Hikikomori

Hikikomori (pronounced hic-hee-kee-koh-moh-ree)

(1) A mode of behaviour in which an individual becomes a recluse from society, typically remaining isolated, sometimes for decades, in a single room at home.

(2) An individual exhibiting this behaviour for a sustained period.

1990s: From the Japanese noun 引きこもり or 引き籠もり (hikikomori), (literally “pulling inward; being confined”), from the verb hikikomoru (引きこもる).  The construct was 引く (hiku) (to pull, to draw back, to withdraw) + 籠る or こもる (komoru) (to shut oneself away; to remain secluded; to stay inside).  So, the literal translation is something like “to withdraw and remain shut in” but, used to mean “one who has withdrawn into seclusion”, the more common verbal shorthand is “shut in” (in the sense of “acute social withdrawal” or something in that vein).  Although once regarded as a uniquely Japanese phenomenon, it’s not now thought culturally specific, that perception a product of the condition and its extent first being widely documented in Japanese publications.  In Japan, the usual clipping is hikki.  Hikikomori is a noun; the noun plural is plural hikikomori or hikikomoris.

The element komoru is not recent; historically it referred not only to people but also generally to the concept of “being shut away or enclosed” or natural features such as a mountain at times when it was encircled by clouds or a land mass visible only at low tide (a tidal island or tombolo (a sand bar or path of dirt that connects this land to the coastline when the tide falls)).  More typically however it was use of individuals opting for whatever reason to “remain indoors” (such as those who, for religious reasons, might retreat to a mountain hermitage, either for a period of contemplation (that might last a lifetime) or to escape a society they had come to view as in some way “unsatisfactory”.  The concept of hikikomori is different in that those “afflicted” are not deemed to be motivated by a religious calling or philosophical position but instead “suffering” a visceral reaction to the condition of society or their life, manifesting as an urge to retreat from the outside world to a “safe” enclosed space.  This aligns with the modern use in psychiatry.

Hikikomori in a hoodie by @do-triph.

So use of the verb hikikomoru goes back generations but the noun hikikomori came into use only in the 1990s when the psychiatric sense was popularized in the book Shakaiteki Hikikomori: Owaranai Shishunki (Social Withdrawal: Adolescence Without End, 1998) by Japanese psychiatrist Dr Tamaki Saitō san (b 1961).  For reasons both structural and historic, it’s rare for concepts in psychiatry to have origins in Japan so hikikomori enjoys an unusual place in modern nosology (the characteristics or scientific understanding of a specific disease).  Internationally however, hikikomori “caught on” and became part of the standard jargon; that was not because there was any particular interest in categorizing uniquely Japanese phenomena but because clinicians in other places had for some time been aware the behaviour was not uncommon in their countries.  The Western media soon took an interest in hikikomoru because editors knew stories about “disaffected adolescents locking themselves in their bedrooms for years” would be good productive clickbait, readers likely to be attracted by tales of troubled geniuses or depressed emos.

The companion terms are the English language acronym NEET (Not in Employment, Education or Training) and the Japanese オタク (Otaku).  Otaku (best translated as “geek” or “nerd”, reflecting the bias in use towards computers or other tech) emerged from fandom community associated with Macross (a Japanese science fiction mecha anime media franchise), the use derived from お宅 (otaku) (you), from the honorific form 宅 (taku) (home), thus the notion of Macross being “your home” (ie one’s natural environment”).  From the Macross obsessives, use extended to “obsessive interest in something” (especially (and often exclusively) Japanese anime or manga).  While originally a derogatory term, fandom communities “reclaimed” otaku as a self-descriptor although it does continue to be applied disparagingly.  In the West, it tends to be neutral, used to refer to anyone with a strong interest (obsessive or not) in anime or manga.  NEET is applied not to all those “unemployed” but only those thought apathetic or who exhibit the characteristics of a hikikomori but in sub-groups, the play on words with the English “neat” (in the sense “excellent, desirable; interesting; cool”) prevails.

Mental Health Daily's choice of an image capturing the hikikomori experience.

The hikikomori came to be known as “the lost generation” and that it was a thing identified in the 1990s and celebrated (in a sense, that can be the right word) in Dr Saitō san’s 1998 book is interesting because it was the 1990s that came to be known as “the lost decade”).  Although there were of course the inevitable fluctuations in the growth curve, over the 40 years between 1949-1989, the trend for the Japanese economy in most indicative measures (GDP (gross domestic product), GNP (gross national product), RPP (relative purchasing power), AMWE (average male weekly earning), corporate profits, exports, trade surplus etc) tended upwards and while, given the country’s paucity of natural resources, that was an achievement in some ways even more remarkable than the Wirtschaftswunder (“economic miracle”) witnessed in the FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany, 1949-1990) over the same period, the stellar performance was not without consequences and some of those consequences triggered reactions.  The strength of Japanese economy was by the 1980s producing notable distortions in the world’s production and trading systems and that of course affected currencies, as aspect of the international system distorted still further by this happening at a time when currencies weren’t allowed to “float” to the extent now familiar, governments and central banks (in some places, for this purpose, the distinction between the two institutions not significant) sometimes literally “setting the rate” by fiat.  All this required trips to Tokyo by the US Treasury Secretary to negotiate the devaluation of the US dollar and it was in the 1970s & 1980s the deindustrialization of the US economy really began, later forces such as automation, computing, the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) proving most adept at capitalism and AI (artificial intelligence) being building blocks in what continues to evolve as the “new model”.  US politicians of course responded to this by inducing Japan, the FRG and others running substantial trade surpluses with the US to shift some production to the US and that to some extent reduced the imbalances but, factories and assembly lines in the 1980s not being what they were a generation earlier, US employment levels or incomes certainly weren't restored.

The Japanese economy continued to flourish and the fear in the US was often expressed as “Japan taking over the world”.  That this might be done by the use of Japanese money was a thought bad enough but to add insult to injury, much of the money was in US dollars gained by Americans paying Japanese companies for the sort of stuff once manufactured in their now shuttered factories.  Against that threat, the world’s most potent military (a chunk of which was allocated to the defense of Japan) and an impressive arsenal of thermo-nuclear weapons able to be delivered anywhere on the planet was not a great deal of help.  What was a help was economic reality because by 1989 one part of the Japanese economy had developed into a disproportionately large bubble; at this bubble’s peak, the notional value of Tokyo real estate market was greater than the entire continental US.  Although obviously not something that could have been realized in the “real world” (ie had every piece of real estate in Tokyo been offered for sale at its nominal valuation), the numbers were indicative of one of economic history’s most notable imbalances.  In a kind of national hubris (an exuberance as “irrational” as anything seen since the Dutch “tulip bubble”), the combination of extreme over-confidence by speculators and ultra-loose credit policies by lenders had resulted in land values in Japanese cities (Tokyo the most extreme example) coming to be decoupled from economic reality (and, because of the “extrapolation effect” by which especially the value of commercial floor-space was calculated within markets), ultimately, basic mathematical reality too.

Hikikomore by 1gorman on Deviant Art.

