lemma

A lemma is a term or phrase that’s being defined or explained. Huh? Here it is in action – when you look up a word in a dictionary or, more likely these days, type a word into a dictionary search bar, the word you’re typing is called a lemma.

Lemma has its origins in ancient Greek. It’s derived from the Greek word ‘λῆμμα’ which means ‘something taken’, ‘an assumption’ or ‘a proposition’. It’s the noun (person, place or thing) form of the verb (doing word) ‘λαμβάνω’, or ‘lambanō’, which means ‘to take’.

The plural of lemma is either ‘lemmas’ or, if you’re feeling a bit arcane, ‘lemmata’. And it’s also where we get the word ‘dilemma’ from – which is ‘lemma’ in the sense of a proposition, with ‘di’ meaning ‘two’ at the start – two propositions.

All of this emma-based etymology caused me to ask ChatGPT what my name means. He told me it comes from the Germanic word ‘ermen’ or ‘irmin’, which means ‘whole’ or ‘universal’. He went on to say that Emma is ‘a classic name that carries a sense of timelessness and elegance’. Fingers crossed he wasn’t just buttering me up before he steals my job and brings about Judgement Day.

If you’re not a fan of ‘lemma’, another word for a term being defined is a ‘definiendum’. It’s fun to say, and will deffo make you sound like a smarty pants. You’re welcome.

recalcitrant

Despite sounding like a medical complaint, recalcitrant is an adjective (AKA a describing word) for someone or something that stubbornly refuses to follow rules or instructions, while also being a dick about it. Think stroppy teenagers, Donald Trump or my dog*.

Recalcitrant’s angry roots are Latin, from ‘recalcitrare’, which is a combo of ‘re-’ (meaning ‘back’ or ‘again’, as in ‘return’, ‘recall’ and ‘recover’) and ‘calcitrare’, which means ‘to kick’. Why kicking? Well, in its original sense, ‘recalcitrare’ was used to describe the behaviour of a stubborn or unruly horse that literally kicked back at someone trying to control or train it. Over time, we’ve extended the term’s meaning to describe people who resist authority, are uncooperative, or are unwilling to be controlled or directed.

I asked my friend ChatGPT if he (it’s definitely a he) had any stories about stroppy horses. And he told me about Clever Hans. Now Clever Hans wasn’t actually stroppy (so I don’t think ChatGPT is going to be taking over the world just yet, seeing as he can’t even get that right), but it is quite an interesting story, so I thought I’d include it here anyway.

Clever Hans was a horse born in 1895ish who became famous for doing sums and other clever things. He would answer questions by tapping his hoof, and became a sensation in Germany in shows run by his owner, Willhelm von Osten. Hans could add, subtract, multiply, divide, work with fractions, tell time, keep track of the calendar, differentiate between musical tones, and read, spell, and understand German, which makes him much cleverer than yours truly.

Sadly, it turns out although Hans was a very clever horse, he was perhaps not quite as clever as everyone thought. A psychologist called Oskar Pfungst carried out a series of experiments to understand how Hans was answering questions correctly. And he discovered that the horse was actually responding to subtle (and unconscious) cues from his trainer and human audience. For example, when he was asked a question, he would start tapping his hoof. When he reached the right number of taps, the audience would involuntarily exhibit subtle body language changes like tensing up or relaxing. Hans would stop tapping when he detected these cues, giving the appearance of getting the question right.

One of the ways Pfungst realised he was doing this was that he only got the answer right when the person asking the question knew the answer themselves. This is now called the ‘Clever Hans effect’, and has changed the way scientists all over the world investigate animal intelligence.

Even after he was debunked, von Osten, who refused to believe Pfungst's findings, continued to show Hans around Germany, where he still attracted large and enthusiastic crowds. It’s worth pointing out that Willhelm never charged for any of these shows, either before or after Clever Hans was outed. Nice, right?

Also, I still think Hans was pretty clever.

*I love you really, Gus.

Clever Hans with Willhelm

trivia

You know what trivia is – information that’s usually quite interesting and perhaps not that widely known, but probably not that important. Also a thing that you have to have ready when you’re female and you tell a man you’re interested in something, and he immediately asks you to prove it (actual conversations with male friends: ‘I’m a big Star Wars fan.’ ‘Really? How many forms of communication is C-3PO fluent in*?’ And: ‘I love watching tennis.’ ‘Yes? How many French Opens has Nadal won**?’)

