Targa

Targa (pronounced ta-gah)

(1) A model name trade-marked by Porsche AG in 1966.

(2) In casual use, a generic description of cars with a removable roof panel between the windscreen and a truncated roof structure ahead of the rear window.

1966 (in the context of the Porsche): From the Targa Florio race in Sicily, first run in 1906 and last staged in its classic form in 1973.  In many European languages, targa (or derivatives) existed and most were related to the Proto-Germanic targǭ (edge), from the primitive Indo-European dorg- (edge, seam), from the Old Norse targa (small round shield) and the Old High German zarga (edge, rim).  The modern Italian targa (plate, shingle; name-plate; number plate or license plate; plaque; signboard; target (derived from the rounded oval or rectangle shield used in medieval times)) was ultimately from the Frankish targa (shield).  In the Old English targa (a light shield) was also from the Proto-Germanic targǭ and was cognate with the Old Norse targa and the Old High German zarga (source of the German Zarge); it was the source of the Modern English target.  The Proto-Germanic targǭ dates from the twelfth century and “target” in the sense of “round object to be aimed at in shooting” emerged in the mid eighteenth century and was used originally in archery.  Targa is a noun; the noun plural is targas.

1974 Leyland P76 Targa Florio in Omega Navy, Aspen Green & Nutmeg (without the side graphics).  Like all P76s, the Targa Florio effortlessly could fit a a 44 (imperial) gallon (53 US gallon; 205 litre) in its trunk (boot) and while it's unlikely many buyers took advantage of this, it was an indication of the impressive capacity.  The reputed ability to handle fours sets of golf clubs was probably more of a selling point but unfortunately, as the P76's rapid demise might suggest, there just weren't that many golfers. 

Although, especially when fitted with the 4.4 litre (269 cubic inch) V8, it was in many ways at least as good as the competition, the Australian designed and built Leyland P76 is remembered as the Antipodean Edsel: a total failure.  It was doomed by poor build quality, indifferent dealer support and the misfortune of being a big (in local terms) car introduced just before the first oil shock hit and the world economy sunk into the severe recession which marked the end of the long, post war boom.  It vanished in 1975, taking with it Leyland Australia's manufacturing capacity but did have one quixotic moment of glory, setting the fastest time on Special Stage 8 of the 1974 London–Sahara–Munich World Cup Rally held on the historic Targa Florio course in Palermo, Sicily (in the rally, the P76 finished a creditable 13^th).  The big V8 machine out-paced the field by several minutes and to mark the rare success, Leyland Australia built 488 "Targa Florio" versions.  Available in Omega Navy, Aspen Green or Nutmeg (a shade of brown which seemed to stalk the 1970s), the special build was mechanically identical to other V8 P76 Supers with automatic transmission but did include a sports steering wheel and aluminium road wheels, both intended for the abortive Force 7, a two-door version which was ungainly but did offer the functionality of a hatchback.  In a typical example of Leyland Australia's (and that of British Leyland generally) ineptitude, the Force 7 was being developed just as the other local manufacturers were in about to drop their larger two-doors, demand having dwindled after a brief vogue.  Only 10 of the 60-odd prototype Force 7V coupés survived the crusher but even had the range survived beyond 1974, success would have been improbable although the company should be commended for having intended to name the luxury version the Tour de Force (from the French and translated literally as "feat of strength"), the irony charming although En dépit de tout (In spite of everything) might better have capture the moment. 

Except for those which (usually) stick to numbers or alpha-numeric strings (Mercedes-Benz the classic example), coming up with a name for a car can be a tricky business, especially if someone objects.  In 1972, Ford of England was taken to court by Granada Television after choosing to call their new car a “Granada” though the judge gave the argument short shrift, pointing out (1) it was unlikely anyone would confuse a car with a TV channel and (2) neither the city nor the province of Granada in Spain’s Andalusia region had in 1956 complained when the name was adopted for the channel.  The suit was thrown out and the Ford Granada went on to such success the parent company in the US also used the name.

Spot the difference.  1966 Ford Mustang Fastback (left) and 1966 Ford T-5 Fastback (right).

In Cologne, Ford’s German outpost in 1964 had less success with names when trying to sell the Mustang in the FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany, 1949-1990)) because Krupp AG held (until December 31 1978) exclusive rights to the name which it used on a range of heavy trucks, some of which were built as fire engines.  A truck couldn't be confused with a Mustang although there might have been some snobby types among the French who claimed to see some resemblance.  That would have been in the tradition of Ettore Bugatti's (1881–1947) observation in 1928 the powerful, sturdy, eponymous machines of W. O. Bentley (1888–1971) were the “world’s fastest trucks” and it was a comparison between the brutishness of those 6½ litre (actually a 6.6 (403 cubic inch) straight-six monsters with the elegant delicacy of his 2.3 litre (138 cubic inch) straight-eights which stirred his thoughts.  The gulf in 1967 between a Mustang and something like the (conceptually, vaguely similar) Renault Caravelle (1958-1968, which never grew beyond 1.1 litres (68 cubic inch)) was perhaps not so wide but would, in some French imaginations, been vivid.  Ford’s legal advice apparently was that under FRG trademark law, Kreidler AG held the rights to use the “Mustang” name for “two-wheeled vehicles” (ie motor-cycles) while Krupp AG enjoyed the same for “four-wheeled vehicles”, the act making no distinction between passenger cars and heavy trucks.  From his tomb, W.O. Bentley may have felt vindicated.

Understandably, Ford’s legal advice was to settle rather than sue so negotiations began with Ford making clear to Krupp and Kreidler it wasn't seeking exclusivity of use in the FRG and was happy for Mustang trucks and motor-cycles to continue in production.  The two German concerns responded with an offer to “share” their rights for a one-off payment of US$10,000 (in 1965, on the US West Coast, the list price for a Porsche 911 was around US$6,500) which Ford declined.  Given trucks are sold on the basis of factors like price, functionality and cost of operation rather than an abstraction like the name, why the Krupp board didn't make an effort to take advantage of what would have been good (and free) publicity seems not to be publicly available but negotiations were at that point sundered and until 1979 Mustangs in the FRG were sold as the “T-5” or “T5”.  Almost identical to the US version but for the badges and a few pieces of “localization”, the re-designated Mustang was in the 1960s one of the most popular US cars sold in Europe, aided by the then attractive US$-Deutsche Mark exchange rate and its availability in military PX (Post Exchange) stores, service personnel able to buy at a discount and subsequently have the car shipped back to the US at no cost; the system was retained (of the 4,000-odd Mustangs sold outside North America in 2012, nearly one in four was through military channels).

The badges: As they appeared on the early (1964-1966) Mustangs in most of the world (left), the T-5 badge used on early Mustangs sold in Germany (centre) and the (non-hyphenated) T5 used in Germany between 1967 and 1979 when the last was sold.

Ford also had difficulties with the FRG registration authorities.  When first made available in 1964, the T-5 was actually a standard (US-specification) Mustang with the required parts in a “T-5 Kit”, supplied in boxes in the trunk (boot) and ready to be installed by the dealer.  That approach was in the US used for a number of purposes (notably high performance parts such as multiple carburetors and the requisite manifold) but the German authorities weren’t amused and insisted all this had to be done on a production-line, explaining why all but the earliest T-5s were produced in batches.  Visually, the changes which distinguished a T-5 from a Mustang were slight and included (1) wheel covers with a plain black centre. (2) the word “Mustang” being removed from horn ring & gas (petrol) cap, metric graduations on certain instruments (such as odometers & speedometers which measured kilometres rather than miles) and (3) a “T-5” badge replacing the “Mustang” script on the flanks.  Other than these cosmetic items, mechanical changes were limited to suspension settings (including adding the shock-tower cross-brace fitted to the Shelby GT350s) better to handle continental roads and the fitting of European-specification lighting.  Curiously, although Ford obviously didn’t make much effort when coming up with the “T-5” name (it was the project code during the Mustang's development in Detroit), it did create a “T-5” badge (part number C5ZZ-6325622A) to replace the “Mustang” script on the front fenders and it was thought necessary later to do a re-design, the new one (part number CZZ-16098C) dropping the hyphen and placing the centred characters vertically.  Apparently content, the new badge was used until 1978 when Krupp’s copyright expired and the Mustang’s badges became global.  As was common, there were also running changes, a dash bezel above the glove box (with the T5 designation) introduced during 1967 and continued the next year while the 1971 range received a new dash emblem which sat in the centre, above the radio and heater controls.  However, anyone driving or sitting in a T5, unless expert in such things or unusually observant, probably wouldn’t have noticed the car was in any way different from a Mustang of that vintage.  Although the records are in places sketchy (and occasionally contradictory), the consensus is between 1964-1973, some 3,500 T5s or T-5s were produced.

Scenes from Rote Sonne (1970, promotional poster, centre): A 1966 Ford T5 (left) and some of the cast (right) with a (circa 1966) Volkswagen Type 1 (Beetle).  Note the jackboots.

