Ultracrepidarian

Ultracrepidarian (pronounced uhl-truh-krep-i-dair-ee-uhn)

Of or pertaining to a person who criticizes, judges, or gives advice outside their area of expertise

1819: An English adaptation of the historic words sūtor, ne ultra crepidam, uttered by the Greek artist Apelles and reported by the Pliny the Elder.  Translating literally as “let the shoemaker venture no further” and sometimes cited as ne supra crepidam sūtor judicare, the translation something like “a cobbler should stick to shoes”.  From the Latin, ultra is beyond, sūtor is cobbler and crepidam is accusative singular of crepida (from the Ancient Greek κρηπίς (krēpís)) and means sandal or sole of a shoe.  Ultracrepidarian is a noun & verb and ultracrepidarianism is a noun; the noun plural is ultracrepidarians.  For humorous purposes, forms such as ultracrepidarist, ultracrepidarianish, ultracrepidarianize & ultracrepidarianesque have been coined; all are non-standard.

Ultracrepidarianism describes the tendency among some to offer opinions and advice on matters beyond their competence.  The word entered English in 1819 when used by English literary critic and self-described “good hater”, William Hazlitt (1778–1830), in an open letter to William Gifford (1756–1826), editor of the Quarterly Review, a letter described by one critic as “one of the finest works of invective in the language” although another suggested it was "one of his more moderate castigations" a hint that though now neglected, for students of especially waspish invective, he can be entertaining; the odd quote from him would certainly lend a varnish of erudition to trolling.  Ultracrepidarian comes from a classical allusion, Pliny the Elder (circa 24-79) recording the habit of the famous Greek painter Apelles (a fourth century BC contemporary of Alexander the Great (Alexander III of Macedon, 356-323 BC)), to display his work in public view, then conceal himself close by to listen to the comments of those passing.  One day, a cobbler paused and picked fault with Apelles’ rendering of sandals and the artist immediately took his brushes and pallet and touched-up the errant straps.  Encouraged, the amateur critic then let his eye wander above the ankle and suggested how the leg might be improved but this Apelles rejected, telling him to speak only of shoes and otherwise maintain a deferential silence.  Pliny hinted the artist's words of dismissal may not have been polite.

So critics should comment only on that about which they know.  The phrase in English is usually “cobbler, stick to your last” (a last a shoemaker’s pattern, ultimately from a Germanic root meaning “to follow a track'' hence footstep) and exists in many European languages: zapatero a tus zapatos is the Spanish, schoenmaker, blijf bij je leest the Dutch, skomager, bliv ved din læst the Danish and schuster, bleib bei deinen leisten, the German.  Pliny’s actual words were ne supra crepidam judicaret, (crepidam a sandal or the sole of a shoe), but the idea is conveyed is in several ways in Latin tags, such as Ne sutor ultra crepidam (sutor means “cobbler”, a word which survives in Scotland in the spelling souter).  The best-known version is the abbreviated tag ultra crepidam (beyond the sole), and it’s that which Hazlitt used to construct ultracrepidarian.  Crepidam is from the Ancient Greek κρηπίς (krēpís) and has no link with words like decrepit or crepitation (which are from the Classical Latin crepare (to creak, rattle, or make a noise)) or crepuscular (from the Latin word for twilight); crepidarian is an adjective rare perhaps to the point of extinction meaning “pertaining to a shoemaker”.

The related terms are "Nobel disease" & "Nobel syndrome" which are used to describe some of the opinions offered by Nobel laureates on subjects beyond their specialization.  In some cases this is "demand" rather than "supply" driven because, once a prize winner is added to a media outlet's "list of those who comment on X", if they turn out to give answers which generate audience numbers, controversy or clicks, they become "talent" and may be asked questions about matters of which they know little.  This happens because some laureates in the three "hard" prizes (physics, chemistry, physiology or medicine) operate in esoteric corners of their discipline; asking a particle physicist something about plasma physics on the basis of their having won the physics prize may not elicit useful information.  Of course those who have won the economics gong or one of what are now the DEI (diversity, equity and inclusion) prizes (peace & literature) may be assumed to have helpful opinions on everything.

Jackson Pollock (1912-1956): Blue Poles

Number 11 (Blue poles, 1952), Oil, enamel and aluminum paint with glass on canvas.

