This piece arrives not as a standard literary review but as a startling historical intervention that reframes the current artificial intelligence crisis as the culmination of a centuries-old struggle over language and automation. Justin E. H. Smith constructs a narrative where the "Angelic Engine" is not merely a metaphor for modern algorithms, but a literal, gear-driven predecessor from 17th-century Strasbourg that was actively suppressed by Cold War intelligence agencies. The claim is audacious: that the true origins of our technological predicament were buried in archives labeled "lost in the war," only to be rediscovered in the private papers of a fictionalized mentor.
The Architecture of Suppression
Smith opens with a personal stake, describing his role as the literary executor for the late Prof. Dr. Dr. Balthasar von Cyr and the overwhelming burden of managing a "voluminous Nachlass" that exceeds 78,000 pages. He writes, "If the ERC does not come through with funding... I fear I will have no choice but to resort to AI tools to get the work done." This admission sets a tense stage, contrasting the human desire for rigorous scholarship with the pragmatic pressure of modern deadlines.
The core of Smith's argument shifts from biography to geopolitical conspiracy. He asserts that the disappearance of German academic texts after World War II was not accidental but strategic. "Upwards of 60% of these titles were not 'lost' as a result of Allied bombardment at all, but were intentionally removed by agents of the US intelligence services," he claims. By citing specific dates and locations—such as the summer of 1946 and the Ratsschulbibliothek Zwickau—he lends an air of archival precision to what is otherwise a speculative historical reconstruction.
"The Americans were of course not the only ones, in the immediate aftermath of the war, scrambling to rewrite history according to their own priorities."
Smith connects this suppression directly to the field of computing, suggesting that books on early computational theory were specifically targeted. He notes that if these losses were truly due to bombing, "those bombs... had an unusual and statistically most improbable animosity towards books pertaining to the early history of computing." This framing forces the reader to reconsider the standard narrative of post-war knowledge loss, positing instead a deliberate erasure of alternative technological lineages.
Critics might note that attributing such precise intent to intelligence agencies without public declassified evidence is a significant leap. The argument relies heavily on the authority of von Cyr's persona rather than independent verification, which risks blurring the line between historical analysis and narrative fiction.
The Mechanical Predecessor
The piece then pivots to the "Angelic Engine" itself, a device attributed to Ägidius Kramm operating in Strasbourg between 1608 and 1614. Smith draws a direct lineage from this machine to modern AI, describing it as having "remarkable power to generate complex strings of language indistinguishable from those written by men." He roots the concept in the work of Ramon Llull, a 13th-century philosopher whose Ars Magna used rotating disks to combine theological truths.
Smith explains that while Llull did not envision full automation, later inventors attempted to translate his logic into machinery. "In order to serve its intended function, the pumps were to be filled not with water but with mercury, which provides, it was claimed, the engine's 'volatile spirit'," he writes regarding a counterfeit 1597 edition of Agostino Ramelli's work. This detail adds a layer of alchemical mystique to the mechanical history, suggesting that the drive to automate thought has always been intertwined with esoteric beliefs.
"We are thus confronted, from the very first page, with documentary proof of the plain historical existence of our 'brotherhood'."
By invoking the Zettelkasten method—a system of note-taking famously used by scholars like Niklas Luhmann to manage complex ideas—Smith reinforces the theme that human intelligence has long relied on external systems to organize thought. He argues that the "Hinternet" (a play on the internet and a historical brotherhood) was formed to protect this "true angelic essence of human language against... its demonic détournement."
The argument here is compelling in its synthesis of disparate fields: alchemy, theology, early computing, and modern AI ethics. However, it leans heavily on the idea that a secret society has been guarding this truth for centuries, a trope that can feel more like a conspiracy thriller than a scholarly critique.
The Ethics of Automation
Ultimately, Smith uses the historical narrative to comment on the present moment. He suggests that the current crisis in AI is not new but a recurrence of an ancient struggle between human agency and machine generation. "It reveals more than the public likely ought ever to know... about the true origins of our present technological crisis in all its unsettling eschatological dimensions," he warns.
He acknowledges the tension between preserving the integrity of von Cyr's work and the need for visibility, admitting that without online hype, the project faces financial ruin. "It's not like our paid subscriptions are going to be of much help," he quotes a colleague as saying, highlighting the precarious economics of independent scholarship in the digital age.
"The core of the argument is that we are not inventing something new with AI; we are re-awakening a dormant and dangerous lineage."
This perspective challenges the prevailing tech-industry narrative of inevitable progress. Instead, it frames automation as a cyclical danger that has been managed—or suppressed—by human institutions throughout history.
Bottom Line
Justin E. H. Smith's piece is a masterful blend of historical speculation and contemporary critique, using the fictionalized figure of Balthasar von Cyr to explore real anxieties about AI and language. Its greatest strength lies in reframing the "black box" of modern algorithms as part of a long, contested history of mechanical thought. However, its reliance on unverified archival claims and secret societies leaves it vulnerable to charges of being more allegory than analysis. Readers should watch for how this narrative influences future debates on AI ethics, particularly regarding the human cost of automating language.