Directed by Rudolf Thome (b 1939), the plotline of Rote Sonne revolves around four young Fräuleins (Peggy, Sylvie, Christine & Isolde) who have entered into a mortiferous pact to use their charms to lure men into their grasp as a prelude to murdering them.  Maybe the foursome had read Valerie Solanas's (1936-1988), S.C.U.M. Manifesto (1967) which, even today, is still about as terminal as feminism gets.  Although criticized as an example of the “pornography of violence” the film genuinely did fit into the contemporary feminist narratives of the FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany) 1949-1990), a place in which ripples from the street protests which swept Germany in 1968 were still being felt and it was in 1970 the terrorist collective Rote Armee Fraktion (Red Army Faction (RAF)) was formed; In the English-speaking world it’s better (if misleadingly) known as the Baader–Meinhof Gang.

Front page from the Krupp Mustang brochure (1958, left) announcing ...jetzt auch als Frontlenker (“...now also available as a forward control truck” (known in the US as the CoE (cab-over engine) configuration) and two pages from the 1975 Ford T5 brochure (Ghia (upper right) and Mach 1 (lower right) versions).  The photography and text (in translation) in Ford’s T5 advertising followed the originals except that whereas the US agencies usually included people, for German eyes, there were only the cars.  The CoE configuration became popular because it allowed an increased load area while still complying with the maximum length limits set in many jurisdictions. 

Front cover of 1974 Ford T-5 brochure.  Unlike with the original Mustang which “didn't have a bad angle”, photographers assigned the Mustang II needed carefully to choose the aspect because if snapped unsympathetically, it could look quite gawky.

The timing of the release of the Mustang II on 21 September, 1973 (for the 1974 season) proved exquisite because on 17 October, 1973 began the geopolitical ructions which three days later would trigger the announcement by OAPEC (Organization of Arab Petroleum Exporting Countries) of a “total embargo” of sales of oil to the US and certain other countries.  What following from that came to be known first as the “1973 oil crisis” before being re-named “first oil shock” after not dissimilar troubles in 1979; one way or another, the world has since been adjusting to the change.  The Mustang II, lighter, smaller and notably more energy-efficient than its predecessor (which as late as early 1972 had a 429 cubic inch (7.0 litre) V8 on the option list) was the right car for the time and proved a great success, despite the traditionalists being appalled at the engine choices being initially restricted to what were (compared with what had been and what would later return) rather anaemic four & six-cylinder units.

Ford T-5 brochure, the basic coupé (left) and the 3-Türer (three door) hatchback (right).  By 1974, the US manufacturers were using the word “hardtop” more loosely than the when in the 1950s & 1960s it had been standardized to mean: “no B-pillar”.  Here, it seems to be used as a synonym of “two-door coupé” although by 1974, in the US, the term “pillared hardtop” had been coined to describe those vehicles with a B-pillar but no frames for the side windows.  The Mustang II used frameless side-windows so the use may have been a nod to that and it certainly wasn't to differentiate it from a (soft-top) convertible, that body style never offered on the model.      

On paper, the more modest dimensions and fuel consumption should have made the Mustang II more suited to the German market and Ford may have had high hopes (at least as high as homes got by the mid-1970s) but the appeal of the early Mustangs was the relatively compact (in US terms) size and the small-displacement (again, in US terms) V8s (260 & 289 cubic inch; 4.2 & 4.7 litre) making the car something of a “sweet spot” in what was a small but lucrative German niche.  In the 1960s, there was no European-made car quite like it, thus the small but devoted following enjoyed by the early T5s but the Mustang II used a template which was quasi-European and the most obvious comparison was with Ford’s own Capri II, built in Cologne and on any objective measure the Capri II was a better car than a Mustang II (T5), most Germans (an other Europeans) concluding while there were reasons to buy a Mustang, there were few to buy a Mustang II.  So good was the German Capri it was for years exported to the US where, sold by Mercury dealers, often it was the best-selling import, was withdrawn from sale after 1977 only because the strength of the Deutsch Mark (the FRG’s currency) against the US dollar rendered the project unviable.  Production numbers for the T-5s based on the Mustang II are disputed and it’s believed the total was “low three figures”, the appeal of the 1973-1978 T-5s not greatly enhanced by the addition in 1975 of an optional 4.9 litre (302 cubic inch) V8 which increased fuel consumption rather more than it improved performance.  As a footnote, Ford called the 4.9 a “5.0” to avoid confusion with their 300 cubic inch straight-six truck engine (which, like the 302, was a true 4.9).  Because the 300 wasn’t used in Australia, there the 302s (one of which was a unique “Cleveland 302”) were (after 1973 when the country switched to metric measures) badged 4.9 to provide greater market differentiation from the companion 5.8 (351) V8.

1964 Daimler (C-Specification) SP250 (née Dart) in London Metropolitan Police configuration.

The wire wheels are a later edition, all police SP250s supplied originally with steel wheels & "dog dish" hubcaps); many (non-police) SP250s have also subsequently been fitted with the wheels.  Scotland Yard purchased some 30 SP250s (all automatics) attracted by their 120+ mph (195 km/h) performance, allowing them to out-pace all but the fastest two and four-wheeled vehicles then on the road.  Police forces in Australia and New Zealand also adopted SP250s as highway patrol vehicles.

The Daimler SP250 was first shown to the public at the 1959 New York Motor Show and there the problems began.  Aware the sports car was quite a departure from the luxurious but rather staid line-up Daimler had for years offered, the company had chosen the attractively alliterative “Dart” as its name, hoping it would convey the sense of something agile and fast.  Unfortunately, Chrysler’s lawyers were faster still, objecting that they had already registered Dart as the name for a full-sized Dodge so Daimler needed a new name and quickly; the big Dodge would never be confused with the little Daimler but the lawyers insisted.  Imagination apparently exhausted, Daimler’s management also reverted to the engineering project name and thus the car became the SP250 which was innocuous enough even for Chrysler's attorneys.  The Dodge Dart didn't for long stay big, the name in 1964 re-used for a compact line although it was the generation made between 1967-1977 which was most successful and almost immediately Chrysler regretted the decision to cease production, the replacement range (the Dodge Aspen & Plymouth Volaré (1976-1980)) one of the industry's disasters.  The name was revived in 2012 for a new Dodge Dart, a small, front wheel drive (FWD) car which was inoffensive but dreary and lasted only until 2016.  The SP250 was less successful still, not even 3000 made between 1959-1964, something attributable to (1) the unfortunate styling, (2) the antiquated chassis, (3) the lack of development which meant there were basic flaws in the body engineering of the early versions and (4) the lack of interest by Jaguar which in 1960 had purchased Daimler, its interest in the manufacturing capacity acquired rather than the product range.  It was a shame because the SP250's exquisite 2.5 litre (155 cubic inch) V8 deserved better.  

Lindsay Lohan with Porsche 911 Targa 4 (997), West Hollywood, 2008.  The Targa was reportedly leased by her former special friend, DJ Samantha Ronson (b 1977).

Sometimes though, numbers could upset someone.  Even in the highly regulated EEC (European Economic Community, the origin of the European Union (EU)) of the 1960s, a company in most cases probably couldn’t claim exclusive rights to a three number sequence but Peugeot claimed exactly that when Porsche first showed their new 901 in 1963.  Asserting they possessed the sole right to sell in France car with a name constructed with three numbers if the middle digit was a zero, the French requested the Germans rename the thing.  It was the era of Franco-German cooperation and Porsche did just that, announcing the new name would be 911, a machine which went on to great things and sixty years on, remains on sale although, the lineage is obvious, only the odd nut & bolt is interchangeable between the two.  So all was well that ends well even if the French case still seems dubious because Mercedes-Benz had for years been selling in France cars labelled 200 or 300 (and would soon offer the 600). Anyway, this time, it was the project name (901) which was discarded (although it remained as the prefix on part-numbers) and surviving examples of the first 82 cars produced before the name was changed are now highly prized by collectors.

Sometimes however, the industry uses weird names for no obvious reason and some of the cars produced for the JDM (Japanese domestic market) are, to Western ears, truly bizarre though perhaps for a Japanese audience they’re compellingly cool.  Whatever might be the rationale, the Japanese manufacturers have give the world some memorable monikers including (1) from Honda the Vamios Hobio Pro & the That's, (2) from Mazda the Titan Dump, the Scrum Truck & the Bongo Brawny, (3) from Mitsubishi the Super Great, the eK-Classy, the Town Box, the Mirage Dingo Teddy Bear & the Homy Super Long, (4) from Suzuki the Solio Bandit & the Mighty Boy, (5) from Toyota the Royal Lounge Alphard, (6) from Subaru the Touring Bruce, (7) from Nissan the Big Thumb, the Elgrand Highway Star & the Cedric and (8) from Cony, the Guppy.

