Estate

Estate (pronounced ih-steyt)

(1) A piece of landed property, especially one of large extent with an elaborate house on it.

(2) By extension, in computing, an institution’s collective ICT (information & communications technology) resources.

(3) In law, property or possessions.

(4) In law, the legal position or status of an owner, considered with respect to property owned in land or other things (the degree or quantity of interest that a person has in land with respect to the nature of the right, its duration, or its relation to the rights of others; interest, ownership, or property in land or other things.

(5) In law, the property of a deceased person, a bankrupt etc, viewed as an aggregate.

(6) In UK use, a housing development (sometimes a class-based slur (Council estate (ie directed at those living in social housing)).

(7) As “industrial estate”, land areas designated exclusively for industrial or commercial purposes.

(8) In automotive use, as “estate car” (often clipped to “estate”), an alternative term for a station wagon.

(9) A period or condition of life (archaic).

(10) Within society, one of the major political or social group or classes, historically: (1) the clergy, (2) the nobles, and (3) everybody else; they were style respectively as first, second & third estates with a fourth (the press) later added.  Subsequent additions are not universally acknowledged.

(11) Condition or circumstances with reference to worldly prosperity, estimation, etc.; social status or rank.

(12) The owner of an estate (obsolete).

(13) Pomp or state (obsolete).

(14) High social status or rank (obsolete).

(15) To give an estate to (obsolete).

(16) To bestow upon (obsolete).

1175–1225: From the Middle English estat, from Anglo-Norman estat and Old French estat (state, position, condition, health, status, legal estate), from the Latin status (state or condition, position, place; social position of the aristocracy), from the primitive Indo-European PIE root sta- (to stand, make or be firm).  It was cognate with the Provençal estat and for some time in Anglo-French there was the spelling astat; the form endures in modern French as état.  The native word in the Middle English was ethel (ancestral land or estate, patrimony), from the Old English æðel.  Estate is a noun, verb & adjective, estateman is a noun, estating is a verb and estated is an adjective; the noun plural is estates.

The idea of an estate being the collective property and liabilities of someone (usually of the deceased, bankrupts or debtors) dates from the 1820s and as well as being part of legal jargon (in probate or bankruptcy proceedings), it became a commercial term (“estate sale”, “estate jewellery” etc).  That ultimately was derived from the thirteen century sense when it was used generally of one’s “state, condition or rank in society”.  Presumably because of late fourteenth century use of “estate” to mean “real property” (ie land), in the early 1500s the meaning in this context between then and seventeenth century extended (socially upwards) to imply “a person of estate” (ie the rich, nobility, gentry etc); that was an example of “linguistic association” and the various uses ran in parallel with the technical use in law.  As early as the fourteenth century, there was the idea of “Estates of the Realm”, each a major social class or order of persons regarded collectively as part of the body politic of the country and possessing distinct (and very different) political rights.  At the time the “major” in that phrase referred either to wealth and power (the clergy or nobility) or sheer numbers (everybody else).  By the eighteenth century, the use of “estate” to refer to “the general body politic; the common-wealth” had faded and had been replaced by “the state” and later, “the nation”.

The Third Estate dealing with the First & Second: Execution of Marie Antoinette (1755–1793; Queen Consort of France 1774-1792), 16 October, 1793 by an unknown artist.

