“States” and Time – Hamiltonians, KMS states, and Tomita Flow

When I made my previous two posts about ideas of “state”, one thing I was aiming at was to say something about the relationships between states and dynamics. The point here is that, although the idea of “state” is that it is intrinsically something like a snapshot capturing how things are at one instant in “time” (whatever that is), extrinsically, there’s more to the story. The “kinematics” of a physical theory consists of its collection of possible states. The “dynamics” consists of the regularities in how states change with time. Part of the point here is that these aren’t totally separate.

Just for one thing, in classical mechanics, the “state” includes time-derivatives of the quantities you know, and the dynamical laws tell you something about the second derivatives. This is true in both the Hamiltonian and Lagrangian formalism of dynamics. The Hamiltonian function, which represents the concept of “energy” in the context of a system, is based on a function , where is a vector representing the values of some collection of variables describing the system (generalized position variables, in some configuration space ), and the are corresponding “momentum” variables, which are the other coordinates in a phase space which in simple cases is just the cotangent bundle . Here, refers to mass, or some equivalent. The familiar case of a moving point particle has “energy = kinetic + potential”, or for some potential function . The symplectic form on can then be used to define a path through any point, which describes the evolution of the system in time – notably, it conserves the energy . Then there’s the Lagrangian, which defines the “action” associated to a path, which comes from integrating some function living on the tangent bundle , over the path. The physically realized paths (classically) are critical points of the action, with respect to variations of the path.

This is all based on the view of a “state” as an element of a set (which happens to be a symplectic manifold like or just a manifold if it’s ), and both the “energy” and the “action” are some kind of function on this set. A little extra structure (symplectic form, or measure on path space) turns these functions into a notion of dynamics. Now a function on the space of states is what an observable is: energy certainly is easy to envision this way, and action (though harder to define intuitively) counts as well.

But another view of states which I mentioned in that first post is the one that pertains to statistical mechanics, in which a state is actually a statisticial distribution on the set of “pure” states. This is rather like a function – it’s slightly more general, since a distribution can have point-masses, but any function gives a distribution if there’s a fixed measure around to integrate against – then a function like becomes the measure . And this is where the notion of a Gibbs state comes from, though it’s slightly trickier. The idea is that the Gibbs state (in some circumstances called the Boltzmann distribution) is the state a system will end up in if it’s allowed to “thermalize” – it’s the maximum-entropy distribution for a given amount of energy in the specified system, at a given temperature . So, for instance, for a gas in a box, this describes how, at a given temperature, the kinetic energies of the particles are (probably) distributed. Up to a bunch of constants of proportionality, one expects that the weight given to a state (or region in state space) is just , where is the Hamiltonian (energy) for that state. That is, the likelihood of being in a state is inversely proportional to the exponential of its energy – and higher temperature makes higher energy states more likely.

Now part of the point here is that, if you know the Gibbs state at temperature , you can work out the Hamiltonian
just by taking a logarithm – so specifying a Hamiltonian and specifying the corresponding Gibbs state are completely equivalent. But specifying a Hamiltonian (given some other structure) completely determines the dynamics of the system.

This is the classical version of the idea Carlo Rovelli calls “Thermal Time”, which I first encountered in his book “Quantum Gravity”, but also is summarized in Rovelli’s FQXi essay “Forget Time“, and described in more detail in this paper by Rovelli and Alain Connes. Mathematically, this involves the Tomita flow on von Neumann algebras (which Connes used to great effect in his work on the classification of same). It was reading “Forget Time” which originally got me thinking about making the series of posts about different notions of state.

Physically, remember, these are von Neumann algebras of operators on a quantum system, the self-adjoint ones being observables; states are linear functionals on such algebras. The equivalent of a Gibbs state – a thermal equilibrium state – is called a KMS (Kubo-Martin-Schwinger) state (for a particular Hamiltonian). It’s important that the KMS state depends on the Hamiltonian, which is to say the dynamics and the notion of time with respect to which the system will evolve. Given a notion of time flow, there is a notion of KMS state.

