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New Book! Lost in Time — Our Forgotten and Vanishing Knowledge | Forgotten Technology, Ancient Wisdom & Digital Amnesia | An Interview with Jack R. Bialik | An Analog Brain In A Digital Age With Marco Ciappelli

New Book! Lost in Time — Our Forgotten and Vanishing Knowledge | Forgotten Technology, Ancient Wisdom & Digital Amnesia | An Interview with Jack R. Bialik | An Analog Brain In A Digital Age With Marco Ciappelli

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 New Book: Lost in Time — Our Forgotten and Vanishing Knowledge | An Interview with Jack R. Bialik | An Analog Brain In A Digital Age With Marco Ciappelli There's a particular arrogance embedded in how we talk about progress. We speak about innovation as if it moves in one direction only — forward, upward, smarter, faster. But what if the line isn't straight? What if it loops, doubles back, and occasionally vanishes entirely? That's the uncomfortable question at the center of my conversation with Jack R. Bialik. His book Lost in Time: Our Forgotten and Vanishing Knowledge doesn't read like a history lesson. It reads like a case file — evidence, example by example, that the civilization we assume is the most advanced in human history is also, in some critical ways, deeply amnesiac. Take cataract surgery. We learned it in the 1700s, right? Except we didn't. Indians were performing it in 800 BC. The ancient Egyptians and Babylonians had diagrams of the procedure dating back to 2,400 BCE. The knowledge existed, worked, and then — somewhere in the chaos of collapsing empires and burning libraries — it vanished. We didn't progress past it. We forgot it, and then reinvented it from scratch, centuries later, convinced we were doing something new. Or the Baghdad Battery: clay pots, 2,000 years old, that when filled with acid can generate 1.1 volts of electricity. We don't know what they used them for. We don't know who figured it out. We just know it worked, it existed, and then it didn't anymore. This is what Bialik calls the pattern of loss — and it's not random. It follows catastrophe: the Library of Alexandria, the systematic destruction of Mayan records, the slow erosion of oral traditions as writing systems took over. Knowledge disappears when the systems that carry it collapse. And here's where the conversation gets uncomfortably relevant: we are building those systems right now, and we are not thinking about how long they'll last. The curator at the Computer History Museum told Bialik that to preserve the data from early IBM PCs and Macintosh computers, they had to print it on paper. The floppy drives had become brittle. The formats were unreadable. The digital archive was failing — and the only solution was to go analog. A vinyl record from the 1920s still plays. A CD from the 1980s may not survive another decade. I've been thinking about this since we recorded. My brain is analog — that's not just a podcast title, it's a philosophy. I grew up in Florence, surrounded by things that had survived centuries because they were made to last: stone, fresco, manuscript. Then I jumped on the digital train like everyone else, seduced by infinite libraries on my phone, music on demand, knowledge at my fingertips. But what Bialik is pointing out is that fingertips are fragile. And so are hard drives. The deeper issue isn't storage format. It's the distinction Bialik draws between knowledge and wisdom. Knowledge is the data — the cataract surgery technique, the battery design, the pyramid engineering. Wisdom is knowing why it matters, when to use it, and what the consequences might be. We've gotten extraordinarily good at accumulating knowledge. We are considerably worse at transmitting wisdom. And wisdom, Bialik argues, doesn't live in databases. It lives in the space between people — in stories, in teaching, in the slow transmission of judgment across generations. That's why oral tradition survived when everything else failed. Not because it was more sophisticated, but because it was more human. It didn't require a device to run on. I don't know how to solve the digital longevity problem. Neither does Bialik — not yet. But I think the first step is admitting we have one. That's actually one of the quietest, most powerful arguments in the book: be humble. We don't know everything. We never did. And some of the things we've lost might be exactly what we need right now. The question isn't just what we've forgotten. It's what we're forgetting today, while we're too busy scrolling to notice. Grab Lost in Time: Our Forgotten and Vanishing Knowledge — link below — and spend some time with a perspective that goes very, very far back. Which is maybe the only way to see very, very far forward. And if this kind of conversation is what you come here for, subscribe to the newsletter at marcociappelli.com. More of this. Less noise. — Marco Ciappelli Co-Founder ITSPmagazine & Studio C60 | Creative Director | Branding & Marketing Advisor | Personal Branding Coach | Journalist | Writer | Podcast: An Analog Brain In A Digital Age ⚠️ Beware: Pigs May Fly | 🌎 LAX🛸FLR 🌍 ____________ About Marco Marco Ciappelli is Co-Founder & CMO of ITSPmagazine, Co-Founder & Creative Director of Studio C60, Branding & Marketing Advisor, Personal Branding Coach, Journalist, Writer, and Host of An Analog Brain In A Digital Age podcast. Born in Florence, Italy, and based in Los Angeles, he explores the ...
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