In Frederic Schuller’s Geometric Anatomy of Theoretical Physics, the order is very deliberate:
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logic → sets
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sets → topological spaces
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topological spaces → manifolds
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manifolds → tangent spaces
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tangent spaces → bundles
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bundles → symmetry (groups, Lie groups)
As a result, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to add structure to a set. Topology is one of the cleanest places where this question shows up.
Topology begins in a place that looks almost too simple to matter: with a set. A set is just a collection of elements. At this stage there is no geometry, no notion of distance, no idea of closeness or continuity. The elements could be numbers, points, or abstract objects, but the set itself carries no information beyond membership. Two sets with the same elements are indistinguishable, and nothing inside the set tells us how its elements relate to one another.
The moment we start asking questions like which points are near each other, what it means to move smoothly, or whether a shape has a hole, a bare set is no longer enough. We need structure. Topology is the study of what happens when we add the weakest possible structure that still lets us talk about continuity. Instead of introducing distances or angles, topology takes a different route. It asks us to specify which subsets of our set should be considered open.
A topological space is a set together with a collection of subsets called open sets, chosen so that three simple rules hold. The empty set and the whole set are open, arbitrary unions of open sets are open, and finite intersections of open sets are open. These rules are not arbitrary. They encode exactly what is needed to talk about local behavior. Once open sets are fixed, we have a precise notion of when points are near each other, even though no distances have been mentioned.
This shift is subtle but powerful. In topology, continuity is no longer defined using limits or epsilons. A function between two topological spaces is continuous if the preimage of every open set is open. Continuity becomes a structural property rather than a numerical one. Because of this, topology focuses on properties that remain unchanged under continuous deformations. Stretching and bending are allowed, tearing and gluing are not. This is why, from a topological point of view, a coffee mug and a donut are the same object: each has a single hole, and that feature survives all continuous distortions.
So far, this perspective is global. But many spaces that are globally complicated behave very simply when examined closely. If you zoom in far enough on the surface of a sphere, it looks flat. The Earth feels like a plane when you stand on it, even though it is curved as a whole. Topology captures this idea by focusing on local neighborhoods. Instead of asking what a space looks like everywhere at once, it asks what it looks like near each point.
This leads naturally to the idea of a topological manifold. A manifold is a topological space with the property that every point has a neighborhood that looks like ordinary Euclidean space. Locally, the space behaves like ( \mathbb{R}^n ), even if globally it twists, curves, or folds back on itself. Additional technical conditions ensure that points can be separated and that the space is not pathologically large, but the core idea is local simplicity paired with global complexity.
Circles, spheres, and tori are all examples of manifolds. Each looks like flat space in small regions, but has a distinct global structure. This combination is what makes manifolds so important. They are the natural setting for calculus, geometry, and physics. Motion, fields, and differential equations all make sense locally, while topology governs the global constraints.
What topology deliberately forgets are exact distances, angles, and curvature. What it keeps are deeper features such as connectedness, continuity, and the number of holes in a space. This selective forgetting is not a loss of information but a refinement of attention. By stripping away what is inessential, topology reveals what truly persists.
Seen this way, topology is not an abstract detour but a careful progression. Starting from sets, we add just enough structure to speak about nearness and continuity, and from there arrive at spaces that are flexible enough to describe the shapes underlying geometry and physics. Once that viewpoint settles in, topology stops feeling optional. It begins to feel like the natural language for talking about form without coordinates.
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