toposes


John Huerta visited here for about a week earlier this month, and gave a couple of talks. The one I want to write about here was a guest lecture in the topics course Susama Agarwala and I were teaching this past semester. The course was about topics in category theory of interest to geometry, and in the case of this lecture, “geometry” means supergeometry. It follows the approach I mentioned in the previous post about looking at sheaves as a kind of generalized space. The talk was an introduction to a program of seeing supermanifolds as a kind of sheaf on the site of “super-points”. This approach was first proposed by Albert Schwartz, though see, for instance, this review by Christophe Sachse for more about this approach, and this paper (comparing the situation for real and complex (super)manifolds) for more recent work.

It’s amazing how many geometrical techniques can be applied in quite general algebras once they’re formulated correctly. It’s perhaps less amazing for supermanifolds, in which commutativity fails in about the mildest possible way.  Essentially, the algebras in question split into bosonic and fermionic parts. Everything in the bosonic part commutes with everything, and the fermionic part commutes “up to a negative sign” within itself.

Supermanifolds

Supermanifolds are geometric objects, which were introduced as a setting on which “supersymmetric” quantum field theories could be defined. Whether or not “real” physics has this symmetry (the evidence is still pending, though ), these are quite nicely behaved theories. (Throwing in extra symmetry assumptions tends to make things nicer, and supersymmetry is in some sense the maximum extra symmetry we might reasonably hope for in a QFT).

Roughly, the idea is that supermanifolds are spaces like manifolds, but with some non-commuting coordinates. Supermanifolds are therefore in some sense “noncommutative spaces”. Noncommutative algebraic or differential geometry start with various dualities to the effect that some category of spaces is equivalent to the opposite of a corresponding category of algebras – for instance, a manifold M corresponds to the C^{\infty} algebra C^{\infty}(M,\mathbb{R}). So a generalized category of “spaces” can be found by dropping the “commutative” requirement from that statement. The category \mathbf{SMan} of supermanifolds only weakens the condition slightly: the algebras are \mathbb{Z}_2-graded, and are “supercommutative”, i.e. commute up to a sign which depends on the grading.

Now, the conventional definition of supermanifolds, as with schemes, is to say that they are spaces equipped with a “structure sheaf” which defines an appropriate class of functions. For ordinary (real) manifolds, this would be the sheaf assigning to an open set U the ring C^{\infty}(U,\mathbb{R}) of all the smooth real-valued functions. The existence of an atlas of charts for the manifold amounts to saying that the structure sheaf locally looks like C^{\infty}(V,\mathbb{R}) for some open set V \subset \mathbb{R}^p. (For fixed dimension p).

For supermanifolds, the condition on the local rings says that, for fixed dimension (p \bar q ), a p|q-dimensional supermanifold has structure sheaf in which $they look like

\mathcal{O}(\mathcal{U}) \cong C^{\infty}(V,\mathbb{R}) \otimes \Lambda_q

In this, V is as above, and the notation

\Lambda_q = \Lambda ( \theta_1, \dots , \theta_q )

refers to the exterior algebra, which we can think of as polynomials in the \theta_i, with the wedge product, which satisfies \theta_i \wedge \theta_j = - \theta_j \wedge \theta_i. The idea is that one is supposed to think of this as the algebra of smooth functions on a space with p ordinary dimensions, and q “anti-commuting” dimensions with coordinates \theta_i. The commuting variables, say x_1,\dots,x_p, are called “bosonic” or “even”, and the anticommuting ones are “fermionic” or “odd”. (The term “fermionic” is related to the fact that, in quantum mechanics, when building a Hilbert space for a bunch of identical fermions, one takes the antisymmetric part of the tensor product of their individual Hilbert spaces, so that, for instance, v_1 \otimes v_2 = - v_2 \otimes v_1).

The structure sheaf picture can therefore be thought of as giving an atlas of charts, so that the neighborhoods locally look like “super-domains”, the super-geometry equivalent of open sets V \subset \mathbb{R}^p.

In fact, there’s a long-known theorem of Batchelor which says that any real supermanifold is given exactly by the algebra of “global sections”, which looks like \mathcal{O}(M) = C^{\infty}(M_{red},\mathbb{R}) \otimes \Lambda_q. That is, sections in the local rings (“functions on” open neighborhoods of M) always glue together to give a section in \mathcal{O}(M).

Another way to put this is that every supermanifold can be seen as just bundle of exterior algebras. That is, a bundle over a base manifold M_{red}, whose fibres are the “super-points” \mathbb{R}^{0|q} corresponding to \Lambda_q. The base space M_{red} is called the “reduced” manifold. Any such bundle gives back a supermanifold, where the algebras in the structure sheaf are the algebras of sections of the bundle.

One shouldn’t be too complacent about saying they are exactly the same, though: this correspondence isn’t functorial. That is, the maps between supermanifolds are not just bundle maps. (Also, Batchelor’s theorem works only for real, not for complex, supermanifolds, where only the local neighborhoods necessarily look like such bundles).

Why, by the way, say that \mathbb{R}^{0|q} is a super “point”, when \mathbb{R}^{p|0} is a whole vector space? Since the fermionic variables are anticommuting, no term can have more than one of each \theta_i, so this is a finite-dimensional algebra. This is unlike C{\infty}(V,\mathbb{R}), which suggests that the noncommutative directions are quite different. Any element of \Lambda_q is nilpotent, so if we think of a Taylor series for some function – a power series in the (x_1,\dots,x_p,\theta_1,\dots,\theta_q) – we see note that no term has a coefficient for \theta_i greater than 1, or of degree higher than q in all the \theta_i – so imagines that only infinitesimal behaviour in these directions exists at all. Thus, a supermanifold M is like an ordinary p-dimensional manifold M_{red}, built from the ordinary domains V, equipped with a bundle whose fibres are a sort of “infinitesimal fuzz” about each point of the “even part” of the supermanifold, described by the \Lambda_q.

But this intuition is a bit vague. We can sharpen it a bit using the functor of points approach…

Supermanifolds as Manifold-Valued Sheaves

As with schemes, there is also a point of view that sees supermanifolds as “ordinary” manifolds, constructed in the topos of sheaves over a certain site. The basic insight behind the picture of these spaces, as in the previous post, is based on the fact that the Yoneda lemma lets us think of sheaves as describing all the “probes” of a generalized space (actually an algebra in this case). The “probes” are the objects of a certain category, and are called “superpoints“.

This category is just \mathbf{Spt} = \mathbf{Gr}^{op}, the opposite of the category of Grassman algebras (i.e. exterior algebras) – that is, polynomial algebras in noncommuting variables, like \Lambda(\theta_1,\dots,\theta_q). These objects naturally come with a \mathbb{Z}_2-grading, which are spanned, respectively, by the monomials with even and odd degree: \Lambda_q = latex \mathbf{SMan}$ (\Lambda_q)_0 \oplus (\Lambda_q)_1$

(\Lambda_q)_0 = span( 1, \theta_i \theta_j, \theta_{i_1}\dots\theta{i_4}, \dots )

and

(\Lambda_q)_1 = span( \theta_i, \theta_i \theta_j \theta_k, \theta_{i_1}\dots\theta_{i_5},\dots )

This is a \mathbb{Z}_2-grading since the even ones commute with anything, and the odd ones anti-commute with each other. So if f_i and f_j are homogeneous (live entirely in one grade or the other), then f_i f_j = (-1)^{deg(i)deg(j)} f_j f_i.

