Cosmopolitan

Cosmopolitan (pronounced koz-muh-pol-i-tn)

(1) One free from local, provincial, or national ideas, prejudices, or attachments; an internationalist.

(2) One with the characteristics of a cosmopolite.

(3) A cocktail made with vodka, cranberry juice, an orange-flavored liqueur, and lime juice.

(4) Sophisticated, urbane, worldly.

(5) Of plants and animals, wildly distributed species.

(6) The vanessa cardui butterfly.

(7) A moth of species Leucania loreyi.

1828:  An adoption in Modern English, borrowed from the French cosmopolite (citizen of the world), ultimately derived from the Ancient Greek kosmopolitēs (κοσμοπολίτης), the construct being kósmos (κόσμος) (world) + politēs (πολίτης) (citizen); word being modeled on metropolitan.  The US magazine Cosmopolitan was first published in 1886.  Derived forms (hyphenated and not) have been constructed as needed including noncosmopolitan, subcosmopolitan, ultracosmopolitan, fauxcosmopolitan, anticosmopolitan & protocosmopolitan.  Because cosmopolitanness is a spectrum condition, the comparative is “more cosmopolitan” and the superlative “most cosmopolitan”.  Cosmopolitan is a noun & adjective, cosmopolitanism & cosmopolitanness are nouns, cosmopolitanize is a verb, cosmopolitanist is an adjective (and plausibly a noun) and cosmopolitanly is an adverb; the noun plural is cosmopolitans.

An aspect of Soviet Cold War policy under comrade Stalin

The phrase rootless cosmopolitans was coined in the nineteenth century by Vissarion Belinsky (1811-1848), a Russian literary critic much concerned about Western influences on both Russian literature and society.  He applied it to writers he felt “…lacked Russian national character” but as a pejorative euphemism, it’s now an anti-Semitic slur and one most associated with domestic policy in the Soviet Union (USSR) between 1946 and Stalin's death in 1953.  Comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) liked the phrase and applied it to the Jews, a race of which he was always suspicious because he thought their lack of a homeland made them “mystical, intangible and other-worldly”.  Not a biological racist like Hitler and other rabid anti-Semites, Stalin’s enemies were those he perceived a threat; Leon Trotsky (1879-1940), Grigory Zinoviev (1883–1936) and Lev Kamenev (1883–1936) were disposed of not because they were Jewish but because Stalin thought they might threaten his hold on power although the point has been made that while it wasn’t because he was Jewish that Trotsky was murdered, many Jews would come to suffer because Stalin associated them with Trotsky.

Comrade Stalin signing death warrants.

It was the same with institutions.  He found disturbing the activities of Moscow’s Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee (JAC) and did not approve them being accepted by Western governments as representing the USSR.  Further, he feared the JAC’s connections with foreign powers might create a conduit for infiltration by Western influences; well Stalin knew the consequences of people being given ideas; the campaign of 1946-1953 was thus more analogous with the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) opposition to the Falun Gong rather than the pogroms of Tsarist times.  Authoritarian administrations don’t like independent organisations; politics needs to be monolithic and control absolute.  In a speech in Moscow in 1946, he described certain Jewish writers and intellectuals, as “rootless cosmopolitans” accusing them of a lack of patriotism, questioning their allegiance to the USSR.  This theme festered but it was the creation of the state of Israel in 1948, fostering as it did an increased self consciousness among Soviet Jews, combined with the Cold War which turned Stalin into a murderous anti-Semite.

Rootless cosmopolitan comrade Trotsky, murdered with an ice axe on comrade Stalin's orders.

Before the formation of the state of Israel, Stalin's anti-Semitism was more a Russian mannerism than any sort of obsession.  For years after assuming absolute power in the USSR, he expressed no disquiet at the preponderance of Jews in the foreign ministry and it was only in 1939, needing a temporary diplomatic accommodation with Nazi Germany, that he acted.  Having replaced the Jewish Foreign Commissar, Maxim Litvinov (1876–1951; People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs of the Soviet Union 1930–1939) with Vyacheslav Molotov (1890-1986; USSR Minister of Foreign Affairs 1939-1949 & 1953-1956), he ordered him to purge the diplomatic corps of Jews, his memorable phrase being "clean out the synagogue".  Concerned the presence of Jews might be an obstacle to rapprochement with Hitler, Stalin had the purge effected with his usual efficiency: many were transferred to less conspicuous roles and others were arrested or shot.

Meeting of minds: Joachim von Ribbentrop (left), comrade Stalin (centre) and comrade Molotov (right), the Kremlin, 23 August 1939.

Negotiations began in the summer of 1939, concluding with German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi foreign minister 1938-1945) leading a delegation to Moscow to meet with Molotov and Stalin.  It proved a remarkably friendly conference of political gangsters and agreement was soon reached, the German-Soviet Nonaggression Pact (usually called the Nazi-Soviet Pact or Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact) being signed on 23 August.  The pact contained also a notorious secret protocol by which the two dictators agreed to a carve-up of Poland consequent upon the impending Nazi invasion and the line dividing Poland between the two was almost identical to the Curzon Line, a demarcation between the new Polish Republic created in the aftermath of World War I (1914-1918) and the emergent Soviet Union which had been proposed by Lord Curzon (1859–1925; UK foreign secretary 1919-1924).  At the Yalta Conference in 1945, during the difficult negotiations over Polish borders, Molotov habitually referred to "the Curzon Line" and the UK Foreign Secretary, Anthony Eden (1897–1977; thrice UK foreign secretary & prime minister 1955-1957), in a not untypically bitchy barb, observed it was more common practice to call it the “Molotov-Ribbentrop line”.  "Call it whatever you like" replied Stalin, "we still think it's fair and just".  Comrade Stalin rarely cared much to conceal the nature of the regime he crafted in his own image.  When asked by Franklin Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, US president 1933-1945) if Molotov had been to New York during his visit to the US, Stalin replied: "No, he went to Chicago to be with the other gangsters".

