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Geographies of Agriculture:
Globalisation, restructuring
and sustainability
GUY M. ROBINSON
School of Geography, Kingston University, London

Flnit published 1004 by Pearson Education Ijm ite d
Published 201J by Foulledge
2 Park Square, Millon nait, Abingdon, Oxoti O X !4 JR.N
7] I Third .Venue. New York. NY LOO] 7. ITSA
Rouikvfee It tin imprint o fifte Taylor & Francis Group, cmin/orma business
Cispyriglti C- 2004, Taylor & Francis.
The right o f Guy Robinson ro be identified bis the author of
rliis work has been asserted by him in accordance wiih
rbc Copyright, Designs and Patent Act I9R8,
AM righss reserved. No part o f this boot may be reprinlcd or reproduced or ulilised in any form or
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m writing from Ihc publishers.
Notices
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broaden our understanding, changes in research methods, professional practices, or mLL
dical
treatment may hemme necessary.
Practitioners anil researchers must always rely un (heir <iwn experience and knowledge in
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using such information nr methods they should he m iodfui o f their own satety and the safely o f
others, including parties for whom they have a professional responsibility.
To the fullest etfent o f the law, neither the Publisher nor ihe authors, contributors, or edilors,
assume any liability fbr any injury and/or damage to persons or property as a matter o f products
liability, negligence or otherwise, or from any u » or operation o f any meihuds, products,
instructions. Or ideas contained in ihe material herein,
ISBN 13: 97S-0-5B2-3S662-7 (pbk>
British Library Cataluguing-in-Publication D ata
A catalogue record for this book is available trorn the British Library
Library o f Congress Cataloging’in'Publication Data
R obinson, G- M , (Guy M,J
Geographies o f agriculture : globalisation, restructuring, and sustainability t Cuy M . Robinson,
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0 -5 J2 -3 5 6 6 2 -8 (pbk.)
1. A gricultu ral geography. 1. T itle .
W94.5.G46R6.3 >003
33 S.1'09— dc2l
2003i>49882
Typeset in 10/12pt Sabon by

Contents
List of figures vii
List of maps ix
List of tables x
Preface xii
Acknowledgements xiv
1 Agricultural systems
1.1 Introduction 1
1.2 The agri-ecosystem 2
1.3 Climate and agriculture 3
1.4 Agricultural soils 9
1.5 Energy 14
1.6 Climatic change and agriculture 18
1.7 Classifying agricultural systems 23
1.8 Conclusion 27
2 The changing focus of agricultural
geography
2.1 ‘Traditional’ agricultural
geography 30
2.2 Behavioural approaches 32
2.3 Political economy approaches 36
2.4 New theories to explain
agricultural change 43
2.5 Conclusion 52
3 Globalisation of agricultural
production
3.1 The nature of globalisation 53
3.2 Globalisation and agri-food
production 57
3.3 From productivist to
post-productivist agriculture? 60
4 Agri-food networks
4.1 Food retailing and consumption 74
4.2 The corporate retailers 78
4.3 The alternative food economy 84
4.4 Conclusion 88
5 Government and agriculture in the
Developed World
5.1 The goals of agricultural policy 89
5.2 The Common Agricultural
Policy of the European Union 91
5.3 Reforming the Common
Agricultural Policy 98
5.4 Agriculture and the expansion
of the European Union 107
5.5 Macro-level change 115
6 Specialisation and diversification
6.1 Specialisation 121
6.2 The survival of family farming 128
6.3 Farm diversification and
pluriactivity 134
6.4 Conclusion 145
7 The ‘other side’ of globalisation:
farming in Developing Countries
7.1 Differential impacts of
globalisation 146
7.2 The dual economy 147
7.3 The ‘advancing wave’ of
commercialisation 149
7.4 Banana wars 166
CONTENTS v

8 Solving the world food problem?
8.1 Human hunger 171
8.2 Approaches to the study of
hunger and famine 172
8.3 The vulnerable groups 177
8.4 Food aid 179
8.5 Land reforms 186
8.6 ‘Green Revolution’ solutions 190
9 Land use competition
9.1 Losses and gains of agricultural
land worldwide 198
9.2 Land-use competition in the
rural–urban fringe 203
9.3 Protecting farmland from
urban development 210
9.4 Hobby farming in the
rural–urban fringe 217
10 Twenty-ﬁrst agriculture: towards
sustainability?
10.1 ‘Industrial’ farming and
environmental well-being 220
10.2 The discourse of sustainable
development 226
10.3 Towards sustainability? 233
10.4 Agri-environment schemes 240
10.5 Genetic modiﬁcation 258
10.6 Conclusion 261
References 265
Index 323
vi CONTENTS

FIGURES vii
7.1 Some systems of land rotation in
tropical Africa 149
7.2 Change within agricultural systems
in sub-Saharan Africa where the
adoption of animal traction has
taken place 151
7.3 Agricultural economies: the move
to modernity 160
7.4 Evolution of numbers and
proportion of agricultural
workers in the workforce, from
1960: (a) cross-over in the
1970s; (b) later cross-over;
(c) delayed cross-over;
(d) early cross-over 161
7.5 Network ‘strengthening’: fair-trade
and commercial coffee networks
exhibit distinctive ‘modes of
ordering’ 165
8.1 (a) The causal structure of
vulnerability; (b) the social space
of vulnerability: mapping the
space of vulnerability through
social relations; (c) the social
space of vulnerability: mapping
vulnerable groups in the space of
vulnerability; (d) the social space
of vulnerability: mapping critical
regions in the space of
vulnerability 178
8.2 (a) Demise of the moral economy in
South Asia; (b) Green Revolution
in south India 180
8.3 World food aid donations,
1970–2000 182
8.4 World Food Programme
commitments, 1978– 2001
(US$ millions) 183
8.5 The context of US food aid policy 185
Figures
1.1 Simple conceptualisation of a
farming system 2
1.2 Maximum recorded yields in
different latitudes of C3- and
C4 crops 5
1.3 Nutrient cycles in agricultural
systems 16
1.4 Comparisons of various farming
systems based on energy use:
I New Guinea; II Wiltshire,
England, 1826; III Ontong Java
Atoll, South-West Pacific; IV
Wangala, South India, 1955,
V Wangala, South India, 1975;
VI Moscow Oblast collective
farm; VII Southern England, 1971 18
1.5 The agricultural impacts of global
climatic change 19
2.1 The people–environment interface 33
2.2 The agri-food system 37
2.3 Real regulation 49
4.1 Simplified network of the linkages
in an agri-food system 74
4.2 The growing share of the food
market taken by supermarkets
in the UK, 1988–97 80
5.1 Agricultural policy goals 90
5.2 Farm size distribution in the EU,
1995 95
5.3 Age structure of farmers in the EU,
1995 95
6.1 Broiler production from hatchery
to processing plant 128
6.2 The Sun Valley Poultry operation 129
6.3 Conceptualisation of the
relationship between farm
diversification and pluriactivity 136
6.4 Classification of structural
diversification enterprises 138

8.6 The relationship between yield,
energy and labour inputs in
rice-growing systems 194
9.1 Future options for world
agriculture 199
9.2 The von Thunen model: (a) land
rent versus agricultural land use;
(b) land rent versus a range of
land uses 204
9.3 Actors and the land market 207
9.4 The rural system conceptualised 208
9.5 Urban growth and changes in
rural land use 209
9.6 Major uses of farmland in the
USA, 1900–2000 213
10.1 Headline indicators for
populations of wild birds in
the UK 221
10.2 Temporal occurrence of the
foot-and-mouth outbreak in the
UK, 2001 226
10.3 DfID’s sustainable livelihoods 229
10.4 (a) Reasons for participation in
agri-environment schemes;
(b) reasons for non-participation
in agri-environment schemes 245
viii FIGURES

MAPS ix
Maps
1.1 Duration of vegetative period in
Europe: number of days between
seeding of summer grains in spring
and of winter wheat in autumn 6
1.2 Proportion of agricultural land
that is irrigated 8
1.3 Major soil types 13
1.4 A crop-combination map for
Scotland 24
1.5 Classiﬁcation of world agricultural
types 26
1.6 Multivariate agricultural regions
in the UK (the units represent
standard deviations from the mean):
(a) component 1 (+ arable versus
cattle −); (b) component 2 (+ rotation
grass/roots versus permanent
pasture −); (c) component 3
(+ cash cropping versus beef
cattle −); (d) component 4 (+ small
farms versus large farms −) 28
5.1 Distribution of set-aside in England
and Wales 104
5.2 Countries applying for membership
of the EU, 2002 109
6.1 (a) Distribution of farming types
on the Canadian Prairies;
(b) oilseed producing areas and
oilseed crushing plants on the
Canadian Prairies 123
8.1 Distribution of the world’s
‘malnourished’ population 173
8.2 Distribution of infant mortality 174
9.1 Green Belts in England 212
10.1 Spatial occurrence of the
foot-and-mouth outbreak in the
UK, 2001 225
10.2 The distribution of organic
farming in the USA 235
10.3 The UK’s ESAs 249
10.4 Take-up rates for the CSS in
England, to summer 1999 253

Tables
Table 1.1 A classification of
agricultural systems based
on climate–soil–crop
inter-relationships
(agri-climatological
types) 4
Table 1.2 The Dokuchaev soil
classification 10
Table 1.3 Soil taxonomy in the
USA 11
Table 1.4 Soil classification for
England and Wales 12
Table 1.5 The Norfolk four-course
crop rotation 16
Table 1.6 Energy measures for
seven agricultural systems 17
Table 1.7 Climate sensitivities and
adaptive responses in
southern Alberta, Canada 21
Table 1.8 Factors limiting
consideration of climate
in the research and
development process 22
Table 1.9 Land classification in
Great Britain (1948) 23
Table 1.10 Classification of world
agriculture 27
Table 2.1 Actor-network
terminology 35
Table 2.2 Actants in the actor
network for recycling
sewage sludge on
farmland in the UK 36
Table 2.3 Development of the
political economy
perspective 40
Table 2.4 Food regimes 43
Table 3.1 Typology of world-scale
processes 56
Table 3.2 The industrialisation of
agriculture: primary process
responses 62
Table 3.3 The industrialisation of
agriculture: secondary
consequences 63
Table 3.4 Elements of farm business
adjustment 64
Table 3.5 Dimensions of productivism
and post-productivism 69
Table 4.1 Indicators of quality
products 86
Table 5.1 The changing objectives of
the Common Agricultural
Policy 92
Table 5.2 Farmers’ subsidies as a
percentage of gross farm
revenue 93
Table 5.3 Member state contributions
to the EU’s Common
Agricultural Policy, 2000
(a billion) 93
Table 5.4 Characteristics of agriculture
in the member states of the
EU 94
Table 5.5 Agricultural productivity in
the EU, 1961–2001 96
Table 5.6 Examples of habitat
destruction in the UK,
1945–90 97
Table 5.7 Reforms proposed by EC
farm ministers, May 1992 99
Table 5.8 Summary of types of
set-aside 102
Table 5.9 General uses and
management practices on
set-aside land 102
Table 5.10 The pillars of the Common
Agricultural Policy 106
x TABLES

Table 5.11 Characteristics of agriculture
in the CEECs, mid-1990s 108
Table 5.12 Distribution of farmland
by organisation in selected
CEECs, 1998 110
Table 5.13 Arguments for land reform
in the CEECs 111
Table 5.14 Changes in Hungarian
agriculture following
reforms in the mid-1990s 114
Table 6.1 Cropping patterns on the
Canadian Prairies 125
Table 6.2 Total agricultural labour
force, 1950–2000 133
Table 6.3 The decline in the agricultural
labour force in the EU,
1950–2000 133
Table 6.4 Types of farm diversification
in the UK 135
Table 6.5 Pathways of farm business
development 139
Table 6.6 Leading components of
farm-based recreation 145
Table 7.1 The characteristics of
smallholder agriculture 152
Table 7.2 Factors contributing to
lack of innovation amongst
Zairian cassava growers 156
Table 7.3 An agricultural transition
model for south-east Asia 160
Table 7.4 The impacts of large-scale
agribusinesses and corporate
retailers in Developing
Countries 163
Table 7.5 Key features of EU Council
Regulation 404/93 166
Table 8.1 Population estimated to be
chronically undernourished,
1970–90 172
Table 8.2 Differences between
receipt of food aid and GDP
per capita, 2000 184
Table 8.3 Extent of agricultural
reforms in El Salvador,
1970s and 1980s 187
Table 8.4 Percentage of wheat area
planted to modern varieties
in the Developing World 191
Table 8.5 Labour input in crop
production in Bangladesh 195
Table 9.1 Land-use change,
1975–99 200
Table 10.1 Environmental impacts of
productivist policies 220
Table 10.2 The decline in bird species
in the UK, 1972–96 221
Table 10.3 Some features of the old
productionist and new
ecological health models
of food policy 224
Table 10.4 Sustainable development:
evolution of an idea 227
Table 10.5 Conditions to be satisfied
if agricultural systems are to
be sustainable 231
Table 10.6 Components of sustainable
agriculture 232
Table 10.7 Key questions to be
answered in developing a
research agenda on
sustainable agricultural
systems 232
Table 10.8 Organic production in the
USA – the leading states
(by area) 234
Table 10.9 Organic farming in the EU,
Switzerland, the Czech
Republic and Norway,
1998 238
Table 10.10 The principles of Integrated
Farming Systems 241
Table 10.11 Types of agri-environment
schemes (with examples) 244
Table 10.12 Co-financeable expenditure,
expenditure ratio and
scheme premia (selection)
for agri-environmental
policies in nine EU
countries, 1993–7 244
Table 10.13 Summary of items of work,
codes and payment in the
Countryside Stewardship
Scheme 251
Table 10.14 Number of CSS agreements
by landscape type, to May
1999 254
TABLES xi

xii PREFACE
Preface
Agricultural geography has long been an impor-
tant component of the geographical discipline and
has been the subject of numerous textbooks. These
have reflected the prevailing methodology of their
time, and so have moved from a regional emphasis
in the first half of the twentieth century towards
more systematic approaches, drawing initially upon
simple economic and behavioural theories. For
example, in the early 1980s there was a concern
with behavioural approaches to the subject, em-
phasising decision-making by individual farmers.
However, the dramatic changes within human
geography over the last quarter century have
also transformed agricultural geography, bring-
ing significant methodological and philosophical
changes to both discipline and sub-discipline alike.
These have rendered existing textbooks at best
deficient or even obsolete. There has been a glaring
need for a new introductory text on agricultural
geography to cover the wide-ranging work of
recent years, which has broadened the scope of
enquiry by treating agriculture as an integral part
of a wider food and fibre production system
encompassing input supply, farming, food process-
ing, wholesaling and retailing. This broader subject
matter has also been tackled from a number of
new perspectives so that Marxist theory, political
economy and regulationist approaches have been
embraced as appropriate tools for investigation of
new global trends in agricultural development.
These methods and ideas form a significant part
of this new text that embraces agricultural geo-
graphy’s place in the ‘new’ geography.
The book is intended as an undergraduate
textbook, relevant to those taking a second-year
or Honours option in agricultural geography or a
related area, but also suitable for some first years
taking more general courses in human geography.
In addition, it is intended to be of interest to a
broader range of students interested in agriculture,
food production and supply, and rural develop-
ment, especially those from sociology, economics
and development studies. It is aimed at students
throughout the English-speaking world.
The book consists of ten chapters, incorporat-
ing some traditional subject matter, such as the
factors of agricultural production and classification
of agricultural systems, but deliberately emph-
asising topics reflecting globalisation processes,
the integration of agriculture in the wider food
system, the concern with attaining sustainable
systems, and the importance of government and
supra-government policy. Although including many
examples from the Developed World (especially
North America and Western Europe), agricultural
issues affecting the Developing World are not neg-
lected as in some previous agricultural geography
texts, and there is a chapter dealing explicitly with
hunger and starvation (‘the world food problem’).
The concluding chapter is forward looking, with
references to the impacts of biotechnology, the for-
mulation of new policies for agriculture and chang-
ing demands of agriculture upon the environmental
resource base.
I would like to acknowledge the help and
encouragement, much of it at key times, over my
thirty years as a professional geographer that
I received from a number of distinguished former
colleagues, who helped shape my thinking about
life as much as on matters geographical. Sadly all
of the following are now deceased: Terry Coppock,
Frank Emery, Jean Gottmann, Jack Hotson,
John House, Kath Lacey, Mary Marshall, Walter
Newey, Paul Paget, Derrick Sewell and Wreford
Watson.
I am indebted to Matthew Smith, formerly of
Addison Wesley Longman, for his perseverance and
encouragement. At several times it must have

cajoled and encouraged in equal amounts, and
constantly reminded me that Philosophy is much
harder to write than Geography!
Note
Agricultural geography abounds with instances
of agro- and agri-. Hence agribusiness and agri-
environmental seem to be universal, whilst agro-
food network and agro-industrial are widely used.
Personally, agro- always puts me in mind of crowd
violence at soccer matches so I have taken a
unilateral decision and opted for agri- throughout
this book. I make no apologies to lovers of agro-.
Guy M. Robinson
Epsom Downs, Surrey
November 2002
seemed to him that I would never complete the
manuscript, but important activities such as golf,
gardening and support for West Bromwich Albion
notwithstanding, it did get ﬁnished. That it did so
owes much to inputs from various people, includ-
ing my colleagues at Kingston University, the
University of Otago, New Zealand, where I was in
receipt of a William Evans Visiting Fellowship, and
the University of Guelph, Canada, where I spent a
short period of research leave as I completed this
book. I received great assistance from Claire Ivison,
who produced all the maps and diagrams and
throughout showed great patience regarding my
pathetically inadequate efforts to describe what
each ﬁgure should contain. Most of all, though,
I must thank my wife, Susan, who corrected my
English, helped structure my arguments, criticised,
PREFACE xiii

