Siren

Siren (pronounced sahy-ruhn)

(1) In classical mythology, one of several sea nymphs, sometimes depicted as part-woman, part-bird (and sometimes as sisters) who, with their seductive singing (their “siren song” or “siren call”), lured mariners to destruction on the rocky shore.

(2) A woman who sings sweetly and charms.

(3) In slang, a seductively beautiful or charming woman, especially one who beguiles men; a seductress, temptress or vamp; a dangerous woman who preys on the weaknesses and susceptibilities (there are a few of both).

(4) An acoustical instrument for producing musical tones, consisting essentially of a disk pierced with holes arranged equidistantly in a circle, rotated over a jet or stream of compressed air, steam or the like, so that the stream is alternately interrupted and allowed to pass.

(5) An variation of this implement, making a piercingly loud sound and used as a whistle, fog signal, or warning device; the sound made by such a device.

(6) In zoology, (1) any of several aquatic, eel-like salamanders of the family Sirenidae, having permanent external gills, small forelimbs and no posterior limbs, (2) a member of Sirenia, an order of mammals or (3) any of various nymphalid butterflies of the genus Hestina.

(7) Anything seductive or tempting (especially if potentially dangerous or harmful (something said to exert “a siren call” on one’s desire).

(8) In music, a musical instrument (one of the few aerophones in the percussion section of the symphony orchestra).

(9) An instrument for demonstrating the laws of beats and combination tones.

(10) In astronomy & astrophysics, an astrophysical event able to be used for calculating cosmic distances.

(11) As “siren suit”, an overall-like one-piece garment introduced in the UK during the “Blitz” as something to be worn by those in air-raid shelters.  

1300-1350: From the Middle English siren & serein, from the Old French sereine, (the Modern French sereine dating from the twelfth century), from the Late Latin sīrēna and the Classical Latin Sīrēn & Sīrēna, from the Ancient Greek Σειρήν (Seirḗn).  The Seirēnes were the alluring sea nymphs of classical mythology and the figurative sense of “one who sings sweetly and charms” was first noted in the 1580s although the classical descriptions of them were mangled in medieval translations, resulting in some odd and fantastical notions of their appearance and it wasn’t unusual for them to be conflated with mermaids.  The Vulgate (the Biblia Vulgata, the fourth century translation of the Bible which, through the choices of words and senses made by the translator(s) had a profound effect on Christianity and Christendom) also gifted to Middle English the use of the word to describe an imaginary species of flying serpents, based on glossary explanations of the Latin sirenes in Isaiah 13:22 (“And the wild beasts of the islands shall cry in their desolate houses, and dragons in their pleasant palaces: and her time is near to come, and her days shall not be prolonged.”  (King James Version of the Bible (KJV, 1611)).  In the Greek, the word was used also to mean "a deceitful woman" although etymologists note that may have been to suggest she was “a binder, an entangler”, the sense from seira (cord, rope).  In zoology, the mammalian sense appeared first in French in Les entretiens d'Ariste et d'Eugène (Conversations between Ariste & Eugène) by the French Jesuit priest Dominique Bouhours (1628–1702) while the use to describe the aquatic salamander was introduced in 1766 by Swedish zoologist & physician Carl Linnaeus (1707–1778 and styled as Carl von Linné after 1761) for a genus of reptiles.  In organic chemistry, scientists noted the attraction exerted by the sirens of mythology and coined “sirenin” to describe a sexual attraction pheromone in some fungi of the genus Allomyces.  Less charmingly, in early twentieth century Australian urban slang, a “stem siren” was a prostitute; in the Australian way, often it was clipped to “stem”.

The use to describe the mechanical device “making a warning sound” was first recorded in 1879 when they were installed on steamboats and this may have been imitative of the similar French word.  In the course of the twentieth century, the things were adapted as audible warning devices for many purposes including air raids, emergency service vehicles and fire alarms (now mandatory in residential accommodation in many jurisdictions).  In schools, workplaces and other geographically large sites, they were used to mark the start and finish of shifts, lessons, meal breaks etc.  The Elizabethan era (1558-1603) adjectives sirenean, sirenian, sirenic, sirenical & sireny) went extinct but as late as the 1940s, the spelling variation sireen still occasionally appeared and not always as a deliberate archaism.  The writer & critic John Ruskin (1819–1900 and known for his fondness for young. beautiful creatures), used the rare sirenic so with that imprimatur, some modern aesthete might be tempted to revive the form.  Siren is a noun & verb, sirenize is a verb, sirenlike, sirenless, sirenical & sirenic are adjectives; the noun plural is sirens or (the rare) sirenes.

Odysseus and the Sirens

In Greek mythology, the Sirens were sea demons, half-woman and half bird (although there were variants in the tales).  They were said to be the daughters of Achelous and either Melpomene, Sterope or Terpsichore, Phorcys often named as their father, while it was also related they were born of the blood of Achelous when he was wounded by Heracles. There were two Sirens in the Odyssey (Homer’s eighth century BC epic poem following the ten year trek of King Odysseus (Ulysses) returning to his home island Ithaca after the decade-long Trojan War) but in the works of later authors there could be four (more often three).  Historians attribute variations in the myths to (1) authorial innovation or (2) in an age of limited literacy, poetry spread in oral performance, meaning details could become blurred.  What was consistent was the musical virtuosity of the Sirens, a popular depiction of them as a three-piece ensemble, one playing the flute and one the lyre while another sang her songs.

Sirens and the Night (1865), oil on canvas by William Edward Frost (1810-1877).

The Sirens used their lyrical and earthly charms to lure sailors to their death; attracted by the enchanting music and voices, the seduced seafarers would sail their ships too close to the rocky coast of the nymphs' island and there be shipwrecked.  Not untypically for the myths of Antiquity, the Sirens are said to have had many homes.  The Romans said they lived on some small islands called Sirenum scopuli while later authors place them variously on the islands of Anthemoessa, on Cape Pelorum, on the islands of the Sirenuse, near Paestum, or in Capreae.  All were places with rocky coasts and tall cliffs and thus for ships potentially lethal places although the fate of sailors was more gruesome, the Sirens devouring them.  The Argonauts sailed close to the Sirens, but, using the same principle as “radio jamming” in the twentieth century, Orpheus sang as long as the crew was within earshot of them (“drowning out their signal”), so none were lured (except the unfortunate Butes, carried away by Aphrodite after he fell victim).

Temptress in Siren mode: Lindsay Lohan, First Point (2011).