Whatever the motives of Stalin, rootless cosmopolitans has joined the code of dog-whistle politics, a part of the core demonology to label the Jews a malign race, a phrase in the tradition of "Christ killers", "Rothschild-Capitalists and Untermenschen (the sub-humans).  Despite that, there are always optimists, Jewish writer Vincent Brook (b 1946), suggesting the term could convey the positive, a suggestion the Jews possess an “adaptability and empathy for others”.  It’s not a view widely shared and rootless cosmopolitan remains an anti-Semitic trope although it's not unknown for Jews to use it ironically.

The Cosmopolitan cocktail

A brace of Cosmos.

The Cosmopolitan was based on the "Cosmopolitan 1934" cocktail, a mix from inter-war New York which included gin, Cointreau & and lemon juice, raspberry syrup lending the trademark pink hue.  The modern Cosmopolitan was also concocted in New York and seems to have appeared first in the Mid-1980s although it was appearances in the HBO (Home Box Office) television series Sex and the City (1998-2004) which made it as emblematic of a certain turn-of-the-millennium New York lifestyle as Manolo Blahnik’s stilettos but, the implications of that connotation aside, the enticing pink drink survived to remain a staple of cocktail lists.  Cosmopolitans can be made individually or as a batch to be poured from a pitcher; just multiply the ingredient count by however many are to be served.

Ingredients

2 oz (¼ cup) vodka (or citrus vodka according to taste)

½ ounce (1 tablespoon) triple sec, Cointreau (or Grand Marnier)

¾ oz (1½ tablespoons) cranberry juice

¼-½ ounce (1 ½-3 teaspoons) fresh lime juice

One 2-inch (50 mm) orange peel/twist

Instructions

(1) Add vodka, Cointreau, cranberry juice, and lime juice to a cocktail shaker filled with ice.

(2) Shake until well chilled.

(3) Strain into a chilled cocktail glass (classically a coupé or Martini glass).

(4) An orange or lemon twist is the traditional garnish.

Notes

(1) As a general principle, the higher the quality of the vodka, the better the Cosmopolitan, the lower priced sprits tending to taste rather more abrasive which for certain purposes can be good but doesn’t suit a “Cosmo”.

(2) The choice of unsweetened or sweetened cranberry juice (the latter sold sometimes as “cranberry juice cocktail”) is a matter of taste and if using the unsweetened most will prefer if a small splash of sugar syrup (or agave) is added because tartness isn’t associated with a Cosmopolitan.

(3) There is however a variant which is sometimes mixed deliberately to be tart.  That’s the “White Cosmo”, made by using white cranberry juice.

(4) Of the orange liqueur: Most mixologists recommend Cointreau but preference is wholly subjective and Cointreau & Grand Marnier variously are used, the consensus being Cointreau (a type of Triple Sec) is smoother, stronger and more complex.  Grand Marnier is also a type of Triple Sec, one combined with Cognac so the taste is richer, nutty and caramelized which some prefer.

(5) Of the lime juice: It really is worth the effort to cut and squeeze a fresh lime.  Packaged lime juice will work but something of the bite of the citrus always is lost in the processing, packaging, storage and transporting the stuff endures.

(6) Art of the orange peel: The use of the term “garnish” of suggests something which is merely decorative: visual bling and ultimately superfluous but because cocktails are designed to be sipped, as one lingers over ones’s Cosmopolitan, from the peel will come a faint orange aroma, adding to the experience as the fumes of a cognac enhance things; spirits and cocktails are “breathed in” as well as swallowed.

(7) Science of the orange peel: When peeling orange, do it over glass so the oil spurting (viewed close-up under high-magnification, it really is more spurt than spray) from the pores in the skin ends up in the drink.  For the ultimate effect, rub the rim of the glass with the peel, down a half-inch on the outside so lips can enjoy the sensation.

The presidential “parade convertible” 1950 Lincoln Cosmopolitan, parked outside 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington DC.

In the US, the Ford Motor Company (FoMoCo) produced the Lincoln Cosmopolitan between 1949-1954 but only in its first season was it the “top-of-the-range” model, “designation demotion” something which would over the decades become popular in Detroit.  Political legend has it Harry Truman (1884–1972; US president 1945-1953) personally selected Lincoln to supply the presidential car fleet as an act of revenge against General Motors (GM), the corporation having declined to provide him with cars to use during the 1948 election campaign.  It’s assumed GM’s management was reading the polls and assumed they’d need only to wait to wait for a call from president elect Thomas Dewey (1902–1971) but as things turned out, Mr Dewey never progressed beyond president-presumptive so GM didn’t get the commission, the keys to Cadillacs not returning to the Oval Office until the administration of Ronald Reagan (1911-2004; US president 1981-1989).  While it wouldn’t much have consoled the GM board, there was some of their technology in the Lincolns because, FoMoCo was compelled to buy heavy-duty Hydra-Matic transmissions from Cadillac, their own automatic gearbox not then ready for production.

The presidential “parade convertible” 1950 Lincoln Cosmopolitan with “Bubbletop” fitted.

