by Peter Ozsváth
Donaldson theory
I came to Princeton as a graduate student in 1989, at an exciting time in low-dimensional topology. Four-dimensional differential topology was undergoing a revolution, pioneered by the work of Simon Donaldson. Donaldson had recently discovered a way to use the moduli space of solutions to the (metric-dependent) Yang–Mills equations to access information about the smooth structures on four-manifolds which had evaded understanding for decades.
Although Princeton’s math department at the time lacked expertise in these exciting developments, my advisor Bill Browder enthusiastically encouraged me to try to learn the newly emerging theory. During my third year of graduate school, I taught a year-long course out of the recently published book by Donaldson and Peter Kronheimer, The Geometry of Four-Manifolds [e1], which helped give me some grounding in the subject.
But learning the basics is very different from finding a current problem to think about, so after learning what I could by myself, I began asking outside experts for guidance. I was fortunate that John Morgan was willing to help me out. Moreover, during my fourth year of graduate school, Browder invited Morgan to come to Princeton to teach a course on gauge theory and four-manifolds.
Once a week, John came to Princeton to lecture to a packed room, with an audience consisting of a mix of students, postdocs, and other faculty. During lunch breaks, John and I would meet over greasy hoagies, discussing mathematics. Princeton, which until then felt somewhat isolated from the topology scene, seemed to spring to life. Zoltán Szabó and András Stipsicz, who were PhD students at Rutgers, also attended John’s course. They, too, ended up working with him; and all of us were able to talk to each other about gauge theory.
I will say a few words about the math that John and I discussed, and refer the reader to a more detailed account in Donaldson’s article in this volume. Recall that a closed, oriented four-manifold is endowed with a nondegenerate bilinear form on its two-dimensional cohomology, its intersection form. Correspondingly, the second Betti number can be decomposed as \( b_2=b_2^++b_2^- \), where \( b_2^+ \) is the dimension of a maximal subspace of \( H^2(X) \) on which the intersection form is positive definite. As a part of Donaldson’s revolution in smooth four-manifold topology, he had defined interesting topological invariants for closed, smooth four-manifolds with \( b_2^+ > 1 \). These invariants are defined by counting the number of anti-self-dual connections on the principal \( SU(2) \)-bundle over the four-manifold. To obtain a sensible point count, one must first cut down the moduli space of solution by two-dimensional constraints corresponding to two-dimensional homology classes on \( X \). Hence, Donaldson’s invariants can be thought of formally as multilinear functions on \( H_2(X) \).
John suggested I think about the “blowup formula” for Donaldson invariants: how are the Donaldson invariants of \( M_1 \) related to the Donaldson invariants for \( M_1\#M_2 \), when \( M_2 \) has \( b_2^+(M_2)=0 \) [e2]? In particular, when \( M_1 \) is an algebraic surface and \( M_2 \) is \( -{\mathbb CP}^2 \) (i.e., the complex projective plane endowed with the orientation opposite to the one it inherits naturally as an algebraic variety), this question asks how the Donaldson polynomials of an algebraic surface \( M_1 \) are related to the Donaldson polynomials of the algebraic surface obtained by blowing up \( M_1 \) at a point.
This problem had varying levels of difficulty, according to how many times one used homology classes from the \( M_2 \) side: the more such homology classes one uses, the deeper one finds oneself in the Uhlenbeck compactification of the moduli space of anti-self-dual connections. For example, for four homology classes on the \( M_2 \) side, the answer had been worked out by Friedman and Morgan [2], who expressed this in terms of a familiar (top-stratum) singularity in a moduli space, described by a neighborhood of a reducible connection. For my thesis [e3], I worked out the cases which required understanding a four-dimensional stratum in the Uhlenbeck compactification. Other related results were obtained by Bryan [e7] and Leness [e8].
This was a problem I found deeply compelling; it fit very well with my mathematical temperament. John was also an ideal advisor. In addition to finding an excellent problem, he dispelled many mathematical misconceptions I had, seeing things with his hallmark clarity, and conveying that clarity with great patience.
Anyone who has made some completely misinformed remark while working with John is no doubt familiar with that distant look he gets in his eyes, while intoning quietly, in his gentle Texas drawl “I think we’re talking cross-purposes here.” I very quickly learned to try not to talk cross-purposes with him!