The word ‘trivia’ comes from Latin and is the plural form of ‘trivium’ (but don’t ever use the singular version because you’ll sound like a dick), which means ‘place where three roads meet’. In ancient Rome, ‘trivium’ was used to refer to the three subjects of the beginners’ liberal arts course at university, which were: grammar (my fave), rhetoric (the study and practice of persuasive public speaking) and logic (a branch of philosophy focusing on valid and sound reasoning). While these might not seem that trivial to us, the fact that ‘trivium’ was the name for the beginners’ class is probably why it’s since evolved to refer to less important information.

I asked my robot overlord, ChatGPT, to tell me some trivia, and here’s what it said:

• Honey never spoils. Archaeologists have found pots of honey in ancient Egyptian tombs that are over 3,000 years old and still perfectly edible.

• The shortest war in history occurred between Britain and Zanzibar in 1896. It lasted only 38 minutes.

• The world’s oldest known recipe is for beer. It dates back to ancient Sumeria around 1800 BCE.

• The Eiffel Tower in Paris was originally intended to be a temporary structure, built for the 1889 World’s Fair. It was almost dismantled afterward but was saved because of its value as a radio transmission tower.

• The average person spends around six months of their lifetime waiting at red traffic lights.

• The national animal of Scotland is the unicorn.

• The world’s largest flower is the Rafflesia arnoldii, which can grow up to three feet in diameter and weigh up to 24 pounds. It’s also known for its distinctive smell, often likened to that of rotting flesh.

• Astronauts’ height can change in space. Without the force of gravity compressing their spines, they can grow up to 2 inches taller while spending extended periods in space.

*It’s six million. Which I did know.

** It’s 14. Which I didn’t know. But I do now, and I’m ready for you, men.

algebra

SHUDDER. I was terrible at maths at school, and even the thought of algebra still fills me with horror. But, I’m all for feeling the fear and doing it anyway (except when it comes to sharks, which I’m also very scared of), which is why algebra is my word of the week. Also, it has an interesting backstory which isn’t, as you might assume, anything to do with Greek.

Before we get into that though, let’s have a quick refresher for anyone who, like me, can only vaguely remember their school days. Algebra is a branch of maths that focuses on studying mathematical symbols and the rules for manipulating those symbols to solve equations (that just sent another shiver down my spine), which apparently makes it easier to solve complex problems. Here’s a super-simple algebraic equation:

2x + 5 = 11

And here’s a really not simple explanation for how to solve it (thanks to my robot overlord, sorry ChatGPT, for doing the maths for me. Also, feel free to skip to the next paragraph if you just don’t care):

In this equation, ‘x’ is the variable, and the objective is to find the value of ‘x’. First, we isolate the variable ‘x’ by subtracting 5 from both sides of the equation:

2x + 5 - 5 = 11 - 5

This simplifies to:

2x = 6

Next, to isolate the variable ‘x’, we divide both sides of the equation by 2:

(2x)/2 = 6/2

This simplifies to:

x = 3

So, the solution to the equation is x = 3.

For anyone who’s still here, here’s why algebra is called algebra. The word comes from the Arabic phrase ‘al-jabr wa'l-muqabala’, which means ‘reunion of broken parts’ or ‘restoration and balancing’, referring to the process of restoring balance by transferring terms from one side of an equation to the other. Nice, right?

This rather romantic-sounding term was coined by the Persian mathematician Muhammad ibn Musa al-Khwarizmi in the 9th century. I have mixed feelings about Al-Khwarizmi because he came up with this lovely phrase (like), but he also pretty much invented algebra in his book ‘Kitab al-Jabr wa'l-Muqabala’ (don’t like). Just to make things even more complicated, his book was translated into Latin in the 12th century, which is when the west adopted the term (and discipline) ‘algebra’ and ruined many school children’s lives for centuries to come.

(Muhammad ibn Musa al-Khwarizmi also gets a prize for best job title ever: ‘astronomer and head of the library of the House of Wisdom’. Tough to fit on a business card though.)