One interesting place where KMS states come up is in (general) relativistic thermodynamics. In particular, the effect called the Unruh Effect is an example (here I’m referencing Robert Wald’s book, “Quantum Field Theory in Curved Spacetime and Black Hole Thermodynamics”). Physically, the Unruh effect says the following. Suppose you’re in flat spacetime (described by Minkowski space), and an inertial (unaccelerated) observer sees it in a vacuum. Then an accelerated observer will see space as full of a bath of particles at some temperature related to the acceleration. Mathematically, a change of coordinates (acceleration) implies there’s a one-parameter family of automorphisms of the von Neumann algebra which describes the quantum field for particles. There’s also a (trivial) family for the unaccelerated observer, since the coordinate system is not changing. The Unruh effect in this language is the fact that a vacuum state relative to the time-flow for an unaccelerated observer is a KMS state relative to the time-flow for the accelerated observer (at some temperature related to the acceleration).

The KMS state for a von Neumann algebra with a given Hamiltonian operator has a density matrix , which is again, up to some constant factors, just the exponential of the Hamiltonian operator. (For pure states, , and in general a matrix becomes a state by which for pure states is just the usual expectation value value for A, ).

Now, things are a bit more complicated in the von Neumann algebra picture than the classical picture, but Tomita-Takesaki theory tells us that as in the classical world, the correspondence between dynamics and KMS states goes both ways: there is a flow – the Tomita flow – associated to any given state, with respect to which the state is a KMS state. By “flow” here, I mean a one-parameter family of automorphisms of the von Neumann algebra. In the Heisenberg formalism for quantum mechanics, this is just what time is (i.e. states remain the same, but the algebra of observables is deformed with time). The way you find it is as follows (and why this is right involves some operator algebra I find a bit mysterious):

First, get the algebra acting on a Hilbert space , with a cyclic vector (i.e. such that is dense in – one way to get this is by the GNS representation, so that the state just acts on an operator by the expectation value at , as above, so that the vector is standing in, in the Hilbert space picture, for the state ). Then one can define an operator by the fact that, for any , one has

That is, acts like the conjugation operation on operators at , which is enough to define since is cyclic. This has a polar decomposition (analogous for operators to the polar form for complex numbers) of , where is antiunitary (this is conjugation, after all) and is self-adjoint. We need the self-adjoint part, because the Tomita flow is a one-parameter family of automorphisms given by:

An important fact for Connes’ classification of von Neumann algebras is that the Tomita flow is basically unique – that is, it’s unique up to an inner automorphism (i.e. a conjugation by some unitary operator – so in particular, if we’re talking about a relativistic physical theory, a change of coordinates giving a different parameter would be an example). So while there are different flows, they’re all “essentially” the same. There’s a unique notion of time flow if we reduce the algebra to its cosets modulo inner automorphism. Now, in some cases, the Tomita flow consists entirely of inner automorphisms, and this reduction makes it disappear entirely (this happens in the finite-dimensional case, for instance). But in the general case this doesn’t happen, and the Connes-Rovelli paper summarizes this by saying that von Neumann algebras are “intrinsically dynamic objects”. So this is one interesting thing about the quantum view of states: there is a somewhat canonical notion of dynamics present just by virtue of the way states are described. In the classical world, this isn’t the case.

Now, Rovelli’s “Thermal Time” hypothesis is, basically, that the notion of time is a state-dependent one: instead of an independent variable, with respect to which other variables change, quantum mechanics (per Rovelli) makes predictions about correlations between different observed variables. More precisely, the hypothesis is that, given that we observe the world in some state, the right notion of time should just be the Tomita flow for that state. They claim that checking this for certain cosmological models, like the Friedman model, they get the usual notion of time flow. I have to admit, I have trouble grokking this idea as fundamental physics, because it seems like it’s implying that the universe (or any system in it we look at) is always, a priori, in thermal equilibrium, which seems wrong to me since it evidently isn’t. The Friedman model does assume an expanding universe in thermal equilibrium, but clearly we’re not in exactly that world. On the other hand, the Tomita flow is definitely there in the von Neumann algebra view of quantum mechanics and states, so possibly I’m misinterpreting the nature of the claim. Also, as applied to quantum gravity, a “state” perhaps should be read as a state for the whole spacetime geometry of the universe – which is presumably static – and then the apparent “time change” would then be a result of the Tomita flow on operators describing actual physical observables. But on this view, I’m not sure how to understand “thermal equilibrium”.  So in the end, I don’t really know how to take the “Thermal Time Hypothesis” as physics.

