Ambiguous

Ambiguous (pronounced am-big-yoo-uhs)

(1) Open to or having several possible meanings or interpretations; equivocal.

(2) In linguistics, of an expression exhibiting constructional homonymity; having two or more structural descriptions.

(3) Of doubtful or uncertain nature; difficult to comprehend, distinguish, or classify.

1528: From the late Middle English ambiguous (of doubtful or uncertain nature, open to various interpretations) Latin ambiguus (moving from side to side, of doubtful or uncertain nature, open to various interpretations), from ambigere (to dispute about (figuratively "to hesitate, waver; be in doubt" and literally “to wander; go about; go around”) the present active infinitive of ambigō from ambi (around) +‎ agō or agere (I drive, move).  The first known citation in English is in the writings of Sir Thomas More (1478-1535) in 1528 but most scholars maintain the noun ambiguity had been in use since circa 1400 in the sense of "uncertainty, doubt, indecision, hesitation", from the Old French ambiguite and directly from Latin ambiguitatem (nominative ambiguitas) (double meaning, equivocalness, double sense), the noun of state from ambiguus (having double meaning, doubtful),  The meaning "obscurity in description" emerged in the early fifteenth century.  The adjective unambiguous dated from the 1630s while the noun disambiguation (removal of ambiguity) is documented since 1827.  Ambiguous is an adjective, ambiguate is a verb and ambiguity, ambiguation & ambiguousness are nouns; the most common noun plural is ambiguities. 

Structural ambiguity, syntactic ambiguity & lexical ambiguity

One of the core concepts in structural linguistics is that the meaning of many combination or words (ie a compound, sentence or phrase) is derived not merely from the meanings of the individual words but also from the way in which they’re combined.  It’s a simple idea which academics have managed to make sound complex, calling the process “compositionality” (that meaning is a construct of word meanings plus morphosyntactic structures).  So, because a structure can contribute to meaning, it follows that changing the order of the words can lead to a different meaning even if the same words are used.  When a word, phrase, or sentence has more than one meaning, it is ambiguous and “ambiguous” has a specific meaning in structural linguistics because it doesn’t mean simply that a meaning is vague or unclear: It means two or more distinct meanings are available and this is called structural ambiguity or syntactic ambiguity (as distinct from when a word has more than one distinct meaning which is known as lexical ambiguity.  Sometimes, the intended meaning can be unclear but often context can be used to assist the deconstruction.  When in December 2017, several news outlets reported, “Lindsay Lohan bitten by snake on holiday in Thailand”, few actually believed serpents take holidays and assumed instead grammatical standards had fallen since sub-editors went extinct.

China, the renegade province of Taiwan and strategic ambiguity

Taiwan (aka Formosa) is an island off the coast of China which separated, politically, from the mainland in 1949.  The Chinese government regards Taiwan as “a renegade province”; the island’s administration maintains a position of structural autonomy without actually declaring independence.  Since 1950, the US has maintained a security guarantee for the de facto independence of Taiwan which has been sometimes explicit, sometimes vague, the latter paradigm known as a policy of strategic ambiguity.

The origins of the guarantee lie in the Korean War.  In 1950, Dean Acheson (1893–1971; US secretary of state 1949-1953) delineated the US security perimeter in Asia and included neither Taiwan nor South Korea.  Chinese leader Chairman Mao (Mao Zedong 1893–1976; chairman of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) 1949-1976) and Kim Il-sung (Kim I, 1912–1994; Great Leader of DPRK (North Korea) 1948-1994), in an interpretation endorsed by their senior partner, Comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953), concluded Washington would not defend either country.  The DPRK acted first, invading South Korea in June 1950 which shocked the US into assembling a military response under the flag of the UN and, fearing further Communist incursions in Asia, sent the Seventh Fleet to deter any attempt by Peking to invade Taiwan.

In 1954, China probed US policy by shelling some Taiwanese islands in what came to be known as the First Taiwan Strait Crisis; the US responded by entering into defense treaties with both Taiwan and South Korea.  The probing continued, notably with the second crisis in 1958 and in the 1960 presidential campaign, both candidates, Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974) and John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963), pledged to defend Taiwan against Chinese aggression.  During the 1960s, in a kind of military choreography, US-China standoffs continued.  By 1972, things had changed.  The US sought China’s assistance, both to extricate themselves from the quagmire of the Vietnam War and to become something of a strategic partner against the USSR, Peking having long split from Moscow.  In a communique issued from Shanghai, Washington affirmed Peking’s “one China” principle that Taiwan is part of China saying it was a matter for China and Taiwan to work out the relationship peacefully. 

The nine dash line.

Despite that, the US-Taiwan Treaty remained but it needed now to be viewed in the context of Richard Nixon's Guam Doctrine, issued in 1969, in which the president noted "…the US would assist in the defense… of allies and friends" but would not "undertake all the defense of the free nations of the world."  For Taiwan, and presumably everyone else, strategic ambiguity thus began.  Seven years after the Shanghai statement, later, the Carter administration recognized the People’s Republic of China (PRC, the old Red China), severed formal diplomatic relations with Taiwan and terminated the treaty.  Strategic ambiguity has shrouded Washington’s position on Taiwan ever since.  US presidents have on occasion suggested both something more robust and something less so it appears to remain the position that the US might defend Taiwan were China to invade but it might not.  It would depend on the circumstances.  For seventy-odd years, the US position has been enough to deter China from exercising the military option to restore the renegade province to the motherland but a multi-dimensional chess game will play-out over the next decade in the South China Sea.

Twelvemonth & Year

Twelvemonth (pronounced twelve-month)

Twelve months (one year).

