Unrestricted

Unrestricted (pronounced uhn-ri-strik-tid)

(1) Not restricted or confined.

(2) In the classification of documents, having no security classification.

1766: The construct was un-+ restrict + -ed.  The un- prefix was from the Middle English un-, from the Old English un-, from the Proto-West Germanic un-, from the Proto-Germanic un-, from the primitive Indo-European n̥-.  It was cognate with the Scots un- & on-, the North Frisian ün-, the Saterland Frisian uun-, the West Frisian ûn- &  on-, the Dutch on-, the Low German un- & on-, the German un-, the Danish u-, the Swedish o-, the Norwegian u- and the Icelandic ó-.  It was (distantly) related to the Latin in- and the Ancient Greek ἀ- (a-), source of the English a-, the Modern Greek α- (a-) and the Sanskrit अ- (a-).  The verb restrict was in use by at least the 1530s in the sense of “to limit, bound, confine (someone or something), prevent from passing a certain limit in any kind of action” and was from the Latin restrictus, past participle of restringere (bind fast, restrain) and perfect passive participle of restringō (draw back tightly; restrain, restrict), the construct being re- (back, again) + stringō (press, tighten, compress); as an adjective, it was a doublet of ristretto. By the eighteenth century, the word had come to be regarded as a Scotticism but the infection spread quickly to Standard English.  As the past-participle adjective from restrict (in the sense of “limited, confined”), restricted has become associated with the classification of government documents, in the sense of “not for public release”, use seems not to have been routine until 1944 when a system of classification was codified by the US government.  Prior to that, although restrictions of distribution were common, concepts such as “Restricted to [names or designations]”, “Secret”, “Top Secret” etc were used but there was no standardization within departments or even between branches of the military.  When used as a suffix to form possessional adjectives from nouns, -ed was from the Middle English -ed, from the Old English -od (the adjectival suffix), from the Proto-Germanic -ōdaz, from the primitive Indo-European -ehtos.  It was cognate with the Latin -ātus. 

Glory road: A “Derestricted” sign in Australia's Northern Territory from the days of “no speed limits”.

In use, the older adjectival use was simply “restrict” and although “unrestricted” would seem an absolute (ie something either is restricted or it is not), dictionaries confirm the comparative is “more unrestricted” and the superlative “most unrestricted” although at least one style guide notes those forms can be regarded in a similar way as “very unique” (ie technically incorrect but widely used and well-understood.  The related adverb “restrictedly” was and remains rare.  In the US, well into the twentieth century, the appearance of the word “restricted” in advertisements, signage and such was verbal shorthand for (depending on context and location): “No Jews”, “No coloreds” etc.  Although the words “unrestricted” & “derestricted” describe similar states, different histories are implied and that’s a product of the ways in which the absence of restrictions came about.  Unrestricted means literally “no restrictions” (access to something or somewhere; rights to engage in trade etc).  “Derestricted” means that previously restrictions must have been imposed but those have since been removed.  The use applies to document classifications and in the now rare cases of roads with no speed limits (although some of those were something of a linguistic outlier because in many cases they never had any restrictions to be derestricted.  For obvious reasons, in English, “unrestricted” is the more commonly used form.  Unrestricted, unrestrictive & unrestrictable are adjectives, unrestrictedness is a noun and unrestrictedly is an adverb.

1978 Mercedes-Benz 450 SEL 6.9 on the Northern Territory's derestricted roads.  Top speed of UK-delivered “Euro spec” 6.9 (ie one not fitted with the power-sapping anti-emission devices fitted to those built for sale in the US or Australia) turned out to be a verified 237 km/h (147 mph) which reflected the experience of European testers who achieved 238 km/h (148) mph on the German Autobahns.  Unexceptional now, in 1978 such pace was a reasonable achievement for a heavy cruiser with pre-modern aerodynamics and at high-speed, the fuel consumption was awe inspiring.    

Idealistic lawyers (they do exist) and others have for centuries argued it is the existence of and adherence to laws which makes possible civilized societies, the alternative often expressed as “the law of the jungle”, best understood in the vernacular “kill or be killed” world in which life of man was “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short”, memorably described in Leviathan (1651) by the very clever and deliciously wicked English philosopher Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679).  However, what the lawyers, at least privately, acknowledge is the extent of adherence to laws closely is tied to (1) their enforcement and (2) a layered system of punishments for transgressions.  In domestic legal systems, this is comprehended as the apparatus extending from receiving a fine for overstaying one’s time at a parking meter to being hanged for murder; the existence of laws does not prevent crime but the perception of the chance of detection and the subsequent penalty for many operates as a deterrent and the debates about relationship between certain penalties and their deterrent effect continue.

Mahan's The Influence of Sea Power upon History 1660-1783.  In the last decade of the nineteenth century, probably no book was more read in palaces, chancelleries & admiralties.

In war, although usually the opposing sides have geo-political objectives, for those doing the fighting, historically the business was about killing each other and in practice that of course quickly and understandably came to imply “by whatever means possible” but for many centuries there have been conventions which form of “rules of war”, the most celebrated the various chivalric codes (codified during of the Middle Ages) which sought to regulate the behaviour of soldiers, particularly towards civilians.  However, as US Navy Captain Alfred Mahan (1840–1914) pointed out in the epoch-making The Influence of Sea Power upon History, 1660–1783 (1890), it’s impossible by mere agreement to outlaw the use of a militarily effective weapon so is it any more plausible for a statute, treaty or agreement to limit “mission creep” in the methods?  Whatever knightly codes may have existed, there seems little doubt that on the battlefield (or the towns subject to rape & pillage) habits do tend towards “unrestricted warfare”, military historians and legal theorists often pondering whether in “existential conflicts”, law reasonably can be expected to retain its intended force.

In what was a rhetorical flourish rather than a substantive legal point, in the dock before the IMT (International Military Tribunal) which in 1945-1946 sat in Nuremberg to try 22 of the surviving senior Nazis, Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945) claimed to be quoting Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) in citing: “In the struggle for life and death there is in the end no legality.”  Like William Shakespeare (1564–1616), a few phrases have been attributed to Churchill on the basis of “sounding Churchillian” and although there’s nothing in the record to support the case those exact words ever passed his lips, Göring’s paraphrase was not unreasonable.  After the fall of France in 1940, Churchill did make clear his view “there could be no justice if, in a mortal struggle, the aggressor tramples humanity while those resisting remain bound by violated conventions” by which he meant if the Nazis ignored international law, it was an absurdity for the Allies fully to remain constrained by it while fighting for their very survival.  Churchill was not advocating the rejection of established law as a principle; he was saying when a state faces the prospect of destruction at the hand of an enemy ignoring the accepted rules of war, strict legalism must not be allowed to prevent an effective defence.  That wasn’t a novel idea Churchill formed upon assuming the premiership.  Months earlier, when serving as First Lord of the Admiralty (minister for the navy), he’d discussed whether the UK should regard itself still restricted by the legal conventions Germany’s forces were ignoring: “The Germans have torn up the conventions and the usages of war.  We cannot allow ourselves to be bound by rules which the enemy does not observe if by doing so we place our country in mortal danger.”  While not exactly the words used by Göring in the dock, he captured the spirit of Churchill’s meaning.

Lindsay Lohan on the cover of Vogue Arabia, March 2026.  Among the topics raised in discussion about her not uneventful life was “…coming of age in the spotlight in a time of unrestricted paparazzi access and near-constant tabloid scrutiny.”

