Fiscal

Fiscal (pronounced fis-kuh l)

(1) Off or relating to the public treasury or revenues.

(2) In casual use, of or relating to financial matters in general.

(3) A prosecuting attorney in Scotland, a contraction of procurator fiscal.

(4) In philately, a revenue stamp (a postage or other stamp signifying payment of a tax

(5) In some countries, a public official having control of public revenue.

(6) In some civil law or common-civil hybrids (including Spain, Portugal, the Netherlands, and former colonies of these countries and certain British colonies), the solicitor or attorney-general

1560s: From the Middle French fscal, from the Classical Latin fiscus (public money) and fiscālis (of the state treasury).  The Latin is of unknown etymology and suggestions are speculative: a connection with findō (I cleave) or a link to the rhyme with rarer riscus, a likely Celtic borrowing into Latin and Ancient Greek.  Most convincing is fidēlia (earthen pot, sometime translated as a purse or basket made of twigs in which money was kept).  The general sense of "financial" entered US English in 1865 and was abstracted from phrases like fiscal calendar and fiscal year.  Fiscal is a noun & adjective and fiscalization, fiscalizm & fiscalist are nouns; the noun plural is fiscals.  The nouns fiscalization, fiscalizm & fiscalist are used in the battles (waged for reasons both ideological & theoritical by culture warriors and activist economists) between those advocating the centrality either of monetary or fiscal as the central dynamic in public finances.

Fiscal Drag

Also known as "bracket creep", fiscal drag is the tendency of revenue from taxation to rise as a share of GDP in a growing economy.  Tax allowances, progressive tax rates and the threshold above which a particular rate of tax applies usually remain constant or are changed only gradually.  By contrast, as an economy grows, income, spending and corporate profits should rise, the tax-take therefore increasing without any need for government action.  This helps slow the rate of increase in demand, reducing the pace of growth, making less likely higher inflation; fiscal drag is thus an automatic stabilizer as it acts "naturally" to keep demand stable.  Economists did much work to adjust their models to reflect the post-GFC (Global Financial Crisis, 2008-2012) economy in which, while aggregate growth continued, the gains have tended to be concentrated in the hands of the rich with the incomes of most falling or stagnating in real-terms.  The historically peculiar effect the COVID-19 pandemic seems to have exacerbated these trends in fiscal outcomes, the most interesting of which has been the behavior of inflation now the allocation of the money supply is so distorted.

Salvator Mundi (Savior of the World, circa 1507), attributed in whole or in part to Leonardo da Vinci (1452–1519) sold at auction in 2017 US$450.3 million.  A 1967 Ferrari 275 GTB/4 Spider (NART) (bottom) by Scaglietti sold at auction in 2013 for US$27,500,000.  It may yet prove a bargain.  In 2018, a 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO (top) sold for $US48.4 million, a handy increase on the previous auction record of US$38.1 million paid for a 1963 250 GTO a year earlier and an even more impressive jump from its US$7 million sale in 2000.  Setting the record for the most expensive car ever sold was a privately-traded 250 GTO which in 2018 brought US$70 million.

Although it’s misleading to compare inflationary numbers with those of the 1970s & 1980s because the math of the calculation is now so different (and some of the changes did make sense), there’s no doubt the novel phenomenon of low inflation in the low-end of the economy and high inflation in the more rarefied air, is a product of very unusual circumstances, a succession of jolts and shocks, from the "Greenspan put" of the early 2000s, through the GFC, to the pandemic.  For two decades, the jolts and shocks have been buffered by seemingly limitless free money, now able to be distributed in a way which avoids general inflationary pressures while simultaneously driving up asset prices in objects as diverse as old masters and vintage Ferraris.  Economists are divided, both on whether this model can indefinitely continue and whether it’s a good idea, either in concept or its current specifics although all seem to concur it shouldn’t suddenly be stopped.  It’s not just the US Federal Reserve’s discount window which has been wide-open, the quantitatively-eased largess has been popular with many central banks so when adjustments to policy are made, there will be consequences.

Fiscal Neutrality

Fiscal neutrality is a term to describe the net effect of taxation and public spending being neutral, neither stimulating nor dampening demand. The term can be used to describe the overall stance of fiscal policy: a balanced budget is neutral, as total tax revenue equals total public spending.  It can also refer more narrowly to the combined impact of new measures introduced in an annual budget: the budget can be fiscally neutral if any new taxes equal any new spending, even if the overall stance of the budget either boosts or slows demand.

Fiscal policy

A nation’s fiscal policy is one of the two instruments of macroeconomic policy, the other being monetary policy. It comprises public spending and taxation, and any other government income or assistance to the private sector (such as tax breaks). It can be used to influence the level of demand in the economy, historically with the twin goals of maintaining low unemployment without triggering excessive inflation.  It can be deployed to manage short-term demand through fine tuning, although, since the beginning of the neo-liberal era in the 1980s, it has more often been targeted on long-term goals, with monetary policy preferred for shorter-term adjustments.  Disputes do exist, among both economists and politicians.  Some argue for a balanced budget as a structural end in itself while others suggest persistent deficits (public spending exceeding revenue) are acceptable provided, the deficit is used for investment in infrastructure or something useful rather than consumption.  However, even most deficit hawks concede fiscal policy should be counter-cyclical, aiming to automatically stabilize demand by increasing public spending relative to revenue when the economy is struggling and increasing taxes relative to spending towards the top of the cycle.

