Rook

Rook (pronounced rook)

(1) A large Eurasian passerine bird, Corvus frugilegus, with a black plumage and a whitish base to its bill from the family Corvidae (crows) and noted for its gregarious habits.

(2) In slang, a swindler, someone who cheats at cards, dice etc; a deceiver or fraudster.

(3) In slang, someone who betrays (now rare).

(4) In slang, a bad deal; rip off.

(5) In historic English slang, a parson, vicar, priest etc (based on the traditional black cassock clerics wore).  A variant with a similar origin was Adolf Hitler's (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) disparaging German Roman Catholic clergymen as “diese schwarzen Krähen” (those black crows). 

(6) In chess, one of four pieces (two of each color) that may be moved any number of unobstructed squares horizontally or vertically; also called castle.  Rooks start the game on the four corners of the board.

(7) As chess rook, in Canadian heraldry, the cadency mark of a fifth daughter.

(8) In cards, a trick-taking game, played usually with a specialized deck. 

(9) As rookie, a type of firecracker used by farmers in the UK to scare birds (including, but not restricted to, rooks).

(10) To cheat, fleece or swindle.

Pre 900: From the Middle English rok & roke, from the Old English hrōc, from the Proto-West Germanic hrōk, from the Proto-Germanic hrōkaz.  In other languages there was the Old Norse hrókr, the Saterland Frisian Rouk, the Middle Swedish roka, the Old High German hruoh (crow), the Middle Dutch roec and Dutch roek (and the obsolete German Ruch, from the primitive Indo-European kerk- (crow, raven).  Related avian forms included the Old Irish cerc (hen), the Old Prussian kerko (loon, diver), the dialectal Bulgarian кро́кон (krókon) (raven), the Ancient Greek κόραξ (kórax) (crow), the Old Armenian ագռաւ (agṙaw), the Avestan kahrkatat (rooster), the Sanskrit कृकर (kṛkara) and the Ukrainian крук (kruk) (raven). The Old French was roc, from the Spanish rocho & ruc, from the Arabic رُخّ‎ (ruḵḵ), from the Persian رخ‎ (rox).  Use as the bird’s name was possibly imitative of its raucous voice, an etymology hinted at by other languages (the Gaelic roc (as in "croak") and the Sanskrit kruc (as in "to cry out")).  Rook & rooking are nouns & verbs, rookery, rooker & rooklet are nouns, rooked is a verb, rookish, rooless, rooklike & rooky are adjectives, rookie is a noun, verb & adjective and rookwise is an adjective & adverb; the noun plural is rooks.

Chess pieces.

Rook was applied as a disparaging term for persons since at least the early sixteenth century, extended by the 1570s to mean "a cheat", especially at cards or dice, this probably associated with the thieving habits of the rook, a habit it shares with other acquisitive corvine birds like the crow and magpie.  The adverb rookwise can be applied to anyone or anything said to be moving exclusively in “a cardinal direction” (ie toward any of the four principal points of the compass: north, south, east and west), as a rook moves on a chessboard.  In use, it’s applied usually to mean “in the perpendicular or horizontal” (as opposed to a curve, diagonal or other angle) though not of necessity to true north, south, east or west.  The companion term is bishopwise (moving exclusively in diagonals, as a bishop moves on a chessboard).  A rooker is a person who cheats or swindles but the victim is not described as a “rookee”; other terms are applied to these unfortunates.  Rookie means (1) someone new to some activity (much used thus in sport), (2) an inexperienced recruit (much used thus in the military & law enforcement) and (3) a firecracker used in the UK to scare birds away from crops) but it’s only the use in agriculture which is related to the bird. Rookie may have been some sort of phonetic derivative for “recruit” or may be from either (1) the Dutch broekie (short for broekvent (a boy still so young as to be in short trousers)) which was a common a common term for “a shipmate” or (2) the Irish rúca (an inexperienced person).

Rendered by Vovsoft as cartoon character: a young Lindsay Lohan moves her rook.

Chess arrived in Russia perhaps as early as the ninth century, the path via the Islamic world from India and soon it was being played in much of Europe.  The rook gained its name from the chaturanga, the piece used in Indian chess and represented by a रथ (ratha) (a war chariot); when the game was adopted by the Persians, ratha became رخ (rukh) (chariot), the term retained by the Arabic-speaking world and in this form it reached Europe.  It was adapted in the Italian as rocco and in the Old French as roc or roche, the later influencing English when eventually it evolved into rook (although in Middle English the name of the chess piece was sometimes confused with the roc (the enormous mythical bird in Eastern legend).  The name thus changed little between languages and nor did the strategic role of the piece vary: chariot-like fast, powerful charges in straight lines.

Gilt metal chess set in gold, sterling silver, enamel, amethyst & pearl, made by Viennese artisans of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, circa 1898.