Pre 1050: From the Middle English twelmonth, twelfmonthe, twelfmonþe or twelv′munth, from the Old English twelfmōnþ or twelfmōnaþ.  The construct was twelve +‎ month. Twelve was from the Middle English twelve, from the Old English twelf (twelve), from the Proto-Germanic twalif, an old compound of twa- (two) + -lif (left over (in the sense of the two left over after having already counted to ten)) from the primitive Indo-European leyp- (leave, remain). It was cognate with the Saterland Frisian tweelf, tweelif & tweelich (twelve), the West Frisian tolve (twelve), the Dutch twaalf (twelve), the German & Low German twalf & twalv (twelve), the German zwölf (twelve), the Danish, Swedish and Norwegian tolv (twelve) and the Icelandic tólf (twelve).  Month was from the Middle English month & moneth, from the Old English mōnaþ (month), from the Proto-Germanic mēnōþs (month), from the primitive Indo-European mḗhins (moon, month), probably from meh- (to measure), a reference to the moon's phases as the measure of time, the construct understood as moon +‎ -th.  It was cognate with the Scots moneth (month), the North Frisian muunt (month), the Saterland Frisian mound (month), the Dutch maand (month), the Low German Maand & Monat (month), the German Monat (month), the Danish and Norwegian Bokmål måned (month), the Norwegian Nynorsk & Swedish månad (month), the Icelandic mánuði (month), the Latin mēnsis (month), the Ancient Greek μήν (mḗn), the Armenian ամիս (amis), the Old Irish mí and the Old Church Slavonic мѣсѧць (měsęcĭ).  Twelvemonth is a noun; the noun plural is twelvemonths.

The adverb was twelvemonthly which is not the same as twelve-monthly, another ill-defined construction which originally meant one thing annually done but was used by some in the sense of something done every month of the year.  It’s now regarded as an archaic or dialect word for year and seen only in historic texts or as a literary device. In the mid-twentieth century there was movement among some to offer it as a way offering more precision in language, the notion being that year would describe a calendar year (eg 1999) whereas September 1998-August 1999 would be a twelvemonth.  The idea never caught on.

Year (pronounced yeer)

(1) A period of 365 or 366 days, in the Gregorian calendar, divided into twelve calendar months, now reckoned as beginning 1 January and ending 32 December (the calendar or civil year).  The 366 day leap year happens (with a few exceptions) every four years; 29 February being the quadrennial addition.  The leap year (mostly) fixes the calendar and maintains it at the same length, mechanics of adjustments described in Medieval Latin as saltus lunae (omission of one day in the lunar calendar every 19 years) which in the Old English was monan hlyp. 

(2) A period of approximately the same length in other calendars; The traditional Chinese calendar, which determines the date of the Lunar New Year, is lunisolar (based on the cycle of the moon as well as on Earth's course around the sun).  A month on this Chinese calendar is 28 days long, and a normal year lasts between 353-355 days.  Other methods of calculation include from Tishiri 1 to Elul 29 in the Jewish calendar, and from Muharram 1 to Dhu al-Hijjah 29 or 30 in the Islamic.

(3) A period of 12 calendar months calculated from any point.

(4) In astronomy, also called the lunar year, a division of time equal to twelve lunar months and equal to 354.3671 days

(5) In astronomy, as tropical year (also known as a solar or astronomical year), the time the Sun takes to return to the same position in the cycle of seasons, as seen from Earth and equal to 365.242 (eg the time from vernal equinox to vernal equinox, or from summer solstice to summer solstice).

(6) In astronomy, as sidereal year, the time taken by the Earth to orbit the Sun once with respect to the fixed stars (equal to 365.256).  Hence, it is also the time taken for the Sun to return to the same position with respect to the fixed stars after apparently travelling once around the ecliptic; the time in which any planet completes a revolution round the Sun (eg the Martian year).

(7) With various modifiers (fiscal year, liturgical year, academic year etc), a period out of every twelve months, devoted to a certain pursuit, activity, or the like.

(8) A group of students entering school or college, graduating, or expecting to graduate in the same year (as in class of 2020).

(9) In English common law as legal year, a measure equal to a year and a day, the period fixed to ensure the completion of a full year. It was used in admiralty law to determine the time within which wrecks had to be claimed and in the criminal law to determine liability in murder cases; if the victim of an assault lived a year and a day from the assault, the perpetrator could not be charged with murder, even were the victim subsequently to die from his injuries.  The rule was translated to statute law in some jurisdiction and was repealed only because of advances in medical care and technology.

Pre 900: From the Middle English yeer, from the Old English gēar, gearlic & gear (yearly, of the year, annual).  It was related to the Gothic jēr, the Old Saxon & Old High German jār, the Old Norse ār (year), the Polish jar (springtime), the Latin hōrnus (of this year), the Dutch jaar, the German Jahr, the Gothic jēr and the Greek hôros (hṓrā) (year, season, part of a day, hour).  The alternative spellings were yeare, yeer, yeere & yere, all long obsolete.  Year & yearling are nouns and yearly is a noun, adjective & adverb; the common noun plural is years.

Twelvemonth does still get the odd use, usually as a novelty or deliberate anachronism.

Year-long (also yearlong) dates from 1813, year-round from 1917 and as an adverb from 1948.  The light-year (also lightyear), the distance light travels in one year (circa 5.87 trillion miles (944 trillion km)) was first defined in 1888.  Yearling (an animal a year old or in its second year) is attested from the mid-fifteenth century, the noun year-old in this sense being from the 1530s.  Yearbook (also year-book) dates from the 1580s as (book of reports of cases in law-courts for that year), the sense extended to other books of “accumulated events and statistics of the previous year" by 1710.  The first used in the sense of a “graduating class album" is attested from 1926, an invention of American English.  The Dutch schrikkeljaar (leap year) is from the Middle Dutch schricken (leap forward) which translates literally as "be startled, be in fear" and the 29 February is schrikkeldag.  The Danish skudaar & Swedish skottår translate literally as "shoot-year”; The German schaltjahr is from schalten (insert, intercalate) and the Late Latin phrase was annus bissextilis, source of the Romanic words.  One quirk in modern commerce is that payrolls tend to be administered in weekly or multiples of weekly cycles and for most purposes there are 52 weeks in a year.  However, the year (to four decimal places) is actually about 52.1775 weeks long so, every thirteen years-odd, accountants often have to ensure provision has been made for an additional payroll period; modern software has solved the problem for most.