In the English-speaking world, the classic example of the three “political estates” was the English model of the Lords Spiritual (bishops), Lords Temporal (hereditary peers) and Commons.  There were though variations on the theme.  The ancient Parliament of Scotland comprised the king and three estates: (1) archbishops, bishops, abbots & mired priors, (2) the barons and commissioners of shires and stewartries (the lands under the jurisdiction of a steward (a magistrate appointed by the crown to exercise jurisdiction over royal lands)) and (3) the commissioners from the royal burghs.  In France the three estates were (1) the nobles, (2) the clergy and (3) the plebs; collectively, these were known as the États Généraux (pronounced ay-tah zhay-nay-roh).  Before Louis XVI (1754–1793; King of France 1774-1792) on 5 May, 1789, summoned the assembly, the États Généraux hadn’t met for 175 years, that meeting in 1614 convened during the minority reign of Louis XIII (1601–1643; King of France 1610-1643).  The 1614 assembly ended in deadlock and that meant no legislative measures ensued (suiting the kings and most of the nobility), thus cementing absolutism as the nature of the French state; operating as absolute monarchs, kings had no interest in sharing power and it was only as a last resort in 1789 with the ancien regime facing a catastrophic financial crisis and structural gridlock that Louis XVI fell compelled to convene the assembly.  By then, it was too little, too late and before long, the guillotine began its bloody business.

Danse Macabre of Basel (circa 1450), a memento mori painting by an unknown artist, Historisches Museum Basel (Basel Historical Museum), Barfüsserkirche, Basel, Switzerland.

The Danse Macabre (Dance of Death) was an artistic genre of allegory dating from the late Middle Ages; exploring the universality of death, it made clear that however high or low exulted one’s station in life, the death ultimately will visit all.  It was a popular artistic motif in European folklore and the most elaborated of all Medieval macabre art.  During the fourteenth century, Europe was beset by deathly horrors, recurring famines, the Hundred Years’ War (1337-1453) and, looming over all, the Black Death, an outbreak of bubonic plague which between 1346-1353 may have killed as many as 50 million, making it one of history's most lethal pandemics.  In reducing the population of Europe by between a third and a half, its demographic, political and economic implications were felt for centuries.  The artists often included some subtle comment about the way something like plague could take victims regardless of their wealth or social standing.  In the modern era, the principle remains, one just as dead whether one is struck by a meteorite, drinks oneself to death or is murdered by the Freemasons.

In the UK, while the composition has much changed, structurally the estates still exists as the (1) the Lords Spiritual (26 Church of England bishops with ex officio seats in the House of Lords, (2) the Lords Temporal (hereditary and life peers, a subset of each sitting in the House of Lords) and (3) the Commons (elected representatives sitting in the House of Commons).  Those examples are however only formalized examples of the ancient (and almost certainly universal) graduation of societies into hierarchical layers.  While the criteria used to establish the layers could between cultures vary, as far as is known, no society with any form of organization has ever not operated on some sort of stratified basis, something not surprising given that’s the inherent (and natural) arrangements of families, human or animal.  Indeed, so pervasive was the idea of “degree” that in the highly stratified Europe of the late Middle Ages, it extended even to the rank-order of birds in the sport of falconry: falcons exclusively were for royalty, peregrines for noblemen, merlins for noblewomen, goshawks for yeomen, sparrowhawks for priests and kestrels for knaves or servants.  Whether in the royal court, the Church, the orders of chivalry or whatever, there were established and well-understood layers.  Even in art, the sense of a living in a layered system was reflected, the many artists between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries who created memorable illustrations of the danse macabre depicting the members of the various estates going to their inevitable death is ways that reflected their status; while there might in death be a kind of democratic equality, the last days of some were celebrated more than others although the works often were satirical and it’s obvious the demise of the rich wasn’t always something to be mourned.

Statue of Edmund Burke (erected 1868), in electro-typed copper-bronze on a square-plan, carved stepped granite plinth with incised lettering, Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland.  Photograph by John Sutton.

