Home
About INCTR
Organization
Programs
INCTR AWARDS
Membership
Meetings
Newsletter
Publications
Helping
Helping
inctr contact us
inctr
publications

The President's Message

The Measure of Cancer

Part 2. Analysis

by Ian Magrath

Such harmony is in immortal souls; but whilst this bloody vesture of decay doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. Lorenzo, Merchant of Venice Act V, Scene I, William Shakespeare.


sunflower
Fibonacci spirals (see Figure 2) are found everywhere in nature since they provide optimal spacing and packaging. In daisies, marigolds, chrysanthemums and sunflowers, the seed arrangements in the flowers form such spirals, in which the numbers of seeds in clockwise and anticlockwise spirals are adjacent in the Fibonacci series.


Plato, in The Republic, advocated a lengthy process of education for the prospective leaders of his ideal city-state, culminating in the study of “pure philosophy” or dialectic - in essence an ability to reason on the highest plane. Only penetrating logic unbiased by appearances would, he believed, lead to knowledge of the ultimate reality that lies beneath the ever changing world of the senses, and only individuals capable of this level of objectivity and integrity were fit to govern. In preparation for the final phase of the intellectual development of prospective guardians of society Plato recommended a thorough grounding in all branches of mathematics, which then included arithmetic, plain and solid geometry, astronomy and musical harmony. This educational prescription was remarkably prescient, for our present concepts of energy and matter and of the laws that describe their interactions derive largely from the work of theoretical physicists using the tools of mathematical analysis. Such illustrious minds, unfortunately, have rarely been applied to political leadership.

Plato taught that there are several levels of comprehension, ranging from those based purely on sensory impressions to eventual understanding, through dialectic, of the first principles, or Eidos (Ideas, or Forms), which he took to be the unchanging constants underlying the varying manifestations of the objects we perceive (aisthetón). He illustrated these mental states by the use of his now well-known similes - the Sun, the Divided Line and the Cave (Figure 1). Scientific understanding is perhaps the modern equivalent of Plato’s Eidos, but present ideas of the “underlying truths” are scarcely less tangible than the Forms, being enveloped in words which conjure up only vague images (such as quark, or anti-matter), or expressed as mathematical equations, sometimes complex and sometimes disarmingly simple (e.g., E = mc2). Effectively, the words and equations are the understanding. But in contrast to the imprecise nature of Plato’s Forms, the equations of modern physics can be tested to an exquisite degree of particularity, thanks to the emergence of scientific methodology some 2000 years after Plato’s death. Henceforth, the dialectic of natural philosophers, renamed “scientists” by William Whewell in the 19th century, would derive from far more substantial fare than that available in ancient Greece. Thought alone, however erudite, can never approach reality unless founded upon fact. Such facts we refer to as data. Data (singular, datum, from the Latin for something “given”), are derived from the observation of natural events (such as the occurrence of specific cancers at different incidence rates in different environments), or from experiments, whereby the results of carefully designed and executed interventions (such as the uniform administration of a particular therapy) are equally carefully measured. Plato recognized the importance of mathematics - that is, the rules of numerical calculation, whether arithmetical or geometrical - as the foundation of logic. But he lived in an era when numbers dealt with specific circumstances and were largely fixed to the tangible objects they enumerated, when the concept of zero did not exist, and when even movement (and hence change of any kind) was seen as mathematically paradoxical, at least by one school of thought (that of Parmedides and Zeno). Logic, inevitably, remained as tightly tethered to the world of the senses as were the numbers from which it derived, prohibiting anything more than the most superficial penetration beyond outward appearances. The very idea of “laws” of nature, in essence fundamental generalizations that apply to a broad, if not infinite, range of circumstances, was inconceivable. Modern science, in which elementary particles or unimaginably small effects on a gravitational field are sought entirely on the basis of predictions derived from mathematical equations, stands in dramatic contrast. As such, its emergence became possible only after a profound revolution in the very concept of number, and hence in calculation - a slow, stuttering revolution that occurred in the course of many centuries, eventually giving birth to a third major branch of mathematics - algebra.

