J01   1 <#FLOB:J01\><h_><p_>5.3 THE EXPERIMENTAL APPROACH TO NUCLEAR 
J01   2 REACTIONS<p/><h/>
J01   3 <p_>Having defined the quantities that are normally measured in a 
J01   4 nuclear reaction we here outline the typical experimental 
J01   5 procedures which are followed for studying the symbolic reaction 
J01   6 A(a, b)B. No details are given of the apparatus other than to 
J01   7 mention very briefly the underlying physical principles. Details of 
J01   8 low energy nuclear physics apparatus are given, for example, in 
J01   9 Burcham (1988) and of high energy elementary particle apparatus in 
J01  10 a book in this series by Kenyon (1988).<p/>
J01  11 <p_>Referring to Fig. 5.3, charged ions of the particle a are 
J01  12 produced in some form of accelerator (described later in this 
J01  13 section) and, by use of bending magnets for example, will emerge 
J01  14 with a particular energy. These ions then pass through a collimator 
J01  15 in order to define their direction with some precision and strike a 
J01  16 target containing the nuclei A. As the beam particles move through 
J01  17 the target they will mainly lose energy by ionizing target atoms 
J01  18 and so, if precise energy measurements are to be made, a thin 
J01  19 target must be used. This, however, increases the difficulty of the 
J01  20 experiment since few interactions will take place. Choice of target 
J01  21 thickness is clearly a crucial decision in planning an 
J01  22 experiment.<p/>
J01  23 <p_><O_>diagram&caption<O/><p/>
J01  24 <p_>The reaction product particles b move off in all directions and 
J01  25 their angular distribution can be studied by detecting them after 
J01  26 passage through another collimator set at a particular angle 
J01  27 <*_>theta<*/>. Various types of detector are used (discussed later) 
J01  28 - sometimes in combination - and these can determine the type of 
J01  29 particle as well as its energy. But experimenters have to contend 
J01  30 with many complications of interpretation, impurities in targets 
J01  31 and, not least, the stability of their apparatus. In the end, 
J01  32 detailed information becomes available about <*_>sigma<*/>, 
J01  33 d<*_>sigma<*/>/d<*_>OMEGA<*/> and their energy dependence for the 
J01  34 reaction under study.<p/>
J01  35 <h_><p_>5.3.1 Accelerators<p/><h/>
J01  36 <p_>Most important for nuclear reaction studies are Van de Graaff 
J01  37 accelerators in which ions are accelerated in an evacuated tube by 
J01  38 an electrostatic field maintained between a high voltage terminal 
J01  39 and an earth terminal, charge being conveyed to the high voltage 
J01  40 terminal by a rotating belt or chain. In early forms of this 
J01  41 accelerator, positive ions from a gaseous discharge tube were 
J01  42 accelerated from the high voltage terminal to earth. But, in modern 
J01  43 'tandem' accelerators, negative ions are accelerated from earth to 
J01  44 the high voltage terminal where they are then stripped of some 
J01  45 electrons and the resultant positive ions are further accelerated 
J01  46 down to earth potential. The effective accelerating potential is 
J01  47 thus twice the potential difference in the machine. High flux 
J01  48 proton beams with energies up to around 30MeV can be produced in 
J01  49 this way. The machines can also be used to accelerate heavy ions 
J01  50 such as <sp_>16<sp/>O.<p/>
J01  51 <p_>At higher energies use is generally made of orbital 
J01  52 accelerators in which charged particles are confined to move in 
J01  53 circular orbits by a magnetic field. At non-relativistic energies 
J01  54 the angular frequency of rotation <*_>omega<*/>, known as the 
J01  55 <tf_>cyclotron frequency<tf/>, is constant depending only on the 
J01  56 strength of the field. In a <tf|>cyclotron, the particles rotate in 
J01  57 a circular metallic box split into two halves, known as Ds, between 
J01  58 which an oscillating electric field is maintained. Its frequency 
J01  59 matches <*_>omega<*/> and so the particle is continually 
J01  60 accelerated. In a fixed magnetic field the orbital radius increases 
J01  61 as the energy increases and, at some maximum radius, the particles 
J01  62 are extracted using an electrostatic deflecting field. However, as 
J01  63 the energy becomes relativistic (remember <O_>formula<O/>), 
J01  64 <*_>omega<*/> decreases with energy and it becomes necessary to 
J01  65 decrease steadily the frequency of the oscillating electric field 
J01  66 with energy to preserve synchronization.<p/>
J01  67 <p_>Such a machine is known as a <tf|>synchrocyclotron and protons 
J01  68 with energies in the region of 100 MeV have been produced in this 
J01  69 way.<p/>
J01  70 <p_>For energies higher than this gigantic magnets would be needed 
J01  71 and so the approach is to accelerate bunches of particles in orbits 
J01  72 of essentially constant radius using annular magnets producing 
J01  73 magnetic fields which increase as the particle energy increases: 
J01  74 This energy increase is provided by passing the particles through 
J01  75 radio<?_>-<?/>frequency cavities whose frequency also changes 
J01  76 slightly as the particles are accelerated to ensure 
J01  77 synchronization. Such devices are called <tf|>synchrotrons and can 
J01  78 be physically very large. For example, the so-called Super Proton 
J01  79 Synchrotron (SPS) at CERN (Geneva) has a circumference around 6 km 
J01  80 and can produce protons with energies up to around 450 GeV. LEP 
J01  81 (the Large Electron-Positron Collider) has a circumference of 27 km 
J01  82 and accelerates electrons (and positrons in the opposite direction) 
J01  83 to energies of <*_>approximate-sign<*/>60 GeV or more. Finally, the 
J01  84 Superconducting Super Collider (SCC), which uses superconducting 
J01  85 magnets, and which is being built in the USA, has a circumference 
J01  86 of 87 km and will produce proton and antiproton beams with energies 
J01  87 <*_>approximate-sign<*/>20 000 GeV!<p/>
J01  88 <p_>Electrons can also be accelerated in synchrotrons but, because 
J01  89 of their small mass, large amounts of energy are radiated 
J01  90 (synchrotron radiation) owing to the circular acceleration. At 
J01  91 energies beyond a few GeV this loss becomes prohibitive and use has 
J01  92 to be made of linear accelerators in which electrons are 
J01  93 accelerated down a long evacuated tube by a travelling 
J01  94 electromagnetic wave. The Stanford Linear Accelerator (SLAC) in the 
J01  95 USA, for example, is around 3 km long and can produce pulses of 
J01  96 electrons with energies up to 50 GeV.<p/>
J01  97 <h_><p_>5.3.2 Detectors<p/><h/>
J01  98 <p_>Although in the early days much use was made of ionization 
J01  99 chambers, for example the Geiger counter (section 1.4), the 
J01 100 detectors currently in use for nuclear physics experiments are 
J01 101 usually either <tf_>scintillation counters<tf/> or 
J01 102 <tf_>semiconductor detectors<tf/> or some combination. The former 
J01 103 are developments of the approach of Rutherford, Geiger and Marsden 
J01 104 (section 1.3) using the scintillations produced in a ZnS screen to 
J01 105 detect <*_>alpha<*/>-particles. Various scintillators are in 
J01 106 current use such as NaI activated by an impurity (usually thallium 
J01 107 for detection of <*_>gamma<*/>-particles), or some organic material 
J01 108 dissolved in a transparent plastic or liquid. The scintillations 
J01 109 are detected by a photomultiplier tube producing a pulse of 
J01 110 photo<?_>-<?/>electrons. The size of the pulse - the pulse height - 
J01 111 gives a measure of the energy of the incident particle.<p/>
J01 112 <p_>Semiconductor detectors depend on an incident particle or 
J01 113 photon exciting an electron from the valence band to the conduction 
J01 114 band. The resultant increase in conductivity - a conduction pulse - 
J01 115 then produces a signal which is processed electronically and which 
J01 116 enables the energy of the incident radiation to be measured.<p/>
J01 117 <p_>In the field of very high energy physics, considerable use is 
J01 118 made of <tf_>bubble chambers<tf/> and <tf_>wire chambers<tf/>. The 
J01 119 former follows on from the Wilson cloud chamber and consists 
J01 120 essentially of a large chamber, possibly several metres in 
J01 121 diameter, containing liquid (e.g. hydrogen, helium, propane, ...) 
J01 122 near its boiling point. The chamber is expanded as charged 
J01 123 particles pass through it, leading to the formation of bubbles, as 
J01 124 a result of boiling, along the particle tracks which can be stereo 
J01 125 flash photographed. The lengths of the tracks and their curvature 
J01 126 in a magnetic field enable particle lifetimes, masses and energies 
J01 127 to be deduced.<p/>
J01 128 <p_>Wire chambers consist of stacks of positively and negatively 
J01 129 charged wire grids in a low pressure gas. An incident charged 
J01 130 particle ionizes the gas and acceleration of the resultant 
J01 131 electrons near the anode wires leads to further ionization and an 
J01 132 electrical pulse. The physical location of the pulse can be 
J01 133 determined electronically so that track measurements can be made. 
J01 134 Using an applied magnetic field to bend the tracks again enables 
J01 135 information to be obtained about the properties of the detected 
J01 136 particle.<p/>
J01 137 <h_><p_>5.4 NUCLEAR REACTION PROCESSES<p/><h/>
J01 138 <p_>In the previous chapter some understanding of nuclear structure 
J01 139 has been achieved in terms of a nuclear model in which nucleons 
J01 140 move around fairly independently in a potential well. To give some 
J01 141 intuitive understanding of nuclear reaction processes we stay with 
J01 142 this description of the nucleus and follow a very illuminating 
J01 143 discussion given by Weisskopf (1957).<p/>
J01 144 <p_>An incident particle, a, approaching a nucleus, A, will, if it 
J01 145 is charged, first experience the long-range Coulomb potential and 
J01 146 if its energy is low will be elastically scattered by this before 
J01 147 coming within the range of the nuclear force. In this case it 
J01 148 undergoes <tf|>Rutherford or <tf_>Coulomb scattering<tf/> as 
J01 149 described in section 1.3. For higher energies, or if the particle 
J01 150 is uncharged, it will come within the range of the nuclear force 
J01 151 due to the nucleons. This can be represented by a potential energy 
J01 152 curve of the form already discussed and shown in Fig. 4.2 for an 
J01 153 incident neutron or proton. As a result of this interaction the 
J01 154 incident particle may again be elastically scattered without 
J01 155 colliding directly with a nucleon in the nucleus. The form of this 
J01 156 scattering will obviously depend on the shape and size of the 
J01 157 nucleus and its associated potential well, and is referred to as 
J01 158 <tf_>shape elastic scattering<tf/>. All of these processes are 
J01 159 symbolized by <p/>
J01 160 <p_><O_>formula<O/> <p/>
J01 161 <p_>If a direct collision with a nucleon takes place then there are 
J01 162 various possibilities. The nucleon may be excited to a higher 
J01 163 (unoccupied) state and the incident particle leaves the nucleus 
J01 164 with reduced energy. This in an <tf_>inelastic scattering<tf/> 
J01 165 process and the nucleus is left in an excited state. Another 
J01 166 variant of this is that, instead of exciting a nucleon, the 
J01 167 incident particle excites a collective mode - a vibrational or a 
J01 168 rotational state (section 4.3). Such processes are symbolized by<p/>
J01 169 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J01 170 <p_>where A* signifies an excited state of the nucleus A.<p/>
J01 171 <p_>Alternatively the incident particle may give enough energy to 
J01 172 the nucleon with which it collides so that this nucleon, b, is 
J01 173 knocked out from the nucleus (Fig. 5.4a). There are two 
J01 174 possibilities here, depending on how much energy is lost by the 
J01 175 incident particle. If the incident particle, a, retains enough 
J01 176 energy to escape from the nucleus after the collision we have the 
J01 177 process<p/>
J01 178 <p_><O_>formula<O/> <p/>
J01 179 <p_>where B is the residual nucleus remaining after the nucleon b 
J01 180 has been knocked out of A. However, the incident particle may lose 
J01 181 so much energy that it is captured, resulting in the formation of a 
J01 182 nucleus B', i.e.<p/>
J01 183 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J01 184 <p_>Reactions of the various kinds just discussed are referred to 
J01 185 as <tf_>direct reactions<tf/> since there is direct interaction 
J01 186 with a single nucleon rather than with the nucleus as a whole. 
J01 187 Other variants illustrated in Figs 5.4b and 5.4c are <tf|>stripping 
J01 188 and <tf_>pick-up reactions<tf/>. In the former a composite incident 
J01 189 particle, usually a deuteron (<sp_>2<sp/>H), is stripped of one of 
J01 190 its component nucleons which remains in the target nucleus and the 
J01 191 remaining nucleon(s) escape. Conversely, in the latter, the 
J01 192 incident particle, usually a nucleon, picks up another nucleon from 
J01 193 the target nucleus and carries it away, emerging as a deuteron.<p/>
J01 194 <p_><O_>diagram&caption<O/><p/>
J01 195 <p_>The next possibility is that the incident particle collides 
J01 196 with a nucleon in the target nucleus, perhaps one lying in a very 
J01 197 low shell model level, and neither has sufficient energy to escape. 
J01 198 There will then be a series of further random collisions in the 
J01 199 nucleus (Fig. 5.5) until eventually enough energy is concentrated 
J01 200 by chance on one particle to enable it to escape; or the nucleus 
J01 201 may lose its energy by emitting electromagnetic radiation. This 
J01 202 state of the nucleus after it has captured the incident particle 
J01 203 and in which many internal collision processes are occurring was 
J01 204 first discussed by Niels Bohr in 1936 and is referred to as the 
J01 205 <tf_>compound nucleus<tf/>. Whereas a direct reaction, for an 
J01 206 incident particle of several MeV, takes place in a time of the 
J01 207 order of that taken by a nucleon to cross a nucleus 
J01 208 (<O_>formula<O/>) the compound nucleus exists for a much longer 
J01 209 period and we shall see in section 5.8 that it can exist for times 
J01 210 in the approximate region from 10<sp_>-14<sp/>s to 
J01 211 10<sp_>-20<sp/>s. A compound nucleus process can thus be 
J01 212 represented as taking place in two stages - formation of the 
J01 213 compound nucleus and, after a considerable time, its decay. 
J01 214 Symbolically,<p/>
J01 215 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J01 216 <p_>where C* represents the excited compound nucleus. Because of 
J01 217 the long life of the compound nucleus little information about its 
J01 218 mode of formation is carried forward to influence the way in which 
J01 219 it disintegrates.<p/>
J01 220 <p_><O_>diagram&caption<O/><p/>
J01 221 <p_>Finally, one other approach to coping with the complexities of 
J01 222 nuclear reaction processes should be mentioned, namely, the 
J01 223 <tf_>optical model<tf/> which was developed by Feshback, Porter and 
J01 224 Weisskopf in 1954 and which is useful in giving a broad 
J01 225 understanding of nuclear reactions.
J01 226 
J02   1 <#FLOB:J02\>Logs of wood may have become partly compressed prior to 
J02   2 silicification (or calcification). Wood tends to be compressed 
J02   3 parallel to the cell files. Autochthonous roots, upright stems and 
J02   4 trunks are generally preserved as impressions of the bark, and 
J02   5 compressions of what tissues remained (mainly xylem) after decay 
J02   6 and infilling of the space by sand and mud. In a lycopod (Figs 4.7, 
J02   7 4.11), the woody outer cortex becomes compressed, and the small 
J02   8 woody stele is often displaced. Particularly difficult to unravel 
J02   9 in fossil plants are the different appearances that can occur 
J02  10 between different modes of preservation of the same species.<p/>
J02  11 <p_>Most aerial parts of fossil plants are found as fragmented and 
J02  12 dispersed remains. How can these be reassembled as a reconstruction 
J02  13 of the original plant? Palaeobotany is much concerned with this 
J02  14 detective work, and it is important to realize, in this respect, 
J02  15 the significance of any material one comes across in the field. 
J02  16 There are three methods of reconstruction:<p/>
J02  17 <p_>1. Locating material where, by good chance, two or more parts 
J02  18 (organs) are joined, e.g. root and stem, cone with pollen, and 
J02  19 dispersed pollen, leaves and stem, leaves and reproductive organs. 
J02  20 This is the only positive method, and it depends mainly on field 
J02  21 observation.<p/>
J02  22 <p_>2. Identifying particular anatomical features that are common 
J02  23 to two or more organs. Frequently-cited characters are particular 
J02  24 glands, type of stomata, cell outline: features that cannot readily 
J02  25 be identified in the field.<p/>
J02  26 <p_>3. Commonly occurring associations of organs (e.g. on bedding 
J02  27 surfaces) that would be difficult to explain if not from the same 
J02  28 plant.<p/>
J02  29 <h_><p_>4.2.2 Coal and oil shales<p/><h/>
J02  30 <p_>Coal is described in terms of rank (thermal grade - Fig. 4.12) 
J02  31 and type (composition). The end members (anthracite and peat) can 
J02  32 be fairly readily identified in the field. Very bright, splintery 
J02  33 coal is likely to be of high rank (low volatile bituminous 
J02  34 coal-to-anthracite). The tectonic - sedimentary setting of the 
J02  35 site, and the grade of the associated mudrocks, will provide a clue 
J02  36 to rank. Is there a root bed present? Is the coal autochthonous or 
J02  37 drifted? How 'pure' is the coal? It may be no more than a 
J02  38 carbonaceous mudstone. Try to identify the components of a 
J02  39 bituminous coal:<p/>
J02  40 <p_><tf|>Vitrain, representing coalified logs or pieces of bark, is 
J02  41 glassy (vitreous) and usually closely jointed.<p/>
J02  42 <p_><tf|>Fusain generally forms lenses and has a silky sheen, but 
J02  43 is soft and leaves a black mark.<p/>
J02  44 <p_><tf|>Durain is dull and tough, with megaspores often evident in 
J02  45 Palaeozoic coals.<p/>
J02  46 <p_><tf|>Clarain (attrital coal) is finely-laminated vitrain and 
J02  47 durain.<p/>
J02  48 <p_>This classification of coal is tedious to follow for logging. 
J02  49 Try using mm, cm or dm thicknesses of vitrain, fusain or attrital 
J02  50 coal. Further detail can be introduced by making estimates of 
J02  51 vitrain:attrital ratio. What one is after is an indication of the 
J02  52 overall vitrain:fusain ratio, and the percentage of mud present.<p/>
J02  53 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J02  54 <p_>Oil shales and cannel coals have formed in aquatic anaerobic 
J02  55 environments. Cannel coal (dull with conchoidal fracture) 
J02  56 represents drifted, finely-divided terrestrial plant material. It 
J02  57 is often found at the top of a coal, following a flooding event. 
J02  58 Torbanite, lamosite, tasmanite and marinite are oil shales 
J02  59 distinguished by their principal components (identifiable 
J02  60 microscopically): torbanite, <tf|>Botryococcus and allied algae; 
J02  61 lamosite, planktonic algae (both are lacustrine); tasmanite with 
J02  62 <tf|>Tasmanites (marine); and marinite with various planktonic 
J02  63 marine algae (Hutton, 1986).<p/>
J02  64 <h_><p_>4.2.3 Calcareous algae and stromatolites<p/><h/>
J02  65 <p_>The undulose, arched or planar laminations of stromatolites 
J02  66 (Fig. 4.13) are generally readily recognized in the field. The 
J02  67 laminations reflect discontinuities in formation (e.g. storm 
J02  68 action) rather than short (e.g. diurnal) periodicities. Nodular 
J02  69 stromatolites (oncolites) are distinguished by their irregular 
J02  70 lamination around a shell or lithic clast. The clotted texture of 
J02  71 thrombolites is not easy to prove in the field.<p/>
J02  72 <p_>Growth form is probably the best indicator of red, calcified 
J02  73 algae with forms corresponding to the shapes of most types of 
J02  74 breakfast cereal. It may just be possible to make out, with a hand 
J02  75 lens, the cellular structure of a solenopore, or the larger, 
J02  76 reproductive cells of more advanced rhodophytes. Rhodophytes will 
J02  77 probably have an irregular, knobbly outline attributable to 
J02  78 truncation and branching.<p/>
J02  79 <p_>Although the stem of the green alga <tf_>Chara sensu lato<tf/> 
J02  80 may become encrusted, it is the calcified walls of the cells 
J02  81 enclosing the oogonia, the gyrogenites, (often replaced by silica, 
J02  82 or seen as moulds) that are so useful as environmental indicators 
J02  83 (essentially fresh water). Use a hand lens to identify the spiral 
J02  84 cells. Marine, calcareous (aragonite) green algae such as 
J02  85 <tf|>Halimeda readily breaks up into segments, as does 
J02  86 <tf|>Corallina (articulated, red alga) (<tf_>see also<tf/> 
J02  87 <*_>section<*/>3.6.1).<p/>
J02  88 <h_><p_>4.3 Animal fossils<p/>
J02  89 <p_>4.3.1 Soft tissue preservation<p/><h/>
J02  90 <p_>Soft tissue preservation is rare (<tf_>see also<tf/> 
J02  91 <*_>section<*/>6.3). In the field consider what types of sediment 
J02  92 may yield information on such material. There are five modes of 
J02  93 preservation: (1) mineral coats, where tissues are outlined by a 
J02  94 mineral, typically pyrite; (2) permineralization, actual 
J02  95 replacement of the tissue by phosphate (best), pyrite or silica (as 
J02  96 with plant cells, above); (3) casts or impressions of the tissues, 
J02  97 where the adjacent sediment was stabilized prior to decay and 
J02  98 infilling of the void: or, for example, by concretion formation in 
J02  99 the Silesian Mazon Creek Formation, but probably by organic 
J02 100 stabilization in the late Precambrian Pound Quartzite (Fig. 4.14); 
J02 101 (4) encasement in decay-inhibiting material; for example, scorpions 
J02 102 in Carboniferous coal (peat), insects in amber; and (5) 
J02 103 encrustation of soft tissue (e.g. hydroids, algae) by skeletal 
J02 104 organisms, to leave a mould of the soft tissue (bio-immuration).<p/>
J02 105 <p_>Evidence of bioturbation, scavenging and early reworking almost 
J02 106 always excludes soft tissue preservation of types 1-4 (except where 
J02 107 concretion initiation was so early as to inhibit these factors 
J02 108 locally). Although transport <tf_>per se<tf/> prior to deposition 
J02 109 does not appear to be a major factor, aerobic decay during 
J02 110 transport can be important. Following deposition, it is early 
J02 111 diagenesis that is important since anaerobic decay may be complete 
J02 112 (Fig. 4.15).<p/>
J02 113 <p_><tf_>Note that:<tf/><p/>
J02 114 <p_>1. In freshwater sediments, pyritization of soft tissues is 
J02 115 relatively unimportant due to relatively low levels of sulphate in 
J02 116 the water. In marine sediments with sufficient iron, pyritization 
J02 117 is favoured by high burial rate. With rapid burial more reactive 
J02 118 (less decayed) organic matter is added to the sediment, leading to 
J02 119 a rapid uptake of sulphate ions from pore water and therefore 
J02 120 increased diffusion of sulphate ions from the overlying sea water. 
J02 121 In euxinic conditions organic carbon is generally too high to 
J02 122 favour good pyritization and pyrite is disseminated.<p/>
J02 123 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J02 124 <p_>2. Phosphatization of soft tissue is generally associated with 
J02 125 low burial rate (but without reworking) and high organic input. 
J02 126 Phosphatic materials (bone, arthropod carapace) often act as 
J02 127 nuclei, but the best phosphatization seems to have taken place, or 
J02 128 at least to have been initiated, at the sediment - water interface 
J02 129 (Martill, 1988; <tf_>see also<tf/> <*_>section<*/>4.5).<p/>
J02 130 <p_>3. Early carbonate encasement, where calcium carbonate was 
J02 131 precipitated as concretions, is favoured by high organic input and 
J02 132 burial rate. Where terrigenous input is low (marine or freshwater), 
J02 133 rapid carbonate precipitation is favoured by high carbon dioxide 
J02 134 production by algal and cyanobacterial mats e.g. the bedded 
J02 135 limestones of Solnhofen (Upper Jurassic, Germany) and the Green 
J02 136 River Formation (Eocene, USA) where fossils always seem to be 
J02 137 compressed.<p/>
J02 138 <h_><p_>4.3.2 Univalves and groups with skeletons that remain more 
J02 139 or less intact<p/><h/>
J02 140 <p_><tf|>Graptolites (V - revised) As with ammonoids (below), the 
J02 141 mode of preservation of graptolites in a sequence of mudrocks may 
J02 142 change appreciably from bed to bed, indicating small variations in 
J02 143 facies. Graptolites had a pliable organic (collagenous) skeleton. 
J02 144 Three-dimensional preservation in early<?_>-<?/>formed concretions 
J02 145 and certain limestones is uncommon. Material can be collected for 
J02 146 later acid-treatment. The most common mode of preservation is as 
J02 147 carbonized side-down (profile) compressions, or compressions where 
J02 148 the organic skeleton has been replaced by white-weathering, 
J02 149 phosphatic material (Fig. 4.16). Diplograptids (Fig. 4.17), 
J02 150 however, commonly landed on the sediment with one series of thecae 
J02 151 being entombed aperture down (scalari<?_>-<?/>form view). If the 
J02 152 form of the thecae is clear, identification is generally possible. 
J02 153 Locate material with discrete rather than crowded specimens and 
J02 154 with the proximal morphology distinct. Take care not to 
J02 155 misinterpret apparent branchings for <tf|>Cyrtograptus or 
J02 156 <tf|>Nemagraptus. Commonly, pyrite filled the thecae at an early 
J02 157 stage. Only internal moulds may remain but these have the advantage 
J02 158 that they are undeformed.<p/>
J02 159 <p_><O_>table&caption<O/><p/>
J02 160 <p_>Where mudrocks contain distal turbidites (striped mudstones), 
J02 161 the graptolites therein tend to be richer and better preserved than 
J02 162 in more oxidized sediment. Preservation was enhanced by rapid 
J02 163 sedimentation.<p/>
J02 164 <p_><tf|>Conularids (F) are generally highly compressed in 
J02 165 mudrocks. External and internal impressions occur in sandstones.<p/>
J02 166 <p_><tf|>Archaeocyathids (E - revised; Fig. 4.18) Skeleton 
J02 167 generally with morphology distinct. The calcareous skeleton is now 
J02 168 usually of calcite or has been silicified, but may have originally 
J02 169 been Mg calcite. Geopetal sediment and sparry fill to chambers is 
J02 170 common. Check for epitaxial algae (<tf|>Epiphyton) as dark micritic 
J02 171 clots on autochthonous material. Mouldic preservation should show 
J02 172 evidence of regularly porous walls.<p/>
J02 173 <p_><tf|>Sponges (E) It is exceptional for a fossil sponge to be 
J02 174 found relatively perfect. The best preserved are those with fused 
J02 175 mineralized spicules giving a rigid skeleton. (Peripheral, loosely 
J02 176 bound spicules will still be missing.) Judging by the abundance of 
J02 177 loose spicules in many sediments (e.g. the needle-like spicules in 
J02 178 many Jurassic and Cretaceous rocks, or the ball-bearing-like dermal 
J02 179 spicules (<tf|>Rhaxella) in the Upper Jurassic) sponges were much 
J02 180 more widespread than is now apparent. Opaline spicules of 
J02 181 demosponges and hexactinellids are readily dissolved. Look out for 
J02 182 moulds (in sand and mudrocks), or carbonate replacement in 
J02 183 limestones. Sclerosponges have a basal calcareous skeleton with 
J02 184 embedded siliceous spicules. In fossil representatives (e.g. 
J02 185 <tf|>Chaetetes) the skeleton may now be entirely calcitic.<p/>
J02 186 <p_><tf_>Rugose and tabulate corals<tf/> (F - revised) In 
J02 187 sandstones, preservation is nearly always poor. If the skeleton is 
J02 188 present then it will be almost certainly replaced. Sediment may 
J02 189 have infilled the calyx and infiltrated more deeply, giving 
J02 190 variable perfection to moulds. Preservation in mudrocks can be good 
J02 191 especially if they are somewhat bituminous. In wackestones and lime 
J02 192 mudstones, compaction is common. Select material suitable for 
J02 193 transverse and longitudinal sectioning. The manner in which 
J02 194 colonial forms increase is important.<p/>
J02 195 <p_><tf_>Scleractinian corals<tf/> (F - Fig 4.19) Due to the 
J02 196 originally aragonitic skeleton, mouldic or replacement modes of 
J02 197 preservation are widespread. Neomorphic preservation 
J02 198 (calcitization) is mostly associated with massive colonies (because 
J02 199 they were less permeable). Colonial and solitary forms can be 
J02 200 completely dissolved and the resulting cavity spar-filled. 
J02 201 Preservation is generally poor in reefs, becoming better laterally 
J02 202 in muddier facies. For full identification it is essential to have 
J02 203 good preservation of the skeleton for transverse and longitudinal 
J02 204 sectioning. Distinct banding (probably emphasizing original 
J02 205 seasonal growth variation) is often evident.<p/>
J02 206 <p_><tf|>Bryozoans (G and G - revised) The stony bryozoans and the 
J02 207 Palaeozoic had a calcitic skeleton and are like miniature tabulate 
J02 208 corals, showing similar preservation modes. Preservation is often 
J02 209 clear in mudstones with specimens weathering out. Good preservation 
J02 210 of external morphology and, then, sectioning is necessary for close 
J02 211 identification. Fenestrate bryozoans are typically exposed with the 
J02 212 apertures (smaller than the fenestrules) facing down (Fig. 4.20), 
J02 213 so it is necessary to search for material with apertures facing up. 
J02 214 Slender, encrusting cyclostomes are easily damaged. In many 
J02 215 cheilostomes the frontal surfaces include delicate sculpture, 
J02 216 ovicells and avicularia, costae and spines. Some loss of detail may 
J02 217 have taken place because of abrasion or dissolution. Also, 
J02 218 replacement usually leads to loss of detail, though silicified 
J02 219 bryozoans within hollow flints may be well preserved externally. 
J02 220 Impressions of the external surface of Palaeozoic forms are of 
J02 221 little significance.<p/>
J02 222 <p_><tf_>Larger foraminifera<tf/> (C) Larger foraminifera are 
J02 223 common at certain times and in certain facies and are generally 
J02 224 well preserved in fresh rock. Fusulines (Upper Palaeozoic), 
J02 225 alveolinids (Mesozoic onwards), and rotalids (e.g. <tf|>Nummulites, 
J02 226 orbitoids of the Tertiary) all had calcitic skeletons. In 
J02 227 limestones, preservation is generally good. Individuals may weather 
J02 228 out, or blocks may be collected for later slabbing. In sand and mud 
J02 229 rocks, weathering may lead to dissolution. Break some specimens 
J02 230 open to check that skeletal detail is present.<p/>
J02 231 <p_><tf|>Stromatoporoids (F) are a heterogeneous group. Break off a 
J02 232 piece of rock and examine the fresh, wetted surface with a hand 
J02 233 lens to spot the skeletal laminae and pillars (never present in 
J02 234 stromatolites). Thin-sections are required for identification.<p/>
J02 235 <p_><tf|>Gastropods (I) Most modern gastropods have an entirely 
J02 236 aragonitic skeleton. The operculum, when present, is horny or 
J02 237 aragonitic.
J02 238 
J03   1 <#FLOB:J03\><p_>Doubtless, as understanding of the structure and 
J03   2 function of the world's ecosystems increases, and as monitoring of 
J03   3 their degree of degradation improves, new worries will arise. Since 
J03   4 1973, the 'oil-crisis' has attracted attention, yet the potentially 
J03   5 much more serious problem of soil-loss has generated far less 
J03   6 interest in spite of the problems it caused in the mid-west of the 
J03   7 USA in the 1930s (Brown, 1977: 18; 1978).<p/>
J03   8 <p_>Different processes of degradation could act synergistically 
J03   9 and some have a cumulative effect, so recognition of the degree of 
J03  10 threat may not be easy. The management of land degradation is 
J03  11 therefore an art, with a huge palette of responses or avoidance 
J03  12 procedures, the application of which involves value judgements, 
J03  13 wisdom and scientific skill.<p/>
J03  14 <h_><p_>2 Why is land degradation occurring?<p/>
J03  15 <p_>CAUSE AND PROCESS<p/><h/>
J03  16 <p_>LAND DEGRADATION is commonly blamed on 'acts of God' or 'acts 
J03  17 of the peasantry', and there is typically little attempt to assess 
J03  18 the real causes. Another approach is to argue that, as land 
J03  19 degradation is widespread in environments exploited by Man, then 
J03  20 human actions must be the main cause. A wide range of human 
J03  21 activities can trigger or exacerbate land degradation; there are 
J03  22 also environments which are very vulnerable to degradation, and 
J03  23 natural catastrophes from time to time degrade virtually all 
J03  24 environments. Also, it would be rash to assume that human activity 
J03  25 always has a negative effect on rate of erosion, species survival, 
J03  26 etc.<p/>
J03  27 <p_>Sometimes the process of land degradation can be followed, but 
J03  28 the cause(s) may be obscure. Commonly, a chain-of-causation 
J03  29 stretches away in space and/or time from the site where land 
J03  30 degradation is manifest (see Fig. 2.1) (Eckholm, 1976; Darkoh, 
J03  31 1987: 25; Blaikie & Brookfield, 1987: 4).<p/>
J03  32 <p_>Sometimes causes are local and relatively simple, sometimes 
J03  33 land degradation results from, possibly complex, global changes 
J03  34 some of which are at least partly caused by human activity. While 
J03  35 the scale of global processes may be vast, they may be in a state 
J03  36 of dynamic equilibrium, easily upset by human actions. Chadwick & 
J03  37 Goodman (1975: 4) recognized three types of bio-geochemical cycle: 
J03  38 natural; perturbed (upset by Man) and recycling, i.e. managed by 
J03  39 Man to be sustainable. The second type is increasingly common, the 
J03  40 last type is often elusive.<p/>
J03  41 <p_>Land is a 'stage' within, upon, or above, which, a number of 
J03  42 resources may be exploited. Where there is exploitation of more 
J03  43 than one resource, this may be mutually compatible, or there may be 
J03  44 damaging interactions. Resources vary in character and some are 
J03  45 more difficult to manage than others (Ramade, 1984). The following 
J03  46 classification of types of resource is generally accepted and gives 
J03  47 some indication of 'manageability':<p/>
J03  48 <p_>1. <tf_>Continuous resources<tf/> include: solar energy, wind, 
J03  49 gravity, tidal energy, geothermal energy. These continue to be 
J03  50 available, and, with the possible exception of solar energy, the 
J03  51 receipt of which could be affected by atmospheric pollution, cannot 
J03  52 be degraded, even with gross mismanagement.<p/>
J03  53 <p_>2. <tf_>Renewable resources<tf/> (flow resources) include: 
J03  54 clean water, flora, fauna, soil, clean air. Rees (1985: 224), 
J03  55 defined renewable resources as <quote_>"... those capable of 
J03  56 natural regeneration into useful 'products' within a timespan 
J03  57 relevant to man."<quote/> These resources are potentially renewable 
J03  58 and could be indefinitely available, provided their capacity to 
J03  59 regenerate is not damaged by natural catastrophe or human 
J03  60 activities. Once degraded beyond a certain critical point, a 
J03  61 renewable resource may never recover.<p/>
J03  62 <p_><O_>table&caption<O/><p/>
J03  63 <p_>3.<tf_>Non-renewable resources<tf/> (stock resources) include: 
J03  64 many minerals and some groundwaters. These are available only in 
J03  65 finite quantities, or else the rate of renewal is so slow that they 
J03  66 must be regarded as available only in fixed quantities.<p/>
J03  67 <p_>4. <tf_>Extrinsic resources<tf/> include: human skills, 
J03  68 institutions, management abilities, etc. They can be fickle and 
J03  69 prone to breakdown or degradation, yet can be continuous resources 
J03  70 if well managed (Riddell, 1981: 23).<p/>
J03  71 <p_>In categorization of resources, one should not lose sight of 
J03  72 the fact that non-renewable resources and continuous resources are 
J03  73 opposite ends of the same continuum and that the above classes 
J03  74 overlap. The demand for a resource can vary because attitudes, 
J03  75 tastes, willingness or ability of people to use or purchase the 
J03  76 resource alter, or because a substitute has been found. 
J03  77 Technological advances and altered world circumstances affect 
J03  78 resource demand, people: <quote_>"... live and act at a local 
J03  79 level, but their alternatives and opportunities are shaped 
J03  80 significantly by events at the regional, national and international 
J03  81 levels"<quote/> (Dorner & El-Shafie, 1980: 8).<p/>
J03  82 <p_><O_>caption&table<O/><p/>
J03  83 <p_>Land must be described as a non-renewable (fixed stock) 
J03  84 resource, although it has a renewable capacity to support most 
J03  85 forms of biological life (Rees, 1985: 224). Exploitation of the 
J03  86 world's land has been described by some as conforming to a 
J03  87 <quote_>"lollipop model"<quote/>, in that, with each 
J03  88 <quote|>"lick", there is less for the future (Chisholm & Dumsday, 
J03  89 1987: 354). On the other hand, with good management, it might be 
J03  90 possible to sustain indefinite usage of land, even improve its 
J03  91 utility.<p/>
J03  92 <p_>Alternative ways of classifying Earth resources include:<p/>
J03  93 <p_>1. a division into - those that can be safely 'stretched' by 
J03  94 Man;<p/>
J03  95 <p_>- those that can be safely 'stretched' only if carefully 
J03  96 managed;<p/>
J03  97 <p_>- those that cannot/should not be 'stretched'.<p/>
J03  98 <p_>2. a division into - resources with actual value;<p/>
J03  99 <p_>- resources with option value (possible use perceived);<p/>
J03 100 <p_>- resources with intrinsic value (no obvious practical value, 
J03 101 but there is a will to maintain it).<p/>
J03 102 <p_>The processes of land and other environmental degradation are 
J03 103 not adequately understood, so predictive models are mainly poorly 
J03 104 developed (Chisholm & Dumsday, 1987: 322). Table 2.1 groups various 
J03 105 theses which seek to explain why land degradation takes place and 
J03 106 Figure 2.1 shows causes or combinations of causes that may result 
J03 107 in land degradation.<p/>
J03 108 <h_><p_>Natural hazards as a cause of land degradation<p/><h/>
J03 109 <p_>There are few, if any, regions so blessed that they will not at 
J03 110 some point experience a natural disaster. However, some 
J03 111 environments are less stable than others or are more likely to 
J03 112 suffer disruptions. Areas predisposed to disaster include:<p/>
J03 113 <p_>- steeply sloping areas;<p/>
J03 114 <p_>- easily damaged soils;<p/>
J03 115 <p_>- drylands and localities where soils drain fast;<p/>
J03 116 <p_>- lowlands close to the sea, particularly on exposed coasts and 
J03 117 in areas prone to glacier 'calving', submarine eruption or 
J03 118 submarine <}_><-|>mudlslides<+|>mudslides<}/>;<p/>
J03 119 <p_>- regions where rainfall is intense;<p/>
J03 120 <p_>- drought-risk areas where rainfall is mainly due to airmass 
J03 121 movements which can be fickle ('monsoon' rainfall);<p/>
J03 122 <p_>- parts of the Earth where hurricanes or similar storms 
J03 123 occur;<p/>
J03 124 <p_>- areas prone to sudden frost or cold winds;<p/>
J03 125 <p_>- areas of earthquake or volcanic activity;<p/>
J03 126 <p_>- areas subject to periodic invasion by destructive insects.<p/>
J03 127 <p_>There is evidence of periodic natural catastrophes (infrequent 
J03 128 on the human time-scale, but not if judged by the geological 
J03 129 time-scale) which caused widespread and severe land degradation. A 
J03 130 number of scientists argue that massive extinctions of organisms at 
J03 131 the end of the Permian and Cretaceous Periods reflect such 
J03 132 catastrophes. Huggett (1988, 1989) provided a fascinating study of 
J03 133 catastrophic tsunamis, arguing that huge waves have been quite 
J03 134 common. The UK he suggested has been, and probably will be, struck 
J03 135 every 0.8 to 1.4 million years by 13 to 130 m tsunamis. Worse, 
J03 136 there are indications of waves <tf_>several hundred<tf/> metres in 
J03 137 height caused in the past by meteorite/comet strike, eruptions or 
J03 138 other Earth processes. There is evidence of climatic disruption, 
J03 139 sufficient to seriously affect human affairs following the Hekla-3 
J03 140 volcanic eruption (Iceland <tf|>c. 1120 <tf|>BC) and the Santorini 
J03 141 volcanic eruption (Crete <tf|>c. 1645 <tf|>BC).<p/>
J03 142 <p_>Storms, cyclones and hurricanes are common causes of land 
J03 143 degradation. For example, in 1986, Guadalcanal in the S. Pacific 
J03 144 was devastated by Cyclone Namu, and in 1988 the Atlantic coastlands 
J03 145 of Nicaragua were struck by Hurricane Joan destroying around 7000 
J03 146 km<sp_>2<sp/> of tropical forest (<tf_>The Times<tf/>, 29/11/88: 
J03 147 24). In the short term, these events cause degradation, but, over 
J03 148 the longer term, without such damage, the natural regeneration of 
J03 149 some tropical forests would be upset, for there would be no 
J03 150 clearings and less chance for fresh growth.<p/>
J03 151 <p_>The onset and/or severity of a natural disaster may owe 
J03 152 something to human activity - Man may have 'triggered' the disaster 
J03 153 or may have 'sensitized' the environment. If development has 
J03 154 exceeded environmental limits, a natural disaster might speed up 
J03 155 what may otherwise have been a virtually inevitable decline. 
J03 156 Progress sometimes comes out of adversity - in reacting to a 
J03 157 disaster Man may develop new strategies for using land or resources 
J03 158 which may be less degrading; indeed, much development has been 
J03 159 spurred on by natural and human disasters; notably scientific 
J03 160 advances in times of war.<p/>
J03 161 <p_>The worst possible scenario is for Man to practise a land use 
J03 162 which makes land liable to degradation in an area prone to 
J03 163 disasters on land that is especially vulnerable. At the other 
J03 164 extreme, there is good management of land that is not vulnerable in 
J03 165 a region seldom subject to disasters. It should be possible to map 
J03 166 natural hazard risk and so be prepared for, or to avoid, some 
J03 167 disasters.<p/>
J03 168 <h_><p_>Population change as a cause of land degradation<p/><h/>
J03 169 <p_>Population increase has been one of the most frequently cited 
J03 170 causes of land degradation since Malthus drew attention to it. The 
J03 171 Malthusian, or more recently Neo-Malthusian, view is that 
J03 172 increasing demographic pressure results in overuse of reasonable 
J03 173 quality land and/or the misuse of marginal, often easily degraded 
J03 174 land. If population increase has that effect, the impact is double 
J03 175 edged: a simultaneous increase in demand made upon the environment 
J03 176 in order to support growing numbers of people, and a destruction of 
J03 177 the resource base (Clark & Munn, 1986: 8-12).<p/>
J03 178 <p_>There is a need to treat the argument that environmental 
J03 179 degradation arises whenever population grows, even when it exceeds 
J03 180 a region's 'carrying capacity', with caution, for there are areas 
J03 181 with large numbers of people and relatively little damage and there 
J03 182 are areas with very few people, a short settlement history and much 
J03 183 damage. In sensitive areas, or with certain types of exploitation, 
J03 184 population need not be high to cause problems. Population 
J03 185 stagnation or decline can also be a cause of land degradation.<p/>
J03 186 <p_>Globally, human population has shown three periods of 
J03 187 relatively rapid increase, if a logarithmic plot is used, followed 
J03 188 by periods of relative stability. Arithmetic plotting of the 
J03 189 statistics has reinforced the idea that growth has been 
J03 190 exponential. There are some who hope that there might be another 
J03 191 period of reduced growth in the late twenty-first-century. Whether 
J03 192 or not that happens, the world population will have risen above 
J03 193 6000 million by <tf|>AD 2000. The world today supports roughly 
J03 194 three times the human population and roughly 100 times the 
J03 195 industrial activity it did a century ago. Although they comprise 
J03 196 only about 30% of the world's population, those in developed 
J03 197 countries consume roughly five times as much food and commodities 
J03 198 as people in developing countries and produce more industrial 
J03 199 pollutants.<p/>
J03 200 <p_>A number of researchers have tried to establish where 
J03 201 population has exceeded the limits of food production (Higgins 
J03 202 <tf_>et al.<tf/>, 1982; Mahar <tf_>et al.<tf/>, 1985). However, the 
J03 203 indications are that population - poverty, and possibly 
J03 204 degradation, correlations can be spurious. People, on the whole, 
J03 205 have children in response to their economic, political and 
J03 206 historical situation - a simplistic Malthusian perspective misses 
J03 207 this (Hecht, 1985: 665). Redclift (1987: 30) suggested that it is 
J03 208 not so much net global population increase that matters, but the 
J03 209 rate of change in population in critical regions.<p/>
J03 210 <p_>There has been debate on the relationship between population 
J03 211 density, growth rate and agricultural development, particularly the 
J03 212 intensity of farming (Boser<*_>u-umlaut<*/>p, 1965; Carlstein, 
J03 213 1982). The relationship is by no means a simple one; put crudely it 
J03 214 has been claimed that, if a population does not grow enough, or 
J03 215 grows too fast for agriculture to respond, then production is 
J03 216 likely to remain extensive, and may cause land degradation. If 
J03 217 population grows, but not too fast, then intensive agriculture, 
J03 218 possibly causing less land degradation, may result.<p/>
J03 219 <h_><p_>Marginalization as a cause of land degradation<p/><h/>
J03 220 <p_>People may become marginalized - forced or attracted onto poor 
J03 221 quality, possibly easily degraded land, because better land is 
J03 222 settled; because of unrest; because large landowners monopolize the 
J03 223 better land, and possibly make poor use of it; because of the 
J03 224 creation of reserves. It is not always unrest or social 
J03 225 differentiation which causes people to settle marginal land. The 
J03 226 land may be available and people perceive it offers them a chance 
J03 227 for a living or a profit (Reining, 1978: 75).<p/>
J03 228 
J04   1 <#FLOB:J04\>Wolfe [14] and Olson [42] have produced generalized 
J04   2 vegetation maps for this period. Figure 9.4 is based on these maps, 
J04   3 and shows clearly the vegetation changes that are presumed to have 
J04   4 taken place since the Middle Eocene some 30 Ma earlier (Figure 
J04   5 9.2). The wide-ranging, large-leaved, evergreen, tropical and 
J04   6 paratropical rain<?_>-<?/>forests of the Eocene had contracted 
J04   7 through about 35<*_>degree<*/> of latitude, and been replaced at 
J04   8 higher latitudes by smaller-leaved seasonal forests and woodlands 
J04   9 with a variable (but often high) proportion of deciduous taxa. The 
J04  10 greater diversity of vegetation types in the Middle Miocene (nine, 
J04  11 as against five Eocene types) was largely the result of adaptation 
J04  12 to strongly seasonal climates at all latitudes: deciduous woodlands 
J04  13 in the tropics and subtropics of Africa and India, sclerophyll 
J04  14 woodlands between latitudes 20<*_>degree<*/> and 40 <*_>degree<*/> 
J04  15 in both hemispheres, and mixed coniferous forest at higher 
J04  16 latitudes and altitudes in the northern hemisphere. Nevertheless, 
J04  17 the tenuousness of the evidence on which this Miocene map is based 
J04  18 must not be overlooked. The vegetation reconstructions for almost 
J04  19 the whole of the southern hemisphere rely on a very small number of 
J04  20 fossil sites, and rather different reconstructions, based on the 
J04  21 same very limited data, have been proposed for South America [43], 
J04  22 Africa [9] and Australia [44]. The extent to which non-forest types 
J04  23 (savanna, grassland, or even desert), in particular, had developed 
J04  24 in continental interiors in the subtropics is quite unclear.<p/>
J04  25 <p_>The best documented feature of the Middle Miocene vegetation is 
J04  26 the wide-ranging occurrence of temperate broadleaved forests in the 
J04  27 northern hemisphere. These forests contained taxa now 
J04  28 characteristic of the present-day forest vegetation of western and 
J04  29 eastern North America, non-Mediterranean Europe and East Asia, but 
J04  30 were more diverse than any single modern forest-type in these 
J04  31 regions. Parallels have been drawn with the modern <quote_>"mixed 
J04  32 mesophytic forests"<quote/> of China [45], but a better analogy 
J04  33 might be to regard them as an amalgam of at least four of Wolfe's 
J04  34 forest-types [16] (types 6-9 in Figure 9.1). Although there must 
J04  35 have been regional variation in these Miocene forests, many taxa 
J04  36 apparently occurred over almost the entire range. Among these taxa 
J04  37 were: cold-temperate hardwoods such as <tf_>Alnus, Betula, Corylus, 
J04  38 Nyssa, Salix<tf/> and <tf|>Ulmus; cold-tolerant conifers such as 
J04  39 <tf_>Picea, Pinus<tf/> and <tf|>Tsuga; warm-temperate trees such as 
J04  40 <tf|>Carya and <tf|>Liquidambar (still widespread), 
J04  41 <tf|>Ceridiphyllum and <tf|>Glyptostobus (now restricted to eastern 
J04  42 Asia), and <tf|>Sequoia (now restricted to western North America); 
J04  43 and subtropical taxa such as <tf|>Engelhardtia. All these (and many 
J04  44 other) taxa had also been widespread earlier on, in the Middle 
J04  45 Eocene Epoch, but in rather different forest-types. Consequently, 
J04  46 to regard the middle-latitude Miocene forests as derived solely 
J04  47 from southward displacement of an Eocene Arctotertiary Geoflora 
J04  48 would be erroneous. The middle-latitude Miocene flora certainly 
J04  49 contained many temperately<?_>-<?/>adapted taxa of that geoflora 
J04  50 that had migrated southward with deteriorating climate, but it had 
J04  51 also drawn in taxa from the Early Tertiary paratropical forests - 
J04  52 taxa that had been 'left behind', and had evolved <tf_>in situ<tf/> 
J04  53 to produce new lineages adapted to colder conditions than those 
J04  54 favoured by their Eocene ancestors [45].<p/>
J04  55 <p_>Similar considerations must also apply to the flora of the 
J04  56 sclerophyll woodlands at lower latitudes (the Madrean-Tethyan 
J04  57 Geoflora), associated particularly with the subtropical 
J04  58 high-pressure belt and its margins in both hemispheres. That belt, 
J04  59 with its seasonal or more prolonged drought conditions, remained 
J04  60 much more nearly stationary as vegetation zones were displaced 
J04  61 progressively equatorwards through the Tertiary Period. 
J04  62 Consequently, new lineages were continually being drawn in as 
J04  63 temperate taxa migrated equatorwards. Some adapted to the drier 
J04  64 climates, and persisted, so that recruitment to the Madrean-Tethyan 
J04  65 Geoflora was continually occurring. The concept of geofloras as 
J04  66 originally proposed by Chaney (section 1.3) can thus have only 
J04  67 limited signficance in the context of Tertiary vegetation history 
J04  68 [45,46].<p/>
J04  69 <h_><p_>9.3.3 The spread of non-forest communities<p/><h/>
J04  70 <p_>Following the thermal optimum of the Middle Miocene Epoch 
J04  71 (section 4.4), renewed orogenesis affected most parts of the globe, 
J04  72 and continued, often with increasing intensity, into the subsequent 
J04  73 Pliocene Epoch (section 4.2). As a result, the range of climatic 
J04  74 and topographic conditions over the earth's surface was enhanced, 
J04  75 and global ecospace was further diversified. Ocean temperatures 
J04  76 (and presumably land temperatures also) fell sharply between about 
J04  77 15 and 13 Ma ago, and again between 7 and 5 Ma ago, leading first 
J04  78 to enlargement of the East Antarctic Ice Sheet and then to icing-up 
J04  79 of West Antarctica [47]. The ensuing fall in global sea levels, 
J04  80 coupled with intensification of high pressure in the subtropics and 
J04  81 increasing rainshadow effects in the lee of newly-uplifted mountain 
J04  82 ranges, combined to make the Late Miocene the driest part of the 
J04  83 Tertiary Period. This arid episode was manifested most 
J04  84 spectacularly in the almost complete drying-up of the Mediterranean 
J04  85 Sea [48]. In northern Israel as a result [49], pollen spectra with 
J04  86 50% tree pollen in the Middle Miocene (and including such 
J04  87 mesophytic taxa as <tf_>Alnus, Corylus, Engelhardtia, Juglans, 
J04  88 Platycarya<tf/> and <tf|>Pterocarya) were replaced in the Late 
J04  89 Miocene by spectra with almost no tree pollen, and with 'arid' 
J04  90 indicators such as <tf|>Artemisia and Chenopodiaceae prominent.<p/>
J04  91 <p_>There have been speculations that a wide range of dryland 
J04  92 communities had developed earlier, in the drier conditions of the 
J04  93 Oligocene 25-35 Ma ago [9,50], with centres of aridity in South 
J04  94 America in the rainshadow of the rising Andean Cordillera, in the 
J04  95 low-latitude Sahara and Kalahari Deserts, and in the remote 
J04  96 interior of Middle Asia [51]. However, the major evidence of 
J04  97 diversifying dryland vegetation comes from the Late Miocene and 
J04  98 Pliocene. Certainly, the environmental conditions necessary for the 
J04  99 creation of some present-day desert regions did not exist before 
J04 100 the Miocene: the Middle Eastern desert region was largely submerged 
J04 101 below the Tethys Sea [52], the American Southwest was still open to 
J04 102 the influence of rain-bearing westerly winds, and parts of Middle 
J04 103 Asia were not yet isolated from the south-west monsoons by the 
J04 104 mountain barrier of the Himalayas. All that changed with the 
J04 105 frenzied tectonic activity of the Miocene and Pliocene, and during 
J04 106 the last 5-10 Ma of the Tertiary Period non-forest communities 
J04 107 became widely established over the same general areas occupied 
J04 108 today by desert, steppe and savanna vegetation.<p/>
J04 109 <p_>However, although floras containing non-woody taxa similar to 
J04 110 those predominant today in desert, steppe and savanna areas were 
J04 111 undoubtedly present in the Late Tertiary, the component taxa might 
J04 112 have been assembled into communities very different from modern 
J04 113 dry-climate ones. Thus pollen floras of Late Miocene and Pliocene 
J04 114 age, even from present-day desert areas, almost invariably contain 
J04 115 tree pollen, often of mesophytic taxa. For example, pollen of 
J04 116 Betulaceae, Fagaceae, Juglandaceae and Ulmaceae accompanies that of 
J04 117 <tf_>Pinus, Artemisia<tf/> and Chenopodiaceae in Miocene pollen 
J04 118 spectra from the Gobi Desert region of north-west China [53]. 
J04 119 Whether this pollen was transported from faraway deciduous forest 
J04 120 sources to the south, or whether it was derived from local woodland 
J04 121 patches growing in damper situations within the region, is not 
J04 122 clear. Most palaeoecologists would probably favour an explanation 
J04 123 based on local sources of pollen in arid regions - either from 
J04 124 continuous scrubby woodland with an understorey of desert plants, 
J04 125 or from local woodland patches intermixed with more open 
J04 126 vegetation.<p/>
J04 127 <p_>Nevertheless, the macrofossil, pollen and faunal evidence for 
J04 128 the Late Tertiary supports the existence of a wide range of dryland 
J04 129 communities. True desert conditions may have been present in the 
J04 130 Sahara and the Namib [54], and semi-desert in southern Africa and 
J04 131 the Near East [9,49]. The extensive saline deposits that formed as 
J04 132 the remnants of the Tethys Sea evaporated could have triggered the 
J04 133 evolution of many desert halophytes [15]. Some sort of 
J04 134 sclerophyllous woodland was almost certainly present in the 
J04 135 American Southwest, whilst fossil floras of Pliocene age from the 
J04 136 Great Plains region of the United States attest to a gradual 
J04 137 restriction of forest to river valleys there as grassland 
J04 138 communities developed on the drier interfluves. The existence of 
J04 139 extensive areas of open grassland is suggested also by the presence 
J04 140 of grazing and browsing faunas (horses, camels and osteodonts) in 
J04 141 Kansas and Oklahoma after 10 Ma ago [55]. The presence of grazing 
J04 142 faunas has similarly been used as evidence of grassland conditions 
J04 143 in South America, but here aridification occurred rather earlier - 
J04 144 by 15 Ma ago at least [13] - and by the Pliocene thorn scurb and 
J04 145 grassland probably occupied much of southern South America east of 
J04 146 the Andes [13,43]. More open conditions probably developed within 
J04 147 the Amazonian forest too in the Pliocene, to form a major 'savanna 
J04 148 avenue' extending north from the dry woodlands of the Brazilian 
J04 149 Chaco, through the Mato Grosso of Brazil, to the highlands of 
J04 150 Guyana and Venezuela [13,56].<p/>
J04 151 <p_>In East Africa, grazing faunas diversified later, about 2.5 Ma 
J04 152 ago, at a time when pollen evidence indicates a contraction of 
J04 153 rainforest [57]. Savanna and grassland may have spread sufficiently 
J04 154 then to separate the formerly continuous rainforest into eastern 
J04 155 and western segments [9]. In India the dominant rainforest of the 
J04 156 Middle Tertiary retreated gradually eastwards and southwards in the 
J04 157 Pliocene, as arid conditions developed in Pakistan and to the south 
J04 158 of the rapidly-rising Himalayas [8,58]. Arid conditions almost 
J04 159 certainly developed too in the interior of the Australian 
J04 160 continent, but adequate fossil documentation is lacking 
J04 161 [2,59,60].<p/>
J04 162 <p_>In areas outside the tropics where seasonally dry climates 
J04 163 developed in the Late Tertiary, the major dry period initially 
J04 164 occurred during the cool season, and 'mediterranean' climates with 
J04 165 summer drought did not develop until the accumulation of polar ice 
J04 166 allowed the formation of cold ocean currents affecting the western 
J04 167 sides of the major land masses [61]. For some areas, full summer 
J04 168 drought conditions may not have been realized until the glacial 
J04 169 stages of the Pleistocene [9], but in the northwest Mediterranean 
J04 170 Basin at least there is some evidence that dry summers developed in 
J04 171 the Late Pliocene. About 2.8 Ma ago here, pollen of woody taxa 
J04 172 requiring year-round moisture (e.g., <tf_>Engelhardtia, Hamamelis, 
J04 173 Nyssa<tf/> and <tf|>Symplocos) declined to near-extinction, and 
J04 174 pollen of taxa characteristic of present-day shrublands around the 
J04 175 Mediterranean Basin (<tf_>Cistus, Olea, Phillyrea, Pistacia, 
J04 176 Quercis ilex<tf/>-type) became a constant component of the 
J04 177 sediments [62]. However, it must not be forgotten that adaptation 
J04 178 to summer drought is a secondary evolutionary feature that 
J04 179 developed in plants already adapted to seasonal drought; the 
J04 180 adaptation necessitated a shift in the time of seedling germination 
J04 181 and establishment from late spring/early summer to late 
J04 182 winter/early spring, together with concomitant adjustments in the 
J04 183 timing of flowering and seed maturation [8]. Hence the presence of 
J04 184 'mediterranean' genera in the fossil record does not necessarily 
J04 185 imply the existence of a mediterranean climate. <tf_>Arbutus, 
J04 186 Chamaerops, Juniperus, Pistacia<tf/> and <tf_>Quercus 
J04 187 coccifera<tf/>, for example, characteristic members of present-day 
J04 188 shrublands in southern Europe, are recorded from European sites 
J04 189 back to the early Oligocene, when they were part of the developing 
J04 190 Madrean-Tethyan Geoflora [63].<p/>
J04 191 <p_>Spread of non-forest plant communities late in the Tertiary 
J04 192 Period occurred also at high altitudes, as mountain ranges were 
J04 193 thrust up above the attainable treeline. Documentation of this 
J04 194 spread of herbaceous plants relies largely on the pollen record, 
J04 195 and is consequently rather non-specific. However, it is clear both 
J04 196 from the pollen record and from present-day distribution patterns 
J04 197 that the colonizing species of these newly-created habitats were 
J04 198 drawn both from local sources and from more distant ones. Thus 
J04 199 pollen analyses from the high northern Andes [43] show developing 
J04 200 montane and alpine floras in the Pliocene Epoch that were derived 
J04 201 mainly from neotropical elements, but drew in some North American 
J04 202 taxa as well (<tf_>Alnus, Aster<tf/>, Cruciferae, Ericaceae, 
J04 203 <tf_>Erigeron, Sambucus<tf/> and <tf|>Viburnum) and at least one
J04 204  Antarctic one (<tf|>Lagenophora). Present distribution patterns of 
J04 205 alpine plants on the East African mountains [9] similarly indicate 
J04 206 an input of exotic genera in the past - from southern Africa and 
J04 207 from temperate regions of the northern hemisphere.<p/>
J04 208 <p_>Adaptation to conditions of extreme cold almost certainly 
J04 209 occurred in these habitats and not in high-latitude (arctic) ones. 
J04 210 Tundra vegetation dominated by herbaceous plants was almost 
J04 211 non-existent before the Pleistocene Epoch, with boreal forest and 
J04 212 spruce parkland reaching north to the shores of the Arctic Ocean 
J04 213 [64]. At a few sites only is there pollen evidence of dwarf-shrub 
J04 214 tundra in the Late Pliocene: on Seward Peninsula, Alaska [39], and 
J04 215 in the Kolyma lowlands of north-east Siberia [65].<p/>
J04 216 <h_><p_>9.4 THE TERTIARY VEGETATION OF WESTERN NORTH AMERICA<p/>
J04 217 
J05   1 <#FLOB:J05\><h_><p_>Framboidal Pyrite Nucleation and Crystal 
J05   2 Growth: a progress report<p/>
J05   3 <p_>by David Rickard and Ian Butler<p/><h/>
J05   4 <p_>Framboidal pyrite represents a simple two component inorganic 
J05   5 system that readily reaches a remarkable degree of organizational 
J05   6 sophistication. Apart from their aesthetic attributes, framboids 
J05   7 are interesting because they may tell us something about the 
J05   8 fundamental processes involved in the development of organized 
J05   9 systems and about the physico-chemical conditions of ancient 
J05  10 environments. Framboids also have a close relationship with 
J05  11 biological materials and processes: (a) they are intimately 
J05  12 involved in biomineralization, especially in pyritization of plants 
J05  13 (b) microbial sulphate reduction is the major source of framboidal 
J05  14 sulphide and (c) organic matter forms the matrix between 
J05  15 microcrysts in some framboids and enclosing outer sacs in 
J05  16 others.<p/>
J05  17 <h_><p_>Framboid characteristics<p/><h/>
J05  18 <p_>Any model for the formation of framboids must account for the 
J05  19 following properties: (1) the dominant mineral form in framboids is 
J05  20 pyrite (2) up to 10<sp_>7<sp/> pyrite mycrocrysts (usually < 
J05  21 1<*_>mu<*/>m in size) occur in spheroids usually less than 
J05  22 100<*_>mu<*/>m in diameter (3) the even size of the microcrysts 
J05  23 within any framboid (4) the varying habits of the microcrysts in 
J05  24 different framboids (5) the occurrence of ordered patterns 
J05  25 involving either ccp or hcp organization (6) the occurrence in some 
J05  26 framboids of organic material between the microcrysts and/or around 
J05  27 the framboids.<p/>
J05  28 <h_><p_>Pyrite formation<p/><h/>
J05  29 <p_>The formation of pyrite from aqueous solutions at low 
J05  30 temperatures proceeds via three known pathways:<p/>
J05  31 <p_>(1) Reaction of precursor metastable iron sulphides (MIS) with 
J05  32 polysulphides (Rickard 1975). Schoonen (1989) examined the reaction 
J05  33 in some detail and Luther (in prep) has confirmed Rickard's 
J05  34 kinetics.<p/>
J05  35 <p_>(2) Reaction of Fe<sb_>3<sb/>S<sb_>4<sb/> (greigite) with 
J05  36 sulphur species to form pyrite (Sweeney and Kaplan 1973). This 
J05  37 reaction can lead to the formation of framboids.<p/>
J05  38 <p_>(3) Reaction of Fe (II) sulphide with H<sb_>2<sb/>S to form 
J05  39 pyrite with the production of H<sb_>2<sb/> gas (Taylor et al 1979; 
J05  40 Dobner et al., 1990). We have reproduced this reaction and detected 
J05  41 H<sb_>2<sb/> gas. We are at present running a programme to examine 
J05  42 the kinetics and mechanism of the process.<p/>
J05  43 <p_>In each case, pyrite formation at low temperatures proceeds 
J05  44 through a MIS precursor. It appears that this precursor pathway for 
J05  45 pyrite formation is related to its propensity to form the 
J05  46 framboidal texture.<p/>
J05  47 <h_><p_>Direct precipitation of pyrite from solution<p/><h/>
J05  48 <p_>The direct precipitation of pyrite has not been achieved 
J05  49 experimentally.<p/>
J05  50 <p_>One of the problems of experimental work in these systems is 
J05  51 the enormous supersaturations necessary in most experimental work. 
J05  52 If the kinetics of nucleation of MIS was far faster than that for 
J05  53 pyrite, then these supersaturations, within the MIS stability 
J05  54 zones, might precipitate the metastable phase before pyrite: i.e. 
J05  55 the pyrite requirement for a precursor phase could be merely 
J05  56 kinetic and pyrite would precipitate directly from solution if the 
J05  57 solutions were undersaturated with respect to the MIS phases and 
J05  58 oversaturated with respect to pyrite. Schoonen (1989) arranged 
J05  59 experiments below saturation for the MIS but saturated with respect 
J05  60 to pyrite, but was unable to precipitate pyrite directly. Dales and 
J05  61 Rickard (unpublished) have arranged such an experimentation through 
J05  62 the diffusion of aqueous iron (II) species and sulphur-bearing 
J05  63 species <}_><-|>form<+|>from<}/> opposite ends of a tube filled 
J05  64 with a porous medium. Pyrite did not form and this implies that 
J05  65 pyrite does not precipitate directly from solution. This conclusion 
J05  66 has been supported by Luther's (in prep) experimentation.<p/>
J05  67 <h_><p_>Precursor Metastable Iron Sulphides (MIS)<p/><h/>
J05  68 <p_>The nature of the precursor material is important for the 
J05  69 formation of the framboidal microarchitecture. Rickard (1990) 
J05  70 showed that the first formed phase was probably a<&|>sic! iron (II) 
J05  71 bisulphide cluster colloid (Silvester et al 1991) with a size 
J05  72 between the conventional 0.1<*_>mu<*/>m colloidal range and the 1nm 
J05  73 cluster range. This undergoes rapid re-reaction with the expulsion 
J05  74 of H<sb_>2<sb/>O and H<sb_>2<sb/>S to form amorphous Fe(II) 
J05  75 sulphide. A broad x-ray peak at around 0.5nm is observed after 2 
J05  76 days of ageing at 25<*_>degree<*/>C coincident with the [001] 
J05  77 reflection of the tetragonal iron (II) sulphide mackinawite. This 
J05  78 appears to be evidence for the beginning of long-range ordering in 
J05  79 the Fe(II) sulphide. Further mackinawite reflections appear over 
J05  80 the next two years of ageing, indicating the increase of 
J05  81 short-range ordering in the material.<p/>
J05  82 <p_>The pathway for the formation of the cubic 
J05  83 Fe<sb_>3<sb/>S<sb_>4<sb/>, greigite, is not well documented. As far 
J05  84 as we are aware, greigite has not been synthesised directly from 
J05  85 solution, but is thought to be produced as an oxidation product of 
J05  86 iron (II) sulphide. Pyrrhotite-group iron (II) sulphides, with 
J05  87 basic hexagonal symmetries, have been produced 
J05  88 <}_><-|>form<+|>from<}/> aqueous solutions at low temperatures 
J05  89 (Rickard 1969; Sweeney and Kaplan 1974). However, the detailed 
J05  90 conditions for pyrrhotite development at low temperatures are 
J05  91 unknown.<p/>
J05  92 <h_><p_>Pyrite nucleation<p/><h/>
J05  93 <p_>The occurrence of precursor MIS before the more stable pyrite 
J05  94 has been cited as an example of Ostwald's Rule of Successive 
J05  95 Reactions. This is only partly true, since pyrite is more oxidised 
J05  96 than the precursor MIS and its formation requires oxidation 
J05  97 reactions as well as equilibration.<p/>
J05  98 <p_>For pyrite to nucleate, the solution must be supersaturated 
J05  99 with respect to pyrite. Rickard (1975) assumed that the apparent 
J05 100 reluctance of pyrite to nucleate directly from solution was purely 
J05 101 mechanistic in origin. The reaction between polysulphide and iron 
J05 102 (II) salts was investigated in detail by Schoonen (1989). His 
J05 103 results show that reactions like<p/>
J05 104 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J05 105 <p_>are faster than reactions like<p/>
J05 106 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J05 107 <p_>Once the reaction involves one or more precursor solid phases 
J05 108 it becomes potentially kinetically slower. On the other hand, this 
J05 109 also means that substantial supersaturations can build up and exist 
J05 110 metastably for some time. This would be consistent with the 
J05 111 framboidal property that the pyrite microcrysts within any given 
J05 112 framboid are of similar size: this property requires that the 
J05 113 pyrite microcrysts nucleated throughout the framboid. If this were 
J05 114 not so then the pyrite would tend to grow by simple crystal growth 
J05 115 mechanisms, which Schoonen has shown is relatively rapid for 
J05 116 pyrite, and form crystal aggregates with diverse sizes.<p/>
J05 117 <p_>However, it does not explain the organisation of microcrysts in 
J05 118 some framboids. Mann (1988) showed that, with respect to organic 
J05 119 matrices, two conditions must be satisfied: (1) molecular 
J05 120 preorganisation and (2) molecular complementarity between inorganic 
J05 121 ions and local matrix binding sites. Applying this to framboids, 
J05 122 microscopic and molecular organization within the precursor MIS 
J05 123 must be completed before pyrite nucleation starts. Otherwise, 
J05 124 nucleation will be at random sites throughout the iron sulphide 
J05 125 matrix. This is the situation observed in the experiments of 
J05 126 Rickard (1969) and Luther (in prep) where continuous reaction 
J05 127 between MIS and oxidised sulphur species gave precipitates of 
J05 128 random pyrite microcrysts: the MIS reactant was relatively young 
J05 129 and still disorganized.<p/>
J05 130 <p_>Some degree of order must be present in the precursor MIS 
J05 131 either as specific microdomains within the material or as a regular 
J05 132 aggregate of particles for the regular arrays of pyrite microcrysts 
J05 133 to be developed. Such order develops through ageing and/or 
J05 134 re-reaction of the MIS. In this interpretation the observed 
J05 135 variation in degree of ordering in pyrite framboids reflects the 
J05 136 preorganization in the precursor MIS matrix.<p/>
J05 137 <p_>The development of microdomains or regular particle aggregates 
J05 138 will produce active sites within the precursor iron sulphides, 
J05 139 which in themselves may catalyse the nucleation of pyrite. Indeed, 
J05 140 Taylor (1980) suggested that the S<sb_>2<sb/> moiety may only be 
J05 141 produced at active sites on MIS surfaces or within MIS 
J05 142 aggregates.<p/>
J05 143 <p_>Both mackinawite and greigite are possible precursors to 
J05 144 pyrite, although only greigite has definitely been implicated in 
J05 145 framboid formation to date. There is thus at least a theoretical 
J05 146 possibility for different organizational geometries in the 
J05 147 precursor material, giving rise to the differently ordered arrays 
J05 148 of pyrite microcrysts observed in framboids.<p/>
J05 149 <h_><p_>Microcryst form<p/><h/>
J05 150 <p_>At high temperatures, Murowchik and Barnes (1987) were able to 
J05 151 show that <}_><-|>pryrite<+|>pyrite<}/> crystal morphology varied 
J05 152 in response to increasing saturation in the order 
J05 153 cube-octahedron-pyritohedron. The variation in microcryst form 
J05 154 (usually cubes or octahedrons) in framboids may reflect this. 
J05 155 Pyrite may nucleate under varying degrees of supersaturation 
J05 156 dependent on the local free energy of the surface. Interestingly we 
J05 157 have also observed microcrysts with holes in them, suggesting that 
J05 158 crystal growth in these cases proceeded from the outside inwards. 
J05 159 We have also observed regular framboid microcrysts consisting of 
J05 160 aggregates of sub-spherical pyrite particles in the cluster colloid 
J05 161 size range.<p/>
J05 162 <h_><p_>Organic matter<p/><h/>
J05 163 <p_>The origin <}_><-|>if<+|>of<}/> the organic matter in some 
J05 164 framboids has been of interest since Schneiderhohn (1923) 
J05 165 originally thought the textures to be fossilized bacteria and Love 
J05 166 (1957) isolated apparent microorganic remains from framboids. 
J05 167 Rickard (1970) suggested that the organic matter derived from a 
J05 168 coercevate that had been sulphidised, in process 
J05 169 three-dimensionally equivalent to the synthetic production of CdS 
J05 170 in a polymer film (Bianconi et al 1991). The role of organics is 
J05 171 interesting since as Mann (1988) pointed out, they could act to 
J05 172 reduce the surface free energy of the pyrite nucleating system, 
J05 173 thereby catalysing microcryst nucleation. At present, it is unknown 
J05 174 whether the organic matter within some framboids is a natural 
J05 175 abiologic equivalent of nucleation within a crystalline polymer or 
J05 176 merely organic substances absorbed onto pyrite during diagenesis 
J05 177 (Kribek 1975) or forced into the spheres during burial. (Elverhoi 
J05 178 1977).<p/>
J05 179 <h_><p_>Conclusions: Hypothesis and test<p/><h/>
J05 180 <p_>In this model, different degrees of ordering of pyrite 
J05 181 framboids reflect different degrees of organization of the 
J05 182 precursor MIS. The crystallinity of the precursor MIS is a function 
J05 183 of the structural state of the precursor material prior to 
J05 184 pyritisation. This in turn is dependent on the age and composition 
J05 185 of the MIS. The nucleation energy barrier for pyrite may be 
J05 186 overcome by a variety of factors, including supersaturation (which 
J05 187 may determine microcryst growth habit), active sites in the MIS and 
J05 188 organic catalysis.<p/>
J05 189 <p_>The model appears to be testable and we are at present 
J05 190 attempting to synthesise framboids under controlled conditions 
J05 191 using well-defined starting materials.<p/>
J05 192 
J05 193 <h_><p_>ASPECTS OF BIOLOGICAL SILICIFICATION; MODEL SILICA 
J05 194 PRECIPITATION STUDIES IN THE PRESENCE OF CARBOHYDRATE POLYMERS<p/>
J05 195 <p_>Carole C. Perry<p/><h/>
J05 196 <p_>Silica is an important industrial chemical manufactured 
J05 197 worldwide with applications including glasses, catalyst supports, 
J05 198 adsorbates, pigments and fillers. The structure of the silica 
J05 199 determines the properties of the material and yet the basic 
J05 200 mechanisms of particle formation and aggregation in aqueous 
J05 201 solution remain imperfectly understood. Biology has mastered the 
J05 202 art of producing well controlled macroscopic silica structures eg. 
J05 203 sponges, diatoms, plant components etc. although all biogenic 
J05 204 silicas are complex materials comprising both organic and inorganic 
J05 205 phases. Biogenic silicas are built up from essentially 
J05 206 monodispersed particles ranging from 2-15nm in diameter depending 
J05 207 upon the structure. At a higher level, these particles are 
J05 208 organised into structural motifs (fibrils, tubules, sheets etc.) 
J05 209 which indicates a substantial degree of control over both 
J05 210 polymerisation and particle aggregation.<p/>
J05 211 <p_>The formation of all inorganic solids including silica from 
J05 212 aqueous solution is achieved by a combination of three 
J05 213 physico-chemical steps; supersaturation, nucleation and crystal 
J05 214 growth or maturation. A further essential element for controlled 
J05 215 biological mineralisation is spatial localisation, which may occur 
J05 216 either through the use of membrane bounded compartments or specific 
J05 217 cell wall regions and allows for the local regulation and control 
J05 218 over physico-chemical factors through selectivity in biochemical 
J05 219 processes such as ion and molecular transport.<p/>
J05 220 <p_>Studies of the formation of biological silica in relation to 
J05 221 changes in mechanical stresses, ionic composition and polymer 
J05 222 matrices have shown that all these factors may be relevant in the 
J05 223 production of specific aggregate structures, often with varying 
J05 224 surface chemistry. It is important to note that local ionic 
J05 225 environment effects can have little or no effect on the regulation 
J05 226 of morphological features at the micron level and other factors 
J05 227 must be important.<p/>
J05 228 <p_>Macromolecular assemblages are thought to be extremely 
J05 229 important in the regulation of both nucleation and growth processes 
J05 230 for crystalline and amorphous minerals. In many instances of 
J05 231 crystal deposition, for both <tf_>in vivo<tf/> and <tf_>in 
J05 232 vitro<tf/> systems, the nature of the interaction involves a 
J05 233 specific charge/ stereochemical matching but for amorphous 
J05 234 materials including silica the precise nature of the interaction 
J05 235 between the organic and inorganic phases is not known. At present 
J05 236 our biological studies are directed towards this end.<p/>
J05 237 <p_>A direct result of our biological studies has been the 
J05 238 development of model chemical systems for the investigation of 
J05 239 crystal or aggregate formation under carefully controlled 
J05 240 experimental conditions.<p/>
J05 241 <p_>This lecture will give information on (1) the structure and 
J05 242 form of biological silicas, (2) the role of polymers, the ionic 
J05 243 environment and physical factors in the control of 
J05 244 biosilicification, and (3) the precipitation of silicas from 
J05 245 silicon containing complexes in the presence of carbohydrate 
J05 246 polymers.<p/>
J05 247 
J06   1 <#FLOB:J06\><h_><p_>Gas-phase reactions<p/><h/>
J06   2 <p_>The existence of oscillations and the potential for chaotic 
J06   3 behaviour in gas-phase reactions have received a much less 
J06   4 widespread coverage than their solution-phase counterparts. An 
J06   5 introduction to this topic can be found in Gray and Scott (1985), 
J06   6 Griffiths (1985<tf|>a), and in the companion to this book (Gray and 
J06   7 Scott 1990). Recent reviews have also been given by Griffiths 
J06   8 (1985<tf|>b, 1986) and Griffiths and Scott (1987).<p/>
J06   9 <p_>Perhaps the simplest non-linear behaviour of interest here 
J06  10 shown by gas-phase systems is that of thermal explosion. In many 
J06  11 ways this is the equivalent of the solution-phase clock reaction. 
J06  12 The reactants are mixed and a relatively slow evolution begins, but 
J06  13 after some (usually short) time there is a rapid acceleration in 
J06  14 rate leading to virtually complete conversion. This process relies 
J06  15 on the exothermic nature of many chemical processes and their 
J06  16 sensitivity to temperature through the reaction rate constant. 
J06  17 Gas-phase systems are much more prone to significant departures 
J06  18 from isothermal operation, and temperature plays the role of 
J06  19 'autocatalyst'. There can also be genuine chemical autocatalysis in 
J06  20 gas-phase reactions, particularly oxidation processes involving 
J06  21 oxygen. Such branded-chain reactions can also provide spectacularly 
J06  22 non-linear responses. If self-heating and chemistry conspire 
J06  23 together, almost anything seems possible.<p/>
J06  24 <h_><p_>9.1. Transient oscillations from self-heating: an 
J06  25 experimental realization of the Salnikov model<p/><h/>
J06  26 <p_>Di-tertiary butyl peroxide (DTBP) is an organic species that 
J06  27 undergoes a simple first-order decomposition reaction<p/>
J06  28 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J06  29 <p_>with a significant rate at temperatures above about 400 K. The 
J06  30 change in number of moles gives an increasing pressure under 
J06  31 constant volume conditions and this allows the extent of reaction 
J06  32 to be monitored relatively easily as a function of time. At low 
J06  33 temperatures within this range and especially if the reactant is 
J06  34 heavily diluted with an inert gas such as N<sb_>2<sb/>, the 
J06  35 reaction is very well behaved and is widely used to demonstrate 
J06  36 first-order kinetics in undergraduate courses.<p/>
J06  37 <p_><O_>graph&caption<O/><p/>
J06  38 <p_>The detailed kinetic mechanism is not of great importance here, 
J06  39 but is believed to involve the unimolecular breaking of the O-O 
J06  40 bond, followed by elimination of methyl radicals which may then 
J06  41 combine:<p/>
J06  42 <p_><O_>formulae<O/><p/>
J06  43 <p_>leading to the stoichiometry (1). Step (2) is usually rate 
J06  44 determining, so the overall kinetics are insensitive to any changes 
J06  45 brought about in steps (3) and (4).<p/>
J06  46 <p_>The overall process (1) is exothermic: <O_>formula<O/> and the 
J06  47 overall reaction rate constant <tf|>k has been found to have an 
J06  48 activation energy of 152 kJ mol<sp_>-1<sp/>. If O<sb_>2<sb/> is 
J06  49 added to the reacting vapour, the effect is to increase the 
J06  50 exothermicity (by changing the final products through steps that 
J06  51 compete with (4) above) but this does not affect the kinetics which 
J06  52 remain first order with the same Arrhenius parameters.<p/>
J06  53 <p_>At sufficiently high reaction temperatures, the exothermic heat 
J06  54 release accompanying reaction can lead to self-heating. The primary 
J06  55 requirement for self-heating is that the reaction rate and, hence, 
J06  56 the heat release rate should at some stage become sufficiently high 
J06  57 so as to exceed the natural heat transfer rates (conduction, 
J06  58 Newtonian cooling, etc.). The evolution of self-heating in an 
J06  59 experiment can be followed using a coated fine-wire thermocouple 
J06  60 positioned at some point within the reacting gas (usually close to 
J06  61 the centre). With a reference junction on the outside wall of the 
J06  62 vessel, the thermocouple records directly the temperature 
J06  63 difference or extent of self-heating <*_>DELTA<*/>T. Figure 9.1(a) 
J06  64 shows a typical trace appropriate to a relatively low partial 
J06  65 pressure of the reactant or a low ambient temperature. The reacting 
J06  66 gas temperature (i.e. that inside the vessel) here increases above 
J06  67 that of the surroundings, but the temperature excess remains small 
J06  68 - the maximum <*_>DELTA<*/>T in this particular example is about 8 
J06  69 K. The corresponding pressure and mass spectrometer records show a 
J06  70 steady consumption of the reactant. Because of the self-heating, 
J06  71 the reaction rate initially increases with increasing extent of 
J06  72 reaction - the indication of an acceleratory process, here through 
J06  73 thermal feedback.<p/>
J06  74 <p_>The maximum temperature excess observed increases if either the 
J06  75 ambient temperature of the initial partial pressure of the DTBP are 
J06  76 increased (both of these increase the rate of this first-order 
J06  77 process with a positive activation energy). For small changes, the 
J06  78 response changes smoothly, but if the increase in <tf|>T<sb_>a<sb/> 
J06  79 or <tf|>p<sb_>DTBP<sb/> is to<&|>sic! large, there is a qualitative 
J06  80 change in the reaction evolution. Figure 9.1(b) shows a typical 
J06  81 response for a 'thermal explosion'. There is an induction period in 
J06  82 which the temperature excess increases to a value not much 
J06  83 different from that observed for the previous subcritical 
J06  84 behaviour, but this is now followed by a rapid acceleration during 
J06  85 which the gas temperature increases swiftly to a high transient 
J06  86 excess. There is virtually complete removal of DTBP during this 
J06  87 ignition pulse and the temperature then falls back to ambient.<p/>
J06  88 <p_>The conditions separating these two forms of response 
J06  89 (subcritical and supercritical) give rise to a sharp 
J06  90 <tf|>p-T<sb_>a<sb/> ignition boundary as shown in Fig. 9.2. The 
J06  91 exact location of this limit depends on many factors, such as the 
J06  92 vessel size and geometry and the presence or absence of 
J06  93 O<sb_>2<sb/> and inert diluents (Egieban <tf_>et al.<tf/> 1982; 
J06  94 Griffiths and Singh 1982, Griffiths and Mullins 1984), but can be 
J06  95 relatively successfully predicted from classical thermal explosion 
J06  96 theory (Boddington <tf_>et al.<tf/> 1977, 1982<tf_>a, b<tf/>). The 
J06  97 length of the induction period can also be estimated, and expressed 
J06  98 in terms of the 'degree of supercriticality'. This latter can be 
J06  99 represented as the difference between the actual operating pressure 
J06 100 and the corresponding 'critical' pressure (i.e. the pressure on the 
J06 101 limit) for the operating ambient temperature. Then<p/>
J06 102 <p_><O_>graphs&captions<O/><p/>
J06 103 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J06 104 <p_>i.e. the period gets shorter as the system moves further into 
J06 105 the ignition region above the limit, but can become (arbitrarily) 
J06 106 long close to the limit.<p/>
J06 107 <p_>The application of such theories and interpretations implicitly 
J06 108 requires that the reactants should be admitted to the vessel in as 
J06 109 short a time as possible (preferably instantaneously) and the above 
J06 110 experiments come close to that.<p/>
J06 111 <p_>Of more interest in the present context, however, is an 
J06 112 experimental situation in which the admission process is not fast, 
J06 113 but becomes comparable or even slower than the reaction timescale. 