In 1973, when a million dollars was a still lot of money, the NGA (National Gallery of Australia), a little controversially, paid Aus$1.3 million for Jackson Pollock’s (1912-1956) Number 11, 1952, popularly known as Blue Poles since it was first exhibited in 1954, the new name reputedly chosen by the artist.  It was some years ago said to be valued at up to US$100 million but, given the increase in the money supply (among the rich who trade this stuff) over the last two decades odd, that estimate may now be conservative although the suggestion in 2016 the value may have inflated to as much as US$350 million was though to be "on the high side".  Blue Poles emerged during Pollock’s "drip period" (1947-1950), a method which involved techniques such throwing paint at a canvas spread across the floor.  The art industry liked these (often preferring the more evocative term "action painting") and they remain his most popular works, although at this point, he abandoned the dripping and moved to his “black porings phase” a darker, simpler style which didn’t attract the same commercial interest.  He later returned to more colorful ways but his madness and alcoholism worsened; he died in a drink-driving accident.

Alchemy (1947), Oil, aluminum, alkyd enamel paint with sand, pebbles, fibres, and broken wooden sticks on canvas.

Although the general public remained uninterested (except in the price tags) or sceptical, there were critics, always drawn to a “troubled genius”, who praised Pollock’s work and the industry approves of any artist who (1) had the decency to die young and (2) produced lots of stuff which can sell for millions.  US historian of art, curator & author Helen A Harrison (b 1943; director (1990-2024) of the Pollock-Krasner House and Study Center, the former home and studio of the Abstract Expressionist artists Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner in East Hampton, New York) is an admirer, noting the “pioneering drip technique…” which “…introduced the notion of action painting", where the canvas became the space with which the artist actively would engage”.  As a thumbnail sketch she offered:

Number 14: Gray (1948), Enamel over gesso on paper.

“Reminiscent of the Surrealist notions of the subconscious and automatic painting, Pollock's abstract works cemented his reputation as the most critically championed proponent of Abstract Expressionism. His visceral engagement with emotions, thoughts and other intangibles gives his abstract imagery extraordinary immediacy, while his skillful use of fluid pigment, applied with dance-like movements and sweeping gestures that seldom actually touched the surface, broke decisively with tradition. At first sight, Pollock's vigorous method appears to create chaotic labyrinths, but upon close inspection his strong rhythmic structures become evident, revealing a fascinating complexity and deeper significance.  Far from being calculated to shock, Pollock's liquid medium was crucial to his pictorial aims.  It proved the ideal vehicle for the mercurial content that he sought to communicate 'energy and motion made visible - memories arrested in space'.”

Number 13A: Arabesque (1948), Oil and enamel on canvas.

Critics either less visionary or more fastidious seemed often as appalled by Pollock’s violence of technique as they were by the finished work (or “products” as some labelled the drip paintings), questioning whether any artistic skill or vision even existed, one finding them “…mere unorganized explosions of random energy, and therefore meaningless.”  The detractors used the language of academic criticism but meant the same thing as the frequent phrase of an unimpressed public: “That’s not art, anyone could do that.”

Number 1, 1949 (1949), Enamel and metallic paint on canvas. 

There have been famous responses to  “That’s not art, anyone could do that” but Ms Harrison's was practical, offering people the opportunity to try.  To the view that “…people thought it was arbitrary, that anyone can fling paint around”, Ms Harrison conceded it was true anybody could “fling paint around” but that was her point, anybody could, but having flung, they wouldn’t “…necessarily come up with anything” by which she meant the wouldn't necessarily come up with anything of which the critical establishment (a kind of freemasonry of the art business) would approve (ie could put a price tag on).

Helen A Harrison, The Jackson Pollock Box (Cider Mill Press, 96pp, ISBN-10:1604331860, ISBN-13:978-1604331868).

In 2010, Ms Harrison released The Jackson Pollock Box, a kit which, in addition to an introductory text, included paint brushes, drip bottles and canvases so people could do their own flinging and compare the result against a Pollock.  After that, they may agree with collector Peggy Guggenheim (1898-1979) that Pollock was “...the greatest painter since Picasso” or remain unrepentant ultracrepidarians.  Of course, many who thought their own eye for art quite well-trained didn't agree with Ms Guggenheim.  In 1945, just after the war, Duff Cooper (1890–1954), then serving as Britain's ambassador to France, came across Pablo Picasso (1881–1973) leaving an exhibition of paintings by English children aged 5-10 and in his diary noted the great cubist saying he "had been much impressed".  "No wonder" added the ambassador, "the pictures are just as good as his".