The White House leased ten Lincoln Cosmopolitans which were modified by coach-builders who added features such as longer wheelbases and raised roof-lines.  Nine were full-enclosed limousines while one was an armoured “parade convertible” (a “cabriolet D” in the Mercedes-Benz naming system) which was an impressive 20-odd feet (6 metres) in length.  The car used a large-displacement version of the old Ford flathead V8 (introduced in 1932) and weighing a hefty 6,500 lb (2,900 kg), performance wasn’t sparkling but given its role was slowly to percolate along crowd-lined boulevards, it was “adequate.  In 1954, during the administration of Dwight Eisenhower (1890-1969; US president 1953-1961), the parade convertible was fitted with a Plexiglas roof (a material the president would have been familiar with because it was used on some World War II (1939-1945) aircraft and in this form the Lincoln came to share the aircrafts’ nickname: “Bubbletop”.  The “Bubbletop” Cosmopolitan remained in service in the White House fleet until 1967.

The Glossies

Lindsay Lohan, Cosmopolitan, various international editions: April, May & June, 2006.

Cosmopolitan Magazine was launched in 1886 as a family journal of fashion, household décor, cooking, and other domestic interests.  It survived in a crowded market but its publisher did not and within two years Cosmopolitan was taken over by another which added book reviews and serialized fiction to the content.  This attracted the specialist house founded by John Brisben Walker (1847-1931), which assumed control in 1889, expanding its circulation twenty-fold to become one of America’s most popular literary magazines.  The Hurst Corporation acquired the title in 1905, briefly adding yellow-journalism before settling on a format focused on short fiction, celebrities and public affairs.  The formula proved an enduring success, circulation reaching two million by 1940 and this was maintained until a decline began in the mid 1950s, general-interest magazines being squeezed out by specialist titles and the time-consuming steamroller of television.

It was the appointment in 1965 of Helen Gurley Brown (1922–2012) as editor which signalled Cosmopolitan’s shift to a magazine focused exclusively on an emerging and growing demographic with high disposable income: the young white women of the baby boom.  In what proved a perfect conjunction, a target market with (1) economic independence, (2) social freedom, (3) an embryonic feminist awareness and (4) the birth control pill, the magazine thrived, surviving even the rush of imitators its success spawned.  Gurley Brown had in 1962 published the best seller advice manual, Sex and the Single Girl and Cosmopolitan essentially, for decades, reproduced variations on the theme in a monthly, glossy package.  It was clearly a gap in the market.  The approach was a success but there was criticism.  Conservatives disliked the choices in photography and the ideas young women were receiving.  Feminists were divided, some approved but others thought the themes regressive, a retreat from the overtly political agenda of the early movement into something too focused on fun and fashion, reducing women yet again to objects seeking male approbation.

Taylor Swift (b 1989), in purple on the cover of Cosmopolitan, December, 2014.

Still published in many international editions, Cosmopolitan Australia was one casualty of market forces, closed after a final printing in December 2018.  However, surprising many, Katarina Kroslakova (b 1978) in April 2024 announced her publishing house KK Press, in collaboration with New York-based Hearst Magazines International, would resume production of Cosmopolitan Australia as a bi-monthly and the first edition of the re-launched version was released in August, 2024.  Other than appearing in six issues per year rather than the traditional twelve, the format remained much the same, echoing Elle Australia which re-appeared on newsstands in March, ending a four-year hiatus.  Both revivals would as recently as 2023 have surprised industry analysts because the conventional, post-Covid wisdom was there existed in this segment few niches for time consuming and expensive titles in glossy print.

Amelia Dimoldenberg (b 1994) in polka-dots, on the cover of Cosmopolitan Australia April | May, 2025 (Issue 5, digital edition) which is downloadable file (96 MB in Adobe's PDF (portable document format) format.  Where digital titles have a history in print, the convention is to use the traditional cover format.  Even in the digital age, some legacy items have a genuine value to be exploited.

Ms Kroslakova clearly saw a viable business model and was quoted as saying print magazines are “the new social media” which was an interesting way of putting it but she explained the appeal by adding: “We need that 15 minutes to drop everything and actually have something tangible and beautiful in our hands to consume.  If we can present content which is multi-layered and deep and has authenticity and connection with the reader – that’s a really excellent starting point.”  She may have a point because in an age where screen-based content is intrinsically impermanent, the tactile pleasure of the traditional glossy may have genuine appeal, at least for an older readership who can remember the way things used to be done, something perhaps hinted at by her “15 minutes” reference, now regarded by many media analysts as a long-term connection given the apparent shortening of attention spans and after all, bound glossy pages are just another technology.  The revival of the print editions of Elle and Cosmopolitan will be an interesting experiment in a difficult economic environment which may get worse before it gets better.  Whether the novelty will attract enough of the "affluent readers" (what used to be called the A1, A2 & B1 demographic) to convince advertisers that it's a place to run their copy will likely decide the viability of the venture and while it's not impossible that will happen, Cosmopolitan is a couple of rungs down the ladder from the "prestige" titles (Vogue the classic mainstream example) which have maintained an advertising base. Cosmopolitan Australia offers a variety of subscription offers, the lowest unit cost available with a two-year, print + digital bundle (12 issues for Aus$105).

Lindsay Lohan on the cover of Cleo: March 2005 (left) and May 2009 (right).

