Woolsack

Woolsack (pronounced woo l-sak)

(1) A sack intended to carry wool (sometimes wool-sack).

(2) The speaker’s chair in the House of Lords, one of a number of cloth-covered seats or divans, stuffed with wool, once used also by law lords, but best known as the seat of the Lord Chancellor and now the Lord Speaker.

(3) A reference to the historic Lord Chancellor's office.

(4) The historic name for the modern Australian wool bale.

1250-1300: Middle English compound word wool + sack.  Wool came from the Middle English wolle, from Old English wull, from Proto-Germanic wullō (cognate with the Saterland Frisian wulle, the Low German wull, the Dutch wol, German wolle and Norwegian ull.  All are thought derived from the primitive hwĺ̥hneh, thought also to have influenced the Welsh gwlân, the Latin lāna, the Lithuanian vìlna, the Russian во́лос (vólos), the Balau влас and the Albanian lesh.  All meant variously “wool, hair, fleece”.

Sack was from the Middle English sak (bag, sackcloth) from the Old English sacc (sack, bag) and sæcc (sackcloth, sacking), both from the Proto-Germanic sakkuz (sack), from the Classical Latin saccus (large bag), derived from the Ancient Greek σάκκος ((sákkos (bag of coarse cloth)).  Ultimate source is though Semitic, possibly Phoenician.  Word was cognate with the Dutch zak, the German Sack, the Swedish säck, the Hebrew שַׂק‎ ((śaq, sack, sackcloth)), the Aramaic סַקָּא‎, the Classical Syriac ܣܩܐ‎, Ge'ez ሠቅ (śäḳ), the Akkadian saqqu and the Egyptian sꜣgꜣ (to gather together).  There are sack factions among the etymologists.  Some suggest sack was originally Egyptian, a nominal derivative of sꜣq that also yielded the Coptic sok and made its way into Greek by way of a Semitic intermediary.  Others reject this view on the technical grounds that an originally Egyptian word would be expected to yield the Hebrew סַק rather than שַׂק (only they understand this stuff).  This faction posits the Coptic and Greek words are both borrowings from Semitic, with the Coptic word perhaps developing via Egyptian sꜣgꜣ.

The Horsesack

The Woolsack is the seat of the Lord Speaker in the House of Lords, the UK’s upper house although until the constitutional reforms of the twenty-first century, that was the role of the lord chancellor, an office dating at least from the Norman Conquest though references to the title appear as early as 605.  The New Labour government attempted in 2003 to abolish the office but a review determined it couldn’t be done without an act of Parliament and that was a distraction the government at the time preferred not to inflict on itself.  Instead, enabling legislation providing for the creation of the office of Lord Speaker and a redefinition of the role of lord chancellor was drafted in 2004 and, after a few squabbles, received royal assent a year later with the structural changes effected by 2006.

The Lord Chancellor (once styled as Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain) is in the UK’s order of precedence, the highest-ranking among the extant Great Officers of State, out-ranked only by certain royal personages and the Archbishop of Canterbury.  A lord chancellor is appointed by the sovereign on the advice of the prime-minister and before the acts of union which made them constituent parts of Great Britain, there were separate lord chancellors for the Kingdom of England (including the Principality of Wales) and the Kingdom of Scotland, the office of Lord Chancellor of Ireland disestablished in 1922, consequent upon the Anglo-Irish Treaty (1921) which granted Ireland a considerable autonomy which in the years to come would evolve into independence.  That the office of Lord Chancellor for Ireland existed as early as the twelfth century seems certain but whether this was something distinct from the English office is unclear and the oldest surviving records which verify a separate Irish office date from the thirteenth century.  For centuries the Irish appointee was a clergyman, usually English and while lay chancellors tended to be the rule after the Reformation (no cleric appointed after 1665), Irish-born appointments were rare before the mid-1800s.

Emulated woolsack: A pregnant Lindsay Lohan in Sandro Ona sack dress, April 2023.  Historically, crocheted garments were fashioned from wool but the outer fabric of Sandro's Ono was 100% cotton (the lining 62% viscose & 38% polyamide) illustrating what's possible with modern techniques.