J06 114 Griffiths <tf_>et al.<tf/> (1988; Gray and Griffiths 1989) employed 
J06 115 a reactor into which the reactants were admitted via a capillary 
J06 116 tube. In this way it was possible to obtain a series of 
J06 117 <quote_>"repetitive thermal explosions"<quote/>. Example time 
J06 118 series are shown in Fig. 9.3.<p/>
J06 119 <p_>A relatively simple explanation for the oscillatory waveforms 
J06 120 observed under these conditions of gradual admission can be given. 
J06 121 As the gas enters the vessel at some fixed ambient temperature, the 
J06 122 partial pressure of the reactant increases and so we move up a 
J06 123 vertical line in the p<sb_>DTBP<sb/>-T<sb_>a<sb/> parameter plane 
J06 124 (the ignition diagram, Fig. 9.2). Once the pressure increases 
J06 125 beyond the critical pressure for that ambient temperature there 
J06 126 will be a thermal ignition (with perhaps some induction period). 
J06 127 This ignition decreases the partial pressure of the reactant below 
J06 128 the critical pressure (and probably close to zero), although the 
J06 129 total pressure will actually increase. Continued inflow of fresh 
J06 130 reactant on the slower timescale through the capillary increases 
J06 131 <tf|>p<sb_>DTBP<sb/> again, and a second ignition can occur if the 
J06 132 critical pressure is reached again. This process may repeat a 
J06 133 number of times until the pressures inside the vessel and in the 
J06 134 reservoir (i.e. at each end of the capillary) become equal.<p/>
J06 135 <p_>This simple interpretation is of some value, but does not deal 
J06 136 too easily with all the experimental observations. For instance 
J06 137 there are both upper and lower limits to the temperature for which 
J06 138 multiple ignitions (oscillations) are found for any given final 
J06 139 pressure and inflow characteristics. Equivalently, there are upper 
J06 140 and lower final pressure limits for oscillations at any fixed 
J06 141 ambient temperature. The lower limits correspond simply to 
J06 142 conditions for which the system does not reach the ignition limit. 
J06 143 The upper limits are less intuitive, but relate to the matching of 
J06 144 inflow and the supercritical reaction rate, so the ignition becomes 
J06 145 sustained and steady rather than quenching due to reaction 
J06 146 consumption after each excursion.<p/>
J06 147 <p_>Fortunately there is a simple quantitative model for this 
J06 148 system - one we have already seen. The experiments described 
J06 149 constitute a realization of the Salnikov scheme of Section 3.5, 
J06 150 with some minor modification. In particular, the role of the first 
J06 151 step <O_>formula<O/>, which was taken to be a chemical reaction 
J06 152 with zero exothermicity and no activation energy, is now played by 
J06 153 the continuous slow inflow. The DTBP decomposition reaction then 
J06 154 provides the exothermic first-order step <O_>formula<O/>. The train 
J06 155 of oscillations must now be finite, as the inflow only continues 
J06 156 for a finite time and is decreasing in magnitude as the pressure 
J06 157 difference decreases. Numerically computed traces using the known 
J06 158 thermokinetic parameters are shown in Fig. 9.4 and successfully 
J06 159 reproduce the experiments.<p/>
J06 160 <p_>This design of transient oscillations can clearly be extended 
J06 161 to many other exothermic processes. Coppersthwaite and Griffiths 
J06 162 (Coppersthwaite 1990) have produced similar behaviour in the 
J06 163 H<sb_>2<sb/> + Cl<sb_>2<sb/> system. As in the above case, the 
J06 164 oscillatory excursions can lead to the attainment of dramatically 
J06 165 higher temperatures than those that occur in neighbouring 
J06 166 pseudo-steady-state responses and so there may be considerable 
J06 167 hazards associated with the onset of this mode of reaction.<p/>
J06 168 <h_><p_>9.2. Clock reactions and the <foreign_>pic 
J06 169 d'arr<*_>e-circ<*/>t<foreign/><p/><h/>
J06 170 <p_>The idea of a thermal explosion as a fast-timescale clock 
J06 171 reaction may seem to push the unified view of solution-phase and 
J06 172 gas-phase non-linear behaviour to an extreme. There is, however, a 
J06 173 second situation in which this analogy is clearly justified to the 
J06 174 full. The oxidation of hydrocarbons will feature strongly in later 
J06 175 sections of this chapter, but here we can consider one aspect - the 
J06 176 evolution of reaction for relatively fuel-rich mixtures. Snee and 
J06 177 Griffiths (1989) studied the oxidation of cyclohexane under such 
J06 178 conditions, at atmospheric pressure in a wide range of vessel 
J06 179 sizes. Their investigation was primarily concerned with 
J06 180 investigating 'minimum ignition temperatures' - the lowest 
J06 181 temperature of a preheated flask for which ignition of a 1 
J06 182 cm<sp_>3<sp/> volume of cyclohexane would occur after injection of 
J06 183 the fuel. More standard kinetic studies showed that the reaction 
J06 184 could exhibit 'quadratic auto<?_>-<?/>catalysis' in the absence of 
J06 185 any self-heating, i.e. the dependence of the reaction rate on the 
J06 186 extent of reaction (measured in terms of the limited oxygen 
J06 187 concentration) has a simple parabolic form as shown in Fig. 9.5. In 
J06 188 the presence of self-heating which inevitably accompanied reaction 
J06 189 at higher temperatures, this parabolic dependence became skewed, as 
J06 190 is also shown in the figure.<p/>
J06 191 <p_><O_>graph&caption<O/><p/>
J06 192 <p_>Griffiths and Phillips (1989) found similar autocatalysis in 
J06 193 the oxidation of n-butane, again under fuel-rich conditions 
J06 194 (<O_>formula<O/>) at reduced pressure (500 Torr) over the range 
J06 195 589-600 K. The fuel-air mixture is admitted to a heated vessel and 
J06 196 the reaction can be monitored by a mass spectrometer (m/e = 32 for 
J06 197 O<sb_>2<sb/>), photomultiplier (chemiluminescence from 
J06 198 electronically excited formaldehyde CH<sb_>2<sb/>O*) and a 
J06 199 fine-wire thermocouple as described above. Figure 9.6 shows four 
J06 200 different O<sb_>2<sb/> concentration time series for temperatures 
J06 201 within this range. With <tf|>T<sb_>a<sb/> = 589 K, no self-heating 
J06 202 is observed at any stage during the reaction. The time trace shows 
J06 203 a classic autocatalytic or clock reaction form, with a long 
J06 204 induction period followed by an accelerating rate and then slowing 
J06 205 due to reactant consumption. A plot of rate (i.e. slope of the time 
J06 206 trace) against the extent of conversion is again of simple 
J06 207 parabolic form appropriate to quadratic autocatalysis. At higher 
J06 208 temperatures, the induction periods shorten, and the increase in 
J06 209 magnitude of the rate at the end of this period becomes more 
J06 210 marked. Significant transient temperature rises (self-heating) 
J06 211 accompany the maximum reaction rate, up to 15 K for 
J06 212 <tf|>T<sb_>a<sb/> = 600 K. An additional feature here is that the 
J06 213 reaction produces a chemiluminescent intermediate CH<sb_>2<sb/>O* 
J06 214 at appreciable concentrations during the period of high rate and 
J06 215 this emission can be observed just before the reaction stops due to 
J06 216 (virtually ) complete O<sb_>2<sb/> consumption. This phenomenon has 
J06 217 been termed the <foreign_>pic d'arr<*_>e-circ<*/>t<foreign/> 
J06 218 (D<*_>e-acute<*/>chaux and Lucquin 1968, 1971; 
J06 219 D<*_>e-acute<*/>chaux <tf_>et al.<tf/> 1968).<p/>
J06 220 <p_><O_>graph&caption<O/><p/>
J06 221 <p_>Griffiths and Phillips were able to match the form of their 
J06 222 experimental traces using a simple model based on quadratic 
J06 223 autocatalysis and self-heating (Kay <tf_>et al.<tf/> 1989). They 
J06 224 included a modification that allowed a surface<?_>-<?/>controlled 
J06 225 termination step, reflecting the sensitivity of their results to 
J06 226 pretreatment and ageing of their vessel. The model, then, has the 
J06 227 form<p/>
J06 228 <p_><O_>formulae<O/><p/>
J06 229 <p_>along with the appropriate heat-balance equation.<p/>
J06 230 
J07   1 <#FLOB:J07\><p_>Also present are the exclusively deep-sea 
J07   2 Limopsidae (Fig. 5.19), along with deep-sea species of the mytilid 
J07   3 genus <tf|>Dacrydium (Fig. 10.2) and species of the families 
J07   4 Pectinidae and Arcidae. All are epifaunal, probably 
J07   5 suspension-feeding forms. One curious feature of deep-sea 
J07   6 suspension feeders seems to be that, although the soft parts may be 
J07   7 much reduced, the shell is proportionately much less reduced in 
J07   8 size (Fig. 5.20), possibly to enhance protection from predation at 
J07   9 minimal metabolic cost. As a result they include some of the 
J07  10 largest known, non-vent bivalves of the abyss (Knudsen, 1979).<p/>
J07  11 <p_>The superfamily Galeommatacea in shallow water are known to 
J07  12 include many small bivalves that live commensally with a variety of 
J07  13 larger infaunal invertebrates, particularly with echinoderms. At 
J07  14 least two unrelated species of this small-bodied group are known 
J07  15 from the deep sea: <tf_>Montacuta (Axinodon) symmetros<tf/> lives 
J07  16 with a byssal attachment to the spines of the echinoid 
J07  17 <tf|>Pourtalesia (Bouchet & War<*_>e-acute<*/>n, 1979<tf|>a) while 
J07  18 <tf_>Galatheavalve holothuriae<tf/>, collected from cavities in the 
J07  19 skin of the elasipod holothurian <tf|>Psychropotes, has a 
J07  20 completely internal shell (Knudsen, 1970).<p/>
J07  21 <p_>There are few bivalves in the deep sea with truly world-wide 
J07  22 distributions; most are restricted to one or more adjacent basins 
J07  23 with morphological differences in the populations suggesting a 
J07  24 degree of ongoing speciation through isolation, whilst, even in the 
J07  25 cosmopolitan species <tf_>Malletia cuneata<tf/> (Fig. 5.21), subtle 
J07  26 changes in shell shape can be discerned (Sanders & Allen, 1985). 
J07  27 Although vertically segregated populations can be recognized 
J07  28 amongst the bivalves, overall, the degree of restriction in 
J07  29 vertical range, like the vertical range of prochaetodermatid 
J07  30 Aplacophora (see below), seems to be positively correlated to the 
J07  31 horizontal range displayed by species (Scheltema, 1985).<p/>
J07  32 <p_><O_>figures&captions<O/><p/>
J07  33 <h|>GASTROPODA
J07  34 <p_>The class Gastropoda encompasses a much greater variety in form 
J07  35 and habit than bivalves. Most snail-like species with coiled shells 
J07  36 are thought to be motile carnivores, probably feeding on polychaete 
J07  37 worms and bivalves, or are ectoparasites, often on echinoderms 
J07  38 (Fig. 5.22). However, the limpet-like shape also occurs mainly as 
J07  39 opportunistic scavengers. As in shallow water, gastropods are 
J07  40 probably at least as diverse as any other molluscan group.<p/>
J07  41 <p_>From the Gay Head-Bermuda Transect, Rex (1976) identified 93 
J07  42 species of shelled marine snails (subclass Prosobranchia) and 30 
J07  43 species of the more slug-like subclass Opisthobranchia which have a 
J07  44 reduced shell, or lack it completely as in sea slugs (order 
J07  45 Nudibranchia); all with a wide range in feeding type. Deposit 
J07  46 feeders included 20 species amongst the more primitive prosobranch 
J07  47 families in the order Archaeogastropoda, 15 species of more 
J07  48 primitive families of the very diverse order Mesogastropoda (which 
J07  49 show particularly impressive radiation in the tropics) and five 
J07  50 species of the more primitive order of opisthobranchs, the 
J07  51 Cephalaspidea which retain a reduced thin shell and move 
J07  52 semi-burrowed through the sediment. At least one species, the 
J07  53 deposit-feeding archaeogastropod <tf_>Bathybembix aeola<tf/> is 
J07  54 known to be selective in terms of particle size, suggesting 
J07  55 adoption of an energetically more efficient strategy of selection 
J07  56 of finer particles with a relatively greater microbe-coated surface 
J07  57 area (Hickman, 1981). Bivalve and polychaete predators include one 
J07  58 whelk-like mesogastropod; 46 neogastropods, including a variety of 
J07  59 small poison-secreting cone shells and larger whelk-like 
J07  60 scavenger/predators with a typical roving tentaculate nostril; 17 
J07  61 cephalaspids belonging to the more primitive families Acteonidae 
J07  62 (which eat polychaetes), Ringiculidae and Retusidae (both of which 
J07  63 seem to eat only foraminifers) and three nudibranchs which, at 
J07  64 least in shallow water, may be highly specific in diet on colonial 
J07  65 coelenterates. Ectoparasites of echinoderms and anthozoans include 
J07  66 11 and 8 mesogastropod species in the families Eulimidae and 
J07  67 Epitonidae, respectively, the former of which have lost the jaws 
J07  68 and radula and pump out the body fluids of their sedentary 
J07  69 invertebrate hosts through a proboscis inserted into the body 
J07  70 cavity (Fig. 5.22), while the latter rasp off tissue fragments with 
J07  71 their radula; and five pyramidellids which, although with 
J07  72 normal-looking small, spired shells, possess elaborate mouthparts 
J07  73 that are modified for piercing and sucking, with a diet of liquid 
J07  74 protein that is pumped out of their living mollusc or polychaete 
J07  75 prey. Although these two groups are conspicuous, no one group can 
J07  76 be said to predominate as amongst bivalves.<p/>
J07  77 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J07  78 <p_>The neogastropod family, Turridae, are toxoglossan 
J07  79 (poison-toothed) cone shells that have emerged as the single most 
J07  80 diverse group of carnivorous gastropods in the deep sea, with a 
J07  81 species richness, peaking in the bathyal, rivalling that of the 
J07  82 cone shells of tropical sand flats (Bouchet & War<*_>e-acute<*/>n, 
J07  83 1980). Turrids are highly specialized predators on polychaetes, 
J07  84 killing their prey with poison from salivary glands that is 
J07  85 injected through modified radular teeth. They are thought to have 
J07  86 developed complex patterns of resource partitioning amongst 
J07  87 co<?_>-<?/>occurring species (Hickman, 1984). Eulimids are one of 
J07  88 the most diverse families of deep-sea gastropods, possibly even 
J07  89 richer in species than the Turridae (War<*_>e-acute<*/>n, 1984; 
J07  90 Bouchet & War<*_>e-acute<*/>n, 1986). It seems very likely that the 
J07  91 high degree of dietary specialization or host specificity amongst 
J07  92 the Turridae and Eulimidae has led to the spectacular radiation of 
J07  93 these families in the deep sea. Other neogastropods in the deep sea 
J07  94  include an assemblage of mostly large-sized species, some of which 
J07  95 have a wide<?_>-<?/>spread distribution (Bouchet & 
J07  96 War<*_>e-acute<*/>n, 1985).<p/>
J07  97 <p_>Although most of the different functional types amongst 
J07  98 gastropods seem to correspond to taxonomic groupings, the 
J07  99 cocculiniform limpets appear to have converged from at least 15 
J07 100 families (Hickman, 1983). These are epifaunal scavengers on rather 
J07 101 unusual substrates such as wood, squid beaks (which can form highly 
J07 102 localized and dense accumulations, see Belyaev, 1966), empty 
J07 103 <tf|>Hyalinoecia tubes, shark or skate egg cases, and fish and 
J07 104 whale bones. Most of these have been recorded from eutrophic 
J07 105 trenches where woody plant detritus is common (George & Higgins, 
J07 106 1979; Wolff, 1979). Although only some of these species, mostly 
J07 107 belonging to the family Cocculinidae, are believed to ingest wood, 
J07 108 the remainder graze the cover of microbes. Other cocculinid limpets 
J07 109 have been found on waterlogged wood from oligotrophic abyssal 
J07 110 bottoms far from land where their opportunistic, wood-ingesting 
J07 111 lifestyle parallels that of the deep-sea xylophaginous bivalves 
J07 112 (Wolff, 1979).<p/>
J07 113 <p_>Although diverse in the abyss, gastropod diversity seems to 
J07 114 peak at mid-slope depths (Rex, 1973, 1976; Bouchet & 
J07 115 War<*_>e-acute<*/>n, 1980). The distribution of gastropods also 
J07 116 appear to be much more sharply zoned with depth than amongst 
J07 117 bivalves (Grassle, Sanders & W. Smith, 1979), with a particularly 
J07 118 marked compression in vertical range amongst predatory species 
J07 119 compared to deposit-feeding species on the slope (Rex, 1977). 
J07 120 Despite this, certain species, such as the unusually open-coiled 
J07 121 epitonid <tf_>Eccliseogyra nitida<tf/> (Fig. 5.23), are known to be 
J07 122 widespread, with distributions throughout the Atlantic (Rex & Boss, 
J07 123 1973).<p/>
J07 124 <p_>Although it is becoming apparent that many deep-sea gastropods 
J07 125 have an early development in the plankton (see Chapter 13), many of 
J07 126 them, certainly most of those living at bathyal depths, lay egg 
J07 127 capsules of characteristic form attached to hard substrata (Fig. 
J07 128 5.24) from which the young hatch directly.<p/>
J07 129 <h|>SCAPHOPODS
J07 130 <p_>The other major group of molluscs in the deep sea, the 
J07 131 Scaphopoda, are far less well known. This might be because they 
J07 132 constitute less than 1% of the mollusc fauna in shallow water. But 
J07 133 in the deep sea this proportion is much increased (Clarke, 1962), 
J07 134 and, although species richness may be less than that of other 
J07 135 molluscan groups, they achieve population densities next only to 
J07 136 those of bivalves. Modern species of this group have an ancient 
J07 137 lineage going back at least to the Devonian. They live in 
J07 138 cylindrical, often tapering, tube-like shells (Fig. 5.25(<tf|>a)) 
J07 139 and in shallow water are known to be expert burrowers in soft 
J07 140 sediments using an elongated plug<?_>-<?/>like foot with a complex 
J07 141 musculature. This is thrust down into the sediment, while the body 
J07 142 and shell are pulled down to it by muscular contraction in a manner 
J07 143 analogous to the burrowing movement, using the foot, of protobranch 
J07 144 bivalves. The head hears curious bunches of ciliated tentacles 
J07 145 terminating in a secretory bulb, the captaculum, which reach out to 
J07 146 collect particles such as foraminifers, to which they show highly 
J07 147 developed selectivity (see Davies, 1987, for references). These 
J07 148 prey are crushed using a radula structure similar to that of 
J07 149 gastropods. They are best known from species large enough to be 
J07 150 collected by trawls: <tf_>Dentalium megathyrus<tf/> being known 
J07 151 from 0.45-4.1 km depth in the E. Pacific measures up to 70 mm in 
J07 152 length (Wolff, 1961). This, with other mainly larger species, is 
J07 153 put into the order Dentalioida. These large species, at least, may 
J07 154 be active burrowers in the deep sea leaving a conspicuous track as 
J07 155 they move through the superficial sediment (Fig. 5.25(<tf|>b)). The 
J07 156 other subdivision, the order Siphonodentalioida may contain the 
J07 157 majority of, mainly small-sized, species. On the basis of shell and 
J07 158 radula morphology and the anatomy of soft parts, Scarabino (1979) 
J07 159 has separated 59 mostly small-sized species from epibenthic sled 
J07 160 samples taken from 0.3-6 km depth all over the Atlantic.<p/>
J07 161 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J07 162 <h|>APLACOPHORA
J07 163 <p_>Although still poorly known, the worm-like Aplacophora are 
J07 164 ubiquitous in the deep sea, occurring down to hadal depths. They 
J07 165 include two divisions, the Neomeniomorpha and Chaetodermomorpha. 
J07 166 Like the Scaphopoda, these forms are relatively abundant in the 
J07 167 deep-sea macro<?_>-<?/>fauna, yet are still very poorly known. 
J07 168 Species of the chaetodermomorph family Prochaetodermatidae are 
J07 169 found world-wide in the deep sea, with six species described from 
J07 170 the best-known area, the N. Atlantic (Scheltema, 1985<tf|>a). They 
J07 171 are often numerous in deep-sea samples, being one of the 
J07 172 numerically dominant macrofaunal animals in quantitative samples in 
J07 173 the N.W. Atlantic slope and the Aleutian Trench (Jumars & Hessler, 
J07 174 1976; Scheltema, 1981; Maciolek <tf_>et al.<tf/>, 1987<tf_>a, 
J07 175 b<tf_>), a density of 247 m<sp_>-2<sp/> for the species 
J07 176 <tf_>Prochaetoderma yongei<tf/> (Fig. 5.26) being recorded at 3.64 
J07 177 km depth off New England (Grassle & Morse-Proteous, 1987). Both 
J07 178 divisions have a skin covered with protective calcareous spicules 
J07 179 and possess simplified guts and a radula in the buccal cavity. The 
J07 180 Chaetodermomorpha probably make shallow burrows in the sediment 
J07 181 with the posterior end bearing the gills at the sediment surface 
J07 182 (Fig. 5.26). The Neomeniomorpha have the simplest gut, and most 
J07 183 species feed suctorially on the tissues of gorgonians and hydroids; 
J07 184 while most species of Chaetodermomorpha feed on small organisms 
J07 185 such as foraminifers and small macro<?_>-<?/>fauna. Scheltema 
J07 186 (1981) argued that large population densities of 
J07 187 <tf|>Prochaetoderma may be attributable in part to their 
J07 188 gastropod-like rasping mouth<?_>-<?/>parts allowing a wide range of 
J07 189 particle sizes to be available to them.<p/>
J07 190 <h_><p_>CHITONS AND MONOPLACOPHORANS<p/><h/>
J07 191 <p_>Of the Polyplacophora, or chitons (coat-of-mail shells), only a 
J07 192 few species have been collected from the deep sea, these being 
J07 193 restricted to manganese nodules and pieces of wood, and belong to 
J07 194 the primitive genus <tf|>Lepiodopleurus (Paul, 1976; Wolff, 
J07 195 1979).<p/>
J07 196 <p_>Discovery of living examples from 3.57 km depth in the Pacific 
J07 197 of an archaic molluscan group of Monoplacophora, which are related 
J07 198 to Cambrian and Silurian fossils and retain partial segmentation of 
J07 199 body organs (Fig. 5.27(<tf|>a), (<tf|>b)), was one of the great 
J07 200 discoveries of the 'Galathea' expedition (Lemche, 1957; Lemche & 
J07 201 Wingstrand, 1959). However, a related species dredged in 1869 has 
J07 202 only recently been recognized (War<*_>e-acute<*/>n, 1988). Although 
J07 203 having a limpet-like form, <tf|>Neopilina has been photographed 
J07 204 ploughing through soft sediments, the elongated gut (Fig. 
J07 205 5.27(<tf|>c)) suggesting that it subsists on the sparse and 
J07 206 refractory organic matter. Fragments of the xenophyophore 
J07 207 <tf|>Stannophylum (see Fig. 5.37) have been found among the gut 
J07 208 contents. This, together with radula scraping marks on living 
J07 209 specimens of the xenophyophores, from the same locality, suggests 
J07 210 that <tf_>N. galatheae<tf/> preys on these giant protozoans 
J07 211 (Tendal, 1985<tf|>b). Six genera of recent monoplacophorans have 
J07 212 now been described, the shell of the smallest, <tf|>Micropilina 
J07 213 from about 0.9 km depth S. and W. of Iceland being only about 1 mm 
J07 214 in diameter (War<*_>e-acute<*/>n, 1989). The taxonomy, morphology 
J07 215 and relationships of the group as a whole have been recently 
J07 216 treated by Wingstrand (1985).<p/>
J07 217 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J07 218 <h_><p_>MEIOFAUNAL TAXA<p/><h/>
J07 219 <p_>This category is much less well known than macrofauna. It 
J07 220 consists of both multicelled (metazoan) animals traditionally 
J07 221 regarded as 'meiofaunal' and larger single-celled protozoans, such 
J07 222 as Foraminifera.<p/>
J07 223 <h_><p_>THE MULTICELLED TAXA: NEMATODA<p/><h/>
J07 224 <p_>Although little is known of the taxonomic composition or mode 
J07 225 of life of the traditionally meiofaunal group, the Nematoda (thread 
J07 226 worms), they are probably by far the most numerous metazoans in all 
J07 227 marine soft bottoms. There are few data from the deep sea; but 
J07 228 there can be little doubt that this group is as important and 
J07 229 numerous in deep-ocean sediments as they are in shallow water (see 
J07 230 review by Heip, Vincx & Vranken, 1985).
J07 231 
J08   1 <#FLOB:J08\>The scintillation light was transmitted to 
J08   2 photomultipliers at the ends of the counters by wavelengths 
J08   3 shifting lightguides and a photon-counting system was used to 
J08   4 discriminate between neutrons and other events. A stack of eight of 
J08   5 these counters, around a central cavity, formed the multiplicity 
J08   6 detector.<p/>
J08   7 <p_>While the neutron counters were designed for a very specific 
J08   8 purpose, it is thought likely that high efficiency low background 
J08   9 counters of this type might find applications in other areas of 
J08  10 nuclear instrumentation. In particular, arrays of neutron counters 
J08  11 optimized for neutron multiplicity measurement have proved useful 
J08  12 in the non-destructive assay of fissile materials (Prosdocimi 
J08  13 1979).<p/>
J08  14 <h_><p_>2. Design of the neutron multiplicity detector<p/><h/>
J08  15 <p_>An experimental choice had to be made between designing a 
J08  16 detector that could detect a number of fast neutrons simultaneously 
J08  17 or designing a detector that first thermalized the neutrons in a 
J08  18 moderator and then detected the thermal neutrons over a period 
J08  19 determined by their diffusion time. Since the cross sections for 
J08  20 typical fast neutron induced reactions are orders of magnitude 
J08  21 lower than those of the corresponding thermal reactions, fast 
J08  22 neutron detectors have much lower detection efficiencies. While 
J08  23 they are more efficient, detectors based on thermalization can give 
J08  24 no information about the initial energy of the neutrons. For the 
J08  25 purposes of the current experiment, this was not considered a 
J08  26 disadvantage.<p/>
J08  27 <p_>The previously mentioned requirement to achieve high efficiency 
J08  28 and low background had also to be balanced against financial 
J08  29 considerations. Undoubtedly an array of high pressure <sp_>3<sp/>He 
J08  30 proportional counters in a large volume of heavy water would prove 
J08  31 the most favourable arrangement, but the cost of such an array is 
J08  32 prohibitive. Using a hydrogenous moderator, rather than one based 
J08  33 on deuterium, enables the system to be much smaller but the 
J08  34 efficiency is then limited by the magnitude of the (n,p) capture 
J08  35 cross section. One design of neutron detector uses the 2.3 MeV 
J08  36 gamma ray from this reaction to register the neutron. Such an 
J08  37 arrangement, in which a liquid scintillator also acts as the 
J08  38 moderator, is simple to implement but the high background rate 
J08  39 prevents its use in many applications, including the present 
J08  40 one.<p/>
J08  41 <p_>A similar, though less severe, restriction also applies to 
J08  42 organic scintillators loaded with a small proportion of cadmium or 
J08  43 gadolinium. Tanks of gadolinium loaded liquid scintillator formed 
J08  44 the detectors used by Cheifetz <tf_>et al<tf/> (1972) and Becker 
J08  45 <tf_>et al<tf/> (1979). While extremely high neutron detection 
J08  46 efficiencies were achieved (65% and 75% respectively), both these 
J08  47 detectors were sensitive to environmental background gamma 
J08  48 radiation. To reduce this sensitivity, Becker <tf_>et al<tf/> 
J08  49 (1979) required the detection of fission fragments in coincidence 
J08  50 with the neutrons before an event was registered. Consequently 
J08  51 their detector could only be used with extremely thin samples from 
J08  52 which the fission fragments could escape.<p/>
J08  53 <p_>Because of the above considerations, other neutron multiplicity 
J08  54 detectors devised for superheavy element searches have used an 
J08  55 array of <sp_>3<sp/>He proportional counters in a matrix of 
J08  56 hydrogenous moderator (Macklin <tf_>et al<tf/> 1972, Ter-Akop'yan 
J08  57 <tf_>et al<tf/> 1981) and this approach has also been adopted for 
J08  58 fissile material assay (Prosdocimi 1979). The neutron multiplicity 
J08  59 detector described here differs from all the previous detectors in 
J08  60 that the detection of the neutrons is achieved by the scintillation 
J08  61 of a lithium fluoride and zinc sulphide mixture and that the 
J08  62 hydrogenous moderator is a structural component of the individual 
J08  63 neutron counters.<p/>
J08  64 <p_>The neutron capture reaction in <sp_>6<sp/>Li produces both a 
J08  65 triton and an alpha particle, with an energy release of 4.79 MeV. 
J08  66 Silver-activated zinc sulphide is well known as the most efficient 
J08  67 of all scintillators and consequently intimate mixtures of the two 
J08  68 materials coupled to photomultipliers are well established as cheap 
J08  69 and efficient slow neutron detectors. The main limitation of such 
J08  70 mixtures is that, as with other zinc sulphide scintillators, the 
J08  71 material is opaque to its own light and consequently can only be 
J08  72 used in thin layers. This renders it difficult to construct large 
J08  73 volume detectors. It was shown by Barton and Caines (1970) that 
J08  74 this limitation could be overcome by the use of wavelength shifting 
J08  75 lightguides. This technique is used again in the present detectors 
J08  76 with a slightly different geometrical arrangement.<p/>
J08  77 <h_><p_>3. Construction of the neutron counters<p/><h/>
J08  78 <p_>The neutron counters had an overall sandwich construction 
J08  79 consisting of thin layers of zinc sulphide scintillator attached to 
J08  80 the slabs of polypropylene moderator that provided the major part 
J08  81 of the moderating material. These slabs were interleaved with the 
J08  82 wavelength shifting lightguides, leaving a narrow air gap between 
J08  83 the neutron scintillator layers and the lightguides. The light 
J08  84 emitted by the scintillator traversed the lightguides causing 
J08  85 fluorescence and some of the re-emitted light was then carried 
J08  86 along the guides. Both ends of the lightguides were viewed by 
J08  87 photomultipliers, there being a second air gap between the 
J08  88 lightguides and the faceplate of each photomultiplier. The whole 
J08  89 counter was encased in a light-tight black Perspex tube of square 
J08  90 cross section. The photomultipliers were held in head units 
J08  91 constructed from diecast boxes bolted to the ends of the Perspex 
J08  92 casing. A longitudinal section of one of the counters is shown in 
J08  93 figure 1, while figure 2 shows a cross section.<p/>
J08  94 <p_>The zinc sulphide chosen had a larger than usual proportion of 
J08  95 nickel added to reduce the fraction of light in the tail of the 
J08  96 scintillation pulse (Barton and Ranby 1977). It was prepared by 
J08  97 Thorn Research and Engineering Laboratories as HS338A. The lithium 
J08  98 fluoride was material that had been enriched to 96% in 
J08  99 <sp_>6<sp/>Li by Harwell Stable Isotopes Group. The grains of both 
J08 100 powders had a most probable size of about 5 <*_>mu<*/>m but the 
J08 101 range of sizes was not closely controlled and included grains from 
J08 102 less than 1 to 10 <*_>mu<*/>m. The two powders were thoroughly 
J08 103 mixed together, then added to Dow Corning Sylgard 184. This 
J08 104 material is a thermosetting silicone resin which is rubbery and 
J08 105 optically transparent when set. The mass proportions were 
J08 106 ZnS:LiF:resin:hardener = 4:2:2.7:0.3. The resulting mixture was 
J08 107 used to coat sheets of highly reflective aluminized Melinex.<p/>
J08 108 <p_>Considerable effort was expended in finding a suitable 
J08 109 technique to manufacture large areas of the scintillator with a 
J08 110 uniform thickness. The technique finally adopted was to spread the 
J08 111 mixture which, before setting, had the consistency of thick paint. 
J08 112 A sheet of plate glass was mounted horizontally on the bed of a 
J08 113 milling machine to provide a flat working surface and the sheet of 
J08 114 Melinex to be coated was placed on top of this. The scintillator 
J08 115 mixture was loaded into a slotted hopper which was mounted on the 
J08 116 transverse of the machine and this hopper was pulled slowly across 
J08 117 the Melinex by moving the bed below, spreading the mixture as it 
J08 118 went. The intention was to provide layers of thickness 
J08 119 100<*_>unch<*/>10 <*_>mu<*/>m but in practice the variation, as 
J08 120 measured by a gamma-ray absorption technique, was slightly more 
J08 121 than this. The only other disadvantage of this technique was that 
J08 122 the wastage of material was about 25%.<p/>
J08 123 <p_><O_>figures&captions<O/><p/>
J08 124 <p_>The incorporation of such a high proportion of foreign chemical 
J08 125 material in the silicone resin increased its setting time 
J08 126 considerably and the surface of the layers remained permanently 
J08 127 sticky. When the first prototype counters were tested in an 
J08 128 underground laboratory, their background counting rates were 
J08 129 observed to increase slowly from their initial values. Tests showed 
J08 130 that this effect was due to radon decay products, either as atoms 
J08 131 or attached to dust particles, settling on the surfaces of the 
J08 132 scintillator layers. The problem was solved by applying a second 
J08 133 coating of pure silicone resin over the scintillator. This second 
J08 134 layer, which set perfectly, was of sufficient thickness to prevent 
J08 135 the alpha particles from any subsequently deposited atoms from 
J08 136 reaching the scintillator but did not interfere with the light 
J08 137 leaving the scintillator.<p/>
J08 138 <p_>The scintillator layers, on their Melinex backing sheets, were 
J08 139 attached to the polypropylene blocks by double sided adhesive tape. 
J08 140 The wavelength shifting lightguides were fabricated from 
J08 141 R<*_>o-umlaut<*/>hm and Haas Plexiglas GS2025, a 
J08 142 polymethyl<?_>-<?/>methacrylate glass containing the fluorescent 
J08 143 compound BBQ. All the surfaces were polished and the guides were 
J08 144 supported away from the sides of the Perspex casing of the counter 
J08 145 using conically tipped screws. The array of guides was viewed from 
J08 146 each end by a 130 mm photomultiplier with aluminium foil providing 
J08 147 a simple lightguide. The photomultipliers were EMI type 9791KA 
J08 148 tubes. They were individually selected to have a low afterpulsing 
J08 149 rate, specified as less than 400 ion-induced pulses, of magnitude 
J08 150 equivalent to more than 2.5 single photoelectrons, for every 
J08 151 10<sp_>6<sp/> photoelectrons.<p/>
J08 152 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J08 153 <p_>The external dimensions of a complete counter, excluding the 
J08 154 photomultiplier head-unit were 900 mm x 144 mm x 144 mm. A stack of 
J08 155 eight of these counters could be arranged as shown in figure 3. The 
J08 156 head-units have been shown on one counter only and omitted on the 
J08 157 others for clarity. This arrangement of counters provided a central 
J08 158 cavity for samples with the same dimensions as a single counter 
J08 159 (volume 18.61), which could adequately contain several tens of 
J08 160 kilograms of sample material. The central detector in the top row, 
J08 161 immediately above the cavity, was kept in position by two strips of 
J08 162 aluminium sheet, each a few centimetres wide, below it. These 
J08 163 strips were placed close to the two ends of the stack across the 
J08 164 two detectors which comprised the second row and before the top row 
J08 165 was added.<p/>
J08 166 <h_><p_>4. Output pulse processing and event recording<p/><h/>
J08 167 <p_>The pulse-height distribution of neutron-induced scintillation 
J08 168 in lithium loaded zinc sulphide scintillator is such that simple 
J08 169 pulse-height discrimination between neutrons and noise signals is 
J08 170 not feasible. This is a consequence of the particular time 
J08 171 structure of the scintillation in zinc sulphide and of the wide 
J08 172 range of pulse heights resulting from both the heterogenic nature 
J08 173 of the photon source and variations in light collection and 
J08 174 conversion. Many types of pulse shape discrimination circuit have 
J08 175 been reported but none seemed suitable for the rather stringent 
J08 176 requirements of the present experiment. In addition to the desire 
J08 177 to maximize efficiency, there were also overriding requirements 
J08 178 that photomultiplier and electronic noise should not contribute to 
J08 179 the background counting rate and that the system should 
J08 180 discriminate against signals due to the passage of one or more 
J08 181 lightly ionizing particles.<p/>
J08 182 <p_>The method finally adopted was a digital pulse discrimination 
J08 183 system with two distinct stages. The first of these was a photon 
J08 184 counting discriminator, based on earlier work by Caines (1972) and 
J08 185 Davidson (1977). A block diagram of it is shown in figure 4; exact 
J08 186 details of the circuits can be found in McMillan (1990). Firstly, 
J08 187 the output of each photomultiplier was converted to a sequence of 
J08 188 uniform pulses by a simple monostable circuit based on a fast 
J08 189 voltage-comparator and having a pulse resolution of 40 ns. The 
J08 190 input level of this monostable was set so that it was triggered by 
J08 191 every photoelectron. Noise and most minimum ionizing events were 
J08 192 rejected by requiring that there was an initiating prompt 
J08 193 coincidence between signals from the photomultipliers at both ends 
J08 194 of the counter and that there was then a minimum of two other 
J08 195 pulses from each end within the next 20 <*_>mu<*/>s. After this 
J08 196 period there was a dead-time of a further 20 <*_>mu<*/>s to ensure 
J08 197 that single neutrons could not masquerade as doubles. If the above 
J08 198 criteria were met, the circuit produced a 'neutron output' signal. 
J08 199 Additionally, a pulse-train output was generated by combining the 
J08 200 outputs from the discriminators associated with the two 
J08 201 photomultipliers in an OR gate. The exact timing and selection 
J08 202 criteria chosen were inevitably a compromise between rejecting some 
J08 203 neutron events and accepting some non<?_>-<?/>neutron events. The 
J08 204 first stage, as described and with the values indicated, provided 
J08 205 neutron discrimination sufficient for most purposes. The efficiency 
J08 206 and neutron lifetime measurements described later were performed 
J08 207 using only this first stage. However, the fact that it failed to 
J08 208 reject certain minimum ionizing events, particularly small 
J08 209 electromagnetic showers, meant that for low background multiplicity 
J08 210 work an additional level of discrimination was necessary.<p/>
J08 211 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J08 212 <p_>This second stage of pulse processing was not so much an 
J08 213 electronic discrimination system as a method of recording the 
J08 214 signals from the counters in sufficient detail that minimum 
J08 215 ionizing events could subsequently be recognised by eye in the data 
J08 216 set and rejected accordingly.
J08 217 
J09   1 <#FLOB:J09\><h_><p_>Proteolysis of factor VIII heavy chain 
J09   2 polypeptides in plasma and concentrates<p/>
J09   3 <p_>G. Kemball-Cook, S. J. Edwards and T. W. Barrowcliffe<p/><h/>
J09   4 <p_><tf|>Summary. Factor VIII heavy chain (FVIII HC) polypeptides 
J09   5 have been studied in both normal plasma and FVIII concentrates on 
J09   6 exposure to three coagulation proteases.<p/>
J09   7 <p_>FVIII samples were incubated with labelled affinity-purified 
J09   8 anti-FVIII Fab' fragments, immunocomplexes formed were visualized 
J09   9 by autoradiography after sodium dodecyl sulphate polyacrylamide gel 
J09  10 electrophoresis (SDS-PAGE), and apparent relative molecular masses 
J09  11 (M<sb_>r<sb/>) of each band assigned. FVIII HC polypeptides were 
J09  12 detected in all types of samples, including plasma, without further 
J09  13 purification.<p/>
J09  14 <p_>Normal plasma contained a range of polypeptides with the 
J09  15 largest dominant band at a net apparent M<sb_>r<sb/> of 250-300 kD, 
J09  16 and the smallest at 80-90 kD; the bands visualized correspond to 
J09  17 the 90-120 kD HC species seen on conventional analysis of purified 
J09  18 FVIII. No bands were produced from samples of haemophilic 
J09  19 plasma.<p/>
J09  20 <p_>Treatment of plasma or FVIII concentrate with low 
J09  21 concentrations (1 IU/ml) of thrombin removed the 250-300 kD and 
J09  22 other intermediate bands, intensified then removed the 80-90 kD 
J09  23 polypeptide and produced a band at 40-50 kD. Thrombin-associated 
J09  24 rise and fall in FVIII clotting activity by one-stage assay 
J09  25 correlated with intensity of the 80-90 kD polypeptide. A 
J09  26 polypeptide of M<sb_>r<sb/> 40-50 kD was also produced after 
J09  27 incubation with activated factor X: activated factor VII plus 
J09  28 thromboplastin had no effect on HC structure.<p/>
J09  29 <p_>FVIII polypeptides were visualized in prothrombin complex 
J09  30 concentrates, with a more degraded profile seen in a deliberately 
J09  31 'activated' product.<p/>
J09  32 <p_>In recent years the primary structure of factor VIII (FVIII) 
J09  33 has been elucidated by purification of the protein (Fulcher & 
J09  34 Zimmerman, 1982; Rotblat <tf_>et al,<tf/> 1985) and cloning of the 
J09  35 gene (Toole <tf_>et al,<tf/> 1984; Vehar <tf_>et al,<tf/> 1984). In 
J09  36 addition, recombinant FVIII has been produced using genetic 
J09  37 engineering techniques (Wood <tf_>et al,<tf/> 1984; Truett <tf_>et 
J09  38 al,<tf/> 1985). Despite these great advances, the exact nature of 
J09  39 the FVIII species active in coagulation is subject to 
J09  40 conjecture.<p/>
J09  41 <p_>Proteolysis of highly-purified FVIII by coagulation 
J09  42 pro<?_>-<?/>teases, especially thrombin, activated factor X (FXa) 
J09  43 and activated protein C (APC), closely define its biological 
J09  44 activity (Eaton <tf_>et al,<tf/> 1986). Specific cleavages made by 
J09  45 thrombin or FXa in the heavy chain (HC) and light chain (LC) are 
J09  46 thought to be essential to produce the active form which takes part 
J09  47 in the activation of FXa as a cofactor, while APC and FXa can make 
J09  48 inactivating cleavages in the heavy chain. Also, the cleaved 
J09  49 fragments of HC and LC must be in association [probably via 
J09  50 divalent cations] in order to retain activity (Fulcher <tf_>et 
J09  51 al,<tf/> 1985; Andersson <tf_>et al,<tf/> 1986; Fay <tf_>et 
J09  52 al,<tf/> 1986).<p/>
J09  53 <p_>The structure of thrombin-activated human FVIII has been 
J09  54 postulated to be a 51 kD/73 kD heterodimer derived from the HC and 
J09  55 LC respectively, with a conformational relaxation possibly 
J09  56 responsible for loss of activity on further incubation (Fay, 1987). 
J09  57 However, a stable form of porcine activated FVIII consisting of a 
J09  58 heterotrimer has also been reported (Lollar & Parker, 1989).<p/>
J09  59 <p_>All these studies on polypeptide cleavage of plasma-derived 
J09  60 FVIII have been performed using very highly-purified FVIII. 
J09  61 However, the FVIII molecule is very sensitive to proteolysis during 
J09  62 isolation, for example during the manufacture of FVIII concentrates 
J09  63 (Barrowcliffe <tf_>et al,<tf/> 1986; Kemball-Cook <tf_>et al,<tf/> 
J09  64 1990). Thus studies using purified FVIII may not represent the 
J09  65 proteolysis of the molecule in, for example, plasma or low purity 
J09  66 FVIII concentrates.<p/>
J09  67 <p_>In a recent paper (Kemball-Cook <tf_>et al,<tf/> 1990), we 
J09  68 demonstrated a modified sodium dodecyl sulphate polyacrylamide gel 
J09  69 electrophoresis (SDS-PAGE) method for visualization of factor VIII 
J09  70 heavy chain (FVIII HC) polypeptides. This approach, based on that 
J09  71 first described by Weinstein <tf_>et al<tf/> (1981) enables FVIII 
J09  72 structure to be studied in a wide range of samples including plasma 
J09  73 without further purification. We have therefore used this technique 
J09  74 to study the proteolytic breakdown of FVIII HC in plasma and 
J09  75 concentrates when exposed to a range of coagulation enzymes. In 
J09  76 addition a correlation between HC structure and FVIII activity 
J09  77 (FVIII:C) following thrombin treatment has been made.<p/>
J09  78 <h_><p_>MATERIALS AND METHODS<p/><h/>
J09  79 <p_><sp_>125<sp/>I-labelled specific anti-FVIII Fab' fragments were 
J09  80 prepared from inhibitor plasma CC8000 as previously described 
J09  81 (Kemball-Cook <tf_>et al,<tf/> 1990).<p/>
J09  82 <p_>Fresh human plasmas were obtained by clean venepuncture and 
J09  83 immediately anticoagulated by mixing 9:1 with 0.109 <tf|>M 
J09  84 trisodium citrate.<p/>
J09  85 <p_>Severe haemophilic plasma was obtained frozen from Dr P. B. A. 
J09  86 Kernoff at the Royal Free Hospital, London.<p/>
J09  87 <p_>FVIII samples were prepared for SDS-PAGE by diluting to between 
J09  88 0.5 and 5 IU/ml FVIII clotting activity (FVIII:C), then 10 
J09  89 <*_>mu<*/>l were mixed with 10 <*_>mu<*/>l of <sp_>125<sp/>I-Fab' 
J09  90 (3000-10 000 cpm) and 4 <*_>mu<*/>l of 9% (w/v) PEG 4000 (Sigma, 
J09  91 Poole, Dorset) in the presence of protease inhibitors (see below), 
J09  92 and incubated in a closed plastic tube at 37<*_>degree<*/>C for 2 h 
J09  93 to allow formation of immunocomplexes. 20 <*_>mu<*/>l of sample 
J09  94 buffer (62 m<tf|>M Tris-HCl-10% glycerol-2% SDS-0.001% bromophenol 
J09  95 blue, pH 6.8) were added and incubation continued for a further 30 
J09  96 min. after which samples (30-35 <*_>mu<*/>l) were loaded onto the 
J09  97 gel.<p/>
J09  98 <p_>Inhibitors added to the <sp_>125<sp/>I-Fab' to terminate 
J09  99 reactions with proteases were recombinant desulphatohirudin (CGP 
J09 100 39393, kind gift of Dr R. B. Wallis, Ciba-Geigy, Horsham, Sussex), 
J09 101 100 <*_>mu<*/>g/ml; I-2581 (Kabi, Uxbridge, Middlesex), 25 
J09 102 <*_>mu<*/><tf|>M; and PMSF (Sigma, Poole, Dorset), 10m<tf|>M.<p/>
J09 103 <p_>Factor VIII concentrates were type 8Y (Bio Products Laboratory, 
J09 104 Elstree, Hertfordshire); Profilate HT solvent<?_>-<?/>treated 
J09 105 (Alpha Therapeutics, Thetford, Norfolk) and Hemofil M (Baxter 
J09 106 Travenol, Thetford, Norfolk). The BPL and Alpha concentrates are 
J09 107 low purity conventionally-produced materials (specific activity 
J09 108 approximately 5 IU FVIII:C/mg protein), while Hemofil M is made 
J09 109 using immobilized monoclonal antibodies to FVIII and is of high 
J09 110 specific activity (>1000 IU/mg) before addition of albumin 
J09 111 stabilizer.<p/>
J09 112 <p_>Prothrombin complex concentrates: non-activated 
J09 113 (Pro<?_>-<?/>thromplex) and activated (Feiba) materials were 
J09 114 supplied by Immuno (Sevenoaks, Kent).<p/>
J09 115 <p_>Purfified human thrombin was NIBSC reagent 82/570, specific 
J09 116 activity 700 IU/mg protein.<p/>
J09 117 <p_>Purified human factor X (FX) was prepared by the method of Modi 
J09 118 <tf_>et al<tf/> (1984) using factor IX concentrate (Bio Products 
J09 119 Laboratory, Elstree, Hertfordshire) as starting material. Sulphated 
J09 120 dextran was produced according to Miletich <tf_>et al,<tf/> 
J09 121 (1980).<p/>
J09 122 <p_>RVV-X, the FX-activating protein from Russell's Viper venom 
J09 123 (RVV), was purified from crude RVV (Diagen) by ion exchange 
J09 124 chromatography on QAE-Sephadex (Pharmacia).<p/>
J09 125 <p_>Human activated FX (FXa) was prepared <tf_>in situ<tf/> by 
J09 126 mixing purified FX with RVV-X protein at a ratio of 10:1 in the 
J09 127 presence of 5 m<tf|>M CaCl<sb_>2<sb/> for 15 min: under these 
J09 128 conditions FX was fully activated.<p/>
J09 129 <p_>Recombinant FVIIa was kindly supplied by Novo Nordisk, 
J09 130 Bagsvaerd, Denmark.<p/>
J09 131 <p_>Rabbit brain thromboplastin was a product of Manchester 
J09 132 Comparative Reagents Ltd, Stockport, Cheshire.<p/>
J09 133 <p_>Thrombin treatment of FVIII samples: samples were mixed with 
J09 134 thrombin and incubated at the temperature indicated. Subsamples 
J09 135 removed for SDS-PAGE were added immediately to 
J09 136 <sp_>125<sp/>I-Fab'/PEG in the presence of protease inhibitors.<p/>
J09 137 <p_>One-stage assays on subsamples from thrombin activation of 
J09 138 FVIII were carried out as follows: 100 <*_>mu<*/>l of severe 
J09 139 haemophilic plasma were mixed with 100 <*_>mu<*/>l kaolin (5 mg/ml) 
J09 140 and incubated for 9 min: 100 <*_>mu<*/>l of phospholipid (NIBSC 
J09 141 86/516 bovine brain extract, 10 <*_>mu<*/>g/ml) and 100 <*_>mu<*/>l 
J09 142 of FVIII sample were added, then at 10 min the mixture was 
J09 143 recalcified with 100 <*_>mu<*/>l 33 m<tf|>M CaCl<sb_>2<sb/> and the 
J09 144 clotting time recorded. The percentage activation was calculated by 
J09 145 reference to a standard curve constructed from the sample prior to 
J09 146 thrombin addition.<p/>
J09 147 <p_>FXa proteolysis of FVIII was studied by incubating very high 
J09 148 purity (VHP) FVIII concentrate (final concentration 5 IU/ml 
J09 149 FVIII:C) with a mixture of purified human FX (10<*_>mu<*/>g/ml), 
J09 150 RVV-X protein (1 <*_>mu<*/>g/ml) and CaCl<sb_>2<sb/> (5 m<tf|>M) 
J09 151 for 15 min at 37<*_>degree<*/>C before addition of labelled 
J09 152 antibody: the ratio of FX to RVV-X was selected to give full 
J09 153 activation of FX in 10-15 min. Recombinant hirudin (100 
J09 154 <*_>mu<*/>g/ml) was present throughout to exclude the action of any 
J09 155 trace thrombin.<p/>
J09 156 <p_>Factor VIIa (FVIIa)/thromboplastin (TP): VHP FVIII concentrate 
J09 157 (2.5 IU/ml FVIII) was incubated with recombinant FVIIa (27 U/ml 
J09 158 FVII:C) in the presence or absence of 10 m<tf|>M CaCl<sb_>2<sb/> 
J09 159 and TP (Manchester, diluted 1 in 10), before incubation at 
J09 160 37<*_>degree<*/>C for 90 min. This FVIIa/TP/CaCl<sb_>2<sb/> mixture 
J09 161 clotted FVII-deficient plasma in less than 1 min.<p/>
J09 162 <p_>Slab gel preparation, electrophoresis and autoradiography were 
J09 163 carried out as previously described (Kemball-Cook <tf_>et al,<tf/> 
J09 164 1990).<p/>
J09 165 <p_>Molecular weight markers for use in non-reduced Laemmli 
J09 166 SDS-PAGE were HMW kit (Pharmacia, Milton Keynes, Buckinghamshire) 
J09 167 and SDS-6H (Sigma, Poole, Dorset).<p/>
J09 168 <p_>Assignment of apparent relative molecular masses 
J09 169 (M<sb_>r<sb/>): calculation of approximate M<sb_>r<sb/> was by 
J09 170 measurement of polypeptide migration distance on the autoradiograph 
J09 171 and comparison with molecular weight markers on the dried Coomassie 
J09 172 blue-stained gels, with subtraction of 50 kD (=M<sb_>r<sb/> of one 
J09 173 Fab' molecule) to give the apparent net mass of the polypeptide.<p/>
J09 174 <p_>Quantitative densitometry was carried out using an LKB 
J09 175 Ultroscan Laser Densitometer.<p/>
J09 176 <h_><p_>RESULTS<p/>
J09 177 <p_>Visualization of FVIII in plasma and FVIII concentrates<p/><h/>
J09 178 <p_>When <sp_>125<sp/>I-labelled A/FVIII Fab' was incubated with 
J09 179 either fresh normal plasma or FVIII concentrate and 
J09 180 electrophoresed, autoradiography revealed a range of bands with 
J09 181 apparent M<sb_>r<sb/> between 80-90 kD and 250-300 kD: no bands 
J09 182 were seen when severe haemophilic plasma was used (Kemball-Cook 
J09 183 <tf_>et al,<tf/> 1990).<p/>
J09 184 <h_><p_>Effect of thrombin<p/><h/>
J09 185 <p_>Fig 1 shows the effect of incubating either frozen normal 
J09 186 pooled plasma or, in a separate experiment, a sample of one type of 
J09 187 conventional low purity FVIII concentrate, with human thrombin 
J09 188 (final concentration of 1 IU/ml) for 20 min at 37<*_>degree<*/>C. 
J09 189 In the plasma sample, the band at M<sb_>r<sb/> 250-300 kD 
J09 190 disappeared and a degraded band became visible below M<sb_>r<sb/> 
J09 191 80-90 kD at M<sb_>r<sb/> 40-50 kD. The concentrate showed a loss of 
J09 192 virtually all the original pattern with production of one major 
J09 193 degradation band at M<sb_>r<sb/> approximately 40-50 kD. Diffuse 
J09 194 staining seen at M<sb_>r<sb/> above 300 kD is due to limited 
J09 195 self<?_>-<?/>association of Fab' monomers. As previously reported 
J09 196 (Barrowcliffe <tf_>et al,<tf/> 1986; Kemball-Cook <tf_>et al,<tf/> 
J09 197 1990), a low purity FVIII concentrate from one manufacturer 
J09 198 consistently showed a polypeptide at 40-50 kD even in the absence 
J09 199 of added thrombin. In order to determine whether this polypeptide 
J09 200 could be a degradation product formed by trace thrombin present 
J09 201 during concentrate manufacture, samples of a batch of this product 
J09 202 (here coded B) and another low purity FVIII concentrate (A) were 
J09 203 incubated with thrombin (final concentration 1 IU/ml) for 20 min at 
J09 204 37<*_>degree<*/>C to ensure complete thrombin-induced degradation. 
J09 205 The SDS-PAGE results obtained before and after thrombin treatment 
J09 206 are seen in Fig 2. Although the FVIII profile in the two 
J09 207 concentrates was quite different before thrombin treatment, 
J09 208 afterwards very similar patterns were seen in both materials, with 
J09 209 essentially one band only at M<sb_>r<sb/> 40-50 kD. This band 
J09 210 co-migrated with the lowest M<sb_>r<sb/> band present in product B 
J09 211 before proteolysis, indicating the possibility of partial thrombin 
J09 212 proteolysis of FVIII in this product during manufacture.<p/>
J09 213 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J09 214 <h_><p_>Thrombin cleavage and biological activity<p/><h/>
J09 215 <p_>In addition, the changes in polypeptide pattern in the two 
J09 216 concentrates were correlated with the thrombin-induced rise and 
J09 217 subsequent decay of one-stage FVIII:C. Fig 3 presents the 
J09 218 polypeptide patterns obtained from subsamples taken at various 
J09 219 times from thrombin-FVIII activation mixtures: the conditions were 
J09 220 chosen to produce a relatively prolonged cleavage of FVIII. Both 
J09 221 concentrates showed similar degradation patterns, with immediate 
J09 222 disappearance of the M<sb_>r<sb/> 250-300 kD band (initially 
J09 223 visible only in product A), intensification of the M<sb_>r<sb/> 
J09 224 80-90 kD band and then its reduction simultaneously with appearance 
J09 225 or intensification of the M<sb_>r<sb/> 40-50 kD band. Similar 
J09 226 patterns of FVIII degradation over time were seen with thrombin 
J09 227 treatment of fresh plasma (not shown).<p/>
J09 228 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J09 229 <p_>The strengths of the M<sb_>r<sb/> 250-300 kD, 80-90 kD and 
J09 230 40-50 kD HC bands seen in product A's pattern were quantitated by 
J09 231 densitometry and are compared with the one-stage FVIII:C in Fig 4. 
J09 232 The rise (to 350% of pre-incubation activity) and fall (to below 
J09 233 10%) in FVIII:C were closely paralleled by the appearance and 
J09 234 disappearance of the M<sb_>r<sb/> 250-300 kD band, whereas neither 
J09 235 the M<sb_>r<sb/> 40-50 kD nor the M<sb_>r<sb/> 250-300 kD band 
J09 236 correlated with clotting activity. A similar correlation was seen 
J09 237 with thrombin treatment of product B (not shown).<p/>
J09 238 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J09 239 <h_><p_>Effect of FXa<p/><h/>
J09 240 <p_>VHP FVIII concentrate (final concentration 5 IU/ml) was 
J09 241 incubated with a mixture of FX (10 <*_>mu<*/>g/ml), RVV-X (1 
J09 242 <*_>mu<*/>g/ml) and CaCl<sb_>2<sb/> (5 m<tf|>M) for 15 min at 
J09 243 37<*_>degree<*/>C in the presence of excess recombinant hirudin, 
J09 244 before addition of labelled antibody.<p/>
J09 245 <p_>Fig 5 presents the polypeptide patterns obtained. Firstly, it 
J09 246 is apparent that before exposure to thrombin this product was 
J09 247 largely deficient in the larger M<sb_>r<sb/> HC species, with most 
J09 248 staining in the M<sb_>r<sb/> 80-90 kD position: secondly, neither 
J09 249 RVV-X alone nor FX alone had any effect, but FXa generated <tf_>in 
J09 250 situ<tf/> caused generation of a band at M<sb_>r<sb/> 40-50 kD.<p/>
J09 251 
J10   1 <#FLOB:J10\><p_>Figure 8 shows the scatter plot of the turbulent 
J10   2 deposition velocity determined from each probe for cases 1 and 2. 
J10   3 The regression line was <O_>formula<O/>. The standard error of the 
J10   4 coefficient was 0.218, while the correlation coefficient was 
J10   5 0.80.<p/>
J10   6 <p_><O_>graphs&captions<O/><p/>
J10   7 <h_><p_>(b) Turbulence data from the sonic anemometer<p/><h/>
J10   8 <p_>To compare deposition velocities from a variety of sites and 
J10   9 canopies with different wind speeds, <tf|>v<sb_>t<sb/> was 
J10  10 normalised with v<sb_>m<sb/> as suggested by Slinn (1982). For the 
J10  11 calculations presented here we have used the <tf|>in-situ 
J10  12 measurements of u<sb_>*<sb/> and wind speed from the sonic 
J10  13 anemometer. These were compared with u<sb_>*<sb/> values obtained 
J10  14 from the profile mast which allowed values of the zero-plane 
J10  15 displacement and roughness length to be determined. This was done 
J10  16 to provide an estimate of the reliability of point estimates of 
J10  17 fluxes of such canopies. The profile information was also used to 
J10  18 show whether the turbulence was in local equilibrium with respect 
J10  19 to the canopy. This is important to determine if such measurements 
J10  20 are to be compared with model results of cloud deposition to hills 
J10  21 in complex terrain as discussed by Gallagher <tf|>et al. (1990). As 
J10  22 discussed later, good agreement was found between the data from the 
J10  23 sonic and profile mast, where a value of <tf|>d of approximately 
J10  24 2h/3, where <tf|>d is the zero-plane displacement and <tf|>h is the 
J10  25 canopy height, was used for computing <tf|>v<sb_>m<sb/> from the 
J10  26 profile data. The relationship between <tf|>d and <tf|>h is 
J10  27 consistent with a general consensus from a large number of studies, 
J10  28 for example Jarvis <tf_>et al.<tf/> (1976); however, during one 
J10  29 case study, when a kink developed in the wind profile, the value of 
J10  30 <tf|>d was uncertain and agreement between sonic and profile mast 
J10  31 data required a larger value of <tf|>d to be used.<p/>
J10  32 <p_>During case 1 the mean friction speed was 0.37<*_>unch<*/>0.05 
J10  33 m s<sp_>-1<sp/>, with a mean wind speed at the measurement height 
J10  34 (9.03m) of 2.73<*_>unch<*/>0.36 m s<sp_>-1<sp/>. This yielded a 
J10  35 value for the canopy roughness length, z<sb_>0<sb/>, of 
J10  36 0.30<*_>unch<*/>0.09 m (z<sb_>0<sb/>/h=0.072). For case 2 the 
J10  37 observed values were u<sb_>*<sb/>=0.70<*_>unch<*/>0.19 m 
J10  38 s<sp_>-1<sp/> with a wind speed of 6.12<*_>unch<*/>0.35 m 
J10  39 s<sp_>-1<sp/>. This yielded a somewhat smaller value for 
J10  40 z<sb_>0<sb/> of 0.17<*_>unch<*/>0.04 m (z<sb_>0<sb/>/h=0.041). This 
J10  41 was probably due to a slight change in wind direction.<p/>
J10  42 <h_><p_>(c) Wind profiles above the canopy and comparison with the 
J10  43 sonic anemometer data<p/><h/>
J10  44 <p_>Wind profiles measured during case 1 (Fig. 9) showed the 
J10  45 presence of a large kink at 5 m above the zero-plane displacement 
J10  46 with a significant reduction in wind speed at this level. Since the 
J10  47 profile is not logarithmic, the measurements here must be 
J10  48 considered as point flux measurements whose representativeness is 
J10  49 open to debate. However, the profile data obtained during case 2 
J10  50 (Fig. 10) showed much closer agreement with a logarithmic profile 
J10  51 indicating that the fetch during this period was more ideal, with 
J10  52 the turbulence in equilibrium with the underlying canopy (at least 
J10  53 up to the level of the USAT). The wind speeds during case 2 were 
J10  54 very much higher than during case 1, with no sign of a kink at the 
J10  55 5 m level above the zero-plane displacement. The profile 
J10  56 anemometers did not overlap the USAT and a detailed comparison 
J10  57 between flux profile and eddy-correlation-derived u<sb_>*<sb/> is 
J10  58 difficult for case 1 where it would appear that the USAT was 
J10  59 sampling a different turbulent boundary layer from most of the 
J10  60 profile anemometers.<p/>
J10  61 <p_>The shape of the profile from case 1 is characteristic of flow 
J10  62 from rough to smooth terrain, with a sharp transition between the 
J10  63 equilibrium boundary layer and the outer boundary layer. If a 
J10  64 similar process has caused the kink at 5 m above the zero-plane 
J10  65 displacement, then the air in the inner boundary layer would 
J10  66 accelerate slightly, resulting in horizontal divergence and 
J10  67 subsidence of the air above the inner layer. If one assumes that 
J10  68 the upper two points of the profile are representative of rougher 
J10  69 terrain upwind then a roughness length quite close to that measured 
J10  70 with the USAT can be calculated. In contrast the inner-layer data 
J10  71 produced a roughness length of 0.13 m, less than half that derived 
J10  72 from the USAT in the outer layer. This is consistent with the 
J10  73 decrease in canopy height up the hill. The fluxes derived at the 
J10  74 measurement site are thus more characteristic of the upwind 
J10  75 terrain.<p/>
J10  76 <p_><O_>graphs&captions<O/><p/>
J10  77 <p_>Since the canopy height changes significantly over the hill it 
J10  78 is difficult to derive a value for the zero-plane displacement for 
J10  79 the upwind terrain. The variables quoted above have all been 
J10  80 derived assuming a value of <tf|>d=2.81 m which corresponds to the 
J10  81 local canopy height. The profile measurements indicate a local 
J10  82 zero-plane displacement between 3 and 3.5 m corresponding to a 
J10  83 <tf|>d/h ratio of between 0.71 and 0.83.<p/>
J10  84 <p_>The profiles from case 2 showed close agreement with a 
J10  85 logarithmic wind profile, with a correlation coefficient of 0.98. 
J10  86 The zero-plane displacement was again estimated to be between 3.0 
J10  87 and 3.5 m with a roughness length of 0.08 to 0.14 m. Applying the 
J10  88 profile-derived <tf|>d values to the USAT measurements yielded a 
J10  89 roughness length of 0.15-0.17 m. Because of the uncertainty in 
J10  90 obtaining good estimates of <tf|>d, absolute comparison between the 
J10  91 USAT and profile anemometers is limited. For case 2, using 
J10  92 <tf|>d=3.5 m, good agreement between profile-derived and eddy 
J10  93 correlation u<sb_>*<sb/> was obtained with the ratio 
J10  94 <O_>formula<O/> with a correlation coefficient of 0.98.<p/>
J10  95 <p_>Data obtained during other periods of thin cloud during case 2 
J10  96 produced values of z<sb_>0<sb/> varying from 0.25<*_>unch<*/>0.10 
J10  97 to 0.29<*_>unch<*/>0.10 m (z<sb_>0<sb/>/h=0.06 to 0.07). The 
J10  98 changes in roughness length probably resulted from small changes in 
J10  99 wind direction which could considerably alter the fetch at this 
J10 100 measuring site. The observed roughness lengths are generally 
J10 101 smaller than those quoted in the literature. Unsworth (1984) 
J10 102 presented data from a forest of <tf|>Pinus sylvestris<tf/> and 
J10 103 <tf_>Pinus nigra<tf/> var. <tf|>maritima with a canopy height of 
J10 104 15.5 m; <tf|>d/h was 0.76 and z<sb_>0<sb/>/h was 0.060 
J10 105 (z<sb_>0<sb/>=0.93 m). Jaeger (1985) measured wind profiles above a 
J10 106 growing Scots Pine forest (<tf_>Pinus sylvestris<tf/>) over a 
J10 107 period of ten years and obtained linear regression estimates of 
J10 108 <tf|>d and z<sb_>0<sb/> as a function of stand height <tf|>h. Using 
J10 109 his relationships we obtain <tf|>d=2.42 m and z<sb_>0<sb/>=0.96 m. 
J10 110 Both the profile and sonic-derived z<sb|>o values are significantly 
J10 111 smaller than those predicted by Jaeger, as is also the case with 
J10 112 the data from Unsworth. The scatter in Jaeger's data was, however, 
J10 113 considerable (<tf|>r=0.44). Our z<sb_>0<sb/>/h values are within 
J10 114 the scatter of results reported elsewhere in the literature, for 
J10 115 example Brutsaert (1982).<p/>
J10 116 <p_>It is debatable whether the concept of zero-plane displacement 
J10 117 is at all applicable in the context of this work owing to the 
J10 118 uncertainties posed by use of the gradient technique when used over 
J10 119 non-ideal terrain. In particular, recent work over forest canopies. 
J10 120 Duyzer <tf_>et al.<tf/> (1990), tends to suggest that the normal 
J10 121 flux-gradient relationships for momentum and moisture vapour may 
J10 122 need to be modified close to the canopy, otherwise fluxes may be 
J10 123 significantly over-estimated by as much as 40%. For the 
J10 124 experimental site described here, the uncertainties in the 
J10 125 zero-plane displacement would lead to an over-estimate of fluxes, 
J10 126 in some wind directions by, at worst, 30%.<p/>
J10 127 <h_><p_>(d) The turbulence coefficients and atmospheric 
J10 128 stability<p/><h/>
J10 129 <p_>Typical values of turbulence coefficients A, B, <O_>formula<O/> 
J10 130 were 4.23<*_>unch<*/>1.06, 2.69<*_>unch<*/>1.05 and 
J10 131 1.22<*_>unch<*/>0.38 respectively. This shows that the vertical 
J10 132 component of the turbulence field was locally homogeneous and 
J10 133 compares well to flat idealized terrain results (see, for example, 
J10 134 Smith 1975), whereas the longitudinal component may have been 
J10 135 subjected to slope distortion and roughness change effects (see, 
J10 136 for example, Panofsky <tf_>et al.<tf/> 1982). These values are 
J10 137 consistent with turbulence measurements reported by Hogstrom 
J10 138 <tf_>et al.<tf/> (1984) over a coastal forest. This behaviour is to 
J10 139 be expected as the measurements are all made well within the inner 
J10 140 layer of the hill defined by Hunt <tf_>et al.<tf/> (1988), which is 
J10 141 about 30 m in this case.<p/>
J10 142 <p_>Sensible-heat-flux measurements made with the USAT enabled the 
J10 143 stability parameter <tf|>z/L to be calculated, where <tf|>L is the 
J10 144 Monin-Obukhov length. This parameter varied from +0.005 to +0.018. 
J10 145 The correction to the flux measurements was thus of the order of 5 
J10 146 to 13% justifying the assumption of near-neutral stability. It is 
J10 147 not clear how reliable the measurements of heat flux from sonic 
J10 148 devices are in cloud. Schotanus <tf_>et al.<tf/> (1983) show that 
J10 149 under non-neutral conditions out-of-cloud contributions due to 
J10 150 vapour fluxes may be as large as 20%.<p/>
J10 151 <h_><p_>(e) The normalized deposition velocities for liquid water 
J10 152 content<p/><h/>
J10 153 <p_>For case 1 the mean ratio <O_>formula<O/> at the measurement 
J10 154 height was 0.22<*_>unch<*/>0.09 for the FSSP-100 and 
J10 155 0.26<*_>unch<*/>0.12 for the PVM-100. (These do not include periods 
J10 156 where the deposition velocity was negative). The deposition 
J10 157 velocity for momentum was 0.052<*_>unch<*/>0.012 m s<sp_>-1<sp/> 
J10 158 averaged over the data set.<p/>
J10 159 <p_>For case 2 the normalized deposition velocities were slightly 
J10 160 higher, with the period indicated in Fig. 2 producing values of 
J10 161 <O_>formula<O/> of 0.28<*_>unch<*/>0.23 for the PVM-100 and 
J10 162 0.38<*_>unch<*/>0.29 for the FSSP-100. Most of the variation in 
J10 163 these results occurred during the first hour after the onset of 
J10 164 cloud. If these data are ignored the ratios for the rest of the 
J10 165 period were 0.24<*_>unch<*/>0.18 (PVM) and 0.37<*_>unch<*/>0.14 
J10 166 (FSSP). The deposition velocity of rmomentum was 
J10 167 0.069<*_>unch<*/>0.028 m s<sp_>-1<sp/> averaged over the data 
J10 168 set.<p/>
J10 169 <p_>The reasons for the deposition velocities for liquid water 
J10 170 being substantially less than for momentum in these two case 
J10 171 studies are discussed in detail below. Qualitatively, however, for 
J10 172 case 1 the wind speeds were very low, resulting in a very low 
J10 173 collection efficiency for the droplets. For case 2 the wind speed 
J10 174 was much higher, but the mean volume-weighted drop radius was only 
J10 175 4.4<*_>unch<*/>0.5 <*_>mu<*/>m, Fig. 3, and so the collection 
J10 176 efficiency was relatively small. These case studies serve to 
J10 177 underline the importance of a knowledge of the drop size 
J10 178 distribution undergoing deposition to a canopy and show that simple 
J10 179 momentum considerations employed in some models can lead to 
J10 180 over<?_>-<?/>estimates of cloud water fluxes.<p/>
J10 181 <h_><p_>(f) Variation in deposition velocity with droplet 
J10 182 size<p/><h/>
J10 183 <p_>Chamberlain (1967) measured, in a wind tunnel, the deposition 
J10 184 velocity of particles to grass as a function of size. Figure 11 
J10 185 shows his results for different values of u<sb_>*<sb/>. Deposition 
J10 186 velocity increases with particle size below 10 <*_>mu<*/>m radius 
J10 187 and this is particularly marked for drops between 1 and 5 
J10 188 <*_>mu<*/>m. Figure 11 also shows the results of Gallagher <tf_>et 
J10 189 al.<tf/> (1988) obtained over moorland. The behaviour is very 
J10 190 similar between 2 and 10 <*_>mu<*/>m although beyond 12 <*_>mu<*/>m 
J10 191 a decrease in deposition velocity was observed.<p/>
J10 192 <p_>Figures 12 and 13 show <O_>formula<O/> as a function of drop 
J10 193 radius for case 1 and case 2 with error bars calculated as 
J10 194 described earlier. The solid line shows <O_>formula<O/> for 
J10 195 droplets deposited at a rate equal to momentum. For case 1, as 
J10 196 expected, all but the very largest droplets fall below the momentum 
J10 197 value. Despite the appreciable liquid water content, turbulent 
J10 198 deposition rates in low wind speeds were small. Figure 13 shows 
J10 199 <O_>formula<O/> obtained for the first period of case 2 as cloud 
J10 200 formed over the canopy, again showing the error bars. The 
J10 201 deposition velocities are all much higher than for case 1, owing to 
J10 202 the higher wind speeds, and for larger droplets exceed that for 
J10 203 momentum.<p/>
J10 204 <p_>Figure 14 combines the results from the two case studies from 
J10 205 this work and compares these results with those of Gallagher 
J10 206 <tf_>et al.<tf/> (1988), normalized in the same way.<p/>
J10 207 <p_>The general conclusions from this figure are that for droplet 
J10 208 sizes of up to about 12 <*_>mu<*/>m radius the results from case 
J10 209 study 2 are very similar to those reported by Gallagher <tf_>et 
J10 210 al.<tf/> (1988), measured over moorland by a very different 
J10 211 technique. Above about 12 <*_>mu<*/>m radius the results diverge, 
J10 212 but the uncertainties were large in this range for both studies. 
J10 213 The light winds of case study 1 produced significantly different 
J10 214 results.<p/>
J10 215 <p_><O_>diagram&caption<O/><p/>
J10 216 <h_><p_>5. MODEL COMPARISONS<p/><h/>
J10 217 <p_>The assumption that cloud water deposition velocity 
J10 218 approximates to that for momentum is not valid under all 
J10 219 conditions. The variation of collection efficiency with drop size 
J10 220 must be taken into account, using a knowledge of the droplet size 
J10 221 spectrum. To provide descriptions for the deposition of cloud water 
J10 222 that are more accurate, two model studies were performed.
J10 223 
J11   1 <#FLOB:J11><h_><p_>3. SEDIMENTOLOGY<p/>
J11   2 <p_>(a) Unit 1<p/><h/>
J11   3 <p_>This unit consists predominantly of gravelly lithofacies 
J11   4 represented by massive to crudely horizontally stratified, medium 
J11   5 to coarse sandy gravels (facies Gm [Miall, 1977]) and subsidiary 
J11   6 planar cross stratified sets of fine gravel (facies Gp). The sandy 
J11   7 matrix is grey in colour. The unit has a maximum observed thickness 
J11   8 of 2.8 m (Section 1, Fig. 4). The base of the unit was not seen.<p/>
J11   9 <p_>The gravels typically form laterally persistent sheets (0.2-0.7 
J11  10 m in thickness) which lie on erosional planar or occasionally 
J11  11 concave-up surfaces. Internally, the gravels display well marked 
J11  12 fining-upwards sequences ranging upwards from coarse 
J11  13 clast-supported gravels at the base to finer matrix-supported 
J11  14 gravels (Section 1, Fig. 4). Individual sheets are separated by 
J11  15 lenses of planar cross-stratified sets (up to 0.4 m high) of medium 
J11  16 to fine sand (facies Sp). These sets often display reactivation 
J11  17 surfaces, marked occasionally by the presence of a pebbly foreset. 
J11  18 Also noted from within Unit 1 are several ice-wedge casts.<p/>
J11  19 <p_>In contrast to the grey sands within the basal part of Unit 1, 
J11  20 towards the top of the unit there are occasional beds of generally 
J11  21 structureless red-brown sands similar to those of Unit 2. Eighteen 
J11  22 palaeocurrent measurements taken from the planar sand foresets 
J11  23 within Unit 1 range from 32 <*_>degree<*/> to 220<*_>degree<*/>, 
J11  24 with a mode in the 60-75<*_>degree<*/> range.<p/>
J11  25 <h_><p_>(i) Interpretation<p/><h/>
J11  26 <p_>The basal sands and gravels of Unit 1 represent a high energy 
J11  27 fluvial environment. It is suggested that the gravels formed as 
J11  28 longitudinal/transverse bars at high stage in channels with high 
J11  29 width to depth ratios. The majority of the gravels (facies Gm) 
J11  30 probably moved at high stage as gravel sheets (Eynon and Walker, 
J11  31 1974). As high stage flows waned the coarse gravels at the base of 
J11  32 each sheet were deposited. These gravels then acted as a nucleus 
J11  33 for further deposition and progressively finer gravels were 
J11  34 deposited as flow strength declined. This process of fining-upwards 
J11  35 deposition may have been assisted by the vertical growth of the bar 
J11  36 itself, which led to decreasing flow depth (Hein and Walker, 
J11  37 1977).<p/>
J11  38 <p_>Occasionally these gravel sheets developed avalanche faces 
J11  39 (facies Gp) possibly due to the waning of the flood event resulting 
J11  40 in the development of separation eddies in the lee of the bar, or 
J11  41 due to the migration of the bar into deeper water areas or areas of 
J11  42 flow expansion (Hein and Walker, 1977).<p/>
J11  43 <p_>During reduced flows sedimentation would have been restricted 
J11  44 to lateral channels and channels cut along the upper surfaces of 
J11  45 the bars (facies Sp). The presence of reactivation surfaces within 
J11  46 the sands suggests that energy conditions were variable within the 
J11  47 lower stage flows.<p/>
J11  48 <p_>The predominantly grey matrix associated with the lower 
J11  49 cross-stratified sands of unit 1 suggests a source area for the 
J11  50 sediment predominantly from the Jurassic rocks to the south of the 
J11  51 site (Fig.2). This conclusion is supported by the palaeocurrent 
J11  52 measurements which suggest a flow from the south-west.<p/>
J11  53 <p_>The presence of intraformational ice-wedge casts suggests that 
J11  54 deposition was, at least in certain areas, discontinuous as the 
J11  55 development of ice wedge casts is not possible close to the active 
J11  56 river channel (French, 1976).<p/>
J11  57 <p_>Similar sequences to that described above have been recorded 
J11  58 from many terrace gravel sites within southern Britain (Bryant, 
J11  59 1983; Dawson, 1985) and are attributed to periglacial river systems 
J11  60 where flood generation is largely the result of spring snowmelt. It 
J11  61 seems probable that Unit 1 represents a similar environment.<p/>
J11  62 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J11  63 <h_><p_>(b) Unit 2<p/><h/>
J11  64 <p_>This unit is predominantly a well-sorted red-brown medium to 
J11  65 fine sand with occasional gravels. The unit has a maximum observed 
J11  66 thickness of 3.2 m (Section 1, Fig. 4). The bounding surface 
J11  67 between Units 1 and 2 is erosional. The lower parts of Unit 2, Unit 
J11  68 2a, comprise variable sequences of planar cross-stratified (facies 
J11  69 Sp) sands, ripple laminated sands (facies Sr) and large scale 
J11  70 trough cross-stratified sands (facies St). The planar 
J11  71 cross-stratified facies usually comprise isolated sets up to 20 cm 
J11  72 thick and occasionally cosets up to 50 cm thick. Rolled clay balls 
J11  73 (1.5 cm diameter) of Mercia Mudstone lying upon foreset laminae of 
J11  74 the sands (facies Sp) are present in places. Seven palaeocurrent 
J11  75 measurements taken from the planar cross-stratified sands in 
J11  76 Sections 1 and 2 range from 80<*_>degree<*/> to 195<*_>degree<*/> 
J11  77 with a modal class range of 165-180<*_>degree<*/>.<p/>
J11  78 <p_>The trough cross-stratified sets are up to 1m thick, although 
J11  79 only thinner sets were recorded from the accessible sections 
J11  80 (Section 3, Fig. 4). These lithofacies tend to lie on concave-up 
J11  81 erosional bases cut, in places, into the underlying Unit 1.<p/>
J11  82 <p_>Cyclic sedimentary sequences occur within the upper parts of 
J11  83 Unit 2. Unit 2b (Section 4, Fig. 4) comprises basal 
J11  84 horizontally-bedded sands with alternating coarser and finer beds 
J11  85 (facies Sh) rising into ripple-drift dominated sands (facies Sr). 