The three (in England) estates were originally the three classes of people who could participate in government, either directly or by electing representatives, originally the clergy, barons & knights and the commons (though over time this would change).  Later the “three estates” were sometimes written of as “the three organs of governmental” necessary for legislation: the Crown, the House of Lords and the House of Commons.  Building on the notion of three, the idea of a “Fourth Estate” started to appear in satirical or jocular expressions, the targets of the tag including “the mob” (1752) and “the lawyers” (1825).  In time, a “new” Fourth Estate did join the list and it described the press, the origin often attributed to Anglo-Irish Whig statesman and philosopher Edmund Burke (1729-1797) although the concept was popularized in the writings of Irish literary critic & essayist William Hazlitt (1778–1830); what Burke had suggested was that with newspapers becoming more numerous and more influential, journalists, editors and publishers should be regarded as “the Fourth Estate”.  First seriously discussed in early the 1820s, within a decade the term had gained currency, supplanting earlier associations (although in both Burke and Hazlitt there are unsubtle hints they likely thought of journalists as “the mob in print”, a view doubtlessly reflecting the opinions of most politicians.  From the modest (if sometimes strident) folios of the eighteenth century to Rupert Murdoch’s (b 1931) Fox News today, it’s clear Burke’s insight was prescient.  Subsequent creations have not universally been accepted as part of the political lexicon but the ideas explored are not without foundation.  The term “Fifth Estate” was first seen in the US during the 1960s counterculture and was used as the name of a newspaper first printed in Detroit in 1965 and still published.  Were one generous one could describe that publication as an example of “critical theory” but it was of its time and certainly an outlet for discontent and dissent.  The understanding of the Fifth Estate evolved into a socio-cultural reference encompassing the opinions of those generally excluded from (or at least marginalized by) the mainstream media and in the twenty-first century it included those distributing their content on blogs, vlogs and social media platforms.  It became a generally accepted concept.

Rupert Murdoch with an edition of News of the World, October 1968.

Mr Murdoch is the last of the old style “press barons” (though he declined Margaret Thatcher's (1925–2013; UK prime-minister 1979-1990) offer of a peerage), it will be interesting to see, decades from now, if history acknowledges him, politician W.M. "Billy" Hughes (1862–1952; prime minister of Australia 1915-1923), virologist Sir Macfarlane Burnet (1899–1985) or second wave feminist Germaine Greer (b 1939) as the twentieth century's most influential Australian.  All cast long shadows, some darker than others.

Less accepted is the idea, first suggested in the late 1980s (before the www (world wide web made the internet an accessible, mass market commodity) there’s a “Sixth Estate” functioning as an observer, critic, and counterweight to the Fourth (the press) and Fifth Estate (non-mainstream online media).  The basis of the concept was the realization a political phenomenon of the 1980s was groups of citizens organizing as pressure groups to pursue issues of interest that although tending to be relatively small in number, their clever use of the mainstream media meant they were able (often as “agenda-setters”) to exert an influence beyond their size and budgets.  Obviously, blogs and social media were the natural environment for such groups although, as big tech rapidly honed their techniques, it’s likely in some cases the hunter has been captured by the game but, at least for their sectional audiences, some of the “Sixth Estate” functions still as an unofficial counterweight to the traditional press (now described variously as the “mainstream media” (however archaic that may be), “legacy media” or, as Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) prefers: “fake news media”.  Wholly opportunistic was the attempt to coin “Seventh Estate”.  That was the idea the newest influence to reach critical mass and influence was the “expert strategic advisor”, apparently a collective term for “business analysts, management consultants, thought leaders, market researchers” and such.  The notion of the Seventh Estate seems less a serious contribution to political theory than a marketing promotion.  There may be a case to be made for the recognition of a Seventh Estate and that is as a description of consumer-packaged AI (artificial intelligence).  While philosophers and scientists can write erudite pieces discussing why what AI produces can’t be “independent thought”, it certainly can appear to be and, as theories of cognition explain, that may be enough for some to legitimize AI as the “Seventh Estate”.

Estate cars

UK advertising for the Australian-built Chrysler Valiant Regal Estate, 1975.