The \Lambda_q should be thought of as the (0|q)-dimensional supermanifold: it looks like a point, with a q-dimensional fermionic tangent space (the “infinitesimal fuzz” noted above) attached. The morphisms in \mathbf{Spt} from \Lambda_q to $llatex \Lambda_r$ are just the grade-preserving algebra homomorphisms from \Lambda_r to \Lambda_q. There are quite a few of these: these objects are not terminal objects like the actual point. But this makes them good probes. Thi gets to be a site with the trivial topology, so that all presheaves are sheaves.

Then, as usual, a presheaf M on this category is to be understood as giving, for each object A=\Lambda_q, the collection of maps from \Lambda_q to a space M. The case q=0 gives the set of points of M, and the various other algebras A give sets of “A-points”. This term is based on the analogy that a point of a topological space (or indeed element of a set) is just the same as a map from the terminal object 1, the one point space (or one element set). Then an “A-point” of a space X is just a map from another object A. If A is not terminal, this is close to the notion of a “subspace” (though a subspace, strictly, would be a monomorphism from A). These are maps from A in \mathbf{Spt} = \mathbf{Gr}^{op}, or as algebra maps, M_A consists of all the maps \mathcal{O}(M) \rightarrow A.

What’s more, since this is a functor, we have to have a system of maps between the M_A. For any algebra maps A \rightarrow A', we should get corresponding maps M_{A'} \rightarrow M_A. These are really algebra maps \Lambda_q \rightarrow \Lambda_{q'}, of which there are plenty, all determined by the images of the generators \theta_1, \dots, \theta_q.

Now, really, a sheaf on \mathbf{Spt} is actually just what we might call a “super-set”, with sets M_A for each A \in \mathbf{Spt}. To make super-manifolds, one wants to say they are “manifold-valued sheaves”. Since manifolds themselves don’t form a topos, one needs to be a bit careful about defining the extra structure which makes a set a manifold.

Thus, a supermanifold M is a manifold constructed in the topos Sh(\mathbf{Spt}). That is, M must also be equipped with a topology and a collection of charts defining the manifold structure. These are all construed internally using objects and morphisms in the category of sheaves, where charts are based on super-domains, namely those algebras which look like C^{\infty}(V) \otimes \Lambda_q, for V an open subset of \mathbb{R}^p.

The reduced manifold M_{red} which appears in Batchelor’s theorem is the manifold of ordinary points M_{\mathbb{R}}. That is, it is all the \mathbb{R}-points, where \mathbb{R} is playing the role of functions on the zero-dimensional domain with just one point. All the extra structure in an atlas of charts for all of M to make it a supermanifold amounts to putting the structure of ordinary manifolds on the M_A – but in compatible ways.

(Alternatively, we could have described \mathbf{SMan} as sheaves in Sh(\mathbf{SDom}), where \mathbf{SDom} is a site of “superdomains”, and put all the structure defining a manifold into \mathbf{SDom}. But working over super-points is preferable for the moment, since it makes it clear that manifolds and supermanifolds are just manifestations of the same basic definition, but realized in two different toposes.)

The fact that the manifold structure on the M_A must be put on them compatibly means there is a relatively nice way to picture all these spaces.

Values of the Functor of Points as Bundles

The main idea which I find helps to understand the functor of points is that, for every superpoint \mathbb{R}^{0|n} (i.e. for every Grassman algebra A=\Lambda_n), one gets a manifold M_A. (Note the convention that q is the odd dimension of M, and n is the odd dimension of the probe superpoint).

Just as every supermanifold is a bundle of superpoints, every manifold M_A is a perfectly conventional vector bundle over the conventional manifold M_{red} of ordinary points. So for each A, we get a bundle, M_A \rightarrow M_{red}.

Now this manifold, M_{red}, consists exactly of all the “points” of M – this tells us immediately that \mathbf{SMan} is not a category of concrete sheaves (in the sense I explained in the previous post). Put another way, it’s not a concrete category – that would mean that there is an underlying set functor, which gives a set for each object, and that morphisms are determined by what they do to underlying sets. Non-concrete categories are, by nature, trickier to understand.

However, the functor of points gives a way to turn the non-concrete M into a tower of concrete manifolds M_A, and the morphisms between various M amount to compatible towers of maps between the various M_A for each A. The fact that the compatibility is controlled by algebra maps \Lambda_q \rightarrow \Lambda_{q'} explains why this is the same as maps between these bundles of superpoints.

Specifically, then, we have

M_A = \{ \mathcal{O}(M) \rightarrow A \}

This splits into maps of the even parts, and of the odd parts, where the grassman algebra A = \Lambda_n has even and odd parts: A = A_0 \oplus A_1, as above. Similarly, \mathcal{O}(M) splits into odd and even parts, and since the functions on M_{red} are entirely even, this is:

( \mathcal{O}(M))_0 = C^{\infty}(M_{red}) \otimes ( \Lambda_q)_0

and

( \mathcal{O}(M))_1 = C^{\infty}(M_{red}) \otimes (\Lambda_q)_1)

Now, the duality of “hom” and tensor means that Hom(\mathcal{O}(M),A) \cong \mathcal{O}(M) \otimes A, and algebra maps preserve the grading. So we just have tensor products of these with the even and odd parts, respectively, of the probe superpoint. Since the even part A_0 includes the multiples of the constants, part of this just gives a copy of U itself. The remaining part of A_0 is nilpotent (since it’s made of even-degree polynomials in the nilpotent \theta_i, so what we end up with, looking at the bundle over an open neighborhood U \subset M_{red}, is:

U_A = U \times ( (\Lambda_q)_0 \otimes A^{nil}_0) \times ((\Lambda_q)_1 \otimes A_1)

The projection map U_A \rightarrow U is the obvious projection onto the first factor. These assemble into a bundle over M_{red}.

We should think of these bundles as “shifting up” the nilpotent part of M (which are invisible at the level of ordinary points in M_{red}) by the algebra A. Writing them this way makes it clear that this is functorial in the superpoints A = \Lambda_n: given choices n and n', and any morphism between the corresponding A and A', it’s easy to see how we get maps between these bundles.

Now, maps between supermanifolds are the same thing as natural transformations between the functors of points. These include maps of the base manifolds, along with maps between the total spaces of all these bundles. More, this tower of maps must commute with all those bundle maps coming from algebra maps A \rightarrow A'. (In particular, since A = \Lambda_0, the ordinary point, is one of these, they have to commute with the projection to M_{red}.) These conditions may be quite restrictive, but it leaves us with, at least, a quite concrete image of what maps of supermanifolds

Super-Poincaré Group

One of the main settings where super-geometry appears is in so-called “supersymmetric” field theories, which is a concept that makes sense when fields live on supermanifolds. Supersymmetry, and symmetries associated to super-Lie groups, is exactly the kind of thing that John has worked on. A super-Lie group, of course, is a supermanifold that has the structure of a group (i.e. it’s a Lie group in the topos of presheaves over the site of super-points – so the discussion above means it can be thought of as a big tower of Lie groups, all bundles over a Lie group G_{red}).

In fact, John has mostly worked with super-Lie algebras (and the connection between these and division algebras, though that’s another story). These are \mathbb{Z}_2-graded algebras with a Lie bracket whose commutation properties are the graded version of those for an ordinary Lie algebra. But part of the value of the framework above is that we can simply borrow results from Lie theory for manifolds, import it into the new topos PSh(\mathbf{Spt}), and know at once that super-Lie algebras integrate up to super-Lie groups in just the same way that happens in the old topos (of sets).

