Decimate

Decimate (pronounced des-uh-meyt)

(1) To destroy a great number or proportion of; to devastate, to reduce or destroy significantly but not completely (modern use).

(2) To select by lot and kill every tenth person (obsolete except for historic references).

(3) To take a tenth of or from (obsolete except for historic references).

(4) In computer graphics processing, to replace something rendered in high-resolution with something of lower but still acceptable quality.

(5) To exact a tithe or other 10% tax (almost archaic except in the internal rules of some religions).

1590–1600: From the Latin decimātus (tithing area; tithing rights), past participle of decimāre (to punish every tenth man chosen by lot) a verbal derivative of decimus (tenth), a derivative of decem (ten) and decimo (take a tenth), from the primitive Indo-European root dekm (ten).  The related nouns are decimation & decimator, the verbs (used with object) are decimated & decimating.  The most commonly used synonyms now are: wipe out, obliterate, annihilate, slaughter, exterminate, execute, massacre, butcher, stamp out & kill off

Decimate is interesting as an example of two linguistic phenomena.

(1) It’s a foreign word (Latin) which has become part of the English language.  This happens a lot (eg fuselage) because English is a vacuum-cleaner language which sucks in whatever is needed but it’s not universal and there’s no precise rule which decides what become assimilated and what, however frequently used, remains foreign: zeitgeist (spirit of the age) although now common in English, remains German.

(2) It’s a contranym, a word which in modern use, now means the opposite of its classical origins.  In Roman times, it meant to reduce by 10%; now it’s probably understood to reduce to, if not 10% then a least by a large portion.  This is a genuine meaning shift and, except in precise historic references (and then probably foot-noted), the new meaning is now correct.  Decimate thus differs from a word like enormity; if used (as it sometimes is) to mean enormous that’s not an error because by virtue of use, that meaning has been absorbed into the language as a concurrent use with the original.  By contrast, decimate has suffered a meaning shift.

The killing of one in ten, chosen by lots, from a rebellious city or a mutinous army was a punishment sometimes used by the Romans and there have been many instances of it (expressed usually as collective punishment) since, Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) explicitly referring to the Roman tradition when in 1934 explaining why there had been so many (retrospectively authorized) executions during the suppression of the so-called "Röhm putsch" (the Führer's actions now sometimes (generously) described as a pre-emptive or preventative strike).  The word has been (loosely and un-etymologically) used since as early as the 1660s to mean "destroy a large but indefinite number of."  This is one of those things which really annoys pedants but given it’s been happening since the seventeenth century, it may be time for them to admit defeat.  Were the word now to be used to convey its original meaning, the result would probably be only confusion.  One point in use which is important is that one should speak of the whole of something being decimated, not a part (eg a plague decimated the population, not disease decimated most of the population).  Decimate remains well-known because is well known because it’s lived on in Modern English, albeit with quite some mission-creep in meaning but the Romans had many other expressions defining the precise proportionality of a reduction by single aliquot part including: tertiate (⅓), quintate (⅕), sextate (⅙), septimate (⅐), duodecimate (¹⁄₁₂) and centesimate (¹⁄₁₀₀).

Smaller but not decimated: Lindsay Lohan full-sized (left), reduced by 10% (centre) & reduced by 90% (right).

However, although most probably now understood what is meant by decimate even if they're unaware of the word's origin, it should still be use with some care.  Sir Ernest Gowers (1880–1966) in his revision (1965) of Henry Fowler's  (1858–1933) A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) objected to the "virtual extermination" of rabbits by the agent of the myxomatosis virus being described as a decimation because, with a reported death rate of 99.8%, it was something notably more severe than modern understanding of the word let alone that of a Roman.  In the way of such things the rabbits anyway staged a revival as natural selection did its thing.  Fowler's guide also cautioned that any use "expressly inconsistent with the proper sense... must be avoided", citing "A single frost night decimated the currants by as much as 80%".  The point is taken but that sentence does seem helpfully informative.  Nor are all acts of reduction of necessity instances of decimation; there has to be something destructive about the process.  A photograph can be reduced in size by a Roman 10% or a modern 90% but one wouldn't suggest it has been decimated; it has just be rendered smaller.

Egregious

Egregious (pronounced ih-gree-juhs)

(1) Extraordinary in some bad way; glaring; flagrant.

(2) Extraordinary in some good way; distinguished or eminent (archaic).

