Skeg

Skeg (pronounced skeg)

(1) In shipbuilding, a fin-like projection sometimes supporting a rudder and protecting the propeller(s) at its lower end, located abaft a sternpost or rudderpost.

(2) In the design of smaller boats, an extension of the keel, designed to improve steering.

(3) In the slang of naval architects (in certain contexts), a stump or branch (the after-part of a ship's keel).

(4) In the slang of the GM (General Motors) stylists, a “lower fin”, matching the, seen in embryonic form on the 1959 Pontiac and used on certain 1961 Oldsmobiles and the 1961-1962 Cadillacs.

(5) The fin which acts as a stabilizer on a surfboard.  To suffer some injury after being hit by one of these fins is to be “skegged”.

(6) In Australian slang, a surfer; a person who leads the lifestyle of a surfer (used also derisively in the form “fake skeg” of those who adopt the style an appearance without actually surfing.

(7) A type of wild plum (obsolete).

(8) A kind of oat (obsolete).

(9) In Northern English dialectal use, a look or glance.

(10) In some cultures, a slang term applied to youth suggesting slovenliness, a predilection to petty crime and other anti-social behavior; also used widely in Scottish slang for a surprising variety of purposes including legs, trousers, dirt, scotch eggs, sex and women of loose virtue.

1590–1600: From a dialectal term for a stump, branch, or wooden peg, from the Dutch scheg (cutwater), of Scandinavian origin and related to the Swedish skog and the Old Norse & Icelandic skegg (projection on the stern of a boat).  In some Nordic languages, skegg means “beard” and was from the Old Norse skegg, from the Proto-Germanic skaggiją, from the primitive Indo-European skek, kek-, skeg & keg- (to jump, skip, move, hurry).  In English slang, skeggy is (1) the coastal Lincolnshire town of Skegness or (2) an inhabitant of Skegness.  The name of the Skegness is though a construct of the Old Norse skegg (beard) + -nes (headland) and was thought a reference to the geography, the original settlement situated farther east at the mouth of The Wash (thus jutting out like a beard from a face).  A link with the Faroese skegg (to jump, skip, move, hurry (and source of the given name "Skeggi")) is thought unlikely.  Skeg is a noun and skegged is an adjective; the noun plural is skegs.

A gang of four Sceggs, Sydney, Australia.

The skegs of nautical architecture should not be confused with the homophone Sceggs, the acronym for students of S.C.E.G.G.S. (Sydney Church of England Girls Grammar School), seen also in the adjectival forms sceggesque & sceggish (one whose style suggests something similar to the stereotypical student of the school); Those adjectives exist because Scegg is also "a look" and there are students from schools other than S.C.E.G.G.S so described, often in the form "she's such a scegg".  

Lindsay Lohan in wet suit, with surfboard, Malibu, 2011.  The stabilizing skeg is the black protrusion at the back of the board.

On nautical vessels, skegs where they exist fulfil a significant function but they are not an essential part of hull design.  A skeg is an external structural feature, a vertical tapering projection permanently fixed at the aft, usually close to the centre-line.  Most are located in front of the rudder and structurally can often be considered a sternward extension of the keel (the internal, longitudinal members which lend much strength of the hull).  Although in military vessels there are additional functions, the most significant contribution of a skeg is in hydrodynamics, a skeg designed to influence the flow patterns and thus affecting the dynamics of both the rudder (which is usually in line with the skeg) and propeller(s).  The design is thus a finely tuned equation because while a skeg inherently induces drag, the way it alters the flow pattern can reduces the drag and resistance suffered by the rudder and propeller(s), essentially by transforming the turbulent characteristics of the flow to laminar at the stern.  Historically, skegs were a vital component in maintaining a course and that’s still an important consideration in smaller vessels but in larger craft, improved rudder and advanced navigational as well as stabilization technologies like thrusters have meant skegs are no longer of the same significance in maintaining directionality.

An USN (US Navy) Iowa class battleship, showing the inner set of propeller shafts wholly enclosed in a pair of skegs.  On the big ships, the skegs were designed also to be load-bearing supports while in dry-dock.

In the modern age, skegs became an unusual feature on warships, a relative few so equipped and the designs varied, some with only par of their shafts inside skegs while others encased all.  Although the traditional design imperatives were shared with other ships, for navies, they offered the advantage of affording some degree of protection for rudders and propellers against torpedo attack.  Historically, another important attribute of skegs was what they added to a hull’s structural strength, making the (inherently weaker) stern resistant to outside forces and all the last of the US Navy’s dreadnoughts (Iowa, New Jersey, Missouri & Wisconsin, launched 1943-1944 and in commission variously until in 1992 the last was struck the Naval Vessel Register) featured skegs.  Their hulls narrowed towards the stern and to save weight lacked the sternpost plates the British, German and Japanese navies always fitted to their battleships; the skegs compensated for this, offering a hull with similar rigidity.