This seminal step exceeded the capacity of a single human mind, however great. It came about, therefore, as series of smaller steps, each taken without a clear sense of where it might lead. The embryo of the central idea - that of abstract numbers - had lurked in the minds of the ancient philosophers for centuries. It underwent further development by mathematicians in the great library of Alexandria who continued in the tradition of the ancient Greeks. But the critical element was the development of much more flexible number systems in India in the course of the 4th and 5th centuries CE. The brilliant Muslim cultures, geographically interposed between the two main branches of the Indo-European races and nourished by the wisdom of their Near Eastern forebears, including Babylonians, Egyptians and Persians, as well as mathematicians from distant China, were ideally placed, physically and mentally, to bring these intellectual worlds together. After a lengthy gestation period in the courts of the Caliphs, algebra was born in its modern form in renaissance Europe and grew to maturity as successive mathematicians developed new analytic methods, bringing together the once separate domains of arithmetic and geometry and leading to new mathematical approaches to the analysis of data. The logical foundation of scientific understanding is truly a child of all of mankind.

Abacists and Algorists

The remarkable tool of mathematical analysis is named after a book imposingly entitled Hisab Al Jabr wa’l Muqabala (Transposition and Reduction) written by the Persian/ Arab astronomer and mathematician, Muhammad Al-Khwarizmi, born around 783 CE. Al-Khwarizmi lived at the court of Caliph Mu’Am and worked in the famed “House of Wisdom”- the equivalent, in medieval Baghdad, of a scientific academy - translating the works of the ancient Greeks, Romans and Byzantines. Al-Khwarizmi’s book described two important steps in the solution of equations, and although his descriptions were in words rather than symbols, his book made a sufficient impression for an abbreviation of its title to become the name of the new branch of mathematics. Al-Khwarizmi also studied Indian texts and it is from the title of the extant Latin version of his book Algoritmi de Numero Indorum (Al-Khwarizmi on the Hindu Art of Reckoning) that the use of the word algorithm to describe a series of steps in a mathematical or logical operation is derived. Al-Khwarizmi and his followers, who became known as algorists, eschewed the abacus (used widely in those days as a calculating machine by mathematicians known as abacists) in favor of calculations performed with Indian numerals, including the zero, written in dust or sand. Today, the sand has transformed into silicon chips, for algoriths are the building blocks of computer programs.

Our modern numerical notational system, consisting of nine symbols and zero, derives from the numerals invented by Indian astronomers and mathematicians at the time of the 4th century CE Gupta dynasty. The zero, as well as indicating no-thing at all, was used for the first time as a place holder in a place-value system. Such systems use multiplication of a base number to generate different sized sets of numbers which are then enumerated, the value of each set in any given number being represented by a different position. They differ markedly from additive systems in which each number simply follows the next and has its own name and symbol. This works well for small series of numbers, but would require prodigious feats of memory for large series. In contrast, place-value systems require only one less numeral than the base. Such systems are intrinsically more abstract than additive systems, since numbers tend to lose their individual characteristics and an infinite series of numbers can be generated by a simple rule. Moreover, zero itself is an abstract concept. Most place-value systems are decimal, that is, based on ten (the original “digital” system!) and its multiples. Many other bases have been used in the past, and their remnants persist today - for example, the sixty-based Babylonian system has given us our circle of 360° and triangle of 180°. In the decimal system, the nine numbers and zero are used repeatedly to indicate, in any given number, the value (number) of the sets of hundreds, tens, units, etc., or the absence of a particular set. In the late Middle Ages, this system of counting was transmitted to Europeans by Arab scholars, along with the works of Greek mathematicians such as Archimedes, Euclid and Diophantus and their own important contributions. For this reason our modern numerals are still referred to as Arabic.

Figure 1
Figure 1. Plato’s Divided Line simile showing the various mental states, from lowest to highest. Modern science, as shown on the right, has no room for unsupported opinion.

