CONELRAD

CONELRAD (pronounced kon-ill-rad or kon-ill-rid)

As an acronym: CONtrol of ELectromagnetic RADiation, a Cold War era  system of emergency public broadcasting developed by the US in the mid 1950s.

Exclusive to the US, CONELRAD was a nationally standardized system of emergency public broadcasting (on the AM (amplitude modulation) medium-wave band at 640 & 1240 kHz) intended to operate in the event of enemy attack during the Cold War.  The original specifications for what emerged as CONELRAD was first discussed at the "Informal Government-Industry Technical Conference" (March, 1951) and later published by the FCC (Federal Communications Commission): "The primary plan for alerting broadcast stations that is currently being considered by the FCC Study Group is known as the Key Station System.  The arrangement requires certain telephone circuits (private wire or direct line to Toll Board) between the Air Defense Control Centers (ADCC) and specified radio stations to be known as Basic Key Stations & Relay Key Stations”.

Cold War PSA (public service announcement).

The essence of the system was each Basic Key Station upon receiving an alert or warning signal from the ADCC would, upon instruction, broadcast a predetermined message and also relay the message by telephone to all Relay Key Stations assigned to each Basic Key Station.  As a diversified network designed to be able to continue functioning even if various parts were destroyed, it was conceptually similar to a later US military project which would later evolve into the internet.  Intended to be simple, robust and able to reach as wide a possible audience in the shortest possible time, CONELRAD used simple protocols for alerting the public and other "downstream" stations, consisting of a sequence of shutting the station off for five seconds, returning to the air for five seconds, again shutting down for five seconds, and then transmitting a tone for 15 seconds.  Key stations would be alerted directly and all other broadcast stations would monitor a designated station in their area.

In the event of an attack on the US, all domestic television and FM (frequency modulation) radio stations were required immediately to cease broadcasting and upon alert, almost all AM stations shut down, those remaining on-air transmitting either on 640 or 1240 kHz.  No transmission would last more than a few minutes and upon one going “off-air” another would take over the frequency on a ”round robin” chain, this to confuse enemy aircraft which might be navigating using RDF (Radio Direction Finding), a technique first widely used in the early days of World War II (1939-1945).  In the US, all radio sets manufactured between 1953-1963 were required to have the two frequencies marked by the triangle-in-circle (CD Mark), the symbol of Civil Defense organizations.  In 1963, CONELRAD was replaced by the EBS (Emergency Broadcast System) which operated until 1997 when all responsibilities were assumed by the FCC.

Diet Coke product placement in Mean Girls (2004).  One of the clues in identifying product placement is that items carefully are placed so brand-names are always legible.

Product placement, a technique on marketing in which products are brands are “worked into” something like a film or television programmes, is now so ubiquitous (witness the frequent appearance in Mean Girls (2004) of Coca-Cola, Doritos, Cheetos, Dunkin' Donuts, Red Bull, Silk Milk, Taco Bell etc) that there are now internet sleuths gleefully who document each instance.  Frequently, the presence of a product is merely an example of “brand awareness” with no substantive effect on the plot (in most cases it’s of no significance whether the characters drive Fords or Buicks or drink Pepsi or Coca-Cola) although there have been some deemed morally or politically dubious and variously they’ve involved things like alcohol, tobacco or firearms or institutions like the US military.  Known also as “embedded marketing”, the technique is most associated with commercial cinema where the stuff is easy to interpolate but there have been examples even in literary fiction, the best known being The Bulgari Connection (2001) by Fay Weldon (1931-2023).  In that, in exchange for an undisclosed payment, the author was required to make a specified number of mentions of the Italian luxury goods house Bulgari (generously, greatly she exceeded the quota).  Of course, that’s an example which became notorious and it’s not known how many other “respectable” novelists have been subsidized this way.

Stromberg-Carlson radio (with CONELRAD settings arrowed in red) promoted as one of the many “plusses” in the ownership of one of the Ford Motor Company's new Edsels.  In Australia, the phrase “it seemed like a good idea at the time”  is known colloquially as the “streaker's defence”.

The companion technique is “product association”.  Here, a company seeks in some obvious way to be associated with someone or some institution and in every glossy magazine there will, in one form or another, be probably dozens of examples.  Usually, “product association” is contractual with the consideration (usually cash or some form of contra arrangement) flowing one way or the other but the technique can also be executed as a form of “ambush marketing” (a hotel hiring for a morning a number of Ferraris, Lamborghinis and such to park outside for a photo-shoot, thereby hoping the “prestige” of the brands will “rub off”, despite the manufacturers receiving not a peppercorn for their unwitting participation).  More conventionally, it’s a normal commercial transaction entered into on terms agreeable to both parties and, if thought mutually beneficial, it may be on the basis of NMA (no monetary action).  In the matter of Stromberg-Carlson (by then a division of General Dynamics, now famous for nuclear submarines, warplanes and such) advertising their satisfaction at their new “transistorized” radio with “Town-and-Country tuning” being “one of the outstanding plus features of America’s newest car, the exciting Edsel”, it would have seemed like a good idea at the time.  By all accounts the Stromberg-Carlson car radios were fine devices but exhorting customers to: “See and drive the Edsel – it’s wonderful!” would have done nothing to enhance the corporate image.  That is of course a risk with product association: just as positive image can rub off, if things go awry, there’s a risk of that spreading too.  As it was, the Edsel venture floundered within three seasons but Stromberg-Carlson wasn’t part of the collateral damage.

1958 Edsel Citation Convertible, a failure with a fine CONERAD transistorized radio by Stromberg-Carlson.

Formed in 1894 as a partnership between Swedish immigrants Alfred Stromberg (1861-1913) and Androv Carlson (1854-1925), Stromberg-Carlson was for much of the twentieth century one of the dominant US manufacturers and distributors of electronics and telecommunications equipment.  As is modern corporate practice, Stromberg-Carlson became absorbed into other concerns and has since been part of the swirl of M&A (mergers & acquisitions) activities but it remains active in the industry.  Between 1906-1907, Alfred Stromberg dissolved his interests in telecommunications and formed what would become the Stromberg Motor Devices Company and ultimately Stromberg Carburetors.  In the post-war years, Zenith-Stromberg carburetors were used on a variety of British cars but they became well-known in the US after being adopted in the late 1960s because the company had a product which was ideally suited to complying with the increasingly stringent US emission regulations, the trade-off being some loss of performance, particularly at higher engine speeds.  In something like the Jaguar E-Type (XKE; 1961-1971), the switch from triple SU carburetors to dual Zenith-Strombergs meant the high-speed response suffered but, even in those happier days, there weren't than many who with any frequency explored how the things performed above 125 mph (200 km/h).

Heptadecaphobia

Heptadecaphobia (pronounced hepp-tah-dech-ah-foh-bee-uh)

Fear of the number 17.