Dresses & drips: Three photographs by Cecil Beaton (1904-1980), shot for a three-page feature in Vogue (March 1951) titled American Fashion: The New Soft Look which juxtaposed Pollock’s paintings hung in New York’s Betty Parsons Gallery with the season’s haute couture by Irene (1872-1951) & Henri Bendel (1868-1936).

Beaton choose the combinations of fashion and painting; pairing Lavender Mist (1950, left) with a short black ball gown of silk paper taffeta with large pink bow at one shoulder and an asymmetrical hooped skirt best illustrates the value of his trained eye.  Critics and social commentators have always liked these three pages, relishing the opportunity to comment on the interplay of so many of the clashing forces of modernity: the avant-garde and fashion, production and consumption, abstraction and representation, painting and photography, autonomy and decoration, masculinity and femininity, art and commerce.  Historians of art note it too because it was the abstract expressionism of the 1940s which was both uniquely an American movement and the one which in the post-war years saw the New York supplant Paris as the centre of Western art.  There have been interesting discussions about when last it could be said Western art had a "centre".

Blue Poles, upside down.

Although the suggestion might offend the trained and discerning eyes of art critics, it’s doubtful that for ultracrepidarians the experience of viewing Blue Poles would much be different were it to be hung upside down.  Fortunately, the world does have a goodly stock of art critics who can explain that while Pollock did more than once say his works should be interpreted “subjectively”, their intended orientation is a part of the whole and an inversion would change the visual dynamics and gravitational illusions upon which the abstraction effects depend would be changed.  It would still be a painting but, in a sense, not the one the artist painted.  Because the drip technique involved “flinging and poring paint” onto a canvas spread across a studio’s floor, there was not exactly a randomness in where the paint landed but physics did mean gravity exerted some pull (in flight and on the ground), lending layers and rivulets what must be a specific downward orientation.  Thus, were the work to be hung inverted, what was in the creative process a downward flow would be seen as “flowing uphill” as it were.  The compositional elements which lent the work its name were course the quasi-vertical “poles” placed at slight angles and its these which are the superstructure which “anchor” the rest of the drips and, being intrinsically “directional”, they too have a “right way up”.  There is in the assessment of art the “eye of the beholder” but although it may be something they leave unstated, most critics will be of the “some eyes are more equal than others” school.

Mondrian’s 1941 New York City 1 as it (presumably correctly) sat in the artist's studio in 1944 (left) and as it was since 1945 exhibited (upside-down) in New York and Düsseldorf (right).  Spot the difference.

So although ultracrepidarians may not “get it” (even after digesting the critics’ explanations) and wouldn’t be able to tell whether or not it was hung correctly, that’s because they’re philistines.  In the world of abstract art however, even the critics can be fooled: in 2022, it was revealed a work in Piet Mondrian’s (1872-1944) 1941 New York City 1 series had for 77 years been hanging upside down.  First in exhibited in 1945 in New York’s MOMA (Museum of Modern Art), the piece was created with multi-colored adhesive paper tape and, in an incorrect orientation, it has since 1980 hung in the Düsseldorf Museum as part of the Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen’s collection.  The decades-long, trans-Atlantic mistake came to light during a press conference held to announce the Kunstsammlung’s new Mondrian exhibition and the conclusion was the error may have been caused by something as simple as the packing-crate being overturned or misleading instructions being given to the staff.  1941 New York City 1 will remain upside because of the condition of the adhesive strips.  “The adhesive tapes are already extremely loose and hanging by a thread” a curator was quoted as saying, adding that if it were now to be turned-over, “…gravity would pull it into another direction.  And it’s now part of the work’s story.”  Mondrian was one of the more significant theorists of abstract art and its withdrawal from nature and natural subjects.  “Denaturalization” he proclaimed to be a milestone in human progress, adding: “The power of neo-plastic painting lies in having shown the necessity of this denaturalization in painterly terms... to denaturalize is to abstract... to abstract is to deepen.”  Now even ultracrepidarians can understand.

Eye of the beholder: Portrait of Lindsay Lohan in the style of Claude Monet (1840–1926) at craiyon.com and available at US$26 on an organic cotton T-shirt made in a factory powered by renewable energy.