J11  86 Within each cycle the angle of climb of climbing ripples steepens 
J11  87 up-sequence, commonly being near-vertical at the top with both 
J11  88 stoss and lee side preservation (transition from type A to type B 
J11  89 of Allen, 1982). Occasionally the cycle culminates with near 
J11  90 vertical type S climbing ripples. Finally, fine-grained laminae cap 
J11  91 each cycle, the uppermost of which marks the contact of Unit 2 with 
J11  92 Unit 3. This bounding surface appears to be conformable throughout 
J11  93 the whole exposure, preserving the upper surface of the ripples.<p/>
J11  94 <h_><p_>(i) Interpretation<p/><h/>
J11  95 <p_>Unit 2 represents a lower energy environment than that of Unit 
J11  96 1. The observed occurrence of the red-brown sands of Unit 2a within 
J11  97 the underlying Unit 1 suggests that, at least initially, deposition 
J11  98 of Unit 2 was pene-contemporaneous with deposition of the upper 
J11  99 parts of Unit 1.<p/>
J11 100 <p_>The sands of Unit 2a (Sections 2 and 3, Fig. 4) display 
J11 101 sedimentary structures consistent with fluvial deposition and given 
J11 102 their association with the underlying Unit 1 are interpreted as 
J11 103 representing a relatively lower energy fluvial environment.<p/>
J11 104 <p_>The large trough cross-stratified sets possibly represent dunes 
J11 105 occupying the deeper parts of the active channel, indicated by the 
J11 106 underlying concave<?_>-<?/>up base. The planar cross-sets possibly 
J11 107 developed by the migration of linguoid or transverse bars with 
J11 108 ripple cross-lamination developing in shallower areas of the active 
J11 109 channels (Miall, 1977).<p/>
J11 110 <p_>Palaeocurrent measurements from Unit 2a suggest a flow 
J11 111 dominantly from the north-west. This flow pattern is consistent 
J11 112 with a sediment source to the north and west within the Triassic 
J11 113 sands (Bromsgrove Sandstone and Kidderminster Formation) in the 
J11 114 area around Birmingham (Fig.2).<p/>
J11 115 <p_>The cyclic sediments of Unit 2b (Section 4, Fig. 3a) are 
J11 116 interpreted as turbidites deposited within a lake. Within each 
J11 117 cycle parallel-laminated sands pass rapidly upwards into ripple 
J11 118 drift sands, indicating a progressive decrease in flow velocity. 
J11 119 The succession from type A to type B climbing ripples is 
J11 120 interpreted as the result of increasing sedimentation rates in 
J11 121 response to the continuing trend of a decrease in flow strength 
J11 122 (Allen, 1972). Where present type S climbing ripples represent very 
J11 123 high sedimentation rates. The draped silt/clay laminations which 
J11 124 complete each cycle indicate further decline in flow strength, with 
J11 125 sediment settling out from suspension. This declining flow strength 
J11 126 cycle is typical of turbidity currents and is considered to record 
J11 127 the B-C-D transition of a typical Bouma sequence (Bouma, 1969).<p/>
J11 128 <p_>Comparable sedimentological sequences to that within Unit 2b at 
J11 129 Snitterfield recorded from Lake Malaspina (Gustavson, 1975) and 
J11 130 glacial Lake Hitchcock (Gustavson <tf_>et al.<tf/>, 1975) were 
J11 131 considered to represent sedimentation on or near to the pro-delta 
J11 132 slope. Thus a similar depositional environment is envisaged for 
J11 133 Snitterfield with the cyclic nature of sedimentation being 
J11 134 controlled by turbidity currents down the delta slope.<p/>
J11 135 <p_>The lack of a full Gilbert-type delta sequence, in particular 
J11 136 the lack of delta foresets, suggests that either there was not 
J11 137 enough time for a complete delta sequence to develop, or that not 
J11 138 enough sediment was arriving at the site to build a substantial 
J11 139 delta.<p/>
J11 140 <h_><p_>(c) Unit 3<p/><h/>
J11 141 <p_>The lower part of Unit 3 consists of rhythmitic coarse-fine 
J11 142 sands and silts. The nature of the rhythmites changes upwards 
J11 143 through the profile. At the base of the sequence each consists of a 
J11 144 sand layer, grading upwards into finer silts which occasionally 
J11 145 grade upwards into finer-grained, graded clay layers. Towards the 
J11 146 top of the rhythmite section the coarse sand layer becomes less 
J11 147 prominent and the clay layers thicken. Within the upper parts of 
J11 148 Unit 3 the rhythmites give way to a more massive clay. The 
J11 149 rhythmites described below were recorded from Section 4 (Fig. 4) 
J11 150 and are shown in detail in Fig. 5.<p/>
J11 151 <p_>The exact thickness of each of the sand layers varies 
J11 152 throughout the deposit, but generally their thickness decreases 
J11 153 upwards from about 1 cm in the lowest rhythmites to less than 1 mm 
J11 154 half way up the recorded section, before disappearing completely 
J11 155 towards the top of the recorded section.<p/>
J11 156 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J11 157 <p_>The sand layers within the lower rhythmites display ripple 
J11 158 cross-stratification, with individual foreset laminate often being 
J11 159 less than 1 mm in thickness, although still exhibiting normal 
J11 160 internal grading. Ripples reach a maximum length of 2.5 cm with 
J11 161 recorded amplitudes of up to 6 mm (Fig. 5). The ripple forms are 
J11 162 generally well-preserved due to the draping of the overlying silts. 
J11 163 Climbing ripple sequences are also observed within the sands.<p/>
J11 164 <p_>The sands frequently display parting lineations, which show 
J11 165 sorting of coarser and finer grains into ridges and troughs. These 
J11 166 are interpreted as current lineations and, as such, are consistent 
J11 167 with the palaeocurrent directions recorded from Unit 2. The base of 
J11 168 the sand layers frequently shows scour of the underlying bed to 
J11 169 depths of 1-2 mm.<p/>
J11 170 <p_>Multiple graded beds of silt occur between the sand and clay 
J11 171 layers, silt always appearing to form the major part of the 
J11 172 rhythmite. The silt layers progressively decrease in thickness 
J11 173 relative to that of the clay layers up through the sequence. The 
J11 174 silt layers consist of normally graded beds with occasional sand 
J11 175 partings, especially in the lower part of the sequence. The clay 
J11 176 layers, where present at the base of Unit 3, are thin (3 mm or 
J11 177 less) but gradually become thicker towards the top of the 
J11 178 <}_><-|>rhthmite<+|>rhythmite<}/> section with recorded thicknesses 
J11 179 of up to 10 mm.<p/>
J11 180 <p_>Scattered clasts of quartz and quartzite occur throughout Unit 
J11 181 3. The largest recorded was 11 mm diameter. Typically, the clasts 
J11 182 are less than 4 mm in maximum observed dimension.<p/>
J11 183 <p_>Structures including faulting, folding and dewatering 
J11 184 structures, are present throughout the whole rhythmite section 
J11 185 (lower Unit 3). Faulting is predominantly normal (extensional) and 
J11 186 near vertical, with movement on the scale of millimetres, although 
J11 187 reverse (thrust) faulting is also present. The deformation does not 
J11 188 appear to extend upwards into the more massive clays (upper Unit 3) 
J11 189 and thus it is considered that the faulting is syndepositional. 
J11 190 Additionally dewatering fissures are present with associated 
J11 191 disruption of the surrounding sediment.<p/>
J11 192 <p_>Numerous trace fossils are present within Unit 3, mainly in the 
J11 193 form of short narrow burrows (4 mm long, 2 mm wide) which often 
J11 194 combine to form dendritic networks. The burrows are both 
J11 195 horizontal, along bedding planes, and vertical, across multiple 
J11 196 graded units and appear to have no preference as to grade of 
J11 197 sediment within the rhythmite.<p/>
J11 198 <h_><p_>(i) Interpretation<p/><h/>
J11 199 <p_>Unit 3 displays the rhythmitic dark/pale sequence recorded by 
J11 200 Shotton (1953). It is suggested that it is unlikely that the 
J11 201 rhythmites represent annual glacial varves as interpreted by 
J11 202 Shotton (1953) and it is considered more probable that they 
J11 203 represent small scale turbidites. Douglas (1980<}_><-|>)<+|><}/>, 
J11 204 p.282) proposed a similar interpretation for rhythmites within the 
J11 205 Bosworth Clays and Silts of western Leicestershire based upon the 
J11 206 presence of multiple graded silt beds and small-scale cross-bedding 
J11 207 within the silt bands.<p/>
J11 208 <p_>During deposition of the lower part of Unit 3 the higher 
J11 209 velocity flows were sufficient to transport sands, develop 
J11 210 migratory bedforms and cause scour of the underlying beds. The 
J11 211 presence of current lineations suggests flow velocities 
J11 212 sufficiently great to form upper phase plane beds (Leeder, 1982). 
J11 213 Such features have been recorded from within Pleistocene lacustrine 
J11 214 sequences in Ireland (Cohen, 1979). The nature of sedimentation at 
J11 215 the beginning of each rhythmite indicates an initial rapid increase 
J11 216 in flow strength, followed later by a more gradual decline. This 
J11 217 flow pattern is consistent with that found in turbidity currents 
J11 218 and is <}_><-|>simlar<+|>similar<}/> to that responsible for the 
J11 219 sands of Unit 2b. Thus these sediments are considered to be distal 
J11 220 equivalents to the sands of Unit 2b.<p/>
J11 221 
J11 222 
J12   1 <#FLOB:J12\><h_><p_>MATERIALS AND METHODS<p/><h/>
J12   2 <p_>(Ca<sp_>2+<sp/>-Mg<sp_>2+<sp/>)-ATPase was purified from rabbit 
J12   3 skeletal muscle SR as described previously (Colyer <tf_>et 
J12   4 al<tf/>., 1989) and gave a preparation which, on polyacrylamide 
J12   5 gels stained with Coomassie Blue, was >97% pure (Gould <tf_>et 
J12   6 al<tf/>., 1987). mAbs were prepared as described in Colyer <tf_>et 
J12   7 al<tf/>. (1989) and were purified from ascites fluid by 
J12   8 precipitation with 40%-satd. <O_>formula<O/> followed by dialysis 
J12   9 against 2x1 litre of phosphate-buffered saline (PBS; 137 
J12  10 m<tf|>M-NaCl, 2.7 m<tf|>M-KCl, 8.1 m<tf|>M-<O_>formula<O/>, 1.5 
J12  11 m<tf|>M-<O_>formula<O/>, pH 7.2), giving a preparation containing 
J12  12 approx. 50% mAb by weight at a protein concentration of 1-5 
J12  13 mg/ml.<p/>
J12  14 <h_><p_>Synthesis and use of hexapeptides<p/><h/>
J12  15 <p_>Hexapeptides were synthesized on blocks of polyethylene pins 
J12  16 designed to fit into 96-well microtitre plates, using kits supplied 
J12  17 by Cambridge Research Biochemicals, as described by Geysen <tf_>et 
J12  18 al<tf/>. (1987) by stepwise chain elongation using Fmoc 
J12  19 (fluorenylmethoxycarbonylamine) chemistry (Van Regenmortel <tf_>et 
J12  20 al<tf/>. 1988). NN'-Dimethylformamide (DMF; Romil Chemicals Ltd.) 
J12  21 was stored over molecular sieve 4A (BDH) until assay for free amino 
J12  22 groups using fluorodinitrobenzene showed it to be free of 
J12  23 dimethylamine. All other reagents were AnalaR grade, and water was 
J12  24 distilled. The pre-derivatized pins were supplied with Fmoc-alanine 
J12  25 linked via hexamethylenediamine to the pins. The Fmoc N-terminal 
J12  26 protecting group was removed from the pins and from subsequent 
J12  27 coupled Fmoc-amino acids by washing with 20 % (v/v) piperidine in 
J12  28 DMF for 30 min at room temperature with shaking. The pins were then 
J12  29 washed for 5 min with DMF, four times with methanol for 2 min, 
J12  30 air-dried for 10 min and washed for a further 5 min with DMF. 
J12  31 Fmoc-amino acid active esters (Fields & Noble, 1990) were dissolved 
J12  32 in DMF containing 1-hydroxybenzotriazole and the mixtures were 
J12  33 dispensed into the appropriate wells of a polypropylene e.l.i.s.a. 
J12  34 plate according to a computer-generated synthesis schedule. The 
J12  35 pins were inserted into the wells and coupling was allowed to 
J12  36 proceed at room temperature for at least 18 h. The blocks were then 
J12  37 removed and washed as above. After synthesis of the hexapeptides 
J12  38 and de-protection of the N-terminal amino acid, the N-terminal 
J12  39 amino acid was acetylated by placing the block of pins into a 
J12  40 mixture of DMF, acetic anhydride and 
J12  41 di-iso<?_>-<?/>propylethylamine (50:5:1, by vol.) and incubating 
J12  42 for 90 min at room temperature. The blocks were then washed as 
J12  43 above, Side<?_>-<?/>chain-protecting groups were removed by placing 
J12  44 the block of pins in a mixture containing trifluoroacetic acid, 
J12  45 phenol and ethanedithiol (38:1:1, v/w/v) for 4 h at room 
J12  46 temperature. The pins were then washed twice with dichloromethane 
J12  47 for 2 min, twice with 5% di-isopropylethylamine in dichloromethane 
J12  48 for 5 min, and once with dichloromethane for 5 min before 
J12  49 air<?_>-<?/>drying and finally washing in water for 2 min and 
J12  50 methanol for 18 h before drying <tf_>in vacuo<tf/>.<p/>
J12  51 <p_>Enzyme immunoassays were carried out by first precoating the 
J12  52 pins for 1 h by insertion into wells of e.l.i.s.a. plates 
J12  53 containing buffer A (1% ovalbumin, 1% BSA, 0.1% Tween 20 and 0.05% 
J12  54 NaN<sb_>3<sb/> in PBS). Pins were then incubated overnight at 4 
J12  55 <*_>degree<*/>C in e.l.i.s.a. plates containing mAb at a 1:500 
J12  56 dilution with the buffer mixture described above. The pins were 
J12  57 then washed three times for 10 min with PBS containing 0.05% Tween 
J12  58 20, with shaking. Bound antibody was detected by incubation for 1 h 
J12  59 at 25 <*_>degree<*/>C in e.l.i.s.a. plates containing second 
J12  60 antibody conjugated to horseradish peroxidase (HRP; Sera-Tec, 
J12  61 diluted 1:1000 in buffer A but in the absence NaN<sb_>3<sb/>). The 
J12  62 pins were washed as before and then incubated in substrate solution 
J12  63 [50 mg of azino-di-3-ethylbenzthiazodinosulphate, 35 <*_>mu<*/>l of 
J12  64 100 volume H<sb_>2<sb/>O<sb_>2<sb/> in 100 ml of citrate/phosphate 
J12  65 buffer (80m<tf|>M), pH 4.0] in the wells of an e.l.i.s.a. plate. 
J12  66 The colour was allowed to develop in the dark for 30 min and then 
J12  67 the plates were read at 410 nm on a Dynatech MR588 Microelisa Auto 
J12  68 Reader. To allow re-use, antibodies were removed from the pins by 
J12  69 cleaning in a sonication bath with 1% SDS/0.1% 
J12  70 2-mercaptoethanol/0.1 <tf|>M-<O_>formula<O/>, pH 7.2 at 60 
J12  71 <*_>degree<*/>C for 30 min, followed by washing in hot distilled 
J12  72 water (55-60 <*_>degree<*/>C). Pins were then immersed in boiling 
J12  73 methanol for 2 min and dried in air.<p/>
J12  74 <h_><p_>Preparation of polyclonal antibodies<p/><h/>
J12  75 <p_>Polyclonal antibodies to the purified ATPase were raised in 
J12  76 sheep by intramuscular injections of 0.5 mg of ATPase in Freund's 
J12  77 complete adjuvant followed by boosts in Freund's incomplete 
J12  78 adjuvant. Antibodies were purified from antisera by precipitation 
J12  79 with 40% <O_>formula<O/> followed by dialysis against 2x1 litre of 
J12  80 PBS. Antibodies were immunoprecipitated as follows. Samples (0.2 
J12  81 ml, containing 0.2 mg of antibody) were diluted to 10 ml with PBS. 
J12  82 Purified ATPase (1 mg in 100 <*_>mu<*/>l) was then added to give a 
J12  83 ratio of ATPase/antibody of 5:1 (w/w), and the sample was incubated 
J12  84 for 1 h at room temperature with shaking to allow precipitation of 
J12  85 the antibody-antigen complex. Samples were then spun at 37000 
J12  86 <tf|>g for 30 min at 20 <*_>degree<*/>C, and the supernatant was 
J12  87 removed and assayed as described above for the mAbs.<p/>
J12  88 <h_><p_>Preparation of peptides and anti-peptide antibodies<p/><h/>
J12  89 <p_>Peptides are named according to the residues to which they 
J12  90 correspond in the ATPase. Peptides were synthesized by the method 
J12  91 of Merrifield (1986) and checked for purity by h.p.l.c. on a 
J12  92 reversed-phase C8 column. Peptides were coupled to the carrier 
J12  93 protein keyhole limpet haemocyanin (KLH) before immunization 
J12  94 according to the method of Green <tf_>et al<tf/>. (1982). Primary 
J12  95 immunizations were carried out with approx. 0.5 mg of peptide-KLH 
J12  96 in Freund's complete adjuvant which was injected by the 
J12  97 intramuscular route in New Zealand white rabbits on day 1. A 
J12  98 booster injection of 0.25 mg of peptide-KLH was given in Freund's 
J12  99 incomplete adjuvant by the same route after 28 days, and blood was 
J12 100 taken for the production of antisera 7-14 days later. Antisera were 
J12 101 stored at -70 <*_>degree<*/>C. Antibody was purified from antisera 
J12 102 by precipitation with 40% <O_>formula<O/>, as described above. 
J12 103 Further purification was carried out using an ATPase affinity 
J12 104 column made by reacting SR vesicles with CNBr-activated Sepharose. 
J12 105 Antiserum was passed through the column at pH 8.0 and bound 
J12 106 antibody was eluted with glycine/HCl (0.1 <tf|>M, pH 2.5). The 
J12 107 eluent was immediately neutralized with a few drops of Tris/HCl (2 
J12 108 <tf|>M, pH 7.4) and dialysed against 2x1 litre of PBS. To study 
J12 109 effects of the affinity-purified anti-peptide antibody on the 
J12 110 activity of the ATPase, the enzyme was incubated for 30 min with 
J12 111 antibody at a 3:1 molar ratio of antibody to ATPase. ATPase 
J12 112 activity was determined by a coupled enzyme assay (Colyer <tf_>et 
J12 113 al<tf/>. 1989). All anti-peptide antibodies were mapped against the 
J12 114 sets of pins as described above for the mAbs, and all showed 
J12 115 recognition of the appropriate hexameric peptides, with no 
J12 116 significant binding to other hexameric peptides.<p/>
J12 117 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J12 118 <h_><p_>Competitive e.l.i.s.a.<p/><h/>
J12 119 <p_>A modified e.l.i.s.a. technique was used to demonstrate that 
J12 120 the monoclonal and polyclonal antibodies bound to native ATPase 
J12 121 (Colyer <tf_>et al<tf/>., 1989). Antibody (0.7 <*_>mu<*/>g) was 
J12 122 incubated overnight at 4 <*_>degree<*/>C in PBS/Tween in uncoated 
J12 123 e.l.i.s.a. plates with the ATPase (2-160 <*_>mu<*/>g/ml) either in 
J12 124 the native form or after heat denaturation (100 <*_>degree<*/>C for 
J12 125 3 min). Samples were then transferred to e.l.i.s.a. plates coated 
J12 126 with the ATPase (1 <*_>mu<*/>g/well) and e.l.i.s.a. was performed 
J12 127 using second antibody conjugated to HRP (Colyer <tf_>et al<tf/>., 
J12 128 1989).<p/>
J12 129 <h|>RESULTS
J12 130 <p_>Competitive e.l.i.s.a. was used to show that mAbs bound to the 
J12 131 native ATPase (Fig. 1). Native and heat-denatured ATPases were 
J12 132 incubated overnight with mAb, and the incubations were transferred 
J12 133 to e.l.i.s.a. plates coated with native ATPase to determine the 
J12 134 amount of free mAb remaining in the incubations. Fig. 1 shows that 
J12 135 although mAbs Y/1F4 and Y/2E9 bound more strongly to denatured than 
J12 136 to native ATPase, the difference was rather small. For example, for 
J12 137 Y/1F4, twice as much of the native ATPase than of the denatured 
J12 138 ATPase was required to lower the e.l.i.s.a. reading by 50 %. 
J12 139 Similar results were obtained with the other mAbs (results not 
J12 140 shown), confirming that the epitopes for these mAbs are 
J12 141 surface-exposed in the native ATPase.<p/>
J12 142 <p_>To define the exact epitopes for the mAbs, a set of overlapping 
J12 143 hexameric peptides was synthesized on polyethylene pins arranged to 
J12 144 fit the wells of standard microtitre plates (Geysen <tf_>et 
J12 145 al<tf/>., 1987). On the basis of our preliminary mapping of the 
J12 146 epitopes (Colyer <tf_>et al<tf/>., 1989), we chose to synthesize 
J12 147 hexapeptides corresponding to amino acid regions 1-208, 277-381 and 
J12 148 486-751.<p/>
J12 149 <p_>Our previous studies suggested that the epitope for mAb Y/1F4 
J12 150 lay between amino acids 500 and 615 (Colyer <tf_>et al.<tf/>., 
J12 151 1989; Tunwell <tf_>et al<tf/>., 1991). The results of the binding 
J12 152 analysis for mAb Y/1F4 with the set of hexapeptides from amino 
J12 153 acids 486-751 are shown in Fig. 2(<tf|>a). mAb Y/1F4 showed strong 
J12 154 recognition of hexapeptide NKMFVK, corresponding to residues 
J12 155 510-515, indicating that this is the epitope for the antibody. The 
J12 156 adjacent peptides VGNKMF, KMFVKG and MFVGAP gave lower signals, 
J12 157 suggesting that these peptides contain only part of the epitope, 
J12 158 with the sequence MF (Met-Phe) being the most critical part of the 
J12 159 epitope. As shown in Fig. 2(<tf|>d), mAb Y/2E9 gave a strong signal 
J12 160 for hexapeptides LPLAEQ and PLAEQR, suggesting that the epitope was 
J12 161 PLAEQ, corresponding to amino acids 662-666; the very weak binding 
J12 162 to the neighbouring hexapeptides suggest that in this case the 
J12 163 sequence PL (Pro-Leu) is critical for binding. mAb A/4H3 showed 
J12 164 binding very similar to that of mAb Y/2E9, and mAb B/4H3 showed 
J12 165 strong binding to peptides PLAEQR and LAEQRE, suggesting that their 
J12 166 epitopes are the same as that of mAb Y/2E9 (Table 1). As shown in 
J12 167 Fig. 2(<tf|>c), mAb 1/2H7 bound strongly to hexapeptides DDSSRF, 
J12 168 DSSRFM, SSRFME and SRFMEY, so that the major component of its 
J12 169 epitope is probably SRF (Ser-Arg-Phe), corresponding to residues 
J12 170 583-585. Also, as shown in Fig. 2(<tf|>b), the epitope for mAb 
J12 171 1/3D2 is SSRFME, corresponding to amino acids 583-588.<p/>
J12 172 <p_>From our previous epitope mapping experiments (Colyer <tf_>et 
J12 173 al<tf/>., 1989; Tunwell <tf_>et al<tf/>., 1991), epitopes from mAbs 
J12 174 B/3D6, Y/1G4, Y/1G6, Y/2D8, Y/2D11 and Y/3H2 were all thought to 
J12 175 lie between amino acid residues 486 and 750, but for none of these 
J12 176 mAbs was any clear pattern of binding to the hexameric peptides 
J12 177 observed (results not shown), so that the epitopes for these mAbs 
J12 178 cannot be defined using this approach.<p/>
J12 179 <p_>Epitopes for mAbs Y/3H5, Y/1H12, Y/2A2 and Y/4D6 have all been 
J12 180 suggested to lie between residues 320 and 376 (Colyer <tf_>et 
J12 181 al<tf/>., 1989, Tunwell <tf_>et al<tf/>., 1991). Binding of these 
J12 182 mAbs was therefore tested with a set of hexapeptides corresponding 
J12 183 to amino acids 277-381. The results for mAb Y/4D6 are shown in Fig. 
J12 184 3 and are considerably less clear cut than those described above. 
J12 185 Binding to hexapeptides. AAIPEG, AIPEGL and IPEGLP was strong, 
J12 186 suggesting an epitope whose main binding IPEGLP was strong, 
J12 187 suggesting an epitope whose main binding determinant is IPE 
J12 188 (Ile-Pro-Glu), corresponding to amino acids 307-309. However, 
J12 189 equally strong binding was seen to hexapeptide VRSLPS (residues 
J12 190 333-338) which could suggest that the epitope for the mAb is an 
J12 191 assembled one, containing both of these regions. Slightly weaker 
J12 192 binding is also observed to hexapeptides PVHGGS (residues 282-287) 
J12 193 and VHGGSW (residues 283-288); since hydropathy plots suggest that 
J12 194 either residues 288-307 (MacLennan <tf_>et al<tf/>., 1985) or 
J12 195 residues 295-315 (Green, 1989) make up a transmembrane 
J12 196 <*_>alpha<*/>-helix, these could not be part of the same epitope as 
J12 197 residues 307-309 and 333-338, and binding to these two hexapeptides 
J12 198 would then have to be artifactual. Alternatively, one set of 
J12 199 reactive peptides might be mimotopes of the true epitope. The 
J12 200 pattern of binding observed with mAb Y/3H5 was very similar to that 
J12 201 shown in Fig. 3 for mAb Y/4D6. mAbs Y/1H12 and Y/2A2 only gave weak 
J12 202 binding to any of the hexapeptides, and so could not be clearly 
J12 203 mapped.<p/>
J12 204 <p_><O_>graphs&captions<O/><p/>
J12 205 <p_>To check the epitope assignments made above, the peptides shown 
J12 206 in Table 1 were synthesized using the method of Merrifield (1986), 
J12 207 with all peptides containing an N-terminal Cys. E.l.i.s.a. was 
J12 208 performed using peptide coated on to e.l.i.s.a. plates, and, as 
J12 209 shown in Table 1, Y/1F4, Y/2E9 and 1/2H7 all bound to their 
J12 210 respective peptides. No binding of mAb Y/3H5 was observed in 
J12 211 e.l.i.s.a. to peptides AVAAIPEGLPAV (residues 303-314) or 
J12 212 RRMAKKNAIVRSLPSV (324-339), which contain the two possible 
J12 213 contributory epitopes for this mAb (see Table 1); a negative result 
J12 214 in this experiment does not, however, prove that the epitope for 
J12 215 the mAb is not contained in the peptides and could, for example, 
J12 216 simply indicate that the peptides are coated on to the plastic in 
J12 217 conformations unsuitable for binding.<p/>
J12 218 
J13   1 <#FLOB:J13\><h_><p_>Preparation and counselling<p/><h/>
J13   2 <p_>The main centres involved in presymptomatic testing for HD have 
J13   3 all taken a cautious and responsible approach to what has 
J13   4 universally been recognised to be a difficult situation. The 
J13   5 testing has been performed initially as a research evaluation, with 
J13   6 detailed pre-test counselling sessions and careful arrangements for 
J13   7 post-test support and follow up. Possibly as a result of this, 
J13   8 there have been no serious adverse short term effects in those 
J13   9 given a high risk result, though the longer term outcome remains to 
J13  10 be seen.<p/>
J13  11 <p_>Should such a thorough procedure, involving many hours of 
J13  12 individual counselling, be regarded as the accepted standard for 
J13  13 this type of genetic prediction? If so, who will provide the 
J13  14 necessary resources once the initial research phase is over? If 
J13  15 not, how is the minimal acceptable standard to be defined? Already 
J13  16 one major American HD testing centre has had to stop its activities 
J13  17 because funding was not renewed; applicants, in some instances, 
J13  18 have had to move their residence to a different part of America 
J13  19 where service funding for a testing programme was available.<p/>
J13  20 <p_>As testing becomes more widespread, what restrictions should be 
J13  21 placed on those clinicians, laboratories (and possibly commercial 
J13  22 organisations) offering predictive testing for HD to ensure quality 
J13  23 of both counselling and laboratory procedures? A disturbing example 
J13  24 of such practice (not from the UK) was reported at a recent meeting 
J13  25 on the subject, where the applicant was informed of a high risk 
J13  26 result for HD by telephone with no adequate prior counselling and 
J13  27 no subsequent support. Should such practice be regarded as 
J13  28 'negligent' and hence subject to legal pressures, or should there 
J13  29 be a voluntary code of practice?<p/>
J13  30 <p_>Looking to other disorders, it is already clear that the 
J13  31 arrangements for counselling often fall far short of those regarded 
J13  32 as necessary for HD. Perhaps the most obvious example is for the 
J13  33 transmissible but non-genetic disorder, acquired immunodeficiency 
J13  34 syndrome (AIDS), where counselling and follow up in relation to 
J13  35 human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) testing is often minimal despite 
J13  36 the profound consequences. In genetics, a recent report published 
J13  37 by the Royal College of Physicians (1989) has highlighted important 
J13  38 shortcomings in the provision of genetic counselling.<p/>
J13  39 <h_><p_>Genetic testing in childhood<p/><h/>
J13  40 <p_>Our predictive testing programme for HD has, like others so 
J13  41 far, only accepted adults, a policy in line with international 
J13  42 guidelines drawn up by the International Huntington's Association 
J13  43 and World Federation of Neurology (1990). We have been surprised, 
J13  44 however, how frequently requests for the testing of children have 
J13  45 arisen. In our series there were 28 such requests, 20 from parents. 
J13  46 While most parents have accepted the reasons for postponing testing 
J13  47 until the child could make its own decision, in one case the mother 
J13  48 of a two year old child, whose father was at 50 per cent risk, was 
J13  49 insistent on testing and sought a second opinion elsewhere when 
J13  50 testing was refused.<p/>
J13  51 <p_>Although it seems logical - for a disorder such as HD where 
J13  52 childhood onset is exceptional - to confine testing to those who 
J13  53 can consent for themselves, the situation is far from being clear 
J13  54 in all circumstances. Should DNA testing be done where behaviour or 
J13  55 other clinical abnormalities raise a suspicion of the rare juvenile 
J13  56 form? Should medical opinion override the wishes of a family which 
J13  57 has lived with the disease and is fully aware of its significance? 
J13  58 What is the position about testing other late onset disorders whose 
J13  59 age range is much more variable? The X-linked muscular dystrophies 
J13  60 provide a relevant example here: while in the classical Duchenne 
J13  61 type the onset is relatively constant in early childhood and severe 
J13  62 disability inevitable by late childhood, the sitation is quite 
J13  63 different for the later onset 'Becker' type, determined by 
J13  64 mutations at the same locus. Here onset may vary from late 
J13  65 childhood to middle age, while disability varies from minimal to 
J13  66 severe. An even greater range of disability applies to the 
J13  67 autosomal dominant myotonic dystrophy: what factors should 
J13  68 determine whether molecular genetic testing in childhood is 
J13  69 appropriate for such disorders?<p/>
J13  70 <p_>It is important to look critically at the reasons for 
J13  71 requesting testing in childhood. The concerns of parents fall into 
J13  72 two main categories; the future health of their child, and the 
J13  73 genetic implications. Regarding the latter it is surprising, though 
J13  74 understandable, how often parents seek to influence their 
J13  75 offspring's future reproductive decisions; this could be seen as 
J13  76 analogous socially to parental influence in the choice of marriage 
J13  77 partner. In discussing this subject with parents we have found it 
J13  78 helpful to stress the increasing choice that is likely to be 
J13  79 available to their children when adult, in particular that early 
J13  80 prenatal (possibly even preimplantation) diagnosis may allow them 
J13  81 to achieve a healthy family regardless of their own genetic status. 
J13  82 When the principal reason for requesting testing relates to the 
J13  83 health of the child, present or future, the situation may be very 
J13  84 much less clear-cut and careful consideration of the individual 
J13  85 circumstances is needed.<p/>
J13  86 <p_>One approach that is sometimes underestimated is the value of a 
J13  87 careful history and physical examinaton. If negative this will 
J13  88 allow the question 'is the disorder present now?' to be answered, 
J13  89 even if the future remains unresolved. If suspicious or positive 
J13  90 clinical features are indeed present, this may make further 
J13  91 investigations easier. Immediate health problems are not the only 
J13  92 reason why parents may request genetic testing. Early knowledge 
J13  93 that a disorder will develop may be important for educational and 
J13  94 future career decisions with such disorders as Becker muscular 
J13  95 dystrophy, which might well preclude a physically demanding career, 
J13  96 or in retinitis pigmentosa, where future blindness may result.<p/>
J13  97 <p_>Regarding these issues, there is no essential difference 
J13  98 between DNA testing for the gene and phenotypic presymptomatic 
J13  99 tests such as creatine kinase analysis in the muscular dystrophies, 
J13 100 electroretinography in retinitis pigmentosa, and ultrasound 
J13 101 examination for adult polycystic kidney disease. Indeed it is 
J13 102 likely that these more 'clinical' approaches are at present being 
J13 103 widely used in an uncritical and at times inappropriate manner by 
J13 104 paediatricians and others, though no clear evidence on this exists. 
J13 105 However the power of molecular testing to make a prediction in 
J13 106 disorders where no previous tests were available, together with its 
J13 107 independence of age, makes it especially important to apply it only 
J13 108 after careful thought and in the context of ethical guidelines. 
J13 109 Perhaps a widespread debate is needed on this neglected topic 
J13 110 (Harper and Clarke, 1990)?<p/>
J13 111 <h_><p_>Preadoption testing<p/><h/>
J13 112 <p_>In our HD prediction study we were surprised to receive five 
J13 113 requests for predictive tests to be done on children at risk for HD 
J13 114 who were being placed for adoption, and we are aware of two others. 
J13 115 This represents the extreme situation of genetic testing in 
J13 116 childhood discussed above, and brings up additional issues such as 
J13 117 the rights of the child in relation to those of the potential 
J13 118 adoptive parents. We have not undertaken such testing for reasons 
J13 119 set out briefly elsewhere (Morris <tf_>et al.<tf/>, 1988), which 
J13 120 include the removal from the child of future choice regarding 
J13 121 testing, the possible (indeed likely) stigmatisation from the 
J13 122 knowledge that HD would develop in later life, together with the 
J13 123 general uncertainty of the long-term effects of prediction even in 
J13 124 adults, and the current lack of effective treatment.<p/>
J13 125 <p_>Our experience has however raised serious questions over the 
J13 126 legal situation, and over what tests for genetic disorders in 
J13 127 general are appropriate both now and in the future when adoption 
J13 128 placement is being considered. Currently some tests are already 
J13 129 mandatory (for example phenylketonuria), while others would be 
J13 130 generally advised (such as Duchenne muscular dystrophy in a child 
J13 131 at risk), but the question of testing for disorders of adult life 
J13 132 has not been addressed. Studies have shown that there is 
J13 133 considerable variation in the standard of the pre-placement 
J13 134 examinations and investigations.<p/>
J13 135 <h_><p_>'INADVERTENT' GENETIC TESTING<p/><h/>
J13 136 <p_>In most medical situations it is an individual who seeks advice 
J13 137 and is tested; in genetic disorders it is often the entire family, 
J13 138 nuclear or extended, that is under consideration. Testing on one 
J13 139 member may prove to have major implications for others, and these 
J13 140 should be considered before the testing is done, rather than 
J13 141 afterwards.<p/>
J13 142 <p_>While the discovery of a genetic disorder in an individual may 
J13 143 put relatives at risk, it rarely gives conclusive evidence as to 
J13 144 whether or not they will be affected. An exceptional situation is 
J13 145 provided by identical twins, where a diagnosis (or predictive test) 
J13 146 in one twin for a disorder such as HD would give certainty that the 
J13 147 co-twin would also become affected at some time. We have not so far 
J13 148 encountered this problem.<p/>
J13 149 <p_>A more frequent difficulty, and one that is easy to overlook, 
J13 150 is the inadvertent prediction that may result from samples being 
J13 151 tested of relatives who themselves do not wish for prediction. 
J13 152 Molecular genetic testing for most disorders currently remains 
J13 153 dependent on family testing for polymorphisms, whether 
J13 154 gene-specific or linked. Pedigree structures are frequently far 
J13 155 from perfect in disorders such as HD, and testing of sibs may be 
J13 156 the only way by which parental genotypes can be inferred to allow 
J13 157 prediction. Figure 10.1 shows an example of this situation.<p/>
J13 158 <p_>Unless great care is taken a laboratory may find itself testing 
J13 159 samples from a relative where the results may have major 
J13 160 implications for that relative, as well as for the person who has 
J13 161 sought prediction. The only way to avoid such a problem is to 
J13 162 prevent it occurring in the first place. To begin with, no sample 
J13 163 should be taken without careful review of the pedigree to be sure 
J13 164 that it is really necessary. There is often a temptation to take a 
J13 165 blood sample from relatives attending a clinic or on a home visit 
J13 166 'just in case' it might be needed in the future. Such samples 
J13 167 should not be taken, or if they are, the samples should not be 
J13 168 tested. When such a sample is really needed it must be made 
J13 169 completely clear to the donor (preferably in writing) that the 
J13 170 sample is being taken for the benefit of the relative and that no 
J13 171 result is to be expected. To avoid the laboratory being placed in 
J13 172 the invidious position of knowing information that is not known to 
J13 173 the individual, we insist on such samples being made anonymous 
J13 174 before testing.<p/>
J13 175 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J13 176 <p_>How far is this a general policy outside the rigorous situation 
J13 177 of HD testing? Our own experience suggests that it is not, and that 
J13 178 laboratories commonly test all samples sent to them without 
J13 179 clarifying who has requested prediction and who not. We have found 
J13 180 ourselves in this sitation for such disorders as myotonic 
J13 181 dystrophy, and it is likely that a careful audit of requests for 
J13 182 genetic testing would uncover an appreciable number of comparable 
J13 183 situations. While the consequences may be less extreme than for HD, 
J13 184 the principle remains the same.<p/>
J13 185 <h_><p_>THE USE OF RESEARCH RESULTS AND SAMPLES<p/><h/>
J13 186 <p_>Most major advances in human molecular genetics have come from 
J13 187 the study of DNA from affected families who have donated blood 
J13 188 samples in the hope that this will help research. Not unnaturally, 
J13 189 when the promised breakthrough occurs they will wish to know what 
J13 190 implications it will have for them personally; they may enquire 
J13 191 about the results that a research worker has obtained, or about the 
J13 192 samples that remain stored for future use.<p/>
J13 193 <p_>Despite the recent tightening of ethical constraints for 
J13 194 research projects, this is probably the area of genetic prediction 
J13 195 that has been least carefully thought out and is most open to 
J13 196 abuse. Part of the problem results from the very simplicity of the 
J13 197 material needed. Whereas ethical committees may query the value of 
J13 198 a brain biopsy or a potentially hazardous neuropharmacological test 
J13 199 in a disorder like HD, few will cavil at the taking of a single 
J13 200 blood sample. The stability of DNA also compounds the problem, as 
J13 201 does the responsible and far-sighted behaviour of most geneticists 
J13 202 who insist (rightly) on banking DNA for its possible future service 
J13 203 use. Such a policy has already had direct benefits in allowing 
J13 204 testing for HD and other disorders such as Duchenne dystrophy after 
J13 205 the death of the affected family member. The same policy however 
J13 206 creates difficulty for decisions on the use of what was initially 
J13 207 collected as research material.<p/>
J13 208 
J14   1 <#FLOB:J14\>This peak incidence is expressed as a fraction of the 
J14   2 total population. An exact expression for the peak incidence of 
J14   3 infection in a homogeneous population (which is equal to 
J14   4 vy<sb_>max<sb/>) is given by eqn (6.20), which can be seen to 
J14   5 reduce to eqn (11.95) when R<sb_>0<sb/> is significantly in excess 
J14   6 of unity. The presence of carriers and of heterogeneity in sexual 
J14   7 habits produce complications, but eqn (11.95) remains a good 
J14   8 back-of-an-envelope estimate (so long as R<sb_>0<sb/> is 
J14   9 appreciably greater than unity), and is consistent with broad 
J14  10 trends seen in Fig. 11.23. The result (11.95) arises essentially 
J14  11 because a fraction <tf|>f of those infected move into the class 
J14  12 with full-blown AIDS at a rate v<sb_>1<sb/>, following the initial 
J14  13 stages of the epidemic in which (for R<sb_>0<sb/> large) most of 
J14  14 the population is infected. Thus observations of the incidence of 
J14  15 clinical AIDS as the epidemic begins to peak give a very rough 
J14  16 estimate of the combination <tf|>f/D, where D=1/v<sb_>1<sb/> is the 
J14  17 average interval between infection and diagnosed AIDS. For example, 
J14  18 if a peak incidence of clinical AIDS of 2-3 per cent of the at-risk 
J14  19 population were found each year, we could roughly estimate 
J14  20 <tf|>f<*_>approximate-sign<*/>10 per cent if <tf|>D is around 3-4 
J14  21 years - or <tf|>f<*_>approximate-sign<*/>50 per cent if <tf|>D is 
J14  22 around 15-20 years - and so on.<p/>
J14  23 <p_>The long-term public health issues, however, depend more on the 
J14  24 total fraction of the at-risk population who are likely to develop 
J14  25 clinical AIDS, that is (for R<sb_>0<sb/> large) upon <tf|>f. As 
J14  26 discussed above, the observed levels of seropositivity suggest 
J14  27 R<sb_>0<sb/> is unlikely to be less than around three, and it may 
J14  28 well have a value of five or more. With <O_>formula<O/>, this means 
J14  29 the factor inside the square brackets two paragraphs above is 
J14  30 likely to have a value of 5 years or more. But this value could be 
J14  31 attained in two ways, which have different implications for 
J14  32 estimates of <tf|>f. On the one hand, if <O_>formula<O/>, we have 
J14  33 the estimates that <tf|>D is around 5 years or more, whence 
J14  34 observations about peak incidence of AIDS lead to a crude estimate 
J14  35 of <tf|>f. On the other hand, if 1/v<sb_>2<sb>>>1/v<sb_>1<sb/>, it 
J14  36 could be that the value of R<sb_>0<sb/>/<*_>beta<*/>c is determined 
J14  37 essentially by 1/v<sb_>2<sb/>, whence the above argument gives 
J14  38 virtually no information about <tf|>D, and thus is of no help in 
J14  39 putting bounds on <tf|>f.<p/>
J14  40 <p_>These arguments can be refined into more quantitative 
J14  41 estimates, with the help of numerical studies of the kind reported 
J14  42 in Figs. 11.22 and 11.23(a,b). An essential ambiguity remains, 
J14  43 however, in whether diagnosed AIDS-developers and carriers do or do 
J14  44 not have similar durations of infectiousness; that is, whether 
J14  45 v<sb_>1<sb/><*_>approximate-sign<*/>v<sb_>2<sb/> or not. The 
J14  46 analysis presented above suggests some ways of gathering 
J14  47 information to resolve this issue.<p/>
J14  48 <p_>Consider first the incidence of infection (as revealed by 
J14  49 seropositivity) as a function of time, among classes of individuals 
J14  50 distinguished according to levels of sexual activity. As shown in 
J14  51 Fig. 11.31(a), if v<sb_>1<sb/>=v<sb_>2<sb/> there is a tendency for 
J14  52 the more sexually active individuals to acquire infection earlier, 
J14  53 and less active individuals later, so that the ratio of more 
J14  54 sexually active to less sexually active individuals among those 
J14  55 infected shifts as the epidemic progresses. As seen in Fig. 
J14  56 11.31(b), this tendency is much more pronounced if v<sb_>1<sb/> is 
J14  57 substantially greater than v<sb_>2<sb/> (carriers on average remain 
J14  58 infectious significantly longer than diagnosed AIDS-developers): 
J14  59 the more active people tend to acquire infection early on, whereas 
J14  60 infection among the less active fraction of the population slowly 
J14  61 builds up over time, depending primarily on the long-lived 
J14  62 infectiousness of carriers. Systematically compiled serological 
J14  63 data that discriminate among the levels of sexual activity of 
J14  64 recently infected individuals, over time, should in this way be 
J14  65 capable of shedding light on the ratio between v<sb_>1<sb/> and 
J14  66 v<sb_>2<sb/>.<p/>
J14  67 <p_><O_>graphs&captions<O/><p/>
J14  68 <p_>The same general considerations apply to incidence of newly 
J14  69 diagnosed cases of full-blown AIDS, distinguished according to 
J14  70 levels of sexual activity in the patients, as a function of time. 
J14  71 Here, however, the patterns are more blurred, by virtue of the 
J14  72 statistical distribution of times between acquiring infection and 
J14  73 manifesting full-blown AIDS. Figures 11.32(a) and (b) correspond to 
J14  74 Figs. 11.31(a) and (b), illustrating the incidence of cases of 
J14  75 diagnosed AIDS disease, among more sexually active individuals and 
J14  76 among less active ones, as a function of time. Figure 11.32(a) is 
J14  77 for v<sb_>1<sb/>=v<sb_>2<sb/> and Fig. 11.32(b) is for 
J14  78 v<sb_>1<sb/>=0.2 yr<sp_>-1<sp/> and v<sb_>2<sb/>=0.05 
J14  79 yr<sp_>-1<sp/>. The trends seen in Figs. 11.31(a) and (b) are again 
J14  80 evident, although somewhat less pronounced. Again, systematic 
J14  81 investigation of data of this kind could help determine the ratio 
J14  82 of v<sb_>1<sb/> to v<sb_>2<sb/>.<p/>
J14  83 <p_>On another tack, it would be helpful to look at the incidence 
J14  84 of diagnosed AIDS disease, as a function of time, among those 
J14  85 individuals who were most sexually active. Most of these people are 
J14  86 likely to have acquired infection early on, so that their 
J14  87 distribution of incidence of disease over time gives a reasonable 
J14  88 indication of the actual distribution of incubation times (in a way 
J14  89 that is not possible if all data, from more active along with less 
J14  90 active people, are combined). Such analyses could help provide an 
J14  91 independent estimate of whether the distribution of incubation 
J14  92 times found among those infected with HIV by blood transfusions are 
J14  93 indeed representative of broader categories of HIV infections.<p/>
J14  94 <p_>Whether AIDS will establish itself as an endemic disease in the 
J14  95 USA and Europe depends on whether sexual habits change sufficiently 
J14  96 to push R<sb_>0<sb/> below unity. This requires the distribution in 
J14  97 the number of sexual partners per unit time among homosexuals to 
J14  98 decrease to a level such that<p/>
J14  99 <p_><tf|>c'<c/R<sb_>0<sb/>. (11.96)<p/>
J14 100 <p_>Here R<sb_>0<sb/> is the initial value of the basic 
J14 101 reproductive rate for AIDS, estimates of which we have just 
J14 102 discussed, and <tf|>c and <tf|>c' are the initial and later values, 
J14 103 respectively, of the appropriate average over the distribution in 
J14 104 sexual habits (<O_>formula<O/>). Downward changes in the mean 
J14 105 clearly help. But downward changes at the high end of the 
J14 106 distribution help disproportionately, because they have more effect 
J14 107 on <i<sp_>2<sp/>>. Alternatively, R<sb_>0<sb/> can be lowered by 
J14 108 changes in the intrinsic transmission parameter <*_>beta<*/> ('safe 
J14 109 sex'). In either event, it is clear that the magnitude of the 
J14 110 changes needed to drive R<sb_>0<sb/> below unity depend on how 
J14 111 large R<sb_>0<sb/> originally was; as we have seen, this number is 
J14 112 uncertain, but is unlikely to be less than five or so.<p/>
J14 113 <p_>All the above discussion has treated AIDS as a disease of 
J14 114 homosexuals. Needle-sharing among intravenous drug users involves 
J14 115 the same ideas, with different values for the transmission factors 
J14 116 <*_>beta<*/> and <tf|>c, but the same parameters characterizing the 
J14 117 course of infection. For such transmission, <*_>beta<*/>c can be 
J14 118 estimated from initial doubling times, and the above discussion 
J14 119 repeated, <tf_>mutatis mutandis<tf/>.<p/>
J14 120 <p_>The same is true for heterosexual transmission, which is 
J14 121 currently low in developed countries but high in many sub-Saharan 
J14 122 African countries. As we have seen, simple models for purely 
J14 123 heterosexual transmission suggest that in the earlier stages of the 
J14 124 epidemic - before any subgroup becomes saturated with infection - 
J14 125 the incidence of HIV infection and of AIDS cases among males and 
J14 126 among females grows roughly exponentially at the same rate in both 
J14 127 populations. The doubling rate (which previously was <*_>beta<*/>c 
J14 128 - 1/<tf|>D) is now approximately <O_>formula<O/>, where <tf|>D is 
J14 129 the average duration of infectiousness. In developing countries, we 
J14 130 would expect to find the female-to-male transmission probability, 
J14 131 <*_>beta<*/>', and probably also the male-to-female transmission 
J14 132 probability, <*_>beta<*/>, less than the transmission probability 
J14 133 among homosexuals. We would also expect the appropriately averaged 
J14 134 rate of acquiring new sexual partners by women and by men, <tf|>c' 
J14 135 and <tf|>c, to be less than the corresponding quantity for 
J14 136 homosexuals in large cities in the developed world in the early 
J14 137 1980s. As was discussed in the section on epidemiological 
J14 138 parameters, data from recent studies in the United Kingdom suggest 
J14 139 a factor 10 to 20 difference in the average rate at which male 
J14 140 homosexuals and male heterosexuals acquire new partners (see Fig. 
J14 141 11.16). Overall, therefore, we would expect the doubling rate to be 
J14 142 smaller - and the doubling time to be longer - for HIV infections 
J14 143 transmitted along hetero<?_>-<?/>sexual chains than along 
J14 144 homosexual ones in developed countries.<p/>
J14 145 <p_>Whether or not a self-sustaining epidemic can be generated by 
J14 146 purely heterosexual transmission in developed countries depends on 
J14 147 the magnitude of the basic reproductive rate for such transmission; 
J14 148 this quantity is given approximately by <O_>formula<O/>. Such an 
J14 149 epidemic is likely to take off if R<sb_>0<sb/> exceeds unity, and 
J14 150 not otherwise. At present, uncertainty surrounds each one of the 
J14 151 five quantities entering into this expression for R<sb_>0<sb/> 
J14 152 (especially the female-to-male transmission probability, 
J14 153 <*_>beta<*/>'), nor are there enough data to attempt the kind of 
J14 154 indirect inference of R<sb_>0<sb/> from population-level 
J14 155 considerations, as we did for homosexual transmission in developed 
J14 156 countries. We believe that reasonable estimates span a range of 
J14 157 R<sb_>0<sb/> values from below unity to above unity.<p/>
J14 158 <p_>Bearing all this in mind, our guess is that, in developed 
J14 159 countries, HIV could well spread by purely heterosexual 
J14 160 transmission within relatively promiscuous subgroups. The long-term 
J14 161 possibility of a much more generally disseminated epidemic seems to 
J14 162 us to depend crucially on whether a significant fraction of HIV 
J14 163 infectees remain asymptomatic carriers (never developing AIDS), 
J14 164 transmitting infection with some low probability essentially for 
J14 165 the remainder of their sexually active lives. If this is so, then 
J14 166 quite modest levels of promiscuity could result in HIV infections 
J14 167 spreading slowly, over many decades, among a population who would 
J14 168 not think of themselves as promiscuous. In our earlier language, 
J14 169 such a long duration of infectiousness among a significant fraction 
J14 170 of infectees corresponds to the basic reproductive rate, 
J14 171 R<sb_>0<sb/>, for heterosexually transmitted HIV being appreciably 
J14 172 greater than unity.<p/>
J14 173 <p_>This brings us to a final and important point to do with 
J14 174 predicting AIDS cases. It might at first seem that the larger the 
J14 175 fraction of HIV infectees who go on to develop AIDS and die, the 
J14 176 larger the eventual number of deaths from the epidemic. This is not 
J14 177 necessarily so. Contrast the following two possibilites, neither of 
J14 178 which can be completely ruled out by currently available data: in 
J14 179 Case A, 30 per cent of those infected develop AIDS, remaining 
J14 180 infectious typically for 5 years and then dying, while the 
J14 181 remaining 70 per cent of those infected remain asymptomatic yet 
J14 182 infectious for 30 years; in Case B, 100 per cent of those infected 
J14 183 develop AIDS, remaining infectious typically for 8 years and then 
J14 184 dying. Notice immediately that the characteristic duration of 
J14 185 infectiousness is larger in Case A (0.3x5+0.7x30=22.5 years) than 
J14 186 in Case B (8 years); this means that the basic reproductive rate 
J14 187 for HIV infection is almost three times greater under assumption A 
J14 188 than under B, if the transmission probability is assumed to be the 
J14 189 same in both cases. The total number of deaths caused by AIDS in 
J14 190 either case depends on the fraction ever infected with HIV and on 
J14 191 the fraction of those infected who develop AIDS. For Case A, with 
J14 192 its substantially larger basic reproductive rate, a larger fraction 
J14 193 of the population will acquire HIV infection, but a smaller 
J14 194 proportion (30 per cent) of these will die. In contrast, in Case B 
J14 195 a smaller fraction will be infected, but all who are will die. We 
J14 196 simply cannot say whether Case A or Case B will result in a larger 
J14 197 total number of deaths, until we have made a detailed analysis of 
J14 198 the non-linear way in which the differences in the basic 
J14 199 reproductive rates are likely to affect the numbers ever infected. 
J14 200 The results of such a calculation are sensitive to the amount of 
J14 201 variability in degrees of sexual activity; the greater this 
J14 202 variability, the more likely that Case A will lead to more deaths 
J14 203 than Case B, in defiance of simple intuition.<p/>
J14 204 <p_>For homosexually transmitted HIV infection in developed 
J14 205 countries, our preliminary calculations suggest that the total 
J14 206 number of AIDS deaths increases as <tf|>f (the fraction of HIV 
J14 207 infectees going on to develop full-blown AIDS) increases up to 
J14 208 around 50 per cent or so, but that total deaths remain roughly 
J14 209 constant, or can even decrease, as <tf|>f increases toward 100 per 
J14 210 cent. As emphasized at the outset, current evidence cannot rule out 
J14 211 <tf|>f values as low as 20-30 per cent nor as high as 100 per cent.
J14 212 
J15   1 <#FLOB:J15\><h_><p_>Ultrasound in the investigation of the right 
J15   2 iliac fossa mass<p/>
J15   3 <p_>By F. C. Millard, FRCS, M. C. Collins, FRCR and R. J. Peck, 
J15   4 FRCR<p/><h/>
J15   5 <p_><tf|>Abstract. Patients presenting with a right iliac fossa 
J15   6 (RIF) mass are a diagnostic problem. The objective of this study 
J15   7 was to assess the role of ultrasound (US) in their investigation. A 
J15   8 prospective series of 50 patients presenting with a clinically 
J15   9 suspected RIF mass was examined by US and the findings correlated 
J15  10 with the final diagnosis. There was a positive finding in 34 
J15  11 patients (68%). Ultrasound correctly identified the organ of origin 
J15  12 in 33 (97%) and was able to guide the patients' further management. 
J15  13 In 12 cases no abnormality was found in the RIF, of which 11 had no 
J15  14 positive findings at follow-up and one was shown to have an 
J15  15 unrelated abnormality at laparotomy. In four cases the findings 
J15  16 were due to normal variants. Ultrasound is the imaging modality of 
J15  17 first choice in patients presenting with a RIF mass.<p/>
J15  18 <p_>Patients presenting with a right iliac fossa (RIF) mass are a 
J15  19 clinical diagnostic puzzle. Frequently, these patients have a 
J15  20 series of investigations including barium enema and intravenous 
J15  21 urography, which are often inconclusive.<p/>
J15  22 <p_>When an RIF mass is palpable it should be demonstrable by 
J15  23 ultrasound (US) and therefore it should be possible to assess its 
J15  24 organ of origin, and give some idea of its nature. Conversely, a 
J15  25 normal US may exclude a lesion and prevent further unnecessary 
J15  26 imaging, particularly if involving ionizing radiation.<p/>
J15  27 <p_>It was decided to perform a prospective study to assess the 
J15  28 role of US in the investigation of these patients, and to determine 
J15  29 any US features of RIF masses which may help establish their 
J15  30 nature.<p/>
J15  31 <h|>Method
J15  32 <p_>A prospective study of 50 consecutive patients, presenting with 
J15  33 the clinical diagnosis of an RIF mass and referred for US at the 
J15  34 Royal Hallamshire Hospital, was carried out between January and 
J15  35 August 1989. Their ages ranged from 18 to 94 years (mean 61 years). 
J15  36 Thirty-six were female and 14 male.<p/>
J15  37 <p_>The US was performed by a consultant radiologist using an ATL 
J15  38 Ultramark 4 scanner with 3 MHz and 5 MHz sector transducers. A full 
J15  39 abdominal scan was also performed routinely.<p/>
J15  40 <p_>The findings were confirmed by further imaging, laparotomy or 
J15  41 in a few cases clinical follow-up.<p/>
J15  42 <h|>Results
J15  43 <p_>Thirty-four patients (68%) were shown to have a lesion 
J15  44 corresponding to the palpable RIF mass. In four patients the mass 
J15  45 was due to a normal variant (two -  low lying kidney, two -  
J15  46 Riedel's lobe), and in 12 no mass was visualized in the RIF.<p/>
J15  47 <p_>Of the 34 masses, US correctly identified the organ of origin 
J15  48 in 33. Eighteen of these were gastro-intestinal and the pathology 
J15  49 was correctly suggested in 14 (Table I). Seven masses were arising 
J15  50 from the genito-urinary tract, and US was correct in all seven 
J15  51 (Table II). In a further nine patients, the mass arose from another 
J15  52 organ system, and US made the correct diagnosis in seven (Table 
J15  53 III).<p/>
J15  54 <p_><O_>tables&captions<O/><p/>
J15  55 <p_>Of all the cases studied, the site of origin was wrongly 
J15  56 suggested by US in only one. This was a 71-year-old female patient 
J15  57 on anti-coagulant therapy, who presented<&|>sic! with lower 
J15  58 abdominal pain, constipation, and a tender RIF mass. Clinical 
J15  59 assessment suggested a complicated ovarian cyst. Ultrasound showed 
J15  60 a complex mixed-echo mass anterior to the bladder. The appearances 
J15  61 were difficult to interpret, and bowel malignancy was suggested. At 
J15  62 laparotomy, however, an extensive rectus sheath haematoma was 
J15  63 found.<p/>
J15  64 <p_>In the 12 patients in whom no mass was found at US, six 
J15  65 underwent no further imaging. Of the remainder, five had a barium 
J15  66 enema, of whom two also had a small bowl enema. No further 
J15  67 pathology was demonstrated. One patient had the clinical picture of 
J15  68 large bowel obstruction, and at laparotomy was found to have a 
J15  69 carcinoma of the transverse colon and no actual mass in the RIF.<p/>
J15  70 <p_>Of the four patients in whom US found an anatomically normal 
J15  71 variant of kidney or liver, two had no further imaging and two had 
J15  72 a barium enema.<p/>
J15  73 <p_><O_>table&caption<O/><p/>
J15  74 <p_>As far as can be determined, therefore, of the 12 patients with 
J15  75 'negative' US there were no false negatives (excluding the one 
J15  76 patient who later was found to have a carcinoma of the transverse 
J15  77 colon).<p/>
J15  78 <h|>Discussion
J15  79 <p_>In any patient with a palpable RIF mass, we felt US should be 
J15  80 the primary investigation. This suggestion was also made in a 
J15  81 recently published retrospective study of US in the palpable 
J15  82 abdominal mass (Barker & Lindsell, 1990).<p/>
J15  83 <p_>A normal US may exclude a lesion and prevent further 
J15  84 unnecessary imaging. Our study confirmed this, US being highly 
J15  85 specific (100%) in excluding the presence of an RIF mass (Table 
J15  86 IV). Equally, our study found US to be highly sensitive (100%) in 
J15  87 correctly identifying patients with an RIF mass (Table IV). We have 
J15  88 found US to be highly accurate in identifying the organ of origin 
J15  89 of the mass (97%) as compared with clinical assessment (76%).<p/>
J15  90 <p_>Ultrasound has always been thought to be of limited value in 
J15  91 evaluating bowel problems, but gradually it is being shown to have 
J15  92 much value in this area (Gholkar & Khan, 1989). The US features of 
J15  93 appendicitis (Puylaert, 1986; Jeffrey et al, 1988), Crohn's disease 
J15  94 (Sonnenburg et al. 1983) and Campylobacter enteritis (Puylaert et 
J15  95 al, 1988) have all recently been described. Some ultrasonologists 
J15  96 feel that a general review of the abdomen during an ultrasound 
J15  97 examination can provide significant useful information, 
J15  98 particularly in the detection of occult neoplasms (Price & 
J15  99 Metreweli, 1988).<p/>
J15 100 <p_><O_>table&caption<O/><p/>
J15 101 <p_>The correct pathological diagnosis was made by US in 82% of 
J15 102 cases. Although we were able to determine bowel as the cause of the 
J15 103 mass in all the 19 cases in which this proved so, it was more 
J15 104 difficult to differentiate neoplastic from inflammatory lesions.<p/>
J15 105 <p_>In conclusion, this prospective study found US, in experienced 
J15 106 hands, to be accurate in assessing RIF masses, with the advantage 
J15 107 that it is non-invasive and does not involve the use of ionizing 
J15 108 radiation. It should be the first investigation of choice in these 
J15 109 patients.<p/>
J15 110 
J15 111 <h_><p_>A new phantom for mammography<p/>
J15 112 <p_>By J. Law, PhD<p/><h/>
J15 113 <p_><tf|>Abstract. A new mammography phantom from Du Pont is 
J15 114 described. It has a wider range of types of detail than in previous 
J15 115 phantoms, including some which closely simulate breast tissues. 
J15 116 Experience of its use, and comparisons with an earlier ('Barts') 
J15 117 phantom, are reported. The Du Pont phantom appears to have greater 
J15 118 sensitivity to changes in tube kV and focal spot size, and better 
J15 119 discrimination between different film-screen combinations and 
J15 120 between films from different breast screening centres.<p/>
J15 121 <p_>The importance of a suitable phantom, or test object, in 
J15 122 monitoring and maintaining image quality in mammography is well 
J15 123 known (see for example Pritchard, 1988). Such a phantom should 
J15 124 contain details which mimic those which a radiologist looks for in 
J15 125 clinical mammograms, and may also contain means for assessing 
J15 126 limiting contrast and resolution. These two approaches are quite 
J15 127 distinct, since many clinical details depend on a combination of 
J15 128 both contrast discrimination and resolution. If the latter are 
J15 129 assessed separately, it is not always a simple matter to combine 
J15 130 the results to give a single measurement with an obvious 
J15 131 relationship to the radiologist's needs.<p/>
J15 132 <p_>It is even more important that films of a phantom show clear 
J15 133 differences if tube kV, focal spot size, or film/screen/processing 
J15 134 characteristics change, especially since these may drift gradually. 
J15 135 In screening mammography in particular, a useful phantom should be 
J15 136 able to demonstrate such drifts before they become apparent in 
J15 137 clinical mammograms. (Even if a phantom does not do this, it may 
J15 138 still have a role in identifying the origins of such drifts.)<p/>
J15 139 <p_>One phantom which adopts the first approach is that described 
J15 140 by White and Tucker (1980) and sometimes called the 'Barts' 
J15 141 phantom. This has been extensively used in a limited number of UK 
J15 142 centres and found very valuable in at least some. However, it was 
J15 143 difficult to construct, was never available commercially, and is no 
J15 144 longer obtainable. It is also only moderately sensitive to changes 
J15 145 in kV (Law et al, 1989) and, at least for contact films, shows 
J15 146 little sensitivity to changes in focal spot size. A more sensitive 
J15 147 replacement has been needed for some time, but until very recently 
J15 148 only one other phantom has shown any clearly demonstrable 
J15 149 improvement, and some have failed to match it. That exception was 
J15 150 the Wisconsin randomized phantom, which is too time consuming for 
J15 151 routine use. This paper describes results obtained from a new 
J15 152 phantom with a variety of types of detail, marketed by Du Pont. It 
J15 153 appears to have most of the features outlined above.<p/>
J15 154 <h_><p_>Description of phantom details<p/><h/>
J15 155 <p_>The details are contained within a 'black box' measuring 
J15 156 approximately 10cm x 8cm x 2cm. This can be placed in various ways 
J15 157 within an assembly of different sized pieces of Perspex, which all 
J15 158 together simulate a compressed breast of average size.<p/>
J15 159 <p_>The details are shown in Fig. 1. They include various objects 
J15 160 with a range of contrasts, which mimic clinical mammographic 
J15 161 features and which lend themselves to quantitative scoring, plus 
J15 162 seven line bar patterns in two directions at right angles, from 8 
J15 163 to 20 lp/mm at low contrast, in steps of 2 lp/mm, which can also be 
J15 164 counted to give a resolution score. In addition, there is a range 
J15 165 of simulated tissues and structures, much more like breast tissue 
J15 166 than any of the other features, but which are difficult to score 
J15 167 except qualitatively or on a scale of (say) 1 to 3. Lastly, over 
J15 168 small areas the line bar patterns at right angles to each other 
J15 169 overlap to give an indication of point resolution.<p/>
J15 170 <p_>The objects having a range of contrasts are of four kinds, and 
J15 171 each is provided in five decreasing sizes and contrasts. These 
J15 172 are:<p/>
J15 173 <p_>(a) Al<sb_>2<sb/>O<sb_>3<sb/> specks from 320 to 83 <*_>mu<*/>m 
J15 174 which mimic microcalcifications;<p/>
J15 175 <p_>(b) plastic wires from 0.8 to 0.3 mm which mimic fibrous 
J15 176 structures;<p/>
J15 177 <p_>(c) carbohydrate or amino-acid spheres from 1.2 to 0.35 mm;<p/>
J15 178 <p_>(d) discs containing 0.8 mm diameter holes, arranged to form 
J15 179 the single digits 7, 5, 4, 3 and 2, where each digit indicates the 
J15 180 depth of the holes.<p/>
J15 181 <p_>The simulated breast tissues are provided in three clusters of 
J15 182 four each, which have very low, low, and normal absorption. Many 
J15 183 also contain random micro<?_>-<?/>calcifications. There is also a 
J15 184 single sample about 2cm in diameter representing the appearance of 
J15 185 'dense breast', and some small fine structures said to represent 
J15 186 lymph nodes.<p/>
J15 187 <h_><p_>Methods of use of phantom<p/><h/>
J15 188 <p_>The arrangement recommended by the manufacturers has been used 
J15 189 to obtain the results which follow (Fig. 2). One piece of Perspex, 
J15 190 12cm x 12cm and 3cm thick, is placed directly on the grid cover at 
J15 191 the patient side, and with the 10cm x 8cm 'black box' on top of 
J15 192 this. The 4cm space to one side of the box is partly filled by 
J15 193 another Perspex piece, 12cm x 3cm x 1cm, and a further Perspex 
J15 194 piece 12cm x 12cm x 1cm is placed above this and the black box. 
J15 195 Thus the total attenuation is about 5cm Perspex. Behind this 
J15 196 assembly, <tf|>i.e. away from the patient, a Perspex step wedge can 
J15 197 be placed, transverse to the anode cathode direction now normal in 
J15 198 mammographic tubes. This wedge has eight steps from 5 to 40mm, and 
J15 199 may be placed on top of another Perspex piece, 12cm x 3cm x 1cm, if 
J15 200 desired. Lastly, the compression plate is lowered onto the whole 
J15 201 assembly.<p/>
J15 202 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J15 203 <p_>To 'score' the films, <tf|>i.e. to obtain a numerical figure of 
J15 204 merit with some relationship to imagine quality, the manufacturers 
J15 205 make no recommendations and numerous methods might be derived. To 
J15 206 obtain the results reported here, the following method was adopted. 
J15 207 For the four types of feature (a) to (d) above, each of the five 
J15 208 sizes was given one point if it could be seen quite clearly, with 
J15 209 edges appearing sharp to the eye, and half a point if some features 
J15 210 of the type concerned were unambiguously visible but less clear. 
J15 211 Doubtful appearances were given no score. This scoring was helped 
J15 212 initially by a radiograph of the 'black box' with no Perspex or 
J15 213 other scattering material adjacent. Radiologists' binocular viewers 
J15 214 were always used to cut out surrounding glare.<p/>
J15 215 
J16   1 <#FLOB:J16\>Moreover, it could be argued that by not ascribing a 
J16   2 sufficient commercial value to human products this leads to an 
J16   3 inefficient use of such a resource. It is noteworthy that the Nazi 
J16   4 concept of <foreign_>lebensunwertes leben<foreign/> ('life unworthy 
J16   5 of life') led to a pragmatic cost-benefit approach seen in such 
J16   6 Nazi mathematical texts as 'Mathematics in the Service of National 
J16   7 Political Education'. While moral aversion to pricing the human 
J16   8 body may argue against biotechnology as a whole, so long as 
J16   9 commercial exploitation of the body continues, the argument should 
J16  10 not deny profit participation to the patient alone.<p/>
J16  11 <p_>It would be <}_><-|>anomolous<+|>anomalous<}/> not to treat 
J16  12 body parts as involving property interests by considering them as, 
J16  13 for example, <foreign_>res nullius<foreign/>. In a sophisticated 
J16  14 legal system where personal property rights are highly developed so 
J16  15 as to include such commodities as electricity and gas the list of 
J16  16 items consisting <foreign_>res nullius<foreign/> is short. 
J16  17 Furthermore, recognition on <foreign_>res nullius<foreign/> of 
J16  18 material like limbs severed by assault or accident may be 
J16  19 inconsistent with the person's interest in its preparation for 
J16  20 prompt surgical rejoining to his body. Moreover, the law already 
J16  21 recognises a property interest in body waste as in R v Welsh where 
J16  22 an accused man who poured his urine sample down the sink was found 
J16  23 guilty of stealing it from the police department.<p/>
J16  24 <p_>The recognition of proprietary rights would provide economic 
J16  25 incentives for patients to consent and, in principle, where a 
J16  26 donor's non-vital and naturally replaceable body material can save 
J16  27 the life of a recipient in desperate need, any ethical 
J16  28 fastidiousness demanding that donation be only gratuitous could 
J16  29 condemn the sick. One major objection to this is based on the work 
J16  30 of Titmuss in his book <tf_>The Gift Relationship<tf/> (1970) where 
J16  31 he pointed out that blood donors in the U.S.A. who sell their 
J16  32 blood, more often than not are poor and often unhealthy. Subsequent 
J16  33 work has challenged this assumption and, in any case, quality 
J16  34 control can be solved with adequate screening and independent 
J16  35 checks on quality. Moreover the problem of economic coercion as a 
J16  36 motivating factor for donation can apply in very many areas of 
J16  37 human activity so that Dukeminier has pointed out:<p/>
J16  38 <p_><quote_>"Yet if a charitable motive is so important in judging 
J16  39 conduct in situations involving a risking of one's life, how can we 
J16  40 permit men to risk their lives in driving racing cars, in entering 
J16  41 boxing contests, and in pursuing all kinds of paid risky 
J16  42 occupations and still object to the paid kidney donor?"<quote/><p/>
J16  43 <p_>Clearly, a decision to sell nonregenerative human body parts 
J16  44 which will have lifelong implications is not to be taken lightly 
J16  45 and the law could insist upon elaborate procedures to be satisfied 
J16  46 as seen currently with the marriage contract or the 'cooling off' 
J16  47 period seen in consumer credit transactions. Such safeguards are 
J16  48 necessary in any case even where there is donation as anticipated 
J16  49 under the Human Organ Transplants Act 1989 since great 
J16  50 psychological and emotional pressure may be brought to bear where 
J16  51 there is a needy relative. Notwithstanding that the pressure is 
J16  52 different from financial inducement, it is nonetheless pressure 
J16  53 which is hardly less likely to lead to exploitation of those 
J16  54 vulnerable to it.<p/>
J16  55 <p_>The need to protect the proprietary interest in human material 
J16  56 will increase as genetic engineering techniques improve. This 
J16  57 phenomenon can be illustrated by the facts in <tf_>U.S. v 
J16  58 Garber<tf/>. Here the defendant learned that her blood contained an 
J16  59 extremely rare antibody. A manufacturer of diagnostic supplies 
J16  60 induced Garber to undergo frequent withdrawals of her blood to 
J16  61 isolate the antibody which the company then marketed. Soon 
J16  62 afterwards other companies approached Garber with offers of even 
J16  63 more money and eventually Garber profited handsomely, giving rise 
J16  64 to a federal tax dispute. The point is that once the commercial 
J16  65 value of Garber's unique antibody became apparent, she was still 
J16  66 able to bargain for the highest bid. However, when genetic 
J16  67 engineering improves it may have permitted the original company to 
J16  68 withdraw enough material in the first place so, in the absence of a 
J16  69 proprietary right, prejudicing the donor. More recently the Court 
J16  70 of Appeal of California in <tf_>John Moore v The Regents of the 
J16  71 University of California et al<tf/> concluded that the plaintiff 
J16  72 did enjoy a property right in his own <quote_>"blood and bodily 
J16  73 substances"<quote/>. It is interesting how the influence of 
J16  74 contract has permeated this area. Before the commercial potential 
J16  75 of genetic engineering became evident, scientists freely 
J16  76 transferred cell lines and cell products. As the commercial value 
J16  77 of the cell lines developed, originators of cell lines found 
J16  78 written agreements increasingly necessary to protect economic 
J16  79 rights in their creations. This is reflected in the words of Leon 
J16  80 Rosenberg, Dean of the Yale School of Medicine, when he said:<p/>
J16  81 <p_><quote_>"The biotechnology revolution has moved us, literally 
J16  82 or figuratively, from the class room to the board room and from the 
J16  83 New England Journal to the Wall Street Journal."<quote/><p/>
J16  84 <p_>Given the scope of biotechnology, the question is not whether 
J16  85 or not to recognise the human body as property but rather what the 
J16  86 proper scope of the rights and liabilities in the body should 
J16  87 be.<p/>
J16  88 <h_><p_>The Application of Property Law Doctrine to Property Rights 
J16  89 in the Human Body<p/>
J16  90 <p_>(a) Product Liability<p/>
J16  91 <p_>(i) Tort<p/><h/>
J16  92 <p_>The Consumer Protection Act 1987 envisages strict liability for 
J16  93 any loss caused by using a defective product within the chain of 
J16  94 distribution. Since the Act deals with liability for a 'product', 
J16  95 the question is whether an organ or body tissue can constitute 
J16  96 this? In the U.S.A. blood has been considered a 'product' and in 
J16  97 principle this should be the case where there is commerce in body 
J16  98 parts. However, the state of the art defence is product liability 
J16  99 will be relevant here as long as the defect was not detectable by a 
J16 100 test. Thus, s.4(1)(e) of the Act provides<p/>
J16 101 <p_><quote_>"... that the state of scientific and technical 
J16 102 knowledge at the relevant time was not such that a producer of 
J16 103 products of the same description as the product in question might 
J16 104 be expected to have discovered the defect if it had existed in his 
J16 105 products while they were under his control."<quote/><p/>
J16 106 <h_><p_>(ii) Contractual liability<p/><h/>
J16 107 <p_>The question of whether the commercial supply of body material 
J16 108 involves a supply of goods or services is highly relevant. In 
J16 109 Perlmutter v Beth David Hospital there is U.S. authority that 
J16 110 although units of blood constitute personal property, in therapy, 
J16 111 when service predominates, what we have is a supply of services 
J16 112 rather than goods. The Supply of Goods and Services Act 1982 places 
J16 113 upon the supplier the requirement that he will carry out the 
J16 114 service with <quote_>"reasonable care and skill"<quote/>. On the 
J16 115 other hand the Sale of Goods Act 1979 has implied warranties of 
J16 116 fitness for purpose which is a more extensive liability. In 
J16 117 principle, blood or body products should be 'goods' within the 
J16 118 meaning of the 1979 Act whenever they are dealt with commercially. 
J16 119 However it may be possible to draw a distinction between blood 
J16 120 transfusions and skin and bone grafting and fitting cardiac 
J16 121 pacemakers. In the later cases the transfer of the material may be 
J16 122 minor compared to the service of installation which will be 
J16 123 important for the purposes of product liability.<p/>
J16 124 <h_><p_>(b) Property as defining the limits of medicobiology<p/><h/>
J16 125 <p_>An adequate legal order should define the limits of 
J16 126 medicobiology and in this respect, it may be appropriate to 
J16 127 distinguish between donated and discarded materials. If the doctor 
J16 128 has a professional interest in the discarded material which affords 
J16 129 the patient no therapeutic or diagnostic benefit, the patient's 
J16 130 express consent should be sought beforehand lest abandonment of his 
J16 131 property may appear to have been effected by the exercise of undue 
J16 132 influence. This was the view of the Warnock Committee which 
J16 133 required the <quote_>"informed consent"<quote/> of the couple if 
J16 134 research was to be carried out on <quote_>"spare embryos"<quote/>, 
J16 135 an approach which recognises the couple's proprietary interest in 
J16 136 their embryos.<p/>
J16 137 <p_>It was argued in <tf_>John Moore v The Regents of the 
J16 138 University of California et al<tf/> that recognition of the donor's 
J16 139 property rights would prevent unjust enrichment which was 
J16 140 significant because it was held that there was inequality of 
J16 141 bargaining power between the doctor and patient. In effect a 
J16 142 fiduciary obligation was anticipated here which imposed a duty of 
J16 143 full disclosure, <tf|>viz a physician should not commercially 
J16 144 profit by being in breach of trust. The legal inference from this 
J16 145 is that passivity or silence by the source of body material will 
J16 146 not, where this is commercially exploited, lead to the conclusion 
J16 147 that the separated body material is yielded to the hospital or 
J16 148 researcher. Here we have echoes of the Peel Report which noted:<p/>
J16 149 <p_><quote_>"Where the separation of the fetus from the mother 
J16 150 leads to the termination of its life there is no statutory 
J16 151 requirement to obtain the parent's consent for research, but 
J16 152 equally there is no statutory power to ignore the parent's wishes 
J16 153 .... We believe the patient must be offered the opportunity to 
J16 154 declare any special directions about the disposal of the 
J16 155 fetus."<quote/><p/>
J16 156 <p_>If human body material is treated as the personal property of 
J16 157 the patient, then it is possible to argue that the researcher 
J16 158 converts the body material when he exploits its commercial value 
J16 159 without the express consent of the patient. There is a conceptual 
J16 160 problem here in the sense that the remedy for conversion sounds in 
J16 161 damages based upon market value. Since the Human Organ Transplants 
J16 162 Act 1989 criminalises the active promotion of a sale as being 
J16 163 contrary to public policy then this type of legislation <tf_>prima 
J16 164 facie<tf/> would seem to prejudice this remedy. However, conversion 
J16 165 does recognise a special damages heading which the law does not 
J16 166 consider too remote such as the lost opportunity for receiving 
J16 167 satisfaction from giving benefit to a specified recipient or cause. 
J16 168 On the other hand, if full commerciality in body parts were 
J16 169 recognised this could lead to complex tracing issues as in the 
J16 170 Moore case, where the physicians researchers<&|>sic! produced from 
J16 171 the patient's bodily substances without his consent a 'cell line' 
J16 172 which was predicted to be worth $3 billion by 1990.<p/>
J16 173 <p_>The essence of the tracing doctrine is that it involves an 
J16 174 <foreign_>in specie<tf/> claims to property to which the claimant 
J16 175 has no property interest other than that which the right provides 
J16 176 and the property claimed is identifiably linked to the 
J16 177 misappropriated property. The concept is restitutionary in the 
J16 178 sense that it is premised on the principle of unjust enrichment, 
J16 179 the 'unjust' element often being satisfied by the defendant's 
J16 180 violation of his fiduciary duties. Attempts have been made to 
J16 181 restrict the reaches of the tracing doctrine as in the case of 
J16 182 'innocent' converters through the Torts (Interference with Goods) 
J16 183 Act 1977 and by reference to considerations of 'fairness' as is 
J16 184 obvious in the dissenting judgments in <tf_>Boardman v Phipps<tf/>. 
J16 185 The arguments are often predicated upon the thesis that the 
J16 186 defrauded person's recovery of the increased value of the trust 
J16 187 <tf|>res is a windfall. Interestingly, tracing analysis is still 
J16 188 applied but this is restricted to the <tf|>loss incurred. 
J16 189 Particular difficulties arise in measuring the loss and the courts, 
J16 190 in applying tracing rules, do not generally effect a sophisticated 
J16 191 analysis concerning the question of 'benefit' to the wrongdoer.<p/>
J16 192 <p_>By concentrating on <tf|>physical events, tracing conclusively 
J16 193 presumes that the wrongdoer would not have acquired the 'product' 
J16 194 but for the conversion. If an inquiry were made into the causal 
J16 195 events then this could illuminate the problem of quantifying the 
J16 196 wrongdoer's benefit which under tracing rules has to be disgorged: 
J16 197 for example, why should it be assumed that the wrongdoer could only 
J16 198 have obtained the 'product' by conversion? The donor may very well 
J16 199 have been prepared to sell the material and if this is the case, 
J16 200 calculation of benefit should instead consist of the value of the 
J16 201 misappropriation of the material at the time of its occurrence plus 
J16 202 the interest on that value. If the wrongdoer augments the value of 
J16 203 the bodily substance by, for example, developing a cell line then 
J16 204 there are two aspects to the causal approach; firstly, the 
J16 205 wrongdoer would not have had the asset 'but for' the 
J16 206 misappropriation; secondly, the traceable product that the owner 
J16 207 claims may not have been so valuable, 'but for' the wrongdoer's 
J16 208 efforts.