1964 Porsche 901 (left), 1968 Porsche 911L Targa (soft window) (centre) and 1969 Porsche 911S Targa (right)

Compared with that lot, Porsche deciding to call a car a Targa seems quite restrained.  Porsche borrowed the name from Targa Florio, the famous race in the hills of Sicily first run in 1906 and where Porsche in the 1950s had enjoyed some success.  Long, challenging and treacherous, it originally circumnavigated the island but the distance was gradually reduced until it was last run in its classic form in 1973 although in even more truncated form it lingered until 1977.  The construct of the name of the Targa Florio, the race in Italy from which Porsche borrowed the name, was Targa (in the sense of “plate” or “shield” + Florio, a tribute to Vincenzo Florio (1883-1959), a rich Sicilian businessman, automobile enthusiast and scion of a prominent family of industrialists and sportsmen; it was Vincenzo Florio who in 1906 founded the race.  Porsche won the race seven times between between 1963-1970 and took victory in 1973 in a 911 Carrera RSR, the car which in its street-legal (the Carrera RS) form remains among the most coveted of all the 911s and many replicas have been created.  Porsche didn't make any 1973 Carrera RS Targas; all were coupés.

1976 Porsche 914 2.0 with factory-fitted heckblende in Nepal Orange over black leatherette with orange & black plaid inserts.  All the mid-engined 914 built for public sale had a targa top although for use in competition the factory did a few with a fixed roof to gain additional rigidity.  The 914 was the first of a number of attempts by Porsche’s engineers to convince customers there were better configurations than the rear-engine layout used on the 911 & 912.  The customers continued to demand 911s and, the customer always being right, rear-engined 911s remain available to this day.  Porsche now offers front & mid-engined models so presumably honor is thought satisfied on both sides.   

1938 Packard 1605 Super Eight Sedanca de Ville by Barker.

The idea of a vehicle with a removable roof section over the driver is more ancient even than the Porsche 911.  Now, a “town car” is imagined as something small and increasingly powered in some Greta Thunberg (b 2003) approved way but in the US, what was sold as a “Town Car” used to be very big, very thirsty (for fossil fuels) and a prodigious emitter of greenhouse gasses.  The idea had begun in Europe as the coupé de ville, deconstructed as the French coupé (an elliptical form of carosse coupé (cut carriage)) and the past participle of couper (to cut) + de ville (French for “for town”).  So, it was, like the horse-drawn coupé carriage, a smaller conveyance for short-distance travel within cities, often just for two passengers who sat sometimes in an enclosed compartment and sometimes under a canopy while the driver was always exposed to the elements.  In the UK, the style was often advertised as the clarence carriage.  The coach-builders of the inter-war years created naming practices which were not consistent across the industry but did tend to be standardized within individual catalogues.  In the US, reflecting the horse-drawn tradition, the coupé de ville was Anglicized as coupe de ville and appeared as both “town brougham” and “town car”, distinguished by the enclosed passenger compartment (trimmed often in cloth) and the exposed driver who sat on more weather resistant leather upholstery.

1974 Lincoln Continental Town Car.  The big Lincolns of the 1970s are about as remote as can be imagined from the original idea of something small and agile for use in congested cities but Ford also called this body style the "pillared hardtop" so by then, linguistic traditions clearly meant little.

Dating from the 1920s, a variant term was “Sedanca de ville”, briefly used to describe a particular configuration for the roof but so attractive was the word it spread and soon there appeared were Sedancas and Sedanca coupés.  Like many designations in the industry, it soon ceased to carry an exact meaning beyond the front seats being open to the skies although by the 1920s there was usually a detachable or folding (even some sliding metal versions were built) roof and windscreens had become a universal fitting.  For a while, there probably was (unusually in an industry which often paid scant attention to the details of etymology) an understanding a Sedanca de ville was a larger vehicle than a Sedanca coupé but the former term became the more generally applied, always on the basis of the ability of the driver’s compartment to be open although it’s clear many of the vehicles were marketed towards owner-drivers rather than those with chauffeurs, that cohort having moved towards fully enclosed limousines.  It’s from the Sedanca tradition the US industry later picked up the idea of the “town car” although the association was vague and had nothing to do with an open driver’s cockpit; it was understood just as a model designation which somehow implied “prestige”.

1968 Triumph TR5 with “Surrey Top”.

Porsche had since the late 1940s been building roadsters and cabriolets but while the 911 (then known internally as Project 901) was under development, it was clear US regulators, in reaction to a sharply rising death toll on the nation’s highways, were developing some quite rigorous safety standards and a number of proposals had been circulated which threatened to outlaw the traditional convertible.  Thus the approach adopted which, drawing from the company’s experience in building race cars, essentially added a stylized roll-over bar which could accommodate a detachable roof-section over the passengers and a folding rear cover which included a Perspex screen (the solid rear glass would come later).  Actually, the concept wasn’t entirely novel, Triumph introducing something similar on their TR4 roadsters (1961-1967) although their design consisted of (1) a half-hard top with an integral roll-bar & fixed glass rear window and (2) two detachable (metal & vinyl) panels which sat above the passengers.  Customers universally (and still to this day) referred to this arrangement as the “Surrey Top” although Triumph insisted only the vinyl insert and its supporting frame was the “Surrey” while the rest of the parts collectively were the “Hard Top kit”.  The targaesque top was available on the TR5 (1967-1969), a de-tuned version of which was sold in North America as the TR250 with twin carburetors replacing the Lucas mechanical fuel-injection used in most other markets, the more exotic system then unable to comply with the new emission standards.

1953 Ford X-100 with roof panel retracted (left), the Quincunxed five carburetor apparatus atop the 317 cubic inch (5.2 litre) Lincoln Y-Block V8 (centre) and the built-in hydraulic jacking system in use (right).

However, long before Porsche told us there were Targa and a decade before even Triumph’s Surrey, Ford had displayed a two-seat “targa”.  In the years to come, things like the 1953 Ford X-100 would be called “concept cars” but that term didn’t then exist so Ford used the more familiar “dream car” and that does seem a more romantic way of putting it.  Reflecting the optimistic spirit of the early post-war years, the X-100 included a number of innovations including the use of radial-ply tyres, a built-in hydraulic jacking system, a rain-sensor which automatically would trigger an electric motor to close the sliding plexiglass roof panel, a built-in dictaphone, a telephone in the centre console and the convenience of heated seats and an electric shaver mounted in the glove compartment.  Some of the features became mainstream products, some not and while the “variable volume horn” wasn’t picked up by the industry, one did appear on the Mercedes-Benz 600 (W100; 1963-1981) although that was a rare supportive gesture.  It was also an age of imaginative labels and Ford called their quincunx induction system the “Multi-Plex”; while the engineering proved a cul-de-sac, the name did later get picked up by multi-screen suburban cinema complexes.  For the X-100, Ford used what was then a popular technique in the lunatic fringe of the burgeoning hot rod: an induction system using five carburettors in a Quincunx pattern.  Inherent difficulties and advances in engineering meant the fad didn’t last but the apparatus remins pleasing to those with a fondness of unusual aluminium castings and intricate mechanical linkages.  X-100 still exists and is displayed at the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan.

1969 Mercury Marauder X-100.  In 1969, the blacked-out trunk (boot) lid and surrounds really was done by the factory.  During the administration of Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974), things were not drab and predictable.

In a number of quirky coincidences, the name X-100 seems to once have been an industry favourite because as well as the 1953 Ford “dream car”, it was the US Secret Service’s designation for the 1961 Lincoln Continental parade convertible in which John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963) was assassinated in Dallas, Texas.  One might have thought that macabre association might have been enough for the “X-100” tag to not again be used but, presumably because the Secret Service’s internal codes weren’t then general public knowledge, in 1969 Ford’s Mercury division released an X-100 as an up-market version of its second generation (1969-1970) Marauder.  Notionally, the X-100 was a “high performance” version but its 365 (gross) horsepower 429 cubic inch (7.0 litre) V8 was an option in lesser priced Marauders which meant the X-100, weighed down by the additional luxury fittings, was just a little slower than the cheaper models with the 429.  The market for “full-sized” high performance cars was anyway by 1969 in the final stages of terminal decline and although an encouraging 5635 were sold in 1969, sales the next year fell to 2646 and the X-100 was retired at the end of the 1970 and not replaced.  Most bizarre though was project X-100, a US$75 million (then a lot of what was at the time borrowed money) contract in 1943 awarded to Chrysler to design, machine and nickel-plate the inner surfaces of the cylindrical diffusers required to separate uranium isotopes.  Part of the Manhattan Project which built the world’s first atomic bombs, Chrysler built over 3,500 diffusers used at the plant in Oak Ridge, Tennessee and many were still in service as late as the 1980s.  Not until after the first A-bomb was used against Hiroshima in August 1945 did most of the X-100 project’s workers become aware of the use being made of the precision equipment they were producing.

Built by Ferrari: 1973 Dino 246 GTS with "chairs & flares" options.  The "GTS" stood for "Gran Tourismo Spider" but it was a true targa in the sense codified by Porsche.

