Unrestricted

Unrestricted (pronounced uhn-ri-strik-tid)

(1) Not restricted or confined.

(2) In the classification of documents, having no security classification.

1766: The construct was un-+ restrict + -ed.  The un- prefix was from the Middle English un-, from the Old English un-, from the Proto-West Germanic un-, from the Proto-Germanic un-, from the primitive Indo-European n̥-.  It was cognate with the Scots un- & on-, the North Frisian ün-, the Saterland Frisian uun-, the West Frisian ûn- &  on-, the Dutch on-, the Low German un- & on-, the German un-, the Danish u-, the Swedish o-, the Norwegian u- and the Icelandic ó-.  It was (distantly) related to the Latin in- and the Ancient Greek ἀ- (a-), source of the English a-, the Modern Greek α- (a-) and the Sanskrit अ- (a-).  The verb restrict was in use by at least the 1530s in the sense of “to limit, bound, confine (someone or something), prevent from passing a certain limit in any kind of action” and was from the Latin restrictus, past participle of restringere (bind fast, restrain) and perfect passive participle of restringō (draw back tightly; restrain, restrict), the construct being re- (back, again) + stringō (press, tighten, compress); as an adjective, it was a doublet of ristretto. By the eighteenth century, the word had come to be regarded as a Scotticism but the infection spread quickly to Standard English.  As the past-participle adjective from restrict (in the sense of “limited, confined”), restricted has become associated with the classification of government documents, in the sense of “not for public release”, use seems not to have been routine until 1944 when a system of classification was codified by the US government.  Prior to that, although restrictions of distribution were common, concepts such as “Restricted to [names or designations]”, “Secret”, “Top Secret” etc were used but there was no standardization within departments or even between branches of the military.  When used as a suffix to form possessional adjectives from nouns, -ed was from the Middle English -ed, from the Old English -od (the adjectival suffix), from the Proto-Germanic -ōdaz, from the primitive Indo-European -ehtos.  It was cognate with the Latin -ātus. 

Glory road: A “Derestricted” sign in Australia's Northern Territory from the days of “no speed limits”.

In use, the older adjectival use was simply “restrict” and although “unrestricted” would seem an absolute (ie something either is restricted or it is not), dictionaries confirm the comparative is “more unrestricted” and the superlative “most unrestricted” although at least one style guide notes those forms can be regarded in a similar way as “very unique” (ie technically incorrect but widely used and well-understood.  The related adverb “restrictedly” was and remains rare.  In the US, well into the twentieth century, the appearance of the word “restricted” in advertisements, signage and such was verbal shorthand for (depending on context and location): “No Jews”, “No coloreds” etc.  Although the words “unrestricted” & “derestricted” describe similar states, different histories are implied and that’s a product of the ways in which the absence of restrictions came about.  Unrestricted means literally “no restrictions” (access to something or somewhere; rights to engage in trade etc).  “Derestricted” means that previously restrictions must have been imposed but those have since been removed.  The use applies to document classifications and in the now rare cases of roads with no speed limits (although some of those were something of a linguistic outlier because in many cases they never had any restrictions to be derestricted.  For obvious reasons, in English, “unrestricted” is the more commonly used form.  Unrestricted, unrestrictive & unrestrictable are adjectives, unrestrictedness is a noun and unrestrictedly is an adverb.

1978 Mercedes-Benz 450 SEL 6.9 on the Northern Territory's derestricted roads.  Although the factory only ever claimed 225 km/h (140 mph), top speed of UK-delivered “Euro spec” 6.9 (ie one not fitted with the power-sapping anti-emission devices fitted to those built for sale in the US or Australia) turned out to be a verified 237 km/h (147 mph) which reflected the experience of European testers who achieved 238 km/h (148 mph) on the German Autobahns.  Unexceptional now, in such pace was in the 1970s a reasonable achievement for a heavy cruiser with pre-modern aerodynamics; at high-speed, the fuel consumption was awe inspiring.    

Idealistic lawyers (they do exist) and others have for centuries argued it is the existence of and adherence to laws which makes possible civilized societies, the alternative often expressed as “the law of the jungle”, best understood in the vernacular “kill or be killed” world in which life of man was “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short”, memorably described in Leviathan (1651) by the very clever and deliciously wicked English philosopher Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679).  However, what the lawyers, at least privately, acknowledge is the extent of adherence to laws closely is tied to (1) their enforcement and (2) a layered system of punishments for transgressions.  In domestic legal systems, this is comprehended as the apparatus extending from receiving a fine for overstaying one’s time at a parking meter to being hanged for murder; the existence of laws does not prevent crime but the perception of the chance of detection and the subsequent penalty for many operates as a deterrent and the debates about relationship between certain penalties and their deterrent effect continue.

Mahan's The Influence of Sea Power upon History 1660-1783.  In the last decade of the nineteenth century, probably no book was more read in palaces, chancelleries & admiralties.

In war, although usually the opposing sides have geo-political objectives, for those doing the fighting, historically the business was about killing each other and in practice that of course quickly and understandably came to imply “by whatever means possible” but for many centuries there have been conventions which form of “rules of war”, the most celebrated the various chivalric codes (codified during of the Middle Ages) which sought to regulate the behaviour of soldiers, particularly towards civilians.  However, as US Navy Captain Alfred Mahan (1840–1914) pointed out in the epoch-making The Influence of Sea Power upon History, 1660–1783 (1890), it’s impossible by mere agreement to outlaw the use of a militarily effective weapon so is it any more plausible for a statute, treaty or agreement to limit “mission creep” in the methods?  Whatever knightly codes may have existed, there seems little doubt that on the battlefield (or the towns subject to rape & pillage) habits do tend towards “unrestricted warfare”, military historians and legal theorists often pondering whether in “existential conflicts”, law reasonably can be expected to retain its intended force.

In what was a rhetorical flourish rather than a substantive legal point, in the dock before the IMT (International Military Tribunal) which in 1945-1946 sat in Nuremberg to try 22 of the surviving senior Nazis, Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945) claimed to be quoting Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) in citing: “In the struggle for life and death there is in the end no legality.”  Like William Shakespeare (1564–1616), a few phrases have been attributed to Churchill on the basis of “sounding Churchillian” and although there’s nothing in the record to support the case those exact words ever passed his lips, Göring’s paraphrase was not unreasonable.  After the fall of France in 1940, Churchill did make clear his view “there could be no justice if, in a mortal struggle, the aggressor tramples humanity while those resisting remain bound by violated conventions” by which he meant if the Nazis ignored international law, it was an absurdity for the Allies fully to remain constrained by it while fighting for their very survival.  Churchill was not advocating the rejection of established law as a principle; he was saying when a state faces the prospect of destruction at the hand of an enemy ignoring the accepted rules of war, strict legalism must not be allowed to prevent an effective defence.  That wasn’t a novel idea Churchill formed upon assuming the premiership.  Months earlier, when serving as First Lord of the Admiralty (minister for the navy), he’d discussed whether the UK should regard itself still restricted by the legal conventions Germany’s forces were ignoring: “The Germans have torn up the conventions and the usages of war.  We cannot allow ourselves to be bound by rules which the enemy does not observe if by doing so we place our country in mortal danger.”  While not exactly the words used by Göring in the dock, he captured the spirit of Churchill’s meaning.

