‘Collusion’ and its playful roots

A look at the surprising etymology of this dark word in the news.

|
Kathy Willens/AP
Oakland Athletics acting bench coach Chip Hale (r.), congratulates Athletics third baseman Matt Chapman after an interleague baseball game on July 23, 2017, in New York. While the phrase 'play ball' usually applies to America's national pastime, to 'play ball' with someone else is also often used to refer to collusion.

I remember when I first heard the word “collusion.”

Our family had just moved from a major metropolitan area to a town of about 10,000. One of the many adjustments we had to make was to retailers that didn’t carry much inventory. Anything we wanted that was not just plain vanilla seemed to require a special order from the regional distributor across the river in another state, or even from – gasp! – Atlanta.

Of course it was natural to have fewer choices in a smaller community. But the scuttlebutt we heard was that the situation was made worse by an inventory tax that local merchants had to pay on all goods in stock at the turn of the year. This gave them all an incentive to sell out of everything at the holidays and generally not to keep much merchandise on hand.

Well, I asked at one point of the grown-ups around me, clever 13-year-old that I was, couldn’t a merchant get around this by selling stuff to a friend at the end of the year and buying it back after he’d paid the tax?

The grown-ups were aghast. No, dear, that would be “collusion.”

This was clearly not a good thing. It sounded like a portmanteau of “collision” and “confusion.” Someone may have used the word “fraud” to explain what was wrong with my little tax-avoidance idea, and I certainly knew what fraud was.

Now with “collusion” very much in the news, a little etymological research seems in order.

There’s something actually ludicrous about it. I’m not kidding. The word has been part of the English language since before 1400, according to the Online Etymology Dictionary. It came into English via French from a Latin verb colludere, from com, or with, plus ludere, to play. 

Ludere is also the root of “ludicrous,” which originally meant “relating to play or to sport” before morphing, around 1780, into meaning “ridiculous,” for which it is a near-anagram. (The sound symbolism must have been a factor there.) 

Merriam-Webster identifies a number of word-cousins sharing that ludere root: “Allude” embodies the notion of “playing to” someone or something. A “prelude” is “played before” something, e.g., a church service. 

Delude” reflects the idea of “playing” or “laughing” someone “down” – of a put-down, in short. “Elude” seems to have meant something like “to go out with a punch line” before it meant “to evade.”

“Collusion” has had a darker history from the beginning, though. “Despite their playful history,” Merriam-Webster notes, “collude and collusion have always suggested deceit or trickery rather than good-natured fun.” 

But the idea of “play” does show up in the idiom so often used to refer to collusion: to “play ball” with someone else. And it’s actually more often used in the negative: “They wanted to involve him in their price-fixing scheme, but he wouldn’t play ball with them.”

Let’s hear it for not playing ball after all.

You've read  of  free articles. Subscribe to continue.
Real news can be honest, hopeful, credible, constructive.
What is the Monitor difference? Tackling the tough headlines – with humanity. Listening to sources – with respect. Seeing the story that others are missing by reporting what so often gets overlooked: the values that connect us. That’s Monitor reporting – news that changes how you see the world.

Dear Reader,

About a year ago, I happened upon this statement about the Monitor in the Harvard Business Review – under the charming heading of “do things that don’t interest you”:

“Many things that end up” being meaningful, writes social scientist Joseph Grenny, “have come from conference workshops, articles, or online videos that began as a chore and ended with an insight. My work in Kenya, for example, was heavily influenced by a Christian Science Monitor article I had forced myself to read 10 years earlier. Sometimes, we call things ‘boring’ simply because they lie outside the box we are currently in.”

If you were to come up with a punchline to a joke about the Monitor, that would probably be it. We’re seen as being global, fair, insightful, and perhaps a bit too earnest. We’re the bran muffin of journalism.

But you know what? We change lives. And I’m going to argue that we change lives precisely because we force open that too-small box that most human beings think they live in.

The Monitor is a peculiar little publication that’s hard for the world to figure out. We’re run by a church, but we’re not only for church members and we’re not about converting people. We’re known as being fair even as the world becomes as polarized as at any time since the newspaper’s founding in 1908.

We have a mission beyond circulation, we want to bridge divides. We’re about kicking down the door of thought everywhere and saying, “You are bigger and more capable than you realize. And we can prove it.”

If you’re looking for bran muffin journalism, you can subscribe to the Monitor for $15. You’ll get the Monitor Weekly magazine, the Monitor Daily email, and unlimited access to CSMonitor.com.

QR Code to ‘Collusion’ and its playful roots
Read this article in
https://www.csmonitor.com/The-Culture/Verbal-Energy/2017/0727/Collusion-and-its-playful-roots
QR Code to Subscription page
Start your subscription today
https://www.csmonitor.com/subscribe