In any case, the idea that the right notion of time should be state-dependent does make some intuitive sense. The only physically, empirically accessible referent for time is “what a clock measures”: in other words, there is some chosen system which we refer to whenever we say we’re “measuring time”. Different choices of system (that is, different clocks) will give different readings even if they happen to be moving together in an inertial frame – atomic clocks sitting side by side will still gradually drift out of sync. Even if “the system” means the whole universe, or just the gravitational field, clearly the notion of time even in General Relativity depends on the state of this system. If there is a non-state-dependent “god’s-eye view” of which variable is time, we don’t have empirical access to it. So while I can’t really assess this idea confidently, it does seem to be getting at something important.

 

A Note on Quantum Groupoids

I’ve been looking over the last little bit at quantum groupoids, and how they can be used to deform the 2-linearization 2-functor (or into ) which I’ve discussed in here.

First a little motivation: that functor was part of the way I constructed extended TQFT’s. The inclusion realized cobordisms (with corners) in terms of spans of manifolds. Looking at fundamental groupoids using the 2-functor allows us to think about these in terms of the bicategory , and then applying gave 2-Hilbert spaces and 2-linear maps for manifolds and cobordisms (and then natural transformations for cobordisms with corners). Since I made the claim that, with gauge group – and a suitably infinitary version of , the extended TQFT gives a theory equivalent to the Ponzano-Regge model of quantum gravity, a reasonable question is: what about the Turaev-Viro model? The PR model is based on labelling edges of a triangulation with representations of , and the TV model, with representations of .

Now, the groupoids that show up in the above – groupoids of -connections on a manifold, modulo gauge transformations – are quite closely related to this. In particular, the groupoid of connections for a circle (the basic 1-dimensional manifold that the 3-dimensional theory builds from) is , the transformation groupoid produced from the action of on itself by conjugation. (That is: the objects are elements of , and the morphisms are all the conjugacy relations.) Applying gives the representation category of this, namely , so in particular, at the identity of , one has as a sub-2-vector space. (The “states” in the 2-Hilbert space for the circle in the ETQFT are labelled by “masses and spins” – the mass=0 case is what gives the representations of , and for nonzero mass, one has .)

More broadly: one can describe the state space of a gauge theory – or many other kinds of theory, in terms of transformation groupoids given by symmetries (gauge transformations, say) acting on states (connections, in that case). Is there a way of doing the same for systems whose symmetries are described by quantum groups? If so, then instead of getting 2-vector spaces which are representation categories of groupoids, we should get some which are representation categories of quantum groupoids.

This paper by Ping Xu describes quantum groupoids – or rather, quantum universal enveloping algebras. They’re described here as a “unification of quantum groups and star products” (star products being the partially-defined composition found in groupoids). This paper by Nikshych and Vainerman describes finite quantum groupoids and some applications – in particular, quantum transformation groupoids, which is the immediately relevant application.

First off, quantum groups: these are Hopf algebras, which in particular are bialgebras – they have both a product

and “coproduct”

.

This is because the point here is that we’re following the pattern in which spaces are replaced by algebras: in some simple examples, these are the algebras of functions on a space. The point of noncommutative geometry is that there’s a (contravariant) equivalence between the category of locally compact Hausdorff spaces and the category of commutative algebras, so generalizing to noncommutative algebras (and taking the opposite category) gives a generalization of “locally compact Hausdorff space”. Topological groups like Lie groups are group objects in this category of spaces – and quantum groups are group objects in . So in particular, the group operation shows up as the coproduct , and the inverse operation is the antipode

.

Of course there are also the unit

and co-unit

(where is the base field, say ). The co-unit is of course the “unit” map for the group object. These maps all satisfy some obvious relations.

Now what about quantum groupoids? These are “groupoid objects” – or rather, models of the theory of groupoids – in . We can’t quite say “groupoid objects”, since a groupoid internal to a category consists of two objects in . For example, a Lie groupoid is a groupoid in , the category of manifolds. It has a base manifold and a total manifold , and two maps , and so forth. The interpretation is that there is a set (or manifold, or what-have-you) of objects, and a set (etc.) of morphisms. There is a (partially-defined) composition operation allowing morphisms to be composed if the source of one is the target of the other, and so forth.

So (a slightly tweaked version of) the definition of a quantum groupoid given by Xu has it consisting of . These unpack in pretty natural ways: it helps to compare to both the definition of, say, a Lie groupoid, and a quantum group. is the “total algebra$ and the “base algebra”, and they correspond to the “noncommutative spaces” of morphisms and objects of a groupoid, respectively. Just as a group can be seen as a groupoid with just one object, a quantum group would be a quantum groupoid where the base algebra is just the base field .