Tumblehome

Tumblehome (pronounced tuhm-buhl-hohm)

(1) In naval architecture, an inward and upward slope of the middle body of a vessel; of the sides of a ship: To incline or slope inwards, to contract above the point of extreme breadth.

(2) A conceptually similar shape applied, in reverse, to the upper body of an automobile.

1828: A compound word, tumble + home.  Tumble was from the Middle English tumblen (to fall over and over again, tumble), frequentative of the Middle English tumben (to fall, leap, dance), from the Old English tumbian, from the Proto-Germanic tūmōną (to turn, rotate).  It was cognate with the Middle Dutch tumelen and the Middle Low German tumelen & tummelen.  Home was from the Middle English home, hom, hoom & ham, from the Old English hām (village, hamlet, manor, estate, home, dwelling, house, region, country), from the Proto-West Germanic haim, from the Proto-Germanic haimaz (home, village), from the Proto-Indo-European tḱóymos (village, home), from the root tḱey-.  The (rare and probably extinct) alternative spelling is tumble home.  Tumblehome is a noun; the noun plural is tumblehomes.

The meaning of the word tumblehome has been well understood from its first appearance in the early nineteenth century but the origin has never been obvious.  Shipbuilders had for centuries been using variations of the design for a number of reasons but the first known instance of the word dates only from 1828 and then without explanation, suggesting the term may already have been in common use, at least within the industry.  An 1848 reference from a shipwright does however hint at some sense of novelty, noting “… the upper works usually incline towards the middle line, or as it is termed “tumble home”.  The word “tumble” to refer to the sides of ships appears to have been used at least as early as 1687 but the compound tumblehome seems not to have emerged for another hundred and fifty-odd years.  The idea always summoned was of the imagery of the sides of a ship “tumbling down” the slope created but why “home” was added remains a mystery, the assumption being it was based either on (1) an association with certain domestic architectural styles of the time (2) the romantic notion of the sea, to which the tumblehome falls, being "home" for sailors or  (3) the idea of a dilapidated house in the throes of "tumbling down", fallen bits an pieces accumulating at the bottom.

Big ships and fast cars

In automotive design (upper), the term is applied when the width of the cabin (cockpit or glasshouse) reduces as the height rises.  Although curved glass in the side windows of cars began widely to be adopted in the mid-1960s, thus creating a mild tumblehome effect, the term is applied only when it is sufficiently severe to be apparent to casual viewers.

In naval architecture (lower), the geometry is reversed, a tumblehome define as a hull which flares out as the sides approach the waterline.  Although in some vessels, the effect is barely detectable by the naked eye, it’s a technical term and applies to all hulls which dimensionally qualify.  The opposite, the classic shape for ships’ hull, is called the flare.

USS Brooklyn, 1896.

Tumblehome, unless taken to extremes, was functional in that it improved stability in warships under sail; sailing ships heel (they tend to lean over when moving) and tumblehome reduced this.  At the time, the biggest contributor to a warship’s mass on the upper decks was the guns and a tumblehome design, moving the centre of gravity lower, allowed armament to be maintained or even increased without further loss of stability.  Additionally, there was the benefit of making it harder for boarding parties to climb aboard.  In commercial shipping, vessels were long taxed on the basis of the square footage of a ship’s deck and fat ships with a pronounced tumble carrying the same freight but taxed less, were attractive.  Government fiscal policy thus influenced and distorted design and engineering principles in the same way tax arrangements of windows affected architecture and those on cylinder bores (adversely) affected engine design.

Lamborghini LP500 Countach prototype, 1971.

The Countach had one of the most extreme implementations, the angle meaning it was possible for only part of the side-window to be lowered but at least the Italians were more thoughtful than the Germans; in 1954, facing a similar challenge with the side-glass on the 300 SL (W198 1954-1957) gullwing, Mercedes-Benz simply fixed the panes, ventilation provided only by small quarterlights.  Neither flow-through ventilation or air-conditioning was available so driving in a gullwing could be hot and sticky experience and there's a reason they're sometimes seen being driven (at low speeds and not on public roads) with at least one door open. .  The tumblehome is used by high-performance cars because of the aerodynamic advantages it confers, reducing frontal area an allowing the curve of the greenhouse to be optimized for air-flow, lowering resistance.  Because of great advances made during the late twentieth century, refinements to tumblehomes no longer deliver the 3-5% improvements in a drag coefficient (CD) which once was possible, engineers now pursuing factional gains.  The origins in cars however lay in the quest for more interior space and for mass-market vehicles, bulging out the sides gained the odd vital inch and the technique, combined with curved side glass, has become almost universal although there has been the odd deviation.  Stylists are predicting tumblehomes are likely to become more exaggerated as sides need to be bulkier to meet more rigorous side-impact regulations and roof-lines are lowered slightly in the quest to reduce drag.

Lindsay Lohan in tumblehome blonde wig.