Of course on 15 March 1946, borrowing the thoughts of “…one of our greatest, most important, and toughest opponents…” to support his argument modern, industrial, total war had rendered irrelevant traditional legal restraints, he was still harbouring the (faint) hope he might escape the noose and thus has a good motive in seeking to undermine the moral authority of the tribunal by suggesting even Churchill had acknowledged that in existential war, legal rules collapse.  This was not the construction of legal theory in the abstract, just as Churchill was explaining the pragmatic nature of military necessity because as he pointed out: “without victory there is no survival” and were the UK unilaterally to obey the rules while its opponents did not, the nation might lose the war.  Neither man ever sought to maintain that in war laws vanish, only that as demanded in extraordinary and reprehensible circumstances, they may need to be ignored.  Essentially, Churchill was asserting he wasn’t prepared to behave with the propriety of Caesar’s wife while Göring cavorted with Caesar’s whores; with that the Reichmarshall would have agreed and although his hopes the tribunal might find his paraphrased defence exculpatory were by then faint indeed, he still had an eye on how he hoped to appear in the history books.  

The doctrine of military necessity of course dates from the first time some prehistoric character picked up a stick or rock to gain tactical advantage in an argument and despite the various codes of warfare promulgated over millennia by philosophers, priests and politicians, that doctrine survived into the age of musketry and later, atomic bombs.  It’s the Prussian general and military theorist Carl von Clausewitz (1780–1831) who often is quoted because, with his commendable economy of phrase, succinctly he explained why necessity so often prevails over legality in existential war.  In On War (1832), he observed “War is an act of force, and there is no logical limit to the application of that force” and, anticipating the idealists, added: “Kind-hearted people might of course think there was some ingenious way to disarm or defeat an enemy without too much bloodshed… Pleasant as it sounds, it is a fallacy.”  What Clausewitz called Kriegsräson (necessity in war) meant in practice was (1) war has an inherent tendency toward escalation, because each side must use whatever means are necessary to defeat the other and (2) “arms races” will tend to ensue.

Imperial Chancellor Theobald von Bethmann Hollweg in field uniform including the famous Prussian Pickelhaube (spiked helmet, the construct being Pickel (pimple, pickaxe) +‎ Haube (hood, cap)), Berlin, 1915.  Even when serving as chancellor (prime minister) von Bethmann Hollweg sometimes wore military uniform; Germans love uniforms (note the jackboots).

Later in the century, German military jurists expressed this logic through the principle Kriegsräson geht vor Kriegsmanier (military necessity overrides the customary rules of war) by which they meant the laws and customs of war could be followed only to the extent adherence did not impose an unacceptable military cost; if survival (and in practice: “immediate advantage”) demanded those rules be violated, necessity prevails.  What was at the time the most outrageous admission of the application of the doctrine came in 1914 after Germany violated Belgium’s neutrality and was delivered by Theobald von Bethmann Hollweg (1856–1921) who between 1909-1917 served as one of a series of inadequate replacements of Otto von Bismarck (1815-1989; chancellor of the German Empire (the “Second Reich”) 1871-1890); imperial chancellor of the German Empire 1909-1917).  In what must remain among the more ill-advised statements delivered by a politician, von Bethmann Hollweg on 4 August 1914 stood in the Reichstag (lower house of the imperial parliament) and explained to assembled members the German war-plan required the army marching Belgium to attack France and that Germany being a signatory to the Treaty of London (1839) which guaranteed Belgium’s neutrality had been rendered irrelevant by military necessity, the always quoted passage being: “We are violating international law, but necessity knows no law.”  Not all historians agree Realpolitik held a greater fascination for Germans than others but for students of the art, the chancellor’s speech appears in just about every text-book on the subject.  Warming to his theme, when the British ambassador to Germany protested the violation, von Bethmann Hollweg responded it would be an absurdity were Britain to go to war “just for a scrap of paper” (that scrap being the treaty the Germans had in 1839 signed as co-guarantors of Belgian neutrality).  That cynical turn of phrase was echoed a generation later when, under cross-examination in the dock at Nuremberg, Göring almost gloatingly admitted he and the other leading Nazis had regarded the many treaties they’d signed as “just so much toilet paper.”

Like many a defendant, the defrocked Reichmarshall was at times evasive or dissembling but on the matter of the regime’s attitude to treaties, he was truthful.  A highlight of the 50^th birthday celebration for Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Minister of Foreign Affairs of Nazi Germany 1938-1945) had been the presentation to the minister of a diamond-studded casket containing facsimiles of all the treaties he had signed during (his admittedly busy if not productive) tenure.  When one of his aides remarked that there were only “a few treaties we had not broken”, Ribbentrop was briefly uncertain how to react until he saw “…Hitler’s eyes filled with tears of laughter.”  It was said to be a good party which must have been welcome because by 1943 there wasn't much to celebrate in Berlin.  Like Göring, Ribbentrop, was convicted on all four counts (planning aggressive war, waging aggressive war, war crimes & crimes against humanity) and sentenced to be hanged; his life did end on the gallows, unlike Göring who, in circumstances never explained, cheated the hangman by taking poison.

Periscope cam: Footage of USN submarine strike on the Iranian Navy’s frigate IRIS Dena (released by the Pentagon (unclassified)).

One of the intriguing legal matters explored before the IMT was the matter of the lawfulness of “unrestricted submarine warfare” and those discussions were recalled when, early in March, 2026, the Pentagon announced a USN (US Navy) submarine had torpedoed and sunk the Iranian Navy’s IRIS Dena (a Moudge-class frigate) with the loss of more than half the ship’s compliment of 130-odd.  Pete Hegseth (b 1980; US Secretary of Defense (and War) since 2025) described the act as one of “quiet death” although that was a reference to the torpedo’s stealthy approach rather than the explosions which doomed ship and crew.  It was the USN’s first sinking of an enemy warship by torpedo since World War II (1939-1945) and because (1) the US and Iran undeniably are in a “state of armed conflict” (any legal distinction between that and “war” as traditionally defined ceasing decades earlier much to matter), (2) the Dena was a warship and (3) the action took place in international waters, the attack doubtlessly was within the rules of war and the reaction of Tehran in branding it an “atrocity at sea” was a political rather than legal claim.

Defendants in the dock, Nuremberg, 1946.  All were guilty of something but the IMT acquitted three who subsequently were prosecuted by German courts.

What however remains of interest is the recent change in tactics by the US which now uses military-level missiles to target and sink what appear to be civilian vessels from Central America, the White House claiming the boats are being used to smuggle narcotics.  When considering the lawfulness of “unrestricted submarine warfare”, the IMT in 1946 held that while international law did limit the conduct of navies in their interactions with non-military (ie merchant craft, fishing boats etc) vessels, because the British merchantmen were from the beginning of the war armed and captains had been ordered by the Admiralty to if possible ram U-boats, they were not entitled to the warning provisions of the protocol.  Beyond that, with reference to the failure on the part of German U-boat (submarine) commanders to rescue their shipwrecked victims, the tribunal observed:

“The evidence further shows that the rescue provisions [of the Protocol] were not carried out and that the defendant [Großadmiral Karl Dönitz (1891–1980; head of the German Navy 1943-1945, German head of state 1945)] ordered that they not be carried out.  The argument of the defense is that the security of the submarine is, as the first rule of the sea, paramount to rescue and that the development of aircraft made rescue impossible.  This may be so, but the Protocol is explicit.  If the commander cannot rescue, then under its terms he cannot sink a merchant vessel and should allow it to pass harmless before his periscope.  These orders, then, prove Doenitz is guilty of a violation of the Protocol.”  Had the judgement at that point ended the legal position would have been clear in that having at least tacitly conceded the defense’s point that rescue was no longer practicable in light of the limitations of the submarine and modern technological developments, the use of submarines as commerce destroyers would have been deemed against international law.  However Doenitz’s counsel introduced evidence (including affidavits from Allied admirals) that the USN & Royal Navy had from the outbreak of hostilities also practiced the “unrestricted submarine warfare” of which the Germans were being accused and this was not a classic Tu quoque gambit (in international law, a justification of action based on an assertion that the act with which the accused is charged was also committed by the accusing parties.  It was from the Latin Tū quoque (translated literally as “thou also” and latterly as “you also”; the translation in the vernacular is something like “you did it too”, thus the legal slang “youtooism” & “whataboutyouism”)).  What counsel argued was that in practicing “unrestricted submarine warfare”, all navies were acting in accordance with international law because such law makes sense only if it is cognizant of the prevailing circumstances (ie reality).  The IMT’s judgement in the Doenitz case was difficult to read (it was only later it was revealed to have been written by a judge who voted for his acquittal) but what it said was (1) the defendant had violated the protocols which were the rules of international law as they at the time stood but (2) the nature of total war had so changed the reality of war at sea that those protocols were no longer law, rendered obsolete and thus defunct.  That was as close as the tribunal came to allowing a tu quoque defense.

Unclassified footage released by the Pentagon of one of dozens of strikes on alleged “narco-terrorist” boats by US Southern Command.  The video included a message from Secretary of War Pete Hegseth: “TO ALL NARCO-TERRORISTS WHO THREATEN OUT HOMELAND - IF YOU WANT TO STAY ALIVE, STOP TRAFFICKING DRUGS.”  As far as is known, in all cases of these strikes, all on board the boats were killed.

So, while the US military (and for this purpose that includes the Coast Guard, National Guard etc) have a free hand to attack on the high seas warships of a hostile combatant, does the doctrine of “unrestricted warfare” extend to civilian vessels allegedly being used for unlawful activities?  Legal scholars have explored this novel development (something genuinely new and introduced during the second administration of Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025)) and the consensus seems to be sinking manned civilian vessel with missiles as an instance in peacetime law enforcement is of dubious legality unless strict conditions are met.  The first thing to consider is whether it’s a matter of (1) peacetime law enforcement in international waters (something governed by the UNCLOS (United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea)), customary international law and any bilateral interdiction agreements and thus a criminal matter rather than an act of war or (2) armed conflict at sea (and thus coming under the laws of naval warfare) which depends of a “state of armed conflict” existing between sovereign states.

However, whichever is held to be operative, as a general principle, civilian vessels are protected from missile attacks and enjoy freedom of navigation (certainly on the high seas); forces from warships may board, inspect, and arrest, but not arbitrarily destroy and under the UNCLOS there are explicit provisions under which a warship can stop a vessel suspected of statelessness or certain crimes but use of force must be necessary and proportionate.  Conceptionally, the notion of “proportionality” is little different from what is the domestic law of many states concerning matters such as self-defense: (1) there is no reasonable alternative and (2) force must not exceed what is needed to achieve a lawful objective.  Because these are events happening “on the water” there are also “graduations” in the use of force which are unique to the nautical environment including signals and warnings, maneuvering to compel a stop, warning shots (the classic “shot across the bows”) and disabling fire.  When civilian vessels are involved, historically, only in extremis (presenting a clear & present threat) would lethal force be deemed appropriate.  In other words, using missiles, without warning, to sink a civilian vessel would, in the context of law enforcement, be thought “disproportionate” especially if the crew’s lives are put at serious risk (inherent in missile attacks).  That’s all based on the precept that whether on land or at sea, states are expected to respect the right to life under international human rights law.  Because the adoption of this technique was so sudden, legal theorists are still working through the implications but it would appear an extension of the concept of “unrestricted warfare” beyond military targets.

Birdcage

Birdcage (pronounced burd-keyj)

(1) A cage for confining birds (built traditionally with wire or wicker and used also as bird cage & bird-cage).

(2) Something that in form (at any scale) resembles (even vaguely) the construction of a birdcage.

(3) In aviation industry slang, the airspace over an airport and the aircraft there in flight.

(4) An area on a racecourse where horses parade before a race (“paddock” preferred in US use).

(5) In US slang, a used-car lot (now rare).

1480–1490: The construct was bird + cage.  Bird was a pre-900 form, from the Middle English byrd, from the Old English bridd & brid (which in the Northumbrian dialect was “bird”) (young bird, chick; feathered, warm-blooded vertebrate animal of the class Aves).  The Old English bird was an unusual collateral form of bridd and originally meant “young bird, nestling” whereas the typical Old English for bird was fugol, related to the noun fowl, of uncertain origin with no known cognates in any other Germanic language (speculated links to umlaut dismissed by etymologists).  Because birds are a creature doubtlessly noticed and in some form named by people since the early days of human evolution, it’s not surprising it believed variants in Middle English may go back to “an ancient period”.  From the early to mid-fourteenth century, “bird” increasingly supplanted “fowl” as the most common term.

Cage dates from 1175–1225 and was from the Middle English cage (and the earlier forms kage & gage), from the Old French cage (prison; retreat, hideout), from the Latin cavea (hollow place, enclosure for animals, coop, hive, stall, dungeon, spectators' seats in a theatre), the construct being cav(us) (hollow) + -ea, the feminine of -eus (the adjectival suffix); a doublet of cadge and related to jail.  The Latin cavea was the source also of the Italian gabbia (basket for fowls, coop).  The noun (box-like receptacle or enclosure, with open spaces, made of wires, reeds etc) typically described the barred-boxes used for confining domesticated birds or wild beasts was the first form and from circa 1300 was used in English to describe “a cage for prisoners, jail, prison, a cell”.  To “rattle someone's cage” is to upset or anger them, based on the reaction from imprisoned creatures (human & animal) to the noise made by shaking their cages.  The noun bird-cage (also birdcage) was in the late fifteenth century formed to describe a "portable enclosure for birds", as distinct from the static cages which came to be called aviaries.  The verb (to confine in a cage, to shut up or confine) dates from the 1570s and was derived from the noun.  The synonyms for the verb include crate, enclosure, jail, pen, coop up, corral, fold, mew, pinfold, pound, confine, enclose, envelop, hem, immure, impound, imprison, incarcerate, restrain & close-in.  Cage is a noun, verb and (occasional) adjective, caged & caging are verbs (used with object) and constructions include cage-less, cage-like, re-cage; the noun plural is cages.  Birdcage is a noun; the noun plural is birdcages.

The term gilded cage (often heard in the form “trapped in a gilded cage” describes a place (or situation) which superficially is attractive but is in some way constraining; a comfortable but confined situation.  The point of the “gilded cage” is the “effective confinement” is achieved not by the “cage” but by the unwillingness of the confined to relinquish the luxury of their “gilded lifestyle”; it’s thus a self-imposed “imprisonment”, certain comfort valued more than the uncertainties of freedom.  The term is thought to have been coined by the writers of the popular song A Bird in a Gilded Cage (1900).  History (some of it recent) is littered with examples of those “trapped in a gilded cage” and overwhelming they’re well-bred women, compelled for various reasons (dynastic, financial, political etc) to marry someone not of their choice.  A classic example of the adage “for everything you do there’s a price to be paid”, the best documented are the most miserable but the phenomenon is an illustration of the way what ultimately matters is not the situation in which one finds oneself but how one reacts.

Consuelo Vanderbilt (circa 1900), oil on canvas by Paul César Helleu (1859–1927).