Published in Australia between 1972-2016, Cleo was a monthly magazine targeted broadly at the demographic buying Cosmopolitan.  It was for decades successful and although there was some overlap in readership (and certainly advertising content), there was a perception there existed as distinct species “Cleo women” and “Cosmo women”.  Flicking through the glossy pages, husbands and boyfriends might have struggled to see much thematic variation although it’s likely they looked only at the pictures.  In the same vein, other than the paint, actual Cleo & Cosmo readers mostly probably wouldn’t have noticed much difference between Ford & Chevrolet V8s so it’s really a matter of where one’s interests lie (just because something is sexist stereotyping doesn’t mean it’s not true).  Had the men bothered to read the editorial content, they wouldn’t have needed training in textual deconstruction to detect both titles made much use of “cosmospeak”, a sub-dialect of English coined to describe the jargon, copy style and buzzwords characteristic of post 1950s Cosmopolitan magazine which contributed much to the language of non-academic “lipstick feminism”.  To summarize the market differentiation in women’s magazines, the industry joke was: “Cosmopolitan teaches you how to have an organism”, Cleo teaches you how to fake an organism and the Women’s Weekly teaches you how to knit an organism”.  As a footnote, when in 1983 the Women’s Weekly changed from a weekly to monthly format, quickly rejected was the idea the title might be changed to “Women’s Monthly”.

Martyrdom of the Saints Cosmas and Damian, oil on canvas by Fra Angelico (Guido di Pietro, circa 1395-1455), Musée du Louvre, Paris, France).  Fra was from the Italian frate (monk) and was a title for a Roman Catholic monk or friar (equivalent to Brother).

“Cleo” was a spunky two syllables but “Cosmopolitan” had a time-consuming five so almost universally it was used as “Cosmo”.  In Italy, Cosmo is a male given name and a variant of Cosimo, from the third century saint Cosmas who, with his brother Damian, was martyred in Syria during one of the many crackdowns on Christianity.  The name was from the Ancient Greek κόσμος (kósmos) (order, ordered universe), source of the now familiar “cosmos”.  Cosmas and Damian were Arab physicians who converted to Christianity and while ostensibly they suffered martyrdom for their faith, there may have been a financial motive because the brothers practiced much “free medicine”, not charging the poor for their “cures” so their services were understandably popular and thus a threat to the business model of the politically well-connected medical establishment.  The tension between medicine as some sort of social right and an industry run by corporations for profit has occasionally been suppressed but it’s never gone away, illustrated by the battles fought when the (literally) socialist post-war Labour government (1945-1951) established the UK’s NHS (National Health Service) and the (allegedly) socialist “Obamacare” (Affordable Care Act (ACA, 2010)) became law in the US.  By the twenty-first century, the medical establishment could no longer arrange decapitations of cut-price competitors threatening the profit margins but the conflicts remain, witness the freelancing of Luigi Mangione (1998).

The Mazda Cosmo

1968 Mazda Cosmo 110S (110S the export designation).

Although the Mazda corporation dates from 1920, it was another 40 years before it produced its first cars (one of the tiny 360 cm³ “kei cars” (a shortened form of kei-jidōsha, (軽自動車) (light vehicle)) so the appearance at the Tokyo Motor Show of the Cosmo Sport created quite an impression and that it was powered by a two-rotor Wankel rotary engine produced under licence from the German owners added to international interest.  Over two series, series production lasted from 1967 until 1972 but the intricate design was labour intensive to build and being expensive, demand was limited so in five years fewer than 1,200 were sold.  That makes it more of a rarity than a Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Gullwing (the W198, 1,400 of those built 1954-1957) and while Cosmo prices haven’t reached the level of the German car, it is a collectable and a number are now in museums and collections.  Mazda continued to use the Cosmo name until 1996 and while none of the subsequent models were as intriguing as the original, some versions of the JC Series Eunos Cosmo (1990–1996) enjoy the distinction of being the world’s only production car fitted with a three-rotor Wankel engine (the 1969 Mercedes-Benz C111 was a Wankel test-bed). 

1975 Mazda Roadpacer (HJ model)

The Eunos Cosmo was not the only Mazda with a unique place in the troubled history of the Wankel engine, the Roadpacer (1975-1977) also a footnote.  Most Holden fans, as one-eyed as any, don’t have especially fond memories of the HJ (1974-1976) range; usually, all they’ll say is its face-lifted replacement (the HX (1976-1977)), was worse.  With its chassis not including the RTS (radial tuned suspension) which lent the successor HZ (1975-1980) such fine handling and with engines strangled by the crude plumbing used in the era to reduce emissions, driving the HJ or HX really wasn’t a rewarding experience (although the V8 versions retained some charm) so there might have been hope Mazda’s curious decision to use fit their smooth-running, two-rotor Wankel to the HJ Premier and sell it as their top-of-the range executive car might have transformed the thing.  That it did but the peaky, high-revving rotary was wholly unsuited to the relatively large, heavy car.  Despite producing less power and torque than even the anaemic 202 cubic inch (3.3 litre) Holden straight-six it replaced, so hard did it have to work to shift the weight that fuel consumption was worse even than when Holden fitted their hardly economical 308 cubic inch (5.0 litre) V8 for the home market.  Available only in Japan and sold officially between 1975-1977, fewer than eight-hundred were built, the company able to off-load the last of the HXs only in early 1980.  The only thing to which Mazda attached its name not mentioned in their corporate history, it's the skeleton in the Mazda closet and the company would prefer we forget the thing which it seems to think of as "our Edsel".  The Roadpacer did though provide one other footnote, being the only car built by General Motors (GM) ever sold with a Wankel engine.  

The archbishop and the abdication

Archbishop Cosmo Gordon Lang (1932), oil on canvas by Anglo-Hungarian society portraitist Philip Alexius László de Lombos (1869–1937 and known professionally as Philip de László).  Lang was christened Cosmo in honor of the local Laird (in Scotland, historically a feudal lord and latterly the “courtesy title” of an area’s leading land-owner, most prominent citizen etc).  The noun Laird was from the northern or Scottish Middle English lard & laverd (a variant of lord).