But then, if is not , we need some nontrivial – the source and target maps respectively, which replace the unit map to . Notice they go from the base to the total algebra , not the other way around, because everything works as usual in . The other maps are likewise dual to those in the definition of a groupoid. The major difference is that we need the equivalent of a partially defined multiplication/composition and the dual “co-multiplication”/”co-composition” . This works because using and , we get left and right actions of the base on , which is thus an -bimodule, hence we can form the bimodule product , and thus:

and

The obvious analog of the unit we had for quantum groups is hidden in Xu’s definition (it seems like it should take the place of the requirement that be unital), but the co-unit

is the dual way of describing the “identity” function .

The antipode plays the role of the inverse map for morphisms in groupoids.

All these maps have to satisfy various identities which are implied by saying this is a model of the theory of groupoids – check out either of the above papers to see them all explicitly.

(A final observation about the definition: a groupoid is a category which has an inverse map from morphisms to morphisms. If we relax the assumption that we have an antipode , we end up with just the definition of a bialgebroid (having makes it a “Hopf” algebroid). So “bialgebroid” would seem to be the natural “quantum” version of the concept of a general category…)

So how might one construct such a “quantum action groupoid”? This is addressed (at least in the finite case) in the paper by Nikshych and Vainerman, in their section 2.6. This is generalizing the action groupoid arising from a group acting on a set. The set is replaced by an algebra (which must be separable, for them – the equivalent of a finite set – and thought of as a “quantum space”). The group is replaced by a quantum group (or, generally, Hopf algebra) . The equivalent of having action of the group on the set is that is a (right) -module.

Now, the action groupoid for a action on has for objects the elements of , and for morphisms, all relations , which we can write as morphisms , with source and target . The action quantum groupoid associated to the -module is the double crossed product , with multiplication, co-multiplication, etc. defined in fairly natural ways. (Note: those triangles should be semidirect products, but I can’t seem to make that symbol appear here.)

So finally, I seem to be claiming that a such a quantum groupoid, let’s call it is the right “classical” state space (if that’s not too blatant a contradiction in terminology) for a theory having quantum-group symmetry – at least in the categorified picture. No doubt in many cases there is additional structure, capturing the equivalent of, say, symplectic structure, that should also be included (such things certainly can be found in NCG, but I’m still absorbing how exactly).

Then the 2-vector space for the quantized version of such a theory is the category , and a “2-state” just an object in here – a representation of .

One thing that’s not quite clear to me just now is how this relates to the usual idea of “state” in NCG – a state for a “quantum space” (which is an algebra) being a linear functional on that algebra. Not necessarily a character (i.e. a homomorphism into ), mind you – that would be a 1-dimensional representation, but just a functional.

 

20th Century Space and 10th Century Space

A couple of posts ago, I mentioned Max Jammer’s book “Concepts of Space” as a nice genealogy of that concept, with one shortcoming from my point of view – namely, as the subtitle suggests, it’s a “History of Theories of Space in Physics”, and since physics tends to use concepts out of mathematics, it lags a bit – at least as regards fundamental concepts. Riemannian geometry predates Einstein’s use of it in General Relativity by fifty some years, for example. Heisenberg reinvented matrices and matrix multiplication (which eventually led to wholesale importation of group theory and representation theory into physics). More examples no doubt could be found (String Theory purports to be a counterexample, though opinions differ as to whether it is real physics, or “merely” important mathematics; until it starts interacting with experiments, I’m inclined to the latter, though of course contra Hardy, all important mathematics eventually becomes useful for something).

What I said was that it would be nice to see further investigation of concepts of space within mathematics, in particular Grothendieck’s and Connes’. Well, in a different context I was referred to this survey paper by Pierre Cartier from a few years back, “A Mad Day’s Work: From Grothendieck To Connes And Kontsevich, The Evolution Of Concepts Of Space And Symmetry”, which does at least some of that – it’s a fairly big-picture review that touches on the relationship between these new ideas of space. It follows that stream of the story of space up to the end of the 20th century or so.

There’s also a little historical/biographical note on Alexander Grothendieck – the historical context is nice to see (one of the appealing things about Jammer’s book). In this case, much of the interesting detail is more relevant if you find recent European political history interesting – but I do, so that’s okay. In fact, I think it’s helpful – maybe not mathematically, but in other ways – to understand the development of mathematical ideas in the context of history. This view seems to be better received the more ancient the history in question.

