Understate

Understate (pronounced uhn-der-steyt)

(1) In speech or writing, a statement ostensibly less in strength than the author actually intends to convey.

(2) In design (architecture, fashion etc), a kind of shorthand for stark minimalism, the pared down look with which elegance is most easily attained.

1799: The construct was under + state.  The related “understated” used to discuss matter of style, appears not to have been used before 1957.  Under is pre-900 Middle English, from the Old English.  It was cognate with the Dutch onder, the German unter, the Sanskrit अधर (ádhara), the Old Norse undir & the Latin inferus.  The sense of under in the Latin inferus is fun.  It’s from the Proto-Italic enðeros, from the primitive Indo-European hindher and meant (1) in the masculine plural “the souls of the dead” and (2) in the neuter plural “the netherworld; the underworld; Hell”.  Its other linkage is to the modern “inferior”, another sense of “under”.  Under was productive as a prefix in Old English, as were the similar forms in German and Scandinavian, sued often to form words modeled on Latin.  The notion of "inferior in rank, position etc" existed as well as the spatial in Old English, reference to standards (less than this, that and the other) dates from the late fourteenth century.  State as the verb referring to speech dates from the 1590s in the sense of "to set in a position" and is derived from the earlier noun use.  The idea of "declaring in words" was first attested in the 1640s, from the notion of "placing" something on the record.

Emperor Hirohito of Japan, 1933.

The English upper classes have a long tradition of understatement; it was never unexpected to hear some grandee refer to his forty-room country house as “the cottage” but for sheer scale, few can match Emperor Hirohito (1901-1989; Emperor (昭和天皇 (Shōwa-tennō) of Japan 1926-1989).   Having endured hearing a long succession of bad news about the state of Japanese military affairs, he learned of the defeat of his axis partner, Nazi Germany and then, the dropping of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  Unlike some of the generals, admirals and politicians advising him, the emperor accepted the inevitable and on 14 August 1945, delivered a speech effectively accepting the terms of the Potsdam Declaration, the Allies' demand of unconditional surrender.  It had taken two A-Bombs to summon the most memorable understatement of World War II:  “…the war situation has developed not necessarily to Japan's advantage...”

Lindsay Lohan at The White Party, Linz, Austria, July 2014, the Grecian inspired gown with spaghetti straps by Calvin Klein, the shoes, Christian Louboutin Aurora Boreale platforms.  This was the best angle for the photographer to choose; viewed from a more oblique angle, the sense of restraint faded.  

In fashion, to achieve a look of understated elegance, the most obvious path to follow is one of stark minimalism.  As in architecture it’s not impossible to achieve the look with decorative flourishes but it’s harder.  Designers suggest neutral colors such as beige, grey, khaki, camel, oatmeal, tan, sand, biscuit, cream, ivory, ecru and mushroom with simple cuts, tailored to avoid anything too close-fitting, paired with either few accessories or, if it’s big, just one; less is more.

Carpet

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Catharsis

Catharsis (pronounced kuh-thahr-sis)

(1) The purging of the emotions or relieving of emotional tensions, especially through certain kinds of art, as tragedy or music.

(2) In psychiatry, a form of psychoanalysis or psychotherapy that encourages or permits the discharge of repressed, pent-up, socially unacceptable affects.

(3) The discharge of pent-up emotions so as to result in the alleviation of symptoms or the permanent relief of the condition.

(4) In Aristotelian literary criticism, the purging or purification of the emotions through the evocation of pity and fear, as in tragedy.

(5) In medicine, purgation, especially of the bowels.

1770: From the New Latin catharsis, from the Ancient Greek kátharsis (a cleansing) equivalent to kathar, variant stem of kathaírein (to cleanse, purge, purify), from katharós (pure, clear of dirt, clean, spotless, open, free, clear of shame or guilt, purified) + sis.    Root was the Medieval Latin Catharī (the Pure), from the Byzantine Greek καθαροί or katharoí (the Pure), plural of καθαρός (katharós) (pure).  Most of the extended senses found in Modern English are of unknown origin, the original sense from 1770 being "a bodily purging" (especially of the bowels), then an important aspect of medical practice.  After 1872 it came to be applied to emotions when it was referred to as "a purging through vicarious experience"; the psychotherapy sense first recorded in 1909 in Abraham Brill's (1874–1948) translation of Sigmund Freud's (1856–1939) Selected Papers on Hysteria  (Dr Brill’s translation the first of Freud into English).  The alternative spelling cathartick went extinct in the mid-nineteenth century.  The adjective cathartic dates from its use in medical literature in the 1610s in the sense of preparations claimed to be "purgative; purifying"; more general use noted by the 1670s.  Presumably, the cures proved efficacious because the adjective cathartical soon emerged, existing also in the plural as the noun catharticals (laxatives).

