Skip to main content

The wonder of cardinality

Cardinality: one leg per horseman, but we don't need to know how many
The cardinality of which I speak has nothing to do with the Pope's visit to the UK, or even Cardinal Fang from the Spanish Inquisition sketch on Monty Python. No, it's maths, but a truly wondrous aspect of maths.

Cardinality is part of set theory. It defines the size of a set. But the clever thing about cardinality is that you don't have to know how big a set is to see if it's the same size as another set. All you have to do is pair off the items in one set with the items in the other. If they have one-to-one correspondence, the sets have the same cardinality. They're the same size.

This may sound trivial but it's really quite profound. I first came across this when writing my book on Infinity. It's very useful to be able to do this with an infinite set, because it's a touch tedious counting the contents - but provided you can set up a way to pair off the items in the sets working all the way through in a repeatable pattern, you can establish the two infinite sets have the same cardinality. (Things get particularly exciting when you discover there are some infinite sets that are so big you can't pair them off this way - but that's a different story.)

That sounds a bit abstract, but in fact this approach to cardinality has been used since time immemorial in real life, practical applications. Imagine you are shepherd with what we now know is a flock of 100 sheep. But you can only count up to 3. How are you going to see if you've got all your sheep back in the fold? Easy. As they leave the fold, make a mark on a piece of wood or a slate with a line for each sheep. Then on the way back in, run your finger along the tally as each sheep comes back. You can check you've got all your sheep without ever knowing how many there are.

This technique, where you score a mark on a piece of wood (or whatever) is where we get the idea of keeping score or scoring from. And these score marks were often grouped into 20s which - you guessed it - makes 20 a score. As in three score years and ten.

Nice one, cardinality.

Okay, I can't resist:

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Why I hate opera

If I'm honest, the title of this post is an exaggeration to make a point. I don't really hate opera. There are a couple of operas - notably Monteverdi's Incoranazione di Poppea and Purcell's Dido & Aeneas - that I quite like. But what I do find truly sickening is the reverence with which opera is treated, as if it were some particularly great art form. Nowhere was this more obvious than in ITV's 2010 gut-wrenchingly awful series Pop Star to Opera Star , where the likes of Alan Tichmarsh treated the real opera singers as if they were fragile pieces on Antiques Roadshow, and the music as if it were a gift of the gods. In my opinion - and I know not everyone agrees - opera is: Mediocre music Melodramatic plots Amateurishly hammy acting A forced and unpleasant singing style Ridiculously over-supported by public funds I won't even bother to go into any detail on the plots and the acting - this is just self-evident. But the other aspects need some exp...

Murder by Candlelight - Ed. Cecily Gayford ***

Nothing seems to suit Christmas reading better than either ghost stories or Christmas-set novels. For some this means a fluffy romance in the snow, but for those of us with darker preferences, it's hard to beat a good Christmas murder. An annual event for me over the last few years has been getting the excellent series of classic murderous Christmas short stories pulled together by Cecily Gayford, starting with the 2016 Murder under the Christmas Tree . This featured seasonal output from the likes of Margery Allingham, Arthur Conan Doyle, Ellis Peters and Dorothy L. Sayers, laced with a few more modern authors such as Ian Rankin and Val McDermid, in some shiny Christmassy twisty tales. I actually thought while purchasing this year's addition 'Surely she is going to run out of classic stories soon' - and sadly, to a degree, Gayford has. The first half of Murder by Candlelight is up to the usual standard with some good seasonal tales from the likes of Catherine Aird, Car...

Why backgammon is a better game than chess

I freely admit that chess, for those who enjoy it, is a wonderful game, but I honestly believe that as a game , backgammon is better (and this isn't just because I'm a lot better at playing backgammon than chess). Having relatively recently written a book on game theory, I have given quite a lot of thought to the nature of games, and from that I'd say that chess has two significant weaknesses compared with backgammon. One is the lack of randomness. Because backgammon includes the roll of the dice, it introduces a random factor into the play. Of course, a game that is totally random provides very little enjoyment. Tossing a coin isn't at all entertaining. But the clever thing about backgammon is that the randomness is contributory without dominating - there is still plenty of room for skill (apart from very flukey dice throws, I can always be beaten by a really good backgammon player), but the introduction of a random factor makes it more life-like, with more of a sense...