Aphantasia

Aphantasia (pronounced ay-fan-tay-zhuh)

The inability voluntarily to recall or form mental images.

2015: The word (not the diagnosis) was coined by UK neurologist Dr Adam Zeman (b 1957), neuropsychologist Dr Michaela Dewar (b 1976) and Italian neurologist Sergio Della Sala (b 1955), first appearing the paper Lives without imagery.  The construct was a- (from the Ancient Greek ἀ- (a-), used as a privative prefix meaning “not”, “without” or “lacking” + phantasía (from the Greek φαντασία (“appearance”, “imagination”, “mental image” or “power of imagination”, from φαίνω (phaínō) ( “to show”, “to make visible” or “to bring to light”).  Literally, aphantasia can be analysed as meaning “an absence of imagination” or “an absence of mental imagery” and in modern medicine it’s defined as “the inability voluntarily to recall or form mental images”.  Even in Antiquity, there was some meaning shift in phantasía, Plato (circa 427-348 BC) using the word to refer generally to representations and appearances whereas Aristotle (384-322 BC) added a technical layer, his sense being faculty mediating between perception (aisthēsis) and thought (noēsis).  It’s the Aristotelian adaptation (the mind’s capacity to form internal representations) which flavoured the use in modern neurology.  Aphantasia is a noun and aphantasic is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is aphantasics.

Scuola di Atene (The School of Athens, circa 1511), fresco by Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino, 1483–1520), Apostolic Palace, Vatican Museums, Vatican City, Rome.  Plato and Aristotle are the figures featured in the centre.

In popular use, the word “aphantasia” can be misunderstood because of the paths taken in English by “phantasy”, “fantasy” and “phantasm”, all derived from the Ancient Greek φαντασία (phantasía) meaning “appearance, mental image, imagination”.  In English, this root was picked up via Latin and French but the multiple forms each evolved in distinct semantic trajectories.  The fourteenth century phantasm came to mean “apparition, ghost, illusion” so was used of “something deceptive or unreal”, the connotation being “the supernatural; spectral”.  This appears to be the origin of the association of “phantas-” with unreality or hallucination rather than normal cognition.  In the fifteenth & sixteenth centuries, the spellings phantasy & fantasy were for a time interchangeable although divergence came with phantasy used in its technical senses of “mental imagery”; “faculty of imagination”; “internal representation”, this a nod to Aristotle’s phantasía.  Fantasy is the familiar modern form, used to suggest “a fictional invention; daydream; escapism; wish-fulfilment, the connotation being “imaginative constructions (in fiction); imaginative excess (in the sense of “unreality” or the “dissociative”); indulgence (as in “speculative or wishful thoughts”)”.

While the word “aphantasia” didn’t exist until 2015, in the editions of the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) published between 1952 (DSM-I) and 2013 (DSM-5), there was not even any any discussion (or even mention) of a condition anything like “an inability voluntarily to recall or form mental images”.  That’s because despite being “a mental condition” induced by something happening (or not happening) in the brain, the phenomenon has never been classified as “a mental disorder”.  Instead it’s a cognitive trait or variation in the human condition and technically is a spectrum condition, the “pure” aphantasic being one end of the spectrum, the hyperaphantasic (highly vivid, lifelike mental imagery, sometimes called a “photorealistic mind's eye”) the other.  That would of course imply the comparative adjective would be “more aphantasic” and the superlative “most aphantasic” but neither are standard forms.

If That rationale for the “omission” was the DSM’s inclusion criteria including the requirement of some evidence of clinically significant distress or functional impairment attributable to a condition.  Aphantasia, in isolation, does not reliably meet this threshold in that many individuals have for decades functioned entirely “normally” without being aware they’re aphantasic  while others presumably had died of old age in similar ignorance.  That does of course raise the intriguing prospect the mental health of some patients may have been adversely affected by the syndrome only by a clinician informing them of their status, thus making them realize what they were missing.  This, the latest edition of the DSM (DSM-5-TR (2022)) does not discuss.  The DSM does discuss imagery and perceptual phenomena in the context of other conditions (PTSD (post-traumatic stress disoder), psychotic disorders, dissociative disorders etc), but these references are to abnormal experiences, not the lifelong absence of imagery.  To the DSM’s editors, aphantasis remains a recognized phenomenon, not a diagnosis.

Given that aphantasia concerns aspects of (1) cognition, (2) inner experience and (3) mental representation, it wouldn’t seem unreasonable to expect the condition now described as aphantasia would have appeared in the DSM, even if only in passing or in a footnote.  However, in the seventy years between 1952-2022, over nine editions, there is no mention, even in DSM-5-TR (2022), the first volume released since the word was in 2015 coined.  That apparently curious omission is explained by the DSM never having been a general taxonomy of mental phenomena.  Instead, it’s (an ever-shifting) codification of the classification of mental disorders, defined by (1) clinically significant distress and/or (2) functional impairment and/or (3) a predictable course, prognosis and treatment relevance.  As a general principle the mere existence of an aphantasic state meets none of these criteria.

Crooked Hillary Clinton in Orange Nina McLemore pantsuit, 2010.  If in response to the prompt "Imagine a truthful person" one sees an image of crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013), that obviously wrong but is not an instance of aphantasia because the image imagined need not be correct, it needs just to exist.

The early editions (DSM-I (1952) & DSM-II (1968)) heavily were slanted to the psychoanalytic, focusing on psychoses, neuroses and personality disorders with no mention of any systematic treatment of cognition as a modular function; the matter of mental imagery (even as abstract though separated from an imagined image), let alone its absence, wholly is ignored.  Intriguingly, given what was to come in the field, there was no discussion of the cognitive phenomenology beyond gross disturbances (ie delusions & hallucinations).  Even with the publication of the DSM-III (1980) & DSM-III-R (1987), advances in scanning and surgical techniques, cognitive psychology and neuroscience seem to have made little contribution to what the DSM’s editorial board decided to include and although DSM-III introduced operationalized diagnostic criteria (as a part of a more “medicalised” and descriptive psychiatry), the entries still were dominated by a focus on dysfunctions impairing performance, the argument presumably that it was possible (indeed, probably typical) for those with the condition to lead, full, happy lives; the absence of imagery ability thus not considered a diagnostically relevant variable.  Even in sections on (1) amnestic disorders (a class of memory loss in which patients have difficulty forming new memories (anterograde) or recalling past ones (retrograde), not caused by dementia or delirium but of the a consequence of brain injury, stroke, substance abuse, infections or trauma), with treatment focusing on the underlying cause and rehabilitation, (2) organic mental syndromes or (3) neuro-cognitive disturbance, there was no reference to voluntary imagery loss as a phenomenon in its own right.