Cathar (religious puritan (implied in Catharism)), dates from the 1570s and was from the Medieval Latin Cathari (the Pure), the name taken by the Novatians and other Christian sects, from the New Testament Greek katharizein (to make clean), from the Ancient Greek katharós (pure).  It was applied particularly to the twelfth century sects (Albigenses et al) in Languedoc and the Piedmont which denied and defied the authority of the pope.  The feminine proper name Catherine is from the French Catherine, from the Medieval Latin Katerina, from the Classical Latin Ecaterina, from the Ancient Greek Aikaterine.  The -h- was introduced in the sixteenth century, probably a tribute in folk etymology from the Greek katharos (pure).  Familiar in Modern English also as Katherine, Kate, Cate and other variations, the initial Greek vowel preserved in the Russian form Ekaterina.  For reasons unknown, Catherine began to be used as a type of pear in the 1640s.

The term “Catherine wheel” was originally from the early thirteenth century and described a torture device, the spiked wheel on which (according to some versions of what is thought to be a most dubious tale) the legendary virgin Saint Catherine of Alexandria was in 307 tortured and martyred by the pagan Marcus Aurelius Valerius Maxentius (circa 283–312; a Roman emperor, 306-312), thus becoming, in the associative way the Church did these things, patron saint of spinners.  She was a most popular saint in medieval times and popularized the name Catherine (and its variations), the favor enduring to this day.  It was applied from 1760 to a kind of firework which shot flame from a revolving spiral tube, creating the shape of a spinning wheel.

Of the Cathars: Catharism

With origins in Persia and the Byzantine Empire, Catharism was a dualist (or Gnostic revival) fork of Christianity, the movement most active during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries in what is now northern Italy and southern France.  It was not a good time to be promoting the notion of two Gods, one good, the other evil; this dualism was however the essential core of Cathar beliefs.  The good God was the God of the New Testament and the creator of the spiritual realm, contrasted with the evil Old Testament God, creator of the physical world whom many Cathars, and not a few of their persecutors, identified as Satan.  It was an exacting creed which meant all visible matter, including the human body, was created by the evil god and therefore tainted with sin.  Taint might be an understatement; Cathars thought human spirits were the lost spirits of angels trapped within the physical creation of the evil god, destined to be reincarnated until they achieved salvation through what they called the consolamentum, a highly ritualized form of baptism.

The Holy See's foreign policy when the pope did have a few divisions: The papal army, the Cathars & the Albigensian Crusade.

All this was heresy to the monotheistic Roman Catholic Church, founded on the fundamental principle of one God, the creator of all things temporal and spiritual.  The Church’s crackdown got serious during the pontificate of Innocent III (circa 1160-1216; pope 1198-1216), initially by means of political and theological persuasion but with the assassination of his emissary, Innocent abandoned diplomacy, declared his dead ambassador a martyr and launched a military operation, the twenty-year (1209-1229) Albigensian Crusade.  It was the beginning of the end of Catharism.  After 1244 when the great fortress of Montsegur near the Pyrenees was razed, the Cathars became an underground movement, many fleeing to Italy where the persecution was milder.  The hierarchy faded but the heresy lingered until it finally it vanished early in the fifteenth century.

Simone Weil.

Simone Weil (1909-1943) was a French philosopher and political activist who, in a manner unusual among left-leaning intellectuals of the era, returned to the religion ignored in her youth and became attracted to the mystical.  Remembered for her political writings and active service in both the Spanish Civil War and occupied France, she died tragically young in the self-sacrificial manner she had lived her life.  Among the more delicate historians, (typified by Arnold Toynbee (1889-1975)), there’s often an undisguised preference for Greek over Roman but few went as far as Weil who could find no virtue in the latter and was barely less dismissive of the medieval Church.  By contrast, in the Cathars, she found exemplars of goodness although she offered few reasons and fewer still shreds of evidence for this.  Most convincing is the notion that what Weil called affliction (malheur) goes beyond merely describing suffering and makes of it, if not a fetish, then certainly a calling.  Weil felt there were only some able truly to experience affliction: those least deserving of suffering.  Seduced by the lure of the tragic and having trawled history, she found in the Cathars the doomed victims with whom she could identify, drawn to them as Sylvia Plath was to Ted Hughes.

Simone Weil Agitprop.

Although her readership remains substantially limited to those clustered around a number of academic and feminist circles, Weil’s influence on literature has been profound.  She wrote neither fiction nor poetry but in her prolific output, existing mostly in letters and notebooks which in her lifetime were almost entirely unseen and edited for publication only posthumously, lay an extraordinary exploration of the contradictions and confusion of the modern world.  One gains much from reading Weil for despite her tone there’s pleasure in enjoying the lucidity and discovering an uncompromising critique of a world poisoned by the exclusivity of Christianity and its damnation of progress as heresy.  But guilt tinges the pleasure.  This tortured soul lived and died in anguish and dark despair because she knew she deserved no more in a world of where injustice had triumphed and probably forever would.  One fears that in all her brief years, she may never have felt a moment’s joy.