J16 209 
J17   1 <#FLOB:J17\><h_><p_>Thalidomide treatment for chronic 
J17   2 graft-versus-host disease<p/>
J17   3 <p_>D. HENEY, D. R. NORFOLK, J. WHEELDON, C. C. BAILEY , I. J. 
J17   4 LEWIS AND D. L. BARNARD<p/>
J17   5 <p_>Departments of Paediatrics and Haematology, St James's 
J17   6 University Hospital, Leeds, Department of Haematology, Leeds 
J17   7 General Infirmary, Leeds<p/>
J17   8 <p_>Received 29 August 1990; accepted for publication 7 January 
J17   9 1991<p/><h/>
J17  10 <p_><tf|>Summary. The treatment of chronic graft-versus-host 
J17  11 disease (GVHD) may present a difficult therapeutic problem. We used 
J17  12 thalidomide to treat six patients with severe chronic GVHD who 
J17  13 failed to respond to standard immunosuppressive agents. Four of the 
J17  14 six patients showed a clear response to thalidomide, with the fifth 
J17  15 patient showing a partial response. The best results were seen in 
J17  16 patients with chronic cutaneous GVHD. Two of the patients developed 
J17  17 neurophysiological evidence of a peripheral neuropathy, associated 
J17  18 with clinical signs in one patient. Measurement of thalidomide 
J17  19 plasma levels and pharmacokinetic curves showed a significant 
J17  20 inter-patient variation. Peak plasma levels varied from 0.47 to 
J17  21 1.46 <*_>mu<*/>g/ml. Thalidomide has a role to play in the 
J17  22 management of chronic GVHD and further studies are needed.<p/>
J17  23 <p_>The immunosuppressive properties of thalidomide have been known 
J17  24 for over 20 years (Hellman, 1966). Although withdrawn from the 
J17  25 market in 1961 it has remained available for research and 
J17  26 restricted clinical use. In the decade that followed its 
J17  27 withdrawal, thalidomide was shown to be an effective 
J17  28 immunosuppressive agent for renal allotransplantation in a variety 
J17  29 of animal models (DeKlerk <tf_>et al<tf/>, 1969; Murphy <tf_>et 
J17  30 al<tf/>, 1970). This information was, however, not followed up and 
J17  31 interest in its use in transplantation declined. Nevertheless 
J17  32 thalidomide continued to be used in a variety of immunologically 
J17  33 mediated diseases and has found a place in the management of a 
J17  34 number of primarily mucocutaneous disorders including lepromatous 
J17  35 leprosy, apthous stomatitis and discoid lupus erythematosus 
J17  36 (Barnhill & McDougall, 1982).<p/>
J17  37 <p_>In 1986 Vogelsang reported the use of thalidomide in the 
J17  38 treatment of acute graft-versus-host disease (GVHD) in a rat bone 
J17  39 marrow transplant model. It was shown to be effective in the 
J17  40 treatment and prevention of acute GVHD, and subsequent data 
J17  41 confirmed its value in chronic GVHD (Vogelsang <tf_>et al<tf/>, 
J17  42 1986, 1989). These experiments generated a renewed interest in 
J17  43 thalidomide and were followed by reports of the beneficial effect 
J17  44 of thalidomide in patients with acute and chronic GVHD (Heney 
J17  45 <tf_>et al<tf/>, 1990; Saurat <tf_>et al<tf/>, 1988; McCarthy 
J17  46 <tf_>et al<tf/>, 1988). We report on the use of thalidomide in the 
J17  47 treatment of chronic GVHD in six patients. We have also modified 
J17  48 previously described methods for the measurement of plasma levels 
J17  49 of thalidomide and report pharmacokinetic data on our patients.<p/>
J17  50 <h_><p_>PATIENTS AND METHODS<p/><h/>
J17  51 <p_>We treated six patients with thalidomide. Their background 
J17  52 details are shown in Table I. All patients received HLA matched, 
J17  53 mixed lymphocyte culture (MLC) compatible bone marrow transplants 
J17  54 from either a parent or a sibling. They all had severe progressive 
J17  55 chronic GVHD which had proved unresponsive to standard 
J17  56 immunosuppressive therapy.<p/>
J17  57 <p_><tf|>Pharmacokinetics. Thalidomide plasma levels were measured 
J17  58 in four patients. The patients were studied when they were 
J17  59 established on thalidomide therapy. All patients followed the same 
J17  60 protocol and were studied in the morning after an overnight fast. 
J17  61 No solid food was allowed until 2 h after ingestion of a 100 mg 
J17  62 thalidomide tablet. This was the standard thalidomide dose for each 
J17  63 of the four patients. Heparinized plasma samples were obtained 
J17  64 prior to thalidomide ingestion and hourly thereafter for a minimum 
J17  65 of 6 h and longer where possible. Patient 6 declined to participate 
J17  66 in the study, and in patient number 3 treatment was withdrawn 
J17  67 before the study was initiated.<p/>
J17  68 <p_><tf_>Neurophysiological testing.<tf/> All patients were 
J17  69 examined at regular intervals for clinical evidence of a 
J17  70 neuropathy. Four patients underwent neurophysiological testing 
J17  71 which included nerve conduction studies and electromyography. 
J17  72 Patient 6 declined the study and patient 4 died before being 
J17  73 tested.<p/>
J17  74 <p_><tf_>Thalidomide assay.<tf/> Thalidomide was extracted from 
J17  75 plasma by solid phase extraction, using a 3 ml C18 Bond Elut 
J17  76 cartridge (Analytichem International). Thalidomide was measured by 
J17  77 high performance liquid chromatography (HPLC) (Waters Associates) 
J17  78 utilizing a LiChrospher C18 5u 25 cm x 4 mm column. The mobile 
J17  79 phase consisted of 20% Acetonitrile, 80% water plus 750 <*_>mu<*/>l 
J17  80 of 30% HCL per litre. The flow rate was 1 ml/min and detection was 
J17  81 at 230 nm. Acetophenetidin was used as an internal standard.<p/>
J17  82 <p_><O_>table&caption<O/><p/>
J17  83 <p_>Standards were prepared by adding purified thalidomide 
J17  84 (Grunenthal GmbH) to drug-free plasma. Thalidomide concentrations 
J17  85 were calculated by comparing the peak height ratio of thalidomide 
J17  86 and internal standard in study plasma samples with those from the 
J17  87 calibration curve. The analytical recovery of thalidomide from 
J17  88 plasma was 92% at 1 <*_>mu<*/>g/ml. Using the above chromatographic 
J17  89 conditions, thalidomide and internal standard were well separated 
J17  90 with approximate retention times of 12 and 17 min respectively (see 
J17  91 Fig 1). The limit of detectibility was 0.1 <*_>mu<*/>g/ml. All 
J17  92 solvents were supplied by Rathburn Chemicals, Walkerburn, Scotland. 
J17  93 The thalidomide standard was kindly donated by Grunenthal GmbH, 
J17  94 Germany. The thalidomide tablets were supplied by Champion 
J17  95 Farmaceutica Ltd, S<*_>a-tilde<*/>o Paulo, Brazil. All other 
J17  96 reagents came from Sigma Chemicals, Poole, U.K.<p/>
J17  97 <h_><p_>RESULTS<p/>
J17  98 <p_>Clinical response<p/><h/>
J17  99 <p_>The dosage of thalidomide and the clinical repsonse is shown in 
J17 100 Table II.<p/>
J17 101 <p_>Patient 1 developed disabling chronic GVHD with extensive 
J17 102 scleroderma which necessitated his attending a school for the 
J17 103 physically handicapped. Thalidomide 200 mg daily was introduced but 
J17 104 immediately caused significant somnolence. The dose was reduced to 
J17 105 100 mg daily, with no further somnolence, and a rapid clinical 
J17 106 response over several weeks. The improvement has been sustained 
J17 107 over a 24 month period allowing him to partake in normal 
J17 108 activities, with the discontinuation of his azathioprine and a 
J17 109 reduction in his prednisolone from 15 mg to 5 mg alternate days.<p/>
J17 110 <p_>Patient 2 also developed severe sclerodermatous chronic GVHD 
J17 111 with marked pain and joint contractures. His mobility was greatly 
J17 112 impaired and he had difficulty attending school. A clear 
J17 113 improvement of both skin texture and mobility was noted within 6 
J17 114 weeks of starting thalidomide. There was a continued improvement 
J17 115 over a 24-month period allowing him to complete his schooling and 
J17 116 obtain full-time employment. His prednisolone was discontinued. At 
J17 117 24 months, neurophysiological testing revealed a moderately severe 
J17 118 sensorimotor neuropathy, although he had no clinical signs or 
J17 119 symptoms. The thalidomide was tailed off with no deterioration of 
J17 120 his chronic GVHD.<p/>
J17 121 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J17 122 <p_>Patient 3 had severe multi-system chronic GVHD. She experienced 
J17 123 moderate drowsiness when started on thalidomide 100 mg b.d., and 
J17 124 the dose was reduced to 100 mg nightly. A marked improvement in her 
J17 125 cutaneous GVHD was evident within 8 weeks, and this continued over 
J17 126 a 12-month period. Her azathioprine was discontinued and 
J17 127 prednisolone reduced from 7.5 mg to 5 mg daily. She continued to 
J17 128 have intercurrent respiratory infections but these were easily 
J17 129 controlled. After 12 months of therapy she presented with numbness 
J17 130 of both feet with clinical and neurophysiological evidence of a 
J17 131 peripheral neuropathy. Thalidomide was discontinued and was 
J17 132 followed immediately by a relapse of her cutaneous GVHD, with 
J17 133 thickening and tightening of her skin. Her parasthesiae continued 
J17 134 to worsen over a 3-month period but subsequently settled and 12 
J17 135 months later she has no clinical evidence of peripheral neuropathy. 
J17 136 Her GVHD also stabilized.<p/>
J17 137 <p_><O_>table&caption<O/><p/>
J17 138 <p_>Patient 4 developed severe mucocutaneous chronic GVHD with 
J17 139 erythema and desquamation of her skin, dystrophic nails and oral 
J17 140 ulceration and lichen planus. Thalidomide therapy was associated 
J17 141 with an improvement in both her skin and oral mucosa. Her nais fell 
J17 142 out shorty after starting thalidomide but thereafter started to 
J17 143 grow again. Thalidomide therapy was continued for 6 months. During 
J17 144 this time her azathioprine was discontinued and prednisolone 
J17 145 reduced from 10 mg to 5 mg daily. Cyclosporine was maintained at 
J17 146 100 mg b.d. She then presented with a varicella zoster pneumonitis 
J17 147 which proved rapidly fatal despite appropriate therapy.<p/>
J17 148 <p_>Patient 5 developed multisystem chronic GVHD with recurrent 
J17 149 respiratory infections, sclerodermatous skin changes, vaginal 
J17 150 stenosis, sicca syndrome and hepatic GVHD. She was started on 
J17 151 thalidomide 200 mg nightly but this was associated with undue 
J17 152 drowsiness and the dose was reduced to 100 mg nightly. There was a 
J17 153 gradual improvement in her oral mucosa and also her skin which 
J17 154 remained dry but otherwise stable. Problems with vaginal stenosis 
J17 155 and respiratory infections persisted. Her azathioprine was 
J17 156 discontinued although prednisolone 10 mg daily and cyclosporine 50 
J17 157 mg b.d. was maintained. Thalidomide therapy was continued for 18 
J17 158 months. While on thalidomide she developed pre-malignant vaginal 
J17 159 changes necessitating a hysterectomy and vaginectomy, and also 
J17 160 pre-malignant changes of her peri-anal skin. She then presented 
J17 161 with lymphadenopathy of her neck and a diagnosis of stage IA 
J17 162 nodular sclerosing Hodgkins disease was made for which she is 
J17 163 receiving local radiotherapy.<p/>
J17 164 <p_>Patient 6 developed chronic respiratory GVHD with both 
J17 165 restrictive and obstructive lung disease. He also had sicca 
J17 166 syndrome and oral lichen planus. There was no response to 
J17 167 thalidomide therapy over a 15-month period and the thalidomide has 
J17 168 been discontinued. No side effects were noted.<p/>
J17 169 <h_><p_>Neurophysiological testing<p/><h/>
J17 170 <p_>Patient 2 had ill-formed, low amplitude, sensory action 
J17 171 potentials of both upper and lower limbs. Motor conduction 
J17 172 responses were also of low amplitude with conductive delay. The 
J17 173 electromyogram (EMG) showed mild denervative changes. These 
J17 174 findings confirm a moderately severe axonal neuropathy with sensory 
J17 175 and motor symptoms. Patient 3 had low amplitude sensory and motor 
J17 176 action potentials, consistent with a mild generalized sensorimotor 
J17 177 neuropathy. Patients 1 and 5 had no evidence of a neuropathy.<p/>
J17 178 <h_><p_>Thalidomide pharmacokinetics<p/><h/>
J17 179 <p_>Thalidomide plasma levels of four patients are shown in Fig 2. 
J17 180 Base line levels varied between 0.26 and 0.50 <*_>mu<*/>g/ml, with 
J17 181 Cmax (peak levels) varying from 0.47 to 1.46 <*_>mu<*/>g/ml. The 
J17 182 rate, extent and duration of the rise of thalidomide levels 
J17 183 following ingestion also varied. Peak to trough ratios were 2.9, 
J17 184 2.1, 2.0 and 1.4 for patients 1, 2, 4 and 5 respectively. Thus 
J17 185 patient 5 had only a minimal rise while patients 1 and 4 had a more 
J17 186 pronounced rise. In general there was a gradual return to base line 
J17 187 levels at approximately 6-8 h.<p/>
J17 188 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J17 189 <h|>DISCUSSION
J17 190 <p_>Four of the six patients showed a clear response to 
J17 191 thalidomide. The best responses were seen in those patients with 
J17 192 chronic cutaneous GVHD. Patients 1, 2 and 3 all showed a marked 
J17 193 improvement in skin texture and mobility. Oral mucocutaneous 
J17 194 symptoms also improved, most noticeably in patients 3 and 4. The 
J17 195 poorest reponses were seen in patients with multi-system disease, 
J17 196 in particular where there was a combination of active respiratory 
J17 197 and mucocutaneous disease. However, thalidomide may still be of 
J17 198 value in this situation, as the cutaneous GVHD appeared to 
J17 199 stabilize in patient 5, and there are reports in the literature of 
J17 200 respiratory disease responding to thalidomide (McCarthy <tf_>et 
J17 201 al<tf/>, 1988).<p/>
J17 202 <p_>In three patients an improvement was noted within 6-8 weeks of 
J17 203 starting therapy. The improvement usually continued over a period 
J17 204 of months. In all cases the improvement was sustained and there was 
J17 205 no evidence of recurrence while on thalidomide. In patient 3 
J17 206 thalidomide was discontinued abruptly because of peripheral 
J17 207 neuropathy and a recurrence of symptoms was noted immediately. In 
J17 208 patient 2 thalidomide was discontiuned gradually with no relapse of 
J17 209 symptoms.<p/>
J17 210 <p_>Thalidomide has a number of early side effects which are seldom 
J17 211 severe and are reversible when treatment is interrupted (Grosshans 
J17 212 & Illy, 1984). They include drowsiness, dizziness, headaches, 
J17 213 constipation, nausea, dryness of mouth and skin, erythematous skin 
J17 214 eruptions and oedema. Less common side effects include allergic 
J17 215 vasculitis and thrombocytopenic purpura. Three of our patients 
J17 216 experienced drowsiness at a dose of 200 mg daily and necessitated a 
J17 217 reduction of the dose. No other early side effects were noted.<p/>
J17 218 <p_>Apart from the well-known teratogenic effects, the most 
J17 219 important side effect is the occurrence of polyneuropathies. 
J17 220 Attention was first drawn to the neurotoxic effects of thalidomide 
J17 221 by Florence (1960). These patients had used thalidomide as a 
J17 222 sedative in varying dosages from 50 to 600 mg at night and usually 
J17 223 for prolonged periods from 6 months to years. In affected subjects 
J17 224 sensory symptoms predominated with parasthesia of hands and feet, 
J17 225 pallor and coldness of fingers and toes and muscular cramps of the 
J17 226 extremities. The overall incidence of neuropathy remains difficult 
J17 227 to assess. The manufacturers originally suggested an incidence of 
J17 228 0.5% in patients who had taken the drug for 2 months or more. 
J17 229 Recent reports, however, suggest the incidence may be much higher, 
J17 230 in the order of 25% or more, especially if neurophysiological tests 
J17 231 are performed (Clemmensen <tf_>et al<tf/>, 1984; Hess <tf_>et 
J17 232 al<tf/>, 1986). 
J17 233 
J18   1 <#FLOB:J18\><h_><p_>Axiom of Reducibility<p/><h/>
J18   2 <p_>For every concept <tf|>F<sb_>i<sb/>(x) of objects of type 
J18   3 <tf|>n, for <tf|>i><tf|>n, there exists an extensionally equivalent 
J18   4 concept <O_>formula<O/> of type <tf|>n+1, i.e. a concept 
J18   5 <O_>formula<O/> such that <O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J18   6 <p_>This axiom asserts that increasingly complex definitions do not 
J18   7 give any new powers of classification - all classes of individuals 
J18   8 can be marked out with basic concepts of type 1, and all classes of 
J18   9 objects of type <tf|>n can be marked out by concepts of type 
J18  10 <tf|>n+1. This means that when using a version of Frege's 
J18  11 definition of 'natural number' but with its quantifier limited to 
J18  12 ranging only over concepts whose type is next above that of the 
J18  13 numbers being defined one will have achieved almost the same effect 
J18  14 as quantifying over all concepts, of whatever type, since one will 
J18  15 have quantified over all the classes that they could delimit.<p/>
J18  16 <p_>This is again a principle which has to be admitted not to be a 
J18  17 purely logical principle. It is not something which can be proved, 
J18  18 or even, strictly speaking, formulated as a logically legitimate 
J18  19 statement, for it involves generalizing over concepts of more than 
J18  20 one type and is thus not itself logically correct. Russell is by 
J18  21 this means able to avoid the inconsistencies of Frege's system and 
J18  22 retain many of the essentials of his account of arithmetic but only 
J18  23 at a price and only in a way which must lead one to ask whether he 
J18  24 has not demonstrated that and why arithmetic is not reducible to 
J18  25 logic, rather than that it is. To evaluate the position further it 
J18  26 is necessary to inquire into Russell's justification for adopting 
J18  27 the Vicious Circle Principle.<p/>
J18  28 <h_><p_>EMPIRICISM, LOGICAL POSITIVISM AND THE STERILITY OF 
J18  29 REASON<p/><h/>
J18  30 <p_>If one were to adopt a strongly Platonist position, saying that 
J18  31 numbers, classes, concepts and functions have an existence which is 
J18  32 independent of us and our mathematical activities, then the Vicious 
J18  33 Circle Principle could not be justified as a general logical 
J18  34 principle. A definition such as<p/>
J18  35 <p_>Ben Cullin <*_>unch<*/> the highest mountain in the Hebrides<p/>
J18  36 <p_>which specifies the reference of a name by quantifying over a 
J18  37 class in order to select an individual member from that same class, 
J18  38 violates the Vicious Circle Principle. Nonetheless, provided that 
J18  39 we are confident that there must be a highest mountain in the 
J18  40 Hebrides (there are mountains there, all mountains are comparable 
J18  41 with respect to height and it is extremely unlikely that there are 
J18  42 two of exactly the same height), the definition would normally be 
J18  43 regarded as legitimate, even though it does not necessarily provide 
J18  44 sufficient information to enable someone to identify the mountain 
J18  45 in question. This definition would be regarded as legitimate 
J18  46 because the totality by reference to which the name is defined 
J18  47 exists as a determinate collection of objects prior to and 
J18  48 independently of the definition. The definition does not introduce 
J18  49 a new object to add to the totality in question, but names an 
J18  50 already existing member. For the Platonist all definitions of 
J18  51 (words referring to) numbers, classes, concepts and functions will 
J18  52 be of this kind; they are definitions whose function is to link 
J18  53 linguistic expressions with pre-existing entities. So for the 
J18  54 Platonist, violation of the Vicious Circle Principle cannot, in and 
J18  55 of itself, invalidate a definition. This means that he must look 
J18  56 elsewhere for a solution to Russell's paradox. One route available 
J18  57 to him is to treat Russell's paradox as proving two truths about 
J18  58 classes: (i) no class belongs to itself, and (ii) there is no class 
J18  59 of all classes. Alternatively he could treat it as indication of a 
J18  60 need to distinghish between classes and sets; mathematicians deal 
J18  61 with sets and the nature of the set-theoretic universe is captured 
J18  62 by the axioms of set theory whose truth is recognized by 
J18  63 set-theoretic intuition. These routes are available, but they 
J18  64 represent a departure from the logicist programme. Once appeal to 
J18  65 set theoretic intuition is allowed it is not clear why intuition of 
J18  66 numbers and geometric intuition should not also be allowed.<p/>
J18  67 <p_>Russell's advocacy of logicism and his reasons for thinking the 
J18  68 Vicious Circle Principle to be a general logical principle are, on 
J18  69 the other hand, both grounded in his empiricism. His early, more 
J18  70 rationalist, philosophy gave way to empiricism at the same time 
J18  71 that his account of mathematics became more closely tied to formal 
J18  72 logic. For empiricists the only reality is the empirical world, the 
J18  73 world with which we are acquainted through sense experience. 
J18  74 Abstract objects, such as numbers or classes, have no independent 
J18  75 existence but must be a product of our linguistic or mental 
J18  76 constructions. Since there is no realm of mathematical reality of 
J18  77 which to have mathematical intuitions, true mathematical 
J18  78 statements, if they can be known to be true independently of 
J18  79 experience, must be analytic truths, having their origin in the way 
J18  80 in which the abstract objects are constructed. As Russell concurred 
J18  81 with Frege's desire to separate sharply between the logical and the 
J18  82 psychological, he too shied away from any appeal to mental 
J18  83 constructions. The objectivity of mathematics requires that the 
J18  84 meaning of mathematical language cannot be given by reference to 
J18  85 ideas or mental constructions. Rather the meaning of all 
J18  86 expressions which apparently refer to abstract objects must be 
J18  87 shown, by the provision of suitable definitions, to be logical 
J18  88 constructs (fictions) built up from constituents of the empirical 
J18  89 world. The assignment of meaning to names can then take one of two 
J18  90 forms. Either the name is simply a label for an empirically given 
J18  91 object, in which case Russell called it a logically proper name, 
J18  92 one which has a reference but no sense, or it is a descriptive 
J18  93 expression (a definite description), which identifies an object via 
J18  94 its relations to other given objects, or via its mode of 
J18  95 construction out of given objects.<p/>
J18  96 <p_>The only kind of definition which can be provided for a 
J18  97 logically proper name is an ostensive one - the label is attached 
J18  98 by pointing to the object and uttering the name. Thus only 
J18  99 empirically given entities can have logically proper names. Here 
J18 100 Russell disregards Frege's injunction to treat a name as having 
J18 101 meaning only in the context of a sentence; logically proper names 
J18 102 can function in isolation. Definite descriptions, on the other 
J18 103 hand, are always defined in a sentential context. Such expressions 
J18 104 are required either for picking out empirical individuals via their 
J18 105 relation to other empirical individuals, or for showing how new 
J18 106 entities can be constructed out of those which are empirically 
J18 107 given or have previously been defined. In the former case one will 
J18 108 be using a description to pick out an object from a given class, 
J18 109 but in the latter one will not be picking out an already existing 
J18 110 entity since one will be introducing a logical fiction. The two 
J18 111 cases need to be treated differently if the Vicious Circle 
J18 112 Principle is not to seem unduly and unjustifiably restrictive.<p/>
J18 113 <p_>Definite descriptions are treated as having meaning only in the 
J18 114 context of a sentence. According to Russell's theory of definite 
J18 115 descriptions<p/>
J18 116 <p_>Ben Cullin is the highest mountain in the Hebrides 
J18 117 <*_>unch<*/><p/>
J18 118 <p_>There is a highest mountain in the Hebrides, there is at most 
J18 119 one and it is Ben Cullin.<p/>
J18 120 <p_>Here there is quantification over the domain to which the 
J18 121 descriptively identified object belongs, but the definition makes 
J18 122 it quite clear that the function of the descriptive phrase is to 
J18 123 pick out an object from that domain and that no object is being 
J18 124 added to it. Moreover, the descriptive phrase does not have to have 
J18 125 a reference for the sentence containing it to make sense. The 
J18 126 sentence is simply false if the descriptive identification 
J18 127 fails.<p/>
J18 128 <p_>Logical fictions are constructed by collecting already defined 
J18 129 objects into classes which are themselves regarded as mere 
J18 130 fictions. To this end Russell gives contextual definitions showing 
J18 131 how apparent reference to classes can be eliminated. For example, 
J18 132 the simplest eliminations would be<p/>
J18 133 <p_>1 <tf|>a belongs to the class of Fs <*_>unch<*/> F(a).<p/>
J18 134 <p_>2 the class of Fs = the class of Gs <*_>unch<*/> 
J18 135 <O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J18 136 <p_>In (2) the Vicious Circle Principle requires that the domain of 
J18 137 quantification on the right hand side not include the class of Fs 
J18 138 or of Gs. Moreover, it requires that the concepts F(x) and G(x) not 
J18 139 themselves contain any quantification over a domain which includes 
J18 140 themselves or a domain which includes entities of higher type than 
J18 141 their arguments. This means that the actual contextual definitions 
J18 142 used in <tf|>Principia have to be somewhat more complicated. The 
J18 143 basic idea behind the remaining clauses, which cover the cases 
J18 144 where one wants to say things about classes or to form classes into 
J18 145 further classes, is that every statement about a class is really a 
J18 146 statement about its members (since by (1) and (2) classes are 
J18 147 identical when they have the same members). If this is so, then an 
J18 148 apparently simple statement about a class can, in principle, be 
J18 149 written as a logically complex statement concerning its members. 
J18 150 So, for example,<p/>
J18 151 <p_>'<tf|>n = the number of Fs' becomes<p/>
J18 152 <p_>'the class of Fs belongs to the class of all <tf|>n-membered 
J18 153 classes'<p/>
J18 154 <p_>which in turn reduces to<p/>
J18 155 <p_><O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J18 156 <p_>It is this view of classes as in principle eliminable logical 
J18 157 constructs which justifies the Vicious Circle Principle. An entity 
J18 158 (whether object or concept) cannot be constructed out of itself, 
J18 159 but only out of entities previously given or constructed. Similarly 
J18 160 a verbal expression cannot be defined in terms of itself, but only 
J18 161 from expressions which are given as primitive or have previously 
J18 162 been defined.<p/>
J18 163 <p_>But if this is the justification for the Vicious Circle 
J18 164 Principle, then the introduction of the Axiom of Reducibility looks 
J18 165 even more embarrassing than it seemd at first sight. Not only is it 
J18 166 a non-logical assumption needed for the derivation of arithmetic, 
J18 167 and hence an admission of failure in the logicist programme, but, 
J18 168 being an existential axiom, it suggests a return to some form of 
J18 169 Platonism. This would undercut the Vicious Circle Principle which 
J18 170 formed the foundation of Russell's theories of logical types which 
J18 171 in turn represented his solution to the paradoxes. This is 
J18 172 essentially the argument presented by G<*_>o-umlaut<*/>del (1944). 
J18 173 If we are entitled to assume the existence of concepts 
J18 174 independently of their definition, as the Axiom of Reducibility 
J18 175 seems to assert, then, as outlined above, there is no good reason 
J18 176 for thinking the Vicious Circle Principle to be a general logical 
J18 177 principle. However, it is also possible to read the Axiom of 
J18 178 Reducibility as an assertion of faith in the logicist programme in 
J18 179 mathematics, and more generally of the philosophical position of 
J18 180 the logical positivists. This does not wholly exonerate Russell. 
J18 181 There is a curious circularity in having the success of a position 
J18 182 rest on an assertion to the effect that it can be successfully 
J18 183 carried out. But, in the first place, it is not clear that any 
J18 184 philosophy can ever avoid this kind of circularity and, in the 
J18 185 second, it will at least defend Russell against the charge of 
J18 186 having introduced an element which renders his position 
J18 187 philosophically incoherent.<p/>
J18 188 <p_>The position of the logical positivists, unlike that of some 
J18 189 earlier empiricists, such as Berkeley and Hume, is not 
J18 190 phenomenalist. The logical positivists had, as Russell (1919 p.170) 
J18 191 said, <quote_>"a robust sense of reality"<quote/>, i.e. a belief 
J18 192 that the empirical world exists independently of us and our 
J18 193 experiences - we do not live only in a world of ideas. There is a 
J18 194 sharp distinction to be drawn between Hamlet and Napoleon, between 
J18 195 unicorns and lions. The former are fictions, existing only as 
J18 196 ideas, whereas the latter are empirically real and have an 
J18 197 existence beyond our ideas. In this respect their position has more 
J18 198 in common with Locke's empiricism than with Hume's. Sense 
J18 199 experience affords genuine knowledge of the empirical world and is 
J18 200 our only route to knowledge of it. Since this is the only reality 
J18 201 of which we have an experience, empirical reality is the only 
J18 202 reality which we have any basis for supposing to exist 
J18 203 independently of us. (For further discussion and detailed arguments 
J18 204 concerning the grounds for belief in the existence of an external 
J18 205 world see, for example, Russell (1912).) The only objective 
J18 206 knowledge there can be is factual knowledge of this independently 
J18 207 existing reality.<p/>
J18 208 
J19   1 <#FLOB:J19\><p_>However in the absence of knowing what these are we 
J19   2 run the same experiment as in case <tf|>a.<p/>
J19   3 <p_>This may be an impossible generalization anyway. Problems of 
J19   4 differences between the selection of experimental and real groups 
J19   5 may invalidate it. The unknown numbers in each category in the 
J19   6 target population make it impossible to estimate the main effects 
J19   7 when an interaction is present. If the effect of one of the 
J19   8 variables depends on the level of the other then the overall effect 
J19   9 of the first variable could be any weighted average of its effects 
J19  10 at each level on the second variable. Indeed it should be the 
J19  11 weighted average of its effects over all naturally occurring levels 
J19  12 of the second variable including those not used in the experiment. 
J19  13 Since this design is not OSCAR, the numbers of observations in the 
J19  14 experimental conditions do not correspond to population 
J19  15 frequencies. Thus an EWO analysis is inappropriate. For the main 
J19  16 effects we shall have to confine ourselves to a simple effects 
J19  17 analysis. The alternative is to give up attempting to generalize to 
J19  18 existing groups and analyse the data as for case <tf|>a.<p/>
J19  19 <h_><p_><tf_>Case c<tf/>. The group study<p/><h/>
J19  20 <p_><*_>black-square<*/>We are interested in the effects of age and 
J19  21 sex on memory loss in head injured patients. Samples of male and 
J19  22 female head injured patients in each of a number of age groups are 
J19  23 obtained.<p/>
J19  24 <p_>Here the design could be regarded as OSCAR. If, because of 
J19  25 sampling bias, we were not prepared to make the assumption that the 
J19  26 design was OSCAR, it would be difficult to justify the assumption 
J19  27 that the design was ROWT. It is hard to imagine that there is a 
J19  28 bias in the sample which affects only the age and sex of the 
J19  29 sampled subjects and not any other related characteristics. The 
J19  30 numbers in the different groups reflect differences in that real 
J19  31 population. The EWM analysis of main effects depends arbitrarily on 
J19  32 the other factors in the study. We wish to test whether the mean of 
J19  33 male patients differs from the female mean and whether the means in 
J19  34 the different age groups differ. Here and EWO analysis is 
J19  35 appropriate for both main effects. An EWM analysis would only be of 
J19  36 interest if one wished to generalize to the hypothetical results of 
J19  37 a study on this population which used a balanced design.<p/>
J19  38 <h_><p_><tf_>Case d<tf/>. The first hybrid case<p/><h/>
J19  39 <p_><*_>black-square<*/>We are interested in differences in reading 
J19  40 between a dyslexic group (assumed to be a random sample from a 
J19  41 population of dyslexics) and a control group, together with the 
J19  42 effects of social class on the two groups. The control group is 
J19  43 assumed to be a random sample of children from the same age 
J19  44 cohorts.<p/>
J19  45 <p_>Here we assume we have a design which is OSCAR with respect to 
J19  46 the social class factor but is ROWT with respect to the other 
J19  47 factor. The unequal numbers in each social class would therefore 
J19  48 reflect the true population differences. In this case the EWM main 
J19  49 effect of dyslexics versus controls would be arbitrarily related to 
J19  50 the categories of social class we had defined. Only an EWO analysis 
J19  51 of the differences between the dyslexics and normals generalizes to 
J19  52 the population of dyslexics. An EWM analysis refers to a population 
J19  53 of dyslexics equally distributed across the social classes. As the 
J19  54 relative sizes of the dyslexic and control groups are arbitrary, a 
J19  55 simple effects analysis of social class effects in dyslexics and 
J19  56 normals seems appropriate, or perhaps an EWM analysis of the 
J19  57 differences between classes generalizing to the results of balanced 
J19  58 design replications of this study.<p/>
J19  59 <h_><p_><tf_>Case e<tf/>. A hybrid study with a matched 
J19  60 design<p/><h/>
J19  61 <p_><*_>black-square<*/>We are again interested in differences in 
J19  62 reading between a dyslexic group (assumed to be a random sample 
J19  63 from a population of dyslexics) and a control group, together with 
J19  64 the effects of social class on the two groups. Here the control 
J19  65 group is a sample of children from the same age cohorts matched for 
J19  66 social class.<p/>
J19  67 <p_>Here the design is OSCAR for the dyslexic group with respect to 
J19  68 social class but in other respects it is ROWT. An EWO analysis of 
J19  69 dyslexics versus controls tells us whether dyslexics differ from a 
J19  70 sample of matched normals, whereas an EWM analysis tells us whether 
J19  71 we could expect this difference in a balanced replication. Again a 
J19  72 simple effects analysis or an EWM analysis should be used to 
J19  73 investigate social class.<p/>
J19  74 <p_>To sum up, in two factor designs EWO tests of main effects are 
J19  75 recommended for OSCAR designs generalizing to natural populations. 
J19  76 In two factor balanced designs or where the interaction is assumed 
J19  77 to be negligible, EWM tests of main effects can be used. Here one 
J19  78 is generalizing to hypothetical results from balanced replications 
J19  79 of the experiment. In all other cases no overall test of the main 
J19  80 effects is possible and one should resort to simple effects 
J19  81 analyses.<p/>
J19  82 <h_><p_>A WORKED EXAMPLE<p/><h/>
J19  83 <p_>Suppose we obtained a random sample of students at a particular 
J19  84 university and classified them by sex and whether they were 
J19  85 studying predominantly arts or science subjects. The attitude of 
J19  86 these students to proposed changes at their university was then 
J19  87 measured on a twenty point scale; the results are in Table 3.<p/>
J19  88 <p_><O_>tables&captions<O/><p/>
J19  89 <p_>This is an OSCAR design and an EWO analysis of main effects and 
J19  90 an EWM analysis of the interaction is appropriate. The results of 
J19  91 the analysis appear in Table 4.<p/>
J19  92 <p_>It can be seen that both the main effects are significant; sex 
J19  93 at the 0.01 level and faculty at the 0.05 level. This means that we 
J19  94 can conclude that in this university population males have greater 
J19  95 attitude scores than females and science students have greater 
J19  96 attitude scores than arts students. Since the imbalance in the 
J19  97 study implies that the hypotheses being tested are related one 
J19  98 could ask the question: <quote_>"Suppose we performed a balanced 
J19  99 replication could we still expect the differences to be 
J19 100 present?"<quote/> This question could be answered by applying an 
J19 101 EWM analysis to the main effects. The results of the analysis 
J19 102 appear in Table 5. It now appears that the main effect of the 
J19 103 subject area is no longer significant. The <tf|>F (1, 32) testing 
J19 104 for an effect of faculty has changed from 7.34 in the EWO analysis 
J19 105 to 1.22 in the EWM analysis, from an effect almost significant at 
J19 106 the 0.01 level to barely a trace of an effect. The conclusions of 
J19 107 the analyses are that sex differences have been established in both 
J19 108 OSCAR designs and ROWT designs balanced with respect to sex and 
J19 109 subject area; whereas the subject area difference has only been 
J19 110 established with respect to OSCAR designs. It has not been 
J19 111 demonstrated that we could expect to find a subject area difference 
J19 112 in samples balanced with respect to sex.<p/>
J19 113 <p_>Now suppose the same data had been obtained but this time the 
J19 114 arts and science groups were random samples of arbitrary size from 
J19 115 the two faculties. This time the design is OSCAR with respect to 
J19 116 sex but ROWT with respect to subject area. Using the ROWT analysis 
J19 117 in Table 5 to generalize to the results of balanced designs is 
J19 118 still legitimate. If we want to generalize to the population of 
J19 119 arts and science students the tests applied to the subject area 
J19 120 effect and the interaction in Table 4 still stand. However the main 
J19 121 effect of sex cannot be tested without assuming the interaction is 
J19 122 zero. Instead, separate simple effects analyses of sex in the arts 
J19 123 and in the science groups should be performed. These appear in 
J19 124 Table 6. From the analysis we can conclude that there is a 
J19 125 difference in sexes in both the science and the arts groups at the 
J19 126 0.01 level. From this we can be sure that there will be an overall 
J19 127 effect of sex regardless of the distribution of arts and science 
J19 128 students. If the sex effect had not been significant in both the 
J19 129 groups we could not have concluded that there would be an overall 
J19 130 effect of sex unless we assumed that the interaction between sex 
J19 131 and faculty was zero.<p/>
J19 132 <p_><O_>table&caption<O/><p/>
J19 133 <p_>The above analyses were performed using <tf|>BMDP4V which has 
J19 134 facilities for all the tests discussed so far. <tf|>SPSSX also 
J19 135 performs such analyses. If you do not have a big statistical 
J19 136 package to hand, the EWO analysis of main effects can be performed 
J19 137 by treating the analysis as one way and ignoring the other factors. 
J19 138 Several methods exist for approximating to the EWM analysis when 
J19 139 the design is unbalanced. For example, Bartlett (1937) used a 
J19 140 procedure involving a multiple covariance analysis, and Winer 
J19 141 (1971) gives a harmonic means analysis. These procedures may be 
J19 142 useful where one does not have access to a modern computing 
J19 143 environment but the EWM analysis is available on <tf|>SPSSX, 
J19 144 <tf|>BMDP and SAS and is to be performed.<p/>
J19 145 <h_><p_>FILLING IN FOR MISSING DATA<p/><h/>
J19 146 <p_>So far we have assumed that the only results we have are the 
J19 147 observed data. Sometimes we know in addition that it was intended 
J19 148 to make more observations in a particular condition but because of 
J19 149 such factors as experimenter error, equipment failure, subject 
J19 150 refusal, or failure to understand instructions, a known amount of 
J19 151 data was lost. Missing data can only be handled by knowing the 
J19 152 nature of the mechanism giving rise to it. The simplest case is 
J19 153 where the data are Missing Completely At Random (MCAR). Here each 
J19 154 observed value is equally likely to go missing. A more complex case 
J19 155 occurs when some conditions are more likely to produce missing data 
J19 156 than others but within each condition each observation is equally 
J19 157 likely to be missing. This we have called Missing At Random Only 
J19 158 Within Treatment (MROWT). Yet more complex cases arise when the 
J19 159 missing data depend on the observed score (for example, high values 
J19 160 are more likely to go missing). This changes the nature of the 
J19 161 distribution of scores and one must either use nonparametric 
J19 162 analyses or specify the distribution of the missing data. The case 
J19 163 where missing data depend on the combination of the treatment and 
J19 164 the value of the score makes the concept of average differences, in 
J19 165 both observed and missing data, between conditions, exceedingly 
J19 166 hypothetical. The more complex the assumptions necessary for the 
J19 167 analysis the better it is to restrict oneself to inferences about 
J19 168 observable data. Little & Rubin (1987) describe some such models 
J19 169 which make complex assumptions about missing data. These will be 
J19 170 discussed below.<p/>
J19 171 <p_>All the analyses we have considered assume that the data are 
J19 172 MCAR or MROWT. This being so the missing data are ignorable, so why 
J19 173 not just analyse the data using the procedures suggested earlier? 
J19 174 There are three answers. The analyses of unbalanced designs are 
J19 175 less robust against violations in the underlying assumptions 
J19 176 (Milligan <tf_>et al<tf/>., 1987) and imputing new data to restore 
J19 177 the balance would also restore the robustness. Secondly, in the 
J19 178 analysis of OSCAR designs, we may have tried to obtain data from a 
J19 179 known number of subjects in each condition but have been 
J19 180 unsuccessful in certain cases. Here it may be preferable to use the 
J19 181 known number of subjects in each condition rather than the number 
J19 182 of observations for which data exist, since this is a more accurate 
J19 183 estimate of the relative sizes of the conditions in the target 
J19 184 population. Finally, in appropriate circumstances, knowledge of a 
J19 185 covariate can tell us something about the likely values of missing 
J19 186 data. This information can be used to increase the precision of the 
J19 187 analysis.<p/>
J19 188 <p_>The simplest way of handling missing data is to replace them 
J19 189 with something else. Perhaps the most obvious way is to collect 
J19 190 more data. Less desirable <tf_>ad hoc<tf/> methods include 
J19 191 selecting data at random from previous studies or randomly sampling 
J19 192 the current data and duplicating the selected points. An 
J19 193 alternative procedure is to substitute the mean of the condition 
J19 194 where the missing data occurred. This method reduces the error 
J19 195 variance but this can be corrected using the actual numbers of 
J19 196 observed data points. When this is done the analysis is equivalent 
J19 197 to weighting the sample means with the frequencies of missing and 
J19 198 observed rather than just the frequency of the observed data.<p/>
J19 199 
J20   1 <#FLOB:J20\><h_><p_>HEXAGONS, CONICS, A<sb_>5<sb/> AND 
J20   2 PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>K)<p/>
J20   3 <p_>R. H. DYE<p/>
J20   4 <p_>1. Introduction<p/><h/>
J20   5 <p_>1.1 When a group occurs geometrically there is a natural 
J20   6 expectation that the geometry should account for its subgroups. 
J20   7 Perhaps this is particularly so for the groups 
J20   8 PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>K) and PSL<sb_>3<sb/>(<tf|>K) that arise from 
J20   9 those simplest of geometric objects, the projective line PG (1, 
J20  10 <tf|>K) and the projective plane PG(2, <tf|>K) over a field <tf|>K. 
J20  11 Yet a simple graphic geometrical raison d'<*_>e-circ<*/>tre for the 
J20  12 existence, when it occurs, of the alternating group A<sb_>5<sb/> as 
J20  13 a subgroup of PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>K) does not seem to be known. The 
J20  14 initial aim of this paper is to discover a picturesque object that 
J20  15 accounts for this occurrence of A<sb_>5<sb/>. We shall show that if 
J20  16 PG (1, <tf|>K) is represented as a conic <tf|>C in PG(2, <tf|>K), 
J20  17 then the pertinent object is a certain type of hexagon, 
J20  18 distinguished by special concurrencies of its edges. For us, a 
J20  19 hexagon is a set of six points, no three collinear, in PG(2, 
J20  20 <tf|>K): we call the six points the vertices of the hexagon, and 
J20  21 their 15 joins in pairs its edges. And there is a natural 
J20  22 concurrent aim: obtain the action of PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>K) on 
J20  23 these hexagons, and determine their geometry in relation to <tf|>C. 
J20  24 There is, since A<sb_>5<sb/> is a subgroup of A<sb_>6<sb/>, a 
J20  25 consequent aim: discover a configuration of these hexagons that 
J20  26 accounts, when it occurs, for A<sb_>6<sb/>as a subgroup of 
J20  27 PSL<sb_>3<sb/>(<tf|>K). Such a configuration has been found, but to 
J20  28 keep this paper within reasonable bounds the details will form a 
J20  29 sequel. However, to paint the whole picture we give a brief 
J20  30 description in Section 1.6.<p/>
J20  31 <p_>1.2 It is convenient to pause and recall some facts about 
J20  32 <tf|>C. Its group PO<sb_>3<sb/>(<tf|>K) is a copy of 
J20  33 PGL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>K), and the commutator subgroup <O_>formula<O/> 
J20  34 is, except when <tf|>K is the field of two elements, 
J20  35 PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>K). Now P<*_>OMEGA<*/><sb_>3<sb/>(<tf|>K) is 
J20  36 transitive on the points of <tf|>C and on its chords. If <tf|>K 
J20  37 does not have characteristic 2 then <tf|>C has an associated 
J20  38 non-degenerate polarity. In that case the poles of the chords are 
J20  39 external points, each lying on two tangents. There may also be 
J20  40 internal points lying on no tangents; these internal points may not 
J20  41 be in a single orbit under PGL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>K), that is, may not 
J20  42 all be of the same type. The polars of internal points are 
J20  43 non-secant lines of <tf|>C. When <tf|>K is GF(<tf|>q), the finite 
J20  44 field with <tf|>q (odd) elements, <tf|>C has <tf|>q + 1 points. So 
J20  45 there are <tf|>q(<tf|>q + 1)/2 chords and external points. As PG(2, 
J20  46 <tf|>q) has <O_>formula<O/> points there are <O_>formula<O/> 
J20  47 internal points, in this case all of the same type and in a single 
J20  48 orbit under <O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J20  49 <p_>1.3 The subgroups of PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>q) have been known 
J20  50 since the turn of the century [<tf|>14; <tf|>12; <tf|>3, pp. 260 
J20  51 <tf_>et seq<tf/>]: Wagner [<tf|>13, p. 397] gives a convenient 
J20  52 non-overlapping list with information about PG(1, <tf|>q). This 
J20  53 translates readily to <tf|>C. Some of the subgroups are immediately 
J20  54 transparent: dihedral groups, cyclic groups, or semidirect products 
J20  55 of elementary abelian groups by cyclic groups, that fix chords, 
J20  56 non-secant lines or tangents; the groups of the sub-conics 
J20  57 <tf|>C<sb_>r<sb/> (isomorphic to PG(1, <tf|>r)) that <tf|>C 
J20  58 contains whenever GF(<tf|>r) is a subfield of GF(<tf|>q). Other 
J20  59 subgroups occur only when <tf|>q is odd. Then A<sb_>4<sb/> appears 
J20  60 when GF(<tf|>q) has characteristic greater than 3, and 
J20  61 <*_>SIGMA<*/><sb_>4<sb/> when, in addition, <O_>formula<O/>. Their 
J20  62 existence is not immediate from the geometry of PG(1, <tf|>q); 
J20  63 their orbit sizes depend on further congruence properties of <tf|>q 
J20  64 [<tf|>13, p. 397]. They are immediately apparent in the richer 
J20  65 geometry of <tf|>C: they are the stabilizers of self-polar 
J20  66 triangles [<tf|>6, pp. 364, 369, 370]. The only other subgroup 
J20  67 remaining in Wagner's list is A<sb_>5<sb/>. The desire to complete 
J20  68 the story and have <tf|>C account for A<sb_>5<sb/> is thus 
J20  69 pressing. Altogether A<sb_>5<sb/> occurs in three places in the 
J20  70 list if <tf|>q is odd:<p/>
J20  71 <p_>(i) if <O_>formula<O/> and GF(<tf|>q) does not have 
J20  72 characteristic 3 it occurs and has orbits of lengths 12, 20 or 30 
J20  73 according to whether <O_>formulae<O/> respectively;<p/>
J20  74 <p_>(ii) if GF(9) <*_>unch<*/> GF(<tf|>q) it occurs acting 
J20  75 transitively on the 10 points of a sub<?_>-<?/>conic 
J20  76 <tf|>C<sb_>9<sb/>;<p/>
J20  77 <p_>(iii) if GF(5) <*_>unch<*/> GF(<tf|>q) then A<sb_>5<sb/> occurs 
J20  78 as the PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(5) of the sub-conic <tf|>C<sb_>5<sb/>, and if 
J20  79 <O_>formula<O/> then <O_>formula<O/> is also a subgroup of 
J20  80 PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>q).<p/>
J20  81 <p_>The hexagons that we shall display account for all these three, 
J20  82 apparently dissimilar, appearances of A<sb_>5<sb/> as a subgroup of 
J20  83 PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>q). And our hexagons are not restricted to the 
J20  84 finite case: they exist and account for the occurrence of 
J20  85 A<sb_>5<sb/> in certain PO<sb_>3<sb/>(<tf|>K) for any field <tf|>K 
J20  86 of characteristic not 2 in which 5 is a square. Notice that if 5 is 
J20  87 not a square in <tf|>K then PGL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>K) contains no 
J20  88 element of order 5 so we cannot have A<sb_>5<sb/> as a subgroup of 
J20  89 PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>K): a swift direct matrix proof is given in 
J20  90 Section 2.7. That A<sb_>5<sb/> is a subgroup of 
J20  91 PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>C) has been known at least since Klein [<tf|>9] 
J20  92 found all the finite subgroups of PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>C). So we 
J20  93 complete the story here too; all the other finite subgroups of 
J20  94 PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>C) are analogues of, and have corresponding 
J20  95 interpretations to, other subgroups of PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>q). If 
J20  96 GF(4) is a subfield of <tf|>K then A<sb_>5<sb/> occurs in 
J20  97 PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>K) as the group PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(4) = 
J20  98 PGL<sb_>2<sb/>(4) fixing the subconic <tf|>C<sb_>4<sb/>. Although, 
J20  99 because of the degeneracy of the polarity of <tf|>C, this case is 
J20 100 not captured by our attack, we show in Section 1.7 that there is a 
J20 101 parallel, though distinct, hexagonal explanation.<p/>
J20 102 <p_>1.4 The main clue to the discovery of the hexagons relevant to 
J20 103 A<sb_>5<sb/> was some recent geometry for <tf|>C in the case when 
J20 104 <tf|>K is GF(9). It was shown in [<tf|>5] that PO<sb_>3<sb/>(9) 
J20 105 acts on a set of 12 hexagons defined by the requirement: each 
J20 106 vertex is an internal point and three edges pass through each of 
J20 107 the 10 points on <tf|>C [<tf|>5, p. 440]. The geometry shows that 
J20 108 under P<*_>OMEGA<*/><sb_>3<sb/>(9) these hexagons form two orbits 
J20 109 of size 6, and that P<*_>OMEGA<*/><sb_>3<sb/>(9) is A<sb_>6<sb/> 
J20 110 acting, inequivalently, on each orbit [<tf|>5, p. 443]. One then 
J20 111 deduces that the stabilizer of such a hexagon in both 
J20 112 PO<sb_>3<sb/>(9) and P<*_>OMEGA<*/><sb_>3<sb/>(9) is A<sb_>5<sb/>: 
J20 113 it acts on five self-polar triangles. There are two reinforcing 
J20 114 clues. When <tf|>K is GF(5) then P<*_>OMEGA<*/><sb_>3<sb/>(5) is 
J20 115 A<sb_>5<sb/>, and <tf|>C has six points which form a hexagon. 
J20 116 Through each of the 10 internal points passes three chords; these 
J20 117 are just the edges of the hexagon. If <tf|>K is GF(11) then Edge 
J20 118 [<tf|>6, p. 380] has presented a hexagon whose vertices are 
J20 119 external points, and for which there are 10 internal points at 
J20 120 which three edges concur; its stabilizer in 
J20 121 P<*_>OMEGA<*/><sb_>3<sb/>(11) is A<sb_>5<sb/>.<p/>
J20 122 <p_>A non-vertex point through which pass three edges of a hexagon 
J20 123 has been called a <tf_>Brianchon point<tf/> [<tf|>8, pp. 393 
J20 124 <tf_>et seq.<tf/>]. Since Clebsch encountered [<tf|>2, p. 336] such 
J20 125 a hexagon in PG(2, <tf|>R) when considering the plane 
J20 126 representation of the diagonal cubic surface, we shall call a 
J20 127 hexagon with (exactly) 10 Brianchon points a <tf_>Clebsch 
J20 128 hexagon<tf/>. The simplest example is a regular pentagon and its 
J20 129 centre considered as in PG(2, <tf|>R); the clues provide three 
J20 130 other examples. We show first (Theorem 1) that PG(2, <tf|>K) has 
J20 131 Clebsch hexagons if and only if <tf|>K is not of characteristic 2 
J20 132 and 5 is a square in <tf|>K. Suppose that we have such a <tf|>K. 
J20 133 Which Clebsch hexagons are significant for <tf|>C? It is not enough 
J20 134 to demand that all the vertices are the same type of point, and 
J20 135 that so are all the Brianchon points: a Clebsch hexagon in PG(2, 
J20 136 <tf|>C) has all its vertices and Brianchon points external to any 
J20 137 conic not through them; if <tf|>C is any conic not through the 
J20 138 vertices or Brianchon points of a Clebsch hexagon in PG(2, <tf|>q) 
J20 139 then, considered as in PG(2, <tf|>q<sp_>2<sp/>), these 16 points 
J20 140 are all external to the conic (containing) <tf|>C. For a Clebsch 
J20 141 hexagon <tf|>H in PG(2, <tf|>K) there are (Theorem 2) five 
J20 142 triangles each with the property that its three sides contain the 
J20 143 six vertices, two on each side, of <tf|>H. We call these the 
J20 144 triangles of <tf|>H. Motivated by the clues we say that <tf|>H is a 
J20 145 Clebsch hexagon of a conic <tf|>C if its five triangles are 
J20 146 self-polar for <tf|>C. We show (Theorem 2) that there is a unique 
J20 147 orthogonal polarity <tf|>P for which the triangles of a Clebsch 
J20 148 hexagon <tf|>H are self-polar, and that <tf|>P corresponds to a 
J20 149 conic; that is, has self-polar points over <tf|>K, unless <tf|>K 
J20 150 has characteristic 0 and the quadratic form <O_>formula<O/> is 
J20 151 anisotropic. It follows (Theorem 4) that, apart from the 
J20 152 exceptional case, a conic has Clebsch hexagons. The stabilizer of 
J20 153 <tf|>H in both PGL<sb_>3<sb/>(<tf|>K) and the group of <tf|>P is 
J20 154 A<sb_>5<sb/>, except when <tf|>K has characteristic 5 when it is 
J20 155 <*_>SIGMA<*/><sb_>5<sb/> (Theorem 5). Thus, apart from the 
J20 156 exceptional case, the stabilizers of the Clebsch hexagons of a 
J20 157 conic provide the subgroups A<sb_>5<sb/> or 
J20 158 <*_>SIGMA<*/><sb_>5<sb/> of PGL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>K); and their 
J20 159 stabilizers in PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>K) are A<sb_>5<sb/> or 
J20 160 <*_>SIGMA<*/><sb_>5<sb/>, the latter if and only if 
J20 161 GF(5<sp_>2<sp/>) is a subfield of <tf|>K. Nothing better can be 
J20 162 hoped for. In the exceptional case PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>K) does not 
J20 163 contain A<sb_>5<sb/> (Theorem 5).<p/>
J20 164 <p_>1.5 The A<sb_>5<sb/> of a Clebsch hexagon <tf|>H of a conic 
J20 165 <tf|>C is (Section 2.8) transitive on the vertices, Brianchon 
J20 166 points and edges of <tf|>H. It is their nature that accounts for 
J20 167 the different possibilities for orbits on <tf|>C described in 
J20 168 Section 1.3. The six vertices (10 Brianchon points) lie on a conic 
J20 169 if and only if <tf|>K has characteristic 5 (3), when this conic is 
J20 170 <tf|>C: there is then an orbit of size 6 (10). Otherwise (Theorem 
J20 171 6), provided they are chords and not non-secants, the 15 edges, 10 
J20 172 polars of the Brianchon points, and six polars of the vertices 
J20 173 intersect <tf|>C in orbits of 30, 20, 12 points respectively. The 
J20 174 group PGL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>K) is transitive on the Clebsch hexagons 
J20 175 of <tf|>C; if <tf|>K is GF(<tf|>q) then they form (Theorem 7) two 
J20 176 orbits under PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>q) unless the characteristic of 
J20 177 <tf|>K is 5 and GF(5<sp_>2<sp/>) is a subfield of <tf|>K. And, 
J20 178 except in characteristic 5, each triangle of <tf|>H is shared with 
J20 179 one other Clebsch hexagon of <tf|>C. This sharing gives rise over 
J20 180 those GF(<tf|>q) with <O_>formula<O/> or <O_>formula<O/> to a 
J20 181 bipartite 5-valent graph on <O_>formula<O/> vertices on which 
J20 182 PGL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>q) acts. If <O_>formula<O/> or <O_>formula<O/> 
J20 183 each orbit under PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>q) is a 5-valent graph with 
J20 184 <O_>formula<O/> vertices on which PSL<sb_>2<sb/>(<tf|>q) acts 
J20 185 (Theorem 7). The smallest non-trivial case occurs for <tf|>q=31 
J20 186 when there are 248 vertices.<p/>
J20 187 <p_>One other feature deserves highlighting for characteristic not 
J20 188 5. We say, in analogy with the classical case, that two conics have 
J20 189 double contact if over <tf|>K or a quadratic extension of <tf|>K 
J20 190 they touch at two points; equivalently they define a pencil 
J20 191 containing a repeated non-tangent line. The six conics through five 
J20 192 of the vertices of <tf|>H have double contact with <tf|>C. Further, 
J20 193 if <tf|>M is a vertex of <tf|>H, then all the other vertices of all 
J20 194 the Clebsch hexagons of <tf|>C with <tf|>M for one vertex lie on 
J20 195 the same conic, and each of its points, apart from any contact 
J20 196 point with <tf|>C, is the vertex of one Clebsch hexagon of <tf|>C 
J20 197 (Theorem 8).<p/>
J20 198 <p_>1.6 What of the geometry of the Clebsch hexagons, when they 
J20 199 occur, in the plane? They are all of the same type; 
J20 200 PGL<sb_>3<sb/>(<tf|>K) acts transitively on them (Theorem 1). Any 
J20 201 two triangles of a Clebsch hexagon <tf|>H are (Theorem 9) in triple 
J20 202 perspective from three collinear centres, which are vertices, one 
J20 203 from each, of the other three triangles. (There is an additional 
J20 204 centre for characteristic 5.) This is a consequence of there being 
J20 205 six lines each containing five vertices of the triangles of <tf|>H 
J20 206 and 10 lines containing three such vertices. The full figure of 
J20 207 these lines together with the vertices of <tf|>H, the Brianchon 
J20 208 points, the vertices of the triangles and the edges makes a Clebsch 
J20 209 hexagon a self-dual configuration (Theorem 9).<p/>
J20 210 <p_>And there is more to be told. Clebsch hexagons also account for 
J20 211 the existence, for certain <tf|>K, of A<sb_>6<sb/> as a subgroup of 
J20 212 PSL<sb_>3<sb/>(<tf|>K). For reasons of length the details must 
J20 213 await a sequel to this paper, but it is pertinent to whet the 
J20 214 appetite and to indicate this part of the full story.
J20 215 
J21   1 <#FLOB:J21\><h_><p_>ON ANTIPLECTIC PAIRS IN THE HAMILTONIAN 
J21   2 FORMALISM OF EVOLUTION EQUATIONS<p/>
J21   3 <p_>By GEORGE WILSON<p/>
J21   4 <p_>Introduction<p/><h/>
J21   5 <p_>IT is well known that evolutionary systems of the type of the 
J21   6 Korteweg-de Vries (KdV) equation can (under suitable boundary 
J21   7 conditions) be regarded as examples of infinite dimensional 
J21   8 integrable <tf|>Hamiltonian systems. Recently (see [9]) I have 
J21   9 argued that these systems typically occur as part of a pair of 
J21  10 equations related by a transformation of the dependent variables. 
J21  11 The relationship between the two equations of the pair is analogous 
J21  12 to the relationship between a Lie group and its Lie algebra. From 
J21  13 the Hamiltonian viewpoint, these pairs have a curious feature: one 
J21  14 of the flows in question takes place on a (slightly degenerate) 
J21  15 <tf_>symplectic manifold<tf/>, the other on a <tf_>Poisson 
J21  16 manifold<tf/>. The purpose of this paper is to lay the foundations 
J21  17 for that part of the theory of such pairs that is independent of 
J21  18 the boundary conditions, and hence of a purely algebraic nature. 
J21  19 The appropriate language for this is what Gel'fand and Dikii call 
J21  20 the <tf_>formal calculus of variations<tf/> (see [3]). We begin by 
J21  21 reviewing the relevant background material.<p/>
J21  22 <p_>In the literature on finite dimensional Hamiltonian systems, 
J21  23 one can observe some mild disagreement as to whether the notion of 
J21  24 a symplectic manifold or a Poisson manifold is the better starting 
J21  25 point. We recall first the latter notion. Let <tf|>M be a smooth 
J21  26 manifold, <tf|>l a skew tensor of type (2,0) on <tf|>M. We can 
J21  27 think of <tf|>l as a skew form on the cotangent bundle <tf|>T*M; 
J21  28 or, equivalently, we can consider the corresponding homomorphism 
J21  29 <O_>formula<O/>. Thus <tf|>l<sp_>#<sp/> assigns to each 1-form on 
J21  30 <tf|>M a vector field. Let <tf|>A denote the algebra of all smooth 
J21  31 real valued functions on <tf|>M. Then for each <tf_>f <*_>unch<*/> 
J21  32 A<tf/> we have the 1-form <tf|>df, and hence the vector field 
J21  33 <tf_>l<sp_>#<sp/>(df) <tf/>: we shall think of this vector field as 
J21  34 a derivation of <tf|>A and denote it by <*_>delta<*/><sb_>f<sb/>. 
J21  35 Thus we have, for any <tf_>f, g <*_>unch<*/> A<tf/><p/>
J21  36 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J21  37 <p_>The function <O_>formula<O/> is also denoted by {<tf_>f, 
J21  38 g<tf/>} and called the <tf_>Poisson bracket<tf/> of <tf|>f and 
J21  39 <tf|>g. It is evidently skew, since <tf|>l is. If in addition we 
J21  40 have, for every <tf_>f, g <*_>unch<*/> A<tf/>,<p/>
J21  41 <p_><O_>formula&caption<O/><p/>
J21  42 <p_>or, equivalently, if the bracket satisfies the Jacobi identity 
J21  43 and the map <O_>formula<O/> is a homomorphism of Lie algebras, then 
J21  44 we say that (<tf_>M, l<tf/>) is a <tf_>Poisson manifold<tf/>. The 
J21  45 condition (1.1) translates into a quadratic condition on the tensor 
J21  46 <tf|>l, namely, the vanishing of a certain skew 3-tensor, the 
J21  47 Schouten-Nijenhuis bracket of <tf|>l with itself: see, for example, 
J21  48 [<tf_>4, 8<tf/>].<p/>
J21  49 <p_>If now in addition to all the above <tf|>l is non-degenerate, 
J21  50 that is, <tf|>l<sp_>#<sp/> is an isomorphism, we can consider the 
J21  51 inverse isomorphism <O_>formula<O/>, and the corresponding 
J21  52 non-degenerate 2-form <*_>lambda<*/>. The pair (<tf|>M, 
J21  53 <*_>lambda<*/>) is then called a <tf_>symplectic manifold<tf/>. One 
J21  54 advantage of formulating the theory in terms of <*_>lambda<*/>, 
J21  55 rather than the inverse tensor <tf|>l, is that the crucial 
J21  56 condition (1.1) becomes a very simple linear condition on the 
J21  57 2-form <*_>lambda<*/>, namely that it should be closed: 
J21  58 <tf|>d<*_>lambda<*/> = 0. Nevertheless, from this point of view, a 
J21  59 symplectic manifold is just a special case of a Poisson manifold. 
J21  60 On the other hand, any Poisson manifold (<tf_>M, l<tf/>) comes 
J21  61 equipped with a kind of foliation by symplectic manifolds in which 
J21  62 the tangent spaces to the leaves (which in general may not all have 
J21  63 the same dimension) make up the image of the map <tf|>l<sp_>#<sp/>. 
J21  64 All the Hamiltonian flows on <tf|>M (that is, the integral curves 
J21  65 of the vector fields <*_>delta<*/><sb_>f<sb/>) preserve the 
J21  66 symplectic leaves of this foliation. The effect of all this is that 
J21  67 it usually makes little difference whether we regard <*_>lambda<*/> 
J21  68 or <tf|>l as the more fundamental object.<p/>
J21  69 <p_>Before passing to the infinite dimensional case, let us observe 
J21  70 that all the discussion above could be formulated in more algebraic 
J21  71 language in terms of the algebra <tf|>A of functions on <tf|>M; 
J21  72 this would be particularly appropriate in the variant of the theory 
J21  73 where <tf|>M was an affine algebraic variety and <tf|>A the algebra 
J21  74 of regular functions on <tf|>M. Instead of the cotangent bundle to 
J21  75 <tf|>M we should then speak of the universal <tf_>A<tf/>-module 
J21  76 with derivation <*_>OMEGA<*/>; the tensor <tf|>l above would become 
J21  77 a skew bilinear form <O_>formula<O/>, and a 2-form would be a skew 
J21  78 form on the dual <tf_>A<tf/>-module <*_>OMEGA<*/>*.<p/>
J21  79 <p_>Now let us consider the prototype example of the infinite 
J21  80 dimensional systems that we want to study, the KdV equation<p/>
J21  81 <p_><O_>formula&caption<O/><p/>
J21  82 <p_>We want to regard this equation as defining a flow on some 
J21  83 infinite dimensional manifold <tf|>M of functions <tf|>u(<tf|>x) 
J21  84 (we prescribe the initial value <tf|>u(<tf|>x, 0) and (1.2) then 
J21  85 determines <tf|>u(<tf_>x, t<tf/>)). For that we have to fix 
J21  86 suitable boundary conditions; for example, we can take <tf|>M to be 
J21  87 the space of all smooth periodic functions <tf|>u(x) (of some fixed 
J21  88 period). The interpretation of the KdV equation as a 
J21  89 <tf|>Hamiltonian flow on <tf|>M is based on the fact that (1.2) can 
J21  90 be written in the <tf_>Hamiltonian form<tf/><p/>
J21  91 <p_><O_>formula&caption<O/><p/>
J21  92 <p_>where<p/>
J21  93 <p_><O_>formula&caption<O/><p/>
J21  94 <p_>and <O_>formula<O/>; here we write <O_>formula<O/>, and 
J21  95 <O_>formula<O/>is the Euler-Lagrange operator: in general, if 
J21  96 <tf|>f is a function of <tf_>u, u<sb_>x<sb/>, u<sb_>xx<sb/><tf/>, 
J21  97 ... then<p/>
J21  98 <p_><O_>formula&caption<O/><p/>
J21  99 <p_>The justification for calling (1.3) 'Hamiltonian' is as 
J21 100 follows. On the vector space <tf|>M we have the usual 
J21 101 <tf|>L<sp_>2<sp/> inner product <O_>formula<O/> (where the integral 
J21 102 is taken over a period) which identifies <tf|>M with a subspace of 
J21 103 its dual <tf|>M*; we call this subspace the 'smooth part' of 
J21 104 <tf|>M*. If <O_>formula<O/> is the function<p/>
J21 105 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J21 106 <p_>one easily finds that the exterior derivative <tf|>dH belongs 
J21 107 to the smooth part of <tf|>M*, and that its value at a point <tf_>u 
J21 108 <*_>unch<*/> M<tf/>, regarded as an element of <O_>formula<O/>, is 
J21 109 just <O_>formula<O/>. Thus if we regard the skew differential 
J21 110 operator <tf|>l in (1.4) as analogous to the map <tf|>l<sp_>#<sp/> 
J21 111 in our discussion of finite dimensional Poisson manifolds, then 
J21 112 (provided we can check the vital condition (1.1)) it is clear that 
J21 113 (1.3) is indeed the vector field on the Poisson manifold <tf|>M 
J21 114 corresponding to the function <tf|>H.<p/>
J21 115 <p_>We shall not pursue here the question of making this discussion 
J21 116 rigorous, but shall pass at once to the algebraic formulation of 
J21 117 the theory. By that I do not mean simply replacing the infinite 
J21 118 dimensional manifold <tf|>M by its algebra of functions: that would 
J21 119 achieve no simplification, and would ignore two important features 
J21 120 of our situation. The first is that our manifold <tf|>M is not just 
J21 121 an abstract manifold, but consists of functions of <tf|>x. Thus on 
J21 122 <tf|>M we have a distinguished vector field <O_>formula<O/>, and we 
J21 123 are interested only in vector fields <O_>formula<O/> that commute 
J21 124 with <*_>delta<*/>. Still more significant is the remark that, 
J21 125 because (1.3) involves only the 'density' <tf|>f, and not the 
J21 126 function <O_>formula<O/>, the boundary conditions used in our 
J21 127 discussion are for many purposes irrelevant: for example, if we 
J21 128 were to replace <tf|>M by a suitable space of functions on the 
J21 129 whole line, decaying at infinity, a large part of the theory would 
J21 130 remain unaffected. The basic question of whether (1.1) is satisfied 
J21 131 belongs to this purely local part of the theory. For these reasons 
J21 132 we follow the influential paper [3] of Gel'fand and Dikii, and 
J21 133 proceed as follows. Let <O_>formula<O/> be the algebra of 
J21 134 <tf_>differential polynomials<tf/> in <tf|>u: that is, polynomials 
J21 135 in the infinite set of variables <O_>formulae<O/> (we write 
J21 136 <O_>formulae<O/>, etc.). We equip <tf|>A with the unique derivation 
J21 137 <*_>delta<*/> such that <O_>formula<O/>. We now try to think of the 
J21 138 differential algebra (<tf|>A, <*_>delta<*/>) as the algebra of 
J21 139 functions on the manifold <tf|>M (although it is not), and imitate 
J21 140 the algebraic version of the finite dimensional theory. The role of 
J21 141 the vector fields on <tf|>M is played by the Lie algebra of 
J21 142 <tf_>evolutionary derivations<tf/> of <tf|>A, that is, derivations 
J21 143 commuting with <*_>delta<*/>. Clearly such a derivation of <tf|>A 
J21 144 is entirely determined by its value on <tf|>u, and this value may 
J21 145 be chosen arbitrarily. Thus equation (1.2) (or (1.3)) can be 
J21 146 interpreted as defining an evolutionary derivation of <tf|>A. Of 
J21 147 course, this way of studying the algebraic properties of an 
J21 148 evolutionary system is quite classical, and has long been a 
J21 149 standard point of view in discussing the local conservation laws of 
J21 150 such systems; however, the fact that much of the Hamiltonian 
J21 151 formalism too can be described within this framework seems first to 
J21 152 have been made clear in [3]. Given the skew differential operator 
J21 153 <tf|>l, the basic construction of the theory now assigns to each 
J21 154 <tf_>f <*_>unch<*/> A<tf/> the unique evolutionary derivation 
J21 155 <*_>delta<*/><sb_>f<sb/> of <tf|>A such that <O_>formula<O/> is the 
J21 156 right-hand side of (1.3). We then call <tf_>l Hamiltonian<tf/> if a 
J21 157 suitably formulated version of (1.1) holds. In this algebraic 
J21 158 context the idea of considering the inverse of the differential 
J21 159 operator <tf|>l seems very unnatural; and it is doubtful if we 
J21 160 could make any sense of discussing the symplectic leaves of a 
J21 161 foliation defined by <tf|>l. Therefore, the following attitude 
J21 162 towards the Hamiltonian formalism has become standard: we should 
J21 163 simply accept that <tf|>l defines a Poisson structure in the way 
J21 164 sketched above, and abandon any idea of relating it to a symplectic 
J21 165 structure, as we do in the classical case.<p/>
J21 166 <p_>In [9], however, I have argued that this may not be the best 
J21 167 attitude. For the KdV equation and its generalizations, the 
J21 168 operator <tf|>l, although not invertible, is in a certain sense 
J21 169 obtained by inverting a 2-form <*_>lambda<*/>; moreover, it is 
J21 170 <*_>lambda<*/> that is the more fundamental object. The 
J21 171 justification for this last claim is that <*_>lambda<*/> is 
J21 172 invariant with respect to a symmetry group <tf|>G (for the KdV 
J21 173 equation <tf|>G is <tf_>PSL<tf/>(2)) and <tf|>l is obtained from 
J21 174 <*_>lambda<*/> essentially by passing to the quotient by <tf|>G. 
J21 175 The construction of <*_>lambda<*/> from <tf|>l is less 
J21 176 straightforward, especially since in practice the group <tf|>G is 
J21 177 not given to us in advance. As an example, the 2-form 
J21 178 <*_>lambda<*/> corresponding to the <tf|>l in (1.4) is<p/>
J21 179 <p_><O_>formula&caption<O/><p/>
J21 180 <p_>where the variables <*_>psi<*/> and <tf|>u are related by<p/>
J21 181 <p_><O_>formula&caption<O/><p/>
J21 182 <p_>(this last expression is the <tf_>Schwarzian derivative<tf/> of 
J21 183 <*_>psi<*/>: it is invariant with respect to the group <tf|>G = 
J21 184 <tf_>PSL<tf/>(2) acting on <*_>psi<*/> by linear fractional 
J21 185 transformations). We shall call such a pair of variables 
J21 186 (<*_>psi<*/>, <tf|>u) with their associated skew operators 
J21 187 (<*_>lambda<*/>, <tf|>l) an <tf_>antiplectic pair<tf/>. As we shall 
J21 188 see, a consequence of the existence of <*_>lambda<*/> is that each 
J21 189 equation of the form (1.3) for <tf|>u is implied by a 
J21 190 <tf_>symplectic G-invariant<tf/> equation for <*_>psi<*/>. For 
J21 191 example, the KdV equation (1.2) follows from the 'Ur-KdV' 
J21 192 equation<p/>
J21 193 <p_><O_>formula&caption<O/><p/>
J21 194 <p_>for <*_>psi<*/>. This equation is symplectic in the sense that 
J21 195 it can formally be written as<p/>
J21 196 <p_><O_>formula&caption<O/><p/>
J21 197 <p_>where <tf|>H = u<sp_>2<sp/> is the Hamiltonian for the KdV 
J21 198 equation. It is a basic part of the machinery that we are going to 
J21 199 discuss that the appearance of <*_>lambda<*/><sp_>-1<sp/> here does 
J21 200 not actually require us to integrate anything: in fact for any 
J21 201 Hamiltonian <tf|>H depending only on <tf_>u, u<sb_>x<sb/><tf/>, ... 
J21 202 we have<p/>
J21 203 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J21 204 <p_>so that the <*_>lambda<*/> here cancels the 
J21 205 <*_>lambda<*/><sp_>-1<sp/> in (1.9) to give (1.8). This example is 
J21 206 considered in more detail in [9], and in <*_>section<*/>7 below.<p/>
J21 207 <p_>The main purpose of the present paper, then, is to give a 
J21 208 precise formulation of the notion of an antiplectic pair, and in 
J21 209 particular to clarify the process by which the type of the 
J21 210 <tf_>G<tf/>-invariant tensor <*_>lambda<*/> reverses when we divide 
J21 211 out by <tf|>G. The paper is arranged as follows. Section 2 is 
J21 212 preliminary, and is intended for reference only. It sets out some 
J21 213 elementary facts (and conventions) about modules over rings with an 
J21 214 anti-involution. The motivation for that is the following: the 
J21 215 basic derivation <*_>delta<*/> of the algebra <tf|>A acts also on 
J21 216 the universal <tf_>A<tf/>-module <*_>OMEGA<*/> that plays the role, 
J21 217 in the algebraic theory, of the contangent bundle <tf|>T*M. Thus 
J21 218 <*_>OMEGA<*/> acquires a structure of left module over the algebra 
J21 219 <tf|>R of (ordinary) differential operators with coefficients in 
J21 220 <tf|>A: this structure plays an important role in our version of 
J21 221 the formalism. On <tf|>R we have the anti-involution 
J21 222 <O_>formula<O/>, where <tf|>L* is the formal adjoint of <tf|>L. 
J21 223 This makes possible certain constructions that could not be 
J21 224 performed for a general non-commutative ring <tf|>R.
J21 225 
J22   1 <#FLOB:J22\>Illness behaviour therefore includes variables such as 
J22   2 self-assessment of ill-health, general-practice consultations, 
J22   3 consumption of over-the-counter medication, consumption of 
J22   4 prescribed medication and sickness absence (both certified and 
J22   5 uncertified).<p/>
J22   6 <p_>Early studies of stress outcomes have tended to infer the 
J22   7 presence of illness by measuring illness behaviours such as 
J22   8 sickness absence. However, the relationship between illness and 
J22   9 illness behaviour is not a direct one-to-one relationship, and it 
J22  10 is now well known that many complex, social, cultural and 
J22  11 demographic factors contribute to the causation of sickness absence 
J22  12 besides illness <tf_>per se<tf/> (Johns and Nicholson, 1982). We 
J22  13 therefore find that the demographic aspects of illness are not 
J22  14 necessarily the same as the demographic aspects of illness 
J22  15 behaviour.<p/>
J22  16 <h_><p_>Theoretical and Methodological Issues<p/><h/>
J22  17 <p_>In stress research the concepts of stress, coping and 
J22  18 well-being are frequently confounded (Edwards and Cooper, 1988). 
J22  19 The authors give the example in life-events research, where some 
J22  20 'stressful' life events may also be construed as an inability to 
J22  21 cope (e.g. divorce). Personal illness may be regarded as a 
J22  22 stressful life event or as a health outcome. Furthermore, some 
J22  23 definitions of stress, such as those which describe stress as a 
J22  24 situation where demands exceed abilities (e.g. French, Rodgers and 
J22  25 Cobb, 1974), confound stress with the inability to cope. It is 
J22  26 therefore essential, in stress research, for authors to clearly 
J22  27 present the theoretical model which they are investigating.<p/>
J22  28 <h_><p_>SEX DIFFERENCES<p/><h/>
J22  29 <p_>It has been argued that women, by virtue of the roles they 
J22  30 occupy, experience more life events and chronic social stresses, 
J22  31 and less social support than men, and that this differential 
J22  32 exposure to risk factors explains women's greater vulnerability to 
J22  33 depression.<p/>
J22  34 <h_><p_>Sex Differences in Social Stress<p/><h/>
J22  35 <p_>The empirical data available so far suggest that there is no 
J22  36 difference in the rates at which men and women experience acute 
J22  37 life events or adversity (Meyers et al., 1971; Dekker and Webb, 
J22  38 1974; Newman, 1975, Henderson et al., 1980; Markush and Favero, 
J22  39 1974). However, the possibility remains to be tested that women in 
J22  40 general may experience more undesirable life events by virtue of 
J22  41 their low socio-economic status overall (Myers, Lindenthal and 
J22  42 Pepper, 1975), since there is much evidence that women in general 
J22  43 enjoy lower status than men, both at home and at work, and 
J22  44 frequently earn less even when in comparable jobs (Office of 
J22  45 Population Censuses and Surveys, <tf_>Social Trends<tf/>). There is 
J22  46 no evidence that life events have more impact on women than on men 
J22  47 (Paykel, Prusoff and Uhlenhuth, 1971; Personn, 1980). However, 
J22  48 there is evidence that women experience more chronic social stress 
J22  49 than men. Radloff and Rae (1979) reported that women were more 
J22  50 exposed than men to low education, low income, low occupational 
J22  51 status, fewer leisure activities, and more current and recent 
J22  52 physical illness.<p/>
J22  53 <p_>Furthermore, there is evidence that men and women respond 
J22  54 differently to the same number of stresses (e.g. Russo, 1985). In 
J22  55 addition, there is ample evidence for sex differences in 
J22  56 stress-induced physiological responses (e.g. Frankenhauser, 1983; 
J22  57 Stoney, Davis and Matthew, 1985) and also for differences in the 
J22  58 ways people cope cognitively, emotionally and behaviourally in 
J22  59 response to stress.<p/>
J22  60 <p_>According to Kessler, Price and Wartman (1985) gender 
J22  61 differences in health are to a large extent attributable to 
J22  62 differences in the appraisal of stresses and the selection of 
J22  63 coping strategies.<p/>
J22  64 <p_>Vingerhoets and Van Heck (1990) explored gender differences in 
J22  65 coping and found that males preferred problem-focused coping 
J22  66 strategies, planned and rational actions, positive thinking, 
J22  67 personal growth and humour, day<?_>-<?/>dreaming and fantasies. 
J22  68 Women preferred emotion-focused coping solutions, self-blame, 
J22  69 expression of emotions, seeking of social support and wishful 
J22  70 thinking/emotionality. The same authors also found that men and 
J22  71 women do not differ in terms of the amount of stressful events 
J22  72 experienced.<p/>
J22  73 <h_><p_>Sex Differences in Social Support<p/><h/>
J22  74 <p_>There are few studies which specifically address the question 
J22  75 of whether women experience less social support 
J22  76 <}_><-|>then<+|>than<}/> men. Miller and Ingham (1976) found that 
J22  77 casual, less intimate friends as well as intimates afforded 
J22  78 protection from developing illness, and that <quote_>"psychological 
J22  79 symptom levels probably vary with social support even when there is 
J22  80 no serious life event present"<quote/>. It is therefore apparent 
J22  81 that contacts with colleagues at work may also be supportive to the 
J22  82 individual, and it may be that the housewife often experiences 
J22  83 relative isolation in the home, experiencing less frequent daily 
J22  84 verbal exchanges with other individuals than does her counterpart 
J22  85 in the office.<p/>
J22  86 <p_>Henderson et al. (1979) found that males reported more 
J22  87 availability of social integration than females, while females 
J22  88 scored higher on the quality or adequacy of the social integration. 
J22  89 Females scored more on availability of attachment than males, but 
J22  90 there was no sex difference on the quality or adequacy of the 
J22  91 attachment. It was the author's view that special attention should 
J22  92 be paid to those social bonds which promote self-esteem - both the 
J22  93 esteem of self in terms of appearance, abilities, competence and 
J22  94 position in a dominance hierarchy, as well as the degree to which 
J22  95 one believes one is lovable to others. The question is, therefore, 
J22  96 whether such self-esteem is more likely to be derived from social 
J22  97 integration within a group, while the extent to which one believes 
J22  98 one is lovable may be obtained from both kinds of social bond. If 
J22  99 the important aspects of self-esteem are more likely to be derived 
J22 100 from social integration, then Henderson's finding that males 
J22 101 reported quantitatively more availability of social integration 
J22 102 than females may be of crucial significance to the question of 
J22 103 whether women experience less social support than men. While 
J22 104 females report a better quality of social integration, in terms of 
J22 105 self-esteem thus engendered, quality may not make up for quantity. 
