Grammatology

Grammatology (pronounced gram-uh-tol-uh-jee)

(1) Historically, the scientific study of systems of writing.

(2) In latter-day use, a critique of orthodox linguistics.

Early 1800s (in its original sense): The construct was gramma(r) + -t- + -ology; the modern (some would say post-modern) re-purposing was first used in 1967.  Dating from the mid fourteenth century, grammar was from the Middle English gramery & gramere, from the Old French gramaire (classical learning), from the unattested Vulgar Latin grammāria, an alteration of the Classical Latin grammatica, from the Ancient Greek γραμματική (grammatikḗ) (skilled in writing), from γράμμα (gramma) (line of writing), from γράφω (gráphō) (write), from the primitive Indo-European gerbh (to carve, to scratch).  It displaced the native Old English stæfcræft; a doublet of glamour, glamoury, gramarye & grimoire.  In English, grammar is used to describe the system of rules and principles for the structure of a language (or of languages in general) but in colloquial use it’s applied also to morpology (the internal structure of words) and syntax (the structure of phrases and sentences of a language).  In English, generative grammar (the body of rules producing all the sentences permissible in a given language, while excluding all those not permissible) has for centuries been shifting and it’s now something policed by the so-called “grammar Nazis”, some of whom insist on enforcing “rules” regarded by most as defunct as early as the nineteenth century.

The suffix -ology was formed from -o- (as an interconsonantal vowel) +‎ -logy.  The origin in English of the -logy suffix lies with loanwords from the Ancient Greek, usually via Latin and French, where the suffix (-λογία) is an integral part of the word loaned (eg astrology from astrologia) since the sixteenth century.  French picked up -logie from the Latin -logia, from the Ancient Greek -λογία (-logía).  Within Greek, the suffix is an -ία (-ía) abstract from λόγος (lógos) (account, explanation, narrative), and that a verbal noun from λέγω (légō) (I say, speak, converse, tell a story).  In English the suffix became extraordinarily productive, used notably to form names of sciences or disciplines of study, analogous to the names traditionally borrowed from the Latin (eg astrology from astrologia; geology from geologia) and by the late eighteenth century, the practice (despite the disapproval of the pedants) extended to terms with no connection to Greek or Latin such as those building on French or German bases (eg insectology (1766) after the French insectologie; terminology (1801) after the German Terminologie).  Within a few decades of the intrusion of modern languages, combinations emerged using English terms (eg undergroundology (1820); hatology (1837)).  In this evolution, the development may be though similar to the latter-day proliferation of “-isms” (fascism; feminism et al).  Grammatology & grammatologist are nous, grammatological is an adjective and grammatologically is an adverb; the noun plural is grammatologies.

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

Grammatology in its re-purposed sense was from the French grammatologie, introduced to the world by French philosopher Jacques Derrida (1930-2004) in his book De la grammatologie (Of Grammatology (1967)).  It may be unfair to treat Derrida’s use as a “re-purposing” because although the word grammatology (literally “the study of writing”) had existed since the early nineteenth century, it was a neologism, one of an expanding class of “-ology” words (some of them coined merely for ironic or humorous effect) and there was prior to 1967 scant evidence of use, those studying languages, literature or linguistics able satisfactorily to undertake their work without much needing “grammatology”.  On the basis of the documents thus far digitized, “grammatology” was never an accepted or even commonly used term in academia and although it seems occasionally to have been used variously in fields related to “the study of writing systems” (apparently as a synonym for paleography, epigraphy, writing-system classification or orthographic description) it was only in passing.  Until the modern era, words “going viral” happened relatively infrequently and certainly slowly and, as used prior to 1967, “grammatology” was attached to no theoretical construct or school of thought and described no defined discipline, the word indicative, empirical and neutral.  If “pre-modern” grammatology could be summed up (a probably dubious exercise), it would be thought a technical term for those concerned with scripts, alphabets, symbols and the historical development of writing systems.  Tempting though it may seem, it cannot be thought of as proto-structuralism.

The novelty Derrida introduced was to argue the need for a discipline examining the history, structure and philosophical implications of writing, his particular contention that writing is not secondary to speech, a notion at odds with centuries of Western metaphysics.  At the time, it was seen as a radical departure from orthodoxy, Derrida exploring (in the broadest imaginable way), the possibilities of writing, not simply the familiar physical inscriptions, but anything that functions as “trace,” “differance,” or symbolic marking, the core argument being writing is not secondary to speech (although in the narrow technical sense it may be consequent); rather, it reveals the instability and “constructedness” of language and thereby meaning.

De la grammatologie (First edition, 1967) by Jacques Derrida.

Ambitiously, what Derrida embarked upon was to do to the study something like what Karl Marx (1818-1883) claimed to have done to the theories of Hegel (Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770-1831)): “turn things on their head”, a process that can be classified under four themes: (1) Writing as prior to speech (as opposed to the earlier “Writing is derivative of speech”).  What this meant was writing had to be considered as “originary”, implying structures of difference could precede both writing and speech. (2) Writing (the act as opposed to the content) as a philosophical concept rather than a finite collection of technical objects to be interpreted or catalogued on the basis of their form of assembly.  (3) Grammatology becomes a critique (as opposed to the earlier descriptive tool) of science, reimagining it as a critical discipline exposing the logocentrism of Western thought.  Logocentrism describes the tendency to prioritize “logos” (in academic use a word encompassing words, speech or reason), as the ultimate foundation for truth and meaning (with speech often privileged over writing).  Logocentrism was at the core of the Western philosophical tradition that assumed language accurately and directly can express an external reality, the companion notion being rational thought represents the highest form of knowledge.  Derrida labelled this a false hierarchy that devalued writing and other non-verbal forms of communication and feeling. (4) Writing is expanded beyond literal inscriptions.  Whereas the traditional Western view had been that writing was simply the use of an alphabet, cuneiform, hieroglyphs and such, what Derrida suggested was the concept of writing should be extended to any system of differences, traces, or marks; the condition for meaning itself.