The modern catharsis is a public event, best enjoyed after emerging from rehab.  Lindsay Lohan and Oprah Winfrey, 2013.  

Coupe

Coupe (pronounced koop or koo-pey (the latter used even if spelled without the “é”)).

(1) A closed, two-door car, sometimes on a shorter wheelbase than the four-door version on which they’re based.

(2) A four-door car with a lower or more elongated, sloping roofline than the model on which it’s based.

(3) An ice cream or sherbet mixed or topped with fruit, liqueur, whipped cream etc.

(4) A glass container for serving such a dessert, usually having a stem and a wide, deep bowl (similar in shape but usually larger than a champagne coupe).

(5) As champagne coupe, a shallow, broad-bowled saucer shaped stemmed glass also often used for cocktails because of their greater stability than many a cocktail glasses.

(6) A short, four-wheeled, horse-drawn, closed carriage, usually with a single seat for two passengers and an outside seat for the driver.

(7) The end compartment in a European diligence or railroad car with seats on one side only.

(8) In commercial logging, an area of a forest or plantation where harvesting of wood is planned or has taken place.

(9) In military use, as coupe gorge (a borrowing from French (literally “cut-throat”), any position affording such advantage to an attacking formation that the troops occupying it must either surrender or be “cut to pieces”.

(10) In various sports, a cup awarded as a prize.

(11) A hairstyle (always pronounced coop) which typically features shorter sides and back with longer hair on top.

1825–1835: From the French coupé (low, short, four-wheeled, close carriage without the front seat, carrying two inside, with an outside seat for the driver (also “front compartment of a stage coach”)), a shortened form of carrosse coupé (a cut-off or shortened version of the Berlin (from Berliner) coach, modified to remove the back seat), the past participle of couper (to cut off; to cut in half), the verbal derivative of coup (blow; stroke); a doublet of cup, hive and keeve, thus the link with goblets, cups & glasses.  It was first applied to two-door automobiles with enclosed coachwork by 1897 while the Coupe de ville (or Coup de ville) dates from 1931, describing originally a car with an open driver's position and an enclosed passenger compartment.

The earlier senses (wicker basket, tub, cask) date from 1375–1425, from the Middle English, from the Anglo-French coupe & cope, from the Old French coupe, from the Medieval Latin cōpa (cask), from the Latin cūpa (cask, tub, barrel), the ultimate source of the modern “cup” (both drink vessels and bras).  The Middle English cǒupe was from the Old Saxon kûpa & côpa, from the Old High German chôfa & chuofa, again from the from the Medieval Latin cōpa from the Latin cūpa.  It described variously a large wicker basket; a dosser, a pannier; a basket, pen or enclosure for birds (a coop); a cart or sled equipped with a wicker basket for carrying manure etc; a barrel or cask for holding liquids.  The obvious descendent is the modern coop (chickens etc).  Coupe is a noun; the noun plural is coupes.

Marie Antoinette and the unrelated champagne coupe.

The “coupe” hair-style (always pronounced coop) is one which typically features shorter sides and back with longer hair on top, the modern interpretations making a distinct contrast between the shorter and longer sections, the aim being the creation of sharp lines or acute angles.  The longer hair atop can be styled in various ways (slicked back, textured, or even the messy look of a JBF.  Historically, the coupe hairstyle was associated with men's cuts but of late it’s become popular with women, attracted by the versatility, low maintenance and the adaptability to suit different face shapes, hair types and variegated coloring.  Because outside the profession, there’s no obvious link between “coupe” and hair-styles, the term “undercut” is often used instead.  Unfortunately, despite the often-repeated story, there seems little to support the claim the wide-mouthed, shallow-bowled champagne coupe was modelled on one of Marie Antoinette's (1755–1793; Queen Consort of France 1774-1792) breasts.

Harold Wilson (1916–1995; UK prime minister 1964-1970 & 1974-1976) outside 10 Downing Street with his official car, a Rover 3.5 saloon.

In automobiles, by the 1960s, the English-speaking world had (more or less) agreed a coupe was a two door car with a fixed roof and, if based on a sedan, in some way (a shorter wheelbase or a rakish roof-line) designed put a premium on style over utility.  There were hold-outs among a few UK manufacturers who insisted there were fixed head coupes (FHC) and drop head coupes (DHC), the latter described by most others as convertibles or cabriolets but mostly the term had come to be well-understood.  It was thus a surprise when Rover in 1962 displayed a “four-door coupe”, essentially their 3 Litre sedan with a lower roof-line and a few “sporty” touches such as a tachometer and a full set of gauges.  Powered by a 3.0 litre (183 cubic inch) straight-six, it had been available as a four-door sedan since 1958 and had found a niche in that part of the upper middle-class market which valued smoothness and respectability over the speed and flashiness offered by the rakish Jaguars but, heavy and under-powered by comparison, even its admirers remarked on the lethargy of the thing while noting it was fast enough to over-tax the four-wheel drum brakes.  The engine did however set standards of smoothness which only the Rolls-Royce straight-sixes and the best of the various straight-eights could match but by 1959, both breeds were all but extinct so the Rover, with its by then archaic arrangement using overhead inlet and side-mounted exhaust valves had at least one unmatched virtue to offer.