Scottish Anglican prelate Cosmo Gordon Lang (First Baron Lang of Lambeth, 1864–1945; Archbishop of York 1908–1928 & Archbishop of Canterbury 1928–1942 was a clergyman with uncompromising views about much.  This type was once common in pulpits and although those of his faction exist still in the the modern Church of England, fearing cancellation, they tend now to exchange views only behind closed doors.  He’d probably be today almost forgotten were it not for an incendiary broadcast he made (as Archbishop of Canterbury and thus spiritual head of the Church of England and the worldwide Anglican community) on BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation) Radio on 13 December, 1936, two days after the abdication of Edward VIII (1894–1972; King of the UK & Emperor of India, January-December 1936, subsequently Duke of Windsor).  The address to the nation remains the most controversial public intervention made by a Church of England figure in the twentieth century, judged by many to be needlessly sanctimonious and distastefully personal, its political dimension the least objectionable aspect.

As a piece of text it did have a pleasingly medieval feel, opening with some memorable passages including: “From God he received a high and sacred trust. Yet by his own will he has abdicated” and “It is tragic that the sacred trust was not held with a firmer grip”.  That set the tone although when he said: “There has been much sympathy with the king in his great personal difficulty, and I do not forget how deeply he has touched the hearts of millions with his warm interest in the homes and lives of his people” his large audience may have thought some Christian charity did lurk in the Archbishop’s soul but quickly he let that moment pass, returning to his theme: “The causes which led to the king's decision are fully known to the nation.  But it has been made plain that the reigning sovereign of this country must be one whose private life and public conduct can be trusted to reflect the Christian ideal."

Unlike many modern Archbishops, there was no ambiguity about Lang so in his defense it can be argued he provided the Church with a moral clarity of greater certainty than anything which has in recent decades emanated from Lambeth Palace.  So there was that but by the 1930s the mood of opinion-makers in the UK had shifted and Lang’s text was seen as morally judgmental and the idea Edward VIII had failed not so much as a constitutional monarch but in his divine duty seemed archaic, few in the country framing things as the king’s personal failure before God.  What was clear was old Lang's point Edward’s relationship with a twice-divorced woman disqualified him morally and spiritually from being king which many critics within the church thought a bleak approach to a clergyman’s pastoral role.  In a sermon from the pulpit to the faithful it might have gone down well but as a national address, the tone was misplaced.  In self-imposed exile, privately Edward privately described the broadcast as “a vile and vindictive attack” and in his ghost-written memoirs (A King's Story (1951)), he accused the archbishop of “cruelty”.

Remembered also from the broadcast’s aftermath was a satirical verse printed in Punch by the novelist Gerald Bullett (1893–1958 (who published also under the pseudonym Sebastian Fox)).  Bullet’s included the words “how full of cant you are!”, using “cant” in the sense of “to speak in a manner speak in a hypocritical or insincere), an allusion to Lang signing his documents : “Cosmo Cantuar” (Cantuar the abbreviation for Cantuarium (Latin for Canterbury)):

“My Lord Archbishop, what a scold you are!
And when your man is down, how bold you are!
Of Christian charity how scant you are!
And, auld Lang swine, how full of cant you are!” 

Pisteology

Pisteology (pronounced pi-stol-uh-jee)

(1) In theology, the branch dealing with the place and authority of faith.

(2) In philosophy, a theory or science of faith.

Circa 1870s: From the German Pisteologie, the construct being the Ancient Greek πίστις (píst(is)) (faith) + -eo- (faith) (akin to peíthein to persuade) + -logie.  The English form is thus understood as píst(is) +-e-‎ + -ology.  The Ancient Greek noun πίστις (pístis) (faith) was from the Primitive Indo-European bheydhtis, the construct being πείθω (peíthō) (I persuade) +‎ -τις (-tis); πεῖσῐς (peîsis) was the later formation.  Although in English constructions it’s used as “faith” (in the theological sense), in the original Greek it could impart (1) trust in others, (2) a belief in a higher power, (3) the state of being persuaded of something: belief, confidence, assurance, (4) trust in a commercial sense (credit worthiness), (5) faithfulness, honesty, trustworthiness, fidelity, (6) that which gives assurance: treaty, oath, guarantee, (7) means of persuasion: argument, proof and (8) that which is entrusted.  The suffix -ology was formed from -o- (as an interconsonantal vowel) +‎ -logy.  The origin in English of the -logy suffix lies with loanwords from the Ancient Greek, usually via Latin and French, where the suffix (-λογία) is an integral part of the word loaned (eg astrology from astrologia) since the sixteenth century.  French picked up -logie from the Latin -logia, from the Ancient Greek -λογία (-logía).  Within Greek, the suffix is an -ία (-ía) abstract from λόγος (lógos) (account, explanation, narrative), and that a verbal noun from λέγω (légō) (I say, speak, converse, tell a story).  In English the suffix became extraordinarily productive, used notably to form names of sciences or disciplines of study, analogous to the names traditionally borrowed from the Latin (eg astrology from astrologia; geology from geologia) and by the late eighteenth century, the practice (despite the disapproval of the pedants) extended to terms with no connection to Greek or Latin such as those building on French or German bases (eg insectology (1766) after the French insectologie; terminology (1801) after the German Terminologie).  Within a few decades of the intrusion of modern languages, combinations emerged using English terms (eg undergroundology (1820); hatology (1837)).  In this evolution, the development may be though similar to the latter-day proliferation of “-isms” (fascism; feminism etc).  The alternative spellings are pistology & pistiology.  Pisteology is a noun and pisteological is an adjective; the noun plural is pisteologies.

