­beau, win­ner of the cov­et­ed Fields Medal, chal­lenges his grad­u­ate stu­dents to solve a math prob­lem that he, him­self, spent two years try­ing to crack. That set the bar pret­ty high. So, imag­ine every­one’s sur­prise when Will Hunt­ing, a jan­i­tor at MIT played by Matt Damon, wres­tles the prob­lem to the ground with­out break­ing a men­tal sweat.

?t=13s

Well, not quite every­one was sur­prised, espe­cial­ly not the math­e­mati­cians behind the Num­ber­phile video series. Right above James Grime, who resides at the Depart­ment of Math­e­mat­ics and The­o­ret­i­cal Physics at Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty, breaks down the famous “Home­o­mor­phi­cal­ly Irre­ducible Trees of Degree Ten” prob­lem. And, it turns out, it’s a prob­lem mere mor­tals can solve fair­ly eas­i­ly at home.

Num­ber­phile also offers a quick bonus video that tries to answer anoth­er tough ques­tion: Who was the real Will Hunt­ing? Who was the char­ac­ter mod­eled after? There are a few prime can­di­dates.…

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Math­e­mat­ics in Movies: Har­vard Prof Curates 150+ Scenes

Cal­cu­lus Life­saver: A Free Online Course from Prince­ton

Math: Free Cours­es

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In Under Three Minutes, Hans Rosling Visualizes the Incredible Progress of the “Developing World”

Hans Rosling knows how to make a con­cise, pow­er­ful point. His mas­tery of sta­tis­tics and visu­al aids does­n’t hurt. Behold, for instance, the Karolin­s­ka Insti­tute Pro­fes­sor of Inter­na­tion­al Health visu­al­iz­ing the health of 200 coun­tries over 200 years with 120,000 data points. His abil­i­ty to con­dense vast amounts of infor­ma­tion into short bursts while pro­vid­ing the widest pos­si­ble con­text for his points nat­u­ral­ly endears him to the TED audi­ence, which val­ues coun­ter­in­tu­itive intel­lec­tu­al impact deliv­ered with the utmost suc­cinct­ness. We pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured a TED Talk from where­in the excitable pro­fes­sor explains world pop­u­la­tion growth and pros­per­i­ty with props bought at IKEA. (The man comes from Swe­den, after all. One must rep­re­sent.) Now, on Bill Gates’ Youtube chan­nel, you can watch Rosling’s short­est and slick­est video yet: “The Riv­er of Myths.”

Open­ing with a visu­al­iza­tion of 1960’s world child mor­tal­i­ty num­bers graphed against the num­ber of chil­dren born per woman, Rosling uses his sig­na­ture method of sta­tis­ti­cal-ani­ma­tion show­man­ship to explode myths about the poten­tial of devel­op­ing nations. We see that, as a coun­try’s wealth ris­es, its health ris­es; as its health ris­es, its child mor­tal­i­ty drops; and as its child mor­tal­i­ty drops, so does its num­ber of chil­dren born per woman, which leads to a sus­tain­able over­all pop­u­la­tion size. He then exam­ines the sep­a­rate regions of Ethiopia, for­mer­ly a devel­op­men­tal lag­gard, show­ing that the cap­i­tal Addis Aba­ba ranks repro­duc­tive­ly among the devel­oped nations, while only remote regions lag behind. “Most peo­ple think the prob­lems in Africa are unsolv­able, but if the poor­est coun­tries can just fol­low the path of Ethiopia, it’s ful­ly pos­si­ble that the world will look like this by 2030.” We then see a pro­jec­tion of all the world’s nations clus­tered in the small-fam­i­ly, low-mor­tal­i­ty cor­ner of the graph. “But to ensure this hap­pens, we must mea­sure the progress of coun­tries. It’s only by mea­sur­ing we can cross the riv­er of myths.” Have you heard a more pow­er­ful argu­ment for the use­ful­ness of sta­tis­tics late­ly?

Relat­ed con­tent:

Hans Rosling Uses Ikea Props to Explain World of 7 Bil­lion Peo­ple

200 Coun­tries & 200 Years in 4 Min­utes, Pre­sent­ed by Hans Rosling

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Mathemusician Vi Hart Explains the Space-Time Continuum With a Music Box, Bach, and a Möbius Strip

Vi Hart, the Khan Acad­e­my’s res­i­dent “Recre­ation­al Math­e­mu­si­cian” turns the space-time con­tin­u­um into some­thing that can be played for­wards, back­wards, upside down, in a cir­cle, and on a Möbius strip.