One of the most important, and earliest links between the Hindu-Arabic number system and European mathematics was the Italian mathematician Fibonacci, otherwise known as Leonardo of Pisa (1170-1250). He began and spent much of his life in Pisa, Italy, but was brought up and taught mathematics in North Africa, in a port town called Bugia (now Bejaia) in modern Algeria, where his father represented Pisan merchants to the customs authorities. In his book, Liber Abaci (1202), which had little or nothing to do with the abacus (the title was, in its day, religiously correct, for the church frowned upon any form of islamic influence), he described the nine Indian numerals and zero, which he had learned about in Bugia. He also provided a large collection of problems aimed at merchants and described the famous Fibonacci series thus: A certain man put a pair of rabbits in a place surrounded on all sides by a wall. How many pairs of rabbits can be produced from that pair in a year if it is supposed that every month each pair begets a new pair which from the second month on becomes productive? This series, in which each number is the sum of the two preceding numbers, occurs frequently in nature, being the mathematical basis of a type of spiral curve which occurs in the Nautilus shell (Figure 2), as well as in various seed, leaf and petal arrangements. The numbers in a Fibonacci series also lead to the Golden Proportion or Ratio (1.618034), said to have been derived by the Greek sculptor, Phidias, (hence its symbol, the Greek letter, phi) from the proportion of limb length to height of women “pleasing to his eye.” The golden ratio is converged upon as the Fibonacci series tends to infinity, being the ratio between one number and the preceding number. Because it allows a limit to be reached in the smallest number of steps, a modified Fibonacci series has often been used as the basis for dosage increments in “phase I” clinical studies in which the maximally tolerated dose of a new drug is sought.

.
Figure 2
Figure 2. Fibonacci numbers, showing how the use of this sequence to create a series of squares leads to the Fibonacci spiral, which is seen in the Nautilus shell (a cephalopod related to octopuses and squids that has existed for 500 million years). See also the photograph on the front page. The Divided Line simile is superimposed.

Ars Analytica

Muslim and early European mathematicians lacked a means of symbolically representing generalized numbers, and it was Francisco Vieta (François Viète, 1540-1603), a French jurist who studied cosmology and astronomy in his spare time, who laid out the foundations of symbolic algebra in his work In Artem Analyticem Isogoge (Introduction to the Analytic Art). Vieta drew upon the writings of two Alexandrian mathematicians, Diophantus, whose Arithmetica dates from the 3rd century CE, and Pappus, whose somewhat later Synagogue (Mathematical Collection) dealt mainly with problems in geometry. He recognized that algebra was a general theory of proportions, expressed in equations, and that it could be applied to both geometry and arithmetic. He was well aware that “things that are new are wont to be set forward rudely and formlessly, and then must be polished and perfected in succeeding centuries,” but nevertheless, appreciated that algebra, the “Ars Magna,” had a fundamental place in the system of knowledge, enabling the world to be perceived in terms of its underlying harmonious structure or symmetry, and as a “lawfully” ordered course of events, rather than simply a collection of countable entities.

Scientific analysis is the necessary foundation of all attempts to improve socioeconomic conditions and to control disease, including cancer.

Mathematical analysis gradually came to be perceived as a process whereby solutions to specific questions can be obtained by inserting numbers (data points), into previously established equations that express general relationships between one thing and another. Improvements in symbolic representation and methods of calculation created ever more powerful means of expressing such relationships, and hence of predicting the outcome of a broad variety of interactions. In 1582, Simon Stevin of Flanders greatly simplified calculations by using decimal fractions in place of ordinary fractions. Pierre de Fermat, another French magistrate, and his contemporary, René Descartes, invented analytic algebra, whereby the sets of points that define lines, curves and surfaces could be represented by algebraic equations. Descartes’ treatise on this topic, Géométrie, appeared in 1637, but Fermat, who claimed to be content simply to discover the truth, failed to publish his work, thereby involuntarily ceding primacy to Descartes. Descartes used the later letters of the alphabet, x, y and z, as symbols for variables and the early letters, a, b and c, for constants in alge.braic equations. This convention superceded Vieta’s earlier system, and has persisted to the present day. Descartes also introduced the superscript notation to indicate positive powers, such as 103, and a system of coordinates to represent points in space - a critical element in the graphical depiction of change. In the latter part of the 17th century Newton and Leibnitz invented differential and integral calculus - methods for analyzing continuous change (fluxion was Newton’s term), including shape, quantity, position, movement, speed and time. Ironically, Zeno’s paradoxes, which had appeared to show that motion, if considered as the successive halving of distance ad infinitum, is mathematically impossible, were finally resolved by a method based on the mathematical manipulation of infinitesimally small changes. As Plato had recognized, the natural world is about change, and the powerful mathematical techniques developed to express interrelationships quantitatively led to major advances in scientific understanding. But knowledge cannot be derived from the mere manipulation of numbers, or algebraic symbols. It relies heavily upon an additional ingredient - imagination. Science is driven by hypothesis, i.e., a proposed explanation for a set of observations (data). The ability to use reason to create hypotheses goes beyond mathematics, and corresponds, perhaps, to Plato’s dialectic. It is the testing of such hypotheses by seeking additional data (re-search), experimentally where necessary, that distinguishes scientific knowledge from beliefs that are not based on the rational interpretation of factual information.