What professional hair stylists call “the tumblehome” is a triangulated shaping which is most cases can’t be achieved without an expert application of product and when sported by models on photo-shoots, it’s common for the angles and an illusion of volume to be achieved with engineering no more complex than a sheet of cardboard (cut to suit) being attached with hairclips to the back of the head.  The look can however be achieved with synthetics which can be persuaded sustainably to behave in a way human hair naturally resists and Lady Gaga (b 1986) made a tumblehome wig a signature feature of her “Fame Monster” period (2009-2010).  With natural hair, a tumblehome with hair a little shorter than that of Lady Gaga’s wig is sometimes technically achievable given the right hair and a generous use of product the sideways projection would be noticeably less.

Lady gaga in Fame Monster mode.

The tumblehome style with the exaggerated elongations al la Gaga is rarely seen and usually represents a lot of work.  However, many take about as much effort to avoid the similar geometry of the “pyramid head”: a triangular shape with a flat crown area which flares to a wide bushy shape at the ends.  A function of length and weight for those with curly hair, pyramids happen usually when the strands are of almost uniform length and the curls tend to “stack”, the weight meaning the roots sit flattest on the scalp while towards the ends where the effective volume (hair + space) is greatest, the curled strands move sideways, unlike the behavior of straight hair which is purely downwards.

Lindsay Lohan with pyramid head, Saturday Night Live, 2004.

Stylists recommend layers as the best tactic to minimize the triangulation, the strategy essentially to create longer, diagonal layers to frame the face, meaning the remaining curls “sit into each other”.  What this does is simply physics, the layering on the surface reducing the weight, increasing the percentage of the volume on the crown area and although some are resistant, the best results will probably be achieved if the hair is cut dry because it will be presented at its natural weight.  When wet, the moisture content will disguise the extent of the left-right movement and exaggerate the up-down.  The shorter the layers of course the more effective the amelioration but this can be too radical for some so clients need to be turned into realists.

Bailiwick

Bailiwick (pronounced bey-luh-wik)

(1) In law, the district or area within which a bailie or bailiff has jurisdiction.

(2) A person's area of skill, knowledge, authority, or work.

1425–75: From the late Middle English, the construct being baili- (or bailie) + wick (district of a bailiff, jurisdiction of a royal officer or under-sheriff), a mid-fifteenth century contraction of baillifwik, from bailiff + the Middle English wik, from the Old English wic (village).  The figurative sense of "one's natural or proper sphere" was a creation of American English first recorded in 1843.  Bailiwick is a noun; the noun plural is balilwicks.

From the Ancien Régime

Bailiwick’s origin was in pre-revolutionary France.  Under the Ancien Régime, the bailli (bailiff in the Old French) was the king's representative in a bailliage, in charge of the application of justice and the machinery of local administration.  For historic reasons, in the southern provinces, the more frequently used term was sénéchal and they discharged duties similar to a bailli in a sénéchaussée.  The network of baillages, structurally the most enduring creation of early-Modern France, was created during the thirteenth century, using mostly the geographical boundaries of the earlier medieval fiscal and tax divisions (the baillie) which had been the systems of the various dukedoms and principalities.  In English, the French bailie was combined with the Anglo-Saxon suffix “-wic” (village), the compound meaning literally “bailiff's village”, and defining the geographic scope of each bailiwick.  In the nineteenth century, it was absorbed into American English as a metaphor for a sphere of knowledge or activity.  The term survives in administrative usage in the British Crown dependencies of the Channel Islands which are grouped into two bailiwicks (1), Jersey (Jersey, and the uninhabited islets (Minquiers & Écréhous etc) and (2), Guernsey (Guernsey, Sark, Alderney, Brecqhou, Herm, Jethou & Lihou).  A Bailiff is the head of each Channel Island bailiwick.

Ridderlijke Duitsche Orde Balije van Utrecht

The Ridderlijke Duitsche Orde Balije van Utrecht (Bailiwick of Utrecht of the Teutonic Order) is a charity based in Utrecht in the central Netherlands.  The origin of the order was in 1231 as a division of the order of Teutonic Knights but during the sixteenth century Reformation most of the members became Protestant (mainly Reformed or Lutheran), one consequence of which was the Bailiwick sundering its association with the order based in the Holy Roman Empire, and placing itself under the protection of the United Provinces of the Netherlands.  The order was briefly suppressed during the Napoleonic era, but revived in 1815 after the restoration of the House of Orange and in 1995 it returned its headquarters to the Duitse Huis (Teutonic House), a building dating from 1348.

The origins of the Teutonic Order were during the siege of Acre (1190) in the Holy Land during the Third Crusade, the original purpose the nursing of sick and wounded crusaders and it was another eight years before a military component was added with the mission of fighting the enemies of Christendom and protect pilgrims visiting the holy land, the statutes of the order confirmed by Innocent III (1161–1216; pope 1198-1216) in a bull of 19 February 1199.  The Teutonic Order was typical of the times in that it had a multi-national character with many branches in the west providing both funds and recruits; it was particularly active in the states around the Baltic.  Rapidly, the order established an organization throughout the German Empire of bailiwicks headed by a land commander reporting to the German master.

Fictitious portraits of the Commanders of Utrecht of the German Order (1578), attributed to "an anonymous painter, called "Roelof" or "De Meester van het Duitse Huis" resident in Utrecht circa 1578".  The use of "fictitious" portraits was not uncommon during times of religious conflict although the details such as clothing, weaponry and heraldry was usually a true depiction.