The US Navy’s South Dakota class battleships (South Dakota, Indiana, Massachusetts & Alabama, launched 1941-1942 and in commission 1942-1947) were fitted with an unusual set of skegs, the design dictated by the relatively short hull, the large outboard skegs helping to reduce the adverse effects of fluid dynamics induced by the stern's abrupt end.

However, advantages in engineering and metallurgy meant much of the functionality afforded by skegs came to be achieved in other ways so skegs became unfashionable in naval architecture.  The modeling and simulations made possible by supercomputers meant hull designs could be rendered which mastered the turbulence caused by fluid dynamics so rudders and propellers were less affected, making skegs in many cases a source of performance-sapping skin-friction drag with little compensating benefit.  Indeed, not only did this hamper performance, in some cases excessive vibration was caused, something which could only to a degree be ameliorated by changes to the propellers’ configurations.

Cadillac’s Skegs, 1961-1962

Cadillac Coupe DeVille: 1959 convertible (left) & 1960 hardtop (right).

The 1959 Cadillac’s tail-fins are the best remembered and most emblematic of the brief, extraordinary era during which the absurdly macropterous flourished.  They’re rightly known as “peak-fin” but it’s a myth they were the tallest because, measured from the ground, those on the 1961 Imperial are about a half-inch (12 mm) more vertiginous.  The attractions of the style however were fading and from 1960, GM began to tone things down, Chrysler following the lead (Ford and AMC (American Motors Corporation) never really got involved in the big fin business).  Another cultural phenomenon is that because of the large number of pink 1959 Cadillacs which now exist, many assume they were a common sight when new, the things perhaps made memorable by the sight of the one owned by the admirable Jayne Mansfield (1933–1967).  However, the factory never made a pink 1959 Cadillac and in the era, it was only in 1956 such a color was on the option list and Ms Mansfield had one of those while her 1959 convertible received a custom re-paint.

An inspiration, a step in the evolution and the result: A captured German V2 rocket (1945, left), a full-size clay mock up of a design proposal for the 1961 Cadillac (1958, centre) and 1961 Cadillac Coupe de Ville convertible (left).  The V2 is on display at the Australian War Museum, Canberra, Australia and the clay mock-up Cadillac was photographed at the General Motors Technical Center, Warren, Michigan.

For the 1961 range, Cadillac further pruned the fins but as compensation, the design staff added a "lower fin" and these, informally, they called “skegs”.  While in a sense just another of the era's many extravagances, the outgrowths could have been part of something even stranger because among the design proposals which emerged from the GMADS (GM Advanced Design Studios) was one which clearly was the ultimate expression of the motif of the 1950s which borrowed so much from the aerospace industry.  The proposed fins essentially were those of ballistic missiles which for decades were an evolution from the German Vergeltungswaffen zwei (V-2), developed first by the German military with the code name Aggregat 4 (A4).  Vergeltungswaffen is translated variously as "retaliatory weapons" or "reprisal weapons" but in English use is often written as “vengeance weapons”.  Aerodynamically, what was proposed by the ADS may have had something to commend it and certainly, such was the placement and size of the fins they'd have in some way interacted with the air-flow.  Whether the design was ever subjected to wind-tunnel testing (this was years before computers could emulate such research) isn't know but the look was sufficiently favored for an expensive, full-sized clay model to be rendered.  Ultimately the longer, though perhaps more restrained, skegs seen on the 1961 & 1962 cars were preferred.

1959 Buick Invicta Concept.

Detroit's stylists in the 1950s not only sketched a car with a big dorsal fin but authorization was granted to build one to test public reaction.  There was a precedent for the "third fin" because the Czech manufacturer Tatra had for years used them (out of necessity) and they'd provided essential stability for many LSR (land speed record) vehicles.  The Invicta concept didn't proceed to production.

Those who think Detroit's cars of the late 1950s & early 1960s were sometimes bizarre should look at the design proposals that were rejected.  Despite the clear exuberance in the the imagination, there's never been anything to suggest the stylists were stimulated by anything stronger than an after work martini.  Compared with some of the clay mock-ups, what emerged from the production lines hinted at rather than emulated missiles but should it be thought what was rendered in clay was wild, the archives of the GMTC (GM Technical Center) contain a wealth of sketches of truly bizarre design studies which didn't make the cut to reach the hands of the modelers.  Presumably, those sketches which survive are those the stylists thought deserved to be remembered and there must of been those which even the designer concluded needed to be shredded.  As the archives also demonstrate, those who criticize the fins and "bullet" taillights on the 1959 Cadillac have reasons to be grateful even stranger things were rejected.

Cadillac’s “skeg years”: 1961 (left) and 1962 (right).  There was a time when this sort of thing was just a fork of Detroit's design orthodoxy. "The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there."