1700s: The construct was the Ancient Greek δεκαεπτά (dekaepta) (seventeen) + φόβος (phobos).  The alternative form is septadecaphobia, troubling some the purists because they regard it as a Greek-Latin mongrel, the construct being the Latin septem (seven) + deca, from the Latin decas (ten), from the Ancient Greek δεκάς (dekás) (ten) + the Ancient Greek φόβος) (phobos) (fear).  Heptadecaphobia deconstructs as hepta- “seven” + deca (ten) + phobos.  The suffix -phobia (fear of a specific thing; hate, dislike, or repression of a specific thing) was from the New Latin, from the Classical Latin, from the Ancient Greek -φοβία (-phobía) and was used to form nouns meaning fear of a specific thing (the idea of a hatred came later).  Heptadecaphobia, heptadecaphobist, heptadecaphobism, heptadecaphobiac and heptadecaphobe are nouns, heptadecaphobic is a noun & adjective and heptadecaphobically is an adverb; the common (sic) noun plural is heptadecaphobes and they should number 59 million-odd (the population of Italy).

Morphologically, “heptadecaphilliac” is possible but is clumsy and unnecessary, the standard noun agent (-phile) rendering it redundant and although used, not all approve of the suffix -phobiac because it’s a later hybrid formation from modern English and thus judged “less elegant”.  The opposite condition (a great fondness for 17) is the noun heptadecaphilia, those with the condition being Heptadecaphiles, the derived words following the conventions used with heptadecaphobia.  Whether any of the derived forms have much (or ever) been used beyond lists asserting they exist (which, except as abstractions, may be dubious) is unlikely but concerned Italians should note the noun heptadecaphobist would seem to imply doctrinal adherence rather than suffering the fear.  Still, it’s there if the need exists for precision in one’s behavioural descriptors.  Modern English constructions (like heptadecaphobia) built from Greek morphemes are neo-classical” compounds rather than a “proper” words from the Ancient Greek and while some amuse or appal the classicists, in practice, variations in suffix-use have long be tolerated.

No fear of 17: Sydney Sweeney (b 1997) in photo-shoot for Frankies Bikini Collection, Seventeen magazine, March 2023.

In Classical Greek, the cardinal number 17 was ἑπτακαίδεκα (heptakaídeka; literally “seven-and-ten”) but the Ancients were as adept as us at clipping for convenience and the variant ἑπταδέκα (heptadéka; literally “seven-ten”) also exists in surviving texts.  The shorter element embedded in heptadecaphobia corresponds to heptadeca- (from ἑπταδέκα) and genuinely that is Classical Greek, although, on the basis of the count from what documents are extant, it was less common than ἑπτακαίδεκα. The latter-day hybridization was inevitable because, as far as in known, “seventeen” had not before been used as a combining stem in compounds.  In English, the convention in neoclassical formation tends the sequence: (1) take the cardinal form, (2) drop the inflection and (3) treat it as a stem, thus the construct heptadeca + phobia, familiar to structuralists in the more common triskaidekaphobia which uses the Greek tris-kai-deka (“three and ten”) despite in genuine Greek morphology, compounds being not usually directly from ἑπταδέκα as a bound stem.  It’s better to follow modern practice rather than try to conjure something “classically pure” because although one could argue heptakaidekaphobia (closer to ἑπτακαίδεκα) is a better tribute to Antiquity, as well as being historically unattested, it’s phonetically cumbersome which seems a worse linguistic sin.

Just because a “fear of a number” is listed somewhere as a “phobia” doesn’t mean the condition has much of a clinical history or even that a single case is to be found in the literature; many may have been coined just for linguistic fun and students in classics departments have been set assessment questions like “In Greek, construct the word meaning “fear of the number 71” (the correct answer being “hebdomekontahenophobia”).  Some are well documented such as tetraphobia (fear of 4) which is so prevalent in East Asia it compelled BMW to revise the release strategy of the “4 Series” cars and triskaidekaphobia (fear of 13) which has such a history in the West it’s common still for hotels not to have a 13^th floor or rooms which include “13”, something which in the pre-digital age was a charming quirk but when things were computerized added a needless complication.  The use of the actual number is important because in such a hotel the “14^th” floor is (in the architectural sense) of course the 13^th but there’s little to suggest there’s ever been resistance from guests being allocated room 1414.

Some number phobias are quite specific: Rooted in the folklore of Australian cricket is a supposed association of the number 87 with something bad (typically a batter (DEI (diversity, equity & inclusion) means they're no longer "batsmen") being dismissed) although it seems purely anecdotal and more than one statistical analysis (cricket is all about numbers) has concluded there's nothing “of statistical significance” to be found and there’s little to suggest players take the matter seriously.  One English umpire famously had “a routine” associated with the score reaching a “repunit” (a portmanteau (or blended) word, the construct being re(eated) +‎ unit) (eg 111, 222, 333 etc) but that was more fetish than phobia.

No fear of 17: Lindsay Lohan appeared on the covers of a number of issues of Seventeen magazine.  Targeted at the female market (age rage 12-18), the US edition of Seventeen is now predominately an on-line publication, printed only as irregular "special, stand-alone issues" but a number of editions in India and the Far East continue in the traditional format. 

Other illustrative number phobias include oudenophobia (fear of 0), (trypophobia (fear of holes) said to sometimes be the companion condition), henophobia (fear of 1) (which compels sufferer to avoid being associated with “doing something once”, being the “first in the group” etc), heptaphobia (fear of 7) (cross-culturally, a number also with many positive associations), eikosiheptaphobia (fear of 27) (a pop-culture thing which arose in the early 1970s when a number of rock stars, at 27, died messy, drug-related deaths), tessarakontadyophobia (fear of 42) (which may have spiked in patients after the publication of Douglas Adams’ (1952–2001) Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (1979-1992), enenekontenneaphobia (fear of 99) (thought not related to the Get Smart TV series of the 1960s), tetrakosioeikosiphobia (fear of 420) (the syndrome once restricted to weed-smokers in the US but long internationalized), the well-documented hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia (fear of 666), heftakosioitessarakontaheptaphobia (fear of 747) (though with the withdrawal from passenger service of the tough, reliable (four engines and made of metal) Boeing 747 and its replacement with twin-engined machines made increasingly with composites and packed with lithium-ion batteries, a more common fear may be “not flying on a 747”, most common among heftakosioitessarakontaheptaphiles).  Enniakosioihendecaphobia (fear of 911) was, in the US, probably a co-morbidity with tetrakosioeikosiphobia but it may also have afflicted also those with a bad experience of a pre-modern Porsche 911 (1963-) which, in inexpert hands, could behave as one would expect of a very powerful Volkswagen Beetle, the most acute cases manifesting as triskaidekaphobia (fear of 930, that number being the internal designation for the original 911 Turbo (1974-1989), the fastest of the breed, soon dubbed the "widow-maker").

Nongentiseptuagintatrestrillionsescentiquinquagintanovemmiliacentumtredecimdeciesoctingentivigintiquattuormiliatrecentiphobia (fear of 973,659,113,824,315) describes a the definitely rare condition and it's assumed that was word was coined by someone determined to prove it could be done. There’s also compustitusnumerophobia (fear of composite numbers), meganumerophobia (fear of large numbers), imparnumerophobia (fear of odd numbers), omalonumerophobia (fear of even numbers), piphobia (fear of pi), phiphobia (fear of the golden ratio), primonumerophobia (fear of prime numbers), paranumerophobia (fear of irrational numbers), neganumerophobia (fear of negative numbers) and decadisophobia (fear of decimals).  All such types are unrelated to arithmophobia (or numerophobia) which is the "fear of numbers, calculations & math", a syndrome common among students who "just don't get it" and there are many because those "good at math" and those not really are two separate populations; it's rare to be able to transform the latter into the former, a better solution being to send them to law school where many flourish, needing to master the arithmetic only of billing their time in six-minute increments (1/10th of an hour).  Having ten fingers and thumbs, most manage the calculations.  The marvellous Wiki Fandom site and The Phobia List are among the internet’s best curated collection of phobias.

