Ellipsis

Ellipsis (pronounced ih-lip-sis)

(1) In grammar, the omission from a sentence or other construction of one or more words that would complete or clarify the construction.

(2) In grammar, the omission of one or more items from a construction in order to avoid repeating the identical or equivalent items that are in a preceding or following construction.

(3) In grammar, a sequence of three dots (…) appearing in a text to indicate a pause, sometimes used for dramatic effect such as a “wait for it” moment.

(4) In typography, a mark or marks (——;* * *; … etc) to indicate an omission or suppression of letters or words.  The sequence of three dots (…) is now the most common (four if used at the end of a sentence, the last a period (full stop).  In linguistics jargon, the “three dots” are also called “suspension dots” or “suspension points”.

(5) In mathematics, the use of such a convention to indicate a pattern continues (ie in “1, 2, 3, ..., 8, 9”, the numerals “4, 5, 6, and 7” are “implied” and thus “mentally included “as part of the pattern.  As a digital representation of the vulgar fraction “one third”, “0.333…” means it’s a “repeating decimal”, having “threes” going on to infinity, tending always towards (but never quite reaching “one third”).

(6) In geometry, an ellipse (obsolete though, confusingly, the adjectival elliptical endures).

(7) In film & television production, the omission of scenes that do not advance the plot.

(8) As vertical ellipsis (⋮), three dots) vertically aligned, used to extend a list vertically, or as mathematical notation for “is divisible by” or “is a multiple of” and latterly adopted in computer GUIs (graphical user interface) for various purposes, notably the “Customize and Control” drop-down menu in Google’s Chrome web browser (although Microsoft Edge and some other browsers based on the open source Chromium use a horizontal three dots).

1560–1570: An unadapted borrowing from the Latin ellīpsis, from the Ancient Greek ἔλλειψις (élleipsis) (omission; a falling short, defect), noun of action from elleipein (to fall short, leave out), from en- (in the sense of “in”) + leip- (stem of leípein (to leave) + -sis.  Leipein was reconstructed to be from the primitive Indo-European root leikw- (to leave).  The –sis suffix was from the Ancient Greek -σις (-sis) and was used to forms noun of action), often via Latin but increasingly also from French; it had exactly the same effect as the Latin –entia and the English -ing.  Historically, the use in terms borrowed from Ancient Greek was comparatively rare but there are many modern coinages based on Ancient Greek roots, reflecting to ongoing reverence for the ancient languages.  Confusingly, the word elliptical needs detailed explanation.  As an adjective, elliptical can mean (1) in geometry, in a shape of, or reminding of, an ellipse; oval or (2) in linguistics of, or showing ellipsis (having a word or words omitted); relating to or containing an instance of ellipsis or (3), of speech, concise or condensed.  The geometric use is also specific in botany, elliptical referring only to the general shape of the object (typically a leaf), independently of its apex or margin (and sometimes the base), so that an “elliptic leaf” may at both ends be pointed.  A three-dimensional elliptical object is ellipsoid, while an object that is not a perfectly stretched circle is ovoid or obovoid (and to mathematicians, a circle is a type of elipse).  In the gym equipment business, am “elliptical trainer” is an exercise machine in which the feet of the user travel an elliptic path; they’re used to simulate stair climbing, walking, or running while offering the advantage of being “low impact”, meaning there’s less jarring to inflict excessive pressure on joints.  The synonym is eclipsis (omission of parts of a word or sentence).  Ellipsis, ellipsization & ellipsism are nouns, elliptical is a noun & adjective and elliptically is an adverb, the noun plural is ellipses.

In classical and medieval texts, ellipses were unmarked, but the practice of marking them originated in the scripts of late sixteenth century plays as a way to indicate the “imperfections of the voice”, the omissions, pauses and interruptions fundamental to spoken language (seen in the modern day discipline of “disfluencies”, something of a backwater in linguistics until the importance of the phenomenon in “natural language” was recognized by those developing AI (artificial intelligence) bots).  All those years ago, those inserting ellipsis marks all had much the same purpose but there was initially no standardization of form, a continuous rule (-), a series of hyphens (---), or a series of points (. . .) all used, and which appeared reflected sometimes the practice of the printer (or possibly what “hard” fonts were to hand in the operation’s typographical sets (ie sometimes technologically deterministic)).  Asterisks (***) were first employed to display hiatuses in the printer's copy-text, but, as rules and points came to be used for other forms of omission (such as censorship or citation), strings of asterisks became interchangeable with alternative forms of ellipsis marks.

Promotional poster for Ellipsis (2017).

The film's published synopsis was: “In the middle of a crowded city, the paths of two strangers, a man and a woman, collide.  This accidental, chance occurrence sets in motion a chain of events that sees the two strangers embark on a night of adventure and connection that challenges their separate lives.  Ellipsis is a film about the random nature of life and human interaction and the small choices that can set our course.  Set in Sydney over the course of one night, it is also a portrait of the city and its inhabitants.  The film celebrates the distinct nature and idiosyncrasies of the people that live and work there.”  As blubs go, that’s a bit long and something tighter would be: “A film for book club ladies who like to talk about their feelings.”  Tempted?  There's a trailer.

