Kel's previous Ozwords of the day...

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Ideology One word that crops up a lot in political discussion these days is ‘ideology’—so, what does it mean? Where did it come from? And does it matter? The word ‘ideology’ is first recorded in English in 1796—but back then all it meant was the study of ideas. It was first used in the way we use it today in 1896 in an article on socialism in the International Journal of Ethics. From that date until now ‘ideology’ has mean ‘a system.’ Or to spell it out in more detail: ‘A systematic scheme for how society should be run.’ Usually any ideology is based on a very few simple, central, ideas. Of course those ideas are then elaborated and spelled out (and sometimes applied!) in enormous (and complicated) detail—but it remains the case that at the heart of any ideology are just a few core principles. So at the heart of the ideology called ‘communism’ is the notion that employers exploited employees, and that the solution is abolish the private ownership of the means of production. In practice (in the Soviet Union, for example) that has not worked out so well. The ideology of ‘socialism’ is that government is responsible for every area of society and life. That’s a simple basic concept, but the result is that under socialist ideology governments need to be very big and very well-funded, so they can control and exercise responsibility over education, health, justice, welfare, culture, religion, family life, the environment and commerce. The simple core principle at the heart of an ideology is the spring that drives vast and complicated actions. The dominant ‘climate ideology’ of our day features just two key principles: (1) climate change is catastrophic and will result in widespread extinction; and (2) human beings by concerted action can control the global climate. Both of those principles are extremely dubious. But that is just an example of how a seemingly simple ideology can have far reaching consequences. The basic principle is this—ideology is the enemy of democracy.

Weird slang Every so often I like to bring you up-to-date with some of the nutty (or offensive) slang being battered around online. Here’s a list of a few more:

Ohio—is used (mostly on the Internet) to describe something that is weird, awkward, cringeworthy, or otherwise undesirable or bad in some way. It can also be used to mean ‘boring’ or ‘foolish.’ I think this might be the American equivalent of our word ‘bogan.’ This use of ‘Ohio’ as a put-down emerged in the late twenty-teens from statements along the lines of ‘only in Ohio.’ The idea is simple: you take a video of something clearly wrong and describe it as 'normal in Ohio.' You feed a baby in Ohio by throwing it out the window. Monkeys at the Ohio Zoo have AK-47s and so on. 

IJBOL—another of those initialisms that texting and emails seem to love. In this case it means ‘I Just Burst Out Laughing.’ It’s been around since at least the late 2000s. And I am told by people who take an interest in such things, that it is undergoing a period of popularity at the moment.

Pressed—stressed out, upset, offended, annoyed, bothered, etc. This slang sense of pressed originated in African American English and has since become widespread.

Uncanny valley—refers to a certain level or stage of lifelikeness (as of a doll, computer-animated character, robot, etc.) that is past the point of being impressive or endearing and is instead disconcerting, creepy. ‘Uncanny valley’ is credited to Japanese roboticist Masahiro Mori, whose 1970 article on the phenomenon contained a phrase that has been translated as ‘uncanny valley.’

Womp womp—this can appear as Womp womp (or womp womp womp or womp womp womp womp … you get the idea) and is used as an interjection to mock someone else’s misfortune or distress. English has the word ‘schadenfreude’ (adopted from German in 1895) which means taking a malicious enjoyment in the misfortunes of others. But since young Americans are largely illiterate they have never heard of this word (and probably couldn’t pronounce it) so they use their own intelligent expression for the same notion with this form of words ‘womp, womp.’ This mimics the sound of notes from what has been dubbed a ‘sad trombone,’ descending pitches long used in comedy, game shows, etc., to signal sadness or disappointment (because young Americans, of course, live on their screens.)

And that’s quite enough Weirdness for one day. More normal words tomorrow.

Populist (yet again!) My rage against the journalistic abuse of ‘populist / populism’ continues. As I have pointed out in the past, the meaning of ‘populist’ is identical to ‘democracy.’ The word ‘populist’ comes from the Latin word populus meaning people, while ‘democracy’ comes from the Greek demos also meaning people—so both words mean the will of the people. But that’s not how ‘populist’ is being used. It is regularly used by journalists as a sneer word—as a way of putting down a person or plan or movement. If it is ‘populist’ (the assumption is) then it must be bad. As I have complained in the past: what on earth do these mindless journalists think they mean by ‘populist’? They are assuming a meaning that is divorced from the etymology of the word, and from logical and rational thought. They just assume they are making sneering put-down when the say ‘populist’—so what do they (in their demented imaginations) think ‘populist’ means? Well, I have been following this irrational abuse of the English language, and I now think I know what they think they are getting at. These non-thinking journalists seem to imagine that ‘populist’ means ‘low brown.’ A recent headline read: ‘ALP goes populist to woo lost voters.’ The story said that Albanese is pursuing ‘a broad populist push to woo back frustrated young voters.’ That’s why I am guessing that these journos mistakenly believe that ‘populist’ means ‘low brow.’ To ‘go populist’ in their minds means to dumb down policy, and appeal to voters at their dumbest, non-thinking level. Of course, ‘populist’ doesn’t mean anything of the sort. But looking at the context where it is being thrown around, that appears to be their assumption. It is, of course, an offensively arrogant assumption—we the political journalists take an intelligent and well-informed approach to policy, but the dumb voters don’t know what day of the week it is, and they have to be pandered to with ‘populist’ (low brow) policies. Now I am happy to be proved wrong—but that seems to how the word ‘populist’ is being abused by journalists. Yet again the English language is butchered by the inky brigade!

