in the 1950s,

he was already one of the most influential mathematicians of his time.

He'd published articles in international journals

and his textbooks were required reading.

Yet his application was firmly rejected for one simple reason—

Nicolas Bourbaki did not exist.

Two decades earlier, mathematics was in disarray.

Many established mathematicians had lost their lives in the first World War,

and the field had become fragmented.

Different branches used disparate methodology to pursue their own goals.

And the lack of a shared mathematical language

made it difficult to share or expand their work.

In 1934, a group of French mathematicians were particularly fed up.

While studying at the prestigious École normale supérieure,

they found the textbook for their calculus class so disjointed

that they decided to write a better one.

The small group quickly took on new members,

and as the project grew, so did their ambition.

The result was the "Éléments de mathématique,"

a treatise that sought to create a consistent logical framework

unifying every branch of mathematics.

The text began with a set of simple axioms—

laws and assumptions it would use to build its argument.

From there, its authors derived more and more complex theorems

that corresponded with work being done across the field.

But to truly reveal common ground,

the group needed to identify consistent rules

that applied to a wide range of problems.

To accomplish this, they gave new, clear definitions

to some of the most important mathematical objects,

including the function.

It's reasonable to think of functions as machines

that accept inputs and produce an output.

But if we think of functions as bridges between two groups,

we can start to make claims about the logical relationships between them.

For example, consider a group of numbers and a group of letters.

We could define a function where every numerical input corresponds

to the same alphabetical output,

but this doesn't establish a particularly interesting relationship.

Alternatively, we could define a function where every numerical input

corresponds to a different alphabetical output.

This second function sets up a logical relationship

where performing a process on the input has corresponding effects

on its mapped output.

The group began to define functions by how they mapped elements across domains.

If a function's output came from a unique input,

they defined it as injective.

If every output can be mapped onto at least one input,

the function was surjective.

And in bijective functions, each element had perfect one to one correspondence.

This allowed mathematicians to establish logic that could be translated

across the function's domains in both directions.

Their systematic approach to abstract principles

was in stark contrast to the popular belief that math was an intuitive science,

and an over-dependence on logic constrained creativity.

But this rebellious band of scholars gleefully ignored conventional wisdom.

They were revolutionizing the field, and they wanted to mark the occasion

with their biggest stunt yet.

They decided to publish "Éléments de mathématique"

and all their subsequent work under a collective pseudonym:

Nicolas Bourbaki.

Over the next two decades, Bourbaki's publications became standard references.

And the group's members took their prank as seriously as their work.

Their invented mathematician claimed to be a reclusive Russian genius

who would only meet with his selected collaborators.

They sent telegrams in Bourbaki's name, announced his daughter's wedding,

and publicly insulted anyone who doubted his existence.

In 1968, when they could no longer maintain the ruse,

the group ended their joke the only way they could.

They printed Bourbaki's obituary, complete with mathematical puns.

Despite his apparent death, the group bearing Bourbaki's name lives on today.

Though he's not associated with any single major discovery,

Bourbaki's influence informs much current research.

And the modern emphasis on formal proofs owes a great deal to his rigorous methods.

Nicolas Bourbaki may have been imaginary— but his legacy is very real.