Many rules have been suggested to avoid any ambiguity when writing the year in text but the best method is simply to write if out in full (1999-2002).  There have been publications with rules which differ under different circumstances but any technical need to limit the number of characters used has long gone and the simple form avoids any ambiguity.  Should the need arise of to write using the tags BD and AD, it also important to choose a style that avoids ambiguity.  AD (anno domini (Latin: in the year of the lord), refers to the birth of Jesus Christ, the year 1 AD (somewhat inaccurately but notionally) being his year of birth, and anything tagged BC (before Christ) being the years prior, counted backwards and starting at 1 BC, there being no year zero (which is a nuisance because it means not all the twentieth century consists of years numbered 19xx, the last year of the century being 2000; 1 January 2001 being the first day of the new century and millennium).  Classically, the convention in English was to place the letters BC after the year and AD before.  That was so the written word would pay tribute to the spoken, the common expression in formal and ecclesiastical use being "in the year of our Lord 2021".  That’s now rare and it may be preferable to use the suffixed (55 BC, 2021 AD) for both.  The alternatives to BC &AD are BCE (before common era) & CE (common era), the years exactly aligned and, although there seems no accepted convention about where the letters are placed, use should be consistent.

Acronym

Acronym (pronounced ak-ruh-nim)

In linguistics, a word formed from the initial letters or groups of letters of words in a set phrase or series of words and pronounced as a separate word (and thus distinguished from an initialism in which the letters are pronounced separately; there are hybrids which combine both methods).

1943: The construct was acr- + -onym.  It was borrowed from the German Akronym, constructed from the Ancient Greek ἄκρον (ákron) (end, peak) + ὄνυμα (ónuma) (name), deconstructed as acr(o)- (high; beginning) +‎ -onym (name) and on the model of the German nouns Homonym & Synonym, first attested in German in the early 1900s and in English in 1940 (although the linguistic practice predated this by at least several decades).  The nouns acronymophilia (an abnormal liking or tendency for the use of acronyms), acronymania (the enthusiastic creation and use of acronyms) and acronymophobia (morbid fear or dread of acronyms) are deployed (usually) in humor.  Those exhibiting symptoms of acronymophilia or acronymania (beyond being a mere acronymist) are likely suffering from acronymitis.  Acronym is a noun & verb, acronymed is a verb, acronymic & acronymous are adjectives and acronymically is an adverb; the noun plural is acronyms.

The acronym is a one of a number of subsets in what are known as “curtailed words”.  Quite when the first acronym was used isn’t known but the habits of people do suggest it’s likely something ancient and there are folk etymologies which offer acronymic expansions for common words including “fuck” “posh” & “shit” but they’re all undocumented and the earliest known use in English was a form of the Arabic أبجد (ʔabjad), the term for the traditional ordering of the Arabic script (from the first four letters: أ (ʔ), ب (b), ج (j), د (d)).  It was the twentieth century in which the acronym multiplied, earlier antipodean contributions including ANZAC (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps) and QANTAS (Queensland and Northern Territory Aerial Services) which soon became the word Qantas, an unusual example in English of a “q” not being followed by a “u”.  Such words do appear in English language texts but they tend to be foreign borrowings including (1) qat (or khat) (a plant native to East Africa and the Arabian Peninsula, often chewed for its stimulant effects, (2) qi (a term from Chinese philosophy referring to life force or energy), qibla (the direction Muslims face when praying, towards the Kaaba in Mecca and (4) qiviut (the soft under-wool of the musk-ox, valued when making warm clothing).

Other acronyms followed ANZAC but it was the upsurge in military activity during World War II (1939-1945) which saw the creation of literally thousands, some to endure, some to be rendered obsolete by circumstances or changes in technology and some genuine one-offs such as PLUTO (Pipeline under the ocean and originally P.L.U.T.O.).  PLUTO really should have been PLUTC because the many lines ran on the floor of the English Channel between England & France as a way of pumping fuel to the beachhead established by the D-Day landings (6 Jun 1944) but PLUTC obviously had little appeal so PLUTO it was.  While a clever idea, problems with the couplings meant the volumes achieved never came close to reaching what was theoretically possible.  In English, whether a string of letters is an acronym, abbreviation, initialism or word is determined both by form and organic process and the strings can emerge in more than one category.  The terms acronym, abbreviation and initialism are often used interchangeably, but they have distinct meanings:

Acronym: (a general term for a shortened form of a word or phrase): An acronym is a type of abbreviation where the initial letters of a phrase are taken to form a new word (or one which duplicates an existing word and, not uncommonly, an earlier acronym) which is pronounced as one would a single word (although in commercial use, the pronunciation can be non-standard).  Examples of well known acronyms include “NASA” (National Aeronautics and Space Administration), “Laser” (Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation) and “UNESCO” (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization”.

Abbreviation (a general term for a shortened form of a word or phrase): An abbreviation is a shortened form of a word or phrase used to represent the full version.  Abbreviations can include acronyms and initialisms, but they can also be simple clippings, truncations or contractions and common examples include “Dr” (Doctor), “Prof” (Professor) and “Thu” (Thursday).

Initialism (An abbreviation where each letter is pronounced separately): An initialism is specific type of abbreviation formed from the first letters of a phrase, but unlike acronyms, each letter is pronounced separately.  Well-known initialisms include “CIA” (Central Intelligence Agency), “UAE” (United Arab Emirates) and “WHO” (World Health Organization).

Leslie Nielsen (1926-2010) in one of his muddles as President Harris (there is still yet to be a "President Harris"), addressing the General Assembly (GA) of the United Nations (UN), treating an initialism as an acronym, Scary Movie 4 (2006).

