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.

Inquire & Enquire

Inquire (pronounced in-kwahyuhr)

(1) To seek information by questioning; to ask.

(2) To make an investigation (usually followed by into).

(3) To seek (obsolete).

(4) To question (a person) (obsolete).

1250–1300: From the Middle English enqueren & anqueren (to ask (a question), ask about, ask for (specific information); learn or find out by asking, seek information or knowledge; to conduct a legal or official investigation (into an alleged offense)), from the Latin inquīrere (to seek for), replacing the Middle English enqueren, from the Old French enquerre, also from Latin.  The construct in Latin was from in- (into) + quaerere (to seek).  The prefix -in is quirky because it can act either to negate or intensify.  The general rule is that when prepended to a noun or adjective, it reinforces the quality signified and when prepended to an adjective, it negates the meaning, the latter mostly in words borrowed from French.  The Latin prefix in- was from the Proto-Italic en-, from the primitive Indo-European n̥- (not), the zero-grade form of the negative particle ne (not) and was akin to ne-, nē & nī.  In Modern English it is from the Middle English in-, from Old English in- (in, into), from the Proto-Germanic in, from the primitive Indo-European en.  Inquiry & inquirer are nouns, inquiring is a noun, verb & adjective, inquires is a verb, inquirable & inquisitive are adjective and inquiringly is an adverb; the noun plural is inquiries.  The verb inquireth is listed by most as archaic and forms such as reinquired & reinquiring have been coined as needed.

So the in- in inquire is not related to in- (not), also a common prefix in Latin and this created a tradition of confusion which persists to this day.  In Ancient Rome, impressus could mean "pressed" or "unpressed; inaudire meant "to hear" but inauditus meant "unheard of; invocatus was "uncalled, uninvited," but invocare was "to call, appeal to".  In Late Latin investigabilis could mean "that may be searched into" or "that cannot be searched into”.  English picked up the confusion and it’s not merely a linguistic quirk because mixing up the meaning of inflammable could have ghastly consequences.  Fortunately, some of the duplicity has died out: Implume, noted from the 1610s meant "to feather," but implumed (from a decade or more earlier meant "unfeathered".  Impliable could be held to mean "capable of being implied" (1865) or "inflexible" (1734).  Impartible in the seventeenth century simultaneously could mean "incapable of being divided" or "capable of being imparted" and, surprisingly, impassionate can mean "free from passion" or "strongly stirred by passion" (used wrongly that certainly could have inintended consequences).  The adjective inanimate was generally understood to indicate "lifeless" but John Donne (1572–1631), when using inanimate as a verb meant "infuse with life or vigor." Irruption is "a breaking in" but irruptible is "unbreakable".

In addition to improve "use to one's profit", Middle English also had the fifteenth century verb improve meaning "to disprove".  To inculpate is "to accuse," but inculpable means "not culpable, free from blame".  Infestive (a creation of the 1560s, from infest) originally meant "troublesome, annoying" but by the 1620s meant "not festive".  Bafflingly, in Middle English, inflexible could mean both "incapable of being bent" or "capable of being swayed or moved".  During the seventeenth century, informed could mean "current in information" formed, animated" or "unformed, formless", an unhelpful situation the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) described as “an awkward use".  Just a bizarre was that in the mid-sixteenth century inhabited meant "dwelt in" yet within half-a-century was being used to describe "uninhabited".  Some dictionaries insist the adjectives unenquired & unenquiring really exist but there’s scant evidence of use.  A noted derivation with some history is inquisitor.  Synonyms and words with a similar sense include examine, inspect, interrogate, investigate, analyze, catechize, explore, grill, hit, knock, probe, check, prospect, pry, query, question, roast, scrutinize, search, seek & sift.

Enquire (pronounced en-kwahyuhr)

A variant form of inquire

Circa 1300: From the Middle English enqueren & anqueren, (to ask (a question), to ask about, to ask for (specific information); learn or find out by asking, seek information or knowledge; to conduct a legal or official investigation (into an alleged offense)), from the Old French enquerre (to ask, inquire about) (which persists in Modern French as enquérir) and directly from the Medieval Latin inquīrere (to seek for).  As long ago as the fourteenth century the spelling of the English word was changed following the Latin model, but, in the annoying way that happens sometimes in English, the half-Latinized enquire persists and some people have even invented “rules” about when it should be used instead of inquire.   Sensibly, the Americans ignore these suggestions and use inquire for all purposes.  In Old French the Latin in- often became en- and such was the influence on Middle English that the form spread and although English developed a strong tendency to revert to the Latin in-, this wasn’t universal, thus pairs such as enquire/inquire which is why there must always be some sympathy for those learning the language.  There was a native form, which in West Saxon usually appeared as on- (as in the Old English onliehtan (to enlighten)) and some of those verbs survived into Middle English (such as inwrite (to inscribe)) but all are said now to be long extinct.