Lindsay Lohan on the cover of Vogue Arabia, March 2026.  Among the topics raised in discussion about her not uneventful life was “…coming of age in the spotlight in a time of unrestricted paparazzi access and near-constant tabloid scrutiny.”

Of course on 15 March 1946, borrowing the thoughts of “…one of our greatest, most important, and toughest opponents…” to support his argument modern, industrial, total war had rendered irrelevant traditional legal restraints, he was still harbouring the (faint) hope he might escape the noose and thus has a good motive in seeking to undermine the moral authority of the tribunal by suggesting even Churchill had acknowledged that in existential war, legal rules collapse.  This was not the construction of legal theory in the abstract, just as Churchill was explaining the pragmatic nature of military necessity because as he pointed out: “without victory there is no survival” and were the UK unilaterally to obey the rules while its opponents did not, the nation might lose the war.  Neither man ever sought to maintain that in war laws vanish, only that as demanded in extraordinary and reprehensible circumstances, they may need to be ignored.  Essentially, Churchill was asserting he wasn’t prepared to behave with the propriety of Caesar’s wife while Göring cavorted with Caesar’s whores; with that the Reichmarshall gleefully would have agreed and although his hopes the tribunal might find his paraphrased defence exculpatory were by then faint indeed, he still had an eye on the figure he hoped to cut in the history books.  

The doctrine of military necessity of course dates from the first time some prehistoric character picked up a stick or rock to gain tactical advantage in an argument and despite the various codes of warfare promulgated over millennia by philosophers, priests and politicians, that doctrine survived into the age of musketry and later, atomic bombs.  It’s the Prussian general and military theorist Carl von Clausewitz (1780–1831) who often is quoted because, with his commendable economy of phrase, succinctly he explained why necessity so often prevails over legality in existential war.  In On War (1832), he observed “War is an act of force, and there is no logical limit to the application of that force” and, anticipating the idealists, added: “Kind-hearted people might of course think there was some ingenious way to disarm or defeat an enemy without too much bloodshed… Pleasant as it sounds, it is a fallacy.”  What Clausewitz called Kriegsräson (necessity in war) meant in practice was (1) war has an inherent tendency toward escalation, because each side must use whatever means are necessary to defeat the other and (2) “arms races” will tend to ensue.

Imperial Chancellor Theobald von Bethmann Hollweg in field uniform including the famous Prussian Pickelhaube (spiked helmet, the construct being Pickel (pimple, pickaxe) +‎ Haube (hood, cap)), Berlin, 1915.  Even when serving as chancellor (prime minister) von Bethmann Hollweg sometimes wore military uniform; Germans adore uniforms (note the jackboots).

Later in the century, German military jurists expressed this logic through the principle Kriegsräson geht vor Kriegsmanier (military necessity overrides the customary rules of war) by which they meant the laws and customs of war could be followed only to the extent adherence did not impose an unacceptable military cost; if survival (and in practice: “immediate advantage”) demanded those rules be violated, necessity prevails.  What was at the time the most outrageous admission of the application of the doctrine came in 1914 after Germany violated Belgium’s neutrality and was delivered by Theobald von Bethmann Hollweg (1856–1921) who between 1909-1917 served as one of a series of inadequate replacements of Otto von Bismarck (1815-1989; chancellor of the German Empire (the “Second Reich”) 1871-1890); imperial chancellor of the German Empire 1909-1917).  In what must remain among the more ill-advised statements delivered by a politician, von Bethmann Hollweg on 4 August 1914 stood in the Reichstag (lower house of the imperial parliament) and explained to assembled members the German war-plan required the army marching Belgium to attack France and that Germany being a signatory to the Treaty of London (1839) which guaranteed Belgium’s neutrality had been rendered irrelevant by military necessity, the always quoted passage being: “We are violating international law, but necessity knows no law.”  Not all historians agree Realpolitik held a greater fascination for Germans than others but for students of the art, the chancellor’s speech appears in just about every text-book on the subject.  Warming to his theme, when the British ambassador to Germany protested the violation, von Bethmann Hollweg responded it would be an absurdity were Britain to go to war “just for a scrap of paper” (that scrap being the treaty the Germans had in 1839 signed as co-guarantors of Belgian neutrality).  That cynical turn of phrase was echoed a generation later when, under cross-examination in the dock at Nuremberg, Göring almost gloatingly admitted he and the other leading Nazis had regarded the many treaties they’d signed as “just so much toilet paper.”

Like many a defendant, the defrocked Reichmarshall was at times evasive or dissembling but on the matter of the regime’s attitude to treaties, he was truthful.  A highlight of the 50^th birthday celebration for Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Minister of Foreign Affairs of Nazi Germany 1938-1945) had been the presentation to the minister of a diamond-studded casket containing facsimiles of all the treaties he had signed during (his admittedly busy if not productive) tenure.  When one of his aides remarked that there were only “a few treaties we had not broken”, Ribbentrop was briefly uncertain how to react until he saw “…Hitler’s eyes filled with tears of laughter.”  It was said to be a good party which must have been welcome because by 1943 there wasn't much to celebrate in Berlin.  Like Göring, Ribbentrop, was convicted on all four counts (planning aggressive war, waging aggressive war, war crimes & crimes against humanity) and sentenced to be hanged; his life did end on the gallows, unlike Göring who, in circumstances never explained, cheated the hangman by taking poison.

Periscope cam: Footage of USN submarine strike on the Iranian Navy’s frigate IRIS Dena (released by the Pentagon (unclassified)).

One of the intriguing legal matters explored before the IMT was the matter of the lawfulness of “unrestricted submarine warfare” and those discussions were recalled when, early in March, 2026, the Pentagon announced a USN (US Navy) submarine had torpedoed and sunk the Iranian Navy’s IRIS Dena (a Moudge-class frigate) with the loss of more than half the ship’s compliment of 130-odd.  Pete Hegseth (b 1980; US Secretary of Defense (and War) since 2025) described the act as one of “quiet death” although that was a reference to the torpedo’s stealthy approach rather than the explosions which doomed ship and crew.  It was the USN’s first sinking of an enemy warship by torpedo since World War II (1939-1945) and because (1) the US and Iran undeniably are in a “state of armed conflict” (any legal distinction between that and “war” as traditionally defined ceasing decades earlier much to matter), (2) the Dena was a warship and (3) the action took place in international waters, the attack doubtlessly was within the rules of war and the reaction of Tehran in branding it an “atrocity at sea” was a political rather than legal claim.

Defendants in the dock, Nuremberg, 1946.  All were guilty of something and a dozen were sentenced to be hanged (including one in absentia) but the IMT acquitted three who subsequently were prosecuted by German courts.