It wasn’t until late in the 1800s that clear distinctions of use emerged on the path to twentieth century standardization with the dash (or continuous rule) the most commonly used (signalling abrupt changes or breaks) while points implied something longer and more hesitant (the classic “pause”).  Points also became the preferred mark for indicating omissions from quotations with the asterisk assuming the primary role of marking footnotes (“*” for the first, “**” the second and so on although other distinctive symbols would also be used (the obelus (†) or dagger the best known of many) and for endnotes (appearing at the end of the chapter, sequential superscript numbers became the standard convention, an obvious innovation rendered essential as endnotes came to exist in dozens.  In some aspects, the “standardization” of English over the last century-odd has for some been regretful but in printing, the uniformity in typographic conventions has been welcomed by most.  While dictatorial edicts on matters of content rightly are resisted, the combination of increasingly pervasive style guides and standardized font-sets in word-processers (and the now apparently extinct variant, the “desktop publisher”) has been a positive influence, meaning texts almost always use the same “language of symbols”, removing one source of potential ambiguity.  This has meant most obviously (and helpfully): (1) hyphens now rarely make up a rule, (2) dashes are usually one em in length, (3) an ellipsis mark is comprised of three points (or four if a full-stop is added) and (4) the asterisks (that once often signified ellipses) now have a “substitutive rule” to indicate a word or phrase has been self-censored (usually to avoid use of a vulgarity although sometimes this is done in a way to make the original still obvious (“s**t” or “f**k”) while attempting to evade text-based electronic filters.  In the less standardized world of social media and such, variants are common (such as “f#$k”) and all these forms differ from redactions (solid black lines where the words or entire passages would appear), the intention genuinely to conceal identities or events.

Ellipses (in red ellipses) in the Google Chrome (left) and Microsoft Edge web browsers; in Chrome, a vertical ellipsis was used whereas in Edge they were the traditional horizontal form.

Technically, there was no difference in function, the “three dots” just shapes on the screen used by the GUI (graphical user interface) for similar purposes and why Google’s designers opted for one and Microsoft’s the other may just be an example of “product differentiation”, both browsers ultimately derived from the open-source Chromium project.  Microsoft’s original Edge was proprietary with a unique interface, the product necessitated by the company’s IE (Internet Explorer) becoming a victim of its own success, locked into a cul-de-sac of a development path because of the need to maintain backward compatibility with the large base of corporate users using software with a “high IE dependency”.  As things turned out, embarking on a separate development path was “a browser too far” (even with all Microsoft’s resources) and, once reality bit, the decision was taken to “jump on the Chromium bandwagon”.  Few mourned IE although nerds still pine for the download bucket.

Filmmakers like “Ellipsis” as a title.

In texts, the use of ellipses is common but compared with other “technical” words from the jargon of grammar, it’s not well known.  For that reason, some style guides suggest oral use is governed by one’s audience: If addressing a circle of scholars of English literature, one may be assured they’ll know the meaning but if the gathering less specialized, it’s permissible (indeed, probably desirable) to say “dot dot dot”; this is a “verbal clue” as opposed to the “visual clue” of “air quotes” one might use to indicate a word or phrase should be visualized as appearing within “quotation marks”.  When Henry Fowler (1858–1933) published his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926), the use of the ellipsis (and other symbols used in texts) was still so inconsistent as to demand an untypically long and detailed entry, the technical details of which might mystify modern readers brought up on standardized conventions; genuinely there have been advantages in the way word processors and editors have imposed a kind of “structural homogenization”.

Even in 1965 when the second edition (with a textual revision by Sir Ernest Gowers (1880–1966)) appeared, Henry Fowler’s original entry substantially was left unchanged but by 1996 when there was a major update by Robert Burchfield (1923–2004), the entry radically was different, reflecting (1) the publishing industry having removed (almost all) inconsistencies and (2) readers being now less familiar with the kind of descriptive language Henry Fowler used because his expectation was of reaching an “educated audience”.  Many modern readers of a book like A Dictionary of Modern English Usage are of course in some ways “better educated” than previous generations but it’s a “different education” (not “inferior”, just “different”).  While in some aspects what Mr Burchfield did was by the purists, not well-received (“purity” probably not a helpful world-view when judging changes in the use of the English language) because he seemed all too accommodating of “lower standards”, his revision of the book’s entry for “Ellipsis” was helpful and common-sense, an indication of which was the same format being used by Jeremy Butterfield who edited the fourth edition (2015).  While the curmudgeons will continue to lament “linguistic promiscuity”, in some cases simplicity is better and anyway, some never forgave Burchfield for having “taken the lexicographical axe” to thousands of archaic words while an editor of the OED (Oxford English Dictionary).

A Lohanic ellipsis in action.  The operative part of the text: “It's waist-length, perfectly coiffed, and... blonde?” is read “…and [pause] blonde?”  As Ms Lohan points out, the distinction between “blonde” and “strawberry blonde” is significant because the latter happens at the margins of red.

So, in modern use, the working definition of ellipsis is accepted as the one appearing in the OED: “The omission of one or more words in a sentence, which would be needed to complete the grammatical construction or fully to express the sense.”  In spoken form, the ellipsis is so common as usually to pass unnoticed (such as: “Want some?” in which the pronoun has been dispensed with).  In other words, the ellipsis is an essential part of the “verbal shorthand” that comprises so much of conversational English, constructs created by a process in which certain notional elements of a sentence may be omitted if clearly they are predictable or recoverable by virtue of context.  Indeed, in “legitimate” use, English grammar really “demands” the omission of certain elements if sentences are to be thought “elegant”, the most obvious the injunction not the repeat the definite article: “He heard the whirr and ʌ click of machinery; (ie infinitive marker to not repeated before a second infinitive) or “I was forced to leave and ʌ give up my work at the hospital” (subject not repeated).  That doesn’t mean insertion of the missing elements is wholly proscribed because, if for dramatic effect some degree of emphasis is required, the repetition is an accepted device, but, but in everyday use or declarative or narrative prose, ellipsis is the “natural” form.  Those wishing to perform textual analysis of what’s been digitized will find many fields in literature littered with both ellipses and their deliberate avoidance.  Being English, in academic linguistics a remarkable number of variant forms have been identified and defined, the CGEL (A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language (1985), edited by Professor Randolph Quirk (1920–2017) et al) needing more than 50 pages to list, illustrate, and label them all (strict, standard, situational, structural etc).  Of course the “rules” work because they interact with the human brain and, both being flexible, the “imaginary words” usually come quickly to mind.