So Derrida took grammatology from an dusty corner of the academy where it meant (for the small number of souls involved) something like “a hypothetical technical study of writing systems” and re-invented it as a philosophical discipline analysing the deeper structures that make any representation or meaning possible.  The notion of it as a tool of analysis is important because deconstruction, the word Derrida and other “celebrity philosophers” made famous (or infamous depending on one’s stance on things postmodern) is often misunderstood as something like “destruction” when really it is a form of analysis.  If Derrida’s subversive idea been presented thirty years earlier (had the author been able to find a publisher), it’s possible it would have been ignored or dismissed by relative few who then read such material.  However, in the post-war years there was an enormous expansion in both the number of universities and the cohorts of academics and students studying in fields which would come to be called “critical theory” so there was a receptive base for ideas overturning orthodoxy, thus the remarkable path deconstruction and postmodernism for decades tracked.

Deconstruction in art, Girl With Balloon by street artist Banksy, before, during & after a (successful) test deconstruction (left) and in its final form (right), London, October 2018.

There is an ephemeral art movement but usually it involves works which wholly are destroyed or entirely disappear.  Banksy’s Girl With Balloon belonged to a sub-category where (1) the deconstruction process was part of the art and (2) the residual elements were “the artwork”.  Banksy’s trick with this one was as the auctioneer’s hammer fell (at Stg£1m), an electric shredder concealed at the base of the frame was activated, the plan being to reduce the work “to shreds” in a pile below.  However, it’s claimed there was a technical glitch and the shredder stopped mid-shred, meaning half remained untouched and half, neatly sliced, hung from the bottom.  As a headline grabbing stunt it worked well but the alleged glitch worked better still, art experts mostly in agreement the work as “half shredded” was more valuable than had it been “wholly shredded” and certainly more than had it remained untouched in the frame.  Thus: “meaning is just another construct which emerges only through differences and deferrals”.

From a distance of sixty-odd years, in the milieu of the strands of thought which are in a sense part of a “new orthodoxy”, it can be hard to understand just what an impact Derrida and his fellow travellers (and, just as significantly, his critics) had and what an extraordinary contribution deconstruction made to the development in thought of so many fields.  Derrida in 1967 of course did not anticipate the revolutionary movement he was about to trigger, hinted at by his book starting life as a doctoral thesis entitled: De la grammatologie: Essai sur la permanence de concepts platonicien, aristotélicien et scolastique de signe écrit. (Of Grammatology: Essay on the Permanence of Platonic, Aristotelian and Scholastic Concepts of the Written Sign).  A typically indigestible title of the type beloved by academics, the clipping for wider distribution was on the same basis as Adolf Hitler’s (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) publisher deciding Mein Kampf (My Struggle) was snappier than Viereinhalb Jahre (des Kampfes) gegen Lüge, Dummheit und Feigheit (Four and a Half Years [of Struggle] Against Lies, Stupidity and Cowardice).  There’s a reasons authors usually don’t have the final say on titles and cover art.

Derrida acknowledged linguistics in the twentieth century had become a sophisticated form of study but maintained the discipline was failing to examine its most fundamental assumptions; indeed his point was those core values couldn’t be re-evaluated because they provided the framework by which language was understood.  What Derrida indentified as the superstructure which supported all was the commitment to the primacy of speech and presence and because the prevailing position in linguistics was that speech was primary, the assumption worked to shape all that followed.  It was the influence of the Swiss philosopher & semiotician Ferdinand de Saussure (1857–1913) which was profound in positioning speech as the natural, original, living form of language with writing as a secondary, derivative (and, in a sense, artificial although this was never wholly convincing) representation of speech.  What made the Saussureian position seem compelling was it sounded logical, given the consensus it was human speech which predated the development of writing, the latter thus the product of the former and so persuasive was the thesis the hierarchy came to provide the framework for other disciplines within linguistics including phonology (the study of the way sounds function in languages) and morphology (the study of the internal structure of morphemes (the smallest linguistic unit within a word able to support a meaning)that can carry a meaning.  What this meant was syntax was also defined by speech (writing a mere convenient means of exchange) with phonetics (the study of the physical sounds of human speech) the true source of the material language.  Thus for generations, in academic discourse, historical linguistics were documented primarily by an analysis of changes in sound with orthography (the methods by which a language or its sounds are represented by written symbols); a mechanical by-product.

Deconstruction in fashion.  Lindsay Lohan in Theia gown, amfAR gala, New York City, February 2013 (left) and after “deconstruction by scissors” (right).

All gowns are “constructed” (some 3D printed or even “sprayed-on”) but sometimes circumstances demand they be “deconstructed”.  On the night, the shimmering nude and silver bugle-beaded fringe gown from Theia’s spring 2011 collection was much admired but there was an “unfortunate incident” (ie the fabric was torn) and, apparently using a pair of scissors, there was some ad-hoc seamstressery to transform the piece into something described as a “mullet minidress”.  That turned out to be controversial because the gown was on loan for the night but such things are just part of the cost of doing business and, with its Lohanic re-imagining, it’s now an artefact.

Derrida didn’t dispute the historic timelines; his point was that in defining linguistics based on this hierarchy, it became impossible to question the orthodoxy from within.  In a classic example of how deconstruction works, he argued the hierarchy was based not on the historical sequence of events (ie writing coming after speech) but was a culturally defined attachment to the idea of presence, voice and authentic meaning; with speech entrenched in its primacy, no discipline within linguistics was able fully to study writing because of this structural prejudice positioning writing as an auxiliary system, a mere notation of sounds encoding the pre-existing spoken language.  That didn’t mean writing couldn’t be studied (as for centuries it had been) but that it could be considered only a tool or artefact used to record speech and never a primary object of meaning.  While there were all sorts of reasons to be interested in writing, for the reductionists who needed to get to the essence of meaning, writing could only ever be thought something mechanistic and thus was philosophically uninteresting.  So, if linguistics was unable to analyse writing as (1) a structure independent of speech, (2) a fundamental element of thought processes, (3) a source of new or changed meanings or (4) a construct where cultural and philosophical assumptions are revealed, that would imply only speech could create meaning with writing a mere form of its expression.  Daringly thus, what Derrida demanded was for writing to be seen as conceptually prior to speech, even if as a physical phenomenon it came later.  In 1967, linguistics couldn’t do that while maintaining the very foundations on which it was built.

Never has there been published a "Grammatology for Dummies" but there is The Complete Idiot's Guide to Literary Theory and Criticism (2013) by Dr Steven J. Venturino.

