Algebra — page 1

A matrix is a picture of what happens to the grid

Four numbers in a box is not an object anyone has intuitions about. The same four numbers, shown as an instruction for redrawing the plane, are.

Multiplying is turning

Complex numbers are introduced as an algebraic dodge for square roots of negatives. They are better understood as the arithmetic of rotation, at which point every rule stops needing to be remembered.

The dot product is a shadow

Multiply the matching coordinates and add them up. That rule explains nothing, and it hides the fact that the answer is a length — how far one arrow reaches along another, times how long that other one is.

The directions a map leaves alone

Almost every arrow comes out of a transformation pointing somewhere else. A few come out pointing exactly where they went in, only longer or shorter. Those few decide nearly everything the map does.

Completing the square, by completing a square

The step everybody is taught as an algebraic trick is a literal instruction about a literal square. There is a corner missing, its size is forced, and paying for it is the whole method.

Eight ways to leave a square alone

A square can be picked up and put back so that nothing looks different. There are exactly eight ways to do it, and the number is not asserted here — it is what a search through all twenty-four relabellings of the corners comes back with.

Colourings nobody can tell apart

Sixteen ways to colour four corners in two colours, and only six of them are genuinely different. The count can be got by pooling the sixteen — or by never forming a single class and instead averaging how many colourings each motion leaves untouched.

The number that says how much room is left

A linear map takes the unit square to a parallelogram. The area of that parallelogram is one number, it is computable from the four entries of the matrix, and almost everything the determinant is used for is a restatement of that sentence.

A loop that cannot miss the middle

Feed a circle into a polynomial and a closed loop comes out. A small circle gives a loop that does not enclose the origin; a large one gives a loop that goes round it as many times as the degree. Something has to happen in between, and that something is a root.

The blocks a subgroup cuts out

Take any part of a group that is closed under composition, and it slices the whole group into blocks of its own size that do not overlap. Everything Lagrange's theorem says is arithmetic about that picture — and whether the blocks can be multiplied is a separate question with a surprising answer.

What a map throws away

A linear map redraws the grid, and the determinant measures how much it stretches area. When that measurement comes out zero the map has flattened the plane onto a line — and the question worth asking is not how much was lost but how much survived, because the two always add to what there was.

What the coefficients already know

Finding the roots of a polynomial is hard and often impossible in closed form. Reading off their sum, their product and how many of them are real is none of those things — those numbers are sitting in the coefficients, and no root-finding is required to get at them.

The polygon an equation forces

The n solutions of z to the n equals one are the corners of a regular polygon, and nearly everything about them — that they form a group, that they sum to zero, that the equation factors into pieces with whole-number coefficients — is that picture read carefully.

The group drawn as a map

A multiplication table says everything about a group and shows nothing; lay the same information out as one dot per element and one arrow per generator, and multiplying becomes walking, distance becomes a word length, and the group acquires a shape.

A tower whose degrees multiply

Treat a field containing another as a vector space over it, and the size of an extension becomes a dimension — one that multiplies along a tower, so that three impossible constructions become arithmetic about which numbers divide which.

A shared root, found without finding it

Two polynomials have a root in common exactly when one determinant built from their coefficients is zero. No root is computed, nothing is approximated, and the same construction turns two equations in two unknowns into one equation in one.

The crossings that will not come out even

Draw a rearrangement as strings from one row of pegs to another and count where they cross. The count depends on how the strings are drawn; whether it is odd or even does not, and that single bit is what makes determinants exist and a sliding puzzle unsolvable.

The lattice that runs the other way

The symmetries of a polynomial's roots form a group, and the fields between the bottom and the top form a lattice. The two are the same picture, one of them turned over — a bigger group of symmetries fixes less, so it names a smaller field.

A multiplication that remembers the order

Four characters — i² = j² = k² = ijk = −1 — define a multiplication in which ab and ba are different numbers. Everything follows from them, including the fact that a rotation of a solid body has two names, and that two full turns are needed to get one of them home.

The group that will not come apart

Solving an equation by radicals means building a tower of roots, and a tower of roots corresponds to a chain of subgroups with abelian steps. For the general equation of degree five that chain would have to descend through a group of sixty elements with no normal subgroup in it — so there is no formula, and the obstruction is a finite object that can be written out.

The polynomial whose roots are the stretches

Finding the directions a map leaves alone means finding the numbers at which it crushes something to nothing. Those numbers are the roots of one quadratic, and everything the map does is written in its two coefficients.

The same map in a better basis

Measured along its own invariant directions, a linear map stops shearing and becomes two independent stretches. Nothing about the map has changed; the grid it is described against has.

Symmetry forces a right angle

A matrix equal to its own reflection across the diagonal always has real stretches and always has perpendicular directions to stretch along. Neither is true of matrices in general, and both follow from one line of algebra.

What a map does to a circle

Every linear map sends the unit circle to an ellipse. Two perpendicular directions go to two perpendicular directions, whatever the map is — even a map with no invariant direction at all, and even one that is not square.