The “rules” do however extend to defining “unacceptable types”, the most often cited being if two auxiliary verbs that operate in different ways are placed together.  So although it doesn’t seem obviously clumsy, one should not say or write: “No state has or can adopt such measures” because idiomatic tradition has come to require: “No state has adopted or can adopt such measures”.  Burchfield’s caution was: “When a change of grammatical voice is involved, ellipsis spells danger.  A reader cannot be expected to make the necessary adjustment from the active voice to the passive and supply an omitted part of the passive form.”  With that, old Henry Fowler would have concurred and even in the later editions one of his examples from 1926 was cited: “Mr Dennett foresees a bright future for Benin if our officials will manage matters conformably with its ‘customs’, as they ought to have been [insert managed]”. Comparisons can also produce unacceptable sequences when unwise ellipses are attempted: “The paintings of Monet are as good or better than those of van Gogh [read as good as or better than].  Perhaps less obviously wrong but best avoided is leaving out an auxiliary which is not the same number (singular/plural) as one that is given: “The murderer was hanged and his followers ʌ imprisoned [ellipsis of were].”  Of course, in non-standard speech the rules often are not followed and in literature are ignored for “conversational authenticity” a person in the US in 1973 affecting to be unaware of the Watergate scandal likely in certain circles to be admonished: “Watergate, man, where you been [insert have]?”  A sentence like that is also fun to play with by changing the emphasis on each word, each producing a subtle shift in effect.

The Oxford Handbook of Ellipsis (2018), edited by Jeroen van Craenenbroeck (b 1976) and Tanja Temmerman (b 1985).

That the concept of the ellipsis sounds simple and easily is illustrated by examples (“Sarah likes coffee and Jane, tea”) may leave some baffled the CGEL could fill 50-odd, densely packed pages on the topic but in modern structural linguistics, specialist scholars think that a mere bullet-point list.  For those wishing further to explore, there is The Oxford Handbook of Ellipsis (2018) and, running to an impressive 1148 pages and weighing in at 1.89 kg (4.16 lb), it’s a hefty tome, academically and physically.  Importantly, the work is not restricted to the way the ellipsis phenomena operates in English, a dozen-odd languages explored, examining, as the editors put it: “inter- & intralinguistic variation”.

Those wanting simply directions on “right & wrong” constructions are better off with a style guide but for word nerds of the le langage pour le langage school (language for language (best translated as “language focusing on itself”)) in the tradition of Russian literary theorist & linguist Roman Jakobson (1896–1982 and one of the most influential figures in structural linguistics), any deep dive into metalinguistics is tempting and somewhere in those 1148 pages must surely be “the last word on ellipsis”.  The Oxford Handbook of Ellipsis is divided into four parts: (1) the purpose of ellipsis and how it may be analysed when mapped to various theoretical frameworks, (2) an exploration of the utility of ellipsis as a diagnostic tool for other linguistic phenomena, (3) descriptions of the types of elliptical constructions found in natural language, such as “sluicing, gapping, and null complement anaphora” (students of jargon will not be disappointed by this work) and (4) case-studies in languages, including Russian, Hungarian, Dutch, Japanese, Persian and Finnish Sign Language.  The text is spread over 38 chapters, the tempting titles include Codeswitching, Sluicing and Its Subtypes, Predicate Ellipsis, Gapping and Stripping and Comparative Deletion.

Farce

Farce (pronounced fahrs)

(1) To stuff; to cram (obsolete).

(2) To make fat; to swell out (obsolete).

(3) To render pompous (obsolete).

(4) In the Roman Catholic Church, an alternative form of farse (to insert vernacular paraphrases into a Latin liturgy).

(5) A light, humorous production (plays, television film etc) play in which the plot depends upon the exploitation of improbable (or even impossible) situations rather than upon the development of character.

(6) The genre of comedy represented by works of this kind

(7) Humor of the type displayed in such works.

(8) Something foolish; a mockery; a ridiculous sham, a ludicrous situation or action.

(9) In cooking, forcemeat (a mixture of finely chopped and seasoned foods, usually containing egg white, meat or fish, etc., used as a stuffing or served alone).

(10) To add witty material to a speech or composition.