Although substantial advances in cognitive neuroscience meant by the 1990s neuropsychological deficits were better recognised, both the DSM-IV (1994) and DSM-IV-TR (2000) continued to be restricted to syndromes with behavioural or functional consequences.  In a way that was understandable because the DSM still was seen by the editors as a manual for working clinicians who were most concerned with helping those afflicted by conditions with clinical salience; the DSM has never wandered far into subjects which might be matters of interesting academic research and mental imagery continued to be mentioned only indirectly, hallucinations (percepts without stimuli) and memory deficits (encoding and retrieval) both discussed only in the consequence of their affect on a patient, not as phenomenon.  The first edition for the new century was DSM-5 (2013) and what was discernible was that discussions of major and mild neuro-cognitive disorders were included, reflecting the publication’s enhanced alignment with neurology but even then, imagery ability is not assessed or scaled: not possessing the power of imagery was not listed as a symptom, specifier, or associated feature.  So there has never in the DSM been a category for benign cognitive variation and that is a product of a deliberate editorial stance rather than an omission, many known phenomenon not psychiatrised unless in some way “troublesome”.

The term “aphantasia” was coined to describe individuals who lack voluntary visual mental imagery, often discovered incidentally and not necessarily associated with brain injury or psychological distress.  In 2015 the word was novel but the condition had been documented for more than a century, Sir Francis Galton (1822–1911) in a paper published in 1880 describing what would come to be called aphantasia.  That work was a statistical study on mental imagery which doubtless was academically solid but Sir Francis’s reputation later suffered because he was one of the leading lights in what was in Victorian times (1837-1901) the respectable discipline of eugenics.  Eugenics rightly became discredited so Sir Francis was to some extent retrospectively “cancelled” (something like the Stalinist concept of “un-personing”) and these days his seminal contribution to the study of behavioural genetics is acknowledged only grudgingly.

Galton in 1880 noted a wide variation in “visual imagination” (ie it was understood as a “spectrum condition”) and in the same era, in psychology publications the preferred term seems to have been “imageless thought”.  In neurology (and trauma medicine generally) there were many reports of patients losing the power of imagery after a brain injury but no agreed name was ever applied because the interest was more in the injury.  The unawareness that some people simply lacked the facility presumably must have been held among the general population because as Galton wrote: “To my astonishment, I found that the great majority of the men of science to whom I first applied, protested that mental imagery was unknown to them, and they looked on me as fanciful and fantastic in supposing that the words “mental imagery” really expressed what I believed everybody supposed them to mean. They had no more notion of its true nature than a colour-blind man who has not discerned his defect has of the nature of colour.”

His paper must have stimulated interest because one psychologist reported some subjects possessing what he called a “typographic visual type” imagination in which ideas (which most would visualize as an image of some sort) would manifest as “printed text” which was intriguing because in the same way a computer in some aspects doesn’t distinguish between an image file (jpeg, TIFF, webp, avif etc) which is a picture of (1) someone and (2) their name in printed form, that would seem to imply at least some who are somewhere on the aphantasia spectrum retain the ability to visualize printed text, just not the object referenced.  Professor Zeman says he first became aware of the condition in 2005 when a patient reported having lost the ability to visualize following minor surgery and after the case was in 2010 documented in the medical literature in the usual way, it provoked a number of responses in which multiple people informed Zeman they had never in their lifetime been able to visualize objects.  This was the origin of Zeman and his collaborators coining “congenital aphantasia”, describing individuals who never enjoyed the ability to generate voluntary mental images.  Because it was something which came to general attention in the age of social media, great interest was triggered in the phenomenon and a number of “on-line tests” were posted, the best-known of which was the request for readers to “imagine a red apple” and rate their “mind's eye” depiction of it on a scale from 1 (photorealistic visualisation) through to 5 (no visualisation at all).  For many, this was variously (1) one’s first realization they were aphantasic or (2) an appreciation one’s own ability or inability to visualise objects was not universal.

How visualization can manifest: Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December. 2011.  If an aphantasic person doesn't know about aphantasia and doesn't know other people can imagine images, their lives are probably little different from them; it's just their minds have adapted to handle concepts in another way.

Top right: What’s thought “normal” visualization (thought to be possessed by most of the population) refers to the ability to imagine something like a photograph of what’s being imagined.  This too is a spectrum condition in that some will be able to imagine an accurate “picture”, something like a HD (high definition photograph” while others will “see” something less detailed, sketchy or even wholly inaccurate.  However, even if when asked to visualize “an apple” one instead “sees a banana”, that is not an indication of aphantasia, a condition which describes only an absence of an image.  Getting it that wrong is an indication of something amiss but it’s not aphantasia.

Bottom left: “Seeing” text in response to being prompted to visualize something was the result Galton in 1880 reported as such a surprise.  It means the brain understands the concept of what is being described; it just can’t be imagined as an image.  This is one manifestation of aphantasia but it’s not related to the “everything is text” school of post-modernism.  Jacques Derrida’s (1930-2004) fragment “Il n'y a pas de hors-texte” (literally “there is no outside-text”) is one of the frequently misunderstood phrases from the murky field of deconstruction bit it has nothing to do with aphantasia (although dedicated post-modernists probably could prove a relationship).

Bottom right: The absence of any image (understood as a “blankness” which does not necessarily imply “whiteness” or “blackness” although this is the simple way to illustrate the concept), whether text or to some degree photorealistic is classic aphantasia.  The absence does not mean the subject doesn’t understand the relevant object of concept; it means only that their mental processing does not involve imagery and for as long as humans have existed, many must have functioned in this way, their brains adapted to the imaginative range available to them.  What this must have meant was many became aware of what they were missing only when the publicity about the condition appeared on the internet, am interesting example of “diagnostic determinism”.

WebMD's classic Aphantasia test.

The eyes are an out-growth of the brain and WebMD explains aphantasia is caused by the brain’s visual cortex (the part of the brain that processes visual information from the eyes) “working differently than expected”, noting the often quoted estimate of it affecting 2-4% of the population may be understated because many may be unaware they are “afflicted”.  It’s a condition worthy of more study because aphantasics handle the characteristic by processing information differently from those who rely on visual images.  There may be a genetic element in aphantasia and there’s interest too among those researching “Long Covid” because the symptom of “brain fog” can manifest much as does aphantasia.

Aphantasia may have something to do with consciousness because aphantasics can have dreams (including nightmares) which can to varying degrees be visually rich.  There’s no obvious explanation for this but while aphantasia is the inability voluntarily to generate visual mental imagery while awake, dreaming is an involuntary perceptual experience generated during sleep; while both are mediated by neural mechanisms, these clearly are not identical but presumably must overlap.  The conclusions from research at this stage remains tentative the current neuro-cognitive interpretation seems to suggest voluntary (conscious) imagery relies on top-down activation of the visual association cortex while dream (unconscious) dream imagery relies more on bottom-up and internally driven activation during REM (rapid eye movement) sleep.  What that would seem to imply is that in aphantasia, the former pathway is impaired (or at least inaccessible), while the latter may remain intact (or accessible).

The University of Queensland’s illustration of the phantasia spectrum.