What however remains of interest is the recent change in tactics by the US which now uses military-level missiles to target and sink what appear to be civilian vessels from Central America, the White House claiming the boats are being used to smuggle narcotics.  When considering the lawfulness of “unrestricted submarine warfare”, the IMT in 1946 held that while international law did limit the conduct of navies in their interactions with non-military (ie merchant craft, fishing boats etc) vessels, because the British merchantmen were from the beginning of the war armed and captains had been ordered by the Admiralty to if possible ram U-boats, they were not entitled to the warning provisions of the protocol.  Beyond that, with reference to the failure on the part of German U-boat (submarine) commanders to rescue their shipwrecked victims, the tribunal observed:

“The evidence further shows that the rescue provisions [of the Protocol] were not carried out and that the defendant [Großadmiral Karl Dönitz (1891–1980; head of the German Navy 1943-1945, German head of state 1945)] ordered that they not be carried out.  The argument of the defense is that the security of the submarine is, as the first rule of the sea, paramount to rescue and that the development of aircraft made rescue impossible.  This may be so, but the Protocol is explicit.  If the commander cannot rescue, then under its terms he cannot sink a merchant vessel and should allow it to pass harmless before his periscope.  These orders, then, prove Doenitz is guilty of a violation of the Protocol.”  Had the judgement at that point ended the legal position would have been clear in that having at least tacitly conceded the defense’s point that rescue was no longer practicable in light of the limitations of the submarine and modern technological developments, the use of submarines as commerce destroyers would have been deemed against international law.  However Doenitz’s counsel introduced evidence (including affidavits from Allied admirals) that the USN & Royal Navy had from the outbreak of hostilities also practiced the “unrestricted submarine warfare” of which the Germans were being accused and this was not a classic Tu quoque gambit (in international law, a justification of action based on an assertion that the act with which the accused is charged was also committed by the accusing parties.  It was from the Latin Tū quoque (translated literally as “thou also” and latterly as “you also”; the translation in the vernacular is something like “you did it too”, thus the legal slang “youtooism” & “whataboutyouism”)).  What counsel argued was that in practicing “unrestricted submarine warfare”, all navies were acting in accordance with international law because such law makes sense only if it is cognizant of the prevailing circumstances (ie reality).  The IMT’s judgement in the Doenitz case was difficult to read (it was only later it was revealed to have been written by a judge who voted for his acquittal) but what it said was (1) the defendant had violated the protocols which were the rules of international law as they at the time stood but (2) the nature of total war had so changed the reality of war at sea that those protocols were no longer law, rendered obsolete and thus defunct.  That was as close as the tribunal came to allowing a tu quoque defense.

Unclassified footage released by the Pentagon of one of dozens of strikes on alleged “narco-terrorist” boats by US Southern Command.  The video included a message from Secretary of War Pete Hegseth: “TO ALL NARCO-TERRORISTS WHO THREATEN OUT HOMELAND - IF YOU WANT TO STAY ALIVE, STOP TRAFFICKING DRUGS.”  As far as is known, in all cases of these strikes, all on board the boats were killed.

So, while the US military (and for this purpose that includes the Coast Guard, National Guard etc) have a free hand to attack on the high seas warships of a hostile combatant, does the doctrine of “unrestricted warfare” extend to civilian vessels allegedly being used for unlawful activities?  Legal scholars have explored this novel development (something genuinely new and introduced during the second administration of Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025)) and the consensus seems to be sinking manned civilian vessel with missiles as an instance in peacetime law enforcement is of dubious legality unless strict conditions are met.  The first thing to consider is whether it’s a matter of (1) peacetime law enforcement in international waters (something governed by the UNCLOS (United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea)), customary international law and any bilateral interdiction agreements and thus a criminal matter rather than an act of war or (2) armed conflict at sea (and thus coming under the laws of naval warfare) which depends of a “state of armed conflict” existing between sovereign states.

However, whichever is held to be operative, as a general principle, civilian vessels are protected from missile attacks and enjoy freedom of navigation (certainly on the high seas); forces from warships may board, inspect, and arrest, but not arbitrarily destroy and under the UNCLOS there are explicit provisions under which a warship can stop a vessel suspected of statelessness or certain crimes but use of force must be necessary and proportionate.  Conceptionally, the notion of “proportionality” is little different from what is the domestic law of many states concerning matters such as self-defense: (1) there is no reasonable alternative and (2) force must not exceed what is needed to achieve a lawful objective.  Because these are events happening “on the water” there are also “graduations” in the use of force which are unique to the nautical environment including signals and warnings, maneuvering to compel a stop, warning shots (the classic “shot across the bows”) and disabling fire.  When civilian vessels are involved, historically, only in extremis (presenting a clear & present threat) would lethal force be deemed appropriate.  In other words, using missiles, without warning, to sink a civilian vessel would, in the context of law enforcement, be thought “disproportionate” especially if the crew’s lives are put at serious risk (inherent in missile attacks).  That’s all based on the precept that whether on land or at sea, states are expected to respect the right to life under international human rights law.  Because the adoption of this technique was so sudden, legal theorists are still working through the implications but it would appear an extension of the concept of “unrestricted warfare” beyond military targets.

Absinthe or Absinth

Absinthe or Absinth (pronounced ab-sinth)

(1) A green, aromatic liqueur (alcohol content 45-74%), made with wormwood and other herbs; it has a bitter, liquorice flavour and has from time-to-time been banned in many Western countries.  Technically, because of the high wormwood content, it’s a gin.  The colloquial name was "green fairy".

(2) An alternative name for the herb Artemisia absinthium (grande wormwood); essence of wormwood which correctly should be spelled only absinth).

(3) Bitterness; sorrow (archaic except as a literary or poetic device).

(4) As colors, labeled on color charts as “absinthe green” or “absinthe yellow”, shades on a spectrum from dark to bright.  For commercial purposes , it's sometimes clipped to “absinthe” and the choice between the general descriptors “greenish-yellow” & “yellowish-green” depend on which hue is thought prevalent.

(5) A rare alternative name for the sagebrush (US).

1350-1470: From the French absinthe (essence of wormwood (short for extrait d'absinthe)), from the Latin absinthium (wormwood and a doublet of absinthium), from the Ancient Greek ἀψίνθιον (apsínthion) (wormwood) of uncertain origin although its speculated the source may be a Persian root (spand or aspand, or the variant esfand) which meant Peganum harmala, also called Syrian Rue which, while not actually a variety of rue, is another famously bitter herb.  The alternative etymology is that the genus was named after Queen Artemisia, the wife and sister of Mausolus, ruler of Caria 377–353.  When Mausolus died, he was buried in the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, and traces of the ruins can still be seen at Bodrum in modern-day Türkiye Cumhuriyeti (Republic of Türkiye).  In the Hellenic myths, Ἄρτεμις (Artemis) was  goddess of the hunt, and protector of the forest and children; her equivalent in Roman mythology was Diana.  Absinthe & absinthism are nouns and absinthic is an adjective; the noun plural is absinthes.

Just add water: An absinthe drinker's table with paraphernalia.