Whether the arguments about what deserves to be called “art” began among prehistoric “artists” and their critics in caves long ago isn’t known but it’s certainly a dispute with a long history.  In the sense it’s a subjective judgment the matter was doubtless often resolved by a potential buyer declining to purchase but during the twentieth century it became a contested topic and there were celebrated exhibits and squabbles which for decades played out before, in the post modern age, the final answer appeared to be something was art if variously (1) the creator said it was or (2) an art critic said it was or (3) it was in an art gallery or (4) the price tag was sufficiently impressive.

So what constitutes “art” is a construct of time, place & context which evolves, shaped by historical, cultural, social, economic, political & personal influences, factors which in recent years have had to be cognizant of the rise of cultural equivalency, the recognition that Western concepts such as the distinction between “high” (or “fine”) art and “folk” (or “popular”) art can’t be applied to work from other traditions where cultural objects are not classified by a graduated hierarchy.  In other words, everybody’s definition is equally valid.  That doesn’t mean there are no longer gatekeepers because the curators in institutions such as museums, galleries & academies all discriminate and thus play a significant role in deciding what gets exhibited, studied & promoted, even though few would now dare to suggest what is art and what is not: that would be cultural imperialism.

Eye of the prompt 1.0: An AI (artificial intelligence) generated portrait of Lindsay Lohan by ChatGPT imagined in "drip painting style", this one using an interpretation which overlaid "curated drips" over "flung paint".  This could be rendered using Ms Harrison's Jackson Pollock Box but would demand some talent.

In the twentieth century, it seemed to depend on artistic intent, something which transcended a traditional measure such as aesthetic value but as the graphic art in advertising and that with a political purpose such as agitprop became bigger, brighter and more intrusive, such forms also came to be regarded as art or at least worth of being studied or exhibited on the same basis, in the same spaces as oil on canvas portraits & landscapes.  Once though, an unfamiliar object in such places could shock as French painter & sculptor Marcel Duchamp (1887-1968) managed in 1917 when he submitted a porcelain urinal as his piece for an exhibition in New York, his rationale being “…everyday objects raised to the dignity of a work of art by the artist's act of choice.”  Even then it wasn’t a wholly original approach but the art establishment has never quite recovered and from that urinal to Dadaism, to soup cans to unmade beds, it became accepted that “anything goes” and people should be left to make of it what they will.  Probably the last remaining reliable guide to what really is "art" remains the price tag.

Eye of the prompt 1.1: An AI (artificial intelligence) generated portrait of Lindsay Lohan by ChatGPT imagined in "drip painting style", this one closer to Pollock’s “action painting” technique.

His drip period wholly non-representational, Pollock didn’t produce recognizable portraiture so applying the technique for this purpose demands guesswork.  As AI illustrates, it can be done but, in blending two incompatible modes, whether it looks much like what Pollock would have produced had he accepted a “paint Lindsay Lohan” commission, is wholly speculative.  What is more likely is that even if some sort of hybrid, a portrait by Pollock would have been an abstraction altogether more chaotic and owing little to the structure on which such works usually depend in that there probably would have been no central focal point, fewer hints of symmetry and a use of shading producing a face not lineal in its composition.  That’s what his sense of “continuous motion” dictated: no single form becoming privileged over the rest.  So, this too is not for the literalists schooled in the tradition of photo-realism but as a work it’s also an example of how most armed with Ms Harrison's Jackson Pollock Box could with "drip & fling" produce this but not necessarily would produce this, chaos on canvas needing talent too.

1948 Cisitalia 202 GT (left; 1947-1952) and 1962 Jaguar E-Type (1961-1974; right), Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), New York City.