In the way things happened in Europe over the thousand-odd years, the fortunes of the Teutonic Order fluctuated until, by order of Napoleon Bonaparte (1769–1821; leader of the French Republic 1799-1804 & Emperor of the French from 1804-1814 & 1815), in 1811 it was abolished in the Kingdom of Holland, its estates confiscated.  However, after the fall of Napoleon, on 8 August 1815 the Bailiwick was revived by the royal decree of William I (1772–1843; King of the Netherlands 1815-1840), initially with a membership limited to Lutheran noblemen with sixteen noble quarterings (formally in heraldry the Seize Quartiers, a measure of nobility in ancestry reaching back four generations (ie to the great-great-grandparent level)).  In the modern era this rule has been relaxed but to be eligible a members must still have four noble grandparents and the families of both the paternal and maternal lines must pre-date 1795.  Now the oldest charitable institution based in the Netherlands, its activities extend to assisting those with disabilities, the homeless and those with issues of substance abuse.

Thumbnail

Thumbnail (pronounced thuhm-neyl)

(1) The (finger)nail of the thumb.

(2) As thumbnail sketch, anything quite small or brief, as a small drawing or short essay, a précis or summary.

(3) In printing, a small, rough dummy.

(4) In journalism, a half-column portrait in a newspaper (also called the porkchop).

(5) Something quite small or brief; concise.

(6) Concisely to describe (something or someone).

(7) In computing (on the graphical user interfaces (GUI) of operating systems), a small image used as a preview of the original which loads upon clicking the thumbnail.  Unlike an icon, which is (Usually) a representative symbol, a thumbnail is a smaller copy of the original larger image (although technically, a thumbnail can be constructed which reports a smaller file size than the original).

1595–1605: The construct was thumb + nail.  Thumb was from the Middle English thombe, thoume & thoumbe, from the Old English þūma, from the Proto-West Germanic þūmō, from the Proto-Germanic þūmô from Proto-Indo-European tūm- (to grow).  The spellings thum, thume & thumbe were still in use in the late seventeenth century but are all long obsolete.  Nail was from the Middle English nail & nayl, from the Old English næġl, from the Proto-West Germanic nagl, from the Proto-Germanic naglaz, from the primitive Indo-European hnogh- (nail).  The earliest known instance of the phrase “thumbnail sketch” in the sense of "drawing or sketch of a small size" (though usually not literally the size of a thumbnail) dates from 1852, the verb usage adopted in the 1930s.  Thumbnail is a noun & adjective; thumbnailer is a noun, thumbnailed is a verb & adjective and thumbnailing is a verb; the noun plural is thumbnails.

Fifteen images of Lindsay Lohan’s thumbnails.

The term "thumbnail sketch" began with architects, designers and artists who quickly would create small, conceptual sketches of their ideas so they could be tested without the time or effort required to render at full-scale.  While it’s possible some may literally have been the size of a actual thumbnail, most would have been larger and the term was chosen just as something indicative of “smallness”.  The practice or architects and others creating small sketches was of course ancient and may even have been associated with prehistoric cave painting but it was in the mid-nineteenth century the term “thumbnail sketch” came to be used.  The use of the thumbnail sketch (including the companion “pencil test” in graphic design) is now universal in industries where images need to be created and the techniques learned proved useful in the 1980s when icons became widely used in the on were used on graphical user interfaces (GUI) of operating systems.  In text, in the 1950s, the thumbnail sketch came to be applied to any a précis or summary and has always been prevalent in publishing and criticism (as brief plot summaries, reviews etc) and as short-form biographical data, especially when assembled in a list of those so profiled.

Thumbnail sketches of recent Australian administrations

Kevin Rudd (right) & Cardinal Pell (left), 2010.

Kevin Rudd (b 1957; Australian prime-minister 2007-2010 & 2013): There have been few Australian prime-ministers who entered office with such goodwill as that enjoyed by Kevin Rudd and none who have so quickly squandered it all.  Mr Rudd’s win in 2007 was a testament to his personal popularity and a reasonable achievement given that, by any standards, on paper, the previous government shouldn’t have lost office, there being no crisis, an outstandingly good fiscal position, low unemployment and no serious scandals.  Essentially, the electorate seemed bored by a decade-odd of dull competence and Mr Rudd was new, presentable and in his nerdy, weird way, appealing and thus the country voted.  His honeymoon wasn’t noticeably short but he had the misfortune to be prime-minister when the global financial crisis (GFC) hit and while for many reasons, Australia was relatively unaffected, the stresses it induced revealed tensions in his government and his background as a public servant wasn’t useful whenever decisiveness was required; long used to providing advice to others who made decisions, his government stuttered under the weight of committees and boards of enquiry.  A contrast with this intellectual timidity was his reputation for arrogance and abrasiveness when dealing with his colleagues and this didn’t help him maintain their support; he lost an internal party vote in 2010 and the Australian Labor Party (ALP) choose another leader.  In 2023, it was announced Dr Rudd would be Australia’s next ambassador to the United States and there are rumors he’s negotiated a secret, back-channel deal whereby he reports directly to the prime-minister and not, as is usual, to the foreign minister.