The highly alcoholic, anise-flavored liquor originally made from grande wormwood, anise, and other herbs was first distilled in 1842, lending its name to the yellow-green color which became commercially available in the late 1800s.  The early spelling was absinth (which survived longer than absynthe and absenta) and although extinct in English use, absinth remains the spelling variant most commonly applied to varieties of the spirit produced in Central and Eastern Europe; specifically it's associated with Bohemian-style absinthes.  The wormwood (Artemisia absinthium) plant itself has long been figurative of "bitter" sorrow and was known in English as absinth in English from circa 1500; the earlier tradition, drawn from the Old English, used the word in the Latin form.  The drink first gained popularity in Europe after being consumed in some abundance by French soldiers in Algiers and North Africa appears to have been a place with a long fascination with similar drinks, historians noting an association with “magical properties” as far back as ancient Egypt.

Some bottles are sold bundled with a drip spoon and sometimes glasses.  No retailer seems to include sugar cubes.

Before being outlawed in many Western countries in the early twentieth century, it was known colloquially as the green fairy, a “green muse” who would visit to liberate the visions of poets and artists.  The health authorities fretted over the alleged hallucinogenic qualities and, after the usual moral panic, imposed a ban.  Historians of such things suspect the spirit probably didn't induce hallucinations to anywhere near the extent of the legends of the era suggest and that its reputation was probably gained from excessive consumption of mixes with unusually high concentrations of wormwood being sold, the regulation of the content of strong drink paying little attention to anything except the taxable component (alcohol).  However, absinthe (in a strictly regulated form) is again available in Australia and La Fee Absinthe NV Absinthe (700 ml) is available from Cool Wine at Aus$83.95.

Death in the afternoon

Death in the Afternoon, also called The Hemingway or Hemingway Champagne, is a mix of absinthe and Champagne, invented by Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) himself.  The concoction shares its name with a novel from what Zelda Fitzgerald (née Sayre; 1900–1948) called his “bullfighting, bull-slinging, & bullshit” period (Death in the Afternoon (1932)), the recipe published in a 1935 anthology of cocktails with contributions from noted authors. 

(1) Pour one jigger of absinthe into a Champagne glass.

(2) Add iced Champagne until it attains the proper opalescent milkiness.

(3) Drink three to five of these, slowly.

Traditional French Method

(1) Pour a shot (1oz/30ml) of absinthe into a tall, wide rimmed glass.

(2) Rest specially slotted absinthe spoon across top of the glass.

(3) Place a sugar cube atop absinthe spoon.

(4) Slowly drizzle ice-cold water over sugar cube so water is evenly displaced into absinthe until drink is diluted to a ratio between 3:1 and 5:1.

(5) Stir gently and enjoy.

Bohemian Method

(1) Pour a shot (1oz/30ml) of absinthe into a tall, wide rimmed glass.

(2) Put lump of sugar on a spoon and dip it in the absinthe until cube is saturated.

(3) Hold spoon over glass and set the cube alight; it will bubble and caramelize.

(4) When flame has died down, stir sugar into absinthe.

(5) Add iced-water until drink is diluted to a ratio between 3:1 and 5:1.

(6) Stir gently and enjoy.

French purists disapprove of these Bohemian ways, claiming the caramelizing of the sugar impairs the true flavor of absinthe.

Ernest Hemingway wasn’t the only one fond of the green fairy.  Oscar Wilde (1854–1900) is claimed to have said “After the first glass of absinthe you see things as you wish they were. After the second you see them as they are not. Finally you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.”  He applied his empirical research into the spirit’s psychoactive and degenerative properties in The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890-1891) in which the eponymous protagonist takes those staples of decadent Victorian hedonism, opium and absinthe, in seedy places among London's Docklands.

The French poet Paul Verlaine (1844–1896) infamously was fond of absinthe, his lust for the spirit shared with his lover and fellow poet Arthur Rimbaud (1854-1891), the pair having a drunken tiff during which Rimbaud was shot, sustaining a minor wound.  After that, Verlaine’s alcoholism worsened and he died in poverty, on his deathbed damning as “the green witch” which governments should ban.  Rimbaud may have been more open-minded, one of his works containing the line: “Wise pilgrims, let us reach / The Absinthe with its green pillars.”  Shortly after being shot, he renounced poetry, briefly serving in the military before deserting to take up a life in commerce.

Kidspattern's deconstruction of Absinthe Green (upper) and Absinthe Yellow (lower).  Curiously (to non-expert eyes), both are listed as a “green”, reflecting the mysterious chemistry used to produce results, the recipes sometimes seemingly counterintuitive.

When water has been added to a glass of absinthe, it’s said to have “been louched”.  Although more familiar as a noun meaning “a somewhat dubious or disreputable person or thing or an adjective used to impart a sense of (1) “questionable taste or morality; the decadent” (2) “neither reputable or decent” or (3) “one unconventional and slightly disreputable in an attractive manner; raffish, rakish” there’s was also the use as a transitive verb meaning “to make an alcoholic beverage cloudy by mixing it with water (due to the presence of anethole)”. Most associated with the louche crowd who drank the green fairy, among chemists and in the industry, louching was known as “the ouzo effect”.  Louche was from the French louche (cross-eyed (now archaic); cloudy; obscure (by extension) and (figuratively) shady; dubious; seedy; shifty), from the Old French lousche, from the Latin lusca, feminine of luscus (one-eyed) and existed in the Italian (of character) as losco and the Portuguese (of vision) as lusco.

Le Buveur d'absinthe (The Absinthe Drinker (1859)) by Édouard Manet (1832-1883).

The first major painting by the French painter Édouard Manet was Le Buveur d'absinthe, a study of an alcoholic rag-picker who frequented the area around the Louvre.  The work caused a stir in polite society because of its seedy realism and the concern at the time about the corrosive effects of absinthe among Parisian bohemians and although there’s nothing to prove Manet was even an occasional drinker of the stuff, he did among some gain the reputation on the basis of "guilt by association".  Very few in the art establishment liked the painting and even Manet would later admit the earliest version of the work contained technical flaws but it was the content which so offended and there was something of the "shock of the new" in that it was one of the first depictions of Absinth drinking in representational art.  Manet submitted Le Buveur d'absinthe for inclusion in the Paris Salon in 1859 and almost unanimously the selection committee voted "non".  The establishment may not have wanted moral  degeneracy hanging in their galleries but the avant garde wanted little else and Manet's painting was among the first admitted to the Salon des Refusés (literally "exhibition of rejects") in 1863.  

A Le Buveur d'absinthe (The Absinthe Drinker) (1901) by Pablo Picasso (1881-1973).

A Le Buveur d'absinthe would be also be painted by Pablo Picasso, competed in the autumn of 1901, just as his “blue period” was beginning.  Although nowhere near as monochromatic as later blue period works such as Femme aux Bras Croisés (Woman with Folded Arms (1901-1902)) or La Vie (Life (1903)), the work is an early example of the themes associated with this phase, melancholy, alienation & desolation.  The blue period began after Picasso became depressed over the suicide of a close friend and for some years he would explore aspects of human misery.  For someone who looks this unhappy absinthe might be a good choice but it didn't suit everyone.  The French symbolist writer Alfred Jarry (1873-1907) was renowned for his particularly erratic and eccentric behavior and often indulged in while drinking in Paris’s absinthe cafes; it’s said, with his face painted green, he once rode his bicycle through a village to celebrate the joy of the spirit.  He died of consumption, the severity of his condition aggravated by drug and alcohol use.

