Well, well — our conjecture has suggested a remarkably simple pattern to us: Primes of the form 4n + 1 can be represented as sums of two squares, while primes of the form 4n + 3 cannot. If this guess is correct, it establishes a beautiful, spectacular link between primes and squares (two classes of numbers that a priori would seem to have nothing to do with each other), one that catches us completely off guard. This is a glimpse of pure magic — the kind of magic that mathematicians live for.

And yet for a mathematician, this flash of joy is only the beginning of the story. It is like a murder mystery: we have found out someone is dead, but whodunnit? There always has to be an explanation. It may not be easy to find or easy to understand, but it has to exist.

Here, we know (or at least we strongly suspect) that there is a beautiful infinite pattern, but for what reason? The bedrock assumption is that there is a reason here — that our pattern, far from being an “infinite coincidence”, comes from one single compelling, underlying reason; that behind all these infinitely many “independent” facts lies just one phenomenon.

As it happens, there is actually much more to the pattern we have glimpsed. Not only are primes of the form 4n + 3 never the sum of two squares (proving this is easy), but also it turns out that every prime number of the form 4n + 1 has one and only one way of being the sum of two squares. Take 101, for example. Not only does 101 equal 100 + 1, but there is no other sum of two squares that yields 101. Finally, it turns out that in the limit, as one goes further and further out, the ratio of the number of Class A primes to the number of Class B primes grows ever closer to 1. This means that the delicate balance that we observed in the primes below 100 and conjectured would continue ad infinitum is rigorously provable.

Although I will not go further into this particular case study, I will state that many textbooks of number theory prove this theorem (it is far from trivial), thus supplementing a pattern with a proof. As I said earlier, X is true because X has a proof, and conversely, X is true and so X has a proof.

The Long Search for Proofs, and for their Nature

I mentioned above that the question “Which numbers are sums of two primes?”, posed almost 300 years ago, has never been fully solved. Mathematicians are dogged searchers, however, and their search for a proof may go on for centuries, even millennia. They are not discouraged by eons of failure to find a proof of a mathematical pattern that, from numerical trends, seems likely to go on and on forever. Indeed, extensive empirical confirmation of a mathematical conjecture, which would satisfy most people, only makes mathematicians more ardent and more frustrated. They want a proof as good as Euclid’s, not just lots of spot checks! And they are driven by their belief that a proof has to exist — in other words, that if no proof existed, then the pattern in question would have to be false.

This, then, constitutes the flip side of the Mathematician’s Credo:

X is false because there is no proof of X;

X is false and so there is no proof of X.

In a word, just as provability and truth are the same thing for a mathematician, so are nonprovability and falsity. They are synonymous.

During the centuries following the Renaissance, mathematics branched out into many subdisciplines, and proofs of many sorts were found in all the different branches. Once in a while, however, results that were clearly absurd seemed to have been rigorously proven, yet no one could pinpoint where things had gone awry. As stranger and stranger results turned up, the uncertainty about the nature of proofs became increasingly disquieting, until finally, in the middle of the nineteenth century, a powerful movement arose whose goal was to specify just what reasoning really was, and to bond it forever with mathematics, fusing the two into one.

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