An (extreme) example of a similar disconnection from reality would be Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) applying the metrics and methods of valuation (that for decades have served him well) to news cosmologists had used their new “big telescopes” to discover a “perfect Earth-like” planet (one of the so-called exoplanets (any planet located outside of our solar system)) a “mere” hundred light-years distant.  Obviously, this planet (or at least what it was a century ago). with an ideal climate, ample resources, stable geology etc, would contain much desirable real estate so the valuations attached to this unspoiled paradise would’ in other circumstances, be high.  There might be some uncertainly if it couldn’t be determined if the place had inhabitants (on Earth such folk have proved troublesome in land-grabs) but that’s just something speculators have to “factor in”.  The problem however is that however desirable might be the exoplanet’s lands and seas, they’re a “stranded asset” because of the distance from Earth; we cannot contemplate travelling a single light-year, let alone a hundred.

Safely tucked up: Lindsay Lohan in Hikikomori mode.

So distance can be an intrusive reality, “stranding an asset”.  That’s what the math in 1989 did to Japanese real estate values, the extrapolated numbers meaning floor space in office buildings became at once “the most expensive on the planet” and unrealizable as convertible into cash; the asset became stranded in its bubble.  Still, the frothy days of 1989 must trigger a warm glow of nostalgia among the few able to take their profits and “exit” before the crash of 1990.  When the “bubble burst”, the effects were profound because, unlike the Dutch “tulip bubble” now understood to have had relatively little long-term effect on the wider economy of the Netherlands, in Japan, the crash in the real estate market trigged a cascade of consequences affecting the stock market, over-exposed banks and the wider economy.  In retrospect, that it was a bubble seems so obvious but then, in retrospect, much often does: In 1989, the cumulative value of the Japanese property market was four times that of the US (the latter with more than twice the population and 25 times the land mass); metropolitan Tokyo alone was worth more than the entire continental US and the 1.15 km² grounds of the Imperial Palace were valued at up to US$5.1 trillion (greater than the entire state of California).  So assets can become “stranded” in a number of ways but the concept is much the same: Whatever may appear the “book value”, if this number can never be translated to “real” economic value (not necessarily cash), that asset is stranded.  The Gaza strip is less distant from New York’s Trump Tower than the desirable real estate on an exoplanet a hundred light away but, with a population tiresomely showing no wish to go somewhere else so sea-front resorts can be built, it may as well be as distant.

Four episodes of Welcome to the N.H.K. (note the “Parental Warning” advisor stickers).

Among the most intriguing of the anime projects was Welcome to the N.H.K., based on a series of novellas by Tatsuhiko Takimoto san (b 1978).  Featuring a very anime-friendly cast of characters (with all that implies), as might be expected in a work about hikikomori, the text explored issues such as social isolation, depression, anxiety and existential dread but the novelty was the appearance of the mysterious N.H.K. (Nihon Hikikomori Kyoukai (Japan Hikikomori Association), a Masonic-like institution responsible for the increasing number of recluses “shut up” in their bedrooms.  The hook is the tale is that the N.H.K. is the shadowy creation of NHK (Nippon Hōsō Kyōkai (Japan Broadcasting Corporation)), the national public broadcaster.

What came to be called “Japan's Lost Decade” of the 1990s was marked severe economic stagnation, a “banking crisis” (bad loans left sitting on the books as if there was a prospect of repayment), a stock market collapse and deflation.  Between 1989-1991 the Nikkei 225 prime index would slump from near 39,000 to around 6,600 and in an era when many governments were fretting about apparently “entrenched” inflation, in Tokyo, what was being observed was deflation.  Central bankers at least know how to “fix” inflation (they engineer a recession), but deflation is a fabulous beast that convinces people not to spend because they know the same commodity will next week likely be cheaper; like the inverse process in an inflation-ridden state, deflation “feeds on itself” in a spiralling “feedback loop”.  Solutions proved elusive.  While central banks fighting inflation could continue raising interest rates until the pain of spending became too much for consumers, the concept of “negative interest rates” (ie one has to pay the bank to store one’s money) was of limited utility because savers’ “work arounds” to evade this would likely make the situation worse before it induced them to open the purse-strings.  Pulling the textbook off the shelf, after blowing off the dust, Japanese governments embarked on “fiscal stimulus programmes” that (with borrowed money) sustained banks continuing to loan to anyway insolvent borrowers, this creating both “zombie banks and “zombie companies”; institutions “not alive yet not quite dead”.  If anything is likely to stifle efficient resource reallocation in an economy, it’s having “zombies at scale”.  In a quirk of the uniqueness of the Japanese economy however, although government debt is now somewhere between 210-240% of GDP (the methods of calculation can vary) this is said “not to be a problem” because so much of the debt is in Yen and locally held (a benefit of all that saving induced by living in deflationary times).  Like the US government debt of US$40 trillion odd (120-135% of GDP), it may take some time before it’s confirmed whether or not these numbers are “a problem”.

Why I Became a Hikikomori (Shut-In), SillyPau explains.  Now we know.

All this happened in conjunction with GDP consistently under 1% and an aging population (a demographic trend that had become structural and continues to this day) and while those “salary men” in employment tended to remain so (although suffering “career stagnation”), the young, despite graduates being the most educated in history, faced what was dubbed the shūshoku hyōgaki (employment ice age), the jobs available for most being low paid, unstable and often non-permanent.  For a generation brought up with high expectations and a sense of unlimited possibilities, it was an unpleasant welcome to the new decade that would come to be called “the lost decade” and even that proved optimistic; by early in the twenty-first century the use had been updated to “lost decades” as the sluggishness persisted.  While it had come to be understood things were not going back to what they were in the happy days of 1989 (because what then was “was not real”), the young in particular still longed for something better.

Some continued their longing and some “just gave up”.  It was in the 1990s the “lost decade” produced the “lost generation” that came to be called the hikikomori, withdrawing from a society that seemed to offer little other than a dreary, meaningless existence.  By becoming recluses hardly ever leaving their bedrooms, maybe that was just another form of meaningless dreariness but at least it was on their terms and lent life some sense of “control”, illusory though that may have been.  According to Japanese researchers, the number of hikikomori had by 2024 grown to over a million and the phenomenon has, on a smaller scale, been noticed in other countries.  In Japan, having a million-odd modern-day hermits sitting in their bedrooms refusing to face the outside world remains unlikely to do much to stimulate the economy or the rapidly declining birth-rate.  Indeed, in mid-2026, the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications disclosed the population of domestic citizens had for the first time fallen below 120 million, a 0.76% decrease from the previous year; with 670,467 births against 1,593,475 deaths, deaths are outpacing births by more than two to one.

If something is happening in Japan, there will be anime documenting it in every aspect.  Titles include ReLIFE (2016), Recovery of an MMO Junkie (2017) and the ominous sounding Forbidden Deductions (2023).

