Clerestory

Clerestory (pronounced kleer-stawr-ee or kleer-stohr-ee)

(1) In architecture, a portion of an interior rising above adjacent rooftops, fitted with windows admitting daylight.

(2) In church architecture, a row of windows in the upper part of the wall, dividing the nave from the aisle and set above the aisle roof (associated particularly with the nave, transept and choir of a church or cathedral.

(3) In transportation vehicles (usually busses, railroad cars and occasionally cars & vans), a raised construction, typically appended to the roof structure and fitted with (1) windows to admit light or enhance vision or (2) slits for ventilation (or a combination of the two).

1375–1425: From the late Middle English, the construct being clere (clear (in the sense of “light” or “lighted”)) + story (from storey (a level of a building).  The word is obviously analyzed as “a story (upper level) with light from windows”.  Storey was from Middle English stori & storie, from the Anglo-Latin historia (picture), from the Latin, from the Ancient Greek ἱστορία (historía) (learning through research, narration of what is learned), from ἱστορέω (historéō) (to learn through research, to inquire), from ἵστωρ (hístōr) (the one who knows, the expert, the judge).  In the Anglo-Latin, historia was a term from architecture (in this case “interior decorating” in the modern sense) describing a picture decorating a building or that part of a building so decorated.  The less common alternative spellings are clearstory & clerstory.  Clerestory is a noun and clerestoried is an adjective; the noun plural is clerestories.

From here was picked up the transferred sense of “floor; level”.  The later use in church architecture of “an upper story of a church, perforated by windows” is thought simply to be a reference to the light coming through the windows and there is nothing to support the speculation the origin was related to a narrative (story) told by a series of stained glass windows, illuminated by sunlight.  Historians have concluded the purpose of the design was entirely functional; a way of maximizing the light in the interior space.  The related architectural design is the triforium.  The noun triforium (triforia or triforiums in the plural) (from the Medieval Latin triforium, the construct being tria (three) + for (opening) + -ium) describes the gallery of arches above the side-aisle vaulting in a church’s nave.  The –ium suffix (used most often to form adjectives) was applied as (1) a nominal suffix (2) a substantivisation of its neuter forms and (3) as an adjectival suffix.  It was associated with the formation of abstract nouns, sometimes denoting offices and groups, a linguistic practice which has long fallen from fashion.  In the New Latin, it was the standard suffix appended when forming names for chemical elements.

Clerestories which once shone: Grand Central Terminal (the official abbreviation is GCT although the popular form is "Grand Central Station" (often clipped to "Grand Central")), Midtown Manhattan, New York City, 1929 (left) and the same (now dimmed) location in a scene from the Lindsay Lohan film Just my Luck (2006) (right).  Because of more recent development in the surrounding space, the sunlight no longer enters the void through the clerestoried windows is such an eye-catching way.  In modern skyscrapers, light-shafts or atriums can extend hundreds of feet.

Tourist boat on a canal cruise, Amsterdam, the Netherlands.

Boats with clerestory windows are commonly seen on waterways like the canals of Amsterdam and are valued by tour-guides because they make excursions possible in (almost) all-weathers.  Those designing passenger busses and train carriages were also early adopters of clerestory windows, initially because they were a source of “free” light but as packaged tourism developed into “sightseeing”, tour operators recognized the potential and commissioned versions optimized for outward visibility, essentially a form of “value-adding” which made even the dreary business of bus travel from one place to the next more of a “sightseeing” experience, something probably most valued by those afforded a greater vista to observe in mountainous regions.

Greyhound Scenicruiser in original livery.

A variation of the idea was used for long-distance busses in North America, the best known of which remains the Greyhound Scenicruiser (PD-4501), featuring a raised upper deck with a clerestory windscreen.  Although the view through that was enjoyed by many passengers, the design was less about giving folk a view and more a way to maximize revenue within the length restrictions imposed by many US states.  What the upper deck did was allow a increase in passenger numbers because the space their luggage would absorb in a conventional (single layer) design could be re-allocated to people, their suitcases (and in some cases also freight, another revenue stream) relegated to the chassis level which also improved weight distribution and thus stability.

A predecessor: 1930 Lancia Omicron.

Famous as it became, the Scenicruiser, 1001 of which were built by General Motors (GM) between 1954-1956, was to cause many problems for both manufacturer and operator, the first of which caused by the decision to use twin-diesel engines to provide the necessary power for the new, heavy platform.  The big gas (petrol) units available certainly would have provided that but their fuel consumption would not only have made their operation ruinously expensive (both the fuel burn and the time lost by needing frequently to re-fill) and the volume of gas which would have to be carried would have both added to weight and reduced freight capacity.  Bigger GM diesel units weren’t produced in the early 1950s so the twin engines were a rational choice and the advantages were real, tests confirming that even when fully loaded, the coupled power-train would be sufficient for hill climbing while on the plains, the Scenicruiser happily would cruise using just a single engine.  However, as many discovered (on land, sea and in the air), running two engines coupled together is fraught with difficulties and these never went away, the busses eventually adopting one of GM’s new generation of big-displacement diesels as part of the major re-building of the fleet in 1961, a programme which also (mostly) rectified some structural issues which had been recognized.  Despite all that, by 1975 when Greyhound retired the model, the company still had hundreds in daily service and many of those auctioned off were subsequently used by other operators and in private hands, some are still running, often as motor homes or (mostly) static commercial displays or museum exhibits.

