Erklärungsnot

Erklärungsnot (pronounced air-klair-oongs-noht)

Difficulty in explaining oneself; being at a loss for an explanation when one is in an awkward position, especially if one of one’s own making.

1980s: The construct was Erklärung (explanation, declaration, account) + not (distress, need, predicament, difficulty), thus literally “explanation distress”, best translated as “difficulty in explaining oneself” or “being at a loss for an explanation” but more graphically so as “explanation poverty”.  The construct of the verb erklären (to explain, to declare) was er- (a productive German verbal prefix (often indicating bringing something to completion or making something explicit)) + klären – (to clarify, to make clear).  Klären was from klar (clear), ultimately from the Latin clārus (clear, bright, famous); it was cognate with the English clear (gained via French influence from the same Latin root) and declare (from the Latin declarare).  Not (need, hardship, distress, emergency) was an old Germanic word that was cognate with the Old English nēad (necessity, compulsion), the English need, the Dutch nood and the Swedish nöd.  It was seen in many German compounds, two of late appearing increasingly in German news reports being Wohnungsnot (housing shortage) and Geldnot (financial distress).  The most common use in German appears to be in the phrase Erklärungsnot geraten (to get into Erklärungsnot), the charm of which is it can be as a lament (if of oneself) or said gleefully (in an act of schadenfreude) if of others.  Erklärungsnot is a noun; the noun plural is Erklärungsnöte.

The standard plural is Erklärungsnöte and not Erklärungsnots but if ever the word is assimilated and if the usual practice followed (English conventions used in plural formations) erklärungsnots will become an “alternative plural”.  As a general principle, German nouns ending in “-not” generally form their plural by taking an umlaut (a diacritical mark (¨) placed over a vowel (specifically in German “ä”, “ö” & “ü”) to indicate a shifted or fronted sound) and an “-e”; while appending an “-s” is one of the regular patterns in German plural formation, it’s used mostly for foreign loanwords, abbreviations or acronyms, most surnames and certain nouns ending in vowels.  When used in English, the formal rules can be “bent” and even if one is referring to several Erklärungsnöte, the singular Erklärungsnot will “do the job”.  For English-speakers, the pronunciation of Erklärungsnot is not intuitive is best written as air-klair-oongs-noht with stresses on the second (klair) and the final syllables (noht).  German language guides break it down as: (1) air (short and sharp), klair with the German “ä” spoken “ai” as in “hair”, (3) oongs assimilating the “r” in “hair” and thus pronounced like “roongs” (lightly rolling the “r” or dropping it slightly into an “ng” and (4) noht rhymes with “boat”.

Much fun is made of long German compound nouns, the classic example the 42-letter Donaudampfschiffahrtsgesellschaftskapitän (Danube steamship company captain) although linguistically adventurous Germans fashioned constructions as long as 80 letters that authorities rejected that as phoney, ruling the 63-letter Rindfleischetikettierungsüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz (beef labelling regulation and delegation of supervision law) the languages longest “real” word although use was rare, most preferring the more manageable abbreviation ReÜAÜG but it was rendered obsolete by changes to EU regulations meaning the 36-letter Kraftfahrzeughaftpflichtversicherung (automobile liability insurance) gained the prized distinction.  More digestible forms have been embraced by English-speakers because they say in a few syllables what otherwise would demand a phrase or even a sentence, common examples including zeitgeist (spirit of the age) and schadenfreude (the feeling of joy or pleasure when something bad happens to another person, ideally an acquaintance).  Others offer little phonetic economy such as scheisskopf (shithead) but it’s used because it (1) is a “fun” word” and (2) is semi-euphemistic in that it avoids explicit use of the vulgar “shit”.  By convention, when German nouns are absorbed into English as “loan words” (subtlety different from being assimilated as with “etcetera”), they’re not spelled with an initial capital as in the German.  Erklärungsnot always is used with an initial capital because it remains a non-assimilated “foreign word”, a quality vesting it with an additional quality.  By convention, (ie this is not an absolute rule), in text, loan and assimilated words are not printed in italics, unlike most foreign forms.

Case study in Erklärungsnot: Chelsea Clinton (b 1980; FDOTUS 1993-2001)) & Bill Clinton (b 1946; POTUS 1993-2001) watching crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) on stage with Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) second presidential debate, Washington University, St. Louis, Missouri, 9 October, 2016.  Mr Clinton was a serial offender or, as he may have put it, a “serial victim”. 

For students of political mendacity & obfuscation (a well-documented field), examples of course abound and, to succeed in the business, the art of “handling Erklärungsnöte” must be mastered to the point it’s a politician’s stock-in-trade.  Of course, a politician might (at least briefly) succeed by being truthful but it seems doubtful that’s ever been tried so empirical data is lacking.  While the behavioural phenomenon of Erklärungsnot would have pre-dated the Stone Age, the word, although constructed with old elements, is not ancient, the first use thought to be by journalists during the early 1990s (ie shortly after German re-unification although perhaps no significance should be attached to that, German politicians having long before often been “at a loss to explain something”).  Quickly it became a staple of German political commentary and from there spread to wider use, it’s popularity artificially exaggerated in the statistics because the internet encouraged a proliferation of lists of rare words or those thought fun, interesting, weird and such.  In English, it has never caught on to the same extent as the loan words zeitgeist, schadenfreude or scheisskopf, probably because the pronunciation is “challenging”.  So, with no one-word equivalent in English, speakers of that language stuck with phrases like “I’m not absolutely certain (ie “don’t know”) or “it's hard to explain” (ie “if I tell the truth it will be bad for me”), neither of which so elegantly capture the moment.

It can’t with statistical certainty be said politicians more than most suffer Erklärungsnot but generally that perception exists because so many instances of them falling victim are recorded and in some form broadcast (most of us enduring the pain before a smaller audience, often WAGs (wives & girlfriends)).  Some politicians have of course so honed their techniques of avoidance or obfuscation that viewers, long since mentally bludgeoned into an acquiescent insensibility, have “tuned-out” to the extent even lies slur effortlessly into the waffle.  Markers of a politician being in a state of Erklärungsnot include (1) being asked a question and responding with something like “I think it's incredibly important...” before going on to talk about something else, (2) frequent use of the word “obviously” (whether or not things seem “obvious”), (3) rambling off-topic for a while and then saying “what was the question?” and (4) blaming the media.

Barnaby Joyce interviewed by Sarah Ferguson (b 1965) on the ABC’s (Australian Broadcasting Corporation) 7:30 Report, July 2026.

One who tried a tactic more novel than the usual clichéd subtleties of evasion was Barnaby Joyce (b 1967; thrice (between local difficulties) deputy prime minister of Australia 2016-2022), a man who more than most has come to be confronted with questions he’d rather not answer.  In many cases, he’d be better off displaying his Erklärungsnot (usually otherwise a kiss of political death) than trying to answer because in his latter-day position, being “lost for words” would be better than “trying to come up with something” or (the Lord forbid), “tell the truth” but his commendable tactic was to turn away from his interviewer and “shout at the dog”.  While performative, theatrically, it was great television and while the interviewer doggedly pursued her line, the clever diversion did give Mr Joyce a few moments to “come up with something” and ensured national coverage would be all about “Barnaby’s dog”.  Nobody will remember the questions or the issues raised and, as was the case when he was filmed one midnight, lying drunk beside a planter box in a Canberra street while having an expletive-laden conversation with his (second) wife, the public’s reaction generally was positive.  That's because shouting at their dog or being seen sprawled drunk in the street makes a politician (in the parlance) “authentic”, a valued commodity in an age when so much is (or is assumed to be) “fake”.  It is of course not impossible there really was a misbehaving dog requiring Mr Joyce shout at it (animal behavior experts were quick to comment on whether that's a good idea) and it may be the convenient interruptions to the interview were not just a politician's trick to gain time.  Those of a generous spirit can extend him the benefit of the doubt.    

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December 2011.  Ms Lohan named her first dog “Gucci” after he chewed-up her new pair of Gucci boots but never commented on whether that was crisis enough for her to shout at the playful puppy.  Barnaby would have shouted.

Erklärungsnot has for generations been well-known to school students asked by the teacher why their homework wasn’t handed in for marking.  The classic “the dog ate my homework” might at the time, briefly, seem a good “work-around” for one’s instant, sinking feeling of Erklärungsnot but telling the truth probably is preferable.  Adults of course (usually) get better at the techniques, the most prevalent one in politics being “plausible deniability” but that can work (at least in the short term) only if the “plausibility” really is to one’s interlocutor(s) truly “plausible”.  Case studies include the lives and times of Boris Johnson (b 1964; UK prime-minister 2019-2022) and Bill Clinton (b 1946; POTUS 1993-2001), two gifted but flawed characters who, when in the depths of an Erklärungsnot, were inclined to “keep digging”.  This illustrious brace illustrate the word Erklärungsnot is at its most potent when applied to someone embarrassed by circumstances of their own making.  It has been used more generally (such as in cases where someone is the victim of unfortunate events) but that's a different flavor of pathos.