J22 106 Henderson found that for minor psychiatric morbidity social 
J22 107 integration had a stronger association with symptom level than did 
J22 108 attachment for women. For men, the strength of the association of 
J22 109 symptom level with social integration and with attachment was the 
J22 110 same. Henderson concluded that <quote_>"social bonds" appear to be 
J22 111 related to morbidity in a manner independent of the challenge of 
J22 112 adversity"<quote/>. While these primary questions afford some hope 
J22 113 of elucidating the nature of the sex difference in the prevalence 
J22 114 of minor psychiatric morbidity, it is clear that further work is 
J22 115 required. In the mean time the evidence suggests that women do 
J22 116 experience more chronic social stresses, e.g. low occupational 
J22 117 status and low income, than men and also experience less 
J22 118 availability of social integration - a factor with a strong 
J22 119 negative association with minor psychiatric morbidity.<p/>
J22 120 <p_>Brugha et al. (1990) found that the explained variance in 
J22 121 recovery from depression due to social support was equal in men and 
J22 122 women. But according to subset analyses, the aspects of personal 
J22 123 relationships and perceived support that predict recovery in men 
J22 124 and women appear to be different. In women, the significant 
J22 125 predictors of recovery appeared to be the number of primary group 
J22 126 members named and contacted, and satisfaction with social support, 
J22 127 while in men it appeared to be living as married, and the number of 
J22 128 non primary group social contacts named as acquaintances or 
J22 129 friends.<p/>
J22 130 <h_><p_>Sex Differences in Illness<p/><h/>
J22 131 <p_>Men and women certainly differ in terms of the balance of role 
J22 132 obligations in the occupational, marital and parental domain. If 
J22 133 these distinctive role patterns are responsible for gender 
J22 134 differences in health, it should be the case that where gender 
J22 135 equality is achieved, gender differences in health should be 
J22 136 reduced. Studies of men and women in similarly responsible and 
J22 137 demanding jobs do seem to find a reduction in the substantially 
J22 138 lower mortality rates among women (e.g. Detre et al., 1987). 
J22 139 Jenkins (1985), in a study of young male and female executive 
J22 140 officers, found that there was no sex difference in prevalence of 
J22 141 minor psychiatric morbidity. Other studies of true homogeneous 
J22 142 samples have found the same thing (e.g. Parker, 1979; Golin and 
J22 143 Hartz, 1977; Hammen and Padesky, 1977).<p/>
J22 144 <p_>A paradox which has attracted considerable attention ever since 
J22 145 John Graunt, the founder demography, commented on it in his 
J22 146 'Natural and political observations', published in 1662, is that 
J22 147 while women attend doctors more often than men, their life 
J22 148 expectancy is no less than that of men (indeed, is now about 8% 
J22 149 longer). Graunt concluded that either the women were generally 
J22 150 cured by their physicians or that the men suffered form untreated 
J22 151 morbidity. In Western countries, where women's life expectancy is 
J22 152 greater than men's, women are nonetheless reported to suffer more 
J22 153 illness than men, are higher users of medical services and 
J22 154 prescriptions, and take more time off work for sickness (Verbrugge, 
J22 155 1976; Nathanson, 1977; Wingard, 1984; Verbrugge, 1985; Strickland, 
J22 156 1988; Jenkins, 1985).<p/>
J22 157 <p_>Table 5.1 illustrates this paradox with figures taken from UK 
J22 158 sources. It can be seen that, while females' life expectancy in 
J22 159 England and Wales exceeds that of men by six years, women consult 
J22 160 general practitioners (GPs) more often than men, they take 
J22 161 prescribed drugs more often than men, they take more frequent 
J22 162 spells of sickness absence (although the total duration of the 
J22 163 certified absence is not greater) and, despite attending 
J22 164 out-patient facilities in roughly equal numbers, women are admitted 
J22 165 to hospital more often than men. In general it can be said that 
J22 166 women suffer more from psychological distress and minor somatic 
J22 167 disorders, whereas men seem to be especially vulnerable to 
J22 168 life-threatening diseases, e.g. myocardial infarction and cancer 
J22 169 (e.g. Rice at al., 1984; Bush and Barrett-Conner, 1985).<p/>
J22 170 <p_><O<_>table&caption<O/><p/>
J22 171 <p_>Looking now at mental illness, GPs diagnose more episodes of 
J22 172 mental illness in women than in men, women take more certified 
J22 173 sickness absence for mental illness than do men (both in terms of 
J22 174 frequency and duration) and women have more psychiatric admissions 
J22 175 to hospital than do men. These comparisons are illustrated in Table 
J22 176 5.2. When specific diagnostic categories of mental illness are 
J22 177 examined, using the International Classification of Diseases the 
J22 178 picture becomes rather more subtle. Table 5.3 presents the general 
J22 179 practice episode rates for psychiatric illness and the admission 
J22 180 rates to psychiatric hospitals for the year 1972 by diagnosis and 
J22 181 sex. Males predominate in the areas of alcoholism and personality 
J22 182 disorders. Sex differences in reported rates of schizophrenia are 
J22 183 negligible. However, for affective psychoses and the 
J22 184 psychoneuroses, women predominate over men.<p/>
J22 185 <p_><O_>tables&captions<O/><p/>
J22 186 <p_>These sex differences in illness have been variously ascribed 
J22 187 to a number of explanations which may be categorised as in Table 
J22 188 5.4.<p/>
J22 189 <p_>These theories have been considered in relation to mental 
J22 190 health in Jenkins (1985), who concluded that:<p/>
J22 191 <p_>Clearly the relative importance of each of these variables is 
J22 192 likely to vary from illness to illness. For mental health, we now 
J22 193 have evidence that both manic depressive psychosis and 
J22 194 schizophrenia have a multifactorial aetiology, involving both 
J22 195 genetic and environmental factors. Both diseases are so severe that 
J22 196 sex differences in reporting behaviour and diagnostic habits have 
J22 197 minimal impact on reported rates. However for minor psychiatric 
J22 198 morbidity, the depressions and anxiety states, the evidence for a 
J22 199 genetic aetiology is small. While there is evidence that changes in 
J22 200 gonadal hormones are sometimes linked to mood changes, there is no 
J22 201 direct evidence that reproductive physiology is responsible for 
J22 202 women's excess of reported depression. The evidence for the 
J22 203 importance of environmental stress and support in the aetiology of 
J22 204 minor psychiatric morbidity is much stronger, although the variance 
J22 205 explained by such factors is not large.<p/>
J22 206 <p_>This chapter will therefore concentrate on environmental 
J22 207 factors, rather than the biological factors of genes and hormones 
J22 208 responsible for sex differences in illness. Sex differences in 
J22 209 stress and support have already been discussed above. Differences 
J22 210 in sex roles and their effects on health will be discussed 
J22 211 below.<p/>
J22 212 <h_><p_>Sex Roles and Their Influence on Constitutional and 
J22 213 Environmental Vulnerability to Illness, and on Reporting 
J22 214 Behaviour<p/>
J22 215 <p_>Sex roles and their interaction with constitution<p/><h/>
J22 216 <p_>It has been suggested that sex differences in the early 
J22 217 upbringing and social environment of males and females place a 
J22 218 permanent stamp on the phenotype of the individual, thus affecting 
J22 219 constitutional vulnerability to psychiatric illness in adult life 
J22 220 (Chesler, 1971, 1972; Chodorow, 1974). The learned helplessness 
J22 221 model proposes that helplessness is the salient characteristic of 
J22 222 depression and that it results from learning that one's actions do 
J22 223 not produce predictable responses (Seligman, 1975). Cochrane and 
J22 224 Stopes (1980) <}_><-|>aregued<+|>argued<}/> that women are 
J22 225 traditionally more sheltered than boys, women have less initiative 
J22 226 in selecting their spouses than do men, their life-styles face more 
J22 227 disruption with the advent of children, and they have to follow 
J22 228 their husbands geographically and socially.
J22 229 
J23   1 <#FLOB:J23\><h|>Processes
J23   2 <p_>All theories of behaviour make some assumptions about 
J23   3 innateness and, thus, about the architecture of cognition, even 
J23   4 though the issue has not always been explicitly addressed when the 
J23   5 theory sets out its assumptions. In particular, all theories assume 
J23   6 that the mechanisms of learning or development are themselves 
J23   7 invariant, and are innate endowments of the organism. Behaviourist 
J23   8 theories attribute all of behaviour to learned responses. Such a 
J23   9 theory presumes an organism that is disposed to learn; an organism 
J23  10 that is innately endowed with the ability to associate a stimulus 
J23  11 with a response. While the association between a particular S and a 
J23  12 particular R is learned, behaviourists do not argue that organisms 
J23  13 learn how to make associations; associations are part of the 
J23  14 organism's innate repertoire. Similarly the ability to discriminate 
J23  15 among stimuli and to generalize across stimuli are innate and even 
J23  16 though the basis of particular discriminations and generalizations 
J23  17 may have to be learned.<p/>
J23  18 <p_>For Piaget's constructivist theory the mechanisms of 
J23  19 assimilation and accommodation are innate and unchanging 
J23  20 mechanisms. Piaget is quite explicit on this issue. He sees these 
J23  21 mechanisms as evolution's answer to adaptation to the environment 
J23  22 (Piaget, 1967a/1971). These mechanism support changing cognitive 
J23  23 structures.<p/>
J23  24 <p_>The information processing framework also postulates a variety 
J23  25 of innate mechanisms for learning and development. Many 
J23  26 developmental theorists within the information processing framework 
J23  27 have borrowed Piaget's constructs of assimilation and 
J23  28 accommodation. However, the major mechanism of learning presumed by 
J23  29 information processing theories in induction (Holland, Holyoak, 
J23  30 Nisbett and Thagard, 1986). Induction is the formulation of general 
J23  31 laws from particular cases as for example:<p/>
J23  32 <p_>I have seen lots of white swans.<p/>
J23  33 <p_>I have never seen any other colour of swan.<p/>
J23  34 <p_>Therefore, all swans are white.<p/>
J23  35 <p_>This reasoning is an impeccable piece of induction, although it 
J23  36 is not logically valid. Philosophers have been much preoccupied by 
J23  37 the fact that it is not logically valid. However, from a 
J23  38 psychological viewpoint it is the mechanism itself that is of 
J23  39 interest, not its logical status. Clearly, much human knowledge is 
J23  40 based on much less than certainty. Bertrand Russell (1912: p. 38) 
J23  41 concluded that the inductive process itself is <quote_>"incapable 
J23  42 of being <tf|>proved by an appeal to experience"<quote/> but went 
J23  43 on to argue that <quote_>"we must either accept the inductive 
J23  44 principle on the ground of its intrinsic evidence, or forgo all 
J23  45 justification of our expectations about the future"<quote/>. Any 
J23  46 theory that postulates rule learning needs a mechanism for deriving 
J23  47 rules from environmental regularities and induction serves this 
J23  48 purpose admirably. The importance of induction is that it permits 
J23  49 extrapolation from particular instances and provides a rule-based 
J23  50 framework for cognitive processing. An example of what is commonly 
J23  51 regarded as inductive learning is the child's derivation of the 
J23  52 linguistic rule 'add <tf|>-ed to the verb stem to form the past 
J23  53 tense'. Initially children learn past tense forms on a word-by-word 
J23  54 basis and thereby acquire the correct past tense form for both 
J23  55 regular and irregular verbs (e.g., <tf|>walked and <tf|>took). 
J23  56 However, as more verbs are learnt the child notices that the 
J23  57 majority of verbs form the past tense by adding <tf|>-ed to the 
J23  58 verb root. This results in an inductive generalization that all 
J23  59 verbs form the past tense by adding <tf|>-ed to the root. 
J23  60 Application of this rule results in an overregularization of 
J23  61 previously correct forms, so that <tf|>taked will now replace 
J23  62 <tf|>took. The phenomenon will be discussed in more detail in 
J23  63 chapter 7. Here, the major point is to illustrate that an inductive 
J23  64 inference can have powerful effects on the child's cognitive 
J23  65 representations.<p/>
J23  66 <p_>There seems to be general agreement that the basic cognitive 
J23  67 mechanisms of change are innate evolutionary products and are not 
J23  68 themselves subject to developmental change. The content to which 
J23  69 they apply does, of course, change with changing cognitive 
J23  70 representations. Associations formed late in development may have a 
J23  71 considerably more complex representational structure than 
J23  72 associations formed in the first few days of life. Similarly, 
J23  73 induction may produce relatively simple rules in early development 
J23  74 but more complex rules in later development. The difference in 
J23  75 complexity in both cases lies in the representation not in the 
J23  76 mechanism that produced it.<p/>
J23  77 <h|>Structure
J23  78 <p_>For classical behaviourists the structure of cognition was an 
J23  79 associative chain of 'mediating responses'. As the content of 
J23  80 associations was entirely the product of learning, the structure of 
J23  81 cognition was thus entirely the product of learning.<p/>
J23  82 <p_>For Piaget the structure of cognition was also a developmental 
J23  83 product. However, Piaget thought that cognition was more than a 
J23  84 copy of environmental associations, and he thought that it 
J23  85 developed but was not necessarily learned (Piaget, 1964). The 
J23  86 Piagetian view is that through the processes of assimilation and 
J23  87 accommodation new cognitive structures emerge. Piaget argued that 
J23  88 reflexes were the initial innate structures from which all other 
J23  89 structures eventually develop.<p/>
J23  90 <p_>Information processing theories have a much more complex theory 
J23  91 of the structure of cognition than either behaviourist or Piagetian 
J23  92 theories. According to information processing theories, the 
J23  93 cognitive system consists of a variety of interacting components. 
J23  94 At a very general level, the major components are memory and 
J23  95 attention. These components have various processes associated with 
J23  96 them that transform and encode the input received. The system also 
J23  97 has components that control the processing of information in 
J23  98 accordance with the organism's goals and plans.<p/>
J23  99 <p_>Behaviourist, Piagetian, and many Information Processing 
J23 100 theories regard the content of cognition as a developmental 
J23 101 product. This seems an entirely reasonable position. Evolution 
J23 102 could not possibly have prepared us for the particular information 
J23 103 content that we receive. Content is a function of the particular 
J23 104 environment that we inhabit - be it desert, or forest, or city; of 
J23 105 our particular culture; and of our particular experience within an 
J23 106 environment and a culture.<p/>
J23 107 <p_>At one level this analysis is true but it fails to do justice 
J23 108 to the fact that regardless of the variation in content there are 
J23 109 certain requirements placed by evolution on how content is 
J23 110 processed. For example, different inputs must be treated as 
J23 111 functionally similar by an organism in order for behaviour to be 
J23 112 adaptive. This requires an innate ability to treat input in a 
J23 113 categorical fashion. If an organism could not treat some stimuli as 
J23 114 functionally equivalent to others, there would be no possibility of 
J23 115 learning from experience because every encounter with the world 
J23 116 would be unique. As we shall see in chapter 2, the empirical 
J23 117 evidence is completely in accord with this line of reasoning.<p/>
J23 118 <p_>Categorization is only one among a variety of structures 
J23 119 imposed on information. During the course of development the child 
J23 120 acquires a variety of increasingly complex organizational 
J23 121 structures. The most notable example of this is human language. It 
J23 122 has been a matter of considerable debate in recent years to what 
J23 123 extent the structure of language (and of other cognitive 
J23 124 representations) is learnt and to what extent it is innate. The 
J23 125 issue was first raised by Chomsky (1959, 1965) and it has not yet 
J23 126 been completely resolved. We shall return to this issue in chapter 
J23 127 7.<p/>
J23 128 <h_><p_><tf|>What and <tf|>How: A Second Pass<p/><h/>
J23 129 <p_>The question of how development occurs can be approached in 
J23 130 several ways. Firstly, it is necessary to identify the learning 
J23 131 mechanisms possessed by the cognitive system. Secondly, it is 
J23 132 necessary to describe how these mechanisms act over time. Thirdly, 
J23 133 there is the issue of how the environment in which a child learns, 
J23 134 affects development. The first two issues are central to a theory 
J23 135 of cognitive development; the third is most relevant to issues of 
J23 136 individual differences.<p/>
J23 137 <p_>The nature of learning mechanisms postulated by a theory is 
J23 138 very largely dependent on its view of what develops. It is easiest 
J23 139 to illustrate this by example. In some behaviourist theories of 
J23 140 development (e.g., Bijou and Baer, 1961) what develops is a series 
J23 141 of discriminative responses to environmental stimuli. Such a theory 
J23 142 places no more demands on learning than that a child be capable of 
J23 143 associating a stimulus and a response. Thus, the answer to how 
J23 144 development occurs is by forming new associations or refining old 
J23 145 ones. By contrast Piaget's theory of development regards the child 
J23 146 as engaged in a continuous attempt to construct a theory of the 
J23 147 world, while, at the same time, interpreting the world in the light 
J23 148 of the child's current theory. Such a theory requires a give and 
J23 149 take between the child's existing theory and new information, 
J23 150 otherwise the system would never progress. Piaget accordingly 
J23 151 postulates mechanisms of assimilation and accommodation as the 
J23 152 primary learning mechanisms. Assimilation is the process by which 
J23 153 new information is interpreted in the light of existing cognitive 
J23 154 structures; accommodation is the process by which cognitive 
J23 155 structures change in the light of new information.<p/>
J23 156 <p_>Information processing theories place great emphasis on changes 
J23 157 in the child's representation of the world. Accordingly, mechanisms 
J23 158 of change are needed that shift the child from one representation 
J23 159 of a task to another, more sophisticated representation of that 
J23 160 task. The mechanisms of change proposed will vary as a function of 
J23 161 the relation between the representations. Flavell (1972) discusses 
J23 162 some of the varieties of representational change from an 
J23 163 information processing perspective. However, it is noteworthy that 
J23 164 the issue of how change occurs has rarely been given serious 
J23 165 theoretical discussion within the information processing 
J23 166 framework.<p/>
J23 167 <p_>As one further example consider Chomsky's (1965) view of 
J23 168 language development. Chomsky argued that what develops during 
J23 169 language development is a system of rules for a particular 
J23 170 language. These rules are derived from a system of abstract 
J23 171 grammatical rules shared by all languages. He argued further that 
J23 172 this system could not be learnt from the environment by any 
J23 173 conventional learning procedure. Nevertheless it must 
J23 174 <}_><-|>he<+|>be<}/> possible for children to acquire these rules 
J23 175 because children evidently do learn a language. Consequently, 
J23 176 Chomsky proposed that, in some sense, general rules of language 
J23 177 were innate although obviously the grammar and vocabulary of a 
J23 178 particular language must be a product of interaction between 
J23 179 environmental input and innate general rules. This interaction is 
J23 180 conducted through the mechanism of testing hypotheses (derived from 
J23 181 the innate general rules) about the structure of the particular 
J23 182 language the child hears.<p/>
J23 183 <p_>It is evident from the three theoretical sketches that there is 
J23 184 a strong inter-dependency between the what and the how of 
J23 185 development. Chomsky is the most notable example here because he 
J23 186 was led to question whether conventional accounts of how 
J23 187 development proceeds could adequately explain the acquisition of 
J23 188 the rules of grammar. Finding a negative answer Chomsky then 
J23 189 proposed a greater role for biological inheritance than was common 
J23 190 in theories of development. We shall return to the issue of 
J23 191 innateness and biological inheritance in due course. For now, it 
J23 192 can be remarked that the basic mechanisms of development postulated 
J23 193 by most, if not all, theories are regarded as the product of 
J23 194 evolution rather than of development. That is to say, the child is 
J23 195 assumed to have an innate ability to make associations, or to 
J23 196 engage in assimilation and accommodation. These mechanisms do not 
J23 197 themselves require a developmental explanation within a theory of 
J23 198 cognitive development.<p/>
J23 199 <p_>How do mechanisms act over time to produce change? In a 
J23 200 behaviourist theory associations are strengthened or weakened over 
J23 201 time as a function of the child's history of reinforcement. In a 
J23 202 Piagetian account of cognitive development the mechanisms of 
J23 203 assimilation and accommodation serve as a filter between cognitive 
J23 204 structures and new information. They act continually over time to 
J23 205 modify existing cognitive structures. For Chomsky the major 
J23 206 mechanism at the child's disposal is hypothesis-testing about the 
J23 207 particular structure that language might have. The hypotheses to be 
J23 208 tested are generated from the child's innate knowledge of the 
J23 209 general rules of language. By continuous hypothesis testing the 
J23 210 child gradually arrives at the correct particular structure of the 
J23 211 language that he or she hears.<p/>
J23 212 <p_>Theories of cognition emphasize the creation and manipulation 
J23 213 of representations of the environment. Cognitive development is, to 
J23 214 a large extent, the development of the ability to create 
J23 215 increasingly complex and sophisticated representations of the 
J23 216 environment. The next two chapters will examine the origins of 
J23 217 mental representations.<p/>
J23 218 <h_><p_>2<p/>
J23 219 <p_>Perpetual Development in Infancy<p/>
J23 220 <p_>Method and Interpretation<p/><h/>
J23 221 <p_>Writing in 1890, William James declared: <quote_>"The baby, 
J23 222 assailed by eyes, ears, nose, skin and entrails at once, feels it 
J23 223 all one great blooming buzzing confusion"<quote/> (p. 488).
J23 224 
J24   1 <#FLOB:J24\><p_>More recent studies have examined the effects of 
J24   2 moderate intensity noise on cognitive vigilance tasks. An example 
J24   3 of this type of task is the Bakan task where single digits are 
J24   4 presented on the screen and subjects have to detect a particular 
J24   5 sequence such as three successive odd digits. Poulton (1977) 
J24   6 suggested that all the detrimental effects of noise could be 
J24   7 explained either by the masking of acoustic cues or, in the case of 
J24   8 cognitive tasks, by the masking of inner speech. The first part of 
J24   9 this view has been strongly opposed (see Broadbent, 1978). The 
J24  10 second part led to an interest in the effects of noise on cognitive 
J24  11 vigilance, for post-experimental reports from subjects having 
J24  12 completed the Bakan task clearly suggest that they say the digits 
J24  13 to themselves. If noise masks internal speech such tasks should be 
J24  14 impaired and this issue was examined by Jones, Smith & Broadbent 
J24  15 (1979). They carried out four experiments using slightly different 
J24  16 versions of the Bakan task. In each case there was evidence of a 
J24  17 detrimental effect of noise, although the exact nature of the noise 
J24  18 effect depended on specific features of the task. This, and the 
J24  19 finding that the noise had no differential effect on digits which 
J24  20 were rehearsed together and those which were rehearsed separately, 
J24  21 argues against noise producing effects solely by interfering with 
J24  22 subvocal articulation.<p/>
J24  23 <p_>These results do, however, show that vigilance tasks involving 
J24  24 memory are susceptible to noise below 95 dB, which is consistent 
J24  25 with results obtained by Benignus, Otto & Knelson (1975). This 
J24  26 finding has also been confirmed in subsequent studies by Miles, 
J24  27 Auburn & Jones (1984) and Smith (1988<tf|>a). The importance of the 
J24  28 nature of the tasks will be discussed again in a later section, 
J24  29 after results from other attention paradigms have been 
J24  30 summarized.<p/>
J24  31 <h_><p_>Noise and the five-choice serial reaction time task<p/><h/>
J24  32 <p_>Another task which has been widely used to study the effects of 
J24  33 noise is the five<?_>-<?/>choice serial reaction time task. 
J24  34 Broadbent (1979) has reviewed the effects of very loud noise on 
J24  35 this task and concluded that noise increases momentary 
J24  36 inefficiency, in that there are more errors and gaps (occasional 
J24  37 very long reaction times) than in quiet. Again, this increased 
J24  38 momentary inefficiency depended on the noise being over 95 dB and 
J24  39 the subject being in the noise for at least half an hour.<p/>
J24  40 <p_>Recent research has shown that a long exposure of moderate 
J24  41 intensity noise can produce comparable results to the older studies 
J24  42 using levels over 95 dB. For example, Smith & Miles (1985) asked 
J24  43 subjects to carry out a serial choice reaction time task when they 
J24  44 had been in 75 dB noise for two hours and when they had been in the 
J24  45 noise for five hours. The results showed that when subjects had 
J24  46 been in the noise for five hours there was an increase in the 
J24  47 number of errors.<p/>
J24  48 <p_>Poulton (1977) has tried to explain the effects of noise on the 
J24  49 five-choice serial reaction time task in terms of masking. The 
J24  50 explanation of the early results has been opposed by Broadbent 
J24  51 (1978), and recent data also argue against it. For example, Jones 
J24  52 (1983) was able to confirm the effect of noise on errors and show 
J24  53 that this was still apparent after the noise had been switched off. 
J24  54 It is clear that something other than the masking of acoustic cues 
J24  55 was responsible for this effect of noise on the accuracy of 
J24  56 performing the task. Smith (1985) and Smith (1986<tf|>b) changed 
J24  57 the nature of the serial reaction time task and examined the 
J24  58 effects of noise on a biased probability task and a version where 
J24  59 the stimulus-response arrangement was incompatible. The results 
J24  60 showed that the effects of noise depended on the task parameters, 
J24  61 with noise slowing responses to stimuli which were presented less 
J24  62 frequently, but reducing reaction times to those with a high 
J24  63 probability of occurrence. Incompatible responses were found to be 
J24  64 slower in noise and it is difficult to explain this result, or the 
J24  65 previous one, in terms of masking of acoustic cues.<p/>
J24  66 <h_><p_>Noise and selectivity in attention<p/><h/>
J24  67 <p_>In multiple tasks or tasks with several subcomponents, noise 
J24  68 often leads to increased concentration upon the dominant or high 
J24  69 probability component at the expense of other features. For 
J24  70 example, Hockey (1970) showed that noise improved performance on a 
J24  71 central tracking task but led to slower reactions to those lights 
J24  72 which had a lower probability of occurrence.<p/>
J24  73 <p_>Broadbent (1971) cites several lines of evidence to support the 
J24  74 view that noise influences selectivity in memory and attention. For 
J24  75 example, studies of the effects of noise on the Stroop task have 
J24  76 shown that noise may reduce the amount of interference from 
J24  77 irrelevant colour names (e.g. Houston & Jones, 1967). Hockey & 
J24  78 Hamilton (1970) have also demonstrated that noise aids intentional 
J24  79 recall but impairs incidental recall, and Smith (1982) has 
J24  80 replicated this effect using priority instructions rather than the 
J24  81 intentional/incidental manipulation.<p/>
J24  82 <p_>Unfortunately, other studies have failed to replicate the 
J24  83 effects of noise on selectivity in memory and attention. For 
J24  84 example, Forster & Grierson (1978) and Loeb & Jones (1978) were 
J24  85 unable to replicate the results of Hockey (1970), although it 
J24  86 should be noted that they used tasks with a different level of 
J24  87 difficulty from the original study. Similarly, Smith (1982) 
J24  88 demonstrated that the effects of task priority are easily modified, 
J24  89 which in turn changes the effects of noise. Indeed, Smith (1982) 
J24  90 suggested that Broadbent's (1971) view needs modifying and that 
J24  91 noise biases the allocation of effort towards the operation which 
J24  92 appears best to repay the investment of effort. This may take the 
J24  93 form of a bias towards the high priority task but it is also going 
J24  94 to depend on other factors such as the difficulty of each part of 
J24  95 the task, the subject's prior experience and the salience of the 
J24  96 stimuli. This suggests that most theories which argue that 
J24  97 performance is shifted by noise in an invariant or mechanical 
J24  98 fashion are going to be inadequate, and that it may be more 
J24  99 profitable to consider the strategies of performance in noise.<p/>
J24 100 <h_><p_>Strategies of performance in noise<p/><h/>
J24 101 <p_>Smith (1983) has reviewed evidence which demonstrates that, 
J24 102 when subjects carry out a task which can be performed in different 
J24 103 ways, noise may lead to the adoption of certain strategies in 
J24 104 preference of others. If task parameters are changed then the 
J24 105 method of doing the task often changes, and this plausibly explains 
J24 106 why noise effects vary when different versions of a task are used. 
J24 107 It is also known that choice of an appropriate strategy can 
J24 108 eliminate the detrimental effects of noise. Pollock & Bartlett 
J24 109 (1932) carried out an experiment in which subjects were given 
J24 110 groups of letters and told to form as many words as possible from 
J24 111 these letters. At first the subjects were impaired by noise but 
J24 112 later they were able to perform as well as in the quiet condition. 
J24 113 The subjects reported that as time went on they discovered rules 
J24 114 and mechanical techniques of solving these problems, and once they 
J24 115 had developed these strategies the noise ceased to have an 
J24 116 effect.<p/>
J24 117 <p_>In many tasks it is obvious that one strategy should be used in 
J24 118 preference to others. This may be because of instructions, previous 
J24 119 experience, or some other feature of the task. Studies by Smith 
J24 120 (1982) and Wilding, Mohindra & Breen-Lewis (1982) have shown that 
J24 121 noise often reinforces the use of the dominant strategy.<p/>
J24 122 <p_>Smith (1988<tf|>a, 1990<tf|>a, <tf|>b) has examined resource 
J24 123 allocation in noise by studying dual task performance. The 
J24 124 difficulty of each task was varied, the probability of having to do 
J24 125 the tasks was manipulated, and in other conditions one of the tasks 
J24 126 had a higher priority than the other. The effect of noise depended 
J24 127 on the nature of the task, in that monitoring tasks involving 
J24 128 active strategies were impaired by noise whereas tasks performed 
J24 129 passively were unimpaired. Changing task parameters only influenced 
J24 130 the noise effect if the two tasks competed for common resources. It 
J24 131 was also important whether task parameters were constant or changed 
J24 132 rapidly. This last point is described in more detail in the 
J24 133 following section on noise and flexibility of changing strategy.<p/>
J24 134 <p_>There is evidence that noise may influence the efficiency of 
J24 135 the control processes which monitor and alter performance. For 
J24 136 example, Rabbitt (1979) has suggested that the effects of noise on 
J24 137 the five-choice serial reaction time task (an increase in errors 
J24 138 and/or gaps) can be explained in terms of noise producing 
J24 139 inefficient control of the speed-error trade-off function. The 
J24 140 effects of noise on control processes may be of short duration and 
J24 141 reflect initial coping with the task. However, other effects may 
J24 142 continue even when the noise is switched off (see Cohen, 1980, for 
J24 143 a review of the after-effects of noise) and may still be apparent 
J24 144 when the subject is transferred to the quiet condition (see 
J24 145 Poulton, 1982, for an account of asymmetric transfer).<p/>
J24 146 <p_>Poulton (1982) considers asymmetric transfer to represent the 
J24 147 transfer of the strategy used in one condition to another 
J24 148 condition. Dornic & Fernaeus (1982) have shown that subjects in 
J24 149 noise are less able to switch between strategies. Smith 
J24 150 (1990<tf|>a) asked subjects to carry out a dual task involving a 
J24 151 running memory task and a proportion perception task. The 
J24 152 difficulty, probability and priority of the tasks changed 
J24 153 frequently and noise produced a general impairment of the running 
J24 154 memory task. Overall, these results suggest that subjects in noise 
J24 155 are rather inflexible and unable to deal efficiently with changing 
J24 156 task demands.<p/>
J24 157 <p_>Another area which is relevant to the present discussion is the 
J24 158 effects of noise on response criteria. Broadbent & Gregory (1963, 
J24 159 1965) found that very loud noise (over 90 dB) produced more 
J24 160 confident assertions or denials in the second half of a vigilance 
J24 161 task, but reduced the number of reports of intermediate confidence. 
J24 162 Jones, Thomas & Harding (1982) examined the effects of noise on 
J24 163 recognition memory for prose items. They used a signal detection 
J24 164 analysis and showed that noise decreased values of beta for rare 
J24 165 names and increase beta for common names. Smith (1989<tf|>b) also 
J24 166 found that noise influenced the use of response categories, 
J24 167 although, again, the nature of the noise effect was easily modified 
J24 168 by changing task parameters.<p/>
J24 169 <p_>Many of the studies of strategies of performance and noise have 
J24 170 been carried out with verbal memory tasks, because they offer a 
J24 171 variety of strategies, and shifts of dominance or preference can be 
J24 172 easily effected. An alternative approach is to develop tasks where 
J24 173 certain strategies are clearly used and examine whether noise 
J24 174 influences the efficiency of the different types of processing. 
J24 175 This technique was adopted here to investigate whether noise has 
J24 176 selective effects on different aspects of attention. The following 
J24 177 section gives a brief rationale for the choice of tasks in this 
J24 178 study of attention.<p/>
J24 179 <h_><p_>Dimensions of attention<p/><h/>
J24 180 <p_>Many of the details of the mechanisms of selective attention 
J24 181 are controversial (see Broadbent, 1982). However, two main types of 
J24 182 task have been used to study selective attention (see Kahneman & 
J24 183 Treisman, 1984), the first involving focused attention or 
J24 184 'filtering', and the second categoric search or 'pigeonholing'. The 
J24 185 first type of task involves selecting on the basis of some 
J24 186 characteristic simple feature such as location in space. The other 
J24 187 type requires the person to select a member of a category of 
J24 188 events. If one is trying to measure the efficiency of attention it 
J24 189 is clearly important which kind of task one uses. Indeed, 
J24 190 Broadbent, Broadbent & Jones (1989) have shown that the two 
J24 191 paradigms respond differently to changes in state (in their 
J24 192 experiment this was examined by comparing performance at different 
J24 193 times of day) and the main aim of the present study was to examine 
J24 194 the effects of noise on these different aspects of attention.<p/>
J24 195 <p_>The experiment reported here obtained a number of measures of 
J24 196 attention, the principal one being the difference between a 
J24 197 filtering and search paradigm. The filtering paradigm was based on 
J24 198 the method of Eriksen & Eriksen (1974). They required subjects to 
J24 199 perform a choice reaction time task to visual letters in a known 
J24 200 location. If distracting non-target letters were also presented, 
J24 201 the latency of the response to the target was increased. This 
J24 202 effect was greatest if the distractors were close to the target, 
J24 203 and this result has given rise to the analogy with a zoom lens or 
J24 204 spotlight (Broadbent, 1982).
J24 205 
J25   1 <#FLOB:J25\>The latter is particularly important as a number of 
J25   2 studies (including that of Oborne & Holton) appear to overestimate 
J25   3 the sensitivity of global measures such as reading comprehension or 
J25   4 measures of speed based on sentences or even whole texts. On 
J25   5 balance, the evidence points to a genuine disadvantage in 
J25   6 processing text on a VDU, particularly when task demands are high 
J25   7 (Wright & Lickorish, 1983; Zwahlen, Hartman, Ranjarajula, & 
J25   8 Escontrela, 1985). However, there is no generally accepted 
J25   9 explanation of the effects. Visual discomfort and headache appear 
J25  10 to be a consequence of staring at a flickering striped surface 
J25  11 (Wilkins, 1985a). Changes in reading speed must obviously relate in 
J25  12 some way to the distribution of eye movements over the screen or 
J25  13 page, involving, for example, changes in the frequency and/or 
J25  14 duration of fixations and the extent of saccades. However, these 
J25  15 variables have not previously been systematically examined using a 
J25  16 task approaching normal reading.<p/>
J25  17 <p_>An important observation regarding the effects of flicker on 
J25  18 eye movement control was made by Wilkins (1985b). He examined eye 
J25  19 movements as subjects made repeated saccades between two letters 
J25  20 embedded in a piece of text. The display was illuminated at 50 Hz 
J25  21 or 100 Hz. The results showed reliably longer saccades at 50 Hz 
J25  22 than at 100 Hz, the size of the effect being about one character 
J25  23 position. A further, similar experiment contrasted 100-Hz with 
J25  24 20-KHz flicker, and again saccades were longer at the lower rate - 
J25  25 although the effect was only reliable when the target letters were 
J25  26 wide apart. Wilkins is tempted to interpret this finding as 
J25  27 indicating an increase in saccade length in flicker, but it is 
J25  28 important to note that <tf|>absolute accuracy differed in the two 
J25  29 conditions. At 50 Hz saccades overshot the target slightly, and at 
J25  30 100 Hz slightly undershot it. Without a baseline condition of 
J25  31 steady illumination it is not possible to interpret the results in 
J25  32 terms of a flicker<?_>-<?/>induced extension of saccade length. 
J25  33 Further, since Wilkins employed an external event (a tone) as a 
J25  34 signal for a saccade to take place, the possibility arises that the 
J25  35 obtained inaccuracy could relate to an increased proportion of 
J25  36 prematurely triggered saccades (this is discussed in greater detail 
J25  37 below).<p/>
J25  38 <p_>There are, in fact, two sources of evidence converging on the 
J25  39 prediction that interfering transient events, of the kind that may 
J25  40 arise in flicker, may disturb eye movement control. First, a study 
J25  41 by Becker, Kieffer, and Jurgens (1987) showed that both auditory 
J25  42 and visual signals delivered <tf|>after the onset of a saccade may 
J25  43 modify its extent and velocity. The effect of the transient signal 
J25  44 varied somewhat between subjects but led overall to a change in the 
J25  45 final target location, shortening the saccade's length. Similarly, 
J25  46 Neary and Wilkins (1989) showed that when saccades are made between 
J25  47 two points on a raster display with a short-persistence 
J25  48 <}_><-|>phospor<+|>phosphor<}/>, transient 'ghost images' may be 
J25  49 seen in the vicinity of the target point. When lines rather than 
J25  50 points are used, the fixated target may appear to tilt momentarily 
J25  51 as a result of the top-to-bottom scan of the raster display. 
J25  52 Clearly, these data also show that brief stimulation during a 
J25  53 saccade can interfere with the normal suppression processes. The 
J25  54 second line of evidence derives from the possibility that saccades 
J25  55 may be <tf|>triggered by transient external events that are 
J25  56 independent of the process of saccade computation itself. We assume 
J25  57 that when such external triggers occur, saccades are launched 
J25  58 towards their destination on the basis of the current (incomplete) 
J25  59 state of the on-going computation (O'Regan, 1989). For each 
J25  60 saccade, target location is continually updated on the basis of 
J25  61 available visual information. This becomes more refined with time 
J25  62 and is modulated by attentional processes (Deubel, Wolf, & Hauske, 
J25  63 1984). Thus, high spatial frequency information becomes available 
J25  64 later than low-frequency information. A 'premature' trigger will 
J25  65 result in a saccade launched effectively to the available centre of 
J25  66 gravity of the target region as a whole (Findlay, 1981, 1982). In 
J25  67 principle, such an effect may result in either undershoot or 
J25  68 overshoot, depending on the particular visual configuration (see 
J25  69 O'Regan, 1989, for an interesting discussion of this point), but it 
J25  70 is important to note that in normal reading, for the majority of 
J25  71 cases, <tf|>large saccades over the page or screen surface are 
J25  72 likely to be directed towards a boundary, in which case the 'centre 
J25  73 of gravity' effect will lead to a preponderance of undershoots.<p/>
J25  74 <p_>It is possible that both mechanisms operate while a person is 
J25  75 reading flickering text. By definition, saccades interrupted in 
J25  76 flight will be of reduced extent. Similarly, but for a quite 
J25  77 different reason, large saccades prematurely triggered will tend to 
J25  78 land short. On the other hand, if the effects of premature 
J25  79 triggering on saccades of normal extent is to increase the 
J25  80 frequency of both under- and over-shoot, the overall result will be 
J25  81 a change in the <tf|>variability in landing position. To this will 
J25  82 be added the possible effect of interference during a saccade, 
J25  83 although this may be more likely to affect those saccades directed 
J25  84 to remote targets, which will be longer in duration. The key 
J25  85 question is whether an increase in the number of mislocated 
J25  86 saccades produced in this way has important consequences for the 
J25  87 reader? The results from a number of recent eye movement studies 
J25  88 suggest a positive answer.<p/>
J25  89 <p_>It is now well established that the eye movement control system 
J25  90 is relatively intolerant of deviations from what is variously 
J25  91 termed the 'convenient' or 'preferred' viewing position for a given 
J25  92 word (O'Regan & Levy-Schoen, 1987; Rayner, 1979). Under laboratory 
J25  93 conditions, involving the inspection of words in isolation, the 
J25  94 'convenient viewing position' for the majority of words of average 
J25  95 length lies slightly to the left of the centre. The penalty for 
J25  96 landing outside this point is approximately 20 msec per letter. 
J25  97 However, this figure is a statistical average, primarily resulting 
J25  98 from increases in the probability of making additional corrective 
J25  99 saccades when the eye falls outside the convenient viewing 
J25 100 position. The degree to which these effects are found in normal 
J25 101 reading has recently been examined by McConkie, Kerr, Reddix and 
J25 102 Zola (1988). The 'preferred viewing position' (i.e. where the eye 
J25 103 actually falls, as distinct from what may be the best place for it 
J25 104 to be) shows a similar curvilinear relationship with letter 
J25 105 position, although the curve is much flatter (see also Vitu & 
J25 106 O'Regan, 1989). When account is taken of the 'launch site' (the 
J25 107 distance from the target word) from which a saccade is made, the 
J25 108 probability of landing on a particular letter, for words of all 
J25 109 lengths, is a roughly normal function about the word centre. 
J25 110 McConkie et al. (1988) identify a number of visual and oculomotor 
J25 111 processes that might underlie the obtained variability in landing 
J25 112 position, but for present purposes it is only necessary to note (a) 
J25 113 that a 'preferred viewing position' (i.e. the word centre) exists 
J25 114 for normal reading; and (b) that an increase in variability about 
J25 115 this position or a systematic shift away from it will change the 
J25 116 probability of additional corrective saccades (McConkie, Kerr, 
J25 117 Reddix, Zola, & Jacobs, 1989).<p/>
J25 118 <p_>In previous work we have shown that one class of eye movements 
J25 119 distinguishes a successful reading style. This involves the use of 
J25 120 large saccades (e.g. spanning more than 40 character positions) to 
J25 121 reinspect selected parts of previously read text. The reader can, 
J25 122 by this means, locate antecedents of anaphoric expressions (Murray 
J25 123 & Kennedy, 1988); deal with local syntactic ambiguity (Kennedy & 
J25 124 Murray, 1984; Kennedy, Murray, Jennings, & Reid, 1989); or 
J25 125 reanalyse an initially incorrect semantic reading (Pynte, Kennedy, 
J25 126 Murray, & Courrieu, 1988). Since the targets of such reinspections 
J25 127 are remote, their control cannot be based on physical 
J25 128 identification of the target: it must, rather, depend on the reader 
J25 129 maintaining a form of <tf|>spatially coded information (Kennedy, 
J25 130 1987). Obviously, if flicker acts to perturb saccade control, this 
J25 131 class of saccades provides an ideal litmus test of its effect since 
J25 132 the saccades in question are large, increasing the probability of 
J25 133 disturbance; they have a distinct role to play in the reader's 
J25 134 process of comprehension; and their use effectively characterizes 
J25 135 an efficient reading style.<p/>
J25 136 <p_>The experiment reported here examined the effects of flicker on 
J25 137 landing position and on a number of other eye movement measures 
J25 138 under experimental conditions that called for the execution of a 
J25 139 number of large reinspecting saccades. Following Wilkins, two 
J25 140 flicker frequencies were used (50 Hz and 100 Hz), but in the 
J25 141 present study a control condition was introduced using steady 
J25 142 illumination. Two populations were studied - a group of typists who 
J25 143 reported relatively severe symptoms of headache and visual fatigue 
J25 144 associated with using word-processors; and a group of students with 
J25 145 little experience of VDUs. The procedure employed was based on that 
J25 146 of Kennedy and Murray (1987). Subjects read a sentence displayed on 
J25 147 a single horizontal line, and this was then followed by the 
J25 148 presentation of a stimulus word to the right of the sentence on the 
J25 149 same line. The subject's task was to indicate whether or not the 
J25 150 word was present in the displayed sentence. This task produces a 
J25 151 relatively high number of large saccades, involving both 
J25 152 reinspections of the target word and returns to the stimulus. It is 
J25 153 a situation more closely approximating normal reading than that 
J25 154 used by Wilkins (1985b) in that it encouraged, but did not demand, 
J25 155 that specific reinspections took place. The task is thus a good 
J25 156 analogue of some aspects of normal reading since when subjects do 
J25 157 reinspect, it is to a <tf|>variable target position that is not 
J25 158 pre-defined (i.e. not involving a visual search) and yet is 
J25 159 specifiable for each item.<p/>
J25 160 <p_>Four hypotheses were tested: (1) that flicker will act to alter 
J25 161 the distribution of landing positions within the word in the 'first 
J25 162 pass' (i.e. in the phase of the experimental procedure before 
J25 163 presentation of the stimulus word); (2) that flicker will act to 
J25 164 alter the accuracy of large saccades directed towards a remote 
J25 165 target, causing an increased proportion to fall short; (3) that the 
J25 166 effects of an increased probability of mislocated saccades will be 
J25 167 an increase in the number of small 'corrective' eye movements; (4) 
J25 168 that the disruptive effects of flicker will be greater in a sample 
J25 169 of typists reporting symptoms of visual discomfort. The first three 
J25 170 hypotheses arise naturally from the earlier discussion. The fourth 
J25 171 requires some additional justification. Whether or not an increase 
J25 172 in the proportion of mislocated saccades seriously disrupts the 
J25 173 reader may relate to both subject and task demands. There is 
J25 174 evidence that professional typists adopt specific reading 
J25 175 strategies to optimize performance of a complex motor skill 
J25 176 (Shaffer, 1975). Typists pay more attention to local orthographic 
J25 177 features of the text and exhibit an 'eye<?_>-<?/>hand' span that is 
J25 178 much shorter than the normal eye-voice span (Butsch, 1932). Average 
J25 179 fixation duration during transcription typing is much longer than 
J25 180 normal, and average saccade extent is much shorter (Inhoff, Morris, 
J25 181 & Calabrese, 1986). We hypothesize that these habits will carry 
J25 182 over to unconstrained reading - in which case, small deviations 
J25 183 from intended eye position will be particularly disruptive for this 
J25 184 group of subjects. The choice of an appropriate comparison groups 
J25 185 is, however, problematic. Completely asymptomatic typists were 
J25 186 extremely rare in the population sampled. In any case, it is not 
J25 187 clear that such a group would comprise and effective control if, as 
J25 188 both Shaffer and Inhoff et al. suggest, typists, in general, 
J25 189 exhibit a characteristic reading style. In the present study, 
J25 190 therefore, comparisons were drawn between a group of typists and a 
J25 191 group of normal readers (students). The latter group permits direct 
J25 192 comparisons to be made between performance on the task employed in 
J25 193 the present study and the extensive literature on eye movement 
J25 194 control, which has almost exclusively made use of this population 
J25 195 of subjects. Analysis of the results will focus on differences in 
J25 196 reading strategy between the two groups and on the effects of 
J25 197 flicker for each group.<p/>
J25 198 <h|>Method
J25 199 <p_><tf_>Materials and Design.<tf/> A set of 60 items was 
J25 200 constructed, 30 of the form shown in (1), where the stimulus word 
J25 201 had occurred in the sentence, and 30 like (2), where the sentence 
J25 202 contained a close synonym of the target.<p/>
J25 203 <p_>1. The novels in the library had started to go mouldy with the 
J25 204 damp. novels<p/>
J25 205 
J26   1 <#FLOB:J26\>It may be an over-simplification to conceptualize all 
J26   2 the different interests in terms of class struggle, particularly as 
J26   3 some of the interest groups involved and some of the alliances of 
J26   4 interests forged may defy analysis in conventional Marxist terms. 
J26   5 Nevertheless, there are class interests involved even though they 
J26   6 may not always conveniently reduce to one labouring class versus 
J26   7 one capitalist class.<p/>
J26   8 <p_>The transnational capitalist class, fractions of the labour 
J26   9 force, and other support strata that the TNCs have created, will 
J26  10 all increasingly identify their own interests with those of the 
J26  11 capitalist global system and, if necessary, against the interests 
J26  12 of their 'own' societies as the transnational practices of the 
J26  13 system penetrate ever deeper into the areas that most heavily 
J26  14 impact on their daily lives. The specific function of the agents of 
J26  15 transnational political practices is to create and sustain the 
J26  16 organizational forms within which this penetration takes place and 
J26  17 to connect them organically with those domestic practices that can 
J26  18 be incorporated and mobilized in the interests of the global 
J26  19 capitalist system. In order to do this the transnational capitalist 
J26  20 class must promote, outside the First World heartlands of 
J26  21 capitalism, a 'comprador' mentality throughout society.<p/>
J26  22 <h_><p_>'Comprador' mentality<p/><h/>
J26  23 <p_>A comprador mentality is the attitude that the best practices 
J26  24 are invariably connected with the global capitalist system. 
J26  25 Comprador mentality is either a 'cost' or a 'benefit' and whichever 
J26  26 way we look at it we are bound to beg a very important question. 
J26  27 This is the point at issue in the ideological struggle between 
J26  28 those who believe that TNCs will inevitably damage Third World 
J26  29 development prospects in the long run, as against those who believe 
J26  30 that there will be no development prospects without the TNCs. This 
J26  31 struggle revolves around opposing material interests of competing 
J26  32 classes and groups in all countries.<p/>
J26  33 <p_>There are those who see the destiny of the Third World as bound 
J26  34 up with the adoption of all that is 'modern', often embodied in the 
J26  35 products and practices of the TNCs. On the other hand, there are 
J26  36 those who are deeply suspicious of the modernization represented by 
J26  37 the TNCs, particularly where this is perceived as Western or US 
J26  38 dominance in culture, industry, warfare, science and technology. 
J26  39 This is a field riddled with dilemmas. Modern warfare and the 
J26  40 modern economy, for example, require increasingly higher levels of 
J26  41 technology and this cannot be avoided if any state wishes to 
J26  42 participate, or if threatened, survive in the contemporary 
J26  43 world.<p/>
J26  44 <p_>A battery of concepts, some of which have migrated from social 
J26  45 science jargon to the mass media, identify those on either side of 
J26  46 the divide. The academically discredited distinction between 
J26  47 <tf|>traditional and <tf|>modern is now common currency, while the 
J26  48 notions of <tf|>inward-oriented and <tf|>outward-oriented describe 
J26  49 those who look for guidance and sustenance to the resources of 
J26  50 their own groups as opposed to those who look outside, usually to 
J26  51 the West. Much the same idea is expressed by the distinction 
J26  52 between <tf|>local and <tf|>cosmopolitan orientation. As it is, 
J26  53 more or less by definition, an extra-First World phenomenon, the 
J26  54 question of the comprador mentality will be resumed in the next 
J26  55 chapter.<p/>
J26  56 <p_>It is difficult to think productively about 'modernization' for 
J26  57 many reasons, not least the problem of what is <tf|>appropriate in 
J26  58 the adoption of innovation. The proper approach to development 
J26  59 lies, no doubt, somewhere between a slavish attachment to all 
J26  60 things foreign and an atavistic distaste for any type of change. An 
J26  61 illustration of how appropriate choices for the different groups 
J26  62 and classes in the capitalist global system can and do change is 
J26  63 provided by the analysis of counter movements to the global 
J26  64 capitalist project. These are movements that aim to undermine the 
J26  65 power of the TNCs, and the transnational capitalist class, and to 
J26  66 force people to think critically about the ways in which the system 
J26  67 as a whole promotes the culture-ideology of consumerism.<p/>
J26  68 <h_><p_>Counter movements<p/><h/>
J26  69 <p_>Although the agents of global capitalism are firmly in control 
J26  70 and the TNCs are clearly the dominant institutional force, there 
J26  71 are, as we approach the millennium, two counter movements that 
J26  72 could represent real threats to the global capitalist system. The 
J26  73 first, rich country protectionism, comes from within global 
J26  74 capitalism, but in the form of national as opposed to systemic 
J26  75 interests. The second, the Green movement, is a very widely based 
J26  76 and variegated collection of individuals and groups that includes 
J26  77 those on the fringes of the global capitalist system as well as 
J26  78 some who are fundamentally opposed to it, mainly from the 
J26  79 libertarian left but also from the authoritarian right.<p/>
J26  80 <h|>Protectionism
J26  81 <p_>Protectionism is, of course, not a new phenomenon. Indeed, the 
J26  82 most potent argument against it may be that we know only too well 
J26  83 how protectionism contributed to the great depression of the 1930s. 
J26  84 Nevertheless, as the World Bank and other august proponents of the 
J26  85 perpetual increase of global trade never tired of reminding us 
J26  86 throughout the 1980s, many First World countries began to step up 
J26  87 protectionist measures in that decade. The free entry of goods 
J26  88 (particularly consumer goods) from abroad has never been a feature 
J26  89 of global trade. Restrictive measures have been directed at Third 
J26  90 World manufacturers whose electronic and electrical products, 
J26  91 garments, shoes, toys, sporting and household goods were said to be 
J26  92 unfairly flooding vulnerable First World markets. The interesting 
J26  93 twist to this issue is that it was Japan, clearly now a First World 
J26  94 country, and in the opinion of many now the most dynamic economic 
J26  95 power, that was often identified in the United States and in 
J26  96 Europe, as the worst offender, with the four East Asian NICs not 
J26  97 far behind.<p/>
J26  98 <p_>The tendency to protectionism is increased by the belief that a 
J26  99 substantial part of TNC manufacturing industry is 'footloose'. 
J26 100 Transnational corporation production tends to be globally 
J26 101 integrated into vertically organized production processes. Offshore 
J26 102 plants tend to be financially controlled from abroad, they tend to 
J26 103 be rented rather than owned, and their managers tend to have 
J26 104 cosmopolitan rather than local perspectives. All of these factors 
J26 105 weaken the ties that such businesses have with the communities in 
J26 106 which they are located and make it less difficult for them to close 
J26 107 down and/or relocate if and when business conditions deteriorate in 
J26 108 one country relative to other countries. This happens in the First 
J26 109 World as well as in the Third World. For example, Hood and Young 
J26 110 (1982) document the closure of several old established US firms in 
J26 111 Scotland to seek cheaper production sites elsewhere. The mobility 
J26 112 of the TNCs, the job losses that usually follow, and the 
J26 113 identification of 'cheap imports' with goods previously produced at 
J26 114 home, increase protectionist pressures among labour and small 
J26 115 domestic capitalists alike.<p/>
J26 116 <p_>While protectionism as a transnational political force appears 
J26 117 to have little likelihood of success in the foreseeable future, the 
J26 118 threat of it is ever present as a reminder that the orderly 
J26 119 progress of global trade in the interests of the TNCs has to be 
J26 120 maintained and those who transgress will be punished. This works 
J26 121 both ways. First World markets are open to Third and Second World 
J26 122 goods only as long as their markets are also open to First World 
J26 123 goods and, increasingly, services.<p/>
J26 124 <p_>Protectionaism is not a serious counter movement to global 
J26 125 capitalism because if it was successful it could do great damage to 
J26 126 the system and, ultimately, destroy it. All parties realize this, 
J26 127 and so protectionism acts as a bargaining counter for the rich, and 
J26 128 a bluff for the poor, and mainly comes to life in its use as a 
J26 129 rhetorical device to satisfy domestic constituencies. For example, 
J26 130 desperate politicians tend to fall back on it to appease working 
J26 131 class voters in the United States and the United Kingdom. The Green 
J26 132 movement is much more serious, actually and potentially.<p/>
J26 133 <h_><p_>The Green movement<p/><h/>
J26 134 <p_>With the sole exception of the global communist movement, the 
J26 135 Green or environmentalist movement presents the greatest 
J26 136 contemporary challenge to the global capitalist system. This is 
J26 137 paradoxically confirmed by the fact that both capitalist and 
J26 138 socialist economists, politicians and ideologues are increasingly 
J26 139 trying to jump on to the Green bandwaggon and to appropriate its 
J26 140 policies for themselves. This is not surprising, because although 
J26 141 capitalists and socialists are usually reluctant to spell out their 
J26 142 plans of global domination, Green politics are largely based on a 
J26 143 straight<?_>-<?/>forward conception of planet earth and what needs 
J26 144 to <}_><-|>de<+|>be<}/> done at the global level to sustain human 
J26 145 life on it.<p/>
J26 146 <p_>The key threat that Green politics poses to the capitalist 
J26 147 global system is in the matter of the consumption of non-renewable 
J26 148 resources. While Green politics are based on the belief that the 
J26 149 resources of the planet are finite and have to be carefully tended, 
J26 150 global capitalist politics are based on the belief that the 
J26 151 resources of the planet are virtually infinite, due to the 
J26 152 scientific and technological ingenuity released by the capitalist 
J26 153 system that will ensure unlimited replacement or substitution of 
J26 154 resources as they are used up.<p/>
J26 155 <p_>Green politics are closely connected with the emergence of a 
J26 156 critical consumer movement. The idea of <tf|>consumerism has 
J26 157 experienced an important dialectical inversion in recent years. It 
J26 158 is commonly used in two senses. In this book I use it to denote an 
J26 159 uncritical obsession with consumption. It is, however, also 
J26 160 commonly used in an opposite sense, as in the consumer movement's 
J26 161 version of consumerism, to denote suspicion of consumer goods, a 
J26 162 wish to know more about how they are produced and who produces 
J26 163 them. This version of consumerism can lead to a radical critique of 
J26 164 consumption. To minimize confusion, I shall use <tf|>consumerism 
J26 165 where I mean the first, and the <tf_>consumer movement<tf/> to 
J26 166 denote the second.<p/>
J26 167 <p_>Kaynak (1985, p.15) defines the consumer movement <quote_>"as a 
J26 168 movement seeking to increase the rights and powers of buyers in 
J26 169 relation to sellers"<quote/> and presents a useful historical 
J26 170 account from the first cooperative society, founded in Scotland in 
J26 171 1769, to the present. He connects the rise of consumer movements in 
J26 172 different countries with the position of the country in the world 
J26 173 market, but from a marketing rather than a political economy point 
J26 174 of view. His discussion of consumer movements in the Third World, 
J26 175 however, does confuse the two meanings of consumerism. Food riots 
J26 176 in North Africa, he writes, <quote_>"are examples of what LDC 
J26 177 consumers are concerned with - the right to consume"<quote/> 
J26 178 (p.20). But this misses the real distinction between diametrically 
J26 179 opposed beliefs based on entirely different conceptions of the 
J26 180 satisfaction of human needs. Thus, it is to the culture-ideology of 
J26 181 consumerism, and how it is broadcast in the global capitalist 
J26 182 system through a variety of transnational practices, that we must 
J26 183 now turn.<p/>
J26 184 <h_><p_>Cultural-ideological transnational practices<p/><h/>
J26 185 <p_>There are many who argue that the key to hegemonic control in 
J26 186 any societal system lies not in the economic nor in the political 
J26 187 sphere, but in the realm of culture and ideology. Those for whom 
J26 188 this idea is a novelty may be surprised to learn that is was the 
J26 189 writings and political practice of a Marxist, and a communist 
J26 190 militant at that, which were largely responsible for the present 
J26 191 currency of this view among radical thinkers. Antonio Gramsci, who 
J26 192 spent most of his adult life in one of Mussolini's prisons, 
J26 193 elaborated on Marx's insight that the ruling ideas of an epoch are 
J26 194 the ideas of its ruling class, to create a theory of hegemony and a 
J26 195 theory of classes of intellectuals whose function it is in any 
J26 196 literate society to propagate or to challenge these leading ideas. 
J26 197 Gramsci's <tf_>Prison Notebooks<tf/> represent not only a stirring 
J26 198 monument to the human spirit under adversity, but a significant 
J26 199 turning-point in the history of Marxist ideas and their relevance 
J26 200 for the twentieth century. This is partly because in the sphere of 
J26 201 culture and ideology the material conditions have changed to such 
J26 202 an extent that what Gramsci was arguing about hegemonic processes 
J26 203 in the 1930s has become more, not less, relevant today than it was 
J26 204 then. To put the point graphically, while Marx and his 
J26 205 nineteenth-century comrades would have no great difficulty in 
J26 206 recognizing the economic and the political spheres today, despite 
J26 207 the major changes that have undoubtedly taken place in the last 
J26 208 hundred years, in the cultural-ideological sphere the opportunities 
J26 209 for hegemonic control on a global scale have changed out of all 
J26 210 recognition.<p/>
J26 211 
J27   1 <#FLOB:J27\><h_><p_>THE CLAIMS OF A DOG<p/><h/>
J27   2 <p_>Our environment has many unpleasant features. One is dog 
J27   3 excrement. Piles and pats of it abound, waiting to slip up the 
J27   4 inattentive pedestrian. But what do we do if we see a squatting 
J27   5 dog? We either express haughty contempt, turn away, or blame the 
J27   6 owner. Would any of us kick or punch the dog? Probably not; instead 
J27   7 we are more likely to shout at the person holding the lead. On the 
J27   8 one hand we seem to believe that the dog is not entirely 
J27   9 responsible for its actions, on the other we feel that it should 
J27  10 not be deliberately hurt simply because it is doing what it must. 
J27  11 We are not certain what we should do about the dog that fouls our 
J27  12 front garden, indeed we are not sure we can rightly do anything. 
J27  13 Our treatment of the animal is difficult. Animals present society 
J27  14 with ambiguities; with companionship, food, clothing, fun, but also 
J27  15 with demands for compassion, abstinence and kindness. They disgust 
J27  16 and please us; we can do with them what we will yet pull back with 
J27  17 horror from open cruelty. The dog makes claims upon us, although we 
J27  18 are not entirely sure what those claims are. But they still 
J27  19 profoundly influence our treatment of the animal.<p/>
J27  20 <p_>This book is about those claims and how they affect the way 
J27  21 individuals relate to, and understand, animals. At its broadest, 
J27  22 this book is concerned with the relationship between animals and 
J27  23 society, but mostly it is about the special claims which are made 
J27  24 for animals' rights. This explanation of animal rights will 
J27  25 discover many surprising incidents in the attitude and beliefs of 
J27  26 humans. I will emphasise the situation in Britain - perhaps 
J27  27 <tf|>England is better - and only refer to events in other 
J27  28 countries if they support any case or illustrate it particularly 
J27  29 vividly. This is not because Britain is more respectful of animal 
J27  30 rights than anywhere else (just because we see ourselves as a 
J27  31 nation of 'animal lovers', we should be wary of falling into any 
J27  32 national chauvinism), but simply because Britain is the environment 
J27  33 I know best. I hope that the story told in this book has some 
J27  34 relevance elsewhere. In a sentence, I will explore the social 
J27  35 processes and relationships which lie behind the many assertions 
J27  36 which are made in Britain for the moral relevance of animals, and 
J27  37 show how those relationships influence people's lives.<p/>
J27  38 <p_>Concern for animals has a long history. To give just one 
J27  39 example, when he wrote the great radical Romantic poem <tf_>Queen 
J27  40 Mab<tf/> in about 1812, Shelley bewailed the treatment of animals 
J27  41 by which <quote_>"the bull must be degraded into the ox, and the 
J27  42 ram into the wether"<quote/> (Shelley 1905: 818). Yet he was only 
J27  43 interested in the sufferings of animals because they reflected 
J27  44 <quote_>"manhood blighted with unripe disease"<quote/> (Shelley 
J27  45 1905: 770). He was not concerned with the relevance of animals so 
J27  46 much as with the decay of humanity. The idea of animal rights is 
J27  47 rather different precisely because it does say something tangible 
J27  48 about animals and advocates that individuals should think about how 
J27  49 they treat them. Animal rights does not seem to be as selfish as 
J27  50 Shelley's self<?_>-<?/>serving pity for a castrated ram. The wish 
J27  51 to say something morally irreducible, something real, about animals 
J27  52 and then establish that statement as a guide for human behaviour is 
J27  53 a relatively recent phenomenon. In Britain the concern with 
J27  54 animals' rights has been an especially widespread and lively social 
J27  55 issue since the middle of the 1970s (although, as we will see, the 
J27  56 roots of the idea are to be found in the eighteenth century). The 
J27  57 surge of interest can be attributed to the debates stimulated by 
J27  58 the book <tf_>Animal Liberation<tf/>, written by the Australian 
J27  59 philosopher Peter Singer and first published in Britain in 1976.<p/>
J27  60 <p_>This chapter will give an introductory survey of the three 
J27  61 clearest, most influential, and sustained statements of the claims 
J27  62 of animals: that by Singer and later contributions by Tom Regan and 
J27  63 Stephen Clark. It might seem curious that the whole complex issue 
J27  64 of the relationship between animals and society is so quickly 
J27  65 reduced to just three philosophy books: surely they cannot say 
J27  66 everything that is important? No, they cannot, but between them 
J27  67 Singer, Regan, and Clark do cover virtually all the ground which 
J27  68 must be mapped in order to understand modern moral attitudes 
J27  69 towards animals.<p/>
J27  70 <p_>The argument of <tf_>Animal Liberation<tf/> is powerfully 
J27  71 simple. Singer writes from within the utilitarian tradition of 
J27  72 moral philosophy. Broadly speaking, utilitarianism holds to the 
J27  73 central theme that pleasure is good and pain is bad. As John Stuart 
J27  74 Mill put it, utilitarianism asserts that <quote_>"pleasure and 
J27  75 freedom from pain, are the only things desirable as ends"<quote/> 
J27  76 (Mill 1910: 6). It goes beyond individualistic hedonism. Certainly, 
J27  77 Mill tells us, the individual should follow the path of pleasure 
J27  78 and avoid pain (such a life is morally good), but the individual 
J27  79 lives in a social world and, consequently, should act to promote 
J27  80 global pleasure, or at least defend the preference to avoid pain. 
J27  81 Utilitarianism asks the individual to aggregate the consequences of 
J27  82 his or her actions for the promotion of pleasure and avoidance of 
J27  83 pain, and demands that she or he should morally only follow that 
J27  84 course which causes more pleasure than it does pain. This is a 
J27  85 morality which can be imagined as a pair of scales, and the moral 
J27  86 act is the one which tips the individual and social balance in 
J27  87 favour of pleasure. An act is not moral <tf_>as such<tf/>; rather, 
J27  88 morality is a product of the consequences which the act has on the 
J27  89 balance of pleasure and pain. Utilitarianism is inherently social. 
J27  90 Singer holds to a slightly modified version of Mill's position; for 
J27  91 Singer the moral act is that which takes account of the preference 
J27  92 of all sentient creatures not to experience increases in pain or 
J27  93 suffering.<p/>
J27  94 <p_>Now, utilitarianism can have important things to say about the 
J27  95 social treatment of animals because, if animals are able to 
J27  96 experience pleasure and pain, it is logical to assume that they 
J27  97 prefer not to undergo any increase of suffering, and they should 
J27  98 therefore be included in the calculations which must be made to 
J27  99 deduce the moral consequences of any act. For utilitarians, the 
J27 100 experience of pleasure and pain cannot be ignored simply on the 
J27 101 grounds that the experiencing subject is an animal. Utilitarians 
J27 102 like Singer assert that the preference for pleasure rather than 
J27 103 increased pain demands equal consideration whether the experiencing 
J27 104 subject is the Queen of England or a laboratory rabbit. Peter 
J27 105 Singer calls this the <tf_>principle of equality<tf/> and, 
J27 106 obviously, it is a <tf|>prescription for equal ethical 
J27 107 consideration, and not a <tf|>description of equality. The 
J27 108 principle refers to the equal consideration of interests and 
J27 109 preferences (Singer 1976: 5). All beings that can suffer pain have 
J27 110 an equal interest in avoiding it. Singer has no doubt that this is 
J27 111 the essence of morality:<p/>
J27 112 <p_><quote_>If a being suffers there can be no moral justification 
J27 113 for refusing to take that suffering into consideration. No matter 
J27 114 what the nature of the being, the principle of equality requires 
J27 115 that its suffering be counted equally with the like suffering - in 
J27 116 so far as rough comparisons can be made - of any other being. If a 
J27 117 being is not capable of suffering, or of experiencing enjoyment or 
J27 118 happiness, there is nothing to be taken into account. So the limit 
J27 119 of sentience (using the term as a convenient if not strictly 
J27 120 accurate shorthand for the capacity to suffer and/or experience 
J27 121 enjoyment) is the only defensible boundary of concern for the 
J27 122 interests of others. To mark this boundary by some other 
J27 123 characteristic like intelligence or rationality would be to mark it 
J27 124 in an arbitrary manner. Why not choose some other characteristic, 
J27 125 like skin color?<quote/> (Singer 1976: 9)<p/>
J27 126 <p_>The only morally relevant characteristic is the ability to 
J27 127 suffer and the preference not to, and so according to Singer the 
J27 128 moral terrain is a plateau of morally equal preferences in which 
J27 129 features such as skin colour, sex or species are as morally 
J27 130 important as the differences between green and brown eyes. Indeed, 
J27 131 to subordinate the question of sentience to some secondary feature 
J27 132 is utterly reprehensible, and just as overriding sentience on the 
J27 133 basis of skin colour is morally condemned as racism, or on the 
J27 134 basis of sex as sexism, any qualification of the principle of the 
J27 135 equal consideration of interests on the grounds of species should, 
J27 136 Singer asserts, be rejected as <tf|>speciesism. The word was first 
J27 137 used by Richard Ryder in a critique of the use of live animals in 
J27 138 medical experiments (Ryder 1975) and Peter Singer defines the 
J27 139 <tf|>speciesist as a person who <quote_>"allows the interests of 
J27 140 his own species to override the greater interests of members of 
J27 141 other species"<quote/> (Singer 1976: 9). <tf_>Animal 
J27 142 Liberation<tf/> asserts that the truth of animals is their ability 
J27 143 to suffer on a morally equal basis to ourselves, and they have a 
J27 144 preference in the avoidance of suffering as we likewise do. To 
J27 145 argue the contrary is to give voice to speciesism. Singer intended 
J27 146 his book to be read and adopted as a persuasive repudiation of the 
J27 147 acts of speciesism: the point is not so much that animals have a 
J27 148 right to be treated well, rather it is that if we are to be good 
J27 149 utilitarians, we should not act in any way that violates their 
J27 150 preference not to suffer.<p/>
J27 151 <p_>This is important. Singer does not believe that animals have 
J27 152 rights. No, he is more concerned with the morality (or otherwise) 
J27 153 of the acts of society and individuals. This is why the book is 
J27 154 called <tf_>Animal Liberation<tf/>; Singer argues for moral, 
J27 155 utilitarian acts, not a respect for intrinsic rights. He wants the 
J27 156 acts which will liberate animals from speciesism. Indeed, in 
J27 157 subsequent essays, Singer has often taken pains to distance himself 
J27 158 from any talk of rights: <quote_>"when I talk of rights, I do it 
J27 159 ... as a concession to popular rhetoric (<tf_>Animal 
J27 160 Liberation<tf/> was not written primarily for 
J27 161 philosophers)"<quote/> (Singer 1980a: 327). Singer is more 
J27 162 concerned with acts, a position which has caused him to fall 
J27 163 between two stools. Popularly he has been taken up as a prime 
J27 164 advocate of animal rights (it must be said that <tf_>Animal 
J27 165 Liberation<tf/> is not as explicit as it might have been on why it 
J27 166 rejects talk of rights: Singer was quite prepared to play the 
J27 167 rights card when it leant the case greater strength). Meanwhile, 
J27 168 rights theorists have expressed grave doubts over the applicability 
J27 169 of utilitarian calculations to the relationship between society and 
J27 170 animals. This is especially true of Tom Regan.<p/>
J27 171 <p_>Regan tears out the heart of Singer's thesis. Singer asks that 
J27 172 account be taken of the consequences of an act for the preference 
J27 173 of sentient beings not to suffer, before that act is performed. It 
J27 174 should only be carried out if, on aggregate, it does not increase 
J27 175 the sum of pain amongst morally relevant creatures. For Regan, such 
J27 176 an approach not only betrays a <quote_>"significant conservative 
J27 177 bias"<quote/> because it considerably reinforces existing social 
J27 178 attitudes by making them the yardstick against which all else is 
J27 179 measured (Regan 1984: 138), but, more importantly, the utilitarian 
J27 180 emphasis on aggregates can provide no foundation for the claims of 
J27 181 an individual over the group.<p/>
J27 182 <p_>Singer does not talk about rights; he gives the individual no 
J27 183 priority outside of the global equality of the preference or 
J27 184 interest not to suffer. Tom Regan believes that this position is 
J27 185 quite unsatisfactory. He is right to say that according to the 
J27 186 utilitarian approach to morality:<p/>
J27 187 <p_><quote_>we must choose that option which is most likely to 
J27 188 bring about the best balance of totalled satisfactions over 
J27 189 totalled frustrations. Whatever act could lead to this outcome is 
J27 190 the one we ought morally to perform - it is where our moral duty 
J27 191 lies. And that act clearly might not be the same one that would 
J27 192 bring about the best results for me personally, or for my family or 
J27 193 friends, or for a lab animal. The best aggregated consequences for 
J27 194 everyone concerned are not necessarily the best for each 
J27 195 individual.<quote/> (Regan 1985: 20)<p/>
J27 196 <p_>Think of Raskolnikov in <tf_>Crime and Punishment<tf/>.
J27 197 
J28   1 <#FLOB:J28\>As we have seen, this authority extends beyond the 
J28   2 economic realm to management of the reproductive process itself, 
J28   3 and the business of deciding who may marry when.<p/>
J28   4 <p_>Why do younger Karimojong put up with their subservience to the 
J28   5 elders? (Why do sons everywhere put up with their subservience to 
J28   6 their fathers?) Why do they not rebel and seize power and wealth? 
J28   7 In a sense they do, as time moves on and the pressure to turn over 
J28   8 the generation sets increases. The phase of domestic fission is 
J28   9 therefore very evocative of class conflict, raising as it does 
J28  10 questions about access to productive resources. The elder 
J28  11 generation is concerned to hang on to its authority and privileges, 
J28  12 but passing time, the aging and the death of the elders, whittles 
J28  13 down their numbers and their claims to authority. They certainly do 
J28  14 their best to hang on as long as possible; one ideological tactic 
J28  15 at their disposal is their power to collectively curse juniors who 
J28  16 have displeased them. But pressure builds up inexorably among the 
J28  17 lower ranks for a succession ritual - which only the elders can 
J28  18 sanction. The aging juniors resent their economic and political 
J28  19 subordination to the old brigade, and are likely to be particularly 
J28  20 hostile to their 'poaching' brides from an age cohort which the 
J28  21 juniors consider to be rightfully theirs. If promotion to elderhood 
J28  22 may be thought of as a kind of upward class mobility, the 
J28  23 Karimojong are remarkable in that they synchronize this process 
J28  24 ritually across the entire population. The Red-Yellow opposition 
J28  25 could be thought of as an uneasy intergenerational truce. The 
J28  26 competing interests are the familiar ones of domestic fission, but 
J28  27 here they are given a concerted voice. In most societies the 
J28  28 generations do not have this sort of solidarity, and the youngsters 
J28  29 have to struggle on a more individual basis to make their way in 
J28  30 society. In Karimojong social organization, the intergenerational 
J28  31 tensions which are a dynamic force in all societies become a 
J28  32 coherent central motif in their <tf|>historical understanding of 
J28  33 themselves.<p/>
J28  34 <p_>Our own thinking may not be so very different. But in our 
J28  35 societies each generation, each overlapping cohort of subjective 
J28  36 viewpoints, is left to form its own collective vision of society 
J28  37 and experience of history. It draws on certain generally available, 
J28  38 chronological cues to categorize itself as a generation: the 
J28  39 Depression, Vietnam, etc. There is a moral dimension: each 
J28  40 generation likes to claim that it has virtue on its side, and has 
J28  41 had to face more serious economic and political challenges. This 
J28  42 can go beyond a way of speaking to a way of acting. If we doubt the 
J28  43 political force of generational conflict we should recall the 
J28  44 worl-wide revolutionary fervour of the junior 'underclass' in the 
J28  45 years 1968-72, and the 1989 revolt against the gerontocracy in 
J28  46 China. These movements are so impressive because they translate the 
J28  47 squabbles between parents and children into a much wider arena than 
J28  48 the household, pitching one generation as a mass against the other. 
J28  49 Husbands can feel much the same categorical alienation when their 
J28  50 wives resort to the rhetoric of feminism.<p/>
J28  51 <p_>Periodically, a generation makes itself evident by force of 
J28  52 numbers: by dying in a war, or by deferring marriage in a period of 
J28  53 economic slump. These effects are amplified by the demographic 
J28  54 scale of industrial societies. As Reuben Hill puts it, 
J28  55 <quote_>"Each cohort encounters at marriage a unique set of 
J28  56 historical constraints and incentives which influence the timing of 
J28  57 its crucial life decisions"<quote/> (1970: 322). How, we may ask, 
J28  58 did households at different stages of development respond to the 
J28  59 Great Depression of 1932-3? It seems likely that those in decline 
J28  60 suffered most heavily, while those in the early stages of expansion 
J28  61 were better placed to take advantage of Roosevelt's New Deal 
J28  62 programmes. The point is that people neither make history nor 
J28  63 respond to historical events as an undifferentiated mass. The 
J28  64 reproductive cycle produces categorically distinct interests across 
J28  65 a whole population, and how each generation responds will depend on 
J28  66 its particular life experiences as well as its sheer size. As the 
J28  67 proportion of old people increases in our industrial countries we 
J28  68 can be sure that they will do their <}_><-|>bast<+|>best<}/> to 
J28  69 hang on to their wealth and voting power to secure their 
J28  70 welfare.<p/>
J28  71 <p_>Although competition between generations may not be as 
J28  72 concerted as it is among the Karimojong, the 'motor' of the 
J28  73 reproductive process is massive in its effects. Most influential 
J28  74 are the acquisitive pressures on the younger generation, which give 
J28  75 society much of its historical momentum. Juniors must accumulate, 
J28  76 must displace their seniors, and must in their turn ultimately 
J28  77 relinquish control, divest, decumulate. But resources are not 
J28  78 passed on mechanically and without a struggle. They must also be 
J28  79 <tf|>created: new lands must be colonized, livestock bred and 
J28  80 <tf_>technical innovations<tf/> made. This progressive force is 
J28  81 continually pitted against the constraints of environment and the 
J28  82 limitations of technology. But all around us we see evidence of the 
J28  83 extent to which youthful ingenuity has prevailed. This rhythm of 
J28  84 progress is thwarted only by the countervailing rhythm of aging and 
J28  85 death.<p/>
J28  86 <p_>Consider the possibility of a whole society which consisted 
J28  87 exclusively of a younger generation: that, surely, would be 
J28  88 extremely dynamic and progressive. Perhaps surprisingly, quite a 
J28  89 few such societies exist. Almost invariably they have one central 
J28  90 purpose: the pursuit of rapid economic development. An example is 
J28  91 the Malaysian government's enormous land development programme. 
J28  92 Between 1957 and 1980 more than a hundred thousand households from 
J28  93 poor rural areas were resettled on two hundred rubber and oil palm 
J28  94 plantations cleared from the jungle. The many applicants were 
J28  95 screened on the basis of 'need' (family poverty) and 'suitability' 
J28  96 (efficient, able-bodied labourers). Whole communities were thus 
J28  97 created consisting of younger married couples with several 
J28  98 children, additionally motivated by the fact that they had little 
J28  99 or no land at home to support them. This active and acquisitive 
J28 100 labour force helped to guarantee the remarkable economic success of 
J28 101 the Malaysian land development schemes for several decades. The 
J28 102 abnormality of these communities was evident in many ways, for 
J28 103 example in the chronic overloading of the local schools. The Bukit 
J28 104 Besar scheme, which I visited in 1972, had ten simultaneous first 
J28 105 grade classes spread out over morning and afternoon sessions.<p/>
J28 106 <p_>By the 1980s, however, the schools were emptying and the 
J28 107 children were taking their educational advantages to the expanding 
J28 108 towns and cities. After reaping the short-term benefits of this 
J28 109 'unnaturally' skewed population, the Malaysian government is now 
J28 110 confronting the long term costs: both the settlement scheme 
J28 111 populations and the tree crops they have been tending are aging 
J28 112 simultaneously. Dwindling crop yields are exacerbated by the 
J28 113 declining physical capacity of the settlers themselves, and 
J28 114 additional labour (much of it drawn from neighbouring Indonesia) 
J28 115 has to be hired to do the work. Billions of dollars of investment 
J28 116 in more than two hundred schemes is now under threat, and the 
J28 117 government is understandably vexed to see its ardent young 
J28 118 proletarians turn into aged, underproductive capitalists. Recently 
J28 119 it has even felt obliged to renege on original contracts to hand 
J28 120 the land over to the settlers. The dream of profitable, 
J28 121 self-sustaining smallholder communities has evaporated, and the 
J28 122 settlement schemes remain government-managed estates.<p/>
J28 123 <p_>Evidently, the Malaysian planners either did not understand or 
J28 124 chose to ignore the significance of the reproductive process in the 
J28 125 making and breaking of their land development schemes. Experience 
J28 126 tells us repeatedly that the success of economic projects is not 
J28 127 guaranteed solely by the efficiency of productive arrangements. 
