Sisyphean

Sisyphean (pronounced sis-uh-fee-uhn)

(1) Of or relating to Sisyphus.

(2) Something endless and unavailing (describing usually some laborious or repetitive task).

1625–1635: From the Ancient Greek name Sīsýpheios or Sī́syphios, the construct being Sīsýphe + -eios (from the Latin adjectival suffix -ēiōs, the accusative masculine plural of –ēius).  Some etymologists suggest the name has a pre-Greek origin and some connection with the root of the word sophos (σοφός) (wise) while one noted German mythographer thought it derived from sisys (σίσυς) (a goat's skin), a reference to a rain-charm in which goats' skins were used.  A sisyphean task is one which comes to be understood as both endless and futile; no longer how long one persists, the task is never done.  Because it’s based on a name, Sisyphean is often capitalized, but not always and is is used especially in the phrases “Sisyphean task” & “Sisyphean labors”.  The comes from the name of Sisyphus, a character in Greek mythology who was punished by being forced continuously and eternally to roll a boulder up a steep hill and just as he was about the reach the top, the boulder would roll back down, and he’d have to start all over again.  The phrase is now used of any task which seems never to end no matter how diligent one may be, such as clearing the contents of one’s inbox.  A classic modern example (which apparently wasn’t quite true) was the task is allocated to the team painting the Sydney Harbour Bridge; by the time they finished at the northern end, it was time to return to the south and start again.  Sisyphean is an adjective.

In Greek mythology, Sisyphus (Σίσυφος) was the most cunning (if not the most admirable) of mortals.  A Thessalian prince and founder of Corinth (then called Ephyra), he was the son of King Aeolus of Aeolia and Enarete, the daughter of Deimachus and in the way the myths of Antiquity bounced around a bit, he was either the successor and avenger of Corinthus or the successor of Medea.  In the best known of the myths, Autolycus had stolen flocks of sheep from Sisyphus, but because he had engraved his name under the hoof of each, he was able to reclaim them by pointing to the etchings and that day happened to be the eve of the marriage of Anticleia, daughter of Autolycus, and Laertes.  Still not best pleased about the theft of his livestock, Sisyphus that night found his way into the bride’s bed and from that vengeful conquest was born Odysseus.  Those facts are agreed but in some of the myths a scheming Autolycus offered his daughter to Sisyphus because he wanted a grandson to inherit his wiliness & cunning.  The variations in the myths have attracted much comment and it wasn’t until the seventeenth century that some were found to be the work of Medieval writers but some of those with sometimes contradictory “alternative facts” were from Antiquity and it needs to be remembered that many were written by “content providers” who created their “new” product from an existing and popular cast of characters.  In that the process was much the same as the modern equivalent, the US daytime TV soaps, where “killed off” characters can re-appear and on one celebrated occasion, one who had lost a leg managed in a later season to show up again bipedal.

When Zeus abducted Aegina he travelled through Corinth where he was seen by Sisyphus and when her father Asopus came searching for her, Sisyphus promised to reveal the kidnapper's name on condition that Asopus made a spring gush on the town's citadel.  To this Asopus agreed and Sisyphus told him Zeus was the guilty one; here again the myths take forks.  In one telling an enraged Zeus struck the snitch with a thunderbolt, hurling him into the Underworld, where he was condemned for eternity to roll an enormous rock up a hill, the big stone always to roll back to the bottom just as the peak was approached.  However, in the Odyssey, the story was that Zeus sent Thanatos, the spirit of Death, to pay one of his unwelcome visits to Sisyphus in order to bring about his end.  The cunning Sisyphus, however, took Thanatos by surprise and chained him up, meaning that for some time, not one mortal of all of Earth died, compelling Zeus to force the spirit’s release so he could resume his essential tasks; Zeus made sure Sisyphus was the first victim.

Ever plotting, before Thanatos did his work, secretly Sisyphus made his wife promise not to perform at his funeral the obsequies to which he was entitled and upon arrival in the Underworld, stridently he complained to Hades about this slight.  It being a boys club, Hades granted him permission to return to earthly life to punish her.  Of course, the devious fellow didn’t keep to the pact and stayed on Earth, living in rude good health to a great age.  He was though mortal and when eventually he died the gods of the Underworld weren’t going to be tricked again, setting him to the task of pushing the rock uphill, leaving him not a moment to seek his escape.  That story is complete but there were other variations, the most intriguing being in a damaged fragment from the Roman writer Hyginus (Gaius Julius Hyginus (circa 64 BC–17 AD).  Here, it’s described how Sisyphus hated his brother Salmoneus and asked the oracle of Apollo how he could kill the sibling he described as “his enemy”.  Apollo told him that he would find men to take revenge if he slept with his own niece, Tyro, the daughter of Salmoneus.  The deed done, Tyro gave birth to twins by Sisyphus but, learning of what the oracle had promised, she killed her two children.  What happens next is not known because that part of the text has been lost but the concluding passages survived and Sisyphus in found in Underworld, rolling his stone.  For this incestuous tale, readers are invited to fill in the gaps.  The foundation of the Isthmian Games is sometimes attributed to Sisyphus, in honor of his nephew Melicerties.  He was married to Merope and his descendants included Glaucus and Bellerophon.

Some slave for lifetimes at their Sisyphean tasks, others walk away.

Sisyphean and Herculean tasks

A “Sisyphean task” differs from a “Herculean task” in that the latter, although immensely challenging, is achievable with extraordinary effort while the former not only cannot be done but must repeatedly be attempted for all eternity.  Hercules was from the Latin Herculēs, from the Etruscan hercle, from the Ancient Greek Ἡρακλῆς (Hēraklês), believed to be the cognate of Ἥρα (Hḗra) (Hera) and, according to some etymologists, the construct was the primitive Indo-European yóhr̥ (year, season) + κλέος (kléos) (glory).  Hercules was the Roman name for the Greek divine hero Heracles, the son of Jupiter and Alcmene, a celebrated hero who possessed exceptional strength.  In the myths, he’s remembered most for the twelve difficult labors he was made to perform as a penance for killing his family and that's the origin of the phrase.

Mr Trump & Mr Biden on CNN.