The rhyming colloquialism “chairs and flares” (C&F to the Ferrari cognoscenti and these days the early Dinos are an accepted part of the family) is a reference to a pair of (separately available) options available on later production Dino 246s.  The options were (1) seats with inserts (sometimes in a contasting color) in the style used on the 365 GTB/4 (Daytona) & (2) wider Campagnolo Elektron wheels (which the factory only ever referred to by size) which necessitated flared wheel-arches.  In the early 1970s the factory wasn’t too punctilious in the keeping of records so it’s not known how many cars were originally built equipped with the wider (7½ x 14” vs 6½ x 14”) wheels but some privately maintained registers exist and on the basis of these it’s believed production was probably between 200-250 cars from a total run of 3569 (2,295 GT coupés & 1,274 GTS spiders (targa)).  They appear to have been most commonly ordered on UK & US market cars (although the numbers for Europe are described as “dubious” and thought an under-estimate; there are also an unknown number in other countries), the breakdown of verified production being:

246 GT: UK=22, Europe=5, US=5.
246 GTS: UK=21, Europe=2, US=91.

The “chairs and flares” cars are those which have both the Elektron option and the Daytona-style seats but because they were available separately, some were built with only one of the two, hence the existence of other slang terms in the Dino world including “Daytona package”, “Sebring spiders” and, in the UK, the brutish “big arches”.  In 1974, the Dino's option list (in US$) comprised:

Power windows: $270.00
Metallic paint: $270.00
Leather upholstery: $450.00
Daytona type central seat panels: $115.00
Air-conditioning: $770.00
14 x 7½ wheels & fender flares: $680.00
AM/FM/SW radio: $315.00
Electric antenna & speakers: $100.00

At a combined US$795.00, the C&F combo has proved a good investment, now adding significantly to the price of the anyway highly collectable Dino.  Although it's hard to estimate the added value because so many other factors influence calculation, all else being equal, the premium would seem to to be well over US$100,000.  Because it involves only wheels, upholstery and metal, the modifications are technically not difficult to emulate although the price of a modified vehicle will not match that of an original although unlike some of the more radical modifications to Ferraris (such as conversions to roadsters), creating a C&F out of a standard 246 seems not to lower its value.  These things are always relative; in 1974 the C&F option added 5.2% to the Dino GTS's list price and was just under a third the cost of a new small (in US terms a "sub-compact") car such as the Chevrolet Vega (1970-1977).

An enduring design: 2023 Porsche 911 Targa 4 (992).

Porsche didn’t complicate things, in 1966 offering the Targa as an alternative to the familiar coupé, then in series production since 1964.  Briefly, the company flirted with calling the car the 911 Flori but ultimately Targa was preferred and the appropriate trademarks were applied for in 1965, the factory apparently discovering targa in Italian means “number plate” or “license plate” only that year when the translators were working on international editions of the sales brochures.  The now familiar fixed, heated rear screen in safety glass was first offered in 1967 as an alternative to the one in fold-down plastic one and such was the demand it soon became the standard fitting.  The Targa carried over into the 911’s second and third generation being, re-designed for 1993 in a way that dispensed with the roll bar and it wouldn’t be until 2011 the familiar shape returned.

1970 Iso Grifo Targa (Series I, 350 cubic inch (5.7 litre) Chevrolet V8, left) and 1971 Iso Grifo Can-Am Targa (Series II, 454 cubic inch (7.4 litre) Chevrolet V8, right).  The raised centre section on the hood (bonnet) of the big-block Grifos was known informally as the "penthouse"; it was required because the induction system sat higher than on the small-block cars.  Not all approved of the penthouse because they found it discordant with the otherwise flowing lines but its brutish functionalism seems a fitting tribute brute force beneath.

Among the small volume manufactures which in the post-war years found a lucrative niche in combining sensuous European coachwork with the cheap, powerful and robust American V8s, there was a focus on two-door coupés because (1) this was the example set by Ferrari and (2) there most demand in the segment clearly existed.  The ecosystem was sent extinct by the first oil shock of the early 1970s but in the era, some did offer convertibles and where not, there were specialists prepared to help.  There was though, the odd targa.  The achingly lovely Iso Grifo spyder (roadster) shown at the Geneva Motor Show in 1964 never reached production but in 1966, less than two years into the Grifo’s life (during which almost 100 had been made), the factory put a targa version on their stand at the Turin Motor Show.  It was only ever available to special order on a POA (price on application) basis and between then and the shuttering of the factory in 1974, only 17 were built, four of which were the Series II Can-Ams with the big-block Chevrolet V8.

Contempt

Contempt (pronounced kuhn-tempt)

(1) The feeling with which a person regards anything (or anyone) considered mean, vile, or worthless; disdain; scorn.

(2) The state of being despised; dishonor; disgrace.

(3) An act showing such disrespect.

(4) In most legal systems, willful disobedience to or open disrespect for the rules or orders of a court contempt of court or legislative body; punishable by being cited for “contempt of court”.

(5) In chess engines (the software used in chess games), as an ellipsis of “contempt factor”, a setting that modifies how much an engine values a draw versus a win or loss, making it play more aggressively or defensively based on perceived opponent strength.  The idea is to encourage interesting games by making engines avoid draws against weaker foes or seek them against stronger ones.

1350–1400: From the Middle English contempnen, from the Anglo-French contemner, from the Old French contempt & contemps, from the Latin contemptus (despising, scorn), a noun derivative of contemnere, from contemnō (I scorn, despise).  It displaced the native Old English forsewennes.  The late fourteenth century meaning was “an open disregard or disobedience (of authority, the law etc)” while the general sense of “act of despising; scorn for what is mean, vile, or worthless” was in use by at least circa 1400.  In Latin, there was also the feminine contemptrix (she who despises).  In the technical sense, the codified offence of “contempt of court” (open disregard or disrespect for the rules, orders, or process of judicial authority) dates only from the early eighteenth century but the variants of the concept have been in use almost as long as there have been courts.

Unusually (in terms of construction), the phrase “beneath contempt” really means “extremely contemptible”.  In idiomatic use, “familiarity breeds contempt” suggests “a prolonged closeness or exposure or a profound knowledge of someone or something often leads to diminished respect or appreciation” and a particular form of that is associated with Frederick the Great (Frederick II, 1712–1786, King of Prussia 1740-1786) who observed: “The more I learn of the character of men, the more I appreciate the company of dogs”.  The term “contempt trap” comes from the burgeoning discipline of “relationship studies” (romantic, social or political) and describes situations in which individuals view others as worthless, leading to toxic communication, disconnection, and resentment.  It's a psychological trap where partners or groups focus on flaws, creating a downward spiral in which the “issues fuel themselves”; the best strategy is said to be “empathetic niceness” but, in the circumstances, this can be easier said than done.

The familiar “contempt of court” (plural contempts of court) is conceptually similar to the offences “Contempt of Parliament” & “Contempt of Congress” (ie the act of obstructing the work of a legislative body or one of its committees) and, at law, the noun contemnor describes a party who commits or is held in contempt of a court or legislative body.  The offence is one in which there’s held to have been open disrespect for or willful disobedience of the authority of a court of law or legislative body, typically punishable by such sanctions as a fine or incarceration.  The nature of these punishments varies widely and especially minor transgressions are involved, the penalty can vary from judge to judge; one might ignore the slight while another might send the offender to a cell for a few hours.  The noun & adjective contemptive is rare and used in linguistics to mean “of or pertaining to, or creating a word form denoting the negative attitude of the speaker”.  The negative adjectival form is uncontemptible and incontemptible does not exist although there may be a use for both among those who cherish fine nuances, the former used to mean “not able to be held in contempt”, the latter “incapable of being held in contempt”.  The alternative spellings cōtempt & cõtempt are obsolete.  Contempt, contemnor, contemptibleness, contemptuosity, contemptuousness & contemptibility are nouns, contemptive is a noun & adjective, contemptible & contemptuous are adjectives and contemptibly & contemptuously are adverbs; the noun plural is contempts.

Contempt of Congress

Early in January, 2026, counsel for Bill Clinton (b 1946; US president 1993-2001) and his wife crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) announced they were refusing to comply with a subpoena demanding congressional testimony in matters relating their relationships with disgraced financier and convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein (1953–2019 who died in custody while awaiting trial on additional offences; it was determined to be suicide).  The former president and first lady were served the subpoena by the Republican-led House oversight committee which is reviewing the government’s handling of “the Epstein matter”.  As part of their combative statement, the couple also launched an attack on the Republican Party and Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025). 

Bill & crooked Hillary Clinton.

In response, committee chairman James Comer (b 1972, Republican-Kentucky) said he would move to hold the pair “in contempt of Congress”.  That was prompted by counsel’s letter which described the subpoenas as “invalid and legally unenforceable, untethered to a valid legislative purpose, unwarranted because they do not seek pertinent information, and an unprecedented infringement on the separation of powers”.  According to the Clintons (both trained lawyers), the committee’s demand they testify (under oath, thereby being compelled to tell the truth) “runs afoul of the clearly defined limitations on Congress’ investigative power propounded by the Supreme Court of the United States”, to which they added “it is clear the subpoenas themselves – and any subsequent attempt to enforce them – are nothing more than a ploy to attempt to embarrass political rivals, as President Trump has directed”.  As well as threatening the pair with being held in contempt of Congress, Mr Comey informed the press: “I think it’s important to note that this subpoena was voted on in a bipartisan manner by this committee.  This wasn’t something that I just issued as chairman of the committee.  No one’s accusing Bill Clinton of anything, any wrongdoing.  We just have questions, and that’s why the Democrats voted along with Republicans to subpoena Bill Clinton.”  Even some Democrats supported the subpoena, one on the oversight committee saying: “Cooperating with Congress is important and the committee should continue working with President Clinton’s team to obtain any information that might be relevant to our investigation.”