1525–1535: From the Middle English, from the Latin ēgregius (preeminent; outstanding, literally “standing out from the herd”), the construct being ē- (out (and in Latin an alternative to ex-)) + greg-, stem of grēx (flock, herd) + -ius.  Grēx was from the primitive Indo-European hzger- (to assemble, gather together) which influenced also the Spanish grey (flock, crowd), the Lithuanian gurguole (mass, crowd) and gurgulys (chaos, confusion), the Old Church Slavonic гроусти (grusti) (handful), the Sanskrit गण (gaṇá) (flock, troop, group) and ग्राम (grā́ma) (troop, collection, multitude; village, tribe), and the Ancient Greek ἀγείρω (ageírō) (I gather, collect) (from whence came ἀγορά (agorá)).  The link to the Proto-Germanic kruppaz (lump, round mass, body, crop) is contested.  The English –ous was a Middle English borrowing from the Old French -ous and –eux from the Latin -ōsus (full, full of) and is as doublet of -ose in unstressed position; it was used to form adjectives from nouns and to denote possession or presence of a quality in any degree, most commonly in abundance.  Egregious is an adjective, egregiously is an adverb and egregiousness is a noun; the noun plural is the delicious egregiousnesses.

Meaning adaptation & shift

There are many words in English where meaning has in some way or to some degree shifted but egregious is one of the rarities which now means the opposite of what it once did.  There are others such as nice which used to mean “silly, foolish, simple”; silly which morphed from referring to things “worthy or blessed” to meaning “weak and vulnerable” before assuming its modern sense; awful which used to describe something “worthy of awe” and decimate, once a Roman military term to describe a death-rate around 10% whereas it implies now a survival rate about that number.  In English, upon its sixteenth century adoption from Latin, egregious was a compliment, a way to suggest someone was distinguished or eminent.  That egregiously clever English philosopher Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679) was flattering a colleague when he remarked, "I am not so egregious a mathematician as you are…" which would today be thought an insult.

The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) notes that in 1534, egregious unambiguously meant "remarkable, in a good sense" but as early as 1573, people were also using it to mean "remarkable, in a bad sense."  The documentary evidence appears sparse but the OED speculates the meaning started to switch because people were using the word sarcastically or at least with some gentle irony.  In the linguistically democratic manner in which English evolves, the latter prevailed, presumably because people felt there were quite enough ways to compliment others but were anxious always to add another insult to the lexicon.  Shakespeare, with his ear for the vernacular, perhaps helped.  Christopher Marlowe (1564–1593) employed it in the older sense in his Tamburlaine (1590), writing of “egregious viceroys of these eastern parts…” but within a generation, William Shakespeare (1564–1616) has Posthumus condemn himself in Cymbeline (1611) in the newer condemnatory sense: “egregious murderer”, echoing his earlier use in All's Well That Ends Well (1605).  Both meanings appear to have operated in parallel until the eighteenth century which must have hurt a few feelings or perhaps, in an age of dueling, something more severe.

Imogen Sleeping (from Shakespeare's Cymbeline), circa 1899 by Norman Mills Price (1877–1951).

In southern Europe however, the bard’s words failed to seduce the Romance languages.  The Italian formal salutation egregio is entirely reverential, as are the both the Spanish and Portuguese cognates, egregio and egrégio.

Disinterest & Uninterest

Disinterest (pronounced dis-in-trist (U) or dis-in-ter-ist (non-U))

A freedom from bias or involvement; the absence of any conflict of interest.

1605–15: The construct was dis- + interest.  The prefix dis was from the Middle English dis-, from the Old French des from the Latin dis, from the proto-Italic dwis, from the primitive Indo-European dwís and cognate with the Ancient Greek δίς (dís) and the Sanskrit द्विस् (dvis).  It was applied variously as an intensifier of words with negative valence and to render the senses “incorrect”, “to fail (to)”, “not” & “against”.  In Modern English, the rules applying to the dis prefix vary and when attached to a verbal root, prefixes often change the first vowel (whether initial or preceded by a consonant/consonant cluster) of that verb. These phonological changes took place in Latin and usually do not apply to words created (as in Modern Latin) from Latin components since the language was classified as “dead”.  The combination of prefix and following vowel did not always yield the same change and these changes in vowels are not necessarily particular to being prefixed with dis (ie other prefixes sometimes cause the same vowel change (con; ex)).  The verb interest is from the Middle English interest, from Old French interesse & interest (intérêt in modern French), from the Medieval Latin interesse, from the Classical Latin interesse (to concern, to be between).  "The original meaning from circa 1600 was “cause to be interested, engage the attention of”, was based on the earlier (1560s) interesse, from the noun and may have been at least influenced by interess'd, past participle of interesse.  In other contexts, interest can mean “having a stake in or money involved in something, or “charges payable under the terms of usury (borrowing money).

Disinterest is a verb (used with object) although the cost commonly used derived form is probably the seventeenth century adjective “disinterested” (Having no stake or interest in the outcome; free of bias, impartial (and technically a corruption of the adjectives disinterest & disinteressed)).  Disinterest should be associated with words like neutrality, impassivity, detachment, dispassion, impartiality & nonpartisanship.