Consuelo Vanderbilt (1877-1964) was the most illustrious of the American “dollar princesses” who crossed the Atlantic to marry increasingly impoverished members of the British aristocracy.  Unhappily (and tearfully), aged 18, she became Duchess of Marlborough, diligently and dutifully (for a while) fulfilling the role her father’s money had purchased.  The French painter Paul César Helleu was noted for his portraits of society women of the Belle Époque and, working on commission, he was not above flattery but there’s no doubt he captured the beauty of the slender Consuelo and they may have had had an affair, a diversion not uncommon among dollar princesses chaffing against the bars of their gilded cage.  While in the history texts most in gilded cages are there because they led tortured, unhappy lives, there were some who resolved to “make the best of things” and just try to enjoy the gild: taking the rough with the smooth as it were.  F Scott Fitzgerald (1896–1940) in The Great Gatsby (1925) described Daisy Buchanan as a “golden girl” who had opted for the security of marrying money and was thus consigned to life as a “beautiful little fool” in a “gilded cage of class and gender politics.”  There are worse ways to live and as George Bernard Shaw (GBS; 1856-1950) observed, while money may not buy happiness, surely it is better to be miserable and rich than miserable and poor.   

Lindsay Lohan in The Birdcage, Flemington Racecourse, Melbourne, Victoria, Spring Carnival Derby Day, 2 November, 2019.

The origin of the curious use of “birdcage” to describe the enclosed area where horses are saddled and walked before and after a race lies in an architectural analogy, the space enclosed traditionally by light iron railings, often decorative, painted white and closely spaced.  Spectators standing beyond the perimeter looked at the horses, much as one looks at birds inside an aviary; the metaphor thus “perspectival”.  In truth, the usually the circular or polygonal enclosure didn’t really resemble a large ornamental cage but the construction of the ironwork did recall the sides of a “birdcage” although obviously there was no need exactly to replicate the design, horses being unable, Pegasus-like, to “fly away”.  The term remains in common use in the UK, Australia and New Zealand where it had become part of the “social scene” of race days, the photographs published on society pages or Instagram often taken from “the birdcage”; at some tracks the spectator area has been remodelled for exactly that purpose with appropriate promotional backdrops.  In North America, used of “birdcage” in this context is rare, “paddock” the preferred term.

A similar linguistic adaptation was the “bullpen” (in baseball, an enclosed area for pitchers to practice in or “warm up”), the word possibly borrowed from rodeos where it literally was the (well-fenced) holding area for bulls.  In baseball, “bullpen” became a collective noun for pitchers and functioned as a synecdoche.  From the sport, it spread and came to be used figuratively to describe (1) “a place for someone or something to get prepared for some purpose” and (2) a military prison or its enclosing stockade.  Some decades after bullpen entered the vernacular of the sport, leagues were formed for women’s baseball and although in ranching the term “cowpen” (fenced area for holding cows) was well-known, baseball sensibly decided its nomenclature etymologically was detached from biological sex so assembled female pitchers also warmed-up in a bullpen and despite a recent trend towards gender-neutrality in sporting terminology, “bullpen” survived as fossilized baseball jargon.  Linguistically uncontroversial in the sport was “birdcage mask” which was the protective mask worn by catchers, the “birdcage element” referring to the thick wire structure protecting the face while still permitting adequate vision.

Lindsay Lohan (birdcage scene), Rumors (Official Music Video) from Speak (2004).

The origin of the use in baseball is contested although all seem to agree it came into use very early in the twentieth century.  One explanation is that by then it had become common for late-coming spectators to be cordoned off in a “standing room” area in “foul territory” (to the sides of the field where any ball hit was deemed “out of bounds”) and, noting the laggards were “herded like cattle”, “bullpen” was borrowed from the rodeo.  When those areas were re-purposed as the pitchers warm-up space, the designation stuck and the notion relief pitchers were once viewed “bullish” in temperament is thought one of baseball’s many myths.  An alternative theory is the use was at least influenced by the outfield fences at baseball grounds once often displaying advertisements for Bull Durham tobacco and in front of these relief pitchers would wait to be called into play and the use was thus associated with the billboards but for this there’s no documentary evidence. 

The Berghof, circa 1940.

By definition, a birdcage is of course “something in which one keeps one’s pet bird” but they can be also, certainly in their more elaborate forms, a decorative piece of furniture, a symbol of domesticity in the same way George Orwell (1903-1950) in Keep the Aspidistra Flying (1936) used the Aspidistra plant as an identifier of the middle-class though in fairness to the reputation of the perennial herbaceous plant, their popularity in English houses owed much to them being among the species most tolerant of the sometimes smoky atmosphere in an era when coal and wood burned on open fireplaces was a common form of heating.  They were thus an ideal house plant, being tolerant of neglect and suited to shade while their luxuriant growth meant they were effective oxygenators of air high in CO₂.  

Art Nouveau brass birdcage on conforming tripod stand.  The piece featured a domed tops, lift-out trays, swing perch and two small bird-seed feeders.

Tough, the Aspidistra wasn’t exactly “unkillable” but one really had to try and the plants thus were for generations something of a middle class fixture; it was in this sense Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945), in his (sometimes reliable) memoir Erinnerungen (Memories or Reminiscences) and published in English as Inside the Third Reich (1969) noted the birdcage in Adolf Hitler’s (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) country house, some years before it was enlarged in the sprawling complex centred on the Berghof:  “After Berchtesgaden came the steep mountain road full of potholes, until we arrived at Hitler's small, pleasant wooden house on Obersalzberg.  It had a wide overhanging roof and modest interior: a dining room, a small living room, and three bedrooms. The furniture was bogus old-German peasant style and gave the house a comfortable petit-bourgeois look.  A brass canary cage, a cactus, and a rubber plant intensified this impression. There were swastikas on knickknacks and pillows embroidered by admiring women, combined with, say, a rising sun or a vow of ‘eternal loyalty.’  Hitler commented to me with some embarrassment: ‘I know these are not beautiful things, but many of them are presents.  I shouldn't like to part with them.’”  Speer made no mention of a canary or any other bird sitting in the cage and nor is there a reference in contemporary accounts; that is in keeping with Hitler’s known views on how animals should be treated and while his attitudes to humanity proved reprehensible, those on wildlife were quite enlightened.

Art Deco birdcage.

Although there’s obviously some functional overlap, as well as birdcages, there are birdhouses, coops, aviaries, pigeon lofts.  A birdhouse is a “small house” for birds (and known also as a nest box).  Made usually of wood and mounted somewhere the residents will be protected from ground-dwelling predators, birdhouses are outdoor structures designed not to imprison wild birds but provide them a shelter where they can build nests.  A coop (in this context) is a place where birds are kept but while a birdcage is for a household pet, a coup is for productive (egg-laying and sometimes feathers or meat) birds and are enclosures built outside, partially enclosed (“chicken coops” the best known).  The word aviary has a wide vista and can be anything from a relatively small structure housing two or more birds to vast zoo-like areas in which there may be a mix of captive and wild creatures.  A pigeon loft (known also as a dovecote) is a specialized type of birdhouse, often placed on a building’s roof or other elevated spot in which domestic pigeons are bred and housed, usually for use in the sport of pigeon racing; the element “loft” tends to be used irrespective of the location of the structure.  A synonym was columbarium, from the Latin columbārium, the construct being columb(a) (pigeon) +‎ -ārium (place for) and because the sport became popular among the aristocracy of the Ancien Régime (circa 1500-1789) in France, the construction of columbaria because something of a contest (al la the “size race” in luxury yachts between today’s billionaires) and architects were engaged to design large, elaborate structures, sometimes emulating the style of the owner’s chateau.

C3 Corvette T-Top birdcage.

