Modern mathematicians know that the terms have a limit; the numbers 1, ½, ¼, 1/8, 1/16, and so forth are approaching zero as their limit. The journey has a destination. Once the journey has a destination, it is easy to ask how far away that destination is and how long it will take to get there. It is not that difficult to sum up the distances that Achilles runs: 1 + ½ + ¼ + 1/8 + 1/16 +…+ ½n +…. In the same way that the steps that Achilles takes get smaller and smaller, and closer and closer to zero, the sum of those steps gets closer and closer to 2. How do we know this? Well, let’s start off with 2, and subtract the terms of the sum, one by one. We begin with 2 - 1, which is, of course, 1. Next, we subtract ½, leaving ½. Then remove the next term: subtract ¼, leaving ¼ behind. Subtracting 1/8 leaves 1/8 behind. We’re back to our familiar sequence. We already know that 1, ½, ¼, 1/8, and so forth has a limit of zero; thus, as we subtract the terms from 2, we have nothing left. The limit of the sum 1 + ½ + ¼ + 1/8 + 1/16 +…is 2 (Figure 11). Achilles runs 2 feet in catching up to the tortoise, even though he takes an infinite number of steps to do it. Better yet, look at the time it takes Achilles to overtake the tortoise: 1 + ½ + ¼ + 1/8 + 1/16 +…—2 seconds. Not only does Achilles take an infinite number of steps to run a finite distance, but he takes only 2 seconds to do it.
Figure 11: 1 + ½ + ¼ + 1/8 + 1/16 +…= 2
The Greeks couldn’t do this neat little mathematical trick. They didn’t have the concept of a limit because they didn’t believe in zero. The terms in the infinite series didn’t have a limit or a destination; they seemed to get smaller and smaller without any particular end in sight. As a result, the Greeks couldn’t handle the infinite. They pondered the concept of the void but rejected zero as a number, and they toyed with the concept of the infinite but refused to allow infinity—numbers that are infinitely small and infinitely large—anywhere near the realm of numbers. This is the biggest failure in Greek mathematics, and it is the only thing that kept them from discovering calculus.
Infinity, zero, and the concept of limits are all tied together in a bundle. Greek philosophers were unable to untie that bundle; therefore, they were ill-equipped to solve Zeno’s puzzle. Yet Zeno’s paradox was so powerful that the Greeks tried over and over to explain away his infinities. They were doomed to failure, unarmed with the proper concepts.
Zeno himself didn’t have a proper solution to the paradox, nor did he seek one. The paradox suited his philosophy perfectly. He was a member of the Eleatic school of thought, whose founder, Parmenides, held that the underlying nature of the universe was changeless and immobile. Zeno’s puzzles appear to have been in support of Parmenides’ argument; in showing that change and motion were paradoxical, he hoped to convince people that everything is one—and changeless. Zeno really did believe that motion was impossible, and his paradox was this theory’s chief support.
There were other schools of thought. The atomists, for example, believed that the universe is made up of little particles called atoms, which are indivisible and eternal. Motion, according to the atomists, was the movement of these little particles. Of course, for these atoms to move, there has to be empty space for them to move into. After all, these little atoms had to move around somehow; if there were no such thing as a vacuum, the atoms would be constantly pressed against one another. Everything would be stuck in one position for eternity, unable to move. Thus, the atomic theory required that the universe be filled with emptiness—an infinite void. The atomists embraced the concept of the infinite vacuum—infinity and zero wrapped into one. This was a shocking conclusion, but the indivisible kernels of matter in atomic theory got around the problem of Zeno’s paradoxes. Because atoms are indivisible, there is a point beyond which things could not be divided. Zeno’s hair-splitting doesn’t go on ad infinitum. After a number of strides, Achilles would be taking tiny steps that can’t get any smaller; eventually he would have to hurdle an atom that the tortoise doesn’t. Achilles would finally catch up to the elusive turtle.
Another philosophy vied with the atomic theory, and instead of posing such bizarre concepts as the infinite vacuum, it turned the universe into a cozy nutshell. There was no infinity, no void—just beautiful spheres that surrounded the earth, which was naturally placed at the very center of the universe. This was the Aristotelian system, which was later refined by the Alexandrian astronomer Ptolemy. It became the dominant philosophy in the Western world. And by rejecting zero and infinity, Aristotle explained away Zeno’s paradoxes.
Aristotle simply declared that mathematicians “do not need the infinite, or use it.” Though “potential” infinities could exist in the minds of mathematicians—like the concept of dividing lines into infinite pieces—nobody could actually do it, so the infinite doesn’t exist in reality. Achilles runs smoothly past the tortoise because the infinite points are simply a figment of Zeno’s imagination, rather than a real-world construct. Aristotle just wished infinity away by stating that it is simply a construct of the human mind.
From that concept comes a startling revelation. Based upon the Pythagorean universe, the Aristotelian cosmos (and its later refinement by the astronomer Ptolemy) had the planets moving in crystalline orbs. However, since there is no infinity, there can’t be an endless number of spheres; there must be a last one. This outermost sphere was a midnight blue globe encrusted with tiny glowing points of light—the stars. There was no such thing as “beyond” the outermost sphere; the universe ended abruptly with that outermost layer. The universe was contained in a nutshell, ensconced comfortably within the sphere of fixed stars; the cosmos was finite in extent, and entirely filled with matter. There was no infinite; there was no void. There was no infinity; there was no zero.
This line of reasoning had another consequence—and this is why Aristotle’s philosophy endured for so many years. His system proved the existence of God.
The heavenly spheres are slowly spinning in their places, making a music that suffuses the cosmos. But something must be causing that motion. The stationary earth cannot be the source of that motive power, so the innermost sphere must be moved by the next sphere out. That sphere, in turn, is moved by its larger neighbor, and on and on. However, there is no infinity; there are a finite number of spheres, and a finite number of things that are moving each other. Something must be the ultimate cause of motion. Something must be moving the sphere of fixed stars. This is the prime mover: God. When Christianity swept through the West, it became closely tied to the Aristotelian view of the universe and the proof of God’s existence. Atomism became associated with atheism. Questioning the Aristotelian doctrine was tantamount to questioning God’s existence.
Aristotle’s system was extremely successful. His most famous student, Alexander the Great, spread the doctrine as far east as India before Alexander’s untimely death in 323 BC. The Aristotelian system would outlast Alexander’s empire; it would survive until Elizabethan times, the sixteenth century. With this long-standing acceptance of Aristotle came a rejection of the infinite—and the void, for Aristotle’s denial of the infinite required a denial of the void, because the void implies the existence of the infinite. After all, there were only two logical possibilities for the nature of the void, and both implied that the infinite exists. First, there could be an infinite amount of void—thus infinity exists. Second, there could be a finite amount of void, but since void is simply the lack of matter, there must be an infinite amount of matter to make sure that there is only a finite amount of void—thus infinity exists. In both cases the existence of the void implies the existence of the infinite. Void/zero destroys Aristotle’s neat argument, his refutation of Zeno, and his proof of God. So as Aristotle’s arguments were accepted, the Greeks were forced to reject zero, void, the infinite, and infinity.