xiv ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Acknowledgements
We are grateful to the following for permission to
reproduce copyright material:
Figures 1.2 and 1.4 from The ecology of agri-
cultural systems (Bayliss-Smith, T. P. 1982), pp. 10
and 109, and Figure 7.1 from Rural Africa (Grove,
A. T. and Klein, F. M. G. 1979), published by
Cambridge University Press; Figure 1.3 from
Farming Systems of the World by A. N. Duckham
and G. M. Masefield published by Chatto &
Windus. Used by permission of The Random House
Group Limited; Figure 1.5 from Adaptability of
agricultural systems to global climate change: a
Renfrew County, Ontario, Canada pilot study
(Brklacich, M., McNabb, D., Bryant, C. and
Dumanski, J. 1997) in Ilbery, B. W., Chiotti,
Q. and Rickard, T. (eds), Agricultural restructuring
and sustainability: a geographical perspective,
p. 186, published by CAB International; Figure 2.1
from Spatial behavior: a geographical perspective
(Golledge, R. G. and Stimson, R. J. 1997), p. 27,
published by The Guildford Press; Figure 2.2
from Whatmore, S. J. (1995), From farming to
agribusiness: the global agro-food system, in
Johnston, R. J., Taylor, P. J. and Watts, M. (eds),
Geographies of global change: remapping the
world in the late twentieth century, pp. 57–67, and
Figure 6.1 from Chul-Kyoo, K. and Curry, J. (1993),
Fordism, flexible specialization and agriindustrial
restructuring: the case of the US broiler industry,
Sociologia Ruralis, Vol. 33, pp. 61–80, published
by Blackwell Publishing Ltd.; Figure 2.3 reprinted
from Family farmers, real regulation, and the
experience of food regimes, Journal of Rural
Studies, Vol. 12, pp. 245–58 (Moran, W., Blunden,
G., Workman, M. and Bradly, A. 1996) and Figure
8.5 reprinted from Shifting global strategies of US
foreign food aid, 1955–90, Political Geography,
Vol. 12, pp. 232–46 (Kodras, J. E. 1993), with
permission from Elsevier; Figure 4.1 from The Greek
fresh-fruit market in the framework of the
Common Agricultural Policy, unpublished PhD
thesis, University of Coventry (Kaldis, P. E. 2002),
reprinted with the kind permission of the author;
Map 1.1 Springer-Verlag Agrometerology Seemann,
Chirkov, Lomas and Primault (1979); Map 1.2 from
The Food Resource (Pierce, J. T. 1990) and Figure
5.1 from Government and agri-culture: a spatial
perspective (Bowler, I. R. 1979), published by
Pearson Education Limited; Figure 6.4 from Farm-
based recreation in England and Wales, unpublished
PhD thesis, University College Worcester (Chaplin,
S. P. 2000), reprinted with the kind permission of
the author; Figure 7.2 from Changes within small-
scale agriculture. A case study from south-western
Tanzania, Danish Journal of Geography, Vol. 96,
pp. 60–9 (Birch-Thomsen, T. and Fog, B. 1996);
Figure 7.3 from An agricultural transition on the
Pacific Rim: explorations towards a model, in
Magee, T. and Watters, R. (eds), Asia Pacific:
new geographies of the Pacific Rim (Hill, R. D.
1997), pp. 93–112, published by C. Hurst & Co.
(Publishers) Ltd; Figure 8.1 from The space of
vulnerability: the causal structure of hunger and
famine, Progress in Human Geography, Vol. 17,
pp. 43–67 (Watts, M. J. and Bohle, H. G. 1993),
published by Hodder Arnold; Figure 9.1 from Land
transformation: trends, prospects and challenges,
Geographical Papers, University of Reading, no.
125, p. 25 (Mannion, A. M. 1998), reprinted with
the kind permission of the author; Figure 9.3 from
Land use conflict in the urban fringe, Journal of the
Scottish Association of Geography Teachers,
Vol. 18, pp. 4–11 (Pacione, M. 1989), published by
the Scottish Association of Geography Teachers;
Figure 9.5 from Techniques in map analysis (Wor-
thington, B. and Gant, R. L. 1983), p. 94, published
by Palgrave Macmillan; Figure 9.6 from Half a

century of cropland change, Geographical Review,
Vol. 91, pp. 525–43 (Hart, J. F. 2001), published
by the American Geographical Society; Figure 10.1
from The state of the nation’s birds (Gregory,
R. D., Noble, D. H., Campbell, L. C. and Gibbons,
D. W. 1999), published by RSPB/BTO/Defra;
Map 10.1 from Geographical aspects of the
2001 outbreak of foot and mouth disease in the
UK, Geography, Vol. 87, pp. 142–7 (Ilbery, B. W.
2002), published by the Geographical Association.
Whilst every effort has been made to trace the
owners of copyright material, in a few cases this
has proved impossible and we would be grateful
to hear from anyone with information which would
enable us to do so.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS xv

Allie
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1.1 INTRODUCTION 1
socio-economic elements and processes. This forms
‘an ecological and socio-economic system, com-
prising domesticated plants and/or animals and the
people who husband them, intended for the pur-
pose of producing food, fibre or other agricultural
products’ (Conway, 1997, p. 166). Agricultural
geographers have viewed this agri-ecosystem as
part of a nested hierarchy that extends from an
individual plant or animal and its cultivator, tender
or manager, through crop or animal populations,
fields and ranges, farms, villages, watersheds,
regions, countries and the world as a whole.
Agricultural geography includes work that spans
a wide range of issues pertaining to the nature of
this hierarchy, including the spatial distribution of
crops and livestock, the systems of management
employed, the nature of linkages to the broader
economic, social, cultural, political and ecological
systems, and the broad spectrum of food pro-
duction, processing, marketing and consumption.
The principal focus for research by agricultural
geographers in the last four decades has been the
economic, social and political characteristics of
agriculture and its linkages to both the suppliers
of inputs to the agri-ecosystem and to the pro-
cessing, sale and consumption of food products
(Munton, 1992). However, it should not be for-
gotten that at the heart of farming activity, under-
lying the chain of food supply from farmers to
consumers, is a set of activities directly dependent
upon the physical conditions within which farm-
ing takes place. Hence, before concentrating upon
the principal foci of contemporary agricultural
geography in the rest of the book, this chapter
outlines the key physical aspects of agriculture that
1 Agricultural systems
1.1 Introduction
Agriculture, or farming, is the rearing of animals
and the production of crop plants through cultiv-
ating the soil (Mannion, 1995a, p. 2). It is a mani-
festation of the interaction between people and the
environment, though the nature of this interaction
has evolved over a period of at least 10,000 years
since the first domestications of wild plants began
in the Fertile Crescent of the Near East around
10,000 years before present (BP) (MacNeish,
1992). Sheep, pigs, goats, cattle, barley and wheat
were first domesticated in this area, followed by
six other independent origins of agriculture: East
Asia (between 8400 and 7800 BP) utilising rice,
millet, pigs, chickens and buffalo; Central America
(4700 BP) and South America (4600 BP) produced
potato, maize, beans, squash, llama, alpaca and
guinea pigs; North America (4500 BP) had goose-
foot and sunflower, whilst Africa (4000 BP) had
cattle, pigs, rice, millet and sorghum.
The domestication of plants and animals spread
from the Near East into south-eastern Europe,
where the combination of improved cultivation
methods and an extensive trading network sup-
ported first the Greek and then the Roman
empires. It was these that gave rise to the term
‘agriculture’, which is derived from the Latin word
agar, and the Greek word agros, both meaning
‘field’, and symbolising the integral link between
land-based production and accompanying modi-
fication of the natural environment (Mannion,
1995b).
This modification produces the agri-ecosystem
in which an ecological system is overlain by

2 1 AGRICULTURAL SYSTEMS
Figure 1.1 Simple conceptualisation of a farming system
form the foundations to which the multi-faceted
human dimensions of farming activity are applied.
Six key factors can be recognised as influencing
the distribution of farming types: biological, phys-
ical, economic, political, socio-cultural and market-
ing (the food trade) (Ganderton, 2000, p. 161).
These factors are part of the simple conceptualisa-
tion of a farming system shown in Figure 1.1, in
which a series of inputs to the land generates a
series of outputs. Social, economic, political and
environmental factors affect the nature of these
inputs and outputs, producing tremendous varia-
tion in the pattern of the world’s farming systems.
This chapter examines the nature of the physical
basis to agriculture and considers the role that
physical and other factors play in determining the
nature of farming systems.
1.2 The agri-ecosystem
Unlike many aspects of economic activity, the con-
tributions made by the physical environment can
be of fundamental significance to the nature of the
farming system. In the Developed World especially,
farmers may have capital at their disposal to enable
purchase of inputs that can substantially modify
some of the physical characteristics of the land upon
which farming is based. Yet, the changeable nature
of weather and hydrological regimes can inject
elements of risk and uncertainty unknown to other
areas of economic activity. Despite the influence
of non-physical factors upon farming, farming
retains strong parallels with the natural ecosystems
from which agricultural systems derive, and hence
farming can be portrayed as an agri-ecosystem.
Economic system Physical system
Physical inputs
Energy
Water
Nutrients
Seeds
Livestock
Human inputs
Labour
Machinery
Management
Capital
Land
Crops Livestock
Soil
-flow
Harvest
Sale
Consumption
Political system
Social system

There is a reciprocal relationship between
environmental factors and agricultural activity.
Environment affects the nature of farming, exert-
ing a wide range of controls, but, in turn, farm-
ing affects the environment. Agricultural systems
are modifications of natural ecosystems; they are
artificial human creations in which productivity is
increased through control of soil fertility, vegeta-
tion, fauna and microclimate. This is intended to
generate a greater biomass than that of natural
systems in similar environments, though this may
also generate undesirable environmental conse-
quences. In particular, farming alters the character
of the soil and, through runoff, effects can be
extended to neighbouring areas, e.g. nitrate pollu-
tion of the watercourses and groundwater, and
effects on wildlife (Parry, 1992).
Agriculture can also be differentiated from
many other economic activities by virtue of the
fact that it deals with living things. The plants and
animals have inherent biological characteristics that
largely determine their productivity. They func-
tion best in environments to which they are well
adapted, and this exerts a strong influence on the
nature and location of agricultural production.
Despite the diversity of agricultural systems they all
have many common features, notably the human
control of ecosystems, for example by varying the
amounts of energy inputs. The extent and exact
nature of this control varies largely in response
to social and economic requirements. However,
the control is also affected by environmental char-
acteristics acting as constraints.
In an agri-ecosystem the farmer is the essential
human component that influences or determines
the composition, functioning and stability of the
system. The system differs from natural ecosys-
tems in that the agri-ecosystems are simpler,
with less diversity of plant and animal species and
with a less complex structure. In particular, the
long history of plant domestication has produced
agricultural crops with less genetic diversity than
their wild ancestors. In agri-ecosystems the biomass
of the large herbivores, such as cattle and sheep,
is much greater than that of the ecologically equiv-
alent animals normally supported by unmanaged
terrestrial ecosystems. Cultivation means that a
higher proportion of available light energy reaches
crops and, because of crop harvesting or consump-
tion of crops by domestic livestock, less energy
is supplied to the soil from dead and decaying
organic matter and humus than is usually the case
in unmanaged ecosystems in similar environments.
Agri-ecosystems are more open systems than their
natural counterparts, with a greater number and
larger volume of inputs and outputs. Additional
inputs are provided in the form of direct energy
from human and animal labour and fuel, and also
in indirect forms from seeds, fertilisers, herbicides,
pesticides, machinery and water. The dominant
physical or natural resource inputs to the farming
system are climate and soils.
1.3 Climate and agriculture
The greatest physical constraints upon agricultural
activity are generally imposed by average tempera-
tures, the amount of precipitation, and their annual
distribution. More localised limitations are imposed
by soil type, nutrient availability, topography,
aspect and drainage. In particular, though, climate
determines the broad geographical region in which
any given crop can be cultivated. Whilst modern
plant breeding has extended the moisture and tem-
perature requirements of many plants, they still
have their limits, and hence it is still legitimate to
refer to a strong degree of climatic determinism in
the distribution of agricultural crops. Rice and
Vandermeer (1990) have combined the influence
of climatic controls with edaphic factors to produce
a classification of the world’s agro-climatological
characteristics (Table 1.1). This classification is
one of several ways in which agricultural systems
may be differentiated. This is discussed further
below with specific reference to various types of
classification of agricultural systems.
1.3.1 Temperature
Both plant and animal growth are affected by
several climatic variables, notably receipt of solar
energy, precipitation available for transpiration
and temperature during the growing season. Rela-
tionships between these variables are rarely linear,
but optimum growth conditions can be recognised
1.3 CLIMATE AND AGRICULTURE 3

Table 1.1 A classification of agricultural systems based on climate–soil–crop inter-relationships
(agri-climatological types)
Agri-climatology
1. Wet tropical
2. Wet–dry
tropical
3. Cool tropical
4. Moist
mid-latitude
5. Dry
mid-latitude
6. Mediterranean
7. Arid
Note: The soil classification is the US Seventh Approximation or Comprehensive Soil Classification Scheme, which is discussed below.
(Sources: based on Rice and Vandermeer (1990) and Mannion (1995a))
Cropping systems
Shifting cultivation, plantation
cropping
Shifting cultivation, rice
cultivation, maize production,
dryland rainfed agriculture
Diverse agriculture, e.g. tea
plantations, coffee plantations,
dairy cattle
Cotton, peanuts. tobacco, soy
beans, rice, maize, tomatoes,
multiple cropping systems,
e.g. three main crops per year
Small grains, e.g. wheat,
maize (US Corn Belt), oil-seed
crops
Small grain production,
grazing, rainfed cereals,
viticulture, olives, citrus fruit
production
Pastoral nomadic systems,
some rainfed agriculture
Approximate distribution
Lat. 5°N to 5°S
Lat. 5° to 25°N 5° to
25°S
Mountainous zones of
the tropics, elevation
>1000 m, e.g. Andes and
high regions of S. Asia
Lat. 25° to 55°, mostly
northern hemisphere.
Frost threat present
Lat. 30° to 50°, mostly
northern hemisphere
Lat. 30° to 40°N, Wet
winter, dry summer
23.5°N, 23.5°S, band
either side of tropics
Soil type
Oxisols, Ultisols; Nutrient
poor
Vertisols, Alfisols, Mollisols;
Water content varies; high
clay content; fire is important
Soils are highly varied
Utlisols, Mollisols, Alfisols
Mollisols; high clay content
Inceptisols; high clay content
Aridisols; moisture deficit all
year; irrigation
where plants give the highest yields, i.e. the largest
weight of the edible part of the crop per unit area.
Generally it will be most economic to cultivate a
crop in a physical region around the optimum and
well removed from the absolute limit to the plant’s
growth. However, there are many other factors
that can affect the economic limits to production,
notably those impinging upon production costs and
market demand. Increases in production costs
and/or falls in price promote contraction of the
margin of cultivation towards the optimum area.
For example, with respect to the production of
maize and wheat in the area west of Buenos Aires,
Argentina, both crops can give high yields in this
area. However, maize is preferred because, from
the same inputs, its yields tend to be highest (Grigg,
1995, p. 23). Further south, where there is less
rainfall, maize yields decline more rapidly than
those for wheat as maize is less drought resistant,
and hence wheat becomes the dominant crop.
With reference to crop growth, provided there is
adequate water, the crucial determinants are tem-
perature and light, which effectively enable distinc-
tions to be drawn between tropical, sub-tropical,
temperate and cool-temperate agri-climatic regions.
These are broadly related to different biochemical
pathways of carbon dioxide fixation in photosyn-
thesis, which, in turn, reflect basic physiological
differences. Further adaptations of crops to climate
are associated with plant responses to seasonal
variations in weather (termed ‘phenology’).
There are certain inherent differences in photo-
synthetic efficiency between species. In particular
these relate to two different ways of using carbon

25–31°C and 21–37°C respectively. The corre-
sponding temperatures for warm-season cereals are
15–18°C, 31–37°C and 44–50°C.
Some crops have other particular temperature
requirements, such as needing an alternation of
low night-time and higher daytime temperatures.
Others need a degree of winter chilling before
flowering and seed-setting can occur within the
available growing period. Other crops are termed
photoperiodic, if it is day-length that is the trigger
necessary to initiate flowering. Four groups are
normally recognised (Tivy, 1990, p. 23):
• Short-day/long-night, with a photoperiod of
under ten hours, e.g. soybean, sweet potatoes,
millet. These occur in low latitudes where
spring or autumn seasons are warm enough
to allow their harvest cycle to be completed.
• Long-day/short-night, with a photoperiod of
over 14 hours, e.g. small grains, timothy,
sweet clover. These occur in high latitudes.
• Intermediate day, with a photoperiod of 12
to 14 hours and an inhibition of reproduction
either above or below these levels.
• Day-neutral, unaffected by variations in
day-length.
Variations in crop-growing habits in response
to climate, especially temperature, have played an
important part in the application of scheduling
techniques whereby farmers phase the planting and
harvesting of annual crops in order to make the
most efficient use of the time and space available.
This has become especially significant in the
production of fruit and vegetable crops for the
chilled and frozen food market, and was recogn-
ised in the 1950s when the climatologist C. W.
Thornthwaite constructed climatic calendars for
the planting and harvesting of peas for freezing by
the Seabrook Farms Co. in the USA (Wang, 1972).
There are various definitions of the growing
season, with perhaps the most useful being the
vegetative season, the period during which there
is production of sufficient vegetative growth to
support either continuously or subsequently the
necessary yield-forming activities (Map 1.1). A
common threshold of 6°C as the mean tempera-
ture has often been adopted to represent the com-
mencement of growth in temperate cereals and
Figure 1.2 Maximum recorded yields in different latitudes of
C3- and C4 crops (based on Bayliss-Smith, 1982)
dioxide, the C3-pathway and the C4-pathway,
which are strongly influenced by temperature
regimes. The former is common in temperate spe-
cies and the latter in species of tropical and/or arid
origins, and especially grasses. As shown in Fig-
ure 1.2, both types of plant excel in tropical and
sub-tropical regions, although there is a sharper
decline with rising latitude for C4 crops like maize,
sugar cane, sorghum and fodder grasses. These tend
to be tall, upright plants able to cope with
high light intensities during the middle of the day.
C3 species tend to outperform C4 crops in mid to
high latitudes. C3 crops include sugar beet, alfalfa,
soybean, wheat, potatoes, rice and ryegrass.
For each crop there is a temperature range
within which growth and development can take
place. The critical temperatures are:
• the minimum, below which there is
insufficient heat for biological activity;
• the optimum, at which rates of metabolic
processes are at their maximum;
• the maximum, beyond which growth ceases.
Higher temperatures may be harmful or
lethal.
For cool-season cereals Yao (1981) gives the ranges
for these three critical temperatures as 0–5°C,
70
0
a
CO
E 60
>.m
■n®
•2 | 50
C I
■Bg. 40
1 «
s i 30
Q .~
1 20
c
c
< 10
0
80
0 10 20 30 40 50 60 70
Latitude (°)
' C4crops (e.g. sugar cane,
sorghum, maize, Bermuda grass)
■C3Crops (e.g. manioc, sugar
beet, alfalfa, soybean, wheat,
potato, rice, ryegrass)