Mollitude Weird Word time once again! I am always delighted when I discover a new word—and this one was new to me: ‘mollitude.’ It is a rare old word that means ‘softness or timidity; weakness of character or spirit.’ We can all think of people like that; people who have no real principles or values and who just never take a stand, who never stand up for anything. Allow a wave of mass migration to flood into Australia? Hundreds and thousands of them? Well, mutters the sufferer from ‘mollitude’, if that’s what they think is alright I won’t oppose it. In fact, the ‘mollitude’ person never really opposes much of anything. They are, as this suggests, spineless—a bit like a limp cat curled up in front of a fire! ‘Mollitude’ is recorded from 1599 and seems to come from the earlier word ‘mollity’ (another, rare, long-forgotten, old word). ‘Mollity’ is recorded from 1562 and means ‘behaviour thought to indicate weakness or unmanliness.’ When big government and big business all stood together and ordered everyone to support the Voice to parliament referendum in 2023, sometimes a major sport (such the AFL) just did what they were told. Didn’t stop to think. Didn’t summon up any backbone. Just caved in to the ‘woke’ voices around them. Then 60% of the Australian population showed they were made of sterner stuff and refused to be bullied, and said no to the Voice. The Merriam-Webster people point out that the great novelist Vladimir Nabokov used the expression ‘sunk in mollitude’—so perhaps the word is not entirely dead after all? Behind ‘mollitude’ is the classical Latin word mollitūdō meaning ‘softness.’ How rare is it? Well, the Oxford tells me that it occurs fewer than 0.01 times per million words in modern written English. But it’s a great insult word! And we need more highly literate and intelligent insults we can throw at people—don’t we?

Whipsaw Returning to the topic of President Donald J. Trump—there was a recent headline in America saying that Trump had ‘whipsawed’ some world leaders. This is a most unusual verb, that I suspect is almost never used in Australia. What does it mean to ‘whipsaw’ someone? Well, the verb starts as a noun. The Oxford English Dictionary inserts a hyphen into the word and says that a ‘whip-saw’ is ‘a frame-saw with a narrow blade.’ The big American dictionary, the Merriam-Webster, defines a ‘whipsaw’ (no hyphen) is ‘a type of hand-powered saw worked by two people.’ I keep picturing it has a very long-bladed saw made of flexible steel which can be used by two people in two different ways: either (1) one man on each side of a tree being cut down, or (2) one man down in a saw pit and the other above. As one man pulls, the other pushes, giving the saw a strong, deep cut each way. This meaning goes back to 1538. Then there’s the verb ‘to whip-saw’ (either with or without the hyphen!). This is recorded from 1842. It began with the meaning of cutting with a whip-saw. But clearly the headline about Trump was using the word figuratively, metaphorically. In what way did he ‘whipsaw’ some world leaders? The Merriam-Webster people say that the saw’s name can be figuratively applied to situations in which someone or something is doubly ‘cut,’ or hurt (‘cut’ as the saw thrusts one way, and again as it saws back). So, perhaps, British Prime Minister Keir Starmer, was hurt when Trump blasted him for failing to provide military support in the Iran War—and blasted him again when Starmer tried to claim that he was partly responsible for the ceasefire. But, as I say, we would never use the word in this way. We would never say Albanese had been ‘whipsawed’ when he denied there was any fuel crisis and when he then claimed he was on top of the crisis!