From its debut in 1953, the Chevrolet Corvette’s body has always been made from non-steel composite materials ranging from simple GRP (glass-reinforced plastic and better known as fiberglass) to materials of increasing complexity so rust has never afflicted the external panels but beneath all those curves and angels is much vulnerable including the frame and “birdcage”, that latter an object of veneration or despair, depending on its condition.  A crucial component in the overall strength and structure of a Corvette, the birdcage was first integrated into the design when the C2 (1962-1967) was released and the same concept was used for the C3 (1968-1982): a reinforced frame surrounding the cabin, the nickname from the overall shape which vaguely recalled a birdcage.  Similar in outline to the “safety cell” for which Mercedes-Benz was in 1952 granted Patent 854157 (rigid passenger cell with front and rear crumple zones), the birdcage consisted of boxed steel channels with pillars running from the base of the windshield (A-pillars), along the rear of the cabin, and down to the frame kick-up behind the seats.  Although not really a complex piece of engineering, the fact that so integral to the car is the structure, for extensive repairs to be performed considerable disassembly is required and the cost of out-sourcing such a task often can exceed the value of the car; economics thus suggest it’s usually advisable to find a car with birdcage in sound condition, repairs often financially viable only if the car is rare (ie with a highly desirable specification or even a celebrity association).  A visual inspection is best left to experts because unless it has just emerged from a comprehensive restoration, all C2 & C3 Corvettes will have at least some light, surface rust but it can take an expert eye to tell the difference between that and rot which demands attention.  Fortunately, the Corvette community is vibrant with publications and on-line guides detailing the features & foibles of the birdcage.

Troubled birdcage: Rusted C3 windshield frame left-lower outer corner (left) and a replacement corner component (1968-1972) @ US$199.00 from Corvette Central.

On both the C2 & C3, there were two variants of the design, one for the coupe (T-top in the C3) and the one for the roadster (the last such C3 made in 1975) but all shared the susceptibility to rust, especially if used in areas with high salt-exposure (coastal regions or places where the stuff was spread on icy roads) and the part most often affected severely was the “Windshield Frame Lower Outer Corners”, replacement sections available and in two different versions for the C3, reflecting the design changes in the post 1973 cars.  However, while the birdcage's most afflicted components, the windshield frame’s outer corners are not unique and the hinge pillars & lock pillars (including the body mount at the bottom) also are notably rust-prone.

C4 Corvette structure diagram from Mobile Web-Cars.

The C4’s (1984-1996) “birdcage” was a bit of a gray area because although routines still is used, materially and structurally it was quite different from the classic template set by the C2 & C3.  What was carried over was welded steel structure surrounding the windshield frame, A-pillars, roof rails, B-pillars and rear window frame which created a defined passenger safety cell distinct from the outer composite body panels so it seems reasonable still to use the term but the C4 did not have a “stand-alone” frame onto which the body was mounted, the “birdcage” being an integral part of the frame.  There were a number of design imperatives which dictated the path chosen for the C4 and it was built with a uniframe in which front and rear frame sections were integrated, thereby providing greater rigidity so no longer was the “birdcage” a kind of bolted-on” internal scaffold but an inherent part of the whole.  The C4 was the last Corvette in which something recognizably “birdcagesque” would appear.

Chevrolet’s technical rendering of the C8’s structure.  In engineering, materials science and computing, much has advanced since 1962.

However, the structural integrity the birdcage in 1962 provided needed still to be achieved but the “brute-force” approach of the C2-C3-C4 era was replaced with more advanced techniques and by the time the mid-engined C8 was released in 2019, the platform structurally would have been unrecognizable to anyone familiar with the earlier generations.  The C8 is built around a core element (the so-called “backbone” or “spine”) which can be visualized as a large aluminum tunnel running down the centre of the car and from this the chassis gains its primary torsional stiffness.  The body panels are almost all non-structural and while there is (as is now universal) a reinforced “safety cell” around the cabin, this is protection of occupants in the event of an “impact incident” (better known as a “crash”).

The Birdcage: The Maserati Tipo 60/61 (chassis #2549, clothed & exposed).

Upon released in late 1962, the structure in the C2 Corvette gained the nickname “birdcage” because of the shape but before that, there was the Maserati “Birdcage”, the Tipo 60/61 (1959-1961) so dubbed because it departed from the typical approach of those building space fames in that instead of relatively few, thick tubes and sections, Maserati used many more but they were slender.  Observers were much taken with the apparent delicacy of the construction and although the engineers assured all the intricate latticework of some 200 chromoly steel tubes (welded often in triangulated form in the points of highest stress) was a design delivering both lightness and rigidity to match the more robust-looking creations.  Those admiring the intricacy were struck more by the resemblance to the thin wires of birdcages.  

Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR (W196S, upper) & 300 SL (W198, lower).

One of the reasons the Maserati’s skeleton looked so delicate was that the space-frame had become associated with Teutonic-flavored construction like that used by Mercedes-Benz for its 300 SL & 300 SLR.  Both shared the same method of construction but despite the names and the visual similarity between the two, there were few common components beyond the nuts, bolts & screws.  The 300 SL (W198; 1954-1963) was a road car while the SLR (W196S; 1955) was a lengthened version of the W196R Formula One Grand Prix car with a sexy body and an enlarged (though somewhat detuned) straight-eight engine; in the sport, it would be the last of the straight-8s.

Scale model of Maserati Typo 60/61 Birdcage by CMC.

The final and most remarkable Maserati birdcage was Tipo 63 Birdcage which featured a mid-mounted 3.0 litre V12.  The Tipo 60 & 61 used front-mounted four-cylinder engines in displacements of 2.0 & 2.9 litres and although there were problems which never wholly were solved (although the reliability did over time improved), the platform enjoyed some success because its forgiving nature lent it excellent handling characteristics and in long-distance events, the lack of power was somewhat offset by the modest fuel consumption and relative low tyre wear, time not spent in the pits as valuable as seconds shaved off lap-times.  Unlike some of its competitors, Maserati did not have the financial resources to “keep up with the times” and develop from scratch a mid-engined sports car so the factory took the approach familiar to many an American engineer and hot-rodder: put in a bigger engine.

1961 Maserati Birdcage Typo 63.  Although installing the V12 didn’t realize the hope-for success, the car will always have a place in the annals of “great moments in exhaust systems”.

Actually, the V12 wasn’t that much bigger than the largest of the four cylinder units used but, with a pedigree beginning with a brief (though unsuccessful) career in the Maserati 250F Grand Prix car, it certainly delivered more power.  Because it was a “relatively” simple matter of blending an existing engine and existing platform, the project quickly was accomplished and Maserati had a mid-engined car on the grid before anyone else and one which could top 305 km/h (190 mph) on long straights.  Unfortunately, placing the big lump of a V12 to the rear upset the Birdcages’s fine balance although one did place fourth in the 1961 Le Mans 24 Hours endurance classic (a place where a 190 mph top speed was unusually valuable), a result which proved to be the marque’s high-water mark in the famous event.

Hang

Hang (pronounced hang)

(1) To fasten or attach a thing so that it is supported only from above or at a point near its own top; to attach or suspend so as to allow free movement.

(2) To place in position or fasten so as to allow easy or ready movement.

(3) To put to death by suspending by the neck from a gallows, gibbet, yardarm, or the like; to suspend (oneself) by the neck until dead.

(4) To fasten to a cross; crucify.

(5) To furnish or decorate with something suspended.

(6) In fine art, to exhibit a painting or group of paintings.

(7) To attach or annex as an addition.

(8) In building, to attach (a door or the like) to its frame by means of hinges.

(9) To make an idea, form etc dependent on a situation, structure, concept, or the like, usually derived from another source.