Supersymmetry refers to a particular example, namely the “super-Poincaré group”. Just as the Poincaré group is the symmetry group of Minkowski space, a 4-manifold with a certain metric on it, the super-Poincaré group has the same relation to a certain supermanifold. (There are actually a few different versions, depending on the odd dimension.) The algebra is generated by infinitesimal translations and boosts, plus some “translations” in fermionic directions, which generate the odd part of the algebra.

Now, symmetry in a quantum theory means that this algebra (or, on integration, the corresponding group) acts on the Hilbert space \mathcal{H} of possible states of the theory: that is, the space of states is actually a representation of this algebra. In fact, to make sense of this, we need a super-Hilbert space (i.e. a graded one). The even generators of the algebra then produce grade-preserving self-maps of \mathcal{H}, and the odd generators produce grade-reversing ones. (This fact that there are symmetries which flip the “bosonic” and “fermionic” parts of the total \mathcal{H} is why supersymmetric theories have “superpartners” for each particle, with the opposite parity, since particles are labelled by irreducible representations of the Poincaré group and the gauge group).

To date, so far as I know, there’s no conclusive empirical evidence that real quantum field theories actually exhibit supersymmetry, such as detecting actual super-partners for known particles. Even if not, however, it still has some use as a way of developing toy models of quite complicated theories which are more tractable than one might expect, precisely because they have lots of symmetry. It’s somewhat like how it’s much easier to study computationally difficult theories like gravity by assuming, for instance, spherical symmetry as an extra assumption. In any case, from a mathematician’s point of view, this sort of symmetry is just a particularly simple case of symmetries for theories which live on noncommutative backgrounds, which is quite an interesting topic in its own right. As usual, physics generates lots of math which remains both true and interesting whether or not it applies in the way it was originally suggested.

In any case, what the functor-of-points viewpoint suggests is that ordinary and super- symmetries are just two special cases of “symmetries of a field theory” in two different toposes. Understanding these and other examples from this point of view seems to give a different understanding of what “symmetry”, one of the most fundamental yet slippery concepts in mathematics and science, actually means.

This semester, Susama Agarwala and I have been sharing a lecture series for graduate students. (A caveat: there are lecture notes there, by student request, but they’re rough notes, and contain some mistakes, omissions, and represent a very selective view of the subject.) Being a “topics” course, it consists of a few different sections, loosely related, which revolve around the theme of categorical tools which are useful for geometry (and topology).

What this has amounted to is: I gave a half-semester worth of courses on toposes, sheaves, and the basics of derived categories. Susama is now giving the second half, which is about motives. This post will talk about the part of the course I gave. Though this was a whole series of lectures which introduced all these topics more or less carefully, I want to focus here on the part of the lecture which built up to a discussion of sheaves as spaces. Nothing here, or in the two posts to follow, is particularly new, but they do amount to a nice set of snapshots of some related ideas.

Coming up soon: John Huerta is currently visiting Hamburg, and on  July 8, he gave a guest-lecture which uses some of this machinery to talk about supermanifolds, which will be the subject of the next post in this series. In a later post, I’ll talk about Susama’s lectures about motives and how this relates to the discussion here (loosely).

Grothendieck Toposes

The first half of our course was about various aspects of Grothendieck toposes. In the first lecture, I talked about “Elementary” (or Lawvere-Tierney) toposes. One way to look at these is to say that they are categories \mathcal{E} which have all the properties of the category of Sets which make it useful for doing most of ordinary mathematics. Thus, a topos in this sense is a category with a bunch of properties – there are various equivalent definitions, but for example, toposes have all finite limits (in particular, products), and all colimits.

More particularly, they have “power objects”. That is, if A and B are objects of \mathcal{E}, then there is an object B^A, with an “evaluation map” B^A \times A \rightarrow B, which makes it possible to think of B^A as the object of “morphisms from A to B”.

The other main thing a topos has is a “subobject classifier”. Now, a subobject of A \in \mathcal{E} is an equivalence class of monomorphisms into A – think of sets, where this amounts to specifying the image, and the monomorphisms are the various inclusions which pick out the same subset as their image. A classifier for subobjects should be thought of as something like the two-element set is Sets, whose elements we can tall “true” and “false”. Then every subset of A corresponds to a characteristic function A \rightarrow \mathbf{2}. In general, a subobject classifies is an object \Omega together with a map from the terminal object, T : 1 \rightarrow \Omega, such that every inclusion of subobject is a pullback of T along a characteristic function.

Now, elementary toposes were invented chronologically later than Grothendieck toposes, which are a special class of example. These are categories of sheaves on (Grothendieck) sites. A site is a category \mathcal{T} together with a “topology” J, which is a rule which, for each U \in \mathcal{T}, picks out J(U), a set of collections of maps into U, called seives for U. They collections J(U) have to satisfy certain conditions, but the idea can be understood in terms of the basic example, \mathcal{T} = TOP(X). Given a topological space, TOP(X) is the category whose objects are the open sets U \subset X, and the morphisms are all the inclusions. Then  that each collection in J(U) is an open cover of U – that is, a bunch of inclusions of open sets, which together cover all of U in the usual sense.

(This is a little special to TOP(X), where every map is an inclusion – in a general site, the J(U) need to be closed under composition with any other morphism (like an ideal in a ring). So for instance, \mathcal{T} = Top, the category of topological spaces, the usual choice of J(U) consists of all collections of maps which are jointly surjective.)

The point is that a presheaf on \mathcal{T} is just a functor \mathcal{T}^{op} \rightarrow Sets. That is, it’s a way of assigning a set to each U \in \mathcal{T}. So, for instance, for either of the cases we just mentioned, one has B : \mathcal{T}^{op} \rightarrow Sets, which assigns to each open set U the set of all bounded functions on U, and to every inclusion the restriction map. Or, again, one has C : \mathcal{T}^{op} \rightarrow Sets, which assigns the set of all continuous functions.

These two examples illustrate the condition which distinguishes those presheaves S which are sheaves – namely, those which satisfy some “gluing” conditions. Thus, suppose we’re, given an open cover \{ f_i : U_i \rightarrow U \}, and a choice of one element x_i from each S(U_i), which form a “matching family” in the sense that they agree when restricted to any overlaps. Then the sheaf condition says that there’s a unique “amalgamation” of this family – that is, one element x \in S(U) which restricts to all the x_i under the maps S(f_i) : S(U) \rightarrow S(U_i).

Sheaves as Generalized Spaces

There are various ways of looking at sheaves, but for the purposes of the course on categorical methods in geometry, I decided to emphasize the point of view that they are a sort of generalized spaces.

The intuition here is that all the objects and morphisms in a site \mathcal{T} have corresponding objects and morphisms in Psh(\mathcal{T}). Namely, the objects appear as the representable presheaves, U \mapsto Hom(-,U), and the morphisms U \rightarrow V show up as the induced natural transformations between these functors. This map y : \mathcal{T} \rightarrow Psh(\mathcal{T}) is called the Yoneda embedding. If \mathcal{T} is at all well-behaved (as it is in all the examples we’re interested in here), these presheaves will always be sheaves: the image of y lands in Sh(\mathcal{T}).

In this case, the Yoneda embedding embeds \mathcal{T} as a sub-category of Sh(\mathcal{T}). What’s more, it’s a full subcategory: all the natural transformations between representable presheaves come from the morphisms of \mathcal{T}-objects in a unique way. So  Sh(\mathcal{T}) is, in this sense, a generalization of \mathcal{T} itself.