1300–1350: From the Middle English noun fars (stuffing), from the Middle French farce, from the Vulgar Latin farsa, noun use of feminine of Latin farsus, from the earlier fartus (stuffed), past participle of the verb farcīre (to stuff) which Middle English picked up as farsen, from the Old French farsir & farcir, from Latin farciō (to cram, stuff).  It was a doublet of farse.  The origin of the Latin farcire (to stuff, cram) is of uncertain origin but some etymologists suggest it may be connected with the primitive Indo-European bhrekw- (to cram together).  Farce in the fourteenth century first meant the chopped-meat stuffing used in cooking and farced into dishes.  The idea of a scene or plotline of “ludicrous satire or low comedy” being interpolated into a play was first described as “a farcing and thus soon ‘a farce’”) in the 1520s, while the dramatic sense of a “ludicrous satire; low comedy” was from the French use of farce (comic interlude in a mystery play) was a sixteenth century development while in English, the generalized sense of “a ridiculous sham” came into use in the 1690s.  In literary use, the companion term is tragicofarcical (having elements of both tragedy and farce).  Farce is a noun & verb, farced & farcing are verbs and and farcical is an adjective; the noun plural is plural farces.  The adjective unfarced (also as un-farced) is used in cooking to distinguished a dish not farced from one farced; it is not used of plays or literature.

The now rare noun infarction first appeared in the medical literature in the 1680s as a noun of action from the Latin infarcire (to stuff into), the construct being in- )in the sense of “into” (from the primitive Indo-European root en- (in) + farcīre (to stuff).  In pathology it was widely used of various morbid local conditions but as technology and techniques improved and more specific descriptions evolved used declined and the early twentieth century it tended to be restricted to certain conditions caused by localized faults in the circulatory system.  The construct of the noun forcemeat (also as force-meat) was force (“to stuff (as a variant of farce)) + meat.  The term first appeared in cookbooks in the late 1670s (although the technique (as “farcing”) dated back centuries; it described “mincemeat, meat chopped fine & seasoned, then used as a stuffing”.

Karl Marx (left) who turned G.W.F. Hegel (right) "upside down on his head".

Nowhere did Karl Marx (1818-1883) ever write “history repeats itself” but the phrase “history repeats itself, the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce” is often attributed to him and has long been an undergraduate favourite.  The origin of that was in the first chapter of his essay Der 18te Brumaire des Louis Napoleon (18th Brumaire of Louis Bonapatre (1852)) in which, writing of Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770–1831) he wrote: “Hegel remarks somewhere that all great world-historic facts and personages appear, so to speak, twice.  He forgot to add: the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce.”  The “second time as farce” notion seems to have been something picked up from his benefactor & collaborator German philosopher Friedrich Engels (1820–1895) who a few months earlier, in one of his letters to Marx, had observed: “it really seems as though old Hegel, in the guise of the World Spirit, were directing history from the grave and, with the greatest conscientiousness, causing everything to be re-enacted twice over, once as grand tragedy and the second time as rotten farce, Caussidière for Danton, L. Blanc for Robespierre, Barthélemy for Saint-Just, Flocon for Carnot, and the moon-calf together with the first available dozen debt-encumbered lieutenants for the little corporal and his band of marshals. Thus the 18th Brumaire would already be upon us.”

In Zur Kritik der Hegelschen Rechtsphilosophie (Critique of Hegel's Philosophy of Right (1843), Marx had made a similar point:  “A coup d’état is sanctioned as it were in the opinion of the people if it is repeated.  Thus, Napoleon was defeated twice and twice the Bourbons were driven out.  Through repetition, what at the beginning seemed to be merely accidental and possible, becomes real and established.”  Marx did take a few interpretative liberties with Hegel.  When in Vorlesungen über die Philosophie der Weltgeschichte (Lectures on the Philosophy of History (a compilation of lectures delivered at University of Berlin in 1822, 1828 & 1830)), Hegel compared nature where “there is nothing new under the Sun,” with history where there is always development he was describing historical progression in terms of the Hegelian philosophy which holds that history follows the dictates of reason and that the natural progress of history is due to the outworking of absolute spirit.  Still, Marx did boast that to make use of Hegel's dialectic he had to “turn him upside down on his head” so perhaps he felt entitled to kick the dead man’s ideas around a bit.

The farce on stage and in literature

In literary use, the farce is a form of comedy where the purpose is to “provoke mirth of the simplest and most basic kind: roars of laughter rather than smiles; humour rather than wit.  It is associated with, but must be distinguished from, burlesque; it is with clowning, buffoonery and knockabout slapstick, a form of ‘low’ comedy in which the basic elements are: exaggerated physical action (often repeated), exaggeration of character and situation in which absurd, improbable (even impossible ones and therefore fantastical) events and surprises in the form of unexpected appearances and disclosures”.  In farce, character and dialogue are nearly always subservient to plot and situation with plots often complex, events succeeding with a sometimes bewildering rapidity.

Quite when the first farces were performed is not known but historians seem to agree it would certainly have predated anything in the literary tradition.  Elements recognizably “farces” exist in some surviving plays from Antiquity in which “low comedy” in the shape of ridiculous situations and ludicrous results, ribaldry and junketings are interpolated into works of satire and studies of the farce have identified the device in Greek satyr play and the Roman fabak.  Technically though, the first plays actually described as “farces” were French works from the late Middle Ages where there were “stuffings” described as “between scenes”: comic interludes between the “serious” parts in religious or liturgical drama.  Usually, such “stuffings” were written in octosyllabic (containing eight syllables) couplets with an average length of some 500 lines.  These interpolations poked fun at the foibles and vices of everyday life (particularly at commercial knavery and conjugal infidelity, two subjects with enduring audience appeal).

The Taming of the Shrew, Barbican Theatre, June 2019.  For the RSC (Royal Shakespeare Company), Justin Audibert (b 1981) re-imagined the England of the 1590s as a matriarchy in which Baptista Minola is seeking to sell off her son Katherine to the highest bidder.