(10) As hung jury, hung parliament etc, where deliberative body is unable to achieve a majority verdict in a vote.

(11) In informal use, to cause a nickname, epithet etc to become associated with a person

(12) In nautical use, to steady (a boat) in one place against a wind or current by thrusting a pole or the like into the bottom under the boat and allowing the wind or current to push the boat side-on against the pole.

(13) To incline downward, jut out, or lean over or forward.

(14) To linger, remain, or persist; to float or hover in the air.

(15) In informal use (to get the hang of), the precise manner of doing, using, etc, something; knack.

(16) In computing, as “to hang”, usually a synonym for “freeze”.  Nerds insist a hang refers only to a loss of control by manual input devices (mouse; keyboard etc) while the machine remains responsive to remote control whereas a freeze is a total lock-up.

(18) In chess (transitive) to cause a piece to become vulnerable to capture and (intransitive) to be vulnerable to capture.

(19) As “hang up”, to end a phone call, a use which has continued even though many phone handsets no longer physically “hang up”.

Pre 900:  A fusion of three verbs: (1) the Middle English and Old English hōn (to hang; be hanging) (transitive), cognate with the Gothic hāhan (originally haghan); (2) the Middle English hang(i)en & Old English hangian (to hang) (intransitive), cognate with the German hangen; and (3) the Middle English henge from the Old Norse hanga & hengja (suspend) (transitive), cognate with the German hängen & hangēn (to hang).  The ultimate source of all forms was the Proto-Germanic hanhaną (related to the Dutch hangen, the Low German hangen & hängen, the German hängen, the Norwegian Bokmål henge & Norwegian Nynorsk henga), root being the primitive Indo-European ḱenk- (to waver, be in suspense).  Etymologists compare the evolution with the Gothic hāhan, the Hittite gang- (to hang), the Sanskrit शङ्कते (śáṅkate) (is in doubt; hesitates), the Albanian çengë (a hook) and the Latin cunctari (to delay).  From the Latin cunctari, Modern English retains the very useful cunctator (a procrastinator; one who delays).  Hang is a noun & verb, hangman, hanger & hangee are nouns, hanging is a noun, verb & adjective, hanged is a verb & adjective; the noun plural is hangs.  In practice, while it's correct to say someone executed is “the hangee”, the usual practice is to refer to them as “the hanged” and in the case of multiple, simultaneous hangings, depending on the sentence structure it can correct to say “the hanging” or “the hangings” (if referencing the event) or “the hanged" (if referring to the unfortunate individuals).

Past tense: hung and hanged

Hang has two forms for past tense and past participle, “hanged” and “hung”.  The older form hanged is now used exclusively in the sense of putting to death on the gallows by means of a lawful execution, sanctioned by the state.  Even in places where capital punishment is no longer used, it remains the correct word to use in its historical context.  There are two forms because the word “hang” came from two different verbs in Old English (with a relationship to one from Old Norse).  One of these Old English verbs was considered a regular verb and this gave rise to “hanged”; the other was irregular, and ended up as “hung”.  Hanged and hung were used interchangeably for hundreds of years but over time, hung became the more common.  Hanged retained its position when used to refer to death by hanging because it became fossilized in both statute and common law; it thus escaped the development of Modern English which tended increasingly to simplified forms.  Even the familiar phrase hung, drawn and quartered originally used “hanged”, a change reflecting popular use.  The only novel variation to emerge in recent years has been to use hanged to describe executions ordered by a state and hung when referring to suicides by hanging although this remains still a trend rather than an accepted convention of use.  Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) held it wasn't necessarily erroneous to use "hung" in the case of executions but in standard English it was certainly less customary although most style guides acknowledge the distinction still exists while noting the use of hung is both widespread and tolerated.  The consensus seems to be it’s best to follow the old practice but not get too hung up about it.

Portraits: hung and not hung

A tourist admiring a piece of (very) modern art, hung in the Louvre, Paris, 22 February, 2026.

Works of art being stolen from art galleries is a not uncommon crime and such acts tend now to receive wide coverage only if what was taken was worth millions, in some way interesting or the execution of the heist was especially audacious, as recently was the case in a well-planned operation at the Louvre.  However, smuggling something into a gallery to be hung is unusual and on 22 February, 2026, briefly, the Louvre gained an exhibit, a framed copy of the now famous image of a seemingly stunned Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor (b 1960, formerly Prince Andrew, Duke of York, Admiral etc) slumped in the back seat of a police car after his arrest in connection with matters relating to his relationship with Jeffrey Epstein (1953–2019).  The cunning stunt was organized by the “anti-billionaire” activist group “Everyone Hates Elon” which, emulating the gallery’s protocols, placed a label beneath the hung image reading, “He’s Sweating Now — 2026” and the group later posted on-line that the display was intended as “a call for accountability”.  According to press reports, photograph and caption remained hung “for about 15 minutes” before being removed by museum staff.  Everyone Hates Elon is a UK-based collective devoted to political campaigns using the modern techniques of the social media age.  It was formed in 2025 explicitly to oppose businessman Elon Musk (b 1971), prompted by his (possibly ill-conceived) involvement in politics as an advisor to Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) although its remit quickly extend to other billionaires and such.  In any other context, Mr Mountbatten Windsor might have seen the humor in what students of Andy Warhol (1928–1987) would have labelled “15 minutes of fame from being 15 minutes in a frame” but it’s doubtful he laughed.  The “He’s Sweating Now” text was a reference to the “train-wreck” of an interview the then prince/duke/admiral etc in 2019 agreed (against professional advice) to undertake for the BBC’s Newsnight programme, one memorable assertion being his claim that for some physiological reason he was at the time “couldn’t sweat” and thus his accuser (Virginia Giuffre (1983-2025)) was lying when she said she'd seen him perspire while both were in nightclub.  More men have talked themselves into difficulties than have ever talked their way out of them.

The photograph of Mr Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, while under arrest.  Analysts of such things suggest that, aware of the photographers, he was attempting to "make himself invisible to their lens".

The instantly famous image of a seemingly stunned former prince slumped in the back seat of a police car after his arrest was snapped by Reuters staff photographer Phil Noble who gleefully admitted capturing the moment was “more luck than judgement” and a case of being “in the right place, at the right time”.  Like the “blood shot” & “bullet shot” taken by Doug Mills in Butler, Pennsylvania on 13 July 2024 when an assassin’s bullet grazed right ear of Donald Trump, had either photographer been standing even a few inches to the left or right or had pressed the button a second earlier or later, the moment would have been missed.  As Mr Noble put it: “The photo gods were on my side.  Is it the best photo I've ever taken?  No.  Is it up there with most important? 100%.”  Digital technology also did its bit, six images shot in rapid succession, two of which showed only police officers, two proved blank and one was out of focus, none of which mattered because the one that went around the work was about as perfect as a news-photo can be.  Although publications routinely use software to “edit out” the “red eye effect” (caused by a reflection from the camera’s flash), on this occasion it was left untouched, better to capture the immediacy of the moment when the former prince's thoughts may have been focused on the fate of Charles I (1600–1649; King of England, Scotland & Ireland 1625-1649).

Hangman the game.