Tergiversate

Tergiversate (Pronounced tur-ji-ver-seyt)

(1) To change repeatedly one's attitude or opinions with respect to a cause or subject.

(2) To turn renegade; to change sides, affiliations or loyalties; to apostatize; to desert.

(3) To evade, to equivocate using subterfuge; to obfuscate in a deliberate manner.  To be evasive or ambiguous.

(4) To flee by turning one's back (obsolete).

1645-1655; From the Classical Latin tergiversātus, perfect active participle of tergiversor (to evade, to avoid, to turn one's back on) and past participle of tergiversārī (to turn one's back), the construct being tergi- (a combining form of tergum (back)) + versātus, past participle of versāre, frequentative of +‎ versor or vertere (to turn (from the primitive Indo-European root wer- (to turn; to bend))).  The Vulgar Latin was tergiversationem (nominative tergiversatio).  The original mid-seventeenth century sense of the verb tergiversate was “to shift; practice evasion” and it was used especially in a political or religious context to mean “apostatize, desert one's party”.  It’s not clear whether the verb was a directly from the Latin tergiversates or a back-formation from tergiversation.  The noun tergiversation (turning dishonestly from a straightforward action or statement; shifting, shuffling, equivocation) was in use by the 1560s, from the Latin tergiversationem (a shifting, evasion, declining, refusing), the noun of action from the past-participle stem of tergiversari.  Deconstructed, that meant literally “to turn one's back on”, thus the sense of “to evade” from tergum (the back (of unknown origin) + versare.  In the seventeenth century, there were nuances to tergiversation, on version noting the meaning: “A seeming to runne away, yet (like some cocks) still to fight, wrangling” (ie a tactic of delayed attack rather than a retreat).  Some sources list the verb tergiversate being obsolete by the twentieth century but it survived as a “decorative word” and “deliberate anachronism” before being revived because it was so useful in political commentary.  Tergiversate, tergiversated & tergiversating are verbs and tergiversation & tergiversator are nouns; the noun plural forms (tergiversations & tergiversators) are rare.

While “tergiversate” can be applied to changes of opinion or alignment in many fields, in contemporary practice it’s rare for it to be seen except when speaking of writing about politics & politicians, a rich source of mendacity and inconsistency.  So common is political tergiversation that the frequency with which it’s reported has compelled the coining or adaptation of other terms including “flip-flopping”, “turncoating”, “U-turning”, and “ratting”, some politicians known even to have embraced them.   Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) in 1901 entered the UK’s House of Commons as a Tory (Conservative), having on the hustings lambasted his opponents in the Liberal Party as “prigs, prudes and faddists” and once in parliament he warmed to the topic, accusing the Liberals of “…hiding from the public view like a toad in a hole”, adding “…when it stands forth in all its hideousness we Tories will have to hew the filthy object limb from limb.”  That told the country what he must at the time have thought yet in less than three years he’d stand on the same platform and ejaculate: “I hate the Tories.  I am an English Liberal.”  Obviously, that was a nailing of the colors to the mast yet by 1924, after a turbulent couple of decades, he returned to the Tory benches, all apparently forgiven (though certainly not forgotten).  Whether those tergiversations were acts of principle or a sniffing of the electoral breeze can be debated but Churchill himself took the view he’d done it all with some panache, joking in his club: “Anyone can rat, but it takes a certain ingenuity to re-rat.”

Lord Chancellor Jowitt (left) and Winston Churchill Right), Cenotaph Ceremony, Remembrance Day, London, 11 November, 1945: Jowitt ratted just once, Churchill twice.

Generous in spirit, Churchill was prepared to offer procedural advice even to his nominal opponents.  After entering the House of Commons as a Liberal after the 1929 general election, William Jowitt (1885-1957) had been offered the post of attorney-general by the incoming Labour Party administration (unlike the modern era, Labour was at that point “short of good lawyers”) so ratted on the Liberals and changed affiliation.  Although, in the circumstances, he thought it right to resign his seat and seek re-endorsement under his new tag (he secured an increased majority at the by-election), his former colleagues in the Liberal Party remained unimpressed by the ratting and that his appointment was bundled with a knighthood (then customary for both an attorney-general and solicitor-general) added to their sense of betrayal.  Discussing the matter with cronies in the House of Commons Smoking Room, Churchill wickedly was sympathetic: “Poor fellow.  He didn’t know how to do it.  Now if he had come to me, I could have instructed him in the technique of tergiversation.”  Sir William’s problems got worse before they got better.  Expelled from the Labour Party in 1931 after being one of a number of members to join the National Government formed to deal with the crisis of the Great Depression, he lost his seat and didn’t return to parliament until 1939, the Labour party having welcomed him back in 1936.  He served in the coalition government (1940-1945) and was then appointed Lord Chancellor after Labour’s landslide victory in the 1945 general election, sitting on the Woolsack until 1951; granted an earldom in 1952, he led the opposition in the Lords until 1955.  His textbook, Jowitt's Dictionary of English Law, was published posthumously in 1959 and, now in its sixth (2023) edition, remains a standard work of reference throughout the common-law world.

Australia has a long tradition of rattery including W.M. "Billy" Hughes (1862–1952; prime minister of Australia 1915-1923), Jack Lang (1876–1975; premier of the Australian state of New South Wales (NSW) 1925-1927 & 1930-1932) and Dr Mal Colston (1938–2003; senator for Queensland 1975-1999) but in politics, what constitutes “ratting” is decided on a “rat by rat” basis.  When in 2025 Barnaby Joyce (b 1967; twice (between local difficulties) deputy prime minister of Australia 2016-2022) announced he was leaving the National Party (of which he’d three times been leader) to join the One Nation Party, opinion was divided on whether truly he’d “ratted” on his former colleagues.  While at first glance it would seem a simple case of ratting, his decision came after the National Party officials informed him his “use by” date had been reached and he’d not be endorsed to stand at the next general election.  The party’s reasons had more to do with probity than policy, Mr Joyce’s recent history including adultery, deserting his family and being filmed one midnight sprawled in the street while drunk so, whether or not one agrees that behaviour was justification for pre-selection being withdrawn, all probably would concede: “they dumped him before he dumped them”.

Barnaby Joyce enjoying a steak for lunch with One Nation Party founder & leader Pauline Hanson (b 1954).  Apparently, she cooked their steaks in a sandwich press which seems a clever improvisation.

Still, he’d had a long innings of Teflon-like resistance to mud sticking and managed long to endure despite not enjoying much public support from “elites” he claims to despise.  When the rugby union (and other codes) player Israel Folau (b 1989) in 2019 posted on social media a list of those “God condemns to Hell” that included “drunks, homosexuals, adulterers, liars, fornicators, thieves, atheists and idolaters”, while there was strident support for the gay community, despite the mention of “adulterers” and “drunks” being obviously a blatant attack on Mr Joyce's character, not a whisper was heard in his defence.  Mr Joyce thus concluded he’d be “on his own” in saving his two-decade long political career so the sudden spike in support for One Nation proved most serendipitous. His motivations may not all be explained by a fear of what fellow adulterer Gareth Evans (b 1944; Australian Labor Party (ALP) senator or MP 1978-1999, sometime attorney-general & foreign minister) dubbed RDS (relevance deprivation syndrome).  Mr Joyce may greatly value his parliamentary salary because, as well as being newly married with two small children to support, it may be he still has some financial arrangements in place to support the youngest (now 22) of the four daughters from his previous marriage.  As well as the nominal “headline” figure of what politicians are paid, Mr Joyce will be aware the parliamentary gravy train offers much scope for (often tax-free) “topping up”, his brief appointment as a “drought envoy” an example of the system’s flexibility.

#freckles: Lindsay Lohan out shopping. Tergiversate’s origin lies in the Latin tergiversari (to turn one's back) but that sense of the word has for more than a century been extinct and it’s now a “loaded” word; a pejorative characterization rather than a neutral description.

The Athenian statesman and general Alcibiades (circa 450-404 BC) ratted more often than Churchill and did in circumstances wholly more distasteful, his allegiance shifting on several occasions during the Peloponnesian War (431-404 BC, fought between the Athenians and Spartans).  Historians have attributed his repeated acts of treachery not to ideological commitment or even avarice but to what a modern HR (Human Relations) department might describe as “difficulties in personal relationships” that led not infrequently to erstwhile colleagues becoming enemies.  Prominent in his native Athens where he advocated a hard line against the Spartans in both foreign policy and military matters, Alcibiades proved skilful in Masonic-like plotting and scheming but his ruthlessness made many enemies and they too proved adept at character assassination; reading the writing on the wall (about to be written in his blood) he decamped to Sparta, taking with him valuable secrets about the military plans of Athens, making him a most useful “consultant”.  However, the problem inherent in being a turncoat (however useful) is that one never is wholly trusted by ones new “friends” and this tension, coupled with Alcibiades’ clearly abrasive personality made him realise he’d do well to depart and so he did, defecting the court of the Persian Empire where he served as a strategic advisor.  However, so much had the power centres in Athens shifted that remarkably (given his history), he was recalled to military command there, serving for several years before the faction that had never forgiven him engineered his second exile to Persia.  There he was murdered, reputedly on the orders of his enemies in Sparta but there’s a long list of likely suspects.