Julia Gillard (left) & Kevin Rudd (right), 2013.

Julia Gillard (b 1961; Australian prime minister 2010-2013):  Julia Gillard is thus far the only woman to become Australia’s prime-minister and some of the treatment she endured in office might make a few women wonder if reaching the top of the greasy pole is worth the price to be paid.  That said, it’s still a good gig and many will try.  Metaphorically knifing her predecessor in the back meant her premiership didn’t start in the happiest of circumstances and it didn’t help and he made little attempt to conceal his thoughts on recent events.  The poison spread through the party and the healthy majority gained in 2007 was lost in the 2010 election, the Gillard government surviving only with the support of three independents, all of whom extracted their own price.  Bizarrely as it might seem to some, Rudd returned for a while as foreign minister, an unhappy experience for many.  It couldn’t last and it didn’t, Mr Rudd resigning and unsuccessfully contesting the leadership.  Still despite it all, on paper, the Gillard government managed things successfully in a tight parliament and although the actual achievements were slight, they probably exceed expectations.  Ms Gillard is probably best remembered for her “misogyny” speech which deservedly went viral because it was highly entertaining although it did reveal someone sensitive to criticism and one wonders if she’d ever reviewed some of things said about male politicians over the centuries.  It’s clearly a more sensitive age but nor did she appear to see any inconsistencies between the words spat at her and her use of “poodle” and “mincing” (with all that they imply) when decrying one of her male opponents.  As it was, Mr Rudd got his revenge, toppling her in 2013 although his victory may have seemed pyrrhic (his second coming lasting three months-odd), he was probably content.

Tony Abbott (left) & Vladimir Putin (right) with koalas, 2014.

Tony Abbott (b 1957; Australian prime-minister 2013-2015): One probably disappointed that Ms Gillard was in 2013 replaced was Mr Abbott because all the indications were the Liberal-National coalition’s victory in the 2013 election would have produced a landslide-scale majority rather than the merely comfortable one achieved against Mr Rudd.  Still, the majority was sufficient for Mr Abbott easily to purse his objectives and he immediately set to reducing expenditure, cutting taxes, stopping irregular immigration (his famous “stop the boats” campaign lent three word slogans (3WS) a new popularity which endures to this day) and attacking trade unions.  He was a very different character from Mr Rudd but similarly inept in managing public perception of his government.  In his thoughts, there was a certainly of purpose Mr Rudd lacked but the core problem was that his world view seemed to have been set in stone by the Jesuits who taught him while he was training for the priesthood and while much had changed since the fourteenth century, he’d not moved on.  Thus created were the tensions which marked his government which was split between technocratic realists, right-wing fanatics, a genuinely liberal wing and his coalition partners, the National Party which was devoted to the horse trading necessary to extract the money required to pork-barrel their electorates.  Presiding over this lot as a leader with thoughts were more akin to the old Democratic Labor Party (DLP) than anything from the third millennium, it’s probably remarkable Mr Abbott lasted as long as he did.  The 2014 budget which made big cuts was blamed by many for his demise and while it’s true it was badly designed and poorly explained, it does appear Mr Abbott, while one of the most formidably focused and effective oppositions leaders, simply lacked the skills needed to be prime-minister.  In 2013, he lost an internal party ballot to the man he’d replaced in a similar vote in 2009.

Malcolm Turnbull (right) & Peter Dutton (left) roadside billboard (2016).

Malcolm Turnbull (b 1954; Australian prime minister 2015-2018):  There was an unusually great public optimism which immediately surrounded Mr Turnbull’s accession to office.  So encouraging were the polls that he probably should have gone to an early election as Anthony Eden (1897-1977; UK prime-minister 1955-1957) did in 1955, thus avoiding the grinding down of energy inevitable in “fag-end” administrations.  Instead he delayed, making the same mistake as Gordon Brown (b 1951; UK prime-minister 2007-2010) and John Gorton (1911-2002; Australian prime-minister 1968-1971) and the early support evaporated, the government surviving the 2016 election with only a slender majority.  Being from the liberal wing, Mr Turnbull really wasn’t a good fit as leader of the modern Liberal Party he’d been accepted only because he was rich, a virtue which in the party tends to mean other vices are overlooked (if not forgiven).  This allowed him sometimes to prevail but ultimately it was the corrosive and related issues of energy and an emissions reduction policy which proved his nemesis.  Even if the public didn’t fully understand the intricacies of the issue (and the especially complex mechanisms in the associated legislation), increasingly they were being persuaded by the science underlying climate change and just wanted the matter resolved.  The factions in the Liberal-National coalition had for more than a decade been torn asunder by climate policy and the divisions poisoned public perception of the government; Mr Abbott may have been wrong in how he handled the matter in 2013 but he was at least certain and decisive and was accordingly rewarded.  Support for Mr Turnbull eroded and in an amusingly chaotic leadership coup in 2018, he lost the leadership.  In retirement, he found common cause with Mr Rudd as they joined to complain about the undue influence Rupert Murdoch’s (b 1931) News Corporation exerts in Australian politics, especially the national daily The Australian which, despite a notionally small distribution, is highly effective in setting agendas, forcing other outlets to pursue News Corp's pet issues.