Urinals tend not to be admired for their aesthetic qualities but there are those who find beauty in stuff as diverse as math equations and battleships.  Certain cars have long been objects which can exert an emotional pull on those with a feeling for such things and if the lines are sufficiently pleasing, many flaws in execution or engineering can be forgivgen.  New York’s MOMA in 1972 acknowledged such creations can be treated as works of art when they added a 1948 Cisitalia 202 GT finished in “Cisitalia Red” (MoMA object number 409.1972) to their collection, the press release noting it was “…the first time that an art museum in the U.S. put a car into its collection.”  Others appeared from time-to-time and while the 1953 Willys-Overland Jeep M-38A1 Utility Truck (MoMA object number 261.2002) perhaps is not conventionally beautiful, its brutish functionalism has a certain simplicity of form and in the exhibition notes MoMA clarified somewhat by describing it as a “rolling sculpture”, presumably in the spirit of a urinal being a “static sculpture”, both to be admired as pieces of design perfectly suited to their intended purpose, something of an art in itself.  Of the 1962 Jaguar E-Type (sometimes informally as XKE or XK-E in the US) open two seater (OTS, better known as a roadster and acquired as MoMA object number 113.996), there was no need to explain because it’s one of the most seductive shapes ever rendered in metal.  Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) attended the 1961 Geneva International Motor Show (now defunct but, on much the same basis as manufacturers east of Suez buying brand-names such as MG, Jaguar and such, the name has been purchased for use by an event in staged in Qatar) when the E-Type made its stunning debut and part of folklore is he called it “the most beautiful car in the world”.  Whether those words ever passed his lips isn’t certain because the sources vary slightly in detail and il Commendatore apparently never confirmed or denied the sentiment but it’s easy to believe and to this day many agree just looking at the thing can be a visceral experience.  The MoMA car is finished in "Opalescent Dark Blue" with a grey interior and blue soft-top (there are those who would prefer it in BRG (British Racing Green) over tan leather) and although as a piece of design it's not flawless, anyone who can't see the beauty in a Series 1 E-Type OTS is truly an ultracrepidarian.   

Mnemonic

Mnemonic (pronounced ni-mon-ik)

(1) Something assisting or intended to assist the memory.

(2) Pertaining to mnemonics or to memory.

(3) In computing, truncated code thought easy to remember (eg STO for store).

1660–1670: From the New Latin mnemonicus from the Ancient Greek μνημονικός (mnēmonikós) (of memory) derived from μνήμων (mnḗmōn) (remembering, mindful) & μνᾶσθαι (mnâsthai) (to remember); the ultimate root was the primitive Indo-European men (to think).  The meaning "aiding the memory", a back-formation from mnemonics dates from 1753, the noun meaning "mnemonic device" is from 1858.  The use in computer programming emerged in the early days of code and was a space-saving (eg del rather than delete) tool as well.  Mnemonical was the original form from the 1660s.  One of the charming ironies of mnemonic is it is one of those words so many can't quite remember how to spell.  It's thus in a sense "antimnemonic" and a contronym (also as auto-antonym, antagonym, or enantiodrome) which describes a word with two opposite or contradictory meanings, depending on context.  Mnemonic is a noun & adjective, mnemonician, mnemonicalist, mnemotechnist & mnemonicon are nouns, mnemonize & mnemonized are verbs, mnemonical & mnemotechnic are adjectives and mnemonically & mnemotechnically are adverbs; the noun plural is mnemonics.

Sans Forgetica

Sans Forgetica sample text.

Recently released, Sans Forgetica (which translates as "without forgetting") is a sans-serif font developed by RMIT University in Melbourne.  Back-slanted and with gaps in the character constructions, it’s designed explicitly to assist readers better to understand and retain in their memory what they’ve read.  Perhaps counter-intuitively for those outside the field, the shape is intended to reduce legibility, thereby (1) lengthening the tame taken to read the text and (2) adding complexity to learning and absorbing what’s been read.  Together, they create what in cognitive psychology and neuroscience is called "desirable difficulty", in this case forcing (RMIT might prefer "nudging") people to concentrate.

The first three paragraphs of Lindsay Lohan's Wikipedia page, rendered in Sans Forgetica.  Sans was from the Middle English saunz & sans, from the Old French sans, senz & sens, from the Latin sine (without) conflated with absēns (absent, remote).   Forgetica was an opportunistic coining, the construct being forget + -ica.  Forget was from the Middle English forgeten, forgiten, foryeten & forȝiten, from the Old English forġietan (to forget) (which was influenced by the Old Norse geta (to get; to guess), from the Proto-West Germanic fragetan (to give up, forget).  The -ica suffix was from the Latin -ica, the neuter plural of -icus (belonging to derived from; of or pertaining to; connected with).

From usually a young age, readers become skilled at scanning text, a process helped by most publishers seeking to render their works as legible as possible.  The theory of desirable difficulty is that omitting parts of the font requires the reader to pause and process information more slowly, thus provoking an additional cognitive processing which may enhance both understanding and retention.  While the application of the science to a font is novel, there’s nothing original about Sans Forgetica as a piece of typography, it being described as a hybrid of several existing schools and within the theory, on the basis of a small-group sample of students, it’s claimed to be a balance between legibility and difficulty.  According to the documents supplied by the developer, it’s not been tested as a device for advertisers to draw people to their text, the theory of that being people scan and dismiss (without retention) the great bulk of the large, static signage which is a feature of just about every urban environment.  With Sans Forgetica, because it can’t as quickly be scanned, people will tend longer to linger and so more carefully read the whole; a memorable event itself.