At this point things became more technical but Derrida did provide a simplified model, explaining linguistics existed as the study of signs and not of traces, his work depending ultimately on certain distinctions: (1) Signs assume stable signifieds and (2) traces imply meaning is always deferred but never present.  For orthodox linguistics to work, the assumption had to be that signs enjoy a stability of meaning within a system; this Derrida dismissed as illusory arguing (1) meaning is just another construct which emerges only through differences and deferrals, (2) no signified is ever (or can ever fully be) “present” and (3) speech is no closer to meaning than writing.  By its own definitions in 1967, linguistics could not accommodate that because (1) its methods depended on systematic relations sufficiently stable to permit analysis, (2) it needed constant objects (definable units such as phonemes, morphemes and rules of syntax), syntactic structures) and (3) it relied on signs which could be described with the required consistency (ie “scientifically”).  Any approach grounding in trace and difference lay beyond the boundaries of orthodox linguistics.

So the conflict would seem irreconcilable but that’s true only if viewed through the lens of a particular method; really, linguistics was empirical and grammatology was philosophical and in that were alternative rather than competing or even parallel paths.  If linguistics was a system of codification, then grammatology was a critique of the foundations of linguistics and Derrida made clear he was not attempting to reform linguistics simply because that couldn’t be done; any attempt to interpolate his ideas into the discipline would have meant it ceased to be linguistics.  He wanted a new discipline, one which rather than empirically describing and categorising language and its elements, stood back and asked what in the first place made such systems possible.  That meant it was a transcendental rather than empirical process, one studying the conditions of representation and the metaphysics implicit in the idea of signification.  Writing thus was not merely marks on a surface but a marker of a difference in being.

The twist in the tale is that although De la grammatologie was highly influential (especially after an Edition appeared in English in 1976), grammatology never became a defined, institutionalised academic field in the way Derrida envisioned it at least supplementing departments of linguistics, anthropology and philosophy.  That was due less to the well-documented phenomenon of institutional inertia than it proving impossible for any consensus to be reached about what exactly “grammatological analysis” was or what constituted “grammatological research”.  Pleasingly, it was the structuralists who could account for that by explaining grammatology was a critique of the metaphysics underlying other disciplines rather than a method for generating new empirical knowledge.  Fields, they noted, were likely organically to grow as the tools produced were picked up by others to be applied to tasks; grammatology was a toolbox for dismantling tools.

Jacques Derrida with pipe, deconstructing some tobacco.

Even if Derrida’s concepts proved sometimes too vague even for academics the influence was profound and, whether as a reaction or something deterministic (advances in computer modelling, neurology and such), the discipline of linguistics became more rather than less scientific, the refinements in the field of generative grammar in particular seen as something of a “doubling down” of resistance to Derrida’s critique, something reflected too in anthropology which came even more to value fieldwork and political economy, philosophical critiques of writing thought less helpful.  So the specialists not only clung to their speciality but made it more specialized still.  Grammatology did however help create genuinely new movements in literary theory, the most celebrated (and subsequently derided) being deconstruction where Derrida’s ideas such as interpretation being an infinite play of differences and the meaning of texts being inherently unstable created one of the more radical schools of thought in the post-war West, introducing to study concepts such as paratext (how academics “read between and beyond the lines) the trace (the mark of something absent, a concept that disrupts the idea of pure presence and self-contained meaning) and marginalia (used here as an abstract extension of what an author may have “written in the margins” to encompass that which may seem secondary to the main point but is actually crucial to understanding the entire structure of thought, blurring the (literal) line between what lies inside and outside a text).

Derrida for Beginners (2007) by Jim Powell (illustrated by Van Howell).  On has to start somewhere.

The movement became embedded in many English and Comparative Literature departments as well as in post-structuralism and Continental philosophy.  Modern beasts like media studies & cultural theory are (in their understood form) unthinkable without deconstruction and if grammatology didn’t become “a thing”, its core elements (difference, trace etc) for decades flourished (sometimes to the point of (published) absurdity) and although not all agree, some do argue it was Derrida’s subversion in 1967 which saw the field of semiotics emerge to “plug the gaps” left by the rigidity of traditional linguistics.  Of course, even if grammatology proved something of a cul-de-sac, Derrida’s most famous fragment: “Il n'y a pas de hors-texte” (literally “there is no outside-text”) endured to underpin deconstruction and postmodernism generally.  Intriguingly for a concept from linguistics, the phrase took on a new life in the English-speaking world where it came to be understood as “everything is text”, an interpretation which created a minor publishing industry.  In English, it’s a marvellously literalist use and while it does to an extent overlap with the author’s original intention, Derrida meant there is (1) no access to pure, unmediated presence and (2) no meaning outside interpretation and no experience outside context.  In using texte he was referring to the interplay of differences, traces, relations, and contexts that make meaning possible (ie not literally the words as they appear on a page).  What that meant was all acts were “textual” in that they must be interpreted and are intelligible only within systems of meaning; the phrase a philosophical statement about signification and mediation, not characters printed on page.

Fiveable's diagram of what we need to know to understand literature.  Hope this helps.

However, demonstrating (in another way) the power of language, the “everything is text”) movement (“cult” may once have been a better word) in English came to be understood as meaning no reality could exist beyond language; everything (literally!) is text because it is words and discourse which both construct and describe reality.  That notion might have remained in an obscure .ivory tower were it not for the delicious implication that values such as right & wrong and true & false are also pieces of text with meanings able to be constructed and deconstructed.  That meant there was no stable “truth” and nothing objectively was “wrong”; everything just a construct determined by time, place and circumstances.  That Derrida never endorsed this shocking relativism was noted by some but academics and students found so intoxicating the notion of right & wrong being variables that “everything is text” took on a life of its own as a kind of selective nihilism which is, of course, quite postmodern.  Again, language was responsible because the French texte was from the Latin textus, from texō (weave) and while in French it can mean “text” (in the English sense), among philosophers it was used metaphorically to suggest “weave together”; “an interconnected structure” in the sense of the Latin textus (woven fabric); it was this meaning Derrida used.  Had the English-speaking world remained true to the original spirit of Il n'y a pas de hors-texte it would have entered the textbooks as something like “There is nothing outside the interplay of signs and contexts; There is no meaning outside systems of interpretation” and perhaps have been forgotten but “everything is text” defined and seduced a movement.  Thus, it can be argued things either were “lost in translation” or “transformed by translation” but for the neo- Derridaists there’s the satisfaction of knowing the meaning shift was an example of “grammatology in action”.