The opposite syndrome is hyperphantasia (having extremely vivid, detailed, and lifelike mental imagery) which can be a wonderful asset but can also be a curse, rather as hyperthymesia (known also as HSAM (Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory) and colloquially as “total recall”) can be disturbing.  Although it seems not to exist in the sense of “remembering everything, second-by-second”, there are certainly those who have an extraordinary recall of “events” in their life and this can have adverse consequences for mental health because one of the mind’s “defensive mechanisms” is forgetting or at least suppressing memories which are unwanted.  Like aphantasia & hyperphantasia, hyperthymesia is not listed by the DSM as a mental disorder; it is considered a rare cognitive trait or neurological phenomenon although like the imaging conditions it can have adverse consequences and these include disturbing “flashbacks”, increased rumination and increased rates of anxiety or obsessive tendencies.

Enthrone

Enthrone (pronounced en-throhn)

(1) To put on the throne in a formal installation ceremony (sometimes called an enthronement) which variously could be synonymous with (or simultaneously performed with) a coronation or other ceremonies of investiture.

(2) Figuratively in this context, to help a candidate to the succession of a monarchy or by extension in any other major organisation (ie the role of “kingmakers”, literal and otherwise).

(3) To invest with sovereign or episcopal authority (ie a legal instrument separate from any ceremony).

(4) To honour or exalt (now rare except in literary or poetic use).

(5) Figuratively, to assign authority to or vest authority in.

Circa 1600: The construct was en- + throne and the original meaning was “to place on a throne, exalt to the seat of royalty”.  For this purpose it replaced the late fourteenth century enthronize, from the thirteenth century Old French introniser, from the Late Latin inthronizare, from Greek the enthronizein.  In the late fourteenth century the verb throne (directly from the noun) was used in the same sense.  Throne (the chair or seat occupied by a sovereign, bishop or other exalted personage on ceremonial occasions) dates from the late twelfth century and was from the Middle English trone, from the Old French trone, from the Latin thronus, from the Ancient Greek θρόνος (thrónos) (chair, high-set seat, throne).  It replaced the earlier Middle English seld (seat, throne).  In facetious use, as early as the 1920s, throne could mean “a toilet” (used usually in the phrase “on the throne”) and in theology had the special use (in the plural and capitalized) describing the third (a member of an order of angels ranked above dominions and below cherubim) of the nine orders into which the angels traditionally were divided in medieval angelology.  The en- prefix was from the Middle English en- (en-, in-), from the Old French en- (also an-), from the Latin in- (in, into).  It was also an alteration of in-, from the Middle English in-, from the Old English in- (in, into), from the Proto-Germanic in (in).  Both the Latin & Germanic forms were from the primitive Indo-European en (in, into).  The intensive use of the Old French en- & an- was due to confluence with Frankish intensive prefix an- which was related to the Old English intensive prefix -on.  It formed a transitive verb whose meaning is to make the attached adjective (1) in, into, (2) on, onto or (3) covered.  It was used also to denote “caused” or as an intensifier.  The prefix em- was (and still is) used before certain consonants, notably the labials b and p.  Enthrone, dethrone, enthronest & enthronize are verbs, enthronementm, enthronization & enthroner are nouns, enthroning is a noun & verb, enthroned is a verb & adjective; the noun plural is enthronements.  The noun enthronable is non-standard.  The derived forms include the verb unenthrone, reenthrone & disenthrone and although there have been many enthroners, the form enthronee has never existed.

Alhaji Ibrahim Wogorie (b 1967) being enskinned as North Sisala community chief, Ghana, July 2023.

In colonial-era West Africa the coined forms were “enskin” (thus enskinment, enskinning, enskinned) and “enstool” (thus enstoolment, enstooling, enstooled).  These words were used to refer to the ceremonies in which a tribal chief was installed in his role; the meanings thus essentially the same as enjoyed in the West by “enthrone”.  The constructs reflected a mix of indigenous political culture and English morphological adaptation during the colonial period, the elements explained by (1) the animal skins (the distinctive cheetah often mentioned in the reports of contemporary anthropologists although in some Islamic and Sahelian-influenced chieftaincies (including the Dagomba, Mamprusi, Hausa emirates), a cow or lion skin often was the symbol of authority) which often surrounded the new chief and (2) the tradition in Africa of a chief sitting on a stool.  Sometimes, the unfortunate animal’s skin would be laid over the stool (and almost always, one seems to have been laid at the chief’s feet) but in some traditions (notably in northern Ghana and parts of Nigeria) it was a mark of honor for the chief to sit on a skin spread on the ground.

Dr Mahamudu Bawumia (b 1963), enstooled as Nana Ntentankesehene (Chief of the Internet/Web), Ghana, August 2024.  Note the cheetah skin used to trim the chair.

The stool was the central symbol of chieftaincy and kingship among Akan-speaking peoples (still in present-day Ghana where “to enskin” is used generally to mean “to install as a leader of a group” and the constitution (1992) explicitly protects the institution of chieftaincy and judicial decisions routinely use “enstool” or “enskin” (depending on region)).  In Akan political culture, the most famous use was the Sika Dwa Kofi (the Golden Stool) of the Asante and it represented the embodiment of the polity and ancestors, not merely a seat (used rather like the synecdoches “the Pentagon” (for the US Department of Defense (which appears now to be headed by a cabinet office who simultaneously is both Secretary of Defense & Secretary of War)) or “Downing Street” (for the UK prime-minister or the government generally).  Thus, to be “enstooled” is ritually to be placed into office as chief, inheriting the authority vested in the stool.  Enskin & enstool (both of which seem first to have appeared in the records of the Colonial Office in the 1880s and thus were products of the consolidation of British indirect rule in West Africa, rather than being survivals from earlier missionary English which also coined its own terms) were examples of semantic calquing (the English vocabulary reshaped to encode indigenous concepts) and, as it was under the Raj in India, it was practical administrative pragmatism, colonial officials needing precise (and standardized) terms that distinguished between different systems of authority.  In truth, they were also often part of classic colonial “fixes” in which the British would take existing ceremonies and add layers of ritual to afforce the idea of a chief as “their ruler” and within a couple of generations, sometimes the local population would talk of the newly elaborate ceremony as something dating back centuries; the “fix” was a form of constructed double-legitimization.

A classic colonial fix was the Bose Levu Vakaturaga (Great Council of Chiefs) in Fiji which the British administrators created in 1878.  While it's true that prior to European contact, there had been meetings between turaga (tribal chiefs) to settle disputes and for other purposes, all the evidence suggests they were ad-hoc appointments with little of the formality, pomp and circumstance the British introduced.  Still, it was a successful institution which the chiefs embraced, apparently with some enthusiasm because the cloaks and other accoutrements they adopted for the occasion became increasingly elaborate and it was a generally harmonious form of indigenous governance which enabled the British to conduct matters of administration and policy-making almost exclusively through the chiefs.  The council survived even after Fiji gained independence from Britain in 1970 until it was in 2012 abolished by the military government of Commodore Frank Bainimarama (b 1954; prime minister of Fiji 2007-2022), as part of reform programme said to be an attempt to reduce ethnic divisions and promote a unified national identity.  The commodore's political future would be more assured had he learned lessons from the Raj.