The Clintons didn’t much dwell on fine legal or constitutional points, preferring to attack the congressional Republicans for their obsequious acquiescence to the president (not so much the MAGA (Make America Great Again) agenda as to Mr Trump personally) including their support of hardline immigration enforcement, the recent killing of a US citizen in Minnesota by an ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) agent and the president’s pardoning of January 6 “insurrectionists”.  “Bringing the Republicans’ cruel agenda to a standstill while you work harder to pass a contempt charge against us than you have done on your investigation this past year would be our contribution to fighting the madness”, the Clintons wrote.  So, the Clintons are running a political campaign in an attempt to solve their latest legal problem and this time they’re putting things in quasi-Churchillian phrases, asserting: “Every person has to decide when they have seen or had enough and are ready to fight for this country, its principles and its people, no matter the consequences.  For us, now is that time.”  Clearly crooked Hillary feels her finest hour is upon her but students of her past will variously be amused or appalled at the suggestion she’d do something as a matter of principle rather than base self-interest but she persists in claiming the consequences of refusing to comply with a valid congressional subpoena are “a politically driven process” designed “literally to result in our imprisonment.”

HRC: State Secrets and the Rebirth of Hillary Clinton by Jonathan Allen (b 1975) & Amie Parnes (b 1978).  As an acronym HRC can, inter alia, mean “Hillary Rodham Clinton”, “Hazard Risk Category” (science, medicine, engineering etc) or “High-Risk-of-Capture” (US DoD (Department of Defense, known also as Department of War)).  Pleasingly, CHRC can mean “Crooked Hillary Rodham Clinton” or “Criminal History Records Check”.

The “politically driven” argument has before been used by those seeing to avoid answering questions under oath, but despite that former Trump advisor Peter Navarro (b 1949) was in 2023 convicted of contempt of Congress for failing to provide documents and testify about the 2020 election and the Capitol riot.  He also (unsuccessfully) cited executive privilege but that too was rejected; he was jailed for four months.  So the claim a prosecution is a “political weaponization” of the justice system can’t stop a valid legal action like a citation of contempt and Steve Bannon (b 1953 and also a Trump-related figure) served four months in jail for defying a subpoena from the House January 6 committee.  The courts also seem to view such matters as black letter law; on appeal, Mr Navarro’s attempt to stay out of jail while he appealed his conviction was declined while a federal judge rejected a stay on Mr Bannon’s imprisonment and revoked bail.  According to a ruling from the US Court of Appeals for the DC Circuit, witnesses who “willfully refuse” to comply with valid congressional subpoenas can be punished, regardless of the excuse.  As a general principle, it seems to be thought an offence of absolute liability.

In mid January, a Republican-led House panel recommended Bill & crooked Hillary Clinton be found in contempt of Congress; although the pair had offered “to co-operate” with the House Oversight Committee, that did not extend to answering questions under oath (ie, by implication, “telling the truth”).  The committee conducted separate votes on what technically were two cases, voting 34-8 to cite Bill Clinton for contempt while the vote on crooked Hillary Clinton was 28-15; As predicted, all 25 Republicans backed the recommendations to cite for contempt and the degree of support from the Democratic members is an indication of the public & press pressure now being applied as a result of suspicions there are rich and well-connected individuals whose involvement with Jeffrey Epstein is being “covered up”.  In the US, the lessons from the Watergate scandal have never been forgotten: it's the cover-up which matters most.

House Oversight Committee chairman James Comer's Facebook profile picture.

Should Congress elect to pursue the matter (as was done with Mr Navarro and Mr Bannon), the brief will then be passed to the DoJ (Department of Justice) for prosecution and the potential consequences include fines of up to US$100,000 and as long as a year in jail.  Obviously, neither is a compelling prospect but the problem for crooked Hillary is that should she comply and testify, she’ll be under oath and thus compelled to tell the truth.  That novel possibility would attract a big audience but her problem is she has no way of knowing in advance what questions will be asked and, being under oath, she’d have to either be truthful or “take the fifth” to avoid self-incrimination.  Paying a US$100,000 fine would seem a very cheap “get out of jail free” card and even some time behind bars may be a better long-term option.  While in the past crooked Hillary probably has used the phrase “no one is above the law” she’d never have imagined it applied to her but some in Congress suspect the Clintons will use "every trick in the book" (and they known them all) to avoid being questioned under oath, one Californian Democrat predicting: "If we launch criminal contempt proceedings, we will not hear from the Clintons.  That is a fact.  It'll be tied up in court".

Presumably, the strategy will be to "string things along" until the mid-term elections in November when the Republicans may lose control of the Congress.  Of course, as a last resort, there remains the “Pinochet option”.  After avoiding trial for crimes against humanity because of his allegedly frail mental and physical state, General Augusto Pinochet (1915-2006; dictator of Chile 1973-1990) boarded his aircraft in England from a wheelchair, looking something like a warmed-up corpse, only to make a miraculous in-flight recovery; the moment he set foot on the tarmac at Santiago, in rude good health, he strode off.  All crooked Hillary would need is a “medical episode”, one not serious enough to kill her but just enough to permit physicians to fill out the forms saying she’s not well enough to be questioned.  Depending on this and that, her condition would need to linger only until the threat of prosecution has been evaded.  One intriguing potential coda to legal action could be that Donald Trump might well grant the pair a pardon.  What's often unappreciated about Mr Trump is he doesn't waste time or effort running grudges against those who were merely opponents as opposed to those who actually tried to damage him or present an on-going threat.  Although he'd spent the 2016 campaign threatening crooked Hillary with jail and encouraging the MAGA faithful to chant "Lock her up!", interviewed after the election, when asked if he'd be taking legal action against the Clintons, he brushed off the the question with a dismissive: "No, they're good people" and moved on.  Should that happen, darkly, some might mutter about him having reasons why he'd not want the pair questioned about Jeffrey Epstein but, like disgraced former congressman George Santos (b 1988), crooked Hillary will not be one to look a gift horse in the mouth.    

The Brutum Fulmen

The practical significance of a court or other institution holding an individual “in contempt” relies on the body having a means of enforcing its order.  While that order can extend (variously) to a fine, a term of imprisonment or a burning at the stake, if no such means exist (or are, in the circumstances, not able to be used), then, at law, the order is a brutum fulmen (plural bruta fulmina) which historically, appeared also as fulmen brutum.  The term entered the language as a construct of the Latin brutum (stupid) + fulmen (lightning), picked up from the title of a pamphlet (the word then used of documents distributed publicly and discussing political and related matters) published in 1680 by Thomas Barlow (circa 1608-1691; Lord Bishop of Lincoln 1675-1969) who derived the phrase from the passage hinc bruta fulmina et vana (these senseless and ineffectual thunder-claps) in Naturalis Historia (Natural History) by the Roman author (and much else) Pliny the Elder (Gaius Plinius Secundus, 24-79).  Pliny literally was describing the natural phenomenon of lightning (which, having never been struck by one, he dismissed as “harmless thunderbolts”) but the term entered legal jargon meaning “a judgement without effect” and was for a while learned slang for “an empty threat” before fading from use in the late eighteenth century.

Bishop Barlow's original publication, 1680.

So, at law, brutum fulmen is used to refer to a judgment, decree, edict, order etc that while (on paper) is valid and nominally enforceable, is in practice ineffective either because it cannot be enforced or is directed at someone or something beyond the court’s effective power.  There’s a long history of such paperwork, Dr Joseph Goebbels (1897-1945; Nazi propaganda minister 1933-1945) with typical acerbity noting in his diary on 3 April 1945 the pointless bureaucratic output still flowing from the desk of Martin Bormann (1900–1945; secretary to the Führer 1943-1945; head of the Nazi Party Chancellery 1941-1945), even as the Reich was being diminished to an enclave: “Once more a mass of new decrees and instructions issue from Bormann.  Bormann has turned the Party Chancellery into a paper factory.  Every day he sends out a mountain of letters and files which the Gauleiters [the party’s district leaders], now involved in battle, no longer even have time to read.  In some cases too it is totally useless stuff of no practical value in our struggle.  Even in the Party we have no clear leadership in contact with the people.”  Goebbels may have been evil but his mind was well-trained and he was a realist, understanding the “great danger” in the “diminution of authority” likely to be suffered by the party.  Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) called the devoted Bormann “Dear Martin” but interestingly, one author has written works claiming that by late April even Bormann had become a realist and was complicit in having the Führer murdered by his valet (Heinz Linge (1913–1980)), thereby removing the one obstacle preventing the pair’s escape from the Führerbunker.  The author is a well-credentialed medical doctor and although his earlier theory about the Rudolf Hess (1894–1987; Nazi Deputy Führer 1933-1941, who spent 46-odd years in Allied custody) being a “doppelganger” has recently been disproved by DNA analysis, his recounting of how Hitler may have been murdered is well written and, in a sense, the ultimate “the butler did it” tale; it’s not necessary to be convinced to enjoy what may be a tall tale.