Nurdle

Nurdle (pronounced nhur-dl)

(1) In cricket, to work the ball away gently, especially to the leg side, gently nudging the delivery into vacant spaces on the field; such a shot played.

(2) In conversation, gently to waffle or muse on a subject about which once obviously knows little.

(3) In manufacturing, a pre-production micro-plastic pellet about the size of a pea, the raw material used in the manufacture of plastic products.

(4) In marine ecology as plastic resin pellet pollution (PRPP); marine debris.

(5) The depiction of a wave-shaped blob of toothpaste sitting on a toothbrush.

(6) That which is squeezed from tube to toothbrush.

(7) In the game of tiddlywinks (as nurdling), sending an opponent's wink too close to the pot to score easily. 

Circa 1968: In the context of cricket, it’s of unknown origin but presumably some sort of blend, influenced possibly by “nerd” & “nudge”, the meaning conveyed being a style of play that is cautious, unambitious and unexciting; the slow accumulation of a score; there’s been the suggestion of a link with “noodle” but it’s hard to see the connection and there's no documentary evidence.  The earliest known citation is a 1985 match report in The Times (London).  The small, cylindrical pellets, the raw material of the manufacturing processes of many plastic products, have been called nurdles since at least the 1970s, a reference from that time noted in the manuals supplied with an injection-molding machine.  The word is likely to have been coined either because of the physical similarity of the pellets to some types of noodle or as a variation of nodule (a small node or knot) and plastic nurdles have for decades been recorded as a significant proportion of marine pollution.  As used to describe the toothbrush-length squirt of toothpaste as it sits atop the bristles, the origin is murky but may be linked to nodule.  There have been suggestions the use by the ADA (American Dental Association) in the 1990s in a public-service advertising campaign about the correct technique for brushing may have been the coining but the word was used in toothpaste advertising as early as 1968 although the original spelling seems for some time to have been “nerdle”.  Nurdle is a noun & verb and nurdled & nurdling are verbs; the noun plural is nurdles.  The adjective nurdlesque is non-standard but has been used by at least one cricket commentator not impressed by a batsman's slot selection.

The Triple Action: The Great Nurdle Affair

Previously little discussed before courts, the nurdle received some brief attention when a trademark-infringement lawsuit (Colgate-Palmolive Co v. GlaxoSmithKline LLC, US District Court, Southern District of New York, No. 10-05728) was filed in July 2010 by GlaxoSmithKline (GSK), makers of Aquafresh “Triple Protection” toothpaste, against Procter & Gamble (P&G), owners of the Colgate “Triple Action” brand.  Almost immediately, P&G counter-sued in the same court with the retaliatory GlaxoSmithKline LLC v. Colgate-Palmolive, No. 10-05739.  One was seeking, inter alia, the exclusive right to depict a nurdle, the other claiming the image was so generic the right could be exercised by anyone.

Battle of the nurdles: P&G's Colgate Triple Action (top) and GSK's Aquafresh Triple Protection (bottom).

The disputes hinged on “triple” as a descriptor and “nurdle”, not as a word but as the image of a wave-shaped blob of toothpaste sitting atop the bristles on the head of a toothbrush.  GSK's core argument was that it held trademark registrations on both “triple protection” and a red, white & blue-striped nurdle.  P&G argued “triple protection” was weak and that a nurdle is inherently merely descriptive because it is but a literal image of the product.  What the court had to decide was whether a reasonable consumer, on seeing the nurdle and “triple action” text description on packages of Colgate toothpaste, could be sufficiently misled to believe what they were looking at was sourced, sponsored or endorsed by GSK which used both on their Aguafresh brand.

GSK’s nurdle.

In a filing of some eighty pages, P&G noted its recent release in the US of a toothpaste with packaging which superimposes the words “Triple Action” (the implication being (1) cavity protection, (2) fresh breath & (3), whiter teeth) atop a blue, white and green nurdle.  In response, GSK, which used the “Triple Protection” phrase on its Aquafresh products, filed a trademark application for the "nurdle design" regardless of color; this induced P&G to sue to enforce its rights to use the nurdle.  P&G further noted GSK did not file their application until after they had already complained about P&G’s nurdle design and suggested GSK was using the process to stifle competition by asserting an excessively broad scope for trademark rights.

P&G’s nurdles, registered by Colgate as trademarks. 

GSK’s filing was only half the length and accused P&G of adopting various nurdle designs and the “Triple Action” mark in an effort to “trade off the commercial magnetism” of GSK own packaging which had since 1987 included a distinctive red, white and blue nurdle, an argument which implied elements of both usurpation and ambush marketing.  P&G asked the court to declare its “Triple Action” phrase and interpretation of the nurdle not confusingly similar to GSK’s own “Triple Protection” phrase and nurdle which used distinctively different colors.  It sought also have the court (1) cancel GSK’s “Triple Protection” and nurdle trademark registrations and (2), deny such injunctive relief that would have prevented P&G from using any nurdle design and a phrase containing “triple”.  Damages were sought on several grounds including punitive damages.  It was a case of some commercial significance given GSK had deployed the nurdle as a cartoon character in a marketing campaign aimed at children, the idea being that if children pestered their parents enough to buy Aquafresh for them, it was likely they’d gain the whole family as a conquest (a lesson well learned by countless manufacturers).  The nurdle campaign ran on Nurdle World in the US and The Nurdle Shmurdle in the UK.

Post settlement: Colgate Triple Action with a visually different nurdle.

Late in 2011, the parties announced a notice of settlement had been filed in the court; a confidential settlement had been negotiated.  The details have never been made public but a review of supermarket shelves suggests (1) the red, white & blue GSK nurdle is acknowledged to be propriety, (2) a nurdle nevertheless remains generic and can be depicted as long as it is sufficiently distinguished from GSK’s 1987 original and (3) things claiming to be of or pertaining to happening in threes may be described as “triple” whatever but, in the context of toothpaste, “triple protection” is a GSK trademark.  P&G could thus display a nurdle, just not GSK’s nurdle.  So, as a private settlement, there’s no change to established law but those inhabiting that gray area between ambush marketing and actual deceptive and misleading conduct no doubt took note.  A judge might anyway find the outcome in accordance with the operation of trademark law: a trademarked image as specific as the GSK nurdle is entitled to protection but, as a general principle, a word as notoriously common as “triple” is the property of the commons available to all.