Map 1.1 Duration of vegetative period in Europe: number of days between seeding of summer grains in spring and of winter
wheat in autumn (based on Seemann et al., 1979)
grasses, though individual crops can deviate quite
widely from this. A related concept is that of accu-
mulated temperatures, which represents a meas-
ure of the relative warmth of a growing season
of a given length. However, this notion tends to
assume a linear relationship between increase in
heat and crop growth, which is misleading as
organic growth tends to occur at an exponential
rate. Factors other than temperature also affect
growth, thereby modifying the assumed linearity.
For example, the length and effectiveness of the
growing season also depends on availability of
sufﬁcient soil moisture, and indeed, in many parts
of the world, water is the main factor limiting crop
production.
1.3.2 Water
Water supply from precipitation is fundamental to
all agricultural systems, though its management
by the farmer can compensate for problems in
the natural supply. Water transports nutrients to
and through plants and also plays a vital role
in weathering, leaching and erosion. Therefore it
largely controls inputs of nutrients to and losses
from the system. Losses may occur through
Days
I 220-260
180-220
140-180
100-140
0 200 km

evapotranspiration, drainage to groundwater, and
lateral flow as runoff and throughflow to streams.
Water is stored in the soil, plant tissues and in the
bodies of livestock.
In many agricultural systems, moisture deficien-
cies are a vital limitation on crop yields (e.g. Cooke,
1979). Hence, management of water supply by
farmers can form a significant component of their
activities, forming part of the substantial modifi-
cations of the natural hydrological cycle that agri-
cultural activity creates. ‘The character and extent
of crop cover, tillage, land drainage and irrigation
practices, and – more indirectly – even the use of
fertilisers and pesticides all influence the amount
of water stored in the system and the quantities
lost by drainage, run-off and evapotranspiration’
(Briggs and Courtney, 1989, p. 11). These impacts
are of major concern in temperate areas.
In effect, agricultural practices disrupt the
pattern of the annual water balance that is
associated with the functioning of any ecosystem.
This balance is the outcome of the input from
precipitation versus losses from evapotranspira-
tion. If a surplus of water occurs then water can
accumulate in the soil until maximum storage
capacity (field capacity) occurs, after which there
is waterlogging or runoff. If evapotranspiration
exceeds precipitation there is a moisture deficit.
Plants then deplete the store of soil moisture until,
eventually, the soil is said to reach wilting point,
when evapotranspiration ceases and plants start
to wilt. In arid areas large soil moisture deficits
often develop during the growing season.
When the balance between precipitation, evapo-
ration and runoff is considered worldwide, it is
clear that certain areas are in much greater need
of irrigation and very careful waste management
in order to conserve water. Thus in North Africa
and the Middle East the water requirement for all
uses is around 97 per cent of the usable resource.
A high proportion of the available resource is
also used in the semi-arid areas of southern and
eastern Europe, and north, central and south Asia.
In these and many other parts of the world irriga-
tion can be important, reflecting the significance
of variations in climate, other physical character-
istics, the intensity of demand for water by a given
agricultural system and other demands on the
water resource. In total, irrigated agriculture con-
sumes 2500 km3
of water on 18 per cent of the
world’s cultivated land (Pierce, 1990, p. 126). This
represents a seven-fold increase in irrigated area
during the twentieth century (though there are
problems in defining what constitutes irrigated
land). The greatest contribution of irrigation to
national food output occurs in countries where
padi rice is a significant crop and/or where semi-
arid climates occur, e.g. Pakistan (65 per cent of
the cultivated area is irrigated), China (50 per cent),
Indonesia (40 per cent), Chile and Peru (35 per
cent), India and Mexico (30 per cent) (Rangeley,
1987) (see Map 1.2). ‘The majority of the irriga-
tion development in Asia is for the expansion
of rice cultivation, which already accounts for
three-quarters of food grain consumption there’
(Pierce, 1990, p. 131). Hence it is not surprising
that in India, Pakistan, the Philippines (and also
Mexico) much of the capital assistance for the
so-called ‘Green Revolution’ package to revolu-
tionise agricultural output in the 1960s and 1970s
was dominated by expenditure for the extension,
upgrading and maintenance of irrigation systems.
In the same decades the majority of Middle
Eastern countries allocated between 60 and 80 per
cent of their agricultural investment to irrigation
(UN Water Conference, 1977). Many of these
extensions to the irrigated area, as typified by the
opening of the Aswan High Dam in Egypt in 1969,
have been costly, large-scale projects reflecting the
fact that most of the sites with plentiful supplies
of water for irrigation have been utilised already.
Moreover, there is little evidence that economies
of scale are present in the larger schemes and hence
costs are very high, contributing in several cases to
the high indebtedness of Developing Countries
(Kreuger et al., 1992).
Whilst irrigation has had dramatic impacts
upon crop productivity and in extensions to the
cultivated area, especially in dry climate regions,
there have been some negative impacts associated
with alterations to the natural water-salt balance,
increasing the extent and risk of saline and alka-
line soils. Secondary salinisation and alkalisation
occur when the natural drainage system is unable
to accommodate the additional water input. This
causes a rise in groundwater levels, and capillary

Map
1.2
Proportion
of
agricultural
land
that
is
irrigated
(based
on
Pierce,
1990,
p.
131)
Percentage
of
agricultural
land
that
is
irrigated
80
to
100
50
to
79.9
30
to
49.9
10
to
29.9
1
to
9.9
Less
than
1

action can transport dissolved salts to the active
root-zone and surface areas. The extent of this
process depends on the depth of the groundwater,
but generally the higher the salt content of the
groundwater, the greater the depth through which
this saline solution can damage crops.
Following the expansion of irrigation in the
1970s, one estimate claimed that nearly 70 per
cent of the 30 million ha of irrigated land in Egypt,
Iran, Iraq and Pakistan were suffering from mod-
erate to severe salinity problems (Schaffer, 1980).
A further 7 million ha in India were also being
adversely affected following extensions of irriga-
tion in the central and western portions of the
Indo-Ganges plain, Gujerat and Rajasthan. Such
problems also occur outside the Developing World,
with major problems occurring in Australia, espe-
cially in conjunction with irrigation in the main
river basin, the Murray–Darling (Robinson et al.,
2000, pp. 57–62). Similar problems have been
recorded in several parts of former Soviet Central
Asia where there has been increased extraction
of river water for growing cotton. In addition to
exacerbating salinity problems, the high levels of
water consumption have also contributed hugely
to the demise of the Aral Sea, which has dramat-
ically shrunk in size in recent years.
1.4 Agricultural soils
The primary agricultural management practice is
the cultivation of the soil, which acts as the reserv-
oir of the water, minerals and nutrients that are
needed for plant growth. Cultivation involves
selecting plants likely to produce a satisfactory
yield; propagation, in which tillage of the soil
ensures suitable conditions for planting or sowing
and for feeding the crop; and protection from
competition for the primary resources by weeds
and from direct or indirect reduction in yield po-
tential by animal pests and pathogenic organisms
(Tivy, 1990, pp. 1–2).
Soils can vary considerably by virtue of changes
in their structure, depth, texture, plant nutrient
content, and acidity. These characteristics influ-
ence not only the types of crops that can be grown
but also their yields on both a macro-, world-scale
and also a micro-, field-scale. It is possible to argue
that there are optimum edaphic conditions for par-
ticular plants, analogous to the climatic optimum
referred to above, but rarely is there sufficiently
detailed information for this concept to be of prac-
tical value (Ellis and Mellor, 1995).
The edaphic optimum applies to soils in which
a wide range of crops may be grown with high
yields attainable without the need for extensive
modifications of the soil. For many plants this
optimum will refer to deep, well-drained loams
that are well supplied with plant nutrients. Some,
though, require highly specific soil conditions, for
example padi rice, which needs impermeable sub-
soil so that it can grow in waterlogged conditions.
However, the value of this optimum is limited in
terms of interpreting crop distributions. In part,
this is because of the lack of sufficiently detailed
widespread information on soils. Many countries
produce soil maps based on inference from under-
lying geology and climate rather than use of field
survey. Moreover, it is difficult to make strict
correlations between soil type and crop growth
without reference to a range of other environ-
mental variables. For example, soil texture is
generally regarded as an important determinant of
crop yields as it influences moisture availability,
and in temperate climates texture is usually the
main edaphic determinant of yield, but this is also
dependent on rainfall and evaporation, not simply
texture.
A vital characteristic of soil is its depth. In
general, the deeper the soil, the greater will be its
capacity to store water and minerals. Shallow soils,
as found in many glaciated areas, cannot carry
enough moisture to support plant growth, supply
sufficient nutrients or support root development.
Some thin soils, such as those frequently developed
on limestones, may give good yields of shallow-
rooted cereals. In contrast, certain plants only
thrive in deep loams, as in the case of potatoes.
Soil texture refers to the relative importance of
particles of different sizes. The large particles of
sandy soils provide light, well-drained land that
is readily warmed for early spring planting. In
contrast, fine particles of clay soils retain water,
are slower to warm in spring and are heavy to
cultivate. However, clay soils release potassium
1.4 AGRICULTURAL SOILS 9

only slowly so they are less likely to suffer from
potash deficiency. Their water-retaining capacity
can be of advantage in dry conditions, but their
tendency to waterlogging has meant that under-
drainage has proved particularly important in
helping to improve yields (e.g. Phillips, 1975).
Loams are a combination of clay and sands, which
neither tend to suffer low moisture content nor
excess water.
Acidity is another significant soil variable. This
is usually measured on the potential hydrogen (pH)
scale that runs from 0, the most acid, to 14, the
most alkaline, with a pH of 7 indicating a neutral
soil. The degree of soil acidity is determined by
the chemical composition of the underlying parent
material and the rate of leaching, which, in turn,
is closely related to the amount and type of pre-
cipitation. In temperate climates soil acidity is
greater in areas in receipt of heavy rainfall, e.g. in
Britain acid soils occur in the west and in upland
areas, where a pH of around 4.9 can ensure
good crops of potatoes and a pH of around 6.2
supports good crops of lucerne, grown for cattle
feed. Increasing soil acidity reduces the amount
and activity of nitrogen-fixing bacteria, and it also
reduces organisms that improve soil texture and
structure. As a result, few crops thrive in acidic
soil. Similarly, few like highly alkaline conditions,
with most preferring neutral or mildly acid con-
ditions. Some cereals, notably oats and rye, can
tolerate relatively high acidity. Highly alkaline soils
are common under semi-arid conditions and where
irrigation produces waterlogging. High alkalinity
may be tolerated by barley, cotton and the date
palm.
1.4.1 Soil classification
Work on the classification of soils in the late nine-
teenth century by the Russian pedologist, V. V.
Dokuchaev, and on soil-forming factors in the
1930s by Jenny (1941) produced both a basis
for classifying soils and an understanding of the
relationships between soil properties and environ-
mental factors. These factors are climate, parent
material, biotic factors (vegetation, animals and
human activity), relief and time over which the
factors have operated.
Dokuchaev focused on large-scale soil varia-
tions associated primarily with the relationships
between soils, natural vegetation and climate in
Russia. He argued that environmental factors were
crucial in producing dynamic processes that formed
different soil layers or horizons, but with an equil-
ibrium that could be established eventually, along
the same lines as was later suggested for vegetation
and ‘climax’ plant communities (Tansley, 1953).
Three basic soil classes were recognised: zonal,
intra-zonal and azonal, the first of which was
identified as soils that had developed in particular
climatic and/or vegetational regimes. As shown in
Table 1.2, seven soil types were recognised in this
zonal category. There were three in the intrazonal
or transitional category, where local physiographic
or lithological factors could override zonal factors
in influencing soil development. Azonal soils occur
where erosional and depositional processes domin-
ate other soil processes.
Table 1.2 The Dokuchaev soil classification
Zone Soil type
Zonal classes
Boreal Tundra (dark brown) soils
Taiga Light grey podzolised
Forest–steppe Grey and dark grey soils
Steppe Chernozem
Desert–steppe Chestnut and brown soils
Desert Aerial soils, yellow soils, white
soils
Sub-tropical Laterite or red soils
Intrazonal classes
Dryland moor soils or
moor–meadow soils
Soils containing carbonate
(rendzina)
Secondary alkaline soils
Azonal classes
Moor soils (e.g. moorland peats)
Alluvial soils (e.g. riverine
wetland soils)
Aeolian soils (e.g. sand dune
soils)

In the first half of the twentieth century there
were several examples of classification schemes
based largely on Dokuchaev’s ideas, notably
Baldwin et al.’s (1938) in North America. How-
ever, the breadth of the categories was problem-
atic as was its over-emphasis upon the influence
of climate and vegetation (Avery, 1969). It was
recognised in the 1950s and 1960s that ‘many of
the world’s agricultural soils have been influenced
for centuries by man’s [sic] activity and are only
in a limited sense “natural”’ (Curtis et al., 1976,
p. 32). This contributed to a move away from
typological classifications, inferred from genetic
factors, to definitional systems based on recognis-
able soil properties. New systems devised in indi-
vidual countries were popularised, with notable
developments occurring in Canada, the Nether-
lands (De Bakker and Schelling, 1966), the USA
(NRCS, 1998) and the UK (Avery, 1973), reflect-
ing local inputs and conditions.
The United States Department of Agriculture
(USDA) produced a classification, known as the
Seventh Approximation, based on soil pedons, an
artificial cuboid unit with a cross-sectional area
dependent on the lateral variability of properties
that define classes. This recognised twelve soil
orders, as shown in Table 1.3, but with a detailed
set of sub-orders that has permitted preparation
of tables of approximate relations, notably mak-
ing comparisons with the classification developed
in 1974 by the Food and Agriculture Organisation
(FAO) of the United Nations. In contrast to the
system used in the USA, that adopted by the Soil
Survey of England and Wales was essentially a
classification of soil profiles or vertical soil sections,
and applied to profiles deeper than 10 cm using
standard criteria (Table 1.4).
Most of the world’s major soil groups
(Map 1.3) are deficient in one or more of the key
attributes relating to physical and/or chemical pro-
perties. For example, unproductive entisols, incep-
tisols, mountain soils and spodosols cover large
parts of the Northern Hemisphere’s cold climate
zone. They tend to be young soils with little pro-
file development; they are low in organic matter,
high in acidity and offer limited depth of rooting
potential. Spodosols in particular are often leached,
acidic, poorly drained and may be bog-like in
places. Aridisols are associated with dry savannah,
steppe and desert climates. They have low humus
content and are prone to high levels of salinity and
alkalinity. Their potential for agriculture depends
greatly on irrigation development and techniques
to improve water retention abilities of the soil.
To both the north and south of the principal
areas of aridisols are the oxisols and ultisols of
the humid tropics, covering around two-thirds of
this climatic zone. Generally these are well drained,
deep and granular, though they possess poor min-
eral properties and are low in nutrient supply.
Table 1.3 Soil taxonomy in the USA
Soil orders Characteristics
Gelisols Soils with permafrost within 2 m of the surface
Histosols Organic soils
Spodosols Acid soils with a subsurface accumulation of metal-humus complexes
Oxisols Intensely weathered soils of tropical and subtropical environments
Vertisols Clayey soils with high shrink/swell capacity
Aridisols CaCO3 – containing soils of arid environments with moderate to strong development
Ultisols Soils with a subsurface zone of silicate clay accumulation and <35% base saturation
Mollisols Grassland soils with high base status
Alfisols Soils with a subsurface zone of silicate clay accumulation and ≥35% base saturation
Inceptisols Soils with weakly developed subsurface horizons
Entisols Soils with little or no morphological development
(Source: www.nhq.nrcs.usda.gov/CCS/soilmnth.html)

Table 1.4 Soil classiﬁcation for England and Wales
Major group
Lithomorphic soils
Normally well-drained soils with distinct, humose or organic
topsoil and bedrock or little altered unconsolidated material
at 30 cm or less
Brown soils
Well-drained to imperfectly drained soils (excluding Pelosols) with
an altered sub-surface horizon, usually brownish, that has soil
structure rather than rock structure and extends below
30 cm depth
Podzolic soils
Well-drained to poorly drained soils with black, dark
brown or ochreous sub-surface horizon in which aluminium
and/or iron have accumulated in amorphous forms
associated with organic matter. An overlying bleached
horizon, a peaty topsoil, or both, may or may not be present
Pelosols
Slowly permeable non-alluvial clayey soils that crack deeply
in dry seasons with brown, greyish or reddish blocky or
prismatic sub-surface horizon, usually slightly mottled
Gley soils
With distinct, humose or peaty top-soil and grey or
grey-and-brown mottled (gleyed) sub-surface horizon altered by
reduction, or reduction and segregation, of iron caused by
periodic or permanent saturation by water in the presence of
organic matter. Horizons characteristic of podzolic soils
are absent
Man-made soils
With thick man-made topsoil or disturbed soil more
than 40 cm thick
Peat soils
With a dominantly organic layer at least 40 cm thick formed under wet
conditions and starting at the surface or within 30 cm depth
(Source: based on Avery, 1973; 1980; 1990)
Group
Rankers
Sand-rankers
Ranker-like alluvial soils
Rendzinas
Pararendzinas
Sand-pararendzinas
Rendzina-like alluvial soils
Brown calcareous earths
Brown calcareous sands
Brown calcareous alluvial soils
Brown earths
Brown sands
Brown alluvial soils
Argillic brown earths
Paleo-argillic brown earths
Brown podzolic soils
Gley-podzols
Podzols
Stagnopodzols
Calcareous pelosols
Argillic pelosols
Non-calcareous pelosols
Alluvial gley soils
Sandy gley soils
Cambic gley soils
Argillic gley soils
Stagnogley soils
Humic-alluvial gley soils
Humic-sandy gley soils
Stagnohumic gley soils
Man-made humic soils
Disturbed soils
Raw peat soils
Earthy peat soils

Map
1.3
Major
soil
types
(compiled
from
various
sources)
TroDic
of
Cancer
_
Arctic
Circle
Equator
Tropic
of
Capricorn_
A
ritarcticCircle_
|
Soils
of
the
tundra
|
Podzols
and
related
soils
of
the
boreal
forest
I
Brown
earth
and
leached
soils
of
the
I
deciduous
forest
I
Grey
forest
soils
of
the
forest-steppe
transition
Chernozems
of
the
temperate
grasslands
Chestnut
soils
and
brown
soils
of
the
semi-arid
grasslands
Red
and
grey
soils
of
the
deserts
Red
and
brown
soils,
cinnamon
soils
of
the
Mediterranean
woodlands
Red-yellow
podzolic
soils
of
the
sub-tropical
woodlands
Red
and
yellow
tropical
rain
forest
and
savanna
soils
(ferrallltic,
ferruginous,
ferrisols)
Dark
grey
and
black
soils
of
the
tropics
and
sub-tropics
(vertisols)
Soils
of
mountainous
areas