Wordle once more You’ll remember that I wrote about the online game ‘Wordle’ about five days ago. It’s an online word guessing game, which involves guessing a five-letter word in six attempts. It was invented by British designer John Wardle—the name ‘Wordle’ being a play on his own name. You start with five blank squares and have to invent your own five-letter word to get you started. Using colour codes the game then tells you which letters are in the target word, but that you have in the wrong place; which are right letters in the right place; and which letters don’t belong at all. You have a total six lines, six guesses, to work your way to the correct five-letter word for the day. ‘Wordle’ players say the best starter word is ‘adieu’—because it gives you four of the five vowels. John Wardle himself says that his starter word on ‘wordle’ used to be ‘stare.’ Then I asked readers to suggest the starter word they used (and to tell us their best score!) Let me share just a few of their replies with you. Gary's advice—'I start with RAISE and then GOUTY which gives me the vowels and Y. Works pretty well, but I often resort to a scrabble word finder if needed.’  Peter says: ‘My starter word is “aside”—three vowels and S and D both of which are common final letters in five letter words.  I have solved Wordle on line two about four times.  The words that trip me up most are DG words—such as lodge and wedge.’ Anne says: ‘I always use “piano” as my starting word and my best score is two guesses.’ Barbara writes: ‘I play Wordle Unlimited every day and set myself a time limit as it’s very addictive! The advantage of this site is that it is unlimited in the number of games, and also you can give up on the difficult ones and receive the answer immediately, instead of waiting for the next day’s results. You should give it a go! My best score was one try, and I have had several scores of two, but these were down to pure luck with no skill involved.’ I had never heard of Wordle Unlimited so that’s a good tip from Barbara. It’s found on a website called Wordly—and here’s the link: Wordle Game - Play Unlimited

Dementia There are some silly people (in the United States more than here) who like to claim that President Donald J. Trump is suffering from ‘dementia.’ Many people have very mixed feelings about Trump—liking some things he does and disliking others. Well, that’s fair enough—he is (after all) a politician! And, as you know, some people (again more in the United States than here) who suffer from TDS—Trump Derangement Syndrome. These are the people who seem to believe that everything Trump does is evil and wrong and is to be totally despised. Things that, if done by someone else they would approve of, they find disgusting just because it’s Trump who does them. This inability to weight things up thoughtfully and sensibly is Trump Derangement Syndrome. And it seems to me that it is clearly a sign of TDS when someone claims that Trump is ‘clearly displaying signs of dementia.’ The word ‘dementia’ was first used in English as a medical term around 1598. Behind it is the Latin word dēmēuns meaning ‘madness, craziness, folly.’ But these days ‘dementia’ has a very specific medical definition: ‘a usually progressive condition (such as Alzheimer’s disease) marked by the development of multiple cognitive deficits (such as memory impairment, aphasia, and the inability to plan and initiate complex behaviour).’ And whatever you think of Trump’s words or his behaviour he is clearly not suffering from that range of symptoms! As you know Australian traffic authorities often apply ‘double demerit’ points on holiday long weekends. My wife insists on calling these ‘double dementia points’! (Which I rather like. There are definitely some drivers, and some traffic conditions that could drive you mad double quick!

Vent your spleen Debra writes: “I had cause to use the phrase ‘to vent your spleen’ the other day and I thought of you. How on earth did this come about?” The spleen is an organ near your stomach that controls the quality of your blood. That is how modern medicine understands it—however it was not always thus. In the days before modern medicine, the ancients were basically guessing when they cut open a corpse and tried to work out what each organ did. This was back in the days when the body was thought to be controlled by the four fluids called ‘humours.’ These four fluids that controlled your health and your temperament were: blood, bile, black bile, and phlegm. These they thought (back in the days before modern medicine) had to be kept in balance—too much of one or another would mean you were unwell or behaving badly. Back then it was wrongly believed that the spleen produced bile (it’s actually the kidneys that make urine, or yellow bile as the ancients called it). Yellow bile was also called ‘choler’ and was believed to be the source of irritability and anger. That’s why people who are irritable are often called ‘choleric.’ (Or used to be—is this word ever used these days? Or has this been lost in the dumbing down of the English language?) For that reason the spleen was assumed to be the source of rage and anger. From this belief comes the notion of venting, or letting out, your anger—venting your spleen. The origin of the idiom ‘to vent your spleen’ seems to date back to Hippocrates in 400 BC. And for the reader who is often writing in, or calling in to 2GB, to claim that everything in modern English comes from Greek—well, this one did, so this should make you happy!