It was Odysseus who most famously escaped the sirens.  Longing to hear their songs but, forewarned by Circe and having no wish to be shipwrecked and devoured, he had his sailors fill their ears with beeswax, rendering them deaf.  Then, he ordered he be tied to the mast, telling his crew that whatever he said, they were not to release him but instead tighten the knots, not cutting the bonds until the ship had sailed far from the coast.  Of course, approaching the rocks, he heard the lovely voices and implored the crew to release him but they followed their skipper’s orders, not setting him free until the danger had passed.  Some writers claimed the Sirens were doomed to die if a man heard their singing and escaped and, as Odysseus sailed off, they flung themselves into the waters and drowned but, among the myths, that was not always their fate.  The idea of the Sirens persists in idiomatic use: the term “siren sound” refers to words or something exerting a particularly compelling attraction but “siren song” or “siren call” can be used of something not directly audible, such as the thoughts evoked by a painting or even a concept; populism, fascism & communism have all been described thus.  That idiomatic use describes an enticing but dangerous appeal, especially a misleading one.

The Roman Poet Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso; 43 BC–17 AD) wrote that the Sirens were once ordinary girls, companions of Persephone; in his telling they were something “nice girls from good families who got led astray by mixing with the wrong crowd”.  When Persephone was abducted by Pluto, they asked the gods for wings so they could soar in the skies to help them search for their lost companion; that’s the most romantic explanation for the “half-woman and half bird” motif.  More unforgiving writers attributed the transformation to (1) the anger felt by Demeter when the Sirens failed to prevent the abduction of her daughter or (2) the wrath of Aphrodite who sought to deprived them of their feminine beauty because they scorned the pleasures of love.  A twist on that was that after their transformation, they made the mistake of trying to rival the muses who avenged the slight by plucking the Sirens’ feathers.  In a literary sense, the nymphs certainly exerted on authors a siren call.  The tomb of the Siren Parthenope was said to be in Naples, where her body had been cast upon the shore and that geographical connection is in the narrative strand in which Parthenope was a hauntingly beautiful Phrygian girl who fell in love with Metiochus but could not bring herself to break her vow of chastity.  She cut off her hair and ran off into exile in Campania (close to Naples) where she dedicated herself to Dionysus, something possibly the origin of Aphrodite’s disapprobation; it was Aphrodite who turned Parthenope into a Siren as punishment for abandoning her love.  The Sirens were also said to sing for the blessed in the Islands of the Blessed; because they could play the celestial harmonies, they were often depicted on sarcophagi.

First Point (2011) by Richard Phillips (b 1962), hosted by Vimeo by courtesy of Richard Phillips and Gagosian Gallery.  Lindsay Lohan as a siren; it would seem almost a calling.  Screened in conjunction with the 54^th international exhibition of the Venice Biennale (June 2011), First Point was a short film said by the diredctor to represent a “new kind of portraiture.”  Filmed in Malibu, California, the piece was included in the Commercial Break series, presented by Moscow's Garage Center for Contemporary Culture (now Garage Museum of Contemporary Art); although the promotional notes indicated it would include footage of the ankle monitor she helped make famous, the device doesn't appear in the final cut.

Directed by: Richard Phillips & Taylor Steele

Director of Photography: Todd Heater

Costume Designer: Ellen Mirojnick

Creative Director: Dominic Sidhu

Art Director: Kyra Griffin

Editor: Haines Hall

Color mastering: Pascal Dangin for Boxmotion

Music: Tamaryn & Rex John Shelverton

The Chrysler Air Raid Siren and the Firepower V8  

According to Guinness World Records, the loudest sirens ever were the 350-odd built in the early 1950s by Chrysler for the US government and installed around the country to warn of an impending nuclear attack by the Soviet Union.  The maximum volume the devices generated was recorded (at a distance of 100 feet (30.5 m)) as 138 dB (decibels), a level at which a human would suffer at least temporary deafness if within around 200 feet (60 m) during operation.  Guinness noted the compressor discharge throughput at peak volume was 74 m³ (2,610 cubic feet at 7 lb per square inch) of air per second and the physics of fluid dynamics (air a fluid in this context) was such this would have caused a sheet of paper in the path spontaneously to ignite.  By comparison the now retired SST (supersonic transport) airline Concorde at take-off produced noise levels between 112-114 dB at a distance of 100 feet and even afterburner equipped military jets (F-16, F-35 etc) haven’t been recorded as generating levels as high as 138 dB.

Although there were ebbs in the tensions, the “High Cold War” is defined usually as the time between the early 1950s and late 1960s, the public's fear of thermo-nuclear war at sometimes acute. In popular culture, the subject was a popular with authors and film-makers, the best known including the book On the Beach (1957) by Neville Shute (1899-1960) and the memorable film Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964), based on the novel Red Alert (1958) by Peter George (1924–1966).  The US government made many preparations for such an event, notably building vast underground facilities where essential personnel (members of the administration, the Congress, their families and servants) could live until it was safe for them to emerge into the post-apocalypse world and stake claim to whatever habitable real-estate remained.  The taxpayers who paid for these facilities were of course rather less protected but the government in 1952 did install warning sirens in cities; people might still be vaporized by comrade Stalin's (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) H-Bombs but they would know what was coming so there was that.

US war-room film set for Stanley Kubrick's (1928-1999) film version of Dr Strangelove.  Upon becoming president in 1981, Ronald Reagan (1911-2004, POTUS 1981-1989) was reported as being disappointed nothing quite so dramatic actually existed, the White House's “Situation Room” something like what would be used by an insurance company to conduct sales training seminars.  The story is thought likely apocryphal but there is documentary evidence Mr Reagan did sometimes confuse historic fact with what he's seen in movies.

The early version of the warning siren was co-developed by Chrysler and Bell Labs and named CBVS (Chrysler Bell Victory Siren) which, given the consequences of nuclear war, seems at least optimistic.  Technically, although the acoustic properties met the specification, the drawback was the devices manually were activated and controlled, requiring someone physically to be on-location to start the thing and, being directional, rotate it so the sound would be broadcast 360^o.  The obvious flaw in that was, were  there to be a nuclear attack in the area, the job-description, at least potentially, was self-sacrificial, something comrade Stalin doubtless would have thought just the part of the cost of war with the unfortunate patriotic soul posthumously to be awarded the coveted Герой Советского Союза (Hero of the Soviet Union) decoration.  However, neither the White House or the Pentagon liked the optics and revised specifications for the sirens were issued.

Photograph by Rob Storms of Chrysler Air Raid Siren atop Rochester Fire Department Maintenance Building, Rochester, Monroe County, New York.

Chrysler's engineers responded with a more elaborate device, automated and remotely administrated; because it was developed wholly in-house, the corporate-themed acronym CARS (Chrysler Air Raid Siren) was coined.  Introduced in 1952, the new design was powered by Chrysler’s new, 331 cubic inch (5.4 litre) Hemi-head V8, rated at what was then a stellar 180 HP (134 kW), a three-stage compressor added to increase output.  Instead of demanding a doomed operator, there was a control panel connected (with nothing more than the two-pair copper cables that became familiar as Cat3 “phone-wire”) to dedicated phone lines so it could be activated either by local civil defense authorities or the military.  The big V8 provided sufficient power to both increase the dB and the geographical coverage, the siren able to be heard over an area of some 15.8 square miles (41 km²), an impressive number given the electric sirens used today for tornado and tsunami warnings have an effective footprint of only some 3.9 square miles (10 km²).