The early use of pisteology was in the context of theology and it appears in an 1880 essay on the matter of faith by the Congregational minister Alfred Cave (1847–1900).  The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) refers to the word as exclusively theological but in later editions noted it was also used to mean “a theory or science of faith”, reflecting its adoption in academic philosophy although the embrace must have been tentative because pisteology was (and remains) “rare”, listed as such by those lexicographers who give it a mention though what is clear is that it seems never to have been cross-cultural, remaining implicitly a thing of Christendom.  In a sense, it’s surprising it hasn’t appeared more, especially in the troubled twentieth century when matters of “faith and doubt” were questioned and explored in a flurry of published works.  Perhaps it was a division of academic responsibility, the devoted studying belief and the scholars the institution, the pragmatic settling for the Vatican’s (unofficial) fudge: “You don’t have to believe it but you must accept it.”

Pondering cross-cultural pisteology: Lindsay Lohan carrying the Holy Qur'an (Koran), Brooklyn, New York, May 2015.

While clearly the universities got involved and the intersection between pisteology epistemology (the study of knowledge and belief) does seem obvious to the point when the former might be thought a fork of the latter, its roots and concerns remained theological and Christian, exploring how faith functions in religious traditions, doctrines, and human understanding of the divine and many famous thinkers have written works which may be thought pisteological landmarks.  Saint Augustine of Hippo (354–430) wrote so widely it’s probably possible to find something which tracks the path of some direction in Christianity but underling it all was his famous admission: “I believe in order to understand”, more than a subtle hint that faith is a prerequisite for true comprehension of divine truth.  Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) lived 800-odd year later and was better acquainted with the philosophers of the Classical age.  Aquinas is sometimes said to have “integrated” Aristotelian philosophy with Christian theology and while this is misleading, he understood the spirit of reasoning from Antiquity was compelling and in a way that’s influential still, he argued faith and reason complement each other, defined faith as a virtue by which the intellect assents to divine truth under the influence of the will.  A central figure in Reformed theology, John Calvin (1509-1564) explored faith extensively in his Institutes of the Christian Religion. He described faith as a firm and certain knowledge of God's benevolence toward us, founded on the promise of the gospel and revealed by the Holy Spirit.  Martin Luther (1483–1546) probably thought this not so much a fudge as a needless layer, arguing that it was faith alone (rather than a virtuous life of good works) by which one would on judgement day be judged.  Faith then was the cornerstone of salvation in his doctrine of sola fide (faith alone), a rigor which would have pleased John Calvin (1509–1564).  The philosopher Søren Kierkegaard (1813–1855) was not a theologian but his writings had an influence on theological thought and in a nod to Aquinas highlighted the paradox of faith and what he called “leap of faith” as essential to authentic religious life and although he never explicitly discussed the “You don’t have to believe it but you must accept it” school of thought, it does seem implicit in his paradox.

For the bedside table: Karl Barth’s Kirchliche Dogmatik.

Friedrich Schleiermacher (1768–1834) is often styled “the father of modern liberal theology” and to him faith was an experiential relationship with the divine, rooted in a “feeling of absolute dependence.”  More conservative theologians didn’t much object to that notion but they probably thought of him something in the vein William Shakespeare (1564–1616) in Julius Caesar (1599) had Caesar say of Cassius: “He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.”  John Henry Newman (1801–1890) was one of those conservatives (albeit something of a convert to the cause who had a strange path to Rome) and he wrote much about the development of doctrine and the role of faith in understanding divine truth but it was the Swiss Protestant theologian Karl Barth (1882-1968) whose Kirchliche Dogmatik (Church Dogmatics (in English translation a fourteen-volume work of some six-million words and published between 1932 and 1967) that appeared the modern world’s most ambitious attempt to recover the proclamation of the word of God as the place where God's message of salvation meets sinful man: faith as an act of trust and obedience to God's self-revelation.  Barth’s contribution to pisteology was a rejection of natural theology, emphasizing faith as a response to God's revelation in Jesus Christ; it wasn’t exactly Martin Luther without the anti-Semitism but the little monk’s ghost does loom over those fourteen volumes.  Pius XII (1879-1958; pope 1939-1958), a fair judge of such things, thought Barth the most important theologian since Aquinas.

Barth though was a formalist, writing for other theologians who breathed rarefied intellectual air and he didn’t make pisteology easy or accessible and although Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) claimed to have read all fourteen volumes while serving the twenty year sentence (he was lucky to receive) for war crimes and crimes against humanity, (he had more time than most to devote to the task), he did acknowledge the conceptual and textual difficulties.  Barth seems not to have done much for Speer’s faith in God but, being Speer, he took from the six million works what suited him and decided he was atoning for his sins: “There is much that I still cannot comprehend, chiefly because of the terminology and the subject.  But I have had a curious experience.  The uncomprehended passages exert a tranquilizing effect.  With Barth's help I feel in balance and actually, in spite of all that's oppressive, as if liberated.”  Speer continued: “I owe to Barth the insight that man’s responsibility is not relieved just because evil is part of his nature. Man is by nature evil and nevertheless responsible.  It seems to me there is a kind of complement to that idea in Plato’s statement that for a man who has committed a wrong ‘there is only one salvation: punishment.’  Plato continues: ‘Therefore it is better for him to suffer this punishment than to escape it; for it sustains man’s inward being.’”