Death doula According to news reports, Nicole Kidman is training to be a ‘death doula.’ This is clearly a strange expression—and an even stranger idea. It appears that a ‘death doula’ is someone, said Kidman, whose role is simply to sit with someone, to provide comfort and presence during the last hours, or days, of their life. According to these news reports death doulas, are non-medical professionals who support people in the final stages of life. Their role is not to replace doctors, nurses or palliative care teams, but to complement them. The expression comes from Greek. The Greek word ‘doula’ originally meant ‘a slave or bondswoman’ but it changed over time. ‘Doula’ came into English around 1969 to mean: ‘A person, originally and typically a woman, who gives assistance to a new or expectant mother, either informally or professionally; especially a person (usually without formal obstetric training) employed to provide guidance and continuous support during labour or postnatally’ (Oxford English Dictionary). Now the expression has been applied to the other end of life—creating this idea of a ‘death doula.’ The question that occurs to me is: why is such a person necessary? I suspect one reason is the decline of Christianity. For Christians there will always be a priest or pastor or minister available to provide spiritual guidance, support and care at the end of life. In hospitals there is usually a chaplain available to do that. But for those people who have spent their lives ignoring God and have turned their backs on Christianity—what do they do? Well, I suppose they invent a substitute—rather like those ‘civil’ marriage celebrants who are so common these days. And that secular substitute is, it appears, called a ‘death doula.’ One other thought—isn’t this role (support and care at the end of life) the traditional role of family members? But does the very existence of a ‘death doula’ tell us that families are no longer there for each other? Just asking.

Wordle Have you ever played ‘Wordle’? My guess is that most Ozwords readers have played ‘Wordle’ at one time or another. As you probably know, it’s an online word guessing game, which involves guessing a five-letter word in six attempts. It was invented by British designer John Wardle—and, yes, the name ‘Wordle’ is a play on his own name ‘Wardle.’ He invented it during the Covid lock-down of 2020 as a game to play with his girlfriend Palak Shah. At first he thought it was just a game for them to play on the sofa together. Then he tested it on his family and decided rather more people might like to play it. So he launched it as an online game in October 2021. By January 2022 more than two million people were playing it. However, according to a recent newspaper report—all this attention and success didn’t make him happy. In fact, he says he found it very stressful. (He became, he says, quite miserable.) He didn’t invent the game to make money—but he ended up doing exactly that! In February 2022 he sold ‘Wordle’ to The New York Times for an undisclosed sum of money—but reported to be several million dollars. And if you want to play, the game is still available online, free, every day from The New York Times (just Google ‘wordle’ and you’ll find it). There is one new ‘Wordle’ puzzle each day. You start with five blank squares and have to invent your own five-letter word to get you started. Using colour codes the game then tells you which letters are in the target word, but that you have in the wrong place; which are right letters in the right place; and which letters don’t belong at all. You have a total six lines, six guesses, to work your way to the correct five-letter word for the day. Obviously, with this sort of game a great deal rests on your starter word. According to some obsessive ‘Wordle’ players the best starter word is ‘adieu’—because it gives you four of the five vowels. John Wardle himself says that his starter word on ‘wordle’ used to be ‘stare’—which gives you two of the most common vowels and one of the most consonants (‘s’). So, let’s do a little a poll, with two questions: (1) what do you think is the best starter word; and (2) how quickly have you solved a ‘Wordle’ puzzle (what’s your best score?).

William Tyndale One of the world’s leading linguists is Welshman David Crystal. I have many of his books on my shelves, and I have interviewed him (more than once) on my radio show. David Crystal’s latest book is called William Tyndale and the English Language. So, who was this William Tyndale and why does he matter to the English language? Tyndale (1494-1536) was the first scholar to translate the Bible from its original languages into English. The Old Testament part of the Bible was written in Hebrew (with a small amount in Aramaic) and the New Testament part of the Bible in Greek (in what is called koine or the ‘marketplace’ Greek of ordinary people). Tyndale mastered those languages and (for the first time) translated them into English. And he matters because he had an amazing gift for language (second only to Shakespeare). The full Oxford English Dictionary contains quotations (which they call ‘citations’) under each definition to show the use of a word over its history. The Oxford cites Williams Tyndale as the first user of 768 words, including ‘appropriate’, ‘daylight’, ‘pleasure’, ‘scapegoat’, ‘respect’, and more than 700 others. And as the first user of these words he may well have coined them himself. He clearly coined such expressions as ‘fell by the wayside’, ‘the powers that be’, ‘judge not’ and ‘daily bread.’ (For comparison Shakespeare has about 1,500 ‘first use’ citations.) Tyndale had a profound influence on the English language through the King James Bible, first published in 1611. Tyndale had, by then, been killed on the orders of Henry VIII and Sir Thomas More for having committed the crime of making the Bible available in the language of the people. Tyndale’s New Testament was smuggled into Britain (from the Netherlands where he was hiding from his would-be killers) from 1524 onwards (then distributed secretly and hidden by their owners). When, on the orders of King James, an official English Bible (also called the Authorised Version) was compiled and published in 1611 around 70% of it was from William Tyndale’s translation. And that was how Tyndale profoundly shaped the English language—a story that David Crystal tells (brilliantly as always) in his new book. 