Later, in French theatre, these farcical interludes developed into a form of their own: the “one-act farce”, pieces which were in their time something like to short-form clips which TikTok made a business model.  The contemporary English Mystery Plays also often included one or more comic interludes and interestingly, demonic & grotesque figures behaving in a buffoonish manner (letting off fireworks something of a theme) appeared with much greater frequency than in France.  In the time of the Morality Plays, apart from aberrations like William Shakespeare’s (1564–1616) The Taming of the Shrew (1592) & The Comedy of Errors (circa 1593), there was little written for the English stage which could truly be described as farce but by the time the genre of “Restoration comedy” (known sometimes as “Comedy of manners”) had become established in the late seventeenth century, farce was back to celebrate the re-opening of public stage performances, banned for the previous 18 years by the Puritan regime.  For better or worse, farce has been with us ever since.

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December 2011.

It can be difficult to decided whether “farce”, “fiasco” or “debacle” best applies in particular circumstances.  Indeed, it seems difficult to formulate anything close to a “rule” and every situation will need to be judged on its merits.  However, as a general principle, the pattern of use seems to indicate: (1) Farce is used in a way which hints at the theatrical tradition: real-life situations that are ridiculously chaotic and ludicrous, almost comical in their dysfunction. (2) A fiasco is a total utter failure, usually in a public and humiliating way when things have gone very wrong, typically due to poor planning or execution. (3) A debacle is an ignominious failure and one which often implies a broader, more significant collapse, sometimes with serious consequences.

Count Galeazzo Ciano (1903–1944; Italian foreign minister 1936-1943, left), Lord Halifax (1881–1959; UK foreign secretary 1938-1940 centre left), Neville Chamberlain (1869–1940; UK prime minister 1937-1940, centre right) and Benito Mussolini (1883–1945; Duce & Italian prime minister 1922-1943, right), Rome, January 1939.

The idea of farce is cross-culturally global but the Italians have the best phrase expressing the idea: una grande limonata (a big lemonade).  In colloquial use, una grande limonata conveys the notion of “much display, little substance; an overblown spectacle that ultimately proves insubstantial”.  The direct English equivalent was the US coining “a big nothingburger”.  Some three months after signing the infamous Munich Agreement that rubber-stamped Adolf Hitler's (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) takeover of Czechoslovakia, Chamberlain and Halifax visited Rome to confer with Mussolini.  Although it had long been obvious the Duce had been drawn into the German orbit, British foreign policy was still based on the hope war could be avoided and, having seen appeasement prevent immediate conflict over Berlin's demands about Czechoslovakia, the hope was to find a way to appease Rome, the goal at the time little more ambitious than the maintenance of the status quo in the Mediterranean.  Even in 1939, the UK's Foreign Office still believed Mussolini might be susceptible to "civilizing influences" in a way it had (belatedly) become obvious Hitler would not.  In retrospect pointless, the meeting, held between 11-14 January 1939, was the last attempt through official channels to tempt the Duce away from the entanglement with Hitler to which, in reality, he was already committed although he certainly didn't expect war to be declared as soon as things transpired.  The spirit of the meeting was well captured in Ciano's diary and while the count's entries are not wholly reliable, he was one of the century's notable diarists, an astute observer and, too clever to be much bothered by principles, painted vivid pictures of some of the great events of those troubled years.  Mussolini, flattered by Hitler and  already seeing himself as a Roman emperor, must have thought he was being visited by the ghosts of the past, Chamberlain looking like the provincial lord-mayor he'd once been and Halifax the archbishop he probably wished he'd become.  Ciano's diary entry read:

“In substance, the visit was kept on a minor tone, since both the Duce and myself are scarcely convinced of its utility. . . . How far apart we are from these people!" Ciano noted in his diary.  "It is another world."  After dinner with Mussolini he recorded the Duce's feelings: "These men are not made of the same stuff as the Francis Drakes and the other magnificent adventurers who created the British Empire.  These, after all, are the tired sons of a long line of rich men, and they will lose their Empire,... The British do not want to fight. They try to draw back as slowly as possible, but they do not want to fight."  Whatever other mistakes he may have made, on that night in Rome, Mussolini made no error in his summary of the state of thought in Downing Street and the Foreign Office.  "Our conversations with the British have ended" Ciano concluded and "Nothing was accomplished."  He closed the diary that evening with the note "I have telephoned Ribbentrop (Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi Foreign Minister 1938-1945) that the visit was a big lemonade [ie a farce].”

The farce of excommunication

Presumably the Spanish nuns of The Poor Clares of Belorado chose their words with care when in June 2024 they condemned the Holy See’s action against them as “the farce of excommunication” although whether they were still within the holy communion of the Church to be excommunicated may be a moot point because the sisters insisted they had already severed all connections with the Vatican and their departure from the “Conciliar Church” was “unanimous and irreversible”.  The exchange of views between Rome and Castile-Leon came after the sisters declined to attend the ecclesial tribunal of Burgos to which they had been summoned, their notice of no-attendance transmitted to the Archbishop of Burgos with a hint of rejection of modernity: they used the fax machine.  Informing the archbishop they had left the Conciliar Church “freely, voluntarily, unanimously and in a spirit of joy”, their fax message asserted the ecclesiastical tribunal had “no jurisdiction” over them since their separation the previous month which their said was prompted by the “larceny” of the Second Vatican Council (Vatican II; 1962-1965), adding that no pope after Pius XII (1876-1958; pope 1939-1958) was “legitimate”.