It was an era of annual styling changes and switching the orientation of taillights from the horizontal to vertical was typical of what stylists each season did to “refresh” the line, a process which came to be known as “facelifting” (ie a figurative use from cosmetic plastic surgery: altering the appearance while retaining the underlying structure).  Although this basic body would have a four-year life (1961-1964), the abandonment of the skegs for its final two seasons was, by facelift standards, a quite major update, one prompted by a change at the top of GM’s design’s studios.  Also of note is the roofline on the 1961 Cadillac four-window Sedan DeVille ((Body Style 6239, top left) which used an implementation of GM’s so-called “flat-top”.

1959 Chevrolet Impala Sport Sedan (Flat Top).  This was the year of the "bat-wings" and "cats eyes" taillights.

Along with the contemporary “bubbletop”, in its pure form, GM’s flat-top lasted only two seasons (1959-1960) but the two are now Detroit’s most admired rooflines of the post-war years.  The “bubbletop” was a direct tribute to fighter aircraft but the flat-top (it was also dubbed “Flying Wing” but GM internally referred to the blade-like structure as the “cantilevered top configuration”) was mid-century modernism.  Available exclusively on the four-door hardtops, each GM division (Chevrolet, Buick, Oldsmobile, Pontiac & Cadillac) offered the dramatic look (production-line rationalization made economically viable by all five sharing a single, core structure) although there were several designations.

1959 Cadillac Four Window Sedan (upper) and 1959 Pontiac Vista (lower).

Up-market Buick (Four-Door Hardtop), and Cadillac (Four Window Sedan) weren’t very imaginative while Chevrolet and Oldsmobile choose Sport Sedan; only Pontiac showed much imagination in picking Vista, an allusion to the unusually good 360^o visibility the style afforded (although the curves in the glass did produce some distortions).  Shamelessly, even after ceasing to offer flat-tops, Pontiac continued to use the Vista name.  Cadillac’s final flat-top fling came in 1961 with a modified version using less rear overhang but the market impact was muted, the more conventional six-window four-door outselling it by more than five-to-one margin as preferences shifted towards for formal lines.  However, the look didn’t at once die because it lingered on the four-door Chevrolet Corvair until 1965 and between 1962–1978 the motif appeared on the Alfa Romeo Giulia.

Cadillac’s take on the “long & slightly less long” of it: 1961 Cadillac Six Window Sedan de Ville (Body Style 6329L, left) and 1961 Cadillac Town Sedan (Body Style 6399C, right).  In the brochures, the terms “Town Sedan” and “Short Deck” both were used.

One quirk of Cadillac’s brief embrace of the skeg was there were two iterations: skeg long and skeg short.  Whether in response to dealer feedback or in anticipation of some owners preferring their Cadillac in a more conveniently sized package, between 1961-1963 a “short-deck” option was made available on certain body styles.  Offered first on the six-window Sedan de Ville (as the “Town Sedan”), an encouraging 3,756 were built so the option was in 1962 offered on the four-window de Ville Sedan (Body Style 6398 and now called “Park Avenue”) but sales dropped to 2600.  The coming of the 1963 models marked the retirement of the short-lived skegs which thus ended their brief moment as something decorative although they continued the functional role in marine architecture.

1963 Cadillac Four-Window Sedan de Ville (Body Style 6239, left) and 1963 Cadillac Sedan de Ville Park Avenue (Body Style 6398, right).

Although smaller cars were selling well in other market sectors, among Cadillac buyers, the decline of interest in anything smaller was confirmed in 1963 when only 1575 of the Park Avenues were sold.  The 129.5 inch (3289 mm) wheelbase was common to the whole Sedan de Ville range but the “short deck” models were shorter by 7 inches (178 mm) for the first two seasons and an even more obvious 8 inches (203 mm) in 1963.  Space utilization was obviously a little better but the market had spoken; fewer than 8,000 of the short-deck models sold while the standard editions shipped in the tens of thousands, the flirtation with (slightly) more efficient packaging abandoned for 1964; in the course of the following decade, the Sedan de Ville would grow another seven inches (178 mm) and gain over 400 lb (181 kg).  It should be noted that by international standards, the truck capacity of even the abbreviated models was still quite generous, able effortlessly to accommodate two sets of golf clubs, something which later became something of a de-facto standard used in assessing the practicality of sports cars.  Jaguar used this feature as a selling point when the XK8 (1996-2006) was introduced because it wasn’t possible with all versions of the old E-Type (1961-1974).

1958 Cadillac Series 62 : Extended Length Sedan (Body Style 6239EDX, left) and the standard Sedan (Body Style 6239, right).