What’s now the most frequent use of tergiversation is to refer to promises made and broken by those most notorious of tergiversators: politicians.  Although the term “law-maker” is less commonly used beyond the US, it’s a revealing way to describe those elected or appointed to legislatures and the key to why they are able to break what should be regarded as contractual promises while others doing the same thing can severely be punished.  When seeking election to what most people casting a vote would regard as a highly paid job, politicians make what are known as “campaign promises”.  The promises are an inducement to make people vote for them so they get the well paid job so what should be created is a “social contract”; upon being elected, the politician should fulfil their promises.  In that it should be no different from the furniture store advertising their “special deal” of “one coffee table, two chairs and one sofa for $1,999”; that’s what should be delivered.  Were the store to take the $1,999 and deliver only one chair and one sofa, the customer would have legal recourse.  What that might be (an order for specific performance of the contract (ie delivering the missing table and chair)); a refund; compensation for the missing items etc) might vary according to this and that but there would be come redress available and that’s because the law-makers have passed laws protecting consumers from those breaking promises.

Day of the Tergiversate (2017), directed by Alex Michael Smith (known also for Bed of Fear (2014) and Monsters of Suburbia (2019).

However, lawmakers everywhere (as far as is known) have not passed laws making political promises enforceable despite the principle being the same as the furniture store (promises made to deliver something exchange for something (money or votes).  Political scientists have noted the social contract between politician & voter conforms with the four essential element of a contract listed in every text book in the common law world: (1) Offer (a politician makes a promise in exchange for a vote), (2) Acceptance (by voting a voter in engaging in an act of “acceptance by acquiescence”), (3) Consideration (in voting the voter is “paying” the politician for their promise(s)) and (4) Certainty of terms (helpfully, political parties list their promises in the “party platform”, usually in simple, unambiguous language of the advertising slogan).  So that would appear to suggest that according to the legal principles the lawmakers impose on everybody else, the promises they made to get their well-paid jobs should at law be enforceable.  Of course they are not and the lawmakers remain free to break their promises at will.  While the politicians can argue that any voter sufficiently upset about one or more broken promises can in the next election vote for somebody else, that really doesn’t much help because (1) the politician will enjoy some years (typically between 2-8) in the high paid job they obtained by making promises that were broken and (2) the alternatives are just a likely to break promises.

The roll-call of tergiversating politicians is of course long and rarely noble; sometimes the consequences have for decades rippled.  Overturning long-standing party policy, Tory Sir Robert Peel (1788–1850; Prime Minister of the UK 1834–1835 & 1841–1846) had to rely on the support of the Whig opposition to in 1846 repeal the UK’s protectionist “Corn Laws”, triggering the “free trade” squabbles which would for decades rage.  A most unusual reform by a Tory administration (it benefited the poor and cost the rich!); shortly after that his ministry fell and Peel would never again hold office.  Still, he’s remembered because of another of his innovations lent his names to two of the original slang terms for police constables: “Peelers” and “Bobbies”.

Front page of Rupert Murdoch's (b 1931) New York Post, 27 June 1990.  The editors of Mr Murdoch's tabloids prefer punchy words like “lied” to decorative forms like “tergiversated”.

George H.W. Bush (George XLI, 1924-2018; VPOTUS 1981-1989 and POTUS 1989-1993) might have got away with breaking his “…no new taxes” promise had it been an anodyne line of electoral orthodoxy buried somewhere in the Republican’s 1988 manifesto but he made the mistake of standing at rallies and loudly declaring: “Read my lips: no new taxes”, probably the most widely televised fragment of the campaign and greeted always with resounding applause.  It must at the time have seemed a good idea and probably it was; certainly nobody doubts Mr Bush really believed what he was promising and few politicians could convey sincerity like him.  Unfortunately, economic conditions worsened and by 1990 he took the decision to raise taxes in an attempt to “reign in” the growing deficit.  This was the era before Dick Cheney (1941-2025; VPOTUS 2001-2009) helpfully explained: “Deficits don’t matter”, a new (at least temporary) orthodoxy explaining why the US deficit is now nudging US$40 trillion which, although only a few dozen Elon Musks (b 1971), is a big number.  In 1990, Mr Bush preferred to avoid what he might once have called “voodoo economics”, stuck to the text books and raised taxes, something which contributed to Bill Clinton (b 1946; POTUS 1993-2001) winning the “It’s the economy stupid” 1992 presidential election, voters, however unhappily, receiving a free copy of crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013).

Many economists at the time commended Mr Bush for breaking his promise but there weren’t many of them and there were many more angry voters.  Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, POTUS 1933-1945) found the electorate more forgiving of him breaking the promise made in the 1932 campaign to “cut federal spending by 25%”.  Instead, he embarked upon the “New Deal” and while some economists have argued all that “tax & spend” churn delayed economic recovery, the many who at the time benefited from the stimulus weren’t inclined to decline support because of FDR’s broken promise.  As ever, “it’s the economy stupid”.  Now of course, in the time of the US$40 trillion deficit, it’s different and the shadow since 1987 cast by the “Greenspan put” (recessions ultimately reducible to “rich people losing money” the solution of celebrity economist (a rare breed) Dr Alan Greenspan (1926-2026; chairman of the Fed (US Federal Reserve) 1987-2006) being to “give them money”) grows ever longer.  In a sense, that has removed from the US political debate much of the need for politicians to make promises about taxes or spending because they know that while the Fed’s mechanism to “create money” may be different from the Nazi-era “wizardry” of Dr Hjalmar Schacht’s (1877–1970; president of the Reichsbank 1923-1930 & 1933-1939), “Mefo bills” (promissory notes, drawn upon the artificial company Metallurgische Forschungsgesellschaft (Metallurgical Research Corporation), the “bottom line” outcomes are strikingly similar.  How long this system can be sustained has attracted comment, the Dick Cheney faction in one corner and in the other, those saying “It’s the stupid economy”.

“Core” and “non core” promises explained.  Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December, 2011. 

A breathtakingly audacious “justification” of breaking election promises was in 1996 coined (apparently on-the-spot so he gets points for that) by John Howard (b 1939; prime minister of Australia 1996-2007).  When challenged by a journalist over having blatantly just broken several promises made during the election campaign only a few months earlier, Mr Howard constructed a new theory, one previously unknown to political science and never codified even by such cleverly wicked chaps as the Florentine diplomat Niccolò Machiavelli, 1469–1527), the “Welsh wizard” David Lloyd George (1863–1945; UK prime-minister 1916-1922) or the truly evil Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945), none of whom were ever much bothered by the notion of “keeping promises”).  What Mr Howard extemporized was that election promises can be categorized into “core” pledges that must be kept, and “non-core” pledges able to be broken or amended (also an interesting distinction).  That really would have been a most useful contribution to democratic theory had Mr Howard explained things prior to the election and listed his party’s “core” and “non-core” promises in the manifesto thus.  Unfortunately, his concept appeared only after the promised had “done the job” and elected him.  So, given the cynicism in the “core” vs “non-core” dichotomy he retrospectively applied, one might have thought the electorate might have punished Mr Howard but he went on to win another three elections (holing office for more than a decade and becoming the country's second-longest serving leader), the voters apparently concluding that even though he’d broken his promises, at least he’d had the chutzpah to come up with an even bigger lie in justification.  Never forgetting their convict origins, Australians can’t help but admire successful skulduggery and Mr Howard was a “conviction politician”; never was it said of him he was one of those “who lacked the courage of his lack of convictions”.

In modern use the understanding of “tergiversation” has shifted from its origin in the Latin tergiversari (to turn one's back) and while more than “flip-flop”, “U-turn” or “lie”, generally it’s now used to convey the idea of evasion, duplicity, abandonment of a previously held position, shifting a previously expressed stance for mere expediency or base self-interest; most associated with politicians it thus carries connotations of bad faith or basic dishonesty.  “Tergiversation” is thus a “loaded” word; a pejorative characterization rather than a neutral description.  Even for politicians however there can be good reasons to break promises.  Although phrases in the vein of “When someone persuades me that I am wrong, I change my mind. What do you do?” usually are attributed to the English economist John Maynard Keynes (1883-1946), there’s no evidence he ever used those words but the sentiment certainly exists in his writings including: “The company must maintain constant vigilance and revise preconceived ideas in response to changes in external situations” and “The inactive investor who takes up an obstinate attitude about his holdings and refuses to change his opinion merely because facts and circumstances have changed is the one who in the long run comes to grievous loss.”

Chopstick diplomacy.

Comrade Zhou Enlai (1898–1976; premier of the People's Republic of China (PRC) 1949-1976, left), Richard Nixon (1913-1994; VPOTUS 1953-1961 & POTUS 1969-1974) (centre) and comrade Zhang Chunqiao (1917–2005, right) at the welcome banquet for President Nixon's visit to the PRC, Tiananmen Square, Beijing, 26 February 1972.