Chrysler Air Raid Siren being delivered on the back of a Dodge flatbed truck, 1953.

In 1952, there was no engine better suited to the task than Chrysler’s new “FirePower” Hemi V8.  Applying their wartime experience building a number of high-output, multi-cylinder engines (the most remarkable a V16 aero-engine rendered obsolete by jet technology before it could be used), the FirePower featured hemispherical combustion chambers and was the corporation’s first use of OHV (overhead valves) in passenger vehicle engines.  Both OHV and hemispherical combustion chambers had been around for decades but, before long, Chrysler would make a (trade-marked) fetish of “Hemi”, continuing cheerfully to use the name for a range of V8s introduced in 2003 even though they no longer used a true hemi-head, the design unable to be adapted to meet modern exhaust emission laws.  The so-called “third generation” Hemi remains available still although how long it will last will be a matter of the interplay of politics and demand.  Doubtless, it’s on Greta Thunberg’s (b 2003) long (and expanding) hit-list and that she and the engine arrived on planet Earth in the same year won't much impress her.

Chrysler FirePower 392 cubic inch (6.4 litre) V8 in 1957 Chrysler 300C Convertible.  In the jargon, the pair of four barrel carburetors were dubbed  “dual quads”.

First sold in 1950, the FirePower appeared first as a 331, growing over the decade to 354 (5.8) and then 392 (6.4) before being retired in 1959, the wedge-headed alternative with increased displacement a cheaper path to power (the hemi heads needing special machining and the valve-train was heavy and labor-intensive to assemble).  Chrysler and Imperial shared the engines but remarkably, in an approach that would today shock accountants and efficiency experts, the companion divisions (De Soto & Dodge) produced nine different hemi-head V8s with capacities between 241 (4.0) and 345 (5.6) with relatively little commonality of components between them all.  The last of the FirePowers were noted also for being one of the first engines offered with electronic fuel injection (built with analogue components) but while that offered real advantages over the mechanical systems then available in a handful of models in Europe and the US, the technology was then too fragile to be reliable and most of the 16 sold (reputedly all but one) were recalled and retro-fitted with a pair of faithful four barrel carburetors.  In 1964, the hemi-head was revived for a racing engine and, to satisfy the regulatory body that had been unimpressed with the use of such a thing in a series for “stock” cars, it was made available to the public between 1966-1971, this time called “Street Hemi”.  In 426 cubic inch (7.0 litre) form, it gained a reputation Chrysler would exploit for decades after production ended.

Some 350 CARS were built, all by the Chrysler's M&I (Marine & Industrial Engine Division, based in Trenton, Michigan) with some maintained in service as late as the 1970s.  During the era of détente, the last were retired, some sold to museums or collectors while other were just abandoned because, mounted atop tall buildings to maximize their acoustic coverage, the cost of removal far exceeded their value as units to be re-purposed or scraped.  At least three fully functional CARS still exist, one in a remote part of Texas where it’s safe to stage the occasional demonstration of the sound.  During these displays, the clear zone (minimum safe distance) extends outwards 320 feet (97.5 metres) but even at this range, anyone standing directly in front of the projection horns would find the experience uncomfortable, prolonged exposure risking some damage to the eardrums.  Although directional, there’s much “sound soak” in the device's proximity so just operating the siren from the side control panel requires hearing protection (acoustic earmuffs rated at a minimum 30 dB).

CARS at the Don Garlits Museum of Drag Racing, re-awakened after decades, 1997.

One collector attracted to them was Don Garlits (b 1932) who, in the post-war years, was among the most innovative and successful drivers and builders in the then wildly popular sport of drag-racing and it was with highly-modified Chrysler Hemis (the HP (horsepower) of which would come to be generated in thousands) he built his reputation.  In 1997, a documentary crew from the UK visited Garlits and saw one of the old CARS sitting neglected in the storeroom where it’d sat for decades after having spent some 20 years in salt-laden air atop a Florida high-rise.  Remarkably, after doing little more than connecting a battery and checking the oil and coolant, once a carburetor had been bolted on with a can of gas (petrol) rigged up, it started almost immediately, a reasonable achievement given it had never before run on gasoline because the CARS always used propane.  As Garlits over the decades had discovered a ¼ mile (402 metres) at a time, the FirePower Hemi was a tough old thing.

The Siren Suit

Weldon pattern for siren suit, 1940.  Home-made clothes used to be common and wartime conditions made the practice spike.  The production and distribution of patterns was a significant industry, enduring, at a smaller scale, to this day.

Unrelated to the seductive Sirens of mythology, the “siren suit” was a World War II (1939-1945) era coining describing a garment “ideal to wear when there was a risk of an air-raid siren sounding”.  The design wasn’t new; they would have been familiar to previous generations as the “overalls” mechanics and such wore to protect their clothing from oil and dirt, the novelty being the application.  Because “the Blitz” (the bombing campaign against London and other English cities waged by the Luftwaffe (the German Air Force) in 1940-1941) was conducted at night, that meant air-raid sirens were most likely to sound when people were in bed and the attraction of the “overall-like” siren suit was it could be worn over nightwear (pyjamas, nighties and such), meaning that upon being wakened by the siren, time would not be wasted getting dressed before rushing off to seek shelter; all one need to put on was one’s shoes.  With wool, silk & cotton supplies being diverted to military production, recycled blends using the more available rayon came increasingly to be used and the versatility of the synthetic made it popular; available in a variety of weights, unlike fabrics made from natural fibres, it was not subject to creasing or shrinkage.  In 1940, the most commonly requested feature was a “hood” and these came to be included on many, often with a lining for additional warmth.  Stylistically and conceptually, the siren suit can thus be imagined as a “proto-onesie”, one of the twenty-first century’s more controversial garments, not so much for what is it (warm, comfortable, convenient) but for where some choose to frequent while wearing one (Walmart, fast food outlets and such).

Wartime individualism, circa 1941: Despite wartime privations, fashion sense didn’t die and ways were found to individualize even the most starkly functional items.

As this publicity shot indicates, gas-masks were in the UK of 1940 a piece of compulsory kit for civilians, the use of poison gas expected by many in politics and the military.  Ironically, of all the leaders in the era, it was only Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) who was enthusiastic about the use of gas as a weapon, thinking it ideal to deploy on beaches in the event of an amphibious assault by the Wehrmacht (the German military (1935-1945)).  Even Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) explicitly ruled out the use of poison gas, despite the Germans also holding large stocks.  Although in 1918 Hitler had learned of Germany’s capitulation when in hospital recovering from the temporary blindness suffered after being gassed, his unwillingness to use gas was not a humanitarian gesture but because the unpredictability of the wind (in Europe the “westerly” (ie from west to east) the prevailing type) made use too risky.