From the Vatican, there would have been many popes who would have understood Goebbels’ frustrations because there’s quite a list of Papal Bulls and decrees that proved to be “casting rhetoric to the winds of history”.  Pius V (1504–1572; pope 1566-1572) in 1570 issued Regnans in Excelsis (Reigning on High) which, as an order of excommunication against Elizabeth I (1533–1603; Queen of England & Ireland 1558-1603) was intended to depose the queen by releasing her subjects from obedience but, “having no divisions” in England, the Holy See could not there exercise temporal authority and Elizabeth merely “changed teams” becoming Supreme Governor of the Church of England.  Of course, she remained excommunicated from the Church of Rome but that’s hardly as serious as being burned at the stake.  Less dramatically, papal interdicts issued against secular rulers on matters less consequential routinely were ignored, kings, princes and dukes aware their thrones (and sometimes their necks) might be better preserved by pleasing their many subjects than the bachelor Bishop of Rome.

Papal Bull issued by Urban VIII (1568–1644; pope 1623-1644).  By the mid-fifteenth century, papal bulls had ceased to be used for general public communications and were restricted to the more formal or solemn matters.  The papal lead seals (the spellings bulla & bolla both used) were attached to the vellum document by cords made of hemp or silk, looped through slits.

As well as being appalled by the thought of heretical Anglicans, Pius V disapproved of bull-fighting, calling the tradition “alien from Christian piety and charity, “better suited to demons rather than men” and “public slaughter and butchery” fit for paganism but not Christendom and word nerds will be delighted to note Pius’s ban on bullfighting was technically a “papal bull”.  De Salute Gregis Dominici (On the Salvation of the Lord’s Flock) was issued on 1 November 1, 1567 as a formal proclamation with a bulla (the papal lead seal) attached (hence such edicts being known as the “Papal bulls”), the seal authenticating the document and, as an official decree, it was binding upon the Church and Christian princes.  Disgusted by the cruelty inflicted on one of God’s noble beasts, Pius called bullfighting “a sin” and condemned the events as “spectacles of the devil”, prohibiting Christians from attending or participating under pain of excommunication.  However, like many papal though bubbles down the ages which never quite make it to the status of doctrine, his ban was soon ignored and, after his death the, edict quietly was allowed to lapse.  Predictably, in Spain and Portugal, where bullfighting had deep cultural & political roots, the bulla was either ignored or resisted and Philip II (1527–1598; King of Spain 1556-1598), while as devout a Catholic as any man, was known as Felipe el Prudente (Philip the Prudent) for a reason and quietly he turned the royal blind eye, allowing bullfighting to continue.  Within the Holy See, the king's disobedience of an edict from the Vicar of Christ on Earth would have been disappointing but unsurprising and it was the world-weary Benedict XIV (1675–1758; pope 1740-1758) who best summed-up the church's chain of command: “The pope commands, his cardinals do not obey, and the people do what they wish.”  What is still not always recognized is that Rome’s authority on matters both spiritual and temporal did often depend on consent; in Medieval Europe there were a number of interdicts (such as that against the Republic of Venice in 1606) which indisputably were binding in canon law but had no force because the target solved the legal quandaries by ignoring them.

Secular courts too sometimes have issued orders that look authoritative but are void for want of jurisdiction.  The British Empire is a rich source of such bruta fulmina because, especially in the nineteenth century when expansion (as expressed by land being colored pink on maps) often exceeded control “on the ground”.  A practical exercise in (1) the establishment of trading & coaling stations and (2) theft of the resources of others, what the British Empire did to a greater extent than other European colonial powers was secure what were essentially coastal beachheads and tracks of communication (rivers, roads, railway lines) while leaving vast swathes of territories in the hands of native authorities, some of which were cooperative, some not.  While the Colonial Office understood this was how thing were done (the British Empire in particular something of a well-executed confidence trick because there were never the resources effectively to control all that was claimed on the map), colonial courts, for many reasons, felt compelled to issue orders to what were, in effect, sovereign foreign territories; even at the height of the British Raj, the means did not exist always to enforce judgements or rulings purporting to bind tribal authorities or princes in their palaces.  A post-colonial example is the operation of the “Supremacy Clause” in US jurisprudence.  As a simple constitutional fact, under the Supremacy Clause, a state court has no power to enjoin a federal officer acting in federal capacity; even if correct in every aspect of construction, any such injunction will be held to be a brutum fulmen because it cannot be enforced, the classic example being Tarble's Case, 80 U.S. (13 Wall.) 397 (1872), in which the USSC (Supreme Court) held state courts could not issue writs of habeas corpus to federal military officers; such writs legally void.  What the case settled was that the US Constitution was the supreme law of the land, “anything in the constitution or laws of any State to the contrary notwithstanding.”  That an order may be perfectly valid under state law was irrelevant and this doctrine has of late been again discussed because of certain actions being taken by the federal government during the second Trump administration.

There is also the matter of orders those who enjoy legal immunity.  Historically, when the concept of “sovereign immunity” was effectively absolute (before “restrictive immunity” emerged in the wake of the modern “commercial exception”, courts would enter judgments against sovereign states; the judges were carrying out a type of “black letter law” but the value of such rulings was purely political or symbolic.  A subset of such things was the matter of declarations unsupported with any mechanism of enforcement and that was one of the several structural flaws which doomed the League of Nations (1920-1946), an institution something of a case study in characterised as a brutum fulmen, whatever it’s noble goals.  However, the judicial model established by the League of Nations (essentially one of “moral authority”) carried over into post-war institutions, the ICJ (International Court of Justice) having often issued advisory opinions states routinely have ignored.

A special case of brutum fulmen concerns domestic statutes struck down by courts but never repealed.  Known as “dead letter” laws, these, ghost-like, remain on the books even after invalidation.  This happens apparently for two reasons: (1) in the technical sense it matters not whether the words are removed from the books or (2) governments retain them because they retain a certain symbolic force as an expression of disapprobation for one thing or another, an example being Section 3 of the US DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act) after the decision handed down by the USSC in US v Windsor, 570 U.S. 744 (2013)).  New technology has also created a whole new field of potential bruta fulmina.  Although instances of material banned from publication in one place appearing in another have for centuries been documented, the advent of the internet and its inherently global availability has meant the injunctive and contempt orders which once were such a potent means of preventing or punishing proscribed publication now are of less use because so many potential subjects lie beyond a court’s reach.

Not exactly contemptible, just less desirable: The Alfa Romeo 2600

Brigitte Bardot (1934-2025) in Contempt (1963), perched on an Alfa Romeo 2600 (Tipo 106) Spider.  Note her fetching toe cleavage.

While Ms Bardot was a vision of haunting loveliness, the 2600 is less fondly remembered than its smaller stable-mates.  Whereas in its era Mercedes-Benz and most US-built cars tended to improve as the cylinder count and engine displacement increased, in the post-war years, the most admired and successful Alfa Romeos were the smaller, four-cylinder models renowned for their balance and agility (certainly in the company’s illustrious, pre-FWD (front wheel drive) era).  Tellingly, although imagined as a flagship, the 2600 was in production only between 1962-1968 and despite being offered with a range of coachwork (Berlina (sedan), Sprint (coupé) & Spider (roadster) as well as a typically quirky fastback coupé (the 2600 SZ (Sprint Zagato)) by Zagato), it was not a success; sales were never close to expectations, the high price and nose-heavy, “un-Alfalike” driving characteristics usually cited as reasons for the muted demand.  In its six-odd years of availability, unusually, it was not the sedan which was most successful but, with almost 7,000 sold, the Sprint and even the 2,255 Spiders out-sold the 2,092 Berlinas; the 105 Sprint Zagatos an expensive footnote.

1964 Alfa Romeo 2600 Spider.

Whatever the 2600’s flaws, the engine was a gem.  An all-new, all aluminum 2.6 litre (158 cubic inch) DOHC (double overhead camshaft) straight six, it was very much in the company’s pre-war tradition but, in a way, the image of Alfa-Romeo had been captured by the wildly successful 1900 range (1950-1959) which featured relatively small-displacement, four-cylinder engines.  So seductive did Italians and others find the 1900 that it quickly came to be thought of as the definitive “Alfa Romeo”.  However, the platform which as the 1900 (and subsequent 2000) had been a model of well-balanced agility, didn’t adapt so well to the longer straight six and it was the subsequent 105/115 range (Gulia, 1962-1968) which was the 1900’s true successor, the incomparable 105 coupé among the company’s finest achievements.  The 2600 proved to be the last of Alfa Romeo’s classic DOHC straight-sixes.

The Kaiser and the Old Contemptibles

His Imperial Majesty, Kaiser Wilhelm II (1859–1941; Emperor of Germany & King of Prussia 1888-1918). in one of his many uniforms.  On one of Wilhelm's visits to England, his grandmother (Victoria (1819–1901; Queen of the UK 1837-1901) was much amused to learn his entourage included one servant whose sole duty was the “waxing and curling of the imperial moustache”.