Doramad Radioactive Toothpaste.

In Germany, between the 1920s and the end of World War II (1939-1945), nurdles could be radio-active, toothpaste there sold with trace amounts for thorium obtained from monazite sands, the promotional material of which read: “Increases the defenses of teeth and gums” & “Gently polishes the dental enamel, so it turns white and shiny”.  Although known since at least the mid-1920s, it was only in the aftermath of the A-bomb attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki (1945) that the adverse effects of ionizing radiation in high or sustained does became widely recognized, rendering radio-active toothpaste an undesirable product in the minds of mothers everywhere.  Although radio-active toothpaste sounds evil, the Nazis can't be blamed for it being on the shelves, its debut dating from the Weimar Republic (1918-1933).  

Save Paste structural concept for toothpaste packaging.

From the days when folk made their own toothpaste by mixing water, salt and the soot from chimneys, toothpaste has become one of the sometimes unacknowledged markers of civilized life.  The packaging though has been little changed since 1889 when J&J (Johnson & Johnson) introduced their range in collapsible metal tubes.  The switch from metal to plastic happened over decades, necessitated initially by wartime shortages but by the 1990s, tubes were almost universally plastic.  Despite that, the fundamental design remained unchanged and was often inherently inefficient, supplied in a cardboard box, much of the internal capacity of which was unused because of the shape of the tube.  The design added cost and induced adverse environmental outcomes because (1) the box was unnecessary and immediately discarded and (2), the surplus volume added to the costs of storage and transportation.  One interesting suggestion has been the trapezoidal package.

By using a single cardboard container as both collapsible container and display packaging, it eliminates the need for a separate box.  Also, if designed with the correct geometry, multiple trapezoidal containers can more efficiently be packed for transportation and storage, thereby reducing the energy expended.  This simple trick of packaging. if extended to all products sold in tubes should result in a significant reduction in energy consumption (road, rail and air transport) and therefore in greenhouse emissions.  Additionally, the carboard is more easily recycled than plastic. 

One thing toothpaste manufacturers seem never anxious to discuss is the opinion of many experts that GSK’s classic nurdle, extending the length of the brush-head, is way too much and adults should instead use a nurdle no bigger than a pea.  Restraint when squeezing out a nurdle for children should be even more severe because of the risk when young of swallowing too much toothpaste containing fluoride: it increases the risk dental fluorosis, a cosmetic condition that affects the appearance of the teeth, ranging from brown and light discoloration to darker strains and even pitting.  On a very young child’s brush, rather than a plump nurdle, the toothpaste should just be a smear although they can use an adult's pea-sized nurdle after the age of three.  The BDA (British Dental Association) summarize best practice by recommending: (1) the correct amount of toothpaste for most people to use is a pea size, (2) brush at least twice daily, with a fluoridated toothpaste, brush last thing at night and at least on one other occasion; if possible brush after every meal, (3) use a fluoridated toothpaste (1,350–1,500 ppm fluoride) and (4), spit out after brushing and do not rinse (this maintains the fluoride concentration level).

Have nurdle, will brush: Lindsay Lohan on the set of HBO's Eastbound & Down (2013), brushing teeth while smoking.

It's an unusual combination but might work OK if one smokes a menthol cigarette and uses a nurdle of mint toothpaste; other combinations might clash.  That said, those adventurous enough to experiment and with the patience to shop internationally for toothpaste can try alternative flavours of nurdle and work out which best combines with their tobacco of choice.  Telford Dentistry undertook a survey and discovered manufacturers have used various recipes to concoct an extraordinary range of choices beyond the familiar mint.  The offerings in the EU (European Union) appear to be regionally specific with sweetness increasing as one heads south but licorice, salt, eucalyptus and ratanhia root may all available on-line.  The UK seems to be less adventurous with plain or mint variants almost universal although there are brands offering eucalyptus and it’s tempting to believe dour highland Scots still prefer the traditional mix of soot & salt.  In the US, there’s definitely a national sweet tooth because cinnamon, vanilla, bubblegum and a range of “novelty flavours” (birthday cake, bacon cucumber-dil and Pickle!) are advertised, often targeted at children (or, more accurately, their parents), encouraging them to brush by making the nurdles taste like candy.  East of Suez there’s much variety.  In Japan, there’s matcha, yuzu, wasabi and charcoal while Indian retailers offer neem, clove, miswak, and tulsi and in South East Asia and beyond there’s probably the most delicious sounding variety including Mango, Coconut, Clove Oil, & Betel Leaf.

Hellacious

Hellacious (pronounced he-ley-shuhs)

(1) Horrible, awful, hellish, agonizing

(2) Nasty, repellent.

(3) Formidably difficult.

(4) In slang, remarkable, astonishing, unbelievable, unusual.

1930s: US campus slang, the construct being from hell + -acious.  Hell dates from pre 900 and was from the Middle English Hell, from the Old English hel & hell (nether world, abode of the dead, infernal regions, place of torment for the wicked after death).  In the sense of “pour” it was cognate with the Old High German hella & hellia (source of the Modern German Hölle), the Icelandic hella (to pour), the Norwegian helle (to pour), the Swedish hälla (to pour), the Old Norse hel & hella and the Gothic halja.  It was related to the Old English helan (to cover, hide) and to hull.  The Old English gained hel & hell from the Proto-Germanic haljō (the underworld) & halija (one who covers up or hides something), the source also of the Old Frisian helle, the Old Saxon hellia, the Dutch hel, the Old Norse hel, the German Hölle & the Gothic halja (hell).  The meaning in the early Germanic languages was derived from the sense of a "concealed place", hence the Old Norse hellir meaning "cave or cavern", from the primitive Indo-European root kel (to cover, conceal, save).  In sacred art, Hell, whether frozen or afire, is often depicted as a cavernous place.  Hell is a noun & verb; hellman, hellcat, hellhound & hellfare are nouns and hellish, helllike, hellproof & helly are adjectives; the noun plural is hells.