Crater When the Artemis II astronauts flew around the far side of the moon (and, thankfully, back again!) the word ‘crater’ became a highly looked up word on the Merriam-Webster website. A lunar crater is fundamentally a bowl-shaped depression in the surface, nearly always formed by a hypervelocity collision with an asteroid, comet, or meteoroid. Although the term “crater” can also refer to volcanic vents on Earth, the Moon’s features are overwhelmingly the result of external impacts. The vast majority of the estimated 1.85 million craters larger than one kilometre in diameter are impact structures. Many of the moon’s craters have been given names by the International Astronomical Institution. The moon has millions of these things—from tiny depressions to huge basins. During their journey around the moon the four astronauts passed on to mission control their request that an unnamed crater on the moon be dedicated to Carroll Wiseman, the wife of mission commander Reid Wiseman. She was only 46-years-old when she died of cancer in 2020. (And, yes, their request was granted.) The word ‘crater’ has been part of English since around 1613. It came into our language directly from an identical Latin word meaning ‘bowl or basin.’ Behind the Latin word is an ancient Greek word meaning ‘mixing bowl.’ When it first appeared ‘crater’ was only used to mean the mouth of a volcano; so, it meant a ‘bowl or funnel shaped hollow at the summit or on the side of a volcano, from which eruptions can take place.’ From this it came to mean ‘a depression formed by an impact (as of a meteorite).’ Which is exactly how the moon’s millions of craters were formed. One of which is now called the Carroll Wiseman Crater—a nice touch!

Highly Irregular One of my favourite books on the English language is called Highly Irregular. I think I’ve written about this before, but it has come up again because one of our small grandsons is in second class at primary school, and he is finding that every time he is taught a spelling rule he then has to learn lots of exceptions to the rule. That’s just the way the English language is. I keep saying to my wife, ‘I have a book on my shelves that explains all of this. It is called Highly Irregular.’ And it is directly relevant to the language that puzzled that seven and eight-year-olds are struggling with in our schools. It explains why ‘tough’, ‘through’ and ‘dough’ don’t rhyme; why there are two ways of saying the letter ‘G’; why so many verbs are irregular; why the ‘teen’ numerals don’t begin until 13 (instead of at 11 and 12); where the H comes from in ‘ghost’; why we pronounce ‘colonel’ the way we do. And so on and on. Highly Irregular was published by Oxford University Press in 2021. The author is Arika Okrent (yes, she does have a highly irregular name!)—a linguist and a writer about language. There are so many puzzles this book covers—such as why Y is sometimes a vowel and sometimes a consonant; why we can be ‘clean-shaven’ but not ‘clean-shaved’; and why ‘of’ is pronounced with a V but spelled with an F. Have you ever wondered why we can go slow, but fall fast asleep? Where the ‘egg’ comes from when we egg someone on? Why there is a P in ‘receipt’ a B in ‘doubt’ and an L in ‘salmon’? I noticed recently that the distinguished chef Marcus Waring pronounces the L in ‘almond’—which the rest of don’t. Why not? I think this is a wonderful and enlightening book. So if your local library doesn’t have a copy of Highly Irregular ask them to get a copy in for you. Or, if like me, you want a copy on your shelves, it is a relatively recent publication and should be available at Booktopia or Amazon. (If not, every second-hand book in the world is available at ABE Books.) And what are we telling out grandson about all this? Sorry, but it’s back to rote learning—you just have to memorize these Highly Irregular words!

Phubbing Recently the word ‘phubbing’ made a brief appearance in a news story. ‘Phubbing’ means ‘phone snubbing’ and is a portmanteau word packing those two component parts into one new word. I’m sure you know what ‘phubbing’ is—it happens when someone treats their phone as more important than the human being standing immediately in front of them. Their phone rings in the middle of a conversation and they immediately respond to the phone, cutting you short and ignoring you— ‘phubbing’ you. A recent news story from Britain complained that shops are becoming increasingly annoyed by this habit. Rouz Habibi is the owner of More Munchies in Acton Vale, London. She says called it a ‘constant’ frustration, adding: ‘They walk in on their phones, order on their phones, sit down on their phones. They don’t even look up when you’re serving them. I find it very rude.’ And she is just one of many. Bakery and café owner Beverly Botha is in the same camp, saying it’s become ‘more and more common’ over her 12 years in business. The article went on to quote numerous shop owners all with the same complaint—constant ‘phubbing.’ Now, this interests me because I was one of the small team of people who invented the word ‘phubbing.’ I’m sitting here trying to remember how long ago this was—it was perhaps 20 years ago. A small group of us were assembled by Sue Butler, who, at the time, was the publisher of the Macquarie Dictionary—with the aim of inventing a new word. I can’t now remember who the others were on the team—although I’m sure one of them was David Astle (cruciverbalist and ABC radio host). We came up with several options, but the one we settled on was this one ‘phubbing.’ I always had my reservations about whether ‘phubbing’ would catch on or not—on the grounds that it doesn’t work when spoken aloud (it sounds like ‘fubbing’ which means nothing). It only works in print—and 90% of communication in English is spoken not written. But I am happy to be proved wrong, and to see phubbing is listed in at least some of the world’s great dictionaries (the Cambridge and the Collins to name two) and continues to bob up from time to time in news reports. So, perhaps we didn’t do too badly after all.