On the scientific end, Cartier tries to explain Grothendieck’s point of view of space – in particular what we now call  topos theory – and how it developed, as well as how it relates to Connes’.  Pleasantly enough, a key link between them turns out to be groupoids!  However, I’ll pass on commenting on that at the moment.

…

Instead, let me take a bit of a tangent and jump back to Jammer’s book.  I’ll tell you something from his chapter “Emancipation from Aristotelianism” which I found intriguing.  This would be an atomistic theory of space – an idea that’s now beginning to make something of a comeback, in the guise of some of the efforts toward a quantum theory of gravity (EDIT: but see comments below).  Loop quantum gravity, for example, deals with space in terms of observables, which happen to take the form of holonomies of connections around loops.  Some of these observables have interpretations in terms of lengths, areas, and volumes.  It’s a prediction of LQG that these measurements should have “quantized”, which is to say integer, values: states of LQG are “spin networks”, which is to say graphs with (quantized) labels on the edges, interpreted as areas (in a dual cell complex).  (Notice this is yet again another, different, view of space, different from Grothendieck’s or Connes’, but shares with Connes especially the idea of probing space in some empirical way.  Grothendieck “probes” space mainly via cohomology – how “empirical” that is depends on your point of view.)

The atomistic theory of space Jammer talks about is very different, but it does also come from trying to reconcile a discrete “quantum” theory of matter with a theory linking matter to space.  In particular, the medieval Muslim philosophical school known as al Kalam tried to reconcile the Koran and Islamic theology with Greek philosophy (most of the “Hellenistic” world conquered by Alexander the Great, not least Egypt, is inside Dar al Islam, which is why many important Greek texts came into Europe via Arabic translations).  Though they were, as Jammer says, “Emancipating” themselves from Aristotle, they did share some of his ideas about space.

For Aristotle, space meant “place” – the answer to the questions “where is it?” and “what is its shape and size?”. In particular, it was first and foremost an attribute of some substance.  All “where?” questions are about some THING.  The answer is defined in terms of other things: my cat is on the ground, under the tree, beside the house.  The “place” of an object was literally the inner shell of the containing body that held it (which was contained by some other body, and so on – there being no vacuum in Aristotle).  So my “place” is defined by (depending how you look at it) my skin, my clothes, or the walls of the room I’m in.  This is a relational view of space, though more hard-headed than, say, Leibniz’s.

The philosophers of the Kalam had a similar relational view of space, but they didn’t accept Aristotle’s view of “substances”, where each thing has its own essential identity, on which attributes are hung like hats.  Instead, they believed in atomism, following Democritus and Leucippus: bodies were made out of little indivisible nuggets called “atoms”.  Macroscopic things were composites of atoms, and their attributes resulted from how the atoms were put together.  Here’s Jammer’s description:

The atoms of the Kalam are indivisible particles, equal to each other and devoid of all extension.  Spatial magnitude can be attributed only to a combination of atoms forming a body.  Although a definite position (hayyiz) belongs to each individual atom, it does not occupy space (makan).  It is rather the set of these positions – one is almost tempted to say, the system of relations – that constitutes spatial extension….

In the Kalam, these rather complicated and surprisingly abstract ideas were deemed necessary in order to meet Aristotle’s objections against atomism on the ground that a spatial continuum cannot be constituted by, or resolved into, indivisibles nor can two points be continuous or contiguous with one another.

So like people who prefer a “background independent” quantum theory of gravity, they wanted to believe that space (geometry) derives from matter, and that matter is discrete, but space was commonly held to be continuous.  Also alike, they resolved the problem by discarding the assumption of continuous space, and, by consideration of motion, to discrete time.

There are some differences, though.  The most obvious is that the nodes of the graph in a spin network state don’t represent units of matter, or “atoms”.  For that matter, quantum field theory doesn’t really have “atoms” in the sense of indivisible units which don’t break apart or interact.  Everything interacts in QFT.  (In some sense, interactions are more fundamental units in QFT than “particles” are – particles only (sic!) serve to connect one interaction with another.)

Another key difference is how space relates to matter.  In Aristotle, and in the Kalam, space is defined directly by matter: two bits of matter “define” the space between them.  In General Relativity (the modern theory with the “relational” view of space), there’s still room for space as an actor in its own right, like Newton’s absolute space-as-independent-variable – in other words, room for a vacuum, which Aristotle categorically denied could even conceivably exist.  In GR, what matter determines is the curvature of space (more precisely the Einstein tensor of the curvature).