The WHO is an example of the way in which the oral use of acronyms, abbreviations & initialisms evolves by way of practice and habit rather than defined rules or convention.  Obviously, in speech, once could speak of “the who” but it’s never done, the name always expressed in full which is most among the notoriously lazy speakers of the English language who tend usually to prefer the shortest form.  Perhaps it’s felt there could be some ambiguity using the word “who” for such a purpose although that seems a thin argument and it may be there was a sense “the who” might be thought flippant although initialisms are common replacements for formal terms; HMG (his (or her) Majesty’s government) is a standard in Whitehall and Westminster while JPII & JP2 routinely appeared in Vatican documents to refer to John Paul II (1920–2005; pope 1978-2005).  Sometimes, the reason dictating the choice between spelling out the letters or forming a word is obvious:  The Bougainville Revolutionary Army was an armed secessionist movement formed in 1988 by some inhabitants of Bougainville Island who sought independence from Papua New Guinea (commonly referred to as PNG) and the group was always spoken of as the initialism the “bee-ah-eh” rather than the “Bra”, the latter definitely inappropriate.  By contrast, the armed Basque separatist organization Euskadi Ta Askatasuna (“Basque Homeland and Liberty” or “Basque Country and Freedom”; active 1959-2018) was always used as the acronym ETA (pronounced et-ah rather than e-t-a).

The BRA and the bra, not to be confused: Francis Ona (b circa 1953–2005; Bougainville secessionist leader) with fighters from the BRA (Bougainville Revolutionary Army) (left) and Lindsay Lohan in demi-cup bra, Terry Richardson (b 1965) photo-shoot for Love Magazine, 2012.  Of the military formation, BRA is an acronym while as a abbreviation, under ISO 3166-1, it's the alpha-3 country code for Brazil.  Bra is also an abbreviation which has become an English noun; it was a clipping of brassiere, from the French brassière (in the sense it was used of a camisole-like garment).  The French brassière was a singular form which is why in English one buys "a bra" rather than the "pair of bras" one reasonably might expect given the garment's construction and models like "pair of glasses".  Pliers, pants and spectacles (bought a "a pair of" yet supplied as a single item) have a different origin, all originally singular products which, when combined as one, retained the "pair of" use, unlike a "pair of gloves", there always being two of those.  

Sometimes though there is inventiveness.  In 1964 the Ford Motor Company (FoMoCo) released aversion of their 427 cubic inch (7.0 litre) FE V8 which featured a then (for Detroit) novel pair of single overhead camshaft.  In industry parlance such a configuration was a “SOHC” but there was no accepted way to pronounce that as a stand-alone word so the slang adopted was “cammer” but others saw the possibility in the otherwise awkward sohc and decided it was the “sock” so it was both an initialism and an acronym.  Acronyms can also be confused with something else.  In July 1968, John Gorton (1911-2002; Australian prime-minister 1968-1971), conducting a press conference in Djakarta (now Jakarta), was asked a question about “…general SEATO attitudes…” (SEATO was the South East Asian Treaty Organisation, a regional security arrangement (which included the UK & USA); it was created in 1954 but had become moribund years before its dissolution in 1977) to which he replied “Who’s this General Seato?”  The tale is not believed apocryphal.

There is no universal convention (an certainly no “rule”) about whether acronyms are written in upper case (NATO; UNESCO), lower case (radar, scuba) or camel case (a combination of both) (ChiPs) and the best advice is probably to follow to practice of the manufacturer, institution etc or follow one’s preferred style guide.  Quite how these practices evolve varies with the acronym, the most significant influence apparently the subjective sense of how anacronymic they’re perceived to have become and there’s also some evidence of regionalism; historically the US style guides tended to recommend all upper case for pronounced acronyms of four or fewer letters (NATO) while in the UK there was a preference to use the conventions of standard English (Nato) but the such is the US influence on the language that the upper case form is becoming more dominant.  Acronyms formed from beginning syllables are sometimes written in camel case (EpiPen) which appals some but in many cases they’re registered trademarks and that dictates what is correct; in the IT industry the mix of upper & lower case in all sorts of words has for decades been prevalent and such is the apparent randomness that the mix can’t be predicted.  Often “minor” words (“of”; “the”; “and” etc) are represented in lower case but this is not universal so “Out of Order” might appear either as “OOO” of “OoO”.  One thing which does seem to thankfully (mostly) to have vanished is the full stop (period) between letters; U.S.A. demanding a pointless additional three keystrokes.

Cosmopolitan

Cosmopolitan (pronounced koz-muh-pol-i-tn)

(1) One free from local, provincial, or national ideas, prejudices, or attachments; an internationalist.

(2) One with the characteristics of a cosmopolite.

(3) A cocktail made with vodka, cranberry juice, an orange-flavored liqueur, and lime juice.

(4) Sophisticated, urbane, worldly.

(5) Of plants and animals, wildly distributed species.

(6) The vanessa cardui butterfly.

(7) A moth of species Leucania loreyi.

1828:  An adoption in Modern English, borrowed from the French cosmopolite (citizen of the world), ultimately derived from the Ancient Greek kosmopolitēs (κοσμοπολίτης), the construct being kósmos (κόσμος) (world) + politēs (πολίτης) (citizen); word being modeled on metropolitan.  The US magazine Cosmopolitan was first published in 1886.  Derived forms (hyphenated and not) have been constructed as needed including noncosmopolitan, subcosmopolitan, ultracosmopolitan, fauxcosmopolitan, anticosmopolitan & protocosmopolitan.  Because cosmopolitanness is a spectrum condition, the comparative is “more cosmopolitan” and the superlative “most cosmopolitan”.  Cosmopolitan is a noun & adjective, cosmopolitanism & cosmopolitanness are nouns, cosmopolitanize is a verb, cosmopolitanist is an adjective (and plausibly a noun) and cosmopolitanly is an adverb; the noun plural is cosmopolitans.

