Without Maths Were Lost in a Dark Labyrinth

Its the glue that binds scientific and artistic cultures. The language of
number and symmetry is spoken everywhere
When I was a kid I hadnt wanted to be a mathematician at all. My
dream had been to become a spy. This ambition was fuelled by too
many visits to see Roger Moore playing 007 at our local cinema
combined with the misconception that my mum, who was once in the
diplomatic corps, had been a spy. To realise my dream I decided I would
follow in my mums footsteps and join the Foreign Office.
Speaking foreign languages seemed to be the key to fulfilling my
dream, so when I went to secondary school I signed up for all the
languages my school taught. It did French and German. It was one of
the few comprehensive schools still teaching Latin. There was a course
on the BBC teaching Russian. Being a boy of the Cold War I thought
that was an ideal language for anyone dreaming to become a spy. So I
got my French teacher to help me with Russian.
But as I battled away with these languages I became increasingly
frustrated with the illogical spellings, the endless irregular verbs that
didnt make any sense and which you just had to learn. Ive always had
a terrible memory and yearned for a sense of order and logic.
At the height of this crisis my maths teacher pulled me aside. Almost
conspiratorially he let on that the maths we were doing in the classroom
wasnt really what mathematics was about and he suggested a few
books that he thought might open up the real world of mathematics to
me. One of the books was called The Language of Mathematics. I was
intrigued. Id never thought of mathematics as a language. As I read
further through the book I realised that this was the language Id been
hankering after.
First, it didnt seem to have any irregular verbs. Everything made logical
sense, evolving naturally from a few natural assumptions. Thats not to
say that there werent surprising twists and turns throughout the story,
but they all made sense. The most exciting discovery was the power of
this language to describe the natural world. It had the power to reveal
where it had all come from but, more excitingly, to predict what will
happen next: for example, to make sense of what is happening (or
almost happening) in the Large Hadron Collider, which uses the
mathematics of strange symmetrical objects in hyperspace. To assess
the potential effect of travel restrictions or vaccinations on the spread of
the H1N1 virus requires mathematical modelling. And climate change is
a mathematical problem: its only by understanding the delicate

mathematical relationship between different factors in the environment

that we can understand why temperatures are rising.
Mathematics brings a transparency to these complex systems. But it
isnt only the scientists who are speaking this language. It is
extraordinary how many interesting mathematical ideas one can find
bubbling beneath the surface of the work of many artists. Either
consciously or subconsciously they are drawn to the same
mathematical structures that fascinate me.
Messiaen consciously exploited the asynchronicity of the prime
numbers 17 and 29 to create a sense of timelessness in the Quartet for
the End of Time. In another piece, le de Feu, I cannot believe he was
aware that the two twelve-note sequences he uses are the basis for
generating one of the strangest symmetrical objects discovered by
mathematicians in our mathematical journey through symmetry. But it is
a sensitivity to similar structures that drew him to these two themes.
From the magnificence of the Baroque to the modern architecture of
Arup, Foster and Hadid, one can find complex mathematical curves
running through the buildings that surround us. The writing of Borges is
infused with a fascination with infinity and the nature of space.
With mathematics acting like a glue binding all these different scientific
and artistic cultures together I believe that mathematics provides a
perfect platform for my job as the new Simonyi Professor for the Public
Understanding of Science, which I have held for a year. In some strange
sense I have found myself realising my dream to join the Foreign Office.
I see my role rather like an ambassador for the often alien world of
science, trying to provide bridges for a society that is sometimes
suspicious of this powerful territory. Without an understanding of the
language of science and mathematics, as Galileo once wrote, we will all
be wandering around lost in a dark labyrinth.
From Marcus du Sautoys inaugural lecture as the Simonyi Professor
for the Public Understanding of Science at the University of Oxford