Absente Absinthe Refined.

Vincent Van Gogh (1853–1890) was known to drink absinthe, not anything unusual at the time and while he suffered from what would now be called “mental health issues” (then it was simply “went mad”), what part the drink played in his breakdown isn’t known although in letters to friends, he did note the effect it had on his work.  The mere connection however was enough for Crillon Importers to collaborate with Absente to produce the Van Gogh themed packaging for Absente Absinthe Refined when in 1999 it was the first brand to offer the green fairy in the US since the ban was imposed in 1912.  Absente made much of its spirit being “authentic” by which they meant it was distilled from wormwood and therefore contained thujone, the fabled and allegedly psychoactive substance naturally present in the herb and the reason for the original ban although cautiously, when permitting sales in 1999, the ATF (Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives) limited the thujone content to 10 milligrams per litre.

Lindsay Lohan in absinthe green, Pure Leaf Green Tea promotion, 2024.

Once one of France’s most famous poets and essayists, Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) was probably no more fond of absinthe than any other strong drink but certainly didn’t avoid the green fairy, even writing the poem Enivrez-vous (Get drunk, first published in 1864) in which it's mentioned.  For years he drank heavily and used a variety of opioids before suffering a massive stroke in 1866, lingering in a semi-paralysis for almost a year before dropping dead.  In fashion, the term “absinthe green” was used opportunistically and was never exactly defined beyond it being associated usually with a vibrant hue.  The use began during the era in which the drink was in many places outlawed so attraction was it conveyed some sense of “edginess”.  Because the imagery of the “green fairy” and its alleged consequences became part of Western folklore, often it’s forgotten there was also “absinthe blanche” (Suisse absinthe, known also as “absinthe bleue”), which was colorless and in its time much sought for the high alcohol content.  Absinthe blanche was the product extracted before the final maceration process with a blend of herbs which lent the fluid its green hue and more complex taste.

Death in the evening.

Lindy Chamberlain (holding Azaria) and her sons Reagan (b 1976) & Aidan (b 1973), Stuart Highway, Northern Territory, Australia.  The 1977 Holden LX Torana SL Hatchback was finished in in Absinth Yellow (GMH code 1886 (Dulon code 15949 / Berger code 1D008)) over Slate Black Vinyl & Cloth trim (18X) and was fitted with the 4.2 litre (253 cubic inch) V8 (L32) & four-speed manual transmission (M20).  The photograph was taken opposite the Erldunda Roadhouse (gas (petrol) stations and the distance between them are of great importance in the Northern Territory) at the Lasseter Highway turn-off from the Stuart Highway.  Some 200 km (125 miles) from the desolate and depressing township of Alice Springs, from there it's a further 245 km (150 miles) to the Ayers Rock Resort which is the tourist hub for Uluru.  In the happy days before speed limits were in 2007 imposed (by a female chief minister for whom any desire to drive faster than 80 km/h (50 mph) must have been beyond comprehension), in the right car, it was an entertaining drive but with an absurdly low maximum of 130 km/h (80 mph) now set, flying is recommended.  

1:18 scale model of Holden HJ Monaro GTS Coupe in Absinth Yellow by Classic Carlectables (part number 18719).

As well as the Torana, Holden made Absinth Yellow available on other “sporty” models, notably the Monaro GTS, then available with two and four-door forms.  Introduced in 1974, the HJ range (1974-1976) featured a rather heavy-handed restyling which was disappointing after the elegance achieved by the HQ (1971-1974) but it reflected a desire to make the car appear bigger and “less feminine” (an intangible quality but one recognized by designers).  The frontal styling was a direct borrowing from the first generation Chevrolet Monte Carlo (1970-1972).

The Absinth Yellow LX Torana was made infamous because of the part it played in the 1982 conviction of Lindy Chamberlain (b 1948) for the murder in August 1980 of her nine-week old daughter Azaria.  The family had been camping close to Uluru (Ayers Rock) in Australia’s Northern Territory and, on the fateful evening, in an agitated state, Lindy Chamberlain claimed Azaria had been “taken by a dingo” (a kind of wild dog).  It was a remarkable case in which the prosecution succeeded in convincing the jury a mother had murdered her child despite there being no body, no murder weapon and no apparent motive.  The car was of great significance because of flawed evidence from a forensic scientist who claimed certain material found in the interior was the infant’s blood and it was only a subsequent analysis which confirmed the “blood spatter” was not foetal haemoglobin (something present in those under six months old) but overspray from the bitumen-based sound deadening paint then used by the manufacturer, spilled milkshake and copper dust.

The Absinth Yellow “Azaria Torana”, now on display at the National Museum of Australia in Canberra.

Convicted of being an accessory after the fact, Lindy’s husband, preacher Michael Chamberlain (1944–2017), was handed a suspended sentence but his wife received the mandatory life term and was imprisoned for more than three years, appeals as far as the HCA (High Court Of Australia) not overturning the verdicts, despite a dissent in the HCA hearing handed down by the only judge on the bench trained in science (Justice Lionel Murphy (1922–1986) who held a B.Sc (Hons) in organic chemistry) who found the Crown's scientific evidence flawed.  She was released only when the baby’s bloodied matinee jacket was found near a dingo’s den, prompting an inquest into the matter.  They were finally exonerated by the findings of a 1987 royal commission but the case remains of interest because it raised examples of flaws and inconstancies in matter of evidence and the administration of criminal law.  There was also much analysis of the media’s coverage, especially as it related to Lindy Chamberlain who was deemed by many commentators not to be “playing the part” expected of a distraught and grieving mother.  Not always with subtleness, aspersions were cast on the “religious fundamentalism” of the Seventh-day Adventist couple and, implications made, among the public, inferences were drawn with one event of note reported by the press.  When the murder verdict was announced on a television playing in a Darwin pub, there were shouts of “The dingo didn't do it!” and much cheering.

Etceterini

Etceterini (pronounced et-set-er-rhini)

One or all of the sports cars & racing cars produced in small volumes by a number of “boutique” Italian manufacturers during the quarter-century-odd following World War II (1939-1945).