J28 128 Either optimism, shortsightedness or plain ignorance blinds us to 
J28 129 the fact that the generational cycle involves decumulation as well 
J28 130 as accumulation. Folk wisdom may know better -  'riches to rags in 
J28 131 three generations' goes the old saying. Individuals move out of one 
J28 132 social class and into another, but the <tf|>consolidation of a 
J28 133 dominant class undoubtedly depends on its capacity to resist this 
J28 134 sort of mobility. For a minority to retain control of capital it 
J28 135 has to keep outsiders at bay, and prevent its own offspring from 
J28 136 dropping out. This is hard work, involving the sort of economic, 
J28 137 political and <tf|>cultural tactics we shall consider in the next 
J28 138 two chapters. Reproduction poses the most serious threat to the 
J28 139 maintenance of class power. But if reproductive processes are 
J28 140 excluded from a definition of class, then class itself is doubly 
J28 141 deficient as an analogy for understanding the inequalities of 
J28 142 generation and gender, and their impact on modern society.<p/>
J28 143 <p_>However conspicuous they may be, political and economic 
J28 144 definitions of generation and gender are always secondary 
J28 145 <tf_>social constructions<tf/> of the fundamental reproductive 
J28 146 distinctions. This is why trying to explain inequalities of gender 
J28 147 and generation from a political-economic point of view has proved 
J28 148 so frustrating. For a start, the two sorts of categorization (class 
J28 149 on the one hand, and generation and gender on the other) are not 
J28 150 mutually exclusive. Thus, Dyson-Hudson is at pains to point out 
J28 151 that Karimojong generation sets do not equalize wealth: there are 
J28 152 still richer and poorer elders, more and less advantaged youths. In 
J28 153 a broad survey of age-set organization in Eastern Africa, Baxter 
J28 154 and Almagor make the point that the sets do not corporately own or 
J28 155 control productive property: that remains vested in households and 
J28 156 patrilineal descent groups. Consequently, <quote_>"When the 
J28 157 interests of domestic and familial loyalties diverge from those of 
J28 158 set loyalties, set loyalties are likely to be the ones which 
J28 159 give."<quote/> Indeed, as domestic issues claim more of their 
J28 160 attention, older men may <quote_>"ooze away"<quote/> from 
J28 161 involvement in their age set (1978: 22,13).<p/>
J28 162 <p_>In a zealous effort to apply Marxian explanations to 
J28 163 pre-industrial societies, the French anthropologist P.P. Rey (1979) 
J28 164 has used the model of class conflict in industrial societies to 
J28 165 explain the relations between <quote_>"exploiters and 
J28 166 exploited"<quote/> in societies like the Karimojong. Juniors keep 
J28 167 their own company in a kind of working-class solidarity in the face 
J28 168 of the economic and political domination of the elders. In reaction 
J28 169 to Rey's argument, but still from a materialist perspective, 
J28 170 Meillassoux points out that people distinguished as a generation 
J28 171 within a community cannot constitute a class, because the one is 
J28 172 defined by the passage of time and the other by access to material 
J28 173 resources. Elders can only be elders by virtue of having been 
J28 174 juniors; but people do not have to be proletarians before they can 
J28 175 become capitalists (1981: 80). Classes, Meillassoux implies, are 
J28 176 fixed, but people are not: <quote_>"Age, even understood in its 
J28 177 social sense, is only a transitional moment in the life of an 
J28 178 individual."<quote/> However, classes are only 'fixed' because we 
J28 179 choose to think of them so. A central interest in maintaining class 
J28 180 status is to resist downward mobility within and between the 
J28 181 generations -  in other words, to counteract the turbulence of the 
J28 182 reproductive process.<p/>
J28 183 <h_><p_>Gender and political economy<p/><h/>
J28 184 <p_>Similar problems have arisen with political-economic 
J28 185 explanations of gender. The central dilemma for feminists thus 
J28 186 becomes one of loyalties: to a 'class' of women, or an economic 
J28 187 class which is comprised of both sexes. Classes are historical 
J28 188 developments, but women's subordination seems timeless. Playing men 
J28 189 at their own materialist game, likening women to a revolutionary 
J28 190 proletariat, may actually obscure the issues, for example by 
J28 191 reducing explanations of women's subordination to arguments about 
J28 192 the nature and value of their labour, and whether or not it should 
J28 193 be 'waged'. It seems that feminists are gradually returning to the 
J28 194 view that an explanation of women's subordination must be sought in 
J28 195 the organization of <tf_>re<tf/>production. Rossi declares firmly, 
J28 196 <quote_>"Gender differentiation is not simply a function of 
J28 197 socialization, capitalist production, or patriarchy. It is grounded 
J28 198 in a sex dimorphism that serves the fundamental purpose of 
J28 199 reproducing the species"<quote/> (1985: 161). However real and 
J28 200 potent class distinctions may be, they are also historically more 
J28 201 recent than reproductive categories of gender and generation, and 
J28 202 are thus in some sense more superficial. Generation and gender are 
J28 203 categories which divide households, social classes and whole 
J28 204 societies. Social classes, on the other hand, divide whole 
J28 205 societies <tf_>but do not divide households<tf/>. Class conflict 
J28 206 widens the gap between households; it does not necessarily close 
J28 207 the generation or gender gap <tf|>within families. Nor does class 
J28 208 differentiation eradicate distinctions of gender and generation, it 
J28 209 <tf|>superimposes itself on them.
J28 210 
J29   1 <#FLOB:J29\><p_>In her more recent work Pahl has further divided 
J29   2 the categories by identifying female and male dominated 'patterns 
J29   3 of control' (Pahl, 1989 and 1990; see also Vogler, 1989).<p/>
J29   4 <p_>Following Pahl's work the focus of most research in this area 
J29   5 to date has been on access to, and the control and management of, 
J29   6 financial resources. However, we would argue that a broader 
J29   7 definition of the resources involved is needed to analyse 
J29   8 satisfactorily the internal workings of the household. These 
J29   9 include the domestic division of labour; the allocation of time to 
J29  10 household members; the allocation of consumption goods and 
J29  11 services; and access to consumer durables which nominally belong to 
J29  12 all household members. While this broader definition provides a 
J29  13 more comprehensive account of the internal workings of the 
J29  14 household it also poses considerable problems when constructing a 
J29  15 short series of survey questions. Most questionnaire surveys have 
J29  16 neither the space nor time to cover the full range of items which 
J29  17 would be needed to cover satisfactorily all the areas mentioned. It 
J29  18 is in establishing the key indicators from which we can infer how 
J29  19 and why people allocate the resources available to them, and how 
J29  20 this process changes over the life course in relation to factors 
J29  21 which are both internal and external to the household, that 
J29  22 qualitative information should prove useful.<p/>
J29  23 <p_>The qualitative data already collected has produced a wealth of 
J29  24 information on the often subtle and complex negotiations between 
J29  25 household members concerning the allocation of money and resources. 
J29  26 As one <}_><-|>women<+|>woman<}/> describes:<p/>
J29  27 <p_><quote_>I allot myself approximately about 250 (pounds per 
J29  28 month) for food, which might sound a lot for three of us but we've 
J29  29 got two big dogs that eat a lot and the two men eat like they've 
J29  30 got hollow legs and then he (her husband) has a set amount which is 
J29  31 what we sort of discuss, I mean I don't pin him down, he said a set 
J29  32 amount which I think is extremely generous and I don't know what he 
J29  33 does with it because he never buys clothes, but anyway, he has this 
J29  34 money and he doesn't drink and he only smokes about five cigarettes 
J29  35 a day and I don't actually have a set amount of pocket money but if 
J29  36 I want something and I don't often buy things, but I really want a 
J29  37 new dress or something and there's money in the account I'll buy 
J29  38 it. But I always say to him, look, you know I've bought a new 
J29  39 dress, I hope you don't mind.<quote/><p/>
J29  40 <p_>It would be foolhardy to suggest that this depth and complexity 
J29  41 of interpersonal negotiations can be successfully replicated in the 
J29  42 context of a small number of survey 
J29  43 <}_><-|>questons<+|>questions<}/>. However, this does not imply 
J29  44 that asking about the distribution of resources within the 
J29  45 household in the context of a survey is a useless exercise. Indeed 
J29  46 there is a definite need for a large scale data set in this area of 
J29  47 research. What it does highlight however is the need for 
J29  48 qualitative and quantitative research to be mutually informative 
J29  49 and provide the possibility for analyses in which both types of 
J29  50 data contribute to and illuminate the analysis as a whole. While 
J29  51 the majority of social researchers would probably agree with these 
J29  52 aims, in practice they are often not as easy to reconcile, even 
J29  53 though the methodological divisions are by no means as clear cut in 
J29  54 the practice of social research as the epistemological debates 
J29  55 which posit a necessary link between theoretical perspective and 
J29  56 method of data collection assert. As Bryman (1988) argues there may 
J29  57 not be a necessary or one to one correspondence between 
J29  58 epistemology and methods as is often asserted in the methodological 
J29  59 literature. We discuss this point further in the final section.<p/>
J29  60 <h_><p_>Problems of classification<p/><h/>
J29  61 <p_>The qualitative project has highlighted several problems with 
J29  62 existing models of intra-household allocations, some of which are 
J29  63 common to all classifications of social phenomena designed to 
J29  64 clarify the world we live in, while others relate specifically to 
J29  65 the needs and objectives of the panel study. The first point 
J29  66 relates to the general problems of categorisation and 
J29  67 classification and the second to the specific issues raised by the 
J29  68 longitudinal nature of the panel study. When empirical work based 
J29  69 on an already existing taxonomy begins it becomes almost 
J29  70 immediately apparent that there are considerable numbers of cases 
J29  71 which do not fit neatly into any one category. The preliminary 
J29  72 analysis of our interviews (Ritchie and Thomas, 1990:3) indicates 
J29  73 that of the nineteen couples interviewed individually only four 
J29  74 (three common pool, and one independent manager) could certainly be 
J29  75 assigned to one of the categories of the model outlined above. 
J29  76 Another two (one independent manager, one common pool) could be 
J29  77 assigned if the category was broadly interpreted. In the remaining 
J29  78 thirteen cases there were either significant features of a category 
J29  79 missing or there seemed no appropriate category at all. As Jan Pahl 
J29  80 observes in relation to her own data:<p/>
J29  81 <p_><quote_>In reality the different types were not mutually 
J29  82 exclusive, and for many couples it was a case of choosing the type 
J29  83 of allocative system which most closely resembled the way in which 
J29  84 they organised their money. As so often in the social sciences, 
J29  85 classification involved simplification. It is therefore justifiable 
J29  86 to be sceptical about the adequacy of the typology.<quote/> 
J29  87 (1989:79)<p/>
J29  88 <p_>Thus, by simplifying in order to clarify, the subtleties of the 
J29  89 interactions between household members are subsumed within general 
J29  90 categories which have a tendency to become reified. Instead of 
J29  91 proceeding via a process of analytic induction, by which 
J29  92 categorisation as hypothesis is subject to falsification, the 
J29  93 temptation is to either squeeze recalcitrant cases into 
J29  94 pre-existing boxes or to find reasons for omitting or ignoring them 
J29  95 altogether. Of course the tendency to view existing classifications 
J29  96 as given is shared by respondents, and may be reinforced by the 
J29  97 design of a survey question. When faced with a categorisation such 
J29  98 as that employed by the SCELI project (which used an elaborated 
J29  99 version of Pahl's original model) and asked: <quote_>"People 
J29 100 organise their household finances in different ways. Which of the 
J29 101 methods on this card comes closest to the way that 
J29 102 <}_><-|>your<+|>you<}/> organise yours? It doesn't have to fit 
J29 103 exactly - you should choose the nearest one"<quote/>, very few 
J29 104 respondents are inclined to say <quote|>"none" (apparently zero per 
J29 105 cent in the SCELI survey, see Vogler, 1989:46, Table 1). But the 
J29 106 difficulty is not automatically overcome by resorting to depth 
J29 107 interviewing since it is likely that the researcher's eventual 
J29 108 categorisation or description of responses will correspond to 
J29 109 her/his existing conception of what such a categorisation should 
J29 110 look like - and what it should look like is of course something 
J29 111 like an already existing classification. This is the nature of any 
J29 112 conceptual system - it simplifies and organises, but it constrains 
J29 113 the possibilities of thinking beyond it.<p/>
J29 114 <p_>The second major problem, relating in particular to 
J29 115 longitudinal analysis, is that a classification into types is 
J29 116 inherently static in its form; people may of course move between 
J29 117 boxes, but the boxes themselves represent states rather than 
J29 118 processes. While for the purposes of analysis it may be necessary 
J29 119 to identify 'types', just as it is necessary to identify events or 
J29 120 outcomes, we must remember that we may be applying relatively 
J29 121 arbitrary delineations upon what are essentially continua. 
J29 122 Following the same line of argument, a movement from one box of a 
J29 123 classification to another for an individual, or even an entire 
J29 124 change of classificatory typology, does not constitute an 
J29 125 explanation. Too often, in quantitative research particularly, the 
J29 126 development of a new classification or the identification of 
J29 127 movement between states is taken as the end of analysis. The 
J29 128 development of a classification and the demonstration of its 
J29 129 usefulness is frequently not perceived in terms of the necessity to 
J29 130 provide a theoretical justification - the identification of ordered 
J29 131 associations is regarded as sufficient. Beyond this solid ground 
J29 132 lies the dangerous and unstable terrain of the explanation of human 
J29 133 action - the realm of interpretavism<&|>sic!. Here the familiar 
J29 134 language of science - of objectivity, of rationality - must be 
J29 135 replaced by the shifting undercurrents of far less tangible 
J29 136 discourses involving 'meanings' and 'motivations'. But it is this 
J29 137 realm which must be entered if an attempt is to be made at 
J29 138 understanding change. Any simple identification of movement between 
J29 139 the categories of a classification is bound to fail at the level of 
J29 140 explanation unless some understanding of the processes which 
J29 141 underlie observed outcomes is arrived at, and these processes 
J29 142 themselves can only be fully understood with reference to actor's 
J29 143 accounts.<p/>
J29 144 <h_><p_>Couples, families or households?<p/><h/>
J29 145 <p_>These general considerations lead us to two issues of direct 
J29 146 relevance to the BHPS. Both relate to problems of definition. 
J29 147 Firstly there is the question of how one sets the analytical 
J29 148 boundaries of intra-household allocations. It is clear that 
J29 149 households do not exist in isolation. Individuals within households 
J29 150 have relationships with individuals in other households and 
J29 151 transfer resources of time, money or care which may materially 
J29 152 affect how those households arrange their internal affairs. For 
J29 153 example we have found that it is common for women with young 
J29 154 children who return to work part-time to rely on their mothers to 
J29 155 provide free childcare. The availability of free childcare was seen 
J29 156 by many women as an important factor influencing their decision to 
J29 157 return to work. As Brannen and Moss have observed, women engage in 
J29 158 a <quote_>"mental accounting procedure of whether 'it's worth my 
J29 159 while working'"<quote/> (1987:86) where the cost of childcare is 
J29 160 seen as a direct deduction from their own earnings. As one woman 
J29 161 told us:<p/>
J29 162 <p_><quote_>"It's funny you know, because I pay the child-minding 
J29 163 fees and I think that I pay it because I feel that it's, the child 
J29 164 or children are really my responsibility. If I go out to work then 
J29 165 it should come out of my salary to pay someone else to look after 
J29 166 them. I wouldn't dream of asking him to pay the childminding 
J29 167 fee."<quote/><p/>
J29 168 <p_>The fact that women are able to go out to earn is, however, of 
J29 169 considerable benefit to all household members, particularly in view 
J29 170 of the gendered nature of spending patterns in which women's 
J29 171 earnings are more likely to be spent on items of communal rather 
J29 172 than purely personal benefit even where women's earnings are 
J29 173 irregular or part-time (see Morris, 1989). Qualitative data is able 
J29 174 to highlight the extent of inter-household transfers and wider 
J29 175 support networks or relationships which may be vital to 
J29 176 understanding the constraints and possibilities open to particular 
J29 177 individuals in a given household. While these remain theoretically 
J29 178 distinct from purely intra-household allocations it is clear that 
J29 179 any analysis of the internal dynamics of the household cannot be 
J29 180 conducted without reference to inter-household relationships.<p/>
J29 181 <p_>Secondly, the qualitative research has made us question whether 
J29 182 it is valid to extend a model developed to categorise financial 
J29 183 arrangements between married or cohabiting couples to the 
J29 184 distribution of a variety of resources within households which may 
J29 185 or may not be made up of married couples or nuclear families.<p/>
J29 186 <p_>We have already noted the importance of recognising that 
J29 187 households exist within the framework of broader social 
J29 188 relationships. In addition however, it is clear that we need to 
J29 189 conceptualize the household not only in terms of the conjugal or 
J29 190 'standard' nuclear family household but to take a variety of 
J29 191 different household compositions with varying cultural backgrounds 
J29 192 into account. An approach which focuses exclusively on the way in 
J29 193 which couples allocate resources between them, while being a useful 
J29 194 exercise in its own right, loses important dimensions which 
J29 195 influence the internal workings of the household. For example where 
J29 196 teenage or young adult children are present their involvement or 
J29 197 contribution to the running of the household, both in terms of 
J29 198 money and labour within the home, is relevant. It is possible that 
J29 199 the informal exchange of resources in kind such as free child-care 
J29 200 and housework may materially affect a household's ability to 
J29 201 survive financially. Equally important is the fact that households 
J29 202 may be composed of unrelated individuals or contain an extended 
J29 203 family of two or more generations, while ethnic minority households 
J29 204 may operate on very different assumptions to the 'Western European' 
J29 205 model.<p/>
J29 206 <p_>The distinction between the household and the family is one 
J29 207 which is continually blurred in much of the literature in this area.
J29 208 
J30   1 <#FLOB:J30\>In other words, he has no adequate basis on which to 
J30   2 determine whether, in consequence of the deviance he refers to, 
J30   3 there was, or was not, a stronger definition of the moral and 
J30   4 social boundaries of the community. So far as popular perceptions 
J30   5 and evaluations are concerned, he is without means of access.<p/>
J30   6 <p_>Likewise, in treating the second hypothesis, on the constant 
J30   7 level of deviance, Erikson has to rely on official crime 
J30   8 statistics, which, for well-known reasons, give only a very 
J30   9 uncertain indication of the actual level of social deviance, and 
J30  10 are influenced in their trend by a variety of other factors. 
J30  11 However, unlike the sociologist of deviance working in contemporary 
J30  12 society, Erikson cannot investigate in any detail the processes 
J30  13 through which the official statistics were constituted, nor can he 
J30  14 collect data of his own which could provide alternative estimates - 
J30  15 as, say, through some form of 'victim survey'.<p/>
J30  16 <p_>To be sure, the hypotheses that Erikson addresses are not ones 
J30  17 that would be easily tested under any circumstances. But, given 
J30  18 that they derive from a theory that pretends to a very high level 
J30  19 of generality, there is all the more reason to ask why Erikson 
J30  20 should impose upon himself the limitations that must follow from 
J30  21 choosing a historical case. Why should he deny himself the 
J30  22 possibility of being able to generate his own evidence, to his own 
J30  23 design, and under conditions in which problems of reliability and 
J30  24 validity could best be grappled with? Any sociologist, I would 
J30  25 maintain, who is concerned with a theory that <tf|>can be tested in 
J30  26 the present should so test it, in the first place; for it is, in 
J30  27 all probability, in this way that it can be tested most 
J30  28 rigorously.<p/>
J30  29 <p_>I would now like to move on to consider cases where the 
J30  30 recourse of sociologists to history <tf|>would appear to have the 
J30  31 good reasons which, I earlier maintained, should always be present. 
J30  32 Here my aim is to illustrate what such reasons might be, but also - 
J30  33 when they are acted upon - the difficulties that may be 
J30  34 expected.<p/>
J30  35 <p_>Sociologists, one might think, will most obviously need to turn 
J30  36 to history where their interests lie in social change. However, it 
J30  37 should be kept in mind that a recourse to the past - or, that is, 
J30  38 to the relics thereof - is not the only means through which such 
J30  39 interests may be pursued: life-course, cohort or panel studies, for 
J30  40 example, are all ways of studying social change on the basis of 
J30  41 evidence that is, or has been, collected in the present. 
J30  42 Sociologists, I would argue, are compelled into historical research 
J30  43 only where their concern is with social change that is in fact 
J30  44 historically defined: that is, with change not over some 
J30  45 analytically specified length of time - such as, say, 'the 
J30  46 life-cycle' or 'two generations' - but with change over a period of 
J30  47 past time that has dates (even if not very precise ones) and that 
J30  48 is related to a particular place. Sociologists have a legitimate, 
J30  49 and necessary, concern with such historically defined social change 
J30  50 because, as I have earlier suggested, they wish to know how widely 
J30  51 over time and space their theories and hypotheses might apply.<p/>
J30  52 <p_>One illustration of what I have in mind here is provided by 
J30  53 Michael Anderson's book, <tf_>Family Structure in Nineteenth 
J30  54 Century Lancashire<tf/>. Anderson is concerned with the hypothesis 
J30  55 that in the process of industrialisation, pre-existing forms of 
J30  56 'extended' family and kinship relations are disrupted. 
J30  57 Specifically, he is interested in whether or not this hypothesis 
J30  58 holds good in the British case - that of the 'first industrial 
J30  59 nation'. Thus, to pursue this issue, Anderson aims to examine just 
J30  60 what was happening to kinship relations in Britain at the time 
J30  61 when, and in the place where, the 'take-off' into industrialism is 
J30  62 classically located. In contrast, then, with Erikson, Anderson has 
J30  63 a quite clear rationale for turning to historical research.<p/>
J30  64 <p_>A second illustration is provided by Gordon Marshall's book, 
J30  65 <tf_>Presbyteries and Profits<tf/>. Marshall is concerned with the 
J30  66 'Weber thesis' - that a connection exists between the secular ethic 
J30  67 of ascetic Protestantism and 'the spirit of capitalism'. In the 
J30  68 long-standing debate on this thesis, the case of Scotland has 
J30  69 several times been suggested as a critical one, in that, in the 
J30  70 early modern period, Scotland had a great deal of ascetic 
J30  71 Protestantism - that is, Calvinism - yet showed little in the way 
J30  72 of capitalist development. Marshall's aim is then to re-examine the 
J30  73 Scottish case for the period from around 1560 down to the Act of 
J30  74 Union of 1707. Marshall points out that Weber himself always 
J30  75 emphasised that his argument on the role of the Protestant ethic in 
J30  76 the emergence of modern capitalism was intended to apply <tf_>only 
J30  77 to the early stages<tf/> of this process: once a predominantly 
J30  78 capitalist economy was established, its own exigencies - in the 
J30  79 workplace and market - would themselves compel behaviour generally 
J30  80 consistent with the 'spirit of capitalism' without need of help 
J30  81 from religion. Again, then, Marshall, like Anderson, has obviously 
J30  82 good grounds for his recourse to history.<p/>
J30  83 <p_>Now before proceeding further, I should make it clear that I 
J30  84 have the highest regard for the two studies to which I have just 
J30  85 referred. Both make signal contributions to the questions they 
J30  86 address; and, for me, they stand as leading examples of how in fact 
J30  87 historical sociology should be conceived and conducted. I say this 
J30  88 because I want now to go on to emphasise the severe limitations to 
J30  89 which the analyses of both authors are subject: <tf|>not because of 
J30  90 their deficiencies as sociologists, but simply because of the fact 
J30  91 that they were forced into using historical evidence - forced into 
J30  92 a reliance on relics - rather than being able to generate their own 
J30  93 evidence within a contemporary society.<p/>
J30  94 <p_>The relics on which Anderson chiefly relies are the original 
J30  95 enumerator's books for the censuses of 1841, 1851 and 1861. On this 
J30  96 basis, he can reconstruct household composition according to age, 
J30  97 sex and kinship relations, and he can also to some extent examine 
J30  98 the residential propinquity of kin. But this still leaves him a 
J30  99 long way short of adequate evidence on the part actually played by 
J30 100 kinship in the lives of the people he is studying and on the 
J30 101 meanings of kinship for them. He attempts to fill out the 
J30 102 essentially demographic data that he has from the enumerators' 
J30 103 books by material from contemporary accounts. But these would, I 
J30 104 fear, have at best to be categorised as 'casual empiricism' and at 
J30 105 worst as local gossip or travellers' tales. Titles such as 
J30 106 <tf_>Walks in South Lancashire and on its Borders, A Visit to 
J30 107 Lancashire in December 1862<tf/>, and <tf_>Lancashire Sketches<tf/> 
J30 108 give the flavour.<p/>
J30 109 <p_>Anderson is in fact entirely frank about the problem he faces. 
J30 110 <quote_>"It must of course be stressed"<quote/>, he writes, 
J30 111 <quote_>"that just because interaction with kin occurred it is no 
J30 112 necessary indication that kinship was important. The real test, 
J30 113 which is quite impossible in any precise way in historical work, 
J30 114 would be to examine the extent to which kinship was given 
J30 115 preference over other relational contacts (and the reasons for this 
J30 116 preference), and the extent to which contacts with kin fulfilled 
J30 117 functions which were not adequately met if kin did not provide 
J30 118 them"<quote/>.<p/>
J30 119 <p_>The point I want to make here would perhaps best be brought out 
J30 120 if one were to compare Anderson's study of kinship with one carried 
J30 121 out in contemporary society - let us say, for example, Claud 
J30 122 Fischer's study of kinship and of other 'primary' relations in 
J30 123 present-day San Francisco, <tf_>To Dwell Among Friends<tf/>. The 
J30 124 only conclusion could be that the latter is greatly superior in the 
J30 125 range and quality of data on which it draws, and in turn the rigour 
J30 126 and refinement of the analyses it can offer. And this point is, of 
J30 127 course, not that Fischer is a better sociologist than Anderson but 
J30 128 that he has an enormous advantage over Anderson in being able to 
J30 129 generate his own data rather than having to rely on whatever relics 
J30 130 might happen to be extant.<p/>
J30 131 <p_>Turning to Marshall, one finds that he has problems essentially 
J30 132 the same as those of Anderson. One of Marshall's main concerns is 
J30 133 that Weber's position should be correctly understood - following 
J30 134 the vulgarisations of Robertson, Tawney, Samuelson and other 
J30 135 critics; and in this respect Marshall makes two main points. First, 
J30 136 Weber was not so much concerned with official Calvinist doctrine on 
J30 137 economic activity as with the consequences of <tf|>being a 
J30 138 believing Calvinist for the individual's conduct of everyday life - 
J30 139 consequences which the individual might not even fully realise. In 
J30 140 other words, Weber's thesis was ultimately not about theology but 
J30 141 subculture and psychology. Secondly, Weber's argument was that the 
J30 142 Protestant ethic was a necessary, but not a sufficient cause of the 
J30 143 emergence of modern capitalism; there were necessary 'material' 
J30 144 factors also - such as access to physical resources and to markets, 
J30 145 the availability of capital and credit etc.<p/>
J30 146 <p_>Thus, Marshall argues, in evaluating the Weber thesis, it is 
J30 147 not enough to look simply for some overt association between 
J30 148 theology, on the one hand, and the development of capitalist 
J30 149 enterprise on the other. What is required is more subtle. It is 
J30 150 evidence that believing Calvinists, on account of their acceptance 
J30 151 of a Calvinist world-view, were distinctively oriented to work in a 
J30 152 regular, disciplined way, to pursue economic gain rationally, and 
J30 153 to accumulate rather than to consume extravagantly - so that, 
J30 154 <tf|>if other conditions were <tf|>also met, capitalist enterprise 
J30 155 would then flourish.<p/>
J30 156 <p_>Marshall's position here is, I believe, entirely sound. But it 
J30 157 leads him to problems of evidence that he can in fact never 
J30 158 satisfactorily overcome - despite his diligence in searching out 
J30 159 new sources and his ingenuity is using known ones. And the basic 
J30 160 difficulty is that relics from which inferences can systematically 
J30 161 be made about the orientations to work and to money of early modern 
J30 162 Scots are very few and far between.<p/>
J30 163 <p_>In other words, what is crucially lacking - just as it was 
J30 164 lacking for Anderson and indeed for Erikson - is material from 
J30 165 which inferences might be made, with some assurance of 
J30 166 representativeness, about the <tf_>patterns of social action<tf/> 
J30 167 that are of interest within particular collectivities. As Clubb has 
J30 168 observed, the data from which historians work only rarely allow 
J30 169 access to the subjective orientations of actors <tf_>en masse<tf/>, 
J30 170 and inferences made in this respect from actual behaviour tend 
J30 171 always to be question-begging. And Marshall, it should be said, 
J30 172 like Anderson, sees the difficulty clearly enough. He acknowledges 
J30 173 that it may well be that <quote_>"the kind of data required in 
J30 174 order to establish the ethos in which seventeenth-century Scottish 
J30 175 business enterprises were run simply does not exist "<quote/> - or, 
J30 176 at least, not in sufficient quantity to allow one to test 
J30 177 empirically whether Calvinism did indeed have the effect on mundane 
J30 178 conduct that Weber ascribed to it.<p/>
J30 179 <h|>III
J30 180 <p_>Let me at this point recapitulate. I have argued that history 
J30 181 and sociology differ perhaps most consequentially in the nature of 
J30 182 the evidence on which they rely, and that this difference has major 
J30 183 implications for the use of history in sociology. I have presented 
J30 184 a case of what, from this standpoint, must be seen as a perverse 
J30 185 recourse to history on the part of a sociologist; and I have now 
J30 186 discussed two further cases where, in contrast, such a recourse was 
J30 187 justifiable, indeed necessary, given the issues addressed, but 
J30 188 where, none the less, serious difficulties arise because of the 
J30 189 inadequacy of the relics as a basis for treating these issues.<p/>
J30 190 <p_>To end with, however, I would like to move on from these 
J30 191 instances of sociologists resorting to history in the pursuit of 
J30 192 quite specific problems to consider - with my initial argument 
J30 193 still in mind - a whole <tf|>genre of sociology which is in fact 
J30 194 <tf_>dependent upon history in its very conception<tf/>. I refer 
J30 195 here to a kind of historical sociology clearly different to that 
J30 196 represented by the work of Anderson or Marshall, and which has two 
J30 197 main distinguishing features. First, it resorts to history because 
J30 198 it addresses very large themes, which typically involve the tracing 
J30 199 out of long-term 'developmental' processes or patterns or the 
J30 200 making of comparisons across a wide range of historical societies 
J30 201 or even civilisations.
J30 202 
J31   1 <#FLOB:J31\><h_><p_>Regional Inequalities in Infant Mortality in 
J31   2 Britain, 1861-1971: Pattern and Hypotheses<p/>
J31   3 <p_>C.H. LEE<p/><h/>
J31   4 <p_>Variations in health inequality, and the debate about whether 
J31   5 they have increased or decreased during recent decades, have 
J31   6 generated considerable investigative activity and querulous 
J31   7 discussion. A considerable part of this literature has been 
J31   8 focussed upon health inequalities between social classes, but 
J31   9 debate has foundered on difficulties in defining and measuring 
J31  10 acceptable categories and ensuring consistency over time. Illsley 
J31  11 has argued that differences between death rates of different 
J31  12 classes are primarily a reflection of the classificatory scheme 
J31  13 itself and bear little resemblance to actual changes in health or 
J31  14 death inequality. Others have averred that such reservations about 
J31  15 the use of class data based on occupational groups are exaggerated 
J31  16 and, consequently, have felt able to reiterate their conclusions 
J31  17 derived from this source. It seems unlikely that this avenue of 
J31  18 investigation can be developed so as to reconcile these various 
J31  19 positions. The data on occupations and the class categorisations 
J31  20 derived from them do not admit further refinement, certainly not 
J31  21 sufficient to persuade those who, like the present writer, regard 
J31  22 this material as inherently unsatisfactory for meaningful 
J31  23 statistical analysis.<p/>
J31  24 <p_>In this paper the problem of health inequality is approached 
J31  25 from a different perspective, that of regional variations. This has 
J31  26 two advantages. First, the data are available for a long period of 
J31  27 time, and thus allow analysis from the 1860s to the present, for 
J31  28 the constituent counties of Great Britain which remained 
J31  29 substantially the same throughout the period. The principal change 
J31  30 in regional categorisation occurred during the 1970s, a fact which 
J31  31 led to the decision to conclude this investigation at the beginning 
J31  32 of that decade. By then, the principal features of the most recent 
J31  33 phase of historical development were clearly established. Even the 
J31  34 fact that such county-based regionalisation does not allow division 
J31  35 between rural and urban areas can be tolerated in view of the 
J31  36 compensating advantage this classification allows in long-term 
J31  37 internal consistency of the data. Failure to achieve such 
J31  38 consistency has been, of course, one of the principal criticisms 
J31  39 levelled against analysis based on class determined by occupational 
J31  40 groupings. The second justification for adopting a regional 
J31  41 perspective lies in the fact that this aspect of health inequality 
J31  42 has been little explored, although it has occasioned several 
J31  43 general, and usually inaccurate, interpretative observations.<p/>
J31  44 <p_>The measure of health inequality adopted here is the infant 
J31  45 mortality rate. Infant mortality has been widely accepted as an 
J31  46 important and significant indicator of health achievement, because 
J31  47 infancy has always been one of the most vulnerable periods of human 
J31  48 life, and because the scale of infant mortality has important 
J31  49 consequences. Furthermore, infant mortality has been shown to be 
J31  50 associated, in various studies, with a number of important economic 
J31  51 and social indicators, such as income per head, equality of income 
J31  52 distribution, and material deprivation. With regard to the latter, 
J31  53 it was suggested in the Black Report <quote_>"that any factors 
J31  54 which increase the parental capacity to provide adequate care for 
J31  55 an infant will, when present, increase the chance of survival, 
J31  56 while their absence will increase the risk of premature death. The 
J31  57 most obvious such factors fall within the sphere of material 
J31  58 resources: sufficient household income, a safe, uncrowded and 
J31  59 unpolluted home, warmth and hygiene, a means of rapid communication 
J31  60 with the outside world, for example a telephone or car, and an 
J31  61 adequate level of manpower - or womanpower (two parents would 
J31  62 normally provide more continuous care and protection than 
J31  63 one)"<quote/>. Variations between infant mortality rates in 
J31  64 different regions and in the long term provide, therefore, a 
J31  65 significant indicator of variations in basic economic and social 
J31  66 well-being.<p/>
J31  67 <p_>The long-run pattern of infant mortality in the advanced 
J31  68 industrial nations is generally familiar, the fluctuating levels 
J31  69 which obtained through the second half of the nineteenth century 
J31  70 gave way to widespread and rapid decline through the twentieth 
J31  71 century. In the case of Britain, much attention has been paid by 
J31  72 historians to the sharp drop in the infant mortality rate at the 
J31  73 beginning of the present century and considerable effort has been 
J31  74 expended in attempts to explain this phenomenon. One of the most 
J31  75 popular theses of recent years has been Beaver's argument that 
J31  76 improvements in the milk supply reduced gastro-enteritis after the 
J31  77 turn of the century, a development which was happily co-incident 
J31  78 with the emergence of welfare services which emphasised safe 
J31  79 feeding. Purification of the water supply, sewage disposal, safer 
J31  80 milk, and greater food hygiene all contributed to reduce the risk 
J31  81 of infection from food and drink. Beaver's important contribution 
J31  82 reinforced attention on the downturn in the national infant 
J31  83 mortality rate at the turn of the century as the key to the 
J31  84 long-term pattern of change.<p/>
J31  85 <p_>In Table 1 infant mortality rates are shown at ten-year 
J31  86 intervals from 1861 to 1971 for each of the 55 regions of Great 
J31  87 Britain. The composition of these regions which comprise English 
J31  88 counties, and aggregations of Welsh and Scottish counties, is 
J31  89 indicated in Table 2. These regional infant mortality rates vary 
J31  90 considerably more than might be expected from the national 
J31  91 aggregates for England and Wales and for Scotland, which fell 
J31  92 rather dramatically after 1901. Furthermore, these regional rates 
J31  93 do not support the popular notion that trends in infant mortality 
J31  94 change were <quote_>"remarkably consistent"<quote/> throughout the 
J31  95 country. Nor do these estimates sustain the view advanced in the 
J31  96 Black Report that <quote_>"In the middle of the nineteenth century, 
J31  97 the south-east of England recorded comparatively high rates of 
J31  98 death, while other regions like Wales and the far north had a 
J31  99 rather healthier profile"<quote/>. While London just fell into the 
J31 100 group of 17 regions with an infant mortality rate of 150 or above 
J31 101 in 1861, the majority of such disadvantaged areas were the 
J31 102 industrialising counties of the English midlands and north. 
J31 103 Lancashire, the East Riding, the West Riding, Staffordshire and 
J31 104 Leicestershire were among regions with the highest rates. At the 
J31 105 opposite extreme, in 12 regions infant mortality was 120 or less. 
J31 106 Half of these were located in the south and west of England, while 
J31 107 the rest were in Scotland where in Strathclyde North, Dumfries and 
J31 108 Galloway, Grampian and Highland very low mortality rates between 86 
J31 109 and 95 were recorded.<p/>
J31 110 <p_>More significant, and contrary to conventional wisdom, is the 
J31 111 pattern of change in these regional infant mortality rates. They 
J31 112 did not fall uniformly, nor was there a clearly marked hiatus 
J31 113 around the turn of the century. In fact, several groups followed 
J31 114 different and divergent patterns of change during the second half 
J31 115 of the nineteenth century. In some regions the highest mortality 
J31 116 rate was recorded in 1861, and there was a continuous improvement 
J31 117 thereafter. Buckinghamshire, Bedfordshire, Cambridgeshire, 
J31 118 Wiltshire and Dorset comprised this favoured group. In other 
J31 119 regions mortality peaked in 1871 followed by continuous improvement 
J31 120 thereafter, namely Hertfordshire, Northamptonshire, Rutland and 
J31 121 Strathclyde South. In many other regions the peak infant mortality 
J31 122 rate occurred in either 1861 or 1871 and was followed by a fall, 
J31 123 and a modest increase in 1891 or 1901 as a temporary setback. In no 
J31 124 fewer than 40 of the 55 regions was the highest infant mortality 
J31 125 rate registered in 1861 and 1871, a group which together accounted 
J31 126 for 80.0 per cent of the national population at the latter date. 
J31 127 Furthermore, many of the regions with an early peak in infant 
J31 128 mortality were those with the lowest rates. This was especially 
J31 129 pertinent in the south and west of England where only in Hampshire, 
J31 130 Essex and Devonshire was a peak reached after 1871. Even in some of 
J31 131 the industrial regions with the highest infant mortality rates, 
J31 132 like Lancashire, the West Riding and Durham the highest rates were 
J31 133 recorded in 1871.<p/>
J31 134 <p_><O_>tables&caption<O/><p/>
J31 135 <p_>In those regions which did not fall into the large group in 
J31 136 which there was a peak in 1861 or 1871 the highest rates were found 
J31 137 in either 1891 or 1901. After the turn of the century, except for a 
J31 138 small number of occasional and temporary increases, all regional 
J31 139 infant mortality rates fell continuously. There is no doubt that 
J31 140 after 1901 the downturn was both universal and substantial. The 
J31 141 most obvious group of regions in which infant mortality rates 
J31 142 increased, rather than decreased during the later decades of the 
J31 143 nineteenth century was found in Scotland. In seven of the ten 
J31 144 Scottish regions a peak infant mortality rate was found in 1891 or 
J31 145 1901, in some of them rates rose during the later decades of the 
J31 146 century, substantially so in the case of Grampian. Elsewhere, in 
J31 147 Monmouth, South Wales and Essex mortality rates also rose during 
J31 148 the closing decades of the century, while in Northumberland, 
J31 149 Cheshire, the North Riding and Worcestershire rates were high, but 
J31 150 stable.<p/>
J31 151 <p_>The pattern of change at national aggregate level, confirmed by 
J31 152 the unweighted average infant mortality rate for the aggregated 
J31 153 regions shown in Table 3, covers a diversity of regional patterns. 
J31 154 The aggregate rate suggests fluctuation around a slowly falling 
J31 155 mean value until 1901, and the improvement around 1881 and the 
J31 156 setback in 1891 was experienced in most regions. At regional level, 
J31 157 there were two phases of downturn some 30 years apart, with much of 
J31 158 Scotland, South Wales and some English counties, like 
J31 159 Northumberland, the North Riding and Essex, lagging behind the 
J31 160 rest. With these exceptions, and admitting the temporary setback 
J31 161 suffered during the 1890s when, it has been suggested, long, hot 
J31 162 summers produced conditions conducive to a resurgence of diarrhoeal 
J31 163 complaints, much of Britain experienced a downturn in infant 
J31 164 mortality rates from the 1860s and 1870s. From the turn of the 
J31 165 century, decline was universal and persistent.<p/>
J31 166 <p_>The long-term pattern of change does not, of course, indicate 
J31 167 increase or decrease in the variation of infant mortality rates 
J31 168 between different regions. Estimates of four different measures of 
J31 169 inequality are shown in Table 3. Each has its own peculiar 
J31 170 strengths and limitations. The coefficient of variation is 
J31 171 sensitive to change throughout a given distribution, while the 
J31 172 variance of logarithms is sensitive to changes at the lower ranges 
J31 173 of a scale, and the Gini coefficient is particularly responsive to 
J31 174 transfers affecting the middle values of a distribution. Theil's 
J31 175 entropy index is responsive to changes throughout the distribution 
J31 176 and measures deviations from a state of equality in which each 
J31 177 variable in the distribution has a share equivalent to its relative 
J31 178 size. Since it measures inequality exclusively in terms of the 
J31 179 'distance' between variables, it satisfies, unlike the other 
J31 180 measures quoted, the <quote_>"strong principle of 
J31 181 transfers"<quote/>. But, most importantly, all four measures are 
J31 182 invariant if all values in a set are raised or lowered in the same 
J31 183 proportion, so that each measure is an appropriate indicator of 
J31 184 inequality in infant mortality rates. As can be seen from Table 3, 
J31 185 with minor exceptions, all the four measures of inequality show the 
J31 186 same pattern of change over the century examined.<p/>
J31 187 <p_><O_>table&caption<O/><p/>
J31 188 <p_>Three of the four measures show increasing inequality between 
J31 189 1861 and 1871, as the downturn in infant mortality rates in 
J31 190 healthier regions was not replicated elsewhere. All measures 
J31 191 converge during the following decade, 1871-1881, as the decline in 
J31 192 the mortality rate became widespread. Thereafter, with the single 
J31 193 exception of the Gini coefficient for 1911, all the indicators show 
J31 194 an increase in inequality until 1921 or 1931. Even the downturn in 
J31 195 the mean infant mortality rate after 1891, and in all the regional 
J31 196 rates after 1901, did not prevent this increase. The reason for 
J31 197 this increase in inequality is quite clear; the decline in infant 
J31 198 mortality rates was fastest in those regions in which the rates had 
J31 199 been lowest at mid-century. Thus, the rate of decline between 
J31 200 1881-1921 was only 0.50 per cent per year in Lanarkshire, and 0.80 
J31 201 per cent in Durham, compared to 1.48 per cent in Surrey and 1.25 
J31 202 per cent in Wiltshire. From the peak of 1921 and 1931, when 
J31 203 measured inequality was almost the same, there was a continuous 
J31 204 convergence of regional infant mortality rates as inequality 
J31 205 decreased. This trend was reflected in each of the four measures. 
J31 206 By 1961, two measures indicated a level of inequality similar to 
J31 207 that in 1861, while Gini's index suggested that it was greater and 
J31 208 Theil's that it was smaller. By 1971, all four indicators showed 
J31 209 the lowest level of inequality recorded during the entire 
J31 210 period.<p/>
J31 211 
J32   1 <#FLOB:J32\><p_>Theoretical linguistics, like theoretical physics, 
J32   2 theoretical chemistry or theoretical biology, is, of itself, 
J32   3 non-empirical. It is free to create its own theoretical constructs 
J32   4 as it will. But, also like these other theoretical sciences to 
J32   5 which I have just referred, it originates with the observation and 
J32   6 systematization of identifiable phenomena which appear 
J32   7 pre-theoretically to have something in common. In so far as it 
J32   8 retains its internal coherence and distinctive identity - in so far 
J32   9 as theoretical linguistics is to be distinguished from the 
J32  10 theoretical branches of other sciences - it maintains, and must 
J32  11 maintain, its connexion with what is pre-theoretically 
J32  12 identifiable, across all societies and cultures, as the referent of 
J32  13 Saussure's <foreign|>'langage'.<p/>
J32  14 <p_>Theoretical linguistics - more precisely, theoretical general 
J32  15 linguistics - is that branch of the subject which sets out to 
J32  16 provide a non-trivial, intellectually satisfying, answer to what I 
J32  17 referred to earlier as the central defining question of 
J32  18 linguistics: 'What is language?' (construed, as we shall see below, 
J32  19 in a particular way).<p/>
J32  20 <p_>Although this question contains the ontological presupposition 
J32  21 that there is such a thing as language (<foreign|>'langage'), of 
J32  22 itself it says nothing about its ontological status. It does not 
J32  23 necessarily imply that language is empirically and 
J32  24 pre-theoretically separable from non-language. Both general and 
J32  25 descriptive linguistics have always operated, however, with the 
J32  26 assumption that this is so. To quote W.S. Allen, on this point: 
J32  27 <quote_>"We presume that there is a particular mode of human 
J32  28 behaviour which it is legitimate to isolate and to label as 
J32  29 'language'; we assume also that this behaviour is such that 
J32  30 systematic statements may be made about its various 
J32  31 manifestations"<quote/> (1957b: 13). Once again, if we wish to be 
J32  32 precise, we need to be clear about the distinction between process 
J32  33 and product, and consequently about the different ways in which 
J32  34 language 'manifests' itself to us in the physical world. Most 
J32  35 branches of linguistics draw their data from the products of the 
J32  36 process, not from the process itself (various kinds of muscular and 
J32  37 neurophysiological activity). This is an important point which has 
J32  38 been dealt with above (see Chapter 2): I will not elaborate upon it 
J32  39 further. For present purposes, let us simply note that the two 
J32  40 assumptions, or postulates, made explicit in the passage just 
J32  41 quoted - the postulate of isolability and the postulate of 
J32  42 systematicity - have proved their worth over the centuries (the 
J32  43 history of linguistics, in some of its branches at least, and of 
J32  44 linguistic theory is measured in centuries) and need not be 
J32  45 justified in detail here. Nor is there any need to labour the point 
J32  46 that the isolability of the <quote_>"particular mode of human 
J32  47 behaviour"<quote/> that is pre-theoretically identifiable as 
J32  48 language (<foreign|>'langage') rests, operationally, upon the 
J32  49 relatively clear, empirically determinate and theory-neutral, 
J32  50 difference between speech and non-speech.<p/>
J32  51 <p_>The question 'What is language?' can be addressed from several 
J32  52 points of view and can be answered in several different, but 
J32  53 equally legitimate, ways according to the point of view that is 
J32  54 adopted. Theoretical linguistics, founded upon the Saussurean and 
J32  55 post-Saussurean trichotomy of <foreign_>'langage', 
J32  56 'langue'<foreign/> and <foreign|>'parole', interprets the question 
J32  57 as meaning 'What is a language?' (<foreign_>'Qu'est-ce qu'une 
J32  58 langue?'<foreign/>). The different branches of theoretical 
J32  59 linguistics adopt characteristically different points of view and 
J32  60 consequently postulate different kinds of theoretical constructs in 
J32  61 the answers they give to the question. Theoretical microlinguistics 
J32  62 (often called autonomous linguistics: see Chapter 2) adopts the 
J32  63 point of view expressed by Saussure, or rather his editors, in the 
J32  64 famous final sentence of the <tf|>Cours: <quote_>"<foreign_>la 
J32  65 linguistique a pour unique et v<*_>e-acute<*/>ritable objet la 
J32  66 langue envisag<*_>e-acute<*/>e en elle-m<*_>e-circ<*/>me et pour 
J32  67 elle-m<*_>e-circ<*/>me<foreign/>"<quote/> (1916: 317). It is the 
J32  68 controversial <quote_>"<foreign_>en elle-m<*_>e-circ<*/>me et pour 
J32  69 elle-m<*_>e-circ<*/>me<foreign/>"<quote/>, of course, which 
J32  70 distinguishes theoretical microlinguistics from the various 
J32  71 sub-branches of theoretical macrolinguistics. But they too, as I 
J32  72 shall argue, have their own distinctive conceptions of the 
J32  73 language-system. It must not be thought that sociolinguistics or 
J32  74 psycholinguistics, or the other branches of macrolinguistics, can 
J32  75 dispense with the distinction between the system and the process 
J32  76 (or its products). I will come back to this point. But first let me 
J32  77 make explicit something else which is not immediately obvious.<p/>
J32  78 <p_>This is the fact that <foreign_>'la langue'<foreign/> in the 
J32  79 famous passage from the <tf|>Cours that I have just quoted can be 
J32  80 interpreted either generically or specifically. Its generic 
J32  81 interpretation defines the field of theoretical general 
J32  82 linguistics; its specific interpretation, that of theoretical 
J32  83 descriptive linguistics. This is the gloss that I would add to 
J32  84 Katz's formulation of the goals of what he calls linguistics 
J32  85 <tf_>tout court<tf/> (I would call it theoretical linguistics) in 
J32  86 his recent defence of Platonic realism (as an alternative to both 
J32  87 American structuralism and Chomskyan cognitivism): 
J32  88 <quote_>"linguistics tries to construct theories to answer the 
J32  89 questions, first, 'What is English, Urdu, and other natural 
J32  90 languages?' and second, 'What is language in general?'"<quote/> 
J32  91 (Katz, 1981: 21). Two further terminological comments may be made 
J32  92 about this passage, by way of exegesis: (i) by <quote_>"natural 
J32  93 languages"<quote/> Katz, like most philosophers and linguists, 
J32  94 clearly means N-languages; (ii) by <quote_>"language in 
J32  95 general"<quote/> he means, in Saussurean terms, not 
J32  96 <foreign|>'langage', but <foreign|>'langue' (construed 
J32  97 generically). His two questions are in fact post-Chomskyan 
J32  98 reformulations of Saussure's <quote_>"<foreign_>la linguistique a 
J32  99 pour ... objet ...<foreign/>"<quote/> (Chapter 4). Although 
J32 100 theoretical general linguistics existed long before Chomsky 
J32 101 published his seminal work in the mid-1950s, modern theoretical 
J32 102 descriptive linguistics is very much his creation. A generative 
J32 103 grammar of any N-language - English, Urdu, etc. - is a theory of 
J32 104 that language: more specifically, a theory of the well-formedness 
J32 105 of the sentences of the language.<p/>
J32 106 <p_>So far, I have been concerned, first of all, to point out that, 
J32 107 although until recently there was no need to distinguish between 
J32 108 'general linguistics' and 'theoretical linguistics', nowadays there 
J32 109 is; and, second, to prepare the ground for the distinction that I 
J32 110 am drawing between theoretical linguistics and linguistic theory 
J32 111 and for the necessarily brief presentation of my own approach to 
J32 112 the definition of the field of theoretical linguistics, on the 
J32 113 basis of alternative, equally legitimate, conceptions of 
J32 114 language-systems.<p/>
J32 115 <p_>But why, it may now be asked, is it not possible to operate 
J32 116 with a single notion of the language-system valid in all branches 
J32 117 of linguistics, micro- and macro-, theoretical and non-theoretical? 
J32 118 This is a question that has been dealt with in some detail in the 
J32 119 preceding chapter. The answer, as we have seen, derives partly from 
J32 120 the apparently <tf_>sui generis<tf/> properties of N-languages and 
J32 121 partly from the complexity and heterogeneity of the 
J32 122 pre<?_>-<?/>theoretically isolable phenomena identifiable as 
J32 123 'language' (i.e., as Saussure's <foreign|>'langage').<p/>
J32 124 <p_>The multiplicity and heterogeneity of the connections that can 
J32 125 be established between what are pre-theoretically classifiable as 
J32 126 language-data (<foreign_>'des donn<*_>e-acute<*/>es 
J32 127 langagi<*_>e-grave<*/>res<foreign/>', if I may employ this useful 
J32 128 post-Saussurean adjective) and other data, natural and cultural, 
J32 129 constituting the subject matter of other disciplines are such that, 
J32 130 in my view at least, there is no immediate possibility, perhaps 
J32 131 even no ultimate possibility, of constructing a unified theory of 
J32 132 the natural and social sciences within which a unitary theory of 
J32 133 language (of <foreign|>'langue' construed generically) would find 
J32 134 its place and be descriptively and explanatorily adequate to the 
J32 135 data that it systematizes and accounts for. As to the apparently 
J32 136 unique, or <tf_>sui generis<tf/>, character of what are commonly 
J32 137 referred to as natural languages, this may well have been 
J32 138 exaggerated at times by proponents of so-called autonomous 
J32 139 linguistics. The discontinuity between language and non-language, 
J32 140 on the one hand, and the determinacy, arbitrariness and closedness 
J32 141 of grammatical structure, on the other, have certainly been greatly 
J32 142 exaggerated by linguists of various schools, generativist and 
J32 143 non-generativist. The fact remains that nothing remotely resembling 
J32 144 a comprehensive, intellectually interesting and empirically 
J32 145 satisfactory account of the grammatical structure of N-languages in 
J32 146 terms of the theoretical concepts and explanatory principles of 
J32 147 other disciplines has yet been provided by any of those who have 
J32 148 challenged the <tf_>sui generis<tf/> character of languages. There 
J32 149 is every reason therefore to continue to subscribe to a working 
J32 150 hypothesis that has proved its heuristic value in the practical 
J32 151 description of languages over the centuries and has been, more 
J32 152 recently, the foundation-stone of what is so far the most 
J32 153 sophisticated branch of theoretical linguistics, both general and 
J32 154 descriptive: theoretical (synchronic) microlinguistics. This does 
J32 155 not mean, however, that we should, as practitioners of 
J32 156 microlinguistics, whether general or descriptive, close our minds 
J32 157 to those aspects of language that are not, or do not appear to be, 
J32 158 <tf_>sui generis<tf/> or deny the validity of alternative views of 
J32 159 the nature and ontological status of language-systems.<p/>
J32 160 <p_>The ontological status of the language-system (Saussure's 
J32 161 <foreign|>'langue') has been controversial ever since the 
J32 162 publication of the <tf|>Cours. Saussure's own views are unclear and 
J32 163 perhaps contradictory. At one time, he says that they are 
J32 164 supra-individual social facts; at another time, that they are 
J32 165 stored in the brains of individual members of the 
J32 166 language-community (1916: 23-32). And each of these conflicting 
J32 167 views is incompatible with the view, recently advocated by Katz 
J32 168 (1981), that language-systems are purely abstract, mathematical 
J32 169 (so-called Platonic) objects (see Chapter 4). As will be obvious 
J32 170 from what has been said earlier, Katz's view (which is close to 
J32 171 Hjelmslev's, 1943a), is the one that I accept for microlinguistics, 
J32 172 though not for psycholinguistics, sociolinguistics or other 
J32 173 branches of macrolinguistics.<p/>
J32 174 <p_>Some part of the confusion and controversy that has surrounded 
J32 175 the Saussurean distinction of <foreign|>'langue' and 
J32 176 <foreign|>'parole' over the last half-century or so is to be 
J32 177 attributed to the fact that both words are used in the <tf|>Cours 
J32 178 non<?_>-<?/>technically (i.e., pre-theoretically) as well as 
J32 179 technically; and, since the theoretical distinction (or, as we 
J32 180 shall see, distinctions) that Saussure draws between them 
J32 181 correlates with differences of meaning in everyday French, it is 
J32 182 not always clear in what sense they are being employed in 
J32 183 particular contexts. It must also be admitted that Saussure's own 
J32 184 comments (or those of his editors) about the rough equivalence 
J32 185 between French <foreign|>'parole' and German <foreign|>'Rede' (and 
J32 186 Latin <foreign|>'sermo' in contrast with <foreign|>'lingua') are 
J32 187 less than helpful (1916: 31). They must have encouraged, even for 
J32 188 those who have read the <tf|>Cours in French, what has undoubtedly 
J32 189 been, over the years, by far the most serious misunderstanding of 
J32 190 the technical distinction between <foreign|>'langue' and 
J32 191 <foreign|>'parole': the view that it relates basically, or 
J32 192 primarily, to the distinction between language and speech. It does 
J32 193 indeed cover one dimension or one part of the semantic difference 
J32 194 between 'language' and 'speech' (between German <foreign|>'Sprache' 
J32 195 and <foreign|>'Rede', between Russian <foreign|>'jazyk' and 
J32 196 <foreign|>'recj', etc.): or rather, to be more precise, between 
J32 197 'language' construed as a count noun and 'speech' understood as 
J32 198 referring to the product, rather than the process, of speaking. But 
J32 199 it does so, as we have seen, only secondarily. The primary 
J32 200 distinction is between a language and utterances (spoken, written, 
J32 201 or whatever: i.e., products, not processes, inscribed in some 
J32 202 appropriate physical substance or medium) which, by virtue of their 
J32 203 structure (and independently of their physical manifestation), are 
J32 204 identifiable as utterances of the language in question (see Chapter 
J32 205 1). It is unfortunate that the beginnings of theoretical 
J32 206 linguistics should have coincided, for historically explicable 
J32 207 reasons, with a period of extreme phonocentrism. But no more needs 
J32 208 to be said on that score.<p/>
J32 209 <p_>Much of the controversy, if not confusion, that still attaches 
J32 210 to the Saussurean, or post-Saussurean, distinction between 
J32 211 <foreign|>'langue' and <foreign|>'parole' (or the Chomskyan 
J32 212 distinction of 'competence' and 'performance', which is valid for 
J32 213 psycholinguistics but not for microlinguistics) must, however, be 
J32 214 attributed to what in this and the previous chapter I have 
J32 215 characterized as a false assumption: the assumption that there is 
J32 216 only one kind of reality and that so-called natural languages, 
J32 217 N-languages, must be either psychological or social entities, or, 
J32 218 in terms of an alternative dichotomy, that they must be either 
J32 219 physical or non-physical. It is my contention that 
J32 220 microlinguistics, on the one hand, and the several branches of 
J32 221 macro<?_>-<?/>linguistics, on the other, start from the same 
J32 222 pre-theoretical notion of N-languages and that, according to their 
J32 223 own viewpoint and the alliances that they forge with other 
J32 224 disciplines (mathematics, psychology, sociology, anthropology, 
J32 225 etc), they each practise a particular kind of abstraction and 
J32 226 idealization in the construction of the ontologically appropriate 
J32 227 model of the underlying language-system.<p/>
J32 228 <p_>I have already referred to one common misunderstanding of 
J32 229 Saussure's terminological distinction between <foreign|>'langue' 
J32 230 and <foreign|>'parole': a misunderstanding based on the view that 
J32 231 it correlates directly with the distinction between language and 
J32 232 speech.
J32 233 
J33   1 <#FLOB:J33\><p_><tf_>Knowledge 3:<tf/> acknowledging and sharing 
J33   2 the courtesies of the game, such as how long to wait between moves, 
J33   3 whether or not to talk, move about, how seriously to take it, what 
J33   4 to do if a piece gets lost, whether or not to penalise one another 
J33   5 if a move is retracted. And so on.<p/>
J33   6 <p_><tf_>Knowledge 4:<tf/> how to play with skill. In chess, as in 
J33   7 all games many of those who play don't play very well, hence the 
J33   8 prevarications: 'Yes I play but not very well' or 'I don't really 
J33   9 play' or 'I know how to play'.<p/>
J33  10 <p_>Knowledge 2 may be less clear since the pieces may be quite new 
J33  11 to the claimant. However, since s/he knows what sorts of pieces to 
J33  12 expect (two bishops, eight pawns and so on), even if the pieces in 
J33  13 this new set are distinguished only by colours s/he will very 
J33  14 quickly identify them for what they represent, and will also be 
J33  15 able to negotiate with the inviting player who may have begun with 
J33  16 a different piece identification. That doesn't matter as long as 
J33  17 they agree as to which object stands for which piece in the 
J33  18 game.<p/>
J33  19 <p_>So much for the rules: without the knowledges indicated above, 
J33  20 playing a game of chess would not be possible. If the two players 
J33  21 have different ideas about which moves may be made, in which order 
J33  22 or which piece stands for what, then there can only be chaos or 
J33  23 randomness, or of course total and instant victory for one side.<p/>
J33  24 <h_><p_>5.6 Describing the four kinds of Knowledge<p/><h/>
J33  25 <p_>Knowledge 1, in spite of what has just been said, is a form of 
J33  26 convention. Rules may in fact be formalised conventions, whether 
J33  27 they are the operations of a computer or a motor or the rules of a 
J33  28 nation state or the rules of a game, but once fixed they cease to 
J33  29 be conventions (or thought of as conventions) and become law-like. 
J33  30 Rules may originate in conventions but they must then be elevated 
J33  31 above conventions in order for the game to proceed at all.<p/>
J33  32 <p_>Knowledge 2 may appear to be more convention-like than 
J33  33 rule<?_>-<?/>like but as we shall see later it is safer to regard 
J33  34 it as rule-like. Of course, like Knowledge 1 it takes its origin in 
J33  35 convention, in tacit agreement as to what shape indicates which 
J33  36 piece: this is the Queen, this the King, Bishop and so on. But 
J33  37 although at the outset which counts as which is immaterial, as time 
J33  38 goes on the player forgets that it was only a convention and for 
J33  39 him/her the connection between the object and the chess piece 
J33  40 becomes unquestionable. Of course the new player may find this 
J33  41 uncomfortable (and if s/he doesn't know chess incomprehensible) but 
J33  42 will readily accept the distribution of object to piece because 
J33  43 this is what s/he expects.<p/>
J33  44 <p_>Knowledge 2 like Knowledge 1 draws on a set of routines and 
J33  45 their combinations in skilled and planning ways, leaving the 
J33  46 neophyte lost because s/he does not understand what or why it is 
J33  47 happening, and still puzzling the learning chess player.<p/>
J33  48 <p_>Knowledge 3 is more obviously conventional and overlaps with 
J33  49 very local arrangements which can be negotiated separately for each 
J33  50 chess encounter. No doubt in some cases the types of convention 
J33  51 listed here (for example how long to wait between moves, talking, 
J33  52 moving about, whether or not to allow a retraction of a move) are 
J33  53 more rule-like and may indeed be governed by a rule book just like 
J33  54 Knowledge 1 and 2. But other aspects of Knowledge 3, for example 
J33  55 how seriously to take it, whether to bet on a game, how generously 
J33  56 to interpret the 'rules' and whether to behave sympathetically to 
J33  57 one's opponent - these features of behaviour must be left to 
J33  58 individuals. Indeed the problem with Knowledge 3 is that it tends 
J33  59 to spread over into very personal and quite individual 
J33  60 <}_><-|>characterstics<+|>characteristics <}/> like how often to 
J33  61 smile during a game, whether to eat, smoke, drink. These move 
J33  62 beyond even the negotiated interpersonal and local, becoming wholly 
J33  63 idiosyncratic.<p/>
J33  64 <p_>Knowledge 4 is of a different order. It is possible to say, in 
J33  65 answer to the question we first asked, 'Yes, I play chess'. But 
J33  66 that does not imply well or badly. Modesty normally requires a 
J33  67 simple answer without qualification: or rather the unmarked form 
J33  68 would be 'I play, but not very well', whereas 'Yes I play' could 
J33  69 mean I play very well indeed. Modesty here is conventional except 
J33  70 in the Stephen Potter gamesmanship ploys which deliberately 
J33  71 downplay beyond the reach of modesty, for example 'Do you play 
J33  72 chess?' - 'Hardly at all', meaning 'Yes I'm a Grandmaster!'<p/>
J33  73 <p_>But Knowledge 4 is really about level of skill and the point we 
J33  74 must make is that this is a quite separate attribute from 
J33  75 Knowledges 1-3: Knowledges 1-3 are required for chess players. 
J33  76 Knowledge 4 is not required in the same way. Knowledge 4 is of 
J33  77 course necessary to some modest degree. To take a different sort of 
J33  78 game, to have only Knowledge 1-3 for tennis is of no value if you 
J33  79 are invited to join a friend on the tennis court for a game since 
J33  80 you will not find it possible to translate your knowledges into 
J33  81 some kind of performance, however low level. Knowing the rules of 
J33  82 tennis (or of chess) is no guarantee (indeed no assurance of any 
J33  83 kind) of being able to play the game for real.<p/>
J33  84 <p_>The game analogy helps in two ways. First, it indicates the 
J33  85 distinction between performance and competence. Performance (in 
J33  86 chess, tennis, games, - and language) means putting into action 
J33  87 Knowledge 1-3, that is playing the game, producing, using the 
J33  88 language. There are, of course, different levels of performance and 
J33  89 I will return to these. Second, it indicates that what the 
J33  90 performance shows (for the moment, again, leaving aside its level 
J33  91 of skill) is the extent of the informing Knowledges 1-3, whether 
J33  92 the player or user knows the rules (Knowledge 1), is familiar with 
J33  93 their representation (Knowledge 2) and observes the interactional 
J33  94 courtesies (Knowledge 3).<p/>
J33  95 <p_>What Knowledge 4 of course indicates brings me to the heart of 
J33  96 the 'how well do you play?' question. First of all let me dispense 
J33  97 with the explicit fallacy. Just as Knowledges 1-3 may be present 
J33  98 without Knowledge 4, so that the player or user knows in theory but 
J33  99 can't in practice, so Knowledge 4 may be present alone, the player 
J33 100 can play or use but is not able to explain this understanding in 
J33 101 terms of Knowledges 1-3. In both cases we probably need to suspend 
J33 102 disbelief and assume, given subjective normality, that the 
J33 103 unpractised player who has Knowledges 1-3 can through practice 
J33 104 articulate Knowledges 1-3; and similarly the player or user who has 
J33 105 Knowledge 4 can acquire Knowledges 1-3.<p/>
J33 106 <p_>However, this need not be the case both ways. Knowledges 1-3 
J33 107 are possible for armchair players who never acquire or articulate 
J33 108 Knowledge 4.<p/>
J33 109 <p_>In the reverse case we know that Knowledge 4 is possible with 
J33 110 no explicit Knowledges 1-3. Of course we assume that Knowledges 1-3 
J33 111 must implicitly underlie Knowledge 4, that is that no-one can play 
J33 112 chess or tennis or another game, without some knowledge of the 
J33 113 rules, the moves, the conventions and the courtesies. Even more 
J33 114 interesting in terms of Knowledge 4 is the threshold question. 
J33 115 Should I assume that Knowledge 4 necessarily requires knowing not 
J33 116 to play <tf|>skilfully? No doubt we do make major distinctions 
J33 117 among players, we provide hierarchies and championships and 
J33 118 honours, we choose teams and we (probably) distinguish even when 
J33 119 choosing opponents ourselves. And yet although this is common and 
J33 120 indicates an important aspect of game knowledge it is not, I 
J33 121 suggest, necessary. We can all be chess players however badly we 
J33 122 play, (although there is one caveat which is that we do need to 
J33 123 have some small acquaintance with Knowledges 1-3.) Knowledge 4 is 
J33 124 paradoxically less necessary. Some modicum is necessary, but no 
J33 125 more than a limited amount. Perhaps in addition to the possession 
J33 126 of Knowledges 1-3 there also needs to be some motivation to develop 
J33 127 Knowledge 4.<p/>
J33 128 <p_>The point of the analogy should now be obvious. Knowledges 1-3 
J33 129 have to do with competence, Knowledge 4 with a combination of 
J33 130 performance and proficiency; and what the performance of Knowledge 
J33 131 4 demonstrates in illustrating levels of proficiency is precisely 
J33 132 the extent to which Knowledges 1-3 have been internalised.<p/>
J33 133 <h_><p_>5.7 Knowledges and language<p/><h/>
J33 134 <p_>Let me now move back from the game analogy to language, 
J33 135 indicating the parallels of Knowledges 1-4 and, relating in each 
J33 136 case, the different kinds of knowledge available to the fugitive 
J33 137 native speaker I am attempting to capture.<p/>
J33 138 <p_>I must say, first of all, that, as with all analogies, the 
J33 139 parallels between games and language do not easily hold up. 
J33 140 Nevertheless, I will make whatever connections are possible and, 
J33 141 when necessary, point to the discrepancies.<p/>
J33 142 <h_><p_>Metalinguistic knowledge<p/><h/>
J33 143 <p_>Knowledge 1 is metalinguistic knowledge, knowledge about the 
J33 144 language. Native speakers may or may not have this explicit 
J33 145 knowledge though it is customary to say that they have internalised 
J33 146 it in some sense. What it means is the ability to talk about the 
J33 147 language, to know and describe in however elementary a way, the 
J33 148 parts of the sentence, to have some awareness, which can inform 
J33 149 discussion, of accent, style, register, linkages in discourse and 
J33 150 so on. But Knowledge 1 in language refers more importantly to a 
J33 151 manipulative ability with these structures, to be able to put 
J33 152 together sounds, intonation, stressing, rhythm, sentences, 
J33 153 discourses, registers, styles, perhaps within a very limited range 
J33 154 (especially at above sentence levels). Notice that we are teetering 
J33 155 here on the very edge of rule-governed behaviour (and are already 
J33 156 moving into the arena of Knowledge 2 and Knowledge 3).<p/>
J33 157 <p_>Knowledge 1 involves having the construction ability to 
J33 158 assemble the parts of common sentence types or texts and to 
J33 159 recognise them receptively as meaning bearing whether or not they 
J33 160 are understood. What matters crucially then is a recognition of 
J33 161 language use as being an exemplification or realisation of the 
J33 162 structural resource which they do have control over. Of course this 
J33 163 is a strong argument in support of the centrality of grammar: it 
J33 164 assumes that all language use is a particular, local or contextual 
J33 165 adaptation of the grammar. As I will show, the power of the local 
J33 166 or contextual is not so easily dismissed. But for the moment, to 
J33 167 use another analogy, it is generally accepted that skills are 
J33 168 transferable in activities such as reading, (whatever script is 
J33 169 used, given constancy of code) or driving a car, whatever 
J33 170 intricacies and developments the car may have, or farming, medicine 
J33 171 and so on. In all such cases there are constants, the important 
J33 172 core remains and what changes is how to use that core. Similarly 
J33 173 with language: the grammar of any one 'language' remains quite (if 
J33 174 not fully) impermeable to change but what uses it is put to vary, 
J33 175 with time and demand.<p/>
J33 176 <h_><p_>Discriminating knowledge<p/><h/>
J33 177 <p_>Knowledge 2, which I will call discriminating knowledge, 
J33 178 enables the native speaker to recognise what counts or what does 
J33 179 not count as being part of the language. There are perhaps three 
J33 180 aspects to this, none of them foolproof for reasons discussed 
J33 181 earlier in connection with the L1-L2-FL (Foreign Language) 
J33 182 relation, that is that any one native speaker is vastly limited in 
J33 183 what s/he knows of his/her own language, but it does include a 
J33 184 recognition ability of the rote kind of idiom, metaphor and so 
J33 185 on.<p/>
J33 186 <p_>However, given those constraints, I propose these three 
J33 187 attributes to Knowledge 2. First, the native speaker knows what is 
J33 188 his/her language and what is not (it's English, say, not French). 
J33 189 Second, the native speaker knows that a sentence/text/sound could 
J33 190 be his/her language but it doesn't sound quite right. It belongs 
J33 191 elsewhere but is not somehow familiar; in other words it must 
J33 192 belong to some other dialect. Even if in my idiolect: 'term starts 
J33 193 again on Monday already' is not possible I recognise that it is 
J33 194 possible in some idiolects of English.<p/>
J33 195 <p_>Third, the native speaker knows that a new word or expression, 
J33 196 one that s/he has not heard before or even one that s/he chooses to 
J33 197 invent 'belongs' to the language.
J33 198 
J34   1 <#FLOB:J34\><p_>The only factor which might argue against this 
J34   2 characterization of <*_>oe-ligature<*/>-Tensing as lexical in this 
J34   3 set of dialects is its contravention of Structure Preservation 
J34   4 (SP), a constraint which states that <quote_>"lexical rules may not 
J34   5 mark features which are non-distinctive, nor create structures 
J34   6 which do not conform to the basic prosodic template of the 
J34   7 language"<quote/> (Borowsky, 1986: 29). SP is therefore intended to 
J34   8 prohibit the introduction of non-contrastive features into the 
J34   9 lexical phonology: as Kiparsky (1985: 87) says, <quote_>"if a 
J34  10 certain feature is non-distinctive, we shall say that it may not be 
J34  11 specified in the lexicon. This means that it may not figure in 
J34  12 non-derived lexical items, nor be introduced by any lexical rule, 
J34  13 and therefore may not play any role at all in the lexical 
J34  14 phonology"<quote/>. Since Harris (1989a) assumes 
J34  15 [<*_>plus-minus<*/>tense] to be non<?_>-<?/>distinctive for 
J34  16 English, and since <*_>oe-ligature<*/>-Tensing clearly refers to 
J34  17 this feature, the rule contravenes SP. However, Harris tentatively 
J34  18 suggests that newly<?_>-<?/>lexicalised rules may violate SP 
J34  19 temporarily, with the reassertion of SP perhaps influencing the 
J34  20 future direction of change, although he provides no clear evidence 
J34  21 of this determinative role of SP. In other dialects, 
J34  22 <*_>oe-ligature<*/>-Tensing has moved even further from its 
J34  23 Neogrammarian source: in RP, for instance, 
J34  24 <*_>oe-ligature<*/>-Tensing is no longer a 
J34  25 <}_><-|>synhronically<+|>synchronically<}/> productive rule, but 
J34  26 has caused restructuring at the underlying level, such that the 
J34  27 tense reflex of historical short /<*_>ae-ligature<*/>/ has merged 
J34  28 with /a:/ (> /<*_>unch<*/>/) from other sources, including earlier 
J34  29 /a:r/, in <tf_>path, laugh<tf/> and so on.<p/>
J34  30 <p_>Harris' discussion of <*_>oe-ligature<*/>-Tensing suggests that 
J34  31 sound changes may be phonologized as postlexical rules, but may 
J34  32 subsequently acquire properties of the lexical syndrome in (2) and 
J34  33 become (initially non-Structure Preserving) lexical rules, which 
J34  34 may then also begin to diffuse. Ultimately, the number of lexical 
J34  35 exceptions may increase, and  the rule will be lost, its effects 
J34  36 being incorporated into the underlying representations.<p/>
J34  37 <p_>If these suggestions are substantiable, LP gains considerably 
J34  38 in a number of domains. Labov's two types of sound change can be 
J34  39 matched with credible synchronic counterparts, and his notion of 
J34  40 more and less abstract changes linked with the lexical-postlexical 
J34  41 division, although the case of <*_>oe-ligature<*/>-Tensing shows 
J34  42 that Labov's correlation of particular features with each type of 
J34  43 change cannot be maintained. Furthermore, LP can be seen to be free 
J34  44 of another shortcoming of standard generative phonology, in which 
J34  45 the incorporation of change into the synchronic grammar was all too 
J34  46 readily formalisable, with the result that the model cannot 
J34  47 distinguish naturally<?_>-<?/>occurring from unattested types of 
J34  48 change. At the same time, the resultant progressive differentiation 
J34  49 of dialects and languages was entirely unformalisable, due to the 
J34  50 static nature of the model and the resistance of early generative 
J34  51 phonologists to change in the underlying representations. In LP, 
J34  52 the lexicalization of rules and their eventual loss provides a 
J34  53 mechanism for change at the underlying level and for the 
J34  54 introduction of surface and underlying dialect variation.<p/>
J34  55 <p_>In the following sections, I shall show that the Scottish Vowel 
J34  56 Length Rule (SVLR) provides further evidence for these proposals, 
J34  57 and constitutes an arguably even clearer illustration of the 'life 
J34  58 cycle' of changes and rules outlined above, albeit with some 
J34  59 interesting differences from Harris' example of 
J34  60 <*_>oe-ligature<*/>-Tensing. In what follows, I assume a two-level 
J34  61 lexical phonology/morphology of the type proposed by Booij and 
J34  62 Rubach (1987). For English, irregular inflection and Class I 
J34  63 derivation will operate on Level 1, and Class II derivation, 
J34  64 compounding and regular inflection on Level 2.<p/>
J34  65 <h_><p_>2. THE SCOTTISH VOWEL LENGTH RULE<p/>
J34  66 <p_>2.1. The synchronic SVLR: a preliminary discussion<p/><h/>
J34  67 <p_><quote_>A typically English dialect is one which preserves a 
J34  68 reflex of the West Germanic system of phonemic vowel length, having 
J34  69 one set of lexically short and one of lexically long stressed vowel 
J34  70 phonemes ... Scots dialects, on the other hand, are characterized 
J34  71 by the disruption of this dichotomous pattern, resulting in the 
J34  72 loss of phonemic length: vowel duration is to a large extent 
J34  73 conditioned by the phonetic environment<quote/> (Harris, 1985: 
J34  74 14).<p/>
J34  75 <p_>The process generally said to be responsible for this 
J34  76 historical loss of contrastive vowel length in Scots, and for 
J34  77 controlling the synchronic distribution of long and short vowel 
J34  78 allophones, is the Scottish Vowel Length Rule. SVLR was first 
J34  79 formulated in 1962 by A.J. Aitken (after whom it is also called 
J34  80 Aitken's Law), although its effects had been observed much earlier, 
J34  81 in dialect studies like Patterson (1860), Murray (1873), Watson 
J34  82 (1923) and Zai (1942). A preliminary formulation of the synchronic 
J34  83 SVLR, which applies in Scots dialects and in Standard Scottish 
J34  84 English (SSE; the local sociolinguistic equivalent of RP, see 
J34  85 Abercrombie, 1979) is given in (5), and an illustration of its 
J34  86 effects for two vowels appears in (6).<p/>
J34  87 <p_><O_>diagram<O/><p/>
J34  88 <p_><O_>table<O/><p/>
J34  89 <p_>SVLR applies to the monophthongs /i u e o/ (found in the 
J34  90 standard lexical sets <tf_>FLEECE/NEAR; FOOT/GOOSE/CURE; 
J34  91 FACE/SQUARE<tf/> and <tf|>GOAT/FORCE (Wells, 1982)); to 
J34  92 /a<*_>unch<*/>/ (lexical sets <tf|>TRAP/PALM/START and 
J34  93 <tf|>LOT/THOUGHT/NORTH (Wells, 1982)) in some varieties, although 
J34  94 these are consistently long in others, and to the first element of 
J34  95 the diphthong /<*_>unch<*/>i/ (lexical set <tf|>PRICE (Wells, 
J34  96 1982)), the only vowel to be affected both qualitatively and 
J34  97 quantitatively. Its effects on the two other Scots diphthongs, /au/ 
J34  98 (<tf|>MOUTH (Wells, 1982)) and /<*_>unch<*/>i/ (<tf|>CHOICE (Wells, 
J34  99 1982)), is unclear; /<*_>unch<*/>i/ is relatively rare in English 
J34 100 in general, while /au/ is extremely peripheral in the Scots system, 
J34 101 since Middle English /u:/ did not diphthongize to /au/ by the Great 
J34 102 Vowel Shift in Northern dialects, including Scots. The result is 
J34 103 that lexical items like <tf|>house, <tf|>out, <tf|>town have 
J34 104 <*_>unch<*/> in modern Scots dialects; where /au/ does appear, in 
J34 105 formal registers and SSE, it may best be regarded as a borrowing 
J34 106 from Southern English English, and might not then be expected to 
J34 107 undergo a Scots-specific process like SVLR.<p/>
J34 108 <p_>The specification [+tense] in the structural description of 
J34 109 SVLR in (5) is intended to include the input vowels listed above, 
J34 110 while excluding the non<?_>-<?/>lengthening lax vowels 
J34 111 /<*_>unches<*/>/. Lass (1974), Aitken (1981) and Harris (1985) all 
J34 112 accept that /<*_>unches<*/>/ are exceptions to SVLR, but consider 
J34 113 /<*_>epsilon<*/>/ to be a lengthenable vowel, although they do not 
J34 114 discuss it in any detail. However, there is little evidence for its 
J34 115 inclusion in the lengthening set; in fact, /<*_>epsilon<*/>/ is 
J34 116 consistently classified as non-lengthening in earlier dialect 
J34 117 studies (Dieth, 1932; Grant, 1912; Wettstein, 1942). Recent 
J34 118 experimental studies are inconclusive: Agutter (1988a, b), whose 
J34 119 work will be discussed further below, did not test 
J34 120 /<*_>epsilon<*/>/, and McClure (1977), who did, was unable to 
J34 121 examine it in as full a range of contexts as the other allegedly 
J34 122 lengthenable vowels. For instance, /<*_>epsilon<*/>/ does not 
J34 123 appear in stressed open syllables, so that no examples of this 
J34 124 vowel word-finally or before inflectional [d] or [z] are available. 
J34 125 /<*_>epsilon<*/> is also rare before /r/ and voiced fricatives, and 
J34 126 McClure was forced to resort to using the names <tf|>Kerr 
J34 127 [k<*_>epsilon<*/>r] and <tf|>Des [d<*_>epsilon<*/>z].<p/>
J34 128 <p_>McClure (1977) does claim to have found results broadly in line 
J34 129 with the length modification expected if SVLR did affect 
J34 130 /<*_>epsilon<*/>/. However, only one informant, McClure himself, 
J34 131 was involved in this experiment, and his average vowel duration and 
J34 132 range of durations were considerably higher than those of any 
J34 133 speaker tested by Agutter (1988a, b). This makes McClure's findings 
J34 134 unreliable, since it is at least possible that they reflect 
J34 135 <quote_>"an exaggerated differentiation of vowel length in long and 
J34 136 non-long contexts and extreme carefulness on the part of an 
J34 137 informant who knew the purpose of the experiment"<quote/> (Agutter, 
J34 138 1988b: 15).<p/>
J34 139 <p_>Since the early dialect evidence is the most conclusive 
J34 140 currently available, I accept that /<*_>epsilon<*/>/, along with 
J34 141 /<*_>unches<*/>/, is an exception to SVLR. There is distributional 
J34 142 and behavioural evidence that these three vowels form a natural 
J34 143 class of [-tense] vowels in Scots/SSE. All three fail to occur in 
J34 144 morpheme-final stressed open syllables; furthermore, in casual 
J34 145 registers or under low stress, /<*_>unch<*/>/ and /<*_>unch<*/>/ 
J34 146 tend to fall together for Scots speakers, and the entire set 
J34 147 /<*_>unches<*/><*_>epsilon<*/>/ may also merge, as shown in (7).<p/>
J34 148 <p_><O_>diagram<O/><p/>
J34 149 <p_>The inclusion of [+tense] as an input condition for SVLR will, 
J34 150 then, effect the appropriate exclusions, and is motivated insofar 
J34 151 as the feature [<*_>unch<*/>tense] itself is motivated. However, as 
J34 152 Halle (1977: 611) notes, <quote_>"the feature of tenseness has had 
J34 153 a long and complicated career in phonetics"<quote/>, and objections 
J34 154 have been raised against its integrity and validity. Certainly the 
J34 155 claim that LP improves upon standard generative phonology, for 
J34 156 instance in that it combats abstractness (McMahon, 1989), can gain 
J34 157 nothing from avowed support for a <quote|>"pseudo-feature" (Lass, 
J34 158 1976). One of the most vocal detractors of [<*_>unch<*/>tense] is 
J34 159 Lass (see especially Lass, 1976), who bases his case for the 
J34 160 abandonment of the feature largely on the difficulty of locating 
J34 161 distinct, measurable phonetic correlates for it. Lass holds that, 
J34 162 when two vowels differ with respect to a cluster of factors such as 
J34 163 relative height, backness and degree of rounding, these should be 
J34 164 considered separately rather than ascribed as a set to <quote_>"an 
J34 165 explanatory abstraction"<quote/> (Lass, 1976: 49) like tenseness. I 
J34 166 believe, however, that these arguments can be countered, and 
J34 167 outline five replies below.<p/>
J34 168 <p_>(i) It is true that tenseness is intimately connected with 
J34 169 tongue height, frontness/backness and degree of lip-rounding. 