Essentially, what certain operatives in the White House are hoping is the task confronting Joe Biden (b 1942; US president since 2021) over the next few weeks is merely Herculean and not Sisyphean.  It should of course be neither because all he needs to do is not appear senile or at least not obviously at some stage of cognitive decline.  That would seem a reasonable expectation for a major-party nominee for the office of President of the United States (POTUS), a four-year appointment which, as well as lots of other stuff, includes being commander-in-chief of the planet’s most powerful military and the right to deploy the US nuclear arsenal.  However, after the first televised debate (June 2024) with Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021), he has yet to convince many and in each public appearance since, what he has been doing is pushing his rock (which gets bigger and heavier which each attempt) uphill, only to commit some gaff which means the rock rolls to the bottom and he has to start again.  Mixing up the names of Vladimir Putin; (b 1952; president or prime minister of Russia since 1999) & Volodymyr Zelensky (b 1978; president of Ukraine since 2019) might have elicited little more than a smile from observers had it not been part of a pattern of behavior and while in the archives there are doubtlessly many similar gaffs by others, Mr Biden’s are now keenly awaited and rated for severity.  At least quickly he caught the error and corrected himself but later the same day, he referred his vice-president (Kamala Harris (b 1964; US vice president since 2021) as “Vice President Trump”, blithely carrying on, apparently oblivious to what he’d just said.  That seems to be beyond  gaff; more of “a howler”.

It’s definitely a matter of a heightened focus on Mr Biden’s slip-ups and Mr Trump also has “a bit of previous” in mixing up names, something which has not gone unnoticed but has been treated as just an amusing part of the clatter of the campaign and it’s an associative thing: because he’s not labelled as being in “obvious cognitive decline”, when Mr Trump mixes up a name, it’s spun not as a symptom but just an “everyday” gaff.  In January 2024 Mr Trump mistakenly referred to his then rival for the nomination Nikki Haley (b 1972; ambassador to UN 2017-2018) when he should have been attacking Democrat Nancy Pelosi (b 1940; speaker of the US House of Representatives 2007-2011 & 2019-2023), repeatedly naming Ms Haley (who for some two years under his administration served as ambassador to the UN) when speaking at a campaign rally in New Hampshire, discussing the 6 Jan 2021 capitol riot:

“Nikki Haley, you know they, do you know they destroyed all of the information, all of the evidence, everything, deleted and destroyed all of it.  All of it, because of lots of things like Nikki Haley is in charge of security.  We offered her 10,000 people, soldiers, National Guard, whatever they want.  They turned it down. They don’t want to talk about that.  These are very dishonest people.”

Nikki Haley must have been much on his mind.  The previous September, he’d surprised a few by saying “…with Obama, we won an election that everyone said couldn’t be won” before going on to say “…we would be in World War II (1939-1945) very quickly if we’re going to be relying on [Mr Biden].”  Asked for a comment, Mr Trump claimed sometimes “sarcastically” he transposes Mr Biden’s name with that of Barack Obama (b 1961; US president 2009-2017) “…as an indication that others may actually be having a very big influence in running our country.”  Seemingly, crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) is no longer on his mind.

This is a genuine crisis for the Democratic Party and one thing it has done is publicize the way the machinery would work if a critical mass of delegates to the Democratic National Convention (scheduled for 19-22 August 2024) decide to contest Mr Biden’s path to the nomination.  The first potential spanner in the works is a recent amendment to Ohio electoral law which demands presidential candidates be certified (ie the state’s electoral commissioner must be notified that presidential candidates have been officially nominated) at least 90 days before the general election if they are to appear on ballot’s in Ohio.  That makes the Ohio deadline the earliest in the land and the cut-off date is 7 August, some two weeks before the convention.  The Republican National Convention is held in July so this is exclusively a problem for the Democrats and the issue has existed in the past but states have either accepted a “provisional nomination” or extended their deadline.  The Ohio attorney-general however says the state will not be accepting a provisional certificate and the Republican-controlled legislature did not pass an extension amendment so there things stand, appearing to demand the delegates vote in some virtual way prior to 7 August.  There is also the matter of federal electoral law for the delegates to consider.  What it holds is that the millions of dollars being held as campaign funds for the Biden-Harris ticket cannot be transferred to new ticket, unless the new presidential nominee was one of the members of the old.  What this means is that if Mr Biden is not the nominee, the vital campaign funds will remain available only if that nominee is Vice-President Harris.

Mr Biden at work.

Political junkies who belong to the school of “politics as theatre” are actually hoping for a so-called “open convention” (sometimes called a “brokered convention), something not seen since 1952 although both parties have since flirted with the possibility.  An open convention is one in which no individual secures a majority on the first ballot and it become a matter of horse trading between 4000-odd delegates and for that to happen would require either Mr Biden deciding to withdraw (and presumably endorsing Ms Harris) or a challenge emerging from the floor.  While the junkies can see the potential for fun in such a spectacle, the thought of an open convention sends shivers down the spines of the party bosses who like things to be stage-managed and decided in advance; the potential for messiness just too big a risk.  Still, at least in theory, it really is in the hands of the delegates who under the law are entitled to vote for whomever they wish, even if they have been elected on the basis of a pledge to vote for a certain candidate.

If Mr Biden manages to rise to the herculean task of convincing the necessary folk he’s not senile then the problem goes away because, even if they think he’s likely to descend into senility during a second term, that’s a bridge to be crossed as some later date.  Perhaps fortunately for Mr Biden, even if the task proves Sisyphean, he might still secure the nomination by refusing to withdraw because it’s not as if there are others both outstanding in quality and willing to stand against the Republican’s inevitable nominee; this is not 1968.  Interestingly, analysts have noted a sudden shift in the Trump campaign and suggest rather than trying to damage Mr Biden to the extent he's forced to withdraw from the process, the strategy now appears to be shaped towards ensuring he remains the candidate, the assumption being Trump will beat Biden but only may win against another candidate.  In politics, there's much preference for the known rather than the unknown. 

Prerogative

Prerogative (pronounced pri-rog-uh-tiv)

(1) An exclusive right, privilege, etc, exercised by virtue of rank, office, or the like; having a hereditary or official right or privilege.

(2) A right, privilege, etc, limited to a specific person or to persons of a particular category.

(3) A power, immunity, or the like restricted to a sovereign government or its representative.

(4) Characterized by lawless state actions (refers to the prerogative state)

(5) Precedence (obsolete except in the legal sense of the hierarchy of rights).

(6) A property, attribute or ability which gives one a superiority or advantage over others; an inherent (though not necessarily unique) advantage or privilege; a talent.

(7) In constitutional law, a right or power exclusive to a head of state (often derived from the original powers of a monarch) or their nominee exercising delegated authority, especially the powers to appoint or dismiss executive governments.