1951 Pegaso Z-403 (left) and 1949 Brill Continental (right).

GM’s Scenicruiser was influential and clerestory windscreens soon proliferated on North American roads although the idea wasn’t new.  The Spanish manufacturer Pegaso (a creation of Generalissimo Francisco Franco’s (1892-1975; Caudillo of Spain 1939-1975) industrial policy) between 1951-1957 produced the Z-403 (1951-1957) which used the same design and before even that a bus with an almost identical profile had been sold in the US by the JG Brill Company, albeit with a conspicuous lack of success.  As early as 1930 the Italian concern Lancia offered the Omicron bus with a 2½ half deck arrangement with a clerestoried upper windscreen.  The Omicron’s third deck was configured usually as a first-class compartment but at least three which operated in Italy were advertised as “smoking rooms”, the implication presumably that the rest of the passenger compartment was smoke-free.  History doesn't record if the bus operators were any more successful in enforcing smoking bans than the usual Italian experience.

1968 Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser.

One quirky offering which picked up the Scenicruiser’s clerestoried windscreen was the Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser (1964-1977), a station wagon which, until the release of the third series in 1973 featured one at the leading edge of a raised roof section, the glass ending midway over the backseat, the shape meaning it functioned also as a “skylight”.  Above the rear side windows were matching clerestories which might sound a strange thing to add above a luggage compartment but during those years, a “third seat” was a popular option to install in the space, transforming the things into eight or nine seat vehicles; families were bigger then.  The Vista Cruiser sold well and Buick later adopted the idea for some of its range until the concept was abandoned in 1972 because of concerns about upcoming safety regulations.  Such rules were however never imposed and both manufacturers revived the idea in the 1990s for their (frankly ugly) station wagons and when the Buick was discontinued in 1996, it was the last full-sized station wagon to be made in the US, the once popular market segment cannibalized to the point of un-viability by the mini-van (people-mover) and the sports utility vehicle (SUV).

The arrangement of a series of windows in a high-mounted row, borrowed from architecture, became familiar on train carriages and buses, especially those which plied scenic routes.  Usually these were added to the coachwork of buses built on existing full-sized commercial chassis which could seat 40-60 passengers but in the 1950s, there emerged the niche of the smaller group tour, either curated to suit a narrower market or created ad-hoc by hotels or operators; smaller vehicles were required and these offered the additional advantage of being able sometimes to go where big buses could not.  In places like the Alps, where those on the trip liked to look up as well as out, rows of clerestoried windows were desirable.

1959 Volkswagen Microbus Deluxe (23 Window Samba). 

The best known of these vehicles was the Volkswagen “Samba”, a variation of the Microbus, one of the range of more than a dozen a models built on the platform of the Type 2, introduced in 1950 after a chance sighting by a European distributer of a VW Beetle (Type 1) chassis which had been converted by the factory into a general-purpose utility vehicle.  The company accepted the suggestion a market for such a thing existed and in its original, air-cooled, rear-engined configuration, it remained in production well into the twenty-first century.  Between 1951-1966, the Microbus was available in a “Deluxe” version which featured both a folding fabric sunroof and rows of rows of clerestoried windows which followed the curve of the sides of the roof.  Available in 21 & 23 window versions, these are now highly collectable and such is the attraction there’s something of a cottage industry in converting Microbuses to the clerestoried specification but it’s difficult exactly to emulate the originals, the best of which can command several times the price of a fake (a perfectly restored genuine Samba in 2017 selling at auction in the US for US$302,000).  Such was the susceptibility to rust, the survival rate wasn’t high and many led a hard life when new, popular with the tour guides who would conduct bus-loads of visitors on (slow) tours of the Alps, the sunroof & clerestory windows ideal for gazing at the peaks.  To add to the mood, a dashboard-mounted valve radio was available as an option, something still for many a novelty in the early 1950s.  The Microbus Deluxe is rarely referred to as such, being almost universally called the “Samba” and the origin of that in uncertain.  One theory is it’s a borrowing from the Brazilian dance and musical genre that is associated with things lively, colorful, and celebratory, the link being that as well as the sunroof and windows, the Deluxe had more luxurious interior appointments, came usually in bright two-tone paint (other Type 2s were usually more drably finished) and featured lashings of external chrome.  It’s an attractive story but some prefer something more Germanic: Samba as the acronym for the business-like phrase Sonnendach-Ausführung mit besonderem Armaturenbrett (sunroof version with special dashboard).  However it happened, Samba was in colloquial use by at least 1952 and became semi official in 1954 when the distributers in the Netherlands added the word to their brochures.  Production ended in July 1967 after almost 100,000 had been built.

1966 Volkswagen Samba (21 Window, Left) and 1962 Volkswagen Samba (23 Window, Right).  The 23 Window van is a conversion of a Microbus and experts (of which there seem to be many, such is the following these things have gained) say it's close to impossible exactly to replicate a factory original.  In theory, the approach would be to take the parts with serial numbers (tags, engine, gearbox etc) from a real Samba which has rusted into oblivion (something not uncommon) and interpolate these into the sound body of a Microbus with as close a build date as possible.  Even then, such are the detail differences that an exact replication would be a challenge.  Because the Sambas received the same running changes and updates as the rest of the Microbus range, there was much variation in the details of the specification over the years but the primary distinction is between the “21” & “23” window vans, the difference accounted for by the latter’s pair of side-corner windows to the left & right of the rear top gate opening.  In 1964, when the rear doors were widened, the curved windows in the roof were eliminated because there would no longer be sufficient metal in the coachwork to guarantee structural integrity.