There was of course an element of racial hierarchy in all this and “enskin” & “enstool” denoted a “tribal chief” under British rule whereas “enthrone” might have been thought to imply some form of sovereignty because that was the linkage in Europe and that would never do.  What the colonial authorities wanted was to maintain the idea of “the stool” as a corporate symbol, the office the repository of the authority, not the individual.  The danger with using a term like “enthronement” was the population might be infected by the European notion of monarchy as a hereditary kingship with personal sovereignty; what the Europeans wanted was “a stool” and they would decide who would be enstooled, destooled or restooled. 

Prince Mangosuthu Buthelezi, Moses Mabhida Stadium, Durban, South Africa, October 2022.

English words and their connotations did continue to matter in the post-colonial world because although the colonizers might have departed, often the legacy of language remained, sometimes as an “official” language of government and administration.  In the 1990s, the office of South Africa’s Prince Mangosuthu Buthelezi (1928–2023) sent a series of letters to the world’s media outlets advising he should be styled as “Prince” and not “Chief”, on the basis of being the grandson of one Zulu king and the nephew of another.  The Zulus were once described as a “tribe” and while that reflected the use in ethnography, the appeal in the West was really that it represented a rung on the racist hierarchy of civilization, the preferred model being: white people have nations or states, Africans cluster in tribes or clans.  The colonial administrators recognized these groups had leaders and typically they used the style “chief” (from the Middle English cheef & chef, from the Old French chef & chief (leader), from the Vulgar Latin capus, from the Classical Latin caput (head), from the Proto-Italic kaput, from the primitive Indo-European káput).  As the colonial records make clear, there were “good” chiefs and “troublesome” chiefs, thus the need sometimes to arrange a replacement enstooling.

Unlike in the West where styles of address and orders of precedence were codified (indeed, somewhat fetishized), the traditions in Africa seem to have been more fluid and Mangosuthu Buthelezi didn’t rely on statute or even documented convention when requesting the change.  Instead, he explained “prince” reflected his Zulu royal lineage not only was appropriate (he may have cast an envious eye at the many Nigerian princes) but was also commonly used as his style by South African media, some organs or government and certainly his own Zulu-based political party (IQembu leNkatha yeNkululeko (the IPF; Inkatha Freedom Party).  He had in 1953 assumed the Inkosi (chieftainship) of the Buthelezi clan, something officially recognized four year laters by Pretoria although not until the early 1980s (when it was thought he might be useful as a wedge to drive into the ANC (African National Congress) does the Apartheid-era government seem to have started referring to him as “prince”).  Despite that cynical semi-concession, there was never a formal re-designation.

Enthroned & installed: Lindsay Lohan in acrylic & rhinestone tiara during “prom queen scene” in Mean Girls (2004).

In the matter of prom queens and such, it’s correct to say there has been “an enthronement” because even in the absence of a physical throne (in the sense of “a chair”), the accession is marked by the announcement and the placing of the crown or tiara.  This differs from something like the “enthroning” of a king or queen in the UK because, constitutionally, there is no interregnum, the new assuming the title as the old took their last breath and “enthronement” is a term reserved casually to apply to the coronation.  Since the early twentieth century, the palace and government have contrived to make an elaborate “made for television” ceremony although it has constitutional significance beyond the rituals related to the sovereign’s role as Supreme Governor of the Church of England.

Dame Sarah Mullally in the regalia of Bishop of London; in January 2026, she will take office as Archbishop of Canterbury, the formal installation in March.  No longer one of the world's more desirable jobs (essentially because it can't be done), all wish her the best of British luck.

In October 2025, the matter of enthronement (or, more correctly, non-enthronement) in the Church of England made a brief splash in some of the less explored corners of social media after it was announced the ceremony marking the accession of the next Archbishop of Canterbury would be conducted in Canterbury Cathedral in March 2026.  The announcement was unexceptional in that it was expected and for centuries Archbishops of Canterbury have come and gone (although the last one was declared gone rather sooner than expected) but what attracted some comment was the new appointee was to be “installed” rather than the once traditional “enthroned”.  The conclusion some drew was this apparent relegation was related to the next archbishop being Dame Sarah Mullally (née Bowser; b 1962) the first woman to hold the once desirable job, the previous 105 prelates having been men, the first, Saint Augustine of Canterbury (circa 630s-circa 604) in 597 (not to be confused with the still influential Saint Augustine of Hippo (354–430)).

Despite the suspicions the event was being in some way "devalued" because a woman got the job, there is in the church no substantive legal or theological significance in the use of “installed” rather than “enthroned” and the choice reflects modern ecclesiastical practice rather than having any doctrinal or canonical effect.  A person become Archbishop of Canterbury through a sequence of juridical acts and these constitute the decisive legal instruments; ceremonial rites have a symbolic value but nothing more, the power of the office vested from the point at which the legal mechanisms have correctly been executed (in that, things align with the procedures used for the nation’s monarchs).  So the difference is one of tone rather than substance and the “modern” church has for decades sought to distance itself from perceptions it may harbor quasi-regal aspirations or the perpetuation of clerical grandeur and separateness; at least from Lambeth Palace, the preferred model long has been pastoral; most Church of England bishops have for some times been “installed” in their cathedrals (despite “enthronement” surviving in some press reports, a product likely either of nostalgia or “cut & paste journalism”).  That said, some Anglican provinces outside England still “enthrone” (apparently on the basis “it’s always been done that way” rather than the making of a theological or secular point”).

Lambeth Palace, the Archbishop of Canterbury's official London residence.

Interestingly, Archbishops of York (“the church in the north”) continued to enjoy ceremonies of enthronement even after those those at Canterbury underwent installations.  Under canon law, the wording literally makes no difference and historians have concluded the retention of the older form is clung to for no reason other than “product differentiation”, York Minster often emphasizing their continuity with medieval ceremonial forms; it’s thus a mere cultural artefact, the two ceremonies performing the same liturgical action: seating the archbishop in the cathedra (the chair (throne) of the archbishop.  Because it’s the Archbishop of Canterbury and not York who sits as the “spiritual head of the worldwide Anglican community”, in York there’s probably no lingering sensitivity to criticism of continuing with “Romish ways”.  It's not that northern noses are less troubled by the “whiff of popery”, it just that few now care.

In an indication of how little the wording matters, it’s not clear who was the last Archbishop of Canterbury who could be said to have been “enthroned” because there was never any differentiation of form in the ceremonies and the documents suggest the terms were used casually and even interchangeably.  What can be said is that Geoffrey Fisher (1887–1972; AoC-99: 1945-1961) was installed at a ceremony widely described (in the official programme, ecclesiastical commentaries and other church & secular publications) as an “enthronement” and that was the term used in the government Gazette; that’s as official an endorsement of the term as seems possible because, being an established church, bishops are appointed by the Crown on the advice of the prime minister although the procedure has at least since 2007 been a “legal fiction” because the church’s CNC (Crown Nominations Commission) sends the names to the prime minister who acts as a “postbox”, forwarding them to the palace for the issuing of letters patent confirming the appointment.  When Michael Ramsey (1904–1988; AoC-100: 1961-1974), was appointed, although the term “enthrone” did appear in press reports, the church’s documents almost wholly seem to have used “install” and since then, in Canterbury, it’s been installations all the way.