An aspect of Soviet Cold War policy under comrade Stalin

The phrase rootless cosmopolitans was coined in the nineteenth century by Vissarion Belinsky (1811-1848), a Russian literary critic much concerned about Western influences on both Russian literature and society.  He applied it to writers he felt “…lacked Russian national character” but as a pejorative euphemism, it’s now an anti-Semitic slur and one most associated with domestic policy in the Soviet Union (USSR) between 1946 and Stalin's death in 1953.  Comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) liked the phrase and applied it to the Jews, a race of which he was always suspicious because he thought their lack of a homeland made them “mystical, intangible and other-worldly”.  Not a biological racist like Hitler and other rabid anti-Semites, Stalin’s enemies were those he perceived a threat; Leon Trotsky (1879-1940), Grigory Zinoviev (1883–1936) and Lev Kamenev (1883–1936) were disposed of not because they were Jewish but because Stalin thought they might threaten his hold on power although the point has been made that while it wasn’t because he was Jewish that Trotsky was murdered, many Jews would come to suffer because Stalin associated them with Trotsky.

Comrade Stalin signing death warrants.

It was the same with institutions.  He found disturbing the activities of Moscow’s Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee (JAC) and did not approve them being accepted by Western governments as representing the USSR.  Further, he feared the JAC’s connections with foreign powers might create a conduit for infiltration by Western influences; well Stalin knew the consequences of people being given ideas; the campaign of 1946-1953 was thus more analogous with the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) opposition to the Falun Gong rather than the pogroms of Tsarist times.  Authoritarian administrations don’t like independent organisations; politics needs to be monolithic and control absolute.  In a speech in Moscow in 1946, he described certain Jewish writers and intellectuals, as “rootless cosmopolitans” accusing them of a lack of patriotism, questioning their allegiance to the USSR.  This theme festered but it was the creation of the state of Israel in 1948, fostering as it did an increased self consciousness among Soviet Jews, combined with the Cold War which turned Stalin into a murderous anti-Semite.

Rootless cosmopolitan comrade Trotsky, murdered with an ice axe on comrade Stalin's orders.

Before the formation of the state of Israel, Stalin's anti-Semitism was more a Russian mannerism than any sort of obsession.  For years after assuming absolute power in the USSR, he expressed no disquiet at the preponderance of Jews in the foreign ministry and it was only in 1939, needing a temporary diplomatic accommodation with Nazi Germany, that he acted.  Having replaced the Jewish Foreign Commissar, Maxim Litvinov (1876–1951; People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs of the Soviet Union 1930–1939) with Vyacheslav Molotov (1890-1986; USSR Minister of Foreign Affairs 1939-1949 & 1953-1956), he ordered him to purge the diplomatic corps of Jews, his memorable phrase being "clean out the synagogue".  Concerned the presence of Jews might be an obstacle to rapprochement with Hitler, Stalin had the purge effected with his usual efficiency: many were transferred to less conspicuous roles and others were arrested or shot.

Meeting of minds: Joachim von Ribbentrop (left), comrade Stalin (centre) and comrade Molotov (right), the Kremlin, 23 August 1939.

Negotiations began in the summer of 1939, concluding with German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi foreign minister 1938-1945) leading a delegation to Moscow to meet with Molotov and Stalin.  It proved a remarkably friendly conference of political gangsters and agreement was soon reached, the German-Soviet Nonaggression Pact (usually called the Nazi-Soviet Pact or Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact) being signed on 23 August.  The pact contained also a notorious secret protocol by which the two dictators agreed to a carve-up of Poland consequent upon the impending Nazi invasion and the line dividing Poland between the two was almost identical to the Curzon Line, a demarcation between the new Polish Republic created in the aftermath of World War I (1914-1918) and the emergent Soviet Union which had been proposed by Lord Curzon (1859–1925; UK foreign secretary 1919-1924).  At the Yalta Conference in 1945, during the difficult negotiations over Polish borders, Molotov habitually referred to "the Curzon Line" and the UK Foreign Secretary, Anthony Eden (1897–1977; thrice UK foreign secretary & prime minister 1955-1957), in a not untypically bitchy barb, observed it was more common practice to call it the “Molotov-Ribbentrop line”.  "Call it whatever you like" replied Stalin, "we still think it's fair and just".  Comrade Stalin rarely cared much to conceal the nature of the regime he crafted in his own image.  When asked by Franklin Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, US president 1933-1945) if Molotov had been to New York during his visit to the US, Stalin replied: "No, he went to Chicago to be with the other gangsters".

Whatever the motives of Stalin, rootless cosmopolitans has joined the code of dog-whistle politics, a part of the core demonology to label the Jews a malign race, a phrase in the tradition of "Christ killers", "Rothschild-Capitalists and Untermenschen (the sub-humans).  Despite that, there are always optimists, Jewish writer Vincent Brook (b 1946), suggesting the term could convey the positive, a suggestion the Jews possess an “adaptability and empathy for others”.  It’s not a view widely shared and rootless cosmopolitan remains an anti-Semitic trope although it's not unknown for Jews to use it ironically.

The Cosmopolitan cocktail

A brace of Cosmos.

The Cosmopolitan was based on the "Cosmopolitan 1934" cocktail, a mix from inter-war New York which included gin, Cointreau & and lemon juice, raspberry syrup lending the trademark pink hue.  The modern Cosmopolitan was also concocted in New York and seems to have appeared first in the Mid-1980s although it was appearances in the HBO (Home Box Office) television series Sex and the City (1998-2004) which made it as emblematic of a certain turn-of-the-millennium New York lifestyle as Manolo Blahnik’s stilettos but, the implications of that connotation aside, the enticing pink drink survived to remain a staple of cocktail lists.  Cosmopolitans can be made individually or as a batch to be poured from a pitcher; just multiply the ingredient count by however many are to be served.

Ingredients

2 oz (¼ cup) vodka (or citrus vodka according to taste)

½ ounce (1 tablespoon) triple sec, Cointreau (or Grand Marnier)

¾ oz (1½ tablespoons) cranberry juice

¼-½ ounce (1 ½-3 teaspoons) fresh lime juice

One 2-inch (50 mm) orange peel/twist

Instructions

(1) Add vodka, Cointreau, cranberry juice, and lime juice to a cocktail shaker filled with ice.