As a unisexual style, by 1940, the siren suit wouldn’t have been too shocking a challenge to the fashion police.  Although the tradition is longer still, in the West, women routinely (if not universally) had been wearing “trousers” since the mid-nineteenth century (for sport, work & leisure, the light and convenient “pyjama-suit” welcomed by many) and, during World War I (1914-1918), as in increasing numbers they entered the industrial workforce to replace men conscripted for military service, the sheer functionality of trousers was compelling (and often, for safety reasons, compulsory); women in overalls became commonplace.  Given the purpose, the early siren suits (the less pleasing “blitz suit” never catching on) were designed with little in mind except comfort, warmth and speed in donning so most were fastened with a zip though the photographic record confirms buttons or snap-fittings were also used, mass-production made immediately possible because they could be sewed on the same lines used to make overalls.  Winston Churchill often was photographed in his siren suit and while that promoted use, it also confirmed the style was not “slimming”.  Even more than overalls, siren suits seem to have featured generously-sized pockets, a thoughtful addition permitting those disturbed from their slumber quickly to stash valuables and the essentials needed for a few hours in an air-raid shelter while retaining the recommended “hands-free” status.  Coincidentally, the siren suit fitted in with the wartime “fashion zeitgeist” the rationing of fabrics and other materials imposing on clothing simplicity and a reduction in bulk.  Even after that economic imperative had faded, that simplicity would remain influential in the post-war years, most obviously in the minimalist movement, effects achieved with severe cuts rather than fussy embellishments.

Winston Churchill (left) in siren suit with comrade Stalin (right), the Kremlin, Moscow, August 1942.

The prime minister had earlier worn the same Siren suit on a visit to the White House to meet Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, POTUS 1933-1945) and it was much admired, the FLOTUS (Eleanor Roosevelt (1884–1962; FLOTUS 1933-1945) even saying she’d like to have one made for her husband, if “…the wool shortage” would allow it.  Decades later, during his visit to Washington DC, Volodymyr Zelenskyy (b 1978, President of Ukraine since 2019) found his similar sartorial choice not as well-received.  According to Churchill, even before the war he’d been inspired by the “coveralls” worn by coal miners to commission the London tailors Turnbull & Asser to create a bespoke one for him, finding it just the thing to wear when enjoying his hobby of painting.  Upon the country being threatened by bombing, he ordered several, his specifications recorded in the company’s archives: “Generously cut, with two breast pockets, a zip fastening, roomy side pockets, a belt and pleats to the front of the trousers.”  To suit their client’s whims, Turnbull & Asser made them in various fabrics including the same pinstripe as some of his suits, a durable serge twill and one in a velvet of striking emerald green, still on display in their London store.  There’s nothing to suggest he ever worn one made from utilitarian rayon.

Breakdown

Breakdown (pronounced breyk-doun)

(1) Of machines, a breaking down, wearing out, or sudden loss of ability to function efficiently; something, typically a vehicle or other machine that has experienced mechanical failure.

(2) In political science (of societies), economic collapse, societal fracturing etc.

(3) In mental or physical health, a form of collapse (figurative & literal), associated typically (1) with a sudden worsening of physical health (although that may be the culmination of long-existing issues) or (more commonly) mental stability, resulting in an inability to carry on normal activities; an instance of these manifestations.

(4) In relationships (personal or institutional), a fracturing of previous feelings or arrangements between parties; a failure of or within a relationship; often as a prelude to a “break-up”; a failure or loss of organization in a system.

(5) An analysis or classification of something; division into parts, categories, processes etc; a separation of a thing into components; decomposition, fragmentation.

(6) The detailed categorization, itemization or listing of the components of a thing (usually in printed or digital form).

(7) In biology & chemistry, the natural process of decomposition; specifically in chemistry, the breaking of chemical bonds within a compound to produce simpler compounds or elements; an instance of this.

(8) In physics, the sudden (sometimes damaging) transition of an electrical insulator to a conductor when subjected to a sufficiently strong voltage, caused by the partial or complete ionization of the insulator; an instance of this; also, the minimum voltage at which this occurs.  The classic example is an electric discharge passing through faulty insulation or other material used to separate circuits or passing between electrodes in a vacuum or gas-filled tube.

(9) In bodybuilding, gym routines etc, the “drop set” (a weight training technique).

(10) In veterinary use (equine medicine), injury to a horse's leg causing lameness; an instance of this.

(11) In rugby union, the short period of open play immediately after a tackle and before and during the ensuing ruck (and, to some extent, the maul). 

(12) In film, television (and such) production, a detailed description of a forthcoming project or screenplay which identifies all the required elements, such as the cast, costumes, equipment, props, special effects etc (separate from financing aspects likely also to involve multiple breakdowns, often on spreadsheets).

(13) In forestry, an act of splitting logs of wood using a large saw in a sawmill; the saw used or (rarely) the building in which the process is carried out (use of the term uncommon outside New Zealand.

(14) In music, a part of a piece of a composition that differs from other parts in that it features improvisation or is stripped down (played using fewer instruments or performed by a soloist).

(15) In music, a synonym of “percussion break” (a percussion-focused segment of a song, interpolated through cutting, mixing, and other techniques in order to create “rhythmic music”).

(16) In music, (especially the ominous-sounding sub-genres metalcore, grindcore, & deathcore (the distinction best explained by experts)), a section of a song, characterized by a lower tempo, greater “heaviness” and intensity of sound.

(17) In music, a loud, lively dance from folk traditions, historically conducted usually in a rural setting, most prevalent in the US, south of the Mason-Dixon Line; the terms  “hoedown” & “shindig” are related; a piece of music played for such an event, historically especially the rapid bluegrass tunes featuring the five-string banjo.

1832: The construct was break + down.  Break was From the Middle English breken, from the Old English brecan (to divide solid matter violently into parts or fragments; to injure, violate (a promise, undertaking etc.), destroy, curtail; to break into, rush into; to burst forth, spring out; to subdue, tame (the past tense of bræc & past participle of brocen), from the Proto-West Germanic brekan, from the Proto-Germanic brekanan (source also of the Old Frisian breka, the Dutch breken, the Old High German brehhan, the German brechen and the Gothic brikan), from the primitive Indo-European root bhreg- (to break).  There evolved strong linguistic links with brick, brake & breach.  The thirteen century past tense “brake” became archaic but the past participle “broken” endured, the shortened form “broke” in use by at least the mid 1300s and said by the OED (Oxford English Dictionary) to be “exceedingly common” during the eighteenth & nineteenth centuries.  The alternative form is the hyphenated break-down and in scientific use the two spellings can be applied for different purposes.  Breakdown is a noun; the noun plural is breakdowns.