It was in that spirit Richard Nixon, who had built a political career on his virulent anti-communism and support for the renegade province of Taiwan, switched to achieve a détante with the PRC (People’s Republic of China, the old “Red China”) and ultimately grant diplomatic recognition.  That was quite a switch and one at the time only someone with his solid anti-communist credentials could have achieved; while his motivations weren’t wholly pure, he did understand the geopolitical environment he and Dr Henry Kissinger (1923-2023; US national security advisor 1969-1975 & secretary of state 1973-1977) were confronting was very different to that which a generation earlier had existed for Dwight Eisenhower (1890-1969; POTUS 1953-1961) and John Foster Dulles (1888–1959; US secretary of state 1953-1959).  Most historians have since seen the shift as an inevitable strategic adaptation to Cold War realities rather than mere tergiversation but they’re not as forgiving of all adaptations to changed circumstances.  In his pre-political life, Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) would probably not ever have been labelled a “liberal” but his public positions on at least some issues would suggest he was sympathetic to some liberal positions including gun control and the right to abortion (“pro-choice” in the US discourse).  What can’t be denied is that since the 1980s the spate of mass shootings (many of them in schools) means “circumstances have changed” yet Mr Trump is now a most doughty opponent of any attempt to strengthen gun control in the US (although in NYC’s Trump Tower a “No Carry” policy strictly is enforced).  This isn’t exactly the sort of “change of opinion”  Keynes had in mind but rather what David Stockman (b 1946; Director of the US OMB (Office of Management and Budget) 1981–1985) called “The Triumph of Politics”, the sub-title of his 1986 book the explanatory: Why the Reagan Revolution Failed.  A quick learner, Mr Trump found at least some of the techniques in property development were transferable to electoral politics: Results matter and don’t be too bothered by principles.

Zugzwang

Zugzwang (pronounced tsook-tsvahng)

(1) In chess, a situation in which a player is limited to moves that cost pieces or have a damaging positional effect.

(2) A situation in which, whatever is done, makes things worse (applied variously to sport, politics, battlefield engagements etc).

(3) A situation in which one is forced to act when one would prefer to remain passive and thus a synonym of the German compound noun Zugpflicht (the rule that a player cannot forgo a move).

(4) In game theory, a move which changes the outcome from win to loss.

Circa 1858 (1905 in English): A modern German compound, the construct being zug+zwang.  Zug (move) was from the Middle High German zuc & zug, from the Old High German zug ,from Proto-Germanic tugiz, an abstract noun belonging to the Proto-Germanic teuhaną, from the primitive Indo-European dewk (to pull, lead); it was cognate with the Dutch teug and the Old English tyge.  Zwang (compulsion; force; constraint; obligation) was from the Middle High German twanc, from the Old High German geduang.  It belongs to the verb zwingen and cognates include the Dutch dwang and the Swedish tvång.  The word is best understood as "compulsion to move" or, in the jargon of chess players: "Your turn to move and whatever you do it'll make things worse for you", thus the application to game theory, military strategy and politics where there's often a need to determine the "least worse option".  Zugzwang is a noun; the noun plural is Zugzwänge.  In English, derived forms such as zugzwanged, zugzwanging, zugzwangish, zugzwanger, zugzwangesque and zugzwangee are non-standard and used usually for humorous effect.

Chess and Game Theory

Endgame: Black's turn and Zugzwang! Daily Chess Musings depiction of the elegance of zugwang.

The first known use of Zugzwang in the German chess literature appears in 1858; the first appearance in English in 1905.  However, the concept of Zugzwang had been known and written about for centuries, the classic work being Italian chess player Alessandro Salvio's (circa 1575–circa 1640) study of endgames published in 1604 and he referenced Shatranj writings from the early ninth century, some thousand years before the first known use of the term.  Positions with Zugzwang are not rare in chess endgames, best known in the king-rook & king-pawn conjunctions.  Positions of reciprocal Zugzwang are important in the analysis of endgames but although the concept is easily demonstrated and understood, that's true only of the "simple Zugzwang" and the so-called "sequential Zugzwang" will typically be a multi-move thing which demands an understanding of even dozens of permutations of possibilities.

Rendered by Vovsoft as cartoon character: a brunette Lindsay Lohan at the chessboard.  In her youth, she was a bit of a zugzwanger.

Zugzwang describes a situation where one player is put at a disadvantage because they have to make a move although the player would prefer to pass and make no move. The fact the player must make a move means their position will be significantly weaker than the hypothetical one in which it is the opponent's turn to move. In game theory, it specifically means that it directly changes the outcome of the game from a win to a loss.  Chess textbooks often cite as the classic Zugzwang a match in Copenhagen in 1923; on that day the German Grandmaster (the title inaugurated in 1950) Friedrich Sämisch (1896–1975) played White against the Latvian-born Danish Aron Nimzowitsch (1886-1935).  Playing Black, Nimzowitsch didn’t play a tactical match in the conventional sense but instead applied positional advantage, gradually to limit his opponent’s options until, as endgame was reached, White was left with no move which didn’t worsen his position; whatever he choose would lead either to material loss or strategic collapse and it’s said in his notebook, Nimzowitsch concluded his entry on the match with “Zugzwang!”  A noted eccentric in a discipline where idiosyncratic behaviour is not unknown, the Polish Grandmaster Savielly Tartakower (1887-1956) observed of Nimzowitsch: “He pretends to be crazy in order to drive us all crazy.”

French sculptor Auguste Rodin's (1840-1917) The Thinker (1904), Musée Rodin, Paris (left) and Boris Johnson (b 1964; UK prime-minister 2019-2022) thinking about which would be his least worst option (left).

In its classic form chess is a game between two, played with fixed rules on a board with a known number of pieces (32) and squares (64).  Although a count of the possible permutations in a match would yield a very big number, in chess, the concept of Zugwang is simple and understood the same way by those playing black and white; information for both sides is complete and while the concept can find an expression both combinatorial game theory (CGT) and classical game theory, the paths can be different.  CGT and GT (the latter historically a tool of economic modelers and strategists in many fields) are both mathematical studies of games behaviour which can be imagined as “game-like” but differ in focus, assumptions, and applications.  In CGT the basic model (as in chess) is of a two-player deterministic game in which the moves alternate and luck or chance is not an element.  This compares GT in which there may be any number of players, moves may be simultaneous, the option exists not to move, information known to players may be incomplete (or asymmetric) and luck & chance exist among many variables (which can include all of Donald Rumsfeld’s (1932–2021: US defense secretary 1975-1977 & 2001-2006) helpful categories (known knowns, known unknowns, unknown unknowns & (most intriguingly) unknown knowns).  So, while CGT is a good device for deconstructing chess and such because such games are of finite duration and players focus exclusively on “winning” (and if need be switching to “avoiding defeat”), GT is a tool which can be applied to maximize advantage or utility in situations where a win/defeat dichotomy is either not sought or becomes impossible.  The difference then is that CGT envisages two players seeking to solve deterministic puzzle on a win/lose basis while GT is there to describes & analyse strategic interactions between & among rational actors, some or all of which may be operating with some degree of uncertainty.

Serial zugzwanger Barnaby Joyce (b 1967; thrice (between local difficulties) deputy prime minister of Australia 2016-2022), Parliament House, Canberra.  More than many, Mr Joyce has had to sit and ponder what might at that moment be his “least worst” option.  He has made choices good and bad.

In politics and military conflicts (a spectrum condition according to Prussian general and military theorist Carl von Clausewitz (1780–1831)), a zugzwang often is seen as parties are compelled to take their “least worst” option, even when circumstances dictate it would be better to “do nothing”.  However, the zugzwang can lie in the eye of the beholder and that why the unexpected Ardennes Offensive, (Wacht am Rhein (Watch on the Rhine) the German code-name though popularly known in the West as the Battle of the Bulge, (December 1944-January 1945)) was ordered by Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945).  It was the last major German strategic offensive of World War II (1939-1945) and among all but the most sycophantic of Hitler’s military advisors it was thought not “least worst” but rather “worse than the sensible” option (although not all the generals at the time concurred with what constituted “sensible”).  Under the Nazi state’s Führerprinzip (leader principle) the concept was that in any institutional structure authority was vested in the designated leader and that meant ultimately Hitler’s rule was a personal dictatorship (although the extent of the fragmentation wasn’t understood until after the war) so while the generals could warn, counsel & advise, ultimately decisions were based on the Führer’s will, thus the Ardennes Offensive.

While the operation made no strategic sense to the conventionally-schooled generals, to Hitler it was compelling because the tide of the war had forced him to pursue the only strategy left: delay what appeared an inevitable defeat in the hope the (real but still suppressed) political tensions between his opponents would sunder their alliance, allowing him to direct his resources against one front rather than three (four if the battle in the skies was considered a distinct theatre as many historians argue).  Like Charles Dickens’ (1812–1870) Mr Micawber in David Copperfield (1849-1850), Hitler was hoping “something would turn up”.  Because of the disparity in military and economic strength between the German and Allied forces, in retrospect, the Ardennes Offensive appears nonsensical but, at the time, it was a rational tactic even if the strategy of “delay” was flawed.  Confronted as he was by attacks from the west, east and south, continuing to fight a defensive war would lead only to an inevitable defeat; an offensive in the east was impossible because of the strength of the Red Army and even a major battlefield victor in the south would have no strategic significance so it was only in the west a glimmer of success seemed to beckon.