Enjoy Derrick has written to ask about an uncommon use of a common word—namely this familiar word ‘enjoy.’ In modern usage it normally means something like ‘to take pleasure in’—as in ‘you’ll really enjoy the food as this café, it’s terrific.’ But Derrick has found ‘enjoy’ in a 1647 document that he finds a bit puzzling. The document in question is something called The Westminster Shorter Catechism. This is a document that consists of 107 short questions and answers. What puzzled Derrick is the very first question and answer. Here is it is (in the words of 1647): Question: What is the chief end of man? Answer:  Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever. Derrick asks ‘What does “enjoy” mean here? Surely it can’t mean “take pleasure in” as we mean by “enjoy” these days? Can you help me with the history of the word “enjoy”?’ Well, I can try! ‘Enjoy’ came into English from Latin via Old French around 1380. There is some evidence that the Old French source word was also related to our word ‘jewel’—meaning something of value. The Latin source word meant ‘rejoice’ is the sense of ‘a source of joy.’ But there is more. ‘Enjoy’ has had a long and varied history as part of the English language. Around the time this Westminster Shorter Catechism was written in 1647 ‘enjoy’ also carried the meaning of ‘to benefit from.’ So, it is possible. Derrick, that when the document was written the intention was to say that the chief end of man was ‘to benefit from’ the blessing, acceptance and approval of God. Does that make sense? Of course, the word ‘man’ in the document is being used in the old way to mean ‘mankind’ (that is, humanity considered collectively and individually). The other less familiar word here is ‘glorify’—which means to acknowledge, to honour, to respect, to exalt. So there is a whole worldview embodied in these short sentences, Derrick. It is a worldview that says the universe is basically personal not impersonal—making it possible to have a relationship with the Mind Behind the Universe, the Big Brain Behind the Big Bang. And it sees this relationship as the core meaning and purpose of every human life. So, big picture stuff, Derrick, in these short sentences.

Anti-Zionist What does the term ‘anti-Zionist’ mean? If someone calls themself an ‘anti-Zionist’ are they really a Jew hater who is trying to conceal the truth? The more familiar word ‘antisemitic’ really means nothing or less than ‘Jew hater’—and I have written about that word and its origin in the past. So, what about ‘anti-Zionist’? Is that in the same category? The positive form of the expression, ‘Zionist,’ is recorded from 1891 with the meaning of ‘an advocate or supporter of a movement among Jewish people for the re-establishment of a Jewish nation in Palestine.’ This notion was embodied in the Balfour Declaration—a public statement issued by the British Government in 1917 during the First World War announcing its support for the establishment of a ‘national home for the Jewish people’ in Palestine. Of course, that was well before the establishment of the state of Israel by the United Nations in 1948. (‘Zion’ is the Biblical name for Jerusalem.) The negative form, ‘anti-Zionism’ is recorded from 1899—so even before the state of Israel was re-established in 1948 there were people opposed to Jews having their own homeland. I find it difficult to understand this opposition. They claim Jews arriving in the new state of Israel drove out the Palestinians. This is historically untrue—the Palestinians who left chose to flee rather than live in Israel (and were encouraged to do so by radical Islamists). Sometimes they say Jews and Palestinians should have equal rights—but in modern Israel they do. There are around seven million Jews and two million Arabs living in Israel—all with exactly the same civil, political and legal rights. There are Arabic members of the Israeli parliament, and Arabic judges in Israeli courts. Palestinians who live in Israel have greater freedom and greater prosperity than Palestinians living in Gaza or the West Bank. Given the mixed, democratic, and egalitarian nature of modern Israel it is hard to see how a so-called ‘anti-Zionist’ can be anything except anti-Jewish. The argument that Jews should not be allowed to live in their own ancestral homeland (occupied by Jews three thousand years ago) can be nothing but racist hatred of the Jewish people. To argue that every other people in the world should be allowed their own homeland except the Jews can be nothing but racist hatred of Jews. I may be wrong, but it looks to me as if people who call themselves ‘anti-Zionist; are really just ‘antisemitic’—but are too cowardly so say so.