1350-1400: From the Anglo-Norman noun prerogatif, from the Old French prerogative, from the Latin praerogātīva (previous verdict; claim, privilege), noun use of the feminine singular of praerogātīvus (having first vote; privileged), in Anglo-Latin as prerogativa from late thirteenth century.  The origin lay in a statute in the civil law of Ancient Roman which granted precedence to the tribus, centuria (an assembly of one-hundred voters who, by lot, voted first in the Roman comita).  The law guaranteed them a praerogātīvus (chosen to vote first) derived from praerogere (ask before others).  The construct of praerogere was prae (before) + rogare (to ask, ask a favor), apparently a figurative use of a primitive Indo-European verb meaning literally "to stretch out (the hand)" from the root reg- (move in a straight line).  In Middle English, the meaning "an innate faculty or property which especially distinguishes someone or something" was added.  The alternative spelling prærogative is long obsolete.  Prerogative is a noun & adjective, prerogatived is an adjective and prerogatively is an adverb; the noun plural is prerogatives.

In English law, a court classified as “a prerogative court” was one through which the discretionary powers, privileges, and legal immunities reserved to the sovereign could be exercised.  The best known of these courts was the Court of Exchequer, the Court of Chancery and the Court of the Star Chamber (the latter one of those institutions formed to rectify injustice but which was later the source of much; the Court of the Star Chamber may be used as a case-study explaining the phrase: “the road to hell is paved with good intentions”).  In time, clashes between the prerogative courts and common law courts became something of a proxy-theatre in the contest between the king and parliament.  The way that worked out was that the ancient (essentially personal) prerogative rights of the monarch weren’t abolished but rather exercised by parliament or institutions (including courts) to which the powers were delegated.  Whether any prerogative power remains in the hands of the sovereign to be used in “extraordinary and reprehensible circumstances” remains a matter of debate.  There were also ecclesiastical prerogative courts under the authority of the archbishops of Canterbury and York but they existed only to handle probate matters in cases where estates beyond a certain defined value were spread between the two dioceses but they also handled many wills of those who died in colonial or other overseas service.  As part of the great reforms of the late nineteenth century undertaken in the Judicature Acts (1873-1899) the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical prerogative moved to the common law courts, being finally vested in the Family Division of the High Court of Justice.

In English law, the still sometimes invoked prerogative writ (the best known of which were habeas corpus (from the Latin habeas corpus ad subjiciendum (usually translated as “bring up the body (ie the prisoner))), a demand a prisoner being held by an organ of the state be brought before a court to determine whether there was lawful authority for the detention) and mandamus (from the Latin mandāmus (we command)), an order issued by a higher court to compel or to direct a lower court or a government officer correctly to perform mandatory duties) was a class of six orders available to the crown for the purpose of directing the action of an organ of government (including courts, officials or statutory bodies).  The name was derived from the authority these exercised being traceable ultimately to the discretionary prerogative & extraordinary power of the monarch and the principle remains in use in many common law jurisdictions which evolved from the old British Empire, notably those of the Raj of colonial India.

The woman's prerogative

For a man incautiously to use the phrase “a woman's prerogative”, the risk would be “cancellation” (or worse) although it’s probably still acceptable if there’s a layer of irony.  The phrase is a clipping of the full: “it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind”, the implication being women have the right to change their minds or make decisions based on their own preferences and need provide no explanation or justification.  Wise men (and the pussy-whipped) accept this without demur.  It is of course a reflection of a cultural stereotype and seems to have come into use in the mid-nineteenth century, an era in which gender roles were more rigidly defined and women were thought to be more capricious or whimsical in their actions.  However, in law, the “woman's prerogative” was once enforceable, granting them rights not available to men, a most unusual development in Western jurisprudence.

Well into the twentieth century, it was legal orthodoxy in common law jurisdictions for an offer of marriage to be enforceable under the rules of contract law.  While courts didn’t go as far as ordering “specific performance” of the contract (ie forcing an unwilling party to marry someone), they would award damages on the basis of a “breach of promise”, provided it could be adduced that three of the four essential elements of a contract existed: (1) offer, (2) certainty of terms and (3) acceptance.  The fourth component: (4) consideration (ie payment), wasn’t mentioned because it was assumed to be implicit in the nature of the exchange; a kind of “deferred payment” as it were.  It was one of those rarities in common law where things operated wholly in favor of women in that they could sue a man who changed his mind while they were free to break-off an engagement without fear of legal consequences though there could be social and familial disapprobation.  Throughout the English-speaking world, the breach of promise tort in marriage matters has almost wholly been abolished, remaining on the books in the a handful of US states (not all of which lie south of the Mason-Dixon Line) but even where it exists it’s now a rare action and one likely to succeed only in exceptional circumstances or where a particularly fragrant plaintiff manages to charm a particularly sympathetic judge.

The royal prerogative and the reserve powers of the crown

The royal prerogative is the body of customary authority, privilege, and immunity and the means by which (some of) the executive powers of government are exercised in the governance of the state.  These powers are recognized in common law (and in some civil law) jurisdictions are held to vest wholly in the sovereign alone, even if exercised through either appointees (of which governors, governors-general & viceroys are the best-known) constitutional government.  In the narrowest sense of technical theory, the recognition of the personal powers of a sovereign exists in most common law systems where the concept is relevant but has long since mostly been reduced to legal fiction and in most constitutional monarchies, almost all individual prerogatives have been abolished by parliaments.  Some republican heads of state also possess similar powers but they tend to be constitutionally defined and subject to checks and balances.  A notable exception to this is a US president’s un-trammeled right to grant pardons to those convicted of offences under federal law and that’s interesting because it’s the only power in the US Constitution not subject to a check or balance.  A US president thus personally continues to exercise a prerogative in a way a British monarch (or their appointees as governors & governors-general), from whom the power is derived, no longer can.

In Britain, prerogative powers were originally exercised by the monarch (at least in theory and the role of the Church needs also to be noted) acting alone but after the Magna Carta (1215, from the Medieval Latin Magna Carta Libertatum (Great Charter of Freedoms) which divided power among the ruling class, there had to be sought the consent of others and this ultimately became parliamentary consent granted to an executive (exercising powers derived from the absolute authority of the monarch) responsible to the parliament.  This took centuries to evolve and eventually meant, in practical terms, the king got the money he needed for his wars and other ventures in exchange for the parliament getting his signature to pass the laws they wanted.