The most recent revision (DSM-5-TR (2022)) to the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) followed DSM-5 (2013) in refining the somewhat vague section on amnesia in both the DSM-IV (1994) & DSM-IV-TR (2000) where appeared the terms “Psychogenic amnesia” & “dissociative amnesia”, the core element of which was: “one or more episodes of inability to recall important personal information, usually of a traumatic or stressful nature, that is too extensive to be explained by ordinary forgetfulness.”  That really reflected the popular understanding and there was no clear definition of sub-types in the diagnostic criteria although in the text (not always in criteria) there was mention of localized, selective or generalized forms.  In the fifth edition, the disorder was called Dissociative Amnesia (psychogenic amnesia seems to have been replaced) and it was listed in the dissociative disorders section.  The definition still includes an “inability to recall important autobiographical information, usually of a traumatic or stressful nature, that is inconsistent with ordinary forgetting” so the popular understanding remains acknowledged but sub-types are now listed: localized (for specific event(s)), selective (some parts of the event), or generalized (identity and life history) amnesia.  Consistent with the structural revisions elsewhere in the fifth edition, the exclusion criteria was made more explicit (ie the memory loss should not be due to substances, medication, a neurological condition or better accounted for by another mental disorder) although clinician remain aware of overlap.  Significantly the DSM-5 did clarify that amnesia is retrograde (loss of pre-existing memories), especially of autobiographical kind and emphasised the memory loss is “beyond what is expected from normal forgetting.”  Because in such matters, there will be so much variation between patients, it remains one of those conditions with fuzzy boundaries and the symptoms presented must be assessed on a case-by-case basis.

Amnesia (memory loss) is much studied and although associated with the aging process, traumatic events (brain injury or psychological impacts) and certain neurological conditions, there have been some celebrated cases of recovery without medical intervention.  One celebrated case was that of Rudolf Hess (1894–1987; Nazi Deputy Führer 1933-1941) who in 1941 (on the eve of Germany invading the USSR) flew himself to Scotland in a bizarre and unauthorized attempt to negotiate a peace deal with those in the UK he though would be "reasonable men".    His "offer" was rejected and he was locked up (including two weeks in the Tower of London), later to be sent as a defendant before the IMT (International Military Tribunal) in the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946).  There, so convincing were his symptoms of amnesia and other mental states the judges requested submissions from defence and prosecution counsel on the matter of his fitness to stand trial.  The prosecutors assured the bench Hess would be able to both understand and cope with the proceedings and that an imperfect memory was merely a hindrance to his defence rather than an insuperable obstacle.  This was of course a predictable argument and the judges acceded to the defence’s request for a thorough medical investigation although they declined the suggestion Swiss doctors be consulted, assembling instead a team from medical staff on hand (three Soviet, three American, three British and one French), all from the nations running the trial.  The physicians presented four national papers which broadly were in agreement: Hess was sane (as legally defined) but was suffering from hysterical amnesia, induced by his need to escape from uncomfortable realities, something they found was often typical of “those with Hess’s unstable personality”.  All concluded the amnesia was temporary and would vary in intensity, the US doctors suggesting it may even disappear were any threat of punishment removed.

Caricature of Rudolf Hess at the first Nuremberg Trial by New Zealand-born UK cartoonist David Low (1891-1963).

The author Rebecca West (1892–1983) covered the trial as a journalist and wrote some vivid thumbnail sketches, noting of Hess: “Hess was noticeable because he was so plainly mad: so plainly mad that it seemed shameful that he should be tried.  His skin was ashen and he had that odd faculty, peculiar to lunatics, of falling into strained positions which no normal person could maintain for more than a few minutes, and staying fixed in contortion for hours. He had the classless air characteristic of asylum inmates; evidently his distracted personality had torn up all clues to his past.  He looked as if his mind had no surface, as if every part of it had been blasted away except the depth where the nightmares live.”  Whether or not Hess was "mad" (as such folk were described in 1946) can be debated but to many at the time, he certainly looked a madman.

