The Equivalence of π, θ and ψ
The Prime Number Theorem is usually quoted as
\pi(x) \sim x/\log x — the count of primes below
x grows like x/\log x. Open almost any analytic
number theory paper, though, and you will find the theorem proved in a completely different-looking
costume: \psi(x) \sim x, a clean statement about a sum of logarithms with
no 1/\log x in sight. A third form,
\theta(x) \sim x, sits in between.
This page is about a small miracle of bookkeeping: these three statements are logically
equivalent. Prove any one and the other two fall out for free, purely by
Abel summation
— no new analysis required. Understanding why they are interchangeable, and which
one you should actually reach for when doing the hard work, is the single most useful piece of
orientation in the whole subject. Spoiler: the analyst's favourite is \psi,
and by the end you will see exactly why the awkward-looking one is secretly the nicest.
Meet the three counting functions
All three measure "how much prime is there below x" — they differ only in
how each prime is weighted.
-
The prime-counting function
\pi(x) = \#\{p \le x : p \text{ prime}\} = \sum_{p \le x} 1 — every
prime contributes 1.
-
Chebyshev's theta function
\theta(x) = \sum_{p \le x} \log p — every prime contributes its own
logarithm.
-
Chebyshev's psi function
\psi(x) = \sum_{n \le x} \Lambda(n), where the
von Mangoldt function
\Lambda(n) equals \log p when
n = p^k is a prime power and 0 otherwise.
So \pi counts, \theta log-weights the primes,
and \psi log-weights the primes and their higher powers. Written
out, \psi is
\psi(x) = \sum_{p^k \le x} \log p = \sum_{p \le x} \left\lfloor \frac{\log x}{\log p} \right\rfloor \log p,
because for each prime p the powers
p, p^2, \dots, p^k \le x each throw in another
\log p, and the largest such k is
\lfloor \log x / \log p \rfloor.
A concrete example: all three at x = 10
The primes up to 10 are 2, 3, 5, 7, so
\pi(10) = 4. For \theta we log-weight them:
\theta(10) = \log 2 + \log 3 + \log 5 + \log 7 = \log 210 \approx 5.347.
For \psi we also pick up the prime powers
\le 10 — namely 4 = 2^2,
8 = 2^3 and 9 = 3^2 — each contributing the log
of its base prime:
\psi(10) = \underbrace{(\log 2 + \log 3 + \log 5 + \log 7)}_{\theta(10)} + \underbrace{\log 2}_{4=2^2} + \underbrace{\log 2}_{8=2^3} + \underbrace{\log 3}_{9=3^2} \approx 5.347 + 1.792 = 7.139.
Notice how close \theta(10) \approx 5.35 and
\psi(10) \approx 7.14 already are to x = 10,
while \pi(10) = 4 is nowhere near — it is
x/\log x \approx 4.34 that \pi chases, not
x. That single observation is the whole story of the log-weighting: it
rescales the count so the target becomes the clean line y = x.
Seeing it: three staircases, one line
Here are all three, rescaled so they should track y = x: the log-weighted
count \theta(x), the prime-power version
\psi(x), and — to bring \pi onto the same axes —
the product \pi(x)\log x. Watch how all three staircases press up against
the diagonal:
The two Chebyshev functions \theta and \psi run
almost on top of each other (\psi sits a whisker higher, from the prime
powers), and \pi(x)\log x weaves around them. All three hug
y = x — a visual statement that the three asymptotic laws are really one
law seen through three lenses.
Step 1 — \psi and \theta are barely different
Group the terms of \psi by the power k. All the
k = 1 terms are exactly \theta(x). The
k = 2 terms are \sum_{p^2 \le x}\log p = \theta(x^{1/2}),
the k = 3 terms give \theta(x^{1/3}), and so on.
The sum is finite because p^k \le x forces
k \le \log_2 x:
\psi(x) = \theta(x) + \theta(x^{1/2}) + \theta(x^{1/3}) + \cdots = \sum_{k=1}^{\lfloor \log_2 x \rfloor} \theta\!\left(x^{1/k}\right).
Now bound the tail. The trivial estimate \theta(t) \le t \log t (each of
the at most t primes contributes at most \log t)
gives \theta(x^{1/2}) \le x^{1/2}\log x, and there are only about
\log_2 x terms, each no larger than the second. Hence
0 \le \psi(x) - \theta(x) = \sum_{k \ge 2} \theta(x^{1/k}) = O\!\left(\sqrt{x}\,\log^2 x\right).
Since \sqrt{x}\,\log^2 x is dwarfed by x,
dividing by x gives (\psi(x)-\theta(x))/x \to 0.
Therefore \psi(x) \sim x and \theta(x) \sim x are
the same statement — the prime powers are asymptotically negligible. That is the
easy half of the equivalence, and it cost us nothing but a crude bound.
Step 2 — passing between \theta and \pi by parts
The jump from a plain count \pi to a log-weighted count
\theta is a job for
Abel summation
— partial summation, the discrete cousin of integration by parts. Writing
\theta(x) = \sum_{p \le x} \log p as a Stieltjes integral against the
jump-measure d\pi and integrating by parts gives the two conversion
formulas that drive everything:
-
\theta(x) = \pi(x)\log x - \int_2^x \frac{\pi(t)}{t}\,dt,
-
\pi(x) = \frac{\theta(x)}{\log x} + \int_2^x \frac{\theta(t)}{t\,\log^2 t}\,dt.