Godspeed Staying on yesterday’s topic of the current NASA moon mission, the word used when they were launched was the word ‘Godspeed.’ As Reuters reported: ‘Launch director Charlie Blackwell-Thompson said: “Reid, Victor, Christina and Jeremy, on this historic mission you take with you the heart of this Artemis team, the daring spirit of the American people and our partners across the globe, and the hopes and dreams of a new generation.” She then added, “Good luck, godspeed, Artemis II. Let’s go!”’ Now this is a very dated (and to us rather odd) word ‘Godspeed’—so where does it come from, and what does it mean? The word goes back to around 1500, and the Oxford English Dictionary says it is used to express a wish for the success of a person who is setting out on some journey or enterprise. It is used as a formal and old-fashioned way to wish success to someone who is leaving especially on a journey. ‘Speed’ comes from the Old English spēd, which referred to prosperity, good fortune, and success. ‘Godspeed’ comes from the Middle English phrase God spede you (meaning “God prosper you”) and is now used to wish someone a prosperous journey. Today we think of ‘speed’ as meaning rapid movement. In fact, that’s almost the only way we use it these days. But something of the older, broader, meaning of ‘speed’ lives on in the phrase ‘up to speed’ which we still use. In the past the word was used to name the result of speed—namely, getting on top of things and succeeding (often with the result being prosperity). The expression ‘up to speed’ later picked up an extended meaning in reference to the act of giving someone all the information they need in order to be effective. So, now you are up to speed. And I can only wish you ‘Godspeed’!

Artemis and Orion As you read these words there is a small crew of four astronauts flying towards the moon. The plan is that they will orbit the moon (travelling further from Earth than any human beings have done before—some 250,000 miles from Earth) and then return. This is all part of the NASA plan to build a moon base which will be permanently inhabited by astronauts (much as the international space station currently is—but much larger and further away). This mission is called Artemis II and the space capsule (although I prefer to call it a ‘spaceship’—the term I used in my childhood) is called Orion. So, this probably a good time to look at the origin of those two words. Firstly, the mission: Artemis is the name of a Greek moon goddess often portrayed as a virgin huntress. Artemis was the daughter of Zeus and Leto and the twin sister of Apollo. Among the rural populace of ancient Greece, Artemis was the favourite goddess. Her character and function varied greatly from place to place, but behind all forms lay the goddess of wild nature, who danced, usually accompanied by nymphs, in mountains, forests, and marshes. So, a wild name for a wild ride on a giant rocket! Now—Orion. This is the name of a major star constellation lying on the celestial equator, at the edge of the Milky Way, which is interpreted as looking like a hunter with a belt and sword. The constellation took its name from ‘Orion’ one of the Giants of Greek mythology, a mighty hunter, killed by Artemis. The risings and settings of the constellation Orion were associated with stormy weather. So lots of Ancient Greek mythology in those names. And perhaps this mission is of mythological proportions!

Pray hard In the current issue of the Weekend Australian Angela Shanahan has a column about the crisis currently facing Australia (and the world). She spells out how dire this could become. Now I draw this to your attention not to make you pessimistic (although I suppose it might do that!) but because of the last two words in her column. She ends by writing: ‘this Easter this suburban mum will do the only thing she or any of us can in the face of this war. Pray—hard!’ And I draw this to your attention for two reasons: (1) this is Easter; and (2) my latest book is called Pray Like This. In that book I offer the following definition of the word ‘prayer.’ It means: ‘asking God for things.’ Of course, the book says a lot more than that—and ends with a list of practical suggestions about praying. In the Introduction I write this: “There is, deep within the human heart, an instinct not to stand alone—to find comfort, help, support and a sense of belonging in prayer. We now know the universe around us to be a vast, measureless place. And we have a deep longing not to be the orphans of the universe. We long to see meaning and purpose in our lives and in the bigger picture of the world around us—to find our connection to the Mind Behind the Universe. And we intuitively feel that prayer is the pathway to this.” To look at prayer I do what I do in these Ozword columns: I go through the most famous prayer in the world (The Lord’s Prayer, also known as the Our Father) and unpack it word by word—each chapter being a short word-study on a key word in that prayer. There is a total of 21 words studies in all. To find out more, here’s a link to the publisher’s website (where you can buy a copy if you wish): Pray Like This – matthiasmedia.com.au