Some have argued there is an element of technological determinism is all this.  Whether or not one chooses to label it “internet addiction”, there’s no doubt the ecosystem of the web and apps (especially hyper-realistic gaming) had made it possible as never before to lead a kind of fulfilling life without ever leaving one's bedroom.  With accommodating parents (an ample supply found in Japan) and a good internet connection, the bedroom can become one’s universe, a place without the awfulness one know lies beyond one’s four walls.  There is nothing new about those who either cannot cope with or have no wish to deal with the demands of modern society retreating to the margins but, for the first time in history, it has become possible for these recluses to exist in a rich, diverse, entertaining world that is wholly virtualized; relationships and even love affairs able to be conducted with AI (artificial intelligence) bots.  Because of the dynamics of the ways these bots can be constructed, many users (and by, implication, many hikikomori) probably find these relationships more satisfactory than anything experienced with one with a creature of flesh and blood; in many ways, for the tech industry, the COVID-19 pandemic was a “perfect storm”, contributing to some finding social isolation as “normalized”. The Japanese Government acknowledges hikikomori exists and defines it as something affecting people who have stayed at home for at least six months.

Hikikomori is discussed in the APA’s (American Psychiatric Association) DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) but not as a distinct mental disorder. Instead, it’s listed as a behavioral or psychosocial phenomenon that may occur in association with a variety of psychiatric conditions (and even, in some cases, without any diagnosable mental disorder).  In other words, the DSM treats hikikomori as a symptom rather than a pathology.  That would make sense to clinicians (if not all behavioural sociologists) and in DSM-5-TR (2022), hikikomori is mentioned in the section dealing with “Cultural Concepts of Distress”, the characteristics including (1) marked social withdrawal, (2) remaining at home (often confined to one room) for at least six months and (3) an association with significant functional impairment.  So, in the DSM, hikikomori is not classified as a separate diagnosis and clinicians are encouraged to consider whether the withdrawal is better explained by disorders such as: (1) autism spectrum disorder, (2) major depressive disorder, (3) schizophrenia spectrum disorders, (4) social anxiety disorder, (5) avoidant personality disorder or (6) OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder).  If a patient seems not a good fit for any of those, helpfully, the DSM includes (7) other psychiatric illnesses and presumably, that cohort will be thought diagnostically the most interesting.  It would not be surprising if the profession settles on an acceptance of hikikomori as something transdiagnostic, a behavioral endpoint that can arise from various causes.

The Hikikomori: The Girl Who Couldn't Go Outside (2022) by Mark Vrankovich.

There is much thematic variation in hikikomori literature, ranging from the hopeful to the nihilistic.  There are also redemption tales.  In The Hikikomori: The Girl Who Couldn't Go Outside, Miko Nishimura san is a hikikomori who has become convinced she is the most insignificant person in Japan.  Crippled by anxiety, she never leaves her bedroom, occupying just about every waking moment playing racing games (she’s a most modern girl) on her computer.  However, a crisis ensues when the batteries in her wireless mouse die during a time when her parents are absent.  It’s made clear not many things could induce Miko san to leave the house but not being able to continue her gaming was such a rare  circumstance.  Miko san should of course have had spare batteries to hand (or, better still, used a wired mouse needing no batteries) but what’s done is done and can’t be undone and she knew she was compelled to make the terrifying trip to the shop to buy new batteries. As courageously she ventures forth, what unfolds is a tale intertwining contemporary Japanese culture, ancient magic powers and the finding of love.

Although in the west there’s a long tradition of “the recluse” (from the briefly installed Celestine V (circa 1212-1296; pope Jul-Dec 1294) to the film star Greta Garbo (1905–1990) and the multi-faceted Howard Hughes (1905–1976)) when in 1998 Dr Saitō san published his book, it seemed in the West fashionable to see hikikomori as something culturally specific, an example of one of the tradition-bound syndromes that delight writers who regard “Japanese weirdness” as the last acceptable form of the “orientalism” that was for decades a standard paradigm of academic and popular analysis of stuff east of Suez.  It’s still claimed (though increasingly unconvincingly) there are many of these “Japanese” syndromes relating to fields such as education, employment the family and attitude to psychiatric treatment but the modern view is that in these matters, between Japan and other cultures (certainly in East Asia), there are as many similarities as differences.  It has also become clear hikikomori–like behaviour exists in clinically significant numbers in a number of countries including South Korea, China, Hong Kong, Singapore, Spain, Italy, France, New Zealand, Canada, the US, Australia, the UK, Brazil and India.  Despite that, it is still most associated with Japan because it was there first identified (a la the “Spanish flu” process of 1919) but there’s no doubt the conjunction of the nation’s “lost decades” and the subsequent overlays of (1) the internet, (2) social media, (3) the COVID-19 pandemic and (4) consumer-packaged AI algorithms that made possible “life-like virtual relationships” created economic and social conditions that made the phenomenon both more prevalent and visible.

Flute

Flute (pronounced floot)

(1) A woodwind instrument consisting of a tube with a row of finger-holes (or keys) which produce sound through vibrations caused by air blown across the edge of the holes, often tuned by plugging one or more holes with a finger; the Western concert flute, a transverse side-blown flute of European origin (in colloquial use, a recorder, also a woodwind instrument).

(2) An organ stop with wide flue pipes, having a flutelike tone.

(3) In architecture or engineering (particularly the manufacture of firearms), a semi-cylindrical vertical channel, groove or furrow, as on the shaft of a column, in a pillar, in plaited cloth, or in a rifle barrel to cut down the weight.

(4) Any groove or furrow, as in a ruffle of cloth or on a piecrust.

(5) One of the helical grooves of a twist drill.

(6) A slender, footed wineglass with a tall, conical bowl.

(7) A similar stemmed glass, used especially for champagne and often styled as "champagne flute".

(8) In steel fabrication, to kink or break in bending.

(9) In various fields of design, to form longitudinal flutes or furrows.

(10) A long bread roll of French origin; a baguette.

(11) In weaving, tapestry etc, a shuttle.

(12) To play on a flute; to make or utter a flutelike sound. 

(13) To form flutes or channels in (as in a column, a ruffle etc); to cut a semi-cylindrical vertical groove in (as in a pillar etc).

1350-1400; From the Middle English floute, floute & flote, from the Middle French flaüte, flahute & fleüte, from the twelfth century Old French flaute (musical), from the Old Provençal flaüt (thought an alteration of flaujol or flauja) of uncertain origin but may be either (1) a blend of the Provencal flaut or  flaujol (flageolet) + laut (lute) or (2) from the Classical Latin flātus (blowing), from flāre (to blow) although there is support among etymologists for the notion of it being a doublet of flauta & fluyt.  In other languages, the variations include the Irish fliúit and the Welsh ffliwt.  The form in Vulgar Latin has been cited as flabeolum but evidence is scant and all forms are thought imitative of the Classical Latin flāre and other Germanic words (eg flöte) are borrowings from French. 

Portrait of Archduchess Maria Antonia of Austria (later Queen Marie Antoinette of France (1774-1792)), circa 1768, oil on canvas by Martin van Meytens  (1695–1770).