The bulge.

In the last great example of the professionalism and tactical improvisation which was a hallmark of their operations during the war, secretly the Wehrmacht (the German military) assembled a large armored force (essentially under the eyes of the Allies) and staged a surprise attack through the Ardennes, aided immeasurably by the cover of heavy, low clouds which precluded both Allied reconnaissance and deployment of their overwhelming strength in air-power.  Initially successful, the advance punched several holes in the line, the shape of which, when marked on a map, lent the campaign the name “Battle of the Bulge” but within days the weather cleared, allowing the Allies to unleash almost unopposed their overwhelming superiority in air power.  This, combined with their vast military and logistical resources, doomed the Ardennes Offensive, inflicting losses from which the Wehrmacht never recovered: From mid-January on, German forces never regained the initiative, retreating on all fronts until the inevitable defeat in May.  A last throw of the dice, the offensive both failed and squandered precious (and often irreplaceable) resources badly needed elsewhere.  By December 1944, Hitler had been confronted with a zugzwang (of his own making) and while whatever he did would have made Germany’s position worse, at least arguably, the Ardennes Offensive was not even his “least worse” option.

Rat

Rat (pronounced ratt)

(1) In zoology, any of several long-tailed rodents of the family Muridae, of the genus Rattus and related genera, distinguished from the mouse by being larger.

(2) In (scientifically inaccurate) informal use, any of the numerous members of several rodent families (eg voles & mice) that resemble true rats in appearance, usually having a pointy snout, a long, bare tail, and body length greater than 5 inches (120 mm).

(3) In hairdressing, a wad of shed hair used as part of a hairstyle; a roll of material used to puff out the hair, which is turned over it.

(4) In the slang of certain groups in London, vulgar slang for the vagina.

(5) As “to rat on” or “to rat out”, to betray a person or party, especially by telling their secret to an authority or enemy; to turn someone in.

(6) One of a brace of rodent-based slang terms to differentiate between the small-block (mouse motor) and big-block (rat motor) Chevrolet V8s built mostly in the mid-late twentieth century but still available (as "crate" engines) from US manufacturers.

(7) As RAT, a small turbine that is connected to a hydraulic pump, or electrical generator, installed in an aircraft and used as a power source.

(8) Slang term for a scoundrel, especially men of dubious morality.

(9) In the criminal class and in law enforcement, slang for an informer.

(10) In politics, slang for a person who abandons or betrays his party or associates, especially in a time of trouble.

(11) Slang for a person who frequents a specified place (mall rat, gym rat etc).

(12) In hairdressing, a pad with tapered ends formerly used in women's hair styles to give the appearance of greater thickness.

(13) In the slang of blue-water sailors, a place in the sea with rapid currents and crags where a ship is prone to being broken apart in stormy weather.

(14) In zoology (in casual use), a clipping of muskrat.

Pre 1000: From the Middle English ratte, rat & rotte, from the Old English ræt & rætt, and the Latin rodere from the Proto-Germanic rattaz & rattō (related also to the West Frisian rôt, the German Ratz & Ratte and the Swedish råtta & the Dutch rat), of uncertain origin but perhaps from the primitive Indo-European rehed- (to scrape, scratch, gnaw).  Zoological anthropologists however point out it’s possible there were no populations of rats in the Northern Europe of antiquity, and the Proto-Germanic word may have referred to a different animal.  The attestation of this family of words dates from the twelfth century.  Some of the Germanic cognates show considerable consonant variation such as the Middle Low German ratte & radde and the Middle High German rate, ratte & ratze, the irregularity perhaps symptomatic of a late dispersal of the word, although some etymologists link it with the Proto-Germanic stem raþō (nom); ruttaz (gen), the variations arising from the re-modellings in the descendants.  Rat is a noun & verb, ratting is a noun & verb, rattery is a noun, ratted is a vern & ajective, rattan, rattish & ratlike are adjectives and rattily is an adverb; the noun plural is rats.

Mall rats.  In North America and other developed markets, there is now less scope for mall habitués because changing consumer behavior has resulted in a dramatic reduction in the volume of transactions conducted in physical stores and some malls are being either abandoned or re-purposed (health hubs and educational facilities being a popular use).  

The human distaste for these large rodents has made rat a productive additive in English.  Since the twelfth century it’s been applied (usually to a surname) to persons either held to resemble rats or share with them some characteristic or perception of quality with them. The specific sense of "one who abandons his associates for personal advantage" is from the 1620s, based on the belief that rats leave a ship about to sink or a house about to fall, and this led to the meaning "traitor” or “informant" although, perhaps surprisingly, there no reference to rat in this sense prior to 1902 where as the modern-sounding sense of associative frequency (mall-rat, gym-rat etc) was noted as early as 1864, firstly as “dock-rat”.  Dr Johnson dates “to smell a rat”, based on the behaviour of cats, to the 1540s.  Sir Boyle Roche (1736-1807), was an Irish MP famous for mangled phrases and mixed metaphors, of the best remembered of which was “I smell a rat; I see him forming in the air and darkening the sky; but I'll nip him in the bud".

One of Ed Roth's Rat Fink Racing Team images.

There’s the rat-terrier (1852), the rat-catcher (1590s), the rat-snake (1818), rat-poison, (1799), the rat trap (late 1400s), the rat-pack (1951) and rat-hole which in 1812, based on the holes gnawed in woodwork by rats meant “nasty, messy place”, the meaning extended in 1921 to a "bottomless hole" (especially one where money goes).  Ratfink (1963) was juvenile slang either coined or merely popularized by US custom car builder Ed "Big Daddy" Roth (1932-2001), who rendered a stylised rat on some of his creations, supposedly to lampoon Mickey Mouse.  One memorable use came from Dr Kevin Rudd (b 1957; Australian prime-minister 2007-2010 & 2013) who, becoming frustrated at the way negotiations were going at the 2009 Copenhagen climate change summit, remarked “…those Chinese fuckers are trying to rat-fuck us”.  Said to be in use as US college slang as early as the late 1950s (when it entered political use isn’t clear and one could imagine it coming from the lips of Lyndon Johnson (LBJ, 1908–1973; VPOTUS 1961-1963 and POTUS 1963-1969) though possibly not from John Foster Dulles (1888–1959; US Secretary of State 1953-1959)), “ratfucking” is a generalized term describing covert political sabotage, dirty tricks and low skulduggery.  As Dr Rudd, suggested, the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) are as skilled at such things as political operatives anywhere.

In politics, “ratting” is the act of being elected to an assembly as a member of one political party and, once ensconced, changing party affiliation.  Ratting has a long (and not always noble) history and in some places (most famously the exciting world of the Papua New Guinea parliament) is such a feature of political life its regarded as normal behavior but in most of the English-speaking world it tends to be viewed with distaste, those practicing the art thought more often opportunistic than principled.  The “decorative” word for the act is “tergiversate” but that's rare, the more evocative “ratting” much preferred and while both terms can be applied to changes of opinion or alignment in many fields, they're most often heard or seen in speech or writing about politics & politicians, a rich source of mendacity and inconsistency.  So common is political tergiversation that the frequency with which it’s reported has compelled the coining or adaptation of other terms including “flip-flopping”, “turncoating”, “U-turning” and “ratting”, some politicians known even to have embraced them.  Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) in 1901 entered the UK’s House of Commons as a Tory (Conservative), having on the hustings lambasted his opponents in the Liberal Party as “prigs, prudes and faddists” and once in parliament he warmed to the topic, accusing the Liberals of “…hiding from the public view like a toad in a hole”, adding “…when it stands forth in all its hideousness we Tories will have to hew the filthy object limb from limb.”  That told the country what he must at the time have thought yet in less than three years he’d stand on the same platform and ejaculate: “I hate the Tories.  I am an English Liberal.”  Obviously, that was a nailing of the colors to the mast yet by 1924, after a turbulent couple of decades, he returned to the Tory benches, all apparently forgiven (though certainly not forgotten).  Whether those tergiversations were acts of principle or a sniffing of the electoral breeze can be debated but Churchill himself took the view he’d done it all with some panache, joking in his club: “Anyone can rat, but it takes a certain ingenuity to re-rat.”

Lord Chancellor Jowitt (left) and Winston Churchill Right), Cenotaph Ceremony, Remembrance Day, London, 11 November, 1945: Jowitt ratted just once, Churchill twice.