Hermeneutic

Hermeneutic (pronounced hur-muh-noo-tik or hur-muh-nyoo-tik)

(1) Of or relating to hermeneutics; interpretative; explanatory.

(2) That which explains, interprets, illustrates or elucidates.

(3) In theology, of or relating to the interpretation of Scripture (technically when using or relating to hermeneutics but sometimes used more loosely)

1670s: From the Ancient Greek ἑρμηνευτικός (hermēneutikós) (of, skilled in, interpreting), the construct being hermēneú(ein) (to make clear, interpret (derivative of ἑρμηνεύς (hermēneús) (an interpreter) + -tikos (–tic).  The –tikos suffix was commonly used to form adjectives.  The Greek τικός (-tikos) was derived from the noun τι (-tis) (“one who does” or “related to”).  Typically, when –tikos was appended to a word, it conveyed the sense of “being related to, characterized by, or pertaining to the base word”.  It was used also (n various contexts) to create adjectives that describe qualities or characteristics associated with the base word.  The form in French was herméneutique.  Hermeneutic is a noun & adjective, hermeneuticist & hermeneut are nouns, hermeneutical is an adjective, hermeneutically is an adverb; the noun plural is hermeneutics.

Hermeneutics is now an overarching technical term which can (despite the disapproval of some) be used to describe all or some of the theories and practices of interpretation.  The word started life in academic theology and referred to the interpretation of scripture and biblical scholarship generally but by the early eighteenth century it was used also of the analysis of literature and philosophical texts.  Hermeneutics thus began as a practice which evolved into a formal discipline, the parameters of which have changed as needs arose and can now encompass any aspect of deconstruction, understanding or transmission.  Still most associated by some with scriptural interpretation (with all the controversy that implies), in modern use, hermeneutics is applied to law, philosophy, history or any field in which information is contained in texts (and as the post-modernists told us, “text” exists in many forms beyond the written or spoken word).

Despite the impression given by some sources, the terms hermeneutics and exegesis (from the Ancient Greek ἐξήγησις (exḗgēsis) (interpretation), from ἐξηγέομαι (exēgéomai) (I explain, interpret), the construct being ἐξ (ex-) (out) + ἡγέομαι (hēgéomai) (I lead, guide)) tend not to be used interchangeably, probably because both are elements in the jargon of specialists who field them with the necessary precision.  Both are approaches to the interpretation of texts but they have distinct focuses and differing methods of operation.  Exegesis describes a critical analysis of a text, the purpose being to understand its meaning, the primary focus being the extraction of the original or intended meaning, the historical and cultural context thus a tool of exegesis, undertaken often by the interplay of linguistic analysis and historical research.  Hermeneutics (at least in modern use) casts a wider vista although it too is a discipline built around a theory of interpretation which encompasses a range of principles which can be applied to texts, symbols and any means of communication.  The essence of hermeneutics is that as well as an understanding of original meanings in the context of the time, place and circumstances of their origin, there's also the ongoing process of interpretation which can consider not only previous research but also an understanding of the way interpretation is (and has historically been) influenced by the relationship between the interpreter and the text; the effect of an interpreter's biases (conscious and not), history and culture.  Implicit is this is the need to deconstruct the biases and assumptions inherent in language.  Given all that, although the purists might not approve, the techniques and tools of exegesis can be thought of as a sub-set of those of hermeneutics.

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

The source of the word "hermeneutics" was once tangled up with a folk etymology which attributed a link to Hermes, in Greek mythology the son of Zeus and Maia.  Hermes had a troubled and eventful past which included the theft of livestock from the herd of Admetus which grazed in the (admittedly neglectful) care of his brother Apollo and the invention of the lyre which he fashioned from the shell of a tortoise with strings made from the gut of the unfortunate pair of the cattle he’d earlier sacrificed to the twelve gods.  A bit of a hustler, through a complicated series of trades and negotiations, Hermes emerged with the gift to prophesize the future and assumed the role of psychopomp (from the Latin psȳchopompus, from the Ancient Greek ψῡχοπομπός (psūkhopompós or psȳchopompós) (conductor (guide) of souls), the construct being ψῡχή (psūkhḗ) (the soul, mind, spirit) + πομπός (pompós) (guide, conductor, escort, messenger).  It was the psychopomp who was given the task of escorting the souls of the dead to Hades, the psychopomp most familiar in popular culture being the grim reaper.  It’s not clear which of these many qualities and skills have over the last two centuries so appealed to the admirals of the Royal Navy that they chose HMS Hermes as the name of a dozen-odd warships, the Admiralty website blandly noting his role as divine messenger.  That was certainly what gave rise to the old story (which for years appeared in many dictionaries) of Hermes being the etymological source of “hermeneutic”, based on his role in interpreting divine will: Nephele, Amphion, Heracles, Perseus and Odysseus all benefiting from his skills.  Lending credence to that was the observation of more than one of the philosophers of Antiquity that interpretation of text matters because the same collection of words can be used to spread lies as well as truth so the task of Hermes was an important one although, being Hermes, in some of the myths its recounted how he wasn’t above “bending interpretations” to suit his own purposes.