The use of “castle” as the informal name for the rook was an unintended consequence of the operation of phonetic similarity in the sub-set of the population practicing an oral culture.  Apparently in southern Italy, some rural folk interpreted rukh as the Italian rocca (fortress or rock) and this led to a new visual representation: the rook as a castle tower or siege tower, the position in the corner of the board reflecting its defensive strength.  This quickly became the standard shape in European chess pieces and historians of the game have speculated that because carving a plausible “castle turret” from a small base of wood, stone or metal would have been quicker and easier (and this cheaper) than a “chariot”, the economics of production may also have been persuasive.  It was European folk etymology that created “castle” as the alternative and it has survived to become (depending on one’s view), informal, incorrect or old-fashioned and has been cited as a class-identifier (a la Knave vs Jack in playing cards): In Noblesse Oblige: An Enquiry Into the Identifiable Characteristics of the English Aristocracy (1956) Nancy Mitford (1904–1973) didn’t list the chess pieces but had she bothered the rook would have been the “U” word and castle the “non-U”.   Curiously, even among those who insist the piece is a rook, use persists in the move “castling” in which the rook and king can switch positions along the “base-line” (ie rows 1 & 8).  Chess purists insist this is the only permissible use of “castle” but seem resigned to the “mistake’s” regrettable survival.

Vulpine

Vulpine (pronounced vuhl-pahyn or vuhl-pin)

(1) Of or resembling a fox.

(2) Possessing or being thought to posses the characteristics often attributed to foxes ( crafty, clever, sly, cunning etc).

1620-1630: From the Latin vulpīnus (foxy, fox-like, of or pertaining to a fox), the construct being vulp(ēs) (fox) + -īnus.  Vulpēs was from the earlier volpes (genitive vulpis, volpis) of unknown origin, though though probably from the  primitive Indo-European wl(o)p and cognate with the Welsh llywarn (fox), the Classical Greek ἀλώπηξ (alṓpēx) (fox), the Armenian աղուէս (ałuēs), the Albanian dhelpër, the Lithuanian vilpišỹs (wildcat) and the Sanskrit लोपाश (lopāśa) (jackal, fox).  The Latin suffix -inus was from the Proto-Italic -īnos, from the primitive Indo-European -iHnos and cognate with the Ancient Greek -ινος (-inos) and the Proto-Germanic -īnaz.  It was used to indicate "of or pertaining to, usually a relationship of position, possession, or origin.  Vulpine is a noun & adjective, vulpinism & vulpinist are nouns and vulpinary is an adjective; the noun plural is vulpines.

The Holy Fox, Lord Halifax: The Right Honourable Edward Frederick Lindley Wood, First Earl of Halifax, KG, OM, GCSI, GCMG, GCIE, TD, PC, was a leading Tory (Conservative & Unionist Party) politician of the inter-war and war-time years; among other appointments, he was Viceroy of India, foreign secretary and ambassador to the United States.  He was known as the Holy Fox because of his devotion to church, the hunt and Tory politics though was more holy than foxy and perhaps too punctilious ever to be truly vulpine.  He was also born too late; had he lived a century earlier, he’d likely be remembered as an eminent statesman of the Victorian era but even before 1945, he seemed a relic of the bygone age.

A fox and other beasts: 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.

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.  Pointless in retrospect, 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 Count Ciano's diary.  Ciano's entries are not wholly reliable but he was one of the century's great diarists, an astute observer and, too clever to be much bothered by principles, he 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.

“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].”

Foxy Eyes by Skinklink.

In zoology, the family Canidae is divided into (1) Vulpini (foxes) and (2) Canini (wolves, dogs, coyotes, and jackals).  From these beasts comes the metaphorical use of “canine” and “vulpine”, both tending to be used of character traits rather than appearance.  In the metaphorical sense, “canine” is associated with qualities such as friendship loyalty, trustworthiness, dependability, devotion and loyalty, thus the phrase: “Dog is man’s best friend”, pointed variants appearing in quips from politicians such as Frederick II’s (Frederick the Great, 1712–1786, Prussian king 1740-1786): “The more I learn of the nature of man, the more I value the company of dogs” and Harry Truman’s (1884–1972; US president 1945-1953): “Want a friend in Washington? Get a dog”.  Jeff Kennett (b 1948; premier of the Australian state of Victoria 1992-1999) would late adapt that Truman doctrine and coined one to use in an internecine squabble, disparaging Peter Costello (b 1957; Treasurer of Australia, 1996-2007) for possessing “all the attributes of a dog - except loyalty”.  If “canine” brings to mind honestly and guilelessness, “vulpine” does not.  Because foxes stereotypically are though sly, clever and cunning, they’re regarded not as loyal companions but solitary creatures whose every calculation in life is one of shrewd self-interest, their folkloric reputation for deceit well-deserved.

Amanda Knox in court during her appeal against her conviction for murder, Perugia, Italy, September, 2011.

The terms (of both endearment and disparagement) “foxy” and “vulpine” can be used interchangeably but context must be studied to determine which meaning is being deployed.  A US citizen studying in Italy, Amanda Knox (b 1987) was twice wrongfully convicted of murder by Italian courts and, as a young, photogenic American accused of killing the young lady who was at the time her flat-mate, the trials received extensive international coverage.  It wasn’t long before the media were referring to Ms Knox as “Foxy Knoxy” and while many assumed that was typical tabloid journalism and a use of “foxy” in the sense of “sexy young woman” (perhaps with an overtone of “manipulative”), it was revealed to be her nickname on MySpace (an early social media site on which Rupert Murdoch (b 1931) would book a big loss), the moniker gained from the pace and agility she displayed in her youth on the soccer (football) pitch.  Of Ms Knox, the use of “foxy” can be debated but it would never be appropriate to speak of her as “vulpine”.

