29-04-2025, 12:32 AM
One of the significant challenges in working with unknown or undeciphered manuscripts, such as the VMS, is the temptation to immediately “decode” them by matching words, tokens, or glyphs to a known language through direct translation attempts.
However, I would like to reflect on the history of linguistic and philological studies. One lesson stands out clearly: understanding the internal structure of a language often precedes and enables successful translation, rather than being a consequence of it.
(This principle is not only historical but also literary)
I like the example of J.R.R. Tolkien: when he created his Elvish languages (Quenya, Sindarin, etc.), he built them from the inside out. Tolkien first designed phonological patterns, rhythms, internal grammars, and aesthetic structures before assigning stable translations to words. He understood that a credible language must have internal consistency and recognizable patterns, even if its dictionary is initially unknown. Without internal structure, a language feels artificial and cannot sustain meaning over time.
Similarly, even modern English, which seems globally dominant, will eventually fragment if left unchecked for a long time. Its internal rhythms, syntax, and patterns of use (formal, informal, poetic, administrative) will be essential clues for future scholars attempting to reconstruct it, should direct transmission of meaning be lost. Globalization has slowed geographic divergence, but internal linguistic evolution is unstoppable, just as Latin diversified into the Romance languages over centuries.
Why is this important for the VMS?
Because even without a direct decipherment, identifying structural patterns — whether in vocabulary frequency, thematic clustering, or phase-based rhythms — can offer us a way to understand how the text was composed. It can reveal whether it behaves like natural language, liturgical formula, mnemonic code, or something entirely different.
Just like Tolkien’s Elvish languages were immediately recognizable as coherent systems (even without knowing what every word meant), the Voynich Manuscript might reveal its internal organization independently of translation. Recognizing these structures is not just speculative: it follows the path historically used to decipher other ancient texts.
In short:
Suppose we can detect rhythm, structure, and phases in the Voynich Manuscript, even without complete translation. In that case, we are engaging with it in the most historically grounded and linguistically rigorous way possible.
What are your thoughts?
However, I would like to reflect on the history of linguistic and philological studies. One lesson stands out clearly: understanding the internal structure of a language often precedes and enables successful translation, rather than being a consequence of it.
(This principle is not only historical but also literary)
I like the example of J.R.R. Tolkien: when he created his Elvish languages (Quenya, Sindarin, etc.), he built them from the inside out. Tolkien first designed phonological patterns, rhythms, internal grammars, and aesthetic structures before assigning stable translations to words. He understood that a credible language must have internal consistency and recognizable patterns, even if its dictionary is initially unknown. Without internal structure, a language feels artificial and cannot sustain meaning over time.
Similarly, even modern English, which seems globally dominant, will eventually fragment if left unchecked for a long time. Its internal rhythms, syntax, and patterns of use (formal, informal, poetic, administrative) will be essential clues for future scholars attempting to reconstruct it, should direct transmission of meaning be lost. Globalization has slowed geographic divergence, but internal linguistic evolution is unstoppable, just as Latin diversified into the Romance languages over centuries.
Why is this important for the VMS?
Because even without a direct decipherment, identifying structural patterns — whether in vocabulary frequency, thematic clustering, or phase-based rhythms — can offer us a way to understand how the text was composed. It can reveal whether it behaves like natural language, liturgical formula, mnemonic code, or something entirely different.
Just like Tolkien’s Elvish languages were immediately recognizable as coherent systems (even without knowing what every word meant), the Voynich Manuscript might reveal its internal organization independently of translation. Recognizing these structures is not just speculative: it follows the path historically used to decipher other ancient texts.
In short:
Suppose we can detect rhythm, structure, and phases in the Voynich Manuscript, even without complete translation. In that case, we are engaging with it in the most historically grounded and linguistically rigorous way possible.
What are your thoughts?