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# Entropy Injection as a Global Feedback Mechanism

## 1 Introduction

Numerical simulations of dark matter halos reveal an almost universal density profile over a wide range of masses (????). If the gas faithfully traced the dark matter, we would expect the bolometric X-ray luminosity to scale with the cluster virial temperature as $`L_\mathrm{X}T^2`$ (?), while observations indicate significant steepening of this relation for low-temperature clusters (?, and references therein), suggesting that some non-gravitational process is affecting the properties of the gas. Indeed, observations of the X-ray surface brightness profiles in poor groups reveal the existence of an entropy floor, $`S=T/n_\mathrm{e}^{2/3}100\mathrm{k}\mathrm{e}\mathrm{V}\mathrm{c}\mathrm{m}^2`$ (?), in the gas. Such an entropy floor reduces the central gas density and breaks the self-similarity of gas density profiles. There are two schools of thought as to how this entropy floor could have arisen: (i) as a result of non-gravitational heating of order $`1`$keV per particle, arising from winds driven either by supernovae or active galactic nuclei (e.g., ??), (ii) as a result of radiative cooling of the low entropy gas, leaving behind only the high entropy gas (which cannot cool within a Hubble time; e.g., ?). Numerical simulations which incorporate either of these schemes can reproduce the observed cluster $`L_\mathrm{X}T`$ relation.

In this paper, we critique the first scenario, on the basis of the disastrous effects the required level of preheating would have on subsequent galaxy formation. Groups and clusters are the most massive non-linear structures present today; to have a significant effect on their gas profile, a large amount of energy must be injected ($`1`$keV per particle). The virial temperature of galaxies is much smaller (for an $`\mathrm{L}_{}`$ galaxy, typically $`T_{\mathrm{vir}}0.1`$keV); galaxies will therefore be unable to accrete gas heated to such high entropies. Furthermore, we shall show that the gas they do manage to accrete cannot cool within a Hubble time. The net effect would be a sharp downturn in the comoving star formation rate. ? have also recently examined the impact of preheating on galaxy formation; they find that preheating could have a strong impact on the X-ray luminosity and morphology of galaxies. However (unlike the present work), they do not consider if preheating will suppress subsequent star formation. Throughout, we assume a cosmology where $`(\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{m},\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{\Lambda },\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{b}h^2,h,\sigma _{8h^1})=(0.3,0.7,0.019,0.7,0.9)`$, consistent with current observational constraints (e.g. ???).

## 2 The Impact of Preheating on Gas Cooling

### 2.1 The overcooling problem

Recently, it has been pointed out in semi-analytic work (???) and numerical simulations (???) that radiative cooling could be responsible for the observed entropy floor in groups and clusters. Here we point out that: (i) radiative cooling without non-gravitational feedback likely results in severe overcooling of gas at group scales, where the entropy floor is most clearly seen. (ii) Depending on its magnitude and redshift of injection, an entropy floor due to preheating can efficiently regulate overcooling in groups. Thus, some form of preheating is still likely to be necessary. This does not preclude an important role for radiative cooling: it reduces the otherwise severe energetic requirements for preheating, since the lowest entropy gas simply cools, rather than being heated up to the entropy floor.

Let us calculate the amount of cooled gas in the absence of feedback, as a function of halo mass. Unlike other semi-analytic models, we also wish to consider a dynamic model in which gas is drawn inward and compressed within a cooling flow, rather than a static model in which all gas is cooled out to some cooling radius. This is so as to explicitly check that the increased gas densities due to inward flow do not significantly increase cooling rates and thus the cooled mass fraction. We therefore perform 1D spherically symmetric calculations very similar to that of ?, who compute a sequence of adiabats generated by the accretion shock and follow their subsequent evolution due to radiative cooling; refer to ? for more details on such models. This is an implicitly Lagrangian scheme and allows us to directly track the entropy evolution of each mass shell. The main difference between our treatment and theirs is that we only implement gas cooling within a static potential, rather than an evolving potential; experimentation has found that this makes little difference. We also consider the dark matter to impose a fixed potential, and ignore the self-gravity of the gas.

We approach the problem by considering the sequence of adiabats through which a gas shell evolves. The initial entropy profile of the gas as a function of the mass profile, $`K(M)P(M)/\rho (M)^\gamma =k_\mathrm{B}T/\mu m_\mathrm{p}\rho ^{2/3}`$, can be determined by using the shock jump conditions if the temperature and density at the accretion shock are known. We assume the dark matter distribution follows an NFW profile (Navarro, Frenk, & White 1997). We assume a perfect gas, $`P=\frac{\rho }{\mu m_\mathrm{H}}k_\mathrm{B}T`$, and a polytropic equation of state, $`P=K\rho ^\gamma `$, where $`\gamma =5/3`$. ? find that the average growth of the main progenitor of the dark matter halo, found by running Monte Carlo realizations based on the extended Press-Schechter formula (e.g., Lacey & Cole 1993), can be approximated by the formula: $`m(z)=\left(\frac{1+z}{1+z_\mathrm{o}}\right)^{\left[B+A\mathrm{log}\left(\frac{1+z}{1+z_\mathrm{o}}\right)\right]}`$, where $`A`$ and $`B`$ depend on cosmology, the final mass $`M_\mathrm{o}`$, and the observed redshift $`z_\mathrm{o}`$ (we consider $`z_\mathrm{o}=0`$ in this paper). As a function of $`(M_{\mathrm{DM}},z)`$ the infall velocity is then found from:

$$\frac{v_\mathrm{i}^2}{2}=\frac{v_{\mathrm{ff}}^2}{2}+\mathrm{\Delta }W\frac{c_\mathrm{s}^2}{\gamma 1}\left[\left(\frac{\rho _{\mathrm{ta}}}{\rho _\mathrm{e}}\right)^{\gamma 1}1\right],$$
(1)
where $`\frac{v_{\mathrm{ff}}^2}{2}=\frac{GM}{R_\mathrm{s}}\frac{GM}{R_{\mathrm{ta}}}`$ ($`R_\mathrm{s}R_{\mathrm{vir}}`$ is the shock radius, and $`R_{\mathrm{ta}}2R_{\mathrm{vir}}`$ is the turnaround radius), $`\rho _\mathrm{e}`$ is the external preshock density at $`R=R_\mathrm{s}`$, and $`c_\mathrm{s}=(\gamma K_{\mathrm{IGM}}\rho _\mathrm{e}^{\gamma 1})^{1/2}`$ is the sound speed where $`K_{\mathrm{IGM}}`$ is the preshock entropy of the IGM gas being accreted. The postshock temperature is then given by (Landau & Lifshitz 1957; Cavaliere, Menci & Tozzi 1998):

$$k_\mathrm{B}T_\mathrm{i}=\frac{\mu m_\mathrm{p}v_\mathrm{i}^2}{3}\left[\frac{(1+\sqrt{1+ϵ})^2}{4}+\frac{7}{10}ϵ\frac{3}{20}\frac{ϵ^2}{(1+\sqrt{1+ϵ})^2}\right],$$
(2)
where $`ϵ15k_\mathrm{B}T_\mathrm{e}/4\mu m_\mathrm{p}v_\mathrm{i}^2`$. The postshock density is given by $`\rho _\mathrm{i}=g\rho _\mathrm{e}`$, where the shock compression factor $`g`$ is given by (Cavaliere, Menci, & Tozzi 1997):

$$g=2\left(1\frac{T_\mathrm{e}}{T_\mathrm{i}}\right)+\left[4\left(1\frac{T_\mathrm{e}}{T_\mathrm{i}}\right)^2+\frac{T_\mathrm{e}}{T_\mathrm{i}}\right]^{1/2}.$$
(3)
From this one can compute the postshock adiabat

$$K_{\mathrm{shock}}=k_\mathrm{B}T_\mathrm{i}/\mu m_\mathrm{p}\rho _\mathrm{i}^{\gamma 1}.$$
(4)
We have also computed the entropy profiles assuming that the gas traces the NFW profile and is in hydrostatic equilibrium, a model used by ?. We have found that the entropy profile computed with either model is very similar; both are sharply increasing functions of radius. We have also found that the entropy profile for different cluster masses (scaled to the entropy of the outermost shell) is fairly self-similar across different cluster masses. This is not surprising, since density and temperature profiles are fairly self-similar in these models; they only differ to the extent that their central concentration (which depends primarily on the collapse redshift) varies. We will examine the effects of an entropy floor in these models in §2.2.

Given an initial entropy profile $`K(M,t=0)`$, we simultaneously solve the equations for the variables $`K(M,t),\rho (M,t),R(M,t)`$ (which automatically also yields $`T(M,t)=K(M,t)\rho (M,t)^{\gamma 1}\mu m_\mathrm{H}/k_\mathrm{B}`$):

$`{\displaystyle \frac{\mathrm{d}P}{\mathrm{d}M_{\mathrm{gas}}}}={\displaystyle \frac{GM_{\mathrm{DM}}}{4\pi r^4}}`$
$`{\displaystyle \frac{\mathrm{d}r}{\mathrm{d}M_{\mathrm{gas}}}}={\displaystyle \frac{1}{4\pi \rho _{\mathrm{gas}}r^2}}`$ (5)
Given the initial entropy profile we have calculated, we can compute the initial pressure profile of the gas, if we assume the boundary condition $`\rho (R_{\mathrm{vir}})=f_\mathrm{B}\rho _{\mathrm{NFW}}(R_{\mathrm{vir}})`$, where $`f_\mathrm{B}=\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{b}/\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{m}`$ is the universal baryon fraction. The pressure and entropy profile fully specify the initial density and temperature profile of the gas. We now allow for radiative cooling to operate, and update the entropy profile via:

$$\frac{\mathrm{d}}{\mathrm{d}t}\mathrm{ln}(\mathrm{K})=\frac{1}{\tau _{\mathrm{cool}}(K)},$$
(6)
where the cooling time is:

$$\tau _{\mathrm{cool}}\frac{3}{2}\frac{k_\mathrm{B}T}{\mathrm{\Lambda }_\mathrm{N}}\frac{\rho _{\mathrm{gas}}}{\mu m_\mathrm{p}},$$
(7)
and we use a fit given by ? to the cooling function $`\mathrm{\Lambda }_\mathrm{N}`$ of Sutherland & Dopita (1993), which includes both free-free and line emission, for a metallicity of $`Z=0.3Z_{}`$. We choose our timestep so that it corresponds to the cooling time of the third innermost shell; this is sufficient to obtain convergent results without excessively long computation times. As gas cools and drops out at the center, an inward cooling flow develops. After each timestep, we recompute hydrostatic equilibrium in equation (5) according to the new profile of adiabats $`K(M)`$, updating the density and temperature profile of the gas. Any gas which has cooled below $`T5\times 10^5`$K is removed from the calculation and placed in a cold phase at the center of the cluster; we track $`M_{\mathrm{cool}}`$ and $`M_{\mathrm{hot}}=M_{\mathrm{gas},0}M_{\mathrm{cool}}`$. We do not consider distributed mass drop-out in this calculation. When recomputing hydrostatic equilibrium, we use the boundary conditions:

$`r(0)`$ $`=`$ $`0`$ (8)
$`r(M_{\mathrm{hot}})`$ $`=`$ $`r_{\mathrm{end}}`$
$`\rho (M_{\mathrm{hot}})`$ $`=`$ $`\left[\rho _{\mathrm{vir}}^{\gamma 1}+{\displaystyle \frac{\gamma 1}{\gamma K_{\mathrm{vir}}}}{\displaystyle _{r_{\mathrm{vir}}}^{r_{\mathrm{end}}}}{\displaystyle \frac{GM_{\mathrm{DM}}(r)}{r^2}}\mathrm{d}r\right]^{1/(\gamma 1)}`$
where $`\rho _{\mathrm{vir}}=\rho _\mathrm{o}(r_{\mathrm{vir}})`$, $`K_{\mathrm{vir}}=K(r_{\mathrm{vir}})`$ are the initial density and entropy of the outermost mass shell. The last boundary condition uses the fact that the outermost shell is compressed adiabatically during the inward flow, since for this shell, $`t_{\mathrm{cool}}t_H`$. Note that since we have 3 boundary conditions for 2 ordinary differential equations, we can solve for $`r_{\mathrm{end}}`$, which is an eigenvalue of the problem. Since this is a boundary value problem, we use relaxation to solve the equations. The results of our calculations agree very well with those of Tozzi & Norman (2000), although they use a slightly different set of equations and boundary conditions. In our calculation, we assumed the dark matter potential was fixed and merely evolved the equations for a Hubble time, allowing the gas to cool. We have also experimented with a growing dark matter potential; the results do not differ significantly.

