Category: Research

  • Königsberg Bridge Problem

    Königsberg Bridge Problem

    Königsberg Bridge Problem

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    The foundations of network science is graph theory, and at the beginning of graph theory stands one problem that started it all: The Königsberg Bridge Problem. The problem poses a simple challenge:

    “Can you go on a walk that crosses every one of the seven bridges of historical Königsberg exactly once?”

    No, you can’t. Some of the historical bridges in Königsberg don’t even exist anymore. But could you have done it, if you had lived in historical Königsberg? Could you do it in your city today? Thinking about this leads down a fascinating rabbit hole.

    Map of Königsberg by Matthäus Merian ca. 1652

    Eulerian Walks

    The map of Königsberg shown above was published in 1652 and is commonly attributed to “Merian-Erben”. But Merian-Erben isn’t a person. Erben means “heirs” in German and Merian-Erben are the heirs of Matthäus Merian, a famous Swiss engraver working in Frankfurt, Germany. When Merian died in 1650, the map of Königsberg was found among his estate, and two years later his heirs collectively published it with the attribution “Merian-Erben.”

    Historical Königsberg looks like a pretty town, doesn’t it. Wouldn’t it be nice to go for a little walk on a Sunday afternoon that crosses every bridge exactly once? But can you? It would take another eighty years till this puzzle was solved.

    Today we say that a walk that crosses every bridge in a city exactly once is an eulerian walk. The name honours Leonard Euler who solved the Königsberg bridge problem in 1736 and in doing so created a new branch of mathematics.

    Euler was well aware that the problem could be solved by carefully listing all possible walks and then checking each one in tern to see if it was a solution, he writes:

    Even in 1736 it would have been possible to solve the problem in this way in an afternoon: With only seven bridges, there are only 2520 paths that need to be tabulated and checked. But Euler’s idea is much better. It hints at tow powerful principle: Simple models and Economy of Information.

    An illustration of the topology of Königsberg from the publication of Euler's solution. Shown are two river islets. The right islet is connected to both banks of the river with one brige each. The left island is connected to each river bank by two bridges. Additionally there is one bridge connecting the two islets.

    Simple Models

    Euler’s first insight was that everything becomes easier when we eliminate the needless information. Merian’s map is nice, but all the details it shows are not relevant to the problem, and they obscure the view of the bridges.

    Problems become easier when we focus on the bare necessities needed to capture their essence. This is the reason why we make models, to simplify a world that is otherwise to complicated to understand.

    Euler’s map of Königsberg, shown above, shows only the elements that are necessary to capture the essence of the problem: the land masses and the bridges connecting them.

    Building on Euler’s work, there is an even easier way in which we can represent the structure of historical Königsberg. We represent the different land masses by the nodes of a network and we represent the the bridges connecting them as links between these nodes.

    Topology of Königsberg, now shown as a network.

    Economy of Information

    The other principle at which Euler hints is Economy of Information. In a nutshell: If we pose a question for which a typical answer would contain a lot of information, the answer will often be difficult to find. We need to pay a price for the information that we demand. A longer answer will take more work to find. Conversely if we ask a question that can be answered more quickly, then there is often an easy way to find the answer.

    If we ask how to walk across every bridge exactly once, the answer we are asking for is the walk itself, e.g. a set of instructions containing the sequence of bridges that we cross. By contrast if we ask is a walk possible at all, the answer is a simple yes or no.

    Euler focussed on the question why a walk that crosses every bridge exactly once might not exist. To discuss failure we need the concept of node degree. In our network representation of the city, each network node represents a landmass and each link represents a bridge. In network science the degree of a node is the number of links connecting , so in our case the degree of each landmass is the number of bridges connecting to it.

    Topology of Königsberg with the node degrees shown. They are 5,3,3, and 3.
    Examples of nodes of degree 1,2,3, and 4.

    Solving the puzzle

    Now consider what happens if our network contains a node of degree-one, a landmass with only one bridge connecting to it. If we don’t start the walk in this node of degree one, then we can only reach it by crossing the one bridge that connects to it. Once we have done that there is no way to leave the node again without using the bridge another time, which means the walk must end there. In summary that means: If a node of degree-one exists in the network, then it is either the start or the end point of an Eulerian walk or no such walk exists.

    By contrast a node of degree two does not have such a negative impact on our walk. With its two bridges we can use one to arrive and one to depart, and hence we cannot trap ourselves there. Only if we start our walk in a node of degree two, the walk will end when we return to it.