Well, so the differences are probably more informative than the similarities,

(Edit: To emphasize a key difference glossed over before…  It was coupling to quantum matter which suggested quantizing the picture of space.  Discreteness of the spectrum of various observables is a logically separate prediction in each case.  Either matter or space(time) could have had continuous spectrum for the relevant observables and still been quantized – discrete matter would have given discreteness for some observed quantities, but not area, length, and so on.  So in the modern setting, the link is much less direct.)

 but the fact that theories of related discreteness in matter, space, and time, have been around for a thousand years or more is intriguing.  The idea of empty space as an independent entity – in the modern form only about three hundred years old – appears to be the real novel part.  One of the nice intuitions in Carlo Rovelli’s book on Quantum Gravity, for me at least, was to say that, rather than there being a separate “space”, we have a theory of fields defined on other fields as background – one of which, the “gravitational field” has customarily been taken for “space”.  So spatial geometry is a field, and it has some propagating (through space!) degrees of freedom – the particle associated to this field is a graviton.  Nobody’s ever seen one, mind you – but supposing they exist makes many of things easier.

To re-state a previous point: I think this is a nice aspect of categorification for dealing with space.  Extending the “stuff/structure/properties” trichotomy to allow space to resemble both “stuff” and relations between stuff leaves room for both points of view.

…

I mention this because tomorrow I leave London (Ontario) for London (England), and thence to Nottingham, for the Quantum Gravity and Quantum Geometry Conference.  It’s been a while since I worked much on quantum gravity, per se, but this conference should be interesting because it seems to be a confluence of mathematically and physically inclined people, as the name suggests.  I read on the program, for example, that Jerzy Lewandowski is speaking on QFT in Quantum Curved Spacetime, and suddenly remember that, oh yes, I did a Masters thesis (viz) on QFT in curved (classical) spacetime… but that was back in the 20th century!

It’s been a while, and I only made a small start at it before, but that whole area of physics is quite pretty.  Anyway, it should be interesting, and there are a number of people I’m looking forward to talking to.

 

Correspondences and Spans

In the past couple of weeks, Masoud Khalkhali and I have been reading and discussing this paper by Marcolli and Al-Yasry. Along the way, I’ve been explaining some things I know about bicategories, spans, cospans and cobordisms, and so on, while Masoud has been explaining to me some of the basic ideas of noncommutative geometry, and (today) K-theory and cyclic cohomology. I find the paper pretty interesting, especially with a bit of that background help to identify and understand the main points. Noncommutative geometry is fairly new to me, but a lot of the material that goes into it turns out to be familiar stuff bearing unfamiliar names, or looked at in a somewhat different way than the one I’m accustomed to. For example, as I mentioned when I went to the Groupoidfest conference, there’s a theme in NCG involving groupoids, and algebras of -linear combinations of “elements” in a groupoid. But these “elements” are actually morphisms, and this picture is commonly drawn without objects at all. I’ve mentioned before some ideas for how to deal with this (roughly: is easy to confuse with the algebra of matrices over ), but anything special I have to say about that is something I’ll hide under my hat for the moment.

I must say that, though some aspects of how people talk about it, like the one I just mentioned, seem a bit off, to my mind, I like NCG in many respects. One is the way it ties in to ideas I know a bit about from the physics end of things, such as algebras of operators on Hilbert spaces. People talk about Hamiltonians, concepts of time-evolution, creation and annihilation operators, and so on in the algebras that are supposed to represent spaces. I don’t yet understand how this all fits together, but it’s definitely appealing.

Another good thing about NCG is the clever elegance of Connes’ original idea of yet another way to generalize the concept “space”. Namely, there was already a duality between spaces (in the usual sense) and commutative algebras (of functions on spaces), so generalizing to noncommutative algebras should give corresponding concepts of “spaces” which are different from all the usual ones in fairly profound ways. I’m assured, though I don’t really know how it all works, that one can do all sorts of things with these “spaces”, such as finding their volumes, defining derivatives of functions on them, and so on. They do lack some qualities traditionally associated with space – for instance, many of them don’t have many, or in some cases any, points. But then, “point” is a dubious concept to begin with, if you want a framework for physics – nobody’s ever seen one, physically, and it’s not clear to me what seeing one would consist of…