Both played for fun and used as an educational tool for children, Hangman is a guessing game in which letters or numbers are chosen to enable a word, name or phrase to be completed.  Originally for two or more players, one charm of the game is it demands nothing more than pencil & paper although there are now electronic versions suitable for single-user play.  In Hangman, one player draws on the paper dashes (and, if need be, spaces) which correspond with the word or phrase and the other(s) tries to guess it by suggesting letters or numbers within a certain number of guesses.  In its simplest form, six guesses are allowed, corresponding to the six body parts of the stick figure to be hanged (1 x head, 1 x torso, 2 x arms & 2 x legs) with those parts drawn on the gallows with each wrong guess.  To make it easier to solve or when long, obscure or complex text is used, other body parts (feet, hands, ears etc) and even the elements of the gallows can be added.  Perhaps surprisingly in these more sensitive times, Hangman hasn’t be cancelled and is still widely played although it's recommended by some that if used with young children, the alternative version “Snowman” might be a better choice, the rules exactly the same.

Mandy in underpants (presumably his but who knows?).  There is no suggestion Mandy engaged in inappropriate or improper conduct with this unidentified young lady.

When, particularly with younger children, Hangman is used as an educational tool, it can be helpful at certain points in the game to provide a clue and for the example above one might furnish the photograph from the Epstein files of Lord Peter “Mandy” Mandelson (b 1953) in his underpants, speaking with an unidentified woman.  The photograph was taken in the New York apartment of convicted paedophile sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein and when asked about the image, his lordship responded by saying he “did not recall” the circumstances.  Some were uncharitably cynical about that (lack of) recollection but it does seem plausible given (1) Mandy doubtless spent much time wandering Epstein’s apartment while in his underpants and (2) because Epstein had so many “acquaintances”, Mandy could hardly be expected to remember them all.

Most politicians, usually by virtue of uninterest, leave the arts to others but there are exceptions and while Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) wasn't unique among politicians in regarding himself as “an artist” he was untypical and his credentials were reasonable because in pre-World War I (1914-1918) Vienna he’d earned a modest living as a painter of the streetscapes in which there’s now a somewhat controversial trade.  Critics seem prepared to concede Hitler was a competent artist when depicting buildings and even the natural environment but all concurred with the examiners who denied him entry to art school on the basis he had not enough talent to handle the human form, a judgment some historians, political scientists and amateur psychoanalysts have over the years mapped onto his political career.  With that, even he may have agreed because the people in his paintings are almost always small, un-detailed blotches, there merely to lend scale to the buildings which were his real love but, after taking power in 1933, he didn’t let that stop him establishing himself as the Reich’s chief art critic and he’d judge portraiture as harshly as any landscape.  He certainly thought an “artistic temperament” was vital for a politician to achieve greatness, rejecting the idea of Heinrich Himmler (1900–1945; Reichsführer SS 1929-1945) succeeding him as Führer because the head of the SS was “totally unartistic” and it was Hitler’s self-identification as “an artist” which in the first decade of his rule protected many painters, sculptors and others from persecution.  In his clandestine prison diary (Spandauer Tagebücher (Spandau: The Secret Diaries) (1975)) Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) noted that for Hitler their political views were “…a matter of supreme indifference…” because “…he regarded them one and all as politically feeble-minded.”

Speer recalled a lunch in 1938 at Munich’s Osteria Bavaria (Hitler’s favorite Italian restaurant) during which a senior Nazi functionary brought to the Führer’s attention a Communist Party proclamation (pre-dating the Nazi regime) which had been signed by a large number of artists; the apparatchik wanted all these artists banned from any government work but Speer recoded how “Hitler replied disdainfully, ‘Oh, you know I don’t take any of that seriously. We should never judge artists by their political views.  The imagination they need for their work deprives them of the ability to think in realistic terms. Artists are simple-hearted souls. Today they sign this, tomorrow that; they don’t even look to see what it is, so long as it seems to them well-meaning.’”  It was an indulgence to freedom of expression Hitler granted few others and a contrast also with what would have been the likely reaction of comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) to revelations of dissent.  Comrade Stalin’s three preferred ways of dealing with such problems were: (1) have them taken outside, put up against a wall and shot, (2) have them sent to the Lubyanka (KGB headquarters on Moscow's Lubyanka Square) to be tortured to death or (3) have them sent to the Gulag to be worked to death.

Portrait of Oliver Cromwell (1650), oil on canvas by Samuel Cooper.

Even if it’s something ephemeral, politicians are often sensitive about representations of their image but concerns are heightened when it’s a portrait which, often somewhere hung on public view, will long outlive them.  Although in the modern age the proliferation and accessibility of the of the photographic record has meant portraits no longer enjoy an exclusivity in the depiction of history, there’s still something about a portrait which conveys, however misleadingly, a certain authority.  That’s not to suggest the classic representational portraits have always been wholly authentic, a good many of those of the good and great acknowledged to have been painted by “sympathetic” artists known for their subtleties in rendering their subjects variously more slender, youthful or hirsute as the raw material required.  Probably few were like Oliver Cromwell (1599–1658; Lord Protector of the Commonwealth 1653-1658) who told Samuel Cooper (1609-1672) to paint him “warts and all”.  The artist obliged.

Although certain about the afterlife, Cromwell was a practical politician with few illusions about life on earth.  Once, when being driven in a coach through cheering crowds, his companion remarked that his popularity with the people must be pleasing.  The lord protector replied he had no doubt they’d be cheering just as loud were he being taken to the gallows to be hanged.  Of course, to someone dead, in a practical sense it ceases much to matter whether they’d been hanged, struck by a meteorite or murdered by the Freemasons; dead is dead.  However, the method of dispatch does carry connotations and a hanging has always been thought to be the marker of punishment for some dishonourable crime whereas as to die before a firing squad, on the executioner’s block or under the blade of the guillotine can have a whiff of respectability.

Soviet cartoon: Caricature of the defendants and the anticipated Nuremberg judgment (1946) by the Soviet artists known as the Kukryniksy: Porfiry Krylov (1902-1990), Mikhail Kupriyanov (1903-1991) & Nikolai Sokolov (1903-2000).

As the trial wore on, at least two of the defendants were recorded as requesting shirts with “larger collars” and on one occasion one removed his tie, explaining it was “suddenly feeling tight”.  The famous quote “Depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully” appears in volume 3 of The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. (1791) by James Boswell (1740-1795) (a biography of the English writer and literary critic Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)).

The defendants before the IMT (International Military Tribunal) trying the major Nazi war criminals at Nuremberg (1945-1945) certainly felt that, both the military men (Field Marshal Wilhelm Keitel (1882–1946; head of OKW (Oberkommando der Wehrmacht, the armed forces high command)) and Colonel-General Alfred Jodl (1890–1946, chief of the OKW operations staff 1939-1945) sentenced to death petitioning the judges requesting they be shot rather than hanged; the request was denied.  Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945) cheated the hangman by committing suicide shortly before he’s been due to be led to the gallows but previously had indicated he’d have accepted execution had it been by a firing squad on the basis that was “an honorable death for a soldier”; whether or not he’d any way have killed himself will never be known but his view was indicative of the way hangings are thought something for “common criminals”.  Some were more sanguine about their lives ending dangling from the hangman's, Hans Frank (1900–1946; Nazi lawyer and governor of the General Government (1939-1945) in German-occupied Poland) observing: “I expected it, I deserved it” but the most bizarre reaction to the dozen death sentences handed down came from a man who didn’t receive one.  Grand Admiral Erich Raeder (1876–1960; head of the German Navy 1928-1943) was given a life sentence and, his rationale being “better a quick death than a slow one”, requested he be shot.  On technical grounds (related to its authority to increase sentences) the IMT declined the offer and although it seems nowhere discussed, it’s assumed Raeder would have preferred to die in prison rather than undergo the indignity of being hanged.  As it was, in declining health, in 1955 he was released.

Three of the galleries at the Lindsay Lohan Retrospective by Richard Phillips (b 1962), Gagosian Gallery, 555 West 24th Street, New York, 11 September-20 October 2012.