How you ask?

Music. You know, that stuff that Shake­speare rhap­sodized as the food of love?

The fast-talk­ing Hart has way too much to prove in her less than eight minute video to waste time wax­ing poet­ic. To her, even the most elu­sive con­cepts are explain­able, rep­re­sentable. She does man­age to cre­ate some unin­ten­tion­al­ly love­ly lit­tle melodies on a music box that reads holes punched through the nota­tions on a tape print­ed with a musi­cal stave.

It took sev­er­al view­ings for me to wrap my mind around what exact­ly was being demon­strat­ed, but I think I’m begin­ning to grope my way toward what­ev­er dimen­sion she’s cur­rent­ly inhab­it­ing. See if you can fol­low along and then weigh in as to what you think the math­e­mat­i­cal­ly-inclined Bach might be doing in his grave as Hart blithe­ly feeds one of his com­po­si­tions through her music box, upside down, and back­wards.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How a Bach Canon Works. Bril­liant.

85,000 Clas­si­cal Music Scores (and Free MP3s) on the Web

A Big Bach Down­load – All Bach Organ Works for Free

Ayun Hal­l­i­day took piano lessons for years. All that remains are the open­ing bars to Hel­lo Dol­ly. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

The Enigma Machine: How Alan Turing Helped Break the Unbreakable Nazi Code

In 2001, none oth­er than Sir Mick Jag­ger bought the rights to a nov­el by Robert Har­ris called Enig­ma. The nov­el, a fic­tion­al­ized account of WWII British code­break­ers, then became a fea­ture film, writ­ten by Tom Stop­pard, pro­duced by Sir Mick, and star­ring Mr. Dougray Scott and Ms. Kate Winslett as der­ring-do Bletch­ley Park math­e­mati­cians and crypt­an­a­lysts employed in a race against time and the Nazis to break the fabled Enig­ma code before all hell breaks loose. It all sounds very dra­mat­ic (and I’ve heard the film is enter­tain­ing), but things didn’t hap­pen quite like that. Real­i­ty is nev­er so for­mu­la­ic or so good-look­ing. But the Enig­ma code was bro­ken, and the sto­ry of the code machine and its even­tu­al decryp­tion is fas­ci­nat­ing on its own terms. As Uni­ver­si­ty of Cam­bridge “Enig­ma Project Offi­cer” Dr. James Grime says–in the series of videos above and below–it’s a sto­ry of “how math­e­mati­cians can save lives.” Still with me?

Okay, so in the first video above, Dr. Grime gives us a thor­ough tour of the Enig­ma machine (Sir Mick owns one, by the way… but back to the his­to­ry…). Devel­oped by the Ger­mans, it’s a mar­velous encryp­tion method set into a small box that when opened resem­bles lit­tle more than a fan­cy WWII-era type­writer. Oh, but it’s clever, you see, because the Enig­ma machine (the one above belongs to sci­ence writer Simon Singh) trans­lates ordi­nary mes­sages into code through an inge­nious method by which no let­ter in the code ever repeats, mak­ing it almost impos­si­ble to decode in the ordi­nary ways. The machine was quite com­pli­cat­ed for its time; it works by send­ing the char­ac­ters typed by the keys through a series of circuits—first through three rotors like those on a com­bi­na­tion bike lock, but each with 26 places instead of ten.

Now at this point, the machine was noth­ing more than what was avail­able to any bank or busi­ness wish­ing to trans­mit trade secrets. But the Ger­man mil­i­tary machines had an extra lay­er of encod­ing: at the front of their machines was a “plug­board,” some­thing like a small switch­board. This allowed the cod­ing com­ing through the rotors to be rese­quenced for an extra lev­el of scram­bling. In the Ger­man mil­i­tary machines, the total num­ber of pos­si­ble com­bi­na­tions for mes­sage encryp­tions comes to a stag­ger­ing fig­ure in the quadrillions. (The exact num­ber? 158,962,555,217,826,360,000). There’s a lit­tle more to the machine than that, but Dr. Grime can explain it much bet­ter than I.

