Tanya Khovanova's Math Blog

by Tanya Khovanova and Alexey Radul

Sleeping Beauty participates in the following experiment. On Sunday she is put to sleep, and a fair coin is flipped. Regardless of the result of the coin flip, she is awakened on Monday and is offered a bet. She may pay $550 in which case she will get $1000 if the coin was tails. If the coin was tails, she is put back to sleep with her memory erased, and awakened on Tuesday and given the same bet again. She knows the protocol. Should she take the bet?

As we discussed in our first essay about Sleeping Beauty, she should take the bet. Indeed, if the coin was heads her loss is $550. But if the coin was tails her gain is $900.

To tell you the truth, when Beauty is offered the bet, she dreams: “It would be nice to know the day of the week. If it were Tuesday, then the coin must have been tails and I would gladly take the winning bet.”

In our next variation of the riddle her dream comes true.

Every time she is awakened she is offered to buy the knowledge of the day of the week. How much should she be willing to pay to know the day of the week?

Sleeping Beauty participates in the following experiment. On Sunday she is put to sleep, and a fair coin is flipped. Regardless of the result of the coin flip, she is awakened on Monday and asked whether she thinks the coin was heads or not. If the coin was tails, however, then she is put back to sleep with her memory erased, and awakened on Tuesday and asked the same question again. She knows the protocol. She is awakened one morning and instead of the expected questions she is offered a bet. She may pay $600 in which case she will get $1000 if the coin was tails. Should she take the bet?

by David Wilson

We know that tripling the triangular number 1 yields the triangular number 3. The figure shows how we can use this fact to conclude that tripling the triangular number 15 yields the triangular number 45.

Using this new fact, can you modify the figure to find even larger examples of tripling triangles?

by Tanya Khovanova and Alexey Radul

This post is inspired by the following problem:

Sleeping Beauty participates in the following experiment. On Sunday she is put to sleep, and a fair coin is flipped. Regardless of the result of the coin flip, she is awakened on Monday and asked whether she thinks the coin was heads or not. If the coin was tails, however, then she is put back to sleep with her memory erased, and awakened on Tuesday and asked the same question again. She knows the protocol. She is awakened one morning: What is her probability that the coin was heads?

Some people argue: asleep or awake, the probability of a fair coin being heads is one half, so her probability should be one half.

Other people, including us, argue that those people didn’t study conditional probability. On the information of the setup to the problem and the information of having awakened, the three situations “Coin was heads and it is Monday”, “Coin was tails and it is Monday”, and “Coin was tails and it is Tuesday” are symmetric and therefore equiprobable; thus the probability that the coin was tails is, on this information, two thirds.

So who is right? We are, of course. A good way to visualize probability judgements is to turn them into bets. Suppose each time Beauty wakes up she is offered the following bet: She pays $600 and gets $1000 if the coin was tails. Should she take it? If her probability of the coin being tails were one half, then obviously not; if her probability of the coin being tails were two thirds, obviously yes. So which is it? Consider the situation from her perspective as of Sunday. She can either always take this bet or always refuse it. If she always refuses, she gets nothing. If she always accepts: If the coin turns up heads, she will be asked the question once and will lose $600. If the coin turns up tails, she will be asked the question twice and will gain $800. So on average she will win, so she should take the bet. By this thought experiment, her probability of tails is clearly not one half.

To make matters more interesting, let’s try another bet. Suppose she is given the above bet just once, in advance, on Sunday. She pays $600, and she gets paid $1000 on Wednesday if the coin was tails. This has nothing to do with sleeping and awakening. If she takes the bet she loses $600 with probability one half and gains $400 otherwise. So she shouldn’t take the bet. Her probability on Sunday that the coin will come up heads is, of course, one half. The point is that just as these two bets are different bets, the sets of information Beauty has on Sunday vs at awakening are different, and lead to different conclusions. On Sunday she knows that the next time she wakes up it will be Monday, but when she then wakes up, she doesn’t know that it’s Monday.

Parting thought: The phenomenon of predictably losing information leads to the phenomenon of predictably changing one’s assessments. Suppose for some reason she decided to take that unprofitable bet on Sunday. When she wakes up during the experiment, should she feel happy or sad? From her perspective during the experiment, the odds of gaining $400 vs losing $600 are two to one, so she should be happy. Given that she knows on Sunday how she will (with complete certainty!) feel about this bet on Monday, should she take it, even given her Sunday self’s assessment that it’s a bad bet?