After John’s course ended, we continued our regular meetings. I took the train once a week from Princeton to New York City, where John would welcome me in his beautiful apartment. We chatted over hot tea in his living room. Our sessions were sometimes interrupted by a stroll to a local restaurant, where the mathematical conversations would continue over sandwiches.
Soon John and I realized that an interplay between the formal structure of Donaldson invariants, combined with some plausible formal properties of moduli spaces [1], would unlock the blowup formula in general. We set about writing this up, but this project was interrupted by three events, two mathematical and one personal.
First, in the backdrop of Kronheimer and Mrowka’s amazing “structure theorem” for Donaldson polynomials [e5], Fintushel and Stern computed the blowup formulas, in the case where is \( M_2=-{\mathbb CP}^2 \), by iterating the blowup procedure, and using a relation associated to embedded spheres with self-intersection number \( -2 \) [e6].
Second, I graduated and moved to California for a postdoctoral position at Caltech, under the supervision of Tom Mrowka.
Third, and most importantly, during my first Fall as a postdoc, Nathan Seiberg and Edward Witten [e4] revolutionized gauge theory by the introduction of a new equation which appeared to give us access to the same four-dimensional information with refreshingly fewer technical difficulties. In a matter of months, the entire community of smooth four-manifold topologists had turned from anti-self-dual Yang–Mills connections to solutions to the Seiberg–Witten equations.
Post-gauge theory
I owe a great deal to the mentoring John gave me as a graduate student; but I also had the good fortune to benefit from his mentoring later in my career. In 2002, I was offered a professorship at Columbia University, where I became John’s colleague. Shortly afterwards, John became Chair of the math department. During those years, Columbia’s mathematics department blossomed. In topology and geometry alone, Mikhail Khovanov, Robert Lipshitz, Dusa McDuff, Ciprian Manolescu, and Dylan Thurston soon joined the department, all this thanks in large part to John’s leadership.
Moreover, John encouraged me early to step out of my fairly isolated comfort zone and run seminars for graduate students on Heegaard Floer homology, which Zoltán Szabó and I were just starting to develop. I acquired many very talented students then, in an exciting atmosphere, surrounded by many postdocs and other younger faculty members. Fridays, for example, featured two or three outside speakers in low-dimensional topology.
During this time, I was able to see up close John’s administrative skills. His unrelenting vision for how to foster mathematical activity combined well with his knack for avoiding conflicts with colleagues, drawing on his patience and inner peace.
These were skills he also applied with success when he became the first director of the Simons Center for Geometry and Physics. His first challenge there, he explained to me, was to find the best available chef for the dining hall. A dining hall that can attract researchers with quality food would help to keep a cohesive community of scholars, and John took this task seriously. He methodically ate meals at fine restaurants and hotels in Long Island until he was satisfied he had found the right chef. After recruiting that chef, he turned to building a top-rate mathematics department, recruiting both Simon Donaldson and Kenji Fukaya as permanent members. To this day, the SCGP continues on the momentum initiated by John.
I would like to say a few more words here about John’s mathematical style. He has an ability to learn new subjects with what appears to be uncanny ease, to see through the complexities of those subjects, and then to contribute significantly to their further development. Before my student days, John had done this already with rational homotopy theory and then with hyperbolic geometry. I was a student in his heyday as a gauge theorist. Soon afterwards, he turned his attention to understanding the physics connected to the modern developments. When Grigori Perelman announced his proof of the Poincaré conjecture, which at the time was inscrutable even to many specialists, John turned his formidable mathematical skills to thoroughly digesting that proof, and presenting it to the wider mathematical audience, in a collaboration with Gang Tian [4], [5]. All of these contributions were made with John’s distinctive enthusiasm and clarity of vision.
I am grateful to John’s mentorship. The mathematical community has benefited greatly from his many contributions to topology and geometry.
Peter Ozsváth is a professor of mathematics at Princeton University. He wrote his thesis on gauge theory at Princeton in 1994 under the supervision of John Morgan. Ozsváth’s research interests are at the interface between low-dimensional topology and symplectic geometry.