Rover-BRM Gas-Turbine, Le Mans, 1965.

Although obviously influenced by the then stylish 1955 Chryslers, its conservative lines appealed to a market segment where such a thing was a virtue and reflected Rover’s image although it was a company with a history which included some genuine adventurism, their experimental turbine-engined cars in the early post-war years producing high performance, something made more startling by them being mounted in bodies using the same styling cues as the upright 3 Litre.  The company however discovered that whatever the many advantages, they suffered the same problems that would doom Chrysler’s turbine project, notably their thirst (although turbines do have a wide tolerance of fuel types) and the high costs of manufacturing because of the precision required, something hinted at by the Chrysler’s tachometer reading to 46,000 rpm while the temperature gauge was graduated to 1,700°F (930°C).  While such machinery was manageable on warships or passenger jets, to sell them to general consumers would have been too great a risk for any corporation and neither ever appeared in the showrooms although Chrysler’s research continued until 1979 and Rover co-developed a turbine race car which proved its speed and durability in several outings in the Le Mans 24 hour endurance classic.

Chop top: The Rover 3.5 Coupé (P5B).

For the public however, Rover upgraded the 3 Litre in a way which was less imaginative but highly successful, purchasing from General Motors (GM) the rights to the 3.5 litre (2.15 cubic inch), all-aluminum V8 which Buick, Oldsmobile & Pontiac had all used in their new generation of “compact” cars between 1960-1963.  For a variety of reasons, GM abandoned the project (to their later regret) and Rover embarked on their own development project, modifying the V8 to suit local conditions and the availability of components.  Remarkably, it would remain in production until 2006, used by several manufacturers as well as a legion of private ventures in capacity up to 5.0 litres (305 cubic inch) although megalomaniacs discovered that by using a mix-and-match of off-the-shelf parts, a displacement of 5.2 litres (318 cubic inch) was possible.  Lighter and more powerful than the long-serving straight-six, the V8 transformed the 3 Litre although Rover, with typical English understatement, limited themselves to changing the name to “3.5 Litre”, solving the potential of any confusion when the V8 was offered in the smaller 2000 by calling it the “3500”.

Although the factory never released one, privately some 3.5 Coupés have been converted to two-doors and there are even some cabriolets (ie drop head coupes).

Although the new engine couldn’t match the smoothness of the old, the effortless performance it imparted added to the refinement and fortunately, by the time the V8 was installed, disk brakes had been fitted and transformed by the additional power, it became an establishment favorite, used by prime-ministers and Queen Elizabeth II even long after it had been discontinued.  Even by the time the V8 version was released in 1967, it was in many ways a relic but it managed to offer such a combination of virtues that its appeal for years transcended its vintage aspects.  When the last was produced in 1973, that it was outdated and had for some time been obsolescent was denied by few but even many of them would admit it remained a satisfying drive.  One intriguing part of the tale was why, defying the conventions of the time, the low-roof variation of the four-door was called a coupé (and Rover did use the l'accent aigu (the acute accent: “é”) to ensure the “traditional pronunciation” was imposed although the Americans and others sensibly abandoned the practice).  The rakish lines, including more steeply sloped front and rear glass were much admired although the original vision had been more ambitious still, the original intention being a four-door hardtop with no central pillar.  Strangely, although the Americas and Germans managed this satisfactorily, a solution eluded Rover which had to content themselves with a thinner B-pillar.  

One way or another, windows have troubled the English: (1) the “window tax” imposed on houses during the eighteenth & nineteenth centuries a constant irritant to many, (2) the squircle (in algebraic geometry "a closed quartic curve having properties intermediate between those of a square and a circle") windows used in the early de Havilland Comets found to be a contributing factor in the catastrophic structural airframe failures which doomed the thing and the reason why oval windows are used to this day (mathematicians pointing out the Comet’s original apertures were not “quartic” as some claim on the basis of them being “a square with rounded corners”, the nerds noting “quartic” means “an algebraic equation or function of the fourth degree or a curve describing such an equation or function” and (3) even by the mid 1970s, Jaguar couldn’t quite get right the sealing on the frameless windows used on the lovely “two-door” versions (1975-1978)of the Jaguar & Daimler XJ saloons (which the factory insisted were NOT a coupé, presumably to differentiate them from the long-serving (1975-1995) but considerably less lovely XJ-S (later XJS).