The dapper Franz von Papen during the first Nuremberg Trial.

Both however could be applied to Franz von Papen (1879-1969; German chancellor 1932 & vice chancellor 1933-1934) who appears in the history books described variously as “vulpine”, “foxy”, “the sly old fox” and “the old silver fox”.  No author has ever used these terms to suggest von Papen was “sexy” and the references are all to his cunning, slyness and extraordinary ability, over many decades, to extricate himself from situations where his prospects seemed dismal or doomed.  Few have ever quibbled over André François-Poncet (1887–1978; French ambassador to Germany 1931-1938) famous thumbnail sketch of von Papen: “There is something about Papen that prevents either his friends or his enemies from taking him entirely seriously” and the Frenchman was acknowledged a fair judge of politicians, even Hitler more than once admitting: “Poncet is the most intelligent of the diplomats I've known”, to which he’d sometimes pause to add (especially if anyone from the foreign office was in earshot): “…including the German ones.”  Most Germans were as sceptical as the ambassador.  General Kurt von Schleicher (1882–1934; German chancellor 1932) who was a confidant of Generalfeldmarschall Paul von Hindenburg (1847–1934; Reichspräsident (1925-1934) of Germany 1925-1934) schemed and plotted to have the dilettante von Papen appointed chancellor, believing his inexperience and known political ineptitude make him a malleable tool (others would later make the same mistake with Hitler).  When astonished associates protested: “Papen has no head for administration”, the General replied” “He doesn’t need a head, his job is to be a hat”.

Back-seat driver.

Then serving as vice-chancellor, von Papen sits behind Hitler during a parade, Berlin, May 1933.  The car is a Mercedes-Benz 770K (W07, 1930-1938) Cabriolet D.  Despite the "K" ("Kompressor" in the context of the 770s), not all W07 770Ks were supercharged but all those suppled to the Chancery had the Roots type "blower".  Big, heavy and with less than slippery aerodynamic qualities the 770K needed the power of its 7.7 litre (468 cubic inch) straight-8 but despite the mass, the updated 770K (W150, 1938-1943) could top 100 mph (160 km/h) on the long straights of the new Autobahns although such was the fuel consumption that even with its 195 litre (52 US gallon; 43 Imperial gallon) tank, when cruising at high speed, the time between "top-ups" could be brief.

Von Papen’s brief chancellorship went badly (later, narrowly he would avoid being murdered by the Nazis) but, foxy as ever, he remained a part of the Third Reich’s political and diplomatic establishment almost to the end.  One of the century’s great survivors, after being indicted for (Count 1) conspiracy to commit crimes against peace and (Count 2) waging aggressive war, he was acquitted by the IMT (International Military Tribunal) in the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946), a verdict which disappointed some but didn’t surprise those lawyers who’d found the conspiracy charge dubious in many aspects and thought the defendant too remote from the business of waging war.  He was subsequently convicted by a German de-Nazification court but his two years in captivity were not unpleasant, spent mostly in a hospital and, upon release, he resumed his robust good health.  Many of his more obviously credentialed contemporaries were either murdered by their “friends” or sent to the gallows by their opponents but the old fox lived to his ninetieth year, dying peacefully in his bed.

Lindsay Lohan’s “Fursona”, one of the Canine Cartel’s NFTs (non-fungible token).

Launched in August 2021 on Ethereum, the Canine Cartel NFT was a generative NFT collection launched in late August 2021 on Ethereum.  The collection included a reputed 10,000 unique (ERC‑721) canine characters, each with what was claimed to be “randomly generated traits” (subsequent analysis would correct that) inspired by ten dog breeds, the fictional back-story being of dogs which formed a “cartel” that emerged victorious over feline rivals in a stylized Sinaloa-inspired turf war.  As all know, cats are evil so the happy ending was good triumphed over evil.  There was a charitable element to the project, the first 10 ETH raised (some 10 % of mint revenue) pledged to dog shelters.  At the time, there was quite a buzz around EFTs and (with a mint price of 0.05 ETH per NFT) the drop apparently sold out quickly but like many EFT “bubbles”, expectations of profits were not realized by most speculators and recent floor prices have hovered around 0.0045 ETH on very low volumes.  The Canine Cartel model was a classic example of the promotional technique used when speculative interest in NFTs was high and was one common to many ventures, some of which by centuries pre-date the internet.

Zugzwang

Zugzwang (pronounced tsook-tsvahng)

(1) In chess, a situation in which a player is limited to moves that cost pieces or have a damaging positional effect.

(2) A situation in which, whatever is done, makes things worse (applied variously to sport, politics, battlefield engagements etc).

(3) A situation in which one is forced to act when one would prefer to remain passive and thus a synonym of the German compound noun Zugpflicht (the rule that a player cannot forgo a move).

(4) In game theory, a move which changes the outcome from win to loss.