In the sense of “the underworld”, it was cognate with the Saterland Frisian Hälle (hell), the West Frisian hel (hell), the Dutch hel (hell), the German Low German Hell (hell), the German Hölle (hell), the Norwegian helvete (hell) and the Icelandic hel (the abode of the dead, death). The English traditions of use were much influenced by Norse mythology and the Proto-Germanic forms.  In the Norse myths, Halija (one who covers up or hides something) was the name of the daughter of Loki who rules over the evil dead in Niflheim, the lowest of all worlds (from nifl (mist)) and it was not uncommon for pagan concepts and traditions to be grafted onto Christian rituals and idiom.  Hell was used figuratively to describe a state of misery or bad experience (of which there must have been many in the Middle Ages) since the late fourteenth century and as an expression of disgust by the 1670s.  In eighteenth century England, there were a number of Hellfire Clubs, places where members of the elite could indulge their “immoral proclivities”.  The clubs were said to attract many politicians.

The suffix –acious suffix was used to form adjectives from nouns and verb stems and produced many familiar forms (audacious from audacity, sagacious from sage, fallacious from fallacy etc).  There were also formations which became rare or were restricted to specialized fields including fumacious ((1) smoky or (2) fond of smoking tobacco), lamentacious (characterized by lamentation (sorrow, distress or regret)), marlacious (containing large quantities of marl (in geology, a mixed earthy substance, consisting of carbonate of lime, clay, and possibly sand, in very variable proportions, and accordingly designated as calcareous, clayey, or sandy), and punacious (an individual prone to punning (making puns).  The suffix was attractive also when coining fanciful terms such as quizzacious (mocking or satirical (based on the verb quiz (in the sense of “to mock”) and bodacious.  Bodacious remains probably the best known in this genre and seems to have begun as US slang, south of the Mason-Dixon Line and was (as bodaciously) documented as early as 1837 but may previously have been part of the oral tradition.  Etymologists conclude it was either (1) a blend of bold and audacious or a back-formation from bodyaciously (bodily, totally, root and branch) which seems to have been most prevalent is South Carolina where it was used in the sense of “the process of totally wrecking something”.  In the US the word evolved to mean (1) audacious and unrestrained, (2) incorrigible and insolent and (3) impressively great in size, and enormous; extraordinary.  In the early twentieth century, apparently influenced by campus use (presumably male students in this linguistic vanguard) it was a synonym for “a sexy, attractive girl” and this may have influenced users in the internet age who seem to have assumed first element came directly from “body”.

Of being hungry in the heat: Fox News, July 2006.

According to linguistic trend-setters Fox News, “hellacious” is the best word to describe the state of being “hot & hungry” so it’s not a portmanteau like “hangry” (one who is “hungry & angry”, the construct being h(ungry) + angry) but Fox News says it’s the best word so it must be true.  Hellacious was likely from the tradition of audacious, sagacious, vivacious etc and came to be a word with intensive or augmentative force.  Because it can mean something negative (horrible, awful, hellish, agonizing, nasty, repellent etc), something challenging (formidably difficult) or (used as slang) something positive (remarkable, astonishing, unbelievable, unusual), the context in which it’s used can be important in determining quite the sense intended.  Even then, if there’s not enough to work with, an author’s meaning can be ambiguous.  Fort the fastidious the comparative is “more hellacious” and the superlative “most hellacious” and the (rare) alternative spellings are helatious & hellaceous.  Hellacious is an adjective, hellaciousness is a noun, hellaciously is an adverb.

Google ngram (a quantitative and not qualitative measure).

For technical reasons this should not be taken too seriously but Google’s ngram appears to suggest use of “hellacious” has spiked every time the US has elected as president the Republican Party nominee, sharp increases in use associated with the terms of Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974), Ronald Reagan (1911-2004; US president 1981-1989), George W Bush (George XLIII, b 1946; US president 2001-2009) and Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025).  Political junkies can make of this what the will.  Because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

“Hellacious” appears in many lists of obscure words, often with an explanatory note with a parenthesized “rare” although nobody seem yet to classify it “archaic” and it’s certainly not “extinct”.  Improbably (or perhaps not), the word made a rare appearance when an E-mail from Sarah, Duchess of York (Sarah Ferguson; b 1959) to convicted paedophile Jeffrey Epstein (1953–2019) was published in England by the tabloid press and what was of interest was (1) her choice of words, (2) the date on which those words were written and (3) her previously expressed views on the man.  What prompted her in 2011 to write the E-mail was Epstein’s reaction to the duchess having a few weeks earlier, in an interview with the Evening Standard, publicly distanced herself from the disgraced financier, apologizing, inter-alia, for having accepted his gift of Stg£15,000, declaring she would “have nothing ever to do with him” again, that her involvement with him had been a “gigantic error of judgment”, adding “I abhor paedophilia and any sexual abuse of children”.  She promised never again to make contact.  Just to ensure she got the message across, she concluded: “I cannot state more strongly that I know a terrible, terrible error of judgement was made, my having anything to do with Jeffrey Epstein.  What he did was wrong and for which he was rightly jailed.”  He had been handed a three year sentence for soliciting prostitution from a minor.

The Duchess of York, who did not say the “P word”.

Despite that unambiguous statement, some weeks later she sent him an E-mail assuring the convicted paedophile she had not in the interview attached the label “paedophilia” to him: “As you know, I did not, absolutely not, say the 'P word' about you but understand it was reported that I did”, adding “I know you feel hellaciously let down by me.  You have always been a steadfast, generous and supreme friend to me and my family.”  As it transpired, “generous was a good choice of word.  Immediately details of the E-mail were published, the duchess’s office went into SOP (standard operating procedure) “damage control mode”, a spokesperson asserting the E-mail was written in an attempt to counter a threat Epstein had made to sue her for defamation, explaining: “The duchess spoke of her regret about her association with Epstein many years ago, and as they have always been, her first thoughts are with his victims.  Like many people, she was taken in by his lies.  As soon as she was aware of the extent of the allegations against him, she not only cut off contact but condemned him publicly, to the extent that he then threatened to sue her for defamation for associating him with paedophilia.”