If you buy one Mega Millions ticket, your probability of hitting the jackpot is one in 175,000,000. For all practical purposes it is zero. When I give my talk on lotteries, there is always someone in the audience who would argue that “but someone is winning and so can I.” The fact that someone is winning depends on the number of people buying tickets. It is difficult to visualize the large number of people buying tickets and the miniscule odds of winning. For example, the probability of you dying from an impact with a meteorite is larger than the odds of winning the jackpot.

I receive a lot of emails from strangers asking me to advertise their websites on my blog. I always check out their websites and I often find them either unrelated to math or boring. That is why I was pleasantly surprised when I was asked to write about a useful website: Understanding Big Numbers. In each post Liam Gray takes a big number and puts it into some perspective. For example, he estimates Mark Zuckerberg’s Hourly Wage by dividing Mark’s estimated wealth in 2011 by the number of hours Mark might have worked on Facebook. Facebook has existed for 7 years and, assuming 10 hours of work a day every day, we get 25,000 work hours. That is more than half a million dollars an hour.

Imagine someone calls Mark Zuckerberg and asks to talk to him for a minute. Mark wouldn’t be out of line to request nine thousand dollars for that. Lucky am I, that I do not need to talk to Mark Zuckerberg.

by Sergei Bernstein, Tanya Khovanova and Alexey Radul

Here is a game that John Conway popularizes. It is called “Finchley Central,” which is a station of the London Underground. The game goes as follows. Alice and Bob take turns naming London Underground stations, in any order. The first person to say “Finchley Central” wins.

Alice, who starts, can just name the station. But then Bob will give her a look. It is not fun to win a game on the first turn. To avoid appearing rude, Alice will not start with “Finchley Central.” It would be impolite of Bob to take advantage of Alice’s generosity, so he also won’t say “Finchley Central.” The game might continue like this for a while.

The game has a hidden agenda: winning it after 10 turns will supply many more bragging rights than winning it right away would. We can make this hidden agenda explicit by assigning a value to the honor of continuing the game. For example, suppose every time Alice (or Bob) says a station, she puts one dollar into the pile. The person who says “Finchley Central” first takes all the money from the pile. The implicit goal of the game becomes explicit: you want to say “Finchley Central” right before your opponent says it.

By the way, Finchley Central is not actually a particularly central station — it is the station between Finchley East and Finchley West, serving the relatively small place called Finchley; and is not even under ground. It has the distinction of being one of the oldest still-standing pieces of London Underground physical plant, because plans to rebuild it were interrupted on account of World War II and never resumed. It also has the distinction of having served the home of the guy (an employee of the Underground system) who had the brilliant idea that since the Underground was, indeed, mostly under ground, the right way to map it was topologically, rather than geographically.

Here is another way to model the game. Alice writes an odd number on a piece of paper, and Bob writes an even number. When they compare, the person who wrote a smaller number wins that number of dollars. This version loses the psychological aspect. When you take turns, it is to your advantage to read the non-verbal signs of your opponent to see when s/he is getting ready to drop the bomb.

People play this game in real life. Here are Alice and Bob looking at the last piece of a mouth-watering Tiramisu:

• Alice: You look like you want this piece of cake. Why don’t you take it?
• Bob: You seem to like it too. Please, go ahead.
• Alice: I am fine. You take it.
• Bob: You have it; I insist.

At this point Alice wins with some extra brownie points for being polite.

We can model the honor points differently. We can say you will be the most proud of the game if you name the station write before you opponent is about to do so. Then the model is: everyone writes down their next move; if your move is Finchley Central when your opponent’s next move was going to be Finchley Central, then you win.

Here we suggest another game that we call “Reverse Finchley Central.” Alice and Bob name London Underground stations in turns and the person who names “Finchley Central” first loses. This game can continue until all the stations are exhausted, if the players are forbidden to repeat them, or it can continue indefinitely otherwise. But this is quite tiresome. The hidden agenda would be to not waste too much time. Clearly the person who values time less will win.

But let us model this game. We want to fix the value of winning. Let us set aside ten dollars for the winner. On their turn, each player puts one dollar into the pile, and as soon as one of the players says “Finchley Central,” the other one wins and takes the ten dollars. The pile goes to charity. Alternatively, Alice and Bob can each write a number. The person with the larger number wins the prize, while both have to pay the smaller number to charity.

We play this game with our parents. They nag us to do the dishes. We resist. Then they give up and do the dishes themselves. They lose, but we all pay with our nerves for nagging or being nagged at. Later our parents get their revenge when we have children of our own.

At the 2011 IMO, Lisa Sauermann received yet another gold medal. Now she tops the Hall of Fame of the IMO with four gold medals and one silver medal.

In addition, in 2011 she achieved the absolute best individual result and was the only person with a perfect score. In previous years, there were several girls who tied for first place, but she is the first girl ever to have an absolute rank of 1.