Circa 1858 (1905 in English): A modern German compound, the construct being zug+zwang.  Zug (move) was from the Middle High German zuc & zug, from the Old High German zug ,from Proto-Germanic tugiz, an abstract noun belonging to the Proto-Germanic teuhaną, from the primitive Indo-European dewk (to pull, lead); it was cognate with the Dutch teug and the Old English tyge.  Zwang (compulsion; force; constraint; obligation) was from the Middle High German twanc, from the Old High German geduang.  It belongs to the verb zwingen and cognates include the Dutch dwang and the Swedish tvång.  The word is best understood as "compulsion to move" or, in the jargon of chess players: "Your turn to move and whatever you do it'll make things worse for you", thus the application to game theory, military strategy and politics where there's often a need to determine the "least worse option".  Zugzwang is a noun; the noun plural is Zugzwänge.  In English, derived forms such as zugzwanged, zugzwanging, zugzwangish, zugzwanger, zugzwangesque and zugzwangee are non-standard and used usually for humorous effect.

Chess and Game Theory

Endgame: Black's turn and Zugzwang! Daily Chess Musings depiction of the elegance of zugwang.

The first known use of Zugzwang in the German chess literature appears in 1858; the first appearance in English in 1905.  However, the concept of Zugzwang had been known and written about for centuries, the classic work being Italian chess player Alessandro Salvio's (circa 1575–circa 1640) study of endgames published in 1604 and he referenced Shatranj writings from the early ninth century, some thousand years before the first known use of the term.  Positions with Zugzwang are not rare in chess endgames, best known in the king-rook & king-pawn conjunctions.  Positions of reciprocal Zugzwang are important in the analysis of endgames but although the concept is easily demonstrated and understood, that's true only of the "simple Zugzwang" and the so-called "sequential Zugzwang" will typically be a multi-move thing which demands an understanding of even dozens of permutations of possibilities.

Rendered by Vovsoft as cartoon character: a brunette Lindsay Lohan at the chessboard.  In her youth, she was a bit of a zugzwanger.

Zugzwang describes a situation where one player is put at a disadvantage because they have to make a move although the player would prefer to pass and make no move. The fact the player must make a move means their position will be significantly weaker than the hypothetical one in which it is the opponent's turn to move. In game theory, it specifically means that it directly changes the outcome of the game from a win to a loss.  Chess textbooks often cite as the classic Zugzwang a match in Copenhagen in 1923; on that day the German Grandmaster (the title inaugurated in 1950) Friedrich Sämisch (1896–1975) played White against the Latvian-born Danish Aron Nimzowitsch (1886-1935).  Playing Black, Nimzowitsch didn’t play a tactical match in the conventional sense but instead applied positional advantage, gradually to limit his opponent’s options until, as endgame was reached, White was left with no move which didn’t worsen his position; whatever he choose would lead either to material loss or strategic collapse and it’s said in his notebook, Nimzowitsch concluded his entry on the match with “Zugzwang!”  A noted eccentric in a discipline where idiosyncratic behaviour is not unknown, the Polish Grandmaster Savielly Tartakower (1887-1956) observed of Nimzowitsch: “He pretends to be crazy in order to drive us all crazy.”

French sculptor Auguste Rodin's (1840-1917) The Thinker (1904), Musée Rodin, Paris (left) and Boris Johnson (b 1964; UK prime-minister 2019-2022) thinking about which would be his least worst option (left).

In its classic form chess is a game between two, played with fixed rules on a board with a known number of pieces (32) and squares (64).  Although a count of the possible permutations in a match would yield a very big number, in chess, the concept of Zugwang is simple and understood the same way by those playing black and white; information for both sides is complete and while the concept can find an expression both combinatorial game theory (CGT) and classical game theory, the paths can be different.  CGT and GT (the latter historically a tool of economic modelers and strategists in many fields) are both mathematical studies of games behaviour which can be imagined as “game-like” but differ in focus, assumptions, and applications.  In CGT the basic model (as in chess) is of a two-player deterministic game in which the moves alternate and luck or chance is not an element.  This compares GT in which there may be any number of players, moves may be simultaneous, the option exists not to move, information known to players may be incomplete (or asymmetric) and luck & chance exist among many variables (which can include all of Donald Rumsfeld’s (1932–2021: US defense secretary 1975-1977 & 2001-2006) helpful categories (known knowns, known unknowns, unknown unknowns & (most intriguingly) unknown knowns).  So, while CGT is a good device for deconstructing chess and such because such games are of finite duration and players focus exclusively on “winning” (and if need be switching to “avoiding defeat”), GT is a tool which can be applied to maximize advantage or utility in situations where a win/defeat dichotomy is either not sought or becomes impossible.  The difference then is that CGT envisages two players seeking to solve deterministic puzzle on a win/lose basis while GT is there to describes & analyse strategic interactions between & among rational actors, some or all of which may be operating with some degree of uncertainty.

Serial zugzwanger Barnaby Joyce (b 1967; thrice (between local difficulties) deputy prime minister of Australia 2016-2022), Parliament House, Canberra.  More than many, Mr Joyce has had to sit and ponder what might at that moment be his “least worst” option.  He has made choices good and bad.