Although with engines as large as 360 cubic inch (5.9 litre) V8s, the Australian-built Chrysler Valiants might seem a curious choice for the UK market in the post-oil shock 1970s, the demise of the big Humbers left a gap in the range and in 1967 the Australian cars had the advantage of benefiting from the Commonwealth preference scheme, a low tariff regime which was the last relic of the chimera of imperial free trade.  Sales were never more than a trickle but the Chryslers were close to unique in the tiny market segment and the programme for a while remained profitable even after the tariff advantage was lost in 1973 when the UK joined the EEC (European Economic Community (1957), the Zollverein that would evolve into the EU (European Union (1993)); The cars remained available until 1976.  Although in Australia and South Africa the Valiant station wagons had been called “Safaris” (after 1973 they would in the home market become “station wagons”), in the UK they were always marketed as “Estates”, reflecting the local practice.

1950 Ford Country Squire.

The model represented a transition in method, the timber still real (mahogany plywood with birch or maple spars) but the roof now of steel.  The timber component would later become “fibreglass over appliqué” and that look would for decades endure though as something purely decorative with no structural role. Although the look is better known as the “station wagon”, “estate cars” began life literally as “a car built for use on one’s estate”.  Because, in this context, ownership of an estate was a preserve of the rich (including many with massive debts), the parameters of an estate car’s design included being large, comfortable and able easily to accommodate life’s essentials (hunting dogs, polo gear, fishing rods, shotguns etc).  So that was specific but while there was sufficient demand to make the early estate cars for decades a thing in the catalogues of coachbuilders, there weren’t that many rich folk so rather than using full-metal bodies, what tended to be done was take a the chassis and frontal components of a conventional two or four-door saloon and add a “station wagon like” rear section in timber.  Combining the eye of a coachbuilder with the hands of craftsmen skilled in timberwork, some elegant creations emerged in the pre-war years (some built as late as the 1950s) and the look influenced mainstream manufacturers in the post-war years with timber spars and panels appearing on station wagons, sedans and convertibles (although fibreglass and plastic appliqué would soon replace the natural product, despite which the “woodie” & “woody” nicknames remained).  Inheriting an earlier tradition, the coach-built estate cars came to be called “shooting brakes”.

Estate cars stared life on the estates of the rich: 1937 Bentley 4¼-Litre Shooting Brake by Vincents of Reading.

Although entirely representative of the style of shooting brakes built in the 1930s, Bentley 4¼-Litre chassis B142JD retained until 1949 its original all-weather tourer body by Vanden Plas, converted to a shooting brake in 1949-1950 by the coachbuilder Vincents of Reading.  Founded in 1805 and best known in the era for their closed horse-drawn carriages and railway cars, Vincents began building bodies for motor cars in 1899 but their most commercially successful lines turned out to be the “horse boxes” (now often called “horse floats”) which could accommodate up to four horses and were towed behind cars or trucks.  Post-war realities meant coach-building became a challenging business model and in the late 1940s Vincents shifted their focus to trucks and busses which provided a more stable flow of contracts but a small volume of cars were built as late as 1955; the Bentley shooting brake on a 1937 chassis was untypical but an example of the bespoke work possible.  Vincents built their last car body in 1981.

1961 Chrysler New Yorker Town & Country Wagon.

The economies of scale of the US industry in the post-war years was achieved volume production and efficient assembly with a high degree of interchangeability of parts.  What that meant was it was viable to manufacture even low-volume ranges like the four-door hardtop (ie no B-pillar) station wagons.  As a body-style, they were unique in the world and were in their era kind of the "ultimate estate" and a then unusual combination of something originally purely functional (the station wagon) with the flourish of a motif (the four-door hardtop) that had no purpose other than to look stylish; never big sellers, they were available for a decade, the last produced in 1964.  The same mix 'n' match approach would later produce the sports car based shooting brakes.

The industry never formalized the exact meaning of “shooting brake” but, by convention, since at least the 1920s, it came to be used to describe a two-door car (there were variations) with estate-car coachwork added aft, usually in timber (although some sheet metal was sometimes included).  The origin of the use lies in the original shooting brakes, large horse-drawn carts suitable for use by shooting parties (ie groups of people being taken to a spot at which it was convenient to slaughter wildlife).  The “brake” element in the name was derived from the popularity of the heavy-framed carts for in “breaking-in” spirited horses; etymologists have pointed out the Dutch brik (cart or carriage) but any link is speculative.  In the UK, the term “brake” became so identified with large horse-drawn carts it was applied widely, extended to carts generally, whether or not used by shooting parties.  In France, an estate car (station wagon) was called a break, the French (somewhat unusually) following the example in English, the original form having been break de chasse (hunting break).