Pope Pius XII in triple tiara at his coronation, The Vatican, March, 1939.

So, by the early 1960s the church was responding, if cautiously, to the growing anti-monarchical sentiment in post-war ecclesiology although this does seem to have been a sentiment of greater moment to intellectuals and theologians than parishioners.  About these matters there was however a kind of ecumenical sensitivity emerging and the conciliar theology later was crystallised (if not exactly codified) in the papers of Second Vatican Council (Vatican II, 1962-1965, published 1970).  The comparison with the practice in Rome is interesting because there are more similarities than differences although that is obscured by words like “enthronement” and “coronation” being seemingly embedded in the popular (and journalistic) imagination. That’s perhaps understandable because for two millennia as many as 275 popes (officially the count is 267 but it’s not certain how many there have been because there have been “anti-popes” and allegedly even one woman (although that’s now largely discounted)) have sat “on the throne of Saint Peter” (retrospectively the first pope) so the tradition is long.  In Roman Catholic canon law, “enthronement” is not a juridical term; the universal term is capio sedem (taking possession of the cathedral (ie “installation”)) and, as in England, an appointment is formalized once the legal instruments are complete, the subsequent ceremony, while an important part of the institution’s mystique, exists for the same reason as it does for the Church of England or the House of Windsor: it’s the circuses part of panem et circenses (bread and circuses).  Unlike popes who once had coronations, archbishops of Canterbury never did because they made no claim to temporal sovereignty.

Pope Paul VI in triple tiara at his coronation, The Vatican, June. 1963.  It was the last papal coronation.

So, technically, modern popes are “installed as Bishop of Rome” and in recent decades the Holy See has adjusted the use of accoutrements to dispel any implication of an “enthronement”, the last papal coronation at which a pope was crowned with the triple tiara was that of Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) but in “an act of humility” he removed it, placing it on the on the alter where (figuratively), it has since sat.  Actually, Paul VI setting aside the triple tiara as a symbolic renunciation of temporal and monarchical authority was a bit overdue because the Papal States had been lost to the Holy See with the unification of Italy in 1870 though the Church refused to acknowledge that reality; in protest, no pope for decades set foot outside the Vatican.  However, in the form of the Lateran Treaty (1929), the Holy See entered into a concordat with the Italian state whereby the (1) the Vatican was recognized as a sovereign state and (2) the church was recognized as Italy’s state religion in exchange for which the territorial and political reality was recognized.  Despite that, until 1963 the triple tiara (one tier of which was said to symbolize the pope’s temporal authority over the papal states) appeared in the coronations of Pius XII (1876-1958; pope 1939-1958), John XXIII (1881-1963; pope 1958-1963) and Paul VI (who didn’t formally abolish the rite of papal coronation from the Ordo Rituum pro Ministerii Petrini Initio Romae Episcopi (Order of Rites for the Beginning of the Petrine Ministry of the Bishop of Rome (the liturgical book detailing the ceremonies for a pope's installation)) until 1975.

The Chair of St Augustine.  In church circles, archbishops of Canterbury are sometimes said to "occupy the Chair of St Augustine".

The Chair of St Augustine sits in Canterbury Cathedral but technically, an AoC is “twice installed”: once on the Diocesan throne as the Bishop of the see of Canterbury and also on the Chair of St Augustine as Primate of All England (the nation's first bishop) and spiritual leader of the worldwide Anglican Communion. So, there’s nothing unusual in Sarah Mullally being “installed” rather than “enthroned” as would have been the universal terminology between the reformation and the early twentieth century.  Linguistically, legally and theologically, the choice of words is a non-event and anyone who wishes to describe Dame Sarah as “enthroned” may do so without fear of condemnation, excommunication or a burning at the stake.  What is most likely is that of those few who notice, fewer still are likely to care.

Edition

Edition (pronounced ih-dish-uhn)

(1) One of a series of printings of the same publication, each issued at a different time and differing from another by alterations, additions etc (historically sometimes referred to as impressions).

(2) The format in which a work is published (single volume edition, abridged edition, leather-bound edition, French language edition etc).

(3) In newspaper production, a form of differentiation between different versions of the “same” issue (late edition, city edition etc) and used in a similar manner in radio & television broadcasting.

(4) In book collecting, as “first edition”, a copy of a book from its first release or print run.

(5) The whole number of impressions or copies of a book, newspaper etc, printed from one set of type at one time.

(6) A version of anything (physical and not), often (sometimes misleadingly) in forms such as “limited edition”, “special edition” etc).

1545–1555: From the French édition, from the Middle French, from the Latin ēditiōn- (publication), the stem of ēditiō (a bringing forth, publishing), the construct being ēdit, the past participle of ēdere (to give out; bring forth, produce) + -iōn (the suffix appended to a perfect passive participle to form a noun of action or process, or the result of an action or process).  When the word entered English in the sense of “version, translation, a form of a literary work” (and later “act of publishing”) the dominant linguistic influence was probably the Latin editionem (a bringing forth, producing (although in specialized use it also carried the meaning “a statement, an account rendered”, from the past-participle stem of ēdere, the construct being e(x) (in the sense of “out”) + -dere, a combining form of dare (to give), from the primitive Indo-European root do- (to give).  Edition is a noun; the noun plural is editions.  The adjective editionism is non-standard and was coined to describe the practice in commerce in which different “editions” of essentially the same product are brought to market in an effort to induce customers to purchase multiple items even though the difference between them may be little more than the packaging.  It's a cynically profitable approach (the additional production & distribution costs marginal) which works especially well for those with a dedicated (hopefully obsessional) following.

More Issues Than Vogue sweatshirt from Impressions.

In publishing and (sometimes vaguely) related fields, the terms “issue”, “edition” and “version” have come to be used so loosely that they sometimes function interchangeably but within the publishing industry, there are conventions of use: Issue traditionally was used to refer to a specific release of a recurring publication (magazine, journal, newspaper etc) and tended to be tied to the release sequence (“October 2024 Issue”, “Fall 2024 Issue”, “Issue No. 215” etc).  Issue can however be used also as “re-issue” which refers usually to a “re-print” of a previous edition although it’s not uncommon for blurbs like “re-issued with new foreword” or “re-issued in large print” to appear, the implication being the substantive content remains the same.  Edition was used of a particular form or version of a publication that might differ from previous ones in significant ways which might include text corrections, foreign language translations, or updates, thus descriptions like “German Language Edition”, “Second Edition” or “Abridged Edition.  Some editions (especially those which appear in an irregular sequence) actually give in their title some hint of the nature of what distinguishes them from what came before such as the convention adopted by the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic for their Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM).  What the APA does is change the number if a DSM is regarded as a “new edition” but retain the number with an appended “R” (revised) or “TR” (text revision) if it’s an “updated edition”.  Thus has appeared the DSM-III-R (1987), the DSM-IV-TR (2000) and the DSM-5-TR (2022).  There’s some overlap in use for version and this perhaps reflects the influence of technology because it tends to be used of a specific form or variant of a publication such as language (eg Spanish version), format (eg audio version) or materials used in the construction (eg e-book version) rather than an implication of a chronological or iterative update (which in publishing tends to be called an “edition”.  In that the industry differs from IT where version numbers are almost always sequential although the convention widely used in the 1980s in which something like “version 2.4.3” could be interpreted as 2=major release, 4=update and 3=bug fix has long fallen into disuse.

Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version (RSV), 1952 limited edition, first printing by Thomas Nelson & Sons, brown full leather binding with inlaid gold lettering, silk end paper and green cardboard slip case, custom bound by the Chicago Bible Society.  US$750 from Abe Books.

There are also special uses which assume a life of their own, notably the Revised Standard Version (RSV), an English translation of the Bible published in 1952 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the US.  The RSV was a revision of the American Standard Version (ASV, 1901) and was published to render the text into the modern English which readily would be understood by a contemporary reader of modest education.  The object was not to change the meaning of the text but to preserve it and paradoxically this required editing the classic verses written by William Tyndale (circa 1494–1536) or in the King James Version (KJV, 1611) because the over hundreds of years the language had evolved and the much of what was in the original needed to be interpreted for a general audience and the controversy of clerical gatekeepers between God and his people had for centuries been a thing.  The RSV however has not been the last word and those who track novel initializms will have been delighted by the appearance of the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV, released in 1989 by the National Council of Churches (NCC) and the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition (NRSVue), published in 2021.  Students of such things aren’t expecting the next update for at least a decade but finding a name might prove more of a challenge than editing the Old Testament’s Book of Leviticus for a modern audience although those who have worked in biblical forks have found alpha-numeric solutions such as RSV-2CE (Revised Standard Version, Second Catholic Edition (2006))

First Edition of James Joyce’s Ulysses, "Copy No 1", held in the National Library of Ireland.  It contains in Joyce's hand an inscription to the English political activist Harriet Shaw Weaver (1876–1961) who was for decades his patron.

A first edition of Ulysses (1922) by James Joyce (1882–1941) in 2009 sold on the opening day of an antiquarian book fair London for Stg£275,000, at the time a record for a twentieth century first edition.  Ulysses is regarded in the industry as the most collectable modern novel and the first editions, printed on hand-made Dutch fine-paper, are well-catalogued and this was number 45 of the first edition print run (all signed by the author) of 100, one of four not previously accounted for.  It had been sold originally by the Manhattan’s obviously subversive Sunwise Turn bookshop (Ulysses at the times banned in the US) and remained in the possession of the same family, stored in its original box and thus not exposed to light, accounting for the preservation of the construction.  Proving that dealers in literary circles can gush with the finest used car salesmen, the dealer who arranged the sale explained: “The color is amazing – this lovely Aegean Sea, Greek flag blue which would normally have darkened into a more dirty blue but because it has been in a box it is a complete thing of beauty.”  The almost pristine condition was a product also of its history of use, an inspection suggesting it was seemingly unread except for the well-thumbed final chapter where the most salacious passages can be found.  The existence of unread copies of well-known books is not unusual and those notorious for sitting neglected on the bookshelf include “challenging” texts such as A Theory of Justice (1971) by John Rawls (1921–2002), A Brief History of Time (1988) by Stephen Hawking (1942–2018) and Joyce’s own, bafflingly difficult Finnegans Wake (1939).  Intriguingly, the antiquarian book business also includes the category “pre-first edition” (any limited run copy of a book printed before the “first edition” is published).  The apparent oxymoron is explained by “first edition” being an industry definition rather than a literal description; pre-first editions thus analogous with “pre-production” or “final prototype” cars which (if they’ve survive the crusher which claims many) can be prized by collectors.

Among special editions there are, inter alia, “Collector's Editions”, “Anniversary Editions” and even, in one instance, the “So Fetch Edition”.

In commerce, “special editions” have become notable income generators for content providers and the movie business has embraced the concept with editions such as “the making of”, “bloopers & out-takes”, “director’s cut” and others and the idea isn’t new.  Led Zeppelin's eighth studio album (In Through the Out Door (1979)) originally was sold with an outer sleeve of plain brown paper, stamped with nothing more than the while the cardboard sleeve proper within was released with six different versions of the artwork.  Buyers would thus not know which sleeve they were selecting.  There’s nothing to suggest it was anything but a gimmick and neither the band nor the record company were expecting many to keep buying copies in the plain brown wrapped until they’d scored all six covers but there were press reports at the time of “Led Heads”, doing exactly that.  The industry took note.

Taylor Swift's The Anthology, one of 34 available editions of The Tortured Poets Department.

The attraction of releasing multiple versions of essentially the same product with variations restricted to some added content or detail differences in the packaging is that the additional costs in production and distribution are marginal yet there’s sometimes it’s possible to charge a premium for the “non-standard editions”.  The practice had for decades been quite a thing with car manufacturers but the music business came also to like the idea because, unlike with the cars where customers tended to buy one at a time, obsessive fans of musicians might be persuaded they needed several copies of what was essentially the same thing.  Leftist UK student site The Tab noted few music fans were as obsessive as Taylor Swift’s (b 1989) Swifties and, more significantly, they were also impressively numerous and thus an irresistible catchment of disposable income.  What The TAB noted was the almost simultaneous release of a remarkable (and apparently unprecedented) 34 versions of Ms Swift’s eleventh album, The Tortured Poets Department (2024), something which as well as generating revenue has the statistical benefit of afforcing her presence on the charts, every sale counting as a 1.0.  Some were technologically deterministic in than four were released as audio cassettes and nine were exclusively digital but most were essentially the same product except for the inclusion of a bonus track and some were available only through the retailer Target.  The most obsessive Swifties obviously could buy all 34 editions but for those which want just an exhaustive collection of the music, it appeared all was included on the accurately named The Anthology so there was that.  One day, all 34, still (where appropriate) unopened in their original packaging, will begin to appear on auction sites.  The approach attracted some adverse comment (which the Swifties doubtless ignored) and probably confirmed in the mind of J.D. Vance (b 1984; US vice president since 2025) that childless cat ladies are evil.

All editions: The Tab’s The Tortured Poets Department discography:

1. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Manuscript
2. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Albatross
3. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Bolter
4. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Black Dog
5. Standard album and The Manuscript
6. Standard and The Manuscript (signed)
7. Standard and But Daddy I Love Him (Acoustic)
8. Standard and Guilty As Sin? (Acoustic)
9. Standard and Down Bad (Acoustic)
10. Standard and Fortnight (Acoustic)
11. Standard and Fresh Out The Slammer (Acoustic)
12. Target exclusive with The Albatross
13. Target exclusive with The Bolter
14. Target exclusive with The Black Dog
15. Target exclusive vinyl
16. The Manuscript vinyl (pressing one)
17. The Manuscript vinyl (pressing two)
18. The Albatross vinyl
19. The Bolter vinyl
20. The Black Dog vinyl
21. The Manuscript vinyl
22. The Anthology
23. Standard and The Black Dog ‘voice memo’
24. Standard album and Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me voice memo
25. Standard album and Cassandra voice memo
26. Standard album (digital)
27. Standard album and Daddy I Love Him (Acoustic)
28. Standard album and loml (live from Paris)
29. Standard album and My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys (live from Paris)
30. Standard album and The Alchemy / Treacherous mashup (live from Paris)
31. The Manuscript cassette
32. The Bolter cassette
33. The Albatross cassette
34. The Black Dog cassette

1976 Lincoln Continental Mark IV, Lipstick edition.  The shade of red appears to be close to Dior's lipstick #744 (Party Red).