The only one which debatably can’t exist is neonumerophobia (fear of new numbers) because, given the nature of infinity, there can be no “new numbers” although, subjectively, a number could be “new” to an individual so there may be a need.  Sceptical though mathematicians are likely to be, the notion of the “new number” ("zero" debatably the last) has (in various ways) been explored in fiction including by science fiction (SF or SciFi) author & engineer Robert A Heinlein (1907–1988) in The Number of the Beast (1980), written during his “later period”.  More challenging was Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions by English schoolmaster & Anglican priest Edwin Abbott (1838–1926) which was published under the pseudonym “A Square”, the layer of irony in that choice revealed as the protagonist begins to explore dimensions beyond his two-dimensional world (in Victorian England).  Feminists note also Ursula K Le Guin’s (1929–2018) The Left Hand of Darkness (1969) in which was created an entirely new numerical system of “genderless" numbers”.  That would induce fear in a few.

Lindsay Lohan's cover of the song Edge of Seventeen appeared on the album A Little More Personal (2005).  Written by Stevie Nicks (b 1948), it appeared originally on her debut solo studio album Bella Donna (1981).

In entymology, there are insects with no fear of the number 17.  In the US, the so-called “periodical cicadas” (like those of the genus Magicicada) exist in a 17 year life cycle, something thought to confer a number of evolutionary advantages, all tied directly to the unique timing of their mass emergence: (1) The predator satiation strategy: The creatures emerge in massive numbers (in the billions), their sheer volume meaning it’s physically impossible for predators (both small mammals & birds) to eat enough of them to threaten the survival of the species. (2) Prime number cycles: Insects are presumed unaware of the nature of prime numbers but 17 is a prime number and there are also periodic cicadas with a 13 (also a prime) year cycle.  The 13 (Brood XIX) & 17-year (Brood X) periodic cicadas do sometimes emerge in the same season but, being prime numbers, it’s a rare event, the numbers' LCM (least common multiple) being 221 years; the last time the two cicadas emerged together was in 1868 and the next such event is thus expected in 2089.  The infrequency in overlap helps maintain the effectiveness of the predator avoidance strategies, the predators typically having shorter (2-year, 5-year etc) cycles which don’t synchronize with the cicadas' emergence, reducing chances a predator will evolve to specialize in feeding on periodical cicadas. (3) Avoidance of Climate Variability: By remaining underground for 17 years, historically, periodical cicadas avoided frequent climate changes or short-term ecological disasters like droughts or forest fires. The long underground nymph stage also allows them to feed consistently over many years and emerge when the environment is more favorable for reproduction.  Etymologists and biological statisticians are modelling scenarios under which various types of accelerated climate change are being studied to try to understand how the periodic cicadas (which evolved under “natural” climate change) may be affected. (4) Genetic Isolation: Historically, the unusually extended period between emergences has isolated different broods of cicadas, reducing interbreeding and promoting genetic diversity over time, helping to maintain healthy populations over multiple life-cycles.

No 17^th row: Alitalia B747-243B I-DEMP, Johannesburg International Airport, South Africa, 2001.

There are a variety of theories to account for the Italian superstition which had rendered 17 the national “unlucky number” but it does seem to be due primarily to a linguistic and symbolic association from ancient Rome.  The most accepted explanation is that in Roman numerals 17 is XVII which, anagrammatically, translates to VIXI (Latin for “I have lived” (the first-person singular perfect active indicative of vīvō (to live; to be alive)), understood in the vernacular as “my life is over” or, more brutally: “I am dead”.  It was something which appeared often on Roman tombstones, making an enduring record which ensured the superstition didn’t have to rely on collective memory or an oral tradition for inter-generational transfer.  That would have been ominous enough but Romans noted also that Osiris, the Egyptian god of, inter alia, life, death, the afterlife and resurrection, had died on the 17^th day of the month, 17 thus obviously a “death number” to the logical Roman mind and the worst 17^th days of the month were those which coincided with a full moon.  The cosmic coincidence was an intensifier in the same sense that in the English-speaking world the conjunction leading to a Friday falling on the 13^th makes the day seem threatening.  Thus, just as in some places hotels have neither 13^th floor or rooms containing “13”, in Italy it’s “17” which is avoided although not having a row 17 in its airliners didn’t save Alitalia (Società Aerea Italiana, the now-defunct national carrier) from its COVID-era demise.  Of course not labelling a row or floor “13” or “17” doesn’t mean a 13^th or 17^th something doesn’t exist, just that it’s called “14” or “18” so it’s the symbolic association which matters, not the physical reality.  Mashing up the numerical superstitions, that 17 is an “unlucky number” shouldn’t be surprising because it’s the sum of 13 + 4, the latter being the most dreaded number in much of East Asia, based on the pronunciation resembling “death” in both Chinese and Japanese.

In automotive manufacturing, there was nothing unusual about unique models being produced for the Italian domestic market, the most common trick being versions with engines displacing less than 2.0 litres to take advantage of the substantially lower tax regime imposed below that mark.  Thus Ferrari (1975-1981) and Lamborghini (1974-1977) made available 2.0 litre V8s (sold in RoW (rest of the world) markets variously in 2.5 & 3.0 litre displacements), Maserati a 2.0 V6 (usually a 3.0 in the Maserati Merak (1972-1983) although it appeared in 2.7 & 3.0 litre form in the intriguing but doomed Citroën SM (1970-1975)) and Mercedes-Benz created a number of one-off 2.0 litre models in the W124 range (1974-1977) exclusive to the Italian domestic market (although an unrelated series of 2.0 litre cars was also sold in India).  Others followed the trend although, the more expensive they were, the less appeal seemed to exist despite, in absolute terms, the saving increasing as the price rose.  Maserati offered a twin-turbo 2.0 in the aptly named BiTurbo, BMW did a one off 320is and Alfa Romeo produced a run of 2.0 V6s.

Lindsay Lohan, aged 17, Teen Choice Awards, Universal Amphitheatre, Universal City, California, 2 August 2003.

From an engineering point of view, most audacious doubtlessly was the 2.0 litre version of TVR's V8S (1991-1994).  Supplied usually with a 4.0 litre version of the versatile Rover V8, the capacity of the version for the Italian market was halved by de-stroking, the bore of 88.9 and stroke of 40.25 mm creating an outrageously oversquare bore/stroke ratio of 45.28 but, with the assistance of a supercharger, the quirky engine almost matched in power and torque the naturally aspirated original with twice the displacement; It was a classic example of the effectiveness of forced-aspiration although it did demand of drivers a different technique.  By comparison, the Formula One BRM H16’s (1966-1967) bore & stroke was 69.8 x 49.9 mm and it was so oversquare to reduce the frictional losses which would have been induced had a longer stroke been used with that many cylinders; its bore/stroke ration was 71.48 compared with the almost square BRM V16 designed in the 1940s, the latter able to be in that configuration because (1) it was supercharged and (2) being only 1.5 litres, the stroke was anyway physically short in absolute terms.  The 2.4 litre V8s used in Formula One between 2006-2013 had to have a maximum bore of 98 and stroke of 40 mm (bore/stroke ratio 40.81) and that’s an indication of the characteristics the 2.0 litre TVR V8S offered.  Disappointingly, it was an experience few Italians sought and only seven were built.