Of course, the Enig­ma Machine had to have a fatal flaw. Oth­er­wise, no nov­el, no movie, no dra­ma (and maybe no vic­to­ry?). What was it, you ask? Amaz­ing­ly, as you will learn above, the very thing that made the Enig­ma near­ly impos­si­ble to break, its abil­i­ty to encode mes­sages with­out ever repeat­ing a let­ter, also made the code deci­pher­able. But first, Alan Tur­ing had to step in. Sad­ly, Tur­ing is miss­ing from Enig­ma the film. (More sad­ly, he was dis­graced by the coun­try he served, which put him on tri­al for his sex­u­al­i­ty and humil­i­at­ed him to the point of sui­cide). But as Grime shows above, Tur­ing is one of the real heroes of the Enig­ma code sto­ry. Crypt­an­a­lysts ini­tial­ly dis­cov­ered that they could deci­pher ordi­nary words and phras­es (like “Heil Hitler”) in the Enig­ma mes­sages by match­ing them up with strings of ran­dom let­ters that nev­er repeat­ed.

But this was not enough. In order for the Enig­ma code to work for the Ger­mans, each operator—sender and receiver—had to have exact­ly the same set­tings on their rotors and plug­boards. (The mes­sages were trans­mit­ted over radio via Morse code). Each month had its own set­tings, print­ed on code sheets in sol­u­ble ink that eas­i­ly dis­solved in water. If the Allied code­break­ers deci­phered the set­tings, their decryp­tion would be use­less weeks lat­er. Fur­ther­more, the Ger­man navy had a more com­pli­cat­ed method of encod­ing than either the army or air force. The Pol­ish had devel­oped a machine called the Bombe, which could deci­pher army and air force codes, but not navy. What Tur­ing did, along with Gor­don Welch­man, was devel­op his own ver­sion of the Bombe machine, which allowed him to break any ver­sion of the Enig­ma code in under 20 min­utes since it bypassed most of the tedious guess­work and tri­al and error involved in ear­li­er by-hand meth­ods.

This is all very dra­mat­ic stuff, and we haven’t had one celebri­ty step in to dress it up. While I’m cer­tain that Enig­ma the film is a treat, I’m grate­ful to Dr. Grime for his engage­ment with the actu­al code­break­ing meth­ods and real per­son­al­i­ties involved.

A third video of extra footage and out­takes is avail­able here if you’re still hun­gry for more WWII code­break­ing secrets.

via Sci­ence Dump

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian. He recent­ly com­plet­ed a dis­ser­ta­tion on land, lit­er­a­ture, and labor.

Celebrity Statistician Nate Silver Fields Questions from Data Wizards at Google

Maybe the biggest win­ner of the 2012 pres­i­den­tial elec­tion, oth­er than Barack Oba­ma, was Nate Sil­ver, the young sta­tis­ti­cian who runs the 538 blog at the New York Times. As you may recall (it was only a few weeks ago), Sil­ver gave Pres­i­dent Oba­ma rough­ly an 80% — 90% chance of win­ning dur­ing the final days of Octo­ber. The talk­ing heads railed against Sil­ver, call­ing him an “ide­o­logue” and a “joke.” But, just as Sil­ver accu­rate­ly pre­dict­ed the out­come of every Sen­ate race dur­ing the 2008 elec­tion cycle, so did he pret­ty much nail the big race of 2012. He esti­mat­ed Oba­ma would receive 313 elec­toral votes, a touch below the 332 the pres­i­dent actu­al­ly received. Sil­ver was vin­di­cat­ed. It was time to take a vic­to­ry lap … and sell a few books.

In late Sep­tem­ber, Sil­ver shrewd­ly pub­lished a new book, The Sig­nal and the Noise: Why Most Pre­dic­tions Fail but Some Don’t. The book tour even­tu­al­ly, if not inevitably, brought him to Google, where the celebri­ty sta­tis­ti­cian field­ed ques­tions from data-lov­ing Googlers for an hour. A grand old time was had by all.

Free cours­es on Stats and Prob­a­bil­i­ty can be found in the Math sec­tion of our col­lec­tion of 550 Free Online Cours­es.

via Giz­mo­do

 

 

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Chuck Jones’ The Dot and the Line Celebrates Geometry & Hard Work: An Oscar-Winning Animation (1965)

The ani­mat­ed short above, The Dot and the Line, direct­ed by the great Chuck Jones and nar­rat­ed by Eng­lish actor Robert Mor­ley, won an Oscar in 1965 for Best Ani­mat­ed Short Film. Based on a book writ­ten by Nor­ton Juster, â€śThe Dot and the Line” tells the sto­ry of a romance between two geo­met­ric shapes—taking the arche­typ­al nar­ra­tive tra­jec­to­ry of boy meets girl, los­es girl, wins girl in the end (find­ing him­self along the way) and inject­ing it with some fas­ci­nat­ing social com­men­tary that still res­onates almost fifty years lat­er. One way of watch­ing “The Dot and the Line” is as a “tri­umph of the nerd” sto­ry, where an anx­ious square (as in “uncool”) Line has to com­pete with a hip­ster beat­nik Squig­gle of a rival for the affec­tions of a flighty Dot.