The car manufacturers have produced at least hundreds of “special editions” and while many of them really weren't “especially special”, they kept returning to the concept because it was lucrative, the things usually profitable to an extent exceeding greatly the nominal sum of their parts.  Quite how many have existed over the years is difficult to estimate because, in addition to the well-documented examples from manufacturers which were sold nationally or even globally, some were offered only briefly or regionally and barely advertised.  Additionally, dealers or sometimes an agglomeration of them would also conjure up their own "special editions" so the total of such things is probably in the thousands.  Sometimes, fashion houses were paid to lend their name, AMC teaming with Pierre Cardin, Levi Strauss (Volkswagen also had a denim-trimmed Beetle though without a specific brand attribution) & Oleg Cassini while the Lincoln Continental at times was offered with themes by Emilio Pucci, Cartier, Bill Blass and de Givenchy although the most memorable were the reputed 500 “Lipstick editions”, a study in red & white, quite a sight given the expanse of sheet metal and leather.

1969 Dodge Charger R/T SE (left), 1972 Chrysler VH Valiant Charger 770SE E55 (centre left), 1976 Holden HX LE (centre right) and 2002 Mazda Miata Special Edition (MX-5 in some markets) (right).

In most of the “special” editions, offered over the decades, it was only in the advertising or press kits that terms like “special edition” or “limited edition” appeared.  Sometimes though, such physical badges did appear on the vehicles. In the US, on the 1969 Dodge Chargers with the SE option, the badge included both “SE” & “Special Edition” while in Australia, only “SE” appeared on the 1972 Chrysler VH Valiant Charger 770SE E55 (one of the industry’s longer model names) although the marketing material called it a “Special Edition”, a usage borrowed from the parent corporation in the US and even the badge used was the same part as that which had been stuck on the 1970 Dodge Challenger SE.  Holden’s frankly cynical (but most profitable) 1976 LE spelled out “Limited Edition” under a “LE” (in a larger font) while Mazda used only the full term for the Miata (MX-5) Special Edition models.

Last Call: 2023 Dodge Challenger SRT Demon 170 (with two-piece “underwire”).

Dodge in 2023 embarked on a run of “special editions” on a grand scale, their “Last Call” programme a series of Dodge Challengers & Chargers packaged in a variety of ways but all distinguished by the inclusion of some flavor of Chrysler's third generation HEMI V8 (2003-), the significance of last call being the engine was being withdrawn from use in passenger-cars, a victim of government regulations intended to reduce vehicle emissions.  The programme yielded an array of Chargers & Challengers with specifications (ie horsepower and such) varying from “impressive” to “bonkers” and they were produced in batches of between 100 and 3,300.  The customers responded well with most editions soon “sold out” and, judging from the number with minimal mileage and still in “as delivered” condition which appeared rapidly on auction sites, many had been bought by those expected to “flip” them for profit.  Some did realise gains from the transactions but the market soon cooled, especially for the editions produced in the thousands but how many have been “stashed away” in the hope that years from now there will be those who will pay much, isn't known.

Last Call: 2023 Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat Black Ghost Special Edition (with one-piece “underwire”).  As well as the impressive engineering, the Last Call programme yielded some unusually long model names.

That strategy may play out well for those speculating on a surge in value in the years to come when, for a certain class of customer, the specifications of a Last Call Dodge will seem intoxicating in a world in which such things have long been extinct.  That was for many the plan but the future has been clouded by Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025), his second administration releasing plans to “roll-back” vehicle emission standards and Chrysler, thus encouraged, announced in 2025 the HEMI V8 would re-appear in passenger vehicles, a decision which wouldn't have much troubled the board because the market has greeted the replacement straight-six engines with restrained enthusiasm.  Doubtless there will be those who noted Chrysler's announcement and, contemplating the thought of their carefully stored Challenger(s) becoming a depreciating asset, will have consulted lawyers to find if grounds for redress exist, the argument being they were “induced” to purchase on the promise of a “last call” being exactly that.  Unfortunately, there is a precedent and it's not encouraging.

Another “last call”: The “last American convertible” ceremony, Cadillac Clark Street Assembly Plant, Detroit, Michigan, 21 April 1976.

In the US, by the late 1960s, sale of convertibles had for years been declining and with the growing volume of government regulations about vehicle safety (which included “roll-over standards”, the industry was working on the assumption the body-style would soon be banned.  Given the declining demand for such things the manufacturers were sanguine about this and even pleased to have something to have to use to “trade off” against regulations they definitely did not want imposed.  By 1975 the Cadillac Eldorado was the only one of the few big US convertibles still available selling in reasonable numbers but the platform was in its final years and with no guarantee a version based on the new, smaller Eldorado (to debut in 1978) would enjoy similar success, General Motors (GM) decided it wasn’t worth the trouble but, sensing a “market opportunity”, promoted the 1976 model as the “Last American convertible”.  Sales spiked, some to buyers who purchased the things as investments, assuming in years to come they’d have a collectable and book a tidy profit on-selling to those who wanted a (no longer available) big drop-top.  Not only did GM use the phrase as a marketing hook; when the last of the 1976 run rolled off the Detroit production line on 21 April, the PR department, having recognized a photo opportunity, conducted a ceremony, complete with a “THE END OF AN ERA 1916-1976”) banner and a “LAST” Michigan license plate.  The final 200 Fleetwood Eldorado convertibles were “white on white on white”, identically finished in white with white soft-tops, white leather seat trim with red piping, white wheel covers, red carpeting & a red instrument panel; red and blue hood (bonnet) accent stripes marked the nation’s bicentennial year.

The “last American convertible” ceremony, Cadillac Clark Street Assembly Plant, Detroit, Michigan, 21 April 1976.

Of course in 1984 a convertible returned to the Cadillac catalogue so some of those who had stashed away their 1976 models under wraps in climate controlled garages weren’t best pleased and litigation ensued, a class action filed against GM alleging the use of the (now clearly incorrect) phrase “Last American Convertible” had been “deceptive or misleading” in that it induced the plaintiffs to enter a contract which they’d not otherwise have undertaken.  The suit was dismissed on the basis of there being insufficient legal grounds to support the claim, the court ruling the phrase was a “non-actionable opinion” rather than a “factual claim”, supporting GM's contention it had been a creative expression rather than a strict statement of fact and thus did not fulfil the criteria for a “deceptive advertising” violation.  Additionally, the court found there was no actual harm caused to the class of plaintiffs as they failed to show they had suffered economic loss or that the advertisement had led them to make a purchase they would not otherwise have made.  That aspect of the judgment has since been criticized with dark hints it was one of those “what’s good for General Motors is good for the country” moments but the documentary evidence did suggest GM at the time genuinely believed the statement to be true and no action was possible against the government on several grounds, including the doctrines of remoteness and unforeseeability.  If HEMI V8 powered coupés and sedans soon re-appear in Dodge's showrooms, it may not be only Greta Thunberg (b 2003) who will be upset.