Today, as minister for justice, the Lord Chancellor sits in cabinet and is responsible for the administration and independence of the courts.  In this detail things differ from the Australian practice because in the UK, both the attorney-general and solicitor-general sit in parliament, although, by modern convention, the former now does not attend cabinet except when summoned to provide advice.  New Labour’s constitutional changes not only moved the roll of presiding over the Lords to the newly-created lord speaker but also ended the lord chancellor’s roll as head of the judiciary in England and Wales and presiding judge of the Chancery Division of the High Court, these duties assumed respectively by the lord chief justice and the chancellor of the High Court.  The rationale of the changes in 2005 was to give constitutional effect to the separation of powers (in the British context a division between the legislature & executive (which passes and administers the laws) and the judiciary (which interprets and enforces the laws).  In practice, the distinction had for many years been observed but structurally, it looked very murky, the lord chancellor as a cabinet member belonging to (1) the executive, on the Woolsack as presiding officer in the Lords belonging to (2) the legislature and as a judge in the chancery division, belonging to (3) the judiciary, ruling on laws he or she had earlier participated in passing.

It was the fourteenth century Edward III (1312–1377; King of England 1327-1377) who commanded his Lord Chancellor, when in council, should sit on the wool bale which became known as The Woolsack, the king wishing to draw attention to the crucial importance of the wool trade to the economy of medieval England.  In 1938, to symbolize imperial unity, the Lords directed the Woolsack be re-stuffed with wool from throughout the empire at which point it was discovered the Woolsack was actually stuffed with horsehair.  Even when re-stuffed, because of the construction, some horsehair had to be added to ensure structural integrity, one Lord Chancellor, (Quintin Hogg, 1907–2001 who first entered parliament in 1938, Lord Chancellor 1970-1974 & 1979–1987), noting in 1986 that “wise Victorian ancestors” were responsible for the substitution.

As a body, the House of Lords was once thought a dignified place where deliberations were thoughtful and the freedom from electoral contests meant the place was less constrained by the rancour and political clatter which characterized the House of Commons although their lordships could be realists, one lamenting the prime minister seemed to think them "a bunch or disreputable old gentlemen".  It's certainly not the place it was.  That Gordon Brown (b 1951; UK prime-minister 2007-2010) in 2008 cynically ennobled a figure like Peter "Mandy" Mandelson (b 1953) to take a seat in the house, where once had sat Wellington, Palmerston and Curzon, was an indication of what standards had descended to in the twenty-first century; Boris Johnson's (b 1964; UK prime-minister 2019-2022) resignation honours list (which would once have been thought scandalous) attracted amusement rather than scorn.  It's also an institution rarely thought conspicuous for efficiency.  When selecting the two British judges to sit among the eight on the bench of the IMT (International Military Tribunal) for the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946) there had been a bit of a squabble in the upper reaches of the state.  The attorney-general had to the prime minister insisted they “should be persons of high legal standing and experience” and with that the FO (Foreign Office) concurred, emphasizing they needed to be “as senior as their American counterparts and that first-class men were needed given the international importance of the trial and its probable impact on international law.”  However, the Lord Chancellor’s office “preferred to believe that imminent appointments to the ICJ (International Court of Justice) at the Hague were of greater importance, and were reluctant to spare a Lord of Appeal on the grounds that without him legal business in the House of Lords would grind to halt.”  That thought appealed to someone at the FO who commented tartly: “that business there is surely often rather leisurely.”

Sack

Sack (pronounced sak)

(1) A large bag of strong, coarsely woven material, as for grain, potatoes, or coal.

(2) The amount a sack holds; also called sackful the amount contained in a sack, sometimes used as a unit of measurement.

(3) A bag, usually large.

(4) In slang, dismissal or discharge from employment.

(5) In slang, the bed, often as “in the sack”.

(6) In fashion, a loose-fitting dress, as a gown with a Watteau back, especially one fashionable from the late seventeenth to the late eighteenth century (also spelled sacque); formerly, a loose-fitting hip-length jacket, cloak or cape.

(7) A loose-fitting coat, jacket, or cape.

(8) In the slang of baseball, a base.

(9) In the slang of agriculture in South Midland, US, the udder of a cow.

(10) In the slang of American Football, to tackle the quarterback behind the line of scrimmage before the player is able to throw a pass.

(11) In fashion, as sack-line, a loose-fitting, vaguely tubular, enveloping style of dresses and coats which emerged first in 1957.

(12) To pillage or loot after capture; to plunder.

(13) A strong, light-colored wine, traditionally imported from Spain and the Canary Islands.

(14) In cricket, a run scored off a ball not struck by the batsman: allotted to the team as an extra (on sundry) and not to the individual batsman; now usually called a bye (archaic).

(15) In vulgar slang, usually as ball-sack (although there are imaginative variations): the scrotum.

(16) In fashion, as sack coat; a kind of coat worn by men, and extending from top to bottom without a cross seam.

A dated form of sac (pouch in a plant or animal).