Generous in spirit, Churchill was prepared to offer procedural advice even to his nominal opponents.  After entering the House of Commons as a Liberal after the 1929 general election, William Jowitt (1885-1957) had been offered the post of attorney-general by the incoming Labour Party administration (unlike the modern era, Labour was at that point “short of good lawyers”) so ratted on the Liberals and changed affiliation.  Although, in the circumstances, he thought it right to resign his seat and seek re-endorsement under his new tag (he secured an increased majority at the by-election), his former colleagues in the Liberal Party remained unimpressed by the ratting and that his appointment was bundled with a knighthood (then customary for both an attorney-general and solicitor-general) added to their sense of betrayal.  Discussing the matter with cronies in the House of Commons Smoking Room, Churchill wickedly was sympathetic: “Poor fellow.  He didn’t know how to do it.  Now if he had come to me, I could have instructed him in the technique of tergiversation.”  Sir William’s problems got worse before they got better.  Expelled from the Labour Party in 1931 after being one of a number of members to join the National Government formed to deal with the crisis of the Great Depression, he lost his seat and didn’t return to parliament until 1939, the Labour party having welcomed him back in 1936.  He served in the coalition government (1940-1945) and was then appointed Lord Chancellor after Labour’s landslide victory in the 1945 general election, sitting on the Woolsack until 1951; granted an earldom in 1952, he led the opposition in the Lords until 1955.  His textbook, Jowitt's Dictionary of English Law, was published posthumously in 1959 and, now in its sixth (2023) edition, remains a standard work of reference throughout the common-law world.

Australia has a long tradition of rattery including W.M. "Billy" Hughes (1862–1952; prime minister of Australia 1915-1923), Jack Lang (1876–1975; premier of the Australian state of New South Wales (NSW) 1925-1927 & 1930-1932) and Dr Mal Colston (1938–2003; senator for Queensland 1975-1999) but in politics, what constitutes “ratting” is decided on a “rat by rat” basis.  When in 2025 Barnaby Joyce (b 1967; twice (between local difficulties) deputy prime minister of Australia 2016-2022) announced he was leaving the National Party (of which he’d three times been leader) to join the One Nation Party, opinion was divided on whether truly he’d “ratted” on his former colleagues.  While at first glance it would seem a simple case of ratting, his decision came after the National Party officials informed him his “use by” date had been reached and he’d not be endorsed to stand at the next general election.  The party’s reasons had more to do with probity than policy, Mr Joyce’s recent history including adultery, deserting his family and being filmed one midnight sprawled in the street while drunk so, whether or not one agrees that behaviour was justification for pre-selection being withdrawn, all probably would concede: “they dumped him before he dumped them”.

Barnaby Joyce enjoying a steak for lunch with One Nation Party founder & leader Pauline Hanson (b 1954).  Apparently, she cooked their steaks in a sandwich press which seems a clever improvisation.

Still, he’d had a long innings of Teflon-like resistance to mud sticking and managed long to endure despite not enjoying much public support from “elites” he claims to despise.  When the rugby union (and other codes) player Israel Folau (b 1989) in 2019 posted on social media a list of those “God condemns to Hell” that included “drunks, homosexuals, adulterers, liars, fornicators, thieves, atheists and idolaters”, while there was strident support for the gay community, despite the mention of “adulterers” and “drunks” being obviously a blatant attack on Mr Joyce's character, not a whisper was heard in his defence.  Mr Joyce thus concluded he’d be “on his own” in saving his two-decade long political career so the sudden spike in support for One Nation proved most serendipitous. His motivations may not all be explained by a fear of what fellow adulterer Gareth Evans (b 1944; Australian Labor Party (ALP) senator or MP 1978-1999, sometime attorney-general & foreign minister) dubbed RDS (relevance deprivation syndrome).  Mr Joyce may greatly value his parliamentary salary because, as well as being newly married with two small children to support, it may be he still has some financial arrangements in place to support the youngest (now 22) of the four daughters from his previous marriage.  As well as the nominal “headline” figure of what politicians are paid, Mr Joyce will be aware the parliamentary gravy train offers much scope for (often tax-free) “topping up”, his brief appointment as a “drought envoy” an example of the system’s flexibility.

Cricket's most infamous rat (mullygrubber), MCG (Melbourne Cricket Ground), 1 February, 1981.  In the 1970s, brown & beige really had been fashionable but this was the combo's death knell.

Rat has a specific meaning in the cricketing slang of the West Indies, referring to a ball which, after being delivered by the bowler, rather than bouncing off the pitch at some angle, instead runs along the ground, possibly hitting the stumps with sufficient force to dislodge the bails, dismissing the batsman, the idea being of a rat scurrying across the ground.  In Australian slang, the same delivery is called a mullygrubber which, although it sounds old-fashioned, is said to date only from the 1970s, the construct thought based on the dialectal rural term mully (dusty, powdery earth) + grub(ber) in the sense of the grubs which rush about in the dirt if disturbed in such an environment.  Such deliveries are wholly serendipitous (for the bowler) and just bad luck (for the batsman) because it's not possible for such as ball to be delivered on purpose; they happen only because of the ball striking some crack or imperfection in the pitch which radically alters it usual course to a flat trajectory.  If a batsman is dismissed as a result, it's often called a "freak ball" or "freak dismissal".  Of course if a ball is delivered underarm a rat is easy to effect but if a batsman knows one is coming, while it's hard to score from, it's very easy to defend against.  The most infamous mullygrubber was bowled at the MCG on 1 February 1981 when, with New Zealand needing to score six (by hitting the ball, on the full, over the boundary) of the final delivery of the match, the Australian bowler sent down an underarm delivery, the mullygrubber denying the batsman the opportunity to score, thereby securing an Australian victory.  Although then permissible within the rules, it was hardly in the spirit of the game and consequently, the regulations were changed.

The Ram Air Turbine

RAT (Ram Air Turbine) diagram.

The RAT (Ram Air Turbine) is a small, propeller-driven turbine connected to a hydraulic pump, or electrical generator, installed in an aircraft to generate emergency power.  In an emergency, when electrical power is lost, the RAT drops from the fuselage or wing into the air-stream where it works as a mini wind-turbine, providing sufficient power for vital systems (flight controls, linked hydraulics and flight-critical instrumentation).  In use, there is a lag between the RAT being activated (ie entering the airstream) and the electrical power being available to systems and while usually less than a minute, pilots confirm this can be "a very long minute" to those at the controls of an aircraft that has lost power while at high altitude.

Vickers VC10 in BOAC (British Overseas Airways Corporation (1939-1974) livery.

Built between 1962-1970, although fast and a favorite with passengers because the rear-engine layout guaranteed a quiet cabin, only 54 VC10s were built and, in a market dominated by Boeing's epoch-making 707 (1956-1978), success proved elusive.  Even before the 747 in 1969 ushered in the wide-body era it was clear the elegant VC10 was a cul-de-sac but the airframe enjoyed a long career.  The RAF (Royal Air Force) had some configured as VIP transports and the last of those used as in-flight re-fueling platforms (tankers) weren't retired until 2013.  Most modern commercial airliners are equipped with RATs, the first being installed on the Vickers VC10 in the early 1960s and the big Airbus A380 has the largest RAT propeller in current use at 64 inches (1.63 metres) but most are about half this size.  It’s expected as modern airliners begin increasingly to rely on electrical power, either propeller sizes will have to increase or additional RATs may be required, the latter sometimes the desirable choice because of the design limitations imposed by the height of landing gear.  A typical large RAT can produce from 5 to 70 kW but smaller, low air-speed models may generate as little as 400 watts.  Early free-fall nuclear weapons used rats to power radar altimeters and firing circuits; RATS being longer-lasting and more reliable than batteries.  

A RAT deployed.

The airline manufacturers have been exploring whether on-board fuel-cell technology can be adapted to negate the need for RAT, at least in the smaller, single-aisle aircraft where the weight of such a unit might be equal to or less than the RAT equipment.  The attraction of housing in an airliner's wing-body fairing is it would be a step towards the long-term goal of eliminating an airliner's liquid-fuelled auxiliary turbine power unit.  Additionally, if the size-weight equation could be achieved, there’s the operational advantage that a fuel-cell is easier to test than a RAT because, unlike the RAT, the fuel-cell can be tested without having to power-up most of the system.  The physics would also be attractive, the power from a fuel cell higher at lower altitudes where as the output of a RAT declines as airspeed decreases, a potentially critical matter given it’s during the relatively slow approach to a landing that power is needed to extend the trailing edge of the wing flaps and operate other controls.

If the weight and dimensions of the fuel cell is at least "comparable" to a RAT and the safety and durability testing is successful, at least on smaller aircrafts, fuel-cells might be an attractive option for new aircraft although, at this stage, the economics of retro-fitting are unlikely to be compelling.  Longer term research is also looking at a continuously running fuel cell producing oxygen-depleted exhaust gas for fuel-tank inerting (a safety system that reduces the risk of combustion in aircraft fuel tanks by lowering the oxygen concentration in the ullage (the space above the fuel) to below the level needed to support a fire, typically by replacing oxygen with an inert gas like nitrogen), and water for passenger amenities, thereby meaning an aircraft could be operated on the on the ground without burning any jet-fuel, the fuel-cell providing power for air conditioning and electrical systems.