Poster for Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (1989).

The early nineteenth century use was in the sense of “a collapse, a falling apart”, and was of machinery or mechanical processes; the use in metal health (as “nervous breakdown”) documented in the medical literature since 1866 but clinical or oral use may have a longer history.  As a transitive verb, the phrase “break down” was in use by at least the late fourteenth century (in the sense “take down by breaking” while as an intransitive verb (“come down by breaking”), use seems to have emerged in the late 1820s.  As early as 1856 the use is attested in the sense of “to fail through incapacity, excess emotion etc” and this presumably influence the adoption a decade later in the context of discussing mental health (it was in the mid nineteenth century something recognizable as “psychiatry” (in the modern understanding) began to evolve.  The noun (specifically of machinery) was in use by at least 1838 while the meaning “an analysis in detail” emerged in US management jargon in the mid 1930s, based on the notion of “breaking a process into its component parts to permit better analysis of both the pieces and the whole” (an extension of the verbal phrase in use earlier in the decade in the sense of “analyze, classify”.  The American folk dance tradition of “a noisy, lively dance sometimes accompanied by singing” was documented by 1864 but historians suggest the musical form dated back decades and was recorded in writing only when witnesses from the North were documenting conditions in the South towards the end of the US Civil War (1861-1865).  Breakdown became a common element in formation (breakdown crane, breakdown lane, breakdown lorry, breakdown truck, breakdown point, breakdown voltage, climate breakdown, electrical breakdown, mental breakdown, nervous breakdown, organizational breakdown, structural breakdown, supply-chain breakdown etc.

World Rugby's Laws of Rugby Union (2026 edition).  Although the word “breakdown” is not used, the rules (14, 15 & 16) regulating the well-known concept are detailed on pages 68-80.

Because just about any object could be broken, “break” widely was adapted, even serving (of paper & fabric) a la the later senses of “cut”, “tear” or “divide” although in Old English the sense of a broken bone was always “brecan”.  The intransitive sense of “be or become separated into fragments or parts under action of some force” dates from the late twelfth century, extending within decades to “make a first and partial disclosure” while the idea of “lessen, impair” was current by the late 1400s.  The sense of in some way to “destroy continuity or completeness” was from at least the 1740s while in 1882 the phrase “to break” is recorded in reference to physical currency (ie convert large denomination banknotes or coins into smaller units of the same total value).  Although in principle rugby union remains a simple game (once with a four-page rule book), under the auspices of the wise men of the IRB (International Rugby Board, 1886-2014) and later the equally diligent men & women of World Rugby (since 2014), the core rule book is now a hefty 100-odd pages so while it remains simple (relatively speaking; it’s a game of “shapes” rather than “angles”) to play, it’s quite a challenge for referees and as an example, during a breakdown, one referee might find a half-dozen transgressions to penalize while another would “allow the game to flow”, the latter approach preferred by most spectators.  In those hundred pages, the word “breakdown” doesn’t appear but that aspect of the game is covered by rules 14 (Tackle), 15 (Ruck) & 16 (Maul).

The figurative sense of “breaking someone’s heart” (although in modern medicine it’s now acknowledged people can “die from (figuratively) broken heart”) was in use by the late 1300s and other such adaptations included “break bread together” (share food) (late 1300s); “break ground" (to dig or plough land for agricultural purposes) (1670s and by 1710 that literal use was extended figuratively to mean “begin to execute a plan”)."  To break the ice as to “overcome the feeling of restraint in a new acquaintanceship” and was from the late 1500s, the reference being to the “coldness" of encounters of strangers.  The familiar break wind (the sanitized form of “a fart”) was documented in the 1550s but, farts being more ancient, use could have predated that.  The also familiar “to break (something) out” could come from anywhere but was recorded in the 1890s as dock-worker’s slang describing freeing cargo prior to unloading.  The ironic theatrical good luck incantation “break a leg” was definitely in use early in the twentieth century and similar forms exist also in Italian & German.  According to some sources, in the seventeenth century it was used euphemistically (of a woman) to convey “to have a bastard child.”

Cup of char.  Under the Raj, the ritual of the "tea break" in the Indian Civil Service became codified (time span; size of cup according to the official's grade of employment).

The thirteenth century noun use (act of breaking, forcible disruption or separation) came from the verb but apparently not until the late 1500s was it customary to speak of “daybreak” or “break of day” but that notion was by the 1720s in use with the meaning “a sudden, marked transition from one course, place, or state to another”.  The first meal of the day (ie when one “breaks one’s overnight fasting)” was by the mid fifteenth century routinely called “breakfast”.  The sense of a “short interval between spells of work” began in schools in the 1860s and the concept came widely to be applied (sport, employment etc) and was sometimes codified in rigid forms (by the Indian Civil Service’s “tea break” in 1911 and the BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation) in broadcasting in 1940).  The meaning “stroke of luck” (widely used: “lucky break” or “give me a break”, “never give a sucker an even break” etc) is believed derived from billiards (a game in which the “opening break” (first shot) scatters the ordered balls and is attested from 1865).  The use in music began in the 1920s when jazz musicians began to refer to “improvised passages or solos” thus, the idea being something that was a “break” between structured sections.  The original dance form called “breakdown” (defined by the OED as “a riotous dance, in the style of the negroes”) was probably from some time in the nineteenth century but definitely was from south of the Mason-Dixon Line although element of the style probably can be identified in the folk traditions of many cultures.

Raygun Breaking.

Australian breakdancer (breaker) Dr Rachael “Raygun” Gunn (b 1987), during her much-discussed “highly original” performance at the 2024 Paris Summer Olympics.  Between 2020-2026, Dr Gunn was a lecturer in the Department of Media, Communications, Creative Arts, Language & Literature at Macquarie University Faculty of Arts, Sydney, Australia.  Her Ph.D thesis (2017) was titled Deterritorializing Gender in Sydney's Breakdancing Scene: A B-girl's Experience of B-boying in which she explored “The intersection of gender and Sydney's breaking culture”.  The Ph.D was in the (obviously wide) field “cultural studies” but after her appearance in Paris was publicized, on X (formerly known as Twitter) there was much comment about universities conferring “doctorates in break dancing” being a sign of decline in academic standards.   

The more modern “breakdance” seems to have begun in New York City in the 1970s; it was when DJs (disc jockey) played exclusively the “rhythmic break sections from pop-dance songs” and crowds danced accordingly, originally presumably impromptu but the discipline later evolved into choreographed structures.  If, upon entering a room, one sees breakdancing in progress, one’s comment to one’s companion should be: “We are among barbarians.”  Break dancing was included as a “sport” in the 2024 Olympic Games in Paris although the participants are said to prefer it be called “breaking” and the appearance in Paris is thought to have been an attempt to seek the younger demographic not attracted by the charms of “Olympic traditions” such as Greco-Roman wrestling.  The reaction was mixed and, at this time, Breaking is not on the schedules of either the 2028 (Los Angeles) or 2032 (Brisbane) games.   