In Figure 1, we show the fraction $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}`$ of gas which cools in a Hubble time in our models without preheating, computed according to the convention:

$$f_{\mathrm{cool}}=\frac{M_{\mathrm{cool}}}{M_{\mathrm{tot}}}\frac{\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{m}}{\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{b}},$$
(9)
where $`M_{\mathrm{cool}}`$ is the mass in the cool phase and $`M_{\mathrm{tot}}`$ is the total gravitating mass. We prefer this to the other widely used convention: $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}=M_{\mathrm{cool}}/(M_{\mathrm{cool}}+M_{\mathrm{hot}})`$, where $`M_{\mathrm{hot}}`$ is the gas mass in the hot phase, because the total gas mass $`M_{\mathrm{hot}}+M_{\mathrm{cool}}`$ in a fixed halo potential decreases with an increasing entropy floor in preheating scenarios (a high entropy floor hinders shallow potential wells from accreting gas). We also choose to show halo mass rather than the X-ray temperature because for a fixed potential, the emission weighted temperature increases with the entropy floor (since gas at the cluster center, which dominates the X-ray emission, becomes hotter). These conventions allow the clearest depictions of the effect of an entropy floor on gas cooling. Also shown as points is $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}`$ inferred from the data of ?, who compile a list of total stellar mass and total gravitating mass for a sample of X-ray clusters. As in ? (see their paper for a very lucid discussion of the overcooling problem), we multiply the total stellar mass by 1.1 to account for gas in atomic and molecular form; we also show the global cooled gas fraction of $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}5\%`$ inferred from the K-band luminosity function by ?. The latter figure is somewhat lower than the customarily quoted value of $`6\%<f_{\mathrm{cold}}<17\%`$ found by ?, but much more robust as it does not depend on the highly uncertain relative abundances of galaxies of different morphological types, which have very different $`M/L_\mathrm{B}`$; by contrast $`M/L_\mathrm{K}`$ varies by at most a factor of two over different stellar population histories (?).

We see that while radiative cooling alone may be consistent with observations in the most massive clusters, severe overcooling of the gas would occur on group scales and below if radiative cooling alone were to operate without feedback, with $`50\%`$ of the gas entering the cold phase. In our models we have computed the entropy profiles and allowed for gas inflow and compression in a cooling flow. We also computed static models which assume that the gas traces the dark matter and that all gas cools out to some cooling radius $`r_{\mathrm{cool}}`$ where $`t_{\mathrm{cool}}t_H`$ (???), and obtained very similar results. We comment on this robustness in §2.2.

This overcooling effect is in fact consistent with all numerical simulations which claim to explain the observed $`L_\mathrm{X}T_\mathrm{X}`$ relation from the effects of radiative cooling alone, although this has not been sufficiently emphasized. For instance, while ? find a global cooled gas fraction of $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}15\%`$, on group scales where $`M_{\mathrm{vir}}\mathrm{few}\times 10^{13}\mathrm{M}_{}h^1`$, the cooled mass fraction is $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}3050\%`$ (see their Figure 3). ? find that while $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}24\%`$ globally in their simulations, for halos with $`\sigma _{1\mathrm{D}}100\mathrm{k}\mathrm{m}\mathrm{s}^1`$, then $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}80\%`$, while for halos with $`\sigma _{1\mathrm{D}}500\mathrm{k}\mathrm{m}\mathrm{s}^1`$, then $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}50\%`$; for these extreme levels of gas cooling, consistency with the observed $`L_\mathrm{X}T_\mathrm{X}`$ relation can be achieved. The overcooling problem is often dealt with in numerical simulations by deliberately restricting the resolution to $`10^{11}M_{}`$; all simulations of higher resolution generically suffer from overcooling (?), as was pointed out by ?. Based on the ? sample, ? claims that the cool gas fraction increases from cluster to groups scales, and consistency with the radiative cooling model can be achieved. However, he computed $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}=M_{\mathrm{cool}}/(M_{\mathrm{cool}}+M_{\mathrm{hot}})`$, and estimates of the hot gas component are likely to be systematically biased downwards in groups due to the limited radial extent of the X-ray profile (?).

We therefore contend that radiative cooling alone as an explanation for the observed scaling relations and entropy floor in groups and clusters is untenable. The problem is most acute in groups: since most of the gas in groups is at comparatively low entropy, a larger fraction of the gas has to cool to recover the observed entropy floor. In the next section we explore how entropy injection can ameliorate the overcooling problem.

### 2.2 The Effect of an Entropy Floor on Gas Cooling

Let us now suppose that some form of external preheating takes place, in which the IGM is boosted to some entropy floor $`K_{\mathrm{IGM}}`$. What is the effect of this entropy floor on gas cooling? We can easily incorporate the effects of a pre-existing entropy floor into our models. If the infall velocity does not exceed the local sound speed, then the gas is accreted adiabatically and no shock occurs; the gas entropy $`K_{\mathrm{IGM}}`$ is therefore conserved. If gas infall is supersonic, then the gas is shocked to the entropy $`K_{\mathrm{shock}}`$ computed in the previous section. ? found that the transition between the adiabatic accretion and shock heating regime is very sharp. Thus to a very good approximation we can set $`K(M)=\mathrm{max}(K_{\mathrm{shock}}(M),K_{\mathrm{IGM}})`$; with this new entropy profile we can compute density and temperature profiles and gas cooling properties as before. Similar to previous work (e.g., ??), we find that an entropy floor creates a core in the density profile, decreasing the central density and increasing the central temperature.

Let us define, as is customary, the entropy parameter $`ST/n_\mathrm{e}^{2/3}`$, and

$$S_{100}\left(\frac{S}{100\mathrm{k}\mathrm{e}\mathrm{V}\mathrm{c}\mathrm{m}^2}\right).$$
(10)
For mean molecular weight $`\mu =0.6`$, this is related to our previously defined entropy parameter in equation (4) via $`S_{100}=6.27K_{34}`$, where $`K_{34}=10^{34}\mathrm{erg}\mathrm{cm}^2\mathrm{g}^{5/3}`$. Typical values of the observed entropy floor range between $`S_{100}1`$ (?), to $`S_{100}4`$ (?). Only values toward the lower end of such estimates can be produced by radiative cooing alone (?), whereas values toward the higher end are necessary to reproduce the observed $`L_\mathrm{X}T_\mathrm{X}`$ relation (?).

In Figure 2, we show how the cool gas fraction $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}`$ varies with the entropy floor $`S_{100}`$. We see two main features in this plot: (i) an increase in the entropy floor drastically decreases the cooled gas fraction. An entropy floor thus has the potential to solve the overcooling problem. (ii) The results of the calculation where the inward flow and compression of the gas as it cools is tracked (dark solid lines) is very similar to the case when this is ignored and the gas is assumed to be static (light solid lines). The compression of the gas by the gravitational potential as it flows inwards only causes a mild increase in the final cooled gas fraction $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}`$; naively, one might have expected that the increased densities would resulted in much more rapid cooling.

To understand these results, let us consider how gas cooling times evolve at fixed entropy. If gas with entropy $`S_{100}`$ evolves adiabatically, the gas temperature depends on its density as:

$$T=4.7\times 10^4S_{100}\delta ^{2/3}(1+z)^2\mathrm{K},$$
(11)
where $`\delta =n_\mathrm{e}/\overline{n}_\mathrm{e}`$ is the overdensity of the gas. The isobaric cooling time is then:

$`t_{\mathrm{cool}}={\displaystyle \frac{5n_\mathrm{e}k_\mathrm{B}T}{2\mu n_\mathrm{e}\mathrm{\Lambda }(T)}}`$ $``$ $`S^{3/2}(\mathrm{T}<10^7\mathrm{K})`$
$``$ $`{\displaystyle \frac{S^{1/2}}{n^{2/3}}}(T>110^7\mathrm{K})`$
where $`\mu 0.6`$ is the mean molecular weight. We have used $`\mathrm{\Lambda }(T)T^{1/2}`$ for $`T>10^7`$K (free-free cooling dominated regime) and $`\mathrm{\Lambda }(T)T^{1/2}`$ for $`10^{5.5}\mathrm{T}<T<10^7`$K (line cooling dominated regime). We can explicitly compute the cooling time as a function of density for a fixed adiabat; the results are shown in Figure 3. We have used a fit (?) to the ? cooling function, assuming that $`Z=0.3Z_{}`$; the detailed temperature dependence of the cooling function in the line cooling dominated regime is not strictly $`\mathrm{\Lambda }T^{1/2}`$, which is why there is a weak density dependence in the cooling time at low density. The most important feature to note is that gas above a certain entropy floor $`S_{\mathrm{crit}}>S_{100}`$ cannot cool in a Hubble time, regardless of its density and/or how it is adiabatically compressed. It is thus easy to understand how an entropy floor drastically decreases the cool gas fraction $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}`$ as $`S_{\mathrm{preheat}}S_{\mathrm{crit}}`$. We can also understand why the compression of gas in an inward cooling flow has little effect on $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}`$: the cooling rate depends on the entropy of the gas, not the density. We show this effect in Fig. 4, which shows how the gas density, temperature and cooling time evolve as a gas parcel at fixed entropy is brought inwards. Because gas at large radii is at high entropy, an inward flow only brings about modest compression; the rise in temperature offsets the cooling rate increase due to the increased density, and overall the cooling time only shows a very modest decrease.

The fact that the observed ’entropy floor’, $`S_{\mathrm{preheat}}`$, corresponds to a critical entropy where $`t_{\mathrm{cool}}>t_H`$ is perhaps unsurprising: if $`t_{\mathrm{cool}}(S_{\mathrm{preheat}})<t_H`$, then we might expect radiative cooling to erase all evidence for an entropy floor. Indeed, it was the central insight of ? that since $`t_{\mathrm{cool}}(S_{\mathrm{crit}})t_\mathrm{H}`$, the entropy floor could have arisen from a floor in the radiative cooling time, rather than an epoch of preheating. However, these statements have very interesting consequences for gas cooling in smaller halos associated with $`LL^{}`$ galaxies. For the temperature regime we are interested in ($`T0.1`$keV, or $`\delta <100S_{100}^{3/2}(1+z)^3`$; gas hotter than this cannot be accreted by galaxies), the cooling time either stays constant or increases with density for isentropic gas, rather than decreasing with density. Thus, regardless of its final density profile, gas which is accreted adiabatically into a galaxy-size halo has a fairly constant cooling time which depends only upon its initial entropy. Gas which ends up bound to halos at low redshift will typically fulfill $`\delta (1+z)^3>10`$ at all times. Thus none of the gas which is heated to the entropy floor will be able to cool in a Hubble time in galaxies. Once the entropy floor in the IGM is established, the supply of fresh gas for star formation is cut off. This is independent of the details of the accretion of gas and halo mergers; in general, shocks due to this processes can only increase the entropy of the gas, not reduce it. Thus, after $`z_{\mathrm{preheat}}`$ where the IGM is heated up to some adiabat $`S_{\mathrm{crit}}`$, fresh accretion of gas from the IGM is halted. Hereafter, we shall follow through on the logical consequences of the observed entropy floor in groups and clusters, if it arose from an epoch of preheating, to assess whether such a scenario is realistic or not.

### 2.3 Bounds on the epoch of preheating

We can use the value of the entropy floor to obtain a lower bound on the epoch of preheating. The gas must be preheated at a sufficiently high redshift that it is accreted adiabatically: i.e., $`S_{\mathrm{preheat}}>S_{\mathrm{shock}}`$, where $`S_{\mathrm{shock}}`$ is the entropy acquired due to the virialization shock in the absence of preheating. Otherwise, the gas will be shocked to a higher adiabat, erasing the signature of preheating. The entropy acquired at the accretion shock $`S_{\mathrm{shock}}=T/n^{2/3}T_{\mathrm{shock}}(1+z)^2`$ where $`T_{\mathrm{shock}}`$ increases with time as the depth of the potential well grows. Therefore, without preheating the entropy of freshly accreted gas increased monotonically with time. There is thus a minimum redshift $`z_{\mathrm{preheat}}`$ below which preheating leaves no imprint on the entropy profile of a cluster, as the entropy of the gas is boosted above the entropy floor by the strong virialization shock. For a present day cluster of mass $`M_\mathrm{o}`$, we can compute its entropy profile if we know its accretion history and mass as a function of redshift $`M(z)`$. We can use this to bound the epoch of preheating: if $`S_{\mathrm{preheat}}100\mathrm{k}\mathrm{e}\mathrm{V}\mathrm{c}\mathrm{m}^2`$, then for the median accretion history of groups with $`T1\mathrm{k}\mathrm{e}\mathrm{V}`$ (where the entropy floor is most prominent), the epoch of preheating must be $`z2`$, when the group acquired its core.

A more detailed calculation can be carried out using the extended Press-Schechter theory. We compute the merging history of several $`10^{14}M_{}`$ halos identified at $`z=0`$, using the algorithm of ?, and locate at each redshift the most massive progenitor. For each progenitor we compute $`S_{\mathrm{shock}}`$, and identify those progenitors for which $`S_{\mathrm{shock}}>S_{\mathrm{preheat}}`$. These progenitors are unaffected by preheating. Therefore we are able to estimate the fraction of clusters whose most massive progenitors are unaffected by preheating as a function of redshift. This fraction is shown in Figure 5. At $`z=2.2`$ approximately 50% of cluster progenitors are affected by preheating, while at $`z=3`$, approximately 95% of cluster progenitors are affected. Thus, preheating must occur prior to $`z=2`$–3 in order to have a significant effect on the cluster gas.

Similarly, from their sample of 9 groups of galaxies observed with ASCA and ROSAT, ? conclude from extended Press-Schechter theory that the accreted gas reaches an entropy level of 400 $`\mathrm{keV}\mathrm{cm}^2`$ by $`z2.02.5`$, while such high entropies were not present at $`z>2.83.5`$, implying that preheating happened in a fairly instantaneous fashion at $`z23`$.