J34 170 However, the tense-lax dichotomy does not rest on the individual 
J34 171 contribution of these features, but on their variable conjunction; 
J34 172 and the weighting of contributory components is not constant in 
J34 173 distinguishing different tense-lax pairs. So, although tense vowels 
J34 174 tend to be more peripheral than their lax counterparts, the 
J34 175 interpretation of peripherality is fluid. A high front tense vowel 
J34 176 will thus be higher and fronter than its lax equivalent, while a 
J34 177 low back rounded vowel expresses its peripherality 
J34 178 vis-<*_>a-grave<*/>-vis its lax partner by being lower, more back 
J34 179 and more rounded (although some low tense vowels <tf|>MAY be less 
J34 180 peripheral than their lax counterparts). It is this variable 
J34 181 clustering of features, which would be difficult to relate using 
J34 182 only the contributory elements, that [<*_>unch<*/>tense] is 
J34 183 intended to encapsulate (for an example of a similar use of 
J34 184 [<*_>unch<*/>tense], see Allen, 1965).<p/>
J34 185 <p_>(ii) The use of [<*_>unch<*/>tense] may make otherwise opaque 
J34 186 processes characterizable (see, for instance, Lieber's (1979) 
J34 187 account of Middle English Open Syllable Lengthening). This is 
J34 188 surely one of the major tasks of linguistics, and a primary 
J34 189 requirement of the formal and theoretical tools it employs.<p/>
J34 190 <p_>(iii) Lass asserts that tenseness is definable only according 
J34 191 to its effects rather than <quote_>"on the basis of a prior 
J34 192 (historically based) partitioning of the lexicon"<quote/> (Lass, 
J34 193 1976: 40). However, a <quote_>"historically based"<quote/> 
J34 194 characterization can be found for the three lax vowels 
J34 195 /<*_>unches<*/> <*_>epsilon<*/>/ in modern Scots/SSE, which form a 
J34 196 historically motivated class as the only vowels in the system with 
J34 197 no tense (or long) Middle English sources. /i e u o/ and the 
J34 198 diphthongs have only tense sources, and /a <*_>unch<*/>/ result 
J34 199 from the merger of tense and lax vowels (Lass, 1974). However, 
J34 200 /<*_>unches<*/>/ have only short, lax sources, as does 
J34 201 /<*_>epsilon<*/>/, given that all its possible tense source vowels 
J34 202 collapsed with other long tense vowels during the Great Vowel 
J34 203 Shift: ME /<*_>epsilon<*/>:/ raised to /e:/ and subsequently, in 
J34 204 some cases, to /i:/, and although /a:/ in turn raised to 
J34 205 /<*_>epsilon<*/>:/, it afterwards continued to /e:/, leaving the 
J34 206 long half-open front slot empty after the completion of the Vowel 
J34 207 Shift. Synchronically, /<*_>unches<*/><*_>epsilon<*/>/ cannot be 
J34 208 classified simply as short, since all Scots/SSE vowels are 
J34 209 underlyingly short, but these alone fail to undergo SVLR.<p/>
J34 210 <p_>(iv) The property of tenseness may not always be reducible to a 
J34 211 combination of length plus other phonetic features: for instance, 
J34 212 it has been claimed that there are cases where both long and short 
J34 213 vowels may be tense, as in Icelandic (Anderson, 1984: 95-96). 
J34 214 Furthermore, the association between length and tenseness may vary, 
J34 215 not only cross-linguistically, but diachronically in one language. 
J34 216 Thus, whereas in Middle English long vowels are consistently tense 
J34 217 and vice versa, the advent of SVLR has altered this correlation for 
J34 218 Scots/SSE, where tense vowels are now those that may become long 
J34 219 under certain phonological circumstances. Similarly, Harris' 
J34 220 (1989a) work on <*_>oe-ligature<*/>-Tensing suggests that 
J34 221 underlying restructuring in varieties like Philadelphia and New 
J34 222 York City may be producing a distinction of short lax 
J34 223 /<*_>ae-ligature<*/>/ and short tense /<*_>AE-ligature<*/>/.<p/>
J34 224 <p_>(v) The above argument is ultimately circular, so long as 
J34 225 'tense' and 'lax' cannot be independently defined in phonetic terms.
J34 226 
J35   1 <#FLOB:J35\>These words bear examination.<p/>
J35   2 <p_>It seems to have been the case that in the parent dialect, CF, 
J35   3 these words formed part of a lexically-marked stratum of loans from 
J35   4 Classical Latin. Yet in medieval Latin, <quote_>"all unstressed 
J35   5 vowels had become lax"<quote/> (Halle and Keyser 1971:99). 
J35   6 Consequently, in the parent dialect, these words are arguably 
J35   7 stressed not according to the native French paradigm (which would 
J35   8 have tended to make all such words oxytone), but according to 
J35   9 Latinate principles: the final syllable is skipped; then the 
J35  10 penultimate syllable is analysed, and if it is light, that too is 
J35  11 skipped, and stress is assigned to the antepenult. This principle 
J35  12 CF seems to gift to English. Notice, however, that in two of the 
J35  13 examples above (<tf|>Tydeus and <tf|>Zepherus), antepenultimate 
J35  14 stress can also be accounted for by the generalising of the OE Word 
J35  15 Rule, which will assign strongest stress to the initial syllables 
J35  16 (where antepenultimate = initial). In other words, we are now 
J35  17 dealing with two stress principles, but with one result: in many 
J35  18 cases, the survival of native English principles of stress 
J35  19 (specifically, the Word Rule) yields identical outputs to 
J35  20 stress-patterning based on a new principle.<p/>
J35  21 <p_>This is by no means an unusual situation in language. Giegerich 
J35  22 (1985:23), for example, notes that the same thing happens in 
J35  23 German: <quote_>"a Latinate stress rule has entered into the 
J35  24 borrowing Germanic language .... One of the reasons for the 
J35  25 survival of this Latinate stress rule, and indeed for its 
J35  26 productivity, may be its compatibility with native German 
J35  27 vocabulary. Note that the [Latinate: McC] rule copes with native 
J35  28 and nonnative vocabulary alike and no such distinction has to be 
J35  29 maintained in the phonology of English"<quote/>.<p/>
J35  30 <p_>In terms, then, of the English of the 14th century and beyond, 
J35  31 what we are looking at is a very familiar pattern: the central 
J35  32 stress-assignment rule is in certain words skipping up to two light 
J35  33 syllables before assigning stress. Halle and Keyser, for example, 
J35  34 write of this that <quote_>"The nonnative vocabulary of Chaucer 
J35  35 consisted of two types of words, namely, learned words largely of 
J35  36 Latin origin and everyday words borrowed from Old French or 
J35  37 Anglo-Norman. These two classes had different stress patterns. The 
J35  38 words of Latin origin were stressed on the antepenultimate vowel if 
J35  39 the penultimate syllable ended with a weak cluster [= was a light 
J35  40 syllable; McC]; otherwise, they were stressed on the penultimate 
J35  41 vowel"<quote/> (1971:99). Thus what we are dealing with in many of 
J35  42 the loans from Central French are words derived directly from Latin 
J35  43 where, as we have already seen, final syllables may be analysed as 
J35  44 extrametrical. It is from this point on, I think, that we can trace 
J35  45 the history of Noun Extrametricality in English.<p/>
J35  46 <p_>Once this happens, something very interesting and, as far as I 
J35  47 know, unique in English phonology happens. We have a subsequent 
J35  48 period in English where metrical overlap and ambiguity occurs. 
J35  49 Arguably, this period is at its height in the 16th century, the 
J35  50 period when it seems that Latin-based rules begin to be fully 
J35  51 operative in English - and of course, the period when the 
J35  52 quantitative metrical experiments take place.<p/>
J35  53 <p_>But let me return to the concept of metrical overlap. The point 
J35  54 is made by Dobson. Speaking specifically about late ME and early 
J35  55 ModE., he notes <quote_>"the coexistence in English of two modes of 
J35  56 stressing"<quote/> (1957, Vol. 2:831). These modes were the earlier 
J35  57 French (A-N) mode, the mode of right-strength and end-stress, and 
J35  58 the mode which almost wholly replaced it, the generalising of the 
J35  59 native Word Rule allied with the new Latinate principles, which 
J35  60 tended to shift the primary stress to the initial syllable. Once 
J35  61 this happens, we have, as I have noted, a large group of words 
J35  62 which had secondary stress at their right edges. But what happened 
J35  63 to these secondary<?_>-<?/>stressed syllables? The answer is that 
J35  64 in both disyllables and trisyllables, they tend to be reduced: 
J35  65 thus, in disyllables, against <tf|>empire, and <tf|>increase (where 
J35  66 secondary stress is kept), we have e.g. <tf|>captain and 
J35  67 <tf|>pleasure, where secondary stress is lost. As Dobson notes, in 
J35  68 Romance disyllables, <quote_>"especially if they were or became 
J35  69 'popular', shift of stress often led to the second syllable 
J35  70 becoming totally unstressed"<quote/> (1957, Vol. 2:831). This also 
J35  71 occurs in trisyllables, albeit less frequently (see e.g. Dobson 
J35  72 1957, Vol. 2:827ff.). One bench mark is Levins' <tf_>Manipulus 
J35  73 vocabulorum<tf/>, printed in 1570, which suggestively marked the 
J35  74 following (primary) stressings: <tf_>mem<*_>o-acute<*/>rial, 
J35  75 or<*_>i-acute<*/>ginal, geom<*_>e-acute<*/>trical<tf/>, as well as 
J35  76 penultimate stress on <tf_>ori<*_>e-acute<*/>ntal, 
J35  77 sacram<*_>e-acute<*/>ntal, accid<*_>e-acute<*/>ntal<tf/> and final 
J35  78 stress on e.g. <tf_>deb<*_>a-acute<*/>te, div<*_>i-acute<*/>ne<tf/> 
J35  79 etc. The pattern is familiar: although there is a little way to go 
J35  80 yet, it is essentially that of today (see further Halle and Keyser 
J35  81 1971:109ff.).<p/>
J35  82 <p_>Given Dobson's dating, and the present reconstruction, it would 
J35  83 seem that secondary stresses at the right edges of words are in 
J35  84 many cases being reduced at exactly the same time as Latinate 
J35  85 stress patterning, and with it, the possibility of final syllables 
J35  86 being extra<?_>-<?/>metrical, is entering the language. In short, 
J35  87 we have a unique position in which Latin stress rules are, at a 
J35  88 certain stage in linguistic history, compatible with native 
J35  89 vocabulary and stress-principles (see again the quote from 
J35  90 Giegerich 1985:23, above p. 18). Whether on lexical monosyllables, 
J35  91 disyllables, or trisyllables, the old rules, and the new, could 
J35  92 produce similar, and in many cases identical outputs. By 
J35  93 <tf_>c.<tf/>1570 it is possible to see the new lineaments of 
J35  94 English stress patterning. In (12) below I give a graphic outline 
J35  95 summary of the chief developments in English stress patterning from 
J35  96 <tf_>c.<tf/>1100 to <tf_>c.<tf/>1600.<p/>
J35  97 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J35  98 <p_>3. But what of the poets themselves? If my reconstruction and 
J35  99 dating are correct, surely our poets should have detected the 
J35 100 similarities between their English, and the theories of Latin 
J35 101 prosody they had available to them in the mid- to late 16th 
J35 102 century? Although the evidence is again difficult to reconstruct, 
J35 103 this seems to be what happens. A link can be made (and for 
J35 104 testament to the possibility of linking poetic form to 
J35 105 (phonological) characteristics of the language, see Allen 1973:12). 
J35 106 But to understand the link between the Latinate stress phonology 
J35 107 entering the language and the favoured Latin verse forms of the 
J35 108 later 16th century, I must first, having reconstructed the 
J35 109 phonological background, reconstruct the metrical background.<p/>
J35 110 <p_>While most discussion on the metrical background has focused on 
J35 111 syllabic quantity (see below), stress itself is not wholly 
J35 112 irrelevant to the quantitative enterprise. This is so for two 
J35 113 reasons: first, syllabic quantity in Latin is directly relevant to 
J35 114 the placement of stress, and so there is a prima facie case that 
J35 115 stress and quantity may be linked in the verse line. (However that 
J35 116 relationship may be exploited by poets, it is still a 
J35 117 relationship.) Second, and consequently, one way of reading and/or 
J35 118 performing the verse line (specifically, the hexameter) seems to 
J35 119 have been accentual, i.e. whatever the underlying patterns of 
J35 120 quantity determining the abstract structure of the line, one 
J35 121 possible exponent of that pattern is an accentual reading, one 
J35 122 based on word stress. As Allen puts it (1973:339), <quote_>"it has 
J35 123 to be remembered that in ordinary Latin speech ... quantity was 
J35 124 closely linked with accent; and it is possible that the untaught 
J35 125 speaker would have been aware of quantitative differences only in 
J35 126 so far as they were connected with the placement of 
J35 127 accent"<quote/>. But again, matters are complicated by the fact 
J35 128 that in the first part of the hexameter, accent, and ictus (= unit 
J35 129 of the abstract quantitative pattern) did not necessarily coincide, 
J35 130 and only, in fact, coincided regularly in the last two feet of the 
J35 131 line. Nevertheless, the link between stress and quantity is 
J35 132 important: for counterpoint to exist at all in the first part of 
J35 133 the line does not mean that stress (or accent) is irrelevant, only 
J35 134 that the link is differently exploited.<p/>
J35 135 <p_>Allen (1973:345ff.) argues convincingly that <quote_>"in 
J35 136 antiquity the scanning pronunciation [i.e. the ictic reading of a 
J35 137 line: McC] was the less normal way of reading [than an accentual 
J35 138 one: McC]"<quote/> and suggests that such a <quote_>"two-fold 
J35 139 tradition - pedagogical scanning and accentual reading"<quote/> 
J35 140 persists <quote_>"from the Latin grammarians to the present 
J35 141 day"<quote/> (1973:344). Attridge (1974:35) corroborates this: 
J35 142 <quote_>"It seems certain ... that the accepted practice in England 
J35 143 (and elsewhere) was to read Latin verse with normal 
J35 144 word-accents"<quote/>. Yet the tradition of 'scanning' was not dead 
J35 145 in England: <quote_>"We may conclude that the best-educated men in 
J35 146 England at the end of the sixteenth century would have held that 
J35 147 the correct way of reading Latin verse was with prose stresses, but 
J35 148 that even they would be accustomed to using the stressed-ictus 
J35 149 method for learning by heart or for scanning"<quote/> (Attridge 
J35 150 1974:40; see also Pulgram 1975:192). The upshot of this discussion 
J35 151 is, then, that stress was relevant to the quantitative enterprise 
J35 152 in England, even if in unexpected ways. The tradition of accentual 
J35 153 reading, moreover, helps to explain the demise of the movement (see 
J35 154 section 4 below). It remains, however, for us to look in more 
J35 155 detail at theories of syllabic quantity.<p/>
J35 156 <p_>The 16th century had inherited a theory of Latin prosody 
J35 157 (Attridge 1974:9) where syllables could be long 'by nature': these 
J35 158 were typically lexical monosyllables (<tf|>nox, 'night', 
J35 159 <tf|>frons, 'foliage'), or syllables containing long vowels or 
J35 160 diphthongs (e.g. the first syllable of <tf|>via, 'way'). Syllables 
J35 161 could also be long 'by position' (see below). In both cases, 
J35 162 syllabic length (or heaviness) may imply stress. The position rule, 
J35 163 for example, the more difficult of the two rules, implied that a 
J35 164 (non-final) syllable was stressed if it was heavy (e.g. first 
J35 165 syllables of <tf|>cul.pa, 'blame', <tf|>fal.sus, 'false'). It also 
J35 166 claimed a syllable was long (but not necessarily implying stress) 
J35 167 if it was followed, in the same or different words, by two 
J35 168 consonants (Attridge 1974:9, based on Raven 1965:23-25); so the 
J35 169 first syllable of <tf_>et d<*_>unch<*/>na<tf/> is 'long' by this 
J35 170 principle. There were also a group of syllables falling within the 
J35 171 purview of the position rule which could be scanned as either short 
J35 172 or long (light or heavy); these were syllables followed by plosive 
J35 173 + /l, r/. Thus the first syllable of <tf|>atrox, 'fierce', could be 
J35 174 scanned as light (<tf|>a.trox - a later age would call this 
J35 175 initial-maximal syllabification), or heavy (<tf|>at.rox) - see 
J35 176 again Attridge (1974:9). These points are detailed under (13).<p/>
J35 177 <p_>(13) Latin theories of syllable-structure and versification:<p/>
J35 178 <p_>a. Syllables <tf_>long by nature<tf/>: (i) lexical 
J35 179 monosyllables (e.g. <tf_>nox, frons<tf/> etc.; see also the 
J35 180 discussion of XVC# syllables below); (ii) syllables containing long 
J35 181 vowels or diphthongs (e.g. <tf|>via).<p/>
J35 182 <p_>b. Syllables <tf_>long by position<tf/>: (i) first syllables of 
J35 183 e.g. <tf_>cul.pa, fal.sus<tf/>; (ii) first syllable of e.g. <tf_>et 
J35 184 d<*_>unch<*/>na<tf/>, where <e> is classed as 'long by position' 
J35 185 since it precedes two consonants.<p/>
J35 186 <p_>c. Syllables classifiable as <tf_>long or short: at.rox<tf/> or 
J35 187 <tf_>a.trox, pat.rius<tf/> or <tf|>pa.trius etc.<p/>
J35 188 <p_>Let me try to reinterpret this in terms of non-linear theory. 
J35 189 What had developed in the history of English was a new kind of 
J35 190 trading relationship between syllabic heaviness and stress. Of 
J35 191 course, it is arguable that syllabic heaviness has always traded 
J35 192 with stress in English - it certainly does in OE, where the 
J35 193 rightward migration of the OE Stress Rule is quantity-sensitive at 
J35 194 the left edges of domains: consider here the contrast between 
J35 195 <tf_>t<*_>i-acute<*/>mbr<*_>o-grave<*/>de<tf/> ('he built', with 
J35 196 secondary stress, since the first syllable is heavy) and 
J35 197 <tf_>b<*_>i-acute<*/>fode<tf/> ('it trembled', with no secondary 
J35 198 stress since the first syllable is light; McCully and Hogg 
J35 199 1990).<p/>
J35 200 <p_>Recall now what the new, Latin-based English Stress Rule (ESR) 
J35 201 does: it assigns foot-headedness - stress - at the right edges of 
J35 202 words (not the left edges, as in OE) on the basis of syllable 
J35 203 weight. This relationship is easily observed in English 
J35 204 monosyllables, which are all syllabically heavy and all 
J35 205 <quote_>"inherently stressed"<quote/> (Hogg and McCully 1987:37). 
J35 206 In disyllables, too, heavy initial syllables (as well as light 
J35 207 ones, a fact which puzzled some 16th-century theorists) are 
J35 208 primary-stressed. When our 16th-century poets studied Latin 
J35 209 prosody, they found a similar relationship: heavy syllables are 
J35 210 equated with 'length', and length implies (or increases the 
J35 211 expectation of) stress. And although the 16th century was to 
J35 212 misinterpret part of this implication (by taking it to mean not 
J35 213 that syllables were 'long by position' but that their vowels 
J35 214 '<tf|>lengthened by position'), what is crucial here is the idea of 
J35 215 syllable structure.<p/>
J35 216 
J36   1 <#FLOB:J36\><h_><p_>22. International education of the highly 
J36   2 able<p/>
J36   3 <p_>Joan Freeman<p/><h/>
J36   4 <p_>In education, there is no escape from politics, nor for that 
J36   5 matter from cultural influences. These truths become emphasized in 
J36   6 the education of the highly able; in the same way that these 
J36   7 exceptional individuals function at an extreme, so too do attitudes 
J36   8 towards them. To consider international variations in the education 
J36   9 of the gifted, enables some conclusions to be drawn about systems 
J36  10 which appear to work well for them and which may be transferable to 
J36  11 other countries. However, it is often difficult to extricate a 
J36  12 nation's cultural outlook from its specific educational 
J36  13 practices.<p/>
J36  14 <p_>I am concentrating on three major cultural, rather than 
J36  15 geographical, divisions in which there are relatively distinct 
J36  16 forms of provision for the highly able. They overlap considerably, 
J36  17 in that pockets of all kinds exist within each division, but any 
J36  18 other division, such as into fluid and rigid societies, is at least 
J36  19 as value-laden. These divisions are: first, the Western World - 
J36  20 including Western Europe, North America, and Australasia; second, 
J36  21 Eastern Europe - the countries that were Communist until 1989/90; 
J36  22 and third, the Developing World - Africa, South America, and the 
J36  23 Far East.<p/>
J36  24 <h_><p_>International concern for the gifted<p/><h/>
J36  25 <p_>In all societies, the reasons for concern about the highly able 
J36  26 are dual - to serve the individuals in their personal fulfilment, 
J36  27 and to serve the community. This special concern for the highly 
J36  28 able is humane (at the very least) and will eventually increase 
J36  29 knowledge to help enhance everybody's life, although a high 
J36  30 intelligence is not necessarily the foundation of good leadership 
J36  31 or superior morality. For example, a child with an exceptionally 
J36  32 high IQ may have been brought up in an overly scholarly regimen, 
J36  33 which could produce either a religious dictator, or an academic 
J36  34 professor who lacks both social competence and the ability to cope 
J36  35 with others' demands (Miller 1990). The highly able are neither 
J36  36 more nor less moral than anyone else.<p/>
J36  37 <p_>Experimental education for highly able children is increasing 
J36  38 and the results are becoming more readily available to teachers, 
J36  39 among whom concern for the gifted is growing steadily. However, as 
J36  40 teachers in most of the world are only just beginning to accept the 
J36  41 idea that gifted children do need special provision, this is often 
J36  42 uneven and dependent on individual efforts.<p/>
J36  43 <p_>There is a need to develop policies for the highly able on an 
J36  44 international basis, but the greatest care must be taken in their 
J36  45 preparation. They should make full use of the research knowledge we 
J36  46 are accumulating, because opinions are merely opinions, and should 
J36  47 always be seen as such. What is valued as high ability in one part 
J36  48 of the world may not be seen as such in another - such as a trance 
J36  49 state which is valued in Thailand, but may put the child in the 
J36  50 hands of a clinical psychologist in the West.<p/>
J36  51 <h_><p_>Some international problem areas<p/><h/>
J36  52 <p_>There are two major, pervasive influences which often prevent 
J36  53 the identification and development of gifted potential, and their 
J36  54 effects are cumulative for each individual. The first is 
J36  55 socioeconomic status - even in the relatively rich West and in the 
J36  56 1990s. The second is gender stereotyping, which slots boys and 
J36  57 girls into areas of study that are not necessarily the most 
J36  58 appropriate for their abilities. When children are nominated by 
J36  59 parents or teachers, without testing, as gifted, this usually 
J36  60 results in two boys being presented for every girl. The physically 
J36  61 handicapped are often missed too, since giftedness which is not 
J36  62 obvious or all-round can be difficult for teachers to spot and cope 
J36  63 with.<p/>
J36  64 <p_>In multicultural societies, children of non-majority cultures 
J36  65 have to adapt to both home and school, and consequently may not 
J36  66 fulfil the expectations for gifted pupils in the educational 
J36  67 system. For example, the children's spoken language and 
J36  68 self-expression may be considerably better in their home language, 
J36  69 but to find this out requires efforts by teachers towards close 
J36  70 communication with parents, probably including home visits. This 
J36  71 consideration also applies to children born in inner cities who may 
J36  72 have limited school language ability but excellent 'street 
J36  73 language', causing them to be relatively non<?_>-<?/>communicative 
J36  74 in the classroom. It applies also to the children's performance on 
J36  75 nationally standardized tests of ability. The culture in which 
J36  76 children feel comfortable can even be set to work against 
J36  77 achievement at school, in the simplest sense of 'them and us'. This 
J36  78 often occurs in an educational system which is imposed from above, 
J36  79 without adequate concern for the real needs of the recipients.<p/>
J36  80 <p_>Acceleration is not uncommon for gifted children worldwide, as 
J36  81 it is the easiest way a school can manage them. Alternatively, a 
J36  82 school may just have one fast stream or even one teacher working 
J36  83 faster with a bright group, most frequently for mathematics. This 
J36  84 is a form of acceleration 'without tears', avoiding the frequently 
J36  85 accompanying problems of this move, such as immaturity relative to 
J36  86 others in the class, difficult peer relations, or small physical 
J36  87 size, when one child is very much younger in the teaching group. 
J36  88 Acceleration may also be offered in certain subjects for individual 
J36  89 children, if the school can cope with its timetabling. In some 
J36  90 countries, there are specialist teachers to provide guidance for 
J36  91 the education of the gifted.<p/>
J36  92 <p_>Research evidence indicates the importance of both material and 
J36  93 cultural provision if children's abilities are to be developed to 
J36  94 an exceptionally high level. I have been following up both gifted 
J36  95 and control children in Britain since 1974: all the 210 children, 
J36  96 their families and schools were visited and questioned. The 
J36  97 children's emotional adjustment was found to be independent of 
J36  98 their measured IQs. However, their scholastic achievements were 
J36  99 significantly affected by the provision of learning materials and 
J36 100 tuition, as well as by the family culture. The follow-up results 
J36 101 have reaffirmed the message from the original study - that gifted 
J36 102 children need adequate material and teaching provision to realise 
J36 103 their potential at both school and home. Relationships between 
J36 104 teachers and pupils were also seen to affect the pupils' 
J36 105 self-concepts and thus their achievements. Some children's gifts 
J36 106 appeared to have been abused, in the sense that their education was 
J36 107 intensely focused on examinations to the detriment of their 
J36 108 creative side, so that some had taken examination success alone as 
J36 109 the source of their self-esteem (Freeman 1991).<p/>
J36 110 <h_><p_>The Western World<p/><h/>
J36 111 <p_>Most children's physical needs are being met in the Western 
J36 112 World. Indeed, the common aim of free compulsory education for all 
J36 113 children, continuing with the availability of further education 
J36 114 throughout people's lives, has been almost accomplished. This means 
J36 115 that energy has been freed to refocus on improving educational 
J36 116 opportunities. Although national resources and outlook are varied, 
J36 117 there is a considerable commonality of approach to educational 
J36 118 research and development, built on the scientific and philosophical 
J36 119 tradition which spread from the 'old world' of Western Europe to 
J36 120 the 'new worlds' of North America and Australasia. However, more 
J36 121 subtle differences in outlooks between the thrusting new and the 
J36 122 complacent old are apparent in what they offer the highly able.<p/>
J36 123 <p_>In Europe, as the political edifices of many previously 
J36 124 Communist countries crumbled, thousands of bright young people 
J36 125 seeking a better life have streamed into the western democracies. 
J36 126 They bring with them different attitudes to the education of the 
J36 127 highly able, and a few are even bringing world-class teaching 
J36 128 expertise in subjects such as sports, gymnastics, singing, ballet, 
J36 129 circus, and mathematics.<p/>
J36 130 <p_>The style of interest they bring is different too. Eastern 
J36 131 Europe has generally been more concerned with the practicalities of 
J36 132 teaching and outcome, whereas the West has a more prolific output 
J36 133 of theory. At its extreme, the difference seems to be like that 
J36 134 between the training of young gymnasts on a trampoline and the 
J36 135 production of academic research papers which conclude that we need 
J36 136 more research. Yet, because of these recent political changes, the 
J36 137 extra money and provision which have been put into the promotion of 
J36 138 competitive excellence may now be redirected within Eastern 
J36 139 countries, so that the two halves of Europe may eventually become 
J36 140 more balanced in top-level achievements.<p/>
J36 141 <p_>Historically, Europe has had hundreds of years of selection in 
J36 142 education, which still lives in its collective memory, and to a 
J36 143 small extent in reality. Although this was originally by social 
J36 144 status and money, the Middle Ages saw the beginnings of selection 
J36 145 by ability for some boys. Present-day British grammar schools, 
J36 146 German gymnasium, and French lyc<*_>e-acute<*/>es, are schools 
J36 147 which emerged from the 15th century, to provide academic tuition, 
J36 148 originally in preparation for clerical and church positions.<p/>
J36 149 <p_>Selection by ability gripped the whole of Britain in 1945, when 
J36 150 every child in the country was tested at 11 years-old for entry to 
J36 151 the grammar schools - the Eleven Plus exam. It succeeded in 
J36 152 providing bright, working-class children with the opportunity to go 
J36 153 to previously middle-class schools, but failed to make allowance 
J36 154 for individual development, and has almost entirely been abandoned. 
J36 155 Among other problems, there was much incorrect placement, as well 
J36 156 as wide variation in the number of grammar school places between 
J36 157 education authorities. In the 1990s most British children, like 
J36 158 their counterparts on the European continent and in the rest of the 
J36 159 Western World, attend comprehensive, all<?_>-<?/>ability, 
J36 160 neighbourhood schools. The difference is that in Britain and the 
J36 161 USA, about 7 per cent of children go to private schools.<p/>
J36 162 <p_>Nevertheless, many comprehensive schools throughout the Western 
J36 163 World are still internally selective, having fast streams or 
J36 164 tracks, or other forms of division of the children for different 
J36 165 levels of tuition. Younger children may be sorted in class by more 
J36 166 subtle and flexible distribution into groups, identified by the 
J36 167 teacher's estimate of their abilities.<p/>
J36 168 <h_><p_>Western attitudes to high ability<p/><h/>
J36 169 <p_>In most Western countries, the training of teachers for guiding 
J36 170 the learning of gifted children is patchy. It is possible, for 
J36 171 example, to take a doctorate in teaching gifted children in a few 
J36 172 parts of the USA, but in Western Europe it would be difficult to 
J36 173 find even a teaching diploma which provided that kind of 
J36 174 instruction. However, in Munich, a new college for teachers of the 
J36 175 gifted is due to open in 1992, and a new postgraduate course is 
J36 176 about to start in Switzerland. There is a little input on the 
J36 177 subject at initial training level, but short in-service courses are 
J36 178 growing everywhere.<p/>
J36 179 <p_>For most Western teachers, the spectre of 
J36 180 <*_>e-acute<*/>litism, whether of wealth or ability, is their major 
J36 181 apprehension. They do not like categorizing children, and have 
J36 182 serious doubts about the validity of psychological tests of 
J36 183 ability. Also, they often feel that giving more time and money to 
J36 184 the already gifted would take resources from those who have more 
J36 185 obvious needs, such as the handicapped. There is still a long way 
J36 186 to go before the majority of teachers in the West become convinced 
J36 187 that gifted children need special attention, and are prepared to 
J36 188 give it to them.<p/>
J36 189 <p_>However, in its individualistic way, the West engenders 
J36 190 voluntary groups who exist to make good what they see as gaps in 
J36 191 provision. Most countries have at least one association for the 
J36 192 gifted, run by parents, indeed, many have several (often competing) 
J36 193 associations. In fact, the amount of interest in a country could be 
J36 194 judged by counting up the number of these parent associations. 
J36 195 These usually run out-of-school sessions for the children and their 
J36 196 siblings, as well as summer schools and weekend conferences in 
J36 197 special subjects. Although they may also investigate what 
J36 198 facilities are available and give help to individuals, their 
J36 199 overall aim is the greater recognition of gifted children and the 
J36 200 encouragement of appropriate provision for them within normal 
J36 201 schools. Mensa is an international non-scientific association, 
J36 202 largely social, to which people can belong by passing a test, set 
J36 203 by the association. The European Council for High Ability (ECHA), 
J36 204 based in Bonn, Germany, is the only association of psychologists 
J36 205 and educators which uses evidence rather than opinion, and which 
J36 206 crosses all European national boundaries.<p/>
J36 207 <p_>There are hundreds of privately funded national competitions 
J36 208 and activity centres for the gifted in the West. Many countries 
J36 209 have a Young Scientist of the Year, Young Engineer, Young Musician, 
J36 210 etc. International competitions include the Mathematics Olympiad 
J36 211 and Foreign Language Competitions. In many countries, local 
J36 212 education authorities and individual schools may receive financial 
J36 213 help from industry for specific projects, such as scientific field 
J36 214 trips or collective creativity on a technical project.<p/>
J36 215 
J37   1 <#FLOB:J37\><p_>Since contemporary opinion about the Charity 
J37   2 Commissioners varied so much it is no easy task to form a balanced 
J37   3 judgement of their work. They thought that they had done well. They 
J37   4 paid little regard to the arguments of their opponents, though the 
J37   5 difficulties which they faced must not be underestimated. Once 
J37   6 again the best method is to study some actual cases. The select 
J37   7 committee of 1886-7 was set up to examine the administration of the 
J37   8 Endowed Schools Acts after an earlier committee of 1884 had looked 
J37   9 at the Charitable Trusts Acts (<tf|>PP 1884 IX: 3-11). The 1886-7 
J37  10 committee heard evidence in particular on six endowments. Of these 
J37  11 Kendal, Sutton Coldfield, and Norwich, which was a hospital 
J37  12 endowment, raised matters which have already been fully discussed. 
J37  13 The fourth case, the removal of the grammar school from Hemsworth 
J37  14 to Barnsley in the West Riding, had been a keenly fought battle, 
J37  15 and is the only major example of the transfer of an endowment from 
J37  16 one place to another (<tf|>PP 1886 IX: 90: 856-9 (Sir George 
J37  17 Young)). The other two cases, Scarning in Norfolk and West 
J37  18 Lavington, deserve fuller study. They were both villages, and thus 
J37  19 far the impact of educational change on rural communities has not 
J37  20 been studied. They attracted the attention of Radicals like Jesse 
J37  21 Collings and Joseph Chamberlain, who were campaigning to raise the 
J37  22 status of the rural labourer. They throw some interesting light on 
J37  23 the ideas of the commissioners and on the ways in which they sought 
J37  24 to carry them out.<p/>
J37  25 <p_>The commissioners became involved with both Scarning and West 
J37  26 Lavington in the 1870s. Scarning Free School was an elementary 
J37  27 school which had remained under the jurisdiction of the 
J37  28 commissioners because its endowment was above the limit set by the 
J37  29 act of 1873 (Ed. 21: 12996, 14 December 1872, <quote_>"land let for 
J37  30 pounds210"<quote/>). A scheme for the school was finally confirmed 
J37  31 in May 1882, though it had met with strong opposition from all 
J37  32 sections of local opinion (Ed. 21: 12996; Simon 1960: 329-31). The 
J37  33 scheme provided that the school was to be maintained as a public 
J37  34 elementary school under the Act of 1870 for children of both sexes. 
J37  35 Fees <quote_>"suitable for an elementary school"<quote/> were to be 
J37  36 fixed by the governors. Small scholarships were to be held in the 
J37  37 school, covering the payment of fees and the provision of clothing, 
J37  38 and there were to be three 'Secker' exhibitions of not less than 
J37  39 pounds25 a year, each <quote_>"tenable for three years at any place 
J37  40 of higher education or professional or technical training or study 
J37  41 approved by the Governors"<quote/>. These were to be open both to 
J37  42 boys and to girls with a first preference to those educated in the 
J37  43 school, followed by children from six neighbouring parishes. The 
J37  44 scheme bore all the hallmarks of commissioners' orthodoxy. Fees 
J37  45 were to be charged, whereas the school had previously been free. A 
J37  46 large part of the endowment was to be spent on scholarships and 
J37  47 exhibitions for further education. These awards, the trustees had 
J37  48 been told, represented the appropriate charge on the foundation for 
J37  49 purposes of higher education (Ed. 49: 5526, 31 May 1880).<p/>
J37  50 <p_>The scheme had been opposed by the trustees, by the vestry, by 
J37  51 the rector, and by a meeting of the inhabitants. The trustees 
J37  52 claimed that, by tradition and in the memory of those who had been 
J37  53 educated there, Scarning Free School <quote_>"was originally an 
J37  54 elementary school and that far beyond the memory of man charges 
J37  55 were made for teaching Latin and Greek while Reading, Writing and 
J37  56 Arithmetic were taught free of charge"<quote/>. Because there was 
J37  57 an urgent need to spend money on the school building and on the 
J37  58 farm which formed the endowment, money was not available for the 
J37  59 exhibitions which might be provided when there was a surplus (Ed. 
J37  60 49: 5526, trustees' memorial 5 July 1880). A petition, signed by 
J37  61 276 inhabitants, both men and women, concentrated on the fact that 
J37  62 under the new arrangements free education would be abolished. The 
J37  63 exhibitions, which had been made the first charge on the endowment, 
J37  64 would be useless to the village children, who would not be able to 
J37  65 compete for them successfully (Ed. 49: 5526, 9 July 1880). The 
J37  66 rector, Augustus Jessopp, who had been headmaster of Norwich School 
J37  67 and had therefore considerable experience of education, took a 
J37  68 moderate but critical line. He argued that from the trustees' point 
J37  69 of view the scheme was acceptable in principle, but that in 
J37  70 practice it would be impossible both to fund the exhibitions and to 
J37  71 improve the building. The exhibitions ought to be deferred until 
J37  72 the property had been improved and its value allowed to increase 
J37  73 (Ed. 49: 5526, 12 August 1880).<p/>
J37  74 <p_>Both the trustees and the ratepayers petitioned Parliament that 
J37  75 the scheme should be laid before Parliament. It duly 'lay on the 
J37  76 table' for two months, but no member was found to take the matter 
J37  77 up and it became law. Subsequent events were described by Jessopp 
J37  78 and by an inhabitant, William Taylor, a ganger on the railway (Ed. 
J37  79 49: 5526, 20 January 1883; <tf|>PP 1887 IX: 275-91 (Jessopp); 292-4 
J37  80 (Taylor)). When the governors introduced a fee of 1d a week in 
J37  81 January 1883, a large number of children, accompanied by many 
J37  82 adults including some substantial farmers, presented themselves at 
J37  83 the school without their fee money and were not allowed to attend. 
J37  84 <quote_>"The men",<quote/> Jessopp wrote, <quote_>"have since then 
J37  85 formed themselves into a <tf|>League or <tf|>Union to resist the 
J37  86 payment of the Fee & to intimidate parents & children who still 
J37  87 persist in attending the School & paying the Fee."<quote/> William 
J37  88 Taylor described to the select committee how the villagers had 
J37  89 started their own school and maintained it for 12-15 months.<p/>
J37  90 <p_>When Jessopp gave evidence to the select committee in February 
J37  91 1887 he was examined by Jesse Collings. Jessopp did not think that 
J37  92 the penny fee was regarded as a great grievance, but in William 
J37  93 Taylor's view feelings still ran very strongly over the matter 
J37  94 (<tf|>PP 1887 IX: 284: 6612; 292: 6764; 294: 6840). Jessopp's 
J37  95 general assessment was highly unfavourable to what the 
J37  96 commissioners had done. He had advised the parishioners not to 
J37  97 adopt a plan of out-and-out resistance, but he had seen the crucial 
J37  98 difficulty as being the priority claim on the endowment given to 
J37  99 the Secker exhibitions. In fact these had never been awarded, and 
J37 100 there was no school within walking distance of the village at which 
J37 101 they could be held. The real objection to the commissioners' plans 
J37 102 was, Jessopp thought, that they had kept to their rules and had not 
J37 103 made any exceptions for Scarning. When he was asked whether the 
J37 104 commissioners would listen to requests for change, he replied: 
J37 105 <quote_>"Judging from the tenacity of purpose which the 
J37 106 Commissioners have exhibited in their intercourse with me in the 
J37 107 past, I should be very sorry indeed to trust to their willingness 
J37 108 to listen to reason"<quote/> (<tf|>PP 1887 IX: 289: 6710).<p/>
J37 109 <p_>It is difficult to understand why the commissioners should have 
J37 110 acted as they did in the Scarning case. When Richmond was examined 
J37 111 on the subject by the select committee, he used the familiar 
J37 112 argument that, if resources were not devoted to purposes like the 
J37 113 exhibitions, the money spent on the school would simply save the 
J37 114 ratepayers from the education rate, which they would otherwise have 
J37 115 to pay (ibid.: 301: 6095; 302: 6913). The commissioners seem to 
J37 116 have been obsessed by the argument that the income of an endowed 
J37 117 school should benefit people of all classes, and not simply those 
J37 118 who needed an elementary education. The priority given to the 
J37 119 exhibitions reflects the very reasonable view that able children 
J37 120 should have the opportunity to advance to higher studies. Yet they 
J37 121 do not seem to have considered what was practicable under the 
J37 122 circumstances of a Norfolk village. Jessopp had said that there was 
J37 123 no suitable higher school near at hand. Richmond himself admitted 
J37 124 that an exhibition of pounds25 on its own was not <quote_>"enough 
J37 125 to take the child of a working man to a boarding school"<quote/> 
J37 126 (ibid.: 300: 6888). So even if the money for the exhibitions could 
J37 127 have been found, there were not likely to be any candidates who 
J37 128 wanted or could afford higher education.<p/>
J37 129 <p_>In an earlier age Scarning School, like many others, had 
J37 130 attracted pupils to read classics. By 1880 it was simply a village 
J37 131 elementary school. The commissioners seem to have devoted their 
J37 132 main effort to providing what these children did not want or were 
J37 133 not able to take advantage of. Even if there had been a local 
J37 134 demand for the exhibitions, was it possible to find the money for 
J37 135 them? Informed local opinion thought that, at the time when the 
J37 136 scheme was made, this was not possible. No more attention seems to 
J37 137 have been paid to that point than to any of the others made by the 
J37 138 inhabitants. Well might Jessopp say that he would be sorry to trust 
J37 139 to the commissioners' willingness to listen to reason.<p/>
J37 140 <p_>The end of the story is a pure anti-climax. In 1888-9 the 
J37 141 commissioners considered revising the arrangements, and in March 
J37 142 1889 a new scheme was made, which made some money available to pay 
J37 143 the fees of poor children with the best attendance records, set 
J37 144 aside funds for scholarships, and provided for the instruction of 
J37 145 boys in practical mechanics and agricultural chemistry and of girls 
J37 146 in cookery (cl. 35). Eight years later a note in the file written 
J37 147 to Sir George Young explained that the scholarships were not 
J37 148 awarded, that the exhibitions <quote_>"seem to have been swept 
J37 149 away"<quote/>, that the school was now free, and that nothing 
J37 150 appeared in the accounts under cl. 35 for technical education. 
J37 151 <quote_>"The ratepayers seem to have got the whole, now, for 
J37 152 maintenance"<quote/> (Ed. 49: 5526, 22 December 1897). Such were 
J37 153 the practical results of the commissioners' efforts to impose a 
J37 154 scheme that no one in the locality had wanted.<p/>
J37 155 <p_>The story of Dauntsey's School at West Lavington in Wiltshire 
J37 156 brings up some similar problems of rural life. It shows much more 
J37 157 determined and long-continued resistance by local people, which 
J37 158 achieved a large measure of success, largely because their cause 
J37 159 was taken up by Jesse Collings and Joseph Chamberlain. The position 
J37 160 of the school was a strange one. There was no independent 
J37 161 endowment. Under the will of Alderman Dauntsey, who died in 1553, 
J37 162 the Mercers Company of London as beneficiaries had an obligation to 
J37 163 make certain payments to the schoolmaster and to the almspeople and 
J37 164 to keep the school in repair. They were neither trustees nor 
J37 165 visitors, and they did not appoint the master, who was chosen by a 
J37 166 local landowner, Lord Churchill (Ed. 27: 5291, 21 June 1878 (from 
J37 167 the clerk to the company)). The Mercers claimed that they had 
J37 168 always spent more money on the school and almshouses than they were 
J37 169 legally obliged to do, but the value of the Dauntsey property had 
J37 170 greatly increased, and most of that increment went into their 
J37 171 coffers. All through the lengthy negotiations one central point was 
J37 172 the amount of money which the company could be persuaded to pay out 
J37 173 of the Dauntsey funds.<p/>
J37 174 <p_>In March 1878 a group of twenty inhabitants wrote to the 
J37 175 Mercers, asking that the schoolmaster, who was also vicar of the 
J37 176 parish and so had little time to attend to the school, should be 
J37 177 replaced, and that in future the master should be resident in the 
J37 178 schoolhouse. Of the twenty signatories to this memorial two 
J37 179 described themselves as gentlemen; the others were farmers, 
J37 180 millers, bakers, coopers - what might be called the middle ranks of 
J37 181 village society (Ed. 27: 5291, 22 March 1878). People of this kind, 
J37 182 though they were sometimes divided among themselves about the 
J37 183 proper policies to pursue, formed the core of local opposition to 
J37 184 any efforts to deprive the village of the benefits of the 
J37 185 endowment. They were supported from time to time by some of the 
J37 186 local gentry, and more steadily by the labourers who were keenly 
J37 187 concerned about the fate of the school.<p/>
J37 188 <p_>This move by the local groups seems to have led to action by 
J37 189 the Charity Commissioners, who sent Assistant Commissioner Stanton 
J37 190 to hold a local enquiry in March 1879.
J37 191 
J38   1 <#FLOB:J38\>When they did, <quote_>"they were seldom aware of 
J38   2 positive and effective response"<quote/>.<p/>
J38   3 <p_>This paper reports on the results of answers to questions on 
J38   4 teasing and fighting, which 11-year-olds gave in interviews about 
J38   5 themselves and school. We consider the extent and nature of teasing 
J38   6 and fighting in general, and in relation to age, sex and ethnic 
J38   7 group differences.<p/>
J38   8 <h|>Method
J38   9 <p_>The sample consisted of 175 children who had taken part in an 
J38  10 earlier study, known as the Infant School Project, which looked at 
J38  11 sex and ethnic group differences in relation to children's progress 
J38  12 through infant school (Tizard <tf_>et al<tf/>., 1988). All the 
J38  13 children had entered reception classes in 33 ILEA schools, in 
J38  14 September 1982. The schools were in areas which were predominantly 
J38  15 multi-ethnic and working class. The two largest ethnic groups were 
J38  16 white British children and black British children of Afro-Caribbean 
J38  17 origin, subsequently referred to as white and black children. A 
J38  18 subsample of children from these two ethnic groups had been 
J38  19 interviewed about their views on school when aged seven and in the 
J38  20 last year of infant schooling.<p/>
J38  21 <p_>As part of a follow-up study of the Infant School Project 
J38  22 sample at 11 years, these same children who had been interviewed at 
J38  23 seven and who had not moved out of ILEA during the interim period, 
J38  24 a total of 114 children, were interviewed again. In order to 
J38  25 increase the number of interviewees, additional white and black 
J38  26 children from the sample were selected from the 33 study schools. 
J38  27 Thus the 175 children comprised of 41 black girls (BG), 38 black 
J38  28 boys (BB), 46 white girls (WG) and 50 white boys (WB).<p/>
J38  29 <p_>The interview was structured and explored children's attitudes 
J38  30 and feelings about a range of topics to do with school. Most 
J38  31 questions were open-ended and allowed for more than one response. 
J38  32 Children also used the Smiley Face Scale (see Figure 1), pointing 
J38  33 to the face which best described how they felt - e.g. <quote_>"How 
J38  34 do you feel about fighting?"<quote/>. In order to have 
J38  35 comparability with the earlier interview, questions remained 
J38  36 largely unchanged, although wording was occasionally altered to 
J38  37 take account of the older age range and some additional questions 
J38  38 included to expand areas of interest.<p/>
J38  39 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J38  40 <p_>Each child was interviewed individually at school and was 
J38  41 assured that what they told us was confidential. The interviews 
J38  42 took place in the Spring term of 1989 when the children were in 
J38  43 their fourth year of junior school, and they were told that 
J38  44 questions referred to this year in particular. There were three 
J38  45 white interviewers (two females and one male) and interviews took 
J38  46 approx. 45 min.<p/>
J38  47 <h|>Results
J38  48 <p_>In discussing our results, the children's own comments will be 
J38  49 used to illustrate the quantitative data. Since one of our aims was 
J38  50 to look at differences between the two age groups, we compare the 
J38  51 two data sets where appropriate. It should also be noted that 
J38  52 because children often gave more than one response to open-ended 
J38  53 questions, figures in some tables do not total 100 per cent. We 
J38  54 begin by considering the overall prevalence of teasing and 
J38  55 fighting.<p/>
J38  56 <p_><O_>table&caption<O/><p/>
J38  57 <p_>As can be seen from Table 1, almost all the sample for both 
J38  58 ages said that children at their school were teased. When asked if 
J38  59 this happened to them, approx. two-thirds say that it had. Fewer 
J38  60 children at age 11 agree that racial teasing occurs or that it 
J38  61 happens to them. It should be remembered that children were 
J38  62 answering with regard to the current academic year - this 
J38  63 represents approx. one and a half terms for the 11-year-olds. When 
J38  64 asked if they were teased more, less or about the same as other 
J38  65 children, over two-thirds (72 per cent) said they were teased less 
J38  66 and nearly a third (27 per cent) said about the same.<p/>
J38  67 <p_>In considering continuity over time, we found that for the 114 
J38  68 children who were interviewed twice, there was very little 
J38  69 association between their responses at seven years and their 
J38  70 responses at 11. However, there was one exception. Children who at 
J38  71 seven said they teased other children were more likely to say the 
J38  72 same again at 11.<p/>
J38  73 <h_><p_>Prevalence of teasing and fighting: age, sex and ethnic 
J38  74 differences<p/><h/>
J38  75 <h_><p_>(a) TEASING<p/><h/>
J38  76 <p_><tf_>Extent and nature<tf/>: More boys than girls at 11 said 
J38  77 they had been teased (73 vs 58 per cent). At age seven, it was the 
J38  78 other way around - more girls than boys - largely due to the fact 
J38  79 that 84 per cent of the white girls were teased. This figure had 
J38  80 dropped to 61 per cent at the second interview.<p/>
J38  81 <p_>We allowed three responses when children were describing how 
J38  82 children at their school were teased, and two responses when they 
J38  83 described how they themselves were teased. As is shown in Table 2, 
J38  84 by far the most frequently mentioned form of teasing was that of 
J38  85 name-calling and verbal abuse. Very few children mentioned other 
J38  86 forms of teasing such as physical abuse or being ostracized. More 
J38  87 black children than white children say that children are teased 
J38  88 about their clothes and accessories, particularly girls. Half of 
J38  89 the black girls said this, compared with just under a quarter of 
J38  90 the white girls. When describing how they themselves are teased, 
J38  91 more girls than boys mention physical appearance. Thus to give some 
J38  92 examples of answers to these questions:<p/>
J38  93 <p_><O_>caption&table<O/><p/>
J38  94 <p_><quote_>"They take the mickey out of their eyes, the way they 
J38  95 speak, what colour they are and where they come from - take mickey 
J38  96 out of [their] teeth, when they have gaps like me, and say you have 
J38  97 big ears."<quote/> (WG)<p/>
J38  98 <p_><quote_>"Make fun of your nose, even though its<&|>sic! normal 
J38  99 size. Shape of their body or what they wear, e.g. no name<&|>sic! 
J38 100 trainers."<quote/> (BB)<p/>
J38 101 <p_>This is a similar picture to that found at age seven years, 
J38 102 with one important difference. Whereas teasing in the form of 
J38 103 family insults features prominently in the junior school, no 
J38 104 reference was made to this when the children were infants.<p/>
J38 105 <p_><tf_>Why children think they are teased<tf/>: Of the children 
J38 106 who said they were teased, 13 per cent were unable or unwilling to 
J38 107 say why they thought this was. In Table 3 we list the most common 
J38 108 responses given as to why children think they themselves are 
J38 109 teased. These are that the teaser is being provocative, wanting a 
J38 110 confrontation or even a fight; that they think it is fun to tease 
J38 111 and enjoy doing so; that the teaser is in some way jealous; that 
J38 112 their prestige is enhanced; and that what they say is accurate, or 
J38 113 they dislike the person they are teasing. However, there was no 
J38 114 significant difference between boys and girls and ethnic groups in 
J38 115 the responses to this question.<p/>
J38 116 <p_><O_>table&caption<O/><p/>
J38 117 <p_><tf_>Racial teasing<tf/>: Although racial name-calling and 
J38 118 verbal abuse was identified as a means of teasing, as shown in 
J38 119 Tables 2 and 3, we also asked specific questions to do with this 
J38 120 type of teasing - e.g. <quote_>"Do any children get teased because 
J38 121 of the colour of their skin?"<quote/>. The following answers 
J38 122 elucidate the situation:<p/>
J38 123 <p_><quote_>"Very much. Call you black this, black that. More 
J38 124 whites than blacks, so I don't say anything to them. My friend is 
J38 125 white, but others do it. For example, Paul goes over the limit - 
J38 126 cusses Hannah's colour and then she gets really angry and then 
J38 127 families get involved. Paul will get his dad who will have a go at 
J38 128 Hannah and so it goes on. Sometimes they say they are joking but I 
J38 129 say it's not a joking matter, shouldn't say things like 
J38 130 that."<quote/> (BB)<p/>
J38 131 <p_><quote_>"... it's white people teasing black or other way 
J38 132 round. All colours tease each other - most of it swearing, some get 
J38 133 expelled if really bad."<quote/> (WG)<p/>
J38 134 <p_>For both age groups, significantly more black children than 
J38 135 white children say they have been subjected to racist name-calling 
J38 136 and verbal abuse: for the 11-year-olds, 27 per cent of black 
J38 137 children, compared with 9 per cent of white children. However, it 
J38 138 should be remembered that 42 per cent of the sample did not agree 
J38 139 that children at their school were racially teased, and only 17 per 
J38 140 cent admitted it happened to them. We shall return to this point in 
J38 141 the discussion.<p/>
J38 142 <p_><tf_>What children do about being teased<tf/>: One can see from 
J38 143 Table 4 that in answer to the question <quote_>"What do you do when 
J38 144 you are teased?"<quote/>, retaliation of either  a verbal or 
J38 145 physical nature was the most frequent response. Verbal retaliation 
J38 146 (e.g. name-calling) was cited more than physical retaliation. 
J38 147 Reporting the incident to an adult (i.e. <quote_>"telling the 
J38 148 teacher"<quote/>) was recorded less often.<p/>
J38 149 <p_><O_>table&caption<O/><p/>
J38 150 <p_>Black boys were more likely to say they would retaliate 
J38 151 verbally and less likely to say they would ignore being teased. 
J38 152 Although not significant, more girls than boys mentioned physical 
J38 153 retaliation, but this was often due to an escalation of the 
J38 154 incident, which had started out with verbal abuse or name-calling, 
J38 155 for example:<p/>
J38 156 <p_><quote_>"Tell them to shut up. If they keep going on, do it 
J38 157 back to them and if they still go on, I'll hit them."<quote/> 
J38 158 (WG)<p/>
J38 159 <p_><tf_>How children compare themselves with others<tf/>: 
J38 160 Significantly more black children than white children say they are 
J38 161 teased less than others (83 vs 62 per cent). The two most frequent 
J38 162 responses given as to why they were teased less were that other 
J38 163 children were afraid of them and what they might do (44 per cent) 
J38 164 and/or they were popular and well<?_>-<?/>liked amongst their 
J38 165 peers, which meant that they wouldn't be teased by them (35 per 
J38 166 cent). Thus to illustrate:<p/>
J38 167 <p_><quote_>"I'm the tallest in school therefore taken for granted 
J38 168 that if they say something to me, I'll turn and whack them in the 
J38 169 head."<quote/> (BG)<p/>
J38 170 <p_><quote_>"Because the people who do it [tease] like me, they 
J38 171 mostly do it to people they don't like."<quote/> (WB)<p/>
J38 172 <p_>More boys than girls gave fear as the reason (49 vs 39 per 
J38 173 cent) for being teased less than others, and over half the black 
J38 174 children in this group compared with a third of white children, 
J38 175 although this disguises the fact that there were more black girls 
J38 176 (58 per cent; n = 15) and very few white girls (15 per cent; n = 
J38 177 3). More white girls in the 'teased less' group gave popularity 
J38 178 than black girls (60 vs 19 per cent).<p/>
J38 179 <p_><tf_>Being a tormentor<tf/>: When it comes to being teasers 
J38 180 themselves, 57 per cent admitted that they sometimes tease other 
J38 181 children. This was often qualified, usually by saying that they 
J38 182 only did it when it had been done to them or if they were angry or 
J38 183 annoyed:<p/>
J38 184 <p_><quote_>"Sometimes if they call me names first, call them same 
J38 185 names they call me."<quote/> (BB)<p/>
J38 186 <p_><quote_>"Sometimes when they are really getting on my nerves - 
J38 187 if they push me and keep on I get annoyed - [say] 'move you spasm' 
J38 188 - when they stare at you or trip you up, I'll call them a name 
J38 189 then."<quote/> (BG)<p/>
J38 190 <p_>More white boys admitted to teasing than any of the other 
J38 191 sex/ethnic groups (70 per cent for WB and approx. 50 per cent for 
J38 192 each of the other three groups).<p/>
J38 193 <h_><p_>(b) FIGHTING<p/><h/>
J38 194 <p_><tf_>Extent and nature<tf/>: Of the 104 children (59 per cent) 
J38 195 who said they were involved in fighting at school, there were 
J38 196 significantly more boys than girls (74 vs 45 per cent). A similar 
J38 197 result was reported for the seven-year-olds. White boys (78 per 
J38 198 cent) got into fights more than black boys (68 per cent). As to the 
J38 199 reasons why they fought, the most frequently mentioned (75 per 
J38 200 cent) was that of provocation, either physical or verbal:<p/>
J38 201 <p_><quote_>"They say something about your mum and you don't really 
J38 202 like it, so it gets into a fight from there. I'm not actually happy 
J38 203 about fighting, but I'll do it if I have to - sometimes in your 
J38 204 life you have to do it."<quote/> (BB)<p/>
J38 205 <p_><tf_>How children feel about fighting<tf/>: Using the Smiley 
J38 206 Face Scale, 83 per cent of the sample pointed to faces indicating 
J38 207 that they hated or disliked fighting. Reasons given for feeling 
J38 208 like this were that fighting causes distress and/or pain (41 per 
J38 209 cent); for example:<p/>
J38 210 <p_><quote_>"Because it's horrible - sometimes you end up in tears. 
J38 211 I'd rather be their friends than fight them. Sometimes it goes on 
J38 212 for days."<quote/> (WG)<p/>
J38 213 
J38 214 
J39   1 <#FLOB:J39\>A problem common to all clustering techniques is the 
J39   2 difficulty in deciding on the most appropriate number of clusters 
J39   3 to select. The approach used for these data was to plot the numbers 
J39   4 of clusters against the fusion coefficient to discover a marked 
J39   5 change in the value of the coefficient (Everitt, 1980). This change 
J39   6 indicates that two relatively dissimilar clusters have been merged 
J39   7 and that the number of clusters prior to this merger is likely to 
J39   8 be the most appropriate. Examination of the coefficients pointed to 
J39   9 a four or five group cluster solution. This analysis was followed 
J39  10 by a K-means iterative partitioning technique which, as a cluster 
J39  11 technique, also produces a partitioning of the cases but differs 
J39  12 from the hierarchical methods in that it is able to check cluster 
J39  13 membership and reassign any suboptimally placed children to a 
J39  14 better fitting cluster. Unlike hierarchical methods, the researcher 
J39  15 must specify before the analysis the desired number of clusters. In 
J39  16 this case a four-cluster and a five-cluster solution were 
J39  17 performed. A split-sample replication of the five-cluster solution 
J39  18 using the K-means iterative procedure yielded a solution which 
J39  19 closely approximated that of the whole sample, particularly for the 
J39  20 children with large discrepancy scores who continued to cluster 
J39  21 together. Thus the validity of a five-group solution was supported 
J39  22 on two grounds: similarity of solutions derived from different 
J39  23 clustering methods and similarity of the solutions obtained for the 
J39  24 combined sample and for the split-sample.<p/>
J39  25 <p_>An additional and critical test of the validity of any cluster 
J39  26 solution can be provided by an examination of variables not 
J39  27 included in the cluster analysis. In order to examine the external 
J39  28 validity of the five groups a series of analyses were carried out 
J39  29 on their performance on a range of cognitive tests. All analyses 
J39  30 were carried out using SPSSX (Statistical Package for the Social 
J39  31 Sciences).<p/>
J39  32 <h|>RESULTS
J39  33 <p_>From Table 2 it can be seen that Groups 1 and 2 (26 per cent of 
J39  34 the sample) were reading or spelling above the level predicted by 
J39  35 both Verbal and Performance IQ. Groups 4 and 5 (63 per cent) were 
J39  36 achieving considerably below prediction. Table 3 shows the sex, age 
J39  37 and intellectual performance of groups. Significant differences 
J39  38 were found between the groups on all these variables. Table 4 
J39  39 indicates the performance of the five groups on the reading and 
J39  40 spelling tests which were similarly found to be significantly 
J39  41 different.<p/>
J39  42 <p_><O_>tables&captions<O/><p/>
J39  43 <p_>Initial identification of the groups was followed by a series 
J39  44 of analyses comparing performance on the battery of cognitive tests 
J39  45 with age and IQ (Full-Scale) as covariates, as there were 
J39  46 significant differences between the groups on these variables. On 
J39  47 nine of the 20 cognitive measures significant differences were 
J39  48 found between the groups (see Table 5).<p/>
J39  49 <p_>A chi-square analysis revealed no significant differences 
J39  50 between the groups for foot or eye preference nor eye dominance. An 
J39  51 analysis of the phonetic and visual characteristics of the first 10 
J39  52 spelling errors indicated significant differences (see Table 6).<p/>
J39  53 <h_><p_>Parent and teacher interview<p/><h/>
J39  54 <p_>The results of a series of chi-square analyses indicated that 
J39  55 the groups were significantly different on all three variables 
J39  56 examined in this study (see Table 7). The groups differed on 
J39  57 whether children had received remedial help and whether there were 
J39  58 reading or spelling problems reported in the family. In addition 
J39  59 the number of children who were reading prior to school entry 
J39  60 differed between the groups.<p/>
J39  61 <h_><p_>Emotional characteristics<p/><h/>
J39  62 <p_>Group scores on the anti-social and neurotic subscales of the 
J39  63 Rutter Children's Behaviour questionnaire (Rutter, 1967) were 
J39  64 compared by analysis of covariance. Age and IQ were used as 
J39  65 covariates as the groups differed significantly on these variables. 
J39  66 No significant differences were found on the anti-social subscales. 
J39  67 On the Neurotic subscale, cluster Group 3 had a significantly 
J39  68 higher mean score (ANCOVA, F=3.71, df 4,451; P<0.01), although none 
J39  69 of the children in this group had a score which would be considered 
J39  70 diagnostic in a clinical setting according to the cut-offs 
J39  71 suggested by Rutter.<p/>
J39  72 <p_><O_>tables&captions<O/><p/>
J39  73 <h_><p_>Further examination of Group 3<p/><h/>
J39  74 <p_>It has been argued that dyslexia is not a homogeneous disorder 
J39  75 and that different groups may be discerned (see, for example, 
J39  76 Rourke, 1985). In order to look for possible subgroups within Group 
J39  77 3, the group with the poorest reading and spelling relative to IQ, 
J39  78 further cluster analyses were carried out using the cognitive and 
J39  79 emotional variables. This analysis was performed to examine whether 
J39  80 any further meaningful subdivisions are apparent within this group, 
J39  81 and whether these subdivisions reflect any particular pattern of 
J39  82 abilities. Hierarchical cluster analysis suggested a two-group 
J39  83 solution. A subsequent K-means iterative analysis, with two groups 
J39  84 being selected, produced one group of 16 and another of 27. Table 8 
J39  85 shows the differences between the two groups on the cognitive and 
J39  86 emotional variables.<p/>
J39  87 <p_>As can be seen from Table 8, the two groups differed on 
J39  88 absolute levels of performance on 15 of the 20 cognitive measures 
J39  89 (75 per cent). The groups were not found to be different on age or 
J39  90 IQ but differed significantly on all measures of reading and 
J39  91 spelling as shown in Table 9.<p/>
J39  92 <p_><O_>table&caption<O/><p/>
J39  93 <h|>DISCUSSION
J39  94 <p_>One of the purposes of this study was to examine a large group 
J39  95 of children to see whether a discrete group(s) with large 
J39  96 discrepancies between ability and achievement could be identified. 
J39  97 Using cluster analysis it was possible both to avoid the difficulty 
J39  98 of having to specify a particular size of discrepancy as being 
J39  99 significant and to examine concurrently the extent and pattern of 
J39 100 six discrepancy scores.<p/>
J39 101 <p_>The issue of heterogeneity in dyslexia was addressed at two 
J39 102 levels. The first level can be termed an analysis of surface or 
J39 103 presenting characteristics. This was conducted by examining all the 
J39 104 groups identified in the analysis of the six discrepancy scores and 
J39 105 establishing whether different patterns of disability were apparent 
J39 106 in groups with large discrepancies. The second level was to examine 
J39 107 whether those identified as a distinct group(s) with large 
J39 108 discrepancies had different patterns of cognitive abilities from 
J39 109 the other groups. This approach examines the issue as to whether 
J39 110 the differences evidenced in discrepancy scores reflect underlying 
J39 111 cognitive processes.<p/>
J39 112 <p_>In the initial investigation five distinct groups appeared as a 
J39 113 result of the cluster analysis: two whose reading achievement was 
J39 114 at a level higher than that predicted by their intelligence, two 
J39 115 whose performance was close to prediction and a group whose 
J39 116 achievement was significantly below their ability. In a similar 
J39 117 study in the USA Satz and Morris (1981) found two subgroups with 
J39 118 large discrepancies. These two dyslexic groups were distinguished 
J39 119 from one another by the extent of their discrepancy scores rather 
J39 120 than their pattern. In both the Florida Longitudinal Project (FLP) 
J39 121 and the Linbury study the dyslexic group(s) which emerged showed 
J39 122 discrepancies in all measures. Thus, in both studies, when cluster 
J39 123 analysis was applied to reading and spelling in a mixed sample, no 
J39 124 distinct dyslexic profiles appeared.<p/>
J39 125 <p_>In the Linbury study 11 per cent of children were identified as 
J39 126 having large discrepancies while 38 per cent were found by Satz and 
J39 127 Morris (1981) in the Florida Longitudinal Project. These 
J39 128 differences are not surprising as in both studies some preselection 
J39 129 of children had taken place, different variables were placed in the 
J39 130 cluster analysis, the children in the two studies differed in age 
J39 131 and both sexes were included in the Linbury study while the FLP 
J39 132 only considered males. The percentage of participants identified as 
J39 133 potentially dyslexic in these two studies contrasts with the 4-10 
J39 134 per cent found in studies using unselected groups of participants 
J39 135 (Rutter, 1978).<p/>
J39 136 <p_>In order to examine whether the group with large discrepancies 
J39 137 (Group 3) possessed features associated with dyslexia, comparisons 
J39 138 were made between the groups firstly on reading, spelling and IQ 
J39 139 tests and then on the other cognitive tests in the study. Group 3 
J39 140 produced the lowest performance on all four reading and spelling 
J39 141 measures, consistent with them being labelled a dyslexic group (see 
J39 142 Table 4). The groups with the smallest discrepancies, 1 and 2, had 
J39 143 the highest scores on reading and spelling while Groups 4 and 5 had 
J39 144 intermediate scores. An examination of age, Verbal and Performance 
J39 145 IQ revealed significant differences between groups but did not 
J39 146 indicate any particular tendency for the group with large 
J39 147 discrepancies (see Table 3).<p/>
J39 148 <p_>The finding that Group 3 had the poorest performance on reading 
J39 149 and spelling tests raises the question as to whether this group 
J39 150 could have been identified simply by selecting those with the 
J39 151 poorest reading performance. As Group 3 constituted 11 per cent of 
J39 152 the sample a selection was made of all those children who performed 
J39 153 at or below the 11th percentile on one measure of achievement, the 
J39 154 Schonell Reading Test. Sixty per cent of these fell into cluster 
J39 155 group 3 with the remaining 40 per cent falling into clusters 4 and 
J39 156 5. A similar analysis was performed on the 'good' readers (Groups 1 
J39 157 and 2) to examine whether they represented the top 26 per cent of 
J39 158 reading. This indicated more than a quarter of the best readers 
J39 159 were not in Groups 1 and 2 although none was in Group 3. These 
J39 160 analyses suggest that the cluster analysis applied in this study 
J39 161 identifies different children from those identified by a simple 
J39 162 examination of reading performance.<p/>
J39 163 <p_>A high incidence of reading and spelling difficulties among 
J39 164 siblings, parents and other family members of dyslexic children has 
J39 165 long been recognised (Hinshelwood, 1909). Yule and Rutter (1976) 
J39 166 found that a dyslexic child was three times more likely than a 
J39 167 non-dyslexic to have a family history of reading problems. The 
J39 168 reading history of the children showed that Group 3 had the largest 
J39 169 proportion of family members who reported difficulty with either 
J39 170 reading or spelling. Groups 4 and 5, however, which had no 
J39 171 discrepancies between ability and achievement, had a similar 
J39 172 reported family incidence (see Table 7). These three groups are to 
J39 173 be contrasted with Groups 1 and 2 which had a lower reported 
J39 174 incidence. These data were derived from self reports of reading and 
J39 175 spelling difficulties in the immediate family. Family members were 
J39 176 not formally assessed and thus the findings must be interpreted 
J39 177 with caution. In addition to increased reports of familial 
J39 178 incidence, Group 3 had a higher percentage who had received, or 
J39 179 were receiving remedial help. Smaller percentages of Groups 4 and 5 
J39 180 had received, or were receiving remedial help. None of the children 
J39 181 in Groups 1 and 2 had received remediation for reading and these 
J39 182 groups also had the highest percentages of children who were 
J39 183 reading at school entry (Table 7). These findings are consistent 
J39 184 with the discrepancies and the overall reading and spelling 
J39 185 performances apparent in the groups.<p/>
J39 186 <p_>There is a large body of evidence linking dyslexia with various 
J39 187 emotional and behavioural problems (see Thomson and Hartley, 1980). 
J39 188 Teacher ratings and observations suggest that dyslexic children are 
J39 189 more distractible and dependent than their classmates (McKinney 
J39 190 <tf_>et al<tf/>., 1982). In line with these findings the results 
J39 191 from the behaviour questionnaire showed that Group 3 had a 
J39 192 significantly higher Neurotic subscore. However, in view of the 
J39 193 findings of Rutter (1967) of a higher incidence of neurotic 
J39 194 disorders in boys, the higher incidence found in Group 3 may 
J39 195 reflect the sex distribution in the groups.<p/>
J39 196 <p_>The higher incidence amongst males of reading related problems 
J39 197 is well established. Critchley (1967), for example, in a review of 
J39 198 the literature, showed that the percentage of boys in samples of 
J39 199 children with dyslexia ranged from 66 per cent to 100 per cent. In 
J39 200 a more recent review of the signs and symptoms linked with 
J39 201 dyslexia, Wheeler and Watkins (1979) found sex differences of a 
J39 202 similar order. Other large studies attempting to define dyslexic 
J39 203 groups have limited their sample to males, presumably in an attempt 
J39 204 to obtain a higher percentage of reading disabled participants, and 
J39 205 therefore any direct comparison is precluded (Satz and Morris, 
J39 206 1981; Van der Vlugt and Satz, 1985). In this study even taking into 
J39 207 account the number of males in total sample<&|>sic! (58 per cent), 
J39 208 the percentage of males in Group 3 was extremely high (92 per 
J39 209 cent).<p/>
J39 210 <p_>The analyses of group differences on reading, spelling and IQ 
J39 211 are not independent of the group differentiation as these variables 
J39 212 were included in the cluster analysis.
J39 213 
J39 214 
J39 215 
J39 216 
J39 217 
J40   1 <#FLOB:J40\><h_><p_>3 Italian Fascism<p/>
J40   2 <p_>Proto-fascism in Italy<p/><h/>
J40   3 <p_>If we were concerned simply with reconstructing the evolution 
J40   4 of Fascism then it might be sensible to start with the inaugural 
J40   5 meeting of Mussolini's <tf_>Fasci di combattimento<tf/> held in 
J40   6 March 1919 and thus before the full extent of the structural damage 
J40   7 which the war had inflicted on Italy's liberal institutions had 
J40   8 become apparent. Our primary concern, however, is to establish how 
J40   9 forces at work in the political culture of modern Italy exemplify 
J40  10 the nature of generic fascism. Thus we must go back several years 
J40  11 earlier to consider the pro-war lobby which formed in the autumn of 
J40  12 1914 when, despite its conspicuous failings, Italian liberalism 
J40  13 still seemed unassailable. Some of these 'interventionists' were 
J40  14 democrats and included Radicals, right-wing Liberals, reformist 
J40  15 Socialists and several cabinet ministers, as well as the two most 
J40  16 important members of the government, the prime minister, Salandra, 
J40  17 and the foreign minister, Sonnino. They all hoped that by fighting 
J40  18 on the winning side Italy would not only secure territorial gains 
J40  19 and enhanced international prestige but create a new style of 
J40  20 dynamic, authoritative parliamentary government, so finally putting 
J40  21 an end to the rise of revolutionary socialism and the weakness they 
J40  22 identified with the Giolittian system.<p/>
J40  23 <p_>What interests us here, however, is the intensive 
J40  24 extra-parliamentary campaign mounted between August 1914 and the 
J40  25 'radiant days of May' when Italy formally joined the <tf_>Entente 
J40  26 Cordiale<tf/>. Though highly disparate in their surface ideology 
J40  27 and in the degree to which they constituted a recognizable 
J40  28 political grouping, the different elements which joined forces to 
J40  29 become revolutionary interventionists had one thing in common: the 
J40  30 belief that entry into the war would inaugurate a new post-liberal 
J40  31 Italy. In other words, the shared mythic core which made their 
J40  32 alliance possible was a palingenetic variety of ultra-nationalism, 
J40  33 so that, according to our ideal type, the pressure group they 
J40  34 formed can be considered the first significant manifestation of 
J40  35 fascist politics in Italy.<p/>
J40  36 <p_>The oldest component had no organizational form as such but was 
J40  37 essentially a publicistic phenomenon. It nevertheless represented 
J40  38 an important current in the political counter-culture of pre-war 
J40  39 Italy. One of its foremost representatives was Papini, who as early 
J40  40 as 1904 had co-written 'A Nationalist Programme' attacking the 
J40  41 decadence of liberalism and the divisiveness of socialism. 
J40  42 Presented as a lecture in several Italian cities that year, the 
J40  43 programme called for the diffusion of the allegedly aristocratic 
J40  44 virtues of authority and heroism to revitalize the middle classes 
J40  45 so as to create a 'world of revived energy' in which not only would 
J40  46 the arts flourish once more, but patriotic armies and entrepreneurs 
J40  47 would work together to create a flourishing colonial empire in 
J40  48 Africa (see Lyttleton, 1973b, p.116-9). Palingenetic myth is not 
J40  49 only the <tf|>Leitmotif of Papini's publicistic activity in these 
J40  50 early years, even dictating the titles of some of his articles, 
J40  51 'Italy is Reborn', 'Campaign for the Forced Reawakening of Italy' 
J40  52 (see Papini, 1963), but three decades later it still provided the 
J40  53 central theme of <tf_>Italia mia<tf/>, his most famous work of 
J40  54 propaganda for the Fascist regime: <quote_>"Italy's nature is like 
J40  55 that of the phoenix: cut in two it reconstitutes itself, and hardly 
J40  56 has it arisen once more than it soars even stronger than 
J40  57 before"<quote/> (ibid., p.509). He made important contributions to 
J40  58 a number of periodicals such as <tf_>Il Leonardo, Regno, La Voce, 
J40  59 Lacerba<tf/> and <tf|>L'Anima which helped establish the 
J40  60 respectability of anti-socialist, anti-liberal and 
J40  61 ultra-nationalist ideas in pre-war Italy.<p/>
J40  62 <p_>The most influential of these was <tf_>La Voce<tf/>, edited by 
J40  63 Prezzolini who had set up <tf|>Leonardo with Papini in 1903 and 
J40  64 co-written with him the Nationalist Programme. The articles and 
J40  65 editorials of these two men, along with the contributions of the 
J40  66 poet Soffici, preached an eclectic blend of aesthetic politics 
J40  67 which drew on Nietzsche and other currents of 
J40  68 anti<?_>-<?/>materialist philosophy (Crocean idealism, Bergsonian 
J40  69 vitalism, as well as conservative nostalgia for a strong unitary 
J40  70 state). The result was a sustained critique of the mediocrity of 
J40  71 Italian society and the call for a revolution in Italy, not merely 
J40  72 cultural but ethical and political which would place the country in 
J40  73 the hands of a new spiritual elite. As early as 1904 Prezzolini had 
J40  74 been arguing that the 'old Italy' of corruption and decadence had 
J40  75 to give way to the 'new' one of energy and heroism (for example 
J40  76 Prezzolini, 1904). This vision of Italy's rebirth became the 
J40  77 central creed not only of the <tf|>Voce circle in Florence 
J40  78 (1908-16), but of numerous self-appointed <tf|>Vociani who felt 
J40  79 they belonged to a new generation destined to complete the 
J40  80 <tf|>risorgimento in a political order which was not merely 
J40  81 post-Giolittian but post<?_>-<?/>liberal. In 1914 all three men 
J40  82 threw their publicistic energies into the pro<?_>-<?/>war campaign. 
J40  83 Prezzolini turned <tf_>La Voce<tf/> into an uncompromisingly 
J40  84 interventionist magazine, while in the pages of <tf|>Lacerba Papini 
J40  85 and Soffici fused avant-garde art with heady visions of an Italy 
J40  86 regenerated through the war experience (see Gentile, 1972; 
J40  87 Anderson, 1989).<p/>
J40  88 <p_>Another component of revolutionary interventionism was closely 
J40  89 related in its origins to Papinian and Vocian 'cultural 
J40  90 ultra-nationalism' but operated as a formally constituted political 
J40  91 pressure group. In December 1910, amid the heightened nationalist 
J40  92 passions aroused by Austria's expansion into Bosnia in 1908 and the 
J40  93 imminent prospect of a colonial war with Libya, a Nationalist 
J40  94 Congress was held in Florence, home of the <tf|>Voce circle. At 
J40  95 this congress Corradini, who had co-edited <tf_>Il Regno<tf/> with 
J40  96 Papini in 1904, and his close collaborator Federzoni founded the 
J40  97 <tf_>Associazione Nazionale Italiana<tf/>. The core ideology of the 
J40  98 ANI's more radical members, spelt out emphatically in its 
J40  99 periodical, <tf_>L'Idea Nazionale<tf/>, perpetuated the Vocian myth 
J40 100 of the 'new Italy' but also contained two distinctive elements. The 
J40 101 first, elaborated by Corradini on his return from Latin America in 
J40 102 1908, was a quasi-Marxist justification of Italian expansionism as 
J40 103 the act of a 'proletarian' nation asserting its right no longer to 
J40 104 submit to the hegemony of plutocratic 'capitalist' ones such as 
J40 105 Britain and Germany. The second was provided by the legal theorist, 
J40 106 Rocco, who had been recruited by the ANI in 1913. His drive to 
J40 107 promote a new post-liberal order in Italy was rooted in a 
J40 108 philosophy of history which focused on the decline of state 
J40 109 authority allegedly brought about by the diffusion of liberal and 
J40 110 socialist principles ('demo<?_>-<?/>socialism') in the wake of the 
J40 111 French Revolution. The remedy he proposed to the corruption and 
J40 112 class conflict he saw about him was a peculiar blend of 
J40 113 technocratic faith with both conservatism and modern imperialism. 
J40 114 He proposed the replacement of the liberal system by a 
J40 115 corporativist order in which a powerful industrial class would 
J40 116 control sectors of the economy under the auspices of a strong state 
J40 117 in which the authority of the monarchy, the military and the Church 
J40 118 had been restored. In 1914 <tf_>L'Idea Nazionale<tf/> predictably 
J40 119 turned itself into a major organ of interventionist argument 
J40 120 (Roberts, 1979, ch.5; De Grand, 1971, 1978).<p/>
J40 121 <p_>Both Vocian and ANI ultra-nationalism was of a distinctly 
J40 122 elitist, right<?_>-<?/>wing complexion and represented a 
J40 123 transformation of the conservative tradition, albeit in a 
J40 124 revolutionary rather than a restorationist direction. In this 
J40 125 respect they can be placed at the opposite end of the spectrum from 
J40 126 a third component of anti-democratic interventionism, 
J40 127 neo-syndicalism. This term refers to a number of revolutionary 
J40 128 socialists who since the turn of the century had, in contrast to 
J40 129 the 'maximalist' (that is revolutionary Marxist) mainstream, 
J40 130 increasingly looked to a technologically advanced Italy as the 
J40 131 precondition for the creation of a heroic proletariat and for the 
J40 132 subsequent realization of socialism through a network of worker-led 
J40 133 unions. Though an attempt was made to make this political vision 
J40 134 the basis of a formal organization with the setting up of the 
J40 135 <tf_>Unione Sindacale Italiana<tf/> in 1912, it remained 
J40 136 essentially a diffuse current of revolutionary agitation 
J40 137 represented by some trade-union activists and propagated in 
J40 138 periodicals (for example <tf_>Avanguardia socialista<tf/> and 
J40 139 <tf_>Il divenire sociale<tf/>) and books (for example Labriola, 
J40 140 1910).<p/>
J40 141 <p_>The openly palingenetic and increasingly nationalist trend of 
J40 142 neo<?_>-<?/>syndicalist thinking predisposed a number of its most 
J40 143 prominent theorists, notably Lanzillo, De Ambris, Rossoni, 
J40 144 Corridoni and Panunzio, to campaign alongside their natural 
J40 145 enemies, the 'right-wing' extra-parliamentary interventionists in 
J40 146 1914. They believed that <quote_>"the war would bury for good the 
J40 147 forms and ideologies of the past and prepare the way for something 
J40 148 radically new ... Whoever remained passive would be left behind as 
J40 149 history accelerated and Italy entered a new era"<quote/> (Roberts, 
J40 150 1979, p.112). The only vestige of socialism in their belief in the 
J40 151 revolutionary virtues of national war was the underlying assumption 
J40 152 that society would one day belong politically and economically to 
J40 153 the 'producers' rather than to the parasitic ruling, landowning and 
J40 154 industrial classes who had dominated Italy hitherto. To promote 
J40 155 their cause they set up a network of pressure groups, the 
J40 156 <tf_>Fasci di azione rivoluzionaria<tf/> (the adjective 
J40 157 '<foreign|>internazionalista' which originally appeared in their 
J40 158 name had been quietly dropped), while Corridoni proved his mettle 
J40 159 as one of the most effective speakers at the mass rallies held in 
J40 160 Milan to whip up public pressure against neutrality (see Roberts, 
J40 161 1979, ch.5).<p/>
J40 162 <p_>A fourth political grouping which promoted interventionism in 
J40 163 1914 had an even less orthodox pedigree than the neo-syndicalists: 
J40 164 the Political Futurists. In 1909 their leader, Marinetti, had 
J40 165 achieved international fame with the publication in Paris of the 
J40 166 Futurist Manifesto announcing a radical break with all tradition 
J40 167 (<foreign|>passatismo or 'pastism') in the name of an art which 
J40 168 would celebrate the dynamism of the modern machine age. In this 
J40 169 respect 'Futurism' was a child of the same age which gave rise to 
J40 170 fauvism, expressionism, abstractionism, surrealism and 
J40 171 constructivism (see Hughes, 1980, pp.40-3). What set it apart from 
J40 172 such aesthetic movements was that from the beginning the 
J40 173 inauguration of a 'futurist' age was inextricably bound up with the 
J40 174 call for national regeneration. The legacy of Italy's imperial, 
J40 175 religious or cultural past was regarded by futurists as a dead 
J40 176 weight preventing her from becoming a technologically advanced, 
J40 177 militarily strong national community. Liberalism, which embodied 
J40 178 the 'pastist' mentality had to go. The mythic core at the heart of 
J40 179 such ideas was again unmistakably palingenetic: <quote_>"Political 
J40 180 futurism was the irrational and activist commitment to the violent 
J40 181 destruction of the old world and the creation of a new society 
J40 182 whose form was as yet ill-defined, in which Marinetti intended to 
J40 183 have the role of leader and ideologue"<quote/> (Gentile, 1982, 
J40 184 p.146).<p/>
J40 185 <p_>The policies which flowed from this curious form of aesthetic 
J40 186 politics were distinctly bellicose (<quote_>"war is the sole 
J40 187 hygiene of the world"<quote/> was one of Marinetti's more memorable 
J40 188 aphorisms). Futurism thus managed to combine chauvinism and 
J40 189 imperialism with policies in keeping with its 
J40 190 anti<?_>-<?/>establishment pose, namely republicanism, 
J40 191 egalitarianism and anti<?_>-<?/>clericalism. As a result, Futurists 
J40 192 such as Boccioni were to be found campaigning against the Church 
J40 193 and for national expansion in the 1909 elections, and in 1914 were 
J40 194 eager to support the interventionist cause: indeed, Marinetti 
J40 195 became one of its most effective spokesmen. In addition, the urge 
J40 196 to translate avant-garde aesthetics into political change drew 
J40 197 support from the periodical <tf|>Lacerba, produced by Papini and 
J40 198 Soffici in their short-lived Futurist phase (Joll, 1965; Gentile, 
J40 199 1982, ch.4; Mosse, 1990).<p/>
J40 200 <p_>Another permutation of aesthetic politics was to be found in 
J40 201 the interventionist alliance, this time embodied not in a formally 
J40 202 constituted political group, nor even a current of political 
J40 203 culture, but in a single ideologue of visionary politics: 
J40 204 D'Annunzio. His personal discovery of Nietzsche in 1893 had been 
J40 205 the starting point for a decisive shift from exploring the perverse 
J40 206 delights of the 'decadent' sensibility (that is in <tf_>Il 
J40 207 piacere<tf/> of 1891) to a self<?_>-<?/>appointed 'superman'. 