1980s (though not attaining wide currency until publication in 1990): A portmanteau word, the construct being etcetera(a) + ini.  Etcetera was from the early fourteenth century Middle English et cetera (and other things; and so forth), from the Latin et cētera (and the other things; and the rest of the things), the construct being et (and) + cetera (the other things; the rest).  Et was from the Proto-Italic et, from the primitive Indo-European éti or heti and was cognate with the Ancient Greek ἔτι (éti), the Sanskrit अति (ati), the Gothic iþ (and, but, however, yet) and the Old English prefix ed- (re-).  Cētera was the plural of cēterum, accusative neuter singular of cēterus (the other, remainder, rest), from the Proto-Italic ke-eteros, the construct being ke (here) +‎ eteros (other).  The Latin suffix -īnī was an inflection of -īnus (feminine -īna, neuter -īnum), from the Proto-Italic -īnos, from the primitive Indo-European -iHnos and was cognate with the Ancient Greek -ινος (-inos) and the Proto-Germanic -īnaz.  The suffix was added to a noun base (particularly proper nouns) to form an adjective, usually in the sense of “of or pertaining to and could indicate a relationship of position, possession or origin”.  Because the cars referenced tended to be small (sometimes very small), some may assume the –ini element to be an Italian diminutive suffix but in Italian the diminutive suffixes are like -ino, -etto, -ello & -uccio but etceterini works because the Latin suffix conveys the idea of “something Italian”.  It was used substantively or adverbially.  Until the early twentieth century, the most common abbreviation was “&c.” but “etc.” (usually with a surely now superfluous period (full-stop)) has long been the standard form.   Etcetera is a noun; the noun plural is etceteras

The word “etcetera” (or “et cetera”) fully has been assimilated into English and (except when used in a way which makes a historic reference explicit) is for most purposes no longer regarded as “a foreign word” though the common use has long been to use the abbreviation (the standard now: “etc”).  If for whatever reason there’s a need for a “conspicuously foreign” form then the original Latin (et cētera (or even the Anglicized et cetera)) should be used.  There is no definitive date on which the assimilation can be said to have been completed (or at least generally accepted), rather it was a process.  From the 1400s, the Middle English et cetera was used and understood by educated speakers, due to Latin's prominence in law, science, religion and academia with it by the mid-eighteenth century being no longer viewed as a “foreignism” (except of course among the reactionary hold-outs with a fondness for popery and ecclesiastical Latin: for them, in churches and universities, even in English texts, et cētera or et cetera remained preferred).  Scholars of structural linguistics use an interesting test to track the process of assimilation as modern English became (more or less) standardized: italicization.  With “et cetera” & “etcetera”, by the mid-eighteenth century, the once de rigour italics had all but vanished.  That test may no longer be useful because words which remains classified as “foreign” (such as raison d'être or schadenfreude) often now appear without italics.

The so-called “pronunciation spellings” (ekcetera, ekcetra, excetera & exetera) were never common and the abbreviations followed the same assimilative path.  The acceptance of the abbreviated forms in printed English more widespread still during the 1600s because of the advantages it offered printers, typesetters much attracted by the convenience and economy.  By early in the eighteenth century it was an accepted element (usually as “&c” which soon supplanted “et cet”) in “respectable prose”, appearing in Nathan Bailey’s (circa 1690-1742) An Universal Etymological English Dictionary (1721) and gaining the imprimatur of trend-setter Anglo-Irish author & satirist Jonathan Swift (1667–1745).  Dr Johnson (Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)) made much use of “&c” in his A Dictionary of the English Language (1755) and although Bailey’s dictionary was influential in the breadth of its comprehensiveness and remained, over 30 editions, in print until 1802, it’s Dr Johnson who is better remembered because he was became a “celebrity lexicographer” (a breed which today must sound improbable.)

One of the implications of linguistic assimilation is the effect on the convention applied when speaking from a written text.  Although wildly ignored (probably on the basis of being widely unknown), the convention is that foreign words in a text should be spoken in the original language only if that’s necessary for emphasis or meaning (such as Caudillo, Duce or Führer) or emphasis.  Where foreign terms are used in writing as a kind of verbal shorthand (such as inter alia (among other things)) in oral use they should be spoken in English.  However, the convention doesn’t extent to fields where the terms have become part of the technical jargon (which need not influence a path of assimilation), as in law where terms like inter alia and obiter (a clipping of obiter dictum (something said by a judge in passing and not a substantive part of the judgment)) are so entrenched in written and oral use that to translate them potentially might be misleading.

Lindsay Lohan (b 1986, left), Britney Spears (b 1981, centre) & Paris Hilton (b 1981, right), close to dawn, Los Angeles, 29 November 2006; the car was Ms Hilton's Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren (C199 (2003-2009)).  This paparazzo's image was from a cluster which included the one used for the front page on Rupert Murdoch's (b 1931) New York Post with the still infamous headline “BIMBO SUMMIT”.  Even by the standards of the Murdoch tabloids, it was nasty.

So, the text written as: “Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, Britney Spears et al recommend that while a handbag always should contain “touch-up & quick fix-up” items such as lipstick, lip gloss, and lip liner, the more conscientious should pack more including, inter alia, mascara, eyeliner, eyebrow pencil, concealer, a powder compact, a small brush set & comb etc.” would be read aloud as: “Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, Britney Spears and others recommend that while a handbag always should contain “touch-up & quick fix-up” items such as lipstick, lip gloss, and lip liner, the more conscientious should pack more including, among other things, mascara, eyeliner, eyebrow pencil, concealer, a powder compact, a small brush set & comb etcetera.”  Despite the cautions from purists (including just about every grammar text-book and style guide on the planet), the “choice” between “etc” and “et al” does seem to becoming blurred with many using seemingly using the two interchangeably.  The rules are (1) “etc” (and other things) is used of things (and according to the style guides should always appear with a period (full-stop) even though such use is archaic and another of those “needless tributes to tradition”) and (2) “et al” (and others) is used of people (especially in citations and again, always with a period).  So, “et al” can’t be used for things; strictly, it’s for things; it’ll be interesting to see if these rules survive into the next century.  Really, it's a silly rule and because it's hardly difficult to distinguish between a text string of "people" and one of "things", if used interchangeably, the two abbreviations are unlikely to confuse.  Et al was the abbreviation of the Latin et aliī (and others).

A Unix /etc directory.

In computing, Unix-based operating systems (OS) feature a directory (the word “folder” thought effete by the Unix community, most of whom are at their happiest when typing arcane commands at the prompt) called “etc” (along with /root, /boot, dev, /bin, /opt etc) which is used as a repository for system-wide configuration files and shell scripts used to boot and initialize the system.  Although there are many variants of the OS, typically an /etc directory will contain (1) OS configuration files (/etc/passwd; /etc/fstab; /etc/hosts), (2) system startup scripts (/etc/init.d or /etc/systemd/, (3) network configuration, (4) user login & environment configuration files and (5) application configuration files.  Originally (sometime in 1969-1970), the “etc” name was adopted because it was “an et cetera” in the literal sense of “and so on”, a place to store files which were essential but didn’t obviously belong elsewhere, a single “general purpose” directory used to avoid needless proliferation in the structure.  Rapidly Unix grew in complexity and configurability so the once “place for the miscellaneous” became the canonical location for configuration files, the original sense displaced but the name retained.  It is pronounced et-see (definitely not ee-tee-see or et-set-er-uh).  Despite their reputation, the Unix guys do have a joke (and there are unconfirmed rumors of a second).  Because so many of the files in /etc can be modified with any text-editor, in some documents earnestly it’s revealed /etc is the acronym of “Editable Text Configuration” but as well as a bad joke, it's also fake news; ETC is a backronym.