Once cleared of vegetation these soils are suscept-
ible to having their base nutrients easily leached
away so that soil acidity remains high. However,
applications of nitrogenous and phosphoric fertil-
isers, lime to reduce acidity, manures and careful
land management to control erosion have provided
the basis for long-term agricultural production
in south-east USA and many parts of China
(Chapman, 2001). Other soils found in similar
climatic conditions, such as alfisols, vertisols and
mollisols have better physical and chemical pro-
perties for crop production and hence have been
centres for major concentrations of population
(Sanchez and Buol, 1975). These have been the
soils upon which successful applications of the
Green Revolution have been based (see Chap-
ter 8). The same soils occur in cooler latitudes
on either side of the humid tropics and have been
the basis for the world’s major centres of food
production, especially in Central Europe, North
America, Russia and China.
This very brief overview of soil factors and the
distribution of the world’s major soils provides
some indication of the delicate physical and bio-
logical balance that renders agriculture possible
and restricts production in various ways. It helps
to explain why less than 15 per cent of the earth’s
land mass has been cultivated and why current
estimates claim that this proportion can only be
extended to 25 per cent with huge investment in
either or both irrigation and other technological
inputs (Pierce, 1990, p. 22).
1.5 Energy
Although a range of physical factors affects the
distribution of agricultural crops and animals,
domestication for over 10,000 years has sought
to modify or ameliorate the influence of these
factors. This can be seen most readily in terms of
‘artificial’ alterations to nutrient availability, especi-
ally nitrate, through applications of fertilisers. The
structure and tilth of soils may also be improved
by mechanised means, as can availability of water
through irrigation.
Domestication of plants involved modifications
to the existing plant stock by genetic changes
through human selection, either deliberately or
unconsciously. In particular, over the past three
centuries, plant and animal breeding programmes
and recent applications of biotechnology have
improved the inherent productivity of plants and
livestock. This has been achieved in various ways,
initially through reducing competition for light
and nutrients between crops and ‘pests’. Pesticides,
fungicides and other products may be applied to
reduce this competition.
Another significant modification is to increase
inputs of energy to the agricultural system, usually
by additions of fossil-fuel energy that supplement
solar power, the prime input to the system. The
amount of available energy has a major effect upon
photosynthesis of plants, the process whereby
organic matter is formed by plants through a
chemical process sustained by sunlight. How-
ever, the rate of photosynthesis is also constrained
by environmental conditions external to the plant
community, including light intensity, temperature
regime, water and nutrient availability, topo-
graphy and soil structure (Mannion, 1995a, p. 20).
Hence one key aspect of farm management is to
reduce or remove these constraints in order to
maximise the useable solar radiation.
To assist the process of plant growth, addi-
tional supplies of fertiliser are usually added by
the farmer, in the form of animal manure, other
types of organic matter or chemical additives.
In most parts of the Developed World the amount
of non-animal-based fertilisers has increased
substantially over the last century. For example,
the quantity of artificial fertiliser applied to crops
in Britain between 1939 and 1975 rose sevenfold
(Briggs and Courtenay, 1989, p. 33). In Developed
Countries the type of fertilisers applied has also
changed substantially over time, moving from
simple forms, such as ammonium nitrate, ammo-
nium phosphate and potassium chloride to com-
pound fertilisers comprising a mixture of nitrogen,
phosphorus and potassium. The largest increases
have been of nitrogenous fertilisers, with research
showing direct links between increased nitrogen
usage and rising crop yields (Austin, 1978).
The agri-ecosystem can be regarded as a
dynamic system of flows of matter and energy,
including water, solutes (nutrients) and solids (e.g.

soil particles). Inputs take the form of weathering
of underlying bedrock, to produce soil and nutri-
ents; energy from solar radiation; precipitation;
transfers from adjacent land surfaces; and inputs
by the farmer in the form of seeds, livestock,
manure, fertiliser, animal feeds and fuel energy.
In addition, the farmer can control many outputs
from the system. The major output occurs in the
form of the crop harvest, with inputs of manures
and fertilisers required to effect replenishment.
Land drainage and irrigation affect water loss
whilst crop husbandry practices, such as tillage,
soil conservation measures and crop rotation, can
control soil erosion (Boardman, 1992; Robinson
and Blackman, 1990). Foster et al. (1997) illus-
trate this last point when referring to the influence
of centuries-old cultivation, removal of hedgerows,
new methods of seed-bed preparation and changes
in the timing of seed-bed preparation upon flood-
ing of farmland in the English Midlands (see
also Evans, 1997). Relatively small amounts of the
overall energy inputs to an agricultural system are
actually consumed by people. For potato cultiva-
tion the proportion of energy inputs available as
human food may be as high as 0.25 per cent. For
cattle produced on an extensive ranching system it
may be as low as 0.002 per cent (Duckham and
Masefield, 1970).
In terms of the management of agricultural sys-
tems, key aspects are the ways in which certain
key cycles are controlled, especially energy, water
and nutrients. Solar radiation provides the funda-
mental energy source to support plant and animal
growth. The amount of radiation received by plants
depends on latitude and albedo or reflection, which
varies considerably for different surfaces (Jones,
1976). This energy is the driving force for cycling
nutrients through the agri-ecosystem (Figure 1.3).
Crucial aspects of this cycling are the carbon (or
inorganic) cycle and the nitrogen cycle. Different
farming systems and their accompanying manage-
ment strategies have varying effects upon nutrient
cycling, thereby producing differential impacts
upon the soil base upon which the systems oper-
ate. For example, soluble nitrates are vulnerable
to removal by being leached and so they have to
be maintained by careful management. In tradi-
tional hill sheep farming in Europe, for instance,
the soil is maintained in a more or less steady
state whereas, once grazing land is improved via
addition of artificial fertiliser, the total soil pool
gains nitrogen and phosphorus, but may lose
potassium (Frissel, 1978; Tivy, 1987). Therefore,
additions from the fertiliser are not entirely bal-
anced by losses in animal product and leaching.
The constraints imposed by solar radiation,
temperature and rainfall are less readily controlled
by farmers than nutrient deficiency, as nutrients
can be managed to a certain extent via careful
husbandry. The most vital nutrients are nitrogen,
phosphorus, potassium, calcium and magnesium,
which together can comprise up to 10 per cent of
a plant’s dry weight, the plant having derived the
minerals from the soil. In a natural ecosystem,
a large degree of recycling of nutrients occurs via
decomposition of dead plant litter by bacteria and
fungi or by manure from animals that have con-
sumed the plants. Small nutrient losses through
leaching or runoff may be balanced by weathering
of bedrock or input via precipitation. However,
no such balance occurs readily in an agricultural
system. Tillage of the soil creates bare patches that
accelerate losses through runoff and leaching, whilst
crop harvesting interrupts the natural recycling of
nutrients. For example, Bayliss-Smith (1982, p. 14)
reports that, in the case of sweet potato produc-
tion in the Solomon Islands, at least 105 g m−2
of soil nutrients are removed in the leaves, stems
and tubers of the crop. This means that sustained
cultivation of the same piece of land is rendered
impossible unless efforts are made to replace the
lost nutrients. This can take the form of manuring,
mulching or adding artificial fertilisers. In addition,
leguminous crops such as beans, peas, clover and
lucerne can be grown which have Rhizobia bacte-
ria that add up to 10 g m−2
nitrogen per annum.
Appreciation of these nitrogen-fixing properties led
to crop rotations being developed in Europe that
usually included a legume. The classic example was
the Norfolk four-course rotation, first developed
in East Anglia in the eighteenth century, which
consisted of clover, wheat, turnips and barley
grown in rotation to enable farmers to use a plot
of land continuously without recourse to fallowing
(Orwin and Whetham, 1971) (Table 1.5). This type
of husbandry was subsequently superseded in the
1.5 ENERGY 15

Figure 1.3 Nutrient cycles in agricultural systems (based on Duckham and Maseﬁeld, 1970)
Table 1.5 The Norfolk four-course crop rotation
Year Crop Use
1 Turnips or Swedes Folded with sheep in winter
2 Spring barley Cash crop
3 Red clover Grazed in spring and summer
4 Winter wheat Cash crop
(Source: Briggs and Courtney, 1989, p. 29)
Respiration Market
Livestock
Feed
Seeds
Faeces
Foliage
G r ajz i n g
P L A N T S
Roots Fertilisers
Volatile
emissions
Atmospheric
inputs
Run-off
Erosion
_____ v
Soil
solution
Crop
residues
SOI L
Manure
Organic
matter
Soil
organisms
Soil
minerals
Parent
material
Drainage

Developed World by the practice of adding artifi-
cial fertilisers to the soil, though this has substan-
tially increased the overall energy consumption
in farming as such fertilisers are energy-intensive
products.
In temperate climates the main legumes are
peas, beans, lucerne and clover, whilst their coun-
terparts in the tropics are chick peas, groundnuts
and soybeans, though nitrogen-fixation is less
efficient in tropical conditions and so these three
crops are grown as protein-rich foods rather than
for their soil restorative qualities. Temperate crop
legumes fix between 100 and 225 kg nitrogen per
ha per annum.
In evaluating the efficiency of agricultural
systems in energy terms, Bayliss-Smith (1982,
pp. 33–4) offered four different measures:
• The energy ratio: the edible energy produced
by the system in a net form (i.e. excluding
animal fodder), divided by the total
human-derived energy input.
• The gross energy productivity (GEP): the total
food energy produced by the system, in
consumed and other forms, divided by the
total population. This shows the gross energy
production per person per annum, from
which the daily energy productivity may be
calculated.
• The surplus energy income: the energy not
consumed directly by people, e.g. in the form
of crops fed to animals.
• The energy yield in terms of net food output
per ha.
Calculation of these four measures for a series
of different farming systems enabled direct com-
parisons between them to be made, as shown in
Table 1.6. This comparison shows how the applica-
tion of industrial technology results in substantial
increases in energy yield. By substituting mach-
ine power for manpower a huge increase in GEP
is achieved. Surplus energy income also rises but
as a proportion of GEP it is lower than in
pre-industrial societies. The overall efficiency of
energy use, the energy ratio, declines as the degree
of dependence on fossil fuels rises, though, as
shown in Figure 1.4, a semi-industrial system can
Table 1.6 Energy measures for seven agricultural systems
Agricultural Energy Gross energy Surplus energy Energy
system yield productivity income ratio
(MJ/ha yr) (MJ/person day) (MJ/person day) (output/input)
Pre-industrial
New Guinea 1,460 10 2.3 14.2
Wiltshire (UK) (1826) 7,390 80 2.4a
40.3
12.6a
Semi-industrial
Ontong, Java 14,760 38 5.3 14.2
South India (1955) 42,280 44 8.6b
13.0
4.0c
10.2d
South India (1975) 66,460 36 no data 9.7
Full-industrial
Moscow collective 8,060 59 4.1 1.3
South England (1971) 44,860 2,420 18.8 2.1
a Farm labourer’s household
b Peasant caste farmer’s household
c Untouchable caste household
d Subsistence rice cultivation only
(Source: Bayliss-Smith, 1982, p. 108)
1.5 ENERGY 17

Figure 1.4 Comparisons of various farming systems based on energy use: I New Guinea; II Wiltshire, England, 1826; III Ontong
Java Atoll, South-West Pacific; IV Wangala, South India, 1955, V Wangala, South India, 1975; VI Moscow Oblast collective farm;
VII Southern England, 1971 (based on Bayliss-Smith, 1982, p. 109)
decades. However, during the last 30 years it has
become clear that not only have there been world-
wide climate changes occurring throughout the last
10,000 years, which have undoubtedly affected the
distribution of crops and livestock, but also that
recent short-term climatic changes may be affect-
ing agricultural distributions (Mendelsohn, 1998).
This has given rise to several studies assessing the
potential agricultural impacts of global climatic
change (Figure 1.5) (Parry and Livermore, 2002).
Global climate scenarios are usually derived
from General Circulation Models (GCMs), which
have been used to forecast the effects of an altered
atmosphere on macro-scale climatic properties.
Historical or spatial analogues and incremental
changes to the observed weather record are also
used to specify climatic change scenarios (Bootsma
et al., 1984; Easterling et al., 1992). Various critical
scenarios have been portrayed for agriculture as
a consequence of predicted climate change during
be almost as efficient as a pre-industrial one.
Once agriculture relies heavily on mechanisation
and purchased inputs, very little more additional
energy is gained from farming than is expended in
production. It must be acknowledged, though, that
attempting to classify agricultural systems on the
basis of energy inputs and outputs is just part of a
process of differentiation that needs to consider a
broad range of ecological, demographic, economic
and social characteristics if it is to be more holistic.
1.6 Climatic change and agriculture
The preceding discussion has tended to refer to
the distribution of climatic parameters in terms of
their constancy or variation within known and
understood bounds. Hence, it has been possible to
produce maps of agri-climatic zones and soil types
based upon data that reflect norms for recent
200
100
L 50
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'to
t 20
e
g
.
B- 10
2
o
>. „
E
> 5
©
c
L
U
2
1
0.5
500
0.05 0.1 0.2 0.5 1 2 5 10 20 50 100 200
Energy input (GJ ha-1yr-1)
I
n
m
IV
SENlf
f
V
VI
VII
<4
K '
x
&
jfC
K
*-
* /

the twenty-first century. For example, one predic-
tion is for a general reduction in crop yields in
many tropical and sub-tropical regions for most
projected increases in temperature, and a general
reduction, with some variation, in potential crop
yields in most mid-latitude regions for increases in
annual temperatures of more than a few degrees
Centigrade (Fischer et al., 1995). Perhaps the most
serious current predictions relate to future failures
of food supplies through diminished supplies of
water. Such failures are projected for the Sahelian
region of Africa, south Asia and large parts of
Latin America as a consequence of shifting rain-
fall belts. Approximately one-third of the world’s
population (1.7 billion) already live in countries
that periodically experience significant deficits in
water supplies, and some reports predict that the
population affected will rise to 5 billion by 2025.
Moreover, in central Asia, north and southern
Africa, because of a combination of higher
temperatures and pollutant runoff, decreases in
rainfall will be associated with declining quality of
water that is available. Against this portrayal of
impending disaster, it is possible that some regions
may benefit from predicted warming, which may
enable new crops to be grown, e.g. extending the
cultivated area northwards in parts of Canada.
Figure 1.5 The agricultural impacts of global climatic change (based on Brklacich et al., 1997)
Impacts of long-term rises in sea level, possibly
linked to global warming, are already apparent in
some parts of the world. For example, along the
east coast of China, mean sea level rose at a rate
of 1.0 mm y−1
from 1920 to 1987 (Chen, X, 1991).
It is estimated that in the Yangtze delta the sea
level will rise between 50 and 70 cm betweeen 2000
and 2050. This is of particular significance around
Shanghai where 95 per cent of agricultural land is
below the high astronomical tide level (Chen and
Zong, 1999). This area already has a long history
of sea inundation and there is now a substantial
programme to mitigate potential hazards induced
or intensified by the rising sea level. The main
measures are improvements in drainage quality
and capacity, renewal and increase of pumping
facilities, development of new crops tolerant to
a higher groundwater table, and construction of
a flood barrier.
Tropical regions are especially vulnerable to
potential damage from environmental changes
because the prevalence of poor soils covering large
areas already provides significant problems for
agricultural activity. Yet, relatively little research
has been performed specifically on the agricul-
tural impacts of climate change in the tropics,
though results from the Developed World have
1.6 CLIMATIC CHANGE AND AGRICULTURE 19
Global climate
scenarios
Regional agri-
climatic properties
Crop yields
Regional
production
Agrl-economlcal
regions
Land suitability
Farm analyses

been extrapolated worldwide. Indeed, agricultural
impact studies have been performed at various
spatial scales, from the regional (e.g. Cohen, 1994)
to the national, and continental (e.g. Hulme et al.,
1999; UKCCIRG, 1991) to the global (e.g.
Rosenzweig and Parry, 1994). Impacts on specific
major crop and livestock systems have also been
performed (e.g. Easterling et al., 1993; Baker
et al., 1993). For example, Blasing and Solomon
(1983) concluded that a 1°C temperature increase
would move the Corn Belt in the USA 175 km to
the north and north-east of its present location.
However, this prediction on its own offers little
insight to the vulnerability of agricultural sys-
tems to changing conditions or to the capacity
of agriculture to adapt to change (Chiotti and
Johnson, 1995; Chiotti, 1998).
To obtain regional agri-climatic properties from
broad global scenarios two processes can be
employed (Hossell et al., 1996). The first spatially
interpolates macro-scale data to a regional scale,
and the second converts basic climatic parameters,
such as maximum daily temperature, into agri-
climatic properties such as growing-degree days.
The actual methodologies employed have been
numerous and it is difficult to evaluate their valid-
ity. However, results have then been applied to
potential impacts of climatic change, notably upon
land suitability and agri-ecological assessments.
These have generally used resource-rating schemes
to assign land parcels to broadly defined suitab-
ility or agri-ecological classes (e.g. Brklacich and
Curran, 1994). Rating schemes have frequently
used comparisons of basic climatic requirements,
such as growing period or moisture supply, for
broad categories of agricultural production in
relation to specified shifts in selected climatic
properties.
An alternative is crop yield analysis, which is
conducted for specific crops and is usually more
sophisticated than resource-rating schemes, being
based on interactions among crop growth factors
and generating estimates of output per land unit
(Baethgen and Magrin, 1995). The outputs from
crop yield analyses have produced studies at both
farm and regional level. The former consist of
whole-farm models to estimate impacts of changes
in yield arising from global climatic change on
cash flow and vulnerability of different farm types
(Mooney and Arthur, 1990). Regional production
and macro-economic models have also been used
to estimate the effects of global climatic change on
regional production potential and international
trade in agricultural products (Fischer et al., 1995).
Slaymaker (2001) bemoans the lack of atten-
tion to the impacts of climate change upon land
use, especially at regional and local scales, describ-
ing the relationship between climate and human
activity as a subtly reflexive one with feedbacks
between people and their changing environment
that are difficult to predict. He argues that the
impacts of social and economic forces upon land
use are just as significant as those of climate change,
but it is the potential impacts of the latter that
are receiving the much greater share of research
funding.
Similar sentiments are voiced by Chiotti et al.
(1997) who argue that there is a strong need for a
better understanding of the relationship between
present climate and agriculture. Much of the
conventional research on climate change impacts
has been based on the neo-classical economic
paradigm that assumes the market will encourage
or discourage various adjustments. This tends to
assume that the land will be devoted to the best
economic use, with farmers having access to the
best available technology and adjusting their
farming practices to suit the changing and vari-
able climate (Easterling et al., 1993). These
assumptions ignore the constraints on farmers’
choices and, until recently, have not engaged with
the work of human geographers on agricultural
restructuring and adaptation, even though there
are examples from this work of farmers’ responses
to drought and famine in Developing Countries
(e.g. Blaikie and Brookfield, 1987; Liverman,
1991). This shows how climate variation is just
one of a series of factors impinging upon decisions
made by the farm household.
Even in areas susceptible to extremes of weather
and climate, farmers often tend to relegate the
importance of climate as a major factor in their
decision-making. This can be seen in work with
farmers in the driest part of the Prairies in Canada,
known as Palliser’s Triangle. The farmers here
recognise that their farming operations are sensitive