Although “down” can be used also as a noun, verb, adjective & preposition, as an element in the noun “breakdown”, it operates as an adverbial particle.  What it does is modify the meaning of the verb “break” (in this sense “indicating separation or failure” to create the new noun.  In this context (in a descending direction, from a higher to a lower place, degree, or condition), the pre 1000 down was from the Middle English doun & doune (down), from the Old English dūne (down), an aphetic (loss of a word's initial unstressed vowel) form of adūne (down, downward), from the earlier ofdūne (down (literally “off the hill”), the construct being of- (of, off) + -dūn(e) (hill, mount, dune, down).  Influencing the development from directional phrases to prepositions were the Old Frisian adverb dene (down (literally “(to the) floor”)), the Middle Low German dāle (down, downwards (literally “(in/to the) dale/valley”) from which the German Low German gained dal (down).  The form was cognate with the Scots doon (down) and can be compared with the Saterland Frisian deel (down (literally “to/into the dale”)) and the West Frisian del (down).  The familiar meaning “in a descending direction, from a higher to a lower place, degree, or condition” was inherited from a late development in the Old English that produced a shortened form of the earlier ofdune.  While in general Germanic, this sense development of “hill" uniquely was English.  As a preposition used to mean “in a descending direction upon or along”, use dates from at least the late fourteenth century.  As an idiomatic form, the uses in English of “down” (both literal and figurative) are legion.

Satirical engraving LADIES! LADIES! Mystery of Modern Modesty, Fun magazine, 12 March, 1870.  At the time there was a national debate about the operation of the Matrimonial Causes Act (1857) and the Women's Property Act (1870).

The 1857 Act created a Court of Divorce and Matrimonial Causes and it was in many ways an advance in women’s rights in that it made divorce more accessible but there was an inherent unfairness (something perhaps not surprising in a law emerging from an all-male parliament).  While, as before, men could divorce their wives on the basis of adultery alone, a woman was compelled to prove not only her husband’s adultery but also an additional cause (one or more of cruelty, desertion, incest, rape, sodomy or bestiality).  It was a sexual double standard, the origins of which can be traced to Biblical scripture and reinforced in law the notion a woman's infidelity was inherently worse than that of a man.  Despite that hurdle, the acts did make things slightly better for women in that for the first time there was statutory protection ensuring a divorced woman’s future earnings and property were shielded from claims by an ex-spouse.  Gradually, other reforms further improved things but what didn’t change until the “no fault” principle to some degree civilized divorce proceedings was that the act made “break-ups after break-downs” into a spectator sport and there were tabloid newspapers with sometimes pages of coverage of the antics of the famous or the more salacious conduct by others.

Breakdownism is legal slang referencing the “no-fault” principle existing in many jurisdictions as grounds for divorce.  First becoming popular during the 1970s, it essentially created “divorce on demand”, a reform that has had far-reaching effects (both good and ill) and is thus far thought the “final state” of Western divorce law; certainly it’s an advance “contested” divorces (often highly entertaining matters for others than the parties whose infidelities were being publicized, sometimes with appropriate photographic evidence.  The classic “contested divorce” was a creature of the old Matrimonial Causes Act (1857); prior to that a “complete divorce” permitting remarriage almost always required a private Act of Parliament, a procedure expensive and highly public.  It was also time-consuming, demanding (1) proceedings in an ecclesiastical court seeking an order of separation, (2) in the case of a husband seeking divorce, a successful action for “criminal conversation” (damages against the adulterer) in a common-law court, (3) a correctly drafted private divorce bill introduced into the House of Commons (“first reading”), (4) debate(s) on the bill (“second reading”) that might see the matter (5) “referred to committee for consideration”, (5) a vote in on the bill (“third reading”) that, if passed would see the bill (proposed law) sent to “the other place” (House of Lords) for (6) three readings, possible committee stages and a vote.  If the bill survived all that, it became an act and upon (7) royal assent being granted (by a monarch or their representative (governor, governor-general etc) it was valid law and the divorce had happened.  The subsequent (8) “gazetting” (publication in the Government Gazette) was merely procedural.

So one really had to want a divorce and have the means to obtain one; given all that, it’s not surprising wives and husbands were sometimes murdered as a “work-around”.  One handy solution was however available to certain colonial administrators resident in places where the Islamic Sharia courts operated, applicants often finding the judges much more sympathetic to men wishing quickly to rid themselves of now unsatisfactory wives.  The concept of “breakdownism” ended most of the legal entertainment and the notion of “irreconcilable differences” became the standard expression cited as grounds for divorce.  Regrettably, the tale of one eighteenth century bishop “bribing or persuading" a parliamentary draftsman to insert in an innocuous (and thus not diligently scrutinized) bill the line: “the Bishop of xxx is declared divorced” appears to be apocryphal and may have begun as an illustrative example of the supremacy of parliament over sovereign & church before becoming a “legal legend”.  It probably is a good thing members of the House of Lords no longer debate whether or not to grant someone a divorce because that would at times have meant Lord Peter “Mandy” Mandelson (b 1953) having a vote and the thought of him opining on matters of the conduct and personal morality of others is something to ponder.  The term “meltdownism” is non-standard and used of those for whom “having meltdowns” seems a calling or who obviously “stage” them as a tactic.

Barnes Auto advertising, circa 1939.

In business before World War I (1914-1918) Barnes Auto operates a towing business in Brisbane, Australia, their trucks still adorned in striking blue and orange stripes.  Around 1937, the decision was taken to build a “streamlined breakdown lorry” and while designers in Europe and the US had for some years been applying aerodynamic techniques to heavy trucks, most were produced to improve average speeds and lower fuel consumption on (relatively) high-speed, long-distance routes.  Influenced by advances in aviation, streamlining since the 1920s increasingly had appeared on vehicles on both sides of the Atlantic, the best remembered the grand prix and LSR (land-speed record) machines but stylists (with and without wind-tunnel data), applied the techniques both to mass-market and expensive vehicles so trucks were a logical subject for study given the importance to operators of time and running costs.  Whether Barnes Auto’s 78 HP (horsepower) breakdown lorry, geared as it was to suit its purpose, would often have attained speeds at which the presumed aerodynamic advantages would have rendered either better performance or economy is dubious and the shape may have been more an art deco inspired “rolling advertisement” rather than a piece of functionalism but, if that was the case, it worked because it appears to be the only Brisbane “tow truck” of the era to have survived as a feature in the photographic record.  Certainly, compared with other trucks at the time on the road, the blue & orange striped machine must have been eye-catching.

Barnes' Breakdown Lorry fully loaded, three behind, one in front.