Watched by the courtiers Lord Mulgrave & Lord Morpeth, Lord Melbourne serves King William IV a blackbird pie (1836), lithograph with watercolour by John Doyle (1797-1868), Welcome Collection, London.  The text is a re-arranged selection of lines from the eighteenth century English nursery rhyme “Sing a Song of Sixpence” and reads: “Sing a song of six pence a bag full of rye, four and twenty black birds baked in a pie, when the pie was opened, the birds began to sing, was not this a pretty dish to set before a king.”  The blackbirds sing “Justice for Scotland!” and “No tithes!”, controversial issues of the age.  Nineteenth century cartoonists were sometimes more harsh in their treatment of politicians and royalty. 

In Australia, the royal prerogative is limited (but not defined) by the constitution and those powers which vest a monarch’s authority in a governor-general don’t alter the nature of the prerogative, only its detail; the prerogative is exercised by the governor-general but only on the advice of “their” ministers.  The most obvious exception to this is the reserve power of the monarch (and there are those who doubt whether this still exists in the UK) to dismiss a government enjoying the confidence of the lower house of parliament.  In the UK, it’s not been done since William IV (1765–1837; King of the United Kingdom 1830-1837) dismissed Lord Melbourne (1779–1848; Prime Minister of Great Britain 1834 & 1835–1841) in 1834 (some dispute that, saying it was more of a gentleman’s agreement and the last termination was actually that of Lord North (1732–1792; Prime Minister of Great Britain 1770-1782) by George III (1738–1820) King of Great Britain 1760-1820) in 1782) but Australia has seen two twentieth-century sackings; that in 1932 of NSW premier Jack Lang (1876–1975; Premier of New South Wales 1925-1927 & 1930-1932) by Governor Sir Philip Game (1876–1961; Governor of NSW 1930-1935) and, in 1975, when governor-general Sir John Kerr (1914–1991; Governor-General of Australia 1974-1977) sundered Gough Whitlam’s (1916–2014; Prime Minister of Australia 1972-1975) commission.

Dr HV Evatt in his office at the United Nations, New York, 1949.

The 1975 business provoked much academic discussion of the reserve powers but the most lucid read remains Dr HV Evatt’s (1894–1965; ALP leader 1951-1960) book from decades earlier: The King and His Dominion Governors (1936).  Evatt’s volume was published a hundred odd-years after William IV sacked Melbourne and is useful because in that century there had been more than a few disputes about reserve powers.  Evatt’s central point was that the powers exist but proper rules by which they may be exercised are by no means clear.  The legal power is vested in the governor as the representative of the monarch and when it may properly be used depends on usage and convention.  It seems therefore scarcely possible to say confidently of any case when the Crown has intervened that its intervention was or was not correct for the only standard of correctness in each episode is its consistency with episodes of a similar character, none of which in themselves lay down any principle in law.  Further, Evatt notes, in looking to precedent, support for almost any view can be found in the authorities.  Lofty theoretical purity is also not helpful.  The view the sovereign automatically acts in all matters in accordance with the advice of his ministers rests entirely upon assertion and, Evatt observed, the reserve powers are still, on occasion, properly exercisable and that the Sovereign or his representative may have to exercise a real discretion.  Given that, it really might be impossible that the prerogative could be codified in a document which envisages all possible political or other circumstances.  Evatt nevertheless argued the principles which should guide a sovereign should be defined and made clear by statute.

Nor is practical political reality all that much help, however satisfactory an outcome may prove.  What the exercise of the reserve powers, both in 1932 and 1975, did was enable impasses described, however erroneously as constitutional crises to be resolved by an election, rather than other means.  The result of an election however does not conclude the matter for the correctness of the sovereign's action is not measured by his success as a prophet, any post-facto endorsement by the electorate having not even an indirect bearing on the abstract question of constitutionality.

Although variously a high court judge, attorney-general, foreign minister, opposition leader and Chief Justice of NSW, all Dr Evatt asked for on his gravestone was President of the United Nations, noting his service as president of the general assembly (1948-1949).

Evatt’s core argument therefore was reserve powers should be subject to the normal and natural process of analysis, definition and reduction to the rules of positive law, which, by 1936, had in some places been done.  Evatt considered section 33 (10) of the Western Nigerian constitution which codified things thus: The Governor shall not remove the Premier from office unless it appears to him that the Premier no longer commands the support or a majority of the members of the House of Assembly.  Other sections went on to detail the mechanisms of the exercise of the power, thereby attempting to do exactly what Evatt suggests.  However, the Nigerian example cited by Evatt did not prove a solution because the exercise of the power under the constitution became in 1962 a matter of dispute and the case proceeded though the courts, finally ending up before the Privy Council as Adegbenro v. Akintola (1963 AC 614), an indication even the most explicit codification can remain something imperfect.

Farce

Farce (pronounced fahrs)

(1) To stuff; to cram (obsolete).

(2) To make fat; to swell out (obsolete).

(3) To render pompous (obsolete).

(4) In the Roman Catholic Church, an alternative form of farse (to insert vernacular paraphrases into a Latin liturgy).

(5) A light, humorous production (plays, television film etc) play in which the plot depends upon the exploitation of improbable (or even impossible) situations rather than upon the development of character.

(6) The genre of comedy represented by works of this kind

(7) Humor of the type displayed in such works.

(8) Something foolish; a mockery; a ridiculous sham, a ludicrous situation or action.

(9) In cooking, forcemeat (a mixture of finely chopped and seasoned foods, usually containing egg white, meat or fish, etc., used as a stuffing or served alone).

(10) To add witty material to a speech or composition.

1300–1350: From the Middle English noun fars (stuffing), from the Middle French farce, from the Vulgar Latin farsa, noun use of feminine of Latin farsus, from the earlier fartus (stuffed), past participle of the verb farcīre (to stuff) which Middle English picked up as farsen, from the Old French farsir & farcir, from Latin farciō (to cram, stuff).  It was a doublet of farse.  The origin of the Latin farcire (to stuff, cram) is of uncertain origin but some etymologists suggest it may be connected with the primitive Indo-European bhrekw- (to cram together).  Farce in the fourteenth century first meant the chopped-meat stuffing used in cooking and farced into dishes.  The idea of a scene or plotline of “ludicrous satire or low comedy” being interpolated into a play was first described as “a farcing and thus soon ‘a farce’”) in the 1520s, while the dramatic sense of a “ludicrous satire; low comedy” was from the French use of farce (comic interlude in a mystery play) was a sixteenth century development while in English, the generalized sense of “a ridiculous sham” came into use in the 1690s.  In literary use, the companion term is tragicofarcical (having elements of both tragedy and farce).  Farce is a noun & verb, farced & farcing are verbs and and farcical is an adjective; the noun plural is plural farces.  The adjective unfarced (also as un-farced) is used in cooking to distinguished a dish not farced from one farced; it is not used of plays or literature.

