David Hilbert… One of the Greats (…and, very dapper)

Well, I’ve profiled one man and one woman here on other Sundays so now it’s time to profile… a dead person. The advantage is that they’re not around to sue you (not that I’ve heard from any of Matt's or Evelyn's lawyers thus far!)

Anyway, I’ve always loved the rather dapper, man-about-town look of David Hilbert in his iconic headshot pictures. I mean they just don’t make men’s hats like that any more… or I’d have 5 of them to cloak my B-spot. David was certainly one of the greatest mathematicians of the last few centuries, even if not often placed in quite the same category of esteem or recognition as perhaps Euler, Gauss, Galois, Riemann, Poincare, and Tom Lehrer. Nor was he ever as funny as Matt Parker or Alexander Grothendieck (talk about a laugh-riot!). But still, he has a certain savoir-faire or je ne sais quoi or just anti-dorkiness.

What actually got me thinking about David recently (other than hat-envy) was reflecting upon Kurt Gödel, and how, at such a young age he went before a gathering of top mathematicians of his day and smashed their world, pulverized it, when they never even saw it coming! Many didn’t fully grasp what Gödel presented with his incompleteness theorem, and others somewhat understood it but didn’t realize its full impact. But Hilbert who was fashioning the rigorous, formalistic, anal-compulsive approach to mathematics at that very time, immediately saw that Gödel was essentially saying ‘David, you frikkin’ idiot, stop it already with all your nonsense’ (well, except, of course, Gödel didn’t use the word “frikkin”). And David acknowledged the ramifications for his program. He could’ve felt threatened or defensive, or been critical of smarty-pants Kurt, but this wasn’t his nature — instead of entering battle with a critic, he would just sleep with their wives and move on (no,no, I’m just kidding… I think). 

Hilbert was above all a seeker of the truth, wherever and whoever it came from, and wherever it led, no matter its consequences for his own predispositions. So rather than hire a hit man to whack Gödel in his sleep or sprinkle novichok on his doorknob (as Putin-protege Donald Trump would’ve done), he actually semi-embraced and helped spread the new-found knowledge.

Similarly, with Cantor, it was Hilbert who put his own reputation on the line and courageously defended the upstart thinker when many others of the day were attempting to tear him down with his radical notions of infinity and itty-bitty-ness. Instead, Hilbert famously saw a new “paradise” for mathematics, dismissing the critics, and leading to the continuum undecidability, math insanity, and 3blue1brown videos of the next century (not to mention giving us the best drinking song ever).

A little background: Hilbert originally heralded from Prussia and had the same birthday as my father, so I congratulate him for that bit of excellent timing. At the age of 10 he entered the Friedrichskollegium Gymnasium for academically-gifted students... i.e., those who could both pronounce and spell the name of the school. Later, he advanced to the University of Königsberg receiving his math PhD. ~age 23. From 1895 to 1930 he spent his life teaching at the University of Göttingen in Germany, likely the top university for mathematics of its day, before the eventual rise of MIT, Harvard, and Pomona College. 

He worked alongside some of the all-time greats at one point or another:

Hermann Weyl, Emmy Noether, Edmund Landau, Eugene Wigner, Ernst Zermelo, Hermann Minkowski, Lebron James (my usual check to see if you are still mindlessly reading along). 

During this time Hilbert also intellectually jousted with Leopold Kronecker and L.E.J. Brouwer, two other heavyweights of the period. Still today, these two are known to spin in their graves at the very mention of the name ‘Hilbert’… much as Abe Lincoln does, even faster, at the mention of the name “Donald.”

Is it any wonder that at that time one of the bumper stickers that flourished throughout Königsberg was “WWDD”… “What Would David Do?”

Religiously, Hilbert was a Calvinist in the Prussian Evangelical Church… personally, I’ve always thought there was more fun and deep thought to be had as a Hobbesian, but to each their own.
And David was one of the last of the great "universal" mathematicians who dabbled in most all areas of their field of study. This was before the internet came along and academics began narrowly specializing in tweets, memes, gifs, or emojis.

He is likely best remembered for boldly challenging mathematicians (perhaps after a wee bit too much beaujolais), at the 1900 International Congress of Mathematicians in Paris, to solve 23 crucial unsolved problems over the next century.  

About 2/3 of Hilbert’s original set have partial or full solutions by now (like which way to put toilet paper on a roller dispenser), but another third, like trisecting an angle, continues to defeat the best minds. Chief among the unresolved problems is the Riemann Hypothesis, about which David once famously said, "If I were to awaken after having slept for a thousand years, my first question would be: Has the Riemann hypothesis been proven?" — coincidentally, this is also the first question I utter each morning upon awakening after 5 non-stop hours of restless-leg-syndrome.

It was also Hilbert who first developed an algorithm for a space-filling curve (characterized by Evelyn Lamb as “a real knee-slapper!”) to which all his students gasped in awe immediately upon seeing, before then asking, “But wait, when can I ever use THIS?” Despite such eternal questions it is reported that David was beloved by his students, who could sometimes be heard chanting in the hallways, "Dapper Dave, he's our fave! everyone else is just a knave" -- except it wasn't quite as catchy in the original German. 

Little-known fact: before tweaking it and hitting the big time, Scott Adams tried out an unheralded comic strip about a professor who wore jaunty hats named “Hilbert.” But it flopped. 
OK, so in the vernacular of KellyAnne Conway, that’s more of an ‘alternative fact’ than a real or little-known fact, or in the vernacular of normal people, it's a complete fabrication.

Anyway, Hilbert retired from Göttingen in 1930 as the Nazis were gaining power in Germany and most of his Jewish colleagues were leaving. Remarkably, and sadly, it’s reported that only 10 people attended his funeral in 1943 (age 81), so many of his friends having departed. A lonely, unfitting end to such a major mathematics figure. Even Mitch McConnell may have more then 10 people show at his funeral (believe it or not).

Despite the work of Gödel, Hilbert’s famous epitaph on his gravestone read (translated), “We must know, we will know.” …I s’pose it could be added, ‘or, we’ll die trying.’

David made far more contributions to mathematics than I can possibly summarize here (...but then he’s dead, so he’ll never know what short-shrift I’ve given him).

He may not be as funny as Matt or as contemporary as Evelyn, but whenever you think about really fascinating, difficult problems, or about math's rigor and formalism, or about a nerdy philosopher pulling the dang rug right out from under you, think of the life of good ol’ David and pay homage.

More seriously, I’ll let Hermann Weyl have the last word:

“No mathematician of equal stature has risen from our generation… Hilbert was singularly free from national and racial prejudices; in all public questions, be they political, social or spiritual, he stood forever on the side of freedom, frequently in isolated opposition against the compact majority of his environment. He kept his head clear and was not afraid to swim against the current..."
                                                                              -- Hermann Weyl

Now excuse me while I go shop for a fedora…
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[...not sure if I'll be doing any more Sunday "profiles" but readers are free to send along any names they think deserving ;) ]