It was Suzuki which had more success with work-arounds to Rome’s tiresome regulations.  Their two-stroke, triple cylinder GT380 (1972-1980) motorcycle was for most of its existence made with an actual displacement of 371 cm³ but in 1975, the Italian government passed a law banning the importation of motor-cycles under 380 cm³ and weighing less than 170 kg.  Accordingly, the Japanese produced a “big bore” 380 exclusively for the Italian market displacing an actual 384 cm³.  The portly triple would never have run afoul of the weight limit but just to avoid any unpleasantness, the data plate riveted to the frame recorded a verified mass of 171 kg.  Honor apparently satisfied on both sides, the GT380 remained available in some places until 1980, outliving the Suzuki’s other two-strokes triples by three seasons.

US advertisement for the Renault 17 (1974), the name Gordini adopted as a "re-brand" of the top-of-the-range 17TS,  Gordini was a French sports car producer and tuning house, absorbed by Renault in 1968, the name from time-to-time used for high-performance variants of various Renault models.

One special change for the Italian market was a nod to the national heptadecaphobia, the car known in the rest of the world (RoW) as the Renault 17 (1971-1979) sold in Italy as the R177.  For the 17, Renault took the approach which had delivered great profits: use the underpinnings of mundane mass-produced family cars with a sexy new body draped atop.  Thus in the US the Ford Falcon (1959-1969) begat the Mustang (1964-) and in Europe Ford made the Capri (1968-1976) from the Cortina (1962-1982).  Opel’s swoopy GT (1968-1973) was (most improbably) underneath just the modest Kadett.  It wasn’t only the mass-market operators which used the technique because in the mid 1950s, Mercedes-Benz understood the appeal of the style of the 300 SL (W198, 1954-1957) was limited by the high price which was a product of the exotic engineering (the space-frame, gullwing doors, dry sump and the then novel MFI (mechanical fuel-injection)), the solution being to re-purpose the platform of the W120, the small, austere sedan which helped the company restore its fortunes in the post-war years before the Wirtschaftswunder (economic miracle) was celebrated in 1959 with the exuberance of the Heckflosse (tailfin) cars (1959-1968).  On the W120 platform was built the 190 SL (W121, 1955-1963), an elegant (it not especially rapid) little roadster which quickly became a trans-Atlantic favourite, particularly among what used to be called the “women’s market”.

Only in Italy: The Renault 177, exclusively for heptadecaphobes.

Using the same formula, the Renault 17 was built on the underpinnings of the Renault 12, a remarkably durable platform, introduced in 1969 and, in one form or another, manufactured or assembled in more than a dozen countries, the last not produced until 2006.  Like the Anglo-German Ford Capri, the 17 was relatively cheap to develop because so much was merely re-purposed but for a variety of reasons, it never managed to come close to match the sales of the wildly successful Ford, FWD (front wheel drive) not then accepted as something “sporty” and Renault's implementation on the 17 was never adaptable to the new understanding of the concept validated by FWD machines such as Volkswagen’s Golf GTi which would define the “hot hatch”.  Like most of the world, the Italians never warmed to the 17 but presumably the reception would have been even more muted had not, in deference to the national superstition about the number 17, the name been changed to “Renault 177”, the cheaper companion model continuing to use the RoW label: Renault 15.

Equiluminant

Equiluminant (pronounced ee-kwuh-loom-uh-nuhnt)

(1) In optics, the quality of two or more objects or phenomenon being equally luminant.

(2) Figuratively, two or more people being judged equally illustrious, attractive, talented etc.

1860s: The construct was equi- +‎ luminant.  As an adjective, luminant means "that which illuminates; that which is luminous" while as a noun it describes "an illuminating agent".  Luminant was from the Latin verb lūminant, the third-person plural present active indicative of lūminō, the construct being lūmen, from the Proto-Italic louksmən, from the primitive Indo-European léwk-s-mn̥, from the root lewk- (bright) +‎ -ō (appended to form agent nouns).  The accepted synonym is isoluminant and equiluminescent is the alternative form.  When used figuratively, although it would make no sense in science, the comparative is “more equiluminant” and the superlative most “equiluminant”.  Equiluminant & equiluminescent are adjectives and equiluminance is a noun; the noun plural is equiluminances (which some list as non-standard).

The prefixes: equi-, homo-, peri- & iso-

The prefixes “equi-”, “homo-”, “peri-” & “iso-” are all used to in same way suggest a concept of sameness or equality, but by tradition and convention, are used in different contexts to produce different meanings or emphasis:  Equi- is used to indicate equality, evenness, or uniformity and is often seen in mathematical, scientific & technical publications to describe something is equal in measure or evenly distributed such as equilateral (a shape having all sides of equal length, equidistant (being at equal distances from two or more points) & equilibrium (a state of balance where opposing forces or influences are equal).  Homo- is used to imply “same” or “alike” and thus sameness or (sometimes by degree) similarity.  In technical use it is a standard form in biology, chemistry & the social sciences to indicate sameness in kind, structure, or composition and by far the most common modern use is in the now familiar “homosexual” which in many jurisdictions is now a proscribed (or at least discouraged) term because of negative associations (“homo” as a stand-alone word also having evolved as a slur used of, about or against homosexual men).

The uses of the prefix are illustrated by homogeneous (composed of parts or elements that are all of the same kind, homologous (having the same relation, relative position, or structure) & homonym (in linguistics words which sound the same or are spelled the same but have different meanings).  Iso- is used to denote equality, uniformity, or constancy in terms of specific characteristics like size, number, or configuration and is most used in scientific and mathematical publications.  Examples of use include isometric (having equal dimensions or measurements, isothermal (having constant temperature) & isosceles (having two sides of equal length).  Peri- is used to denote “surrounding or enclosing”, or “something near or around a specific area or object”, examples including perimeter (the continuous line forming the boundary of a closed geometric figure), periscope (an optical instrument for viewing objects that are above the level of direct sight, using mirrors or prisms to reflect the view & peripheral (relating to or situated on the edge or periphery of something.  So equi-focuses on equality in measure, distance, or value, homo- focuses on sameness in kind, structure, or composition, iso- focuses on equality or uniformity in specific characteristics or conditions while peri- :focuses on surrounding or enclosing, or being near or around something.  For most purposes equi- & iso- can be used interchangeably and which is used tends to be a function of tradition & convention.

Equiluminant colors

An example the equiluminant in blue & orange.  In color the text appears at the edges to "shimmer" or "vibrate".  When re-rendered in grayscale, because the value of the luminance is so close, the two shades become almost indistinguishable.