For those who want to explore Christocentric pisteology, Barth’s Kirchliche Dogmatik really isn’t a good place to start because his texts are difficult and that’s not a consequence of the English translation; those who have read the original in German make the same point.  Nor will those tempted by his reputation to try one of his shorter works be likely to find an easier path because his style was always one of dense prose littered with words obscure in meaning to all but those who had spent time in divinity departments.  When writing of German Lutheran theologian Isaak August Dorner (1809–1884) in Protestant Theology in the Nineteenth Century (1946) he wrote: “The assertion of a receptivity in man, the Catholic-type conception of the gratia preveniens which runs alongside this receptivity, the mystical culmination of this pisteology, are all elements of a speculative basic approach which can even be seen here, in Dorner.”  Is it any wonder some might confuse pisteology with piscatology (the study of fishing)?

Ficelle

Ficelle (pronounced fis-elle or fis-elle-ah (French))

(1) A variant of baguette (a type of French bread), similar in composition and appearance except much thinner.

(2) String or twine (in French), used literally & figuratively.

(3) In literary theory, a confidant (a confidante if a female), whose role within the text is to elicit information, conveyed to the reader without narratorial intervention

1880s: From the French ficelle (string; twine), from the Old French ficel, & ficelle (small cord; thread), probably from the Vulgar Latin filicella, from fibrilla, a diminutive form of fibra (fiber; filament) from fīlum (thread).  The French phrase ficelles du metier (tricks of the trade) appears of the in the form apprendre les ficelles du metier which translates best as “to learn the ropes”.  The French verb ficeler translates as “to tie up, to truss”.  In French, as well as the literal meanings (of string and certain breads), ficelle also has figurative uses.  It can be used to refer to a subtle trick or stratagem but it’s most popular as an allusion to “string pulling”, suggesting “behind the scenes” manipulation or “back channel” deals.  In English, it evolved to enjoy two niches: (1) in literary theory and (2) in culinary and artisanal bakery use.  Ficelle is a noun & verb; the noun plural is ficelles.

In literary theory, a ficelle is the confidant character whose role within the text is to elicit information, conveyed to the reader without narratorial intervention.  The term was introduced by the author Henry James (1843–1916) who used the word in the sense it appeared in French théâtre de marionnettes (marionette theatre) to refer to the strings with which the puppeteer manipulated their puppets.  What James wanted was a word to inhabit the literary grey area between the confidant and the narrator, his idea being the character in a novel who is presented as the friend of another but whose purpose as a literary device was to be the “friend of the reader”, imparting vital information without the disruptive intervention of a narrator.

Cady Heron (Lindsay Lohan (b 1986)) & Karen Smith (Amanda Seyfried (b 1985)) in Mean Girls (2004),  Cady Heron was an unusual ficelle in that as the protagonist, she was also a confidante and narrator.

The society masseuse Mrs Heaney in the tragi-comedy of manners The Custom of the Country (1913) by US novelist & interior decorator Edith Wharton (1862–1937) was a ficelle.  Acting as a kind of mentor and even a surrogate mother to Ms Spragg, she uses her keen (but remote) observation of New York’s high society to live a kind of vicarious existence in those circles through the young protagonist, but Wharton’s literary purpose was to use her to flesh out the text with facts helpful to the reader’s understanding.  The classic ficelle however was James's own Maisie Farange in What Maisie Knew (1897) the naive but preternaturally wise child in whom the warring parents, step-parents and lovers casually confide, and through whose eyes the story is told.  There can be overlap in the literary roles of confidant, narrator and ficelle (Lindsay Lohan’s Cady Heron in Mean Girls (2004) has elements of all three) but according to literary theory (1) a ficelle usually is a confidant but must not be a narrator, (2) a confidant can be a narrator if not a ficelle.  In the literary tradition Cady Heron was an untypical protagonist in that most confidants have only a marginal role in the plot, their main function to listen to the intimate feelings and intentions of the protagonist; someone like Horatio in William Shakespeare’s (1564–1616) Hamlet (circa 1600) or the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s (1859–1930) Dr Watson who was the “sounding board” for Sherlock Holmes.

They heard, and were abash'd, and up they sprung (Book 1, line 331).  Illustration by French printmaker & illustrator Gustave Doré (1832–1883) from an 1866 edition of John Milton's (1608-1674) Paradise Lost (1667) edited by US journalist & historian Henry Walsh (1863–1927).

The narrator has a longer tradition and was one of the features of Greek theatre and both Plato (circa 427-348 BC) and Aristotle (384-322 BC) defined three types: (1) the speaker or poet (or any kind of writer) who uses his own voice, (2) one who assumes the voice of another person or persons, speaking in a voice not his own and (3) one who uses a mixture of his own voice and that of others.  In both drama and fiction there are countless examples of each technique but authors could combine the modes, all three appearing in John Milton’s Paradise Lost: Milton begins in his own voice in the first person to invoke the “Heavenly Muse” but later the impression is created that the Muse (ie the Holy Ghost or Holy Spirit) responds to Milton's formal invocation, thus beginning the main narrative.  When first Satan speaks, the third voice is introduced and it’s not until Book III Milton returns to his “own voice” although of course, as the author, all is Milton’s own.  TS Eliot (1888–1965) in his essay The Three Voices of Poetry (1954) interpreted the notion as it could be mapped onto modern verse: “The first voice is the voice of the poet talking to himself - or to nobody.  The second is the voice of the poet addressing an audience, whether large or small.  The third is the voice of the poet when he attempts to create a dramatic character speaking in verse when he is saying not what he would say in his own person, but only what he can say within the limits of one imaginary character addressing another imaginary character.”