If the entropy of the IGM was indeed boosted to such high levels at $`z2`$, this implies that the supply of cold gas to galaxies was shut off at that epoch. Remarkably, in their models of cosmic chemical evolution, ? concluded that the data was consistent with no gas inflow since $`z2`$. However, their models were computed for a flat SCDM model, which has since fallen out of favour. By performing a stripped down version of their models, we can nonetheless ask whether the data are consistent with no gas inflow since $`z_{\mathrm{preheat}}`$. If fresh gas cannot cool, then

$$\dot{\mathrm{\Omega }}_\mathrm{g}=\dot{\mathrm{\Omega }}_{}(1R),$$
(13)
where $`\dot{\mathrm{\Omega }}_\mathrm{g},\dot{\mathrm{\Omega }}_{}`$ are the comoving densities of cold interstellar gas and stars, all in units of the present critical density, and $`R`$ is the recycled fraction, which is $`0.30.4`$ for typical IMFs. In this case, the comoving gas density at the epoch of preheating is:

$$\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{g}(z_{\mathrm{preheat}})=\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{g}(0)+(1R)_0^{z_{\mathrm{preheat}}}dz\frac{\mathrm{d}t}{\mathrm{d}z}\dot{\mathrm{\Omega }}_{}.$$
(14)
In principle this is only a lower limit since it neglect outflows due to supernova explosions, galactic winds, etc. To model the evolution of the comoving star formation rate we use a fit to the data from ? for a $`\mathrm{\Lambda }`$CDM cosmology:

$$R_{\mathrm{SFR}}(z)=C(z)h_{65}\frac{\mathrm{exp}(3.4z)}{\mathrm{exp}(3.4z)+22}\mathrm{M}_{}\mathrm{yr}^1\mathrm{Mpc}^3,$$
(15)
where $`C(z)=Ah_{65}(\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{m}(1+z)^3+\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{k}(1+z)^2+\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{\Lambda })^{1/2}/(1+z)^{3/2}`$ is a correction factor for a $`\mathrm{\Lambda }`$CDM cosmology. We use this fitting function largely to model the precipitous drop in the comoving star formation rate at $`z1`$; we choose the normalization factor $`A`$ so that $`(1R)_0^5\dot{\mathrm{\Omega }}_{}=f_{}\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{b}=2\times 10^3`$, where $`f_{}=5\%`$ is the total baryon fraction in stars seen today (?), as inferred from the K-band luminosity function. They also present two other models which vary the amount of star formation at high redshift; however, we shall see that these variations make little difference to our calculations. To estimate the comoving density of cold gas, we use estimates of the neutral gas in damped Ly-alpha systems (??), as well as estimates of the local HI density from 21 cm emission surveys (??).

In Figure 6, we show the results of computing $`\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{g}(z)`$ from equation (14). This shows the comoving density of interstellar gas required at redshift $`z`$, if all gas inflow/cooling ceases at that redshift, in order to be consistent with the observed comoving star formation rate as a function of redshift and the local observed gas density. One simple way to phrase this constraint is that $`\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{g}(z_{\mathrm{preheat}})\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{g}(0)+\mathrm{\Omega }_{}(0)2\times 10^3(f_{\mathrm{cool}}/0.05)`$, where $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}`$ is the cool global baryon fraction today. We see from the figure that there is sufficient cool gas at high redshift to produce the stars seen today; in particular, preheating at high redshift $`z2`$ can be plausibly accomodated without subsequent gas cooling and inflow. Note that the normalization of $`\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{g}(z)`$ is fixed by the assumed value of $`f_{\mathrm{cool}}(z=0)`$ (which is uncertain to at least a factor of 2); if this value increases all the curves shift upward. Also, $`\mathrm{\Omega }_{\mathrm{DLA}}`$ is obviously merely a lower bound on $`\mathrm{\Omega }_{\mathrm{cool}}`$. The surveys are based on optically selected quasars, so dusty damped Ly-alpha systems will not be represented if they dim the background quasar so that it falls out of a magnitude limited survey; also, a signficant fraction of the gas could lie in lower column density systems or in molecular or ionized form. Therefore, despite uncertainties in the modelling and data, we can at least conclude that the data do not rule out the absence of gas cooling and inflow into galaxies since $`z2`$.

## 3 Discussion

### 3.1 Shock heating of the Warm Hot Intergalactic Medium

Cosmological simulations predict that $`3040\%`$ of present day baryons reside in a warm-hot intergalactic medium (WHIM), with temperatures $`10^5<\mathrm{T}<10^7\mathrm{K}`$, and mean overdensities $`\delta 1030`$, rather than in virialized objects (???). Can gas heated in such large scale shocks accrete and cool in galaxies? ? find that the WHIM at z=0 approximately follows the equation of state: $`\rho /\rho _\mathrm{b}=T/10^{4.7}\mathrm{K}`$. We can use this to estimate the entropy of the WHIM:

$$S_{\mathrm{WHIM}}(z=0)340\left(\frac{\delta }{30}\right)^{1/3}\mathrm{keV}\mathrm{cm}^2.$$
(16)
Since $`S_{\mathrm{WHIM}}>S_{\mathrm{crit}}`$, none of the gas in the WHIM, even if accreted onto galaxies, can cool in a Hubble time. Thus, shock heating by large scale structure could conceivably play a similar role as preheating in raising the entropy of the IGM and suppressing accretion and gas cooling.

However, in hierarchical structure formation scenarios, such shock heating cannot be responsible for the observed entropy floor in groups and clusters. Shock heating of the WHIM corresponds to $`1\sigma `$ fluctuations turning nonlinear today; the cores of groups and clusters were assembled at high redshift when they were $`>2\sigma `$ fluctuations. Gas shocked in the WHIM phase is likely shocked again as it is boosted to the higher entropies $`S1350(T/1\mathrm{k}\mathrm{e}\mathrm{V})(n/2\times 10^5\mathrm{cm}^3)^{2/3}\mathrm{keV}\mathrm{cm}^2`$ associated with the outskirts of present-day groups and clusters. Shock heating of the WHIM is likely only to affect gas accretion in voids, where the halos have shallow potential wells and are unable to accrete gas of high entropy.

We can estimate the redshift evolution of the WHIM entropy as follows. The postshock temperature of the WHIM can be estimated as:

$$T_{\mathrm{WHIM}}(z)=K(HL_{\mathrm{nl}})^2,$$
(17)
where $`H(z)`$ is the Hubble constant, $`L_{\mathrm{nl}}`$ is the nonlinear length scale in proper coordinates; this produces a good fit to the results of numerical simulations (??). We have chosen the normalization constant $`K`$ so as to reproduce the median temperature for a given overdensity obtained by ? at z=0. At a given overdensity $`\delta `$, the entropy of the WHIM scales as $`S_{\mathrm{WHIM}}H(z)^2L_{\mathrm{nl}}^2(1+z)^2`$; it thus falls rapidly with redshift. We plot $`S_{\mathrm{WHIM}}(z)`$ in Figure (7); it only exceeds $`S_{\mathrm{crit}}`$ at $`z<1`$. In practice there will be significant scatter about the median entropy of the WHIM (for instance, the temperature distribution broadens at high redshift; see Fig. 4 of ?). It would be interesting to use existing numerical simulations to compute the distribution function of entropy in the WHIM, as well as the redshift evolution of the median IGM entropy; such quantities to date have not been calculated.

It is amusing to speculate on the effect of a cosmological constant on the future star formation history of our universe. The growth function is given by (?):

$$D_1(a)H(a)_0^a\frac{\mathrm{d}a^{}}{a^3H(a^{})^3},$$
(18)
where $`a=1/(1+z)`$ is the scale factor and $`H(a)=(\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{m}a^3+\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{k}a^2+\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{\Lambda })^{1/2}`$, where $`\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{k}=1\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{m}\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{\Lambda }`$. Note that at early times when $`a`$ is small, $`D_1(a)a`$. If we normalize this so that $`a=1`$ and $`D_1(0)=1`$ today, then in the future when $`a\mathrm{}`$, $`D_1(a)1.39`$. Thus, structure formation is already freezing out; the non-linear mass $`M_{}`$ will increase by at most a factor of 4 from its present day value, in contrast to its rapid growth in the past. Thus, gravitational shock heating is slowing down and becoming unimportant, as the universe enters a period of exponential expansion. Gas in already virialized halos will eventually be able to cool as the universe ages, modulo feedback by star formation and AGN activity fueled by gas cooling. This is in contrast to the $`\mathrm{\Omega }_\mathrm{m}=1`$ SCDM case, when $`D_1=a`$ and structure formation and gravitational shocks continue apace; in this case most of the non-stellar baryons in the universe would end up in a hot phase which will never cool.

### 3.2 Could Preheating determine Galaxy Morphology?

We speculate that preheating may be responsible for the origin of the Hubble sequence. Gas in dark matter halos which form before the epoch of preheating are assumed to form an elliptical galaxy in a rapid collapse, since halos below group scales have gas with cooling times shorter than their dynamical time $`t_{\mathrm{cool}}<t_{\mathrm{ff}}`$ (?). On the other hand, halos which collapse after preheating will accrete gas with entropies more characteristic of groups and clusters; in particular, they can cool their gas only slowly, with $`t_{\mathrm{cool}}>t_{\mathrm{ff}}`$. Cooling gas in such halos may instead form a disk galaxy. In fact, ? point out that preheating could potentially solve two problems associated with disk galaxies: explaining the anomolously low X-ray surface brightnesses associated with their halos (since preheating decreases gas densities and X-ray emissivities), and preventing angular momentum transport from the disk to the dark matter during disk formation (because the gas distribution is more extended than that of the dark matter, it retains a higher specific angular momentum during mergers). We note in passing that the low X-ray luminosities of halos associated with disks is perhaps unsurprising: a simple extrapolation of the $`L_\mathrm{X}T_\mathrm{X}`$ relation to halo temperatures typical for the hosts of disks ($`0.1`$keV) gives X-ray luminosities consistent with observations (few $`\times 10^{40}\mathrm{erg}\mathrm{s}^1`$). Thus, whatever physics is suppressing the X-ray luminosities of group operates in disk galaxies too.

In a hierarchical formation scenario, the progenitors of massive clusters typically formed earlier than those of lower mass systems. Thus, massive clusters contain a larger fraction of galaxies which formed prior to the epoch of preheating; the fraction of elliptical galaxies should increase as the mass of the dark matter halo increases. To compute this fraction of galaxies which formed before preheating (and therefore formed ellipticals) we create merger trees for halos of different masses at $`z=0`$. We then identify when $`10^{12}M_{}`$ progenitor halos form in these trees. If the progenitor formed before preheating (assumed to occur at $`z=2`$ here) the halo is flagged as hosting an elliptical galaxy, while halos which collapse later are assumed to host a disk galaxy. In Figure 8 we show the fraction of galaxies formed in $`10^{12}M_{}`$ halos which are ellipticals as a function of the mass of the halo in which they are found at $`z=0`$. This is compared against the observational determinations of ? of the elliptical fraction (shown as circles), with their estimate of the “field” elliptical fraction shown as a dashed line. Our simple calculation fits rather well with these data (note that the “field” should correspond approximately to $`M_{}10^{13}h^1M_{}`$ halos). Since the typical mass of halos increases in denser environments we expect this model to produce the observed morphology-density relation, at least qualitatively. A direct comparison requires a detailed model of galaxy formation, since it requires calculating the local galaxy density within the model.

This is of course little more than a consistency check, rather than proof of principle. The idea that ellipticals collapsed at much higher redshift than spirals is an old one. It was suggested long ago that there may be a direct correspondence between peak height and galaxy morphology, with ellipticals forming from rare ($`3\sigma `$) density fluctuations, while spirals form from more common ($`2\sigma `$) ones (??); such a scheme can reproduce their observed relative abundances fairly well and would also explain the increased clustering strength of ellipticals. Empirically, it is known that ellipticals exhibit remarkably tight correlations in various global properties and have very small inferred age dispersion which indicate a high formation redshift $`z23`$, unless their formation was synchronized to an implausible degree. The evidence includes the tightness of the fundamental plane (?), and the extreme homogeneity of their optical colors (??). However, the physical motivation for early formation of ellipticals rather than spirals has been rather weak.

The interesting feature that preheating introduces is a physical reason why there should be a division in morphology between early and late collapse of halos of the same mass, because of the change in the cooling properties of the gas. There may be some critical level of entropy (likely $`t_{\mathrm{cool}}(S_{\mathrm{crit}})t_{\mathrm{dyn}}`$) where galaxy formation switches from one mode to another. To test these speculations, it would be necessary to conduct high resolution simulations of a single galaxy, to observe how galaxy morphology and disk structure changes as the entropy of the accreted gas is increased. To some extent, we know already from previous simulations (based on suggestions that photo-ionization could delay cooling until $`z1`$) that feedback processes which delay gas cooling result in less angular momentum transfer and more disk-like features (?).