Each is a clean identity — no approximation, valid for all x \ge 2. The
first weighs each unit step of \pi by \log p;
the second unwinds the weighting back out. To read off asymptotics we just need to know that the
integral terms are of lower order than the leading terms — which is exactly what the next
worked example shows.
Worked example — turning \theta(x) \sim x into \pi(x) \sim x/\log x
Suppose we have already proved \theta(x) \sim x (the analytically
convenient form). Let us extract the classical PNT from it, using the second identity above. The
leading term is immediate:
\frac{\theta(x)}{\log x} \sim \frac{x}{\log x}.
So we only need the integral \int_2^x \theta(t)/(t\log^2 t)\,dt to be
small compared with x/\log x. Using
\theta(t) = O(t) (Chebyshev's bound — we do not even need the full
asymptotic here), the integrand is O(1/\log^2 t), so
\int_2^x \frac{\theta(t)}{t\,\log^2 t}\,dt = O\!\left(\int_2^x \frac{dt}{\log^2 t}\right) = O\!\left(\frac{x}{\log^2 x}\right).
The last step is the standard estimate
\int_2^x dt/\log^2 t \sim x/\log^2 x (split the range at
\sqrt{x}: below it the integrand is bounded, above it
\log t > \tfrac12\log x). Putting the pieces together,
\pi(x) = \frac{\theta(x)}{\log x} + O\!\left(\frac{x}{\log^2 x}\right) = \frac{x}{\log x}\left(1 + o(1)\right),
because the error term x/\log^2 x is exactly a factor
1/\log x smaller than the main term x/\log x.
Dividing through, \pi(x)\big/(x/\log x) \to 1 — precisely
\pi(x) \sim x/\log x. The conversion is that mechanical: one integration by
parts and one lower-order bound.
The payoff: three theorems that are one theorem
Chaining Step 1 (\psi \leftrightarrow \theta) with Step 2
(\theta \leftrightarrow \pi), and running the arrows both ways, collapses
the three statements into one.
As x \to \infty, the following are equivalent:
- \psi(x) \sim x;
- \theta(x) \sim x;
- \pi(x) \sim \dfrac{x}{\log x}.
Prove any single one and the entire package is yours. The same equipment upgrades error terms too:
a bound like \psi(x) = x + O(x\,e^{-c\sqrt{\log x}}) transfers, via these
identities, into the corresponding statement about \pi(x) versus the
logarithmic integral \operatorname{Li}(x) — the equivalence is not just
for leading-order asymptotics but carries the fine structure along with it.
Why \psi is the analyst's darling
If all three are equivalent, why does every serious proof target \psi? Two
reasons, both about algebraic cleanliness.
First, its Dirichlet series is beautiful. The von Mangoldt weights are engineered so
that \log n = \sum_{d \mid n}\Lambda(d), and taking Dirichlet series turns
this identity into
\sum_{n \ge 1} \frac{\Lambda(n)}{n^s} = -\frac{\zeta'(s)}{\zeta(s)}.
That right-hand side — the logarithmic derivative of the
zeta function
— is exactly the object whose poles sit at the zeros of \zeta. Because
\psi(x) = \sum_{n \le x}\Lambda(n) is the partial-sum (summatory) function
of these coefficients, a
Perron / contour-integral
argument reads \psi(x) \sim x straight off the pole of
-\zeta'/\zeta at s = 1. Neither
\pi nor \theta has a Dirichlet series anywhere
near this tidy.
Second, its arithmetic is smooth. Summing \Lambda over
all integers n \le x — not just primes — lets the full weight of
the divisor identity \log n = \sum_{d\mid n}\Lambda(d) come to bear, which
is what makes elementary manipulations (and the elementary Selberg–Erdős proof) work. Restricting to
squarefree primes, as \theta and \pi do, throws
that structure away. So the pattern is universal: prove it for
\psi, then hand it to \theta and
\pi by partial summation.
The three functions are asymptotically proportional to their targets — but they are
emphatically not equal to each other, and mixing them up is the classic beginner's
slip. \theta(x) \sim x and \psi(x) \sim x, yet
\pi(x) \sim x/\log x — a factor of \log x
smaller. At x = 10^6, for instance,
\pi(x) = 78498 while \theta(x) \approx 998484
and \psi(x) \approx 998699 — the log-weighting genuinely
changes the size of the answer by orders of magnitude.
The moral: "equivalent" here means the three asymptotic laws imply one another, not that the
functions take the same values. \theta(x) is close to
x; \pi(x) is close to
x/\log x. Always match each function to its own asymptote — never write
"\pi(x) \sim x" or "\theta(x) \sim x/\log x."
Pafnuty Chebyshev introduced \theta and \psi
around 1850 — before Riemann's 1859 memoir put complex analysis at the centre of the
subject. Working entirely with real-variable estimates, Chebyshev proved that the ratio
\pi(x)/(x/\log x) is squeezed between two explicit constants (roughly
0.92 and 1.11), and that if the limit
exists it must equal 1. He couldn't prove the limit existed — that needed
the zero-free region of \zeta, supplied by Hadamard and de la Vallée
Poussin in 1896. But his \psi, invented as a technical convenience, turned
out to be the natural quantity all along, because it is precisely the summatory function of
the coefficients of -\zeta'/\zeta. A tool built for hand-computation became
the beating heart of the analytic theory.