La baguette et la ficelle. A ficelle (bottom) is more slender than a baguette (top) although in many parts of the English-speaking world the term "French stick" is used generically.  Some of what's sold as "French sticks" must appal French bakers.

Charles de Gaulle (1890-1970; President of France 1959-1969) in 1962 famously observed of his nation: “How can you govern a country which has two hundred and forty-six varieties of cheese?” and he’d probably be amused to learn that by 2024 some 1,600 distinct types had been identified.  There aren’t quite than many types of baguette but there are still a few including the “artisan baguette”, “moulded baguette”, “floured baguette”, “chocolate baguette”, “multicereal baguette”, “whole wheat baguette, “baguette a l’ancienne” (old-fashioned), “Viennoise baguette”, “Sourdough baguette”, “Baguette de Seigle”, “Baguette en épis” (corn baguette) and the “ficelle”.  The difference between the classic baguette of the popular imagination is essentially the size and shape.  A typical baguette is 610-710 mm (24-26 inches) in length with a slender, elongated shape, the crust crispy crust and the centre airy.  The ficelle is both narrower and shorter (usually around 300-400 mm (12-16 inches) long and renowned for its chewier texture and slightly thinner crust, characteristics which make it less versatile than a baguette but they are popular for making gourmet rolls or as an alternative to crackers when serving dips or spreads.  Something like the ficelle may genuinely have been the original form of the modern baguette but the name was adopted only late in the nineteenth century to distinguish them from the larger creations which had become popular; it was an allusion to a “piece of string”, the diminutive ficelle long and narrow by comparison with what had become the “standard” baguette.

Beware of imitations: The baguette de tradition française.

The origin of the baguette (as it's now understood) is truly a mystery and there are so many tales that it's recommended people choose to believe which ever most appeals to the.  In France, a true baguette (Baguette artisanale) is made from ingredients and with a method defined in law while the famous shape is a convention.  Typically, baguettes have a diameter between 50-75 mm (2-3 inches) and are some 610-710 mm (24-26 inches) in length although the 1 m (39 inch) baguette is not unusual, popular especially with the catering trade.  It’s a little misleading to suggest the baguette was invented because for centuries loaves in the shape existed in many places around the world and recipes for the mixing of dough were constantly subject to changes imposed by the success of harvests, economics, supply-chain disruptions and simple experimentation.  The baguette instead evolved and its popularity was a thing of natural selection; it survived because people preferred the taste, texture and convenience of form while other breads faded from use.  It seems clear that the long, stick-like direct ancestors of the baguette began to assume their recognizably modern form in French towns and cities in the eighteenth century although doubtless there was much variation between regions and probably even between bakers in the same place.  The daily bread being the classic market economy, bakers would be influenced by losing sales to a more popular shop and so would adjust their mixes or techniques to attract customers back.  In this way a standardized form would have emerged and, in the French way, by 1920 the assembly had passed a law codifying the critical parameters (weight, size and price), formalizing the popular name baguette.  In 2003, the jocular slang "freedom bread" emerged to describe the baguette, an allusion to the "Freedom Fries" which replaced "French Fries" in US government staff canteens while there was tension between the White House and the Élysée Palace over France's attitude to the proposed invasion of Iraq.   

Lindsay Lohan in promotion for @lilybakerjewels, 2020.  The Rainbow Baguette Ring (centre) using stones cut in a true “baguette” rectangle whereas the Rainbow Bracelet used squares.

Globalization and modern techniques of mass production however intruded on many aspects of French lives and bakeries weren’t immune from the challenge of the cheap “baguette” sold by supermarkets.  Even among the boulangerie (a French bakery in which the bread must, by law, be baked on-premises) there were some who resorted to less demanding methods of production to compete.  As a matter of cultural protection, the assembly in 1993 enacted Le Décret Pain (The Bread Decree) which stipulates that to be described as pain maison (homemade bread), a bread needs to be wholly kneaded, shaped, and baked at the place of sale.  To limit the scope of the supermarkets (some of which were importing frozen, pre-prepared dough), rules also defined what pain traditionnel français (traditional French bread) may be made from and banning any pre-made components from baguettes.  Also retained was the relevant provision of the 1920 labor legislation which prohibits the employment of people in bread and pastry making between ten in the evening and four in the morning.  So, when visiting a boulangerie, it’s recommended to ask for a baguette de tradition française (usually as baguette de tradition) which is made from wheat flour, water, yeast, and common salt (reflecting modern practice, one may contain up to 0.5% soya flour, up to 2% broad bean flour and up to 0.3% wheat malt flour) and the dough must rest between 15-20 hours at a temperature between 4-6^o C (43-46^o F).  The less exalted baguettes ordinaires, are made with baker's yeast and a less exacting specification.

The French Ministère de la Culture’s (Ministry of Culture) L'inventaire national du Patrimoine culturel immatériel (National Inventory of Intangible Cultural Heritage) in 2018 added the baguette to its index and in 2022, the artisanal know-how and culture of the baguette was added to UNESCO’s (the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) list of Intangible Cultural Heritage.  Already preserving the information about some 600 traditions from more than 130 countries, UNESCO noted the addition by saying it celebrated the French way of life, something of which the baguette, as a central part of the French diet for at least 100 years, was emblematic.  With some 16 million consumed in France every day, the “…the baguette is a daily ritual, a structuring element of the meal, synonymous with sharing and conviviality", a statement from UNESCO read, concluding it was “…important that these skills and social habits continue to exist in the future."