Toothache

Toothache (pronounced tooth-eyk)

(1) In dentistry, a pain in or about a tooth.  Technical names are dentalgia or odontalgia.

(2) In informal diplomatic code, a term whereby a diplomatic snub may be conveyed as an expression of temporary displeasure and (usually) without serious consequence.

1400s: From the pre 1050 Middle English tothache, from the Old English tōthæce, tōthece, toðece & tōþeċe, the construct being toð or tōþ (tooth) +‎ eċe (ache).  Tooth was from the Old English toð or tōþ (plural teð), from the Proto-Germanic tanthu- (the source also of the Old Saxon, Danish, Swedish and Dutch tand, the Old Norse tönn, the Old Frisian toth, the Old High German zand, the German Zahn and the Gothic tunþus) from the primitive Indo-European root hdónts & dent- (tooth).  The plural form (teeth) is an example of i-mutation.  Ache was from the Middle English aken (verb), and ache (noun), from Old English acan (verb) (from Proto-Germanic akaną (to be bad, be evil)) and æċe (noun) (from the Proto-Germanic akiz), both from the Proto-Indo-European heg- (sin, crime) and represented also in Sanskrit and Greek and probably onomatopoeic: imitative of groaning.  It was cognate with the Low German aken, achen & äken (to hurt, to ache), the North Frisian akelig & æklig (terrible, miserable, sharp, intense), the West Frisian aaklik (nasty, horrible, dismal, dreary) and the Dutch akelig (nasty, horrible).  Historically the verb was spelled ake, and the noun ache and the pronunciation likewise varied until the turn of the eighteenth century under the influence of lexicographer Samuel Johnson who mistakenly assumed it derived from the Ancient Greek ἄχος (ákhos) (pain) due to the similarity in form and meaning of the two words.  The Greek was actually a distant relation of awe and ake was a rare alternative spelling which lasted until the 1800s.

Although it seems strange, the documentary evidence suggests it wasn’t until the 1520s tooth came to be applied to the tooth-like parts of devices like saws, the phrase “tooth and nail” appearing in the next decade.  Curiously contested is the origin of the mythical tooth fairy, some sources claiming it was unknown before 1964 or even 1977 but it's mentioned in a US newspaper in 1908 and in a way that suggests it was then no novelty.  Going back more than a thousand years, to Medieval Europe, the tradition of giving something of value to children in exchange for baby teeth (particularly the first which attracted a tand-fé (tooth-fee) and sometimes the sixth) is documented in Viking tradition.  Baby teeth seem to have been a concern in many cultures, some wanting them buried out of fear a witch would find them and gain power over the child, others insisting they should be burned otherwise, after death, children would spend eternity searching for them.  It's thus a long tradition but the linkage with a fairy does seem more recent, the most popular antecedent being a mouse who visited children in their sleep, replacing the baby tooth with a coin under their pillow.  In Spain and Latin America, adopted by Colgate for advertising, the rodent is called El Ratoncito Pérez or Ratón Pérez (Perez the Mouse) and the French equivalent was La Petite Souris (the little mouse).

Diplomatic toothache

The concept of the diplomatic snub pre-dates formal diplomacy, known probably in the earliest human interactions, but as diplomatic toothache, it entered the vocabulary of international relations during a 1959 official visit to Moscow by UK Prime Minister Harold Macmillan (1894–1986; UK prime-minister 1957-1963 (later the first Earl of Stockton, one of the few hereditary peerages created in the last few decades)).

Two actors who enjoyed the big stage: Harold Macmillan and comrade Nikita Khrushchev (1894–1971; Soviet leader 1953-1964), on the tarmac at Moscow airport, February 1959.

Macmillan’s visit, the first mission to Moscow by a British prime minister since Winston Churchill's (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) wartime trips to parley with comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953), started with him making what he hoped would be a friendly gesture, wearing a Russian white fur hat (ushanka) but this was soon swapped for a black one because a Foreign Office (FO) advisor suggested the white, dating from his last visit to Russia during the Russo-Finnish War (the so-called "Winter War", 1939-1940) might cause offence, some aspects of the conflict not a happy memory in the Kremlin.  The FO was correct but (and this does happen with the FO) for the wrong reason, the white fur purely a fashion faux pas.  When Macmillan's predecessor (Anthony Eden, 1897–1977; UK prime-minister 1955-1957) in 1941 visited Moscow while foreign secretary, comrade Vyacheslav Molotov (1890–1986; USSR foreign minister 1939-1949 & 1953-1956), showing an untypical concern for the details of protocol, told Eden "Á Moscou, Excellence, on ne porte pas la casquette de fourrure blanche" (In Moscow, Your Excellency, you don't wear a white fur hat). 