Marilyn Cole (b 1949) with the pink Volvo 1800ES she was in 1973 awarded as the prize for being judged Playboy magazine’s PotY (Playmate of the Year).  The last scion of the P1800 coupé (1961-1972), the 1800ES was made only in 1972-1973, production ending because it would have been prohibitively expensive to re-engineer the old platform to meet US safety standards.  The lovely lines of the “estate section” were an in-house project and it remains perhaps the most accomplished shooting brake adaptation from a coupé.  In Sweden, its nickname was Fiskbilen (fish van) which wasn't encouraging but in German-speaking lands, it was dubbed the rather more charming Schneewittchensarg (Snow White's coffin), a nod to the frameless, all-glass rear door.  Doubtlessly the statuesque Ms Cole won PotY on merit but her photo-shoot was the first in which a “full-frontal nude” image appealed in the magazine so that alone may have been enough to persuade the judges.

Not all Volvo estates were as admired Snow White's coffin: Lindsay Lohan with sledgehammer destroying Volvo V70 Estate (1996-2000).

The stunt was something to do with a TV series being cancelled and while an explanation was provided, the rationale was a little difficult to understand and the text was TLDR but whatever, a Volvo got trashed and Ms Lohan obviously enjoyed swinging a sledgehammer so all's well that ends well.  It's impressionistic but it does seem likely the unfortunate reputation once attached to Volvo drivers was disproportionately gained because of those driving the estates.  

Sir David Brown's original Aston Martin DB5 shooting brake, 1965.

In recent decades, what are labelled shooting brakes have tended to be based on fast (or at least “fast-looking”) sports cars rather than the large chassis preferred for the purpose during the inter-war years.  While the shooting brakes commissioned by the HFS (huntin’, fishin’ & shootin’) set could be well-proportioned and even elegant, they were not “sporty” but that market niche emerged in the 1960s.  The best known early examples were the Reliant Scimitar GTE (1968-1986) and Volvo 1800 ES (1972-1973) and what legitimized the style (a two-door coupé with estate coachwork to the aft) was what Sir David Brown (1904–1993) thought would be a one-off based on an Aston Martin DB5 coupé (1963-1965, which the factory, in their English way, called a “saloon”).  Sir David liked his DB5 saloon but found it too cramped comfortably to accommodate his polo gear, shotguns and hunting dogs.  Now, that would be called a “first world problem” but because Brown then owned Aston Martin, he simply wrote out a work order and had his craftsmen create a bespoke shooting brake (thereby confirming the informal English definition of the term: “station wagon owned by someone rich”) which they did by hand-forming the aluminum panels with hammers over wooden formers.  It delighted him and solved the problem but created another because good customers started writing him letters asking for their own.  While folk offering to pay for a company's products usually is a good thing, at the time, Aston Martin was at full capacity building DB5s and developing the up-coming DB6, DBS and V8 models.  With a bulging order book, the resources didn’t exist to add a niche model so the project was out-sourced to the coachbuilder Radford which built a further 11 (and subsequently another 6 based on the DB6 (1965-1971)).  The “sporty” shooting brakes of course had nothing like the storage capacity of the old-style versions, the design imperative being to enlarge a sports car’s luggage space beyond the traditional “toothbrush & bikini”.  So they were better suited to dirty weekends or trips to the ski slopes than a day spent slaughtering wildlife but nobody seems to have thought of a better term and because of the historic association with class & wealth, the target market likes “shooting brake”.

Leveraging her real-life history of driving incidents and DUI incidents, Lindsay Lohan appeared in the Esurance “Sorta Mom” spoof insurance commercial, shown during the 2015 Super Bowl.  The fourth-generation Chrysler Town & Country minivan (2001-2007) was typical of what “soccer moms” drove after the demise of the station wagon.