There was in the early 1960s much criticism that “full-size” US cars had become too big but the “short deck” venture was a departure for Cadillac which had for some years been making things bigger and in 1958 the company had even included the “Series 62 Extended Length Sedan”.  The Series 62 Sedan was already an impressive 216.8 inches (5.5 m) long but the Extended Length version measured an even more imposing 225.3 (5.7), the additional 8.5 inches (216 mm) all in the rear deck, creating a more capacious trunk (boot).  Whether buyers just liked the look or there really were a lot of them with much luggage, the elongated sedan sold well, some one in five of the sedans having the big trunk and there was of course a healthy industry in jokes about Mafia functionaries and other figures in organized crime grateful finally to have more space to transport the corpses.  Surprisingly perhaps, despite mafia hit men contributing to to sales numbers of 20,952 of the 103,455 (excluding Eldorados and “chassis only” sales) Series 62s produced in 1958 (some 20%), the Extended Length Sedan proved a single-season one-off.

For 1963, the short-deck models might have re-appeared for another dismal season but the skegs were abandoned, never to return.  The fins the design studio found harder to forsake, conscious perhaps it was on the 1948 Cadillac they’d first appeared.  Then, modestly sized, they’d been an allusion to the tail-planes used on the twin-boomed Lockheed P-38 Lightning (1939) but the fashion had passed and the fins had to go so, inch by inch, there was a retreat from the heights and exuberance of 1959 until in 1966 they were vestigial, a hint which for decades would be retained.

1961 Oldsmobile Super 88.  The rear skegs were thought necessary to offset the “pointed-look” of the fenders and the front ones (the closest equivalent in nautical use being hydrofoils) were there just so the front bumper matched the lines of the rear, emulating Pontiac’s approach in 1959.

Within GM, the skegs were not exclusive to Cadillac, appearing also on the 1961 full-sized Oldsmobile 88 & 98 although the motivation of the designers differed.  What Cadillac in 1961-1962 did was nothing more than a styling gimmick, concocted at a time when it was obvious the moment of the big fins was passing but the motif still exerted such a pull that they were re-interpreted on the path to extinction.  In the Oldsmobile design office, the skeg had a different purpose, the protrusions deemed necessary as a device to counterbalance the rearward point of the quarter panel that terminated in a “cigar-shape”.  Mercedes-Benz had used a (more conventional) variation of the idea of a “balancing appendage” when in 1957 the 300d (W189, 1957-1962) appeared with rear fenders enlarged and re-shaped to disguise the pre-war style of the coachwork used on the W186 (300, 300b & 300c; 1951-1957) which came to be referred to as the "Adenauer" because several were used as state cars by Konrad Adenauer (1876–1967; chancellor of the FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany, 1949-1990).

1969 Alfa Romeo Spider (Duetto).

Interesting, between 1966-1969, the Alfa Romeo Spider (Type 105/155 and known informally known as the Duetto) featured the memorable Osso di Seppia (round-tail, literally “cuttlefish”) coachwork which resembled what Oldsmobile did in 1961.  After 1970 and until the end of production in 1994, the Spider used variants of the Kamm tail which increased luggage capacity and presumably also conferred some aerodynamic advantage.  A professional designer could write a long, learned essay explaining why the later Kamm tail was a more accomplished achievement which avoided the Osso di Seppia's flaws but in the collector market it's the cigar-shaped original the purists covet.  Had the Italians added skegs as Oldsmobile did, they’d have had more about which to complain.

1959 Pontiac Bonneville Convertible.  In 1959 Pontiac’s big news was the “split grill” which would for decades be a brand signature and the five inch (125 mm) increase in the track, lending the division that year’s most memorable slogan: “Year of the Wide Track”.  Given all that, the modest skegs weren’t much noticed, especially because, at the rear, eyes were drawn to the pair of small blades adorning the upper surface.  The idea was first seen on the 1953 Chevrolet Corvette (where they’d appeared on the taillight nacelles (pods)) and although often referred to as “finettes”, in the documents of the GM Design Studio they were “taillight bezels” or “ornamental finlets”.

1959 Pontiacs: Bonneville (left) and Catalina (right).

The skegs were less noticeably skeggish than the later implementations by Oldsmobile and Cadillac because they were smaller and, at the rear, installed in the horizontal rather than the acute angle which made them so obvious on Cadillacs.  At the front, the angle was less than adopted by Oldsmobile.  Pontiac also used the “long rear deck” as a marker of a model’s place in the hierarchy, the Bonneville at 220.7 in (5,606 mm) in length being seven inches longer than the lower-priced Catalina at 213.7 in (5,428 mm).  While two inches (25 mm) of the difference was absorbed by the Bonneville’s longer wheelbase (124 in (3,150 mm) vs 122 inches (3,099 mm), the remaining bulk was found in eth rear deck.  However, unlike the Cadillacs, there were no “short & long skegs”, the bumpers of both Pontiacs being identical although there were other markers of “pricetaggery”, the Bonneville’s elliptical taillights noticeably elongated.

