Scofflaw: (n) as neologisms go, the word scofflaw has an interesting back story. It is a portmanteau word, derived by combining scoff + law. Scofflaw’s origin came about in 1923 when Massachusetts banker Delcevare King offered up a prize of $200 in gold to the American public for the best word which described “the lawless drinker”.. America being knee-deep in the era of Prohibition at the time and King being one of Prohibition’s greatest zealots. The winning entry (in fact ‘entries’, as two separate entrants submitted the same word), came from Henry Irving Dale and Kate L Butler (who herself was a Anti-Saloon Leaguer) who shared the prize. ‘Scofflaw’ beat a field of over 25,000 entries which included ‘boozocrat’ and ‘boozshevik’ (“DELCEVARE KING, BANKER, 89 DEAD; Prohibitionist’s Contest Led to Coining of ‘Scofflaw’ “, New York Times, 22-Mar-1964; “Ken Burns & Lynn Novick: Prohibition”, PBS, broadcast 2011, www.pbs.org). So, it’s original meaning was someone who drinks illegally (earning the opprobrium of prohibitionists like Mr King) or someone who mocks (scoffs) or ridicules anti-drinking laws. Over time scofflaw was extended to mean “a person who flouts the law, especially by failing to comply with a law that is difficult to enforce effectively”…in the US since the 1950s the word has largely been applied to individuals who habitually violate laws of a less serious, non-criminal nature, especially traffic violations (‘Scofflaw’ Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org/; www.thefreedictionary.com/).
Prohibition: confiscating barrels of illegal grog in America (Source: Pinterest)
As part of the government mantra directed towards us home-front civilians in the war on coronavirus, we are asked by our leaders, entreated even, to practice safe social distancing. In the early days of the war against the invisible biological enemy we were told to immediately implement social distancing from others at all times. Later this was quantified and codified – 1.5 metres distance outdoors from others, no congregations of people of more than 500, indoors a four to one ratio, no more than 25 people in a room 100 square metres. And yet at the same time—this is where the mixed messaging starts to gain traction—we were told we can keep using public transport to go to work or school or uni or TAFE. So we pile onto crowded buses, trains and LRVs like the George Street ‘Snail’, at peak time. We shop in scarcity-hit supermarkets teeming with increasingly chaotic shoppers, we sit in class rooms and cafés and pubs and restaurants, or line up in the ever-lengthening queues of the recently unemployed outside Centrelink offices – in all instances numerically and spatially infringing the prescribed limits✱. We should all, even the politicians, shout as one – “I’m a violator!” All of us at some point have been or will be violators – by design or default!
Bondi: defying the coronavirus warnings (Source: AAP)
Scofflaws and recusants of the world unite!And what of those other violators of social distancing in this time of pestilence, the beach-going masses whose capers—from Sydney all the way to Florida—the media have revelled in? The beach-goers at Bondi and other popular summer-time beaches who are either indifferent or wilfully tone-deaf to the authorities’ daily mantra of abstinence or are pleading ignorance of the messages on the grounds of being Generation X, Y, Z, Millennials, Xennials (or whatever term you prefer) and therefore invincible. We can add peripatetic domestic tourists currently roaming around the country to the list of sloth-minded transgressors. Whether the violators are blatantly snubbing their noses at society and authority or are forced by circumstance into breaking the government’s edicts, the trajectory of the crisis suggests that a new generation of scofflaws is in the making. These multitudes, theses new scofflaws or recusants, some with a very deliberate rationale of defiance, will undoubtably continue to breach government warnings and (now) rules on social distancing and contact as the crisis continues⊞, replacing the traditional notion we have of scofflaws – unrepentant recidivists who accumulate unpaid parking fines or debts, ignore summonses or graffiti public or private property.
Given the sheer impossibility of compelling all citizens to maintain social distances in public (considering the scale of the enterprise and the limitations of the enforcement agencies), it will probably come down to the will and commitment of governments and bureaucracies to enforce these rules. The stick is already out…the NSW police minister has announced that individuals breaching the social distancing guidelines will be instantly fined $1,000 or even jailed (this second option however is highly implausible in the present health climate which sees the country’s prisons under fire for crowding too many inmates in together!) (‘Breaking social distancing rules will lead to on-the-spot fines of $1,000’, ABC News, 25-Mar-2020, www.abcnews.com.au). Tough talk✬ but it remains to be seen how thoroughly this threat to act will be prosecuted or how practical it will be to implement. You can also expect the civil libertarians of the community to come out in earnest support of the Covid scofflaws, defending to the last adjective their right to freedom of movement. Watch this space.
Footnote: Of course the opposite could also happen – if recent reports of public reactions to self-isolation are an indication. We may witness a whole lot of people coming out of the woodwork, channeling their inner Oliver Cromwell and dobbing in their scofflaw neighbours to the local constabulary for breaching their two week home quarantine.