Preheating may also help alleviate possible problems with the dearth of galaxies found in voids (???). Since the distribution of halo masses in voids is shifted to lower masses relative to the field, preheating will be particularly effective in suppressing galaxy formation in these environments. However, lower mass halos also tend to collapse earlier, so a larger fraction of these halos will form prior to preheating. This latter effect seems to dominate. Using dark matter halos from the simulations of ?, we identified halos which formed after preheating at $`z=2`$ (assuming the distribution of formations redshifts given by ? and no correlation of formation time with environment). Removing these halos from the sample makes only minor differences to the void probability function for example. Although these simulations have a rather poor mass resolution for the study of void galaxies, we expect the effects of preheating to become even less for lower mass halos, since an even greater fraction of these should form prior to preheating.

### 3.3 Conclusions

In this paper, we stress that radiative cooling alone cannot account for the observed entropy floor in clusters and the minimum entropy required to produce the observed deviation from self-similarity in the $`L_\mathrm{X}T_\mathrm{X}`$ relation. This is only possible with severe overcooling. Thus, some form of entropy injection–perhaps through supernovae or AGN winds–seems necessary (though radiative cooling still plays a very important role in reducing the energetic requirements for producing an entropy floor (?)). The level of entropy injection required to produce observable changes in the density profiles of deep potential wells of groups and clusters must have a drastic effect on smaller halos which host galaxies. We show that entropy injection can indeed play a very important role in regulating gas accretion and cooling in galaxies, since gas heated to the entropy floor can never cool in a Hubble time, regardless of the densities it is compressed to: for gas temperatures typical of galaxy halos the cooling time depends almost exclusively on entropy and is relatively independent of density. Thus, after the epoch of preheating, the gas supply to galaxies was cut off. This is not inconsistent with observations if an epoch of preheating at $`z2`$ is assumed. We speculate that at a critical level of entropy $`t_{\mathrm{cool}}(S_{\mathrm{crit}})t_{\mathrm{ff}}`$, the mode of gas collapse changes from free-fall and fragmenation (which produces ellipticals) to quiescent accretion (which produces spirals).

There are many aspects of the impact of preheating on galaxy formation which would be worth pursuing in greater detail, particularly with numerical simulations. One would be the redshift and spatial dependence of entropy injection–we have only considered a uniform level of entropy injection which appears instantaneously at $`z2`$. Naively, we would expect entropy injection to be proportional to the integrated star formation, which is proportional to the local stellar density and local metallicity. Similarly, the spatial variation and distribution function of entropy due to shock heating of the IGM deserves attention, and the possibility that the entropy of the IGM may be responsible for galaxy morphology. It may well be that the entropy of the IGM regulates the amount of cooling and star-formation at any given cosmological epoch, and is the chief mechanism which prevents overcooling at high redshift.

## acknowledgments

We thank Celine Peroux for providing the data used in Fig 6, and Jerry Ostriker (long ago) and Tommaso Treu for helpful discussions.


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# A cohomology attached to a function

## 1. Introduction

There are several cohomologies attached to a function that can be defined in terms of differential forms, such as the relative cohomology associated to a singularity, or the cohomology of the complex of logarithmic differential forms associated with the complement of an hyperplane. These cohomologies give, for instance, information on the topology of the complement of the zeros of the function. In this paper, we consider a new cohomology attached to a smooth function on a differentiable manifold.

This new cohomology is also defined in terms of differential forms. More precisely, if $`M`$ is a differentiable manifold and $`f`$ is a smooth function on $`M`$, we define a coboundary operator

$`d_f:\mathrm{\Omega }^k(M)`$ $`\mathrm{\Omega }^{k+1}(M)`$
$`\alpha `$ $`fd\alpha kdf\alpha .`$
where $`\mathrm{\Omega }^k(M)`$ is the space of $`k`$-differential forms on $`M`$. It is easy to check that $`d_fd_f=0`$, and we denote by $`H_f^{}(M)`$ the cohomology associated with the complex $`(\mathrm{\Omega }^{}(M),d_f)`$. More generally, for any integer $`p`$, we define a coboundary operator

$`d_f^{(p)}:\mathrm{\Omega }^k(M)`$ $`\mathrm{\Omega }^{k+1}(M)`$
$`\alpha `$ $`fd\alpha (kp)df\alpha .`$
We still have $`d_f^{(p)}d_f^{(p)}=0`$ and we denote by $`H_{f,p}^{}(M)`$ the cohomology of this complex. We shall restrict our attention to the cohomology $`H_f^{}(M)`$ but most results readily generalize to the cohomology $`H_{f,p}^{}(M)`$.

This cohomology was considered for the first time in  in the context of Poisson geometry, and more generally, Nambu-Poisson geometry. There we have computed this cohomology in the case where $`f`$ is the germ of a function with an isolated singularity. The aim of this paper is to initiate a systematic study of this cohomology.

We start, in Section 2, by showing several possible ways of defining this cohomology. First we recall how it arises in Poisson and Nambu-Poisson geometry. Then we construct a certain Lie algebroid attached to a function $`f`$ for which the Lie algebroid cohomology coincides with $`H_f^{}(M)`$. For a regular function $`f`$, there is another Lie algebroid one can attach to the function, namely the Melrose fake tangent bundle of $`S=f^1(\{0\})`$ (see ). This Lie algebroid does not coincide with ours, but they have isomorphic cohomologies. Finally, one can also consider differential forms with a “pole” along $`S`$, obtaining a chain complex for which the cohomology is also $`H_f^{}(M)`$.

In Section 3 we study some basic properties of the cohomology. First we discuss how the cohomology varies when the function $`f`$ changes. In particular, we show that if the function $`f`$ does not vanish, then the cohomology $`H_f^{}(M)`$ coincides with the de Rham cohomology of $`M`$. Then we will show that it is possible to write a Mayer-Vietoris exact sequence, a relative cohomology exact sequence, and an excision theorem, for our cohomology. We also give an appropriate notion of homotopy, but it is an open question whether the cohomology is homotopy invariant in general.

In Section 4 we consider the regular case, i.e., the case where the function $`f`$ does not have singularities in a neighborhood of $`S=f^1(\{0\})`$. In this case, we can relate the cohomology with the de Rham cohomology of $`M`$ and of $`S`$, showing that the space $`H_f^k(M)`$ is isomorphic to $`H_{dR}^k(M)H_{dR}^{k1}(S)`$. As a corollary of this result, one obtains the Poisson cohomology for generic 2-dimensional Poisson structures. In the regular case, we prove homotopy invariance.

Finally, in the last section, we study the complex case, giving an application of our cohomology to complex algebraic geometry. Namely, we explain how the results we have found in  can be applied to give information on the degeneration of a spectral sequence converging to the cohomology of an hypersurface complement. As a corollary, we obtain a new proof of a well-known result of A. Dimca.

## Acknowledgments

I would like to thank Jean-Paul Dufour for his help and its comments. I wish also to thank Alexandru Dimca, Rui Loja Fernandes and Alan Weinstein for their remarks.

## 2. Geometrical origins

The following notations will be enforced throughout the paper. We denote by $`f`$ a smooth function on a $`n`$-dimensional manifold $`M`$ and by $`SM`$ the level set $`f^1(\{0\})`$. As usual, $`\mathrm{\Omega }^k(M)`$ denotes the vector space of $`k`$-differential forms, and $`H_{dR}^k(M)`$ the $`k`$-th de Rham cohomology group. Dually, $`𝔛^k(M)`$ denotes the vector space of $`k`$-vector fields. Also, $`[,]:𝔛^k(M)\times 𝔛^l(M)𝔛^{k+l1}(M)`$ denotes the Schouten bracket on multi-vector fields. For a cohomology theory, we denote by $`Z^k`$ (resp. $`B^k`$) the space of $`k`$-cocycles (resp. $`k`$-cobords).

### 2.1. The two-dimensional case

Let $`M`$ be a Poisson manifold with Poisson 2-vector field $`\mathrm{\Pi }𝔛^2(M)`$, so that $`[\mathrm{\Pi },\mathrm{\Pi }]=0`$ (see for instance ). If the manifold $`M`$ has dimension two, this condition is automatically satisfied, so every 2-vector on a 2-dimensional manifold is a Poisson structure.

Assume that $`(M,\mathrm{\Pi })`$ is a 2-dimensional orientable Poisson manifold, and fix a volume form $`\nu \mathrm{\Omega }^2(M)`$. The contraction $`f:=i_\mathrm{\Pi }\nu `$ is a smooth function. We have observed in  that the *Poisson cohomology* of $`(M,\mathrm{\Pi })`$ is isomorphic to $`H_f^{}(M)`$. Let us recall how this works.

First of all, the Poisson cohomology of $`(M,\mathrm{\Pi })`$ is defined to be the cohomology of the following chain complex (see ):

where the boundary map is $`(Q)=[Q,\mathrm{\Pi }]`$. Hence, the map $`:𝔛^0(M)𝔛^1(M)`$ is the map that associates to a function $`g`$ its Hamiltonian vector field $`X_g`$:

$$(g)=[g,\mathrm{\Pi }]X_g,$$

and $`:𝔛^1(M)𝔛^2(M)`$ is the map that associates to a vector field $`X`$ the Lie derivative of $`\mathrm{\Pi }`$ along $`X`$:

$$(X)=[X,\mathrm{\Pi }]_X\mathrm{\Pi }.$$

This cohomology is an invariant of the Poisson manifold, which has been studied, from different points of view, for instance in .

Secondly, we have an isomorphism of chain complexes

$$\varphi :(𝔛^{}(M),)(\mathrm{\Omega }^{}(M),d_f),$$

where $`\varphi ^0:C^{\mathrm{}}(M)C^{\mathrm{}}(M)`$ is the identity, $`\varphi ^1:𝔛^1(M)\mathrm{\Omega }^1(M)`$ is contraction of $`\nu `$:

$$\varphi ^1(X)i_X\nu ,$$

and $`\varphi ^2:𝔛^2(M)\mathrm{\Omega }^2(M)`$ is the linear application defined by

$$\varphi ^2(\mathrm{\Gamma })(i_\mathrm{\Gamma }\nu )\nu .$$

The Poisson cohomology of a manifold is, in general, very hard to compute, even in dimension two. Since working with differential forms has many advantages over working with multivectors, one may expect that this isomorphism will lead to actual computations of Poisson cohomology in dimension two. We shall see an example of that in the proof of Theorem 4.11.

### 2.2. In higher dimensions

If $`M`$ is an orientable manifold of dimension $`n>2`$, one generalizes the previous case in a straightforward way. One considers a $`n`$-vector $`\mathrm{\Lambda }𝔛^n(M)`$, and fixes a volume form $`\nu \mathrm{\Omega }^n(M)`$, obtaining a smooth function $`f:=i_\mathrm{\Lambda }\nu `$. The pair $`(M,\mathrm{\Lambda })`$ is no more a Poisson manifold, but it is a *Nambu-Poisson manifold* of degree $`n`$, which may be seen as a kind of generalization of Poisson structures (see ).

Now we would like to associate a cohomology to the pair $`(M,\mathrm{\Lambda })`$, generalizing Poisson cohomology in dimension two. In , the authors construct a chain complex (called the Nambu-Poisson complex) associated to any Nambu-Poisson manifold of dimension and of degree larger than 3. This complex is rather difficult to manipulate, but we have shown in  that the Nambu-Poisson cohomology of $`(M,\mathrm{\Pi })`$ is indeed isomorphic to $`H_f^{}(M)`$.

There is a second complex one can associate to the pair $`(M,\mathrm{\Lambda })`$, which also generalizes Poisson cohomology in dimension two, and which is much simpler. One takes

where the boundary map $`:𝔛^0(M)𝔛^1(M)`$ is the map that associates to the functions $`g_1,\mathrm{},g_n`$ their Hamiltonian vector field $`X_{g_1,\mathrm{},g_{n1}}`$:

$$(g_1,\mathrm{},g_{n1})=i_{dg_1\mathrm{}dg_{n1}}\mathrm{\Lambda }X_{g_1,\mathrm{},g_{n1}},$$

and $`:𝔛^1(M)𝔛^n(M)`$ is the map that associates to a vector field $`X`$ the Lie derivative of $`\mathrm{\Lambda }`$ along $`X`$:

$$(X)=[X,\mathrm{\Lambda }]_X\mathrm{\Lambda }.$$

In the same way as for the 2-dimensional case, one can show that the last two cohomology groups of this chain complex are isomorphic to $`H_{f,n2}^{n1}(M)`$ and $`H_{f,n2}^n(M)`$ (see ).