Period photograph of an operational Messerschmitt Me 163 (left) and a Me 163 on static display, National Museum of the USAF (US Air Force), Wright-Patterson AFB (Air Force Base), Dayton, Ohio (right).

The only rocket-powered fighter ever used in combat, the Messerschmitt Me 163 Komet (1944-1945) had a small RAT in the nose to provide electrical power.  The early prototypes of the more successful (and much more influential) Messerschmitt Me 262 jet fighter also had a propeller in the nose for the first test flights but it wasn't a a RAT; it was attached to a piston engine installed as an emergency backup because of the chronic unreliability of the early jet engines.  It was only military necessity that forced the Luftwaffe (the German air force) to commit to combat the only rocket-powered fighter ever deployed, the Me 163 Komet powered by a rocket that burned a methanol hydrazine mix with hydrogen- peroxide as an oxidizer.  During the 1930s, almost all research into rocket propellants was undertaken in Germany, the military being interested in missiles with which to deliver warheads against long-range targets and, even then, some scientists were imagining space flight, usually with a manned visit to the moon in mind.  The experimental fuels were classed as:

Monergols: Single ingredient fuels.
Hypergols: Fuel which ignites upon constituents being combined.
Non-hypergols: Multi-constituent fuel requiring external ignition.
Lithergols: Solid / liquid hybrids.

Revolutionary, the design offered a uniquely fast rate of climb and a speed in combat more than 100 mph (160 km/h) faster than allied fighters but was hard to handle and the fuel was both highly volatile and prone to spontaneous combustion in flight or on the ground.  In air engagements, the speed that was so advantageous in reaching a target made it difficult for a pilot to maintain contact, the long bursts of fire needed usually to bring down the big bombers rarely sustained.  Most authorities estimate some 370 Me 163s were built but only 60-80 achieved operational status and they shot down only nine allied aircraft.  The Komet effectiveness was limited by its high fuel consumption that limited flight duration (the time available in the combat zone typically less than eight minutes) but the Luftwaffe's records confirm that on some days, such was the accident rate, not even half the little craft even reached operational height.  Not only was it a difficult machine to handle but, late in the war, resources were so strained that training was limited and few of the Komet's pilots had more than a few hours experience in the novel craft before deployment.  To make matters worse, although in powered flight its speed make it close to invulnerable to attack, once the fuel was burned, to return to base it had to glide back to the runway and of those lost to allied fighters, most were shot-down during landing or on the ground.  Even landing was a challenge, the undercarriage jettisoned after take-off with landings undertaken on a skid, the inevitable jolts and vibrations sometimes trigging the highly combustible fuel-mix to ignite, the subsequent inferno liable to consume both airframe and pilot.    

Early drawing of Me 163 prototype.  Historically, the Komet remains a one-off, no rocket-powered fighters since manufactured.  

It was another example of the impressive wartime technology developed by German scientists and engineers that failed to realise the possibilities offered.  Had the resources expended on the Komet instead been devoted to improving the Wasserfall (waterfall) rocket, Allied air losses might have been significantly greater.  The Wasserfall was a surface-to-air missile explicitly designed to counter high altitude bombers and used a two-stage system: (1) a solid-fuel booster rocket for launch after which (2) a liquid-fuel rocket would propel the missile to its target.  A glimpse of the future, it was guided by a radar system that tracked the target & transmitted guidance commands and was designed to be integrated with other ground-based anti-aircraft defenses such as flak batteries.  Ultimately unsuccessful because the time and resources needed for development were never available, like the V1 (an early cruise missile) and V2 (the first operational ballistic missile), the hardware, personnel and data that fell into Allied hands at the end of the war saved (on both sides of the Iron Curtain) decades of peace-time work in projects including surface to air & air to air missiles, the space programme (notably the moon landing) and the development of the big ICBMs (intercontinental ballistic missiles).  In action only between 1944-1945, tactically, it was a failure, losses far exceeding kills, but it influenced the next generation of military airframes being developed for supersonic flight and that role in the history of flight means the Me 163 is better remembered than many more successful craft ; like the V2, it was a pioneer and shares with the big rocket the unusual distinction of more personnel involved in its development, construction and operation being killed than were its victims in combat.

Peregrine Falcon (top), Northrop B-2 Spirit (centre) and Messerschmitt Me 163 (bottom).

By 1937 when sketches for what would become the Me 163 first appeared on drawing boards, biomimicry had long been a technique used by those designing airframes, birds the obvious inspiration.  For those seeking speed, the Peregrine Falcon may be a good choice; while many have been sceptical about the “calculated maximum theoretical speed” of the “ideal Peregrine Falcon” being between 250-388 mph (400-625 km/h) depending on altitude (and thus air density), Guinness World Records has accepted the bird’s speed being recorded at 242 mph (389 km/h) in a dive.  Despite that, there are ornithologists who doubt such a velocity was ever attained and claim a top speed around 150 mph (240 km/h) is likely more realistic.  Whatever the truth, it’s clear the shape of the Peregrine Falcon is well-suited high speed dives and its profile strikingly is similar to that of the Northrop B-2 Spirit, a nuclear-capable subsonic strategic “stealth” bomber operated by the USAF (US Air Force).  Designed during the High Cold War, the USAF planned to equip squadrons with more than a hundred of the things but as production began in 1989, the Berlin Wall fell and within two years the Soviet Union had collapsed, transforming the geopolitics and thus military needs.  By the time the leisurely production concluded in 2000, only 21 had left the line.  While there were many factors contributing to the lines of the Me 163 and B2 and their similarities in profiles with that of the speedy bird may be more coincidental than aeronautical, nature does often produce shapes ideal for the niche they inhabit.

The Ram Air System   

1974 Suzuki's air-cooled GT380 Sebring with Ram Air System (left) and 1975 Suzuki GT750 with water-cooling (right).

Seen also on many US muscle cars during the 1960s & 1970s, another use of the "ram-air" was to "scoop & feed" cool air, either to induction systems where the lower temperature was advantageous or simply as a cooling agent.  Suzuki formalized the use as their RAS (Ram Air System), fitted to the GT380 Sebring (1972-1980) and GT550 Indy (1972-1977) as well as (off and on) several versions of the smaller, two-cylinder models.  It wasn’t used on the water-cooled GT750 Le Mans (1972-1977) because the radiator acted to impede the airflow to the engine.  The GT380, GT550 and GT750 were two-stroke triples noted for an unusual 3-into-4 exhaust system in which the central header-pipe was bifurcated, thus permitting four tail-pipes.  There was no justification in engineering for this (indeed it added cost and weight) and it existed purely for visual effect, allowing an emulation of the look on the four-cylinder Hondas and Kawasakis.  Ironically, despite the additional metal, the asymmetric 3-into-3 system on the Kawasaki triples (1969-1976) is better remembered although the charismatic (if sometimes lethal) qualities of the machines may be a factor in that; exhaust systems do exert a powerful fascination for motor-cyclists.  The RAS was nothing more than a cast aluminum shroud fixed atop the cylinder head to direct air-flow, enhancing upper cylinder cooling and while tests in the 1960s confirmed the effectiveness of “force feeding” cooler air directly into induction systems but whether Suzuki's RAS delivered more efficient cooling isn’t clear.  When the twin-cylinder GT250 Hustler (1971-1981 and thus pre-dating the pornography magazine Hustler, first published in 1974) was revised in 1976, the RAS was deleted and replaced by conventional fins without apparent ill-effect but the RAS was light, cheap to produce, maintenance-free and looked sexy so even if the thermal effects were margins, some advantages were certainly there.  Interestingly, the companion GT185 (1973-1978) retained the RAS for the model’s entire production.

Big and small-block Chevrolet V8s: the Rat and the Mouse

Small and big-block Chevrolet V8s compared, the small-block (mouse) to the left in each image, the big-block (rat) to the right.

Mouse and rat are informal terms used respectively to refer to the classic small (1955-2003) and big-block Chevrolet V8s (1958-2021).  The small-block was first named after a rodent although the origin is contested; either it was (1) an allusion to “mighty mouse” a popular cartoon character of the 1950s, the idea being the relatively small engine being able to out-perform many bigger units from other manufacturers or (2) an allusion to the big, heavy Chrysler Hemi V8s (the first generation (Firepower) 331 cubic inch (5.4 litre), 354 (5.8) & 392 (6.4) versions) being known as “the elephant”, the idea based on the widely held belief elephants are scared of mice (which may actually be true although the reason appears not to be the long repeated myth it’s because they fear the little rodents might climb up their trunk).  Zoologically, "bee" might have been a better choice; elephants definitely are scared of bees.  The mouse (small-block) and rat (big-block) distinction is simple to understand: the big block is externally larger although, counterintuitively, the internal displacement of some mouse motors was greater than some rats.  

1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS 396 (with 402 cid V8).