Hermes, Aglauros & Herse in the chamber of Herse (1573), oil on canvas by Paolo Caliari (1528–1588).  The winged staff held by Hermes was the symbol of his position as divine messenger and Caliari depicts the scene in which Hermes has come to seduce the Athenian princess Herse.  Her sister Aglauros (a jealous type), attempts to prevent him entering her chamber but with a touch of his staff he will transform her into black stone and take what he wants.  Herse is shown apparently sanguine about her sister's sad fate; perhaps it was a difficult family.  It's a rarely painted subject and is from the epic-length Metamorphoses, by the Roman Poet Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso; 43 BC–17 AD)

The connection with the sometimes dastardly Hermes is obviously an attractive tale but etymologists have concluded the true origin of "hermeneutic" lies in forms related to the Ancient Greek ἑρμηνεύω (hermēneuō) (translate, interpret), from ἑρμηνεύς (hermeneus) (translator, interpreter), of uncertain origin.  As ἑρμηνεία (hermeneia) (interpretation, explanation), it appears in the works of Aristotle (384-322 BC) which are among the oldest surviving philosophical texts in which appears the origins of textual analysis and the theoretical underpinning of the relationship between language and logic.

Magazine

Magazine (pronounced mag-uh-zeen)

(1) A publication that is issued periodically, usually bound in a paper cover, and typically contains essays, stories, poems, etc., by many writers, and often photographs and drawings, frequently specializing in a particular subject or area, as hobbies, news, or sports.

(2) A room or place for keeping gunpowder and other explosives, as in a fort or on a warship.

(3) A building or place for keeping military stores, as arms, ammunition, or provisions.

(4) A metal receptacle for a number of bullets or cartridges, inserted into certain types of automatic and semi-automatic weapons which, when empty, is removed and replaced by a full receptacle in order to continue firing.

(5) In broad or narrowcast media (radio, TV, social etc), a production consisting of several, usually short, segments in which various subjects are examined, usually in greater detail than on a regular newscast.  In the jargon of the industry: the magazine format.

(6) A device for continuously recharging a handling system, stove or boiler with solid fuel.

(7) A storehouse or warehouse (now rare).

(8) A collection of war munitions.

(9) A rack for automatically feeding a number of slides through a projector.

(10) In film-stock photography, an alternative name for cartridge.

(11) A city regarded as a marketing centre (archaic).

1581: From the Middle French magasin (warehouse, store), from the Italian magazzino (storehouse), from the Arabic مَخَازِن‎ (makhāzin) (plural of مَخْزَن‎ (makhzan) (storehouse)) noun of place from خَزَنَ‎ (khazana) (to store, to stock, to lay up); from the same Arabic source came the Spanish almacén (warehouse) and it's an example of European languages borrowing from an Arabic in plural form to create a singular form.  The original Arabic plural مخازن (maxāzin) was from the singular noun مخزن (maxzan) (storehouse; depot; shop).  A magazinette was  a small or short magazine (in the sense of a periodic publication), based on the notion of a novella or operetta.  Such things do still exist but the term has fallen from use.  In the early days of the commercial availability of semi-automatic firearms, at least one manufacturer did label those used with handguns "magazinette", the idea being they were a small version of the "magazines" supplied with larger weapons but the four syllable suggestion seems almost instantly to have been replaced by "clip".  The informal noun describing the industry publishing magazines was magazineland.  Magazine, magaziner & magazinette are nouns and magazinelike (and magazine-like) is an adjective (magazinesque seems to be non-standard); the noun plural is magazines.

Lindsay Lohan, Vogue magazine (Spanish edition), August 2009.

The original general sense of “storehouse” is almost obsolete except for military purposes and in naval history, magazines feature frequently because their detonation (usually as a result of attack but sometimes accidents too) was often the cause of ships being sunk, often with a high death-toll.  As used to describe books figuratively as “storehouses of information”, the form emerged circa 1640, the first application to a "periodical journal" was the Gentleman's Magazine in 1731.  Over the years magazines have appeared in a variety of formats with paper stock of different sizes and quality and have been as small as a single sheet or have run to hundreds of pages.  Although high-end publications were often lavish, it was only after the 1970s that the use of glossy paper became the industry standard after for years often appearing only on covers.  In the West, the the 1970s, 1980s & 1990s were the golden decades for magazines (and newspapers), the general trend of rising prosperity and the attractiveness of the medium to advertisers meaning growth of the sector was assured and the ease with which new entrants could appear was enhanced by the rise of desktop publishing, meaning entire editions could be composed with equipment which cost a tiny faction of what was required even a generation earlier.  There was churn because many came and went and the periodic recessions claimed some but during those decades the trend was more and not less.

The early days of the internet, when most interactions happened on desktops or laptops appears to have had little effect on the industry and may even have stimulated demand but it was in the early 2010s the near simultaneous arrival at scale of bandwidth, social media and smartphones which created a vicious cycle of (1) increasing volumes of content moving from established publishers to social media & (2) the advertising revenue following the viewers who followed the content.  The decade was littered with publications which either moved on-line or folded entirely but nothing compared with the sudden hit in 2020-2021 of the COVID-19 pandemic when titles which had for a generation or more been staples of the industry ceased to be.  However, some subsequently were revived and what seems to have happened is that many non-specialist titles (such as fashion magazines) have been re-invented as niche players designed to appeal to a small market with the interests and disposable income (the famous A1 & A2 demographic) which will attract advertisers.  A kind of pre-packaging of the audiences micro-marketers crave, this segment of the magazine business can be compared with narrowcasting and for some, the glossy magazine is something desirable and just another form of technology albeit one which can be a more pleasant and more convenient way to consume content and prices has risen so such things can also be flaunted as a status symbol, the sense of exclusivity sometimes not wholly illusory because some titles do restrict certain content to their print editions.  In the West, it's unlikely the glossies will ever again be the mass-market force they once were but as the revival of vinyl records demonstrated, where ongoing demand exists for something technically obsolete, provided a business model can be found profitably to provide supply, niches can survive and thrive.                        