Fluted & fluting both date from the 1610s while the verb (in the sense of "to play upon a flute") seems to have been in use as early as the late fourteenth century.  The use to describe grooves in metalwork emerged in the 1570s and was applied to the tall, slender wine glass almost a century later although the term "champagne flute" didn't enter popular use until the 1950s.  The champagne flute is preferred by many to the coupé (or saucer) even though it lacks the (since unfortunately debunked) legend the shape of the latter was modelled on Marie Antoinette’s (1754-1793) left breast (historians gleefully recounting the tale all agree it definitely was the left).  Elegant though it is, the advantages of the flute are entirely functional, the design providing for less spillage than a coupé, something which comes to be more valued as lunch progresses to the third uncorking and the slender, tapered shape is claimed better to preserve the integrity of the bubbles, the smaller surface area and thus reduced oxygen-to-wine ratio longer maintaining aroma and taste.

Grand Cru's guide to the shape of champagne glasses.

Among musical instruments, there are a dozen or more distinct types of flute.  Early French flutes differed greatly from modern instruments in having a separate mouthpiece and were called flûte-a-bec (literally "flute with a beak").  The ancient devices were played directly, blown straight through a mouthpiece but held away from the player's mouth, the modern transverse (or "German") flute not appearing until the eighteenth century and the familiar modern design and key system of the concert flute were perfected 1834 by Bavarian court musician & virtuoso flautist Theobald Boehm (1794–1881), the fingering system known to this day as "Boehm system".  The architectural sense of "furrow in a pillar" dates from the mid-seventeenth century and was derived from the vague resemblance to the inside of a flute split down the middle.

Solidarity: Gay men supporting lesbians at the first “Dyke March”, Washington DC, April 1993.  The sign held by the protester at the far left uses the compound word for which the euphemism “playing the skin flute” was coined.

One imaginative linguistic re-purposing was the use in the 1940s (apparently first in the US) of “playing the skin flute” to mean “to perform fellatio” and while still in that sense used in certain LGBTQQIAAOP circles, in general use the meaning has shifted, no describing “a male engaged in the act of masturbation”.  Use shifted to fruit, either by virtue of use at the time being almost exclusively oral rather than written (linguistically, that’s classified as an example of an imperfect echoic) or because "fruit" was then in use as a gay slur.   The nouns flute-player, fluter & flutist can be used of flute players but the preferred term is flautist.  Presumably, someone employed to add flutes to an object could be designated “the fluter” but it’s doubtful such as specialist job-description has ever been written.  Flute is a noun & verb, flutiness, flautist, flutist & fluter are nouns, fluted is a verb & adjective, fluting is a noun, verb & adjective, flutelike is an adjective; the noun plural is flutes.

Fluted grill on 1973 S1 (Series 1) Daimler Double-Six Vanden Plas (the companion six-cylinder version was the Daimler Sovereign, the pair both "badged-engineered" versions respectively of the Jaguar XJ12 & XJ6.

In British use, one who plays the flute is a flautist (pronounced flaw-tist (U) or flou-tist (non-U)), from the Italian flautista, the construct being flauto (flute) +‎ -ista.  The -ist suffix was from the Middle English -ist & -iste, from the Old French -iste and the Latin -ista, from the Ancient Greek -ιστής (-istḗs), from -ίζω (-ízō) (the -ize & -ise verbal suffix) and -τής (-tḗs) (the agent-noun suffix).  It was added to nouns to denote various senses of association such as (1) a person who studies or practices a particular discipline, (2), one who uses a device of some kind, (3) one who engages in a particular type of activity, (4) one who suffers from a specific condition or syndrome, (5) one who subscribes to a particular theological doctrine or religious denomination, (6) one who has a certain ideology or set of beliefs, (7) one who owns or manages something and (8), a person who holds very particular views (often applied to those thought most offensive).  The alternative forms are the unimaginative (though descriptive) flute-player and the clumsy pair fluter although the odd historian or music critic will use aulete, from the Ancient Greek αὐλητής (aulētḗs), from αὐλέω (auléō) (I play the flute), from αὐλός (aulós) (flute).  The spelling flutist is preferred in the US and it's actually an old form, dating from circa 1600 and probably from the French flûtiste and it replaced the early thirteenth century Middle English flouter (from the Old French flauteor).

Daimler, the flutes and US trademark law

1972 Daimler Double-Six Vanden Plas.  The "Double-Six" name was a revival of that used by Daimler between 1926-1938 for a number of V12 models.

Carrosserie Van den Plas began operations during the last days of the "horse & buggy" era, starting out in Brussels as a Flemish coach-building house, specializing in horse-drawn carriages, large and small.  Branches were later established in France and the UK and by early in the new century, the company's focus had switched wholly to designing and fashioning the bodies for high end automobiles, most at that end of the market supplied to customers as a "rolling chassis" (ie driveable with an engine and transmission but no body or interior) to be sent to a coachbuilder of choice for completion.  Financially troubled as were many such operations, the company in 1923 became bankrupt but, under new ownership,  entered a period of relative stability.  Although there was never any sort of "exclusivity clause", during the first decade of the inter-war era (1919-1939) Vanden Plas (the factory in 1923 established in Kingsbury, London), became especially associated with the big machines (Ettore Bugatti (1881–1947) quipped the racing versions were the "world's fastest lorries") produced by engineer W. O. Bentley (1888–1971), over 700 of his chassis receiving the bodies.  After the distressed Bentley concern was in 1931 absorbed by Rolls-Royce, the designs were adapted to suit a range of chassis including those from Alvis, Armstrong Siddeley, Bentley (Derby), Daimler, Lagonda, Rolls-Royce and Talbot.  The French branch continued until 1934 and the original Belgian operation until 1949 while the British was in 1946 acquired by Austin, specifically to produce the A120 Princess (a descendent of which, remarkably didn't end end production until 1968 when (complete with a split windscreen!), alongside the then new XJ6, it was so obviously a relic).  Still, with modern methods of unit-body construction taking over the industry, the scope for supplying customers with bodies for the diminishing number of rolling chassis was narrowing and ownership by Austin afforded Vanden Plas a long stay of execution, the name surviving as around the continent, many illustrious names from the coach-building tradition vanished.

Austin's ownership also ushered in a new business model for the company: Taking models in volume production and adding luxury appointments (leather, burl walnut veneer, cut-pile carpet, picnic tables and such) to the interior and somtimes modifying external panels, especially by integrating a traditional, upright radiator grill.  That proved lucrative with the Vanden Plas variants attracting a premium and there was even a small but consistent volume if sales to the Dominions of the British Commonwealth, a commercial legacy of the old Empire.  Through M&A (mergers and acquisitions) activities, by the late 1960s Vanden Plas was British Leyland’s in-house coach-builder and adding still more luxurious appointments to the anyway lavishly trimmed Daimler Double-Six one of the long running projects.  Vanden Plas completed only 351 of the S1 (Series 1, 1972-1973) Double-Sixes (346 in RHD (right-hand-drive)), the later S2 (1973-1979) & S3 (1979-1992) cars much more numerous and, as a consequence of the first oil shock (1973) that was the central economic dynamic of the decade, the S2 & S3 were available with the 4.2 litre (258 cubic inch) XK-six as well as the heroically thirsty 5.3 litre (326 cubic inch) V12.  The flutes atop the grill dated from the early twentieth-century and were originally a functional addition to the radiator to enhance the metal's heat-dissipation qualities but later became a merely decorative embellishment.  British Leyland and its successor companies would continue to use the Vanden Plas name for some of the more highly-specified Daimlers but applied it also to Jaguars because in some markets the trademark to the Daimler name came to be held by Daimler-Benz AG (since 2022 Mercedes-Benz Group AG), a legacy from the earliest days of motor-car manufacturing and despite the English middle class often pronouncing the name as van-dem-plarr, it should said as van-dem-plass.  It's an error with the same origin as that suffered by Moët & Chandon: to English speaking ears, mow-eh sounds "more French" than mow-et.  The non-US rights to the Vanden Plas brand have passed to a Chinese corporation and no vehicle using the name has been sold since 2009. 