Uninterest (pronounced un-in-trist (U) or uhn-in-ter-ist (non-U))

A lack of interest in something; indifference.

1890–1895: The construct was un + interest. The prefix –un was from the Middle English un-, from the Old English un-, from the Proto-West Germanic un-, from the Proto-Germanic un-, from the primitive Indo-European n̥-.  It was cognate with the Scots un- & on-, the North Frisian ün-, the Saterland Frisian uun-, the West Frisian ûn- &  on-, the Dutch on-, the Low German un- & on-, the German un-, the Danish u-, the Swedish o-, the Norwegian u- and the Icelandic ó-.  It was (distantly) related to the Latin in- and the Ancient Greek ἀ- (a-), source of the English a-, the Modern Greek α- (a-) and the Sanskrit अ- (a-).

Dating from the 1660s, the adjective interested was first vested with the now familiar meaning (characterized by concern or sympathy), as the past-participle adjective from the verb interest.  From 1828 it picked up the sense (having an interest or stake (in something) which has since lent confusion to the uninterest / disinterest thing; the sense "motivated by self-interest" attested since 1705 and may be a back-formation from disinterested.  Although it’s clumsy enough to be rare, the noun interestedness (the state or quality of being interested, or having an interest; selfishness) really does exist; fortunately, it not often comes up in conversation.  Uninterest should be associated with words like aloofness, coldness, coolness, detachment, disregard, indifference & lassitude.

Lindsay Lohan looking uninterested.

Some of the vendettas run by the grammar Nazis against contemporary practices (eg the refusal to accept the meaning of the word “decimate” has changed and that those reading histories of the Punic Wars are unlikely to be confused) but the insistence on differentiating between “disinterest” and “uninterest” is a campaign worth or support.  Historically, "disinterested" has had two meanings, the first and still most widely accepted being “impartial; unbiased by personal interest or advantage” and most associated with judges or those who sit on deliberative tribunals (the practical mechanism being the "apprehended bias" test which is a determination of whether a perception of bias might reasonably be inferred from a judge's past comments, conduct or circle of acquaintances).  The second meaning is “having or showing no feeling of interest; indifferent”.  In other words, to ensure the fairness of a trial, judges should be disinterested in the matters before them but certainly not uninterested.  Both senses are long established in all varieties of English but disinterested is often used to mean “not interested” although uninterested seems rarely misused, presumably because disinterested is the more effortlessly economical form and uninterested that bit more clumsy.  Unlike something like “notorious” which is one of those annoying words with one spelling & pronunciation yet two distinct meanings which cannot always be resolved through context, English has given us disinterest & uninterest and so they should both be used in their separate, allocated meanings, thereby eliminating any ambiguity.

Lindsay Lohan as an interested but disinterested judge on The Masked Singer (2019).

Some word nerds, most of whom seem to believe the distinction between the two worth preserving, believe the battle is lost but that the linguistic causalities will be light, in instances where such things matter (usually in courts of law) few likely to be troubled by the mistake which mentally they’ll correct and move on.  Even some once rigorously dictionaries seem to have given up and accepted descriptive reality, the Macmillan saying only “Many people think that this use of the word is not correct” and the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) in one edition was prepared only to muse it was "Often regarded as a loose use."  Merriam-Webster's Dictionary of English Usage noted the a long history of overlapping use, “uninterested” originally meaning what the more fastidious now insist “disinterested” is supposed to mean today, the distinction emerging only in American English in the 1800s. Merriam-Webster conclusion was that “disinterested” has taken on an additional but "uninterested" still means only what it always has which seems a dismally defeatist position for a dictionary to adopt.

Refute

Refute (pronounced ri-fyoot)

(1) To prove to be false or erroneous, as an opinion or charge.

(2) To prove (a person) to be in error.

(3) To deny the truth or correctness of something (non-standard).

1505–1515: From the Middle English verb refute (in the sense of the now obsolete “refuse or reject someone or something”), from the sixteenth century Middle French réfuter, from the Old French refuite, from refuir (to flee), from the Latin refūtāre (to check, suppress, rebut, disprove; to repress, repel, resist, oppose), the construct being re- (back) + -fūtāre (to beat; drive back; rebut, disprove; repress, repel, resist, oppose), from the primitive Indo-European bhau- (to strike).  Refutable is an adjective, refuter & refutability are nouns, refutably is an adverb and the verbs (used with object) are refuted & refuting.

