222 Notices of the AMs VoluMe 56, NuMber 2
you my guess, just to give you something to think
about. I consider it unlikely that string theory will
turn out to be either totally successful or totally
useless. By totally successful I mean that it is a
complete theory of physics, explaining all the de-
tails of particles and their interactions. By totally
useless I mean that it remains a beautiful piece of
pure mathematics. My guess is that string theory
will end somewhere between complete success
and failure. I guess that it will be like the theory
of Lie groups, which Sophus Lie created in the
nineteenth century as a mathematical framework
for classical physics. So long as physics remained
classical, Lie groups remained a failure. They were
a solution looking for a problem. But then, fifty
years later, the quantum revolution transformed
physics, and Lie algebras found their proper place.
They became the key to understanding the central
role of symmetries in the quantum world. I expect
that fifty or a hundred years from now another
revolution in physics will happen, introducing new
concepts of which we now have no inkling, and the
new concepts will give string theory a new mean-
ing. After that, string theory will suddenly find
its proper place in the universe, making testable
statements about the real world. I warn you that
this guess about the future is probably wrong. It
has the virtue of being falsifiable, which accord-
ing to Karl Popper is the hallmark of a scientific
statement. It may be demolished tomorrow by
some discovery coming out of the Large Hadron
Collider in Geneva.
Manin Again
To end this talk, I come back to Yuri Manin and
his book Mathematics as Metaphor. The book
is mainly about mathematics. It may come as a
surprise to Western readers that he writes with
equal eloquence about other subjects such as the
collective unconscious, the origin of human lan-
guage, the psychology of autism, and the role of
the trickster in the mythology of many cultures.
To his compatriots in Russia, such many-sided
interests and expertise would come as no surprise.
Russian intellectuals maintain the proud tradition
of the old Russian intelligentsia, with scientists
and poets and artists and musicians belonging to
a single community. They are still today, as we see
them in the plays of Chekhov, a group of idealists
bound together by their alienation from a super-
stitious society and a capricious government. In
Russia, mathematicians and composers and film-
producers talk to one another, walk together in the
snow on winter nights, sit together over a bottle of
wine, and share each others’ thoughts.
Manin is a bird whose vision extends far be-
yond the territory of mathematics into the wider
landscape of human culture. One of his hobbies
is the theory of archetypes invented by the Swiss
psychologist Carl Jung. An archetype, according to
Jung, is a mental image rooted in a collective un-
conscious that we all share. The intense emotions
that archetypes carry with them are relics of lost
memories of collective joy and suffering. Manin is
saying that we do not need to accept Jung’s theory
as true in order to find it illuminating.
More than thirty years ago, the singer Monique
Morelli made a recording of songs with words by
Pierre MacOrlan. One of the songs is La Ville Morte,
the dead city, with a haunting melody tuned to
Morelli’s deep contralto, with an accordion singing
counterpoint to the voice, and with verbal images
of extraordinary intensity. Printed on the page, the
words are nothing special:
“En pénétrant dans la ville morte,
Je tenait Margot par le main…
Nous marchions de la nécropole,
Les pieds brisés et sans parole,
Devant ces portes sans cadole,
Devant ces trous indéfinis,
Devant ces portes sans parole
Et ces poubelles pleines de cris”.
“As we entered the dead city, I held Margot by
the hand…We walked from the graveyard on our
bruised feet, without a word, passing by these
doors without locks, these vaguely glimpsed holes,
these doors without a word, these garbage cans
full of screams.”
I can never listen to that song without a dispro-
portionate intensity of feeling. I often ask myself
why the simple words of the song seem to resonate
with some deep level of unconscious memory, as
if the souls of the departed are speaking through
Morelli’s music. And now unexpectedly in Manin’s
book I find an answer to my question. In his chap-
ter, “The Empty City Archetype”, Manin describes
how the archetype of the dead city appears again
and again in the creations of architecture, litera-
ture, art and film, from ancient to modern times,
ever since human beings began to congregate in
cities, ever since other human beings began to
congregate in armies to ravage and destroy them.
The character who speaks to us in MacOrlan’s song
is an old soldier who has long ago been part of an
army of occupation. After he has walked with his
wife through the dust and ashes of the dead city,
he hears once more:
“Chansons de charme d’un clairon
Qui fleurissait une heure lointaine
Dans un rêve de garnison”.
“The magic calls of a bugle that came to life for
an hour in an old soldier’s dream”.
The words of MacOrlan and the voice of Mo-
relli seem to be bringing to life a dream from our
collective unconscious, a dream of an old soldier
wandering through a dead city. The concept of the
collective unconscious may be as mythical as the
concept of the dead city. Manin’s chapter describes
the subtle light that these two possibly mythical