Being careful with words, it must be assumed the sisters were thus declaring Pope Francis (b 1936; pope since 2013) an “illegitimate pope” rather than an “anti-pope”, a distinction of some significance to canon lawyers.  “Illegitimate pope” is a general term for any pope whose election or claim to the papacy is deemed invalid or improper according to the canonical laws and practices of the Church; such a state can arise from procedural failures or the appointee lacking the requisite qualifications.  An “anti-pope” is one who makes a claim to the papacy in opposition to the pope recognized by the majority of the Catholic Church, a status which is of any consequence only if such a person has a significant following among Catholics.  Typically, anti-popes have existed during periods of schism.

Belorado Convento de Santa María de Bretonera.

Founded in 1358, in 1458 the monastery was damaged during one of the feudal battles which for more than two centuries would from time-to-time briefly flare, the structure repaired two years later.  Built in the Gothic style, there are Baroque style altar-pieces from the seventeenth century and a pipe organ dating from 1799.  The Monastery of Santa Clara is presided over by nuns of the order of the Poor Clares.

So, being critical mass theorists like any good Catholics, the sisters would understand that at the moment, Francis “has the numbers” but they certainly seem to be attempting something schismatic, their 70-page manifesto explaining that henceforth the nuns would follow the spiritual leadership of Pablo de Rojas Sánchez-Franco (b 1982), a self-styled “bishop” and professed admirer of the fascist dictator Generalissimo Francisco Franco (1892-1975; Caudillo of Spain 1939-1975); De Rojas-Franco was excommunicated in 2019.  Like the sisters, Mr De Rojas-Franco is a sedisvacantist (one who regards all popes after Pius XII to be illegitimate heads of the Church; in this view, the Holy See in Rome is actually sede vacante (vacant throne) and Francis a heretic and usurper to be spoken of only as “Mr Bergoglio”.  One implication of this is that many post 1958 ordinations are also invalid so any penalty or canonical sanction “imposed by those who are not valid or legitimate bishops, and who have no power over souls” are thus null and void”.  In other words, “Mr Bergoglio, you can’t excommunicate us”, hence the description of Rome’s edict as a farce.

Chocolates and biscuits made by nuns of The Poor Clares of Belorado.  Presumably, chocolates made by heretics are more sinful than those made by the faithful.

So the ecclesiastical battle lines have been drawn and the Holy See has clearly decided the chirothecœ (liturgical gloves) are off, the 10 nuns of the order reporting sales of the pastries and chocolate truffles they produce as their only source of income are down, the faithful of the nearby villages clearing having been told by their priests to buy their sweet treats from non-heretics.  According to Rome, the bolshie Poor Clare nuns of Belorado have committed the crime of schism (Canon 751 of the Code of Canon Law states defines schism as “the refusal of submission to the supreme pontiff or of communion with the members of the Church subject to him”, the penalty for which is excommunication).  Since burnings at the stake and such became unfashionable, excommunication is now the most serious penalty a baptized person can incur; it consists of being placed outside the communion of the faithful of the Catholic Church and denied access to the sacraments but it need not be final, the theological purpose of the act being “to bring the guilty to repentance and conversion” and, in a phrase with internal logic which makes complete sense in the corridors of the Vatican: “With the penalty of excommunication the Church is not trying in some way to restrict the extent of mercy but is simply making evident the seriousness of the crime.”

Of course heretics are flesh and blood and as they have declared themselves no longer members of the Catholic Church, by remaining in the monastery they are occupying property of the Church to which they do not belong and may be found to have no legal right to stay there.  Their archbishop has told them they are now trespassing but seems to be taking a patient approach, saying he hopes they will leave of their own volition, avoid the need to assemble a team of black-clad monsignors forcibly to evict them.  The social media savvy Francis would understand that might be “bad optics”.  Still, the archbishop insists the matter will be pursued and that Spanish civil law recognizes the Church’s Code of Canon Law as governing such things, adding “…they were told that they should not be in the monastery and in a steadfast and contumacious way they persist in being there”, concluding ominously “…so the legal authorities will act against them.”

This is not an isolated case and in the last year there have been a number of excommunications of bishops and archbishops, all of whom have denied the legitimacy of Francis, some actually calling him “a heretic”, something almost unknown for centuries.  With the death of Benedict XVI (1927–2022; pope 2005-2013, pope emeritus 2013-2022), so died too the last restraining influence on Francis’s reformist tendencies and the tensions which have mostly be suppressed since Vatican II are now bubbling over.  As an amusing spectacle for the neutrals, Church politics: (“You’re a heretic!”, “No, you’re a heretic!”) is something like modern Spanish political discourse: (“You’re a fascist!”, “No, you’re a fascist!”) but how this plays out in what may be the last days of this pontificate is likely much to influence the voting in the College of Cardinals when it comes time to choose the next pope.

As the Vatican takes heresy seriously, so the fashionistas guard haute couture.  The reaction to Lindsay Lohan brief fling as fashion designer for Ungaro's showing at Paris Fashion Week (March 2010) collectively recalled the earnestness associated with critiques of film directors, football managers and others dealing with culturally vital matters.

Rationale

Rationale (pronounced rash-uh-nal)

(1) The fundamental reason or reasons serving to account for something.

(2) A statement of reasons.

(3) A reasoned exposition of principles, especially one defining the fundamental reasons for a course of action or belief; a justification for action.