The Turnbull administration is remembered also for imposing the "bonk ban", a consequence of one of the many extra-parliamentary antics of "bonking Barnaby" (Barnaby Joyce, b 1967; thrice (between local difficulties) deputy prime minister of Australia 2016-2022 and known also within the beltway as "the beetrooter", a nicknamed explained as (1) an allusion to this often florid complexion and (2) the use of "root" in Australia to refer to sexual intercourse).  Mr Turnbull was a keen student of etymology and having once worked as a journalist was fond of the alliterative phrase so when writing his memoir (A Bigger Picture (2020)) he included a short chapter entitled "Barnaby and the bonk ban".  As well as the events which lent the text it's title, the chapter was memorable for his inclusion of perhaps the most vivid thumbnail sketch of Barnaby Joyce yet penned:

"Barnaby is a complex, intense, furious personality.  Red-faced, in full flight he gives the impression he's about to explode.  He's highly intelligent, often good-humoured but also has a dark and almost menacing side - not unlike Abbott (Tony Abbott (b 1957; prime-minister of Australia 2013-2015)) - that seems to indicate he wrestles with inner troubles and torments."

Mr Turnbull and Mr Joyce in parliament, House of Representatives, Canberra, ACT.

The substantive matter was the revelation in mid-2017 the press had become aware Mr Joyce (a married man with four daughters) was (1) conducting an affair with a member of his staff and (2) that the young lady was with child.  Mr Turnbull recorded that when asked, Mr Joyce denied both "rumors", which does sound like a lie but in the narrow sense may have verged on "the not wholly implausible" on the basis that, as he pointed out in a later television interview, the question of paternity was at the time “...a bit of a grey area”.  Mr Joyce and his mistress later married and now have two children so all's well that end's well (at least for them) and Mr Turnbull didn't so much shut the gate after the horse had bolted as install inter-connecting doors in the stables.  His amendments to the Australian Ministerial Code of Conduct (an accommodating document very much in the spirit of Lord Castlereagh's (1769–1822; UK foreign secretary 1812-1822) critique of the Holy Alliance) banned ministers from bonking their staff which sounds uncontroversial but was silent on them bonking the staff of the minister in the office down the corridor.  So the net effect was probably positive in that staff having affairs with their ministerial boss would gain experience through cross-exposure to other portfolio areas although there's the obvious moral hazard in that they might be tempted to conduct trysts just to engineer a transfer in the hope of career advancement.  There are worse reasons for having an affair and a bonk for a new job seems a small price to pay.  It's been done before.

Scott Morrison (left) & Grace Tame (right), 2022.

Scott Morrison (b 1968; prime-minister 2018-2022): There are a few candidates who deserve to be regarded as Australia’s worst prime-minister (some of them quite recent) but the uniquely distinguishing feature of assessments of Mr Morrison’s term is that so many view it with such distaste.  His narrow victory in the 2018 election was a remarkable personal achievement but that proved the high-water mark of his administration.  Many critiques noted his lack of background, his experience limited to sales, marketing and slogans which has its place but did seem to result in him viewing a democracy rather as a sales manager views his employer’s customer loyalty programmes: Just as only good customers are entitled to the benefits of membership, in the Morrison government it seemed only electorates which returned coalition members were deserving of funding.  That did change in the run-up to an election; then marginal electorates which might elect coalition members attracted largess and while all parties do this, few have been so so blatant or extreme as Mr Morrison.  He also blundered in foreign affairs, publicly and pugnaciously calling for an international enquiry into the origins of the SARS-COV-2 virus responsible for the COVID-19 pandemic.  That was a good idea but it should have been handled through the usual channels, not as foghorn diplomacy and the assumption of most was he was looking forward to going to his church (one where they clap, sing, strum guitars and the preacher assures the congregation God approves of surf-skis and big TVs) and telling everyone he’d stood up to the Godless atheists in the Chinese Communist Party.  Then there was the matters like the way a submarine contract was cancelled (costing the taxpayer a few hundred million) and the “robodebt” scandal (which turned out to be unlawful) which cost an as yet uncertain millions more.  Robodebt also exposed the contrast between his attitude to poor people who might be entitled to small welfare payments and that towards corporations which benefited from COVID-19 payments intended for those suffering certain defined losses in revenue.  When it was pointed out many companies which had received millions actually increased their revenue during the pandemic, Mr Morrison made it clear they could keep the money.  Maybe poor people should become Liberal Party donors.

Thumbnails of Lindsay Lohan image files in a sub-directory.

Deodand

Deodand (pronounced dee-uh-dand)

(1) In English law (prior to 1846), an animal or a personal chattel (the scope later extended) that, having been the immediate, accidental cause of the death of a human being, was forfeited to the Crown to be sold with the money gained applied originally to pious uses.

(2) In English law (prior to 1846), A fine paid to the Crown, equal to the value of a deodand, paid by the owner of the object and subsequently applied originally to pious uses.

1520–1530: From the late thirteenth century Anglo-French deodande, from the Medieval Latin deōdandum (a thing) to be given to God, the construct being the Classical Latin deō (to God (dative singular of deus (god)) + dand(um) to be given (neuter gerund of “dare to give”) from the primitive Indo-European root do- (to give).  Deus was from the primitive Indo-European root dyeu- (to shine and (in derivatives” “sky, heaven, god”).  Deodand is a noun; the noun plural is deodands.