    So what about nodes of degree three? If a landmass has three bridges connecting to it we must visit it at least twice to use all bridges. On our first visit we arrive on one bridge and depart on another, without problem. But we have to visit another time to use the last bridge, and now this last bridge is the only one left—what started out as a node of degree three has now effectively become a node of degree one, so on our second visit we will get trapped in this node.

    By the same reasoning all nodes of odd degree behave like nodes of degree one. They are either the starting point of the eulerian walk or the end point or no eulerian walk exists. And since each walk can only have one starting point and one endpoint, no eulerian walk can exists in networks that contain more than two nodes of odd degree. If a network contains exactly two nodes of odd degree an eulerian walk exists. In that case we can start the walk in either of the two nodes of odd degree and then the other will be the end point. Finally, if a network contains no nodes of odd degree we can start the walk anywhere and the eulerian walk will be a circuit that eventually ends back at the starting point.

    So what about Königsberg?

    Illustration of the problem form a letter Euler wrote to Giovanni Marinoni.

    The Truth about Königsberg

    In the the Königsberg network one node has degree five and three nodes have degree three, so we have four nodes of odd degree. This proves that that no eulerian walk exists—we cannot go on a walk that crosses each bridge exactly once.

    Today the bridge problem is often portrayed as a serious problem that people wanted an answer for, but this is not what it was. In the eighteenth century their was no internet, no youtube, no social media. Instead people turned to books and wrote letters. Many, many letters. Even Kings and Queens of the time were keeping up with recent developments in science and mathematics, and members of the high society would challenge each other to solve puzzles. Occasionally they might send someone an insolvable puzzle as a joke. The most notorious one of these joke puzzles was the Königsberg bridge problem—a form of 18th century trolling.

    A good troll problem must not only be unsolvable, but it must also seem simple to ensnare its victims. Indeed, the Königsberg bridge network, is the smallest, simplest network for which there is no solution without this being immediately obvious. To be unsolvable a network must have at least four nodes, each of them with an odd degree. We don’t want any node to have degree one, because that put people immediately on the right track to the solution. So far the simplest network that meets these criteria, would have four nodes of degree three. But there is only one such network, and it forms a tetrahedron, a network that is so symmetric that we by exploiting the symmetry we can reduce the number of walks that need to be tried to just two—clearly not good for trolling. The next simplest unsolvable network has three nodes of degree three and one node of degree five and it is the Königsberg bridge graph.

    Euler would not be trolled by it. Instead he proved that the bridge problem was unsolvable in such an elegant way that everybody could understand the proof. Because the problem was already notorious the news of the proof spread like wildfire throughout Europe. Essentially by thinking about the city as a system of nodes and links Euler had invented a new way of describing the world with mathematics—a new way of modelling. Euler said he had wanted a proof that mirrored the elegance of geometry, and he called his new way of thinking Geometria Situs, the geometry of position. Later J. J. Sylvester coined another name for this kind of mathematics: Graph Theory, and today many would call it Network Science.

    Try It Yourself

    Why not try it yourself. You could design a bridge walk for your own town and perhaps it will become as popular as the one in Bristol.

  • Patterns of Life

    Patterns of Life

    Patterns of Life

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    Life is full of patterns: From the stripes of the tiger to the spots on the leopard, the coats of animals come in many colours or shapes. Still there is a shared element between all the biological patterns, a similar aesthetic. Some patterns are clearly shaped by morphology, e.g. the wings on a bird having a different colour from the rest of the body. But there are also patterns that exist on otherwise uniform parts of the body, such as the stripes of the zebras and tigers.

    We did a mathematical study of a mathematical instability that creates these biological patterns, and even rotating spiral waves. The result was a highly cited paper and interactive exhibit in a major science museum.

    Stripes on a Tiger

    In 1952 Alan Turing proposed that patterns can form as the result of diffusion. What a crazy idea! In our daily life we know diffusion as the great equalizer. Clearly the reason why the tiger has stripes is rooted in the differentiation of hair cells, some of which become black-hair-producing cells, while others become orangy-yellow-hair-producing cells. Because the different colours are organized in neat stripes the hair cells must somehow coordinate. At some point of deveolpement of the tiger the hair cells must have had a sort of discussion on who is going to produce what kind of hair.

    The hair cells themselves are too big to move around much, so there dialogue must be facilitated by much smaller signalling molecules that carry information between the cells. The precise mechanisms are still unknown, but for the sake of argument we can assume that there is one type of signalling molecule that signals blackness while another signals orangeness. When the time arrives for a hair cell to make a choice it looks at the signalling molecules that arrive at its cell membrane. If the majority signals orange, we get an orange hair, otherwise we get a black one.