Table 1.7 Climate sensitivities and adaptive responses in southern Alberta, Canada
Farming system Climate sensitivity Adaptive response
Dryland Drought Minimum tillage
Soil moisture Trash/stubble
Wind erosion Chemical fallow
Frost (early autumn) Half rotation
Hail Crop share, crop insurance
Irrigation Wind erosion Pivots
Frost (early autumn) Less tillage
Hail Some trash/stubble
Heat unit Chemical fallow
Feedlot Summer heat Sprinklers
Winter cold Barns
Blizzards Rotational grazing
Chinooks Seeding grass/livestock breeds
(Source: Chiotti et al., 1997, p. 212)
to particular climatic parameters, but have vari-
ous adaptive responses that are generally regarded
as a ‘normal’ aspect of farming operations. These
strategies vary with different farming systems
(Table 1.7). Overall, there has been a shift towards
production of higher value crops and cattle in the
region, but this may reflect a strategic adjust-
ment to ensure economic viability rather than an
adaptive response to climatic variability (Chiotti
et al., 1997; Kemp, 1991).
The current climatic regime has been treated as
representative of baseline conditions and the sce-
narios for global climatic change as conceptually
equivalent to treatments as in standard scientific
approaches to field-level agricultural research (in
which various plots are subjected to different
treatments of chemicals or water supply) (Chiotti
et al., 1997). Brklacich et al. (1997) criticise this
approach for its tendency to use sensitivity assess-
ments for certain attributes of production systems
to specified climatic perturbations in predicting
responses to climatic change for selected systems.
This type of approach makes certain, usually
unstated, assumptions, namely: climate is the only
condition that will vary; farmers will perceive the
change in climate; agricultural systems are vulner-
able to the changed climate; therefore farmers
will choose to adapt to the altered climate. These
assumptions need to be challenged through use
of new frameworks that place research on clim-
atic change into a broader context of agricultural
decision-making so that the latter becomes the
key element in the research. There are also com-
putational limits imposed by existing computing
technology, scale problems when predicting from
the global to the local, and the sheer uncertainty
regarding the regional and local dimensions of
climatic change.
There is relatively little evidence that farmers
have responded to recent changes in climate by
changing their farming practice, or that they have
much knowledge of potential future climate change
(Robinson, D. A., 1999). Initial evidence of
farmers’ responses in the Developed World to
climatic changes over several decades suggests that
factors other than environmental ones tend to be
more influential in decision-making (e.g. Smithers
and Smit, 1997). For example, Brklacich et al.’s
(1997) pilot study in Renfrew County, Ontario,
examined adaptive responses to climatic change
over a 20-year period. During this time farmers
believed that precipitation had decreased and
climate was becoming less predictable. Specific
adaptations to these perceived changes were modi-
fications to crop varieties and types, adoption of
alternative harvesting methods and modifications
1.6 CLIMATIC CHANGE AND AGRICULTURE 21

to infrastructure. However, many farmers made
no explicit response to the changes, partly because
their farms were already adapted to operate under
a range of conditions and also because factors other
than climate influenced their decisions. Never-
theless, when provided with predictions of future
climate change based on increased CO2 in the
atmosphere, which could produce rising yields for
grain and soybeans, farmers’ responses were to
predict a widespread adoption of crop varieties
likely to benefit from longer growing periods.
In recent work on climatic change and agricul-
ture, various studies have highlighted the role of
technological innovation in the handling of clim-
atic risks (Parry et al., 1988; Smit et al., 2000),
and there has been research emphasis upon the
attributes of agriculture that are most sensitive to
climate, the types and combinations of climatic
events that are most problematic for farming,
the nature of farmer responses to climatic risk
and uncertainty, and the role of the other forces
as mediating factors in shaping these responses
(Bryant et al., 2000). However, more knowledge
is required about the nature of agricultural
innovations that have been induced by climate,
and about the relationship between knowledge
development and the forces that drive it. To date
the key technologies mediating risk in the face
of climatic variations are mechanical innovations
(irrigation, conservation tillage, improved drain-
age) and biological science (hybrids). But the scale
of deviation away from so-called normal condi-
tions may define the experience of climatic change
and it is this that may stretch the ability of tech-
nical innovation to provide ‘solutions’. Moreover,
high-tech agriculture has the capacity to influence
climate adversely through increasing CO2 emissions
(Komen and Peerlings, 1997).
Work by Smithers and Blay-Palmer (2001)
on the Ontario soybean industry suggests that
some technical innovations permitted the crop
to respond well to wide variations in heat, but
that there was little evidence of progress toward
more broadly based adaptability for inter-annual
variations in weather conditions. In part this
reflected the presence of factors limiting con-
sideration of climate in development of the crop
(Table 1.8).
Table 1.8 Factors limiting consideration of
climate in the research and development process
Economic
• High cost of research
• Emphasis on profit versus curiosity-based
research
• Increased domination of private breeders
Ownership of intellectual property
• Expensive to purchase rights to necessary
genes/technology
• Limited accessibility
• Constrained innovations
Regulatory barriers
• Risk of developing broadly adapted varieties
Competing market needs
• Food and non-food niche market products
• Development of new technologies
(Source: Smithers and Blay-Palmer, 2001, p. 190)
It is only gradually being more widely appreci-
ated that, even if farmers do perceive new oppor-
tunities arising from shifts in climate, there may
be significant structural barriers that might restrict
their adoption of crops well suited to the new
climatic conditions. Holloway and Ilbery (1997)
demonstrated this with respect to prospects for the
introduction of navy beans in the UK. This crop,
used for manufacturing the highly popular baked
beans in tomato sauce, has been grown largely in
North America, but could also be produced under
warmer conditions in future in the UK (Holloway
et al., 1995; Holloway and Ilbery, 1996). Clearly
it cannot be assumed that farmers in the UK would
adopt navy beans or any other new crop as a
simple response to global warming, although this is
conventionally suggested by climate/agri-ecosystem
modelling procedures (Hossell et al., 1996; Smit,
1994). Any such potential adoption would be even-
tuated within a broader ongoing process of change
on farms in which a key factor would be the role
of food processing companies and retailers. For
example, farmers may be keen to grow navy beans
but could be prevented from doing so by processors
unwilling to offer them contracts. This attitude by
processors may relate to the views of supermarkets,

which may be content with the nature of their
current supplies of baked beans. Hence, for this
particular crop, ‘the effects of global warming, if it
occurs, would be largely subsumed by a combina-
tion of structural resistances and a combination of
processor and farmer decision-making behaviour’
(Holloway and Ilbery, 1997, p. 354).
1.7 Classifying agricultural systems
Variations in the type of farm management have
been summarised with reference to four main
parameters (Smith and Hill, 1975): biological
diversity, intensity of human management, net
energy balance, and management responsibility.
Differences in these have produced a continuum
of farming systems, from maintenance of a semi-
natural ecosystem, as in open-range grazing, to
farming involving the creation of artificial environ-
ments such as glasshouses and hen batteries. In
seeking to understand the spatial distribution of
the various systems, geographers have utilised vari-
ous types of classification. Indeed, classification has
been a significant element of agricultural geography
for some time, and attempts to produce systems
of world agricultural regions have a long history,
generally based on the concept of a set of agri-
cultural regions in which there is a recognised
uniformity of agricultural production. In develop-
ing such classifications, three basic approaches
can be recognised (Tarrant, 1974, pp. 112–45),
described next.
1.7.1 Land classification
Land classification regions are based on the phy-
sical properties of land or its capabilities. The
physical properties are usually ones relating to
topography, soils and vegetation. In the UK such a
classification was produced at the behest of the
Scott Committee on Land Utilisation in Rural
Areas in 1942, using the Land Utilisation Survey
(LUS) as its basis (Stamp, 1940). This produced
a simple three-fold classification of land, into
good, medium and poor land, with some sub-
categorisation (Table 1.9). This classification em-
phasised the current use of land, as revealed in the
1.7 CLASSIFYING AGRICULTURAL SYSTEMS 23
Table 1.9 Land classification in Great Britain (1948)
Major category Sub-category % of total area
Good 37.9
1. First class 4.1
2. Good general purpose farmland
a. suitable for ploughing 15.2
b. suitable for grass 5.0
3. First class land, restricted use, unsuitable for ploughing 2.2
4. Good but heavy land 11.4
Medium 24.6
5. Medium light land
a. suitable for ploughing 4.4
b. unsuitable for ploughing 0.4
6. Medium general purpose farmland 19.8
Poor 35.2
7. Poor heavy land 1.6
8. Poor mountain and moorland 31.7
9. Poor light land 1.5
10. Poorest land 0.4
Built-up area 2.3
100.0
(Source: Stamp, 1948)

LUS, as opposed to the land’s inherent potential.
Hence, subsequent classifications, especially in the
land capability series prepared by the Ministry of
Agriculture, Fisheries and Food (MAFF), have been
based on a wide range of variables relating to soils
(depth, structure, chemical composition and perme-
ability) and other physical criteria (slope, precipi-
tation, drainage, temperature, frost susceptibility
and availability of groundwater). These variables
provide an indication of the physical limitations in
a particular area, and hence of land capability.
A similar basis has been adopted in land capab-
ility classifications in other countries, with classes
graded from very suitable to highly unsuitable for
agriculture, and mapped at varying levels of detail.
In the case of the well-known classifications pre-
pared by the Department of Lands and Forests in
Ontario and the United States Soil Conservation
Service (USSCS) it has been soil characteristics
that have been especially prominent. In the case of
the former, land is classified according to the costs
of developing it for commercial agriculture. For
the USSCS the classification focuses on the land’s
susceptibility to soil erosion, but tends to ignore
general features of productivity. In Australia, the
Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research
Organisation (CSIRO) has produced land clas-
sifications since the 1940s, using a land-systems
approach in which areas are defined ‘within which
certain predictable combinations of surface forms
and their associated soils and vegetation are
likely to be found’ (Cooke and Doornkamp, 1990,
pp. 20–1).
1.7.2 Land use classification
This focuses upon the use to which land is put
rather than its physical characteristics. It was popu-
larised by J. C. Weaver (1954a; 1954b; 1954c;
Weaver et al., 1956), who developed the idea of
crop-combination regions in which it was recog-
nised that regional production complexes usually
include a range of crops rather than a monoculture.
Thus the US corn, cotton and spring wheat belts
are rarely absolute monocultures, and, even where
one crop is predominant, there may be subsidiaries
that can be recognised within a crop-combination
region. In other cases the region can embrace the
crops grown in a crop rotation to include temp-
orary leys or other areas of grassland. Weaver’s
classification used a simple statistical procedure
(see Tarrant, 1974, pp. 122–5; Robinson, 1988a,
pp. 296–8) to produce the type of maps illustrated
in Map 1.4. In effect, the actualareal distribution of
crops is compared with model arrangements (1-
crop, 2-crop, 3-crop and so on) to determine the
best fit. This best fit is then the crop-combination
allocated to the spatial unit under consideration.
The degree of best fit can be quite variable and the
results are entirely dependent upon the crops con-
sidered in the model. So it can be crucial to decide
whether permanent grassland should be included
in the crop combination or only arable land or
only those crops featuring in a crop rotation.
Map 1.4 A crop-combination map for Scotland
0 P
e - p
J
r
n O P T <
B O T
—
X
r
p: ;r ;
a
O P T
VO! R
R
:6i ;r ;
a R i
0 ; R ;
0 50 km
Main crop
] Permanent grass
] Rotation grass
Subsidiaries
B Barley
O Oats
P Permanent grass
R Rotation grass
T Turnips/swedes/mangolds
X 4 or more

Such classifications may omit crops that are
extremely important in financial terms but which
only occupy a small area, as it is land use rather
than other aspects of production that is usually
being considered. However, conversions may be
applied to convert crop areas into measures of
labour input (e.g. standard man-days) so that low
labour intensity crops covering large areas, such
as permanent pasture or extensive production of
cereals, do not automatically appear as the dom-
inant element within a crop combination. It is pos-
sible to use gross margin and gross output data as
conversions, but this usage is generally restricted
by lack of readily available information.
The use of standard man-days is based on the
reduction of all types of production on a farm to
their standard labour requirements. This ignores
variations in efficiency of different farmers as well
as the effects of scale economies. It is possible to
produce ‘standard’ figures on how many days of
work per annum are required in cultivating a unit
area of a given crop. In this way, labour-intensive
crops can assume a much greater importance in any
classification based on standard man-days. Using
standard man-day conversions, farming activities
involving livestock production can also be incor-
porated in classifications. However, Weaver et al.
(1956) concluded that there was no suitable statis-
tical method to enable them to combine both crops
and livestock in a single index to create a map of
farming regions. Hence other methods have been
applied in establishing type-of-farming regions.
1.7.3 Type-of-farming regions
Land use and type-of-farming are closely related
but sufficiently different to create problems when
distinctions are drawn between the two. Chisholm
(1962) argued that type-of-farming classifications
should be based on individual farms, including a
wide range of variables, notably the production
and management of the farm as well as informa-
tion on yields, crops and livestock. In practice,
though, many of the widely used classifications
have been based on a restricted set of variables
(Aitchison, 1992). For example, the one most
frequently used, devised by Derwent Whittlesey
(1936), focuses on five criteria:
• crop and livestock associations;
• intensity of land use;
• processing and disposal of farm produce;
• methods and degree of farm mechanisation;
• types and associations of buildings and other
structures associated with agriculture.
From these criteria 13 types of world agriculture
were derived (Map 1.5; Table 1.10). These are
essentially generalised descriptions, but they have
been utilised for various purposes and usually with
little modification (e.g. Symons, 1968). Never-
theless, suggestions have been made regarding the
addition of more specific criteria that can be
measured quantitatively (Helburn, 1957). It is
the lack of available data and the complexity
such criteria would create that has contributed
to its lack of application (see Evans, 1996, for
limitations of the UK’s agricultural census).
At a regional level, various type-of-farming clas-
sifications have been applied (see Aitchison, 1992),
following pioneering work by Baker (1926) on the
agricultural regions of the United States. Many of
these fail to employ systematic criteria on which to
base their classification, though Geography’s quan-
titative revolution in the 1950s and 1960s gen-
erated a range of approaches based on the Weaver
method and various cartographic techniques (e.g.
Adeemy, 1968; Birch, 1954; Edwards, 1992,
p. 154; Scott, 1957). Of this work perhaps the most
well-known is that of Coppock, who employed
regionalisation extensively in his three major
studies of agriculture in the UK (Coppock, 1971;
1976a; 1976b). He argued that it was the com-
binations of crops and livestock, termed enterprise
combinations, which represented the primary
distinguishing features of type-of-farming areas
(Coppock, 1964a; Edwards, 1992, p. 136). He then
used standard man-day conversionsand the Weaver
method to produce enterprise combinations for the
UK’s National Agricultural Advisory districts (cov-
ering around 40 parishes each), recognising seven
types of enterprise: dairy cattle, beef cattle, sheep,
cash crops, fruit, vegetables, and pigs and poultry.
Subsequently, more complex statistical ana-
lysis was used by other agricultural geographers
to generate multi-attribute agricultural regions (e.g
Ilbery, 1981; Robinson, 1981). The most favoured
1.7 CLASSIFYING AGRICULTURAL SYSTEMS 25

Map
1.5
Classiﬁcation
of
world
agricultural
types
(based
on
Whittlesey,
1936;
and
Mannion,
1995a)
Arctic
Circle
Tropic
of
Cancer^
Equator
Tropic
of
Capricorn
AntercticCircle_
Cereals,
Livestock
Livestock,
Ranching
and
Herding
Cash
crops,
Mixed
farming
Diversified
tropical
and
subtropical
crop;
Dairy,
Livestock
General
and
mixed
farming
Special
crops
Forests
Nonproductive
land

Table 1.10 Classification of world agriculture
Type1
1 Nomadic herding
2 Livestock ranching
3 Shifting cultivation
4 Rudimentary sedentary tillage
5 Intensive subsistence tillage with rice dominant
6 Intensive subsistence tillage without paddy rice
7 Commercial plantation crop tillage
8 Mediterranean agriculture
9 Commercial grain farming
10 Commercial livestock and crop farming
11 Subsistence crop and stock farming
12 Commercial dairy farming
13 Specialised horticulture
(Sources: 1
Whittlesey, 1936; 2
Helburn, 1957)
Potential additional variables2
1 Degree of specialisation
2 Labour and capital ratios to land and to each other
3 Sedentary as against migratory habits
4 Scale of operation
5 Land tenure systems
6 Level of living achieved
7 Value of the land
8 Value or volume of production
technique for this purpose was principal com-
ponents analysis (Robinson, 1998a, pp. 120–41),
which replaced a set of agricultural variables (for
example covering a range of information on crop
types, livestock, the labour force, farm size, tenure
and farmer characteristics) with a smaller set of
components representing an amalgam of these vari-
ables. The outcome was a handful of key compon-
ents comprising the basic differentiating features
of farming. These components could be mapped
to give an indication of the principal aspects of the
geography of agricultural differentiation (Map 1.6).
However, the subjectivity involved at various stages
of the analysis raises questions as to the value of
the results obtained, and there are problems
of comparability between studies using different
variables in the analysis.
1.8 Conclusion
This chapter has outlined the chief elements of the
physical basis of farming. But it must be stressed
that, although physical factors can exert controls
upon agricultural activity, it is socio-economic and
political factors that usually determine the detailed
characteristics of a farm enterprise and hence the
focus on these factors in agricultural classifications.
Important factors include tenure and land
ownership, farm size, marketing, transport and
labour supply, as well as a range of social and
cultural variables intimately associated with the
character of the farmer and the farm household. It
is farmers’ responses to the variety of ecolog-
ical constraints presented in any given location,
related to the complex interplay of socio-economic
factors, that produce a range of different types of
agricultural activity, so that a strictly ecological or
environmental perspective does not provide a very
coherent framework on which to base agricultural
geography, though it forms the basis of approaches
in other disciplines (e.g. Collinson, 2000; Dent
and McGregor, 1994). In particular, the varied
response by farmers to the nature of the land at
their disposal has tended to be strongly influenced
by a number of non-ecological factors, such as
population pressure, technological innovation,
the structures of social organisation and societal
values. Hence agricultural geography embraces
considerations of a broad spectrum of influences
upon agriculture extending well beyond the phys-
ical and biological elements referred to in this
chapter. Indeed, it has been the economic, polit-
ical, social and cultural aspects of agriculture, as
part of the broader agri-food chain, that have come
to dominate agricultural geography.
1.8 CONCLUSION 27

Map 1.6 Multivariate agricultural regions in the UK (the units represent standard deviations from the mean): (a) component 1
(+ arable versus cattle −); (b) component 2 (+ rotation grass/roots versus permanent pasture −); (c) component 3 (+ cash
cropping versus beef cattle −); (d) component 4 (+ small farms versus large farms −)
(a) Component 1 ( (b) Component 2
More than 1.5
1 to 1.49
0.5 to 0.99
0 to 0.49
0 to -0.49
-0.5 to -0.99
-1.0 to -1.49
Less than -1.5
(d) Component 4
(c) Component 3 i
0 100krr