More precisely, it’s the Yoneda lemma which makes sense of all this. The idea is to start with the way ordinary \mathcal{T}-objects (from now on, just call them “spaces”) S become presheaves: they become functors which assign to each U the set of all maps into S. So the idea is to turn this around, and declare that even non-representable sheaves should have the same interpretation. The Yoneda Lemma makes this a sensible interpretation: it says that, for any presheaf F \in Psh(\mathcal{T}), and any U \in \mathcal{T}, the set F(U) is naturally isomorphic to Hom(y(U),F): that is, F(U) literally is the collection of morphisms from U (or rather, its image under the Yoneda embedding) and a “generalized space” F. (See also Tom Leinster’s nice discussion of the Yoneda Lemma if this isn’t familiar.) We describe U as a “probe” object: one probes the space F by mapping U into it in various ways. Knowing the results for all U \in \mathcal{T} tells you all about the “space” F. (Thus, for instance, one can get all the information about the homotopy type of a space if you know all the maps into it from spheres of all dimensions up to homotopy. So spheres are acting as “probes” to reveal things about the space.)

Furthermore, since Sh(\mathcal{T}) is a topos, it is often a nicer category than the one you start with. It has limits and colimits, for instance, which the original category might not have. For example, if the kind of spaces you want to generalize are manifolds, one doesn’t have colimits, such as the space you get by gluing together two lines at a point. The sheaf category does. Likewise, the sheaf category has exponentials, and manifolds don’t (at least not without the more involved definitions needed to allow infinite-dimensional manifolds).

These last remarks about manifolds suggest the motivation for the first example…

Diffeological Spaces

The lecture I gave about sheaves as spaces used this paper by John Baez and Alex Hoffnung about “smooth spaces” (they treat Souriau’s diffeological spaces, and the different but related Chen spaces in the same framework) to illustrate the point. They describe In that case, the objects of the sites are open (or, for Chen spaces, convex) subsets of \mathbb{R}^n, for all choices of n, the maps are the smooth maps in the usual sense (i.e. the sense to be generalized), and the covers are jointly surjective collections of maps.

Now, that example is a somewhat special situation: they talk about concrete sheaves, on concrete sites, and the resulting categories are only quasitoposes – a slightly weaker condition than being a topos, but one still gets a useful collection of spaces, which among other things include all manifolds. The “concreteness” condition – that \mathcal{T} has a terminal object to play the role of “the point”. Being a concrete sheaf then means that all the “generalized spaces” have an underlying set of points (namely, the set of maps from the point object), and that all morphisms between the spaces are completely determined by what they do to the underlying set of points. This means that the “spaces” really are just sets with some structure.

Now, if the site happens to be TOP(X), then we have a slightly intuition: the “generalized” spaces are something like generalized bundles over X, and the “probes” are now sections of such a bundle. A simple example would be an actual sheaf of functions: these are sections of a trivial bundle, since, say, \mathbb{C}-valued functions are sections of the bundle \pi: X \times \mathbb{C} \rightarrow X. Given a nontrivial bundle \pi : M \rightarrow X, there is a sheaf of sections – on each U, one gets F_M(U) to be all the one-sided inverses s : U \rightarrow M which are one-sided inverses of \pi. For a generic sheaf, we can imagine a sort of “generalized bundle” over X.

Schemes

Another example of the fact that sheaves can be seen as spaces is the category of schemes: these are often described as topological spaces which are themselves equipped with a sheaf of rings. “Scheme” is to algebraic geometry what “manifold” is to differential geometry: a kind of space which looks locally like something classical and familiar. Schemes, in some neighborhood of each point, must resemble varieties – i.e. the locus of zeroes of some algebraic function on $\mathbb{k}^n$. For varieties, the rings attached to neighborhoods are rings of algebraic functions on this locus, which will be a quotient of the ring of polynomials.

But another way to think of schemes is as concrete sheaves on a site whose objects are varieties and whose morphisms are algebraic maps. This is dual to the other point of view, just as thinking of diffeological spaces as sheaves is dual to a viewpoint in which they’re seen as topological spaces equipped with a notion of “smooth function”.

(Some general discussion of this in a talk by Victor Piercey)

Generalities

These two viewpoints (defining the structure of a space by a class of maps into it, or by a class of maps out of it) in principle give different definitions. To move between them, you really need everything to be concrete: the space has an underlying set, the set of probes is a collection of real set-functions. Likewise, for something like a scheme, you’d need the ring for any open set to be a ring of actual set-functions. In this case, one can move between the two descriptions of the space as long as there is a pre-existing concept of the right kind of function  on the “probe” spaces. Given a smooth space, say, one can define a sheaf of smooth functions on each open set by taking those whose composites with every probe are smooth. Conversely, given something like a scheme, where the structure sheaf is of function rings on each open subspace (i.e. the sheaf is representable), one can define the probes from varieties to be those which give algebraic functions when composed with every function in these rings. Neither of these will work in general: the two approaches define different categories of spaces (in the smooth context, see Andrew Stacey’s comparison of various categories of smooth spaces, defined either by specifying the smooth maps in, or out, or both). But for very concrete situations, they fit together neatly.

The concrete case is therefore nice for getting an intuition for what it means to think of sheaves as spaces. For sheaves which aren’t concrete, morphisms aren’t determined by what they do to the underlying points i.e. the forgetful “underlying set” functor isn’t faithful. Here, we might think of a “generalized space” which looks like two copies of the same topological space: the sheaf gives two different elements of F(U) for each map of underlying sets. We could think of such generalized space as built from sets equipped with extra “stuff” (say, a set consisting of pairs (x,i) \in X \times \{ blue , green \} – so it consists of a “blue” copy of X and a “green” copy of X, but the underlying set functor ignores the colouring.

Still, useful as they may be to get a first handle on this concept of sheaf as generalized space, one shouldn’t rely on these intuitions too much: if \mathcal{T} doesn’t even have a “point” object, there is no underlying set functor at all. Eventually, one simply has to get used to the idea of defining a space by the information revealed by probes.

In the next post, I’ll talk more about this in the context of John Huerta’s guest lecture, applying this idea to the category of supermanifolds, which can be seen as manifolds built internal to the topos of (pre)sheaves on a site whose objects are called “super-points”.

So Dan Christensen, who used to be my supervisor while I was a postdoc at the University of Western Ontario, came to Lisbon last week and gave a talk about a topic I remember hearing about while I was there.  This is the category Diff of diffeological spaces as a setting for homotopy theory.  Just to make things scan more nicely, I’m going to say “smooth space” for “diffeological space” here, although this term is in fact ambiguous (see Andrew Stacey’s “Comparative Smootheology” for lots of details about options).  There’s a lot of information about Diff in Patrick Iglesias-Zimmour’s draft-of-a-book.

Motivation

The point of the category Diff, initially, is that it extends the category of manifolds while having some nicer properties.  Thus, while all manifolds are smooth spaces, there are others, which allow Diff to be closed under various operations.  These would include taking limits and colimits: for instance, any subset of a smooth space becomes a smooth space, and any quotient of a smooth space by an equivalence relation is a smooth space.  Then too, Diff has exponentials (that is, if A and B are smooth spaces, so is A^B = Hom(B,A)).

So, for instance, this is a good context for constructing loop spaces: a manifold M is a smooth space, and so is its loop space LM = M^{S^1} = Hom(S^1,M), the space of all maps of the circle into M.  This becomes important for talking about things like higher cohomology, gerbes, etc.  When starting with the category of manifolds, doing this requires you to go off and define infinite dimensional manifolds before LM can even be defined.  Likewise, the irrational torus is hard to talk about as a manifold: you take a torus, thought of as \mathbb{R}^2 / \mathbb{Z}^2.  Then take a direction in \mathbb{R}^2 with irrational slope, and identify any two points which are translates of each other in \mathbb{R}^2 along the direction of this line.  The orbit of any point is then dense in the torus, so this is a very nasty space, certainly not a manifold.  But it’s a perfectly good smooth space.