### 2.3. A Lie algebroid attached to a function

Recall (see, e.g., ) that a *Lie algebroid* over $`M`$ is a triple $`(A,\rho ,[[,]])`$ where $`A`$ is a vector bundle over $`M`$, $`\rho :ATM`$ is a bundle map (called the *anchor*), and $`[[,]]`$ is a Lie algebra bracket on the sections $`\mathrm{\Gamma }(A)`$, such that:

* $`\rho `$ defines a Lie algebra homomorphism $`(\mathrm{\Gamma }(A),[[,]])(𝔛(M),[,])`$;
* for every $`u,v\mathrm{\Gamma }(A)`$ and $`gC^{\mathrm{}}(M)`$:

$$[[u,gv]]=g[[u,v]]+\left(\rho (u)g\right)v.$$

To any Lie algebroid one associates a cohomology $`H^{}(A)`$ by considering the chain complex $`(\mathrm{\Omega }^{}(A),d_A)`$, where $`\mathrm{\Omega }^k(A)\mathrm{\Gamma }(^kA^{})`$ and

$$\begin{array}{c}d_AQ(u_0,\mathrm{},u_r)=\frac{1}{r+1}\underset{k=0}{\overset{r}{}}(1)^k\rho (u_k)Q(u_0,\mathrm{},\widehat{u}_k,\mathrm{},u_r)\hfill \\ \hfill +\frac{1}{r+1}\underset{k<l}{}(1)^{k+l+1}Q([u_k,u_l],u_0,\mathrm{},\widehat{u}_k,\mathrm{},\widehat{u}_l,\mathrm{},u_r).\end{array}$$

Now, for any smooth function $`f`$ on a manifold $`M`$ we can attach a Lie algebroid as follows. We take $`A=TM`$, the anchor $`\rho :TMTM`$ is defined by

$$\rho (X)fX,X𝔛(M),$$

and the Lie bracket $`[[,]]`$ on $`𝔛(M)`$ is given by

$$[[X,Y]]\frac{[fX,fY]}{f}=f[X,Y]+(Xf)Y(Yf)X,X,Y𝔛(M).$$

It is easy to check that the triple $`(TM,\rho ,[[,]])`$ is a Lie algebroid over $`M`$ and its cohomology is precisely $`H_f^{}(M)`$.

###### Remark 2.1.

The Lie algebroid $`(TM,\rho ,[[,]])`$ is always integrable to a Lie groupoid since the obstructions to integrability given in  vanish.

###### Remark 2.2.

When the function $`f`$ is regular there is another Lie algebroid attached to $`f`$ which can be defined as follows (see  and ). Recall that $`SM`$ denotes the set $`f^1(0)`$, which is an embedded submanifold if $`f`$ is regular. It is shown in , that the $`C^{\mathrm{}}(M)`$-module $`𝔛_S(M)`$ of vector fields on $`M`$ tangent to $`S`$ is the space of sections of a vector bundle $`A`$ over $`M`$, called the *fake tangent bundle*. On $`A`$ one has a structure of a Lie algebroid over $`M`$, where the bracket is the standard Lie bracket of vector fields, and the anchor may be defined locally as follows. For a point $`pS`$, there exists local coordinates $`(U,x,y_2,\mathrm{},y_n)`$ such that $`US=\{qU:x(q)=0\}`$. If one sets $`e_1=x\frac{}{x}`$ and $`e_i=\frac{}{y_i}`$ for $`i>1`$, the $`e_i`$’s form a local basis of $`𝔛_S(M)`$. The anchor map $`\tau `$ is then defined as $`\tau (e_1)=x\frac{}{x}`$ and $`\tau (e_i)=\frac{}{y_i}`$ for $`i>1`$. This Lie algebroid does not coincide with the one defined above (the later has points of rank zero, while the first one not), but we will see later (cf. Remark 4.6) that their Lie algebroid cohomologies are isomorphic.

###### Remark 2.3.

For $`p0`$ the operator $`d_f^{(p)}`$ is not a derivation of the exterior algebra, hence the cohomology $`H_{f,p}^{}(M)`$ does not come from a Lie algebroid.

### 2.4. Singular k-forms

Let us call a form $`\omega \mathrm{\Omega }^k(MS)`$ a *singular $`k`$-form* if the form $`f^k\omega `$ can be extended to a smooth form on $`M`$. We denote the space of singular $`k`$-forms by $`\mathrm{\Omega }_f^k(M)`$.

If $`\omega \mathrm{\Omega }_f^k(M)`$ is a singular $`k`$-form then $`d\omega `$ is a singular $`(k+1)`$-form. In fact, we have

$$f^{k+1}d\omega =d(f^{k+1}\omega )(k+1)df(f^k\omega ),$$

so $`f^{k+1}d\omega `$ also extends to a smooth form on $`M`$. Therefore we obtain a chain complex $`(\mathrm{\Omega }_f^{}(M),d)`$.

###### Proposition 2.4.

The cohomology of $`(\mathrm{\Omega }_f^{}(M),d)`$ is isomorphic to $`H_f^{}(M)`$.

###### Proof.

Define a map of chain complexes $`\phi :(\mathrm{\Omega }_f^{}(M),d)(\mathrm{\Omega }^{}(M),d_f)`$ by setting

$$\phi ^k:\mathrm{\Omega }_f^k(M)\mathrm{\Omega }^k(M),\omega f^k\omega .$$

It is easy to check that $`\phi `$ induces an isomorphism in cohomology. ∎

## 3. Basic Properties

In this section we will study some basic properties of the cohomology defined above.

### 3.1. Degree zero cohomology

If $`MS`$ is a dense subset of $`M`$ (e.g., if $`f`$ is regular) one can compute the groups $`H_{f,p}^0(M)`$:

###### Proposition 3.1.

If $`MS`$ is dense in $`M`$,

$$H_{f,p}^0(M)=\{\begin{array}{c}0,\text{ if }p>0,\hfill \\ \\ ,\text{ if }p0.\hfill \end{array}$$

###### Proof.

If $`p>0`$, note that $`d_f^{(p)}(g)=\frac{d(f^pg)}{f^{p1}}`$ for any smooth function $`g`$ on $`M`$. Hence $`d_f^{(p)}(g)=0`$ iff $`g0`$, and we obtain $`H_{f,p}^0(M)=\{0\}`$.

If $`p0`$, let $`g`$ be a function on $`M`$ such that $`d_f^{(p)}(g)=0`$. We have $`d\left(\frac{g}{f^p}\right)=0`$ on $`MS`$, so $`g=\lambda f^p`$ on $`MS`$ for some $`\lambda `$. It follows that $`g=\lambda f^p`$ on $`M`$, so we obtain $`H_{f,p}^0(M)`$. ∎

The higher degree cohomology groups are much harder to compute, even in the case where the function vanishes at a single point.

### 3.2. Dependence on the function

A natural question to ask about the cohomology $`H_f^{}(M)`$ is how it depends on the function $`f`$. A first result is the following.

###### Proposition 3.2.

If $`hC^{\mathrm{}}(M)`$ does not vanish, then the cohomologies $`H_f^{}(M)`$ and $`H_{fh}^{}(M)`$ are isomorphic.

###### Proof.

For each $`k`$, consider the linear isomorphism

$$\varphi ^k:\mathrm{\Omega }^k(M)\mathrm{\Omega }^k(M),\alpha \frac{\alpha }{h^k}.$$

If $`\alpha `$ is a $`k`$-form on $`M`$, one checks easily that

$$\varphi ^{k+1}(d_{fh}\alpha )=d_f\left(\varphi ^k(\alpha )\right),$$

so $`\varphi `$ induces an isomorphism between the cohomologies $`H_f^{}(M)`$ and $`H_{fh}^{}(M)`$. ∎

###### Corollary 3.3.

If the function $`fC^{\mathrm{}}(M)`$ does not vanish, then $`H_f^{}(M)`$ is isomorphic to the de Rham cohomology $`H_{dR}^{}(M)`$.

It follows also that the cohomology $`H_f^{}(M)`$ depends only on the germ of the function $`f`$ on its set of zeros:

###### Corollary 3.4.

If $`g`$ and $`f`$ are smooth functions on $`M`$ such that $`S=f^1(0)=g^1(0)`$ and $`g=f`$ on some neighborhood of $`S`$, then $`H_f^{}(M)H_g^{}(M)`$.

### 3.3. Relative cohomology

Let $`N`$ be a submanifold (eventually with boundary) of $`M`$. We assume that $`N`$ is not included in $`S`$ and we denote by $`\iota `$ the inclusion $`NM`$. The *relative cohomology* groups $`H_f^{}(M,N)`$ are defined exactly as in the case of the de Rham theory (see, e.g., the construction done in ).

As in case of the de Rham cohomology, we have a long exact sequence for the pair $`(M,N)`$:

###### Theorem 3.5.

There is a long exact sequence

###### Corollary 3.6.

If $`MS`$ is dense in $`M`$, we have $`H_f^0(M,N)=\{0\}`$ (and also $`H_{f,p}^0(M,N)=\{0\}`$).

###### Proof.

Apply Proposition 3.1 and Theorem 3.5. ∎

Now, assume that $`N`$ is the closure of an open subset of $`M`$ instead of a manifold. We can still define the relative cohomology $`H_f^{}(M,N)`$. In fact, if we denote by $`\mathrm{\Omega }_N^k(M)`$ the vector space formed by the $`k`$-forms which vanish on $`N`$, then exterior differentiation $`d:\mathrm{\Omega }_N^k(M)\mathrm{\Omega }_N^{k+1}(M)`$ is well defined. Indeed, if $`\alpha \mathrm{\Omega }_N^k(M)`$, then $`\alpha =0`$ on the interior of $`N`$, and thus $`d\alpha =0`$ on $`N`$, i.e., $`d\alpha \mathrm{\Omega }_N^{k+1}(M)`$. It follows that the differential operator $`d_f:\mathrm{\Omega }_N^k(M)\mathrm{\Omega }_N^{k+1}(M)`$ is also well defined. Again, imitating the de Rham case, one obtains:

###### Proposition 3.7.

If $`N`$ is the closure of an open subset of $`M`$ then the cohomology of the complex $`(\mathrm{\Omega }_N^{}(M),d_f)`$ is isomorphic to the cohomology $`H_f^{}(M,N)`$.

### 3.4. Excision

We leave it to the reader to check that the following version of the excision property also holds (again, the proof is similar to the de Rham case):

###### Theorem 3.8.

Let $`U`$ be an open subset of $`M`$ with closure in the interior of $`N`$. Then, the inclusion $`j:(MU,NU)(M,N)`$ induces an isomorphism

$$j^{}:H_f^{}(M,N)H_f^{}(MU,NU).$$

### 3.5. The Mayer-Vietoris sequence

Since the differential $`d_f`$ commutes with the restrictions to open subsets, one can construct, in the same way as for the de Rham cohomology (see ), a Mayer-Vietoris exact sequence.

###### Theorem 3.9.

If $`𝒰=(U,V)`$ is an open cover of $`M`$, we have the long exact sequence

where for $`[\omega ]H_f^k(M)`$ and $`([\alpha ],[\beta ])H_f^k(U)H_f^k(V)`$, we define

$$R([\omega ])=([\omega |_U],[\omega |_V]),J([\alpha ],[\beta ])=[\alpha |_{UV}\beta |_{UV}].$$

### 3.6. Homotopy invariance

We need to define an appropriate notion of homotopy. Assuming a more functorial approach, let us think of a pair $`(M,f)`$ as an *object*. In order to think of $`H_f^{}(M)`$ as a functor, we need a notion of *morphism* between such pairs:

###### Definition 3.10.

Let $`M`$ and $`N`$ two differentiable manifolds with smooth functions $`f`$ and $`g`$, respectively. A *morphism* $`\mathrm{\Phi }`$ from the pair $`(M,f)`$ to the pair $`(N,g)`$ is a pair $`(\varphi ,a)`$ formed by a smooth map $`\varphi :MN`$ and smooth function $`a:M`$, such $`a`$ does not vanish on $`M`$ and $`g\varphi =af`$.

We will say that the pairs $`(M,f)`$ and $`(N,g)`$ are *equivalent* if there exists a morphism $`\mathrm{\Phi }=(\varphi ,a)`$ between these two pairs where $`\varphi `$ is a diffeomorphism. This notion of equivalence between the pairs is sometimes called “contact equivalence” in singularity theory.

A morphism $`\mathrm{\Phi }=(\varphi ,a)`$ from the pair $`(M,f)`$ to the pair $`(N,g)`$ induces a chain map $`\mathrm{\Phi }^{}:(\mathrm{\Omega }^{}(N),d_g)(\mathrm{\Omega }^{}(M),d_f)`$ defined by:

$$\mathrm{\Phi }^{}:\mathrm{\Omega }^k(N)\mathrm{\Omega }^k(M),\omega \frac{\varphi ^{}\omega }{a^k}.$$

and this map induces an homomorphism in cohomology $`\mathrm{\Phi }^{}:H_g^{}(N)H_f^{}(M)`$. If $`\mathrm{\Phi }`$ is an equivalence this map is an isomorphism.

Now, we come back to our problem:

###### Definition 3.11.

A *homotopy* from the pair $`(M,f)`$ to the pair $`(N,g)`$ is given by two smooth maps

$$h:M\times [0,1]N,a:M\times [0,1],$$

such that for each $`t[0,1]`$, we have a morphism

$$H_t(h(,t),a(,t)):(M,f)(N,g)$$

(i.e., $`a`$ does not vanish and $`gh(x,t)=a(x,t)f(x)`$).

If $`H=(h,a)`$ is a homotopy from $`(M,f)`$ to $`(N,g)`$, we obtain a map at the cohomology level

$$H_t^{}:H_g^{}(N)H_f^{}(M).$$

The problem of homotopy invariance is the following: given a homotopy $`H`$, from $`(M,f)`$ to $`(N,g)`$, is it true that $`H_0^{}=H_1^{}`$ at the cohomology level? For general pairs $`(M,f)`$ and $`(N,g)`$ this seems to be a hard problem. If the complements of the zero level sets of $`f`$ and $`g`$ are dense sets, then in degree zero we do have $`H_0^{}=H_1^{}:H_f^0(M)H_g^0(N)`$. But for higher degree, this is a much more difficult problem. In the next section, we give some partial results in the regular case.