Research on the physical underpinnings of
agriculture has become the domain of ecologists,
biologists and biogeographers, though human
geographers have made contributions to studies of
the impacts of selective breeding, biotechnology
and genetic modiﬁcation. In keeping with the
current focus of agricultural geography the
succeeding chapters deal with the key economic
dimensions of agricultural change, emphasising the
processes of globalisation and restructuring. How-
ever, the importance of the underlying phys-
ical and biological constraints is considered in
terms of the ongoing concerns for the sustain-
ability of agriculture in the light of increased
knowledge regarding detrimental environmental
impacts of farming and the increased ability of
science to manipulate and modify plant and animal
genes.
1.8 CONCLUSION 29

30 2 THE CHANGING FOCUS OF AGRICULTURAL GEOGRAPHY ‘TRADITIONAL’ AGRICULTURAL GEOGRAPHY 30
academic discipline. This was in the 1920s when
agricultural geography was one of the principal
specialisms that emerged as part of the growth of
regional geography as the discipline’s central para-
digm (Johnston, 1997, pp. 44–52). An example of
this was Baker’s (1926) work on the recognition
of ‘agricultural regions’ in different parts of the
world. The region became the central focus of study
for agricultural geographers, with both single-
attribute and multi-attribute regions being recog-
nised. Indeed, for the first half of the twentieth
century agricultural geography involved regional
delimitations following large-scale mapping of
distributions of crops and livestock (e.g. Robertson,
1930) and the classification of agricultural systems
(e.g. Whittlesey, 1936). Prevailing ideas on envir-
onmental determinisim emphasised the physical
controls exerted upon the nature of agricultural
activity. Description of agricultural variations was
important, with land-use mapping of significance
in some countries, a good example being the Land
Utilisation Survey of Great Britain, begun in the
1930s by the geographer L. D. Stamp (1948).
Agricultural geography also played a leading
role in disciplinary development in the early 1950s
when the attempt to define multi-attribute agri-
cultural regions was linked to statistical methods,
initially by Weaver (as described in Chapter 1).
This formed part of attempts to expand the use of
statistical methods in geography. The focus of this
work was upon regional changes in farm inputs,
farm-size structures, farm incomes and agricultural
marketing. Subsequently, work in agricultural
geography, like many systematic specialisms in
the discipline, became characterised by the use of
30 2 THE CHANGING FOCUS OF AGRICULTURAL GEOGRAPHY
2 The changing focus of agricultural
geography
2.1 ‘Traditional’ agricultural
geography
This chapter focuses on how the content of
agricultural geography has evolved post-1945,
thereby providing a context for the more extended
consideration of key components of agricultural
change in the rest of the book. Emphasis is
placed upon how there has been a move from a
‘traditional’ form of agricultural geography to new
approaches embracing different ideas from across
the social sciences.
A standard definition of agricultural geography
in the mid-1980s referred to ‘the description and
explanation of spatial variations in agricultural
activity over the earth’s surface’ (Ilbery, 1985a,
p. 1). This interpretation was based largely on
consideration of two major avenues of enquiry
that had dominated agricultural geography in the
twentieth century:
• Location and context, in which emphasis was
placed on the regional characteristics of
agricultural activities, especially broad trends
and tendencies (Coppock, 1968; 1971).
• Explanations of agriculture’s great diversity,
through consideration of relationships
between the large number of relevant
variables associated with social, economic,
physical and historical factors affecting
agriculture (e.g. Grigg, 1992a).
The regional focus in the first of these can be
traced to the first time that a specialism specifically
termed ‘agricultural geography’ played a lead-
ing role in the development of geography as an

statistical techniques. This was also part of a
theoretical revolution through the use of structured
models and economic theory (e.g. Henshall, 1967),
with special emphasis placed upon the economics
of agricultural production (Coppock, 1964b) and
the use of sample surveys of farms (Emerson and
MacFarlane, 1995; Errington, 1985).
Although the earliest of these models was
devised by von Thunen in the early nineteenth
century, it was not popularised within geography
until the 1960s when various applications were
proposed (Hall, 1968). The economic basis for
much work in agricultural geography in the 1960s
and 1970s can also be seen as a logical outcome
from the formulation of general laws of agricultural
location based on economic principles. Models
based on von Thunen’s ideas emphasised economic
rent whilst more recent derivations, such as game
theory and the application of linear program-
ming techniques, also stressed the profit motive
underlying many farming operations (Found, 1971;
Gould, 1963; Thomas and Huggett, 1980).
Within the regional and statistical approaches,
geographers devoted attention to both economic
and physical environmental factors affecting agri-
cultural development. They treated the diversity
of production systems and complex patterns of
spatial distribution as reflections of interaction
between physical and economic variables. When
behavioural approaches, popularised in the 1970s,
added the personal characteristics of farmers to
the equation, the resultant patterns of agricultural
land use were viewed as the product of a complex
inter-meshing of dynamic economic, physical and
behavioural forces.
The nature of the role of economic forces in
influencing farmers’ decision-making is suggested
by Tarrant (1974, p. 11): ‘the economic facts of
agricultural life never act in an entirely determin-
istic way but rather set limits within which farmers
are able to operate; they define the freedom of
choice.’ Economic factors were cited in various
studies as key underlying sources of spatial varia-
tion in agricultural practice (Morgan and Munton,
1971). That variation attracted the attention of
geographers who attempted to explain its exist-
ence at various spatial scales. Generally following
a positivist approach, this explanation included
the formulation of general laws of agricultural
location based on economic principles, including
applications of von Thunen’s model. However,
the simplicity of this model meant that there were
frequently large discrepancies between model-based
predictions and reality. Hence geographers sought
wider explanatory frameworks in which variables
other than the strictly economic could be incor-
porated to explain spatial variation in agricultural
systems and production. In some cases these ex-
planations took an explicitly statistical form (e.g.
Robinson et al., 1961), but more often relationships
between causal factors were inferred in general
terms on the basis of various forms of empirical
evidence (e.g. Hart, 1956).
Only recently have there been more concerted
attempts to express in more formal terms this
interaction of causal factors, from across a broad
spectrum. For example, Chaplin (2000) suggests
that aspects of the co-evolutionary work of
Nergaard (1993) can be applied to the role of eco-
nomic and non-economic factors affecting farming.
Co-evolution emphasises the mutual dependence
between factors whereby change in one factor
alters the context for the other, causing it to change
and thereby signifying a continuous gradual evolu-
tion. The five main co-evolutionary components
identified in this particular approach are: factors
external to the farm business; farm resources; the
farm household;thefarmbusiness decision-making
process; and changes in farm business resource
allocations (operation, initiation and evolution).
One recurrent problem for work on eco-
nomic interpretations of regional differences in
agriculture has remained the difficulty in obtain-
ing suitable economic and social data. Although
government departments often collect details
about costs and profitability for individual farms
or even for administrative areas, it is rarely made
available in a form suitable for a geographer’s
needs. Coppock (1964b, p. 417), for example, cited
this as one of the reasons for the relative neglect
of economic aspects by geographers in the 1950s
and early 1960s in favour of considerations of
physical controls. Ironically, those working on his-
torical change have an advantage, as historical
farm and estate records can be of greater detail
than those available for today’s farms, for which
2.1 ‘TRADITIONAL’ AGRICULTURAL GEOGRAPHY 31

32 2 THE CHANGING FOCUS OF AGRICULTURAL GEOGRAPHY
farmers may be unwilling to release financial details
of their operations.
Based largely on the work carried out in the
positivist-based avenues of enquiry of the 1960s
and 1970s, Bowler (1987) referred to the ‘tradi-
tional themes’ in agricultural geography as com-
prising work on data sources and regionalisation,
farming types and the location of agricultural
production, agricultural resources and behavioural
factors. He also recognised four broad issues
that had dominated international research in this
field in the 1970s and 1980s, though it must be
acknowledged that this largely reflected work on
agriculture in the Developed World: the character-
istics of industrialised farming systems, the loss of
agricultural land, state intervention, and multiple
job-holding or part-time farming.
Reference will be made to these themes and
issues throughout this book, but only as part of
their incorporation in the new agenda that has
been pursued by agricultural geographers from the
late 1970s onwards. This agenda has involved dra-
matic changes in the types of research undertaken,
as part of wide-ranging paradigm shifts within
human geography itself and the growth of multi-
disciplinary enquiries, bringing expertise from
throughout the social sciences to bear on agricul-
tural problems. Various different ideas have been
incorporated into agricultural geography in this
period, initiated by the adoption of a behavioural
perspective and followed by growth of political
economy approaches in the 1980s, which reflected
both the transformation of the discipline of
human geography and also of agricultural produc-
tion, the broader agri-food industry and patterns
of food consumption, especially in the Developed
World (Marsden, 2000a; Page, 2003).
2.2 Behavioural approaches
Most of the agricultural geography of the 1950s
and 1960s operated implicitly within an empiric-
ist and positivist framework that attracted much
criticism from those opposed to this philosophy.
For example, it was argued by one critic that the
highly simplified economic approach popular in
the 1960s produced a landscape ‘occupied by little
armies of faceless, classless, sexless beings dutifully
laying out Christaller’s central place networks,
doing exactly the right number of hours farmwork
in each of von Thunen’s concentric rings, and
basically obeying the great economic laws of min-
imising effort and cost in negotiating physical space’
(Philo, 1992, p. 201). By introducing considera-
tion of non-economic factors, such as farmers’
motivations and decisions not based solely on profit
maximisation, the focus of attention was then
shifted from simplified models of farming activity.
Nevertheless, the behavioural approach to agri-
cultural geography was also highly empirical and
positivist, focusing on farmers’ decision-making
(e.g. Wolpert, 1964), the diffusion of innovations
(e.g. Hagerstrand, 1967) and the responses of
individual farmers to changing economic stimuli
(e.g. Hart, 1978). It was an approach tied closely
to the emergence of behavioural geography in the
1960s (see Golledge and Stimson, 1997; Robinson,
1998a, pp. 374–8). This built upon work on
human responses to physical hazards (e.g. Kates,
1962), and systematic analyses of the spatial out-
comes of individual decisions, to develop a focus on
the role of cognitive and decision-making variables
(see Golledge and Timmermans, 1990). One of the
central features of this approach was its ability
to link environmental ‘structure’, decision-making
and spatial outcomes, as shown in Figure 2.1.
In the UK the development of the behavioural
approach to agricultural geography was closely
associated with work by Ilbery (1982; 1983a;
1983b; 1983c; 1984) on the goals and values of
hop-growers in the West Midlands. This research
emphasised the characteristics and qualities of
individual farmers, but relied greatly upon the
researcher’s ability to define, measure, model and
analyse statistically the attitudes and revealed
patterns of behaviour of farmers (Ilbery, 1978;
1985b), usually selecting a sample of farmers in a
given area to study (Clark and Gordon, 1980). For
instance, it was argued that it is farmers’ reactions
to, and perceptions of, changing economic circum-
stances that have to be considered if a realistic
understanding of agricultural land use patterns is
to be obtained (Ilbery, 1985a; Ward et al., 1990).
As with much of the earlier post-war studies in
agricultural geography, emphasis still tended to be

Figure 2.1 The people–environment interface (based on Golledge and Stimson, 1997)
placed on economic forces and upon quantitative
measurements, thereby relegating the more inter-
pretive humanistic concerns for individual identity
and outlook to a minor role (Munton, 1986).
This behavioural approach also focused largely
on the decisions of male farmers, and was often
divorced from considerations extending beyond the
farm-gate. The relationship of the male farmer to
others in the farm household was generally ignored
until political economy approaches in the 1980s
investigated the strategies that individual farm
households were adopting to deal with falling
farm incomes and policy changes. However, a
behavioural strand of research, or at least a re-
emphasising of the importance of human agency
in shaping the agricultural geography of a locality,
has appeared in more recent work on decision-
making relating to the implementation of agri-
environmental policy, including the contributions
by women farmers and farmers’ wives (Evans
and Ilbery, 1996; Gasson, 1994). In this work it is
possible to recognise some influence of the so-
called ‘cultural turn’ experienced within the social
sciences from the late 1980s (Morris and Evans,
1999). This research has often tried to provide a
balance between the impact of the state and struc-
tural controls on the one hand, and the role of the
farmer as decision-maker on the other. In particu-
lar, it has added to knowledge of processes whereby
farmers assimilate environmental considerations.
Also, because much of this work has been of an
applied nature, it has had some feedback into
policy modification and formulation (e.g. Whitby,
1994).
One of the important elements in the beha-
vioural approach was consideration of farmer
decision-making with respect to adopting inno-
vations. This built upon the pioneering work of
Torsten Hagerstrand, but was criticised for being
too prescriptive, static and deterministic (Brown,
1981). Its underlying theory suggests an orderly,
predictable and linear progression from awareness
of an innovation to adoption, whereas in reality
the process is unpredictable, uncertain and highly
diverse (Ohlmer et al., 1998). The theory has also
been criticised because of its tendency to emphasise
the demand or adopter side of technological change
rather than the supply or provider/promoter side.
However, since the pioneering studies of the 1950s
and 1960s the importance of the supply side has
become apparent in the role of lead-user inventors
(Von Hipple, 1998), change agents such as exten-
sion services (Van den Ban and Hawkins, 1988)
and commercial marketing organisations (Unwin,
1988). Other factors, such as the influence of eco-
nomic inducements, rural services and infrastruc-
ture may be inadequately accounted for by a focus
upon individual decision-making behaviour (Ellis,
2.2 BEHAVIOURAL APPROACHES 33
Environmental structure
Interface
Perception
cognition
Attitudes
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misunderstandings, written messages only were to be accepted.
Captain Koudriavtsev then told Lieutenant Choulkov to remain in his
present position with the 3rd Scout Detachment and await his
orders, while he himself, with half the 9th Company, started to make
the attack, the other half of the 9th Company being left meanwhile
under Acting Ensign Shishkin with orders to follow him as a reserve.
In spite of the terrible fire with which the Japanese met the
attackers Captain Koudriavtsev with his half-company reached the
trenches, and with a wild “hurrah” rushed in with the bayonet. The
blow fell partly on the Japanese flank. A hand-to-hand fight ensued.
Unfortunately, Captain Koudriavtsev was killed, and Sergeant-Major
Evlanov wounded as he was mounting the hill; many of the men also
were placed hors de combat, and the remainder, not feeling
themselves strong enough to overpower the enemy, began to
retreat, carrying with them the body of their dead captain. In the
darkness our men did not retreat back along the line of their
advance, nor towards the 3rd Scout Detachment and the reserve,
but in the direction in which the other companies had retreated
previously. The reserve half of the 9th Company, not knowing what
had happened, but guessing from the direction of the firing and the
noise of moving men that the 1st half-company had retired, and
being met, moreover, by a heavy rifle fire themselves, began to
retreat in the same direction. Acting Ensign Shishkin, unfortunately,
did not think of telling Lieutenant Choulkov what had happened, and
the latter awaited word from Captain Koudriavtsev, as had been
arranged. In this way twenty minutes or half an hour passed. Then,
as day broke, the Japanese fire from the hill became still heavier and
more vicious.
Lieutenant Choulkov learnt of the failure of the 9th Company from
some of the rank and file who had got left behind in the retreat, and
who stumbled upon the 3rd Scout Detachment in the darkness. Fully
alive to the danger of being surrounded, he ordered the outposts to
come in, and sent word of the position of affairs to a company
extended to his left. Fearing for the fate of the machine guns, which

were behind him, Lieutenant Choulkov sent one section to them as
escort, but the guns were gone. As soon as the outpost line had
come in, Lieutenant Choulkov began to retreat with his command in
a compact body, and soon joined up with the reserve, behind which
Colonel Dounin concentrated the retreating troops and brought them
into a state of order.
The reserve was in the valley, and, hearing of the retreat of the
companies to his right, Colonel Dounin ordered what reserves he
had to occupy a neighbouring hill on the right, in order to hold up
the enemy’s advance while he formed a new defensive line from the
village of Vodymin across Riji Hill,[45] through Lieutenant Naoomov’s
battery of 57-mm. guns, and farther on to some unnamed hills.
Thanks to Colonel Dounin’s dispositions, and to the courage of the
officers of the detachment, they succeeded in forming the new
defensive line at the point mentioned, and in cooling the ardour of
the Japanese in their fiery advance.
A short time afterwards the order to retreat was received from
General Fock.
While Colonel Dounin was giving the necessary orders, another
order came in from General Fock to retire on Height No. 86.[46]
Colonel Dounin retreated in splendid order, in some cases
personally conducting the skirmishing line, and, covering one
company with another, occupied the positions ordered by General
Fock—namely, Height No. 86, next a position near the village of Hou-
chia-tun, then Saidjashalin,[47] and finally 11th Verst. Having covered
the retreat of parts of the 13th, 14th, and other regiments, the
companies themselves passed behind Feng-huang Shan.
The whole of the force, and especially the officers, acted in a
manner worthy of the highest praise. In holding back the victorious
Japanese, all the companies displayed remarkable bravery; for
instance, the 11th Company of the 5th Regiment with the 1st

Company of the 27th Regiment held Vodymin for two-and-a-half
hours, though surrounded on three sides. Nevertheless, they broke
their way through, taking with them a machine gun that had been
left on the road and three wounded men of the 26th Regiment. The
6th Company, which held back the Japanese with rapid fire in order
to allow its comrades to get away, continued to hold its ground
under a heavy cross-fire from rifles and guns, and, amongst others,
lost its gallant commander, Lieutenant Popov, who set an example of
unparalleled bravery to the whole of his company.
After the evacuation of Lao-tso Shan the army took up the new
positions assigned to it, and we remained near the station (11th
Verst—the headquarters of the 4th Division) and prepared to cook
our breakfasts.
But suddenly a bullet whistled past, followed by another, and this
reminded us that no one was covering our rear. The staff got into
some confusion, wagons were hastily horsed, and two companies (I
do not remember which regiment they belonged to) were ordered to
move in the direction of the enemy and hold him back. These
companies quickly occupied a height close by, covering the staff
from the enemy, and the firing became general. The whistling of
bullets became more frequent, and the horsing of the wagons of the
staff was hurried on. We saw that it was useless to try to breakfast
in such an unpleasant place, and the staff, with fifty Cossacks and
accompanied by General Stessel, began to move into the fortress,
stopping every now and then to see what was going on in front. I
rode off to 174 Metre Hill, and on the way climbed a fairly high
eminence to see what was happening in rear. I found our own
battery there placed in some well-constructed trenches, and the
guns directing their fire on the station at 11th Verst. Everything was
soon put in order, and nothing further happened to prevent our men
occupying their new positions, on which could already be seen the
rising smoke of the field kitchens.

Towards the evening of July 29 the 5th Regiment had settled
down in its new positions, had supper, and turned in for the night,
except the outposts, whom I had sent out far in front in the direction
of the enemy. (I always did this, even when our own troops were in
front of us, as on this occasion.) I placed my staff on Division Hill,
and built an office, and a mess-room for the officers.
The situation was a very picturesque one. In front were the ridges
of Division Hill, with two neighbouring eminences, all crowned with
our trenches, to the left wooded slopes, and towards Fort Yi-tzu
Shan a small but glistening stream, with banks covered with slender,
waving grasses. (See Map IV.)
To see detail, click on
map to display a larger
version.
GENERAL MAP OF THE KUAN-TUNG PENINSULA Map No. 2.
London: Hugh Rees, Ltd.
Stanford’s Geogl. Estabt., London.