The meaning "prove someone wrong, prove someone to be in error, disprove and overthrow by argument or countervailing proof" dated from the 1540s, the use extended to disproving abstractions, statements, opinions etc late in the sixteenth century.  The adjective irrefutable (incapable of being disproved) emerged in the 1610s, from the Late Latin irrefutabilis (irrefutable), the construct being in- (not, opposite of) + refutabilis (refutable), from refūtāre, the derived forms in English including irrefutably & irrefutability  The noun refutation dates from the 1540s and was from the French refutacion (act of disproving; the overthrowing of an argument by countervailing argument or proof”), from the sixteenth century réfutation and directly from the Latin refutationem (nominative refutatio) (disproof of a claim or argument), the noun of action from the past-participle stem of refūtāre.  According to recent text searches of the documents digitized in recent years, the most frequently used form in Latin was refūtō (oppose, resist, rebut).

The re- prefix is from the Middle English re-, from the circa 1200 Old French re-, from the Latin re- & red- (back; anew; again; against), from the primitive Indo-European wre & wret- (again), a metathetic alteration of wert- (to turn).  It displaced the native English ed- & eft-.  A hyphen is not normally included in words formed using this prefix, except when the absence of a hyphen would (1) make the meaning unclear, (2) when the word with which the prefix is combined begins with a capital letter, (3) when the word with which the is combined with begins with another “re”, (4) when the word with which the prefix is combined with begins with “e”, (5) when the word formed is identical in form to another word in which re- does not have any of the senses listed above.  As late as the early twentieth century, the dieresis was sometimes used instead of a hyphen (eg reemerge) but this is now rare except when demanded for historic authenticity or if there’s an attempt deliberately to affect the archaic.  Re- may (and has) been applied to almost any verb and previously irregular constructions appear regularly in informal use; the exception is all forms of “be” and the modal verbs (can, should etc).  Although it seems certain the origin of the Latin re- is the primitive Indo-European wre & wret- (which has a parallel in Umbrian re-), beyond that it’s uncertain and while it seems always to have conveyed the general sense of "back" or "backwards", there were instances where the precise was unclear and the prolific productivity in Classical Latin tended make things obscure.  The Latin prefix rĕ- was from the Proto-Italic wre (again) and had a parallel in the Umbrian re- but the etymology was always murky.   In use, there was usually at least the hint of the sense "back" or "backwards" but so widely was in used in Classical Latin and beyond that the exact meaning is sometimes not clear.  Etymologists suggest the origin lies either in (1) a metathesis (the transposition of sounds or letters in a word) of the primitive Indo-European wert- (to turn) or (2) the primitive Indo-European ure- (back), which was related to the Proto-Slavic rakъ (in the sense of “looking backwards”).

The correct meaning of refute is “proving something to be incorrect” and using the word to mean “denying something is correct” is wrong.  Meanings do shift in English and alternatives can replace or run in parallel with the original and while this can sometimes baffle or annoy even native speakers, it’s just part of the way the language works, the battles waged by persistent pedants usually Sisyphean (nobody for example now uses decimate as would a Roman centurion).  However, there are cases where an insistence the original meaning be maintained (or at least understood) is helpful and refute is a good example because when used wrongly (to mean “deny”), it can lead some to conclude something as actually been proved incorrect, rather than just asserted as such.

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

Refute is also sometimes confused with rebut.  Rebuttal is a term from the rules of formal debate which refers to a reply although, like refutation, the word has taken on the informal and disputed meaning of denial.  In law, rebuttal also has a technical meaning in court procedure in nations with common law systems.  The rebuttal is evidence or arguments introduced to counter, disprove, or contradict the opposing party's evidence or argument, either at trial or in a reply brief and specific rules apply:  Rebuttal evidence may address only those matters raised in evidence rebutted and new subjects may not be canvassed although the rules do (almost uniquely) permit new witnesses to be called and new evidence to be produced, provided they serve to rebut the prior evidence.  In courts, rules are strictly enforced but politics and public discourse generally, what’s described as a rebuttal can be something quite discursive and follow a direction guided not at all by relevance.

news.com.au 2020: There was a time when Rupert Murdoch would have been on the phone to the editor, telling him to correct an erroneous use of "refute".

Etymologists note the argument there is some historic justification for use of refute in both ways because no distinction existed in the original Latin refūtō (oppose, resist, rebut) and Romans and others did use the word in both senses.  However, at the time of its sixteen century origins in English, refute meant “proving something to be incorrect” and nothing else.  Indeed, as early as the 1610s, the adjective irrefutable (incapable of being disproved), was in circulation (as were the related forms irrefutably & irrefutability), the point being it’s possible for things not to be able to be proved wrong but it’s impossible for them to be denied, however implausible may be the denial.  Documented instances of the erroneous use of refute appear to have been rare until recent years and there have been suggestions this is indicative of a decline in the literacy of journalists but it’s far from certain the standards of such folk were ever consistently high and it’s at least as likely the increasing misuse is a consequence of the extinction of the sub-editor (a species of linguistically competent text-checkers), journalists’ raw drafts now appearing substantially un-edited in print and on-line.  Those seeking an alternative to deny should instead use repudiate which means “to reject or refuse to acknowledge”, but without the implication of justification.