###### Remark 3.12.

One can express the notion of homotopy in terms of singular forms. In fact, it is easy to check that under the correspondence between singular k-forms $`\omega \mathrm{\Omega }_f^k(M)`$ and k-forms $`f^k\omega \mathrm{\Omega }^k(M)`$ (see the the proof of Proposition 2.4), the map $`H_t^{}:\mathrm{\Omega }^k(N)\mathrm{\Omega }^k(M)`$ corresponds to the pullback $`h_t^{}:\mathrm{\Omega }_g^k(N)\mathrm{\Omega }_f^k(M)`$.

## 4. The regular case

In this section, we consider the case where $`0`$ is a regular value of $`f`$. The subset $`S=f^1(\{0\})`$ in then an embedded submanifold of $`M`$. In order to simplify the exposition we assume that $`S`$ is connected.

### 4.1. Computation of the cohomology.

It follows from Proposition 3.1 that $`H_f^0(M)=`$. Our main result is the following:

###### Theorem 4.1.

For each $`k1`$, there is an isomorphism

$$H_f^k(M)H_{dR}^k(M)H_{dR}^{k1}(S).$$

Before we start the proof we need to introduce some notation.

Let $`UU^{}`$ be tubular neighborhoods of $`S`$. We may assume that $`U=S\times ]ϵ,ϵ[`$ and $`U^{}=S\times ]ϵ^{},ϵ^{}[`$, with $`ϵ^{}>ϵ`$, and that

$$f|_U^{}:S\times ]ϵ^{},ϵ^{}[,(x,t)t.$$

We denote by $`\pi `$ the projection $`U^{}S`$.

Let $`\rho :`$ be a smooth function which is 1 on $`[ϵ,ϵ]`$ and has support contained in $`[ϵ^{},ϵ^{}]`$. Note that the function $`\rho f`$ is 1 on $`U`$, and we claim that we can assume that the function $`\rho f`$ vanishes on $`MU^{}`$. Indeed, let $`W=\{xM:|f(x)|<\epsilon ^{}\}`$. If $`W=U^{}`$ there is nothing to prove. If not, we have $`W=U^{}V`$ where $`U^{}`$ and $`V`$ are disjoint open sets. Then, there exists a smooth function $`\stackrel{~}{f}`$ which equals $`f`$ on $`U^{}`$ and such that $`|f|>\epsilon ^{}`$ on $`V`$. By Corollary 3.4, we can replace $`f`$ by $`\stackrel{~}{f}`$.

If $`\nu `$ is a form on $`S`$, we will denote by $`\overline{\nu }`$ the form $`\rho (f)\pi ^{}\nu `$. Notice that

$$d\overline{\nu }=\rho (f)\pi ^{}(d\nu )+\rho ^{}(f)df\pi ^{}\nu ,$$

so we conclude that

(4.1)
$$dfd\overline{\nu }=df\overline{d\nu }.$$

###### Proof of Theorem 4.1.

We split the proof into several lemmas.

###### Lemma 4.2.

Any $`k`$-form $`\omega `$ on $`M`$ can be decomposed, in an unique way, as

(4.2)
$$\omega =f^k\omega _k+f^{k1}\omega _{k1}+\mathrm{}+f\omega _1+\omega _0,$$

where $`\omega _i=\overline{\mu _i}+df\overline{\nu _i}`$, with $`\mu _i\mathrm{\Omega }^k(S)`$ and $`\nu _i\mathrm{\Omega }^{k1}(S)`$, for $`0ik1`$.

###### Proof.

Let $`\omega `$ be a $`k`$-form on $`M`$, and write $`\omega =(1\rho (f))\omega +\rho (f)\omega `$. We can decompose $`\omega |_U^{}`$, in an unique way, as

$$\omega |_U^{}=f^k\theta _k+f^{k1}\theta _{k1}+\mathrm{}+f\theta _1+\theta _0,$$

where $`\theta _i=\pi ^{}\mu _i+df\pi ^{}\nu _i`$, for $`0ik1`$, with $`\mu _i\mathrm{\Omega }^k(S)`$ and $`\nu _i\mathrm{\Omega }^{k1}(S)`$. Now, since $`\rho f=0`$ on $`MU^{}`$, the $`k`$-form $`\rho (f)\omega `$ may be written as

$$\rho (f)\omega =f^k\rho (f)\theta _k+f^{k1}(\overline{\mu _i}+df\overline{\nu _i})+\mathrm{}+(\overline{\mu _0}+df\overline{\nu _0}).$$

On the other hand, since $`1\rho (f)`$ is 0 on a neighborhood of $`S`$, we can write $`(1\rho (f))\omega =f^k\zeta `$ for some $`k`$-form $`\zeta `$, and the result follows. ∎

In the sequel we denote by $`\mathrm{\Phi }`$ the linear application

$$\mathrm{\Omega }^k(M)\mathrm{\Omega }^{k1}(S)\mathrm{\Omega }^k(M),(\alpha ,\beta )f^k\alpha +f^{k1}df\overline{\beta }.$$

If $`(\alpha ,\beta )\mathrm{\Omega }^k(M)\mathrm{\Omega }^{k1}(S)`$, with $`d\alpha =0`$ and $`d\beta =0`$ then, using (4.1), we find

$`d_f\left(\mathrm{\Phi }(\alpha ,\beta )\right)`$ $`=f^{k+1}d\alpha f^kdfd\overline{\beta },`$
$`=f^{k+1}d\alpha f^kdf\overline{d\beta }=0.`$
Similarly, one checks that if $`\mu \mathrm{\Omega }^{k1}(M)`$ and $`\nu \mathrm{\Omega }^{k2}(S)`$, then

$$\mathrm{\Phi }(d\mu ,d\nu )=d_f(f^{k1}\mu f^{k2}df\overline{\nu }).$$

We conclude that $`\mathrm{\Phi }`$ induces a map at the level of cohomology

$`\mathrm{\Phi }:H_{dR}^k(M)H_{dR}^{k1}(S)`$ $`H_f^k(M),`$
$`([\alpha ],[\beta ])`$ $`[f^k\alpha +f^{k1}df\overline{\beta }].`$
###### Lemma 4.3.

If $`k>1`$, $`\mathrm{\Phi }`$ is surjective.

###### Proof.

Let $`\omega `$ be a $`k`$-form on $`M`$ with $`d_f\omega =0`$. If we decompose $`\omega `$ as in (4.2), we obtain

$$\begin{array}{c}d_f\omega =f^{k+1}d\omega _k+f^kd\omega _{k1}+f^{k1}(d\omega _{k2}df\omega _{k1})\hfill \\ \hfill +\mathrm{}+f(d\omega _0(k1)df\omega _1)kdf\omega _0=0.\end{array}$$

If we restrict to $`U`$, we get by uniqueness of the decomposition $`df\omega _0|_U=0`$, i.e. $`df\pi ^{}\mu _0=0`$ and so, $`\mu _0=0`$. We conclude that $`\omega _0=df\overline{\nu _0}`$.

Now set $`\gamma _0\frac{1}{k1}\overline{\nu _0}`$. We have

$$\omega +d_f\gamma _0=f^k\omega _f+f^{k1}\omega _{k1}+\mathrm{}+f^2\omega _2+f(\omega _1+d\gamma _0).$$

Noting that $`d\gamma _0=\frac{1}{k1}\overline{d\nu _0}+\frac{\rho ^{}(f)}{k1}df\pi ^{}\nu _0`$, writing $`d_f(\omega +d_f\gamma _0)=0`$ and restricting to $`U`$, we obtain $`\mu _1+\frac{1}{k1}d\nu _0=0`$. Therefore:

$$\omega _1+d\gamma _0=df(\overline{\nu _1}+\frac{\rho ^{}(f)}{k1}\pi ^{}\nu _0).$$

Thus, if we put $`\gamma _1=\frac{1}{k2}\overline{\nu _1}+\frac{\rho ^{}(f)}{k1}\pi ^{}\nu _0`$, we get

$$\omega +d_f(f\gamma _1+\gamma _0)=f^k\omega _f+f^{k1}\omega _{k1}+\mathrm{}+f^3\omega _3+f^2(\omega _2+d\gamma _1).$$

This way, we can construct $`\gamma _0,\gamma _1,\mathrm{},\gamma _{k2}`$, with

$$\gamma _{k2}=\overline{\nu _{k2}}+\frac{\rho ^{}(f)}{2}\pi ^{}\nu _{k3}+\mathrm{}+\frac{\rho ^{(k2)}(f)}{(k1)!}\pi ^{}\nu _0,$$

such that

$$\omega +d_f(\gamma _0+\mathrm{}+f^{k2}\gamma _{k2})=f^k\omega _k+f^{k1}(\omega _{k1}+d\gamma _{k2}).$$

Now, writing $`d_f(\omega +d_f(\gamma _0+\mathrm{}+f^{k2}\gamma _{k2}))=0`$ and restricting to $`U`$, we obtain $`\mu _{k1}=d\nu _{k2}`$ (using $`\rho f=1`$) and $`d\omega _{k1}^{}{}_{|U}{}^{}=0`$. Consequently, we have

$$\omega _{k1}+d\gamma _{k2}=df\overline{\nu _{k1}}+\eta ,$$

where

$$\eta =df[\rho ^{}(f)\pi ^{}\nu _{k2}+\mathrm{}+\frac{\rho ^{(k1)}(f)}{(k1)!}\pi ^{}\nu _0]+\frac{\rho ^{}(f)}{2}\pi ^{}d\nu _{k3}+\mathrm{}+\frac{\rho ^{(k2)}(f)}{(k1)!}\pi ^{}d\nu _0.$$

Since $`d\omega _{k1}|_U=0`$ and $`\eta |_U=0`$, we obtain $`d\nu _{k2}=0`$. On the other hand, since $`\eta `$ is zero on a neighborhood of $`S`$, we can write $`\eta =f\xi `$. We conclude that

$$\omega =f^k(\omega _k+\xi )+f^{k1}df\overline{\nu _{k2}}+d_f\gamma ,$$

where $`\gamma =\gamma _0+\mathrm{}+f^{k2}\gamma _{k2}`$. We have seen, that $`d\nu _{k2}=0`$. Now, writing $`d_f\omega =0`$, we see that $`d(\omega _k+\xi )=0`$. This shows that $`\omega `$ is in the image of $`\mathrm{\Phi }`$. ∎

###### Lemma 4.4.

If $`k>1`$, $`\mathrm{\Phi }`$ is injective.

###### Proof.

Let $`(\alpha ,\beta )`$ in $`\mathrm{\Omega }^k(M)\mathrm{\Omega }^{k1}(S)`$ with $`d\alpha =0`$ and $`d\beta =0`$. We assume that $`f^k\alpha +f^{k1}df\overline{\beta }=d_f\gamma `$, where $`\gamma \mathrm{\Omega }^{k1}(M)`$.

We decompose $`\gamma `$ as in (4.2), i.e.,

$$\gamma =f^{k1}\gamma _{k1}+f^{k2}\gamma _{k2}+\mathrm{}+f\gamma _1+\gamma _0,$$

with, for $`ik2`$, $`\gamma _i=\overline{\mu _i}+df\overline{\nu _i}`$, $`\mu _i`$ and $`\nu _i`$ are forms on $`S`$. We have

$$\begin{array}{c}d_f\gamma =f^kd\gamma _{k1}+f^{k1}d\gamma _{k2}+f^{k2}(d\gamma _{k3}df\gamma _{k2})\hfill \\ \hfill +\mathrm{}+f(d\gamma _0(k2)df\gamma _1)(k1)df\gamma _0.\end{array}$$

Restricting to $`U`$, we obtain

$`df\gamma _0|_U`$ $`=0`$
$`(d\gamma _0(k2)df\gamma _1)|_U`$ $`=0`$
(4.3) $`\mathrm{}`$
$`(d\gamma _{k3}df\gamma _{k2})|_U`$ $`=0`$
$`d\gamma _{k2}|_U`$ $`=df\pi ^{}\beta `$
The first relation gives $`df\pi ^{}\mu _0=0`$ and so, $`\mu _0=0`$. This implies that $`\gamma _0=df\overline{\nu }_0`$. Using the second relation, we then get

$$df\pi ^{}d\nu _0+(k2)df\pi ^{}\mu _1=0,$$

which implies $`\mu _1=\frac{1}{k2}d\nu _0`$. In this way, we obtain for each $`ik2`$,

$$\mu _i=\frac{1}{k1i}d\nu _{i1}.$$

Now, since $`\gamma _{k2}=\overline{\mu _{k2}}+df\overline{\nu _{k2}}`$, the one before the last relation in (4.3) gives $`df\pi ^{}d\nu _{k2}=df\pi ^{}\beta `$, which implies $`\beta =d\nu _{k2}`$, i.e., $`\beta `$ is exact.