1976 Daimler Double-Six Vanden Plas two door.

The rarest Double-Six Vanden Plas was a genuine one-off, a two door built reputedly using one of the early prototypes, a regular production version contemplated but cancelled after the first was built.  Jaguar would once have called such things a FHC (fixed head coupé) but labelled the XJ derivatives as "two door saloons" and always referred to them thus, presumably as a point of differentiation with the XJ-S (later XJS) coupé produced at the same time.  Despite the corporate linguistic nudge, everybody seems always to have called the two-door XJs: "coupés".  Why the project was cancelled isn't known but it was for the company a time of industrial and financial turmoil and distractions, however minor, may have been thought unwelcome.  Although fully-finished, apart from the VDP-specific trim, it includes also some detail mechanical differences from the regular production two-door Double-Six but both use the distinctive fluted finish on the grill and trunk (boot) lid trim; the car still exists.  The two-door XJs (1975-1978) rank with the earliest versions (1961-1967) of the E-Type (XKE; 1961-1974) as the finest styling Jaguar ever achieved and were it not for the unfortunate vinyl roof visually, it would be as close to perfect as any machine ever made.

1975 Jaguar XJC: The design perfected.  Even Jaguar's usually uncompromising originality police seem to approve.

The orthodoxy is the gluing-on of the vinyl was a necessity imposed by the inability of the paint of the era to cope with the slight flexing of the roof.  As a two-door hardtop, there was no B-pillar so the expanse of un-supported metal was larger than that of the sedans and thus more subject to higher stress-loads, resulting in the paint being subject to crazing.  Modern chemistry means suitable paints have long been available and many owners have taken the opportunity to fix the design's one visual flaw.  However, not all accept the “flexing roof” theory and claim the vinyl was a deliberate aesthetic choice, noting the 1972 Double-Six Vanden Plas (that appeared in 1972, three years before the two-door XJ went on sale) was fitted as standard with a vinyl roof, despite obviously there been no paint-related imperative.  Possibly it may have been a way of reducing interior noise but some argue it appeared just because the covering was then undeniably fashionable.  The inexcusable lapse in taste had been seen (then using leather) as early as the 1920s but it was in the US in the mid-1960s the motif hit the mass-market to attract those who wanted “a convertible’s rakish vibe” but needed something more practical; things soon got out of hand, the trend spreading to the UK and Australia.  For up-market models, the Australians even emulated the US practice of the “padded vinyl roof” which was a bad idea made worse the closer one got to the tropics, the foam in the “vinyl-metal sandwich” trapping moisture and leading quickly to rust.  The Europeans proved commendably resistant and by the 1980s the moment had passed in the UK and Australia but the Americans doubled-down and, until the mid-1990s, Detroit’s designers devoted much energy to styling elaborate variations on the theme, the marketing department doing its usual bit by labelling them with fanciful names.  The implications of "roof flexing" in cars without a B-pillar is also a source of dispute among collectors of the memorable fourth generation Lincoln Continental (1961-1969), the matter discussed the decision not to include a four-door hardtop in the range after a dozen-odd prototypes using the body-style had been built.  There are two competing theories, argued respectively by the "flex faction" & "window mechanism faction". 

Using one of his trademark outdoor settings, Norman Parkinson (1913-1990) photographed model Suzanne Kinnear (b 1935) adorning a Daimler SP250, wearing a Kashmoor coat and Otto Lucas beret with jewels by Cartier.  The image was published on the cover of Vogue's UK edition in November 1959.

Although Daimlers had, in small numbers, been imported into US for decades, after Jaguar purchased the company in 1960, there was renewed interest and the first model used to test the market was the small, fibreglass-bodied roadster, probably the most improbable Daimler ever and one destined to fail, doomed by (1) the quirky styling and (2) the lack of product development.  It was a shame because what made it truly unique was the hemi-head 2.6 litre (155 cubic inch) V8 which was one of the best engines of the era and remembered still for the intoxicating exhaust note.  The "micro-V8" and the companion 4.5 liter (278 cubic inch) version were two of the best engines produced in the 1960s and their under-utilization was one of many mistakes made by the UK's industry in the post war years although the blame is shared (substantially) by successive governments.  The smaller V8 would have been transformative if used by a number of Triumphs & MGs while the larger unit would have made Jaguars & Daimlers competitive in the lucrative US market in a way the XK-six never could.

The SP250 was first shown to the public at the 1959 New York Motor Show and there the problems began.  Aware the small sports car was quite a departure from the luxurious but rather staid line-up Daimler had for years offered, the company had chosen the pleasingly alliterative “Dart” as its name, hoping it would convey the sense of something agile and fast.  Unfortunately, Chrysler’s lawyers were faster still, objecting they had already registered Dart as the name for a full-sized Dodge so Daimler needed a new name and quickly; the daunting Dodge would never be confused with the diminutive Daimler but the lawyers insisted.  Imagination apparently exhausted, Daimler’s management reverted to the engineering project name and thus the car became "SP250" which was innocuous enough even for Chrysler's attorneys and for the US corporation things could have been worse.  Dodge had submitted their Dart proposal to Chrysler for approval and while the car found favor, the name did not and the marketing department was told to conduct research and come up with something the public would like.  From this the marketing types gleaned “Dodge Zipp” would be popular and to be fair, dart and zip(p) do imply much the same thing but ultimately the original was preferred and Darts remained in Dodge’s line-up until 1976, for most of that time one of the corporation's best-selling and most profitable lines.  Internationally it was also a success, produced in Brazil until 1981 and although the Australians retired the body shape in 1971, there Chrysler Australia would use the platform for a further decade.  In the US, the name was revived between 2012-2016 for a dreary, unsuccessful and unlamented small sedan.

Leaper, growler and flutes on US market 1999 Jaguar Vanden Plas (X308).  The retractable, solid-timber picnic tables in the back of the front seats were much admired.