In optics, “equiluminant” is a technical term used to colors with the same (or very similar) luminance (brightness) but which differ in hue (color) or saturation (intensity).  The standard test for the quality is to convert a two-color image to grayscale and, if equiluminant, the colors would appear nearly indistinguishable because they share the same level of “lightness”.  It’s of some importance in fields as diverse as military camouflage, interior decorating, fashion, astronomy and cognitive psychology.  In the study of visual perception, when colors are equiluminant, the human visual system relies primarily on the differences in hue and saturation (rather than brightness) to distinguish between them and this can create challenges in perception; in many cases, the brain will struggle to segregate colors based solely on luminance; essentially, there is a lack of information.

An enigmatic abstraction (2024) by an unknown creator.  This is an example of the use of non-equiluminant shades of orange & blue, the original to the left, copy rendered in gray-scale to the right.

In art and design, the quality of equiluminance can be exploited to create visual effects, the perception of some “shimmering” or “vibrating” at the edges where colors meet actually a product of the way the different hues are perceived by the brain to be “less defined” (a process not dissimilar to the “grayscaling”) and thus “dynamic”, lending the impression of movement even in a static image, especially if seen with one’s peripheral vision.  While a handy device for visual artists, it can be something of some significance because the close conjunction of equiluminant colors can make certain visual tasks more difficult, most obviously reading text or distinguishing shapes and objects.  All that happens is the extent of the luminance contrast can create a perception of fuzziness at the edges of shapes which means some people can suffer a diminished ability to distinguish fine details and the smaller the object (text, numerals or geometric shape), the more acute the problem.  The phenomenon has been well researched, scientists using the properties in equiluminant colors to study how the brain processes color and the findings have been important in fields like instrumentation and the production of warning signs.

Richard Petty's 1974 NASCAR (National Association of Stock Car Auto Racing) Dodge Charger (left) and 3 ton Super-Duty Jack, produced under licence by the Northern Tool Company (right).

1974 was the last year in which the big-block engines were allowed to run in NASCAR and the big-block era (1962-1973) was NASCAR's golden age.  Richard Petty (b 1937) used a "reddish orange" to augment his traditional blue when he switched from Plymouth to Dodge as the supplier of his NASCAR stockers in the early 1970s.  His team was actually sponsored by STP rather than Gulf and STP wanted their corporate red to be used but in the end a "reddish orange" compromise was negotiated.  However, when he licenced the Northern Tool Company to sell a "Richard Petty" jack, the shade used appeared to be closer to the classic "Gulf orange".

Sexy Lamborghinis in a not quite equiluminant color combination following those of the Gulf Western racing teams: 1964 1C TL tractor (top) and 1968 1R tractor (bottom).

Lamborghini had been making tractors and other farm equipment since 1948 when first its track-drive models appeared in 1955, the 1C-TL produced between 1962-1966.  Unrelated to that model cycle, it was in 1966 Lamborghini unveiled the sensational Miura (1966-1973), powered by a transversely located, mid-mounted, 3,929 cm³ (240 cubic inch) V12 engine which sucked prodigious quantities of gas (petrol) through four triple throat downdraft Weber carburetors, each of which was needed to satiate the thirst.  The power was sent to the road via a five-speed transaxle which shared it's lubrication with the engine (shades of the BMC Mini (1959-2000) which turned out to be a bad idea and one not corrected until the final run as the Miura SV (1971-1973).  To achieve the stunning lines, mounting the V12 transversely was the only way to make things fit and the engineering was a masterpiece of packaging efficiency but it resulted in the car displaying some curious characteristics at high speed.  The specification of the 1C TL Tractor was more modest although quite appropriate for its purpose; it was powered by an air-cooled 1,462 cm³ (89 cubic inch) which delivered power to the rear portal axle and drive sprockets via a dual-range, three-speed manual transmission.  However, being a diesel, there was of course fuel-injection (by Bosch), an advance Lamborghini's V12s didn’t receive until 1985 when US emission-control regulations compelled the change.  This version of 1R tractor is known as the cofano squadrato (squared hood (bonnet)); produced between 1966-1969, it replaced the earlier 1R (1961-1965) which featured a rounded hood.  The earlier model seems not retrospectively to have been christened but presumably it would have been the cofano arrotondato (rounded hood), proving everything sounds better in Italian.  An Italian could read from a lawnmower repair manual and it would sound poetic.

Not all agreed all Italians sounded so mellifluous.  In the entry for 10 January 1927 detailing a journey on the Brindisi-Rome train, the novelist Evelyn Waugh (1903-1966) noted in his diary (edited by Michael Davie (1924-2005) and published in 1976): “…a woman with the smile of a Gioconda and the voice of a parrot.  We seem to have stopped at every station in Italy, all decorated with grubby stencilled pictures of Il Duce [Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & Prime-Minister of Italy 1922-1943)] looking as if they were advertising Hassals[?] Press Art School.  All common Italian women have voices like parrots.”  By then, maybe the Duce had “made the trains run on time” so there would have been that.  The mention of “Giocondo” was an allusion to the Italian noblewoman Lisa del Giocondo (1479–1542); her name was given to the Mona Lisa, her portrait commissioned by her husband and painted by Leonardo.

A most uncommon Italian: The Mona Lisa (circa 1503), oil on white poplar panel by Leonardo da Vinci (1452–1519).

The John Hassall Correspondence Art School was a London art education institution established early in the 20^th century by the illustrator John Hassall (1868–1948) and Waugh, thinking himself both and “artist” and connoisseur of fine art, had little regard for “commercial art”.  In those years however, there was something of a boom in “poster art” and, with growing demand for graphic artists, the school filled a niche and its popularity (and profitability) increased as correspondence courses, were added, permitting students to learn via mail; conceptually, it was the same idea as “on-line education”.  What came to be called the “Hassall method” (characterized by the flat colors enclosed by thick black lines) would become an identifiable motif in early art deco.  Being quintessentially “upper middle class”, Waugh had to resort to terms like “common”, “lower class” or “lower middle class” to disparage those he thought socially beneath him; unlike members of the upper class (aristocrats, gentry, the genuinely rich etc), he couldn’t hardly use “middle class” as a slur as they could.  On 16 July 1956 he expressed his pleasure the woman buying his house was willing also “…to take over cows and peasants if required.”  Seldom did he miss an opportunity to make some mention of his superior tastes, his entry of 12 February, 1961 recording with obvious glee the “…great pleasure resulting from being rid of servants – one can throw away all the presents they have given one.”  Confident in the discernment of his readers, he didn’t bother to write “ghastly presents”.

As everybody knows, in Mean Girls (2004), there's an example or reference point for just about every known sociological, zoological, linguistic, political, scientific, botanical, geological or cosmological phenomenon yet observed.  Here, Lindsay Lohan in baby pink and powder blue illustrates an instance of equiluminance.

At scale, equiluminance doesn’t have to be obvious for it still to have desirable “side effects” and while it’s often noted two specific hues ((1) the blue Llewellyn Rylands pigments 3707 (Zenith Blue, replicated by Dulux as “Powder Blue”) & (2) the orange Rylands pigments 3957 (Tangerine, replicated by Dulux as “Marigold”)), that their use in combination appears so often on cars, motor-cycles and other stuff with wheels is due less to the claim the shades seem at the edge to “vibrate” that the striking combination appearing on some of the Gulf Oil sponsored Ford GT40s and Porsche 917s during sports car racing’s golden era (1950-1972).  Given the surface area involved, the effect is probably imperceptible when viewed at close range but the science does suggest that at speed (and these were fast machines), at the typical viewing range found on racetracks, there was what the optical analysts call “visual pop”, something which heightens the brain’s perception of motion.