Twenty-odd years on however, the Soviets seemed either not to notice or be unconcerned, the white fur attracting no comment on arrival and the prime minister’s sartorial flourishes continued, choosing practical plus fours for his tour of collective farm, and, in a nice touch, his Guards Regiment tie when visiting a nuclear facility.  Lavish banquets followed around tables laden with "champagne" (a very sweet sparking wine from comrade Stalin's home of Georgia), vodka, caviar, salmon and Cuban cigars and all went well although, regarding the vodka, perhaps a little too well, as Macmillan would later note.

The appeal of the ushanka endures: Lindsay Lohan in Netflix's Falling for Christmas (2022).  One can imagine how comrade Molotov would have reacted to a pink ushanka.

While the prime minister was touring a Moscow research institute, comrade Khrushchev was in Berlin where he delivered a truculent speech intending use Macmillan’s visit to destabilize NATO (the North Atlantic Treaty Organization).  The next day’s Anglo-Soviet discussions were “angry and fraught”, an atmosphere not helped by both delegations being “rather drunk”.  To express his displeasure with a snub, Khrushchev the next day issued a statement saying he was taking no part in that day’s activities because he had “toothache” and the Western press promptly, and gleefully, coined the phrase “diplomatic toothache”.  Just to add emphasis, despite being indisposed by his “toothache”, the Kremlin made it known comrade Khrushchev had spent the day in meetings with a visiting delegation from Iraq.  Macmillan rescued the situation with some typically cynical British diplomacy and quickly (and perhaps gratefully) comrade Khrushchev resumed his role of genial host, telling everyone his toothache had been cured “…by a British drill”.  Although achievements had been modest, both sides considered the visit a success, something in this field measured less by anything attained than unpleasantness avoided.

The ushanka never goes out of style: Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) admiring the headgear of Crown Prince Wilhelm (1882-1951), Tag von Potsdam (Potsdam Day), 21 March 1933.  Potsdam day was a ceremony conducted in Potsdam on 21 March, 1933 to mark the re-convening of the Reichstag (the rubber-stamp parliamentary assembly meeting in the Kroll Opera House), the fire which gutted the Reichstag building in Berlin on 27 February, 1933 never fully explained although conspiracy theories suggesting the act of arson was a Nazi plot have little support among mainstream historians, the consensus being the regime simply took advantage of the unexpected event to conduct the first of many purges of their opponents, suspend civil liberties and consolidate power.

Convicted of arson, the Dutch communist Marinus van der Lubbe (1909–1934) was the following year executed by guillotine but the conspiracy theories began before even the flames were extinguished and to this day there’s uncertainty about the details.  The van der Lubbe was known to be both mentally unstable and a political radical and the view long has been he was at least the principle arsonist, even if others were involved (as some of the forensic evidence can be interpreted as suggesting).  Certainly, although few believe the fire was the result of a plot by the Nazi command, there is a solid literature of the way lower-level functionaries would “work towards the Führer” by undertaking initiatives they thought in accord with his wishes but torching the parliament building, mere weeks after Hitler being appointed chancellor would have been ambitious, even for the notoriously opportunistic types in the SS (ᛋᛋ in Armanen runes; Schutzstaffel (literally “protection squadron” but translated variously as “protection squad”, “security section" etc), formed (under different names) in 1923 as a Nazi party squad to provide security at public meetings (then often rowdy and violet affairs) and later re-purposed as a personal bodyguard for Hitler.  As the Third Reich evolved, it would morph into a kind of “state within a state and encompass military formations (Waffen-SS (armed SS (ie equipped with military-grade weapons) almost a million-strong).  If ever there was a field in which the phrase “beyond a reasonable doubt” can be applied, it’s the various theories offered to explain the Reichstag fire.