CHAPTER IV
Retreat from Feng-huang Shan, July 30—Fortifying 174 Metre Hill—Capture of
Kan-ta Shan—Attacks on the advanced hills, August 13, 14, and 15—Retreat to
Namako Yama and Division Hills—Losses.
Early on the morning of July 31, I learnt that our men on Feng-
huang Shan had hurriedly retreated into the fortress without offering
any serious resistance to the enemy. This was extremely unwelcome
news, for now we should have to come into direct touch with the
enemy round the fortress itself.
Major Saratski’s force had to occupy the crest of Pan-lung Shan
from Headquarter Hill to the redoubts of the 26th Regiment near
Fort Yi-tzu Shan. As this detachment proved insufficient for the
defence of this section, I sent up our 11th and 12th Companies, with
some volunteers from our non-combatant company under Sergeant-
Major Bashchenko.[48] I posted Midshipman Doudkin’s four small
naval guns there, and disposed the remainder of the regiment as
follows: on 203 Metre Hill the 2nd and 4th Companies, on 174 Metre
Hill the 5th and 9th Companies, and on Height 426 the 2nd Scout
Detachment, with the 3rd Detachment in an advanced position; on
Division Hill the two Q.F. batteries of Colonels Petrov and
Romanovski (which had arrived from Kiev) were posted with our 5th,
6th, and 7th Companies; on Headquarter Hill the 1st Scout
Detachment. The remaining companies were in reserve.
Since, however, the line occupied exceeded 6 versts in length, we
had all too few men for such a wide extent of front.
I now return to our retreat from Feng-huang Shan.
The hill and the position near 11th Verst, like that on Ta-ku Shan,
had been very weakly fortified by us. I was well acquainted with the
works on Feng-huang Shan and those in continuation towards the

right flank, having gained this knowledge during, and before, the
fighting on the “Position of the Passes.”
These fortifications consisted of deep trenches with hardly any
parapet, placed at the very foot of the hills which lay behind them,
in accordance with General Fock’s system. Right close up to the
trenches grew high kao-liang,[49] which completely blocked the field
of view from the trenches, and, like the plan of the trenches
themselves, the positions selected for them afforded an example of
the blind application of a principle[50] in itself sound enough. The
man responsible for the defence of the right flank of Feng-huang
Shan unhappily failed to apply this principle correctly.
In his anxiety to adhere to the principle of a flat trajectory he
entirely lost sight of the fact that every small mound, if only two or
three feet high, presents an impenetrable barrier to a low-flying
bullet. He also quite forgot that the slope of the hill of itself affords
an obstacle difficult to surmount; and he, moreover, ignored the
difficulties of an eventual retreat from the trenches up the side of
the hill, sometimes a very steep one, as was the case at Feng-huang
Shan.
So the trenches on the right flank of Feng-huang Shan were
placed at the foot of its northern side. In front of them grew kao-
liang to the height of 5 feet. The regiments occupying this position
were disposed throughout the trenches in question.
One of the officers of the 13th Regiment described what
happened thus:
“Having retreated from the Shipinsin Pass, the regiment occupied
part of the trenches on Feng-huang Shan, and began to cut down
the kao-liang, but only had time to destroy a belt of about 50 yards
of it in front of the trenches. They had supper and spent the night
comparatively quietly. Very early in the morning there was a stir
among the kao-liang, and before the men had time to seize their

rifles, the Japanese were 20 paces from the trenches. Our troops,
spread out over a wide front, were unable to withstand the rush of
the Japanese columns and retreated up the hill and beyond. There
were no trenches on the top of the hill. Seeing the retreat of the
troops in the centre and the Japanese in possession of their
trenches, the other regiments also began to retire on thus finding
their flanks exposed. Thanks to our artillery, the Japanese were
prevented from advancing any farther and stopped behind the hills
which they had occupied. Only Ta-ku Shan and Hsiao-ku Shan[51]
were left in our hands.”
Another officer of the 13th Regiment gave the following
description of the fight:
“After the battle round Lao-tso Shan our men had to occupy
another position, of which the left flank was Feng-huang Shan. The
13th Regiment occupied the section from the Great Mandarin road to
11th Verst on the railway. We had the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th,
7th, and 8th Companies in the first line, and the 9th, 11th, and 12th
in the reserve, the 10th Company forming the artillery escort. The
whole of the 14th Regiment was in reserve behind the 13th. The
position occupied by us was fortified according to General Fock’s
system, i.e. the trenches were dug at the very foot of the hill, so
that they afforded but a very poor field of fire, and the Japanese
could take advantage of cover behind every clump or mound on the
ground in front. Besides this, in front of the trenches was kao-liang
of such a height that the whole of the foreground was completely
hidden from our men sitting in the trenches. We did all we could to
destroy this vile stuff, but we had no time to cut it down for more
than 50 paces from the trenches, and in some places to even a less
extent.
“Colonel Prince Machabeli, commanding the left, considering that
his reserve was too weak, decided to strengthen it by one company,
and despatched accordingly the following order to the firing line:
‘Send back one of the companies from the position to the

reserve.’[52] Captain R—— received this order. On either side of him
was Major G——, commanding the 2nd Company, and Lieutenant L
——, commanding the 3rd Company. Captain R—— decided that he
would join the reserve. Unfortunately, Lieutenant L—— came to the
same conclusion, so they both went back to the reserve. It is not
known what Major G—— decided to do, but he also disappeared
somewhere.
“The Japanese saw these companies going away, and, springing
up to the attack, hurled themselves into the gap without firing a
shot, the high kao-liang allowing them to come right up to our
trenches unobserved. Having gained this unoccupied point, they
worked round to the flank, and even the rear, of the other
companies, and poured in a murderous fire. The 4th Company
hurriedly evacuated its position, but the 1st and 5th held on for
some time. At last, the 1st Company having lost 101 men and the
5th 105, they began to retire, and, following them, all the other
companies climbed up the hill under a hail of bullets from the
Japanese now occupying our trenches. There were no trenches at
the top of the hill, so our men went on into the town. Colonel
Machabeli was held responsible, and was removed from the
command of the regiment in consequence.”
This gallant field officer was afterwards killed on the West Pan-
lung Redoubt under the following circumstances. The Japanese
attacked the redoubt and took the front glacis. Our men were lodged
in the rear. Colonel Machabeli stopped those who were retreating
and, having inspired them with a fiery speech, rushed forward,
calling on his men to follow him. Another moment and the Japanese
were driven out of the redoubt.
After this exploit Colonel Machabeli went back to the rear face of
the redoubt, and had only just sat down to get his breath, when one
of the men ran up and reported that the Japanese had again
captured the front glacis. Once again Colonel Machabeli collected his
men round him and threw himself on the Japanese, but just as he

was jumping across the inner ditch a bullet struck him. Our men
hesitated, wavered, and then evacuated the whole redoubt, which
remained from that time, together with the body of the gallant
colonel, in the hands of the Japanese.
* * * * *
After the capture of Feng-huang Shan the Japanese took a rest,
being contented with reconnaissance work only; while, in the
meantime, we strengthened our positions, built kitchens, and made
communication trenches between the fortifications.
The companies bivouacked in places screened from the enemy’s
view. Luckily we had a good deal of rain, which gave us water in
abundance. The soldiers dug out ponds near their bivouacs, and not
only washed their clothes, but even indulged in the luxury of
bathing.
Our scout detachments fared worst of all in this respect, for they
were far out in front, and had no water.
We were much delayed in our work by the rocky nature of the soil
and the want of tools, especially picks, good axes, and shovels, of
which implements we needed a very large number. There was a
sufficient quantity of wood in the town, but we required an
enormous amount of it on the position itself.

VIEW FROM THE SADDLE BETWEEN 203 METRE HILL AND
AKASAKA YAMA TOWARDS 174 METRE HILL, UP WHICH A
ZIGZAG ROAD IS SEEN. ON THE RIGHT IS SHOWN NAMAKO
YAMA. THE TRENCHES ON THE EXTREME RIGHT OF THE PHOTO
ARE ON THE RIGHT FLANK OF AKASAKA YAMA.
p. 91]
We had to make provision for dug-outs at the rate of 50 per cent.
for each company for the winter, besides kitchens and baths for the
battalions, and shelters for the officers. Supplies of wood were
brought up on our baggage animals to all points on the position, but
there was scarcely a sufficiency for all the needs of the companies.
We worked day and night for a long time, dividing our men into
three reliefs; nevertheless, our trenches were far from being
completed.
Besides the enormous amount of spade work we had to do, we
were handicapped by having to furnish a very strong outpost line.
We had no fortifications on 174 Metre Hill capable of resisting a
direct attack, and a night attack might always be crowned with
success, so that our men did not get much sleep. I very much feared
night attacks, and so determined to strengthen our trenches by
building redoubts. We had, however, as already stated, but few tools
and little time, and there was so much work to be done, that it was
absolutely impossible to prepare for every contingency.
The enemy was at close quarters and could attack at any moment.
We had thus to watch his every movement, the more so, as we had

no definite line of obstacles barring the way to the fortress, and
even a slight advantage gained at night might give the enemy an
open road into the New Town and, perhaps, even farther. For this
reason I felt extremely uneasy.
Throughout the siege a third of the regiment was always on the
alert.
This would not have been necessary if we had had a better line of
defences and obstacles, or at least twice as many forts as we
actually did have. There would have been no moral and physical
wastage, and scurvy would not have hampered the defence of Port
Arthur.
Although our own primary object was the fortification of 174 Metre
Hill, we could not do very much work on the positions during our
stay in Port Arthur, being constantly sent to the reserves stationed at
Ying-cheng-tzu,[53] or to the right flank, or to the centre near the
pass.
We began to work seriously at the fortifications only from the
moment of the general retreat into Port Arthur, but even then we
were sadly handicapped by the want of tools. It was lucky that the
enemy did not worry us much, but turned his attention mainly to the
right and centre.
The first shell fell into the town on Sunday, August 7.
On the 8th, the Japanese captured Ta-ku Shan and Hsiao-ku Shan.
A number of the assaults were beaten back by the troops holding
the hills, who fought day and night several days running. But there is
a limit to human strength. On the third night the Japanese captured
the hills, finding most of the defenders asleep. I was told this
afterwards by men who had taken part in the defence.[54]
After the capture of Ta-ku Shan we noticed (from the observing
stations we had organized) signs of a Japanese concentration near

Louisa Bay. With a view to obtaining better observations, I was
ordered to occupy Kan-ta Shan with a section under an officer. A ring
trench had been made on this hill (I do not know who constructed
it), but kao-liang surrounded the hill, and its defence was therefore a
very difficult matter, as it was possible to get close up to the top
under cover of the millet. Besides this, Kan-ta Shan was nearer to
the enemy than to us, and was, moreover, in front of Colonel
Semenov’s section, and not mine. Steeling my heart, however, I sent
a section there under Acting Ensign Shishkin. This section could
easily be cut off and destroyed, for which reason I posted at night a
strong piquet behind Kan-ta Shan for its support. From the moment
we occupied this hill we had nightly skirmishes with the Japanese.
The enemy began to press us on all sides until, on August 10,
they captured Kan-ta Shan by a night attack, but abandoned it in the
day, when we again took possession—only for a day, however, for
the Japanese recaptured the hill on the following night, and this time
fortified themselves strongly on it.
* * * * *
However much we longed to see our fleet cruising on the flanks of
the enemy’s line of investment, our desire remained unsatisfied, for
the ships did not dare to leave the harbour,[55] the enemy’s fleet
being vastly superior, both in the number of ships, and in their
quality.
We now had the pleasure of seeing five large Japanese battleships
appearing every day on the horizon before Port Arthur.
On August 11, 12, and 13 we saw considerable signs of movement
on the enemy’s part in the direction of our left flank. Trains of
baggage and bodies of troops were on the move. They carried out
their manœuvre very cleverly, making full use of all the cover
afforded by the unevenness of the ground. However, they showed
themselves occasionally to our observers posted on the hills, and at

night our sentries, who were posted far out in front, could plainly
detect the sounds of moving wagons and marching men.
It was evident that the enemy was preparing to attack 174 Metre
Hill. In view of this contingency we were reinforced by two
companies of young sailors under the command of two of our
officers, Lieutenants Afanaisev and Siedelnitski.
In order to prevent the enemy from breaking through between
Height 426 and Headquarter Hill, I ordered the sailors to make a
trench connecting Height 426 with the fortifications on Headquarter
Hill.
Two companies of the 14th Reserve Battalion were sent up to
strengthen our reserve. I placed Major Ivanov in command of the
firing line. The reserve was posted near the bivouacs of the
regimental staff of the 5th Regiment, behind Division Hill.
In view of the fact that Peredovaya (Advanced) Hill[56] was very
far in front, and held only as an observation post by the 3rd Scout
Detachment, this detachment had orders, in case of a very
determined attack, or a turning of its flanks, to retire to Headquarter
Hill, where a position had been prepared for it.
I was very much afraid that the Japanese would take advantage of
their superiority in numbers, make a night attack, and capture our
weak trenches, the more so, as we had prepared practically no
obstacles, not having had time to do so. We had only succeeded in
putting up wire entanglements across the front of the trenches on
Height 426 and Headquarter Hill.
We had been supplied with some star-rockets for use at night, and
batteries for these had been stationed on Division, 203 Metre, and
174 Metre Hills.
Events turned out as I had expected. On the night of August 13–
14 (I do not remember at what time exactly) a mounted orderly

reported that large bodies of the enemy were moving up the road to
Headquarter Hill, and a few minutes afterwards I heard heavy firing
near Advanced Hill.
I got up and went with my orderlies to Division Hill, to the reserve,
finding every one at his post.
A report was now brought in that all our scout detachments had
been driven back on to 174 Metre Hill and had occupied a line
extending from that hill in the direction of Pigeon Bay.
A terrific fire broke out and spread along the whole front. Our
star-rockets hissed, speeding high into the air, and their brilliant light
showed the whole ground in front.
Another orderly galloped up with a report from the commander of
the 1st Scout Detachment to the effect that the 3rd Scout
Detachment had evacuated Advanced Hill and joined him, and that
in conjunction, thanks to the star-rockets, they had beaten back the
Japanese, who had fallen foul of the wire entanglement on the right
flank of Headquarter Hill. The enemy’s losses had been very heavy.
I at once sent a report of what had occurred to Colonel Irman,[57]
but he himself came up to Division Hill shortly afterwards.
Rain began to fall and soaked us to the skin. At daybreak the
firing somewhat slackened, but shortly afterwards the enemy’s
artillery re-opened, causing heavy losses to our companies.
Rifle and gun fire continued all day from both sides. The enemy
swept 174 Metre and Division Hills with his guns, while our own
artillery in turn swept the plains below, as the enemy offered no
good target anywhere.
Having suffered considerably from our rifle fire, the enemy lay low
and did not attempt to make a general assault. A Japanese column
had worked round our left flank and essayed to attack Height 426,

but the hostile troops were held up by the wire entanglements and
were entirely annihilated by our 2nd Scout Detachment, which had
been strengthened by two sections of the 3rd Company from 174
Metre Hill.
We suffered severely from the enemy’s artillery fire.
Thus passed the whole of that day (August 14). The two batteries
of Colonel Petrov and Colonel Romanovski, posted on Division Hill,
sought in vain for targets, but the enemy kept under cover with
remarkable skill.
There were constant alarms during the following night, and firing
continued without ceasing. The enemy again attacked our trenches,
but retreated after losing heavily. In order to be ready to beat back a
night attack, we had moved the reserve nearer to the firing line.
Knowing every inch of the ground, at about 10 p.m. I started off
with Colonel Irman and two companies towards Headquarter Hill.
There was fairly heavy firing in front of us.
We went on full of assurance, but in the darkness we lost the
road. We took our bearings by the features of well-known hills, yet
these same hills seemed now to be quite different from those we
knew so well by day, and the sound of shots rang out from all sides
more loudly the farther we advanced.
Now we must have reached Headquarter Hill—but no! it was not
there. The firing was soon heard, not only in front and from the
flanks, but also far in rear. We found ourselves in a very unpleasant
position. “Do you think we have gone beyond our firing line?” I said
to Colonel Irman. He answered that he had not the faintest idea
where he was. Then I proposed that we should halt and send out
scouts.
What if we were taken for Japanese by our own people and met
by a volley! That would be awkward indeed. So we halted and had a
good look round, but the place was absolutely unfamiliar. Still, firing

was going on all around. It was the most stupid position I have ever
been in. “Let us turn back, Vladimir Nicholaievitch,” I said to Colonel
Irman; “we shall certainly reach some place that we can recognize,
and then we shall be all right.”
Colonel Irman agreed, and we turned “right-about.” Some time
passed, and at last we made out the silhouette of Namako Yama,
and once more breathed freely.
We decided to leave the reserve behind the slopes of 174 Metre
Hill, where the men lay down under arms on a ploughed field. Major
Ivanov came up to us, and we gave the reserve into his charge, we
ourselves starting off for Division Hill to try to get a little sleep.
It had only just begun to grow light, when I was inundated with
reports from the hills attacked, the Japanese having continued their
various attacks all night. They had come up to the wire
entanglements, but, failing everywhere to get through, they slipped
away again in the darkness. Our star-rockets did sterling service
throughout.
The dawn had not fully broken before the enemy’s artillery
thundered forth. I came out of the dug-out of the commander of the
6th Company, and began to observe over the top of the breastwork.
Our three hills were wreathed in smoke from the enemy’s high-
explosive and shrapnel shells, and looked like veritable volcanoes in
eruption. Though our men had sufficient cover from shrapnel, the
high-explosive shells, filled with Shimose, caused fearful havoc.
A stream of wounded, on foot and in stretchers, was moving along
the road from the hills. It was evident that the enemy was
determined to drive us off Advanced Hill, and our position was a
serious one. I consequently sent a report to that effect.
A message came in from Headquarter Hill asking for
reinforcements, and, pending the arrival of the reserves, I sent one
section of the 6th Company out of the trenches. General