The Etceterini: exquisite creations with names ending in vowels

1954 Stanguellini 750 Sport.

In the tradition of mock-Latin, the word etceterini was a late twentieth century coining created to refer to the ecosystem of the numerous small-volume Italian sports & racing cars built in the early post-war years.  A portmanteau word, the construct being etceter(a) + ini, the idea was a word which summoned the idea of “many, some obscure” with an Italianesque flavor.  Credit for the coining is claimed by both automotive historian John de Boer (who in 1990 published The Italian car registry: Incorporating the registry of Italian oddities: (the etceterini register) and reviewer & commentator Stu Schaller who asserts he’d used it previously.  Whoever first released it into the wild (and it seems to have been in circulation as least as early as the mid-1980s) can be content because it survived in its self-defined niche and the evocative term has become part of the lexicon used by aficionados of post-war Italian sports and racing cars.  Being language (and in this English is not unique), it is of course possible two experts, working in the same field, both coined the term independently, the timing merely a coincidence.  Etceterini seems not to have been acknowledged (even as a non-standard form) by the editors of any mainstream English dictionary and surprisingly, given how long its history of use now is, even jargon-heavy publications like those from the Society of Automotive Engineers (SAE) haven’t yet added it to their lexicons.  It does though appear in specialist glossaries, car-model registry websites and niche discussion forums, especially those tied to classic Italian car culture (OSCA, Moretti, Stanguellini, Siata, Bandini, Ermini etc).  So, as a word it has sub-cultural & linguistic clarity but no status among the linguistic establishment.

1953 Siata 208S Barchetta.

John De Boer’s comprehensive The Italian car registry: Incorporating the registry of Italian oddities: (the etceterini register) was last updated in 1994 and remains the best-known publication on the many species of the genus etceterini and included in its 350-odd pages not only a wealth of photographs and cross-referenced details of specification but also lists chassis and engine numbers (priceless data for collectors and restoration houses in their quests for the often elusive quality of “originality”).  Nor are the personalities neglected, as well as some notable owners the designers and builders are discussed and there are sections devoted to coach-builders, a once vibrant industry driven almost extinct by regulators and the always intrusive realities of economics.  One thing which especially delights the collectors are the photographs of some of the obscure accessories of the period, some rendered obsolete by technology, some of which became essential standard-equipment and some seriously weird.  Mr De Boer’s book was from the pre-internet age when, except for a pampered handful in a few universities, “publication” meant paper and printing presses but such things are now virtualized and “weightless publication” is available instantly to all and there are small corners of the internet curated for devotees of the etceterini such as Cliff Reuter’s Etceteriniermini, a title which certainly takes some linguistic liberties.  Some trace the breed even to the late 1930s and such machines certainly existed then but as an identifiable cultural and economic phenomenon, they really were a post-war thing and although circumstances conspired to make their survival rare by the mid 1960s, a handful lingered into the next decade.

1957 Bandini 750 Sport Saponetta.

That the ecosystem of the etceterini flourished in Italy in the 1950s was because the country was then a certain place and time and while the memorable scenes depicted in La Dolce Vita (1960) might have been illusory for most, the film did capture something from their dreams.  After the war, there was a sense of renewal, the idea of the “new” Italy as a young country in which “everybody” seemed young and for those who could, sports car and racing cars were compelling.  However, while there was a skilled labor force ready to build them and plenty of places in which they could be built, economics dictated they needed to be small and light-weight because the mechanical components upon which so many relied came from the Fiat parts bin and the most significant commonality among the etceterini were the small (often, by international standards, tiny) engines used otherwise to power the diminutive micro-cars & vans with which Fiat in the post-war years “put Italy on wheels”.  It was no coincidence so many of the small-volume manufacturers established their facilities near to Fiat’s factory in Torino, the closest thing the nation had to a Detroit.  In the early years, it wasn’t unknown for a donkey and cart carrying a few engines to make the short journey from the Fiat foundry to an etceterini’s factory (which was sometime little more than a big garage).  However, just because the things were small didn’t mean they couldn’t be beautiful and, being built by Italians, over the years there were some lovely shapes, some merely elegant but some truly sensuous.  Lovely they may appear but the Italians were not reverential when making comparisons with other objects.  Of the Bandini 750 Sport, Saponetta translates as literally as "little soap", the idea being the resemblance to a bar of soap as the ends wear away with use although of the nine 750 Sports made, some had an abbreviated Kamm tail which offered aerodynamic advantage at high speed but was less soapbaresque in shape.  Despite only nine 750 Sports being made, it was something of a volume model for the marque, for in the 45 years between 1946-1992, only 75 cars emerged from Ilario Bandini's (1911–1992) tiny workshop in Forlì, a municipality in the northern Italian city of Emilia-Romagna.  Bathrooms clearly were a thing in the Italian imagination because they dubbed the OSCA S187 (750S) the tubo di dentifricio (toothpaste tube), illustrating yet again how everything sounds better in Italian.   

1960 Stanguellini Formula Junior.

Among the etceterini, there was a high churn rate but many for years flourished and developed also lucrative “sideline” businesses producing ranges of speed equipment or accessories for majors such as Fiat or Alfa Romeo and, as has happened in other industries, sometimes the success of these overtook the original concern, Nardi soon noticing their return on capital from selling their popular custom steering wheels far exceeded what was being achieved from producing a handful of little sports cars, production of which quickly was abandoned with resources re-allocated to the accessory which had become a trans-Atlantic best-seller.  Whether things would have gone on indefinitely had the laissez-faire spirit of the time been allowed to continue can’t be known but by the 1960s, traffic volumes rapidly were increasing on the growing lengths of autostrade (the trend-setting Italian motorway system begun during the administration of Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & Prime-Minister of Italy 1922-1943) with accident rates & the death toll both climbing.  Italy, like many jurisdictions began to impose safety regulations which before long made small-scale production runs unviable but by then rising prosperity meant people were able to purchase their own Fiat or Alfa-Romeo and the etceterini faded into fond memory.  It is of course unthinkable such a thing could again happen because the EU (European Union) is now staffed by divisions of Eurocrats who spend their days in Masonic-like plotting and scheming to devise new reasons to say no, non, nein, nee, nein, não etc.  Had these bloodless bureaucrats existed in the 1940s, not one etceterini would ever have reached the street.

The Auto Sputnik

Italian comrades admiring Auto Sputnik, Rome, Italy, April 1958.

