Introduction to Metric Spaces

What if "distance" didn't mean a ruler? A taxi in Manhattan cannot cut diagonally through a city block — for it, the distance between two corners is the number of blocks driven, not the crow-flies length. A chess king measures distance in moves: three squares east and two north is three moves away, because a diagonal step covers both directions at once. A spell-checker measures the distance between recieve and receive in edit operations. And in uniform convergence you have already measured the distance between two functions as the biggest gap between their graphs.

Four rulers, four utterly different notions of "how far" — and yet every argument in analysis you have met so far leans on just a handful of properties of the humble |x - y|. Distil those properties into axioms, and something remarkable happens: limits, continuity, convergence, completeness — the whole machinery — runs unchanged in every one of these worlds. Prove a theorem once, from the axioms, and it holds for numbers, for points of the plane under any of these distances, for spaces of functions, for words in a dictionary. That abstraction is the metric space, and it is the gateway from calculus into modern analysis.

A metric on a set X is a function d : X \times X \to [0, \infty) assigning a distance to each pair of points, subject to three axioms. For all x, y, z \in X:

\textbf{(M1)} \;\; d(x, y) \ge 0, \quad \text{and} \quad d(x, y) = 0 \iff x = y \qquad (\text{positivity / identity}), \textbf{(M2)} \;\; d(x, y) = d(y, x) \qquad (\text{symmetry}), \textbf{(M3)} \;\; d(x, z) \le d(x, y) + d(y, z) \qquad (\text{the triangle inequality}).

The pair (X, d) is a metric space. Notice what the axioms do not say: nothing about coordinates, angles, straight lines, or even numbers. X is a bare set — its "points" may be words, sequences, functions, matrices. If a rule for measuring gaps obeys (M1)–(M3), all of analysis is open for business on it.

Earning each axiom: what breaks without it

Axioms should never be a shopping list to memorise — each one is there because dropping it destroys something you need.

One pleasant economy: you never need to check d \ge 0 separately. From the other axioms, 0 = d(x, x) \le d(x, y) + d(y, x) = 2\,d(x, y) — non-negativity is free.

A metric space is a pair (X, d) with d : X \times X \to [0, \infty) satisfying, for all x, y, z:

When you meet a candidate "distance", (M1) and (M2) are usually a glance — (M3) is where the real audit happens, and where most impostors fail. You saw (x - y)^2 fail above; squaring any honest metric tends to break (M3) the same way, because squaring rewards one long hop over two short ones.

Two more traps for the intuition:

A gallery of metrics

Worked example 1: the taxicab metric really is a metric

Claim: d_1(x, y) = |x_1 - y_1| + |x_2 - y_2| satisfies (M1)–(M3) on \mathbb{R}^2.

(M1). A sum of two absolute values is \ge 0, and it equals 0 only when both terms vanish — that is, when x_1 = y_1 and x_2 = y_2, i.e. x = y. (Note the "and": one matching coordinate is not enough, which is exactly why the identity axiom quantifies over the whole point.)

(M2). |x_i - y_i| = |y_i - x_i| coordinate by coordinate, so the sum is symmetric.

(M3). The one-dimensional triangle inequality |a + b| \le |a| + |b| gives, in each coordinate,

|x_i - z_i| = |(x_i - y_i) + (y_i - z_i)| \le |x_i - y_i| + |y_i - z_i|.

Add the two coordinate inequalities and regroup:

d_1(x, z) = \sum_{i=1}^{2} |x_i - z_i| \;\le\; \sum_{i=1}^{2} |x_i - y_i| + \sum_{i=1}^{2} |y_i - z_i| = d_1(x, y) + d_1(y, z).

Done — the grid-walking distance is a genuine metric, and the same argument works in \mathbb{R}^n for any n. Notice the strategy, because it recurs throughout analysis: reduce a many-dimensional triangle inequality to the one-dimensional one, coordinate by coordinate, then sum.

Worked example 2: the Euclidean metric obeys the triangle inequality

For d_2, positivity and symmetry are again immediate (a square root of a sum of squares is \ge 0 and vanishes only when every coordinate matches; swapping x and y changes nothing). The real work is the triangle inequality — and this time no coordinate-by-coordinate shortcut exists, because the square root tangles the coordinates together. Write the claim with displacement vectors u = x - y and v = y - z, so that x - z = u + v and the claim becomes \|u + v\| \le \|u\| + \|v\|.

Step 1 — square the target. Both sides are non-negative, so it suffices to compare their squares. Expand using the dot product:

\|u + v\|^2 = (u + v) \cdot (u + v) = \|u\|^2 + 2\,(u \cdot v) + \|v\|^2.

Step 2 — bound the cross term by Cauchy–Schwarz. The one fact we borrow is the Cauchy–Schwarz inequality |u \cdot v| \le \|u\|\,\|v\|. In particular u \cdot v \le \|u\|\,\|v\|, so

\|u + v\|^2 \le \|u\|^2 + 2\,\|u\|\,\|v\| + \|v\|^2.

Step 3 — recognise a perfect square. The right-hand side is (\|u\| + \|v\|)^2:

\|u + v\|^2 \le \big(\|u\| + \|v\|\big)^2.

Step 4 — take square roots. Both sides are non-negative, and the square root is increasing, so

\|u + v\| \le \|u\| + \|v\|.

Step 5 — translate back to distances. Substituting u = x - y and v = y - z gives exactly (M3):

d_2(x, z) = \|x - z\| \le \|x - y\| + \|y - z\| = d_2(x, y) + d_2(y, z).