Deny, deny, deny

Mr Barilaro preparing pasta sheets.

For students of politics as theatre, John Barilaro (b 1971; member of the New South Wales (NSW, Australia) Legislative Assembly (Monaro) 2011-2021; cabinet minister 2014-2021 and Leader of the National Party (ex-Country Party) and thus deputy premier of NSW 2016-2021) has proved the gift who keeps giving.  Once famous only for his home-made lasagna (about which nobody has ever said a bad word), of late Mr Barilaro seems constantly to have been in the spotlight.  Some of the interest has been in his participation in internecine spats between the Nationals and their Liberal Party coalition partners but more dramatic was the use of a special squad of the NSW Police Force to conduct a raid on a house in connection with a defamation action Mr Barilaro had begun against the operator of a Youtube channel.  The specialist police squad used was the Fixated Persons Investigations Unit (FPIU), assembled after the Lindt Café siege (December 2014) in Sydney to investigate intelligence which suggested acts of violence or terrorism were being planned.  Whether the use such a unit in mid-2021 to stage an armed assault on the home of an employee of the channel to secure his arrest attracted some comment.  Resource allocation is of course a matter for the commissioner of police and it must be difficult to assess the competing matters of the hurt feelings of a ruling-party politician against the many women (some of whom are now dead) who, without success, sought the assistance of police to protect them from violent ex-partners.  Ultimately, the defamation matter was settled in a manner (as a former Emperor of Japan might have put it) “…not necessarily to Mr Barilaro’s advantage”.

Mr Barilaro preparing lasagna.

Still, a year later, things seemed to be looking up when Mr Barilaro, having resigned from parliament, had been appointed the state’s trade commissioner for the Americas, a position based in New York City which included a Manhattan apartment, a salary around US$400,000 (reports differ) and an expense account of another US$70,000.  Unfortunately, the good fortune quickly subsided as the circumstances of (1) the establishment of the position, (2) the re-location of the position from the west to the east coast, (3) the treatment of a another person apparently offered the position and (4) the circumstances under which Mr Barilaro was appointed began to be discussed.  Mr Barilaro announced he would, in the circumstances, not be taking up the appointment but, politicians sniffing governmental blood, the upper house of parliament convened an enquiry to attempt to determine the usual things such ad-hoc tribunals seek to find out: (1) Who did what and when and (2) who knew what and when.  By the time Mr Barilaro appeared before the enquiry on 8 August 2022, the growing scandal had already claimed one ministerial scalp although commentators seemed divided over whether Stuart Ayres’ (b 1980; deputy leader of the NSW Liberal Party 2021-2022) resignation should be thought a thing necessitated by his actions or the attempted cover-up.  Given that, just about everyone except those in the NSW government were looking forward to Mr Barilaro’s appearance and, as a set-piece of a politician trying to extricate himself for a sticky situation and reframe the narrative, his three hour performance didn’t disappoint.

Mr Barilaro serving lasagna.

He began by saying he wished he never applied for the job, later adding that he’d endured had been “unbearable… (and) what can only be described as a personal hell" and that while he was of course "disappointed" the process hadn't been "as clean as it should have been", the important point was that he was “the victim of that, not the perpetrator".  His opening remarks actually set the tone nicely, Mr Barilaro denying he sought any "special treatment" and that had he known then what he knows now, he would never have “walked into what was a shitshow”.  He also rejected suggestions he had “fast-tracked” a cabinet submission about the trade commissioner roles so he could apply for one, the submission in question being one which would have made the jobs ministerial appointments rather than positions advertised and filled in the usual manner in accordance with the regulations of the NSW public service.  The submission was proposed and passed in seven working days.  It was then put to him that the change was “fast tracked” because he well knew then-NSW premier Gladys Berejiklian would have to resign because of enquiries by the ICAC (Independent Commission Against Corruption) about an unrelated matter.  "I will absolutely refute that disgusting slur and accusation" Mr Barilaro answered, adding “You're making me out to be corrupt”.

Mr Barilaro plating lasagna.

That was of course a denial, the matter of whether allegations of corruption or procedural impropriety have been refuted something which will be decided later and Mr Barilaro should be given credit for the forthright manner of his denials, unlike one of his referees for the job (Arthur Sinodinos, b 1957; Liberal Party functionary and minister variously 2007-2019; Australian ambassador to the US since 2019) whose appearance before the ICAC in 2014 became famous for the frequency with which phrases like “I don’t recall” and “I don’t remember” were his only answers to tiresome questions.  Fortunately, the ICAC handed down no adverse findings and his memory recovered sufficiently for him to be appointed ambassador to the US in 2019 so there's that.  Mr Barilaro will again appear before the enquiry on 12 August.