The now rare noun infarction first appeared in the medical literature in the 1680s as a noun of action from the Latin infarcire (to stuff into), the construct being in- )in the sense of “into” (from the primitive Indo-European root en- (in) + farcīre (to stuff).  In pathology it was widely used of various morbid local conditions but as technology and techniques improved and more specific descriptions evolved used declined and the early twentieth century it tended to be restricted to certain conditions caused by localized faults in the circulatory system.  The construct of the noun forcemeat (also as force-meat) was force (“to stuff (as a variant of farce)) + meat.  The term first appeared in cookbooks in the late 1670s (although the technique (as “farcing”) dated back centuries; it described “mincemeat, meat chopped fine & seasoned, then used as a stuffing”.

Karl Marx (left) who turned G.W.F. Hegel (right) "upside down on his head".

Nowhere did Karl Marx (1818-1883) ever write “history repeats itself” but the phrase “history repeats itself, the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce” is often attributed to him and has long been an undergraduate favourite.  The origin of that was in the first chapter of his essay Der 18te Brumaire des Louis Napoleon (18th Brumaire of Louis Bonapatre (1852)) in which, writing of Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770–1831) he wrote: “Hegel remarks somewhere that all great world-historic facts and personages appear, so to speak, twice.  He forgot to add: the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce.”  The “second time as farce” notion seems to have been something picked up from his benefactor & collaborator German philosopher Friedrich Engels (1820–1895) who a few months earlier, in one of his letters to Marx, had observed: “it really seems as though old Hegel, in the guise of the World Spirit, were directing history from the grave and, with the greatest conscientiousness, causing everything to be re-enacted twice over, once as grand tragedy and the second time as rotten farce, Caussidière for Danton, L. Blanc for Robespierre, Barthélemy for Saint-Just, Flocon for Carnot, and the moon-calf together with the first available dozen debt-encumbered lieutenants for the little corporal and his band of marshals. Thus the 18th Brumaire would already be upon us.”

In Zur Kritik der Hegelschen Rechtsphilosophie (Critique of Hegel's Philosophy of Right (1843), Marx had made a similar point:  “A coup d’état is sanctioned as it were in the opinion of the people if it is repeated.  Thus, Napoleon was defeated twice and twice the Bourbons were driven out.  Through repetition, what at the beginning seemed to be merely accidental and possible, becomes real and established.”  Marx did take a few interpretative liberties with Hegel.  When in Vorlesungen über die Philosophie der Weltgeschichte (Lectures on the Philosophy of History (a compilation of lectures delivered at University of Berlin in 1822, 1828 & 1830)), Hegel compared nature where “there is nothing new under the Sun,” with history where there is always development he was describing historical progression in terms of the Hegelian philosophy which holds that history follows the dictates of reason and that the natural progress of history is due to the outworking of absolute spirit.  Still, Marx did boast that to make use of Hegel's dialectic he had to “turn him upside down on his head” so perhaps he felt entitled to kick the dead man’s ideas around a bit.

The farce on stage and in literature

In literary use, the farce is a form of comedy where the purpose is to “provoke mirth of the simplest and most basic kind: roars of laughter rather than smiles; humour rather than wit.  It is associated with, but must be distinguished from, burlesque; it is with clowning, buffoonery and knockabout slapstick, a form of ‘low’ comedy in which the basic elements are: exaggerated physical action (often repeated), exaggeration of character and situation in which absurd, improbable (even impossible ones and therefore fantastical) events and surprises in the form of unexpected appearances and disclosures”.  In farce, character and dialogue are nearly always subservient to plot and situation with plots often complex, events succeeding with a sometimes bewildering rapidity.

Quite when the first farces were performed is not known but historians seem to agree it would certainly have predated anything in the literary tradition.  Elements recognizably “farces” exist in some surviving plays from Antiquity in which “low comedy” in the shape of ridiculous situations and ludicrous results, ribaldry and junketings are interpolated into works of satire and studies of the farce have identified the device in Greek satyr play and the Roman fabak.  Technically though, the first plays actually described as “farces” were French works from the late Middle Ages where there were “stuffings” described as “between scenes”: comic interludes between the “serious” parts in religious or liturgical drama.  Usually, such “stuffings” were written in octosyllabic (containing eight syllables) couplets with an average length of some 500 lines.  These interpolations poked fun at the foibles and vices of everyday life (particularly at commercial knavery and conjugal infidelity, two subjects with enduring audience appeal).

The Taming of the Shrew, Barbican Theatre, June 2019.  For the RSC (Royal Shakespeare Company), Justin Audibert (b 1981) re-imagined the England of the 1590s as a matriarchy in which Baptista Minola is seeking to sell off her son Katherine to the highest bidder.

Later, in French theatre, these farcical interludes developed into a form of their own: the “one-act farce”, pieces which were in their time something like to short-form clips which TikTok made a business model.  The contemporary English Mystery Plays also often included one or more comic interludes and interestingly, demonic & grotesque figures behaving in a buffoonish manner (letting off fireworks something of a theme) appeared with much greater frequency than in France.  In the time of the Morality Plays, apart from aberrations like William Shakespeare’s (1564–1616) The Taming of the Shrew (1592) & The Comedy of Errors (circa 1593), there was little written for the English stage which could truly be described as farce but by the time the genre of “Restoration comedy” (known sometimes as “Comedy of manners”) had become established in the late seventeenth century, farce was back to celebrate the re-opening of public stage performances, banned for the previous 18 years by the Puritan regime.  For better or worse, farce has been with us ever since.

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December 2011.

It can be difficult to decided whether “farce”, “fiasco” or “debacle” best applies in particular circumstances.  Indeed, it seems difficult to formulate anything close to a “rule” and every situation will need to be judged on its merits.  However, as a general principle, the pattern of use seems to indicate: (1) Farce is used in a way which hints at the theatrical tradition: real-life situations that are ridiculously chaotic and ludicrous, almost comical in their dysfunction. (2) A fiasco is a total utter failure, usually in a public and humiliating way when things have gone very wrong, typically due to poor planning or execution. (3) A debacle is an ignominious failure and one which often implies a broader, more significant collapse, sometimes with serious consequences.

Count Galeazzo Ciano (1903–1944; Italian foreign minister 1936-1943, left), Lord Halifax (1881–1959; UK foreign secretary 1938-1940 centre left), Neville Chamberlain (1869–1940; UK prime minister 1937-1940, centre right) and Benito Mussolini (1883–1945; Duce & Italian prime minister 1922-1943, right), Rome, January 1939.