Lorry is of uncertain origin but thought most likely from the dialectal English lurry (to lug or pull about, to drag).  The use emerged in the early to mid-nineteenth century and was applied initially small carts or wagons (both hand propelled and horse-drawn), use quickly extending to the open carriages used on railroads to haul goods or commodities.  In much of the English-speaking world, from the early twentieth century, use transferred to motorized vehicles used for the same purpose and that made sense because the earliest powered lorries literally were the same “carriages” with an engine and drive-train added.  “Lorry” in that sense endures in some places in the old British Empire (notably in India & Pakistan where the linguistic inheritance of the Raj remains strong) but in many places (certainly North America), “truck” (and other specialized forms) became preferred.  Even in some places where use of “lorry” lingers, it's now often a sometimes rare niche word describing freight-vehicles larger than “pick-ups” but smaller than “trucks”.  In Australia and New Zealand, it's possible “lorry” may go extinct as those who grew up with the word age and die.

“Tugboat Annie”, waiting for a breakdown needing a tow, Mankato, Minnesota, US, 1937.

The coach-built body was created by (the still operating) Watt Brothers of Wolloongabba on a 1938 Dodge two-ton truck chassis, shortened, reinforced and converted to full forward control.  Although new to Brisbane, similar lines had been seen in US, notably on “Tugboat Annie”, built in Mankato, Minnesota and based on a 1937 International cabover tow truck; presumably such things provided the template followed by the Watts.  The 78 HP, six cylinder engine (one of the variants of Chrysler’s long-serving “flathead six, 1924-1963), was connected through a series of reduction gears via a double-faced clutch to a double jib hoist capable of a ten-ton lift with the lifting and trailing gear arranged so four vehicles simultaneously could be towed: three at the rear, one in front, an apparatus now unlikely much to impress Australian regulatory.  There doesn’t appear to be footage of the breakdown lorry on the move with four broken–down cars attached (three to the rear, one in front) but it would have required a driver with skill and experience, especially to handle the behaviour of the one ahead, the whole ensemble presumably acting like something centrally “hinged”.  On aspect that would have assisted in that was the outstanding visibility the styling afforded a driver, the extremities of the load being a critical thing to monitor.  Because of the four-vehicle capacity, an impressive 600 feet (183 metres) of wire rope was carried, the location of the connection-points on the towed vehicles an important factor in maintaining directional control while in movement.  The Breakdown Lorry served throughout World War II (1939-1945) and wasn’t replaced (by a conventionally styled, English-built, crew cab Dodge) until the mid 1950s.  Regrettably, Barnes proved unsentimental about retired equipment and once deemed obsolete, Breakdown Lorry was sent to a local rubbish dump, meaning an improbable piece of art deco history was lost but, because of the evidence in photographic archives, the distinctive lines attracted the model-makers, Autocult releasing one in 1:43 scale.

The Breakdown Lorry with Douglas DC-3, Brisbane International Airport, circa 1942 (colorized image).

In Australia, the DC-3 was operated by the RAAF (Royal Australian Air Force), Ansett Airlines, TAA (Trans Australia Airlines, ANA (Australian National Airways) and a myriad of smaller operators.  Produced mostly between 1936-1945, over 600 were built; robust, economical to operate and with an admirable safety record, it was for years a mainstay of civil aviation and General Dwight Eisenhower (1890-1969; POTUS 1953-1961), who often travelled in one while Supreme Commander Allied Expeditionary Forces (1943-1945), reckoned the DC-3 was one of the tools (others including the bazooka and Jeep) that made Allied victory in World War II possible by 1945.  The DC-3 in the photograph is "Kyilla" (registered as VH-UZJ), the first one imported into Australia (the invoiced cost Aus£41,000).  Delivered in November 1937, it flew with AoA (Airlines of Australia, an operator that in 1931 originally traded as NEA (New England Airlines) before in 1942 being absorbed by ANA).  Between 1939-1940, Kyilla was leased (“temporarily impressed” the wartime terminology) to the RAAF to cover a “delivery gap” and in 1943 it commenced regular service in ANA.

Autocult's 1:43 scale model.

Trucks in the era were anyway low-geared (in some jurisdictions, above a certain gross weight, maximum speeds as low as 30-40 mph (50-70 km/h) sometimes were imposed but the gearbox in the Barnes Breakdown Lorry had an unusually low ratio first-gear (a so-called “stump puller” of the type often seen in agricultural vehicles), enabling it to ascend even the steepest grades, allowing vehicles to be recovered from hilly terrain.  The apparatus used for the double jib hoist must have been intriguing to see and the mechanism, developed in-house by Barns was fine piece of engineering, combining intricacy with robustness while eschewing needless complexity.  In that it followed the maxim on design and problem-solving coined by German architect Professor Heinrich Tessenow (1876-1950): “The simplest form is not always the best, but the best is always simple.”  That was a refinement of novacula Occami (Occam's razor), a principle attributed to the English Franciscan friar, theologian & philosopher Guillelmus de Ockham (William of Ockham circa  1287–1347).  Occam’s razor (the idea one of “cutting away the unnecessary”) recommends searching for explanations constructed with the smallest possible set of elements; on that basis it was styled also as lex parsimoniae (law of parsimony), often glossed as Entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitate (Entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity).  Even today the mechanism on a tow truck is a fine example of Professor Tessnow’s maxim being applied with brutish efficiency although modern regulations mean something as intriguing as Barnes’ “four strand” arrangement can no longer be used.

One of the many curiosities in English is despite “up” & “down” being diametric opposites, “break down” and “break up” can mean the same thing.  In human relationships, it’s not uncommon for a “break-up” of a couple to follow a “break-down” in their relationship but when applied to physical objects, some are said to be “broken down” while others are “broken up”, despite the processes being conceptually much the same.  The apparent anomaly is explained by the history of the industries involved and conventions of English.  As a general principle, of objects, “break down” means “to dismantle something into its constituent parts or to reduce it to a simpler state”, meaning the term is used to emphasize fragmentation, destroying the integrity of something as a single object.  Despite that, the convention in the business of “shipbreaking” (literally “cutting apart” vessels and using the metal as “scrap”) is of being “broken up”.  The origin of shipbreaking dates from the nineteenth century when the iron and later steel that had come to be used for the structures was valued as scrap metal after a vessel’s economic life had ended.  This involved sometimes dozens of workers stripping fittings from hulls before progressively cutting or demolishing what remained, section by section, until nothing recognizably nautical remained.  In the industry and in news reports, even then the process routinely was referred to as “breaking up”. 

Putting up a final struggle: HMS Vanguard aground on the way to the wrecker's yard to be broken up, Portsmouth Harbour, England, 4 August, 1960.