Well, these examples motivate the kinds of things these nice categorical properties allow us to do, but Diff wouldn’t deserve to be called a category of “smooth spaces” (Souriau’s original name for them) if they didn’t allow a notion of smooth maps, which is the basis for most of what we do with manifolds: smooth paths, derivatives of curves, vector fields, differential forms, smooth cohomology, smooth bundles, and the rest of the apparatus of differential geometry.  As with manifolds, this notion of smooth map ought to get along with the usual notion for \mathbb{R}^n in some sense.

Smooth Spaces

Thus, a smooth (i.e. diffeological) space consists of:

  • A set X (of “points”)
  • A set \{ f : U \rightarrow X \} (of “plots”) for every n and open U \subset \mathbb{R}^n such that:
  1. All constant maps are plots
  2. If f: U \rightarrow X is a plot, and g : V \rightarrow U is a smooth map, f \circ g : V \rightarrow X is a plot
  3. If \{ g_i : U_i \rightarrow U\} is an open cover of U, and f : U \rightarrow X is a map, whose restrictions f \circ g_i : U_i \rightarrow X are all plots, so is f

A smooth map between smooth spaces is one that gets along with all this structure (i.e. the composite with every plot is also a plot).

These conditions mean that smooth maps agree with the usual notion in \mathbb{R}^n, and we can glue together smooth spaces to produce new ones.  A manifold becomes a smooth space by taking all the usual smooth maps to be plots: it’s a full subcategory (we introduce new objects which aren’t manifolds, but no new morphisms between manifolds).  A choice of a set of plots for some space X is a “diffeology”: there can, of course, be many different diffeologies on a given space.

So, in particular, diffeologies can encode a little more than the charts of a manifold.  Just for one example, a diffeology can have “stop signs”, as Dan put it – points with the property that any smooth map from I= [0,1] which passes through them must stop at that point (have derivative zero – or higher derivatives, if you like).  Along the same lines, there’s a nonstandard diffeology on I itself with the property that any smooth map from this I into a manifold M must have all derivatives zero at the endpoints.  This is a better object for defining smooth fundamental groups: you can concatenate these paths at will and they’re guaranteed to be smooth.

As a Quasitopos

An important fact about these smooth spaces is that they are concrete sheaves (i.e. sheaves with underlying sets) on the concrete site (i.e. a Grothendieck site where objects have underlying sets) whose objects are the U \subset \mathbb{R}^n.  This implies many nice things about the category Diff.  One is that it’s a quasitopos.  This is almost the same as a topos (in particular, it has limits, colimits, etc. as described above), but where a topos has a “subobject classifier”, a quasitopos has a weak subobject classifier (which, perhaps confusingly, is “weak” because it only classifies the strong subobjects).

So remember that a subobject classifier is an object with a map t : 1 \rightarrow \Omega from the terminal object, so that any monomorphism (subobject) A \rightarrow X is the pullback of t along some map X \rightarrow \Omega (the classifying map).  In the topos of sets, this is just the inclusion of a one-element set \{\star\} into a two-element set \{T,F\}: the classifying map for a subset A \subset X sends everything in A (i.e. in the image of the inclusion map) to T = Im(t), and everything else to F.  (That is, it’s the characteristic function.)  So pulling back T

Any topos has one of these – in particular the topos of sheaves on the diffeological site has one.  But Diff consists of the concrete sheaves, not all sheaves.  The subobject classifier of the topos won’t be concrete – but it does have a “concretification”, which turns out to be the weak subobject classifier.  The subobjects of a smooth space X which it classifies (i.e. for which there’s a classifying map as above) are exactly the subsets A \subset X equipped with the subspace diffeology.  (Which is defined in the obvious way: the plots are the plots of X which land in A).

We’ll come back to this quasitopos shortly.  The main point is that Dan and his graduate student, Enxin Wu, have been trying to define a different kind of structure on Diff.  We know it’s good for doing differential geometry.  The hope is that it’s also good for doing homotopy theory.

As a Model Category

The basic idea here is pretty well supported: naively, one can do a lot of the things done in homotopy theory in Diff: to start with, one can define the “smooth homotopy groups” \pi_n^s(X;x_0) of a pointed space.  It’s a theorem by Dan and Enxin that several possible ways of doing this are equivalent.  But, for example, Iglesias-Zimmour defines them inductively, so that \pi_0^s(X) is the set of path-components of X, and \pi_k^s(X) = \pi_{k-1}^s(LX) is defined recursively using loop spaces, mentioned above.  The point is that this all works in Diff much as for topological spaces.

In particular, there are analogs for the \pi_k^s for standard theorems like the long exact sequence of homotopy groups for a bundle.  Of course, you have to define “bundle” in Diff – it’s a smooth surjective map X \rightarrow Y, but saying a diffeological bundle is “locally trivial” doesn’t mean “over open neighborhoods”, but “under pullback along any plot”.  (Either of these converts a bundle over a whole space into a bundle over part of \mathbb{R}^n, where things are easy to define).

Less naively, the kind of category where homotopy theory works is a model category (see also here).  So the project Dan and Enxin have been working on is to give Diff this sort of structure.  While there are technicalities behind those links, the essential point is that this means you have a closed category (i.e. with all limits and colimits, which Diff does), on which you’ve defined three classes of morphisms: fibrations, cofibrations, and weak equivalences.  These are supposed to abstract the properties of maps in the homotopy theory of topological spaces – in that case weak equivalences being maps that induce isomorphisms of homotopy groups, the other two being defined by having some lifting properties (i.e. you can lift a homotopy, such as a path, along a fibration).

So to abstract the situation in Top, these classes have to satisfy some axioms (including an abstract form of the lifting properties).  There are slightly different formulations, but for instance, the “2 of 3″ axiom says that if two of f, latex $g$ and f \circ g are weak equivalences, so is the third.  Or, again, there should be a factorization for any morphism into a fibration and an acyclic cofibration (i.e. one which is also a weak equivalence), and also vice versa (that is, moving the adjective “acyclic” to the fibration).  Defining some classes of maps isn’t hard, but it tends to be that proving they satisfy all the axioms IS hard.

Supposing you could do it, though, you have things like the homotopy category (where you formally allow all weak equivalences to have inverses), derived functors(which come from a situation where homotopy theory is “modelled” by categories of chain complexes), and various other fairly powerful tools.  Doing this in Diff would make it possible to use these things in a setting that supports differential geometry.  In particular, you’d have a lot of high-powered machinery that you could apply to prove things about manifolds, even though it doesn’t work in the category Man itself – only in the larger setting Diff.

Dan and Enxin are still working on nailing down some of the proofs, but it appears to be working.  Their strategy is based on the principle that, for purposes of homotopy, topological spaces act like simplicial complexes.  So they define an affine “simplex”, \mathbb{A}^n = \{ (x_0, x_1, \dots, x_n) \in \mathbb{R}^{n+1} | \sum x_i = 1 \}.  These aren’t literally simplexes: they’re affine planes, which we understand as smooth spaces – with the subspace diffeology from \mathbb{R}^{n+1}.  But they behave like simplexes: there are face and degeneracy maps for them, and the like.  They form a “cosimplicial object”, which we can think of as a functor \Delta \rightarrow Diff, where \Delta is the simplex category).