The idea of farce is cross-culturally global but the Italians have the best phrase expressing the idea: una grande limonata (a big lemonade).  In colloquial use, una grande limonata conveys the notion of “much display, little substance; an overblown spectacle that ultimately proves insubstantial”.  The direct English equivalent was the US coining “a big nothingburger”.  Some three months after signing the infamous Munich Agreement that rubber-stamped Adolf Hitler's (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) takeover of Czechoslovakia, Chamberlain and Halifax visited Rome to confer with Mussolini.  Although it had long been obvious the Duce had been drawn into the German orbit, British foreign policy was still based on the hope war could be avoided and, having seen appeasement prevent immediate conflict over Berlin's demands about Czechoslovakia, the hope was to find a way to appease Rome, the goal at the time little more ambitious than the maintenance of the status quo in the Mediterranean.  Even in 1939, the UK's Foreign Office still believed Mussolini might be susceptible to "civilizing influences" in a way it had (belatedly) become obvious Hitler would not.  In retrospect pointless, the meeting, held between 11-14 January 1939, was the last attempt through official channels to tempt the Duce away from the entanglement with Hitler to which, in reality, he was already committed although he certainly didn't expect war to be declared as soon as things transpired.  The spirit of the meeting was well captured in Ciano's diary and while the count's entries are not wholly reliable, he was one of the century's notable diarists, an astute observer and, too clever to be much bothered by principles, painted vivid pictures of some of the great events of those troubled years.  Mussolini, flattered by Hitler and  already seeing himself as a Roman emperor, must have thought he was being visited by the ghosts of the past, Chamberlain looking like the provincial lord-mayor he'd once been and Halifax the archbishop he probably wished he'd become.  Ciano's diary entry read:

“In substance, the visit was kept on a minor tone, since both the Duce and myself are scarcely convinced of its utility. . . . How far apart we are from these people!" Ciano noted in his diary.  "It is another world."  After dinner with Mussolini he recorded the Duce's feelings: "These men are not made of the same stuff as the Francis Drakes and the other magnificent adventurers who created the British Empire.  These, after all, are the tired sons of a long line of rich men, and they will lose their Empire,... The British do not want to fight. They try to draw back as slowly as possible, but they do not want to fight."  Whatever other mistakes he may have made, on that night in Rome, Mussolini made no error in his summary of the state of thought in Downing Street and the Foreign Office.  "Our conversations with the British have ended" Ciano concluded and "Nothing was accomplished."  He closed the diary that evening with the note "I have telephoned Ribbentrop (Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi Foreign Minister 1938-1945) that the visit was a big lemonade [ie a farce].”

The farce of excommunication

Presumably the Spanish nuns of The Poor Clares of Belorado chose their words with care when in June 2024 they condemned the Holy See’s action against them as “the farce of excommunication” although whether they were still within the holy communion of the Church to be excommunicated may be a moot point because the sisters insisted they had already severed all connections with the Vatican and their departure from the “Conciliar Church” was “unanimous and irreversible”.  The exchange of views between Rome and Castile-Leon came after the sisters declined to attend the ecclesial tribunal of Burgos to which they had been summoned, their notice of no-attendance transmitted to the Archbishop of Burgos with a hint of rejection of modernity: they used the fax machine.  Informing the archbishop they had left the Conciliar Church “freely, voluntarily, unanimously and in a spirit of joy”, their fax message asserted the ecclesiastical tribunal had “no jurisdiction” over them since their separation the previous month which their said was prompted by the “larceny” of the Second Vatican Council (Vatican II; 1962-1965), adding that no pope after Pius XII (1876-1958; pope 1939-1958) was “legitimate”.

Being careful with words, it must be assumed the sisters were thus declaring Pope Francis (b 1936; pope since 2013) an “illegitimate pope” rather than an “anti-pope”, a distinction of some significance to canon lawyers.  “Illegitimate pope” is a general term for any pope whose election or claim to the papacy is deemed invalid or improper according to the canonical laws and practices of the Church; such a state can arise from procedural failures or the appointee lacking the requisite qualifications.  An “anti-pope” is one who makes a claim to the papacy in opposition to the pope recognized by the majority of the Catholic Church, a status which is of any consequence only if such a person has a significant following among Catholics.  Typically, anti-popes have existed during periods of schism.

Belorado Convento de Santa María de Bretonera.

Founded in 1358, in 1458 the monastery was damaged during one of the feudal battles which for more than two centuries would from time-to-time briefly flare, the structure repaired two years later.  Built in the Gothic style, there are Baroque style altar-pieces from the seventeenth century and a pipe organ dating from 1799.  The Monastery of Santa Clara is presided over by nuns of the order of the Poor Clares.

So, being critical mass theorists like any good Catholics, the sisters would understand that at the moment, Francis “has the numbers” but they certainly seem to be attempting something schismatic, their 70-page manifesto explaining that henceforth the nuns would follow the spiritual leadership of Pablo de Rojas Sánchez-Franco (b 1982), a self-styled “bishop” and professed admirer of the fascist dictator Generalissimo Francisco Franco (1892-1975; Caudillo of Spain 1939-1975); De Rojas-Franco was excommunicated in 2019.  Like the sisters, Mr De Rojas-Franco is a sedisvacantist (one who regards all popes after Pius XII to be illegitimate heads of the Church; in this view, the Holy See in Rome is actually sede vacante (vacant throne) and Francis a heretic and usurper to be spoken of only as “Mr Bergoglio”.  One implication of this is that many post 1958 ordinations are also invalid so any penalty or canonical sanction “imposed by those who are not valid or legitimate bishops, and who have no power over souls” are thus null and void”.  In other words, “Mr Bergoglio, you can’t excommunicate us”, hence the description of Rome’s edict as a farce.

Chocolates and biscuits made by nuns of The Poor Clares of Belorado.  Presumably, chocolates made by heretics are more sinful than those made by the faithful.

So the ecclesiastical battle lines have been drawn and the Holy See has clearly decided the chirothecœ (liturgical gloves) are off, the 10 nuns of the order reporting sales of the pastries and chocolate truffles they produce as their only source of income are down, the faithful of the nearby villages clearing having been told by their priests to buy their sweet treats from non-heretics.  According to Rome, the bolshie Poor Clare nuns of Belorado have committed the crime of schism (Canon 751 of the Code of Canon Law states defines schism as “the refusal of submission to the supreme pontiff or of communion with the members of the Church subject to him”, the penalty for which is excommunication).  Since burnings at the stake and such became unfashionable, excommunication is now the most serious penalty a baptized person can incur; it consists of being placed outside the communion of the faithful of the Catholic Church and denied access to the sacraments but it need not be final, the theological purpose of the act being “to bring the guilty to repentance and conversion” and, in a phrase with internal logic which makes complete sense in the corridors of the Vatican: “With the penalty of excommunication the Church is not trying in some way to restrict the extent of mercy but is simply making evident the seriousness of the crime.”