(4) A liturgical vestment worn by some Christian bishops of various denominations (now rare), the origin of which is the breastplate worn by Israelite high priests (a translation of λογεῖον (logeîon) or λόγιον (logion) (oracle) in the Septuagint version of Exodus 28)).  The French spelling (rational) of the Latin ratiōnāle was used in Biblical translations.

(5) In engineering, a design rationale is the explicit documentation of the reasons behind decisions made when designing a system; it was once used of what now would be described as a set of parameters.

1650-1660: From the Late Latin ratiōnāle (exposition of principles), nominative singular neuter of ratiōnālis (rational, of reason).  After some early inventiveness, the modern sense "fundamental reason, the rational basis or motive of anything" became standardised during the (1680s).  In the nature of such things, many rationales are constructed ex post facto.  Rationale is a noun; the noun plural is rationales or rationalia.

Prince Metternich & Dr Rudd: illustrating rationale & rational

Portrait of Prince Metternich (1822), miniature on card by Friedrich Lieder (1780-1859).

Rationale and rational are sometimes confused.  A rationale is a process variously of explanation, reason or justification of something that need not be at all rational (although many fashioned ex post facto are re-formulated thus).  To be rational, something must make sense and be capable of being understood by the orthodox, accepted methods of the time.  That something may subsequently be shown to be irrational does not mean it did not at some time appear rational; one can construct a rationale for even something irrational.  To construct a post-Napoleonic Europe, Prince Metternich (Prince Klemens of Metternich-Winneburg zu Beilstein (1773–1859); foreign minister of the Austrian Empire 1809-1848 & chancellor 1821-1848) built a rationale for the Congress of Vienna (1814-1815) that was well understood.  It was vision of a Europe, divided between the great powers, in which was maintained a perpetual balance of power which would ensure peace.  That in the two centuries since, the Congress has attached much criticism, largely for imposing a stultifying air of reaction on the continent, does not render the structure irrational nor detract from Metternich’s rationale.  Some historians have come to regard the congress more fondly and while it’s not true the consequence was a century of peace in Europe, it created a framework which meant a good number of decades in that time were notably less blood-soaked than what came before and certainly what followed.

Dr Rudd at the ceremony to be conferred DPhil, University of Oxford, September, 2022.

By 2009, Kevin Rudd ((b 1957); Prime Minister of Australia 2007-2010 & June-September 2013), having realised being prime-minister was a squandering of intellectual talent, embarked on a re-design of relationships in the Asia-Pacific, structured in a way to suit what was self-evidently obvious: he should assume regional leadership.  These things do happen when folk get carried away.  Not discouraged by the restrained enthusiasm for his good idea, Mr Rudd penned one of his wordy rationales which, to him, must have sounded rational but less impressed was just about everybody else in the region including his own cabinet and it’s difficult to recall any hint of interest from other countries.  Mr Rudd quibbled a bit, claiming his use of the word community was just diplomatic shorthand and he wasn’t suggesting anything like what the EU ever was or had become but just better way of discussing problems.  Anyway, it for a while gave him a chance to use phrases like “ongoing and continuing discussions” and “regional and sub-regional architecture” so there was that.  By 2010 the idea had been allowed quietly to die and he had more pressing problems.

Attaining the premiership was Rudd’s mistake.  Had he never achieved to position he’d probably be spoken of as “the best prime-minister Australia never had” but instead he’s among those (and of late there have been a few) remembered as the Roman historian Tacitus (circa 56–circa 120) in the first volume of his Histories (circa 100) wrote of Galba (3 BC–AD 69; Roman Emperor 68-69): "...omnium consensu capax imperii nisi imperasset" (everyone would have agreed he was qualified for governing if he had not held the office).  His background was as a senior public servant who provided advice to others so they could make decisions and he enjoyed a solid career which was clearly well-suited to his skills.  Unfortunately, when occupying the highest political office in the land, he proved indecisive and too often inclined to refer to committees matters which he should have insisted came to cabinet with the necessary documents.  His other character flaw was he seemed unable to understand there was a difference between “leadership” and “command”, unable to realise there was a difference between the structured hierarchy of the public service and the swirling clatter of politics.  His career in The Lodge (the prime-minister’s official residence in Canberra) can be recalled as the Italian historian and politician Francesco Guicciardini (1483–1540) noted of Pope Clement VII (1478–1534; pope 1523-1534): “…knowledgeable and effective as a  subordinate, he fell victim when in charged to timidity, perplexity and habitual irresolution.”  With that, the Italian writer Piero Vettori (1499–1585) concurred, writing: “From a great and renowned cardinal, he was transformed into a little and despised pope”, a sentiment familiar in the phrase repeated in militaries around the world (outstanding major; average colonel; lousy general) to describe that truism in organizational behaviour: “Everyone gets promoted to their own level of incompetence”.

That aphorism was from The Peter Principle (1970), written by Raymond Hull (1919–1985) and based on the research of Laurence Peter (1919–1990), the idea being someone who proves successful in one role will be promoted and if competent there, they will be promoted again.  However, should they fail, within the hierarchy, that is the point of their incompetence, the implication being that the tendency is, as time passes, more and more positions within a corporation will be filled by the incompetent.  The exceptions of course are (1) those competent souls who for whatever reason decline promotion and (2) the habitually successful who will in theory continue to be promoted until they reach the top and, if they prove competent there, this results in the paradox of the typical corporation being run by someone competent but staffed substantially by the incompetent.  In politics, reaching the top means becoming prime-minister, president or some similar office and as Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) described it: "...if he trips he must be sustained. If he makes mistakes they must be covered. If he sleeps he must not wantonly be disturbed. If he is no good he must be poleaxed.  In one of the more amusing recent episodes in politics, the Australian Labor Party (ALP) decided Dr Rudd had been promoted to the relevant point and poleaxed him, a back-stabbing which remains one of the best organized and executed seen in years.  Subsequently, the party concluded his replacement was even more of a dud and restored Dr Rudd to the job, a second coming which lasted but a few months but that was long enough for him to revenge himself upon the hatchet men responsible for his downfall so there was that.       