The Line begins the film “stiff as a stick… dull, con­ven­tion­al and repressed” (as his love inter­est says of him) in con­trast to the groovy Squig­gle and his groovy bebop sound­track. With the pos­si­ble sug­ges­tion that this love trans­gress­es mid-cen­tu­ry racial bound­aries, the Line’s friends dis­ap­prove and tell him to give it up, since “they all look alike any­way.” But the Line per­sists in his fol­ly, indulging in some Wal­ter Mit­ty-like rever­ies of hero­ic endeav­ors that might win over his Dot. Final­ly, using “great self-con­trol,” he man­ages to bend him­self into an angle, then anoth­er, then a series of sim­ple, then very com­plex, shapes, becom­ing, we might assume, some kind of math­e­mat­i­cal wiz. After refin­ing his tal­ents alone, he goes off to show them to Dot, who is “over­whelmed” and delight­ed and who “gig­gles like a school­girl.”

Here the sub­text of the nerd-gets-the-girl sto­ry­line man­i­fests a fair­ly con­ser­v­a­tive cri­tique of the “anar­chy” of the Squig­gle, whom the Dot comes to see as “undis­ci­plined, grace­less, coarse” and oth­er unflat­ter­ing adjec­tives while the line—who pro­claimed to him­self ear­li­er that “free­dom is not a license for chaos”—is “daz­zling, clever, mys­te­ri­ous, ver­sa­tile, light, elo­quent, pro­found, enig­mat­ic, com­plex, and com­pelling.” I can almost imag­ine that George Will had a hand in the writ­ing, which is to say that it’s enor­mous­ly clever, and enor­mous­ly invest­ed in the val­ues of self-con­trol, hard work, and dis­ci­pline, and dis­trust­ful of spon­tane­ity, free play, and gen­er­al groovi­ness. At the end of the film, our Dot and Line go off to live “if not hap­pi­ly ever after, at least rea­son­ably so” in some cozy sub­urb, no doubt. The moral of the sto­ry? “To the vec­tor belong the spoils.”

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Josh Jones is a doc­tor­al can­di­date in Eng­lish at Ford­ham Uni­ver­si­ty and a co-founder and for­mer man­ag­ing edi­tor of Guer­ni­ca / A Mag­a­zine of Arts and Pol­i­tics.

The Mathematics of Spiderman and the Physics of Superheroes

I have not seen the new Spi­der­man reboot, so I’ll have to reserve judg­ment on the virtues of the movie. But, in gen­er­al, super­hero movies suc­ceed or fail for me based on how plau­si­ble and con­sis­tent the physics of the alter­nate uni­verse they cre­ate are. In the above video from the “Emory [Uni­ver­si­ty] Looks at Hol­ly­wood” series, Skip Garibal­di, pro­fes­sor of math­e­mat­ics (who pre­vi­ous­ly exam­ined the math of rock climb­ing) explains that the new Spi­der­man film does, with a minor excep­tion, por­tray the feats of Spi­der­man in a math­e­mat­i­cal­ly pos­si­ble way—granted that we’re will­ing to believe in super­pow­ers. For exam­ple, Spi­der­man’s grace­ful swings through the city on long strands of web­bing don’t just serve a cin­e­mat­ic pur­pose; they also keep him from pos­si­bly dis­lo­cat­ing his shoul­ders while com­ing to a full-stop from a free-fall.

Ana­lyz­ing the sci­ence of super­heroes is a fun side­line for pop cul­ture-mind­ed sci­en­tists. In some cas­es, it can be an effec­tive teach­ing tool as well. Uni­ver­si­ty of Min­neso­ta physi­cist and com­ic book fan James Kakalios devotes an entire lec­ture to “The Uncan­ny Physics of Super­hero Com­ic Books.” Kakalios, who has writ­ten a book called the Physics of Super­heroesworked as a sci­ence con­sul­tant on the Spi­der­man reboot and on Zack Snyder’s adap­ta­tion of Watch­men, which he dis­cuss­es below.

Many great physics cours­es (some intro­duc­to­ry, some advanced) can be found in the Physics sec­tion of our col­lec­tion of 500 Free Online Cours­es.

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