(As an aside – this is different from other versions of “pointless” topology, such as the passage from ordinary topologies to, sites in the sense of Grothendieck. The notion of “space” went through some fairly serious mutations during the 20th century: from Einstein’s two theories of relativity, to these and other mathematicians’ generalizations, the concept of “space” has turned out to be either very problematic, or wonderfully flexible. A neat book is Max Jammer’s “Concepts of Space“: though it focuses on physics and stops in the 1930’s, you get to appreciate how this concept gradually came together out of folk concepts, went through several very different stages, and in the 20th century started to be warped out of all recognition. It’s as if – to adapt Dan Dennett – “their word for milk became our word for health”.I would like to see a comparable history of mathematicians’ more various concepts, covering more of the 20th century. Plus, one could probably write a less Eurocentric genealogy nowadays than Jammer did in 1954.)

Anyway, what I’d like to say about the Marcolli and Al-Yasry paper at the moment has to do with the setup, rather than the later parts, which are also interesting. This has to do with the idea of a correspondence between noncommutative spaces. Masoud explained to me that, related to the matter of not having many points, such “spaces” also tend to be short on honest-to-goodness maps between them. Instead, it seems that people often use correspondences. Using that duality to replace spaces with algebras, a recurring idea is to think of a category where morphism from algebra to algebra is not a map, but a left-right -bimodule, . This is similar to the business of making categories of spans.

Let me describe briefly what Marcolli and Al-Yasry describe in the paper. They actually have a 2-category. It has:

Objects: An object is a copy of the 3-sphere with an embedded graph .

Morphisms: A morphism is a span of branched covers of 3-manifolds over :

such that each of the maps is branched over a graph containing (perhaps strictly). In fact, as they point out, there’s a theorem (due to Alexander) proving that ANY 3-manifold can be realized as a branched cover over the 3-sphere, branched at some graph (though perhaps not including a given , and certainly not uniquely).

2-Morphisms: A 2-morphism between morphisms and (together with their maps) is a cobordism , in a way that’s compatible with the structure of the $lateux M_i$ as branched covers of the 3-sphere. The are being included as components of the boundary – I’m writing it this way to emphasize that a cobordism is a kind of cospan. Here, it’s a cospan between spans.

This is somewhat familiar to me, though I’d been thinking mostly about examples of cospans between cospans – in fact, thinking of both as cobordisms. From a categorical point of view, this is very similar, except that with spans you compose not by gluing along a shared boundary, but taking a fibred product over one of the objects (in this case, one of the spheres). Abstractly, these are dual – one is a pushout, and the other is a pullback – but in practice, they look quite different.

However, this higher-categorical stuff can be put aside temporarily – they get back to it later, but to start with, they just collapse all the -categories into -sets by taking morphisms to be connected components of the categories. That is, they think about taking morphisms to be cobordism classes of manifolds (in a setting where both manifolds and cobordisms have some branched-covering information hanging around that needs to be respected – they’re supposed to be morphisms, after all).

So the result is a category. Because they’re writing for noncommutative geometry people, who are happy with the word “groupoid” but not “category”, they actually call it a “semigroupoid” – but as they point out, “semigroupoid” is essentially a synonym for (small) “category”.

Apparently it’s quite common in NCG to do certain things with groupoids – like taking the groupoid algebra of -linear combinations of morphisms, with a product that comes from multiplying coefficients and composing morphisms whenever possible. The corresponding general thing is a categorical algebra. There are several quantum-mechanical-flavoured things that can be done with it. One is to let it act as an algebra of operators on a Hilbert space.

This is, again, a fairly standard business. The way it works is to define a Hilbert space at each object of the category, which has a basis consisting of all morphisms whose source is . Then the algebra acts on this, since any morphism which can be post-composed with one starting at acts (by composition) to give a new morphism starting at – that is, it acts on basis elements of to give new ones. Extending linearly, algebra elements (combinations of morphisms) also act on .

So this gives, at each object , an algebra of operators acting on a Hilbert space – the main components of a noncommutative space (actually, these need to be defined by a spectral triple: the missing ingredient in this description is a special Dirac operator). Furthermore, the morphisms (which in this case are, remember, given by those spans of branched covers) give correspondences between these.

Anyway, I don’t really grasp the big picture this fits into, but reading this paper with Masoud is interesting. It ties into a number of things I’ve already thought about, but also suggests all sorts of connections with other topics and opportunities to learn some new ideas. That’s nice, because although I still have plenty of work to do getting papers written up on work already done, I was starting to feel a little bit narrowly focused.