In politics and military conflicts (a spectrum condition according to Prussian general and military theorist Carl von Clausewitz (1780–1831)), a zugzwang often is seen as parties are compelled to take their “least worst” option, even when circumstances dictate it would be better to “do nothing”.  However, the zugzwang can lie in the eye of the beholder and that why the unexpected Ardennes Offensive, (Wacht am Rhein (Watch on the Rhine) the German code-name though popularly known in the West as the Battle of the Bulge, (December 1944-January 1945)) was ordered by Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945).  It was the last major German strategic offensive of World War II (1939-1945) and among all but the most sycophantic of Hitler’s military advisors it was thought not “least worst” but rather “worse than the sensible” option (although not all the generals at the time concurred with what constituted “sensible”).  Under the Nazi state’s Führerprinzip (leader principle) the concept was that in any institutional structure authority was vested in the designated leader and that meant ultimately Hitler’s rule was a personal dictatorship (although the extent of the fragmentation wasn’t understood until after the war) so while the generals could warn, counsel & advise, ultimately decisions were based on the Führer’s will, thus the Ardennes Offensive.

While the operation made no strategic sense to the conventionally-schooled generals, to Hitler it was compelling because the tide of the war had forced him to pursue the only strategy left: delay what appeared an inevitable defeat in the hope the (real but still suppressed) political tensions between his opponents would sunder their alliance, allowing him to direct his resources against one front rather than three (four if the battle in the skies was considered a distinct theatre as many historians argue).  Like Charles Dickens’ (1812–1870) Mr Micawber in David Copperfield (1849-1850), Hitler was hoping “something would turn up”.  Because of the disparity in military and economic strength between the German and Allied forces, in retrospect, the Ardennes Offensive appears nonsensical but, at the time, it was a rational tactic even if the strategy of “delay” was flawed.  Confronted as he was by attacks from the west, east and south, continuing to fight a defensive war would lead only to an inevitable defeat; an offensive in the east was impossible because of the strength of the Red Army and even a major battlefield victor in the south would have no strategic significance so it was only in the west a glimmer of success seemed to beckon.

The bulge.

In the last great example of the professionalism and tactical improvisation which was a hallmark of their operations during the war, secretly the Wehrmacht (the German military) assembled a large armored force (essentially under the eyes of the Allies) and staged a surprise attack through the Ardennes, aided immeasurably by the cover of heavy, low clouds which precluded both Allied reconnaissance and deployment of their overwhelming strength in air-power.  Initially successful, the advance punched several holes in the line, the shape of which, when marked on a map, lent the campaign the name “Battle of the Bulge” but within days the weather cleared, allowing the Allies to unleash almost unopposed their overwhelming superiority in air power.  This, combined with their vast military and logistical resources, doomed the Ardennes Offensive, inflicting losses from which the Wehrmacht never recovered: From mid-January on, German forces never regained the initiative, retreating on all fronts until the inevitable defeat in May.  A last throw of the dice, the offensive both failed and squandered precious (and often irreplaceable) resources badly needed elsewhere.  By December 1944, Hitler had been confronted with a zugzwang (of his own making) and while whatever he did would have made Germany’s position worse, at least arguably, the Ardennes Offensive was not even his “least worse” option.

Accidie

Accidie (pronounced ak-si-dee)

Sloth; apathy, in the sense of both (1) a general listlessness and apathy and (2) spiritual torpor.

1200–1250: From the Middle English accidie, from the Anglo-Norman accidie, from the Old French accide & accidie, from the Medieval Latin accidia (an alteration of Late Latin acedia (sloth, torpor), from the Ancient Greek ἀκήδεια (akḗdeia) (indifference), the construct being ἀ- (a-) (in the sense of “not”) +‎ κῆδος (kêdos).  It was a doublet of acedia, still cited as an alternative form and replaced the Middle English accide.  The word was in active use between the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries and was revived in the nineteenth as a literary adornment.  Accidie and acediast are nouns and acedious is an adjective; the noun plural is acediasts.

The alternative literary words include (1) ennui (a gripping listlessness or melancholia caused by boredom; depression), an unadapted borrowing from the French ennui, from the Old French enui (annoyance), from enuier (which in Modern French persists as ennuyer), from the Late Latin inodiō, from the Latin in odiō (hated) and a doublet of annoy, (2) weltschmerz, used as an alternative letter-case form of the German Weltschmerz (an apathetic or pessimistic view of life; depression concerning or discomfort with the human condition or state of the world; world-weariness), the construct being Welt (world) + Schmerz (physical ache, pain; emotional pain, heartache, sorrow) and coined by German Romantic writer Jean Paul (1763–1825) for his novel Selina (published posthumously in 1827) and (3) mal du siècle (apathy and world-weariness, involving pessimism towards the current state of the world, often along with nostalgia for the past (originally in the context of French Romanticism) (literally “disease of the century”) and coined by the French writer Alfred de Musset in his autobiographical novel La Confession d'un enfant du siècle (The Confession of a Child of the Century (1936)).