Ruin

Ruin (pronounced roo-in)

(1) The remains of a building, city etc that has been destroyed or that is in disrepair or a state of decay.

(2) A destroyed or decayed building, town etc.

(3) A fallen, wrecked, or decayed condition; the downfall, decay, or destruction of anything.

(4) The complete loss of health, means, position, hope, or the like.

(5) Some substance or other thing that causes a downfall or destruction; blight.

(6) The downfall of a person; undoing.

(7) A person as the wreck of his or her former self; ravaged individual.

(8) The act of causing destruction or a downfall.

(9) To reduce to ruin; devastate; to bring (a person, company etc) to financial ruin; bankrupt; to damage, spoil, or injure (a thing) irretrievably.

(10) To induce (a woman) to surrender her virginity; deflower; loss of virginity by a woman outside marriage (mostly archaic).

(11) To fall into ruins; fall to pieces; to come to ruin.

1325–1375: From the Middle English noun rueyne & ruyen, from the Middle French ruwine, from the Latin ruīna (headlong rush, fall, collapse, falling down), the construct being ruere (violently to fall) + -īna (feminine singular of suffix –īnus).  The Middle English verb was ruyn & ruine, from the Middle French ruyner & ruiner or directly from the Medieval Latin ruīnāre, again a derivative of the Latin ruīna.  In the late Old English, rueyne meant "act of giving way and falling down" (a sense which didn't descend into the Middle English), again from the Latin ruina, source also of the Old French ruine (a collapse), the Spanish ruina and the Italian rovina which is a derivative of ruere (to rush, fall violently, collapse), from the primitive Indo-European reue- (to smash, knock down, tear out, dig up).  The sense of "descent from a state of prosperity, degradation, downfall or decay of a person or society" dates from the late fourteenth century while the general meaning "violent or complete destruction" (of anything) and "a profound change so as to unfit a thing for use" (of one's principles, one's goods etc) was first noted by the 1670s, something of an extension of the sense of "that which causes destruction or downfall", from the early fifteenth century.  The special meaning "dishonor of a woman" (essentially the same as "a fallen woman") dates from the 1620s.  Ruins in the sense of "remains of a decayed building or town" was from the mid-fifteenth century; the same sense was in the Latin plural noun.

The verb ruin emerged in the 1580s, first in the military sense of "reduce (a place) to ruin," transitive, from the noun ruin or the fourteenth century French ruiner and from the 1610s it came to mean also "inflict disaster upon" (someone) which extended by the 1650s to mean "bring to ruin, damage essentially and irreparably".  The intransitive sense of "fall into ruin" dates from circa 1600 but is probably now obsolete except for poetic use or as a literary device.  The still well-known financial sense of "reduce to poverty, wreck the finances of" was first noted in the 1650s.  The late fourteenth century adjective ruinous (going to ruin, falling to ruin) was from the Old French ruinos (which endures in Modern French as ruineux) and directly from the Latin ruinosus (tumbling down, going to ruin) from ruina.  The meaning "causing ruin, tending to bring ruin" was from the mid-fifteenth century and by 1817 it was understood almost exclusively to mean "excessively expensive", hence the still popular phrase "ruinously expensive".

The noun ruination is interesting.  It meant in the 1660s the "act of bringing to ruin, state of being brought to ruin" amd was the noun of action or state from the now rare or obsolete verb ruinate (to go to ruin) which had emerged in the 1540s from the Medieval Latin ruinatus, past participle of ruinare, again from the Classical Latin ruina.  Unlike flirtation, floatation, & botheration, ruination was not a hybrid derivative, being regularly formed from ruinate, the technical point being etymologists think it has the effect of a slangy emphatic lengthening of the noun ruin and that only because the parent verb ruinate (in common use 1550-1700) is no longer heard.  For that reason Henry Fowler (1858-1933) in his authoritative Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) suggested "ruination is better avoided except in facetious contexts".

As a noun, ruin means the remains of a destroyed or decayed place, especially a half-standing building or city.  In the latter sense, it’s used most commonly in the plural, often as “ancient ruins”.  When used as a verb, ruin usually means “to spoil or destroy” although the once use to describe “the loss of virginity by an unmarried woman” is now rare.  Related words, sometimes used a synonyms, include bankruptcy, wreckage, collapse, insolvency, wreck, extinction, demolition, destruction, wipe out, mar, impoverish, overwhelm, injure, shatter, exhaust, demolish, crush, decimate, wrack & deplete.  The synonym of ruin most often used is destruction.  Ruin and destruction both imply irrevocable and either widespread or intense damage although, the pattern of use in Modern English seems to have evolved to use destruction (on a scale large or small) to emphasize the act while ruin emphasize the consequence: the resultant state.  Through use, there’s probably also the implication that a ruin is the result of natural processes of time whereas destruction suggests a sudden violent act or event.  The ruins from Antiquity exist both in what remains from the process of decay and as they have been "restored", usually to reflect the expectations of tourists.  For those who like the idea of what the original resembled, there's the odd replica. 