Although it’s the slinky sports and racing cars which are celebrated as the etceterini, from the then vibrant ecosystem of Italian coach-building, a wide range of body types emerged including larger coupés & cabriolets, station wagons, vans, ambulances, hearses and more.  In post-war Italy, if a manufacturer wanted a run of a few dozen or hundred, there was a factory to fulfil the contract and for those who wanted some sort of low-volume model or even a one-off needed for a specific purpose, if need be, there would be a man in a shed who could form the metal.  Again, it was availability of versatile, mass-produced platforms which made the re-purposing possible and a genuine one-off was the Auto Sputnik (Sputnik-car), built for the PCI (Partito Comunista Italiano, the Communist Party of Italy, 1921-1991) as a propaganda vehicle to travel around the land in the run-up to the 1958 general election.  Centre of attention was a model of Sputnik 1, the first artificial Earth satellite, launched by the Soviet Union on 4 October, 1957, an event which had shocked many in the West because it seemed to illustrate how much more advanced was Soviet science compare to that in the West.  What it heightened was the fear the communist "planned economy" was proving more efficient in producing advanced technology while in the West excessive resources were being absorbed by things like annual changed to the styling of washing machines or making the tailfins on cars rise higher.  That feeling rippled around the US Congress, causing great concern although the scientific and military establishment, better acquainted with relative industrial capabilities, were more sanguine.  Politicians however find it often more rewarding to respond to perceptions rather than reality and it was the launch of Sputnik which triggered the “space race”, the first round of which culminated with the US manned landing on the moon in 1969.

Italian and Soviet design sensibilities, circa 1958: Auto Sputnik, colorized (left) and 1958 Soviet UAZ-450 (right).  Mechanically somewhat updated (though stylistically, not by much) , the UAZ is still being made and is believed to be the oldest vehicle design still in series production, the blueprints delivered to the factory in 1957.

Although just by achieving orbit Sputnik 1 was a landmark in space flight, as it circled the Earth every 96 minutes, despite much wild speculation, all the 580 mm (23 inch) wide metal sphere did was transmit “beeps” which could be received by ground-based radios but the PCI’s model on the Auto Sputnik was, in a sense, more ambitious because it included an integrated loudspeaker for broadcasting campaign messages (ie communist propaganda).  Having the Sputniks to use as propaganda tools was certainly a tribute to Soviet design prowess and industrial capacity but it was good that for Auto Sputnik the PCI turned to Italian rather than Soviet coach-builders.  There was at the time something in the souls of Italian designers which stopped them drawing an ugly line so the Auto Sputnik, despite its utilitarian purpose, was a stylish piece of mid-century modernism, characterized by the mix of fuselage-like flanks, topped with a formed in sensuously shaped Perspex.  The eye-catching design may be compared with what can be imagined had a Russian contractor been granted the commission.  What would have been delivered would have been heavy, robust (if not especially well-finished) and “done the job” but it would not have been stylish.  For that, it was best to get an Italian and in the 1960s, the UK industry would do exactly that, Michelotti among several doing good business there.

1957 Fiat 600 Multipla (left) and the prototype 1957 600 Marinella (right) by Giovanni Michelotti (1921–1980), the latter a classic example of the adaptability of the 600 platform, one of a number used by those who created the Etceterini.

In a nice touch, a dog (various real or a stuffed toy) was also carried, a tribute to Laika, the “Soviet space dog” who was the first animal to orbit the planet when Sputnik 2 flew into low orbit on 3 November 1957.  The  Perspex windows on the model of Sputnik certainly weren’t on the original sphere and were installed just so the dog could be seen and even that was an attempt to manipulate voters through “associative cognition”, people trusting dogs in a way they don't trust politicians.  Unfortunately for Laika, the technology of the era precluded a return-flight and some hours into the mission, she died of hyperthermia.  Like the doomed dog, Auto Sputnik did not survive and although there seem to be no details of either the coach-builder or platform used, historians of the etceterini are certain it was based on a Fiat 600 Multipla (1956–1967) and not the 600T because the latter variant was in production only between 1961-1968.  An exercise in pure functionalism, the prime directive of the 600 Multipa (literally “multiple”) was the optimal utilization of interior space.  The object was a vehicle in which the maximum possible payload (people or objects) could be carried within the smallest possible external dimensions, powered by a drive-train which would do it all at the lowest possible cost.  Countless Italians found the Multipla lived up to the name but the PCI’s use must be among the more unusual.

Flag of the Italian Communist Party (hammer & sickle in yellow on red background (left) and the highly regarded “Italian Hot Dogs” sold at Jimmy Buff's.

No color images of the Auto Sputnik seem to exist but one monochrome photograph has been colorized, the software confirming it was finished in red & yellow.  These were the colors of the PCI’s flag so the choice had nothing to do with the ketchup and mustard of the “Italian Hot Dog”, the invention of which is credited to Jimmy “Buff” Racioppi, founder of Jimmy Buff's in Newark, New Jersey where the first “Italian Hot Dog” was sold in 1932.

TELEPHOTO image with explanatory caption, distributed to newspapers by wire services, April 1958.

Routinely in use in the West since the late 1930s, (and known also as “wirephotos”), TELEPHOTOs literally were “photographs transmitted using telegraph wire infrastructure” and although receiving an image could take some minutes, for newspapers it was a revolutionary service because for those in daily production cycles, it was effectively “real-time”.  The TELEPHOTO was one of many steps on the technological ladder to the contemporary world of instantaneous communication.  When in 1865 Abraham Lincoln (1809–1865; POTUS 1861-1865) was assassinated, the news didn’t reach Europe until the fastest clipper had crossed the Atlantic a fortnight later.  By the time of William McKinley's (1843–1901; POTUS 1897-1901) assassination, the news was within minutes transmitted around the world through undersea cables (thus the still sometimes heard use in this context of “cable” and “cabled”).  In 1963, while news of John Kennedy's (JFK, 1917–1963; POTUS 1961-1963) death was close to a global real-time event, those many miles from Dallas had to wait sometimes 24 hours or more to view footage, the physical film stock delivered in canisters by land, sea or air.  By 1981, when an attempt was made on Ronald Reagan’s (1911-2004; POTUS 1981-1989) life, television stations around the planet were, sometimes within seconds, picking up live-feeds from satellites.

The text on the vehicle: "VOTA COMUNISTA", translates as “Vote Communist” and the 1958 election was unexpectedly difficult for the party because there had been schisms and defections after (1) the Red Army's crushing of the 1956 Hungarian uprising (tellingly, the Kremlin made no attempt to augment their forces with troops from other Warsaw Pact signatories) and (2) comrade Nikita Khrushchev’s (1894–1971; Soviet leader 1953-1964) “secret” speech in February that year denouncing the personality cult and excesses of comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953).  Still, the party maintained its support, gaining 22.7% of the vote against the 22.6% received in 1953, the loss of three seats (from 143 to 140) the consequence of electoral redistributions and some changes in the allocation of seats between the various mechanisms.  With that, the PCI remained the country’s second-largest party in Italy although the Democrazia Cristiana (DC, the Christian Democrats) remained dominant and the communists still were excluded from government.  Essentially then, the 1958 election maintained the “status quo” but what had changed since the late 1940s was that agents of the US government (not all of whom were on the payroll of the CIA (Central Intelligence Agency)) no longer wandered cities and the countryside with the suitcases of US dollars thought (correctly) to be the most useful accessory when seeking to influence elections.  When Washington complains about the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) and others using this method or that to try to “influence” elections in the US, they know what they’re talking about; while the tactics of the influencers have changed, the strategy remains the same.