Lindsay Lohan with Porsche Panamera 4S four-door coupe (the factory doesn't use the designation but most others seem to), Los Angeles, 2012.

The etymology of coupe does from couper (to cut off) but the original use in the context of horse-drawn coaches referred to the platform being shortened, not lowered but others have also been inventive, Cadillac for decades offering the Coupe De Ville (they used also Coupe DeVille) and usually it was built on exactly the same platform as the Sedan De Ville.  So Rover probably felt entitled to cut where they preferred; in their case it was the roof and in the early twentieth century, the four-door coupe became a thing, the debut in 2004 of the Mercedes-Benz CLS influencing other including BMW, Porsche, Volkswagen and Audi.  Whether the moment for the style has passed will be indicated by whether the current model, the last of which will be produced in August 2023, will be replaced.

Blurb

Blurb (pronounced blurb)

(1) A brief promotional piece, almost always laudatory, used historically for books, latterly for about any product.

(2) To advertise or praise in the manner of a blurb.

1907: Coined by US graphic artist and humorist Gelett Burgess (1866–1951).  Blurbs are a specific type of advertisement, similar exercises in other contexts known also as “puff pieces”, “commendations” or “recommendations”.  Generally, they contain elements designed to tempt a buyer which may include a précis (something less than a detailed summary), a mention of the style and a recommendation.  The term was originally invoked to mock the excessive praise printed on book jackets and was often parodied in a derisively imitative manner and is still sometimes critically used thus but it’s also now a neutral descriptor and an accepted part of the publishing industry.  Blurb is a noun & verb, blurbing & blurbed are verbs, blurbist is a noun and blurbish is an adjective; the noun plural is blurbs.

The blurb has apparently existed for some two-thousand–odd years but the word became well-known only after a publishing trade association dinner in 1907, Gelett Burgess displaying a dust jacket printed with the words “YES, this is a “BLURB”!”, featuring the (fictitious) Miss Belinda Blurb who was said to have been photographed “...in the act of blurbing”, Burgess adding that to blurb was “… to make a sound like a publisher…” and was “…a check drawn on fame, and it is seldom honoured”.  There are sources claiming the word was coined by US academic and literary critic Brander Matthews (1852–1929) in his essay American Character (1906) but Professor Matthews acknowledged the source genuinely was Burgess, writing in the New York Times (24 September 1922): “Now and again, in these columns I have had the occasion to employ the word “blurb”, a colourful and illuminating neologism which we owe to the verbal inventiveness of Mr Gelett Burgess”.

Burgess had released Are You a Bromide? in 1906 and while sales were encouraging, he suggested to his publishers (BW Huebsch) that each of the attendees and the upcoming industry dinner should receive a copy with a “special edition” dust cover.  For this, Burgess used the picture of a young lady who had appeared in an advertisement for dental services, snapped in the act of shouting.  It was at the time common for publishers to use pictures of attractive young ladies for book covers, even if the image was entirely unrelated to the tome’s content, the object being to attract a male readership.  Burgess dubbed his purloined model “Miss Belinda Blurb” and claimed she had been photographed “in the act of blurbing”; mid-blurb as it were.

Are you a Bromide (Publisher's special edition, 1907).

The dust cover was headed with the words “YES, this is a “BLURB”! All the Other Publishers commit them. Why Shouldn’t We?” and knowing a blurb should not in moderation do what can be done in excess, went on to gush about the literary excellence of his book in rather the manner a used car salesman might extol the virtues of some clapped-out car in the corner of the yard.  His blurb concluded “This book is the Proud Purple Penultimate!”  The industry must have been inspired because the blurb has become entrenched, common in fiction and non-fiction alike and the use of the concept can be seen in film, television, social media and just about anywhere there’s a desire to temp a viewer.  Indeed, the whole idea of “clickbait” (something which tells enough to tantalize but not enough to satisfy without delving deeper) is a functional application of a blurb.  Depending on the source, the inspiration for the word came from either (1) the sound made by a book as it falls to the floor, (2) the sound of a bird chirping or (3) an amalgam of “burp” & “blather”.  The author left no clue.

In his book, Burgess innovated further, re-purposing the word "bromide".  In inorganic chemistry, a bromide is a binary compound of bromine and some other element or radical, the construct being brom- (an alternative form of bromo- (used preceding a vowel) which described a substance containing bromine (from the French brome, from the Ancient Greek βρῶμος (brômos) (stink)) + ide (the suffix used in chemistry to describe substances comprising two or more related compounds.  However, early in the twentieth century, Bromide was a trade name for a widely available medicine, taken as a sedative and in some cases prescribed to diminish “an excessive sexual appetite”.  It was the sedating aspect which Burgess picked up to describe someone tiresome and given to trite remarks, explaining “a bromide” was one “…who does his thinking by syndicate and goes with the crowd” and was thus boring and banal.  A bromine’s antonym was, he helpfully advised, a “sulphite”.  Unfortunately, while blurb flourished, bromide & sulphites as binary descriptors of the human condition have vanished from the vernacular.