Ford GT40 chassis# 1075, winner of the 1968 & 1969 Mans 24 hour endurance classic in Gulf racing livery.

Gulf's colors were not equiluminescent.  The company's original "corporate color scheme" had been a dark blue & orange combo but Gulf was an acquisitive conglomerate and in late 1967 it took over the Wilshire Oil Company of California, the signature colors of which were powder blue and orange, something which Gulf’s management thought “more exciting” and better suited to a racing car.  The change was made for the 1968 season with the Fords now running as five-litre (305 cubic inch) sports cars, governing body having banned the seven-litre engines the cars previously had used (under a variety of names, motorsport has for decades been governed by some of world sport’s dopiest regulatory bodies).  In the Gulf colors, fitted with 302 cubic inch (4.9 litre) engines, Ford GT40 Mark I (chassis #1075) won the Le Mans 24 hour endurance classic in 1968 & 1969 (repeating the brace Ford had achieved with the 7.0 litre (427 cubic inch) Mark II & Mark IV versions in 1966-1967), the first time the same car had achieved victory twice.  In 1968, #1075 won the BOAC International 500, the Spa 1000-kilometer race, and the Watkins Glen 6-hour endurance race, while in 1969 it also took the Sebring 12-hour race, a remarkable achievement for a race car thought obsolescent.  The livery has since been much replicated, including on many machines which have never been near a race track.

1971 Porsche 917K in Gulf Racing livery.  The fins were added to improve straight-line stability and were strikingly similar to those which appeared on some late 1950s US Chryslers although the aerodynamic properties of those were dubious, despite corporate claims.

Interestingly, the team painting the GT40s were aware of the issue created by equiluminant colors and knew that when photographed in certain conditions, the shades could tend thus.  As a matter of professional pride, they didn’t want it thought they’d created something with “fuzzy edges” so deliberately was added a dark blue hairline-border around the orange, reducing the optical illusion to ensure that when photographed, everything looked painted with precision.  When the Gulf team in 1970 switched to using Porsche 917s for the World Sports Car championship, they adopted the expedient of a black line of definition between the blue & orange so the whole enduring appeal of the combination lies just in the striking contrast and relies not at all on any tendency to the equiluminant.

Ford GT Heritage Edition First Generation (left) and Second Generation (right). 

Little more than 100 GT40s were built but Ford noted with interest the ongoing buoyancy of the replica market, as many as 2,000 thought to have been built in a number of countries (although that's dwarfed by number of replica Shelby American Cobras; it's believed there are 50-60,000-odd of them, a remarkable tribute to the 998 originals).  In the twenty-first century, the company decided to reprise the design but the new GT (2004-2006) was hardly a clone and although it shared the basic mechanical layout and the shape (though larger) was close, it was a modern machine.  The car wasn’t called GT40 because the rights to the name had ended up with another company and Ford declined to pay the demanded price.  Over 4000 were built and one special run was a tribute to the 1968-1969 cars in Gulf livery, 343 of the “Heritage Editions” produced.  A second generation of GTs was produced between 2016-2022 and was very modern, the demands of the wind-tunnel this time allowed to prevail over paying tribute to the classic lines of the 1960s.  Although the supercharged 5.4 litre V8 didn’t return and the new car used a turbocharged 3.5 litre (214 cubic inch) V6, it outperformed all its predecessors over the last 60-odd years (all the original GT40 chassis built between 1964-1969) including the 427 cubic inch monsters that won at Le Mans in 1966 & 1967 so it took decades, but eventually there really was a "replacement for displacement".  The V6 also was used also in pick-up trucks which doesn't sound encouraging but versions of the small & big block V8s used in the GT40s also saw similar service, the latter even first appearing in the doomed Edsel.  Production of the second generation was limited to 1350 units, 50 of which were “Heritage Editions” in the Gulf colors, one of several “limited editions”.

Enthrone

Enthrone (pronounced en-throhn)

(1) To put on the throne in a formal installation ceremony (sometimes called an enthronement) which variously could be synonymous with (or simultaneously performed with) a coronation or other ceremonies of investiture.

(2) Figuratively in this context, to help a candidate to the succession of a monarchy or by extension in any other major organisation (ie the role of “kingmakers”, literal and otherwise).

(3) To invest with sovereign or episcopal authority (ie a legal instrument separate from any ceremony).

(4) To honour or exalt (now rare except in literary or poetic use).

(5) Figuratively, to assign authority to or vest authority in.

Circa 1600: The construct was en- + throne and the original meaning was “to place on a throne, exalt to the seat of royalty”.  For this purpose it replaced the late fourteenth century enthronize, from the thirteenth century Old French introniser, from the Late Latin inthronizare, from Greek the enthronizein.  In the late fourteenth century the verb throne (directly from the noun) was used in the same sense.  Throne (the chair or seat occupied by a sovereign, bishop or other exalted personage on ceremonial occasions) dates from the late twelfth century and was from the Middle English trone, from the Old French trone, from the Latin thronus, from the Ancient Greek θρόνος (thrónos) (chair, high-set seat, throne).  It replaced the earlier Middle English seld (seat, throne).  In facetious use, as early as the 1920s, throne could mean “a toilet” (used usually in the phrase “on the throne”) and in theology had the special use (in the plural and capitalized) describing the third (a member of an order of angels ranked above dominions and below cherubim) of the nine orders into which the angels traditionally were divided in medieval angelology.  The en- prefix was from the Middle English en- (en-, in-), from the Old French en- (also an-), from the Latin in- (in, into).  It was also an alteration of in-, from the Middle English in-, from the Old English in- (in, into), from the Proto-Germanic in (in).  Both the Latin & Germanic forms were from the primitive Indo-European en (in, into).  The intensive use of the Old French en- & an- was due to confluence with Frankish intensive prefix an- which was related to the Old English intensive prefix -on.  It formed a transitive verb whose meaning is to make the attached adjective (1) in, into, (2) on, onto or (3) covered.  It was used also to denote “caused” or as an intensifier.  The prefix em- was (and still is) used before certain consonants, notably the labials b and p.  Enthrone, dethrone, enthronest & enthronize are verbs, enthronementm, enthronization & enthroner are nouns, enthroning is a noun & verb, enthroned is a verb & adjective; the noun plural is enthronements.  The noun enthronable is non-standard.  The derived forms include the verb unenthrone, reenthrone & disenthrone and although there have been many enthroners, the form enthronee has never existed.

Alhaji Ibrahim Wogorie (b 1967) being enskinned as North Sisala community chief, Ghana, July 2023.