Then the point is one can look at, for a smooth space X, the smooth singular simplicial set S(X): it’s a simplicial set where the sets are sets of smooth maps from the affine simplex into X.  Likewise, for a simplicial set S, there’s a smooth space, the “geometric realization” |S|.  These give two functors |\cdot | and S, which are adjoints (| \cdot | is the left adjoint).  And then, weak equivalences and fibrations being defined in simplicial sets (w.e. are homotopy equivalences of the realization in Top, and fibrations are “Kan fibrations”), you can just pull the definition back to Diff: a smooth map is a w.e. if its image under S is one.  The cofibrations get indirectly defined via the lifting properties they need to have relative to the other two classes.

So it’s still not completely settled that this definition actually gives a model category structure, but it’s pretty close.  Certainly, some things are known.  For instance, Enxin Wu showed that if you have a fibrant object X (i.e. one where the unique map to the terminal object is a fibration – these are generally the “good” objects to define homotopy groups on), then the smooth homotopy groups agree with the simplicial ones for S(X).  This implies that for these objects, the weak equivalences are exactly the smooth maps that give isomorphisms for homotopy groups.  And so forth.  But notice that even some fairly nice objects aren’t fibrant: two lines glued together at a point isn’t, for instance.

There are various further results.  One, a consquences of a result Enxin proved, is that all manifolds are fibrant objects, where these nice properties apply.  It’s interesting that this comes from the fact that, in Diff, every (connected) manifold is a homogeneous space.  These are quotients of smooth groups, G/H – the space is a space of cosets, and H is understood to be the stabilizer of the point.  Usually one thinks of homogenous spaces as fairly rigid things: the Euclidean plane, say, where G is the whole Euclidean group, and H the rotations; or a sphere, where G is all n-dimensional rotations, and H the ones that fix some point on the sphere.  (Actually, this gives a projective plane, since opposite points on the sphere get identified.  But you get the idea).  But that’s for Lie groups.  The point is that G = Diff(M,M), the space of diffeomorphisms from M to itself, is a perfectly good smooth group.  Then the subgroup H of diffeomorphisms that fix any point is a fine smooth subgroup, and G/H is a homogeneous space in Diff.  But that’s just M, with G acting transitively on it – any point can be taken anywhere on M.

Cohesive Infinity-Toposes

One further thing I’d mention here is related to a related but more abstract approach to the question of how to incorporate homotopy-theoretic tools with a setting that supports differential geometry.  This is the notion of a cohesive topos, and more generally of a cohesive infinity-topos.  Urs Schreiber has advocated for this approach, for instance.  It doesn’t really conflict with the kind of thing Dan was talking about, but it gives a setting for it with lot of abstract machinery.  I won’t try to explain the details (which anyway I’m not familiar with), but just enough to suggest how the two seem to me to fit together, after discussing it a bit with Dan.

The idea of a cohesive topos seems to start with Bill Lawvere, and it’s supposed to characterize something about those categories which are really “categories of spaces” the way Top is.  Intuitively, spaces consist of “points”, which are held together in lumps we could call “pieces”.  Hence “cohesion”: the points of a typical space cohere together, rather than being a dust of separate elements.  When that happens, in a discrete space, we just say that each piece happens to have just one point in it – but a priori we distinguish the two ideas.  So we might normally say that Top has an “underlying set” functor U : Top \rightarrow Set, and its left adjoint, the “discrete space” functor Disc: Set \rightarrow Top (left adjoint since set maps from S are the same as continuous maps from Disc(S) – it’s easy for maps out of Disc(S) to be continuous, since every subset is open).

In fact, any topos of sheaves on some site has a pair of functors like this (where U becomes \Gamma, the “set of global sections” functor), essentially because Set is the topos of sheaves on a single point, and there’s a terminal map from any site into the point.  So this adjoint pair is the “terminal geometric morphism” into Set.

But this omits there are a couple of other things that apply to Top: U has a right adjoint, Codisc: Set \rightarrow Top, where Codisc(S) has only S and \emptyset as its open sets.  In Codisc(S), all the points are “stuck together” in one piece.  On the other hand, Disc itself has a left adjoint, \Pi_0: Top \rightarrow Set, which gives the set of connected components of a space.  \Pi_0(X) is another kind of “underlying set” of a space.  So we call a topos \mathcal{E} “cohesive” when the terminal geometric morphism extends to a chain of four adjoint functors in just this way, which satisfy a few properties that characterize what’s happening here.  (We can talk about “cohesive sites”, where this happens.)

Now Diff isn’t exactly a category of sheaves on a site: it’s the category of concrete sheaves on a (concrete) site.  There is a cohesive topos of all sheaves on the diffeological site.  (What’s more, it’s known to have a model category structure).  But now, it’s a fact that any cohesive topos \mathcal{E} has a subcategory of concrete objects (ones where the canonical unit map X \rightarrow Codisc(\Gamma(X)) is mono: roughly, we can characterize the morphisms of X by what they do to its points).  This category is always a quasitopos (and it’s a reflective subcategory of \mathcal{E}: see the previous post for some comments about reflective subcategories if interested…)  This is where Diff fits in here.  Diffeologies define a “cohesion” just as topologies do: points are in the same “piece” if there’s some plot from a connected part of \mathbb{R}^n that lands on both.  Why is Diff only a quasitopos?  Because in general, the subobject classifier in \mathcal{E} isn’t concrete – but it will have a “concretification”, which is the weak subobject classifier I mentioned above.

Where the “infinity” part of “infinity-topos” comes in is the connection to homotopy theory.  Here, we replace the topos Sets with the infinity-topos of infinity-groupoids.  Then the “underlying” functor captures not just the set of points of a space X, but its whole fundamental infinity-groupoid.  Its objects are points of X, its morphisms are paths, 2-morphisms are homotopies of paths, and so on.  All the homotopy groups of X live here.  So a cohesive inifinity-topos is defined much like above, but with \infty-Gpd playing the role of Set, and with that \Pi_0 functor replaced by \Pi, something which, implicitly, gives all the homotopy groups of X.  We might look for cohesive infinity-toposes to be given by the (infinity)-categories of simplicial sheaves on cohesive sites.

This raises a point Dan made in his talk over the diffeological site D, we can talk about a cube of different structures that live over it, starting with presheaves: PSh(D).  We can add different modifiers to this: the sheaf condition; the adjective “concrete”; the adjective “simplicial”.  Various combinations of these adjectives (e.g. simplicial presheaves) are known to have a model structure.  Diff is the case where we have concrete sheaves on D.  So far, it hasn’t been proved, but it looks like it shortly will be, that this has a model structure.  This is a particularly nice one, because these things really do seem a lot like spaces: they’re just sets with some easy-to-define and well-behaved (that’s what the sheaf condition does) structure on them, and they include all the examples a differential geometer requires, the manifolds.

In the first week of November, I was in Montreal for the biannual meeting of the Philosophy of Science Association, at the invitation of Hans Halvorson and Steve Awodey.  This was for a special session called “Category Theoretical Reflections on the Foundations of Physics”, which also had talks by Bob Coecke (from Oxford), Klaas Landsman (from Radboud University in Nijmegen), and Gonzalo Reyes (from the University of Montreal).  Slides from the talks in this session have been collected here by Steve Awodey.  The meeting was pretty big, and there were a lot of talks on a lot of different topics, some more technical, and some less.  There were enough sessions relating to physics that I had a full schedule just attending those, although for example there were sessions on biology and cognition which I might otherwise have been interested in sitting in on, with titles like “Biology: Evolution, Genomes and Biochemistry”, “Exploring the Complementarity between Economics and Recent Evolutionary Theory”, “Cognitive Sciences and Neuroscience”, and “Methodological Issues in Cognitive Neuroscience”.  And, of course, more fundamental philosophy of science topics like “Fictions and Scientific Realism” and “Kinds: Chemical, Biological and Social”, as well as socially-oriented ones such as “Philosophy of Commercialized Science” and “Improving Peer Review in the Sciences”.  However, interesting as these are, one can’t do everything.