Of course heretics are flesh and blood and as they have declared themselves no longer members of the Catholic Church, by remaining in the monastery they are occupying property of the Church to which they do not belong and may be found to have no legal right to stay there.  Their archbishop has told them they are now trespassing but seems to be taking a patient approach, saying he hopes they will leave of their own volition, avoid the need to assemble a team of black-clad monsignors forcibly to evict them.  The social media savvy Francis would understand that might be “bad optics”.  Still, the archbishop insists the matter will be pursued and that Spanish civil law recognizes the Church’s Code of Canon Law as governing such things, adding “…they were told that they should not be in the monastery and in a steadfast and contumacious way they persist in being there”, concluding ominously “…so the legal authorities will act against them.”

This is not an isolated case and in the last year there have been a number of excommunications of bishops and archbishops, all of whom have denied the legitimacy of Francis, some actually calling him “a heretic”, something almost unknown for centuries.  With the death of Benedict XVI (1927–2022; pope 2005-2013, pope emeritus 2013-2022), so died too the last restraining influence on Francis’s reformist tendencies and the tensions which have mostly be suppressed since Vatican II are now bubbling over.  As an amusing spectacle for the neutrals, Church politics: (“You’re a heretic!”, “No, you’re a heretic!”) is something like modern Spanish political discourse: (“You’re a fascist!”, “No, you’re a fascist!”) but how this plays out in what may be the last days of this pontificate is likely much to influence the voting in the College of Cardinals when it comes time to choose the next pope.

As the Vatican takes heresy seriously, so the fashionistas guard haute couture.  The reaction to Lindsay Lohan brief fling as fashion designer for Ungaro's showing at Paris Fashion Week (March 2010) collectively recalled the earnestness associated with critiques of film directors, football managers and others dealing with culturally vital matters.

Masticate

Masticate (pronounced mas-ti-keyt)

(1) To chew (usually food).

(2) To reduce materials (such as rubber) to a pulp by crushing or kneading.

1640–1650: From the Late Latin masticātus, past participle of masticāre (to chew), from the past participle stem of the post-Classical Latin masticō (I chew), from the Ancient Greek μαστιχάω (mastikháō) (I gnash the teeth”).  The English masticate was a back-formation of the earlier mastication.  The noun mastic (gum or resin obtained from certain small trees of the Mediterranean region and in various places east of Suez used as a chewing gum) emerged in the late fourteenth century and was from mastic, from the thirteenth century Old French mastic and directly from Late Latin mastichum, from the Classical Latin mastiche, from the Ancient Greek mastikhe, of uncertain origin but probably in some way connected with masasthai (to chew) and thus related to the modern mastication.  The etymologists are divided on whether the Ancient Greek mastikhan (to gnash the teeth) was from the primitive Indo-European mendh- (to chew (and the ultimate source of mandible) or of pre-Greek origin.  Masticate, masticated & masticating are verbs, masticatory, masticator & mastication are nouns and masticable is an adjective; the noun plural is mastications.

All forms tend now to be seen in specialised niches, masticatory almost always in medical or scientific literature and seems to be a favorite in entomology while masticable (capable of being chewed, that may be masticated) appeared first in 1802, quickly adopted by dieticians in hospitals & zoos although it has survived only in the latter.  Other than for technical purposes, masticate’s most obvious niche is in humor, the effect achieved by using the word in a way easily confused with the almost homophonic masturbate, a device used also with the thespian/lesbian homophone.  So usually, unless one is discussing the eating habits of insects or aiming for humorous effect, the monosyllabic “chew” is a better choice.

Thespian Lindsay Lohan with cheeseburger, masticating.

The verb chew (masticate, bite and grind with the teeth) was from the Middle English cheuen, from the Old English ceowan, from the West Germanic keuwwan (source also of the Middle Low German keuwen, the Dutch kauwen, the Old High German kiuwan and the German kauen).  The source may have been from the primitive Indo-European gyeu- (to chew), source of the Old Church Slavonic živo (to chew), the Lithuanian žiaunos (jaws) and the Persian javidan (to chew).  The figurative sense (to to think over (usually as “chew on it”)) dates from the late fourteenth century, the origin said to be “dinner table discussions over pieces of bacon fat”.  For humorous effect, the process is sometimes described as “mental mastication”.  Later variations include “to chew the rag” (discuss some matter), first documented in 1885 as army slang although there are claims it began both in the British Army and the Indian Army under the Raj.  To “chew the fat” meant the same thing and was mid-twentieth century slang.  . To chew (someone) out was first cited in 1948 but was thought to be military slang from World War II (1939-1945), the idea being having been “chewed up and spat out”.  As a packaged product, chewing gum was first sold in the US in 1843, the early formulations being hardened secretions from the spruce tree.

The purported fallacy

The purported fallacy is a rhetorical device intended to confuse or suggest irrelevant considerations into the mind of the listener,  It’s related to but distinct from the “red herring” (in figurative use, a clue, information, argument, etc. that is or is intended to be misleading, diverting attention from the real answer or issue).  A well-known example from the US is often quoted but is unfortunately a myth, fake news in its time but still refusing to die.  In the Florida primary contest for the Democratic nomination in the 1950 Senate campaign, Claude Pepper (1900–1989; Democrat Senator for Florida 1936-1951, Democrat member of House of Representatives (Florida 1963-1989)) lost to George Smathers (1913–2007; Democrat member of House of Representatives (Florida) 1947-1951 and Democrat Senator for Florida 1951-1969).  Smathers had managed Pepper's successful 1938 campaign and the association continued, Pepper pulling strings so Smathers could avoid military service during World War II (1939-1945) and helping him become an assistant attorney-general.

The 1950 Senate election in Florida was noted for flamboyant oratory, ideological ferocity and personal dramas but that was neither novel nor unique to Florida, indeed, by mid twentieth century thing had been toned-down from what had prevailed during much of the 1800s.  Smathers labeled his opponent “Red” Pepper which, if unfair, was funny and, in the early Cold War, a not unusual tactic, Senator Joe McCarthy (1908–1957; senator for Wisconsin (Republican) 1947-1957) that year having delivered his inflammatory Lincoln Day speech in which he claimed to have list of known communists employed by the State Department.  However, what arose during the campaign was the legend that Smathers, assuming low education and high prejudice in the minds of some voters, had made speeches in rural areas accusing his opponent of being “a shameless extrovert”, having “a sister who was once a thespian in wicked New York”, having "practiced celibacy before his marriage" and being someone “who had been seen masticating fish”.