Predictably unconvinced, Hess’s counsel at a hearing on 30 November 1945 told the bench a defendant could hardly stage an adequate defence if unable to remember names or incidents vital to his case, adding that on the basis of discussions with his client, even if he understood the words, Hess was incapable of grasping the significance of the charges against him.  Nor would a trial in absentia be fair because it would constituent a “grave injustice” were a defendant not present to give evidence or challenge the testimony of witnesses.  He concluded by requesting proceedings against him should be suspended and resumed only if his condition significantly improved.  To that, the British countered with a lengthy lecture on the distinctions in English law between amnesia & insanity and seconded the Soviet view that participation in the trial (and thus the need to make a defence) might well cure his condition.  Essentially, the British argued if he could follow the proceedings, he was fit to stand trial.  The US team noted Hess had at times claimed to be suffering amnesia while in captivity in England between 1941-1945 and on other occasions admitted the condition was simulated.  In the slang of the English criminal bar: “He had a bit of previous”.  The Americans also expressed annoyance at him having repeatedly refused any of the treatment prescribed by the Allied doctors, concluding: “He is in the volunteer class with his amnesia”.  The lawyers having finished, the IMT asked Hess if he wished to speak on the matter.  Without delay, he rose in the dock and walked to the microphone where he addressed the court in a clear and calm voice, his statement coherent, unambiguous and, most historians have concluded, clearly premeditated: “Henceforth my memory will again respond to the outside world.  The reasons for simulating loss of memory were of a tactical nature.  Only my ability to concentrate is, in fact, somewhat reduced.  But my capacity to follow the trial, to defend myself, to put questions to witnesses, or to answer questions myself is not affected thereby.  I also simulated loss of memory in consultations with my officially appointed defence counsel. He has therefore represented in good faith.”

He then sat down in what was described as a “stunned courtroom”.  It was at that point the trial’s most sensational moment and after taking a few seconds to digest things, the assembled press pack in their dozens rushed outside to file the story (the US military newspaper Stars and Stripes ran the punchy headline “Hess Nuts. Fake Story Fake”).  Immediately, the president of the IMT adjourned the session and the judges went into private session to decide whether Hess should be tried.  From their subsequent interviews and writings it appears they were not much influenced by Hess’s unexpected statement but were impressed by the similarity of the conclusions offered by the doctors, the chief US prosecutor saying such “unanimity of medical opinion” was, in his experience: “historically unique”.  All eight judges agreed Hess was fit to stand trial and, after being convicted on two counts ((1) conspiracy to wage aggressive war and (2) waging aggressive war), he was handed a life sentence and would remain incarcerated until in 1987 he committed suicide after some 46 years behind bars, the last two decades of which were served as the sole inmate (guarded by dozens of soldiers on rotation from France, the UK, US and USSR) of Berlin’s sprawling Spandau Prison, a huge facility designed to incarcerate hundreds.

Low’s take on the official German line explaining Hess deserting the German government as “madness”.  This cartoon does represent what was then the prevailing public perception of the typical appearance expected of those in “lunatic asylums”.  Depicted (left to right) are:

Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945): Committed suicide by by crushing between his teeth an ampule of a potassium cyanide (KCN), smuggled into his cell in circumstances never confirmed, shortly before he was to be hanged after being convicted on all four counts ((1) Conspiracy to wage aggressive war; (2) Waging aggressive war; (3) War crimes and (4) Crimes against humanity.

Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945): With his wife Eva (née Braun; 1912–1945) of a few hours, committed suicide (he by gunshot and KCN, she by KCN alone) with the tanks of the Red Army only a couple of blocks from the Berlin Führerbunker.

Dr Robert Ley (1890–1945; head of the Deutsche Arbeitsfront (German Labour Front) 1933-1945): Before the trial began, he committed suicide by hanging (by means of suffocation) himself from the toilet-pipe in his cell in Nuremberg, after having for some years made a reasonable attempt to drink himself to death.  He died with his underpants stuffed in his mouth, decades before the phrase "Eat my shorts!" began to circulate in popular culture.

Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi foreign minister 1938-1945): Hanged at Nuremberg after being convicted on all four counts.

Dr Joseph Goebbels: With his wife (Magda Goebbels (née Ritschel; 1901-1945), committed suicide (by gunshot) in the courtyard above the Führerbunker, shortly after they’d murdered their six young children.