1955 Ford La Tosca.

A half-decade before Cadillac decided their customers needed skegs, Detroit had pondered the idea.  Shown in 1955, Ford’s La Tosca (named apparently after Giacomo Puccini’s (1858–1924) three act opera Tosca (1900) although the intended connection seems to have been a general sense of the “emotional and dramatic” rather than the fate of the doomed protagonist) was unusual in that it appeared not as a full-scale “concept car” but in the form of a ⅜ scale model, used to demonstrate the possibilities offered by a remote-controlled chassis, directed through the medium of radio waves.  To achieve this, rather than build custom components (as the Pentagon would have done), Ford’s engineers dipped into the corporate parts bin and wired together the regulator and relay from a power window apparatus, the electric motor used to lower a convertible’s soft-top, a power seat mechanism and a standard, 12 volt car battery.  The system worked flawlessly and, depending on the topography, La Tosca could remotely be controlled at distances greater than a mile (1.6 km).  According to Ford records, the project began simply as an “…internal exercise to show students in the Advanced Studio how hard it was, even for professional designers, to design a car” but so long did the model take to complete (the complex curves and canted structures challenging to render in what was then the still novel fibreglass) that “mission creep” intruded, thus the radio-controlled chassis.

1954 Lincoln Futura (1954) and Ford Mystere (1955).  In Detroit, these were at the time typical of what was authorized to be built as "concept cars", machines destined for the show circuit to gauge public reaction.  If they now seem rather wild, much of what never left the stylists' (they weren't yet "designers") sketch pads and drawing boards truly was bizarre.  

Stylistically, La Tosca was in the vein of the corporation’s other concept vehicles of the era such as the Lincoln Futura (1954) and Ford Mystere (1955), the trio reflecting the way the industry was applying motifs from missiles and jet-propelled aircraft such as Perspex bubble-tops, tubes, fins and exhaust nacelles.  Most of these proved to be brief, though memorable, fads of jet-age aesthetics although elements were easily recognizable in the 1958 Lincoln and GM of course would later take up the skegs.  The remote-control concept was ahead of its time though it did find a niche in model cars and aircraft.  In the twenty-first century, new versions of the technology are now mainstream with cranes, trucks and trains routinely operated from sometimes thousands of miles away although usually on mine-sites and other remote locations (experiments with vehicles on public roads are being undertaken).  Despite these advances, the industry regards the technology as transitional and intends as soon as practicable to remove the human (and thus costly and unreliable) element completely, re-allocating control to an entirely autonomous AI (artificial intelligence) model which, without complaint or toilet breaks, can be worked 24/7/365.

Samizdat

Samizdat (pronounced sah-miz-daht or suh-myiz-daht)

(1) A clandestine publishing system (really, an ecosystem of sometimes connected but often independent systems) within the Soviet Union, by which forbidden works of literature were reproduced and circulated (also called “underground publishing”).

(2) A work or periodical circulated by this system (a samizdat publication).

1966: A direct borrowing from the Russian самизда́т (samizdat) (self-publishing), the construct being сам (sam) (self) + изда́т (izdát), an abbreviation of изда́тельство (izdátelʹstvo) (publishing house, publishing), the word samizdat coined as a jocular allusion to the compound name of official Soviet publishing organs (Gosizdát for Gosudárstvennoe izdátel'stvo (State Publishing House)).  Even among historians of the Cold War opinion must still be divided on whether samizdat remains a foreign term (and thus italicized) or has been assimilated into English (and thus not italicized); whichever is used, use within a document should be consistent.  A samizdatchik was a person involved in the production or distribution of samizdat.  In English language publications, the first known use of samizdat was in 1966 but the word clearly was in use in the Soviet Union (and presumably elsewhere behind the Iron Curtain) at least as early as the late 1950s and the clandestine production, copying and distribution of works banned by church or state authorities had been practiced for millennia.  Samizdat & samizdatchik are nouns; the noun plural is samizdats or samizdaty.

Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak’s (1890–1960), first edition, 1957.

The companion word was tamizdat, a direct borrowing from the Russian тамизда́т (tamizdát) literally “published there”, the construct being там (tam) (there) + изда́ть (izdátʹ).  That was a form of clandestine distribution in which writings published abroad were smuggled into the Soviet Union or other places behind the Iron Curtain.  Such works could be by foreign authors, by those in the Soviet Union or those in exile (self-imposed or otherwise); the definitional point was the publications were always banned.  A tamizdatchik was a person involved in the production or distribution of tamizdat although, as was the case with samizdatchiks, mere possession of a copy of something illicit could be enough for the security forces to apply the label; guilt by association often a popular legal device in authoritarian states.  The tamizdat tradition is less celebrated but there have been some notable titles.  Boris Pasternak’s (1890–1960) novel Doctor Zhivago was smuggled to Milan and there published in 1957 with Russian language copies soon appearing as tamizdats, swapped, bartered and sold in the vibrant underground trade in Moscow and Leningrad (the old imperial name Saint Petersburg restored in 1991).  The author was in 1958 awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature which didn’t best please the Politburo, compelling him to decline the award.  Times have changed and the novel is now part of the Russian high school curriculum.