(2) Shake until well chilled.

(3) Strain into a chilled cocktail glass (classically a coupé or Martini glass).

(4) An orange or lemon twist is the traditional garnish.

Notes

(1) As a general principle, the higher the quality of the vodka, the better the Cosmopolitan, the lower priced sprits tending to taste rather more abrasive which for certain purposes can be good but doesn’t suit a “Cosmo”.

(2) The choice of unsweetened or sweetened cranberry juice (the latter sold sometimes as “cranberry juice cocktail”) is a matter of taste and if using the unsweetened most will prefer if a small splash of sugar syrup (or agave) is added because tartness isn’t associated with a Cosmopolitan.

(3) There is however a variant which is sometimes mixed deliberately to be tart.  That’s the “White Cosmo”, made by using white cranberry juice.

(4) Of the orange liqueur: Most mixologists recommend Cointreau but preference is wholly subjective and Cointreau & Grand Marnier variously are used, the consensus being Cointreau (a type of Triple Sec) is smoother, stronger and more complex.  Grand Marnier is also a type of Triple Sec, one combined with Cognac so the taste is richer, nutty and caramelized which some prefer.

(5) Of the lime juice: It really is worth the effort to cut and squeeze a fresh lime.  Packaged lime juice will work but something of the bite of the citrus always is lost in the processing, packaging, storage and transporting the stuff endures.

(6) Art of the orange peel: The use of the term “garnish” of suggests something which is merely decorative: visual bling and ultimately superfluous but because cocktails are designed to be sipped, as one lingers over ones’s Cosmopolitan, from the peel will come a faint orange aroma, adding to the experience as the fumes of a cognac enhance things; spirits and cocktails are “breathed in” as well as swallowed.

(7) Science of the orange peel: When peeling orange, do it over glass so the oil spurting (viewed close-up under high-magnification, it really is more spurt than spray) from the pores in the skin ends up in the drink.  For the ultimate effect, rub the rim of the glass with the peel, down a half-inch on the outside so lips can enjoy the sensation.

The presidential “parade convertible” 1950 Lincoln Cosmopolitan, parked outside 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington DC.

In the US, the Ford Motor Company (FoMoCo) produced the Lincoln Cosmopolitan between 1949-1954 but only in its first season was it the “top-of-the-range” model, “designation demotion” something which would over the decades become popular in Detroit.  Political legend has it Harry Truman (1884–1972; US president 1945-1953) personally selected Lincoln to supply the presidential car fleet as an act of revenge against General Motors (GM), the corporation having declined to provide him with cars to use during the 1948 election campaign.  It’s assumed GM’s management was reading the polls and assumed they’d need only to wait to wait for a call from president elect Thomas Dewey (1902–1971) but as things turned out, Mr Dewey never progressed beyond president-presumptive so GM didn’t get the commission, the keys to Cadillacs not returning to the Oval Office until the administration of Ronald Reagan (1911-2004; US president 1981-1989).  While it wouldn’t much have consoled the GM board, there was some of their technology in the Lincolns because, FoMoCo was compelled to buy heavy-duty Hydra-Matic transmissions from Cadillac, their own automatic gearbox not then ready for production.

The presidential “parade convertible” 1950 Lincoln Cosmopolitan with “Bubbletop” fitted.

The White House leased ten Lincoln Cosmopolitans which were modified by coach-builders who added features such as longer wheelbases and raised roof-lines.  Nine were full-enclosed limousines while one was an armoured “parade convertible” (a “cabriolet D” in the Mercedes-Benz naming system) which was an impressive 20-odd feet (6 metres) in length.  The car used a large-displacement version of the old Ford flathead V8 (introduced in 1932) and weighing a hefty 6,500 lb (2,900 kg), performance wasn’t sparkling but given its role was slowly to percolate along crowd-lined boulevards, it was “adequate.  In 1954, during the administration of Dwight Eisenhower (1890-1969; US president 1953-1961), the parade convertible was fitted with a Plexiglas roof (a material the president would have been familiar with because it was used on some World War II (1939-1945) aircraft and in this form the Lincoln came to share the aircrafts’ nickname: “Bubbletop”.  The “Bubbletop” Cosmopolitan remained in service in the White House fleet until 1967.

The Glossies

Lindsay Lohan, Cosmopolitan, various international editions: April, May & June, 2006.

Cosmopolitan Magazine was launched in 1886 as a family journal of fashion, household décor, cooking, and other domestic interests.  It survived in a crowded market but its publisher did not and within two years Cosmopolitan was taken over by another which added book reviews and serialized fiction to the content.  This attracted the specialist house founded by John Brisben Walker (1847-1931), which assumed control in 1889, expanding its circulation twenty-fold to become one of America’s most popular literary magazines.  The Hurst Corporation acquired the title in 1905, briefly adding yellow-journalism before settling on a format focused on short fiction, celebrities and public affairs.  The formula proved an enduring success, circulation reaching two million by 1940 and this was maintained until a decline began in the mid 1950s, general-interest magazines being squeezed out by specialist titles and the time-consuming steamroller of television.

It was the appointment in 1965 of Helen Gurley Brown (1922–2012) as editor which signalled Cosmopolitan’s shift to a magazine focused exclusively on an emerging and growing demographic with high disposable income: the young white women of the baby boom.  In what proved a perfect conjunction, a target market with (1) economic independence, (2) social freedom, (3) an embryonic feminist awareness and (4) the birth control pill, the magazine thrived, surviving even the rush of imitators its success spawned.  Gurley Brown had in 1962 published the best seller advice manual, Sex and the Single Girl and Cosmopolitan essentially, for decades, reproduced variations on the theme in a monthly, glossy package.  It was clearly a gap in the market.  The approach was a success but there was criticism.  Conservatives disliked the choices in photography and the ideas young women were receiving.  Feminists were divided, some approved but others thought the themes regressive, a retreat from the overtly political agenda of the early movement into something too focused on fun and fashion, reducing women yet again to objects seeking male approbation.