Still, after his political career (which can be thought a success because he did did reach the top of the “greasy pole” and the delivered the ALP a handsome election victory although their gratitude was short-lived (a general tendency in democracies noted (sometimes gleefully) by many political scientists)) he has been busy, even if the secretary-generalship of the United Nations (UN) (an office which is an irresistible lure for a certain type) proved elusive.  Recently he became Dr Rudd, awarded Doctorate of Philosophy (DPhil) by the University of Oxford.  His 420 page thesis, written over four years, explores the world view of Xi Jinping (b 1953; general secretary of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and paramount leader of the People's Republic of China (PRC) since 2013) and the relationship of his ideology to both the direction taken by the CCP and the links with the thoughts (and their consequences) of Chairman Mao (Mao Zedong 1893–1976; chairman of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) 1949-1976).

Dr Rudd says his thesis argues “…there has been a significant change in China’s ideological worldview under Xi Jinping compared with previous ideological orthodoxies under Deng Xiaoping, Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao [and summarises] Xi’s worldview as a new form of ‘Marxist-Leninist Nationalism’”.  Dr Rudd says he preferred “Marxist Nationalism” because “the term contains within it three core propositions”: (1) “Xi’s Leninism has taken both the party and Chinese politics in general to the left” (and he defines “left” for these purposes as “…the reassertion of the power of the party over all public policy as well as elevating the position of the individual leader against the rest of collective leadership”), (2) “Xi’s notion of Marxism has similarly taken the centre of gravity of Chinese economic thought to the left” ("left" in this aspect defined as “…a new priority for party-state intervention in the economy, state-owned enterprises over the private sector and a new ideology of greater income equality”) and (3) “Xi has also taken Chinese nationalism to the right (“right” here meaning “a new assertion of Chinese national power as reflected in a new array of nationalist ‘banner terms’ that are now used in the party’s wider ideological discourse.”)  Dr Rudd views these three forces as “…part of a wider reification of the overall role of ideology under Xi Jinping. This has been seen in the fresh application of Marxist Leninist concepts of dialectical materialism, historical materialism, the primary stage of socialism, contradiction and struggle across the range of China’s current domestic and international challenges. The role of nationalism has also been enhanced within Xi’s new ideological framework. This hybrid form of Marxist Nationalist ideology is also being increasingly codified within the unfolding canon of Xi Jinping thought.” 

“Finally, the thesis argues there is a high degree of correlation between these ideological changes on the one hand and changes in the real world of Chinese politics, economic policy and a more assertive foreign policy on the other - including a different approach to Chinese multilateral policy as observed by diplomatic practitioners at the UN in New York.  The thesis concludes these changes in Xi Jinping’s ideological worldview and its impact on Chinese politics and public policy is best explained by a theoretical framework that integrates Authoritarian Resilience Theory, the realist and constructivist insights of the English School of International Relations Theory, and Foreign Policy Analysis.”  Clearly, Dr Rudd thinks the CCP has come a long way since comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) casually dismissed Maoist theory as “ideologically primitive”.

Since March 2023, Dr Rudd has served as Australian Ambassador to the United States, the announcement of the appointment attracting some speculation there may be a secret protocol to the contract, providing for him to report to the prime-minister rather than the foreign minister.  It was mischievous speculation and there has been little but praise for the solid work he has been doing in the Washington embassy.  Dr Rudd’s role attracted headlines in March 2022 when a interview with Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021) was broadcast in which the former president was acquainted (apparently for the first time) with some uncomplimentary assessments Dr Rudd had made of him including describing him “the most destructive president in history” and “a traitor to the West”.

Having doubtless heard and ignored worse over the years, Mr Trump seemed little concerned but did respond in his usual style, observing he didn’t know much about Dr Rudd except he’d heard he was “a little bit nasty” and “not the brightest bulb”, adding “he’d not be there long” if hostile to a second Trump presidency.  Trumpologists analysing these thoughts suggested the mildness of the reaction indicated the matter was unlikely to be pursued were he to return to the Oval Office, noting his habit of tending to ignore or forget about anything except actual threats to his immediate self-interest.  After taking office in 2017, when asked if he would pursue the legal action he’d during the campaign threatened against Bill (b 1946; US president 1993-2001) & crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) (mostly on the basis of crooked Hillary’s crooked crookedness), he quickly brushed it off saying: “No, they’re good people” and moving on.  It’s thought Dr Rudd won't end up in the diplomatic deep-freeze, the most severe version of which is for a host nation to declare a diplomat "persona non grata" (the construct being the Latin persōna (person) + nōn (not) + grāta (from grātus (acceptable)), the consequence of which is an expulsion from the territory and the worst fate he may suffer is not receiving an invitation to a round of golf (something unlikely much to upset him).  Others however should be worried, in a second Trump White House, there will be vengeance.

Like "diplomatic toothache" and "null & void", the phrase "persona non gratia" has become part of general language, the utility being in few words describing what would otherwise take many more.  Impressionistically, it would seem "troubled starlets" are more than most declared "persona non gratia".