Tamizdat Inc

Founded in 1998 and now based in Brooklyn, New York, Tamizdat Inc. is a NPO (non-profit organization) dedicated to promoting and facilitating international cultural exchange.  It appears to be focused on pop culture and originally was established to assist musicians from Central and Eastern Europe reach broader audiences, its activities including organizing tours by bands and staging music festivals.  Prior to streaming services going mainstream, Tamizdat for some years in the early 2000s ran a bricks & mortar music shop and CD distribution centre based in Prague (capital of the Czech Republic) but more recently it seems most involved with assisting those involved in some form of “art” to gain visas to visit the US.  Presumably, serious operations like the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) view Tamizdat Inc with the same sceptical eye they cast upon subversive outfits like the Vatican or the Falun Gong.

The Culture of Samizdat, Literature and Underground Networks in the Late Soviet Union (2020) by Josephine von Zitzewitz.

Although used mostly by historians and political scientists, samizdat is an accepted term in the jargon of literary theory and its use is not restricted to the Soviet Union or the states behind the old Iron Curtain.  Within the discipline, the term denotes certain “underground writing” (self-publication), circulated in typescript or copies produced on photocopiers or other duplicating machines; what (in this context) makes it samizdat is content expressing views proscribed by the state.  The word entered Western consciousness in 1966 when details emerged of the Sinyavsky–Daniel trial, conducted in Moscow the previous year.  Andrei Sinyavsky (1925–1997) was a literary critic but it was the material he wrote under the pseudonym Abram Tertz which saw Moscow brand him a “dissident”.  That what he wrote was critical of the communist regime was bad enough but his texts were smuggled out of the country and published in the West before returning as contraband, thereby circumventing the state’s strict (and bafflingly inconsistent) censorship regime.

Obviously guilty as sin, Mr Sinyavsky and fellow malcontent Yuli Markovich (1925–1988) were convicted of anti-Soviet agitation in a “show trial” and remarkably, history records them as the first Soviet writers to be convicted solely on the basis of their written words.  Plenty over the decades had been sentenced (sometimes to death) on charges in some way involving what they’d written, but Sinyavsky & Daniel served six years in a penal colony just for the words.  For the Kremlinologists, the most intriguing aspect of the trial was the prosecutor revealing the existence of a large body of underground literature circulating within the Soviet Union so the point of this “show trail” was not to secure a couple of convictions (rarely difficult in a Moscow court) but to act as a warning to other dissidents.  Being a dissident was not easy and one of the under-appreciated difficulties was that the state quasi-tolerated what came to be called “official dissidents”; those who were permitted to be critical… up to a point.  This approach functioned both within the country as a “safety valve” and, for Western viewers, an indication things were not as repressive as anti-Soviet propaganda claimed.  Unfortunately, as the political climate shifted, “official dissidents” could find what was tolerated one month could be judged unacceptable the next with consequences ranging from tiresome to serious.

The Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn (1918–2008), first edition, 1968.

Thus the attraction of adopting a pseudonym and publishing abroad, an additional benefit being duplicating machines were freely available in the West and hundreds or even thousands of copies cheaply could be produced in a way impossible in the Soviet Union where such machines were rare and their use diligently monitored.  As a form of deterrence, the 1966 Sinyavsky–Daniel show trial was not wholly effective because in 1968 the nuclear physicist Andrei Sakharov (1921–1989) completed his essay Reflections on Progress, Peaceful Coexistence in which he described the anti-ballistic missile defense projects being explored by both Moscow and Washington as likely to increase the threat of nuclear war.  Initially distributed within the Soviet Union in samizdat, it was smuggled to the West and published in translation.  As a punishment, Sakharov was removed from his role in military research and restricted to studying theoretical physics.  Even more famous was Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s (1918–2008) The Gulag Archipelago which, written between 1958-1968, was first published in Paris in 1968.  An exploration of the vast system of Soviet labor camps and penal colonies, the sprawling, three volume work included interviews, reports, statistics and an account of the author’s own experience as a Gulag prisoner.  In the West it remains the best known samizdat and prior to publication, the text in Russian did circulate in the Soviet Union although not until 1989 (in the days of Glasnost (openness) and Perestroika (restructuring) was it openly on sale in some bookshops.