Decades later, US trademark law would again intrude, this time on Jaguar’s low-volume business of selling Daimlers in the US.  There, the company had, after 1967, ceased offering Daimlers because, it being clear the trickle of safety & exhaust emission regulations was soon to become a flood, with capital scarce, it was decided resources needed to be devoted to compliance and one form of economy was to re-allocate the funds absorbed by maintaining Daimler as a separate brand, most of which were spent on advertising.  In Stuttgart, the Daimler-Benz lawyers took note and decided to reclaim the name, eventually managing to secure registration of the trademark and Daimlers have not since been available in the US.  However, there was still clearly demand for an up-market Jaguar and so the Sovereign name (used on Daimlers between 1966-1983) was applied to Jaguar XJ sedans which, although mechanically unchanged, were equipped with more elaborate appointments.

Lindsay Lohan with stainless steel Rolex Datejust (Roman numeral dial) with fluted white gold bezel.  Note the blue eyes; it's not known if the effect was achieved with colored contact lens or digital editing.

Sales of the up-market Sovereign were good and the profit margins fatter so the US market also received some even more luxurious Vanden Plas models and during the XJ’s X308 model run (1997-2003), the VDP cars were fitted with the fluted grill and trunk-lid trim as an additional means of product differentiation; it would be the last appearance of the flutes in North America and the only occasion on which the leaper and growler were used in conjunction with them.  Although some might dismiss the interior fittings of the Vanden Plas models as “bling”, there were nice touches.  The ones based on the X308 featured the fold-down picnic-tables once so beloved by English coach-builders (the affection in the 1960s trickling down to the middle-class as they began to appear on blinged-up mass-market vehicles) but, rather than the usual burl walnut veneer, the pieces were of solid timber.  The factory seems never to have discussed the rationale but it may be it was cheaper to do it that way, the veneering process being labor-intensive.

Pim Fortuyn in his chauffeur-driven Daimler Super V8, February 2002 (left), paramedics attending to him at the scene of his assassination (centre) a few paces from the Daimler, 6 May, 2002 (he died at the scene) and the car when on sale, Amsterdam, June 2018 (right).  His assassin, memorably, was described in press reports “deranged vegetarian”; perhaps it was the sight of meneer Fortuyn sprawled across those Connolly Leather hides that was triggering.

Jaguar became aware the allure of the flutes was real when it discovered a small but profitable industry had emerged in the wake of the company ceasing to use the Daimler name in European markets (by the 1990s, it was only in the UK, Japan, Australia & New Zealand they could be bought off the showroom floor).  Entrepreneurial types, armed with nothing more than a list of Jaguar part-numbers, had created kits containing the fluted trim pieces and Daimler-specific badges, these shipped to dealers or private buyers on the continent so Jaguar XJs could become “Daimlers”.  Being factory-supplied parts of no mechanical significance, their use did not affect warranties or insurance rates (though owners were required to inform registration authorities the badgework had changed) so, unlike many after-market modifications, administratively, it was a hassle-free process.  Jaguar took note of this uptick in the Daimler-demand curve and decided to meet it with supply, re-introducing the marque to Europe.  Because the company was, in effect, doing only what was being done by those buying the kits, it proved one of the industry's cheapest and quickest brand resurrections, Germany and the Netherlands especially receptive.  One notable owner of a real LWB (long wheelbase) Daimler Super V8 (X308) was the Dutch academic and politician Pim Fortuyn (1948-2002), assassinated by a left-wing environmentalist and animal rights activist during the 2002 national election campaign.

Mnemonic

Mnemonic (pronounced ni-mon-ik)

(1) Something assisting or intended to assist the memory.

(2) Pertaining to mnemonics or to memory.

(3) In computing, truncated code thought easy to remember (eg STO for store).

1660–1670: From the New Latin mnemonicus from the Ancient Greek μνημονικός (mnēmonikós) (of memory) derived from μνήμων (mnḗmōn) (remembering, mindful) & μνᾶσθαι (mnâsthai) (to remember); the ultimate root was the primitive Indo-European men (to think).  The meaning "aiding the memory", a back-formation from mnemonics dates from 1753, the noun meaning "mnemonic device" is from 1858.  The use in computer programming emerged in the early days of code and was a space-saving (eg del rather than delete) tool as well.  Mnemonical was the original form from the 1660s.  One of the charming ironies of mnemonic is it is one of those words so many can't quite remember how to spell.  It's thus in a sense "antimnemonic" and a contronym (also as auto-antonym, antagonym, or enantiodrome) which describes a word with two opposite or contradictory meanings, depending on context.  Mnemonic is a noun & adjective, mnemonician, mnemonicalist, mnemotechnist & mnemonicon are nouns, mnemonize & mnemonized are verbs, mnemonical & mnemotechnic are adjectives and mnemonically & mnemotechnically are adverbs; the noun plural is mnemonics.

Sans Forgetica

Sans Forgetica sample text.

Recently released, Sans Forgetica (which translates as "without forgetting") is a sans-serif font developed by RMIT University in Melbourne.  Back-slanted and with gaps in the character constructions, it’s designed explicitly to assist readers better to understand and retain in their memory what they’ve read.  Perhaps counter-intuitively for those outside the field, the shape is intended to reduce legibility, thereby (1) lengthening the tame taken to read the text and (2) adding complexity to learning and absorbing what’s been read.  Together, they create what in cognitive psychology and neuroscience is called "desirable difficulty", in this case forcing (RMIT might prefer "nudging") people to concentrate.

The first three paragraphs of Lindsay Lohan's Wikipedia page, rendered in Sans Forgetica.  Sans was from the Middle English saunz & sans, from the Old French sans, senz & sens, from the Latin sine (without) conflated with absēns (absent, remote).   Forgetica was an opportunistic coining, the construct being forget + -ica.  Forget was from the Middle English forgeten, forgiten, foryeten & forȝiten, from the Old English forġietan (to forget) (which was influenced by the Old Norse geta (to get; to guess), from the Proto-West Germanic fragetan (to give up, forget).  The -ica suffix was from the Latin -ica, the neuter plural of -icus (belonging to derived from; of or pertaining to; connected with).

From usually a young age, readers become skilled at scanning text, a process helped by most publishers seeking to render their works as legible as possible.  The theory of desirable difficulty is that omitting parts of the font requires the reader to pause and process information more slowly, thus provoking an additional cognitive processing which may enhance both understanding and retention.  While the application of the science to a font is novel, there’s nothing original about Sans Forgetica as a piece of typography, it being described as a hybrid of several existing schools and within the theory, on the basis of a small-group sample of students, it’s claimed to be a balance between legibility and difficulty.  According to the documents supplied by the developer, it’s not been tested as a device for advertisers to draw people to their text, the theory of that being people scan and dismiss (without retention) the great bulk of the large, static signage which is a feature of just about every urban environment.  With Sans Forgetica, because it can’t as quickly be scanned, people will tend longer to linger and so more carefully read the whole; a memorable event itself.

