"Assessing the Penguin's Standing: A Reflective Investigation – Section 1"

“Assessing the Penguin’s Standing: A Reflective Investigation – Section 1”


**An Incredibly Lengthy Review of “The Secret Lives of Numbers”**

The progression of mathematics has served as a rich source for both scholarly examination and engaging narratives. Regrettably, much of the latter often veers into exaggeration, fabrication, and blatant inaccuracies. Kate Kitagawa and Timothy Revell’s *The Secret Lives of Numbers: A Global History of Mathematics & Its Unsung Trailblazers* exemplifies this trend. Claimed to be a “global history,” the authors pledge to finally reveal a diverse tapestry of mathematical innovators and ideas, long eclipsed by the Greco-European account. However, rather than providing a thorough, inclusive history that genuinely expands our grasp of mathematics, the book falters amid poorly substantiated assertions, unfounded conjecture, and a glaring absence of editorial scrutiny.

Here’s how the authors manage to miss the mark with their lofty aspirations and find themselves ensnared in a bog of historical inaccuracies and academic liberties. For those without the endurance to dissect this extensive critique: the book is, simply put, *unfortunate*.

### **The Promotion of Fiction as Scholarship**

Straight away, the book positions itself as an egalitarian corrective to the conventional history of mathematics. The introduction is framed in contemporary language that addresses the biases intrinsic to historical narratives—an admirable aim in theory. However, these commendable intentions swiftly unravel once the actual historical narrative commences.

Both Kitagawa and Revell are portrayed as prominent figures in the field of mathematics history, with Kitagawa particularly noted as “one of the world’s foremost experts.” A brief look at her publication record, though, reveals scant evidence to support such a claim. With a limited portfolio of popular articles, book critiques, and a handful of academic chapters over a mere three years, her qualifications struggle to uphold this exaggerated claim. Revell, in his role as editor for New Scientist and a science communicator, injects a pop-culture sensibility into the narrative that does not always benefit rigorous historical analysis.

The title itself is also deceptive. Marketed as a “global history” that highlights mathematical pioneers, the book fails to deliver on its promised global scope or to reveal any truly unsung geniuses. Most individuals spotlighted—Hypatia, Aryabhata, al-Khwarizmi, and Newton—are far from “unsung” in either popular or scholarly circles, and many of the narratives surrounding them lack the rigor one would anticipate from credible historians.

### **Superficial Analysis of Non-Western Mathematics**

The promotional descriptions laud the book’s readiness to venture beyond ancient Greek mathematics, and indeed, it often strays into Chinese, Indian, and Islamic mathematical legacies. However, these excursions frequently reveal notable historical inaccuracies. For instance:

#### **China: An Awkward Diversion with Turtles**
Early Chinese mathematics—a vast, profoundly influential tradition—is reduced to odd anecdotes and scant explanations. A striking example is the tale of Yu the Great supposedly discovering a “magic square” pattern on a turtle’s back. This is uncritically presented as fact (despite being more myth than reality), and the authors neglect to mention that the first documented instance of a magic square in China arose almost 2,000 years following Yu’s alleged time. If such myths are to be included, it’s crucial to provide historical context—context that the authors fail to supply.

#### **India: Errors Regarding the Origins of Zero**
At the core of India’s mathematical history is the renowned concept of zero, a major focus in the book. While the authors justly acknowledge Aryabhata and Brahmagupta’s contributions (though not without missteps), they confuse timelines and cater to contemporary speculation. For example, they label Brahmagupta’s elevation of zero to its numerical status a “conceptual leap,” only to dive into absurdities regarding the Roman numeral system, mistakenly implying that Romans were incapable of performing calculations due to the absence of zero. They entirely overlook Roman reliance on abaci and counting boards—a significant lapse.

In their attempt to highlight non-Western contributions, Kitagawa and Revell also reference the contested Kerala school transmission hypothesis, which posits that Indian mathematicians influenced the evolution of calculus in Europe. While they do acknowledge that the theory is unsubstantiated, their treatment remains frustratingly ambivalent, leaving readers with an unwarranted impression that Newton’s and Leibniz’s calculus has ties to Jesuit missionaries carrying trigonometric series in their posses.

#### **The House of Wisdom: A Foundation of Misrepresentations**
Few ideas have captured popular imagination like Baghdad’s so-called *House of Wisdom*. Were it merely a vivid symbol of the city’s cultural renaissance during the early Abbasid era, it would merit mention here. However, Kitagawa and Revell, mirroring Jim al-Khalili’s embellished narratives, depict it as a tangible institution brimming with libraries, laboratories, and a throng of scholars—from