Launched in 1946, Vanguard was the RN's (Royal Navy) last dreadnought and no nation has since commissioned a battleship.  In the space of a half-century, the battleship shifted from the most powerful military weapon on earth to a white elephant and despite use of the word “battleship” during Donald Trump's (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) recent mention that the USS Defiant would be the first of the new “Trump Class” of surface warships, the USN (US Navy) will not be launching any true “battleships”, the service having in 1992 struck from the list the last of the four Iowa Class ships commissioned between 1943-1944.

Obviously, shipbreaking, while in a sense a well-planned and careful “disassembly”, was an act of “total and final destruction”, the many pieces of metal sent to be “melted down” before being transformed into something else (not necessarily another ship).  That use of the term was different from the process undertaken by mechanics or technicians when “breaking down” a piece of equipment. Something done typically to effect repairs or maintenance, the emphasis very much on a carefully ordered process, disassembly most systematic because all or some of the components removed would need to be restored to their original positions when the thing was “put back together”.  So that’s how the conventions emerged: (1) “breaking up” a destructive process and (2) “breaking down a step in processes of repair, maintenance or upgrades.  Deconstructing the elements at the etymological level, there’s no reason why the terms couldn’t have been applied the other way round but, by patterns of use, the idiomatic forms became fixed.

A Lindsay Lohan “meltdown scene”, The Canyons (2013).

In the furnaces fed by the shipbreakers, to “melt down” was literally to bring scrap metal to its melting point, meaning it flowed like a liquid and could be cooled to form into shapes able to be re-used (plates, bars, beams etc).  In the post-war years, “meltdown” (first in this context recorded in 1963) ominously became familiar as the graphical encapsulation of what would happen to at least a large part of the core of a nuclear-reactor were the fuel elements subject to inadequate cooling.  The idea was the highly radioactive core would become so hot it would “melt down”, through the floor to the earth below.  Depending on the thickness of the facility’s concrete floor a core could in theory do exactly that but extending the idea to the popular description “China syndrome” was fanciful.  That idiom was based on the notion that if one (in Europe) kept digging a hole, eventually they’d dig “all the way to China” (“China” a synecdoche for “other side of the world”).  In many places the geography would have been dubious but so too the geology; even by 2026 the deepest hole ever dug remains Hole SG-3 (Kola Superdeep Borehole) in Russia’s Murmansk region.  Begun as a Soviet scientific project in 1970, by 1989 it achieved a vertical depth of 12.7 kilometres (7.6 miles) into the Earth's continental crust at which point the project had to be abandoned because temperatures at the drill bit had reached 180°C (356°F), much hotter than the expected 100°C (356°F).  At that level, rock becomes too soft successfully to drill.  Technically, the 12.7 km depth was a remarkable piece of applied engineering but to put the “China Syndrome” into perspective that’s around 0.2% of the way to the planet’s centre (the Earth's radius is some 6,371 kilometres (3959 miles)).

The “Elephant's Foot”, Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant, Ukraine.  It came more to resemble a boot but when first identified, it was though to be more “pachydermish”.

So, in a nuclear meltdown, a core would have a long way to go and, in the most infamous example to date, the core didn’t get even to the Earth’s surface.  In April 1986, reactor 4 of the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant (in Ukraine, then one of the constituent SSRs (Soviet Socialist Republic) of the Soviet Union (1922-1991)) exploded after a serious of procedural errors in what was, with the darkest irony, supposed to be a routine “safety test”.  When the heat of the core passed the “critical point of no return” the meltdown started, the core (a molten, toxic, lava-like mixture of uranium fuel, graphite, steel and concrete (“corium” in the jargon) melted through the bottom of the reactor vessel, flowing through pipes, corridors, and steam suppression pools inside the building.  The core did however stay completely within the facility’s basement levels (made from thick concrete) and it remains radioactive although it has now cooled to the point where it’s possible to stand relatively close without receiving a dangerous dose although, uranium being almost inert, if left undisturbed, when (10 billion years from now) our Sun expires (having “burned up” the fuel sustaining its nuclear fusion) some 25% of it will remain extant and the Elephant's Foot will be about as radioactive as its weight in bananas.  A banana contains Potassium-40 and is about as radioactive as a typical carrot or potato but other foods are more so, Brazil nuts by a factor of more than three.

Bruno Ganz’s “Hitler’s meltdown scene” in Downfall (2004).

In informal use, “meltdown” is used of sudden declines in stock prices or other undesirable “sharp market corrections” but the most popular use is of “dramatic performances” (of grief, rage, despair etc) consequent upon a sudden loss of control over one’s feelings or behavior.  Mothers will be familiar with meltdowns by their toddlers, typically over life-changing issues such as not getting an ice cream or the television being switched-off.  On screen, one of the most famous depictions of a meltdown was the performance of Swiss actor Bruno Ganz (1941-2019) as Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) in Downfall (2004), a study of the characters in the Führerbunker during the “last days of the Third Reich”.  The performance inspired an entire genre of “Hitler Rant Parodies”, the quality of which is “patchy”.  Hitler’s meltdown came during a military briefing after learning Waffen-SS (Armed SS) Obergruppenführer (general) Felix Steiner (1896–1966) had failed to assemble the forces to launch a relieving attack Hitler had ordered against the Red Army formations besieging Berlin.  That was by then militarily impossible but the unwelcome news induced in Hitler a legendary rant of several minutes during which he ranged against those he thought responsible for his predicament, notably the army’s officer corps and even the previously trusted SS.

The SS (ᛋᛋ in Armanen runes; Schutzstaffel (literally “protection squadron” but translated variously as “protection squad”, “security section" etc) was formed (under different names) in 1923 as a Nazi party squad to provide security at public meetings (then often rowdy and violet affairs) and was later re-purposed as a personal bodyguard for Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945).  The SS name was adopted in 1925 and during the Third Reich the institution evolved into a vast economic, industrial and military apparatus more than two million strong to the point where some historians (and contemporaries) regarded it as a kind of “state within a state”.  The Waffen-SS (armed SS (ie equipped with military-grade weapons)) existed on a small scale as early as 1933 before Hitler’s agreement was secured to create a formation at divisional strength and growth was gradual even after the outbreak of hostilities in 1939 and it was the invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941 which triggered the Waffen-SS’s expansion into a multi-national armoured force with over 900,000 men under arms.  As well as the SS’s role in the administration of the many concentration and extermination camps, the Waffen-SS was widely implicated in war crimes and crimes against humanity.  Towards the end of the meltdown, Hitler, with tears in his eyes, admitted the war was “lost”, something that was by then (or should have been) obvious to all in the bunker.  Although only two of those who witnessed the meltdown survived the war to tell the tale (Generaloberst (Colonel General) Alfred Jodl (1890–1946, chief of the OKW operations staff 1939-1945 and Generalfeldmarschall Wilhelm Keitel (1882–1946; chief of OKW 1938-1945)), such was the volume it was heard by many in an adjoining room and historians agree Ganz’s performance captured the moment.