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

In Antiquity, the Greeks seemed to have refined accidie (which translated literally as being in “a state so inert as the be devoid of pain or care”) to be used of those who has become listless and no longer cared for their own lives or their society, thus distinguishing it from other conditions of melancholy which tended to be individually focused although in surviving medical texts, what’s being diagnosed was something like what might now be called “depression”.  Predictably, when adopted by moral theologians in Christian writing, it was depicted as a sin or at least a personal flaw.  Others wrote of it as a “demon” to be overcome and even a temptation placed by the Devil, one to which “young men who read poetry” seem to have been chronically prone.  It can be thought of as falling into the category of sloth, listed in the Medieval Latin tradition as of the seven deadly sins and appeared in Dante Alighieri’s (circa 1265–1321) Divina Commedia (Divine Comedy (circa 1310-1321)) not only as a sin worthy of damnation & eternal punishment but the very sin which led Dante to the edge of Hell.  In his unfinished Summa Theologiae (literally Summary of Theology), the Italian Dominican friar, philosopher & theologian Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) noted accidie was a spiritual sorrow, induced by man’s flight from the Divine good, “…on account of the flesh utterly prevailing over the spirit”, the kind of despair which can culminate in the even greater sin of suicide.

Google ngram: Accidie 1800-2020.

Google ngram: Because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

Etymologists note that between the mid sixteenth and mid nineteenth centuries the word acedia was close to extinct and whether it was the revival of interest in the Romantic poets (often a glum lot) or the increasing number of women becoming novelists, there was in the late 1800s a revival with the term, once the preserve of theologians, re-purposed as a decorative literary word; in the “terrible twentieth century” there was much scope for use and it appears in the writings of Ian Fleming (1908–1964), Aldous Huxley (1894–1963) and Samuel Beckett (1906-1989).  Intriguingly, in The Decline and Fall of Nokia (2014), Finnish-based expatriate US writer David J Cord introduced the concept of corporate acedia, citing the phenomenon as one of the causes of the collapse of Nokia's once dominant mobile device unit.

Joan Didion (1934-2021) and cigarette with her Daytona Yellow (OEM code 984) 1969 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray (on the C2 Corvette (1963-1967) and in 1968 the spelling had been "Sting Ray”).  The monochrome image was from a photo-session commissioned in 1970 by Life magazine and shot by staff photographer Julian Wasser (1933-2023), outside the house she was renting on Franklin Avenue in the Hollywood Hills.  To great acclaim, her first work of non-fiction, Slouching Towards Bethlehem (1968), had just been published.

Writing mostly, in one way or another, about “feelings”, Joan Didion’s work appealed mostly to a female readership but when photographs were published of her posing with her bright yellow Corvette, among men presumably she gained some “street cred” although that might have evaporated had they learned it was later traded for a Volvo; adding insult to injury, it was a Volvo station wagon with all that implies.  She was later interviewed about the apparent incongruity between owner and machine and acknowledged the strangeness, commenting: “I very definitely remember buying the Stingray because it was a crazy thing to do.  I bought it in Hollywood.”  Craziness and Hollywood were then of course synonymous and a C3 Corvette (1968-1982) really was the ideal symbol of the America about which Ms Didion wrote, being loud, flashy, rendered in plastic and flawed yet underpinned by a solid, well-engineered foundation; the notion of the former detracting from the latter was theme in in her essays on the American experience.

A 1969 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray in Daytona Yellow.

Disillusioned, melancholic and clinical, Ms Didion’s literary oeuvre suited the moment because while obviously political it was also spiritual, a critique of what she called the “accidie” of the late 1960s, the moral torpor of those disappointed by what had followed the hope and optimism captured by “Camelot”, the White House of John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963).  In retrospect Camelot was illusory but that of course made real the disillusionment of Lyndon Johnson (LBJ, 1908–1973; US president 1963-1969) leading the people not to a “great society” but deeper into Vietnam.  Her essays were in the style of the “new journalism” and sometimes compared with those of her contemporary Susan Sontag (1933-2004) but the two differed in method, tone, ideological orientation and, debatably, expectation if not purpose.

Susan Sontag (1962), monochrome image by Village Voice staff photographer Fred McDarrah (1926–2007).

Ms Didion’s used accidie to describe a society which the troubled 1960s seemed to have bludgeoned into a state not of acquiescence but indifference, a moral exhaustion.  Her writings were observational (and, as she admitted, sometimes “embellished” for didactic purposes), sceptical and cool, her conception of the failure of contemporary politics a matter of describing the disconnect between rhetoric and reality, understanding the language of theatre criticism was as appropriate as that of the lexicon of political science.  In a sense, 'twas ever thus but Ms Didion captured the imagination by illustrating just how far from the moorings of reality the political spectacle of myth-making had drifted.  Ms Sontag’s tone was declarative and distinctly authoritative (in the way of second-wave feminism), tending often to the polemic and the sense was she was writing in opposition to a collective immorality, not the kind of moral indifference Ms Didion detected.  Both were students of their nation’s cultural pathology but one seemed more a palliative care specialist tending a patient in their dying days while the other offered a diagnosis and suggested a cure which, while not something to enjoy: "would be good for them".  While Ms Didion distrusted ideological certainty, Ms Sontag engaged explicitly with “isms”, not in the sense of one writing of the history of ideas but as a protagonist, using language in an attempt to shape political consciousness, the former a kind of secular moral theologian mourning a loss of coherence in American life while the latter was passionate and wrote often with a strident urgency, never losing the sense that whatever her criticisms, things could be fixed and there was hope.  The irony of being an author to some degree afflicted by the very accide she described in others was not lost on Ms Didion.