Heinrich Himmler (1900–1945; Reichsführer SS 1929-1945): Captured by the British while attempting to escape disguised as a soldier, he committed suicide using an ampule of KCN concealed in his mouth.

Whether Hess was at any point insane (in the legal or medical sense) remains debated although, as is often the case, more interesting still is the speculation about just when the instability began.  Whether any credence can be attached to the official statement on the matter from the Nazi Party is doubtful but in the view of Reich Chancellery, his madness predated his flight to Scotland in 1941 (one of the strangest incidents of World War II (1939-1945)).  What the German press was told to publish was that Hess had become "deluded and deranged", his mental health affected by injuries sustained during World War I (1914-1918) and that he'd fallen under the influence of astrologers.  Just to make that sound convincing, the police conducted a crackdown (a well oiled technique in the Nazi state) on soothsayers and fortune-tellers.  Dr Joseph Goebbels (1897-1975; Nazi propaganda minister 1933-1945) wasn't consulted before the "madness" explanation was announced and he seems to have been the only senior figure in the regime to grasp the potential implications of revealing to the public that for some time the country's deputy leader had been mad.  Others though did make the connection.  When Hermann Göring tried to shift the blame to aircraft designer and manufacturer Willy Messerschmitt (1898–1978) because he'd provided Hess a twin-engined Bf 110 Zerstörer (destroyer (heavy fighter)) for his flight, the engineer responded by saying Göring was more culpable because he should have done something about having someone unstable serving as Deputy Führer.  Göring could only laugh and told Messerschmitt to go back to building warplanes and, as it turned out, the strange affair was but a "nine day wonder" for not only did the British make no attempt to use Hess's arrival on their soil for propaganda purposes (which astonished Goebbels) but other events would soon dominate the headlines.  The only place where the strange flight left a great impression was in the Kremlin where comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) for years mulled over who within the British establishment might have conspired with Hess to allow the UK to withdraw from the conflict, leaving Germany able to invade Russia without having to fight on two fronts.  Historians have concluded the reluctance by the British to use for propaganda the arrival of Hess was their concern comrade Stalin might suspect collusion. 

Arthur Sinodinos, b 1957; Liberal Party functionary and minister variously 2007-2019; Australian ambassador to the US 2019-2023, right ) presenting to Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025, left) his credentials as Australia's ambassador to the US, the White House, Washington DC, February 2020.

Less dramatic but perhaps medically even more remarkable than the Hess affair was the recovery from amnesia by Arthur Sinodinos, a case which deserves to enter the annals of academic psychiatry & neurology (and debatably, those of the thespians).  In Australia, royal commissions are public investigations, established by but independent of government.  Not a court, royal commissions are created to enquire into matters of public importance and, within their terms of reference, have broad powers to conduct public & in camera hearings; they can call witnesses, compelling them (under oath) to provide testimony and they deliver recommendations to government about what should be done, consequent upon their findings.  These can include recommendations for legislative or administrative changes and the prosecution of institutions or individuals and they’re of great interest because they appear to be the only institution (at least theoretically) able to compel a politician to tell the truth.  Even that power is limited though because when appearing before royal commissions, politicians seem especially prone to suffering amnesia, an obviously distressing condition which compels them frequently to utter phrases like “I can’t remember”, “I don’t recall”, “not in my recollection” etc.  In the lore of the New South Wales (NSW) bar, Mr Sinodinous, while in 2014 being questioned by an enquiry, is believed to have set a record for the frequency with which the condition manifested.  Fortunately, the enquiry handed down no adverse findings against him and almost immediately, his memory appeared miraculously to recover, enabling the Australian Liberal Party government to appoint him ambassador to the US in 2019 so there's that.  The following transcript is wholly fake news:

Donald Trump: "What did you and Joe Biden talk about?"

Arthur Sinodinous: "I can't remember."

Donald Trump: "Not to worry, he won't remember either."

In the rich slang of the NSW bar, the condition once known as RCM (Royal Commission Memory) is now also referred to as “Sinodinos Syndrome”, on the model of “Marcinkus Syndrome” which describes the medical status of Roman Catholic priests who, being investigated for this, that or the other, although seemingly fit and healthy, are never able to be certified quite well enough to be interviewed by police or other authorities.  The condition is named after Archbishop Paul Marcinkus (1922–2006; President of the Institute for the Works of Religion (the “Vatican Bank’) 1971-1989).

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.