On the other hand, we have, for each $`1ik2`$,

$`d\gamma _{i1}(k1i)df\gamma _i`$ $`=d\overline{\mu _{i1}}dfd\overline{\nu _{i1}}(k1i)df\overline{\mu _i},`$
$`=\overline{d\mu _{i1}}+\rho ^{}(f)df\pi ^{}\mu _{i1}`$
$`df[\overline{d\nu _{i1}}+(k1i)\overline{\mu _i}],`$
$`={\displaystyle \frac{\rho ^{}(f)}{k1i}}df\pi ^{}d\nu _{i1},`$
and

$$d\gamma _{k2}=df\overline{\beta }+\rho ^{}(f)df\pi ^{}\mu _{k2}=df\overline{\beta }\rho ^{}(f)df\pi ^{}d\nu _{k3}.$$

We conclude that

$$f^k\alpha =f^kd\left(\gamma _{k1}+\frac{\rho ^{}(f)}{f}df\pi ^{}\nu _{k3}+\frac{\rho ^{}(f)}{f^2}df\pi ^{}\nu _{k3}+\mathrm{}+\frac{\rho ^{}(f)}{(k2)f^{k1}}df\pi ^{}\nu _0\right).$$

Therefore, $`\alpha `$ is exact. ∎

This shows that $`\mathrm{\Phi }`$ is bijective for $`k>1`$. On the other hand, we have

###### Lemma 4.5.

If $`k=1`$, $`\mathrm{\Phi }`$ is bijective.

###### Proof.

To prove that $`\mathrm{\Phi }`$ is surjective, let $`\omega `$ be a 1-form on $`M`$ with $`d_f\omega =0`$. We write $`\omega =f\omega _1+\omega _0`$ with $`\omega _0=\overline{\mu _0}+df\overline{\nu _0}`$ ($`\mu _0\mathrm{\Omega }^1(S)`$, $`\nu _0\mathrm{\Omega }^0(S)`$). We write $`d_f\omega =0`$ an we restrict to $`U`$. We obtain $`\mu _0=0`$ hence, $`\omega _0=df\overline{\nu _0}`$. Moreover, we have $`d\omega _{0}^{}{}_{|U}{}^{}=0`$ which gives $`d\nu _0=0`$. It follows that $`d\omega _1=0`$.

Now to prove that $`\mathrm{\Phi }`$ is injective, let $`\alpha \mathrm{\Omega }^1(S)`$ and $`\beta \mathrm{\Omega }^0(S)`$ with $`d\alpha =0`$ and $`d\beta =0`$. We suppose that

$$f\alpha +df\overline{\beta }=d_f\gamma =fd\gamma $$

where $`\gamma \mathrm{\Omega }^0(M)`$. Restricting to $`S`$, we obtain $`\beta =0`$. This implies $`\alpha =d\gamma `$. ∎

We have establish that $`\mathrm{\Phi }`$ is an isomorphism for all $`k1`$ so Theorem 4.1 follows. ∎

###### Remark 4.6.

Comparing this result with Proposition 2.49 in , we see that the cohomology of the Lie algebroid attached to a function constructed in Section 2.3 is isomorphic to the cohomology of the Melrose Lie algebroid.

###### Remark 4.7.

For $`kp>0`$ it is possible to adapt this proof in order to compute the cohomology $`H_{f,p}^{}(M)`$. For $`kp<0`$ the decomposition $`(\text{4.2})`$ is no longer valid. For $`k=p`$ the expression for $`H_{f,p}^p(M)`$ is not so nice. For instance, if $`p=1`$, and if $`H_{dR}^1(M)=\{0\}`$, we can show that the space $`H_{f,1}^1(M)`$ has infinite dimension. In fact, the space $`Z_{f,1}^1(M)`$ of 1-cocycles is $`\{dh|hC^{\mathrm{}}(M)\}`$ which is isomorphic, via exterior differentiation $`d`$, to the space $`C_0^{\mathrm{}}(M)`$ of functions which vanish in at least a point of $`M`$. Similarly, the space $`B_{f,1}^1(M)`$ of 1-cobords is isomorphic, via $`d`$, to the ideal of $`C_0^{\mathrm{}}(M)`$ spanned by $`f`$. Therefore, the quotient $`C_0^{\mathrm{}}(M)/(f)`$ has infinite dimension.

###### Example 4.8.

Let $`M=\{(x_1,\mathrm{},x_n)^n:x_1^2+\mathrm{}+x_n^2<2\}`$ be an open ball and $`f:M`$ the function $`f(x_1,\mathrm{},x_n)=x_1^2+\mathrm{}+x_n^21`$, so that $`SM`$ is the $`(n1)`$-sphere. Then,

$`H_f^0(M)`$ $`=H_f^1(M)=H_f^n(M)=,`$
$`H_f^k(M)`$ $`=\{0\},\text{ if }2kn1.`$
###### Example 4.9.

Let $`M=\{(x_1,\mathrm{},x_{n+1})^n:x_1^2+\mathrm{}+x_{n+1}^2=1\}`$ be the $`n`$-sphere and $`f:M`$ the function $`f(x_1,\mathrm{},x_{n+1})=x_1`$, so that $`S`$ is the equator. Then,

$`H_f^k(M)`$ $`=\text{ if }k=0,1,`$
$`H_f^k(M)`$ $`=\{0\}\text{ if }2kn1,`$
$`H_f^n(M)`$ $`=^2.`$
###### Example 4.10.

(Poisson geometry) Recall the identification explained in Section 2.1 between the cohomology $`H_f^{}(M)`$ and Poisson cohomology in dimension 2. It leads immediately to the following result, which generalizes a result due to Radko  for the compact case:

###### Theorem 4.11.

Let $`(M,\mathrm{\Pi })`$ be an orientable 2-dimensional Poisson manifold with singular set $`S`$. Assume that the contraction of the Poisson tensor $`\mathrm{\Pi }`$ with a volume form on $`M`$ is a regular function in a neighborhood of $`S`$. Then the Poisson cohomology of $`(M,\mathrm{\Pi })`$ is

$$H_\mathrm{\Pi }^k(M)H_{dR}^k(M)H_{dR}^{k1}(S).$$

### 4.2. Homotopy invariance in the regular case.

In the regular case we are able to prove homotopy invariance:

###### Proposition 4.12.

Let $`U`$ and $`W`$ be tubular neighborhoods of $`S_f=f^1(0)`$ and $`S_g=g^1(0)`$, respectively. We assume that $`f`$ and $`g`$ do not have singularities on $`U`$ and $`W`$. If $`H_t`$ is a homotopy from $`(U,f)`$ to $`(W,g)`$. Then the induced linear applications between the cohomology spaces are the same: $`H_1^{}=H_0^{}`$.

###### Proof.

We can assume that $`U=S_f\times ]\epsilon ,\epsilon [`$ and $`W=S_g\times ]\epsilon ^{},\epsilon ^{}[`$, with

$$(x,\rho )\stackrel{f}{}\rho \text{ and }(y,\tau )\stackrel{g}{}\tau .$$

By Proposition 3.1 we can take $`k1`$. We denote by $`\mathrm{\Psi }_f`$ and $`\mathrm{\Psi }_g`$ the linear maps:

$`\mathrm{\Psi }_f:H_{dR}^k(U)H_{dR}^{k1}(U)`$ $`H_f^k(U)`$
$`([\alpha ],[\beta ])`$ $`[\rho ^k\alpha +\rho ^{k1}d\rho \beta ],`$
$`\mathrm{\Psi }_g:H_{dR}^k(W)H_{dR}^{k1}(W)`$ $`H_f^k(W)`$
$`([\alpha ],[\beta ])`$ $`[\tau ^k\alpha +\tau ^{k1}d\tau \beta ],`$
which, by Theorem 4.1, are isomorphisms.

Now, we set $`K_t^{}=\mathrm{\Psi }_f^1H_t^{}\mathrm{\Psi }_g`$, for every $`t[0,1]`$. If $`([\alpha ],[\beta ])H_{dR}^k(W)H_{dR}^{k1}(W)`$, we have

$`H_t^{}\left(\mathrm{\Psi }_g([\alpha ],[\beta ])\right)`$ $`=\left[{\displaystyle \frac{h_t^{}(\tau ^k\alpha +\tau ^{k1}d\tau \beta )}{a_t^k}}\right],`$
$`=\left[{\displaystyle \frac{a_t^k\rho ^kh_t^{}\alpha +a_t^{k1}\rho ^{k1}(\rho da_th_t^{}\beta +a_td\rho h_t^{}\beta )}{a_t^k}}\right],`$
$`=[\rho ^kh_t^{}\alpha +\rho ^k{\displaystyle \frac{da_t}{a_t}}h_t^{}\beta +\rho ^{k1}d\rho h_t^{}\beta ],`$
$`=[\rho ^kh_t^{}\alpha +\rho ^{k1}d\rho h_t^{}\beta +\rho ^kd(log|a_t|h_t^{}\beta )].`$
We conclude that

$`K_t^{}([\alpha ],[\beta ])`$ $`=([h_t^{}\alpha +d(log|a_t|h_t^{}\beta )],[h_t^{}\beta ]),`$
$`=([h_t^{}\alpha ],[h_t^{}\beta ]).`$
Since the de Rham cohomology is homotopy invariant, we have $`K_1^{}=K_0^{}`$ and it follows that $`H_1^{}=H_0^{}`$. ∎

###### Proposition 4.13.

Let $`H_t`$ be a homotopy from $`(M,f)`$ to $`(N,g)`$. We assume that $`f`$ and $`g`$ are regular on tubular neighborhoods of $`S_f`$ and $`S_g`$. If $`H_{dR}^{k1}(S)`$ is trivial, then the linear maps $`H_0^{}`$ and $`H_1^{}`$ from $`H_g^k(N)`$ to $`H_f^k(M)`$ coincide.

###### Proof.

Note that the assumptions imply that $`k2`$.

Let $`U`$ and $`W`$ be tubular neighborhoods of $`S_f`$ and $`S_g`$ such that $`f`$ and $`g`$ are regular on these neighborhoods. We can assume that H sends $`W`$ onto $`U`$, and we set $`V=MS_f`$ and $`Z=NS_g`$.

Let $`\omega `$ be in $`Z_g^k(N)`$. According to the previous proposition, we have

$$(H_1^{}\omega )|_U=(H_0^{}\omega )|_U+d_f\alpha _U,\alpha _U\mathrm{\Omega }^{k1}(U).$$

On the other hand, since $`f`$ and $`g`$ do not vanish on $`V`$ and $`Z`$ and since the de Rham cohomology is homotopy invariant, we have

$$(H_1^{}\omega )|_V=(H_0^{}\omega )|_V+d_f\alpha _V,\alpha _V\mathrm{\Omega }^{k1}(V).$$

Therefore, we obtain

$$d_f(\alpha _U|_{UV}\alpha _V|_{UV})=0,$$

i.e., $`\alpha _U|_{UV}\alpha _V|_{UV}Z_f^{k1}(UV)`$.

Now, since $`H_f^{k1}(UV)H_{dR}^{k1}(UV)\left(H_{dR}^{k1}(S)\right)^2=\{0\}`$, there exists $`\beta _{UV}\mathrm{\Omega }^{k2}(UV)`$ such that

$$\alpha _U|_{UV}\alpha _V|_{UV}=d_f\beta _{UV}.$$

From the exactness of the Mayer-Vietoris short exact sequence for de Rham cohomology, there exist $`\alpha _U^{}\mathrm{\Omega }^{k2}(U)`$ and $`\alpha _V^{}\mathrm{\Omega }^{k2}(V)`$ such that $`\beta _{UV}=\alpha _V^{}|_{UV}\alpha _U^{}|_{UV}`$. It follows that

$$(\alpha _U+d_f\alpha _U^{})|_{UV}=(\alpha _V+d_f\alpha _V^{})|_{UV}.$$

Hence, there exists $`\eta \mathrm{\Omega }^{k1}(M)`$ such that

$$\eta |_U=\alpha _U+d_f\alpha _U^{}\text{ and }\eta |_V=\alpha _V+d_f\alpha _V^{}.$$

This gives

$$(d_f\eta )|_U=(H_1^{}\omega H_0^{}\omega )|_U\text{ and }(d_f\eta )|_V=(H_1^{}\omega H_0^{}\omega )|_V,$$

which shows that

$$H_1^{}\omega H_0^{}\omega =d_f\eta .$$

## 5. One step to the complex case

The definition of the cohomology $`H_f^{}(M)`$ readily extends to complex manifolds. In this section we study the local case and give an application of this cohomology to the study of the topology of the complement of an hypersurface.

We feel that this cohomology may have others applications in algebraic geometry or in analytic geometry, and that from it one may be able to obtain more information on the topology of the complement of the zeros of a function $`f`$.

### 5.1. Cohomology in the the local case.

In this paragraph we give an overview of the results we have found in . There we consider a germified version of the cohomology: we let $`\mathrm{\Omega }^k(^n)`$ denote the space of germs at 0 of analytic $`k`$-forms, and we let $`H_{f,p}^{}(^n)`$ denote the cohomology of the chain complex $`(\mathrm{\Omega }^k(^n),d_f^{(p)})`$. We consider only the groups $`H_{f,p}^{n1}(^n)`$ and $`H_{f,p}^n(^n)`$. The other groups are usually trivial, with the exception of $`H^0`$ and $`H^1`$ (see ).

