The Magic of Code: How Digital Language Created and Connects Our World―and Shapes Our Future

by Samuel Arbesman

Genres: Science, Technology, History, Nonfiction

304 pages, Hardcover

Published June 10, 2025

Reviews

[Gavin]

Pollyanna in the fab. Very funny to read this at the same time as Solaris, which is acrid and miserable about much the same topic.

[Jung]

Samuel Arbesman’s "The Magic of Code: How Digital Language Created and Connects Our World" invites readers to see programming not just as a technical discipline but as one of humanity’s great marvels. Code, he argues, deserves a place alongside the wonders of the world because it acts as a portal to understanding nearly everything else. It is through code that we simulate the birth of galaxies, decode climate history, and make sense of vast amounts of information. Like a universal lens, code allows us to examine and connect disparate aspects of the universe. In this sense, it is more than a tool - it is a language of creation, a way to transform thought into something concrete, much like an artist using paint or a composer using notes.

Arbesman highlights how coding once inspired the same sense of awe that ancient spectators felt when they encountered early machines like the Mechanical Turk. In the eighteenth century, this clockwork chess player astonished audiences by appearing to think on its own. It represented a kind of mechanical sorcery that blurred the line between human and machine intelligence. The book reminds us that early pioneers like Charles Babbage and Ada Lovelace saw computation as an almost mystical pursuit, one that could give shape to pure imagination. Over time, however, much of that wonder faded as computing became routine, professionalized, and dominated by corporate efficiency. But Arbesman calls for a return to that earlier sense of play and experimentation. He suggests that in an era of artificial intelligence and rapid innovation, we need to recover that childlike amazement at the power of code to conjure new worlds.

To truly appreciate coding, Arbesman says, we must first learn to see it. He compares code to mountains - once feared and avoided until the Romantic movement redefined them as sublime. In the same way, many still see code as intimidating or invisible rather than beautiful. Its beauty lies in its structure and logic, built on George Boole’s system of true and false statements. Every computer decision, whether rendering a pixel or guiding a spacecraft, relies on these cascading binary choices. The act of coding involves turning human-readable instructions into the machine’s binary language through compilers, which act as translators. Early programmers had to write directly in machine code, but the development of higher-level languages like FORTRAN allowed them to express ideas in a way closer to mathematical thought, freeing them to focus on problem-solving rather than hardware management. This layering of abstraction allows coders to weave vast systems from simple logical threads, creating the digital architecture that underpins modern life.

Arbesman describes code as the elemental substance of the digital universe, much like atoms are the building blocks of the physical world. Through countless combinations, simple functions become complex systems, just as molecules form living organisms and mountains. He traces the rise of open-source software as a key driver of this digital creativity. By allowing anyone to access, modify, and share code, open-source projects like Linux turned software into a global collaborative effort. The history of UNIX is particularly important here - its creators not only built a groundbreaking operating system but also fostered a culture of sharing and tinkering that became the foundation for today’s collaborative coding community. Arbesman likens this to oral traditions where myths were passed from generation to generation, evolving but retaining their essence. In the same way, programmers inherit code, adapt it, and pass it on, contributing to a living tradition that continuously reshapes our digital landscape.

The book also explores the artistic dimension of programming, showing that code is not just functional but expressive. Arbesman recalls the era of screensavers, those endlessly shifting mathematical animations that once prevented screen burn-in but also inspired fascination. They hinted at the potential for algorithmic beauty, where simple rules generate seemingly infinite variation. This spirit lives on in creative coding, supported by tools like Processing, a language designed to make visual programming accessible to artists and designers. Through creative coding, programmers craft interactive art, virtual worlds, and intricate generative patterns. Fractals - those endlessly repeating shapes found in nature - are especially beloved in this realm because they can be generated from elegant recursive rules, turning mathematics into mesmerizing imagery. Procedural generation now powers expansive video game worlds, showing that algorithmic creativity can produce experiences too vast and complex for humans to design manually. This meeting of constraint and imagination reveals code as a form of mathematical art, where precision and play merge.

One of the most fascinating aspects of coding, Arbesman notes, is its linguistic richness. Beneath all programming languages lies binary, the primal language of ones and zeros, but from this foundation has grown a babel of languages - Python, JavaScript, C++, Lisp, and dozens more - each with its own character and culture. This explosion of languages began with the cumbersome rewiring and punch cards of early computers like ENIAC and moved toward more human-readable systems. FORTRAN marked a revolution by allowing scientists to write programs in mathematical notation rather than cryptic machine commands, making complex computation more accessible. Today, the diversity of languages lets programmers choose tools suited to their specific needs, but they are all 'Turing complete,' meaning they are theoretically capable of expressing any computation. Arbesman delights in the existence of esoteric languages like Chef, which doubles as a cooking recipe, and Whitespace, which uses only blank characters, reminding us that code is as much a cultural artifact as a technical one. Each language is a lens for thinking, shaping not just what problems we solve but how we approach them.

Arbesman then turns to the present and future, exploring how computation is reshaping human thought. Our mental habits have already been transformed by digital technology, for better and worse. While we skim and multitask more than ever, we also have tools that expand our cognitive reach. Early visionaries like Vannevar Bush and Paul Otlet imagined systems for organizing and linking knowledge decades before the internet came into being. Their visions culminate today in artificial intelligence models that map concepts in mathematical space, allowing machines to understand relationships and meaning at a scale no human could manage alone. This represents a new frontier in how we think and organize information. The challenge now is not whether these tools will change our cognition - they already are - but whether we will use them to deepen understanding or simply to outsource thinking.

Throughout "The Magic of Code", Arbesman urges readers to approach code not as dry instruction but as a kind of spellcraft - an act of turning imagination into action. Code, he reminds us, is our most powerful instrument for shaping the digital and physical worlds, connecting people, ideas, and knowledge. It has the potential to expand human intelligence if used with creativity and care. The conclusion of the book challenges us to rediscover the enchantment of programming, to see code as an amplifier of human ingenuity rather than a replacement for it. If we can hold onto that sense of wonder, we can ensure that the next era of computation enhances our lives, helps us think more deeply, and continues to connect our world in meaningful ways.

[Paul Winkeler · Rating 1 out of 5]

Having lived and worked through a lot of the examples and having read many of the sources quoted I am afraid I did not gain any new insights. But that is just me.
What I was really hoping for were some descriptions of the experience of having written code and watching to come to life as if by magic. Instead there was meandering and vague correlating between computing, life and the occasional existential questioning with the odd tip of the hat to religion.
So if you were born after 2010 this could be a history book for you but otherwise you’re better off reading some more rigorous philosophy.

[Kevin · Rating 2 out of 5]

A series of Ted talks lacking in anecdotes somewhat aligned with the idea that computers are cool and here? Not deep enough for learning, not shallow or systematic enough as an introduction.

[Mikhail Filatov · Rating 2 out of 5]

The author is too much into Kabbalah and Torah for a book about code. It’s more a set of musings vs. something useful.