Some might think it strange one would fear being sued for defamation by a convicted paedophile on the basis of having said “what he did was wrong and for which he was rightly jailed” but a quirk of defamation law is one can succeed in every aspect of one’s defense yet still be left with a ruinously expensive bill so the spokesperson’s claim the “…E-mail was sent in the context of advice the Duchess was given to try to assuage Epstein and his threats” may be true.  Epstein died by suicide while in custody (despite the rumours he may have been one of the many victims of “Arkancide” and murdered on the orders of crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) there is no evidence to support this) and the duchess’s unfortunate communication was but one of the consequences of Epstein’s conduct, the ripples of which continue to disturb the lives of his many victims and, allegedly, the rich, famous and well-connected who may have been “supplied” with under-age sexual partners from Epstein’s “stock”.  Tellingly there appears to be much more interest in identities of the latter than concern for the former.

Peter Mandelson, 8 August 1988, cibachrome print by Steve Speller (b 1961), Photographs Collection, National Portrait Gallery, London.  In a coincidence, the duchess’s eldest daughter (Princess Beatrice, Mrs Edoardo Mapelli Mozzi) was born on 8 August 1988 and in the weird world of the astrologers, the date 8/8/88 is “linked with abundance and is one of the most powerful dates for manifestation in the calendar”.  The date 8/8/88 is also a rather tawdry footnote in Australian political history.  Early in October 1987, the National Party's embattled Sir Joh Bjelke-Petersen (1911–2005; premier of Queensland 1968-1987) convened a press conference at which he announced he intended to retire on “the eighth of the eighth of eighty-eight”, the significance being that would mark 20 years to the day since he'd been sworn in as premier.  As things turned out, his support within the party collapsed as revelations continued to emerge from an on-going enquiry into corruption in the state and on 1 December 1987 he was compelled to resign, jumping while being pushed along the plank as it were.  Although he was in 1991 tried for perjury and corruption, the trial was abandoned after the jury was unable to agree on a verdict.  It soon emerged that while eleven jury members found the Crown's case as convincing as just about anyone else who heard the evidence, one did not and that was the jury foreman (Luke Shaw, b 1971) who was a member of the “Young Nats” (the National Party's youth wing).  In 1992, the special prosecutor announced the Crown would not seek a second trial on the grounds that, at 81, Sir Joh was “too old”.  Sometimes one gets lucky.

Claims the duchess's former husband (Prince Andrew, Duke of York, b 1960) sexually abused a woman he was introduced to by Epstein were settled out of court (with no admission of liability and the payment of an “undisclosed sum”) and recently, the UK government sacked its erstwhile Ambassador to the US (Lord Mandelson (one time New Labour luminary Peter Mandelson (b 1953)) after revelations emerged confirming his association with Epstein was rather different than what he’d previously disclosed (there has been no suggestion Epstein supplied Lord Mandelson with males younger than the statuary age of consent).  Quite what else will emerge from documents in the hands of a US congressional panel remains to be seen but there’s a groundswell of clamour for complete disclosure and the renitence of the authorities to do exactly that has led to much speculation about “who is being protected and by whom”.  Noting that, many of Epstein’s victims have been in contact with each other and are threatening to compile a list “naming names”; when that is leaked (or otherwise revealed), it will be among the more keenly anticipated documents of recent years.

Also intriguing is whether Lord Mandelson (who has a history of "comebacks from adversity" to rival that of the Duchess of York), might wash up in Gaza as some part of the "interim governing body" Sir Tony Blair (b 1953; UK prime-minister 1997-2007) has offered to lead.  Pencilled-in as Gaza's "supreme political and legal authority" for up to five years, reports suggest Sir Tony would preside over a seven person board and a secretariat of two-dozen odd so, given how highly he valued "Mandy's" presence while in Downing Street, he might find somewhere to "slot in" Lord Mandelson.  Of course his Lordship would not be an ideal "cultural fit" for Gaza but as he'd tell Sir Tony, fixing that is just a matter of "media management".  Middle East politics is one thing but what's of interest to the English tabloids and celebrity gossip magazines is whether the (latest) downfall of the Duchess of York is this time “final”.  It was Benjamin Disraeli (1804-1881, later First Earl of Beaconsfield; UK prime-minister Feb-Dec 1868 & 1874-1880) who famously observed “finality is not the language of politics” and on countless occasions he’s been proved right but so frequent have been the duchess’s indiscretions the press is (again) asking whether this time there can be no comeback.  The extent of Epstein’s “generosity” was illustrated by uncontested revelations the duchess accepted from him not only the Stg£15,000 to which she admitted but also a further Stg£2 million ($A4 million), needed at the time to stave off bankruptcy.  Despite it all, it still can’t be certain this really is the end of her remarkably durable career as a public figure which has survived many scandals including:

(1) In 1992 (while still married), she was photographed having her toes sucked by a man (not her husband) while enjoying some topless sunbathing.  Interestingly, sex therapists do recommend toe sucking (and other “toe & foot” play) because (1a) the nerves in the feet are sensitive and (1b) toe sucking is likely to be a novel sexual experience, something rare for most jaded adults.  They do however caution the feet should be immaculately clean, prior to beginning any sucking.

(2) In 2010 she was filmed (with a hidden camera) while offering to sell “access” to the Duke of York (for a reputed US$1 million in 2010) before departing the room with a briefcase filled with cash.

Sister Princess Eugenie (Mrs Jack Brooksbank; b 1990, left) and father Prince Andrew (right) looking at Princess Beatrice's soon to be (in)famous Philip Treacy fascinator, Westminster Abbey, London, 29 April 2011.  Until she appeared wearing this construction, most photographs of Princess Beatrice had focused on her lovely sanpaku eyes.  Opinion in the celebrity gossip magazines was divided on whether Eugenie's glance suggested envy or scepticism.