Pre 1000: From the Middle English noun sak, sake & sakke (bag, sackcloth), from the Old English sacc (sack, bag) & sæcc (sackcloth, sacking), both from the Proto-West Germanic sakku, from the late Proto-Germanic sakkuz (sack), from the Latin saccus (bag, sack, sackcloth), from the Ancient Greek σάκκος (sákkos) bag made from goat hair, sieve, burlap, large cloak (as for a wedding dress), from the Semitic;  In the Hebrew and Phoenician, a śaq was a “cloth made of hair, bag, mourning dress”.  The use to describe the pillage of a city or other settlement after conquest dates from 1540–1550; from Middle French phrase mettre à sac (to put to pillage, literally “to put (loot) in a sack”), sac in this sense from the Italian sacco (looting, loot), a shortened form of saccomano, from the Middle High German sakman (pillager).  As applies to alcohol, Sack was first recorded in 1525–1535, from the French (vin) sec (dry (wine)), from the Latin siccus (dry).  It was cognate with the Dutch zak, the German Sack, the Swedish säck, the Danish sæk, the Hebrew שַׂק‎ (śaq) (sack, sackcloth), the Aramaic סַקָּא‎, the Classical Syriac ܣܩܐ‎, (Ge'ez) ሠቅ (śäḳ), the Akkadian saqqu and the Egyptian sꜣgꜣ. A doublet of sac.  It was a long time ago and, records being scant, some etymologists suggest the word was originally Egyptian, a nominal derivative of sꜣq (to gather or put together) that also yielded the sok (sackcloth) and the Greek borrowing came via a Semitic intermediary.  Others reject this, noting that such an originally Egyptian word would be expected to yield the Hebrew סַק rather than שַׂק‎ and instead argue the Coptic and Greek words are both borrowed from the Semitic, with the Coptic word perhaps developing via Egyptian sꜣgꜣ.  The Japanese is the descendent is theサック (sakku) and historically, sack was an alternative spelling of sac (sacrifice).  Sack, sacking & sackage are nouns and verbs, sacker is a noun, sacked is a verb & adjective, sackful is a noun & adjective and sackable & sack-like are adjectives; the noun plural is sacks.  The adjectives sackesque & sackish have been used by critics of fashion but both are non-standard while the noun sackability is used purely for comic effect.  

Lindsay Lohan adopted the sack-line early and from time-to-time returns to the look.

Historically, the capacity of a sack has been defined in law.  Although long archaic and subject to (sometimes regional) variations depending on commodity, the old English measure of weight, usually of wool, was equal to 13 stone (182 lb), or 26 stone (364 lb).  The term survives in the Woolsack, on which sits the presiding officer of the House of Lords, the upper chamber of the UK’s parliament (formerly the Lord Chancellor, now the Lord Speaker).  Because there’s never been a universally accept definition for sack (size, shape, construction or capacity), what some call a sack others will call a bag, pack, pouch carryall, portmanteau, satchel, tote etc or the constructs haversack, knapsack, rucksack.  The only (loosely applied) conventions of use appear to be that bags etc tend to be smaller and sacks larger and made from more coarse material.  Folklore said to be medieval held that it was a bag if, when filled with potatoes, it could be carried by a woman but, it if demanded the strength of a man, it was a sack; story is likely apocryphal.  The synonyms for the plundering of cities include pillage, loot & ransack.  The idiomatic uses of sack number at least in the dozens.

Sack dresses by Hubert de Givenchy, Spring Summer 1958 collection, Paris 1957.

Givenchy’s sack-line debuted in their spring-summer line on 1957's catwalks, Balenciaga showing a not dissimilar style just a few weeks later.  Both were essentially an evolution of the “Shirt Dress” which had attracted some attention the previous season and signaled a shift from the fitted, structured silhouettes which had been the signature motif of the decade.  The sack-line dresses were described by some critics as “shapeless” or “formless”, presumably because they lacked any suggestion of the waistline which had existed for so long as fashion’s pivot-point.  However, the forms the sack-line took would have been recognizable to anyone familiar with fluid dynamics or the behavior of air in wind tunnels, a waistless dress which narrowed severely towards the hem one of the optimal aerodynamic shapes.  That was presumably a coincidence but Givenchy’s press-kits at the 1957 shows did claim that “More than a fashion, it’s actually a way of dressing” and one which must have found favor with at least some women, not unhappy at being able to ditch the forbidding and restrictive, high-waisted girdles needed to achieve the wasp-wasted “New Look” which Dior had introduced to a post-war world anxious to escape wartime austerity.