Citroën CX Loadrunner by Tissier.

The estate version of the Citroën CX (1974-1991) was made between 1975-1991; it was called “Break” in France and “Safari” in the UK.  The most interesting variant was a six-wheel version which permitted a higher load capacity, the best known use as high-speed transporters of newspapers (remarkably heavy in bulk).  Although fitted with low-powered diesel engines, the slippery aerodynamics and advanced suspension made high average speeds possible and proved the most economical way to move the quickly, over distances.  This was a pre-digital version of the “information superhighway”.

“Estate” was but one of the terms used of the body style best known as the “station wagon”, others included “Safari” (France & Australia), “Station Sedan” (Auatralia), “Break” & “Commercial” (France), “Kombi”, “Universal” & “Touring” (Germany”) and “Squire” (US).  The station was perhaps the most emblematic vehicle of post-war America, its popularity a product of (1) increasing prosperity leading to the “two car household” becoming the norm, (2) families moving from cities to newly developed, sprawling suburbs and (3) shopping patterns shifting from inner city department and grocery stores to vast suburban malls (with ever larger car parks, groceries taken from store to car by the provided shopping carts).  Thus the perfect conjunction: women and their station wagons driving to the mall to shop, a model which contributed to the post war US boom.  Internationally long in decline, the station wagon died out in the US by the 1990s although sales in Japan and Europe continued to be strong enough for a number of models to be sustained and in Australia, Holden kept one in the catalogue until the end of the operation in 2017.  Those who once bought station wagons opted instead for minivans, SUVs (sports utility vehicles) or “Crossovers” (vehicles with SUV-like bodywork but built on a lighter platform) while those needing something suitable for unpacking the picnic basket in the polo-ground’s car-park are now (almost) all driving Range Rovers.

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.”

#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.

Basic

Basic (pronounced bey-sik)

(1) Of, relating to, or forming a base; fundamental.

(2) In chemistry, pertaining to, of the nature of, or containing a base; alkaline.

(3) In metallurgy, noting, pertaining to, or made by a steelmaking process (basic process) in which the furnace or converter is lined with a basic or non-siliceous material, mainly burned magnesite and a small amount of ground basic slag, to remove impurities from the steel.

(4) In geology, descriptor of a rock having relatively little silica.

(5) In military use, the lowest or initial form of anything (chiefly US).

(6) Of things elementary in character, essential, key, primary, basal, underlying.

(7) As a computer industry acronym, (BASIC and its forks, QBASIC, BASICA etc), a long-lived programming language: B(eginner's) A(ll-purpose) S(ymbolic) I(nstruction) C(ode).

(8) As "basic bitch", a subset of females deemed uninteresting on the basis of their tastes in pop culture being wholly mainstream.  It began as a derogatory term but was also adopted (as a form of "inverse snobbery") by some as their "group identifier".  The use seems to date from circa 2005.

1832:  The word came originally from chemistry, the construct being base + ic, but has since been adopted by or applied in just about every field imaginable.  Base in this sense (something from which other things extend; a foundation; a supporting, lower or bottom component of a structure or object) was from the Middle English base, bas & baas, from the Old French base, from the Latin basis, from the Ancient Greek βάσις (básis).  In scientific use there exists a wealth of derived technical forms including gnathobasic, heptabasic, hexabasic, macrobasic, mesobasic, microbasic, monobasic, multibasic etc.  The -ic suffix was from the Middle English -ik, from the Old French -ique, from the Latin -icus, from the primitive Indo-European -kos & -ḱos, formed with the i-stem suffix -i- and the adjectival suffix -kos & -ḱos.  The form existed also in the Ancient Greek as -ικός (-ikós), in Sanskrit as -इक (-ika) and the Old Church Slavonic as -ъкъ (-ŭkŭ); A doublet of -y.  In European languages, adding -kos to noun stems carried the meaning "characteristic of, like, typical, pertaining to" while on adjectival stems it acted emphatically; in English it's always been used to form adjectives from nouns with the meaning “of or pertaining to”.  A precise technical use exists in physical chemistry where it's used to denote certain chemical compounds in which a specified chemical element has a higher oxidation number than in the equivalent compound with a name ending in the suffix -ous; (eg sulphuric acid (H₂SO₄) has more oxygen atoms per molecule than sulphurous acid (H₂SO₃).  The programming language was created in 1964 by two US-based computer scientists, Thomas Kurtz (1928-2024) and Hungarian-born John Kemeny (1926-1992).  Basic is a noun & adjective, basicity & basicness are nouns, abasic, basical & bibasic are adjectives and basically is an adverb; the noun plural is basics.