Lindsay Lohan with body double during shooting for Irish Wish (Netflix, due for release in 2023).  The car is a Triumph TR4.

Nteflix's blurb for Irish Wish: Always a bridesmaid, never a bride — unless, of course, your best friend gets engaged to the love of your life, you make a spontaneous wish for true love, and then magically wake up as the bride-to-be.  That’s the supernatural, romantic pickle Lindsay Lohan (Mean Girls, The Parent Trap) finds herself in upcoming romantic comedy, Irish Wish.  Set in the rolling green moors of Ireland, the movie sees Lohan's Maddie learn her dreams for true love might not be what she imagined and that her soulmate may well be a different person than she originally expected. Apparently magic wishes are quite insightful.

Blurb Your Enthusiasm (2023, distributed by Simon & Schuster).

Louise Willder has for a quarter century been a copywriter for Penguin, in that time composing some 5000 blurbs, each a two-hundred-odd word piece which aims both to inform and tempt a purchase.  Her non-fiction debut Blurb Your Enthusiasm is not only a review of the classic blurbs (the good, the bad and the seriously demented) but also an analysis of the trends in the structure of blurbs and the subtle shifts in their emphasis although, over the centuries, the purpose seems not to have changed.  Ms Willder also documents the nuances of the blurb, the English tendency to understatement, the hyperbolic nature of Americans and the distaste the French evidently have of having to say anything which might disclose the blurb’s vulgar commercial purpose and she traces, over time, how changing attitudes and societal mores mean what’s written of a nineteenth century classic is very different now to when first it was published.  Inevitably too, there are the sexual politics of authorship and publishing and blurbs can reveal as much by the odd hint or what’s left unsaid than what actually appears on a dust cover.  Academics and reviewers have perhaps neglected the blurb because it has traditionally been dismissed as mere advertising but, unless the author’s name or the subject matter is enough of a draw, even more than a cover illustration or title, it’s the blurb which can close the sale and collectively, they’re doubtlessly more widely read than reviews.  Blurb Your Enthusiasm is highly recommended.

MRDA

MRDA (pronounced emm-ahr-dee-ey)

The abbreviation of “Mandy Rice-Davies Applies”, an aphorism used in law and politics to refer to any denial which is transparently self-interested.

1963: An allusion to the statement “Well he would, wouldn't he?”, said by Welsh model Mandy Rice-Davies (1944-2004) during cross-examination in a trial at the Old Bailey (the central criminal court for England & Wales) associated with the Profumo affair.

Lord Astor, Mandy Rice-Davies and the Profumo Affair

The context of Ms Rice-Davies’s answer was the question: “Are you aware that Lord Astor denies any impropriety in his relationship with you?” and the answer “Well he would, wouldn't he?” elicited from those in the court “some amusement”.  MDRA (Mandy Rice-Davies Applies) thus became in law and politics an aphorism used as “verbal shorthand” to refer to any denial which is transparently self-interested although it doesn’t of necessity imply a denial is untrue.  In general use, the fragment from the trial is often misquoted as “Well he would say that, wouldn't he?” because that better encapsulates the meaning without being misleading.

Mandy Rice-Davies (left) and Christine Keeler (right), London, 1963.  Note the leopard-print seat covers.

The Profumo affair was one of those fits of morality which from time-to-time would afflict English society in the twentieth century and was a marvellous mix of class, sex, spying & money, all things which make a good scandal especially juicy.  John Profumo (1915-2006) was the UK’s Minister for War (the UK cabinet retained the position until 1964 although it was disestablished in the US in 1947) who, then 46, was found to be conducting an adulterous affair with 19 year old topless model Christine Keeler (1942-2017) at the same time she was also enjoying trysts with a Russian spy, attached to the Soviet embassy with the cover of naval attaché.  Although there are to this day differing interpretations of the scandal, there have never been any doubts this potential Cold-War conduit between a KGB spy and Her Majesty’s Secretary of State for War represented at least a potential conflict of interest.

Dr Evatt (left), comrade Molotov (centre) and Soviet translator Alexei Pavlov, exchanging MRDAs in Russian & English, London, 1942.

MRDAs are common in courtrooms and among politicians but some became legends.  In 1954, Dr HV Evatt (1894–1965; Australian attorney-general & foreign minister 1941-1949, and leader of opposition 1951-1960), in the midst of a particularly febrile period during the Cold War, wrote a letter to comrade Vyacheslav Molotov (1890–1986; Soviet foreign minister 1939-1949 & 1953-1956) asking if allegations of Soviet espionage in Australia were true.  Comrade Molotov of course wrote back, politely denying the USSR engaged in spying anywhere.  Assured, Evatt read the letter to the parliament and the members sat for a moment stunned until, on both sides, loudly laughing.  It was a MRDA before there were MRDAs.