Irresistibly good copy, the words appeared in the 17 April issue of Time magazine and despite cautioning they were “of doubtful authenticity” they’ve for decades been recycled, used for illustrative effect for this and that across the political spectrum; Robert Sherrill (1924-2014) on the left and William F Buckley (1925–2008) on the right, both claiming it happened.  The truth (which Buckley later acknowledged), was the words turned out to be the work of journalists covering the campaign who, over drinks, began inventing double-talk quotations and swapping them.  It became a contest to see who could write the funniest and some of them leaked, published as fact.  After decades of estrangement, a Pepper fund-raising letter ended up in Smathers' office.  Smathers responded with a contribution and Pepper, after joking that the cheque bounced, sent a note of thanks.  Smathers said he would contribute to Pepper as long as he was in the Congress as a champion of the elderly, adding he was now “old enough to where I kind of feel like he may speak for me''.

Satirists work in a similar vein to those tipsy reporters.  In 2006, in a parody of the attack ads the Liberal Party was using against Stephen Harper’s (b 1959; prime minister of Canada 2006-2015) Conservative Party government, National Public Radio (NPR) offered:

Stephen Harper has plans for Canada, scary plans.  Scary, evil plans.  We can't make this up, we're not allowed to. Stephen Harper owns a dragon.  He keeps it in a shed. Seriously.  Stephen Harper drinks his own blood.  We saw him. We're not allowed to make this up.  The Liberal Party, let's see how badly we can lose this thing.

Quale

Quale (pronounced kwah-lee, kwah-ley, kwey-lee or kwey-ley)

(1) In philosophy, a property of something considered separately from the thing having that property; an instance of subjective, conscious experience.

(2) A sense-datum or feeling having a distinctive quality.

(3) Death; a plague; a murrain (obsolete).

1665–1675: From the Latin quāle, neuter singular of quālis (of what sort; of what kind) and cognate with the Old English cwalu and the Old Norse kval (torment, torture), both variants from the root of quell.  The later was from quala, from the French quel, the Italian quale and the Spanish cual, ultimately from the Latin quālis, from the primitive Indo-European kwis & kwo (interrogative, relative stem) and (speculatively) hzel (to grow); it was cognate with the Ancient Greek πηλίκος (pēlíkos).  Quale is a noun; the noun plural is qualia (quals is the plural of qual (a clipping of “qualifying exam”).

Qualia are the subjective or qualitative properties of experiences: Some find the experience of seeing a white Ferrari as different from viewing one in white as another might find when comparing an orchid to hemlock.  Although it had appeared before (adding to an already long list of technical terms in the discipline), in philosophy, qualia was first used in its current sense in a paper published in 1929 by US scholar Clarence Irving ("C.I.") Lewis (1883–1964).  Lewis was discussing sense-data theory and explained that he used the word, qualia were properties of sense-data themselves.  Emerging from what was at the time a rather dusty corner of academic philosophy, quale came to be more widely used (especially with the rapid growth of universities in the post-war period) and the sense expanded to refer more generally to properties of experience. While there are experiences which truly are universal with no differentiation in qualia among people, other perceptual experiences (which can be of the mind such as hallucinations, or of the body such a headache, or wholly emotional such as anger or anxiety) intrinsically have a qualitative quality: their quale.

Different qualia likely: 1967 Ferrari 275 GTB/4.  The term “resale red” (the idea re-painting a sports car red increases its resale value) may not have been coined to describe the Ferrari after-market but such is the association of red (particularly the classic Rosso Corsa) with the marque that some find other shades a disappointment.  However, the right Ferrari in one of the Biancos (variants of white) displays the purity of line as no other color can.

The old, and long obsolete, use of quale to mean “death” seems no longer makes sense given the way the meaning of the word has shifted.  However, although for the deceased, once dead, the experience is the same whether one was struck by a meteorite, drank one’s self to death or was murdered by the Freemasons, the manner of death might mean a different quale for the departed’s grieving loved ones.  That quirk aside, although the existence of qualia seem obvious, in philosophy, there have been decades of disputes, may focused on whether qualia can be identified with or reduced to anything physical, the suggesting being any attempted explanation of the world in solely physicalist terms would leave qualia out.  In the way of squabbles about things which can be neither be proved nor disproved, a century from now lecturers and professors are likely still to be exchanging views.

Qualia are the subjective (individually and differentially qualitative) properties of experiences and the differences between individuals are sometimes significant.  Two people drinking from the same bottle of wine may have two different experiences: one finding pleasure, one distaste; two diametrically opposed qualia.  Why this happens was explained in Why You Like The Wines You Like (2013) by Tim Hanni (b 1952), a certified Master of Wine (MW).  The certification process is administered by the Court of Master Sommeliers, established in 1977, formalizing the layers of qualification that began in 1969 in London with the first Master Sommelier examination.  It’s now conducted by the various chapters of the court and globally, they’re a rare few.  While over 600 people have been to space and there are rumored to be some 4000 members of the Secret Society of the Les Clefs d'Or, there are currently only 262 Master Sommeliers in the world; they describe themselves as “cork dorks”.

Lindsay Lohan explaining her quale upon tasting wine in The Parent Trap (1998).  IRL, she decided to focus on acting, pursuing wine-tasting only as a hobby. 

What Hanni’s book explored were the physiological and psychological reasons peoples’ experience of the taste of wine are so divergent; some factors obvious, some more subtle.  In partnership with US psychologist Dr Linda Bartoshuk (b 1938), he developed what was dubbed the “vinotype” assessment, used to explore individual preferences for, and tolerance of, various external stimuli and how those generalized preferences (or “tolerances”) affect the appreciation of wine.  Essentially, there are those who are “hypersensitive” to tastes and those who are less perceptive (ie “less sensitive”) and thus categorized as “more tolerant”.  That sounds banally predictable but there are social and economic implications because it’s clear an individual’s personal preference is determined by personal physiology and social context as well as the way the taste receptors in the mouth work.  There is still the cultural perception that those who prefer sweet wines to dry are those with a less trained or discerning palate but the difference really depends more than anything on whether or not one is one of the “hypersensitive”.  Despite that, there are social pressures (real or perceived) and some feel compelled, at least in public, to avoid sweet wines, lest they be thought unsophisticated.