The Language and the Tale of the Black Box in My Memory

 

Suad Nofal - Somewhere in memory, there lies a black box recording the details of the journey that shapes us.

Elsewhere, language hides like a silent mirror, reflecting half the truth and concealing the other half.
Between letters that are written but not spoken, and meanings that oscillate between sound and silence, my journey to discover consciousness began—a journey that carried me into the depths of words and the secrets of the black box that had long remained locked in my mind. Until one day, I decided to write a book.

 

This tale is not just about words, but about the blank spaces that whisper what remains unspoken, and about the knowledge that grows silently behind the shadows.

At that moment, as I contemplated the English word "Knowledge," I paused at the first letter—the silent "K" that is written but not pronounced. It seemed to me like a hidden message from language itself, whispering that not everything known is spoken. As if language had decided to give us a hint: behind every word lies a world of silence, spaces untouched by sound.

 

In truth, this stems from language itself possessing a dimension of infinity, as Noam Chomsky, one of the most important linguists of the modern era, has stated in his interviews. He said that language carries an infinite dimension. Chomsky meant that humans, using a very limited number of words and grammatical rules, can form an infinite number of sentences—some of which may be entirely new, never heard before, and yet still understandable.

This is because language is not merely the repetition of ready-made phrases, but a system that allows for creativity and the production of countless ideas—something that distinguishes the human mind. This is why Chomsky considered language a "generative system," capable of producing an unlimited number of meanings from finite resources.

 In my book, I used the term Knowrology. The term Knowrology is derived from merging Know (knowledge) with Neuro (referring to neuroscience) and the suffix -ology (meaning a field of study or discipline). It signifies the integration of cumulative knowledge using the tools of the mind and information networks, aligning with the concept of cumulative knowledge in the information age.

Knowrology focuses on the accumulation and practical application of knowledge in technological contexts, delving into the integration of historical and modern knowledge streams within a unified cognitive system. This term embodies the study and understanding of cumulative knowledge in our dynamic era.

Yet, the idea grew within me that this reflects on concepts as well. The question of knowledge has always been one of the most thrilling inquiries among my friends, fellow bloggers, activists, or even strangers I’d meet while traveling. If language—the tool through which we shape our consciousness—deliberately hides parts of itself (a phenomenon rooted in the evolution of English, where the "K" in "Knowledge" was once pronounced in Old English as "cnāwleċe" but became silent over time while retaining its spelling for historical and educational reasons), how does this reality reflect on our understanding of the world, of concepts, and of knowledge itself?

Isn’t knowledge itself accumulative, expandable, and infinite?

Thus, I began to believe that every concept we hold is a partial, distorted, or incomplete reflection of what it truly is—that truth is always larger than the language describing it. That there is always "half a face" we do not see.

 

And so, after finishing my book Knowrology: Cumulative Knowledge in the Information Age, the idea for its cover was born: a girl with only half her face visible. The visible half represents what we know, live, and possess, while the missing half symbolizes all that we do not yet know—every possibility of perception we have not yet reached, much like silent letters... like the infinity we glimpse but cannot contain. All that eludes words, all that lies deeper than direct consciousness.

 

From the girl’s head emerge symbols of technology and information, mirroring the idea that knowledge today is no longer linear but generative, accumulative, and fluid. In the background, her features dissolve into the blur of passersby—a hazy scene symbolizing the speed of time, the shifting of perception amidst an endless flood of data. The entire cover reflects humanity’s journey in the age of cumulative knowledge: a journey that begins with language, with a word, but does not end at the boundaries of letters. A journey where we try to grasp the essence, to see the missing behind the visible, to realize that there is always another text behind the text.

 

In Knowrology, I do not offer ready-made answers. Instead, I open windows to wonder and ask:
What if language itself does not want to tell us everything? And what if truth, like half a face, waits for us to complete it ourselves?

 

... And so, I had to find the black box in my memory...

 

In my journey to recover the earliest details of consciousness, I realized that language is not merely a means of communication but a precise symbolic system that shapes our very awareness.

Every word is but a code loaded with meanings, and when we form concepts of things, they become organically linked to those verbal codes. Because human consciousness is inseparable from language, I had to begin by deciphering those first words etched in my memory—the initial keys to the experience of perception.

These words were not mere tools; they were the bridges through which concepts crossed into my mind, shaping my worldview and the way I understood myself and the things around me.

Thus, my attempt to recover consciousness and write was not mere nostalgia for memory but a task akin to searching for the "black box" in my head—the box that holds the secrets of the journey, just as the black box in an aircraft holds the details of the flight before a crash.

 

I borrowed this image to illustrate that our memory functions like a closed control system—the essence of cybernetics, the science that studies how closed systems are regulated and directed through feedback mechanisms. In cybernetics, as in our memory, information and experiences accumulate in a closed loop, only revealed when we dare to dig deeper.

 

And so, language was the first thread that led me to that enigmatic box—to deconstruct the primal concepts embedded deep within me. Through language, I opened new doors to a deeper understanding of consciousness, reclaiming another glimmer of the inner journey’s details.

I won’t hide from you that the reason I wrote the book was to strategically employ the language and knowledge I had acquired and share it with others—before I found myself immersed in writing about the sociology of knowledge.

 

Every journey toward true knowledge begins with a small question, sprouting in the corners of our awareness like a faint spark.

In Knowrology, I did not seek to provide final answers but to open a space for questioning, reflection, and diving into the depths of the self.

Perhaps when we listen to the silent words behind language, when we dare to open the black box within us, we discover that knowledge is not a complete face we stare at—but an endless journey toward the other half of truth.

 

In a world crowded with words, I realized that the deepest meanings reside where letters fall silent and shadows speak.

In my journey between language and memory, I did not search for definitive answers, but for sparks of consciousness hiding behind every word and every silence.

And I still believe that within each of us lies a black box, waiting for someone brave enough to open it—to rewrite their story in a new book.

 

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* A quote from the author, featured in Knowrology:Cumulative Knowledge in the Information Age.

* Cybernetics Within Us: Between Man and Machine, Elena Sabarina, translated by Subhi Abu Al-Saad, Publications of Science for All, Arab Writer’s House for Printing and Publishing.