The Profumo affair is noted also for being at least an influence in the end of the “age of deference” in England and while that’s often probably overstated, the immediate reaction and the aftermath proved it wasn’t only across colonial Africa that a “wind of change” was blowing.  The second Lord Astor (1907–1966) was emblematic of the upper classes of England who once would have expected deference from someone like Ms Rice-Davies, someone “not of the better classes” as his lordship might have put it.  Although what came to be known as the “swinging sixties” didn’t really begin until a couple of years after the Profumo affair when the baby-boomers began to come of age, the generational shift had by then become apparent and it was something surprisingly sudden as the interest of the young switched from pop music to politics.  As recently as the 1959 election campaign, the patrician Harold Macmillan (1894–1986; UK prime-minister 1957-1963) had told the working classes “most of you have never had it so good” and for the last time they would express their gratitude to their betters, delivering the Tories an increased majority, an impressive achievement for "the last of the old Edwardians" who, upon assuming the premiership in 1957 in the wake of the Suez debacle, had told the Queen he doubted his administration would last six weeks.

In the matter of Lehrmann v Network Ten Pty Limited [2024] FCA 369

Mr Justice Lee.

Justice Michael Lee (b 1965) in April 2024 handed down one of the more anticipated judgments of recent years, finding Bruce Lehrmann (b 1995), on the civil law test of the balance of probabilities, had raped Brittany Higgins (b 1993) on the sofa in a ministerial suite in Parliament House while the victim was affected by strong drink.  Apart from the heightened public interest in the verdict, lawyers were watching closely to see if there would be encouragement for those defending themselves in defamation cases, something which had been lent unexpected strength by an earlier judgment; although the matter of rape was central to the facts, Lehrmann v Network Ten was a defamation case.  However, for those who appreciate judicial findings for their use of language, Justice Lee didn’t disappoint and although neither Ms Rice-Davies nor MRDA were mentioned in his text, as he assessed the conduct and evidence of Mr Lehrmann, they may have come to mind.

Janet Albrechtsen in her study.

In his opening remarks, the judge acknowledged the case had become a cause celebre for many and that it was best described as “an omnishambles”, the construct being the Latin omni(s) (all) + shambles, from the Middle English schamels (plural of schamel), from the Old English sċeamol & sċamul (bench, stool), from the Proto-West Germanic skamul & skamil (stool, bench), from the Vulgar Latin scamellum, from the Classical Latin scamillum (little bench, ridge), from scamnum (bench, ridge, breadth of a field).  In English, shambles enjoyed a number of meanings including “a scene of great disorder or ruin”, “a cluttered or disorganized mess”, “a scene of bloodshed, carnage or devastation” or (most evocatively), “a slaughterhouse”.  As one read the judgement one could see why the judge was drawn to the word although, in the quiet of his chambers, “clusterfuck” may have been in his thoughts as he pondered the best euphemism.  Helpfully, one of the Murdoch press’s legal commentators, The Australian’s Janet Albrechtsen (b 1966; by Barry Goldwater out of Ayn Rand) who had been one of the journalists most interested in the case, informed the word nerds omnishambles (1) dated from 2009 when it was coined for the BBC political satire The Thick Of It and (2) had endured well enough to be named the Oxford English Dictionary’s (OED) 2021 Word of the Year.  The judge's linguistic flourish was a hint of things to come in what was one of the more readable recent judgments.

Noting Mr Lehrmann’s original criminal trial on the rape charge had been aborted (after having already been delayed for reasons related to the defamation matter) because of jury misconduct with a subsequent retrial not pursued because of the prosecution’s concern about the fragile mental state of the complainant, the judge observed “Having escaped the lion’s den, Mr Lehrmann made the mistake of coming back for his hat.”  In other words, Mr Lehrmann who could have walked away with no findings against him, lured by the millions of dollars to be gained, rolled the legal dice and was found to have committed rape.  He is of course not the first to fall victim to suffer self-inflicted legal injury in not dissimilar circumstances; the writers (from different literary traditions) Oscar Wilde (1854–1900) and Jeffrey Archer (b 1940) both were convicted and imprisoned as a consequence of them having initiated libel actions.  Whether Mr Lehrmann will now face a retrial in the matter of rape is in the hands of the Australian Capital Territory’s (ACT) Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP).  In such a case, it would be necessary to prove the event happened under the usual test in criminal law: beyond reasonable doubt.  Even if that isn’t pursued by the DPP, his time in courtrooms may not be over because it’s possible he may face action because of his conduct in this trial with the handling of certain documents and another unrelated matter is pending in Queensland.