The Economist's editors' choice of the ten covers which seemed best to define 2016.  At the time, 2016 seemed a ghastly year but worse was to come. 

However, being something that looks like a glossy magazine and sits in the shop on the shelf with other magazines does not guarantee that it is a magazine.  The English weekly The Economist (published since 1843) certainly ticks all the boxes for the criteria of what most people would think constitutes a magazine yet it has always described itself as a "newspaper".  That probably seems strange to many given the structure and nature of the content is more closely aligned with other specialist publications labelled "magazines" than with almost all "newspapers".  The explanation is relates to the the way the word "newspaper" was understood in 1843 and until 1971 it was printed in a broadsheet format (the change to the modern form in no way affecting editorial content).  Just to add some typically Economistesque precision, the editor in 2016 clarified the position further by explaining "perfect-bound" publications (the binding process used) were in 1843 called "newspapers".  If that sounds a highly technical point, so it should because economics remains, by definition and habit, the publication's meat & drink and economics is a technical business.  Whether it is or can ever be a science is one of those amusing arguments in which minds are never changed.

The Economist is renowned also for its cartoons and the dry, occasionally sardonic captions which accompany the photographs and illustrations used lend color or context to articles.  A rough guide to hell appeared on the cover of the 2012 Christmas double issue (December 2012).  Theologically dubious, as a piece predictive of the decade ahead, it proved remarkably prescient.

Politically, The Economist is best classified as belonging to "the fiscally conservative, socially liberal faction of the rational centre-right" and one perhaps surprising quirk revealed in a survey conducted by a US university was the high number of readers who turn first to the weekly obituary, the subjects of which are an eclectic lot: In addition to the expected popes, politicians & potentates, criminals, Cassanovas & courtesans and musicians, mandarins & megalomaniacs (there's some overlap with other categories), there are lives recorded which might otherwise be forgotten such as the man who spent decades gathering and storing all the typefaces used by the world's typewriters.  Nor are non-humans neglected, Alex the African Grey (science's best known parrot) & Benson (England's best-loved fish), both granted the valedictories they doubtlessly deserved.

Psittacism

Psittacism (pronounced sit-uh-siz-uh-m)

(1) Speech or writing that appears mechanical or repetitive in the manner of a parrot.

(2) A pejorative description of the use of words which appear to have been used mechanically, without understanding; mere parroting; repetition without reasoning.

1861: From the French psittacisme or the German psittazismus, both from Latin psittaci (parrot), an inflection of psittacus, from the Ancient Greek ψιττακός (psittakós) of unknown origin although presumed to come from a non-Greek source.  The construct was thus psittac(i) + -ism (ie “parrotism”).  The –ism suffix was from the Ancient Greek ισμός (ismós) & -isma noun suffixes, often directly, sometimes through the Latin –ismus & isma (from where English picked up ize) and sometimes through the French –isme or the German –ismus, all ultimately from the Ancient Greek (where it tended more specifically to express a finished act or thing done).  It appeared in loanwords from Greek, where it was used to form abstract nouns of action, state, condition or doctrine from verbs and on this model, was used as a productive suffix in the formation of nouns denoting action or practice, state or condition, principles, doctrines, a usage or characteristic, devotion or adherence (criticism; barbarism; Darwinism; despotism; plagiarism; realism; witticism etc).  The use in English appears seems to have been rare until the 1880s and even now is limited often political science or works in the various fields of critical theory.  An alternative word is the verb “parroting”.  Psittacism & psittaceous are nouns and psittacistic is an adjective; the noun plural is psittacisms.  The temping adverb psittacistically is not listed as a standard form.

Psittacism is speech or writing that appears mechanical or repetitive in the manner of a parrot which can be taught to recite phrases in human speech but without any knowledge of their meaning.  The author Evelyn Waugh (1903-1966) noted this parrot-like behaviour when meeting Pope Pius XII (1876-1958; pope 1939-1958).  The pope spoke Italian, Latin & French, was fluent in German (he’d been a diplomat there for thirteen years) and during his pontificate, it was reported he’d added Russian, Swedish, Spanish, Portuguese, Danish and Dutch, all of which were displayed whenever he would have audiences with anyone from those countries.  However, most of these multi-lingual flourishes appear to have been set-piece scripts because as Waugh observed: “The sad thing about the Pope is that he loves talking English and has learned several elegant little speeches by heart parrotwise and delivers them with practically no accent, but he does not understand a word of the language.”  Apparently, the pontiff was “relieved when Waugh began to speak in French”.

Usually though, psittacism is used to describe either the banalities which litter conversations conducted for reasons of politeness rather than genuine interest or the “buzzwords” of management such as “Thinking outside the box” or “synergies”.  In politics too, phrases like “Make America great again” or “Continuity with change” are psittacistic, as is a significant volume of what appears on pop-culture platforms such as TikTok or Instagram.  Psittacisms though do differ for “filler words” such as the traditional “um”, “ah” and “you know” which are “gap fillers” in conversational flow; in structural linguistics, filler words are known as vocal disfluencies (filling in hesitations).  The growth in the use of “like” (meaning “said” or “did”) in recent decades differs in that it is a genuine addition to the norms of English expression (at least among certain classes) and the frequent disapproval of its use seems to have had little effect.  In some cases, oft-repeated phrases such as “left-wing” or “moderate” may no longer convey an accurate meaning (although they continue to be parroted) but such are not psittacisms because they are used with the intent to convey meaning; they are often merely misleading. 