Limited Edition, less limited profit: The Holden LE

1976 HX Holden LE

By the mid 1970s, the market had come to prefer the cheaper, smaller and easier to use cassette tapes which meant warehouses were soon full of the once desirable 8-track players and buyers were scarce.  In Australia, GMH (General Motor Holden) by 1975 had nearly a thousand in the inventory which also bulged with 600-odd Monaro body-shells, neither of which were attracting customers; fashions change and both had become unfashionable.  Fortunately, GMH was well-acquainted with the concept of the "parts-bin special edition" whereby old, unsaleable items are bundled together and sold at what appears a discount, based for advertising purposes on a book-value retail price there’s no longer any chance of realizing.  Thus created was the high-priced, limited edition LE (which stood for "Limited Edition", the Monaro name appearing nowhere although all seem still to use the name), in metallic crimson with gold pin striping, golf "honeycomb" aluminium wheels, fake (plastic) burl walnut trim and crushed velour (polyester) upholstery; in the 1970s, this was tasteful.  Not designed for the purpose, the eight-track cartridge player crudely was bolted to the console but five-hundred and eighty LEs were made, GMH pleasantly surprised at how quickly they sold with no need to resort to discounting.  When new, they listed at Aus$11,500, a pleasingly profitable premium of some 35% above the unwanted vehicle on which it was based; these days, examples are advertised for sale for (Aus$) six-figure sums and anyone who now buys a LE does so for reasons other than specific-performance.  Although of compact size (in US terms) and fitted with a 308 cubic inch (5.0 litre) V8, it could achieve barely 110 mph (175 km/h), acceleration was lethargic by earlier and (much) later standards yet fuel consumption was high; slow and thirsty the price to be paid for the early implementations of the emission control plumbing bolted to engines designed during more toxic times.      

1971 Holden HQ Monaro LS 350

The overwrought and bling-laden Holden HX typified the tendency during the 1970s and of US manufacturers and their colonial off-shoots to take a fundamentally elegant design and, with a heavy-handed re-style, distort it into something ugly.  A preview of the later “malaise era” , it was rare for a facelift to improve the original.  The 1971 HQ Holden was admired for an austerity of line and fine detailing; what followed over three subsequent generations lacked that restraint.  The HX LE was one of a number of "special" and "limited" editions offered during the era and it remains one of the few remembered.

In English, malaise was an unadapted loanword from the French malaise (ill ease), the construct being mal- (bad, badly) + aise (ease).  It was used to describe (1) a feeling of general bodily discomfort, fatigue or unpleasantness (sometimes associated with the onset of illness), (2) an ambiguous feeling of mental or moral depression (the sense tending more to “melancholy” than “angst”) and (3) ill will or hurtful feelings for others.  The US cars of the years between 1974-1984 (some say it went on a bit longer) came to be called “malaise era” cars, the name from the thoughtful but perhaps unfortunate “Crisis of Confidence” address Jimmy Carter (1924-2024; US president 1977-1981) delivered in July 1979.  Carter’s years of malaise remains emblematic the America of the late 1970s (a time of stagflation, oil-shock induced energy price-rises & shortages, high interest rates and general gloom) but the details have become blurred.  The use of the word “malaise” emerged from a retreat the president had convened at the Camp David retreat after concluding neither he, his advisors or the entire machinery of government could come up with solution to the nation’s many problems.  Attended by notables from the clergy, academia and other realms including the governor of Arkansas, BillClinton (b 1946; US president 1993-2001), the curious event prompted one historian to describe it as “…the most remarkable exercise in presidential navel-gazing in American history…” but what did lodge in Carter’s memory was an observation by the pollster Patrick Caddell (1950–2019) that after some fifteen years of trauma including assassinations, race riots, the war in Vietnam and Watergate, the nation was experiencing a “malaise” and the president decided this notion would be the centrepiece of his address to the people.

Malaise: 1978 Ford Mustang II King Cobra.

An emblematic malaise era machine, twenty-first century viewers would be surprised to learn it was possible for a relatively small, light car with a 302 cubic inch (4.9 litre) V8 to deliver such anaemic performance.  However, the Mustang II (1973-1978) was the the right car for the right car (debuting some weeks before the first oil shock) and was a great success.

The word “malaise” wasn’t included in the text of Carter’s speech but, replete with phrases like “…strikes at the very heart and soul and spirit of our national will…” & “…crisis of confidence…”, the tone was clear and almost universally the press called it the “malaise speech”.  Despite what has long been the popular perception, at the time the speech was not a political disaster and was well-received, Carter’s approval ratings surging; it was only as the year unfolded he came to be damned by his own words and if any single term is now associated with his unhappy single term, it's “malaise”.  As was customary for presidential addresses of this nature, the speech was nationally televised live by the three major commercial networks (ABC (American Broadcasting Company), CBS (Columbia Broadcasting System) & NBC (National Broadcasting Company)) and simultaneously broadcast by many radio stations, the total audience estimated at some 65 million (there was then no FoxNews but it's not difficult to predict what the nature of that commentary would have been).  Given the coverage, it’s certain the address contributed greatly to the eventual public disillusionment with the president and may thus have been an example of videomalaise (a term from late 1990s political science which linked voters’ decreasing trust in politicians with depictions of the latter on televised news).

Honorable exception: 1973 Pontiac Firebird Trans-Am SD-455.

Available only on the Firebird (Formula or Trans-AM) in 1973 & 1974, the SD-455 was one of the few bright spots of the malaise era although it did need slightly to be detuned for commercial release, its original 310 (HP) horsepower configuration able to pass the EPA's (Environmental Protection Authority) emission tests only if a devious "cheater" device was installed (shades of Volkswagen's later "dieselgate" although Pontiac got off with nothing more than a "slap on the wrist" rather than the billions it cost the equally guilty Germans).  The production version was rated at 290 HP which was still enough to make it the powerful US car of its time.

The "malaise era" cars were so named because compared with the previous generations, they were heavier, slower, thirstier and less pleasant to drive, a collection of characteristics which weren't the fault of President Carter but he had the misfortune to be in the White House at the same time.  They were of course safer and less polluting but those advantages were hidden while the ugliness of the battering-ram bumper-bars, reduced power and sometimes tiresome driving characteristics were obvious.  When speaking of these mostly unlamented machines, the phrase “Malaise Era” is believed to have been coined by writer Murilee Martin (the pen name of Phil Greden) who used it first in 2007 on the website Jalopnik.