Susan Sontag, circa 1971, photographed by Jim Cartier.  The pop-art portrait of comrade Chairman Mao Zedong (1893–1976; chairman of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) 1949-1976) was a print of Roy Lichtenstein's (1923–1997) Mao (1971) which had been used as the cover for US author Frederic Tuten's (b 1936) novel The Adventures of Mao on the Long March (1971).  Ms Sontag had written a most favourable review of the book and the framed print was reputedly a gift.

Joan Didion with Corvette, another image from Julian Wasser’s 1970 photo-shoot.  The staging in this one is for feminists to ponder.

While a stretch to say that in trading-in the Corvette for a Volvo station wagon, Ms Didion was tracking the nation which had moved from Kennedy to Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974), it’s too tempting not to make.  Of the Corvette, she used the phrase: “I gave up on it”, later recounting: “the dealer was baffled” but denied the change was related to moving after eight years from Malibu to leafy, up-market suburban Brentwood.  While she “…needed a new car because with the Corvette something was always wrong…” she “…didn’t need a Volvo station wagon” although did concede: “Maybe it was the idea of moving into Brentwood.”  She should have persevered because as many an owner of a C3 Corvette understands, the faults and flaws are just part of the brutish charm.  Whether the car still exists isn't known; while Corvette's have a higher than average survival rate, their use on drag strips & race tracks as well as their attractiveness to males aged 17-25 has meant not a few suffered misadventure.

Joan Didion with Corvette, rendered as oil on canvas with yellow filter.

The configuration of her car seems not anywhere documented but a reasonable guess is it likely was ordered with the (base) 300 horsepower (hp) version (ZQ3) of the 350 cubic inch (5.7 litre) small-block V8, coupled with the Turbo-Hydramatic 400 (TH400) (M40) three-speed automatic transmission (the lighter TH350 wouldn't be used until 1976 by which time power outputs had fallen so much the robustness of the TH400 was no longer required).  When scanning the option list, although things like the side-mounted exhaust system (N14) or the 430 hp versions (the iron-block L88 & all aluminium ZL1, the power ratings of what were barely-disguised race car engines deliberately understated, the true output between 540-560 hp) of the 427 cubic inch (7.0 litre) big-block V8 would not have tempted Ms Didion, she may have ticked the box for the leather trim (available in six colors and the photos do suggest black (402 (but if vinyl the code was ZQ4)), air conditioning (C60), power steering (N40), power brakes (J50), power windows (A31) or an AM-FM radio (U69 and available also (at extra cost) with stereo (U79)).  Given she later traded-in the Corvette on a Volvo station wagon, presumably the speed warning indicator (U15) would have been thought superfluous but, living in Malibu, the alarm system (UA6) might have caught her eye.

An emo with 1977 Volvo 245 station wagon; if she had a Corvette to pose with she’d be smiling because Corvettes can make even emos happy.  This is Emma Myers (b 2002) as Pippa "Pip" Fitz-Amobi in A Good Girl's Guide to Murder (Netflix, 2024).

Quintessential symbols of France, Bridget Bardot (b 1934), Citroën La Déesse and a lit Gitanes.

The combination of a car, a woman with JBF and a cigarette continued to draw photographers even after smoking ceased to be glamorous and became a social crime.  First sold in 1910, Gitanes production in France survived two world wars, the Great Depression, Nazi occupation but the regime of Jacques Chirac (1932–2019; President of France 1995-2007) proved too much and, following the assault on tobacco by Brussels and Paris, in 2005 the factory in Lille was shuttered.  Although Gitanes (and the sister cigarette Gauloise) remain available in France, they are now shipped from Spain and while in most of the Western world fewer now smoke, Gitanes Blondes retain a cult following.

Emily Labowe with Mercedes-Benz 300 TD (S123), photographed by Kristin Gallegos.

An image like this illustrates why, even if no longer thought glamourous, smoking can still look sexy.  The 300 TD is finished in Manila Beige and for the W123 range Mercedes-Benz also offered the subdued Maple Yellow and the exuberant Sun Yellow which was as vivid as the Corvette's Daytona Yellow. 

No images seem to exist of Ms Didion with her Volvo station wagon but Laurel Canyon's Kristin Gallegos (b 1984) later followed Julian Wasser’s staging by photographing artist Emily Labowe (b 1993) with a Mercedes-Benz 300 TD station wagon and that once essential accessory: a cigarette.  One of the last of the “chrome Mercedes”, the W123 range was in production between 1975-1986 and the station wagon appeared in 1977 with the internal code S123 (only nerds use that and to the rest of the world they’re “W123 wagons”).  The designation was “T” (the very Germanic Tourismus und Transport (Touring and Transport)) or TD for the diesel-powered cars and the S123 was the company’s first station wagon to enter series production, previous such “long roof” models coming from coach-builders including many hearses & ambulances as well as station wagons.  The English still call station wagons "estates" (a clipping of "estate car") although a publication like Country Life probably still hankers after "shooting brake" and the most Prussian of the German style guides list the compound noun Kombinationskraftwagen which for decades has usually been clipped to the semi-formal Kombiwagen, (plural Kombiwagen or Kombiwägen) or, in general use: Kombi.