In literature, it’s not uncommon to co-opt the birds as literary devices; Gustave Flaubert's (1821–1880) parrot in Un Coeur Simple (A Simple Heart (1877)) said to represent the bourgeoisie who repeat their psittaceous banalities without thought.  Those who are more interested in French society than their inner selves or the relationship a troubled genius had with his mother will prefer Flaubert to Proust.  Marcel Proust’s (1871-1922) thirteen novel set À la recherche du temps perdu (1913–1927) (In English translated originally as “Remembrance of Things Past” and of late as “In Search of Lost Time”) is a work like no other and should be read but most will find Flaubert more fun.  On the subject of (now dated) fun, although unrelated to the etymology of psittacism, the silent “P” is a footnote in English literature, Rupert Psmith (later Ronald Eustace Psmith) one of the roll-call of characters who appear in a number of novels by PG Wodehouse (1881-1975).  The surname Psmith was pronounced as “Smith” (“as in pshrimp” the character’s helpful explanation) and was self-appended just to make him seem “a cut above all the many other Smiths”.

Psittacism, tautology & plagiarism

A pair of Scarlett Macaw parrots.

The sin of psittacism differs from that of tautology or plagiarism.  Tautology is the use of extraneous words needlessly to repeat an idea (eg “completely, totally and utterly beyond my comprehension and understanding”) or the use of words which impart no additional force or clarity (eg “female schoolgirl” (although perhaps now the modifier may be a good idea)).  Plagiarism (examples of which are littered throughout this blog), is an act or instance of using or closely imitating the text (and text can be melody, image and such) or ideas of another without attribution or authorization, the worst cases of which being those where there’s a representation (overtly or by implication) the material is original.  That latter part applies not to this blog, written as it is by someone who has never in their life has an original thought.  Although controversial even when blatant or obvious (eg Joe Biden (b 1942; US president since 2021) “borrowing” parts of a speech from Neil Kinnock (b 1942; Leader of the UK Labour Party from 1983-1992)), in academia there genuinely are gray areas.  Does rephrasing a paragraph or two to re-express things already well-known constitute plagiarism or is it merely a review of what’s out there?  One would expect a president of Harvard University to be able to explain the concept but not all are convinced of that.  The act can also be blatant but if what’s reproduced is so well-known as to be notorious (eg William Shakespeare's (1564–1616) “to be or not to be” fragment from Hamlet (1603)), there’s never going to be a suggestion it was plagiarised.

What’s alleged to be our increasingly psittacistic world may in part be technologically deterministic.  There was a time when every printed word was precious because there was a cost to printing every letter and verbosity does seem to increase as costs fall; compare the punchy brevity of an old telegram when every letter came at a cost with the profligacy of E-mail messages.  The trend towards increasing volumes of text, apparent already in the post-war years, accelerated exponentially as soon as distribution became disconnected from physically printed paper.  Impressionistically, the psittacistic does seem now more prevalent but the volumes of all text and many tendencies have increased so much we may be deceived by our own prejudices.

Irrefragable

Irrefragable (pronounced ih-ref-ruh-guh-buhl)

(1) Not to be disputed or contested (as assertion).

(2) Not able to be denied or refuted; indisputable (as fact).

(3) That which cannot or should not be broken; indestructible (archaic and probably extinct).

(4) Of a person, someone obstinate; stubborn (obsolete except as a literary device).

1525–1535: A learned borrowing from Late Latin irrefrāgābilis (irrefragable) with the English suffix –able appended.  The suffix -able was from the Middle English -able, from the Old French -able, from the Latin -ābilis (capable or worthy of being acted upon), from the primitive Indo-European i-stem forms -dahli- or -dahlom (instrumental suffix); it was used to create adjectives with the sense of “able or fit to be done”.  The construct of irrefrāgābilis was the Latin ir- (a variant of in- (used a prefix meaning “not”)) + refragā(rī) (the present active infinitive of refrāgor (to oppose, resist; to gainsay, thwart)) + -bilis (the suffix used to form adjectives indicating a capacity or worth of being acted upon).  Because of the paucity of documentary evidence, the ultimate source of the Latin refrāgor remains uncertain, but the construct may have been re- (the prefix used in the sense of “again”) + fragor (a breaking, shattering; a crash; din, uproar (from frangō (to break, shatter), ultimately from the primitive Indo-European bhreg- (to break)), formed as an antonym of suffrāgōr, the first-person singular present passive indicative of suffrāgō (to support; to vote for).  The sixteenth century French form was irréfragable, also from the Late Latin.  The meanings related to “indestructible objects” fell from use as early as the mid-seventeenth century while the figurative sense of “someone stubborn or obstinate” endured into the twentieth and, as a literary device, probably still tempts some and for those so tempted, the better style guides help by telling us to stress the second syllable.  The spelling irrefragible is obsolete.  Irrefragable is an adjective, irrefragability & irrefragableness are nouns and irrefragably is an adverb; the noun plural is irrefragabilies.