Enquire or inquire?

Lindsay Lohan says the spelling is "inquiry" so that must be right.

The English word was re-spelled as early as the fourteenth century on the Latin model but the half-Latinized "enquire" has never wholly gone away.  Outside of North America, it's not unknown to come across documents where "inquire" & "enquire" both appear, not in tribute to a particular "rule" of use but just because it hasn't been noticed; it's probably most associated with documents which are partially the product of chunks of texts being "cut and paste".  In the US, where the enquire vs inquire "problem" doesn’t exist because inquire is universal, this must seem a strange and pointless squabble because hearing a sentence like "She enquired when the Court of Inquiry was to hold its hearings" would unambiguously be understood and if written down, there could be no confusion if the spelling forms were to appear in either order.  So,  some hold it would be a fine idea if the rest of the English-speaking world followed the sensible lead of the Americans and stuck to "inquire" but history suggests that’s not going to happen and some suggestions for a convention of use have been offered:

(1) Enquire & enquiry are "formal" words to convey the sense of "ask" whereas inquire & inquiry are used to describe some structured form of investigation (such as a "Court of Inquiry").

(2) Enquire is to be used in informal writing and inquire in formal text.

Neither of those suggestions seem to make as much sense as adopting the US spelling and probably just adds a needless layer to a simple word; enquire and inquire mean the same thing: to ask, to seek information, or to investigate. One is therefore unnecessary and enquire should be retired, simply on the basis the Americans already have and there’s lots of them.  Those who resist should follow the one golden rule which is consistency: whatever convention of use is adopted, exclusively it should be used. 

The ultimate court of inquiry, the Spanish Inquisition and the DDF

The Spanish Inquisition, conducting their inquiries.

The Tribunal del Santo Oficio de la Inquisición (Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition), known famously as the Inquisición española (Spanish Inquisition) was created in 1478 by the Roman Catholic Monarchs, King Ferdinand II (1452–1516; king of Aragon 1479-1516, king of Castile 1475-1504 (as Ferdinand V)) and Queen Isabella I (1451–1504; queen of Castile 1474-1504, queen of Aragon 1479-1504), its remit the enforcement of orthodox Church doctrine in their kingdoms.  Ostensibly established to combat heresy in Spain (though eventually its remit extended throughout the Spanish Empire), the real purpose was to consolidate the power of the monarchy of the newly unified Spanish kingdom.  Its methods were famously brutish and although many records were lost, it's thought close to two hundred-thousand individuals came to the attention of the Inquisition and as many as five-thousand may have been killed; during the tenure of Castilian Dominican friar Tomás de Torquemada (1420–1498), the first grand inquisitor, it's believed some two-thousand were burned at the stake.  Suppressed first by Joseph-Napoléon Bonaparte (1768–1844; king of Naples (1806–1808) and king of Spain (1808–1813)) in 1808, it was restored by Ferdinand VII (1784–1833; king of Spain 1808 & 1813-1830) in 1814, suppressed in 1820, and restored in 1823.  It was finally abolished in 1834 by the Spanish queen regent María Cristina de Borbón (Maria Christina of the Two Sicilies 1806–1878; queen consort of Spain from 1829-1833 and regent of the Kingdom 1833-1840).  Historians have noted that although the Spanish Inquisition didn't last into the twentieth century, there were more than echoes of its methods & techniques witnessed (on both sides) during the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939).  

Rome certainly understood the need to enforce doctrine and punish heretics but they wanted control of the processes, aware even then some of the excesses were proving to be counter-productive and the imperative was to create a body under the direct jurisdiction of the Holy See.  Formed in 1542, was emerged was an institution which in recent years has had a few instances of what in commerce (and increasingly by governments too) is called "re-branding".  Originally named the Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Roman and Universal Inquisition, between 1908-1965 it was known as the Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Holy Office before becoming Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF), its best-known prefect (head) being the the German Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (1927–2022) who, after serving as Chief Inquisitor between 1982-2005) was elected pope as Benedict XVI, serving until his unusual (though not unprecedented) resignation in 2013 when he decided to be styled pope emeritus, living in a kind of papal granny flat in the Vatican until his death.  In 2022, the institution was re-named the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith (DDF) and despite it all, many continue to refer to it as "The Holy Office" (in public) or "The Inquisition" (in private).  There are now (even when under Cardinal Ratzinger as far as in known) no more torture chambers or burnings at the stake but the DDF remains a significant factional player in curia politics although Vatican watchers have detected a grudging softening in the DDF's expressions of doctrinal rigidity since the election of Pope Francis (b 1936; pope since 2013). 