Sack dress # 164 by Cristóbal Balenciaga, Spring Summer 1958 collection, Paris 1957.

Balenciaga’s sack dress was in 1957 probably more exaggerated than Givenchy’s; loose and enveloping, it brought to fashion an unprecedented gap between body and garment, emphasizing how radical a shift it was the long tradition of using idealized version of the female form as the basis for the tailored shape, designers making great efforts in their cuts to emulate aspects of human movement in the behavior of fabrics.  The sack-line disconnected the two, women now feeling an moving within, rather than with the dress; it was really quite subversive to suggest clothes might be designed for the comfort of women rather than the gaze of men.  Gone were the darts, belts and bands which had so carefully be crafted to be suggestive of that idealized shape, the woman’s body now and abstract entity which, within its enveloping cocoon could be a very different that that seen usually on the catwalks.  Within the fashion industry, the enthusiasm with which the sack-line was received was restrained but cultural critics, then less numerous but perhaps more erudite than today, were intrigued, modernity welcomed in a field which had never embraced the avant-garde in the way of art, literature and architecture, the link to functionalism especially noted.  It has aged well and been influential although it would begat a less stylish variation on the theme, the dreaded "tent dress".

Marilyn Monroe in burlap sack dress, 1951.

The sack-line which appeared on the haute couture runways in 1957 wasn’t an entirely new style, a loose-fitting dress, often as a gown with a Watteau back had been fashionable from the late seventeenth to the late eighteenth century (when it was also spelled as both sack & sacque) and even before that the terms had been applied to a a loose-fitting hip-length jacket, cloak or cape and later there was the sack coat; a kind of coat worn by men, the cut extending from top to bottom without a cross seam.  There was however a more recent take, Twentieth Century Fox’s PR operation in 1951 taking advantage of a bitchy comment from a Hollywood columnist (plus ça change) to issue a series of promotional photographs of Marilyn Monroe wearing a literal “sack dress”.  There are a number of versions of the tale but the one most often told is that Ms Monroe, then twenty-four and wearing a revealing red dress, prompting one gossip columnist to snipe that she looked “cheap and vulgar” and would have been better advised to wear “a potato sack.”  Twentieth Century Fox put her in one.

That may or may not be true and it could be the publicity people just wanted some imaginative images, the sex-kitten’s soft curves and the utilitarian angularity of a potato sack quite a juxtaposition and if the intention was to prove she was so beautiful she could make even a potato sack look good, the point was well made.  The photographs were used in Stare magazine, several months before Playboy would be launched with her on the cover and Stare included an interview in which she’s alleged to have said she didn’t care for potatoes because they tend to “put on weight” but it must have been a more tolerant age because there’s no record of her being attracting the opprobrium directed by sections of the vegetable industry at President George HW Bush (George XLI, 1924-2018; US president 1989-1993) after he declared he didn’t like broccoli and it was banned from Air Force One.  Stare noted Ms Monroe had a better political antennae than the president, for whatever her dietary strictures, “…she decided to do something for the potatoes!”

It was during the depression years of the 1930s that flour companies in the US became aware women were turning their cotton flour sacks into clothing, cloths and more.  Money was scarce and seeing the possibility of increasing sales at what would be a marginal cost, one manufacturer began to package their product in sacks decorated with attractive patterns.  Now such a move would be thought part of the “circular economy” but during the Great Depression, it was something that became popular because of economic necessity, “repair, reuse, make do, and don't throw anything away” a widely-spread motto of the time.  Other manufacturers soon followed and professional designers were sometimes used to provide more appealing patterns.

Fashion as economic imperative.

The idea of recycling cotton sacks actually pre-dated the years of the Great Depression; although better documented, the events of the 1930s were not unique and in the cyclical nature of economies, down-turns, recessions and depressions appear with some frequency.  Sack clothing, common in the nineteenth century, was still an important component in rural domestic economies in both Canada and the US during the 1920s but it was the effects of the Great Depression which saw the practice spread to the most deprived of the urban population and the most commonly used sacks were those of a convenient size, typically the cotton items in which flour and sugar were sold.  The slang in those years for the recycled clothing was “feedsack,” or “chicken linen”.

The practice declined in the early 1940s as the economy improved but continued during the war years because there were shortages of cotton and much of what was available was devoted to military needs and decorative fabric for dress-making was sometimes unobtainable.  As prosperity overtook the land in the 1950s, the use of sacks to make clothing faded and by 1953, many manufacturers had switched from cotton to much cheaper paper sacks.

Tergiversate

Tergiversate (Pronounced tur-ji-ver-seyt)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chopstick diplomacy.

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

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