That the doctrine of deodand was a medieval legal relic (the earliest recorded instances of use in England dating from the eleventh century) is not that remarkable because in that it was one of a number; what’s remarkable is it remained part of the common law until the mid-1800s.  The concept was first well documented in thirteenth century legal texts and historians have concluded this “semi-codification” reflected the earlier religious tradition which held an object which caused a death was “tainted” and should be removed from profane use.  In that, it inherited older notion from Roman civil law of noxae deditio (literally “surrender for the wrongdoing” and in English law written usually as “noxal surrender”), the construct being noxae (harm, injury, wrongdoing) + deditio (surrender, giving up).  Noxae deditio was a legal mechanism (in response to what would now be called a writ) with which the owner of an animal or slave (The Romans really did make a distinction) could avoid liability for delicts (wrongs) committed by them by surrendering the animal or slave to the injured party as an alternative to paying damages.  Intriguingly, at certain times, the doctrine was extended to sons (though apparently not daughters) in circumstances where an action was brought against a paterfamilias (the head of a household), on the basis he was held to be responsible for the son’s acts.  Literally, the son could be “handed over”, either until they attained statutory adulthood or for a specified period, depending on the damages assessed.  A similar idea was the Old English wergeld, from the Proto-West Germanic werageld, the construct being wer (man) +‎ ġield (payment).  It was a form of compensation paid by a transgressor to a victim, or (as “blood money) to the victim's family if the victim were dead (the quantum decided by social rank).  The concept is familiar in many societies and is sometimes formalized in Islamic systems using the Sharia Law where the victim’s family can be involved in determining not only how much blood money should be paid but also whether there should be a payment as an alternative to a death sentence.

What evolved in English common law was the rule under which, if a person was killed by an animal, vehicle, tool or other inanimate object, that object was declared a “deodand” to be forfeited to the Crown.  Reflecting the theological basis for this, notionally the surrender was “to God”, but quickly the standard practice became to appraise the value of the beast or object and levy a fine in that sum.  Although the documentary evidence is patchy, it appears originally the forfeited property (or cash from the fine) was devoted to pious uses such as alms (ie charity for the poor) or (as was the usual trend when a revenue stream was identified) ecclesiastical purposes such as building churches or stained glass windows.  Later (another trend being squabbles between church & state), deodans became a source of consolidated royal revenue.  The rationale was partly religious (atonement), partly superstitious (removing the dangerous object), and partly fiscal (Crown revenue).

The school bus scene: In Mean Girls (2004), had Regina George (Rachel McAdams (b 1978)) been killed by the school bus, the vehicle would have been declared a deodand and forfeited to the state although the usual practice was for its value to be assessed and an order for a payment in that sum to be served on the owner.

It was a simple concept but because there was much variation in the circumstances in which a deodand could be declared, the case law reveals inconsistencies in the verdicts.  Were someone to be killed by being run over by a horse-drawn cart, depending on this and that, the deodand might be found to be the cart and horse, the cart or horse alone or even just the particular wheel which crushed the unfortunate deceased.  One of the reasons for the variance is that in many instances the matter was determined not by a judge or magistrate working from precedent but (at coroners’ inquests) by juries which would both define the deodand and assess its value.  Given that, on what appear to be similar facts (a sailor who drowned after being struck by a mast), the deodand might be found to be the whole vessel or merely the mast.  In such cases, the issue was which object (or part of an object) should be held to be the “guilty instrument” and that was a process not simple to define, things made more difficult still by the opinions of jury members being so diverse and prone to be influenced by the identity of both the victim(s) and the owner of the object(s).

Aftermath of the explosion of a locomotive’s steam boiler.  If reduced to scrap by the event in which someone died, the jury could assess the value of the object in its "pre-event" condition.

By the eighteenth century, deodands had become largely devices of reference in that actual confiscation of objects was rare with an assessment of their monetary value to set the fine to be paid the standard practice.  Lawyers, politicians and (especially) those in commerce were critical of the system as irrational and even then there were traces of what would evolve as the modern notions of negligence and responsibility; critiques of deodand came both from what would now be described as “the right” and “the left”.  Those who owned the objects which became lethal instruments argued it was unfair they be punished so severely for what were, however tragic, “mere accidents”, pointing out the system discouraged industrial enterprise while those advocating for victims pointed out it was the state which gained the proceeds of the fines while victims’ families (many of which had lost their sole breadwinner) gained nothing.  What finally brought about the end of deodand was it being overtaken by the industrial age in which deaths came routinely to occur in clusters.  It was the multiple fatalities in marine and train accidents (infamously the Hull Tragedy (1838) and the Sonning Cutting Disaster (1840)) which attracted press coverage and public debate; in each case a “certificate of deodand” was attached to the machinery and, given the cavalier attitude of railway operators towards safety, it was hardly surprising coroners’ juries had little hesitation in declaring a locomotive and its rolling-stock a deodand.  That was obviously an expensive threat to capitalism and the lobbying by these vested interest resulted in parliament abolishing deodands by the Deodands Act 1846 (9 & 10 Vict. c.62).