So Euclidean distance is a genuine metric. Geometrically this is the schoolroom fact that any side of a triangle is at most the sum of the other two — a detour through y is never shorter than the straight path.

Worked example 3: the discrete metric — weird but legal

On any set X whatsoever, define

d(x, y) = \begin{cases} 0 & x = y, \\ 1 & x \ne y. \end{cases}

(M1) and (M2) hold by construction. For (M3), check d(x, z) \le d(x, y) + d(y, z) by cases: if x = z the left side is 0 and there is nothing to prove. If x \ne z, the left side is 1 — and y cannot equal both x and z, so at least one term on the right is 1. Every case checks out: a metric.

Its geometry is gloriously strange. Every point sits in splendid isolation: the ball B(x, \tfrac{1}{2}) contains only x itself, so every singleton — indeed every subset — is an open set. Every function out of a discrete space is continuous. And, as the "Watch out!" box warned, a sequence converges only by eventually sitting still. The discrete metric is the standard stress test: whenever you conjecture "surely every metric space behaves like \mathbb{R}^n…", run it past the discrete metric first.

The shape of "within radius r": the iconic picture

Here is the picture every analyst carries in their head. Fix a centre and a radius r, and draw the open ball B(0, r) = \{\, y : d(0, y) < r \,\} in three different metrics on the same plane. In the Euclidean metric d_2 it is the familiar round disc. In the taxicab metric d_1 it is a diamond — the set |x| + |y| < r, whose corners poke out along the axes because moving along one axis is "cheap". In the Chebyshev metric d_\infty it is an axis-aligned square — the set \max(|x|, |y|) < r, everything a king reaches in fewer than r moves.

Slide the radius and watch all three grow together. Notice the nesting, \text{diamond} \subset \text{disc} \subset \text{square}, which encodes the inequalities d_\infty \le d_2 \le d_1 — the same pair of points is "closest" in the king's metric and "farthest" in the taxi's. Because each ball fits inside a scaled copy of the others (e.g. d_1 \le 2\,d_\infty in the plane), the three metrics declare exactly the same sequences convergent and the same sets open: they are equivalent metrics. Different geometry, identical analysis.

The vocabulary, generalised — analysis runs verbatim

With a metric in hand, the basic notions of analysis transplant word for word — every |x - y| becomes d(x, y), and nothing else changes.

Cauchy = convergent becomes completeness. Recall that on the real line a sequence converges iff it is Cauchy — its terms eventually crowd together. A general (x_n) is Cauchy when d(x_m, x_n) \to 0 as m, n \to \infty. Crowding together does not by itself guarantee a limit inside the space — the rationals are Cauchy toward \sqrt{2}, which is not rational. A metric space in which every Cauchy sequence does converge to a point of the space is called complete:

(X, d) \text{ complete} \;\;\iff\;\; \big[\, (x_n) \text{ Cauchy} \Rightarrow x_n \to x \text{ for some } x \in X \,\big].

"\mathbb{R} is complete" is precisely the no-holes property of the reals, now seen as one instance of a property any metric space may or may not have. The space (C[a,b], d_\infty) is complete too — that is the uniform-limit theorem wearing its metric-space clothes — and the discrete metric is trivially complete, since its Cauchy sequences are eventually constant.

Completeness is not just tidy bookkeeping — it manufactures solutions out of thin air. A map T : X \to X on a metric space is a contraction if it shrinks all distances by a fixed factor q < 1:

d\big(T(x), T(y)\big) \le q\,d(x, y), \qquad 0 \le q < 1.

Banach's contraction mapping theorem: on a complete metric space, a contraction has exactly one fixed point x^* = T(x^*), and the iterates x_{n+1} = T(x_n) converge to it from any starting point. The proof is pure metric-space reasoning: the iterates form a Cauchy sequence (successive gaps shrink geometrically like q^n), completeness supplies the limit, and continuity pins it as the fixed point.

This single theorem is an existence engine. Cast "solve the differential equation y' = f(x, y)" as a fixed point of an integral operator on the complete space C[a, b] with the sup metric; the contraction theorem then yields a unique solution — that is the Picard–Lindelöf existence theorem for ODEs. The same move proves the inverse function theorem and underlies countless numerical iterations.

Take X to be the set of all finite strings over an alphabet, and let d(u, w) be the edit distance (Levenshtein distance): the minimum number of single-letter insertions, deletions and substitutions turning u into w. So d(\text{cat}, \text{cart}) = 1 (insert an r) and d(\text{kitten}, \text{sitting}) = 3. Identity: zero edits means the words are already equal. Symmetry: every edit is reversible (an insertion undoes a deletion), so the cheapest path back costs the same. Triangle inequality: editing u \to v and then v \to w is one particular way of turning u into w, so the optimum can only be cheaper. A full-blown metric space whose points are words.

Your spell-checker lives in this space: recieve is at distance 2 (one transposition counted as two edits) from receive and far from rhinoceros, so the ball of small radius around the typo contains the likely corrections. Bioinformatics plays the same game with the four-letter alphabet A, C, G, T — sequence-alignment tools ranking how "close" two DNA strands are run on a weighted cousin of this metric. When Maurice Fréchet introduced abstract metric spaces in his 1906 doctoral thesis (at 28, essentially inventing the subject to talk about spaces of functions), no one imagined the axioms would one day organise dictionaries and genomes — that is the payoff of abstraction: prove it once, use it everywhere, including places not yet invented.