Whether inside courtrooms or beyond, the word “contempt” and its derivatives is not rare but one of the most celebrated instances of use may have been based on a lie.  In August 1914, just after the outbreak of World War I (1914-1918), the British government began to circulate propaganda claiming Wilhelm II had issued an order to his army to “exterminate the treacherous English and walk over General French's contemptible little army”.  The people of the UK were well-acquainted with the character of the Kaiser and it certainly must had sounded “like something he would have said”, hence the success as piece of propaganda.  Later, the survivors of the British Army’s BEF (British Expeditionary Force), proud of their record in battle, happily dubbed themselves the “Old Contemptibles”.  Wilhelm denied ever having made the statement and it has long been suspected the British “put words in his imperial mouth” because Oliver Cromwell (1599–1658; Lord Protector of the Commonwealth 1653-1658) had in 1657 used a similar turn of phrase in a speech to the Long Parliament (1640-1660).

One of the British government's propaganda posters, 1914.

No document has ever been found confirming the Kaiser used the phase the British propagandists spread with such glee and it’s thus almost certainly apocryphal but historians have concluded that, in discussions, he probably did dismiss the British as a military threat on the European mainland on the grounds their army was “so contemptibly small”.  In that, he has a point in that compared to the land forces in the standing and reserve armies of France, Germany, Austria and Russia, the British Army genuinely was small; as a maritime empire with its military strength based on the Royal Navy being the world’s most powerful, the British Army was designed for remote colonial engagements rather than big, set-piece invasions of European countries.  So, from the Kaiser’s point of view it was a reasonable observation; since the time of Otto von Bismarck (1815-1989; chancellor of the German Empire (the "Second Reich" 1871-1890), the dark joke told in continental chancelleries was that while most countries “had an army”, Prussia was unusual in that its army “has a country”.  All he really got wrong was the British did have some contemptibly poor generals, one of who was the Field Marshal Sir John French (1852–1925) mentioned in his alleged statement.  Not for nothing are the “Old Contemptibles” remembered as “lions led by donkeys” but in the way the British ruling class does things, after being asked to resign, Sir John was elevated to the peerage and died laden with titles and imperial honours.

Lindsay Lohan, contempt, and the matter of intent

Lindsay Lohan's adorned fingernail in court, 2010.

Fingernails don’t often hit the headlines but in 2010 one did during one of the Lindsay Lohan's appearances in court during her “trouble starlet” phase: close-up photographs of the relevant (and very colourful) nail (on the middle finger) revealed the text “fuck U”.  In the US of the twenty-first century a fingernail so decorated would be usually unexceptional and uncontroversial but on the digit of a defendant sitting in court to receive a sentence, it was at least taking a risk and defence counsel, had they noticed the artwork, doubtlessly would have insisted on a strategically applied band-aid.  The risk posed by what may have been a misguided manicure was that were the judge to conclude the apparently unambiguous message was directed either at court or judge, Ms Lohan could have been cited for contempt of court on much the same the basis as had she mouthed the words.  Lawyers asked to comment on the matter confirmed that in such circumstances a defendant cannot rely on rights guaranteed by the First Amendment (a component of which is freedom of speech) to the Constitution but what was an intriguing legal question was the matter of intent.  All agreed the judge was sitting too far away to read the distant and tiny “fuck U” so it couldn’t be argued Ms Lohan intended it to be read thus but if the judge saw the paparazzi’s photos, would a “retrospective” citation of contempt be possible?  Given all that, it was at least a gray area but the matter was never pursued.  Ms Lohan clarified things with a tweet on X (then known as Twitter) denying the text was a message for the court or anyone else: “It had nothing to do w/court.  It’s an airbrush design from a stencil”.  According to Fox News (a famously reliable source), the nails were “part of a joke with friends”.

Before, during & after: Lindsay Lohan and her bandaged finger, 2016.

Not until 2016 would one of Lindsay Lohan’s fingers again attain such notoriety.  During an Aegean cruise in October that year, in dreadful nautical incident, the tip of one digit was severed by the boat's anchor chain but details of the circumstances are sketchy although there was speculation that upon hearing the captain give the command “weigh anchor”, she decided to help but, lacking any background in admiralty jargon, misunderstood the instruction.  Despite the grossness of the injury to what in the Western tradition is "the ring finger", she did later manage to find husband and stitched-up digit now sports a wedding ring so all's well that ends well.

Self contempt

The terms “self-hatred”, “self-loathing” and “self-contempt” are familiar in general discourse and pop psychology texts but none are formally distinguished as separate diagnostic constructs or appear in either the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) or the World Health Organization’s (WHO) International Classification of Diseases (ICD).  However, the concepts encompassed do appear in theories and research papers as well as being part of clinical discourse and between the three terms are denoted different self-directed attitudes, largely along affective versus evaluative lines. 

Self-hatred is thought a core quality, an intense, hostile feeling directed at one’s self and the affective tone may be one of disgust, anger or revulsion.  Typically, this can appear as a form of self-hostility and may manifest as wishing to self-harm, a feeling of deserving of punishment and a general rage turned inwards.  Self-hatred is often discussed in connection with (1) major depressive disorders, (2) borderline personality pathology, (3) trauma and internalised abuse and (4) self-harm including suicidality.  Self-loathing can perhaps (if not wholly satisfactorily) be characterized as “self-hatred lite” in that it’s treated usually as a pervasive aversion to the self and associated with shame, disgust and revulsion.  There’s obviously some overlap (to the extent the terms probably can be used interchangeably without causing confusion for most) but as used by clinicians, self-loathing conveys the idea of something less aggressive and more avoidant, the emphasis on being repelled by one’s own traits, body, or identity rather than contemplating self harm; commonly it’s linked with shame-based self-schemas, eating disorders, body-image disturbance, depression and social anxiety.  The convenient distinction between the two is that while self-hatred summons the thought: “I should be punished”, self-loathing says “I am repulsive”.  The point about self-contempt is that often it can be transitory (sometimes styled as “transactional”) and related to a particular event or one’s reaction to that event.  In that sense, self-contempt can be seen as something is more cognitive and judgmental than emotional although, obviously, there too there can be overlap.

Within Judaism, a well-explored phenomenon.

There is a special case within internal Jewish discourse of a certain flavor where the term “self-hating Jew” overwhelmingly is more commonly used than the superficially similar “self-loathing Jew”.  “Self-hating Jew” became a standard phrase (and in doing so sacrificed some of its original meaning in favour of becoming a still-potent slur) in Jewish polemical writing and was once most associated with political debates (not always between intellectuals), especially if the matters involved anti-Zionism or internalised anti-Semitism.  The term gained popularity after Der jüdische Selbsthaß (Jewish Self-Hatred (1930)) by German Jewish philosopher Theodor Lessing (1872-1933) was translated into English and the choice of “self-hatred” rather than “self-loathing” “locked in” the English idiom.  What Lessing did was construct a subtle argument in which he attempted to explain the (apparently uniquely European) phenomenon of Jewish intellectuals who incited anti-Semitism against the Jewish people and who regarded Judaism as the source of evil in the world.  The translator’s preference was thought to be a considered choice which reflected a certain conceptual emphasis: Whereas “self-hatred” implies hostility, repudiation, and active rejection of Jewish identity or interests, “self-loathing” suggests inward disgust or shame, which is psychologically plausible but rhetorically weaker for polemical purposes.  In other words, the former is of the political, the latter the personal.  The term has become especially controversial because, within Judaism, it had become a convenient weapon to use against any Jew who criticizes some aspect of the conduct of the government of Israel.

The thoughts of Bill Buckley on the thoughts of John XXIII

By the time in 1961 conservative US writer (and leading lay Catholic) William F Buckley (1925–2008) responded to John XXIII’s (1881-1963; pope 1958-1963) encyclical Mater et magistra (Mother and Teacher), the days were gone when the Church could have heretics burned at the stake (perhaps a source or regret to at least one pope) so suggesting the document “…must strike many as a venture in triviality” didn’t trigger the sort of risk such a critique might in previous centuries have provoked.  Still, what was seen by theologians and the laity alike as a casual dismissal of a work of 25,000 words was thought quite a slight and even an expression of contempt; that Buckley’s objections were less theological than political was a distinction understood by the cardinals and archbishops but that didn’t make them less unhappy.  Buckley was writing during the High Cold War and in the immediate aftermath of comrade Fidel Castro’s (1926–2016; prime-minister or president of Cuba 1959-2008) communist guerrillas taking over Cuba and what most disturbed him was John XXIII’s focus on the inequities of modern capitalism and seeming disregard for the oppressive conduct of various communist regimes.  In that, Buckley was right because arguments in Mater et magistra were striking and the choice of words provocative, the pope noting the “immeasurably sorrowful spectacle of vast numbers of workers in many lands and entire continents who are paid wages which condemn them and their families to subhuman conditions.”  Rejected was the notion prices working people paid should be “left entirely to the laws of the market” rather than being “determined according to justice and equity.”  The encyclical recommended profit-sharing and other “radical” reforms pursued in the name of “socialization”.

John XXIII waving to the faithful, Loreto Ancona, Italy, October, 1962.