The audio equivalent of all this is magnitzdat, denoting material recorded on magnetic tapes that went on unlawfully to be circulated.  Originally, the audio tape recordings were of spoken text and took advantage of several quirks in the Soviet criminal code: (1) While citizens could not own printing presses or duplicating machines, they were permitted to own tape-recorders and by the mid-1950s, Japanese machines, although rare and expensive, had begun to appear and listening was often a communal experience, (2) although the production of more than six copies of a typewritten text was unlawful, there were no restrictions on duplicating recordings and (3) the only legal liability for the content of a recording accrued to those recorded, not those involved in production or distribution. The construct of magnitizdat was магнитофон (magnit(ofon)) (literally “magnetic tape recorder”) + изда́ть (izdát).  Because of the relatively small numbers of real-to-reel tape recorders available, behind the Iron Curtain, the printed samizdats & tamizdats had a much more profound and far-reaching effect but, in an indication of what might have been possible had the technology been available, by the late 1970s cheap, portable cassette tape players enjoyed wide ownership in Iran and the people around Grand Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini (1900-1989; Supreme Leader, Islamic Republic of Iran, 1979-1989), then in exile in Paris, maintained an energetic programme of distribution to Iran of tapes containing his incendiary speeches against Mohammad Reza Pahlavi (1919–1980; last Shah of Iran 1941-1979).  Easily duplicated and shared within communities, the Ayatollah’s message spread probably at least as rapidly as would have occurred had he been allowed to broadcast on radio or television and the rest is history.

Lindsay Lohan, Confessions of a Broken Heart (Daughter to Father) (2005), 2Crow Bootleg.

Technically of course, a magnitzdat was conceptually similar to a “bootleg” recording, a form which in the West enjoyed in heyday in the 1970s & 1980s.  The term “bootlegging” dates from the late eighteenth century when it was used by British customs and excise officers to describe the trick smugglers used to hide contraband in their large sea-boots.  Since then, it’s been applied variously including (1) the distilling, transporting and selling of unlawful liquor (2) unlicensed copies of software and (3) unauthorized recordings of music and film.  In music, bootleg recordings began to appear in some volume in the 1960s and originally were often from live performances.  Frequently created from tapes of dubious quality with little or no editing, these bootlegs generally were tolerated by the industry because they tended to circulate among fans who anyway purchased the official product and were thought of just a form of free promotional material.  Later, when things became more organized and bootleggers began distributing replicas of official releases, the attitude changed and for decades the music and software industries fought ongoing battles against bootleg copies (which in some non-Western markets represented in excess of 90% of software installations).

Broken English (1979) by Marianne Faithfull (1946-2025).

Marianne Faithfull undeniably was beautiful but before Broken English her discography had been a predictable pastiche of any number of “girl singers” of the 1960s, the music rarely original, usually melodic and inoffensive but never with an arrangement hinting her output could be thought “interpretative”.  Broken English startlingly was different and rarely has a repertoire better suited a “gin soaked” voice.  However there was one track with lyrics deemed in some places “obscene” (the words now would raise barely an eyebrow) so in those markets the album appeared with the offending track deleted.  That led to a lively trade in “bootleg” copies (ie those produced for sale in less censorious jurisdictions) and before long most regulators bowed to reality, allowing their citizens to hear Ms Faithful sing the words many likely would hear while walking along city streets.

While obviously there can in form be similarities in samizdats, tamizdats, magnitzdats and bootlegs, the motives for their production and distribution differ.  “Bootleg copies” of this and that are money-making devices that generate profit by evading copyright, thereby denying the payment of royalties to those who hold the IP (intellectual property) or distribution rights whereas the Russian trio existed to publish material proscribed by state censorship.  Behind the Iron Curtain, for those involved in the means of production or distribution, there could be a profit motive (especially resellers in the “secondary market” and beyond) but the primary rationale was to avoid the censor’s pen.  Although philosophers have for millennia discussed and explained the nature of the institutions such as organized religion and what would come to be called “the nation state” (and latterly, political scientists have with increasing levels of complexity added to the literature), operating in parallel with theoretical niceties such as “consent”, “distributive justice” and “social contracts” is “power”.  Politics, as it is practiced, was detailed by the Florentine diplomat Niccolò di Bernardo dei Machiavelli, 1469–1527) in Il Principe (The Prince, 1532), a kind of “owner’s handbook” of power and its retention and its core dynamic is what’s now known as regime survival, an imperative which long predates Renaissance Italy and although tactics may vary, the strategy remains the same, whether in a besieged Constantinople in 1453, in the Führerbunker in 1945, in the Oval Office in 2021 or among Ayatollahs in Tehran in 2026.  Censorship is an important component in regime survival because if alternative thoughts are allowed freely to circulate, people might get ideas and princes, popes and presidents all well know where that may lead.

Court of the Star Chamber (1951), gouache on paper by Cecil Doughty (1913–1985).

Although created in the mid-twentieth century, the work is in the style of a "period correct" woodcut.  The Star Chamber was formed because of the courts of Common Law and Chancellery had become inefficient, rule-bound and susceptible to external influences and initially it functioned well but later (especially under the seventeenth century Stuarts) it became a tool of repression.