Artifice

Artifice (pronounced ahr-tuh-fis)

(1) A clever trick or stratagem; a cunning, crafty device or expedient; wile.

(2) Trickery; guile; a crafty but underhanded deception.

(3) Cunning; ingenuity; inventiveness; a trick played out as an ingenious, but artful, ruse.

(4) A skilful or artful contrivance or expedient.

(5) A strategic manoeuvre that uses some clever means to avoid detection or capture; a tactical move to gain advantage.

(6) To construct by means of technical skill or some specialised art (cited by many sources as archaic but still used and useful in this sense).

1525–1535: From the Middle English in the sense of “workmanship, the making of something by craft or skill”, from the fourteenth century Middle French artifice (skill, cunning), from the Old French from the Latin artificium (art, craft, skill, talent, craftsmanship; profession, trade, an employment) from artifex (genitive artificis) (artist, actor; craftsman, master (of a craft or trade); mastermind, schemer; one possessed of a specific skill), the construct being ars- (art; skill) + -fex (from facere (to make; to do)), from the primitive Indo-European root dhe (to set; to put).  As a suffix in Latin, -fex was used to represent a maker or producer.  Synonyms include subterfuge, deception, deceit and duplicity but there’s also an array of associative words such as gimmick, contrivance, duplicity, inventiveness, dodge, manoeuvre, play, scam, savvy, stratagem, machination, ploy, subterfuge, ruse, racket, tactic, expedient, device, wile and gambit.  The original meanings survive but have tended to have receded in use compared with the sense of “crafty; a device; trickery” which emerged in the 1650s.  Artifice is a noun & verb, artificer is a noun and artificing & artificed are verbs; the noun plural is artifices.

Some artifice involved: Pamela Anderson (b 1967), mostly real.

The adjective artificial dates from the late fourteenth century in the sense of “something not natural or spontaneous”, from the Old French artificial, from the Latin artificialis “of or belonging to art”, again from artificium.  The adverb artificially (by art or human skill and contrivance) dates from the early fifteenth century while the noun artificiality (appearance of art; insincerity) emerged in the 1760s, the earlier form was artificialness, documented in the 1590s; the Middle English artificy survived until the early fifteenth century.  In English, the earliest use seems to be the phrase “artificial day” (that part of the day from sunrise to sunset (as opposed to the “natural” days 24 hours)).   The early fifteenth century idea of something artificial being something The meaning “made by man, contrived by human skill and labor” was the basis of the morphing in the 1700s to “anything made in imitation of, or as a substitute for, what is natural, whether real (light, tears) or not (teeth, flowers).  The third sense (these all still running in parallel) of “full of affectation, insincere” was in use by the 1590s, the subtlety different “fictitious, assumed, not genuine” by the 1640s.  So the use depends on context: when people no peak of artificial intelligence, the implication is of “a machine which can emulate and improve upon human thought processes” and not “fake intelligence” which means something else, although, given some of the dubious results which have been provided by the early implementations of generative AI, it’s clear some fake intelligence has been produced.

The Artifice.

Founded in 2009 and based in Sweden, the Artifice is an English-language on-line magazine focusing on popular culture topics such as film, manga, anime, television, comics, on-line gaming and such.  It's a most interesting venture because the model is a platform available to anyone writing in English, submissions vetted by an editorial panel which provides criticism and suggests improvements, those published subsequently invited to contribute to the editorial process.  It's an intriguing collaborative approach, something really practical in the on-line environment and vaguely analogous with open-source software, the difference being Artifice's authors provide their content as a finished product, not something intended for others to modify and distribute though doubtlessly that happens.

The abbreviation AI is now familiar because of the sudden rise in interest in packaged generative artificial intelligence, prompted by the availability of products such as ChatGPT, ClickUp or the still embryonic extensions which bolt a version onto Google’s & Microsoft’s web browsers (Chrome and Bing respectively); Collins Dictionary named “AI” their “word of the Year 2023”, noting the sudden spike of interest in the topic wasn’t reflected in an increase on-line of the use of the words “artificial” or “intelligence” because both in general use and as a search term, “AI” had become ubiquitous.  Artificial intelligence (the science and engineering of making intelligent machines) was coined in 1956 but the abbreviation came into use only in 1971.  Since 1894, within various parts of veterinary science and livestock management, AI had been used to refer to “artificial insemination”, a mechanical form of introducing semen where required.  Most associated with cattle, when some artificiality was introduced to human reproduction, the term “in vitro fertilisation” (IVF) was preferred although it is a very different process in which fertilisation is achieved by combining an egg with sperm in vitro (from the Latin, translated literally as “in the glass”, hence the memorable (if misleading) early phrase “test-tube baby.  Because “in vitro” has become so common in English it’s probably assimilated and thus (in this context) no longer italicized.  In this it’s similar to something like the even more common de facto which, because assimilated for most purposes, is not italicized except when used in the context of legal proceedings, a nod to its status as Latin legal language.