In some ways, this was a really great confluence of interests for me – physics and category theory, as seen through a philosophical lens.  I don’t know exactly how this session came about, but Hans Halvorson is a philosopher of science who started out in physics (and has now, for example, learned enough category theory to teach the course in it offered at Princeton), and Steve Awodey is a philosopher of mathematics who is interested in category theory in its own right.  They managed to get this session brought in to present some of the various ideas about the overlap between category theory and physics to an audience mostly consisting of philosophers, which seems like a good idea.  It was also interesting for me to get a view into how philosophers approach these subjects – what kind of questions they ask, how they argue, and so on.  As with any well-developed subject, there’s a certain amount of jargon and received ideas that people can refer to – for example, I learned the word and current usage (though not the basic concept) of supervenience, which came up, oh, maybe 5-10 times each day.

There are now a reasonable number of people bringing categorical tools to bear on physics – especially quantum physics.  What people who think about the philosophy of science can bring to this research is the usual: careful, clear thinking about the fundamental concepts involved in a way that tries not to get distracted by the technicalities and keep the focus on what is important to the question at hand in a deep way.  In this case, the question at hand is physics.  Philosophy doesn’t always accomplish this, of course, and sometimes get sidetracked by what some might call “pseudoquestions” – the kind of questions that tend to arise when you use some folk-theory or simple intuitive understanding of some subtler concept that is much better expressed in mathematics.  This is why anyone who’s really interested in the philosophy of science needs to learn a lot about science in its own terms.  On the whole, this is what they actually do.

And, of course, both mathematicians and physicists try to do this kind of thinking themselves, but in those fields it’s easy – and important! – to spend a lot of time thinking about some technical question, or doing extensive computations, or working out the fiddly details of a proof, and so forth.  This is the real substance of the work in those fields – but sometimes the bigger “why” questions, that address what it means or how to interpret the results, get glossed over, or answered on the basis of some superficial analogy.  Mind you – one often can’t really assess how a line of research is working out until you’ve been doing the technical stuff for a while.  Then the problem is that people who do such thinking professionally – philosophers – are at a loss to understand the material because it’s recent and technical.  This is maybe why technical proficiency in science has tended to run ahead of real understanding – people still debate what quantum mechanics “means”, even though we can use it competently enough to build computers, nuclear reactors, interferometers, and so forth.

Anyway – as for the substance of the talks…  In our session, since every speaker was a mathematician in some form, they tended to be more technical.  You can check out the slides linked to above for more details, but basically, four views of how to draw on category theory to talk about physics were represented.  I’ve actually discussed each of them in previous posts, but in summary:

  • Bob Coecke, on “Quantum Picturalism”, was addressing the monoidal dagger-category point of view, which looks at describing quantum mechanical operations (generally understood to be happening in a category of Hilbert spaces) purely in terms of the structure of that category, which one can see as a language for handling a particular kind of logic.  Monoidal categories, as Peter Selinger as painstakingly documented, can be described using various graphical calculi (essentially, certain categories whose morphisms are variously-decorated “strands”, considered invariant under various kinds of topological moves, are the free monoidal categories with various structures – so anything you can prove using these diagrams is automatically true for any example of such categories).  Selinger has also shown that, for the physically interesting case of dagger-compact closed monoidal categories, a theorem is true in general if and only if it’s true for (finite dimensional) Hilbert spaces, which may account for why Hilbert spaces play such a big role in quantum mechanics.  This program is based on describing as much of quantum mechanics as possible in terms of this kind of diagrammatic language.  This stuff has, in some ways, been explored more through the lens of computer science than physics per se – certainly Selinger is coming from that background.  There’s also more on this connection in the “Rosetta Stone” paper by John Baez and Mike Stay,
  • My talk (actually third, but I put it here for logical flow) fits this framework, more or less.  I was in some sense there representing a viewpoint whose current form is due to Baez and Dolan, namely “groupoidification”.  The point is to treat the category Span(Gpd) as a “categorification” of (finite dimensional) Hilbert spaces in the sense that there is a representation map D : Span(Gpd) \rightarrow Hilb so that phenomena living in Hilb can be explained as the image of phenomena in Span(Gpd).  Having done that, there is also a representation of Span(Gpd) into 2-Hilbert spaces, which shows up more detail (much more, at the object level, since Tannaka-Krein reconstruction means that the monoidal 2-Hilbert space of representations of a groupoid is, at least in nice cases, enough to completely reconstruct it).  This gives structures in 2Hilb which “conceptually” categorify the structures in Hilb, and are also directly connected to specific Hilbert spaces and maps, even though taking equivalence classes in 2Hilb definitely doesn’t produce these.  A “state” in a 2-Hilbert space is an irreducible representation, though – so there’s a conceptual difference between what “state” means in categorified and standard settings.  (There’s a bit more discussion in my notes for the talk than in the slides above.)
  • Klaas Landsman was talking about what he calls “Bohrification“, which, on the technical side, makes use of Topos theory.  The philosophical point comes from Niels Bohr’s “doctrine of classical concepts” – that one should understand quantum systems using concepts from the classical world.  In practice, this means taking a (noncommutative) von Neumann algebra A which describes the observables a quantum system and looking at it via its commutative subalgebras.  These are organized into a lattice – in fact, a site.  The idea is that the spectrum of A lives in the topos associated to this site: it’s a presheaf that, over each commutative subalgebra C \subset A, just gives the spectrum of C.  This is philosophically nice in that the “Bohrified” propositions actually behave in a logically sensible way.  The topos approach comes from Chris Isham, developed further with Andreas Doring. (Note the series of four papers by both from 2007.  Their approach is in some sense dual to that of Lansman, Heunen and Spitters, in the sense that they look at the same site, but look at dual toposes – one of sheaves, the other of cosheaves.  The key bit of jargon in Isham and Doring’s approach is “daseinization”, which is a reference to Heidegger’s “Being and Time”.  For some reason this makes me imagine Bohr and Heidegger in a room, one standing on the ceiling, one on the floor, disputing which is which.)
  • Gonzalo Reyes talked about synthetic differential geometry (SDG) as a setting for building general relativity.  SDG is a way of doing differential geometry in a category where infinitesimals are actually available, that is, there is a nontrivial set D = \{ x \in \mathbb{R} | x^2 = 0 \}.  This simplifies discussions of vector fields (tangent vectors will just be infinitesimal vectors in spacetime).  A vector field is really a first order DE (and an integral curve tangent to it is a solution), so it’s useful to have, in SDG, the fact that any differentiable curve is, literally, infinitesimally a line.  Then the point is that while the gravitational “field” is a second-order DE, so not a field in this sense, the arguments for GR can be reproduced nicely in SDG by talking about infinitesimally-close families of curves following geodesics.  Gonzalo’s slides are brief by necessity, but happily, more details of this are in his paper on the subject.