Taylor Swift (b 1989), in purple on the cover of Cosmopolitan, December, 2014.

Still published in many international editions, Cosmopolitan Australia was one casualty of market forces, closed after a final printing in December 2018.  However, surprising many, Katarina Kroslakova (b 1978) in April 2024 announced her publishing house KK Press, in collaboration with New York-based Hearst Magazines International, would resume production of Cosmopolitan Australia as a bi-monthly and the first edition of the re-launched version was released in August, 2024.  Other than appearing in six issues per year rather than the traditional twelve, the format remained much the same, echoing Elle Australia which re-appeared on newsstands in March, ending a four-year hiatus.  Both revivals would as recently as 2023 have surprised industry analysts because the conventional, post-Covid wisdom was there existed in this segment few niches for time consuming and expensive titles in glossy print.

Amelia Dimoldenberg (b 1994) in polka-dots, on the cover of Cosmopolitan Australia April | May, 2025 (Issue 5, digital edition) which is downloadable file (96 MB in Adobe's PDF (portable document format) format.  Where digital titles have a history in print, the convention is to use the traditional cover format.  Even in the digital age, some legacy items have a genuine value to be exploited.

Ms Kroslakova clearly saw a viable business model and was quoted as saying print magazines are “the new social media” which was an interesting way of putting it but she explained the appeal by adding: “We need that 15 minutes to drop everything and actually have something tangible and beautiful in our hands to consume.  If we can present content which is multi-layered and deep and has authenticity and connection with the reader – that’s a really excellent starting point.”  She may have a point because in an age where screen-based content is intrinsically impermanent, the tactile pleasure of the traditional glossy may have genuine appeal, at least for an older readership who can remember the way things used to be done, something perhaps hinted at by her “15 minutes” reference, now regarded by many media analysts as a long-term connection given the apparent shortening of attention spans and after all, bound glossy pages are just another technology.  The revival of the print editions of Elle and Cosmopolitan will be an interesting experiment in a difficult economic environment which may get worse before it gets better.  Whether the novelty will attract enough of the "affluent readers" (what used to be called the A1, A2 & B1 demographic) to convince advertisers that it's a place to run their copy will likely decide the viability of the venture and while it's not impossible that will happen, Cosmopolitan is a couple of rungs down the ladder from the "prestige" titles (Vogue the classic mainstream example) which have maintained an advertising base. Cosmopolitan Australia offers a variety of subscription offers, the lowest unit cost available with a two-year, print + digital bundle (12 issues for Aus$105).

Lindsay Lohan on the cover of Cleo: March 2005 (left) and May 2009 (right).

Published in Australia between 1972-2016, Cleo was a monthly magazine targeted broadly at the demographic buying Cosmopolitan.  It was for decades successful and although there was some overlap in readership (and certainly advertising content), there was a perception there existed as distinct species “Cleo women” and “Cosmo women”.  Flicking through the glossy pages, husbands and boyfriends might have struggled to see much thematic variation although it’s likely they looked only at the pictures.  In the same vein, other than the paint, actual Cleo & Cosmo readers mostly probably wouldn’t have noticed much difference between Ford & Chevrolet V8s so it’s really a matter of where one’s interests lie (just because something is sexist stereotyping doesn’t mean it’s not true).  Had the men bothered to read the editorial content, they wouldn’t have needed training in textual deconstruction to detect both titles made much use of “cosmospeak”, a sub-dialect of English coined to describe the jargon, copy style and buzzwords characteristic of post 1950s Cosmopolitan magazine which contributed much to the language of non-academic “lipstick feminism”.  To summarize the market differentiation in women’s magazines, the industry joke was: “Cosmopolitan teaches you how to have an organism”, Cleo teaches you how to fake an organism and the Women’s Weekly teaches you how to knit an organism”.  As a footnote, when in 1983 the Women’s Weekly changed from a weekly to monthly format, quickly rejected was the idea the title might be changed to “Women’s Monthly”.

Martyrdom of the Saints Cosmas and Damian, oil on canvas by Fra Angelico (Guido di Pietro, circa 1395-1455), Musée du Louvre, Paris, France).  Fra was from the Italian frate (monk) and was a title for a Roman Catholic monk or friar (equivalent to Brother).

“Cleo” was a spunky two syllables but “Cosmopolitan” had a time-consuming five so almost universally it was used as “Cosmo”.  In Italy, Cosmo is a male given name and a variant of Cosimo, from the third century saint Cosmas who, with his brother Damian, was martyred in Syria during one of the many crackdowns on Christianity.  The name was from the Ancient Greek κόσμος (kósmos) (order, ordered universe), source of the now familiar “cosmos”.  Cosmas and Damian were Arab physicians who converted to Christianity and while ostensibly they suffered martyrdom for their faith, there may have been a financial motive because the brothers practiced much “free medicine”, not charging the poor for their “cures” so their services were understandably popular and thus a threat to the business model of the politically well-connected medical establishment.  The tension between medicine as some sort of social right and an industry run by corporations for profit has occasionally been suppressed but it’s never gone away, illustrated by the battles fought when the (literally) socialist post-war Labour government (1945-1951) established the UK’s NHS (National Health Service) and the (allegedly) socialist “Obamacare” (Affordable Care Act (ACA, 2010)) became law in the US.  By the twenty-first century, the medical establishment could no longer arrange decapitations of cut-price competitors threatening the profit margins but the conflicts remain, witness the freelancing of Luigi Mangione (1998).