    In our experience diffusion tends to average out concentrations. Even if we started out with more signalling molecules for, say, black at one spot, we would expect that over time diffusion would lead to an equal distribution of blackness over the whole tiger. Instead we get clearly defined stripes.

    Turing realized that diffusion can not only wash out patterns, it can also produce them. This is possible when two different substances diffuse that react with each other either directly or indirectly, e.g. via the hair cell. In that case we can start with a blank slate where the signalling molecules are equally distributed and then watch them redistribute to form patterns.

    A Puzzle in Marine Sediments

    Many years after Turings foundational work Martin Baurmann, Ulrike Feudel and I became interested in pattern formation in marine sediments. Even tidal flats that look like uniform expanses of mud to the naked eye have chemical patterns. Imagine standing on a nearly flat plane of mud that is dozens of miles wide, but if you measure the chemicals in the sediments beneath your feet, the results you get in one spot are very different from the results you get only a hand’s breadth away. How is this possible? What causes these differences? Was it possible that the bacteria in marine sediments coordinated in a similar way as the hair cells in the tiger?

    We made a simple mathematical model, which is still perhaps the simplest ecological model that exhibits spontaneous pattern formation. It showed that chemical pattern formation in marine sediments was plausible. More importantly the model was so simple that we could study the pattern-formation mathematically, but there was a surprise waiting for us.

    When we change parameters of a system gradually, the behaviour of a system typically responds gradually as well. But there are specific parameter thresholds at which the behaviour changes radically. These thresholds are called bifurcations and form the boundary between qualitatively different types of behaviour. The onset of pattern formation is such a bifurcation, which is called Turing bifurcation, in honour of Alan Turing. But when we analyzed our mathematical we found not only the Turing bifurcation, but also a Hopf bifurcation which marks the onset of sustained oscillations in the system.

    The "Patterns of Life" installation. A large machiene with four screens on top of each other.

    More Patterns and a Museum

    The Turing and Hopf Bifurcations are two different fundamental instabilities of spatial systems. In our model these instabilities intersect and interact, and if parameters are chosen close to the intersection then pattern formation goes wild. Some first simulation runs revealed a few stationary patterns but many more showed complex spatiotemporal structures that combined oscillations with spatial shapes. Clearly we needed to do many more simulations to explore what else was possible in this system.

    Now there was an idea: We needed to run a lot of simulations of fantastic shifting patterns that created themselves out of nowhere, sometimes collapsed back to nothing, sometimes settled into predictable patterns and sometimes descended into chaos—it was fascinating to watch.

    At the same time a new science museum had just opened in Bremen, the Universum Science Center. In a conversation it came up that science museums only ever show the results of science, but not how the science really happens, and we had the perfect solution: Our simulations were science being done, and they were interesting to watch.

    We approached the museum and obtained some funding from the local EWE foundation. The money paid for a fancy exhibit that we called “patterns of life,” which contained four computers and four screens that were constantly running simulations. Some interactivity allowed visitors to identify interesting parameter values for more simulation runs and thus become participants in the research.

    The “patterns of life” exhibit ran for four years in the permanent exhibition of the Universum Science Center, afterwards the installation had a second life in the lobby of the Institute for Chemistry and Biology of the Marine environment (ICBM).

  • Creative Reactions

    Creative Reactions

    Creative Reactions

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    Living in Bristol was fun because there is always something new and exciting happening in the city. One day I became aware of the creative reactions program, an initiative to foster contacts between art and science. Through this program I got into contact with graphical artist Frankie Partridge, we spent long hours talking about complexity and eventually created some art together.

    Cohesion and Chaos

    Our artwork Cohesion and Chaos captures the attempts to rein in the complexities of life through research. The right-hand-side of the artwork depict variations in the style of figures from historical scientific manuscripts. The left-hand-side is a two-dimensional bifurcation diagram of the Takens-Bogdanove bifurcation combined with various phase portraits—one of the transitions that can occur on the route from regularity to chaos.

    Cohesion and Chaos by Frankie Partridge and Thilo Gross. (low resolution preview)

    Reception

    Cohesion and Chaos was shown at Hamilton House Gallery in Bristol, UK, for two weeks in 2016. Later that year it was also exhibited as part of the North Bristol Art trail.

    The initial run of fourty limited edition prints has sold out.