The Basic Bitch

Basic bitch, often clipped to the (sometimes affectionate) basic, is a pop-culture term of US origin.  Although use outgrew the origins, it was intended as a pejorative descriptor of white, middle class females with boringly predictable, mainstream tastes in consumer goods and culture.  Although basic's comparative is "more basic" and the superlative "most basic", English users are imaginative and when needing emphasis coined "uber basic" and "ultrabasic", the latter a repurposing from geology where it's a synonym for ultramafic (igneous rocks containing magnesium & iron with only ting quantities of silica, such as those found in the Earth’s mantle).  The most pleasing collective for was "basic bitch brigade although Urban Dictionary helpfully fleshes out some alternatives.  Variously interpreted as a variation on the earlier airhead, a general expression of misogyny and another unsuccessful attempt to invent a term white people would find offensive, basic bitch briefly generated a sizable critique.  Although expressions of disapproval of materialist consumer culture had became common even before publication of Canadian-born US economist J.K. Galbraith's (1908–2006) The Affluent Society (1958) made it a bit of a thing, "basic bitch" appears to have offended just about all the usual suspects in the grievance industry.  Feminists found it misogynistic and weren’t at mollified by the emergence of a term of male equivalence (basic bro), their general position probably demanding the cancelling of all cultural feminine signifiers.  To them, the specifics were tiresomely irrelevant; "basic bitch" just another way to demean women.  The left generally agreed, arguing it was unhelpful to target a stereotype of late capitalist femininity rather than adhere to their critique of consumer culture.  Western capitalism, neutral on the squabble, soon commodified:

Basic Bitch Palette Kit by M·A·C Cosmetics, one of six in the M·A·C Girls collection (the companion products including Mischief Minx, Prissy Princess and Power Hungry).

Less predictable was the race-based criticism.  Basic bitch was considered yet another attempt to create a term of disparagement to describe the white folk which they would find actually offensive and in that, like all previous attempts, it didn’t work.  However, it clearly made sense only if applied to white, middle-class females so had the effect of creating yet another exclusive enclave of white privilege and one which, by definition, excluded other ethnicities, even if becoming a basic bitch was their aspiration.  First noted in 2005 in a sub-set of popular music, "basic bitch" entered mainstream use circa 2009 and use appears to have peaked in 2014 although term may persist because it references a mode of behavior rather than anything specific to a time or place; it’s thus adaptable and generationally transferrable.  It’s also an amusing example of one aspect of how Sisyphean battles in the pop-culture wars are waged.  Really, all those who used alliterative "basic bitch" were asserting was: “our taste in pop music is better than their taste in pop music”.

In the matter of Judge Eugene Fahey

Lindsay Lohan v Take-Two Interactive Software Inc et al, New York Court of Appeals (No 24, pp1-11, 29 March 2018) was a case which took an unremarkable four years from filing to reach New York’s highest appellate court; Lindsay Lohan’s suit against the makers of video game Grand Theft Auto V was dismissed.  In a unanimous ruling in March 2018, six judges of the New York Court of Appeals rejected her invasion of privacy claim which alleged one of the game’s characters was based on her.  The judges found the "actress/singer" in the game merely resembled a “generic young woman” rather than anyone specific.  Unfortunately the judges seemed unacquainted with the concept of the “basic white girl” which might have made the judgment more of a fun read.