1978 Mercedes Benz 280 TE (S123).

That Mercedes-Benz in the mid-1970s decided their first station wagon in regular production should be a “T” (and understood as a Tourenwagen (touring car) rather than a “K” (ie Kombiwagen, the designation used by other manufacturers) reflected the prevailing German view of such cars.  Unlike the US where station wagons had long been emblematic of middle-class respectability (often as a family’s second car for the wife & mother) or England where the style enjoyed an association with the upper class HFS (huntin’, fishin’ & shootin’) set, to Germans the utilitarian long-roofs had a down-market image, bought only by those unable to afford separate vehicles for business & pleasure.  Coach-builders had of course used Mercedes-Benz saloons as the basis for station wagons, ambulances and hearses but these were always expensive and thus not tainted by association with thriftiness by necessity.  In their alphanumeric soup of model designations, Mercedes-Benz had previously used “K” to mean either Kompressor (supercharged) (eg 770 K) or Kurz  (short) (eg SSK) and other letters had also done double-duty, “L” standing for either Lang (long) (eg 500 SEL) or Licht (light) (eg SSKL) and “S” could mean both Super (300 SL) or Sports (300 SLR) so for the S123 “K” wasn’t avoided because of fears of confusing folk; it was just an image thing: "Don't mention the kombi".  That all changed in the 1980s when the Germans decided wagons were sexy after all, the high performance arms of Audi, BMW & Mercedes-Benz all producing some remarkably fast ones.   

Mercedes-Benz G4s: Gepäckwagen (baggage car, top left) & Funkauto (radio car, top right) and 300 Messwagen (bottom left) at speed on the test track, tethered to a W111 sedan (1959-1968, bottom right).

The factory did though over the decades build a handful including a brace of the three-axle G4s (W31, 1934-1939), one configured as a Gepäckwagen (baggage car), the other a Funkauto (radio car).  In 1960 there was also the Messwagen (measuring car), a kind of “rolling laboratory” from the era before technology allowed most testing to be emulated in software.  The capacious Messwagen was based on the W189 300 “Adenauer” (W186 & W189 1951-1962) and was then state of the art but by the 2020s, the capabilities of all the bulky equipment which filled the rear compartment could have been included in a single phone app.  Students of design will admire the mid-century modernism in the curve of the rear-side windows but might be surprised to learn the muscle car-like scoop on the roof is not an air-intake but an aperture housing ports for connecting the Messwagen’s electronic gear with the vehicle being monitored, the two closely driven in unison (often at high speed) on the test track while being linked with a few metres of cabling and although we now live in a wireless age, real nerds know often a cable is preferable, the old ways sometimes best.  The Messwagen remained in service until 1972 and is now on display at the factory’s museum in Stuttgart.   

1956 Mercedes-Benz 300c (W186 "Adenauer") Estate Car by Binz.

The factory's Messwagen wasn't the first use of the big W186/W189 for long-roof variants, hearses and ambulances having appeared in several European countries and there was at least one station wagon, proving consumption can be conspicuous yet still subtle, achieved usually if a bespoke creation is both expensive and functional.  The 300 saloons and four-door cabriolets were large, stately and beautifully built, the 1956 example pictured was delivered to a customer in the US who for whatever reason prized exclusivity over capacity or speed, all the major US manufacturers at the time offering station wagons able to accommodate more people and more more luggage while going much faster.  The 300 certainly would have delivered better fuel economy but that wouldn't have crossed the mind of the purchaser who would have been deterred from something like a Chrysler New Yorker or Ford Country Squire because they were, by comparison with her one-off, cheap and common whereas a custom built 300 “dripped money”; even to the uninformed they would obviously have been expensive and it was thus a classic "Veblen good" a quirk in the supply & demand curve of orthodox economics in that for a certain (ie the "1%") demographic demand for an item can increase as its price rises.  The car still exists, traded between collectors to be exhibited at concours d'elegance.

1957 Mercury Turnpike Cruiser (left), details of the apparatuses above the windscreen (centre) and the Breezeaway rear window lowered (right)

The 1957 Mercury Turnpike Cruiser was notable for (1) the truly memorable model name, (2) the “Breezeway" rear window which could be lowered and (3) having a truly bizarre assembly  of “features” above the windscreen.  There’s no suggestion that when fashioning the 300 Messwagen the engineers in Stuttgart were aware of the Turnpike Cruiser but had they looked, it could have provided an inspiration for the way access to ports in the roof could have been handled.  Unfortunately, the pair of “radio aerials” protruding from the pods at the top of the Mercury’s A-pillars were a mere affectation, a “jet-age” motif embellishing what were actually air-intakes.  They were though a harbinger of the way in which future “measuring vehicles” would be configured when various forms of wireless communication had advanced to the point at which a cable connection was no longer required.