I told you so. In my 2009 essay Is There Hope for a Female Fields Medalist?, I predicted that a girl will soon become an absolute champion of the IMO.

In that essay I draw a parallel between the absolute champion of IMO and a Fields medalist. Indeed, we get one of each per year. Lisa Sauermann is the best math problem solver in her year. Will she grow up to receive a Fields medal? I am not so sure: the medal is still unfriendly to women. Lisa Sauermann is the best math problem solver ever. Will she grow up to be the best mathematician of our century? I wonder.

My e-friend and coauthor, Konstantin Knop, designed the following problem for the 2011 All-Russia Olympiad:

Some cells of a 100 by 100 board have one chip placed on them. We call a cell pretty if it has an even number of neighboring cells with chips. Neighbors are the cells that share a side. Is it possible for exactly one cell to be pretty?

The problem is not easy. Only one person at the Olympiad received full credit for it.

From time to time my female colleagues share stories with me of great unfairness or horrible sexual harassment in the world of mathematics. I can’t reciprocate — certainly not on that level.

I do not have any horror stories to tell. Generally I am treated with great respect, at least to my face. In fact, some men have told me that I am the smartest person they ever met.

The stories I want to share are not about harassment. No single incident is a big deal. But when these things happened time after time after time, I realized: this is gender bias.

First story. A guy told me, “Your proof is unbelievably amazing.”

What can I say? It is just a compliment. Though I am not sure why the word “unbelievable” was included. Is it difficult to believe that I can produce an amazing proof? I encounter surprise too often to my taste.

Second story. Another guy tells me after I explain a solution to a math problem, “I didn’t realize it was so simple.”

Actually it wasn’t simple. When I explained the solution, it may have seemed simple, but that was because I was able to explain it to him with such clarity. People tend to downgrade their opinion of the problem, rather than upgrade their opinion of my ability. It actually affects my reputation as a mathematician.

Third story. Another guy said to me (and I quote!), “I am so dumb. I tried for a week to write the program that computes these numbers and you did it in one hour. I feel so dumb. I didn’t expect myself to be so dumb. Why am I so dumb?”

After the fourth “dumb”, I started wondering what it was all about. Many guys try to compete with me. And they hate losing to a woman. It creates a strong motivation for them to discard my brilliance and to explain away my speed, even if they have to claim temporary dumbness.

Fourth story. Someone asked me, “What is the source of the solutions and math ideas in your blog? Can you refer me to the literature?”

I do invest extra effort in citing the sources of the math puzzles I discuss. Everything else — the solutions, the ideas, new definitions, new sequences — I invent myself. I have even started inventing math puzzles. This is my blog. I thought of it myself, I wrote it myself. Has anyone ever asked Terence Tao where he takes the solutions for his blog from?

Unfortunately, this attitude damages my career. When people think that my ideas come from someone else, they do not cite me.

But all these stories however minor happen all the time, not only to me but to all my female colleagues. Gender bias is real. Next time someone tells me how unbelievably amazing my proof is, I will explode.

Recently I stumbled on a cute xkcd comic with the hidden message:

Wikipedia trivia: if you take any article, click on the first link in the article text not in parentheses or italics, and then repeat, you will eventually end up at “Philosophy”.

Naturally, I started to experiment. The first thing I tried was mathematics. Here is the path: Mathematics — Quantity — Property — Modern philosophy — Philosophy.

Then I tried physics, which led me to mathematics: Physics — Natural science — Science — Knowledge — Fact — Information — Sequence — Mathematics.

Then I tried Pierre de Fermat, who for some strange reason led to physics first: Pierre de Fermat — French — France — Unitary state — Sovereign state — State — Social sciences — List of academic disciplines — Academia — Community — Living — Life — Objects — Physics.

The natural question is: what about philosophy? Yes, philosophy goes in a cycle: Philosophy — Reason — Rationality — philosophy.

The original comic talks about spark plugs. So I tried that and arrived at physics: Spark plug — Cylinder head — Internal combustion engine — Engine — Machine — Machine (mechanical) — Mechanical system — Power — Physics.

Then I tried to get far away from philosophy and attempted sex, unsuccessfully: Sex — Biology — Natural science. Then I tried dance: Dance — Art — Sense — Physiology — Science.

It is interesting to see how many steps it takes to get to philosophy. Here is the table for the words I tried:

Mathematics wins. It thoroughly beats all the other words I tried. For now. Fans of sex might be disappointed by these results, and tomorrow they might change the wiki essay about sex to start as:

Modern philosophy considers sex …