Described by the artist as an installation, the exhibition was said to be "an example of the way Phillips uses collaborative forms of image production to reorder the relationship of Pop Art to its subjects, the staging and format of these lush, large-scale works said to render them realist portraits of the place-holders of their own mediated existence."  The curator explained the retrospective was conducted as an example of the way collaborative forms of image production can reorder the relationship of Pop Art to its subjects, the staging and format used to render them realist portraits of "...the place-holders of their own mediated existence."  That seemed to explain things.  Some of the images hung in the gallery come from Richard Phillips' short film Lindsay Lohan, hosted (courtesy of Richard Phillips and Gagosian Gallery) on Vimeo.

Bad Teddy and Good Theodore: Portrait of Theodore Roosevelt (1903), oil on canvas by Théobald Chartran (left) and Portrait of Theodore Roosevelt (1903) oil on canvas by John Singer Sargent.

Nobel Peace Prize laureate Theodore Roosevelt (1858–1919; US President 1901-1909), famous also for waging small wars and shooting big game, after being impressed by Théobald Chartran’s (1849–1907) portrait of his wife (Edith, 1861-1948), invited the French artist to paint him too.  So displeased was he with the result (which he thought made him look effete), he refused to hang the work.  Later, he would have it destroyed, turning turned instead to expatriate American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925).  The relationship didn’t start well as the two couldn’t agree on a setting and during one heated argument, the president suddenly, hand on hip, took on a defiant air while making a point and Sargent had his pose, imploring his subject not to move.  This one delighted Roosevelt and prominently it was hung in the White House.

Side by side: Portraits of Barak Obama (2011) and Donald Trump (2018), both oil on canvas by Sarah A Boardman, on permanent display, Gallery of Presidents, Third Floor, Rotunda, State Capitol Building, Denver, Colorado.

In March 2025 it was reported Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) was not best pleased with a portrait of him hanging in Colorado’s State Capitol; he damned the work as “purposefully distorted” and demanded Governor Jared Polis (b 1975; governor (Democratic) of Colorado since 2019) immediately take it down.  In a post on his Truth Social platform, Mr Trump said: “Nobody likes a bad picture or painting of themselves, but the one in Colorado, in the State Capitol, put up by the Governor, along with all the other Presidents, was purposefully distorted to a level that even I, perhaps, have never seen before.  The artist also did President Obama and he looks wonderful, but the one on me is truly the worst. She must have lost her talent as she got older.  In any event, I would much prefer not having a picture than having this one, but many people from Colorado have called and written to complain. In fact, they are actually angry about it!  I am speaking on their behalf to the radical left Governor, Jared Polis, who is extremely weak on crime, in particular with respect to Tren de Aragua, which practically took over Aurora (Don’t worry, we saved it!), to take it down. Jared should be ashamed of himself!”

At the unveiling in 2019 it was well-received by the Republicans assembled.  If FoxNews had on staff an art critic (the Lord forbid), she would have approved but presumably that would now be withdrawn and denials issued it was ever conferred.  

Intriguingly, it was one of Mr Trump’s political fellow-travellers (Kevin Grantham (b 1970; state senator (Republican, Colorado) 2011-2019) who had in 2018 stated a GoFundMe page to raise the funds needed to commission the work, the US$10,000 pledged, it is claimed, within “a few hours”.  Ms Boardman’s painting must have received the approval of the Colorado Senate Republicans because it was them who in 2019 hosted what was described as the “non-partisan unveiling event” when first the work was displayed hanging next to one of Mr Trump’s first presidential predecessor (Barack Obama (b 1961; US president 2009-2017), another of Ms Boardman’s commissions.  Whether or not it’s of relevance in the matter of now controversial portrait may be a matter for professional critics to ponder but on her website the artist notes she has “…always been passionate about painting portraits, being particularly intrigued by the depth and character found deeper in her subjects… believing the ultimate challenge is to capture the personality, character and soul of an individual in a two-dimensional format...”  Her preferred models “…are carefully chosen for their enigmatic personality and uniqueness...” and she admits some of her favorite subjects those “whose faces show the tracks of real life.”

Portrait of Winston Churchill (1954), oil on canvas by Graham Sutherland.  Never hung, the painting was later tossed onto a bonfire to be destroyed.

Another subject turned disappointed critic was Sir Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955).  In 1954, a committee, funded by the donation of a 1000 guineas from members of both houses of parliament, commissioned English artist Graham Sutherland (1903–1980) to paint a portrait of the prime minister to mark his 80^th birthday.  The two apparently got on well during the sittings, Churchill himself a prolific, if undistinguished, amateur painter and it’s clear he enjoyed their discussions.  He was unimpressed though with the result, telling Sutherland that while he acknowledged his technical prowess, he found the work “not suitable”.  To his doctor he was less restrained, calling it "filthy" and "malignant".  Churchill was a realist about his abilities with the brush and when comparing his works with a few of painted by one of the detectives assigned to him, admitted the policeman's were "better than mine", sympathizing with the man that celebrity was valued more than skill.  Churchill in 1948 published the slim volume Painting as a Pastime which had first appeared as a two-part essay in the December 1921 & January 1922 editions of Strand magazine respectively titled Hobbies and Painting as a Pastime (both reprinted in Pall Mall magazine in 1925).  The pieces led something of an afterlife, excerpts over the next few years appearing in several periodicals before both were included in the anthology The Hundred Best English Essays (1929).  The author himself re-cycled the content (again in the Strand’s two part format) in Thoughts and Adventures (1932) and the single volume edition in 1948 appeared apparently at the instigation of Churchill’s US publisher who had decided his post-war notoriety was sufficient to stimulate interest in works then more than a quarter-century old.

Portrait of Laurence Olivier in the role of Richard III (1955), oil on canvas by Salvador Dalí, Fundació Gala-Salvador Dalí (Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation, Figueres, Spain).

It had been intended the painting would be hung in the House of Commons but Churchill had no intention of letting it be seen by anyone.  An unveiling ceremony had been arranged and Churchill demanded it not include the painting, relenting only when a compromise was arranged whereby both subject and artwork would appear together but rather than being hung in the Commons, it would instead be gifted to him to hang where he pleased.  Both sides appeased (if not pleased), the ceremony proceeded, Churchill making a brief speech of thanks during which he described his gift as “…a remarkable example of modern art..”, praise not even faint.  It was never hung, consigned unwrapped to the basement of the prime minister’s country house where it remained for about a year until Lady Churchill (Clementine, 1885–1977)), sharing her husband’s view of the thing, had a servant take it outside where it was tossed on a bonfire, an act of practical criticism Sutherland condemned as “vandalism”.  Not anxious to repeat the experience of his brush with modernism, Churchill declined the offer of a sitting before the Spanish surrealist Salvador Dalí (1904–1989), the result of which might have been interesting.  It's not known if Churchill ever saw Dali's interpretation of Laurence Olivier (1907-1989).

Two photographs of Winston Churchill (1941) by Yousuf Karsh.

Theodore Roosevelt’s pose is one favored by politicians but the expression adopted matters too.  The famous photograph taken in Ottawa in December 1941 by Armenian-Canadian Yousuf Karsh (1908-2002) was actually one of several but those where Churchill shows a more cheerful countenance are not remembered; they didn’t so well suit those troubled times.  The scowl, although immediately regarded as emblematic of British defiance of the Nazis, had a more prosaic origin, the photographer recalling his subject had appeared benign until it was insisted the ever-present Havana cigar be discarded lest it spoil the photograph.  That changed the mood but, the moment captured, he relented and permitted a couple more, including the now obscure ones with a smile.