Die Ruinenwerttheorie: Albert Speer and the theory of ruin value.

Ruin value is a concept from architectural theory.  It suggests the design of representational architecture should be such that when eventually the structures crumble or collapse, what remains should be aesthetically impressive ruins which will long endure without any need of maintenance.  The idea was promoted by Hitler’s (1889-1945; German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) architect, Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945), who first discussed it while planning for the 1936 Summer Olympics and subsequently published a paper as Die Ruinenwerttheorie (The Theory of Ruin Value).  Underling the idea was not merely the stated rationale for the theory but also the assertion such structures would tend inherently to be better built and more imposing during their period of use.  The notion was supported by Hitler, who planned for such ruins to be a symbol of the greatness of his thousand-year Reich, just as the remains from antiquity were symbolic of Hellenic and Roman civilizations.  Speer and Hitler were quite right in understanding the significance of a civilization’s ruins because as French symbolist writer and proto Surrealist Alfred Jarry (1873–1907) explained: “We shall not have succeeded in demolishing everything unless we demolish the ruins as well.”

Bank of England as a ruin (1830) by draftsman and artist Joseph Gandy (1771–1843).

In his memoirs (Inside the Third Reich, 1969) Speer laid claim to the idea, saying it was an extension of German architect Gottfried Semper's (1803-1879) views on the use of "natural" materials and the avoidance of iron girders.  Speer’s post-war writings however, although invaluable, are not wholly reliable or entirely truthful, even on technical matters such as armaments and architecture.  Ruin value was an older concept and one much-discussed in nineteenth century Europe, the romantic movement in art and architecture much drawn to, if not exactly what antiquity was, then certainly a neo-classical construct of what they imagined it to be.  This fascination even sometimes assumed a built form: a "new ruined castle" was actually built in the Landgraviate of Hesse-Kassel in the eighteenth century and the motif affected the architect commissioned to design the Bank of England building.  When Sir John Sloane (1753-1837) presented the bank's governors with three oil sketches of the planned buildings one of them depicted it as new, another when weathered after a century and a third, what the ruins would look like a thousand years hence.

Architectural ruins, a vision (1798), water color on paper by Joseph Gandy.

A watercolor imagining the Rotunda at the Bank of England (designed by Soane and completed in 1798), drawn in the year of its completion but showing the structure in the style of a Roman ruin.  The small figures of men with pickaxes working around a fire amidst the ruins recall the calciatori of Rome, who pillaged marble from its ancient sites to be burned into lime. This atmospheric watercolor recalls Piranesi's views of ruin with its dramatic point of view, fallen fragments in the foreground.  This drawing was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1832, thirty-four years after it was executed, at the time of Soane’s retirement as architect to the Bank, under the romantic title of Architectural Ruins–A Vision (RA 1832, number 992) and accompanied by lines from Prospero's speech (Act IV, scene 1) in Shakespeare's The Tempest:

The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,

the solemn temples, the great globe itself,

Yea, all which it inherit shall dissolve.

The ruin that never was.  A model of Speer's Volkshalle (people’s hall), centrepiece of Germania, the new capital of the Reich to be built over Berlin.

Speer based his design on a sketch made by Hitler himself in 1925, inspired by the Pantheon in Rome which had been created for an empire that lasted centuries.  Clever use of steel and lightweight concrete behind stone cladding permitted the scale of the structure.  The Volkshalle would have risen some 950 feet (290m), the oculus in the centre of the dome 150 feet (46 metres) in diameter, so big that Michelangelo’s dome of St Peter’s could have been lowered through it.  The volume of the building was such that it would have its own micro-climate and weather patterns; clouds would have formed, and rain drops falling on the masses below.   The Volkshalle symbolized an empire planned to endure a thousand years but the Third Reich fell after barely a dozen years and neither Volkshalle nor Germania were built and at war's end, surrounding the proposed site, Berlin lay in ruins.

Factoid

Factoid (pronounced fak-toid)

(1) Something fictitious or unsubstantiated that is presented as fact, devised especially to gain publicity and accepted because of constant repetition.

(2) An insignificant, surprising or trivial fact (frequently used, especially in the clickbait business; probably now the accepted meaning).