The most recent revision (DSM-5-TR (2022)) to the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) followed DSM-5 (2013) in refining the somewhat vague section on amnesia in both the DSM-IV (1994) & DSM-IV-TR (2000) where appeared the terms “Psychogenic amnesia” & “dissociative amnesia”, the core element of which was: “one or more episodes of inability to recall important personal information, usually of a traumatic or stressful nature, that is too extensive to be explained by ordinary forgetfulness.”  That really reflected the popular understanding and there was no clear definition of sub-types in the diagnostic criteria although in the text (not always in criteria) there was mention of localized, selective or generalized forms.  In the fifth edition, the disorder was called Dissociative Amnesia (psychogenic amnesia seems to have been replaced) and it was listed in the dissociative disorders section.  The definition still includes an “inability to recall important autobiographical information, usually of a traumatic or stressful nature, that is inconsistent with ordinary forgetting” so the popular understanding remains acknowledged but sub-types are now listed: localized (for specific event(s)), selective (some parts of the event), or generalized (identity and life history) amnesia.  Consistent with the structural revisions elsewhere in the fifth edition, the exclusion criteria was made more explicit (ie the memory loss should not be due to substances, medication, a neurological condition or better accounted for by another mental disorder) although clinician remain aware of overlap.  Significantly the DSM-5 did clarify that amnesia is retrograde (loss of pre-existing memories), especially of autobiographical kind and emphasised the memory loss is “beyond what is expected from normal forgetting.”  Because in such matters, there will be so much variation between patients, it remains one of those conditions with fuzzy boundaries and the symptoms presented must be assessed on a case-by-case basis.

Amnesia (memory loss) is much studied and although associated with the aging process, traumatic events (brain injury or psychological impacts) and certain neurological conditions, there have been some celebrated cases of recovery without medical intervention.  One celebrated case was that of Rudolf Hess (1894–1987; Nazi Deputy Führer 1933-1941) who in 1941 (on the eve of Germany invading the USSR) flew himself to Scotland in a bizarre and unauthorized attempt to negotiate a peace deal with those in the UK he though would be "reasonable men".    His "offer" was rejected and he was locked up (including two weeks in the Tower of London), later to be sent as a defendant before the IMT (International Military Tribunal) in the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946).  There, so convincing were his symptoms of amnesia and other mental states the judges requested submissions from defence and prosecution counsel on the matter of his fitness to stand trial.  The prosecutors assured the bench Hess would be able to both understand and cope with the proceedings and that an imperfect memory was merely a hindrance to his defence rather than an insuperable obstacle.  This was of course a predictable argument and the judges acceded to the defence’s request for a thorough medical investigation although they declined the suggestion Swiss doctors be consulted, assembling instead a team from medical staff on hand (three Soviet, three American, three British and one French), all from the nations running the trial.  The physicians presented four national papers which broadly were in agreement: Hess was sane (as legally defined) but was suffering from hysterical amnesia, induced by his need to escape from uncomfortable realities, something they found was often typical of “those with Hess’s unstable personality”.  All concluded the amnesia was temporary and would vary in intensity, the US doctors suggesting it may even disappear were any threat of punishment removed.

Caricature of Rudolf Hess at the first Nuremberg Trial by New Zealand-born UK cartoonist David Low (1891-1963).

The author Rebecca West (1892–1983) covered the trial as a journalist and wrote some vivid thumbnail sketches, noting of Hess: “Hess was noticeable because he was so plainly mad: so plainly mad that it seemed shameful that he should be tried.  His skin was ashen and he had that odd faculty, peculiar to lunatics, of falling into strained positions which no normal person could maintain for more than a few minutes, and staying fixed in contortion for hours. He had the classless air characteristic of asylum inmates; evidently his distracted personality had torn up all clues to his past.  He looked as if his mind had no surface, as if every part of it had been blasted away except the depth where the nightmares live.”  Whether or not Hess was "mad" (as such folk were described in 1946) can be debated but to many at the time, he certainly looked a madman.

Predictably unconvinced, Hess’s counsel at a hearing on 30 November 1945 told the bench a defendant could hardly stage an adequate defence if unable to remember names or incidents vital to his case, adding that on the basis of discussions with his client, even if he understood the words, Hess was incapable of grasping the significance of the charges against him.  Nor would a trial in absentia be fair because it would constituent a “grave injustice” were a defendant not present to give evidence or challenge the testimony of witnesses.  He concluded by requesting proceedings against him should be suspended and resumed only if his condition significantly improved.  To that, the British countered with a lengthy lecture on the distinctions in English law between amnesia & insanity and seconded the Soviet view that participation in the trial (and thus the need to make a defence) might well cure his condition.  Essentially, the British argued if he could follow the proceedings, he was fit to stand trial.  The US team noted Hess had at times claimed to be suffering amnesia while in captivity in England between 1941-1945 and on other occasions admitted the condition was simulated.  In the slang of the English criminal bar: “He had a bit of previous”.  The Americans also expressed annoyance at him having repeatedly refused any of the treatment prescribed by the Allied doctors, concluding: “He is in the volunteer class with his amnesia”.  The lawyers having finished, the IMT asked Hess if he wished to speak on the matter.  Without delay, he rose in the dock and walked to the microphone where he addressed the court in a clear and calm voice, his statement coherent, unambiguous and, most historians have concluded, clearly premeditated: “Henceforth my memory will again respond to the outside world.  The reasons for simulating loss of memory were of a tactical nature.  Only my ability to concentrate is, in fact, somewhat reduced.  But my capacity to follow the trial, to defend myself, to put questions to witnesses, or to answer questions myself is not affected thereby.  I also simulated loss of memory in consultations with my officially appointed defence counsel. He has therefore represented in good faith.”

He then sat down in what was described as a “stunned courtroom”.  It was at that point the trial’s most sensational moment and after taking a few seconds to digest things, the assembled press pack in their dozens rushed outside to file the story (the US military newspaper Stars and Stripes ran the punchy headline “Hess Nuts. Fake Story Fake”).  Immediately, the president of the IMT adjourned the session and the judges went into private session to decide whether Hess should be tried.  From their subsequent interviews and writings it appears they were not much influenced by Hess’s unexpected statement but were impressed by the similarity of the conclusions offered by the doctors, the chief US prosecutor saying such “unanimity of medical opinion” was, in his experience: “historically unique”.  All eight judges agreed Hess was fit to stand trial and, after being convicted on two counts ((1) conspiracy to wage aggressive war and (2) waging aggressive war), he was handed a life sentence and would remain incarcerated until in 1987 he committed suicide after some 46 years behind bars, the last two decades of which were served as the sole inmate (guarded by dozens of soldiers on rotation from France, the UK, US and USSR) of Berlin’s sprawling Spandau Prison, a huge facility designed to incarcerate hundreds.

Low’s take on the official German line explaining Hess deserting the German government as “madness”.  This cartoon does represent what was then the prevailing public perception of the typical appearance expected of those in “lunatic asylums”.  Depicted (left to right) are:

Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945): Committed suicide by by crushing between his teeth an ampule of a potassium cyanide (KCN), smuggled into his cell in circumstances never confirmed, shortly before he was to be hanged after being convicted on all four counts ((1) Conspiracy to wage aggressive war; (2) Waging aggressive war; (3) War crimes and (4) Crimes against humanity.

Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945): With his wife Eva (née Braun; 1912–1945) of a few hours, committed suicide (he by gunshot and KCN, she by KCN alone) with the tanks of the Red Army only a couple of blocks from the Berlin Führerbunker.

Dr Robert Ley (1890–1945; head of the Deutsche Arbeitsfront (German Labour Front) 1933-1945): Before the trial began, he committed suicide by hanging (by means of suffocation) himself from the toilet-pipe in his cell in Nuremberg, after having for some years made a reasonable attempt to drink himself to death.  He died with his underpants stuffed in his mouth, decades before the phrase "Eat my shorts!" began to circulate in popular culture.

Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi foreign minister 1938-1945): Hanged at Nuremberg after being convicted on all four counts.

Dr Joseph Goebbels: With his wife (Magda Goebbels (née Ritschel; 1901-1945), committed suicide (by gunshot) in the courtyard above the Führerbunker, shortly after they’d murdered their six young children.

Heinrich Himmler (1900–1945; Reichsführer SS 1929-1945): Captured by the British while attempting to escape disguised as a soldier, he committed suicide using an ampule of KCN concealed in his mouth.

Whether Hess was at any point insane (in the legal or medical sense) remains debated although, as is often the case, more interesting still is the speculation about just when the instability began.  Whether any credence can be attached to the official statement on the matter from the Nazi Party is doubtful but in the view of Reich Chancellery, his madness predated his flight to Scotland in 1941 (one of the strangest incidents of World War II (1939-1945)).  What the German press was told to publish was that Hess had become "deluded and deranged", his mental health affected by injuries sustained during World War I (1914-1918) and that he'd fallen under the influence of astrologers.  Just to make that sound convincing, the police conducted a crackdown (a well oiled technique in the Nazi state) on soothsayers and fortune-tellers.  Dr Joseph Goebbels (1897-1945; Nazi propaganda minister 1933-1945) wasn't consulted before the "madness" explanation was announced and he seems to have been the only senior figure in the regime to grasp the potential implications of revealing to the public that for some time the country's deputy leader had been mad.  Others though did make the connection.

When Hermann Göring tried to shift the blame to aircraft designer and manufacturer Willy Messerschmitt (1898–1978) because he'd provided Hess a twin-engined Bf 110 Zerstörer (destroyer (heavy fighter)) for his flight, the engineer responded by saying Göring was more culpable because he should have done something about having someone unstable serving as Deputy Führer.  Göring could only laugh and told Messerschmitt to go back to building warplanes and, as it turned out, the strange affair was but a "nine day wonder" for not only did the British make no attempt to use Hess's arrival on their soil for propaganda purposes (which astonished Goebbels) but other events would soon dominate the headlines.  The only place where the strange flight left a great impression was in the Kremlin where comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) for years mulled over who within the British establishment might have conspired with Hess to allow the UK to withdraw from the conflict, leaving Germany able to invade Russia without having to fight on two fronts.  Historians have concluded the reluctance by the British to use for propaganda the arrival of Hess was their concern comrade Stalin might suspect collusion.  Amusingly, although Hitler and his circle handled the “madman” explanation ineptly, that was the approach recommended by Hess.  The erstwhile Deputy Führer had written a typically rambling letter which he ensured would reach Hitler’s hands only after his arrival in Scotland and it concluded with a helpful passage: “And if my Führer, this project – which I admin has only a small chance of success – ends in failure and the fates decide against me, this can have no detrimental results either for you or Germany: it will always be possible for you to deny all responsibility.  Simply say I was crazy.”

Actually, it was not as simple as that as someone more politically aware than Hess would have understood but he was after all a man who imagined the path to a negotiated settlement with the British was to be had from discussions with Dukes and other aristocrats who would arrange for him a meeting with the King who, once persuaded of the soundness of what was being explained, would dismiss the warmongers in government and all would be well.  One wonders if Hess had ever read an explanation of Britain’s constitutional arrangements and if so, whether he’s got as far as the chapters covering things after the thirteenth century.  It would have taken Hitler a minute or two to reach the “media management” strategy recommended by Hess because the letter included a lengthy description of matters such as the modifications made to his Messerschmitt Bf 110 Zerstörer (destroyer) and the intricacies of night-time navigation.  Hess doubtless would have been proud to document his achievement because it was a remarkable feat of solo flight in wartime but to Hitler it would have been just so much extraneous information although, well accustomed to his deputy’s pedantry, it’d not have surprised him.  In fairness to Hitler, badly handled though the “explanation” was, the task should have been undertaken by Dr Goebbels but, upon hearing of the business, he decamped to his country house and remained incommunicado, telling his staff: “There are situations which even the best propagandist in the world cannot cope with.”  Goebbels certainly understood the potential for a disaster in public-relations (with Germany’s allies as well as its people), telling his aide Rudolf Semler (1913-1979) that Hess’s bizarre flight was “more serious than the desertion of an army corps.”

Arthur Sinodinos, b 1957; Liberal Party functionary and minister variously 2007-2019; Australian ambassador to the US 2019-2023, right ) presenting to Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025, left) his credentials as Australia's ambassador to the US, the White House, Washington DC, February 2020.

Less dramatic but perhaps medically even more remarkable than the Hess affair was the recovery from amnesia by Arthur Sinodinos, a case which deserves to enter the annals of academic psychiatry & neurology (and debatably, those of the thespians).  In Australia, royal commissions are public investigations, established by but independent of government.  Not a court, royal commissions are created to enquire into matters of public importance and, within their terms of reference, have broad powers to conduct public & in camera hearings; they can call witnesses, compelling them (under oath) to provide testimony and they deliver recommendations to government about what should be done, consequent upon their findings.  These can include recommendations for legislative or administrative changes and the prosecution of institutions or individuals and they’re of great interest because they appear to be the only institution (at least theoretically) able to compel a politician to tell the truth.  Even that power is limited though because when appearing before royal commissions, politicians seem especially prone to suffering amnesia, an obviously distressing condition which compels them frequently to utter phrases like “I can’t remember”, “I don’t recall”, “not in my recollection” etc.  In the lore of the New South Wales (NSW) bar, Mr Sinodinous, while in 2014 being questioned by an enquiry, is believed to have set a record for the frequency with which the condition manifested.  Fortunately, the enquiry handed down no adverse findings against him and almost immediately, his memory appeared miraculously to recover, enabling the Australian Liberal Party government to appoint him ambassador to the US in 2019 so there's that.  The following transcript is wholly fake news:

Donald Trump: "What did you and Joe Biden talk about?"

Arthur Sinodinous: "I can't remember."

Donald Trump: "Not to worry, he won't remember either."

In the rich slang of the NSW bar, the condition once known as RCM (Royal Commission Memory) is now also referred to as “Sinodinos Syndrome”, on the model of “Marcinkus Syndrome” which describes the medical status of Roman Catholic priests who, being investigated for this, that or the other, although seemingly fit and healthy, are never able to be certified quite well enough to be interviewed by police or other authorities.  The condition is named after Archbishop Paul Marcinkus (1922–2006; President of the Institute for the Works of Religion (the “Vatican Bank’) 1971-1989).