The Mazda Cosmo

1968 Mazda Cosmo 110S (110S the export designation).

Although the Mazda corporation dates from 1920, it was another 40 years before it produced its first cars (one of the tiny 360 cm³ “kei cars” (a shortened form of kei-jidōsha, (軽自動車) (light vehicle)) so the appearance at the Tokyo Motor Show of the Cosmo Sport created quite an impression and that it was powered by a two-rotor Wankel rotary engine produced under licence from the German owners added to international interest.  Over two series, series production lasted from 1967 until 1972 but the intricate design was labour intensive to build and being expensive, demand was limited so in five years fewer than 1,200 were sold.  That makes it more of a rarity than a Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Gullwing (the W198, 1,400 of those built 1954-1957) and while Cosmo prices haven’t reached the level of the German car, it is a collectable and a number are now in museums and collections.  Mazda continued to use the Cosmo name until 1996 and while none of the subsequent models were as intriguing as the original, some versions of the JC Series Eunos Cosmo (1990–1996) enjoy the distinction of being the world’s only production car fitted with a three-rotor Wankel engine (the 1969 Mercedes-Benz C111 was a Wankel test-bed). 

1975 Mazda Roadpacer (HJ model)

The Eunos Cosmo was not the only Mazda with a unique place in the troubled history of the Wankel engine, the Roadpacer (1975-1977) also a footnote.  Most Holden fans, as one-eyed as any, don’t have especially fond memories of the HJ (1974-1976) range; usually, all they’ll say is its face-lifted replacement (the HX (1976-1977)), was worse.  With its chassis not including the RTS (radial tuned suspension) which lent the successor HZ (1975-1980) such fine handling and with engines strangled by the crude plumbing used in the era to reduce emissions, driving the HJ or HX really wasn’t a rewarding experience (although the V8 versions retained some charm) so there might have been hope Mazda’s curious decision to use fit their smooth-running, two-rotor Wankel to the HJ Premier and sell it as their top-of-the range executive car might have transformed the thing.  That it did but the peaky, high-revving rotary was wholly unsuited to the relatively large, heavy car.  Despite producing less power and torque than even the anaemic 202 cubic inch (3.3 litre) Holden straight-six it replaced, so hard did it have to work to shift the weight that fuel consumption was worse even than when Holden fitted their hardly economical 308 cubic inch (5.0 litre) V8 for the home market.  Available only in Japan and sold officially between 1975-1977, fewer than eight-hundred were built, the company able to off-load the last of the HXs only in early 1980.  The only thing to which Mazda attached its name not mentioned in their corporate history, it's the skeleton in the Mazda closet and the company would prefer we forget the thing which it seems to think of as "our Edsel".  The Roadpacer did though provide one other footnote, being the only car built by General Motors (GM) ever sold with a Wankel engine.  

The archbishop and the abdication

Archbishop Cosmo Gordon Lang (1932), oil on canvas by Anglo-Hungarian society portraitist Philip Alexius László de Lombos (1869–1937 and known professionally as Philip de László).  Lang was christened Cosmo in honor of the local Laird (in Scotland, historically a feudal lord and latterly the “courtesy title” of an area’s leading land-owner, most prominent citizen etc).  The noun Laird was from the northern or Scottish Middle English lard & laverd (a variant of lord).

Scottish Anglican prelate Cosmo Gordon Lang (First Baron Lang of Lambeth, 1864–1945; Archbishop of York 1908–1928 & Archbishop of Canterbury 1928–1942 was a clergyman with uncompromising views about much.  This type was once common in pulpits and although those of his faction exist still in the the modern Church of England, fearing cancellation, they tend now to exchange views only behind closed doors.  He’d probably be today almost forgotten were it not for an incendiary broadcast he made (as Archbishop of Canterbury and thus spiritual head of the Church of England and the worldwide Anglican community) on BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation) Radio on 13 December, 1936, two days after the abdication of Edward VIII (1894–1972; King of the UK & Emperor of India, January-December 1936, subsequently Duke of Windsor).  The address to the nation remains the most controversial public intervention made by a Church of England figure in the twentieth century, judged by many to be needlessly sanctimonious and distastefully personal, its political dimension the least objectionable aspect.

As a piece of text it did have a pleasingly medieval feel, opening with some memorable passages including: “From God he received a high and sacred trust. Yet by his own will he has abdicated” and “It is tragic that the sacred trust was not held with a firmer grip”.  That set the tone although when he said: “There has been much sympathy with the king in his great personal difficulty, and I do not forget how deeply he has touched the hearts of millions with his warm interest in the homes and lives of his people” his large audience may have thought some Christian charity did lurk in the Archbishop’s soul but quickly he let that moment pass, returning to his theme: “The causes which led to the king's decision are fully known to the nation.  But it has been made plain that the reigning sovereign of this country must be one whose private life and public conduct can be trusted to reflect the Christian ideal."

Unlike many modern Archbishops, there was no ambiguity about Lang so in his defense it can be argued he provided the Church with a moral clarity of greater certainty than anything which has in recent decades emanated from Lambeth Palace.  So there was that but by the 1930s the mood of opinion-makers in the UK had shifted and Lang’s text was seen as morally judgmental and the idea Edward VIII had failed not so much as a constitutional monarch but in his divine duty seemed archaic, few in the country framing things as the king’s personal failure before God.  What was clear was old Lang's point Edward’s relationship with a twice-divorced woman disqualified him morally and spiritually from being king which many critics within the church thought a bleak approach to a clergyman’s pastoral role.  In a sermon from the pulpit to the faithful it might have gone down well but as a national address, the tone was misplaced.  In self-imposed exile, privately Edward privately described the broadcast as “a vile and vindictive attack” and in his ghost-written memoirs (A King's Story (1951)), he accused the archbishop of “cruelty”.

Remembered also from the broadcast’s aftermath was a satirical verse printed in Punch by the novelist Gerald Bullett (1893–1958 (who published also under the pseudonym Sebastian Fox)).  Bullet’s included the words “how full of cant you are!”, using “cant” in the sense of “to speak in a manner speak in a hypocritical or insincere), an allusion to Lang signing his documents : “Cosmo Cantuar” (Cantuar the abbreviation for Cantuarium (Latin for Canterbury)):

“My Lord Archbishop, what a scold you are!
And when your man is down, how bold you are!
Of Christian charity how scant you are!
And, auld Lang swine, how full of cant you are!”