In the West, the notion of “freedom of speech” is a recent arrival; edicts banning “seditious and heretical works” were proclaimed in 1529 during the reign of Henry VIII (1491–1547; King of England (and Ireland after 1541) 1509-1547) who shortly would change his mind about what constituted “heresy”.  Within a decade of the first proclamations, laws were passed requiring books must be licensed for printing by Privy Council or other royal nominees, an indication the printing press in its time was as disruptive an influence as the internet and social media would later prove; in moves that would be applauded by later Soviet governments, in England and elsewhere in Europe, severe restrictions were imposed on the importation of foreign books.  Had these measures worked as intended, political and intellectual life would have been very different but in England (as in Europe), underground and unlicensed printing presses were soon active and often highly productive.  By 1557, the Stationers' Company (an outgrowth of the London craft guild of printers) was granted a “charter of incorporation” which stipulated only members of the company (or others holding a special patent) were allowed to print any work for sale in the kingdom.  In 1586, the Court of Star Chamber introduced an ordinance mandating that no printing press might be set up in any place other than London or the university towns of Oxford and Cambridge, the point being that in those places the state possessed the infrastructure to supervise what was being produced.  As the Star Chamber was inclined to do, under the act of 1637 it imposed harsh punishments upon transgressors and even after the court was in 1641 abolished by the Long Parliament the repression not only continued but the consequences for illicit printing became more severe.  Remarkable as it sounds, under the rule of Oliver Cromwell (1599–1658; Lord Protector of the Commonwealth 1653-1658), publishers and printers may have looked back on the administration of the Star Chamber as an enlightened period.  The puritanical Cromwell in 1655 actually banned all unofficial publications but this was found to create more problems than it solved and four years later the Rump Parliament permitted the printing of a limited number of licensed newsbooks but distribution was restricted.

So censorship was not invented by the Tsars or comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953).  The significance of the Stationers' Company’s charter was that structurally it created a regime strikingly similar to that which prevailed in the Soviet Union in which the entire publishing industry could be thought “the government printer”.  What members of the company were compelled to do was record prospectively in the Stationers' Register any publications they proposed to print, something which has made research difficult for historians because not everything recorded ended up being printed.  Nevertheless, the Register remains an important source document of literary activity in the era and although the original purpose had been to prevent the spread of seditious publications, lawyers began to use the entries as evidence when attempting to assert copyright.  That was at the time too novel a notion to impress the judges but the register form part of the template for the first English Copyright Act (1709), which provided the framework on which the rights of writers and publishers would be codified.  Lawyers who experienced the often futile task of arguing their cases before the Star Chamber would have found the Tsarist and Soviet models regulating publishing refreshingly familiar and concepts such as samizdat & tamizdat would have needed little explanation.

Bone Music by Stephen Coates.  The x-ray discs are now minor collectables and while all those decades what Russians paid most influenced by what was claimed to be "on the cut", buyers now especially value the best images, skulls among the more desirable.

The ever inventive Russian youth were early adopters of bootleg recordings and combined recycling with a unique form of magnitzdat.  Because the Communist Party was as scared of rock music as it was of tracts about Western democracy and human rights, such sounds were banned and damned as subversive, decadent, capitalist, imperialist etc; in an authoritarian state, the exact form of the damnation is less important than the fact some label has been applied.  So, rock albums were hard to get but in Soviet homes gramophones (record players) were common so all that was needed was the media.  That was found in the rubbish discarded by hospitals, x-ray images turning out to be an ideal material for cutting the grooves which could be played on a gramophone.   Known by a variety of terms including ribs, music on ribs, jazz on bones or bone music, although the first were produced as early as 1946, most date from the 1950s & 1960s, cut into 7-inch discs (the size of the old 45 rpm “single”).  The machines used to “cut the grooves” were reputedly old 78 rpm phonographs, modified by skilled technicians, trained by the state to do stuff in the service of socialism.  Because of the nature of the material, they had a short life (managing a dozen plays was exceptional) and the quality was (by the standards of commercially produced vinyl pressings) appalling but alternatives were scarce and the improvised recording were cheap, often selling for a few kopeks with only the most desirable bands attracting more than a ruble.

Bone music: A early form of a digital disc.

That so many discarded X-rays were available in a nation in which usually there were shortages of just about everything except Vodka, was a product of circumstances.  With the breakdown of public health systems in the immediate aftermath of World War II (1939-1945) at a time when close to 20 million soldiers and displaced civilians were moving between countries, an increase in the spread of tuberculosis concerned the authorities and the Soviet government, like many, embarked on a vast programme of chest X-rays.  As a public health initiative it was a success but it resulted in large libraries of X-rays being stored in hospitals.  Because these contained a silver nitrate substance, they were a fire hazard and, after a couple of conflagrations, a twelve month limit was imposed on storage so hospital administrators were happy to give their old stocks to anyone who asked.  So, the input cost of the raw material was zero and the production costs were marginal which meant that even if the retail unit price of a bone music cut was less than a ruble, with high volumes, it was by Soviet standards a lucrative business model.  Customer satisfaction however was variable because, bought on street corners, the audio quality was unpredictable as was the content; until played, a buyer couldn’t be certain what they’d bought.  Noting the trend, the government passed a law banning the home-production of recordings of “a criminally hooligan trend” but rock ‘n’ roll was here to stay.