Kondratenko saw that here was no child’s play, and sent us two
additional companies—the 2nd (Rotaiski’s) and the 3rd (Levitski’s) of
the 13th Regiment.
It was a difficult thing to hold on to Advanced Hill, as it had been
the last to be fortified. The depth of the trenches was normal, but
their finish left much to be desired. We had made shrapnel-proof
head-cover, but had had no time to trace traverses or make cover for
the reserves, so that our men suffered severely from the enemy’s
shell fire, which was very heavy.
Before seven o’clock on the morning of August 15 all three hills
had sent in requests for reinforcements, in compliance with which I
immediately sent forward the two companies of the 13th Regiment,
as I saw companies of other regiments coming to our assistance.
General Kondratenko arrived on the scene at about 8 a.m. Having
explained how matters stood, I drew his attention to the dangerous
position of our present observation post. Bullets were whistling
around us from all directions.
At this time Colonel Petrov’s and Colonel Romanovski’s batteries,
stationed on Division Hill, prepared to open fire, although they had
little hope of success, as the enemy’s batteries were not visible and
his infantry was attacking from points which were only within reach
of the batteries far away behind Fort Yi-tzu Shan. The consequence
was that our men had to fight the Japanese infantry under a
murderous artillery fire without the support of their own guns.
The situation was an impossible one, as it had been at Nan Shan.
About 11 a.m. Colonel Irman rode up. Reinforcements arrived
also. The enemy’s gun fire was so terrific at this time, that I
wondered how our men could continue to make any defence. But
they were putting up a gallant fight, for we could see how they
dashed out of their trenches, now to the right, now to the left, how
the reserves posted in rear of the hills reinforced the men in the

trenches, and how they again charged out of the trenches and then
retired behind their scanty cover. The majority of our officers were
wounded and officers of other units took command, but, judging
from the enormous losses of the 5th Regiment, one could not help
feeling that there were but few left in the trenches at all.
Major Ivanov had used all his reserves, and sent in asking for
more. Reports were received from every quarter stating that the
trenches had been absolutely wrecked by the enemy’s shells, and
that it was impossible to hold on under such artillery fire. The fire
was indeed terrific, and General Kondratenko felt inclined to order a
retreat; but I sent up two more companies to the left flank, one of
them (a company of the Reserve Battalion) to the reserve behind the
left flank, as the enemy was devoting his main energy towards that
side. And now, at midday, it seemed as if the Japanese had
concentrated the whole of their artillery, not only to utterly destroy
the defenders, but to level the very hills themselves.
Our guns were still inactive, being unable to locate the positions of
the enemy’s batteries. As I have mentioned before, however, two
batteries standing near us were preparing to open fire. This drew
the enemy’s attention, and he began to pour a stream of shell upon
us as well as bullets. One of them burst close to Major Schiller, and
killed him outright, and also wounded Colonel Petrov, the battery
commander. The former was struck by a large splinter in the left
breast and the latter in the left eye (he died the following day in
hospital).
A little before this we saw unmistakable signs of a speedy
retirement.
In order not to be taken at a disadvantage, I had arranged for a
second line of defence (174 Metre Hill, Namako Yama, and Division
Hill). When I had done this, and inspected our trenches with Captain
Sichev, commanding the 6th Company, I noticed that the enemy’s
rifle fire was especially directed on our trenches on Division Hill. We

had not long to wait for confirmation of this fact (if it were needed),
for Captain Sichev was wounded in the leg—luckily, not seriously, as
the bullet did not touch the bone.
Having completed my round, I returned to General Kondratenko,
and saw that our men were streaming away from Headquarter Hill,
like powder spilling out of a barrel, and shortly afterwards from
Height 426 also. An exclamation of annoyance escaped the general.
“See! surely it is easier for them there than it is on Height 426. What
are they running for? They must be stopped!” Colonel Irman, who
was standing near, took the general’s words as an order and hurried
off to carry it out, taking Captain Iolshin of the general staff with
him.[58]
“And you, Nicholai Alexandrovitch,” said General Kondratenko,
turning to me, “take a company, and attack their left flank when
they come down the hill in pursuit.” There was a company waiting
not far behind us, and I should very soon have carried out the order
given me, but I had scarcely gone half a verst with the company,
when a mounted orderly galloped up and gave me an order to
return immediately to General Kondratenko and hand over the
command to Lieutenant-Colonel Naoomenko, who was close to me
at the time. When I again reached Division Hill, I saw our army in
full retreat from the three advanced hills. On the crest of the hills
that had been occupied by us (Height 426, Headquarter Hill, and
Advanced Hill) appeared lines of the enemy’s skirmishers. Our men
retreated without haste, returning the enemy’s fire, but strewing the
ground they were passing over with bodies. Three mounted men
were seen galloping along the retreating line; they were Colonel
Irman, Captain Iolshin, and Colonel Zoobov, the latter commanding
the 4th Reserve Battalion. But their efforts were in vain and the
retreat continued without check.
When Colonel Irman returned, he reported that he had been
unable to stop the retreating line, and the only men who paid any
attention to him were a few scouts of the 5th Regiment and the 1st

Company of the reserve battalion under Lieutenant Sadykov, whom
he recommended for a St. George’s Cross.
I consider it my duty to state here that Major Ivanov acted in the
most heroic manner during the battle. When the 6th Company
refused to go up Headquarter Hill to the help of their comrades,
Major Ivanov said to the men: “If you don’t come with me I shall lie
down here to be shot”; and, running out on to an open space that
was swept by bullets, he lay down on the ground. Then the
commander of the company rushed up with his men, lifted him up,
and said that the company would follow him wherever he liked to
lead them. However, on reaching the hill, they found that it had
been evacuated and was now strongly held by the Japanese. Major
Ivanov then took the company back to Division Hill.
General Kondratenko ordered me to stop the retreat and to form a
reserve for our subsequent defensive line, and I set out to do my
best. When the Japanese appeared on Height 426 and Headquarter
Hill, our artillery swept these heights with shrapnel, and cleared the
summits of yellow-peaked caps in a moment.
This was timely relief, as the Japanese began to bring a flanking
fire to bear from the trenches on Headquarter Hill on the lines at
Pan-lung Shan, and our 11th Company suffered severely from this
fire. Things were already going badly at Pan-lung Shan, and it was
of vital importance to know what was to be done next. To decide
this, General Kondratenko summoned all the commanders to come
to Division Hill. I also went there the moment I had formed my
reserves and posted them in a safe place.
Colonel Irman, Colonel Zoobov, and others were already there.
The noise of battle had become less, and for the moment the
Japanese showed no signs of advancing any farther.
Our artillery ceased firing, as its targets had disappeared over the
top of the hills and taken cover in the kao-liang. This was about 2

p.m.
Before undertaking anything further it was decided to make an
inspection of the positions behind us on Pan-lung Shan, which
General Kondratenko ordered Colonel Naoomenko and myself to do.
We immediately went to Pan-lung Shan, from which our 11th
Company, under Second-Lieutenant Lobyrev, had already retreated. I
asked: “Who ordered you to retreat?” and he answered: “Major
Katishev [commanding the 11th Company; he had been wounded in
the arm and had been taken to the field hospital]. He told us to
retreat, as it was impossible to remain in the trenches, for
Headquarter Hill was in the hands of the Japanese.” On hearing this,
I said: “You are never to retreat without orders from a senior
commander. Go back again!”
Second-Lieutenant Lobyrev, a quiet, brave fellow, answered: “It is
all the same to us—we will go back”; then, turning quickly to his
men, he shouted out: “Company, about turn, to the old position—
march!” and the company turned round and reoccupied its trenches.
Having made an inspection of these trenches, we came to the
conclusion that it was, indeed, impossible to remain in them, as their
left flank rested on Headquarter Hill and there was hardly any cover
from fire from that side.
We informed General Kondratenko of the result of our inspection,
and he decided to evacuate Pan-lung Shan entirely as far as the
redoubts on the right flank of Division Hill. This was done at about 7
p.m.
Between Pan-lung Shan and Division Hill there was a position
favourable for defence, and I had already had some work done on it
and commenced the construction of a large lunette. We should have
occupied this position with the companies which retreated from Pan-
lung Shan, but as we had no tools for completing the works we had
to abandon the idea of holding it, and all the companies were taken

from Pan-lung Shan and placed in reserve behind Division Hill and
Namako Yama. The three scout detachments were posted between
203 Metre Hill and Fort Ta-yang-kou North, where they could get
some rest.
I will now give a detailed account of the fighting on each of the
hills attacked.
On Triok-Golovy Hill (Three-Headed Hill) [59]
About 10 p.m. on August 13 the outposts were driven back by the
enemy on to their supports. The 1st Scout Detachment was
surrounded, but fought its way through at the point of the bayonet,
bringing along two badly wounded men and two Japanese rifles.
At eleven o’clock the Japanese attacked Advanced Hill, which was
held by one section (the 3rd) of the 3rd Infantry Scout Detachment,
consisting of 36 men. Favoured by darkness, the enemy completely
surrounded the hill on all sides. The non-commissioned officer in
charge, Nazarov, seeing that there was no escape, attacked the
enemy, and at this moment a star-rocket burst, and by its light the
men on Headquarter Hill saw the Japanese, and at once poured a
hail of bullets into them, thus enabling Nazarov to fight his way back
to Headquarter Hill.
Having taken Advanced Hill, the Japanese climbed up Headquarter
Hill, but were beaten back with heavy losses. Half an hour later they
raised the cry of “Banzai!” and again stormed our trenches from the
right flank, but in doing so they fell foul of the wire entanglements
and were nearly all wiped out.
About 2 a.m. the enemy repeated the attack in great force; but
only a few reached the trenches, where they were bayoneted by our
men. In this attack the darkness greatly assisted the enemy, as the
supply of rockets being exhausted, no more could be sent up.

Towards morning on August 14, covered by fog and rain, the
enemy tried to overwhelm our scouts, but without success. In this
attack Acting Ensign Zakrejevski was wounded, the sergeant-major
of the 1st Detachment killed, and several scouts wounded.
I must mention a very fine piece of work on the part of Corporal
Vagin of the 3rd Scout Detachment. Entirely on his own initiative, he
occupied with his section a hill that had been left unfortified, and by
enfilade fire afforded great relief from pressure on Headquarter Hill
and Height 426, whilst at the same time beating back the Japanese
attacking his own party.
All the non-commissioned officers acted like true heroes, and one
of them, Lance-Corporal Khaidoulin (a Tartar) of the 1st Scout
Detachment, seeing that the men of his section had expended all
their ammunition during the third attack, jumped up out of the
trench and shouted out, “Let us die, lads, for the Czar and our
Faith!” and prepared for a bayonet charge. Just at that moment
ammunition was brought up, and the Japanese were driven off by
rifle fire.
In the morning it was seen that the Japanese had captured
Advanced Hill, Kan-ta Shan, and a small hill in front of the 12th
Company at Pan-lung Shan, from which they opened rifle fire, but
the Baranovski guns on Height 426 drove them under cover.
On account of sickness (dysentery) Lieutenant Choulkov had been
sent to hospital, and Acting Ensign Elechevski was sent to take his
place.
On the night of August 14 the supply of ammunition began to run
short and firing was stopped. Thinking that we had abandoned the
trenches, the enemy tried to capture them. He was met at the very
edge of the trenches by some volleys which almost annihilated him,
only one officer and five men, who had hidden behind some stones,
being left. At daybreak Sergeant Zmoushko, noticing that the men

behind the stones were not dead, began to watch, and as soon as
the officer showed his head, he shot him. Seeing their officer killed,
the soldiers ran back, but were all shot down.
The ground in front of the trenches was strewn with the bodies of
the Japanese. In the morning (August 15) the men of the 1st Scout
Detachment left the trenches in order to clean their rifles, which had
become choked from continual firing, and their place was being
taken by a company of the 4th Reserve Battalion; at this moment,
however, the trenches were swept by such a terrible fire that the
new arrivals gave way and began to retreat. The men of the Scout
Detachment rushed up towards the trenches, but, being unable to
stem the retreat, they themselves retired behind the slopes of the
hills lying in rear, and thence (when Headquarter Hill had been
occupied by the Japanese) to Division Hill.
Colonel Irman galloped up to the retreating men and compelled
them to turn back; but the Japanese opened such a deadly fire from
the machine guns and rifles, that again they turned their backs. At
this time our field artillery swept the captured hills with shrapnel,
upon which the Japanese took cover, and ceased firing on the
retreating columns.
I consider it my duty here to mention the names of two of our
heroes. When our men were stopped by Colonel Irman, they
suffered such heavy losses that they again began to retreat, except
two men of the 5th Regiment, Corporal Trusov and Private
Molchanov, who got right into the Japanese trenches; but finding
that they were only two, while the enemy filled the trench, they beat
a retreat—not, however, before Molchanov had killed a Japanese
officer. They were both wounded slightly on their way back, but
nevertheless remained in the ranks.
On Bokovy Hill (Side Hill) [60]

At 10 p.m. on August 13, the sentries on Height 426 reported that
four columns, each two companies strong, were advancing on the
hill. Second-Lieutenant Andreiev immediately sent some sentries out
to the wire entanglement to give him warning when the enemy had
descended the opposite slope and reached the wires.
At eleven o’clock the sentries reported that the Japanese were
close at hand. Volley firing was immediately opened, and
Midshipman Doudkin’s small guns also commenced firing, upon
which the Japanese, after suffering considerable losses, retreated
behind the hill.
At midnight they again attacked the hill, but were again repulsed,
and up to 5 a.m. they attacked seven times without any success
whatever.
They left piles of bodies in front of and amongst the wire
entanglements.
During the third attack it was seen that a column of two
companies had got through the wire on the right flank. A section of
the 2nd Scout Detachment was immediately sent against them
under the command of Lance-Corporal Noskov, and this section,
together with the Baranovski guns, posted on that flank, and two
sections of the 9th Company sent from 174 Metre Hill, put them to
flight.
When day broke, 432 Japanese bodies were counted round the
wire entanglements.
By 7 a.m. half the trenches had been destroyed by the enemy’s
artillery, so that one section had to be withdrawn and posted on the
opposite slope of the hill.
At 9.30 a.m. the Japanese broke through the wire entanglements
and got half-way up the hill, but they were met by fire from the
trenches—from the left flank by volleys from the section of the 2nd

Infantry Scout Detachment, and from the right by volleys from the
sailors under the command of Lieutenant Afanaisev; and, not being
able to make any headway, they retired. At 11 a.m. Second-
Lieutenant Andreiev was wounded, and the command devolved on
Lance-Corporal Kobrintsev. Captain Rotaiski was sent to reinforce,
but he did not occupy the trenches, remaining instead behind their
left flank.
During the day the enemy began to increase his efforts against
Height 426, and in consequence the reserve was sent for, but did not
arrive, though two companies of the 4th Reserve Battalion were
supposed to have been sent up.
About midday, when the 1st and 2nd sections of the 1st
Detachment were annihilated by artillery fire, a half-company of the
reserve battalion, under a second-lieutenant of the 27th Regiment,
arrived and occupied the right trench, and in the night another half-
company, with a sergeant-major, was sent up with orders to occupy
the saddle between Headquarter Hill and a small hill to the left of it.
Firing went on the whole day, and on the night of August 14–15 the
enemy made two attacks, but only succeeded in one case in getting
up to the wire entanglement, where more than two-thirds of the
attacking party were lost.
The hill was captured at midday on August 15. We retreated from
the advanced positions, but were in consequence considerably
stronger on Division Hill, Namako Yama, and 174 Metre Hill, on
account of the reserves concentrated there.
In view of the anticipated attack on these hills, we had to work
hard on them, the more so, as Namako Yama was very weakly
fortified. The trenches were small and unfinished, and the ground
solid rock.
If only these trenches had been prepared beforehand, it would
have been quite a different matter. How many lives would have been

saved, and how many attacks beaten back! It is always necessary in
a fortress to prepare defensive positions in peace time, and this can
be done conveniently as part of the training of the troops in
garrison.
The fighting on Headquarter Hill cost us somewhat dearly. The
Scout Detachments of the 5th Regiment lost more than half their
strength—160 men and one officer (Second-Lieutenant Andreiev);
the two naval companies suffered a loss of 30 men each; the
remainder, represented by companies of the 13th Regiment and of
the 4th Reserve Battalion, were reduced by quite 15 per cent. of
their strength. The 11th and 12th Companies at Pan-lung Shan did
not have many losses, but three officers were placed hors de combat
—Major Katishev being wounded, and Second-Lieutenant Merkoulev
and Ensign Moukin killed.

CHAPTER V
The fighting round 174 Metre Hill—Capture of 174 Metre Hill and evacuation of
Connecting Ridge—Fortifying 203 Metre Hill—Defence and capture of Extinct
Volcano.
We had to work absolutely under the enemy’s very nose, mostly at
night, although we took the opportunity of working in the daytime
whenever the enemy’s fire slackened a little.
It was a good thing that the 5th Regiment had learnt something
about trench-making, so that the officers, and even the non-
commissioned officers, knew exactly how to go to work without any
instruction from sapper specialists, of whom we did not possess a
single man.
General Kondratenko did not propose recapturing the advanced
hills, as they were not exceptionally important positions, and it
would have cost us dearly to hold on to them.
After August 15, things were fairly quiet on our side, but bullets,
and even shell, rather frequently passed over the quarters of the
regimental staff. We had, therefore, to move them farther back, to a
small river running along the road from the town towards 203 Metre
Hill, and as a large mess tent would have been visible from a great
distance, we decided not to pitch one.
The Japanese had not got off lightly in their attacks on the
advanced hills, and their losses must have been reckoned in
thousands. They lost particularly heavily in storming Height 426,
where they stumbled blindly upon the wire entanglements and made
repeated attacks. There were piles of dead heaped up round these
entanglements. The fact must be noted that we were driven out of
these positions by gun fire, and not by the Japanese infantry.

Events here made it clear to every one what preponderance in
artillery really means. The side that silences the enemy’s guns can
capture his positions without particularly hard fighting, for, having
once got the enemy’s fire under control, one can choose a point of
attack, concentrate the whole of one’s artillery on it, and then take it
by storm with comparatively small numbers. For this, however, a
numerous, well-trained, and efficient artillery is essential. To win a
battle with badly trained or inefficient artillery is now a matter of
extreme difficulty. I will not venture to lay down the exact proportion
of guns necessary per 1,000 infantry, but there must be, at any rate,
not less than 6 guns per 1,000 (i.e. one battery to each complete
battalion).
What an error we committed in posting our artillery on the crests
of the hills! The Japanese punished us very severely for the mistake,
but it was too late then to change our dispositions.
The Japanese batteries were completely concealed, and fired on
our skirmishers as deliberately as if they were at practice on their
artillery ranges. They had a lot of work in front of them yet, of
course, as we could still hold on to those positions we had spent
some time in fortifying, and the 5th Regiment had yet many trying
moments to live through.
Much had to be done on 203 Metre Hill in order to enable our
troops to hold out under a veritably hellish fire, with which our
gunners were powerless to cope.
From the capture of the advanced hills until the morning of August
19 we worked on our positions almost without molestation, the
enemy devoting all his attention to 174 Metre Hill (See Map II.).
Being convinced that the next serious attack would be made on that
hill, we did all in our power to put it into a good state of defence.
The left flank was covered by a wire entanglement, the front was
strengthened by a 3-foot revetment, and the right flank had a
double line of trenches, the upper tier of which was blinded.

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