Beware of imitations: Bees can’t be fooled but humans need a guide.

Adolf Hitler's (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) "table talk", his meandering discussions (often monologues) over meals or other informal gatherings were notoriously repetitive and quite a strain for his regular audience to sit through.  Some of the topics were predicable but one subject often mentioned was artificial honey, his interest in the concocted stuff apparently because he was provided with much of the sticky syrup in his rations while serving in the Imperial German Army (1871–1919) during World War I (1914-1918).  His sweet tooth was well-documented and whether or not it was his influence, the substance appeared in the list Ernährungsrichtlinie für die Verbrauchslenkung (Nutrition guidelines for consumption control), published in the March 1939 edition Zeitschrift für Spiritusindustrie (Spirit Industry Magazine), the presence of artificial honey and milk powder indicating the regime's multi-pronged approach to food security (although they also sponsored research on fat made from coal which sounds less tempting).  Of late, artificial honey has become controversial in a number of jurisdictions, not because of concerns about the safety of the product but because it is sometimes represented as “natural honey”.

Duplicity

Duplicity (pronounced doo-plis-i-tee or dyoo-plis-i-tee)

(1) Deceitfulness in speech or conduct, as by speaking or acting in two different ways to different people concerning the same matter; double-dealing.

(2) An act or instance of such deceitfulness.

(3) In law, the act or fact of including two or more offenses in one count, or charge, as part of an indictment, thus violating the requirement that each count contain only a single offense.

1400–1450: From the Late Middle English, from the Old French duplicite, from the Late Latin duplicitatem (nominative duplicitas (doubleness)).  Technically, the word wa borrowed from Latin duplicāre (double), present active infinitive of duplicō and the Medieval Latin duplicitās differed with ite replacing itās.  The notion is of being "double" in one's conduct ultimately is derived from the Ancient Greek diploos (treacherous, double-minded) which translates literally as "twofold, double".  Related in Medieval Latin was ambiguity, noun of quality from duplex, genitive (duplicis (two-fold)).

Duplicity good and bad

Because such conduct is inherent to human interaction, there are many words either similar in meaning or a synonym of duplicity.  Duplicity is the form of deceitfulness that leads one to give two impressions, either or both of which may be false.  Deceit is the quality that prompts intentional concealment or perversion of truth for the purpose of misleading.  The quality of guile leads to craftiness in the use of deceit; one uses guile and trickery to attain one's ends. Hypocrisy is the pretence of possessing virtuous qualities such as sincerity, goodness or devotion.  Fraud refers usually to the practice of subtle deceit or duplicity by which one may derive benefit at another's expense.  Trickery is the quality that leads to the use of tricks and habitual deception.  In modern English usage, the most common sense of duplicity is “deceitfulness.”  The roots of this meaning are in the initial dupl from the Latin duplex (twofold, or double).  We do seem a duplicitous lot.

Alexander Haig (1924–2010; US Secretary of State 1981-1982) & Ronald Reagan (1911–2004; US President 1981-1989) (left) and Lord Carrington (1919–2018; UK Foreign Secretary 1979-1982) & Margaret Thatcher (1925–2013; UK Prime Minister 1979-1990) (right).

To accuse someone duplicity is usually to allege or suggest something negative, the idea that someone has acted in a manner perhaps not dishonest but certainly misleading or dishonorable.  However there are fields of endeavor where the successfully duplicitous are often admired and the most Machiavellian can be held in awe.  In international relations, it’s true in the upper reaches of diplomacy.

Duplicity, art and science: Haig and Carrington, the White House, 26 February 1981.

More than General Colin Powell (b 1937; US Secretary of State 2001-2005) and more even than General Dwight Eisenhower (1890–1969; US President 1953-1961), General Alexander Haig (1924-2010) was an exemplar of that uniquely Washington DC creature, the political soldier, whose career shuttled between the military, diplomacy and politics.  After a meeting in 1981, Haig was heard to remark the UK Foreign Secretary, Lord Carrington, was a "duplicitous bastard".  Beyond the beltway, that would be a disparaging comment, but, in the world of international diplomacy, it’s more an expression of admiration of professional skill.

Mean Girls (2004), a story of duplicity, low skulduggery, Machiavellian manipulation, lies & deceit.  As a morality tale, the message can be reduced to: “Women would rather hear brilliant lies than honest truths”.