In English, irrefragable didn’t survive in common use for no better reason than people for whatever reason preferred the alternatives (literal & figurative) including (depending on the context): undeniable, indubitable, unassailable, indisputable, unambiguous, unquestionable, irrefutable, incontestable, immutable and unanswerable.  All those synonyms convey much the same thing for most so usually, the only thing the use of “irrefragable” is likely to engender is bafflement; few people will know what it means.  That can be fun between consenting word-nerds but it otherwise tends just to annoy.  There are structuralists who claim “irrefragable” is (or at least can be) different form a word like “unquestionable” because the former should specifically be associated with logical or argumentative strength while the later can be used in any context without necessarily emphasizing the same rigorous logical support.  So, because the underpinning of the scientific method is the disproving stuff, to say a scientific theory is irrefragable does not mean it cannot be argued against or disproven or that it’s beyond doubt or uncertainty; it means only that it cannot be refuted based on the current evidence.  By contrast, in some schools of theology, many things are unquestionable, not because they can be proved or disproven but because they must be accepted as matters of faith.  In the Roman Catholic Church, this is formalized: If a pope (invoking his infallibility in matters of dogma), declares something to be thus, it is, as a matter of canon law, both irrefragable & unquestionable.  The ancient idea of papal infallibility has been invoked only once since it was codified in the proceedings of the First Vatican Council (Vatican I 1869-1870) but since the early post-war years, pontiffs have found ways to achieve the same effect, John Paul II (1920–2005; pope 1978-2005) & Benedict XVI (1927–2022; pope 2005-2013, pope emeritus 2013-2022) both adept at using what was in effect a personal decree a power available to one who sits at the apex of what is in constitutional terms an absolute theocracy.  Critics have called this phenononom "creeping infallibility" and its intellectual underpinnings own much to the tireless efforts of Benedict XVI while he was head of the Inquisition (by then called the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith) during the late twentieth century.

Defragable: Defragmentation in action under MS-DOS 6.22.  On a nearly full big drive (say 320 MB) on which defragmentation had been neglected for a while, the process could take literally hours.  True obsessives would add the relevant command to their autoexec.bat to start every day with a defrag, the sequence being: (1) switch on, (2) go and get coffee and (3) hope it was done upon return.

Before installable file systems (IFS) began to gain critical mass in the 1990s, disk defragmenters were something of a fetish among nerds because, at the software level, there were few quicker (a relative term) and cheaper ways to make things run faster.  Fragment was from the late Middle English fragment, from the Latin fragmentum (a fragment, a remnant), the construct being frangō (I break) +‎ -mentum, from the suffix -menta (familiar in collective nouns like armenta (herd, flock)), from the primitive Indo-European -mn̥the.  The tendency of the early file systems to increasing sluggishness was because the File Allocation Table (FAT) was an up-scaled variant of that used on floppy diskettes where the cluster sizes (the segments into which the media was divided) were small and thus less prone to fragmentation.  However, because of the arcane math which dictated how many clusters there could be under the various implementations of FAT, the only way to accommodate the increasing size of hard disk drives (HDD) was to make the clusters larger, the consequence of which was a file of 1 KB or less absorbed all of a 32 KB cluster, something both an inefficient use of space and inherently prone to fragmentation.  What defragmenters did was re-allocate files to make data both as contiguous and un-fragmented as possible.  Modern file systems (HPFS, NTFS et al) still have limits but the numbers are very big and contemporary operating systems now handle defragmentation dynamically.  Although it remains a useful system on USB pen drives and such because of the wide system compatibility and ease of use, it’s doubtful even the more nostalgic nerds have fond memories of FAT on HDDs; a corrupted FAT could be a nightmare.

Mule

Mule (pronounced myule)

(1) The sterile offspring of a female horse and a male donkey; a generalised term for any hybrid between the donkey and the horse.

(2) In informal use, a very stubborn person.

(3) In botany, any sterile hybrid.

(4) As drug mule, slang for a person paid to carry or transport contraband, especially drugs, for a smuggler.

(5) A small locomotive used for pulling rail cars, as in a coal yard or on an industrial site, or for towing, as of ships through canal locks.

(6) As spinning mule, a machine for spinning cotton or other fibers into yarn and winding the yarn on spindles.

(7) A style of open-backed women’s shoe, historically a lounging slipper that covers the toes and instep or only the instep.

(8) In nautical use, a large triangular staysail set between two masts and having its clew set well aft.

(9) In numismatics, a hybrid coin having the obverse of one issue and the reverse of the succeeding issue, or vice versa.

(10) A cocktail in various flavors (Jamaican Mule, Kentucky Mule & Moscow Mule) based respectively on Rum, Bourbon whiskey and Vodka

(11) As mule-deer, a species native to the western United States and so-named because of its large ears.

Pre 1000: From the Middle English mule, from the Anglo-Norman mule and the Old English mūl, both from the Latin mūlus, from the primitive Indo-European mukslós.   Related were the Middle Dutch mūle, the Old French mul (mule, hinny), the Late Latin muscellus (young he-mule), the Old East Slavic мъшкъ (mŭškŭ) (mule), the Phocian Ancient Greek  μυχλός (mukhlós) (he-ass) and the German Maul, Maultier & Maulesel, again derived from Latin.  It’s thought the Latin word was influenced by the Proto-Italic musklo- which is probably (along with the Ancient Greek myklos (pack-mule) and the Albanian mushk (mule)) a loan-word from one of the languages of Asia Minor.  The noun muleteer (mule driver) dates from the 1530s and was from the French muletier, from mulet (mule), a diminutive formation which in French displaced the Old French mul as the word for "mule".  The adjective mulish (possessing the characteristics imputed to the mule) is used of people thought obstinate rather than hard working; the word was in use by 1751 and the  alternative is mulelike (or mule-like), mulesque apparently either never created or not catching on. Mule is a noun & verb, mulishness & muleteer are nouns, mulishly is an adverb and mulish & mulelike are adjectives; the noun plural is mules. 