Tallahassee Democrat, 13 October 1991.

The Daytona Yellow 1969 Chevrolet Corvette ZL1 coupé is the rarest and most valuable C3 Corvette (1968-1982) made, the “other ZL1” a Monaco Orange Roadster having a less pure pedigree (although at auction in January 2023 it realized US$3.14 million.  The yellow ZL1 last changed hands in October 1991 when it was sold in a government forfeiture auction for US$300,000 (then a lot of money) after being seized by the DEA (Drug Enforcement Agency).

The Act however was part of a reform process and the early initiatives included the statutes which would by the mid twentieth century evolve into modern negligence and compensation law, the most significant of the early steps being the Fatal Accidents Act 1846 (Lord Campbell’s Act) which for the first time codified the idea of the “wrongful death claim” and permitted families to sue on this basis.  Although now largely forgotten, the 1846 act was a significant marker of the transition of English law from a medieval, semi-religious system of atonement to a modern, rationalized law of tort, product liability and compensation.

Echoes do however remain in certain legal doctrines of forfeiture (such as state seizures of the proceeds of crime) and the US practice of civil asset forfeiture does, at least in a philosophical sense, sometimes treat property as “guilty”.  The US law provides for property (cars, boats, money etc) connected with the commission of a crime to be seized by the state even if the owner, personally, wasn’t “guilty”; it’s a modern interpretation of the medieval view the object itself bore responsibility.  What this means is the legal rationale is structurally similar to what once was the religious justification: What once was “given to God” as expiation as atonement for sin translates now into deterrence as an expression of public policy (removing dangerous tools or preventing criminals from profiting).  As a kind of “legal fiction”, under both regimes the object is treated as if it possesses some kind of independent agency.  Intriguingly, as an administrative convenience, that idea survived in Admiralty Law under which vessels can in suits be “personified”, thus cases like “The SS <ship name> v. Cargo”, the model for civil asset forfeiture procedures in which the object is the defendant (such as “United States v. One 1969 Chevrolet Corvette”).

Building from Biblical tradition, the idea of independent agency had a curious history in the legal systems of Christendom and in Europe from the Middle Ages through the early modern period, animals could be put on trial (in both secular courts and ecclesiastical courts) for murder.  These trials followed legal procedures similar to those in which a human was the accused although, obviously, cross-examination was somewhat truncated.  The most commonly tried animals were pigs, simply because it wasn’t uncommon for them freely to roam in urban areas and attacks on babies and infants were frequent.  In Normandy in 1386, a sow was dressed in human clothing and publicly executed for killing a child while at Châlons in 1499, a sow and her six piglets were tried; the sow was executed for killing a man, while the piglets were acquitted due to “lack of evidence.”  Nor were the defendants exclusively porcine, bulls and horses occasionally executed for killing people and in ecclesiastical courts there are many records of rodents and insects being charged with damaging crops.  Presumably because every day of the week rodents and insects were killed just for “being guilty of being rodents and insects”, ceremonial executions wouldn’t have had much symbolic value so the usual result handed down was excommunication(!) or a demand (from God, as it were) the creatures vacate the fields in which they were consuming the crops.

Perpetually hungry weevils enjoying lunch in a granary.

Sometimes the ecclesiastical courts could be imaginative.  In the Italian region of Tyrol in 1713, the priests ordered the hungry weevils to leave the vineyards where they were such a plague but in compensation granted their occupation of a barren piece of land as an alternative habitat.  The reaction of the insects to the ruling would have been rather as King Cnut (better known as Canute, circa 990–1035; King of England 1016-1035) would have predicted but despite that, there’s no record of the weevils being held in contempt of court.  Regrettably, there's no generally accepted collective noun for weevils but weevilage (a portmanteau word, the blend being weevil + (vill)age) seems more compelling than Adelognatha (the scientific term referring to a group of Curculionidae (a family of weevils) characterized by a specific anatomical feature).  There was at least some theological basis for the ecclesiastical courts claiming entomological jurisdiction because in scripture it was written beasts are God’s creatures like all others and over them God granted dominion to man (Genesis 1:26-28 (King James Version of the Bible (KJV, 1611)):

26 And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.

27 So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.

28 And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.

Bovine trial in progress, rendered as a line drawing by Vovsoft.

The principle was animals could be held accountable for causing harm and this was taken especially seriously when the harm caused was something like that of a crime a human might commit (like murder) and in the secular courts, if the victim was someone of some importance, the proceedings could involve defense lawyers, witnesses, and formal sentencing.  In the ecclesiastical courts, it was more symbolic or ritualistic: insects and rodents might be “summoned” but of course they never turned up so excommunication or other curses were invoked.  By the eighteenth century, the thinkers of the Enlightenment had prevailed and the idea of animals as moral agents was so ridiculed the practice of charging them was almost wholly abandoned although in certain circumstances an owner could be held liable for the damage they caused.  There was though the odd, rural holdout.  In Normandy in 1845 a sow was executed for killing a child (in the legal archives listed as the last “classic pig trial” (the last in the US held in New Hampshire in 1819)) and in Switzerland in 1906 a dog was sentenced to death for a similar offence (this believed to be Europe’s last “animal trial”).