The other sessions I went to were mostly given by philosophers, rather than physicists or mathematicians, though with exceptions.  I’ll briefly present my own biased and personal highlights of what I attended.  They included sessions titled:

Quantum Physics“: Edward Slowik talked about the “prehistory of quantum gravity”, basically revisiting the debate between Newton and Leibniz on absolute versus relational space, suggesting that Leibniz’ view of space as a classification of the relation of his “monads” is more in line with relational theories such as spin foams etc.  M. Silberstein and W. Stuckey – gave a talk about their “relational blockworld” (described here) which talks about QFT as an approximation to a certain discrete theory, built on a graph, where the nodes of the graph are spacetime events, and using an action functional on the graph.

Meinard Kuhlmann gave an interesting talk about “trope bundles” and AQFTTrope ontology is an approach to “entities” that doesn’t assume there’s a split between “substrates” (which have no properties themselves), and “properties” which they carry around.  (A view of ontology that goes back at least to Aristotle’s “substance” and “accident” distinction, and maybe further for all I know).  Instead, this is a “one-category” ontology – the basic things in this ontology are “tropes”, which he defined as “individual property instances” (i.e. as opposed to abstract properties that happen to have instances).  “Things” then, are just collections of tropes.  To talk about the “identity” of a thing means to pick out certain of the tropes as the core ones that define that thing, and others as peripheral.  This struck me initially as a sort of misleading distinction we impose (say, “a sphere” has a core trope of its radial symmetry, and incidental tropes like its colour – but surely the way of picking the object out of the world is human-imposed), until he gave the example from AQFT.  To make a long story short, in this setup, the key entites are something like elementary particles, and the core tropes are those properties that define an irreducible representation of a C^{\star}-algebra (things like mass, spin, charge, etc.), whereas the non-core tropes are those that identify a state vector within such a representation: the attributes of the particle that change over time.

I’m not totally convinced by the “trope” part of this (surely there are lots of choices of the properties which determine a representation, but I don’t see the need to give those properties the burden of being the only ontologically primaries), but I also happen to like the conclusions because in the 2Hilbert picture, irreducible representations are states in a 2-Hilbert space, which are best thought of as morphisms, and the state vectors in their components are best thought of in terms of 2-morphisms.  An interpretation of that setup says that the 1-morphism states define which system one’s talking about, and the 2-morphism states describe what it’s doing.

New Directions Concerning Quantum Indistinguishability“: I only caught a couple of the talks in this session, notably missing Nick Huggett’s “Expanding the Horizons of Quantum Statistical Mechanics”.  There were talks by John Earman (“The Concept of Indistinguishable Particles in Quantum
Mechanics”), and by Adam Caulton (based on work with Jeremy Butterfield) on “On the Physical Content of the Indistinguishability Postulate”.  These are all about the idea of indistinguishable particles, and the statistics thereof.  Conventionally, in QM you only talk about bosons and fermions – one way to say what this means is that the permutation group S_n naturally acts on a system of n particles, and it acts either trivially (not altering the state vector at all), or by sign (each swap of two particles multiplies the state vector by a minus sign).  This amounts to saying that only one-dimensional representations of S_n occur.  It is usually justified by the “spin-statistics theorem“, relating it to the fact that particles have either integer or half-integer spins (classifying representations of the rotation group).  But there are other representations of S_n, labelled by Young diagrams, though they are more than one-dimensional.  This gives rise to “paraparticle” statistics.  On the other hand, permuting particles in two dimensions is not homotopically trivial, so one ought to use the braid group B_n, rather than S_n, and this gives rise again to different statistics, called “anyonic” statistics.

One recurring idea is that, to deal with paraparticle statistics, one needs to change the formalism of QM a bit, and expand the idea of a “state vector” (or rather, ray) to a “generalized ray” which has more dimensions – corresponding to the dimension of the representation of S_n one wants the particles to have.  Anyons can be dealt with a little more conventionally, since a 2D system may already have them.  Adam Caulton’s talk described how this can be seen as a topological phenomenon or a dynamical one – making an analogy with the Bohm-Aharonov effect, where the holonomy of an EM field around a solenoid can be described either dynamically with an interacting Lagrangian on flat space, or topologically with a free Lagrangian in space where the solenoid has been removed.

Quantum Mechanics“: A talk by Elias Okon and Craig Callender about QM and the Equivalence Principle, based on this.  There has been some discussion recently as to whether quantum mechanics is compatible with the principle that relates gravitational and inertial mass.  They point out that there are several versions of this principle, and that although QM is incompatible with some versions, these aren’t the versions that actually produce general relativity.  (For example, objects with large and small masses fall differently in quantum physics, because though the mean travel time is the same, the variance is different.  But this is not a problem for GR, which only demands that all matter responds dynamically to the same metric.)  Also, talks by Peter Lewis on problems with the so-called “transactional interpretation” of QM, and Bryan Roberts on time-reversal.

Why I Care About What I Don’t Yet Know“:  A funny name for a session about time-asymmetry, which is the essentially philosophical problem of why, if the laws of physics are time-symmetric (which they approximately are for most purposes), what we actually experience isn’t.  Personally, the best philosophical account of this I’ve read is Huw Price’s “Time’s Arrow“, though Reichenbach’s “The Direction of Time” has good stuff in it also, and there’s also Zeh’s more technical “The Physical Basis of the Direction of Time“. In the session, Chris Suhler and Craig Callender gave an account of how, given causal asymmetry, our subjective asymmetry of values for the future and the past can arise (the intuitively obvious point being that if we can influence the future and not the past, we tend to value it more).  Mathias Frisch talked about radiation asymmetry (the fact that it’s equally possible in EM to have waves converging on a source than spreading out from it, yet we don’t see this).  Owen Maroney argued that “There’s No Route from Thermodynamics to the Information Asymmetry” by describing in principle how to construct a time-reversed (probabilisitic) computer.  David Wallace spoke on “The Logic of the Past Hypothesis”, the idea inspired by Boltzmann that we see time-asymmetry because there is a point in what we call the “past” where entropy was very low, and so we perceive the direction away from that state as “forward” it time because the world tends to move toward equilibrium (though he pointed out that for dynamical reasons, the world can easily stay far away from equilibrium for a long time).  He went on to discuss the logic of this argument, and the idea of a “simple” (i.e. easy-to-describe) distribution, and the conjecture that the evolution of these will generally be describable in terms of an evolution that uses “coarse graining” (i.e. that repeatedly throws away microscopic information).

The Emergence of Spacetime in Quantum Theories of Gravity“:  This session addressed the idea that spacetime (or in some cases, just space) might not be fundamental, but could emerge from a more basic theory.  Christian Wüthrich spoke about “A-Priori versus A-Posteriori” versions of this idea, mostly focusing on ideas such as LQG and causal sets, which start with discrete structures, and get manifolds as approximations to them.  Nick Huggett gave an overview of noncommutative geometry for the philosophically minded audience, explaining how an algebra of observables can be treated like space by means of all the concepts from geometry which can be imported into the theory of C^{\star}-algebras, where space would be an approximate description of the algebra by letting the noncommutativity drop out of sight in some limit (which would be described as a “large scale” limit).  Sean Carroll discussed the possibility that “Space is Not Fundamental – But Time Might Be”, pointing out that even in classical mechanics, space is not a fundamental notion (since it’s possible to reformulate even Hamiltonian classical mechanics without making essential distinctions between position and momentum coordinates), and suggesting that space arises from the dynamics of an actual physical system – a Hamiltonian, in this example – by the principle “Position Is The Thing In Which Interactions Are Local”.  Finally, Sean Maudlin gave an argument for the fundamentality of time by showing how to reconstruct topology in space from a “linear structure” on points saying what a (directed!) path among the points is.

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