The mule became a popular pack animal because it was aid to "combine the strength of the horse with the endurance and surefootedness of the ass" and for centuries mules extensively have been bred to select for one characteristic or the other, those working mountainous trails a different beast from those on the plains.  To be zoologically correct, a mule is properly the offspring of a he-ass and a mare; that of a she-ass and a stallion is technically a hinny while a mule born of a horse and a she-ass is a burdon, a late fourteenth century creation based on the Latin burdonem.  Ordinarily, male mules incapable of procreation and commonly the word is applied allusively of hybrids and things of mixed nature.  The phrase "test mule" entered engineering (and later product development generally) in the 1920s to describe devices built for purposes of evaluation and thus expendable, a fate suffered no doubt by many an unfortunate. 

The mule's well-deserved reputation as a stellar beast of burden appears in the odd idiomatic form but it's the other traits which accounts for most popular use and perhaps surprisingly, given "stubborn as a mule" now appears in much greater frequency than "dumb as a mule" .  The meaning “stupid person” was noted by the 1470s, that of someone "obstinate or stubborn” not emerging until the eighteenth century although the latter use has endured and "working like a mule" proved an acceptable replacement when "working like an N-word" became proscribed.  There must have been some grounds for the beast picking up its reputation for obstinacy but there seems no evidence of the origin of that but it must sufficiently have been recognized to gain currency and become a proverbial descriptor of stubbornness.  A soul with such a tendency said to be "mulish"; within the family, Winston Churchill's (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) daughter Sarah (1914-1982) was nicknamed “the mule” (the English upper classes do like nick-names).  It seems likely the phrase "kick like a mule" was born of bitter experience although modern use is almost exclusively figurative, stronger forms of alcoholic drink commonly attracting the label.  It was formalized as the "Moscow Mule" (a cocktail made with vodka, ginger beer, and lime juice) although in the Western intelligence community that term was used also of traitors in the pay of the Soviet Union.  That use was probably modelled on "drug mule", underworld slang for "a smuggler of narcotics" which was noted as early as 1935 and came into general use in the post-war years.  The mule-deer of the western United States picked up the name because of its strikingly large ears.  

The so-named spinning machine dates from 1793 (first known as the "mule jenny" in 1788), the name derived from it being a "hybrid" of Richard Arkwright's (1732–1792) drawing-rollers and the spinning jenny invented by the English carpenter James Hargreaves (circa 1720–1778).  In what seems to have been an imaginative flight of etymological fancy, it was in the eighteenth century suggested the name "mule" was applied because the thing without complaint did so much of the labor which would otherwise have to be undertaken by human hand but there seems no doubt the inspiration was the machine's hybrid origin.  The use to describe the loose slipper worn as footwear was drawn into English in the 1560s from the Old French mule (slipper) from the Latin mulleus calceus (literally “red high-soled shoe”), a shoe worn by Roman patricians and associated with magistrates.  This footwear is unrelated to the long tradition of the Roman Catholic Pope wearing red shoes, the association tracing back to the notion of the blood of Christ falling on his feet as he carried on his back the cross on which he was crucified on Golgotha.  They were made again famous by fashion icon Benedict XVI (1927–2022; pope 2005-2013, pope emeritus 2013-2022) although his successor, Francis (b 1936; pope since 2013), favours plain black.

The mule the clog and the slide

Lindsay Lohan in Alexander Wang Amelia mules, Mykonos, June 2019.  Note the low heel, an example of how the term “mule" is used now by manufacturers to describe just about anything with some degree of openness in the heel.

Mules, by definition are backless but may be sling-backs and can have open or closed toes.  There are many who would classify these as sandals and some manufacturers agree.  In this context "mule" was from the Ancient Roman mulleus calceus a red (or reddish-purple) shoe popular with upper-class Romans and worn as a symbol of office by the three highest magistrates although the scant historical evidence does suggest the Roman footwear looked more like modern clogs than mules and logically, one would expect footwear with thicker, tougher soles would at the time have been preferred for use outdoors.  High-heeled mules became a popular indoor style during the 1700s, influenced by the pattern, a backless overshoe of the sixteenth century, although, by early in the twentieth, mules were often derided as the "dress-wear" of the "better class of prostitutes" and it wasn’t until Marilyn Monroe (1926–1962) adopted the mule in the 1950s they again assumed some respectability.  By the 1990s, mules were among the most popular of shoes.

Chanel Mesh & Grosgrain Mule in black with 3.3 inch (85mm) heel @ US$800, Chanel part-number: G37505 Y55290 94305.

The descriptors mules, clogs and slides are sometimes used interchangeably.  The typical clog is a closed-toed wooden (or other) soled shoe with a heel no more than a couple of inches high.  Clogs are backless (although there are clog boots).  Mules, by comparison, traditionally had a higher heel although the strictness applied to that definition has weakened the emphasis seemingly now on the backlessness although there standards too are loose, slingback mules common.  The term slide derives from being applied to designs permitting the foot to slide in and may thus apply to both mules and clogs rather than being a distinct style.