We will assume that the function $`f`$ is a quasi-homogeneous polynomial on $`^n`$ of degree $`N`$, with respect to the weights $`w_1,\mathrm{},w_n`$, and with an isolated singularity at 0. We denote by $`c`$ the *Milnor number* of the singularity, i.e., the dimension of the vector space $`Q_f=𝒪_n/I_f`$ where $`𝒪_n`$ is the space of germs of analytic functions and $`I_f`$ the ideal spanned by the first derivatives of $`f`$. Also, for every positive integer $`q`$, we denote by $`h^{q,nq}`$ the dimension of $`(Q_f)_{qNw_1\mathrm{}w_n}`$, the quasi-homogeneous part of degree $`qNw_1\mathrm{}w_n`$ of the graded space $`Q_f`$. These numbers are the mixed Hodge numbers of the quasi-homogeneous singularity $`f`$.

Table 1 summarizes the results obtained in .

|  | $`dimH_{f,p}^{n1}(^n)`$ | $`dimH_{f,p}^n(^n)`$ |
| --- | --- | --- |
| $`0pn3`$ | $`_{i=1}^{np1}h^{i,ni}`$ | $`c+_{i=1}^{np1}h^{i,ni}`$ |
| $`p=n2`$ | $`\mathrm{}`$ | $`c+h^{1,n1}`$ |
| $`p=n1`$ | ? | $`\mathrm{}`$ |
| $`pn`$ | 0 | $`c`$ |

Table 1

###### Remark 5.1.

For $`k>0`$ denote by $`\mathrm{\Omega }_{rel}^k(^n,f)`$ the quotient $`\mathrm{\Omega }^k(^n)/df\mathrm{\Omega }^{k1}(^n)`$. It is easy to check that the de Rham differential $`d`$ passes to the quotient, so we get a complex $`(\mathrm{\Omega }_{rel}^{}(^n,f),d)`$. The cohomology of this complex is the well-known *relative cohomology* of the singularity $`f`$. This cohomology seems to be linked with the cohomology $`H_{f,p}^{}(^n)`$, but they do not coincide (e.g., compare the table above with the results in ). Nevertheless, the computation of the cohomology $`H_{f,p}^{}(^n)`$ presented in , uses the vanishing of certain relative cohomology spaces of $`f`$.

### 5.2. Cohomology of the complement of an hypersurface

We shall now explain a method, using the cohomology $`H_{f,p}^{}(^n)`$, to obtain information on the cohomology of the complement of an hypersurface. More precisely, we apply this cohomology to determine at which stage a certain spectral sequence converging to the cohomology of an hypersurface singularity degenerates. We then use this to give a new proof of a well-known result of A. Dimca ().

#### 5.2.1. Local case

Let $`B`$ be a small open ball at the origin of $`^n`$. We consider a hypersurface singularity $`VB`$ at the origin. Let $`f=0`$ be an equation for $`V`$ in $`B`$ and denote by $`U=BV`$ the complement. A well-known result of Grothendieck () states that the cohomology $`H^{}(U,)`$ is isomorphic to the cohomology of the complex $`A_0^{}`$ of meromorphic differential forms on $`B`$ with polar singularity along $`V`$.

An element $`\omega A_0^k`$ can be written in the form $`\omega =\frac{\alpha }{f^s}`$ where $`\alpha `$ is a holomorphic $`k`$-form on $`B`$. We consider the decreasing filtration:

$$F^sA_0^j=\{\begin{array}{c}\{\frac{\alpha }{f^{js}}:\alpha \text{ holomorphic on }B\}\text{ if }js0,\hfill \\ \\ \{0\}\text{ if }js<0.\hfill \end{array}$$

This filtration is exhaustive and bounded above so, it induces a spectral sequence $`(E_r(V),d_r)`$ converging to $`H^{}(U,)`$ (see ). It is known (see ) that this spectral sequence degenerates after a finite number of steps. The problem is to determine this number.

For every $`p,q,r`$ we set

$$E_r^{p,q}(V)=\frac{Z_r^{p,q}(V)}{Z_{r1}^{p+1,q1}(V)+B_{r1}^{p,q}(V)}$$

where $`Z_r^{p,q}(V)`$ and $`B_r^{p,q}(V)`$ are well-known spaces (see ) and $`d_r^{p,q}:E_r^{p,q}(V)E_r^{p+r,qr+1}(V)`$. This spectral sequence degenerates at the step $`r`$, i.e., $`E_r=E_{\mathrm{}}`$, if $`d_r^{.,.}=0`$. In order to show that $`d_r^{.,.}=0`$ (for some $`r`$) it is sufficient to show that for every $`p,q`$ we have

(5.1)
$$d\left(Z_r^{p,q}(V)\right)B_{r1}^{p+r,qr+1}(V).$$

If we remark that, for a holomorphic $`(p+q)`$-form $`\alpha `$, we have $`d\left(\frac{\alpha }{f^q}\right)=\frac{d_f^{(p)}\alpha }{f^{q+1}}`$, then we can rewrite (5.1) as:

* if $`\alpha `$ is a holomorphic $`(p+q)`$-form such that $`f^r`$ divides $`d_f^{(p)}\alpha `$ then, for some holomorphic $`(p+q)`$-form $`\zeta `$, one has $`d_f^{(p)}\alpha =d_f^{(p)}(f\zeta )`$.

It is known that when the function $`f`$ is regular one has $`E_1=E_{\mathrm{}}`$. Now, we assume that $`f`$ has an isolated singularity at 0. In this case, it is known (see ) that $`d_1^{p,q}=0`$ if $`p+q<n1`$. Let us look then at $`d_r^{p,q}`$ with $`p+q=n1`$. We assume further that $`f`$ is a $`W`$-quasi-homogeneous polynomial of degree N, where $`W=w_1x_1\frac{}{x_1}+\mathrm{}w_nx_n\frac{}{x_n}`$, with each $`w_i`$ a positive integer. This means that:

$$Wf=Nf.$$

In , we have computed the spaces $`H_{f,p}^n(B)`$ under these assumptions, and we recall here our results. We set $`Q_f=(B)/I_f`$, where $`(B)`$ is the algebra of holomorphic functions on $`B`$ and $`I_f`$ the ideal spanned by $`\frac{f}{x_1},\mathrm{},\frac{f}{x_n}`$. This vector space has finite dimension (the Milnor number of $`f`$) and we let $``$ denote a monomial basis (for the existence of such a basis, see ). Finally, we set $`\nu =dx_1\mathrm{}dx_n`$.

###### Theorem 5.2 ().

Assume that $`p<n1`$ and let $`\eta \mathrm{\Omega }^n(B)`$. There exist unique polynomials $`h_1,\mathrm{},h_{np}`$ (possibly zero) such that:

1. $`h_1`$ is quasi-homogeneous of degree $`Nw_i`$;
2. $`h_j`$ for $`2jnp1`$ is a linear combination of monomials of $``$ of degree $`jNw_i`$;
3. $`h_q`$ is a linear combination of monomials of $``$ and

$$\eta =(h_{np}+fh_{np1}+\mathrm{}+f^{np}h_1)\nu (modB_{f,p}^n(B)).$$

This theorem allows us to give a new proof of the following result (see ).

###### Corollary 5.3.

If $`f`$ is a quasi-homogeneous polynomial with an isolated singularity at 0, then the spectral sequence degenerates after the second step, i.e., $`E_2=E_{\mathrm{}}`$.

###### Proof.

We only need to consider $`d_2^{p,q}`$ with $`p+q=n1`$. Also, if $`q=0`$ it is easy to see that $`d_2^{n1,0}=0`$, so we assume $`q>0`$, i.e., $`p<n1`$.

Let $`\alpha `$ be an $`(n1)`$-form on $`B`$. We will show that if for some $`n`$-form $`\theta `$ on $`B`$ one has $`f^2\theta =d_f^{(p)}\alpha `$, then there exists an $`(n1)`$-form $`\zeta `$ such that $`d_f^{(p)}\alpha =d_f^{(p)}(f\zeta )`$.

By Theorem 5.2, if $`\theta `$ is a holomorphic $`n`$-form on $`B`$, we have

$$f\theta =(h_{np1}+fh_{np2}+\mathrm{}+f^{np1}h_1)\nu +d_f^{(p+1)}\zeta ,$$

where $`\zeta `$ is a holomorphic $`(n1)`$-form and the $`h_i`$ are as in the theorem. It follows from Lemma 3.12 in  that $`d_f^{(p+1)}\zeta I_f`$. Since $`f`$ is also in $`I_f`$ we must have $`h_{np1}=0`$. Since $`fd_f^{(p+1)}\zeta =d_f^{(p)}(f\zeta )`$, we see that

$$f^2\theta =(f^2h_{np2}+\mathrm{}+f^{np}h_1)\nu +d_f^{(p)}(f\zeta ).$$

Hence, if $`f^2\theta =d_f^{(p)}\alpha B_{f,p}^n(B)`$, we have $`(f^2h_{np2}+\mathrm{}+f^{np}h_1)\nu B_{f,p}^n(B)`$. The previous relation then implies that $`h_{np2}=\mathrm{}=h_1=0`$. Therefore, we conclude that $`d_f^{(p)}\alpha =f^2\theta =d_f^{(p)}(f\zeta )`$. ∎

#### 5.2.2. Global projective case

Let $`W`$ be the vector field $`w_1x_1\frac{}{x_1}+\mathrm{}w_nx_n\frac{}{x_n}`$, with $`w_1,\mathrm{},w_n`$ positive integers. We denote by $`^n(W)`$ the weighted projective space associated to $`W`$ (see ). We consider a quasi-homogeneous polynomial (with respect to $`W`$) $`f[x_0,\mathrm{},x_n]`$ of degree $`N`$ and we denote by $`V`$ the hypersurface in $`^n(W)`$ with equation $`f=0`$. Again, the cohomology $`H^{}(U,)`$, where $`U=^n(W)V`$), is isomorphic to the cohomology of the complex $`A^{}`$ of algebraic differential forms (see ).

An element $`\omega `$ in $`A^k`$ can be written as $`\omega =\frac{\alpha }{f^s}`$ where $`\alpha `$ is a quasi-homogeneous $`k`$-form of degree $`sN`$. This means that $`i_W\alpha =0`$ and the Lie derivative satisfies $`_W\alpha =(sN)\alpha `$. In this case we can consider the following decreasing filtration

$$\stackrel{~}{F}^sA^j=\{\begin{array}{c}\left\{\begin{array}{c}\frac{\alpha }{f^{js}}:\alpha \text{ quasi-homogeneous of degree }(js)N\\ \text{ and }i_W\alpha =0\end{array}\right\}\text{ if }js>0,\hfill \\ \\ \{0\}\text{ if }js0.\hfill \end{array}$$

This filtration induces a spectral sequence $`(\stackrel{~}{E}_r(V),\stackrel{~}{d}_r)`$ converging to $`H^{}(U,)`$. If $`f`$ is regular, this spectral sequence degenerates after the first step (see ). Now, we assume that $`f`$ has an isolated singularity at 0. In this case, one knows that $`\stackrel{~}{d}_1^{p,q}=0`$ if $`p+q<n1`$ (see ).

###### Proposition 5.4.

If $`f`$ is a quasi-homogeneous polynomial with an isolated singularity at 0, then the spectral sequence degenerates after the second step, i.e., $`\stackrel{~}{E}_2=\stackrel{~}{E}_{\mathrm{}}`$.

###### Proof.

According to , we only need to consider $`\stackrel{~}{d}_2^{p,q}`$ with $`p+q=n1`$. As for the local case, we need to show that if $`\alpha `$ is a quasi-homogeneous $`(n1)`$-form on $`^{n+1}`$, of degree $`qN`$ ($`q=n1p`$) such that $`i_W\alpha =0`$ and $`f^2`$ divides $`d_f^{(p)}\alpha `$, then there exists a quasi-homogeneous $`(n1)`$-form $`\zeta `$ which satisfies $`i_W\zeta =0`$ and $`d_f^{(p)}\alpha =d_f^{(p)}(f\zeta )`$.

Let us denote by $`\eta `$ the $`n`$-form $`d_f^{(p)}\alpha `$. It is easy to check that $`i_W\eta =0`$. Therefore, we have $`\eta =i_W(g\nu )`$, where $`g`$ is some quasi-homogeneous polynomial of degree $`(q+1)Nw_i`$. Set $`\sigma =i_W\nu `$, so that $`\eta =g\sigma `$. By Lemma 3.26 in , we have

$$\eta B_{f,p}^n(^{n+1})g\nu B_{f,p+1}^{n+1}(^{n+1}).$$

Since $`f^2`$ divides $`g`$, we can write $`g\nu =f^2\xi `$, where $`\xi `$ is some quasi-homogeneous $`(n+1)`$-form on $`^{n+1}`$. We then have $`f^2\xi B_{f,p+1}^{n+1}(^{n+1})`$. Now, it is possible to adapt the argument we gave above in the local case (theorem 5.2 is still valid in a polynomial version because of the homogeneity of the operators $`d_f^{(p)}`$) to obtain $`f^2\xi =d_f^{(p+1)}(f\mu )`$, where $`\mu `$ is a quasi-homogeneous $`n`$-form. We conclude that

$$\eta =i_W\left(d_f^{(p+1)}(f\mu )\right)=d_f^{(p)}\left(f(i_W\mu )\right).$$