1973: A compound word, the construct being fact + -oid.  Fact dates from the 1530s and was from the Old French fact, from the Latin factum (something done, an act, deed, feat, exploit etc (which in Medieval Latin was used also to mean “state, condition, circumstance”)), a noun use neuter of factus (done or made), the past participle of facere (to do; to make) and perfect passive participle of faciō (do, make), ultimately from the primitive Indo-European dhe (to put, place, set).  When in the early sixteenth century fact entered the Middle English it was used with the sense of “an action, a thing performed, anything done, a deed (thus a neutral word of action in that the deeds could be for good or ill) but later and predominately during the 1600s, the understanding of fact was “an evil deed or crime” (the legacy of this preserved in legal jargon ex post facto (retrospective), post factum (after the crime (literally (after the act)) etc.  The Old & Middle French later evolved into faict & fait and the Latin was the source also of the Spanish hecho and Italian fatto.  The suffix -oid was from a Latinized form of the Ancient Greek -ειδής (-eidḗs) & -οειδής (-oeidḗs) (the “ο” being the last vowel of the stem to which the suffix is attached); from εἶδος (eîdos) (form, likeness).  It was used (1) to demote resembling; having the likeness of (usually including the concept of not being the same despite the likeness, but counter-examples exist), (2) to mean of, pertaining to, or related to and (3) when added to nouns to create derogatory terms, typically referring to a particular ideology or group of people (by means of analogy to psychological classifications such as schizoid).  Factoid is a noun (the noun factoidism is non-standard) and factoidal is an adjectival; the noun plural is factoids.

The modern understanding of what constitutes a fact (except for the Trump White House where the Orwellian “alternative facts” were sometimes helpfully provided) is something “empirically proven, known to be true; what actually happened”.  In the early seventeenth century, under the influence of the development of what later came to be known as the “scientific method”, this began to replace the earlier sense which was really a statement or belief although the word had picked up such an association with acts of crime that it for a while wasn’t clear if the choice by the scientists was wise.  However, by the early eighteenth century London’s Royal Society effectively formalized the modern vocabulary of knowledge (theory, fact, disproof, experiment, hypothesis etc) and the lawyers happily retained their phrases.  The modern use as standardized in science was thus innovative because in Middle English there was no noun, the closest expression from earlier centuries being a phrase like “a thing proved true”.  Dictionary entries as early as 1707 included an entry for “facts” as the “real state of things; in reality” but the reality of the nature of scientific progress was acknowledged in 1729 by the entry “something presented as a fact but which might be or is false”.

Beauty and the Beast

Marilyn Munroe (1926-1962).

Factoid was coined by Norman Mailer in the 1973 “biography” of Marilyn Monroe (Marilyn: A biography), a collection of photographs for which Mailer provided the captions and some supporting short-form text), a factoid something “…that looks like a fact, could be a fact, but in fact is not a fact” and yet comes to be accepted as one, usually because it’s at least plausible, and (certainly in the pre-Internet age), either difficult or time-consuming to verify.

Norman Mailer (1923–2007).

Writing in the particular milieu of the America of Nixon and Agnew, Mailer regarded factoids with some suspicion, thinking them things “…which have no existence before appearing in a magazine or newspaper, creations which are not so much lies as a product to manipulate emotion in the silent majority.”  He made this observation without obvious irony, despite admitting some of what he wrote in the book of Marilyn Munroe’s photographs was “speculative”.

However, even before the ubiquity of the internet, the meaning had begun to morph, with the new eventually supplanting rather than existing in parallel with Mailer’s creation, the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) defining factoid as (1) an item of unreliable information that is repeated so often that it becomes accepted as fact and (2) a brief or trivial item of news.  The newer meaning was first popularized by the Cable News Network (CNN) (although in this newer sense it seems first to have appeared in Canada) in the 1980s when they presented bizarre or obscure, but nevertheless true snippets as "factoids" during newscasts.

A modern factoid site.

Some purists attempted a rescue.  William Safire (1929–2009) advocated factlet for CNN’s color pieces and it was adopted by up-market publications like The Guardian and The Atlantic but the popular press like factoid and it’s become a staple of internet clickbait.  That’s how English works, meanings of words like factoid and decimate shift over time according to use, sometimes coming even to mean the opposite of their original form.  The –let suffix was from the Middle English –let & -elet, from the Old French -elet, a double diminutive from the Old French –el & -et.  It was used to create diminutive forms and in English is widely appended (booklet: a small book, applet: a small computer application, piglet: a young pig et al).  It’s applied almost exclusively to concrete nouns and except in jocular use (and unusually for a diminutive) never with names. When used with objects, it generally denotes something smaller; when used with animals, it is of their young form; when used of adult persons, it’s usually depreciative, connoting pettiness and conveying contempt.  A special use was in suits of armor where it denoted a piece of the larger whole, this sense carrying over to some aspects of military uniforms.  The other suggestion was factette though that may have fallen victim to historic association.  The –ette suffix was from the Middle English -ette, a borrowing from the Old French -ette, from the Latin -itta, the feminine form of -ittus.  It was used to form nouns meaning a smaller form of something and thus, because factette could be seen as an inferior form of fact, the inference might be draw that “inferior” and the feminine forms of words were also inferior.