See a man about a dog Have you heard the expression ‘I’ve got to see a man about a dog’ used when someone is leaving the room? Have you ever used it yourself? Why on earth would such a phrase be used as a jocular excuse for leaving? And (as you probably know) some people use it when they’re leaving to go the toilet—which, if anything, is odder still. Mind you, it’s not always used that way—quite often ‘I have to see a man about a dog’ is just a flippant way of excusing one’s departure for some undisclosed appointment. Where did it come from? Well, there is quite a long history behind this phrase—and a lot of the story is told by the brilliant Nigel Rees in his book A Word in Your Shell-Like. There he tells us the phrase turns up in a line of dialogue in Dion Boucicault’s play The Flying Scud, or a Four-Legged Fortune—on the London stage in 1866. In that play, one of the characters says: ‘Excuse me Mr Quail, I can’t stop; I’ve got to see a man about a dog.’ However, the Oxford English Dictionary has tracked down a use of the phrase a year earlier, in 1865, in a publication call the Anti-Teapot Review—a magazine that combined politics, literature, and art (published between 1864 and 1866, so it didn’t last long). A year after its establishment it included this line: ‘The husband will… find that he has to absent himself by going to London, to “see a man about a dog”, or on some other important business.’ Did Boucicault pick up the phrase from the magazine? Did he then make it widespread by putting it into a popular play? Quite possibly. Which means it just started as a false (jocular) excuse for refusing to say where you were going and what you were going to do. In 1938 crime writer Ellery Queens (in Devil to Pay) turned it around, and had someone say they had to ‘see a dog about a man’ (very cute!) Then the most famous Australia songwriter of the 1930s and 40s Jack O’Hagan (who wrote ‘The Road to Gundagai’) put the words into a song—in these immortal lines: ‘Excuse me for my hurry / But I tell ya boys I’m worried / ‘Coz I’ve got to see a man about a dog.’ The song was called ‘I’ve Got to See a Man About a Dog’. I’d tell you more, but I have to go now (to see a man about a dog).

Two times / twice Is the word ‘twice’ disappearing from modern English? Is it being replaced by the term ‘two times’? They are exact synonyms—so using one or the other does not change the meaning. I have encountered one website that claims there is a difference—that ‘twice’ always refers to succession while ‘two times’ refers to something which is countable. That’s completely idiotic. There is no such distinction. They mean exactly and precisely the same thing. ‘Twice’ is the older of the two expressions, coming from the days when the Anglo-Saxons spoke Old English more than a thousand years ago. ‘Two times’ is recorded from 1450 and comes from the cardinal number ‘two’ (which was rather more like ‘twain’ in Old English). Another claim being made these days is that ‘twice’ is seen as a formal word, and is used more often in writing, while ‘two times’ is more informal and is likely to found in conversation. Perhaps. But I’m sure this was not always the case. For some reason exact words such as ‘twice’ seem inclined to fade in our modern world, and be replaced by what strike me as more childish versions, such as ‘two times.’ Young children will understand, and say, ‘two times’ some years before they learn the word ‘twice’ (if they ever do). So to my (ancient) ears ‘two times’ sounds infantile, while ‘twice’ sounds adult. But things do seem to be changing—as the frequency of use figures tell us. The form ‘two times’ appears around one thousand times per million words in English, while ‘twice’ appears on average around thirty times per million words. The related word ‘thrice’ has suffered even more from this steady dumbing down of our society. ‘Thrice’ now only appears around once per million words. But I am convinced ‘twice’ was more common back in our grandparents’ and great-grandparents’ day. So, are you going to say, ‘I walk to the park twice a day’ or ‘I walk to the park two times a day’? In other words, are going to sound literate? Or illiterate?

Barrel With the oil crisis continuing it is clearly time to ask why oil measured in ‘barrels.’ The word ‘barrel’ came into English around 1300 from a French source word, with closely related words in Portuguese and Spanish and a medieval Latin word lurking somewhere in the background. ‘Barrel’ has always meant, from the beginning, what it means today—a cylindrical cask. But to be used as a measurement for oil these barrels must, we assume, be of a standard size—so how does that work out? Apparently the story is that in the early days of the American oil industry (mid 1800s) oil was produced in relatively small quantities, and it was often transported in wooden barrels. The use of barrels as a unit of measurement was largely a matter of convenience, as it allowed oil producers and traders to easily quantify their products. Eventually the need for standardization became important. In the late 1800s, the American Petroleum Institute was established, and one of its main goals was to standardize the measurement of oil. They defined a standard barrel as 42 US gallons, and this has remained the standard unit of measurement for oil to this day. Of course there are other complications. An American gallon is 128 fluid ounces, while a British gallon is 160 fluid ounces. From the days of Richard III a barrel of wine was defined as 42 ‘wine gallons’—and for some reason ‘wine gallons’ (128 fluid ounces) were less than ordinary water gallons (160 fluid ounces). In 1824 Britain standardized a gallon as being 20% larger than a ‘wine gallon’—which was then re-labelled a ‘US gallon’ (also known as a ‘short gallon’) because the Americans refused to follow suit. The result is that a barrel of oil contains 42 US gallons but only 35 British gallons. And I suspect I have told you more about barrels of oil than you ever wanted to know!