(3) In 2011, she did not prevent her eldest daughter attending the wedding of Prince William (b 1982) and Catherine Middleton (b 1982) while wearing a “distinctive” fascinator by Irish society milliner Philip Treacy (b 1967).  It was derided as a “ridiculous wedding hat” which seems unfair because it was a playful design which wasn’t that discordant upon the head on which it sat and was the only memorable headgear seen on the day, added to which it was symmetrical which is these days is genuinely a rarity in fascinators.  It was later sold at a charity auction for US$131,560 (said to be a record for such creations) so there was that.  Interestingly, some two years after the princess's fascinator made such an impression, the milliner gave an interview to the UK's Sunday Times in which he proclaimed: “The fascinator is dead and I’m delighted.”  Asked why his view had changed, he explained: “The word fascinator sounds like a dodgy sex toy and what’s so fascinating about a fascinator?  Mass production means that they became so cheap to produce that now they are no more than headbands with a feather stuck on with a glue gun. We’re seeing a return to proper hats.”  Clearly, association with a "cheap" product worn by chavs was no place for a "society milliner" although the journalist did suggest the Mr Treacy's change of heart may have followed Elizabeth II (1926-2022; Queen of the UK and other places, 1952-2022) in 2012 banning fascinators from the Royal Enclosure at the Royal Ascot, meaning the creations were not just passé but proscribed.  If thinking back to that day in Westminster Abbey, the journalist may have been tempted to suggest Mr Treacy write a book called: The Fascinator, My Part in its Downfall but any temptation was resisted.  Despite the obituary, the fascinator seems alive and well and the fashion magazines provide guidance to help race-goers and others pick "a good one" from "a chav one".

Since the 2011 E-mail’s publication, charities, some of which have, through thick & thin, for decades maintained their association, rushed to sever ties with the duchess.  Whether this time it really is the end of her “public life” remains to be seen but if the worst comes to the worst, can always resort to a nom de plume and write another book.  A prolific author, she has published more than two-dozen, mostly children’s titles or romances for Mills & Boon and, despite the snobby views of some, those two genres do require different literary techniques.

Gaza

Nobody seems to have used the word “hellacious” in relation to the state of armed conflict (most having abandoned that euphemism and just calling it a “war”) which has existed in Gaza since October 2023 but, used in the sense of “horrible, awful, hellish or agonizing”, few terms seem more appropriate.  Over the last quarter century odd, the word “Hell” has often appeared in discussions of the Middle East and the events in Gaza have made terms like “Hell on Earth”, “Hellscape” and “Hellish” oft-heard.  In a sense, the war in Gaza is just one more rung on the ladder down which the region has descended ever since many wise souls counseled George W Bush (George XLIII, b 1946; US president 2001-2009) that were the US to invade Iraq, that would be “opening the gates of Hell”.  One can argue about just when it was since then those gates were opened but in Gaza it does appear they’ve not just been flung open but torn from the hinges and cast to the depths.  What has happened since October 2023 has provided a number of interesting case studies in politics, military strategy and diplomacy, notably the stance taken by the Gulf states but given the extent of the human suffering it does seem distastefully macabre to discuss such things in clinical terms.

What soon became apparent was that Benjamin Netanyahu (b 1949; prime-minister of Israel 1996-1999, 2009-2021 and since 2022) had grasped what he regarded as a “once-in-a-lifetime” military and political environment created by the atrocities committed by the Hamas on 7 October 2023; were it not for the historical significance of the term, he’d likely have referred to his strategy as the “final solution to the Palestinian problem” (which at least some of his cabinet seem to equate with “the Palestinian presence”).  The basis of that strategy is the basis also for the dispute which has to varying extents existed since the creation of the state of Israel in 1948: There are two sides, each of which contains a faction which holds a “river to the sea” vision of national exclusivity which demands the exclusion of the other from the land.  Both factions are a minority but through one means or another they have long been the conflict’s political under-current and, on 7 October 2023, they became the central dynamic.  That dynamic’s respective world views are (1) the Palestinian people will not be free until the eradication of the state of Israel and (2) Jews and the state of Israel will not be safe until the removal of Palestinians from the land.  Mr Netanyahu’s cabinet expresses this as “the dismantling of the Hamas” but what they do is more significant than what they say.

Donald Trump (left) and Benjamin Netanyahu (right), the White House, Washington DC, March 25, 2019.

In Mr Netanyahu’s cabinet there is a spectrum of opinion but what appears now most prevalent is the most extreme: That the Palestinians wish to see the Jews eradicated (or exterminated or eliminated) from the land of Israel and as long as they are here the Jews cannot in their own land be safe so the Palestinians must go (somewhere else).  The gloss on the “somewhere else” long has been the mantra “there is already a Palestinian state; it is called Jordan and they should all go and live there” but in the region and beyond, that’s always been dismissed as chimerical.  The “somewhere else” paradigm though remains irresistible for the faction in Israel which, although once thought cast adrift from the moorings of political reality, finds itself not merely in cabinet but, in the Nacht und Nebel (night and fog) of war, able to pursue politics by other means in a way never before possible, the argument being the Hamas attack of 7 October meant the IDF (Israeli Defence Forces) were fighting a “just war”, thus the Old Testament style tactics.

In political discourse, the usual advice, sensibly, is that any comparisons with the Third Reich (1933-1945) should be avoided because the Nazis were so bad (some prefer “evil”) that comparisons tend to be absurd.  Historians have however pointed out some chilling echoes from the past in the positions which exist (and publically have been stated by some) in the Israeli cabinet.  Much the same world view was captured in a typically tart Tagebücher (diary) entry by Dr Joseph Goebbels (1897-1975; Nazi propaganda minister 1933-1945) on 27 March 1942:

“A judicial sentence is being carried out against the Jews which is certainly barbaric but which they have fully deserved.  In these matters, one cannot let sentimentally prevail.  If we do not defend ourselves against them, the Jews would exterminate us.  It is a life and dress struggle against the Jewish bacillus.  No other government and no other regime could muster the strength for a general solution of this question.  Thank God the war affords us a series of opportunities which were denied us in peacetime.  We must make use of them.”

Mr Netanyahu and his cabinet understand what the Hamas did on 7 October created “a series of opportunities” they never thought they’d have and, as the civilian death toll in Gaza (reckoned by September 2025 to be in excess of 65,000) attests, the IDF has made muscular use of the night and fog of war.  Of course the “somewhere else” fantasy of some Israeli politicians remains very different to the mass-murder alluded to by Goebbels or explicitly described by Heinrich Himmler (1900–1945; Reichsführer SS 1929-1945) in his infamous speech at Posen in October 1943 but what Mr Netanyahu has called his “historic and spiritual mission” of “generations” is creating a poison which will last a century or more.  For what is happening in Gaza, there seems no better word than “hellacious”.