In considering the evidence offered by Mr Lehrmann, the judge appears to have found some great moments in the history of MRDAs:

Commenting on his claim to having returned (after midnight following Friday evening’s hours of convivial drinking) to his Parliament House office to write papers about the French submarines and related government matters, he observed Mr Lehrmann “…hitherto had demonstrated no outward signs of being a workaholic.”  “To remark that Mr Lehrmann was a poor witness is an exercise in understatement.”

Regarding the claim Mr Lehrmann had made to someone to whom he’d just been introduced that he was “…waiting on a clearance to come through so that he could go and work at Asis.” (the Australian Security Intelligence Service; the external intelligence service al la the UK SIS (MI6) or the US CIA (although without the assassinations… as far as is known)), the judge observed she “…kept her well-founded incredulity to herself.”, such “Walter Mitty-like imaginings” demonstrating he “…had no compunction about departing from the truth if he thought it expedient.”

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

The reading of the judgement was live-streamed and the passage which got the loudest chuckle was in the discussion of Mr Lehrmann’s deciding whether he found Ms Higgins attractive.  In an interview on commercial television broadcast in 2023, he’d denied finding the young lady attractive, despite the existence of comments dating from 2019 indicating the opposite.  Pausing only briefly, Justice Lee delivered this news with an arched eyebrow:  “When confronted by this inconsistency, his attempt to explain it away by suggesting the attraction he felt for Ms Higgins was ‘just like [the attraction] I can find [in] anybody else in this [court]room, irrespective of gender’ was as disconcerting as it was unconvincing.”  The judge ordered to audience to suppress their laughter.

Even regarding submarines as a likely topic over drinks, his honour was sceptical: “With the exception of Mr Lehrmann, no one who gave evidence as to their time at The Dock could recall discussing Australia’s submarine contracts with France at either table. The lack of recollection of any discussion of this topic is intuitively unsurprising.  Declaiming on the topics of who was building submarines and where they were being built was not quite the repartee one would usually expect to hear over a convivial drink on a Friday night between 20 [something]-year-olds out for a good time – even if (with respect) one would not expect the badinage of the Algonquin Round Table.” (an early twentieth century, shifting aggregation of men & women of letters who met over lunch in New York’s Algonquin Hotel, their barbs and thoughts often appearing in their newspaper & magazine columns; they dubbed themselves “The Vicious Circle” and were a sort of Cliveden set without the politics.  Cliveden was a stately home in Buckinghamshire, the country seat of Lord Astor and the scene of many of the events central to the Profumo affair).

The judge was forensic in his deconstruction of Mt Lehrmann’s MRDA he returned to Parliament House after being out drinking with Ms Higgins and others in order to retrieve his keys: “If the reason Mr Lehrmann needed to return to Parliament House was to collect his keys, he could have texted his girlfriend to have her meet him at the door or called her.  Mr Lehrmann asks me to accept the proposition that it was ‘a process to get in’ to his shared flat and that to avoid this complication, he preferred to: (a) go out of his way to go back to work in the early hours; (b) lie to Parliament House security; (c) sign the necessary register; (d) be issued with a pass; (e) go through a metal detector; (f) be escorted by a security guard to his office; (g) obtain his keys from his office; (h) book another Uber; (i) go back through a Parliamentary exit; (j) meet the ride-share car; and then (k) ride home.”

Bruce Lehrmann leaving the court after the verdict was delivered.

In psychiatry, distinction is made between the “habitual” and “compulsive” liar and while this wasn’t something Justice Lee explored, he did in one passage sum up his assessment of the likely relationship to truth in anything Mr Lehrmann might say: “I do not think Mr Lehrmann is a compulsive liar, and some of the untruths he told during his evidence may sometimes have been due to carelessness and confusion, but I am satisfied that in important respects he told deliberate lies. I would not accept anything he said except where it amounted to an admission, accorded with the inherent probabilities, or was corroborated by a contemporaneous document or a witness whose evidence I accept.”

One fun footnote from the case was a non-substantive matter, Ms Lisa Wilkinson (b 1959), the Network 10 journalist at the centre of the defamation claim, objecting to being characterized as a “tabloid journalist”.  It transpired her employment history included stints with Dolly, the Australian Women’s Weekly and commercial television including the Beauty & the Beast show.  Unfortunately, she wasn’t asked to define what she thought “tabloid journalism” meant; perhaps Justice Lee decided he’d heard enough MRDAs that day.

On the basis that, on the balance of probabilities, Mr Lehrmann did rape Ms Higgins, his claim for damages against Network Ten for defamatory material earlier broadcast was dismissed.  The judge found the material indeed had the capacity to defame but because the imputations substantially were true, their defense was sustained.  So, the only millions of dollars now to be discussed concern the legal costs: who is to pay whom, the judge asking the party’s submission be handed to the court by 22 April.  Mr Lehrmann’s legal team has not indicated if they’re contemplating an appeal.

Despite many opportunities, Peter Dutton (b 1970; leader of the opposition and leader of the Australian Liberal Party since May 2022) has never denied being a Freemason.