In colonial-era West Africa the coined forms were “enskin” (thus enskinment, enskinning, enskinned) and “enstool” (thus enstoolment, enstooling, enstooled).  These words were used to refer to the ceremonies in which a tribal chief was installed in his role; the meanings thus essentially the same as enjoyed in the West by “enthrone”.  The constructs reflected a mix of indigenous political culture and English morphological adaptation during the colonial period, the elements explained by (1) the animal skins (the distinctive cheetah often mentioned in the reports of contemporary anthropologists although in some Islamic and Sahelian-influenced chieftaincies (including the Dagomba, Mamprusi, Hausa emirates), a cow or lion skin often was the symbol of authority) which often surrounded the new chief and (2) the tradition in Africa of a chief sitting on a stool.  Sometimes, the unfortunate animal’s skin would be laid over the stool (and almost always, one seems to have been laid at the chief’s feet) but in some traditions (notably in northern Ghana and parts of Nigeria) it was a mark of honor for the chief to sit on a skin spread on the ground.

Dr Mahamudu Bawumia (b 1963), enstooled as Nana Ntentankesehene (Chief of the Internet/Web), Ghana, August 2024.  Note the cheetah skin used to trim the chair.

The stool was the central symbol of chieftaincy and kingship among Akan-speaking peoples (still in present-day Ghana where “to enskin” is used generally to mean “to install as a leader of a group” and the constitution (1992) explicitly protects the institution of chieftaincy and judicial decisions routinely use “enstool” or “enskin” (depending on region)).  In Akan political culture, the most famous use was the Sika Dwa Kofi (the Golden Stool) of the Asante and it represented the embodiment of the polity and ancestors, not merely a seat (used rather like the synecdoches “the Pentagon” (for the US Department of Defense (which appears now to be headed by a cabinet office who simultaneously is both Secretary of Defense & Secretary of War)) or “Downing Street” (for the UK prime-minister or the government generally).  Thus, to be “enstooled” is ritually to be placed into office as chief, inheriting the authority vested in the stool.  Enskin & enstool (both of which seem first to have appeared in the records of the Colonial Office in the 1880s and thus were products of the consolidation of British indirect rule in West Africa, rather than being survivals from earlier missionary English which also coined its own terms) were examples of semantic calquing (the English vocabulary reshaped to encode indigenous concepts) and, as it was under the Raj in India, it was practical administrative pragmatism, colonial officials needing precise (and standardized) terms that distinguished between different systems of authority.  In truth, they were also often part of classic colonial “fixes” in which the British would take existing ceremonies and add layers of ritual to afforce the idea of a chief as “their ruler” and within a couple of generations, sometimes the local population would talk of the newly elaborate ceremony as something dating back centuries; the “fix” was a form of constructed double-legitimization.

A classic colonial fix was the Bose Levu Vakaturaga (Great Council of Chiefs) in Fiji which the British administrators created in 1878.  While it's true that prior to European contact, there had been meetings between turaga (tribal chiefs) to settle disputes and for other purposes, all the evidence suggests they were ad-hoc appointments with little of the formality, pomp and circumstance the British introduced.  Still, it was a successful institution which the chiefs embraced, apparently with some enthusiasm because the cloaks and other accoutrements they adopted for the occasion became increasingly elaborate and it was a generally harmonious form of indigenous governance which enabled the British to conduct matters of administration and policy-making almost exclusively through the chiefs.  The council survived even after Fiji gained independence from Britain in 1970 until it was in 2012 abolished by the military government of Commodore Frank Bainimarama (b 1954; prime minister of Fiji 2007-2022), as part of reform programme said to be an attempt to reduce ethnic divisions and promote a unified national identity.  The commodore's political future would be more assured had he learned lessons from the Raj.

There was of course an element of racial hierarchy in all this and “enskin” & “enstool” denoted a “tribal chief” under British rule whereas “enthrone” might have been thought to imply some form of sovereignty because that was the linkage in Europe and that would never do.  What the colonial authorities wanted was to maintain the idea of “the stool” as a corporate symbol, the office the repository of the authority, not the individual.  The danger with using a term like “enthronement” was the population might be infected by the European notion of monarchy as a hereditary kingship with personal sovereignty; what the Europeans wanted was “a stool” and they would decide who would be enstooled, destooled or restooled. 

Prince Mangosuthu Buthelezi, Moses Mabhida Stadium, Durban, South Africa, October 2022.

English words and their connotations did continue to matter in the post-colonial world because although the colonizers might have departed, often the legacy of language remained, sometimes as an “official” language of government and administration.  In the 1990s, the office of South Africa’s Prince Mangosuthu Buthelezi (1928–2023) sent a series of letters to the world’s media outlets advising he should be styled as “Prince” and not “Chief”, on the basis of being the grandson of one Zulu king and the nephew of another.  The Zulus were once described as a “tribe” and while that reflected the use in ethnography, the appeal in the West was really that it represented a rung on the racist hierarchy of civilization, the preferred model being: white people have nations or states, Africans cluster in tribes or clans.  The colonial administrators recognized these groups had leaders and typically they used the style “chief” (from the Middle English cheef & chef, from the Old French chef & chief (leader), from the Vulgar Latin capus, from the Classical Latin caput (head), from the Proto-Italic kaput, from the primitive Indo-European káput).  As the colonial records make clear, there were “good” chiefs and “troublesome” chiefs, thus the need sometimes to arrange a replacement enstooling.

Unlike in the West where styles of address and orders of precedence were codified (indeed, somewhat fetishized), the traditions in Africa seem to have been more fluid and Mangosuthu Buthelezi didn’t rely on statute or even documented convention when requesting the change.  Instead, he explained “prince” reflected his Zulu royal lineage not only was appropriate (he may have cast an envious eye at the many Nigerian princes) but was also commonly used as his style by South African media, some organs or government and certainly his own Zulu-based political party (IQembu leNkatha yeNkululeko (the IPF; Inkatha Freedom Party).  He had in 1953 assumed the Inkosi (chieftainship) of the Buthelezi clan, something officially recognized four year laters by Pretoria although not until the early 1980s (when it was thought he might be useful as a wedge to drive into the ANC (African National Congress) does the Apartheid-era government seem to have started referring to him as “prince”).  Despite that cynical semi-concession, there was never a formal re-designation.

Enthroned & installed: Lindsay Lohan in acrylic & rhinestone tiara during “prom queen scene” in Mean Girls (2004).

In the matter of prom queens and such, it’s correct to say there has been “an enthronement” because even in the absence of a physical throne (in the sense of “a chair”), the accession is marked by the announcement and the placing of the crown or tiara.  This differs from something like the “enthroning” of a king or queen in the UK because, constitutionally, there is no interregnum, the new assuming the title as the old took their last breath and “enthronement” is a term reserved casually to apply to the coronation.  Since the early twentieth century, the palace and government have contrived to make an elaborate “made for television” ceremony although it has constitutional significance beyond the rituals related to the sovereign’s role as Supreme Governor of the Church of England.

Dame Sarah Mullally in the regalia of Bishop of London; in January 2026, she will take office as Archbishop of Canterbury, the formal installation in March.  No longer one of the world's more desirable jobs (essentially because it can't be done), all wish her the best of British luck.