The car is a 1961 Mercedes-Benz 300d Landaulet, built by the department responsible for the Spezial coachwork and made on a separate assembly line.  The one delivered to the Vatican including not only the folding soft-top atop the rear passenger compartment but also an elevated roof which extended the “greenhouse” by 100 mm (4 inches).  The 300s of the era (W186: 300, 300b & 300c; 1951-1957 & W189: 300d 1957-1962) came to be referred to as "the Adenauer" because several were used as state cars by Konrad Adenauer (1876–1967; chancellor of the FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany, 1949-1990) 1949-1963).  In the days of John XXIII, the Vatican's parade vehicles were not dubbed “Popemobiles” and did not feature armor-plating or bullet-proof glass.  For good reason, all that would come later.

It can now be difficult to understand how controversial once was the participation of Roman Catholics in the upper reaches of US political life; in the nineteenth century the warnings against voting for them was they would visit upon the country: “Rum, Romanism and Ruin!”  When the Catholic Al Smith (1873-1944; Governor of New York 1919-1920 & 1923-1928) in 1928 ran on the Democratic ticket in the presidential election, campaigns against him included the suggestion the pope was already packing his bags in preparation for a move to the White House.  After Smith (in a landslide) lost the election to the Republican’s Herbert Hoover (1874–1964; POTUS 1929-1933), the joke circulated that his first act was not the usual concession speech but wiring a telegram to Pius XI (1857–1939; pope 1922-1939) saying: “Unpack!”

Amusingly, the slur wouldn’t have survived the scrutiny of modern fact-checkers because between the unification of Italy in 1870 and the signing in 1929 of a concordat (the Lateran Treaty) with Benito Mussolini’s (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & prime-minister of Italy 1922-1943) fascist state, in protest at the the loss of the Papal States (756-1870), no pope set foot outside the Vatican.  The status of the popes in these years as prigionieri del Vaticano (prisoners of the Vatican) was unusual in that it was a kind of “self-imposed exile” in reverse, but the Church insisted it was not a matter of choice (ie “self-restraint”) because it was held to be a “coercive curtailment” (“constructive imprisonment” probably the closest expression of the legal theory) of freedom of movement, consequent upon the Italian state’s annexation of the Papal States and Rome itself.  The argument was that were a pope to set foot on the soil of the annexed territories, that might be held to imply recognition of the Italian state’s sovereignty.  Even at the time, outside the Roman Curia, the legal basis of that was thought at least dubious and the consensus remains the self-imposed “imprisonment” was an act of diplomatic and political symbolism.  Since then, no political figure has exactly replicated what the five “imprisoned pontiffs” did and even old Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek (1887-1975; leader of the Republic of China (mainland) 1928-1949 & the renegade province of Taiwan 1949-1975), while to his dying day denying he’d lost the sovereignty of the mainland to the CCP (Chinese Communist Party), did on occasion travel beyond his renegade province, though obviously he never visited the mainland. 

Buckley: The Life and the Revolution That Changed America by Sam Tanenhaus (b 1955).  A highly recommended book.

Religion was an issue still in 1960 when the presidential contest was between the Roman Catholic Democrat John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US POTUS 1961-1963) and the Quaker Republican Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US VPOTUS 1953-1961 & POTUS 1969-1974).  In the campaign, two prominent evangelical Protestant preachers who would now be regarded as something like “celebrity TikTok churchmen” (Billy Graham (1918–2018) and Norman Vincent Peale (1898-1993) both cast aspersions about JFK and the nature of his allegiance to Rome to which the candidate responded by saying: “I believe in an America, where the separation of church and state is absolute, where no Catholic prelate would tell the president, should he be Catholic, how to act, and no Protestant minister would tell his parishioners for whom to vote.”  The idea of “Rome pulling the president’s strings” may have brought a wry smile to the pope who well knew it was often difficult to get his own bishops to follow his instructions, let alone the president of the US.  Buckley took an well-sharpened intellectual axe to Peale but seemed to regard Graham as little more than a vulgarian with a peasant’s view of God.

As it transpired, KFK did, “by an electoral eyelash” win the presidency and his wife (Jacqueline Kennedy (1929-1994; US First Lady 1961-1963) admitted to being baffled by the objections, saying "I don't understand why people are opposed to Jack being elected as a Catholic because he's so poor a Catholic".  Buckley certainly agreed JFK "wasn't Catholic enough" (something like the later complaint from activist African Americans that Barack Obama (b 1961; US president 2009-2017) "wasn't black enough"), unlike his more devout brother, the intense, driven, Robert F Kennedy (RFK, 1925–1968; US attorney general 1961-1964) who Theodore Roosevelt’s (TR, 1858–1919; US president 1901-1909) daughter Alice Lee Roosevelt Longworth (1884–1980) compared to “a seventeenth century Jesuit priest”.  Buckley understood why his family and the Kennedys often were compared (essentially because both were “rich, Catholic and political”) but liked to stress the difference, pointing out the “lace curtain, Irish cultural upbringing” of the Kennedys while his father had not set foot in Ireland until he was sixty and that was “to attend the Dublin Horse show”.  One of his friends observed the very American Buckley should really be understood as “a Spanish Catholic aristocrat” and although it has become customary to speak of the Kennedys as “American Royalty”, Buckley would have though the family “a bit common”.

Crooked Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump, Alfred E. Smith Memorial Foundation Dinner, New York City, October, 2016.

Fully to understand Buckley’s reaction to Mater et magistra, it must be remembered it was issued only some three years after the death of Pius XII (1876-1958; pope 1939-1958) and there was at the time, outside of the Church, not a great appreciation of just what an “encyclical” was.  Indeed, in 1927, when asked to comment on Leo XIII’s (1810–1903; pope 1878-1903) 1885 encyclical Immortale Dei, De Civitatum Constitutione Christiana (God Immortal, On the Christian Constitution of States) which reaffirmed the Church’s view on ecclesiastical rights in the apparatus of the modern state, Al Smith had replied: “Will somebody please tell me, what in hell an encyclical is?”  Although he chose only once to vest his words with the authority of “papal infallibility” (indeed, was the last pope to do so), Pius XII (like his predecessor Pius XI) had run “an imperial pontificate” with encyclicals viewed not merely as authoritative but doctrinal; one priest, when asked if they were “binding” stated the orthodox position which held: “the possibility of error in these documents is so utterly remote that it is practically non-existent.”  It was in that milieu Buckley commissioned to a scholar of theology to undertake a historic study of the papal encyclical and the conclusion was they were really “pastoral letters, giving counsel,” not official statements of the magisterium, the Church’s infallible teaching.  That does of course make sense because the whole point in the nineteenth century in codifying papal infallibility was to make a clear distinction between undisputable, undebatable statements of dogma and all other thoughts and expressions.

Whether that at the time softened Buckley’s attitude towards Mater et magistra seems improbable because any document suggesting the state’s social and economic policies should be “pursued in the name of socialization” would have received his condemnation and that the translators chose to interpret the Italian socializzazione (understood as something like European social and industrial democracy rather than the Marxist sense of the collective ownership of the means of production & distribution) as “socialization” (deftly avoiding the politically and historically loaded socialism (socialismo)) is unlikely to have been much assuagement; Buckley would have thought the distinction just “too clever by half”.  So it was his critique of John’s 25,000 words came to be remembered for that one memorable fragment: “venture in triviality”.  In fairness, the passage was more expansive and said: “large sprawling document” would “be studied and argued over for years to come” and that it may one day come to be “considered central to the social teachings of the Catholic Church; or, like Pius IX’s [1792–1878; pope 1846-1878)] Syllabus of Errors [1864], it may become the source of embarrassed explanations. Whatever its final effect, it must strike many as a venture in triviality, coming at this particular time in history.”  Popes have been accused of worse but in 1961, to have an encyclical damned as  “venture in triviality” was about as bad as it got.

A depiction of crooked Hillary Clinton being burned at the stake (digitally altered image).

Although heretics, malcontents and other trouble-makers are no longer burned at the stake, in canon law, the Church does have a close equivalent of citing someone for contempt but it chose not to use it against Buckley although many Catholics did make their opposition to his views known; some cancelled their subscriptions to the magazine he edited (the conservative National Review), prompting him to point out the periodical was no more a Catholic publication than the Kennedy administration was a Catholic government “because the President is Catholic”.  One prominent Jesuit priest damned Buckley’s statement as “slanderous” and while in the internal logic of the Jesuits (perfect chastity, perfect poverty and perfect obedience to the pope) that would have been obvious, it must have baffled those more used to legal dictionaries and thesauruses.  In a way the Church establishment might have had the last laugh because, writing decades later, in his distinctly religious memoir Nearer, My God (1997), stridently Buckley defended papal decrees as statements revealing truth immune from challenge, words of “revelation and providentially guided reason” from the “one Voice for whose decisions the people wait with trust” (ie the pope).  Buckley made no mention of Mater et magistra or the controversy he had triggered and whether this constitutes apology or apologia readers can judge but whenever he's discussed, it’s rare for his words of 1961 not to be reprinted while those of 35 years later rarely are mentioned.  If he had his time again, while still critical, he’d likely have phrased things differently.