Beware of imitations: The real Lindsay Lohan and the GTA 5 ersatz, a mere "generic young woman".

Concurring with the 2016 ruling of the New York County Supreme Court which, on appeal, also found for the game’s makers, the judges, as a point of law, accepted the claim a computer game’s character "could be construed a portrait", which "could constitute an invasion of an individual’s privacy" but, on the facts of the case, the likeness was "not sufficiently strong".  The “… artistic renderings are an indistinct, satirical representation of the style, look and persona of a modern, beach-going young woman... that is not recognizable as the plaintiff" Judge Eugene Fahey (b 1951) wrote in his ruling.  Judge Fahey's words recalled those (in another context) of Potter Stewart (1915–1985; associate justice of the US Supreme Court 1958-1981) who in Jacobellis v Ohio (378 U.S. 184 (1964) wrote: “I shall not today attempt further to define… and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so.  But I know it when I see it…”  Judge Fahey knew a basic white girl when he saw one; he just couldn't name her.  Lindsay Lohan's lawyers did not seek leave to appeal.

First published in 1930, “Basic English” was a “subset language” devised by linguist Charles Ogden (1889–1957) and literary critic Ivor “I.A.” Richards (1893-1979).  A much reduced version of English, the selected vocabulary contained only 830 words; 600 nouns & 150 adjectives with the remainder being styled “operators” (verbs, adverbs, prepositions and conjunctions).  Given what was omitted, the range of expression was limited but was serviceable for most everyday (non specialist or technical) discourse and more complex ideas or topics could be discussed were there some assumption of knowledge between the parties.  In this case, “basic” was a backronym for British Academic Scientific International and Commercial [English] which, given the extent of the simplification, was a bit misleading and its true purposes were (1) to operate as an aid to those learning the language and (2) be an international auxiliary language, allowing people to communicate “what most needed to say, most of the time”; it was thus not a true lingua franca but a kind of low-level communication tool, what might now be called a “universal micro-language”.  It first appeared in Ogden's Basic English: A General Introduction with Rules and Grammar (1930).  Ogden & Richards’ “Basic English” faded into history but the term “basic English” lived on and has flourished at the title of at least hundreds of introductory-level books and courses teaching the language.

In truth, literally all English speakers use a form of “basic English” because nobody (even occasionally) uses all available words.  It’s not even certain how many words are in the English vocabulary; depending on how liberal is one’s definition of “real” & “current”, there may be close to a million although not even a fifth of those are in regular use.  By the time these paragraphs are read, the total is likely to have increased, the churning offsetting things to some degree by other words falling from favour to the point of functional extinction.  Despite the apparent simplicity, the process that produced Basic English relied much on the complexities of semiotic theory Ogden & Richards had discussed in The Meaning of Meaning (1923), a work containing concepts later much expanded upon (for better or worse) by the deconstructionists and postmodernists.  Although the pair may sound something like the idealists who developed Esperanto, Basic English was a kind of linguistic imperialism, albeit with good intentions.  Especially after World War II (1939-1945), the notion was a permanent world-wide peaceful co-existence might better be attained were “minority languages” gradually to be eliminated from use and there was a global adoption of English (various in the basic or complete forms).  Doubtlessly that rationale made sense to a linguist and literary critic but while it’s a charming idea the conflicts in somewhere like the Balkans would vanish if everyone spoke Basic English, history would suggest otherwise.  Now, in an age of hand-held AI (artificial intelligence), real-time translation devices, much of the alleged need for Basic English has vanished (at least for the sub-set of the population able to afford such devices) but there seems little hope such advance will in any way solve the sources of conflict.  Were members of the Israeli cabinet and the ayatollahs in Tehran to speak a common language, that medium of exchange would not influence their sentiments.