Postscript: Tips for occupying some of the 960 minutes a day of stay-at-home time you are awake
The more realistic and level-headed of us who are not still spending our days at the beach (yes there are scofflaws still trying to circumvent the barriers now in place at popular beaches) are hunkering down for the long haul during the pandemic. So if you are looking for some light reading material while in mandatory hibernation for the winter, there’s always that classic allegory of unrelentingly grim reality, Camus’ The Plague☌, or if you want something more apocalyptically contemporary, try The Road or Station Eleven.
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✱ even more unfathomably bizarre, after the latest round of war cabinet lockdowns, is the circumstance of hairdressers and barbers – they have been allowed to stay open and serve the public, whilst still observing the 1.5 m gap. How that will be expected happen remains a mystery to all except the inner workings of the war cabinet I surmise (robotic arms and 150cm-long scissors may be the answer!)
⊞ the best the government can hope for is to minimise the non-compliance of this cohort so that the numbers of them who are infected and the numbers that they infect are kept as low as possible
✬ certainly a considerably more substantial deterrent than the drop in the ocean £30 Boris has announced he’ll fine scofflaw Britons
☌ incidentally, sales of Camus’ book about a disease-infested 1940s Algerian town have soared during the pandemic (The Economist, April 2020)
Canadian political philosopher John Ralston Saul is the secular high-priest of doubters and cynics, a non-believer in “the gospel” of the modern corporate state, constantly debunking the conventional wisdoms offered up as “absolute truths” in Western society
Although Saul calls his volume “a dictionary”, the term applies more to the book’s format (utilising the standard A-Z form of the dictionary) than to its content or purpose. The Companion goes on to define Dictionary as “Opinion presented as truth in alphabetical order”. And Answers are merely “a mechanism for avoiding questions”. Saul decries the trajectory of modern dictionaries and language (which have been captured by the forces of a rational orthodoxy), yearning instead for a return to the Humanist dictionaries of the 18th century (Voltaire, Diderot, Johnson, etc)². 
When I first delved into The Doubter’s Companion (around 1995), my mind took me to that other great cynic’s dictionary of the early 1900s, Ambrose Bierce’s The Devil’s Dictionary. Both works, albeit very different books, are idiosyncratically unconventional takes on language and meaning in their respective societies, and both proffer a contrarian view of the established wisdom of the day. Both Saul and Bierce are provocateurs, each with their own personal axe to grind⁌.
The Doubter’s Companion, by its polemical nature is unequivocally meant to shake up orthodox thinking (TDC was described by one reader as “an abecedarium of subversion”). The dictionary form of the book is a device Saul employs to launch into short philosophical essays on topics about modern post-industrial society that concern him—corporatism, individualism, leadership and managerialism, freedom of expression, communication, public relations, advertising and the way language is distorted to control communications (see his definition of ‘ideology’). In so doing, Saul skewers the accepted veracity of many of the words, phrases and terms you will find in today’s dictionaries.
Saul savages that that most universal institution of fast food, MacDonalds:
Happy Hour is “a depressing comment on the rest of the day”.
Saul includes in the alphabetical list a number of surprising and disparate entries for a reference book on philosophical common sense. These include Ants (Saul makes the unexpected and unverified statement that the members of the Formicidae family of eusocial insects “do nothing 71.5 per cent of the time”)
Museums: Safe storage for stolen objects.
Highly influential literary critic of the first half of the 20th century, HL Mencken, heaped lavish almost doting praise on The Devil’s Dictionary… “
⇑ First (1911) edition of the Dictionary
Cynicism and satire provide the backbones of Bierce’s provocative dictionary. So, an interesting place to start looking is how he handles these terms – the words ‘satire’, ‘cynic’ and ‘dictionary’ themselves. Despite being fully versed in the craft himself, Bierce views the practitioner of cynicism less than favourably.
Romance and true love falls by the wayside with Bierce’s cynic always hovering around ground level:
The Dictionary dishes up a smorgasbord of satirical, ironic and often bitter definitions of the world as seen by Ambrose Bierce (one of the acerbic writer’s nicknames was “Bitter Bierce”). But Bierce is of course a creature of his time with all the glaring faults and prejudices of the 19th century white man’s mindset. So, through the satire and cynicism we witness the less savoury traits and predisposition of the lexicographer. Casual assumptions of racism and misogyny run through the pages of The Devil’s Dictionary. 
Three hundred years ago this coming April, London merchant-cum-journalist Daniel Defoe published his debut novel anonymously✱ – it was to become one of the most iconic and most imitated literary works ever…it began with a title page descriptor that read in full:
Once “cast on Shore by Shipwreck”, Crusoe, isolated and alone, is forced to make the best of a perilous predicament in an alien and challenging environment. His solitary, epic struggle in the face of hardships and the existence of threats from wild animals and the unknown elevates the story to mythic proportions. The myth is complete when Crusoe ultimately succeeds in conquering all impediments and fashions the island into his own “miniature Great Britain”.