Data versus Doxa

Plato, in his paradigm of the Line, separated knowledge (episteme) from opinion or supposition (doxa). Doxa, according to Plato, derives purely from sensory impressions, i.e., from the appearance of things. Direct experience results in belief (pistis), but shadows or reflections can only create impressions or illusions (eikasaia). Whilst Greek words used some 2,500 years ago cannot always be precisely translated, Plato’s message is not only clear, but as valid today as it was then - knowledge cannot be based on unsubstantiated belief or conjecture. And without knowledge, human actions or interventions in the physical world will be both irrational and entirely ineffective. Much of medical treatment in the past (with a residuum that persists today) has been based on doxa unsupported by data (e.g., purging, bleeding, cupping) and has often resulted in more harm than good. Successful prevention or treatment of disease, including cancer, does not necessarily require a detailed understanding of the causes of the disease or of therapeutic mechanisms, although such knowledge permits more precise interventions with fewer side effects. We stand, today, at the beginning of an era of rationally designed cancer therapy, but much of the progress in cancer control to date has derived from empirical observations, which also provide the raw material for the development and testing of hypotheses. Meaningful analyses of this kind must begin with high quality data, much of which is in the form of simple counts. The countable entities (e.g., the number of cancers in a population, or responses to a given drug) must, as always, be carefully defined and the data meticulously collected, documented and stored.

The generation of knowledge through the analysis of accurate data is a very different process from the proof of a mathematical theorem. The latter involves the application of a series of formal (mathematical) rules to already proven theorems which themselves depend, ultimately, upon a number of foundational assumptions taken to be self-evidently true (such as Euclid’s five axioms, updated by Hilbert in 1899). Once established, a mathematical proof is absolute and stands for all time. Many theorems were proven in ancient times. Indeed, Euclid's Elements remained the primary source of the proofs of geometrical theorems and of mathematical rules in geometry until the 19th century. In contrast, the validity of a hypothesis is examined by making a judgement as to whether the relevant data support or refute it. While occasionally, the result of an experiment, or trial, designed to test a hypothesis is sufficiently obvious as to require no formal analysis (e.g., the cure of a high fraction of patients in a formerly fatal disease) this is not often the case. Since different informal observers may draw different conclusions from the same data set, the scientific method includes the use of objective methods to measure the degree of certainty, i.e., the probability, that a hypothesis is correct.