In October 2025, the matter of enthronement (or, more correctly, non-enthronement) in the Church of England made a brief splash in some of the less explored corners of social media after it was announced the ceremony marking the accession of the next Archbishop of Canterbury would be conducted in Canterbury Cathedral in March 2026.  The announcement was unexceptional in that it was expected and for centuries Archbishops of Canterbury have come and gone (although the last one was declared gone rather sooner than expected) but what attracted some comment was the new appointee was to be “installed” rather than the once traditional “enthroned”.  The conclusion some drew was this apparent relegation was related to the next archbishop being Dame Sarah Mullally (née Bowser; b 1962) the first woman to hold the once desirable job, the previous 105 prelates having been men, the first, Saint Augustine of Canterbury (circa 630s-circa 604) in 597 (not to be confused with the still influential Saint Augustine of Hippo (354–430)).

Despite the suspicions the event was being in some way "devalued" because a woman got the job, there is in the church no substantive legal or theological significance in the use of “installed” rather than “enthroned” and the choice reflects modern ecclesiastical practice rather than having any doctrinal or canonical effect.  A person become Archbishop of Canterbury through a sequence of juridical acts and these constitute the decisive legal instruments; ceremonial rites have a symbolic value but nothing more, the power of the office vested from the point at which the legal mechanisms have correctly been executed (in that, things align with the procedures used for the nation’s monarchs).  So the difference is one of tone rather than substance and the “modern” church has for decades sought to distance itself from perceptions it may harbor quasi-regal aspirations or the perpetuation of clerical grandeur and separateness; at least from Lambeth Palace, the preferred model long has been pastoral; most Church of England bishops have for some times been “installed” in their cathedrals (despite “enthronement” surviving in some press reports, a product likely either of nostalgia or “cut & paste journalism”).  That said, some Anglican provinces outside England still “enthrone” (apparently on the basis “it’s always been done that way” rather than the making of a theological or secular point”).

Lambeth Palace, the Archbishop of Canterbury's official London residence.

Interestingly, Archbishops of York (“the church in the north”) continued to enjoy ceremonies of enthronement even after those those at Canterbury underwent installations.  Under canon law, the wording literally makes no difference and historians have concluded the retention of the older form is clung to for no reason other than “product differentiation”, York Minster often emphasizing their continuity with medieval ceremonial forms; it’s thus a mere cultural artefact, the two ceremonies performing the same liturgical action: seating the archbishop in the cathedra (the chair (throne) of the archbishop.  Because it’s the Archbishop of Canterbury and not York who sits as the “spiritual head of the worldwide Anglican community”, in York there’s probably no lingering sensitivity to criticism of continuing with “Romish ways”.  It's not that northern noses are less troubled by the “whiff of popery”, it just that few now care.

In an indication of how little the wording matters, it’s not clear who was the last Archbishop of Canterbury who could be said to have been “enthroned” because there was never any differentiation of form in the ceremonies and the documents suggest the terms were used casually and even interchangeably.  What can be said is that Geoffrey Fisher (1887–1972; AoC-99: 1945-1961) was installed at a ceremony widely described (in the official programme, ecclesiastical commentaries and other church & secular publications) as an “enthronement” and that was the term used in the government Gazette; that’s as official an endorsement of the term as seems possible because, being an established church, bishops are appointed by the Crown on the advice of the prime minister although the procedure has at least since 2007 been a “legal fiction” because the church’s CNC (Crown Nominations Commission) sends the names to the prime minister who acts as a “postbox”, forwarding them to the palace for the issuing of letters patent confirming the appointment.  When Michael Ramsey (1904–1988; AoC-100: 1961-1974), was appointed, although the term “enthrone” did appear in press reports, the church’s documents almost wholly seem to have used “install” and since then, in Canterbury, it’s been installations all the way.

Pope Pius XII in triple tiara at his coronation, The Vatican, March, 1939.

So, by the early 1960s the church was responding, if cautiously, to the growing anti-monarchical sentiment in post-war ecclesiology although this does seem to have been a sentiment of greater moment to intellectuals and theologians than parishioners.  About these matters there was however a kind of ecumenical sensitivity emerging and the conciliar theology later was crystallised (if not exactly codified) in the papers of Second Vatican Council (Vatican II, 1962-1965, published 1970).  The comparison with the practice in Rome is interesting because there are more similarities than differences although that is obscured by words like “enthronement” and “coronation” being seemingly embedded in the popular (and journalistic) imagination. That’s perhaps understandable because for two millennia as many as 275 popes (officially the count is 267 but it’s not certain how many there have been because there have been “anti-popes” and allegedly even one woman (although that’s now largely discounted)) have sat “on the throne of Saint Peter” (retrospectively the first pope) so the tradition is long.  In Roman Catholic canon law, “enthronement” is not a juridical term; the universal term is capio sedem (taking possession of the cathedral (ie “installation”)) and, as in England, an appointment is formalized once the legal instruments are complete, the subsequent ceremony, while an important part of the institution’s mystique, exists for the same reason as it does for the Church of England or the House of Windsor: it’s the circuses part of panem et circenses (bread and circuses).  Unlike popes who once had coronations, archbishops of Canterbury never did because they made no claim to temporal sovereignty.

Pope Paul VI in triple tiara at his coronation, The Vatican, June. 1963.  It was the last papal coronation.

So, technically, modern popes are “installed as Bishop of Rome” and in recent decades the Holy See has adjusted the use of accoutrements to dispel any implication of an “enthronement”, the last papal coronation at which a pope was crowned with the triple tiara was that of Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) but in “an act of humility” he removed it, placing it on the on the alter where (figuratively), it has since sat.  Actually, Paul VI setting aside the triple tiara as a symbolic renunciation of temporal and monarchical authority was a bit overdue because the Papal States had been lost to the Holy See with the unification of Italy in 1870 though the Church refused to acknowledge that reality; in protest, no pope for decades set foot outside the Vatican.  However, in the form of the Lateran Treaty (1929), the Holy See entered into a concordat with the Italian state whereby the (1) the Vatican was recognized as a sovereign state and (2) the church was recognized as Italy’s state religion in exchange for which the territorial and political reality was recognized.  Despite that, until 1963 the triple tiara (one tier of which was said to symbolize the pope’s temporal authority over the papal states) appeared in the coronations of Pius XII (1876-1958; pope 1939-1958), John XXIII (1881-1963; pope 1958-1963) and Paul VI (who didn’t formally abolish the rite of papal coronation from the Ordo Rituum pro Ministerii Petrini Initio Romae Episcopi (Order of Rites for the Beginning of the Petrine Ministry of the Bishop of Rome (the liturgical book detailing the ceremonies for a pope's installation)) until 1975.

The Chair of St Augustine.  In church circles, archbishops of Canterbury are sometimes said to "occupy the Chair of St Augustine".

The Chair of St Augustine sits in Canterbury Cathedral but technically, an AoC is “twice installed”: once on the Diocesan throne as the Bishop of the see of Canterbury and also on the Chair of St Augustine as Primate of All England (the nation's first bishop) and spiritual leader of the worldwide Anglican Communion. So, there’s nothing unusual in Sarah Mullally being “installed” rather than “enthroned” as would have been the universal terminology between the reformation and the early twentieth century.  Linguistically, legally and theologically, the choice of words is a non-event and anyone who wishes to describe Dame Sarah as “enthroned” may do so without fear of condemnation, excommunication or a burning at the stake.  What is most likely is that of those few who notice, fewer still are likely to care.