Whether that seeming anomaly (actually common throughout the industry during the big-block era) amused or disturbed the decision-makers at Chevrolet isn't known but in 1970 when the small block 400 (6.6) was introduced, simultaneously the big-block 396 (6.5) was enlarged to 402 (6.6) but the corporation then muddied the waters by continuing to call the 402 a "Turbo-Jet 396" when fitted to the intermediate class Chevelle, the rationale presumably that "SS 396" had such strong "brand recognition".  Available since 1965, by 1969 the SS 396 Chevelle was finally out-selling the Pontiac GTO (which in 1964 had seeded the muscle car movement) so the attachment was understandable.  Further to confuse people, the 400 was advertised as the "Turbo-Fire 400" while if fitted to the full-size line, the 402 was called the "Turbo-Jet 400".  Presumably, the assumption was anyone understanding the 400 & 402 ecosystems would buy the one they wanted while those not in the know would neither notice nor care.  Nor was the deviation in displacement between what was on the badge and what lay beneath the hood (bonnet) exclusive to Chevrolet, there being a long list of things not quite what was on the label although the true specifications usually were listed in the documentation and even the advertising.  The variations occurred for a number of reasons but rarely was there an attempt to deceive, even if sometimes things were left unstated or relegated to the small print.

In the matter of the “427 Cobra” that was really a “428”

That’s not to say there were no disputes about the difference between what was “in the tin” compared with what was “on the tin”.  In June 1969, a certain Mr Karl Francis “Fritz” Schiffmayer (1935-2010) of Lake Zurich, Illinois, wrote to Ford’s customer relations department complaining about the “427 Ford Cobra” he had purchased (as a new car) from a Chicago “Ford Dealer”.  What disappointed Mr Shiffmayer was the performance which didn’t match the widely publicized numbers achieved by many testers and, perhaps more to the point, he found his “$8500 Super Ford could barely keep up with” various $5000 Chevrolets.  For a Ford driver, few things could be more depressing.  Upon investigation, he discovered that despite “‘427’ signs all over the engine and the front fenders”, his car was not “a ‘427’ as advertised and labelled but a ‘428’”.  Both V8s were around seven litres but were in many ways not comparable.

Mr Shiffmayer's letter to Ford, 23 June 1969.

Notionally, Mr Shiffmayer got more than he paid for (ie 428 v 427 is nominally an extra cubic inch) and had he bought a dozen (12) bread rolls from the bakery and been supplied a “baker’s dozen” (13) there’d have been no grounds for complaint because bread rolls are a “fungible” (ie functionally identical) so getting 13 is always better than getting 12 at the same price.  However, the 427 and 428 engines, although from the same FE (Ford-Edsel) family and externally similar (until closely inspected), were very different internally with the former notably more oversquare (ie big-bore) and fitted with cross-bolted main bearings; additionally, the 427s used in the Cobras featured “side-oiling”, a more extensive system of lubrication which afforded priority deliver of oil to the bottom-end, making the engine more robust and better suited to the extreme demands of competition.  By contrast, the a Cobra’s 428 was a modified version of the “Police Interceptor 428”, a high-output edition of a powerplant usually found in Ford’s full-sized line including luxury cars and station wagons where it’s smoothness and effortless low-speed torque was appreciated.  The “Police Interceptor” specification was literally that: the engine used by law enforcement in highway patrol vehicles and for street use, it offered a useful lift in performance but it was not suitable for racetracks.  Later, Ford would “mix & match” the 427 & 428 to create the 428 Cobra Jet, the 427’s heads, intake manifold and some other “bolt-on” bits & pieces creating a combination of power and torque close to ideal for ¼ mile (402 m) runs down drag strips although even then Ford cheated, under-rating the output so the cars would be placed in a different category.  That year, in drag racing, the 428 Cobra Jet Mustangs dominated their class which prompted the sanctioning body to change the rules, imposing their own nominal output ratings rather than accepting those of the manufacturer.  Still, even the Cobra Jet 428 remained suitable only for street and strip because ¼ mile runs were done in a straight line and, without the cross-bolting and enhanced lubrication, it wouldn’t have matched the 427’s ability to endure the extreme lateral forces encountered on high-speed circuits.

AC Shelby Cobra CSX3209 after 427 transplant.

That “427 Cobras” with 428 engines even existed was a product of circumstances rather than planning.  Although now million dollar collectables, it’s sometimes forgotten the 427 Cobra was a commercial failure and that meant production numbers never reached the levels required for homologation to be granted for competition in the category for which it was intended so as well as not selling as well as the small block predecessors on which the model’s reputation was built, nor did the seven litre version ever match its success on the track.  When it came time to build the second batch of 100 427 Cobras, the engine was in short supply because the intricacies in construction, coupled with the wider bore being at the limit the block would accommodate (at the foundry, with a slight shifting of the casting cores, a 427 block would have to be scrapped), it was expensive to produce and inconvenient for Ford to schedule in the small batches the sales supported.  The cheap, mass-produced 428 Police Interceptor was both readily available and half the cost so it was an attractive alternative for Shelby and that it bolted straight without needing any changes made it more desirable still; thus 428-powered “427s”.  For the final run of 48, Shelby procured from Ford genuine 427 side-oilers so the 100 428s were a minority of the big-blocks used and many have since been converted (“rectified” some prefer to say) with the substitution of a 427.  Interestingly, four of the 428s were fitted with automatic transmissions which actually made them more suitable for street use but nobody seems subsequently have done this as a modification.

Shelby American's reply to Mr Shiffmayer, 21 July 1969.

As it was, As it was, Mr Shiffmayer decided to persevere and kept Shelby Cobra CSX3209 until he died, in the 1970s replacing the 428 with a specially built “tunnel port” (a trick with the pushrods to optimize the fluid dynamics of the fuel-air flow) 427.  Whether he was impressed with the reply (Ford referred his letter to Shelby American) he received in response to his complaint isn’t known but it’s an interesting document for a number of reasons:

(1) “…during the five year existence of the Cobra, three engines were used, the 289, the 427 and the 428.”  Actually, the first 75 used the 260.

(2) “Only a very few of the 959 Cobras built contained the 427 engine.”  Actually of the 998 built (in fairness this wasn’t in 1969 the agreed “final count” but it’s hard to understand how 959 was calculated) more than 150 had the 427 and whether this constitutes “very few” is debatable but it’s also not relevant to the complaint.

(3) “The 427 is a nomenclature such as the GT-500 is for the Shelby car.  It does not relate to the cubic displacement of the engine.  We are sorry that this misunderstanding occurred.”  Actually, when the Cobra 427 was released, “427” was a direct reference to displacement.  The “GT500” label was never likely to cause a “misunderstanding” because (1) there was no Ford 500 cid engine and (2) the GT500 was always advertised as being equipped with the 428.

Indisputably what it says on the tin (aluminum): 1966 Shelby 427 S/C Cobra (CSX 3040).  In 2018, it sold at auction for US$2,947,500.

So, the letter from Shelby really wasn’t a great deal of help (it was dated the day after man set foot on the moon so perhaps the writer's attention was divided).  Were such a case now to go to court several matters would need to be considered:

Was it notorious (ie widely known; common knowledge) in the circles of potential purchasers of such a car that some were powered by 427s and some by 428s and the differences between the two were well documented?  According to some sources, it was only after the “428 Cobra matter” began to attract comment that sales literature was updated to reflect the changed specification while others maintain publication was concurrent with production.

Was the fact the car had only “427” badges an indication of which engine was fitted or just a “model name” al la the Shelby GT500 (which used a 428) & GT350 (which used either a 289 or 302 (and later a 351))?  That originally (in 1965) “427” was a reference to the 427 engine seem incontestable but the question would be whether this changed to a mere “model name” when the 428 was adopted.  It would seem the evidential onus of proof of that would rest with Shelby American.

When making the decision to purchase, did the buyer rely on representations from an authority (in this case a “Ford dealer”) which might reasonably have been expected to (1) possess and (2) communicate all relevant facts?  In that matter, the court would need to consider whether, in the circumstances, there is any substantive difference between a “Ford dealer” and a “Shelby franchised dealer”.  This would be decided by (1) any competing claims from the parties and (2) what documents were supplied prior to or at the point of purchase.

Is it relevant that in 1966-1967 when Ford offered both the 427 & 428 in the Galaxie, that car was sold as the “7 Litre” (they really did use the French spelling) irrespective of which seven litre (427 or 428) V8 was fitted?  Given that, should the Cobra have been thus labelled and was the continued use of the 427 badge a misrepresentation in 428-powered cars?

Was the dealer aware of the buyer’s background?  Mr Shiffmayer was (1) an engineer with a degree in mechanical engineering from the University of Wisconsin and (2) he was not only an owner of a 289 Shelby Cobra but also raced it with notable success.  If the dealer was aware of those facts that doesn’t absolve them of a responsibility fully to disclose all relevant information but a court could consider it a mitigating factor.  If the dealer was aware those facts, what would then have to be considered is whether it would have been reasonable for it to be assumed the buyer either knew of the mechanical details or could reasonably have been expected to know.

Evidence: Shelby American "Shelby Cobra 427" spec sheet listing the 428 as the engine, thereby suggesting "427" was a model name rather than a reference to a specific engine.  The significance of this document rests on whether it appeared before or after Shelby American began selling 428 powered Cobras.