Ars Conjectandi

Probability theory has become a critically important branch of mathematics and is as important to the design of clinical experiments involving human subjects (clinical trials) as it is to the analysis of the results obtained. Its foundations were laid by Blaise Pascal and Pierre de Fermat in a series of letters they exchanged in the course of the summer of 1654 dealing with the mathematics of games of chance, such as the likelihood of throwing a double six with two dice. Just as a hypothesis cannot be absolutely proven, there is never absolute certainty that a double six will be thrown. However, with a sufficiently large number of throws (trials) the likelihood of not throwing a double six becomes extremely small, and as Fermat and Pascal showed, it can be calculated. In December of the same year that Fermat and Pascal corresponded in France, another gifted mathematician was born in Switzerland. Jakob Bernoulli was responsible, among other things, for major advances in probability theory, building upon the work of his French predecessors. His name is associated with the “Bernoulli trial,” an experiment with a dichotomous outcome, that is, the result is one of two possibilities, in this case, independent of each other, i.e., the outcome of one trial (usually referred to as a success or failure) has no impact on the outcome of another (as in tossing a coin). For any given number of Bernoulli trials, the probability of there being a specific number of successes and failures can be calculated precisely, as Jakob Bernoulli showed in his book, Ars Conjectandi (The Art of Conjecturing). In clinical trials designed to test the value of a particular treatment, the outcome for each patient can be dichotomous (e.g., survival or death), but the complexity of this situation is far beyond that of tossing a coin since there are many factors (or variables) which determine response, including the treatment itself and various patient characteristics, some of which are dependent, while others may be independent. Mathematical approaches (multivariate analyses) to determining the relative weights of such variables have been developed and are used to identify independent risk factors that predict prognosis in a particular disease with a particular treatment. Such information permits treatment decisions to be rationally made, i.e., evidence- based. Care must be taken to ensure that evidence is not inappropriately misapplied, which can happen when all the relevant factors are not taken into consideration. Cancer treatment, for example, is largely based on data from affluent countries, yet similar approaches are often applied, untested, to very different patient populations in developing countries (Figure 3). To assume their universal validity is to use doxa instead of episteme in guiding treatment policy. Probability theory is also used to calculate the number of patients that are required in a clinical trial designed to test the hypothesis that one intervention is superior to another. The calculation of the power of a study to demonstrate a difference, which reflects the degree of certainty that the difference between the interventions, if present, would be detected, can be used for this purpose - by specifying the anticipated difference and the degree of certainty required.

Figure 3
Figure 3. Survival curves demonstrating how different patient populations (A and B), in which there are different proportions of high, low and intermediate risk patients, may have quite different outcomes with the same therapy.

Another major contribution made by Bernoulli is his Law of Large Numbers, or as he called it, his Golden Theorem. This law states that the more trials that take place, the closer the proportion of successes will be to the proportion that applies to an individual trial (namely, for the tossing of a coin, 0.5). Although it may seem to be self-evident, Bernoulli was able to provide a mathematical proof of this theorem, which is a cornerstone of probability theory. It permits the determination of the probability that any given number of successes in a sufficiently large series is more, or no more, than could be expected by chance alone - a determination that is critical to epidemiological and therapeutic research. It allows rational judgements to be made, for example, as to whether exposure to a particular substance, or the presence of an inherited genetic abnormality, increases the risk of developing cancer. Today, the quantification of risk has evolved from the simpler calculation provided by the Russian mathematician, Pafnuty Chebyshev, in which the observed value (e.g., the number of cancers in an exposed population) is compared to the expected value - i.e., that observed in a control population. Once again, the validity of the conclusion is dependent upon the number of observations made and the population size. These statistics are taken into consideration in the calculation of the relative risk, i.e., the ratio of the risk of an event happening in one group to its risk in another.

Cancer treatment is largely based on data from affluent countries, yet similar approaches are often applied, untested, to very different patient populations in developing countries.
Plato was probably correct in his belief that the ideal civil society he proposed would never exist. But his idea that the guardians of society should be trained in mathematics and the ability to reason has proved, in another sense, to be correct; scientific analysis is today the foundation of all attempts to improve socioeconomic conditions and to control disease, including cancer. The Ars Magna, well polished in the course of four centuries, provided a critically important tool which has been successful in revealing much of the harmony of a lawfully ordered world. The challenge, in the context of cancer control, is to increase the rate at which knowledge is acquired, particularly in the developing countries, while simultaneously translating existing knowledge into broad, effective action. For, ensuring that all peoples benefit from their collective invention would surely fall within Plato's definition of justice, which he offers in the pages of The Republic.



 NETWORK Home
  The President's Message
 
The Measure of Cancer

  Article
 
Perspectives In Palliative Care In Tanzania

  Case Report
 
A Patient with Cancer of the Bilharzial Bladder

  Forum
 
Bringing Health and Hope To the People of Armenia

  News
 
News Items

  Partner Profile
 
MAHAK: An Iranian Charity Organization for Children suffering from Cancer

  Profiles in Cancer Medicine
 

Dr. Hussein Khaled, Dean of NCI, Cairo


Copyright © 2010 The International Network For Cancer Treatment and Research