전설적인 에르되시 문제들이 AI에 굴복하는 이유

Home Why the Legendary Erdős Problems Are Falling to AI Comment Save Article Read Later Share Facebook Copied! Copy link Email Pocket Reddit Ycombinator Comment Comments Save Article Read Later Read Later artificial intelligence Why the Legendary Erdős Problems Are Falling to AI By Konstantin Kakaes August 3, 2026 AI’s greatest mathematical successes have come from answers to problems posed by a mid-20th century iconoclast. By examining what makes the Erdős problems unique, mathematicians are trying to understand how AI might change the rest of math. Comment Save Article Read Later O n May 20, 2026, OpenAI made an announcement that shook the mathematical world. An internal AI model — one not available to the public — had come up with a counterexample to the “unit distance” problem , a conjecture made in 1946 by Paul Erdős, the prolific, itinerant Hungarian mathematician. Erdős posed thousands of questions, but this one was special: It was both simple to explain and mathematically deep. It was the first historically significant proof to come from an AI model. Though the model’s result wasn’t definitive — human mathematicians would substantially improve on it within weeks — it was innovative, bringing in ideas from a distant branch of math that no one had successfully applied to this problem before. And it was influential: Within a few days, related techniques were used to solve other important problems. Then on August 1, OpenAI announced that an unreleased model named Astra made 10 additional mathematical advances, including finding solutions to three more problems posed by Erdős. Many mathematicians have hailed developments such as these as a phase transition in the mathematical capability of AI models. These models are “changing dramatically the way mathematical research is being done,” said Noga Alon of Princeton University, who has solved dozens of Erdős problems over his decades-long career. Erdős and his conjectures have long fascinated mathematicians. He traveled constantly — living out of a suitcase for years at a time, staying with friends, owning almost nothing. He rattled off problems in published papers and letters to mathematicians around the world, often attaching prize money that he would pay out of pocket to the first person to come up with a solution. The reward might be a token $10 or $25, or, for problems he considered important or difficult, it could range into the thousands. Erdős died of a heart attack in 1996 while attending a math conference in Warsaw, but a nonprofit foundation based in Iowa has promised to make good on his bounties. He was a beloved figure, but also a downright weird one. He only wore silk, and he avoided the touch of other people. Deeply cynical about authority, he gave away most of the money he earned and relied on a friend to manage his finances and other practical affairs. He referred to God as the “Supreme Fascist” and fueled his incessant output of mathematical ideas with a steady diet of amphetamines. It is a strange irony of history that the problems he suggested have now become a central proving ground — and, in effect, a series of PR coups — for the world’s biggest and most powerful technology companies. But in all likelihood none of this would have happened had it not been for an English mathematician named Thomas Bloom . Many Meetings Like Erdős, Bloom was interested in both number theory and combinatorics. His focus has been an area called arithmetic combinatorics, which lies at the intersection of the two. After getting his doctorate in 2014, Bloom established himself as a rising star in the field, landing a prestigious fellowship from Britain’s Royal Society , which let him work at almost any university he wanted to. (He’s now at the University of Manchester.) Bloom has liked Erdős’ style for as long as he can remember. But he always found it hard to keep track of which problems had been solved and which had been forgotten entirely. So in early 2023, he decided to gather as many problems as he could into a list. He intended it for his own use. But “I thought it would be easier if I could access it wherever I was,” he said; he figured he “might as well make a website, kind of with the expectation that maybe nobody would use it.” He gathered a couple hundred problems and launched erdosproblems.com . Bloom used ChatGPT to write the Python code that ran the website, which was, at the time, a remarkable thing for a large language model to be able to do. Using one to collaborate on the math itself still seemed like only a distant possibility. His goal was not just to cross items off a list. He wondered if “modern day mathematics, often using techniques unknown by Erdős, could clear up many of these more obscure problems,” he wrote in a blog post . “We will then be left with a core of interesting, difficult problems, which can serve to demonstrate the limits of our knowledge.” Bloom did crucial work in curating the list: Sometimes Erdős stated problems in ambiguous or unclear ways, and Bloom figured out what the most sensible version of each problem should be. He kept adding problems to the site, and gradually its audience grew. Over the course of 2024 and the first eight months of 2025, the statuses of 111 problems on the list were changed from “open” to “solved” (although some of these had been solved years earlier, and their status change reflected the rediscovery or verification of a proof). Then, in August 2025, some colleagues suggested that Bloom add a commenting function, so that people could talk about problems they were interested in. He was able to do so quickly, using ChatGPT to write the code. By now he’d cataloged nearly 1,000 problems. Bloom’s timing was good. He made it possible for like-minded people to talk to one another, and that “really let a community build up,” he said. For the most part, comments were sporadic — a problem might attract a single comment pointing out an example or noting how hard the problem looked. But activity steadily grew, and some problems catalyzed nuanced mathematical discussions between strangers. “Tom probably never really realized this, but for me it’s honestly changed my life,” said Wouter van Doorn, the fourth-most-prolific commenter on Bloom’s website. Like many people who became active on the site in the autumn of 2025, van Doorn isn’t exactly a professional mathematician. He works “for a company that gets hired by other companies to do customer service support,” as he put it. But he isn’t exactly an amateur either — a decade prior, he almost completed a master’s degree in math at KU Leuven in Belgium. In 2024, spurred in part by how capable he saw LLMs getting, he took a six-month leave of absence from work to focus on math. At the time, while he didn’t particularly want to use AI, he remembers thinking, “Right now I’m still better at mathematics than an AI is, but who knows what it’ll be in a year, two years, five years? If I want to finish these projects, and I want them to be mine, now is the time.” And so, in October 2025, van Doorn, now back at his day job, left the first comment on the page for Problem 1102 . The problem, which Erdős posed in 1981, asks about properties of sets of “square-free” integers — that is, integers that have no repeated prime factors. (For instance, 30 is square-free because it is equal to 2 × 3 × 5, but 18 is not, because it is equal to 2 × 3 × 3; the 3 repeats.) In early November, van Doorn shared progress toward an answer — which he’d figured out without relying on AI — as a comment on the problem page. Later that day, another commenter on the site replied, claiming he had found a flaw in van Doorn’s argument. The two traded remarks in rapid succession, and van Doorn convinced his interlocutor that his argument was correct. “I see how your argument works now. Nice!” the other mathematician replied. That other mathematician was Terence Tao , a professor at the University of California, Los Angeles who is arguably