J40 208 Though initially he felt his role was to resist the rising tide of 
J40 209 mediocrity unleashed by modern mass society (that is <tf_>Le 
J40 210 vergine delle rocce<tf/> of 1895), the wide-spread food riots of 
J40 211 1898 left a deep impression on him. From then on he saw himself as 
J40 212 a seer called upon to use his lyric and dramatic genius to inspire 
J40 213 patriotic fervour in the masses and bring about <quote_>"the 
J40 214 rebirth of Italy"<quote/> (<tf_>La Gloria<tf/> of 1899; <tf_>Il 
J40 215 fuoco<tf/> of 1900) as an heroic, imperialist, modern nation. But 
J40 216 D'Annunzio was not content to be the poet laureate of nationalism. 
J40 217 True to his new vision of himself as a synthesis of artist and 
J40 218 leader, he was drawn irresistibly into the political arena.
J40 219 
J41   1 <#FLOB:J41\><p_>The only difference between Chicken and Prisoners' 
J41   2 Dilemma in this format is the transposition of <tf|>p and <tf|>s 
J41   3 for each player, but the games are quite different. Each of them 
J41   4 contains a puzzle: in the case of Chicken a puzzle about 
J41   5 precommitment, in the case of Prisoners' Dilemma a puzzle about 
J41   6 rational actors arriving at a foreseeable but suboptimal 
J41   7 outcome.<p/>
J41   8 <p_>These two games are the foundation of modern non-zero-sum game 
J41   9 theory in social science. This is not the place to review the vast 
J41  10 literature that has developed from them. It is the place for one 
J41  11 warning and one encouragement. The warning is that what is true of 
J41  12 the two-person one-off game is not necessarily true for repeated 
J41  13 and/or multi-person games, so it is dangerous to make sweeping 
J41  14 inferences from them. The encouragement is that nevertheless the 
J41  15 insights to be derived from these very simple cases go a long way 
J41  16 towards explaining puzzling features of political life in many 
J41  17 different times and places.<p/>
J41  18 <h_><p_>The Provision of Public Goods<p/><h/>
J41  19 <p_>Chicken and Prisoners' Dilemma are examples of collective 
J41  20 action problems. A collective action problem is any situation in 
J41  21 which players' individually rational actions lead to an outcome 
J41  22 which could have been bettered if players had chosen differently. 
J41  23 To illustrate this most general and hence vague formula, consider a 
J41  24 problem which has troubled economists for a long time: the optimal 
J41  25 provision of public goods. A public good is anything which is at 
J41  26 least to some extent indivisible and/or non-excludable. A 
J41  27 well-known case is clean air. You cannot take a pound of clean air 
J41  28 away from the common stock and sell it on a market stall. Nor can 
J41  29 you exclude anybody from enjoying the benefits of clean air, 
J41  30 whether or not she has contributed to the cost of producing it.<p/>
J41  31 <p_>Public goods pose a problem for market economists because they 
J41  32 cannot be sure that the unregulated market will produce an optimum 
J41  33 quantity of them. General equilibrium theory builds on the classic 
J41  34 insight of Adam Smith that the uncoordinated and largely selfish 
J41  35 choices of individuals may make society, in aggregate, as well off 
J41  36 as it is possible to be. The modern way of putting this is that 
J41  37 unregulated perfect competition in all markets at once leads to a 
J41  38 point on the Pareto frontier. The Pareto frontier is the set of 
J41  39 points with the property that no further trades can be made. As it 
J41  40 is assumed that nobody trades unless both (all) parties think they 
J41  41 would be at least as well off, and some better off, after the trade 
J41  42 than before, this is an another<&|>sic! way of saying that at the 
J41  43 Pareto frontier nobody can be made better off without at least one 
J41  44 person being made worse off.<p/>
J41  45 <p_>There are two problems with this result. One is that not all 
J41  46 outcomes which are economically efficient are socially just. The 
J41  47 other, relevant here, is that markets in which there are public 
J41  48 goods cannot be perfectly competitive. As you cannot force anybody 
J41  49 to pay for clean air, nobody will have enough incentive to produce 
J41  50 it. Producing clean air is the same thing as preventing the 
J41  51 production of dirty air. Therefore, as in a market equilibrium it 
J41  52 is impossible to force the polluter to pay, too much pollution will 
J41  53 be produced.<p/>
J41  54 <p_>Ensuring that public goods are produced is much the same as 
J41  55 ensuring that the outcomes players desire in Chicken and Prisoners' 
J41  56 Dilemma games are produced. Everybody wants clean air but left to 
J41  57 themselves may fail to produce it. Since the 1920s, economists have 
J41  58 looked for ways to ensure that public goods are produced, usually 
J41  59 by recommending that politicians or administrators introduce 
J41  60 incentives so as to make markets behave as if they were perfect. It 
J41  61 has taken a long time for academic concern to reach the policy 
J41  62 arena but current international interest in the 'polluter pays 
J41  63 principle' provides an example. It is now commonplace for 
J41  64 economists to argue that permits to pollute, priced at the social 
J41  65 cost of the pollution, should be sold by governments and tradeable 
J41  66 amongst would-be polluters, while the proceeds are used to clean up 
J41  67 the pollution.<p/>
J41  68 <p_>But there is a catch. If we examine the record of any 
J41  69 government which professes to believe in market principles, it is 
J41  70 easy to find actions which are inconsistent with that belief. For 
J41  71 instance, the Thatcher administrations in the UK rejected available 
J41  72 moves towards perfect competition in a number of policy arenas. 
J41  73 Three of them concern motor cars. First, a market-distorting tax 
J41  74 concession in favour of company cars, inherited from previous 
J41  75 administrations, was retained (albeit on a reduced scale). This 
J41  76 imposed not only direct costs arising from the market distortion 
J41  77 and from lost revenues but also a pollution cost. Motor cars damage 
J41  78 cities by reason of noise, exhaust pollution, congestion and 
J41  79 accidents. A system of permits to pollute, in the form of road 
J41  80 pricing, is technically feasible, works in Singapore and is 
J41  81 supported by social scientists of a wide range of ideologies, but 
J41  82 was resolutely rejected by the Thatcher government and also by the 
J41  83 new model Labour Party under Neil Kinnock. Thirdly, UK car prices 
J41  84 are held artificially high, even within the supposed free-trade 
J41  85 area of the European Community, by a combination of requiring 'type 
J41  86 approval' for car imports and a 'voluntary export restraint' 
J41  87 agreement with Japanese car makers.<p/>
J41  88 <p_>Why do politicians disappoint economists so much? Not because 
J41  89 they are irrational or stupid. I believe that the Thatcher 
J41  90 administration had perfectly good reasons for rejecting these three 
J41  91 efficiency-improving changes. Most of the outputs of a political 
J41  92 system are themselves public goods. A law empowering local 
J41  93 authorities to charge users for their urban roads is as indivisible 
J41  94 as clean air. It is not quite non-excludable because some places 
J41  95 could be exempted from its operation. But in the sense which 
J41  96 matters, it is not practicably excludable: it is not practicable to 
J41  97 restrict it to those people who have contributed to the costs of 
J41  98 its production. Hence the market in government rules is imperfect, 
J41  99 just as the market in air is imperfect.<p/>
J41 100 <p_>Another way of putting the same point is as follows. Standard 
J41 101 economic analysis assumes that most actors in the economy are 
J41 102 self-interested. In perfect competition, universal self-interest 
J41 103 would maximize welfare, as if by an invisible hand, no less 
J41 104 efficiently than universal altruism. But general equilibrium fails 
J41 105 because the market delivers too few public goods. The same Adam 
J41 106 Smith who praised the workings of the invisible hand observed:<p/>
J41 107 <p_><quote_>People of the same trade seldom meet together, even for 
J41 108 merriment and diversion, but the conversation ends in a conspiracy 
J41 109 against the public, or in some contrivance to raise 
J41 110 prices.<quote/><p/>
J41 111 <p_>So economists turn to politicians and bureaucrats in the hope 
J41 112 of getting the market regulated. But it is inconsistent to suppose 
J41 113 that politicians and bureaucrats are any less self-interested than 
J41 114 economic actors. In so far as the model presupposes economic actors 
J41 115 who maximize utility (defined over income, wealth, entitlements and 
J41 116 status), it must in consistency presuppose political actors who do 
J41 117 the same thing. In a democracy politicians need enough votes to be 
J41 118 (re-)elected and enough funds to fight their campaigns and pay for 
J41 119 the party HQ. Normally, before they can maximize their utility they 
J41 120 must first be elected. That politicians depend on voters and on 
J41 121 campaign funds is scarcely news. The distinctive contribution of 
J41 122 the rational-choice school is to apply game theory to these 
J41 123 relationships and emerge with predictions about rational 
J41 124 behaviour.<p/>
J41 125 <h_><p_>Rational Choice and Voting<p/><h/>
J41 126 <p_>In the well-known spatial model popularized by Downs, 
J41 127 politicians who wish to be (re-)elected move to the issue position 
J41 128 of the median voter. Voters maximize their expected utility by 
J41 129 voting for the party which maximizes their party differential, 
J41 130 provided that their party differential discounted by the 
J41 131 probability that they are pivotal exceeds the cost of voting. Both 
J41 132 parts of this model have been much discussed. Downs raised an 
J41 133 obvious problem with the 'rational' voter: on any plausible view, 
J41 134 the subjective probability that one's own vote is decisive is 
J41 135 vanishingly small.<p/>
J41 136 <p_>Therefore it drags the expected utility of voting down to 
J41 137 fractions of a penny. As the cost of voting and of becoming well 
J41 138 informed is at least a few pence, it seems that the rational voter 
J41 139 would never vote. Rational-choice writers have suggested some 
J41 140 unsatisfactory ways out. Downs suggested that voters might 
J41 141 nevertheless vote to save democracy from collapse, but this was to 
J41 142 commit <quote_>"a common fallacy in social thought which most of 
J41 143 the book turns on his avoiding"<quote/>: namely, that what was in 
J41 144 the interests of all was <tf_>ipso facto<tf/> in the interests of 
J41 145 each. Another popular line has been to say that people vote for the 
J41 146 incidental benefits (meeting their friends at the polls and so on). 
J41 147 This is a desperate move, invalidated by all empirical evidence. A 
J41 148 rationally <tf_>self<tf/>-interested citizen would almost never 
J41 149 vote. But Down's analysis is a constructive failure because it 
J41 150 explains why apparently trivial differences in voting conditions 
J41 151 (wet weather or dry, Sunday or Thursday, registration at the 
J41 152 voter's initiative or at the state's) are associated with great 
J41 153 differences in turnout.<p/>
J41 154 <p_>Who then are relatively more likely to vote?: those whose party 
J41 155 differentials and/or subjective probability of decisiveness are 
J41 156 relatively high and those for whom the cost of voting is relatively 
J41 157 low. There is no reason for the first two to vary systematically 
J41 158 with class or income but there is reason to expect the last to do 
J41 159 so. Voting (where not compulsory) is a form of leisure activity. 
J41 160 Leisure is probably a luxury good in the economist's sense that the 
J41 161 demand for it increases more than proportionately with income. 
J41 162 Therefore there is reason to expect the rich to be more likely to 
J41 163 vote <}_><-|>that<+|>than<}/> the employed poor. Furthermore, the 
J41 164 cost of acquiring political information is lower for the educated 
J41 165 than for the uneducated. As there is a positive correlation between 
J41 166 education and income, this reinforces the leisure effect. Thus 
J41 167 there is good reason to expect what empirical studies across time 
J41 168 and space confirm: that voting turnout rates are higher among the 
J41 169 rich and educated than the rest of the population. Thus a rational 
J41 170 politician, seeking to maximize the probability of re-election, 
J41 171 offers not what the electors want but what the median voter wants. 
J41 172 The median voter is probably richer and better educated 
J41 173 <}_><-|>that<+|>than<}/> the median elector. In particular, she 
J41 174 probably drives a car which in Britain is quite likely to be a 
J41 175 company one (over half of new car registrations in the UK are of 
J41 176 company cars). Thus rational choice analysts have an easy 
J41 177 explanation for the first two of our three observed departures from 
J41 178 economic rationality, namely the company car tax concession and the 
J41 179 absence of road pricing.<p/>
J41 180 <p_>The other half of Downs's model deals with the rational party. 
J41 181 If there is just one issue dimension, politicians who wish to be 
J41 182 (re-)elected will converge on the ideological position of the 
J41 183 median voter. Where politics is truly unidimensional, Downs's 
J41 184 hypothesis is robust. Every so often, a politician condemns the 
J41 185 consensus of the existing parties and seeks a <quote_>"choice, not 
J41 186 an echo"<quote/> (the campaign slogan of Barry Goldwater in 1964). 
J41 187 Goldwater, George McGovern and Michael Foot each led their parties 
J41 188 to catastrophic defeat after breaking away from the consensus. 
J41 189 Margaret Thatcher is often cited as a counter-example. However, on 
J41 190 a number of issues, including race relations, trade union reform 
J41 191 and nationalistic foreign policy, Thatcherism moved towards, not 
J41 192 away from, the median voter. On other issues, Thatcherism was 
J41 193 admittedly unpopular. However, Conservative efforts in 1990 to 
J41 194 temper the effects of the poll tax and to slow down the 
J41 195 implementation of NHS reform are evidence for the robustness of the 
J41 196 Downsian median. So are the strenuous efforts of Neil Kinnock to 
J41 197 lead the Labour Party to it.<p/>
J41 198 <p_>When politics is multidimensional, however, the hypothesis gets 
J41 199 into trouble. Generalizing the median voter hypothesis into 
J41 200 multidimensional issue space may sound easy. Suppose that one issue 
J41 201 dimension is 'left-right' judged by voters' attitudes to the 
J41 202 distribution of income and wealth; another is 
J41 203 'liberal-conservative' judged by issues such as free speech and the 
J41 204 death penalty; and a third concerns the regional distribution of 
J41 205 resources.
J41 206 
J42   1 <#FLOB:J42\>The growth of investment in plant and machinery 
J42   2 declined from an annual rate of 23 per cent between 1978 and 1981 
J42   3 to 3 per cent between 1981 and 1984. (Singapore, Economic Committee 
J42   4 1986a: 12). There is, however, evidence of expansion of activities 
J42   5 involving skilled labour in which Singapore retained a cost 
J42   6 advantage. This was most clearly the case in electronics, where 
J42   7 more capital-intensive and sophisticated production has developed. 
J42   8 In 1984 two chip-making plants were established, one by the 
J42   9 American-based Texas Instruments and the other by the Italian group 
J42  10 SGS. This represented a major break in the dominance of the 
J42  11 electronics sector by assembly work (see chapter 6 for a discussion 
J42  12 of the significance of these developments in the context of the 
J42  13 Asian Regional Division of Labour). However, the other major 
J42  14 development between 1979 and 1982, the rapid growth of computer 
J42  15 manufacture and the establishment of Singapore as a major exporter 
J42  16 of disk-drives (<tf_>Asian Business<tf/>, December 1981: 46 and 
J42  17 December 1982: 65), were essentially higher value assembly 
J42  18 activities. These moves to higher value production characterised 
J42  19 European and American investment but not Japanese since 1971. 
J42  20 Japanese investment in Singapore has fallen; it has gone either to 
J42  21 lower labour cost location or to Europe and the USA. This was a 
J42  22 major blow to the PAP's strategy. The failure of international 
J42  23 capital to respond fully to the PAP's 'second industrial 
J42  24 revolution' reveals the limited extent to which even the most 
J42  25 powerful Third World state economic apparatus can influence 
J42  26 international capital.<p/>
J42  27 <p_>The generally broader base of the economy to a degree insulated 
J42  28 Singapore from the 1979-82 recession that so seriously affected the 
J42  29 other NICs. However, sharp falls in commodity prices, including 
J42  30 oil, slowed the growth of exports (figure 5.2) and made the 
J42  31 Singapore economy increasingly vulnerable to any major contraction 
J42  32 in the demand for its manufactured goods and services. This 
J42  33 vulnerability is underlain by the fact that in 1984 66 per cent of 
J42  34 goods and services were exported. The other Asian NICs are far less 
J42  35 dependent on foreign demand - of their total production, Hongkong 
J42  36 exports 48 per cent, Taiwan 37 per cent and South Korea 26 per cent 
J42  37 (Singapore, Economic Committee, 1986a: 7).<p/>
J42  38 <p_>In 1985 all the NICs experienced problems, but Singapore was, 
J42  39 because of its more exposed position, by far the hardest hit. The 
J42  40 fall in Singapore's industrial production was much steeper than in 
J42  41 the other Asian NICs (figure 5.3). The impact of the sharp 
J42  42 contraction of markets for Singapore's products was reinforced by 
J42  43 the collapse of the domestic construction industry boom which 
J42  44 between 1982 and 1985 was a major factor in sustaining growth 
J42  45 rates. Growth came to a shuddering halt. GDP decreased by 1.8 per 
J42  46 cent, declines of 8 per cent in manufacturing and 17 per cent in 
J42  47 construction being partly balanced by a 5 per cent growth in the 
J42  48 service sector. There were widespread business failures and sharp 
J42  49 falls in export earnings and, more spectacularly, foreign 
J42  50 investment (figure 1.1). Unemployment rose from 2.9 per cent in 
J42  51 1984 to 6 per cent in 1986. In addition the number of Malaysian 
J42  52 'guest workers' fell from <tf|>c. 105,000 to <tf|>c. 60,000 ( Sieh, 
J42  53 1988: 104).<p/>
J42  54 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J42  55 <p_>The serious impact that the global recession had on Singapore, 
J42  56 particularly between 1984 and 1986, reveals the vulnerability of 
J42  57 such an open economy. These experiences resulted in some revision 
J42  58 of the PAP's development strategies. These centred on the 
J42  59 recognition that the leading growth area will in future be the 
J42  60 service sector with manufacturing playing a major but secondary 
J42  61 role (Singapore, Economic Committee, 1986a). In effect the 
J42  62 government merely recognised what had been happening since 1980 and 
J42  63 incorporated it into strategy. Singapore was to be promoted:<p/>
J42  64 <p_><quote_>as a premier Operational Headquarters (OHQS) for 
J42  65 Manufacturing, Finance and Banking Services, especially risk 
J42  66 management and fund management, knowledge intensive industries and 
J42  67 other internationally traded services. (Singapore, Report of the 
J42  68 Fiscal and Financial Policy Sub-committee, 1986: 1)<quote/><p/>
J42  69 <p_>While the aim of attracting high-value industry was retained, 
J42  70 the importance of labour-intensive industry was also recognised. To 
J42  71 this end the continual use of 'guest labour' was accepted. However, 
J42  72 no major influx of foreign labour is contemplated and given the 
J42  73 almost zero population growth labour supply is likely to exert a 
J42  74 major constraint on the economy. Perhaps more significant was the 
J42  75 realisation that Singapore has, since the late 1970s, lost the 
J42  76 'competitive edge' in manufacturing.<p/>
J42  77 <p_>Between 1979 and 1984 total labour costs rose by 10.1 per cent 
J42  78 while productivity per worker rose by only 4.6 per cent (Cass, 
J42  79 1985). During this period Singapore's competitive position declined 
J42  80 by 50 per cent against Hongkong, 15 per cent against Taiwan and 35 
J42  81 per cent against South Korea (Singapore, Economic Committee, 1986a: 
J42  82 31). While rising labour costs were seen as the principal cause of 
J42  83 this decline, attention has also been drawn to the role of 
J42  84 increased rents, interest charges, transport costs and the costs of 
J42  85 power and water in reducing the level of profitability (Singapore, 
J42  86 Economic Committee, 1986a: 44).<p/>
J42  87 <p_>A variety of measures has been introduced with the collective 
J42  88 aims of reducing production costs, raising profitability and 
J42  89 attracting foreign investment. Taxation on charges for electricity, 
J42  90 gas and telephone calls was suspended and 50 per cent rebates on 
J42  91 property taxes granted. Particular attention has focused on the 
J42  92 reduction of corporation tax from 40 to 33 per cent (<tf_>Far 
J42  93 Eastern Economic Review Year Book<tf/>, 1987: 237). However, 
J42  94 central to the policy has been the reduction of labour costs, 
J42  95 through cutting of the employers' contribution to the CPF from 25 
J42  96 to 10 per cent, wage freezes and actual reductions. These policies 
J42  97 are being pursued with the active 'cooperation' of the corporate 
J42  98 trade unions.<p/>
J42  99 <p_>It is clear that since 1985 there has been a significant 
J42 100 retreat from the 'second industrial revolution' strategy (Rodan, 
J42 101 1987: 172). Whether the revised policies will enable Singapore to 
J42 102 regain the 'competitive edge' is a moot point. The government's 
J42 103 ability to reduce labour costs far enough to compete with lower 
J42 104 cost areas is, in particular, highly debatable. Since 1985 the 
J42 105 government has attempted to stimulate the economy by increasing 
J42 106 development expenditure. By 1986 state expenditure as a percentage 
J42 107 of GDP had risen to 29.3 per cent (table 5.5). Given the reductions 
J42 108 in tax and CPF contributions this is only sustainable if major 
J42 109 economies are made in recurrent expenditure and a high level of 
J42 110 capital inflow is established.<p/>
J42 111 <p_><O_>caption&table<O/><p/>
J42 112 <p_>Concern over the level of public expenditure and the need for 
J42 113 the state to revitalise the economy by promoting new areas of 
J42 114 activity has, since 1986, led to a systematic policy of 
J42 115 privatisation. The Public Sector Disinvestment Committee was 
J42 116 established to formulate a programme of disinvestment in Government 
J42 117 Linked Companies (GLCs). Some 634 of these concerns together with 7 
J42 118 of the 33 Statutory Boards have been considered. However, while 
J42 119 substantial progress has been made the state has retained a 51 per 
J42 120 cent controlling interest (Ng Chee Yuen 1989). In addition, 
J42 121 investment has brought new areas of the economy under central 
J42 122 government control. Thus assets are being realised in some sectors 
J42 123 of the economy in order to invest in others. Ng Chee Yuen and 
J42 124 Wagner (1989: 216) have suggested that there is unlikely to be any 
J42 125 significant reduction in the involvement of the state in the 
J42 126 economy; rather the outcome <quote_>"may be just a change of 
J42 127 company portfolios and activities; and public enterprise would 
J42 128 continue to be the instrument of restructuring and 
J42 129 development"<quote/>.<p/>
J42 130 <p_>The various policies implemented since 1985 have contributed to 
J42 131 a restoration of confidence on the part of domestic and, more 
J42 132 especially, international investors. However, given the highly 
J42 133 internationalised nature of the Singapore economy - in 1988, 88 per 
J42 134 cent of total demand was external (Balakrishnan, 1989: 66) - the 
J42 135 renewed levels of growth that the city state has experienced (table 
J42 136 1.19) are primarily a reflection of a partial recovery of the 
J42 137 world-economy. In particular, renewed expansion in the demand for 
J42 138 electronics resulted in rapid growth in this industry and the 
J42 139 sectors that underpin it. Indeed it has been the manufacturing 
J42 140 sector that has been the main element in Singapore's recovery 
J42 141 rather than finance and business services. However, during 1989 the 
J42 142 emergence of a world surplus of disk-drives heralded a contraction 
J42 143 in the electronics sector and a marked slowing of rate of growth of 
J42 144 Singapore's manufacturing sector and economy as a whole.<p/>
J42 145 <p_>In addition to Singapore's vulnerability in a period of marked 
J42 146 instability in the world-economy the totality of government 
J42 147 policies since 1981 has caused increasingly widespread discontent 
J42 148 and focused opposition to the PAP. Such opposition may well limit 
J42 149 government's ability to follow present strategy as well as 
J42 150 undermining it by reducing the confidence of foreign investors.<p/>
J42 151 <h|>Thailand
J42 152 <p_>In many ways Thailand is the regional polar opposite of 
J42 153 Singapore. While manufactured exports expanded rapidly from the 
J42 154 early 1970s the country has never made a clean break from ISI. In 
J42 155 addition until the 1980s the economy was probably the least 
J42 156 internationalised of the ASEAN groups with a low level of foreign 
J42 157 investment (tables 1.6 and 1.7) and MNC activity. During the 
J42 158 immediate post-war period Thailand was probably the most 'open' of 
J42 159 the South East Asian economies and the one in which capitalist 
J42 160 production had made least headway. However, these conditions did 
J42 161 not result in any major influx of foreign activity. The lack of any 
J42 162 resource not readily available elsewhere in the region, location 
J42 163 off the main regional and international transport routes, apparent 
J42 164 instability of the governments and proximity to the former 
J42 165 Indo-Chinese states combined to discourage foreign undertakings and 
J42 166 investors. In addition, particularly between 1947 and 1957, the 
J42 167 nationalistic and often erratic nature of government economy policy 
J42 168 tended to discourage investors.<p/>
J42 169 <p_>In the immediate post-World War Two period Thai economic 
J42 170 development was characterised, like most of South East Asia, by 
J42 171 intense nationalism. During this period the Chinese population was 
J42 172 heavily discriminated against. The government of Phibun Songkram 
J42 173 (1947-57) established a form of state-led capitalist development. 
J42 174 Under this the interests of Chinese and foreign capital were 
J42 175 secondary to those of Thai nationals (Skinner, 1958: 317; Ingram, 
J42 176 1971: 287, 275). Foreign investment and manufacturing activity were 
J42 177 inhibited by threats of closure, state-promoted competition and 
J42 178 non-renewal of contracts.<p/>
J42 179 <p_>During the period 1947-57 development strategy, while never 
J42 180 clearly stated, had all the characteristics of ISI. However, these 
J42 181 policies did not centre on tariff protection. Tariffs were treated 
J42 182 primarily as sources of revenue. In addition, Akrasanee and Juanjai 
J42 183 (1986: 77) have suggested that the Phibun regime 
J42 184 <quote_>"deliberately avoided protecting industries for fear of 
J42 185 promoting the Chinese community"<quote/>. Rather, industrialisation 
J42 186 was promoted through the direct participation of the state in 
J42 187 production.<p/>
J42 188 <p_>State enterprises were set up with monopolies in such areas as 
J42 189 brewing, paper manufacture, sugar refining and gunny sack 
J42 190 production (Marzouk, 1972: 195; Silcock, 1967: 262-3). While some 
J42 191 were fully state-owned, others were under the control of NEDCOL 
J42 192 (National Economic Development Corporation Limited). The majority 
J42 193 of these undertakings were effectively a partnership between the 
J42 194 state and major Thai and Chinese business interests (Hewison, 1985: 
J42 195 276; Ingram, 1971: 288). Through NEDCOL the state acted as a 
J42 196 guarantor of loans enabling comparatively large-scale foreign 
J42 197 funding to be obtained for many of these enterprises. However, 
J42 198 direct state investment played a major role in the development of 
J42 199 manufacturing. The government's share of domestic investment rose 
J42 200 from 32 per cent in 1952 to over 38 per cent for the period 1953-5 
J42 201 (Akrasanee and Juanjai, 1986: 83).<p/>
J42 202 <p_>Evaluation of the state enterprise programme is difficult. The 
J42 203 state concerns became bywords for corruption and inefficiency, none 
J42 204 of them ever reaching target production levels (Ingram, 1971: 287). 
J42 205 In addition, after the overthrow of Phibun in 1957, the record of 
J42 206 NEDCOL and the state enterprises became a favourite area of 
J42 207 propaganda to further discredit his regime and the direct 
J42 208 involvement of the state in production. However, the state 
J42 209 enterprises, whatever their failings, did initiate domestic 
J42 210 production in a number of important areas and set Thailand on the 
J42 211 ISI road.<p/>
J42 212 <p_>By 1957 there was mounting opposition to the Phibun development 
J42 213 strategy. This stemmed from domestic and foreign investors, the 
J42 214 World Bank and the Bank of Thailand. The protests do not appear to 
J42 215 have been directed at ISI <tf_>per se<tf/> but rather at the 
J42 216 haphazard way in which the state intervened in the economy.
J42 217 
J43   1 <#FLOB:J43\><h_><p_>5. International Financial Relations: The Debt 
J43   2 Crisis<p/>
J43   3 <p_>Ronald Barston<p/><h/>
J43   4 <p_>The contemporary international debt crisis which began with the 
J43   5 Mexican and Brazilian financial collapses in 1982 has proved an 
J43   6 intractable feature of modern international politics. It is in many 
J43   7 ways different from earlier debt crises in terms of the number and 
J43   8 frequency of reschedulings and widespread effects within the 
J43   9 international system. The current debt crisis has given rise, 
J43  10 moreover, to complex and innovative multilateral diplomacy 
J43  11 involving creditor agencies, bank advisory committees, multilateral 
J43  12 diplomacy involving governments, multilateral institutions and 
J43  13 non-state actors. The profound complexity and need for mediation as 
J43  14 well as innovation has also seen the emergence of figures 
J43  15 previously behind the scenes, such as the Managing Director of the 
J43  16 IMF and the Director General of the General Agreement on Tariffs 
J43  17 and Trade (GATT), as players with enhanced and exposed roles in 
J43  18 international politics.<p/>
J43  19 <p_>This chapter examines the initial responses to the debt crisis; 
J43  20 the process of debt negotiation; and the weakening of consensus 
J43  21 over obligations and management of the crisis. The concluding 
J43  22 section looks at some of the major international policy issues 
J43  23 which have arisen in the course of the crisis. The main theme 
J43  24 explored will be that of showing that, whilst in the short term the 
J43  25 debt crisis has been successfully contained by innovatory 
J43  26 procedures and measures, in the longer term consensus has not been 
J43  27 sustained. The debt crisis has become an intractable and 
J43  28 increasingly complex feature of the international system.<p/>
J43  29 <h|>BACKGROUND
J43  30 <p_>Debt and financial reschedulings of sovereign states have been 
J43  31 a long<?_>-<?/>standing feature of the international system. Prior 
J43  32 to the Second World War external long-term debt consisted primarily 
J43  33 of bond issues floated abroad by sovereign states and other actors. 
J43  34 During the nineteenth century there were a number of major defaults 
J43  35 and rescheduling of foreign bonds. Following the high lending of 
J43  36 the 1820s for railroads, construction and mining, most Latin 
J43  37 American governments defaulted to some degree. In the 
J43  38 mid-nineteenth century Latin America and countries in the Eastern 
J43  39 Mediterranean (Greece and Turkey) featured as defaulters, whilst 
J43  40 those after 1880 included Chile (1880-4) and Turkey (1881), whose 
J43  41 debt was rescheduled after the 1875 default; also notable was the 
J43  42 major borrowing of Imperial Russia. Brazil, which had largely 
J43  43 remained in credit, required rescheduling in 1898 and 1914. In the 
J43  44 period up to 1918, defaults followed in the wake of the Mexican 
J43  45 revolution and the Russian revolution; Turkey suspended its debt 
J43  46 payments to the allies in 1914. Subsequently, in the 1930s, most of 
J43  47 Latin America, Eastern Europe, Turkey and China defaulted, added to 
J43  48 which there was the breakdown of German reparations in Western 
J43  49 Europe.<p/>
J43  50 <p_>In the postwar period governments became more directly involved 
J43  51 in international debt rescheduling operations. In part this stemmed 
J43  52 from the growing general governmental involvement in a wide range 
J43  53 of external economic security policy. The spread of the Cold War 
J43  54 beyond Europe and the attention paid to the economic component of 
J43  55 security and military alliance are typified by the US-led Marshall 
J43  56 Plan, to a lesser degree bilateral Soviet treaties and Council for 
J43  57 Mutual Economic Association (COMECON) aid, along with regional 
J43  58 economic arrangements such as the Colombo plan. The decolonization 
J43  59 process, which intensified in the 1960s, was frequently accompanied 
J43  60 by the continuation of post<?_>-<?/>independence economic links 
J43  61 with the colonial power, at least in the early years, or through 
J43  62 the formation of aid donor groups for individual countries.<p/>
J43  63 <p_>The role of multilateral institutions in financial aid and debt 
J43  64 questions is a particularly notable feature of postwar 
J43  65 international economic relations. Within the United Nations system, 
J43  66 the creation of the International Finance Corporation in 1960 
J43  67 completed the so-called IMF/World Bank group. The setting up of the 
J43  68 United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD) in 1964 
J43  69 brought increasingly onto the central agenda of international 
J43  70 politics the broad issues of trade, development assistance and 
J43  71 technology transfer, raising the level of political attention given 
J43  72 to less developed country demands for greater trade access, framed 
J43  73 subsequently in the concept of a New International Economic Order. 
J43  74 Within the framework of the IMF, developing countries formed the 
J43  75 Group of 24 in 1971, partly as a counterweight to the Group of 10 
J43  76 industrialized countries, with the aim of articulating developing 
J43  77 country positions on access to and use of IMF resources. The impact 
J43  78 of the G-24 remained relatively limited until the late 1970s, when 
J43  79 more cohesive developing country strategies began to emerge in the 
J43  80 context of the North-South dialogue and second oil crisis.<p/>
J43  81 <h_><p_>EARLY DEBT RESCHEDULING<p/><h/>
J43  82 <p_>Before the debt crisis began in 1982, postwar debt 
J43  83 reschedulings of official debt incurred directly by or guaranteed 
J43  84 by governments had been relatively few and generally for amounts of 
J43  85 less than US$ 300m. In the commercial sector no institutional 
J43  86 machinery as such existed internationally for dealing with 
J43  87 commercial debt. Debt in the official category was largely 
J43  88 negotiated within official creditor groups, for example for Poland, 
J43  89 Yugoslavia and Indonesia. The bulk of official creditor 
J43  90 transactions have been conducted within the framework of the 
J43  91 so-called Paris Club of OECD countries, at which the IMF, World 
J43  92 Bank and other agencies such as UNCTAD are represented along with 
J43  93 the applicant country and creditor governments. The Paris Club, 
J43  94 which was initially set up in 1956 to deal with Argentine debt, 
J43  95 normally meets under the chairmanship of a representative of the 
J43  96 French Treasury.<p/>
J43  97 <p_>Debt problems, at least until the late 1970s, had been kept in 
J43  98 manageable proportions. In the postwar period states have used a 
J43  99 variety of different strategies to meet their external funding 
J43 100 requirements. Liberia, for example, has relied heavily on official 
J43 101 assistance from the United States and Federal Republic of Germany 
J43 102 and, after joining the IMF in 1962, had eight IMF standby 
J43 103 arrangements up to 1970. In Ghana's case, almost 80 per cent of 
J43 104 external debt was in the form of suppliers' credits from Western 
J43 105 and socialist countries whilst major profit funding, for example 
J43 106 the Volta River project, came from the World Bank, United Kingdom 
J43 107 and the United States. The overthrow of Nkrumah in 1966, partly 
J43 108 because of the dramatic rise in debt repayment to 25 per cent of 
J43 109 foreign exchange earnings, resulted in a reorientation of strategy, 
J43 110 including cancellation of trade agreements with the People's 
J43 111 Republic of China and resumption of relations with the IMF. In 
J43 112 Europe, Turkey relied heavily on loans and deferments under the US 
J43 113 Marshall Plan, along with other funding from the World Bank and 
J43 114 European Investment Bank, while Indonesia offset reductions in 
J43 115 Western funding by shifting to the Soviet Union and withdrawing 
J43 116 from the IMF, a policy later reversed under President Suharto. In 
J43 117 contrast to the above examples, Mexico, with an essentially 
J43 118 petroleum-based economy, has relied on access to foreign capital 
J43 119 markets for bank credits and used bond issues to meet its 
J43 120 financing, largely on the assumption that, given political backing 
J43 121 from its US patron such access would continue, making it more easy 
J43 122 to roll over these forms of financial instruments.<p/>
J43 123 <h_><p_>THE 1982 DEBT CRISIS<p/><h/>
J43 124 <p_>The 1982 debt crisis broke quite suddenly, against the 
J43 125 background of Poland's economic difficulties, with first the 
J43 126 Mexican and then Brazilian collapses. The debt crisis spread to 
J43 127 take in other parts of Eastern Europe, much of Africa and parts of 
J43 128 Southeast Asia. While the factors for the payments difficulties of 
J43 129 individual countries differed, several broad causes can be noted. 
J43 130 In the first are those associated with public policy failures, such 
J43 131 as ill-designed high cost-low return development projects. As 
J43 132 regards external factors, oil importing developing country 
J43 133 economies were badly hit by the 'shocks' of two sets of oil price 
J43 134 rises, in 1973 and 1979. Following the oil price rise of 1979, 
J43 135 developed countries in the main responded with restrictive economic 
J43 136 policies, which tended to result in reductions in demand for 
J43 137 developing country exports, already affected by deteriorating terms 
J43 138 of trade. The more credit-worthy middle income less developed 
J43 139 countries (LDCs) were able to contain the shock of oil price rises 
J43 140 only by borrowing against the security of their growth potential as 
J43 141 newly industrialized countries (NICs). South Korea, for example, 
J43 142 continued as part of its debt security policy to borrow heavily on 
J43 143 the commercial capital markets. Indeed the role of commercial bank 
J43 144 lending in the lead-up to the 1982 crisis and subsequently was 
J43 145 crucial.<p/>
J43 146 <p_>Financial innovation facilitated the growth of large-scale 
J43 147 financial syndication. The development too of Euro-market 
J43 148 facilities added to the available sources of funds, particularly 
J43 149 for the offshore banking and parastatal agencies of debtor 
J43 150 combines, such as Brazil. In banking terms, the business of lending 
J43 151 to the Third World was highly profitable. The real debt of non-oil 
J43 152 LDCs rose from US$169 billion in 1973 to US$294.7 billion in 
J43 153 1979.<p/>
J43 154 <h_><p_>INITIAL RESPONSES TO THE DEBT CRISIS<p/><h/>
J43 155 <p_>In the absence of any formal machinery for dealing with the 
J43 156 debt crisis, the initial responses of necessity took the form of 
J43 157 <tf_>ad hoc<tf/>rescue packages, or what has been called the 'fire 
J43 158 brigade' approach. In the main, such operations involved stop-gap 
J43 159 financial support, selectively orchestrated to a large extent by 
J43 160 the United States, together with, in some cases, short<?_>-<?/>term 
J43 161 balance of payments finance via bridging loans, arranged mainly 
J43 162 through the Basle-based central bank organization, the Bank for 
J43 163 International Settlements (BIS). In October 1982, for example, the 
J43 164 US Treasury provided a US$1.23 billion 90-day loan to Brazil, 
J43 165 though this was not formally announced until President Reagan's 
J43 166 visit to Brazil in December 1982. The US$1.23 billion loan was also 
J43 167 supported by a trade package, allowing for the relaxation of 
J43 168 controls on Brazilian sugar exports to the United States and the 
J43 169 continuation of Brazilian subsidies on steel exports for a further 
J43 170 two years. In addition, Brazil secured US$600 million bridging 
J43 171 finance from its six major bank creditors. Further short-term 
J43 172 finance of US$1.2 billion was provided by the BIS in December 1982, 
J43 173 pending attempts to agree a financial rescue package involving the 
J43 174 IMF and commercial banks.<p/>
J43 175 <p_>The Mexican and Brazilian crises highlighted what were to 
J43 176 become four central problems in the management of the debt 
J43 177 question: the need to mobilize internationally very large amounts 
J43 178 of finance on a recurring basis; the complexity of the negotiating 
J43 179 process owing to the number of secondary banks and other agencies; 
J43 180 the need to coordinate the respective involvement of the IMF and 
J43 181 commercial banks, and the inadequacy of IMF resources to meet the 
J43 182 financial requirements of debtor countries over and above balance 
J43 183 of payments financing.<p/>
J43 184 <p_>The experience of the Mexican and Brazilian debt negotiations 
J43 185 laid the basis for the subsequent development of the IMF's 
J43 186 coordinating role. Thus, by mid-December 1982, Brazil had reached 
J43 187 substantial agreement with the IMF for a Fund-supported programme, 
J43 188 which was put to the Brazilian bank creditor group meeting in New 
J43 189 York on 20 December 1982, attended by some 125 bank representatives 
J43 190 and the IMF's then Managing Director, Jacques de 
J43 191 Larosi<*_>e-grave<*/>re. Nevertheless the position remained 
J43 192 precarious, dependent on bridging operations, the maintenance of 
J43 193 interbank lines and the mobilization of large amounts of commercial 
J43 194 and international institution funding. Subsequently the ideas 
J43 195 underlying the IMF's approach to assembling financial packages 
J43 196 became based on what was known as the 'critical mass' doctrine. In 
J43 197 essence, the doctrine, which shaped IMF policy until its 
J43 198 modification in 1986, required commercial bank commitments to have 
J43 199 reached a critical amount, normally over 90 per cent of that 
J43 200 required, before IMF funds would be committed.<p/>
J43 201 <p_>Following the Mexican and Brazilian crises, the debt position 
J43 202 of a number of other developing countries also worsened 
J43 203 substantially. In 1983-4, 23 countries sought debt relief within 
J43 204 the framework of the Paris Club. Normally the Paris Club requires 
J43 205 an applicant country, if it is an IMF member, to have in place or 
J43 206 under discussion an economic adjustment programme supported by Fund 
J43 207 resources subject to upper credit tranche conditionality. The terms 
J43 208 and conditions of the agreement take the form of an agreed Minute, 
J43 209 which takes effect when bilateral agreements have subsequently been 
J43 210 negotiated between the debtor country and each of its creditors. 
J43 211 The acute nature and frequency of reschedulings in 1983-4 almost 
J43 212 inevitably meant some relaxation of the Paris Club principle of 
J43 213 limiting rescheduling to medium- and long-term debt, with the 
J43 214 inclusion of some short-term, generally trade-related, debt with 
J43 215 the overall agreement.<p/>
J43 216 <p_>Apart from the Paris Club agreements referred to above, 32 
J43 217 restructuring agreements were reached in principle by 26 countries 
J43 218 through bank advisory committees, which were an important 
J43 219 innovative feature of the debt crisis, during 1983-4.
J43 220 
J44   1 <#FLOB:J44\><p_>As a consequence of this market-driven production 
J44   2 philosophy, firms must also take on new organizational structures 
J44   3 such as the 'flat organization' or 'polycentricism'. The case 
J44   4 studies of Sony and Honda which follow are ample illustrations of 
J44   5 this, and an even better case would be IBM which, consciously or 
J44   6 unconsciously, acts as a role model for the Japanese corporations 
J44   7 (Morris and Imrie 1991).<p/>
J44   8 <h_><p_>GLOBAL LOCALIZATION: TWO CASE STUDIES<p/><h/>
J44   9 <p_>One problem with the study of Japanese overseas investment is 
J44  10 that it tends to treat all Japanese corporations as an amorphous 
J44  11 mass. As Cusumano (1985) has illustrated, however, even firms in 
J44  12 the same industrial sector - in this case Toyota and Nissan - can 
J44  13 display very different business strategies. The two case studies 
J44  14 described here are in some ways untypical, as they are at the 
J44  15 leading edge of global localization among Japanese companies. 
J44  16 Nevertheless, it is arguable that these firms display 
J44  17 characteristics in their internationalization strategies which 
J44  18 other Japanese corporations are starting to adopt.<p/>
J44  19 <h|>Sony
J44  20 <p_>Sony have been at the forefront of the globalization of the 
J44  21 Japanese consumer electronics industry; they were the first company 
J44  22 to start production in North America when they located a plant at 
J44  23 San Diego in California in the early 1970s and their Bridgend plant 
J44  24 in South Wales was the first Japanese television plant in the EC 
J44  25 (Morris 1987; Morris and Imrie 1991).<p/>
J44  26 <p_>Essentially, Sony have divided their production and market into 
J44  27 three major supranational trading blocs - Japan and the western 
J44  28 Pacific rim (Japan, East and South-East Asia, and Australasia), 
J44  29 North America (including Mexico), and Western Europe. This has also 
J44  30 been driven by Sony's export orientation. Indeed they are one of 
J44  31 Japan's most international companies with only 34 per cent of total 
J44  32 sales in 1988 in Japan (Wagstyl and Buchan 1989). Accordingly, 
J44  33 production is being reorganized on an integrated scale in these 
J44  34 blocs:<p/>
J44  35 <p_>(a) <tf_>Japan, East and South-East Asia, Australasia<tf/>. 
J44  36 There has been a considerable shift of production of consumer 
J44  37 electronic products and components from Japan to other south and 
J44  38 east Asian countries. This is especially true of lower value added 
J44  39 and mature products such as consumer electronics, as opposed to the 
J44  40 new product markets into which Sony has been diversifying such as 
J44  41 semiconductors, computer workstations, computer disk drives and 
J44  42 high-definition televisions. As part of this strategy, for example, 
J44  43 in 1989 Sony announced the location of a plant in Singapore to 
J44  44 produce tubes for colour television assembly factories in Malaysia 
J44  45 and Thailand which will replace production from Japan.<p/>
J44  46 <p_>(b) <tf_>North America<tf/>. The San Diego facility has been 
J44  47 considerably expanded since its inception in the 1970s to produce 
J44  48 higher volumes of its initial product, colour televisions, but also 
J44  49 to produce a diversified product range. Computer workstations, for 
J44  50 example, are the latest product to be added to the plant. In 
J44  51 addition the company has set up a R&D centre at San Jose in 
J44  52 California, to service the North American operation.<p/>
J44  53 <p_>(c) <tf_>Western Europe<tf/>. Sony's extensive European-wide 
J44  54 complex of plants is rivalled only by that of Matsushita Electric. 
J44  55 Moreover, this is set to expand further in the 1990s. The hubs of 
J44  56 the operation are the Bridgend plant in South Wales, the largest 
J44  57 plant and the only one to produce colour television picture tubes, 
J44  58 and the Stuttgart operation in West Germany where, in addition to a 
J44  59 large plant producing colour televisions, the European CTV 
J44  60 headquarters are located. The company now has eight Western 
J44  61 European plants spread across the UK, France, West Germany, Spain, 
J44  62 Italy, and Austria (see Table 1.1).<p/>
J44  63 <p_><O_>caption&table<O/><p/>
J44  64 <p_>While there is a degree of duplication between plants, 
J44  65 production is also strongly integrated. The Bridgend plant, for 
J44  66 example, supplies picture tubes to the West German and Spanish 
J44  67 plants. Similarly, the Colmar plant makes components and 
J44  68 sub-assemblies for other European plants. Sony's expansion in 
J44  69 Western Europe extends beyond the number of plants. It includes 
J44  70 diversification of product lines and global localization through 
J44  71 increased local sourcing. On some products, for example, local 
J44  72 content levels are close to 100 per cent.<p/>
J44  73 <p_>This localization policy is being achieved in three ways. 
J44  74 First, Sony have made extensive use of the growing number of 
J44  75 Japanese suppliers who have located in the EC and in the UK in 
J44  76 particular (Morris and Imrie 1991). Morris and Imrie estimate that 
J44  77 there are at least fifteen such suppliers currently operating. 
J44  78 Second, through transferring production of key and other components 
J44  79 from Japan to Europe (CTV tubes would be one such example). 
J44  80 Moreover in the 1990s Sony plan to transfer the production of 
J44  81 semiconductors, video cassette recorder heads, optical pick ups and 
J44  82 magnetic tape coating (de Jonquieres and Dixon 1989). Third, Sony 
J44  83 are upgrading local suppliers through their supplier development 
J44  84 programme in the EC and attempting to localize component sourcing 
J44  85 to areas proximate to their main plants in order to fully operate a 
J44  86 just-in-time system. In South Wales, for example, the corporation 
J44  87 is aiming to source 80 per cent of its local content within a five 
J44  88 mile radius or one hour's drive time (Morris and Imrie 1991).<p/>
J44  89 <p_>Sony's global localization strategy in Western Europe, 
J44  90 therefore, comprises transferring production of a wide variety of 
J44  91 products and sourcing high percentages of content locally. Its 
J44  92 product range is set to diversify considerably further in the 1990s 
J44  93 to mobile communications, computers, medical electronics, robotics 
J44  94 and security systems, plus the key components already mentioned (de 
J44  95 Jonquieres and Dixon 1989).<p/>
J44  96 <p_>In addition to transferring production, Sony is transferring 
J44  97 some of its R&D capacity to the EC. Bridgend is already the R&D 
J44  98 centre for CTVs, and the company plan two telecommunications R&D 
J44  99 centres, in the UK and West Germany and a high definition (HDTV) 
J44 100 research centre in West Germany. Research for HDTV in North America 
J44 101 will be centred at the San Jose facility. The commitment to this 
J44 102 policy of global <}_><-|>localizaton<+|>localization<}/> is 
J44 103 repeated in the autonomy given to international managers. In 1989, 
J44 104 for example, Sony Corporation appointed a European and an American 
J44 105 to its main board, the first Japanese company to do so. This is 
J44 106 part of a strategy of a largely self-sufficient industrial and 
J44 107 management infrastructure with substantial freedom to run its own 
J44 108 affairs.<p/>
J44 109 <h|>Honda
J44 110 <p_>Honda's place in Japan's motor vehicle industry is very similar 
J44 111 to that of Sony's in the electronics field; it was a late entrant 
J44 112 into the market, is considerably smaller than the two major 
J44 113 companies and has used its internationalization strategy as a 
J44 114 competitive advantage - given its relative weakness in its domestic 
J44 115 market.<p/>
J44 116 <p_>Honda's initial production overseas dates to the late 1960s 
J44 117 when it took a share in a domestic Malaysian producer. It now has a 
J44 118 network of production facilities throughout south, south-east and 
J44 119 east Asia, in Taiwan (1983), Malaysia (1978), Indonesia (1975 and 
J44 120 1978), Thailand (1984), and India. Honda holds a minority share in 
J44 121 all seven plants which produce motorcycles, vehicles, and vehicle 
J44 122 parts. It also has a plant in New Zealand.<p/>
J44 123 <p_>Despite Honda's entry into the Asian market via local 
J44 124 production, it is in North America that the company's global 
J44 125 localization efforts are concentrated, although the company will 
J44 126 follow this with major production facilities in the UK. Honda's 
J44 127 first, and main plant at Marysville, Ohio, is part of Honda's North 
J44 128 American-wide production complex which comprises eight 
J44 129 manufacturing operations (see Table 1.2).<p/>
J44 130 <p_><O_>caption&table<O/><p/>
J44 131 <p_>Car production started at Marysville in 1982, following 
J44 132 motorcycle production, and as such Honda were the first Japanese 
J44 133 company to build a manufacturing operation. Moreover, the company 
J44 134 were also the first Japanese company to build engines in the USA at 
J44 135 the Anna facility and the first to produce automatic transmissions. 
J44 136 The company is the most integrated of the Japanese producers in 
J44 137 North American automobile production; they were the first to export 
J44 138 vehicles outside of North America, have the largest R&D and 
J44 139 engineering facilities, and the highest local content of the 
J44 140 Japanese transplants in the USA. The company is now the fourth 
J44 141 largest vehicle producer in the USA after the 'Big Three' domestic 
J44 142 producers (Economist Intelligence Unit 1989).<p/>
J44 143 <p_>Currently Honda of America is undergoing a five step strategy 
J44 144 to become self-reliant in the USA, including: boosting exports; 
J44 145 increasing local content to 75 per cent by 1991; expanding 
J44 146 production engineering; developing the second US assembly plant at 
J44 147 East Liberty, and increasing R&D activities. The Ohio and 
J44 148 California R&D centres have already doubled in size and will 
J44 149 increase employment further from 100 to 500.<p/>
J44 150 <p_>Honda, therefore, have gone through a rapid expansion of 
J44 151 capacity in their various integrated North American facilities. The 
J44 152 Marysville plant, for example, started with a planned capacity of 
J44 153 150,000 cars per annum which has subsequently been upgraded to 
J44 154 500,000 units. In addition, significant investment has taken place 
J44 155 at the facility to upgrade it from an assembly to a full 
J44 156 manufacturing operation, with plastic moulding, stamping, welding, 
J44 157 painting, and sub-assembly facilities. The plant supplies 
J44 158 components to Honda's plants in Ontario and at East Liberty, Ohio. 
J44 159 The two main omissions are engines and automatic transmissions, 
J44 160 which will be built elsewhere. Car engine production started at the 
J44 161 Anna plant in Ohio in 1985, which has undergone reinvestment to 
J44 162 increase capacity to 500,000 engines, plus an iron casting facility 
J44 163 for front and rear suspension components, and aluminium cylinder 
J44 164 head and aluminium wheel production facilities. Two further car 
J44 165 assembly units have started production - one at East Liberty, Ohio, 
J44 166 which will produce a capacity of 150,000 cars per year, and a plant 
J44 167 at Alliston in Ontario which has a capacity of 80,000 cars per 
J44 168 annum.<p/>
J44 169 <p_>As Florida and Kenney illustrate in Chapter 5, Honda, therefore 
J44 170 have pushed forward a strategy of global localization of car 
J44 171 production in North America in little over one decade. This has 
J44 172 included siting R&D and engineering facilities, in transferring 
J44 173 full manufacturing operations, and in increasing local content 
J44 174 through transferring the production of components from Japan to 
J44 175 Honda operations in North America. Local content has also been 
J44 176 increased, however, by increasing component sourcing from locally 
J44 177 based suppliers. Local content levels at Honda in North America 
J44 178 will be 75 per cent by 1991. Indeed, as Florida and Kenney note, it 
J44 179 is claimed that by the mid 1990s it will be as high as that at 
J44 180 Chrysler. This has been achieved by being the most 'Americanized' 
J44 181 of the Japanese transplants. For example, 95 per cent of the steel 
J44 182 for fabricated components is from the US and 50 per cent of machine 
J44 183 tools are from US-based plants.<p/>
J44 184 <p_>The company has three subsidiary component suppliers: Bellemar 
J44 185 Parts Industries produces seats and exhaust systems from plants 
J44 186 on<?_>-<?/>site at Alliston and Marysville; KTH Parts Industries 
J44 187 produces stamped parts in St. Paris, Ohio, and CALMAC produces air 
J44 188 conditioning units at Cerritos, California. Other supplier firms 
J44 189 are spread throughout North America in places as far flung as 
J44 190 Florida, Massachusetts, and Canada. However, as Florida and 
J44 191 Kenney's chapter notes, the vast majority of the 220 suppliers are 
J44 192 found in the states in the auto-corridor from Michigan to 
J44 193 Tennessee. This is particularly true of the forty Japanese-owned 
J44 194 suppliers to Honda, all of which are within a one-hundred-mile 
J44 195 radius of Marysville. Indeed, over a half are in Ohio with a marked 
J44 196 concentration around the Ohio Interstate Highway 75 which has been 
J44 197 dubbed 'parts supplier alley' (Economist Intelligence Unit 1989). 
J44 198 These tend to be dedicated to the Honda plant, while the 
J44 199 out-of-state suppliers tend to serve more than one transplant. The 
J44 200 spatial clustering is unsurprising given the just-in-time supply 
J44 201 system in operation at Marysville, with two hour stocks and certain 
J44 202 suppliers delivering to the plant on an hourly basis.<p/>
J44 203 <p_>Honda's global localization strategy is best illustrated, 
J44 204 therefore, by the North American example. In Western Europe the 
J44 205 company's activities have been far more limited although this will 
J44 206 change in the 1990s. In the late 1970s Honda entered into a 
J44 207 manufacturing and technical agreement with British Leyland (now 
J44 208 Rover) in the UK. Rover produced Honda cars under licence at one of 
J44 209 their UK plants which later developed into joint development work. 
J44 210 This culminated in 1989 with Honda taking a 20 per cent share of 
J44 211 Rover's car business and Rover taking a 20 per cent share of 
J44 212 Honda's UK operations. Honda's plans in the UK include an engine 
J44 213 plant at Swindon which is already operational, and an assembly 
J44 214 plant, also at Swindon, which will produce 100,000 cars per annum 
J44 215 by 1994.
J44 216 
J45   1 <#FLOB:J45\><p_><tf_>Proposition 3.<tf/> Suppose <*_>lambda<*/> 
J45   2 varies across activities but is constant for any given activity. 
J45   3 Then, if <O_>formula<O/>, the equilibrium wage <tf|>w<sp_>*<sp/> is 
J45   4 a decreasing function of <*_>lambda<*/>. That is, workers with the 
J45   5 highest damage potential (lowest <*_>lambda<*/>) receive the 
J45   6 highest wage.<p/>
J45   7 <p_><tf|>Note: This proposition depends formally on <*_>lambda<*/> 
J45   8 being a constant for any given activity and may not hold if 
J45   9 <*_>lambda<*/> varies with <tf|>e and <tf|>L.<p/>
J45  10 <p_><tf_>Proposition 4.<tf/> If <*_>lambda<*/> is a constant for a 
J45  11 given activity, then the production function <tf|>f{L,e} can be 
J45  12 expressed as a generalized Solow function of the following type; 
J45  13 <O_>formula<O/> for some <tf|>g.<p/>
J45  14 <p_><tf|>Proof. See Appendix.<p/>
J45  15 <p_>The intuitive meaning of our result is as follows. Each 
J45  16 activity has a unique <*_>lambda<*/>. If activities are 
J45  17 heterogeneous, they may have different values of <*_>lambda<*/>, in 
J45  18 which case workers with the highest damage potential will always 
J45  19 receive the highest wages. Activities that are less susceptible to 
J45  20 damage will always offer lower wages. By restricting ourselves to 
J45  21 this special class of production functions, we arrive at a positive 
J45  22 monotonic relationship between the wage rate and the damage 
J45  23 potential. In other production functions, this relationship may not 
J45  24 be positive or even monotonic.<p/>
J45  25 <p_>Let us examine the non-monotonic case briefly. Consider two 
J45  26 activities, A and B, of which the former is the more susceptible to 
J45  27 damage from a low supply of effort. A has two strategy options. The 
J45  28 first is to pay a higher wage than B's to preclude workers from 
J45  29 reducing effort and causing damage. The second is to offer a wage 
J45  30 rate lower than B's and put up with some damage due to worker 
J45  31 demotivation. Under certain conditions on the production function, 
J45  32 each of these strategies could be equally profitable. By 
J45  33 restricting ourselves to a specific class of production functions, 
J45  34 we ensure that lower wages will not fully offset the damage from 
J45  35 worker demotivation and preclude such a multiplicity of options.<p/>
J45  36 <p_><tf_>Proposition 5 (The Solow Region).<tf/> Let <tf|>w>0 and 
J45  37 <tf|>e(w) be three times differentiable, such that, <tf|>e(w), 
J45  38 <tf|>e'(w)>0 and <tf|>e''(w)<0. Then: (i) there is at most one 
J45  39 <tf|>w<sb_>o<sb/> such that <O_>formula<O/>; and (ii) 
J45  40 <O_>formula<O/> for <O_>formula<O/>, for some <*_>mu<*/>>0.<p/>
J45  41 <p_><tf|>Proof. We have<p/>
J45  42 <p_><O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J45  43 <p_>(i) Suppose that <tf|>w<sb_>o<sb/> is such that 
J45  44 <O_>formula<O/>. Then,<p/>
J45  45 <p_><O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J45  46 <p_>It follows that <tf|>w<sb>o<sb/> is unique from Theorem A1 in 
J45  47 the Appendix.<p/>
J45  48 <p_>(ii) This follows directly from the continuity of 
J45  49 <tf|>E'<sb_>w<sb/>. <*_>Square<*/><p/>
J45  50 <p_>Proposition 5 implies that, if it exists, the Solow wage is 
J45  51 unique. In the region of this wage, the elasticity of effort is a 
J45  52 decreasing function of the wage. Hence within this region it is 
J45  53 <tf|>always true that higher wages are paid to workers with higher 
J45  54 damage potential (provided <*_>lambda<*/> is constant for each 
J45  55 activity).<p/>
J45  56 <h_><p_>III. PROPERTIES OF THE WAGE DISTRIBUTION<p/><h/>
J45  57 <p_>We have just derived the wage rate as an increasing function of 
J45  58 the damage potential of workers. Let us now try to interpret the 
J45  59 nature of the wage differentials generated by the model. A 
J45  60 simplistic way of interpreting the wage differentials in the model 
J45  61 is in terms of heterogeneous labour. Suppose that skills are 
J45  62 variable across workers. Suppose also that there are differences in 
J45  63 the skill requirements of different activities. Assume that firms 
J45  64 that have more complex equipment require the more skilled workers. 
J45  65 Then, if skills and jobs do not match, firms with relatively costly 
J45  66 equipment will be susceptible to a greater degree of damage. In 
J45  67 this case, firms that are more susceptible to damage will pay a 
J45  68 higher wage as a strategy to recruit the more skilled workers.<p/>
J45  69 <p_>However, the existence of wage differentials for heterogeneous 
J45  70 labour is not very interesting from either a theoretical or 
J45  71 a<&|>sic! empirical point of view. The main theoretical puzzle, as 
J45  72 mentioned earlier, is to explain why wage differentials exist even 
J45  73 when workers have identical skills. In fact, this question becomes 
J45  74 especially important in the context of a number of empirical 
J45  75 studies which indicate the existence of wage differentials for 
J45  76 apparently homogeneous labour. Let us briefly summarize the 
J45  77 essential aspects of this literature. Dickens and Katz (1987), for 
J45  78 instance, have examined the nature of wage differences across 
J45  79 industries for both union and non-union workers using American 
J45  80 data. Their findings indicate that there are large differences in 
J45  81 wages for seemingly similar workers. Substantial wage differences 
J45  82 persist even when union status and standard individual 
J45  83 characteristics are controlled. Similarly, Krueger and Summers's 
J45  84 studies (1987, 1988) indicate that workers' industry affiliations 
J45  85 exert a substantial impact on their wages, even after controlling 
J45  86 for human capital variables and a variety of job characteristics. 
J45  87 There is, however, some controversy in the literature on the 
J45  88 importance of true 'industry effects' as an explanation of the 
J45  89 observed wage dispersion. Murphy and Topel (1987), for instance, 
J45  90 argue that actual wage differentials are more likely to arise from 
J45  91 the unobserved heterogeneity in workers' abilities. However, 
J45  92 Gibbons and Katz (1989) dispute the excessive emphasis placed by 
J45  93 Murphy and Topel on unmeasured ability to explain actual wage 
J45  94 differentials: they argue that the empirical evidence can be 
J45  95 consistent with both the 'industry effect' and the 'unmeasured 
J45  96 ability' explanations of wage dispersion. They argue that, in 
J45  97 practice, the wage changes of workers shifting to other industries 
J45  98 for exogenous reasons (such as plant closures) seem to be 
J45  99 consistent with the 'industry effect' explanation of wage 
J45 100 dispersion. In contrast, the wage changes of workers shifting 
J45 101 because of endogenous reasons (such as voluntary quits) seem to fit 
J45 102 in better with the 'unmeasured ability' explanation of wage 
J45 103 dispersion. In other words, the actually observed wage 
J45 104 differentials are obviously generated by a variety of different 
J45 105 factors.<p/>
J45 106 <p_>Let us now see how our efficiency wage model helps to provide 
J45 107 an understanding of the existence of wage differentials for labour 
J45 108 of homogeneous potentiality. We had earlier introduced the concept 
J45 109 of 'damage potential'. We shall now make use of this concept for 
J45 110 providing the rationale for various aspects of wage dispersion. 
J45 111 There are two possible ways of interpreting damage potential. We 
J45 112 shall call them the 'shirking' and 'performance' interpretations. 
J45 113 Let us clarify this further by making a conceptual distinction 
J45 114 between the two. We define shirking to be the conscious act of 
J45 115 reducing effort. Efficiency wage models normally assume that 
J45 116 workers shirk when not perfectly monitored. Since perfect 
J45 117 monitoring is difficult, penalties such as unemployment are 
J45 118 required to prevent workers from shirking. Performance, in 
J45 119 contrast, is not completely dependent upon monitoring, even though 
J45 120 it is definitely influenced by it. We define performance to 
J45 121 encompass a wide array of attributes which determine the 
J45 122 effectiveness of work. For instance, performance can depend upon 
J45 123 how intensely workers concentrate on their jobs; mistakes are bound 
J45 124 to happen if workers concentrate insufficiently. Performance can 
J45 125 also depend upon factors such as the willingness of workers to take 
J45 126 initiatives and function flexibly. We can intuitively visualize the 
J45 127 difference between shirking and performance as follows. If workers 
J45 128 are carefully watched over, they cannot idle on the job; that is, 
J45 129 shirking can be prevented by perfect monitoring. Nevertheless, this 
J45 130 by itself cannot guarantee good performance. Workers can either 
J45 131 inadvertently mishandle equipment or be inflexible and not take the 
J45 132 proper initiatives. That is, there is a discretionary element to 
J45 133 the effectiveness of work which is difficult to control by pure 
J45 134 monitoring.<p/>
J45 135 <p_>The standard rationalization of wage dispersion relies on the 
J45 136 strike threat or shirking model. If firms are heterogeneous and 
J45 137 monitoring imperfect, the uneven impact of the damage potential 
J45 138 from shirking can generate a wage distribution for homogeneous 
J45 139 labour. Firms more susceptible to damage will offer a higher wage 
J45 140 rate. We have just proved the formal conditions necessary for this 
J45 141 result to hold. If monitoring also happens to be relatively more 
J45 142 difficult in firms that have a greater susceptibility to damage, 
J45 143 then workers in such firms will receive wages that are 
J45 144 disproportionately higher in relation to their effort levels. That 
J45 145 is, in the shirking model of wage dispersion, some workers can get 
J45 146 higher wages by the fortuitous fact of being in firms particularly 
J45 147 susceptible to damage. This case corresponds closely to the 
J45 148 'industry effect' explanation of wage dispersion. Therefore under 
J45 149 these circumstances all workers will obviously prefer to be in the 
J45 150 high-paying firms. Suppose that workers acquired perfect 
J45 151 information about the wage distribution. Then there will be 
J45 152 queueing for the high-paying jobs. However, workers do not have any 
J45 153 credible way of offering to work effectively at these jobs for a 
J45 154 lower wage. Hence under these circumstances the high-paying jobs 
J45 155 will be rationed to the workers.<p/>
J45 156 <p_>We shall now provide an interpretation of wage dispersion which 
J45 157 relies on the concept of performance. We shall abstract from 
J45 158 shirking as a potential cause of damage. We ignore the shirking 
J45 159 problem by assuming that workers are costlessly and perfectly 
J45 160 monitored. Let workers be of homogeneous potentiality: that is, all 
J45 161 workers can be assumed to have the same intrinsic capabilities. 
J45 162 However, the effectiveness of their work will vary depending upon 
J45 163 the effort levels that they are willing to commit. Let contracts 
J45 164 with regard to effort be fully specified and costlessly and 
J45 165 perfectly enforced; in other words, assume that there is perfect 
J45 166 information regarding all aspects of the production process. 
J45 167 Therefore, the only source of potential damage for firms comes from 
J45 168 bad performance - as defined earlier. Firms with costly and complex 
J45 169 equipment require a high level of performance. They cannot tolerate 
J45 170 mistakes or the lack of proper initiatives from the workers. Hence 
J45 171 in this context they will specify contracts that require a high 
J45 172 level of effort. Workers will be paid a proportionately higher wage 
J45 173 to compensate them for the higher levels of effort. Firms less 
J45 174 susceptible to damage do not require the same high standards of 
J45 175 performance. They can tolerate less effective workers. Hence they 
J45 176 specify contracts paying a lower wage. That is, the heterogeneity 
J45 177 in the required performance standards of different firms can also 
J45 178 provide a theoretical rationale for the existence of a wage 
J45 179 distribution for labour of homogeneous potentiality. However, the 
J45 180 implications of the performance interpretation for wage 
J45 181 differentials is different from that of the shirking 
J45 182 interpretation. The wage dispersion generated by the performance 
J45 183 interpretation is compatible with a market-clearing equilibrium 
J45 184 under perfect information, in which neither the employers nor the 
J45 185 workers have any incentive to deviate from the equilibrium. As long 
J45 186 as contracts are implemented, employers will be satisfied with the 
J45 187 given wage distribution. Let us consider the workers' point of 
J45 188 view. We shall assume that there is no intrinsic job satisfaction 
J45 189 attached to any activity. Work involves disutility. Since by 
J45 190 assumption workers possess perfect information and there is 
J45 191 market-clearing, they will be indifferent between the different 
J45 192 occupations. To shift to a higher paid job involves costs in the 
J45 193 form of more effort-intense concentration, willingness to accept 
J45 194 inconvenience or exercise initiative. The allocation of jobs can 
J45 195 then be determined on a random basis.<p/>
J45 196 <p_>The normative implications of the performance model are also 
J45 197 quite different from those of the shirking model. In the shirking 
J45 198 model wage differentials can be considered to be normatively 
J45 199 'unjust', because some workers get higher wages solely as a 
J45 200 consequence of their industry affiliation. In contrast, wage 
J45 201 differentials are normatively 'just' in the performance model 
J45 202 because some workers are putting in more effort than others. In 
J45 203 this sense, there is obviously a correspondence between the 
J45 204 performance interpretation of wage differentials and the 
J45 205 'unmeasured ability' explanation of wage dispersion. The latter 
J45 206 explanation considers wage differentials to be justified on account 
J45 207 of the intrinsic differences in the unmeasured <tf|>abilities of 
J45 208 workers. The performance interpretation, however, focuses on 
J45 209 differences in the levels of <tf|>effort rather than ability. 
J45 210 Obviously, in any concrete situation all these various factors may 
J45 211 have some influence in generating wage differentials.<p/>
J45 212 <p_>The performance-based interpretation of wage dispersion, 
J45 213 incidentally, may help to explain some empirical aspects of 
J45 214 inter-industry wage dispersion which are difficult to reconcile 
J45 215 with the shirking model. In a recent paper, Akerlof and Yellen 
J45 216 (1988) have argued that certain aspects of inter-industry wage 
J45 217 dispersion cannot be rationalized by optimizing versions of the 
J45 218 efficiency wage hypothesis. They concede that the shirking model 
J45 219 may explain the wage dispersion, for instance, of machine operators 
J45 220 across industries on the basis of differences in monitoring costs. 
J45 221 However, they argue that it is difficult to explain the wage 
J45 222 differences, for instance, of secretaries across industries with 
J45 223 the same model.
J45 224 
J46   1 <#FLOB:J46\><p_>Expenditures on health comprise a very small 
J46   2 proportion of local government expenditure in both France and the 
J46   3 UK since this is the responsibility of central government. By 
J46   4 contrast, sub-national governments account for over 50% of total 
J46   5 health expenditure in Australia, Canada, Denmark and Switzerland. 
J46   6 The UK and North America stand out for the extent to which control 
J46   7 over educational spending is shifted towards lower tiers of 
J46   8 government. Expenditure decentralization in the UK and other 
J46   9 unitary states in Europe is rather low by comparison with federal 
J46  10 countries in North America and Europe as well as Scandinavia. In 
J46  11 Scandinavia total sub-national expenditure is high because of 
J46  12 responsibility for a substantial fraction of social welfare 
J46  13 spending.<p/>
J46  14 <h_><p_>3. Fiscal decentralization in theory<p/><h/>
J46  15 <p_>Much of the relevant literature on 'fiscal federalism' has 
J46  16 originated in North America, and reflects the particular government 
J46  17 structures of the US and Canada. Here we organize the methods and 
J46  18 results of this literature in the context of the very diverse 
J46  19 arrangements observed in European countries.<p/>
J46  20 <p_>Decentralization performs two distinct functions. First, local 
J46  21 communities' decisions about public services may better reflect 
J46  22 local residents' preferences. Second, administrative 
J46  23 decentralization may improve the information needed to implement 
J46  24 centrally-determined policies.<p/>
J46  25 <h_><p_>3.1 The decentralization of choice<p/><h/>
J46  26 <p_>Decentralization allows communities to better adapt to their 
J46  27 preferences the levels of local services and taxes. Local public 
J46  28 goods display the 'public good' characteristics of non-rivalry in 
J46  29 consumption and non-excludability, but benefit only a limited 
J46  30 geographical area (Cornes and Sandler, 1986). Voting provides the 
J46  31 most obvious mechanism by which differences in individual 
J46  32 preferences might be reflected in collective decisions. 
J46  33 Unfortunately, it turns out to be difficult to devise clear 
J46  34 criteria for identifying efficient levels of decentralization when 
J46  35 voting is the mechanism by which preferences are expressed.<p/>
J46  36 <p_>One rather limited case where decentralization is unambiguously 
J46  37 desirable is when decisions are made by groups that each contain 
J46  38 individuals with identical preferences and circumstances. Where 
J46  39 there is a greater degree of heterogeneity in the population, few 
J46  40 patterns of decentralization result in an unambiguous improvement 
J46  41 (in the Pareto sense). The desirability of decentralized 
J46  42 decision-making hinges on the balance between the interests of 
J46  43 different individuals, not all of whom will necessarily gain from 
J46  44 greater decentralization.<p/>
J46  45 <h_><p_>3.2. Choice through mobility<p/><h/>
J46  46 <p_>Whilst it is highly unlikely that the population can be 
J46  47 subdivided geographically into groups consisting of wholly 
J46  48 identical individuals, circumstances can be envisaged where the 
J46  49 population might choose to sort themselves in this way. This is the 
J46  50 so-called Tiebout model (1956). Faced with a range of local 
J46  51 authorities offering the full spectrum of possible levels of 
J46  52 provision, individuals choose a particular level of provision by 
J46  53 moving to the area where it is on offer. Under certain conditions 
J46  54 this process achieves a Pareto-improvement.<p/>
J46  55 <p_>Three groups of assumptions are needed for the Tiebout model to 
J46  56 be achieved in practice: (a) there should be enough jurisdictions 
J46  57 offering a sufficient range of levels of public services. In 
J46  58 addition, there should be enough individuals to ensure that public 
J46  59 goods can be provided efficiently in each of the jurisdictions; (b) 
J46  60 individual mobility should be costless, and individuals should move 
J46  61 in response only to fiscal conditions, and not to other 
J46  62 characteristics of the various localities; and (c) public services 
J46  63 in each jurisdiction should be financed by lump<?_>-<?/>sum taxes, 
J46  64 set equal to the cost of providing public services to the marginal 
J46  65 group member. This assumption can be relaxed to allow for local 
J46  66 services provided by a property tax only under very stringent 
J46  67 conditions, in which zoning regulations specifying the type of 
J46  68 property that can be built in each area make the property tax in 
J46  69 effect a lump sum (Hamilton, 1976).<p/>
J46  70 <p_>The first assumption requires a multiplicity of small 
J46  71 government units and that the functions assigned to local 
J46  72 government do not involve substantial economies of scale. Whilst 
J46  73 many European countries have small local government units in rural 
J46  74 areas (where fiscal reasons are unlikely to be a significant factor 
J46  75 in location choices), local government in urban areas tends to 
J46  76 involve rather larger units offering a correspondingly restricted 
J46  77 range of choices. In contrast in many US cities a large number of 
J46  78 small local jurisdictions may indeed provide the required range of 
J46  79 fiscal choices.<p/>
J46  80 <p_>When the first two groups of assumptions are not met, the 
J46  81 Tiebout model can quickly lead to gainers and losers. In 
J46  82 particular, if not all individuals are freely mobile, an 
J46  83 improvement in mobility of some would not necessarily result in an 
J46  84 improvement in the situation of all. Those unable to move may be 
J46  85 disadvantaged by an influx of residents with preferences sharply 
J46  86 different from their own. This is perhaps one of the most 
J46  87 significant limitations of the Tiebout model. Policies designed to 
J46  88 make the system of local government conform more closely to the 
J46  89 Tiebout assumptions (for example, by increasing the number of 
J46  90 government units, and removing obstacles to migration) will result 
J46  91 in both gainers (those who move to areas more closely approximating 
J46  92 their preferences) and losers (those who are unable to move, who 
J46  93 may find that local levels of provision move further away from the 
J46  94 standard that they would prefer). Piecemeal improvements to bring 
J46  95 the system closer to the Tiebout assumptions may sometimes reduce 
J46  96 welfare. Furthermore, population sorting leads to homogeneous 
J46  97 communities. This outcome is sometimes seen as undesirable, either 
J46  98 for basic reasons of social philosophy, or because there are 
J46  99 efficiency benefits from mixed communities.<p/>
J46 100 <p_>The Tiebout model is of very limited interest in most European 
J46 101 countries, and proposals for structural reform that aim to move 
J46 102 closer to the Tiebout assumptions will not necessarily improve 
J46 103 matters. On the other side, mobility may place constraints on the 
J46 104 structure and decisions of local government, as we will see 
J46 105 later.<p/>
J46 106 <h_><p_>3.3. Decentralization of implementation<p/><h/>
J46 107 <p_>A fundamentally different perspective is provided by 'agency' 
J46 108 models of local government, in which local governments administer 
J46 109 some of the policy functions of central government. Here the 
J46 110 objective of decentralization is to exploit two main advantages of 
J46 111 smaller-scale units: better information and better control.<p/>
J46 112 <p_><tf_>3.3.1. Better information<tf/> about local needs is 
J46 113 available to local bureaucrats. This allows more precise targeting. 
J46 114 In principle, of course, information available at a decentralized 
J46 115 level could be communicated to central decision-makers, but the 
J46 116 costs of information processing appear to rise sharply with the 
J46 117 size of organizations.<p/>
J46 118 <p_><tf_>3.3.2. Better control<tf/> over administrative 'slack' and 
J46 119 under-performance follows from the information advantages of local 
J46 120 voters. Delegated decision-making leads to familiar 
J46 121 'principal-agent' problems of control, since those charged with 
J46 122 implementing central policies may choose to pursue their own 
J46 123 objectives (comfortable conditions of service, or 'empire 
J46 124 building') at the expense of the objectives set by the central 
J46 125 government. Decentralization to local governments, rather than 
J46 126 simply to administrative agencies of central government, allows the 
J46 127 central government to make use of local voters as a control 
J46 128 mechanism to constrain bureaucratic under-performance.<p/>
J46 129 <p_>The role of voting is not any more to express individual 
J46 130 preferences, but to provide control in a situation of common 
J46 131 preferences and priorities. This presupposes that the interests and 
J46 132 preferences of local voters broadly coincide with the preferences 
J46 133 and objectives of central governments. Differences in the 
J46 134 objectives of central government and local voters can undermine the 
J46 135 value (from the point of view of central government) of elections 
J46 136 as a control device to reduce bureaucratic slack.<p/>
J46 137 <h_><p_>3.4. The assignment of policy functions<p/><h/>
J46 138 <p_>Taken together, the three views of the role of sub-central 
J46 139 governments presented above do not provide simple assignment rules 
J46 140 for policy functions. A range of other considerations are 
J46 141 involved.<p/>
J46 142 <p_><tf_>3.4.1. Interjurisdictional externalities.<tf/> As with any 
J46 143 other externalities, a number of possible approaches could be 
J46 144 adopted to ensuring that the interests of those affected by 
J46 145 interjurisdictional externalities are taken into account. 
J46 146 Bargaining between the affected parties is likely to result in 
J46 147 efficient outcomes where the numbers of parties is<&|>sic! small. 
J46 148 Fiscal instruments can be designed to operate like Pigovian taxes. 
J46 149 A third approach is to move the assignment to a higher level of 
J46 150 government, so that the interjurisdictional externality is 
J46 151 internalized (Olson, 1969). In that case, one needs to balance the 
J46 152 gains with the cost of service provision. Whilst a higher tier 
J46 153 assignment may allow economies of scale to be exploited through 
J46 154 specialization and a more efficient division of labour, the costs 
J46 155 of communication and control rise more than proportionately with 
J46 156 the size of the government unit (Helm and Smith, 1987).<p/>
J46 157 <p_><tf_>3.4.2. Macroeconomic stabilization.<tf/> For much of the 
J46 158 post-war period there has been a general consensus that the 
J46 159 appropriate location of macro<?_>-<?/>economic stabilization is the 
J46 160 national level. Because they have greater spillover effects 
J46 161 (leakages), uncoordinated local stabilization policies would be 
J46 162 less effective. Coordination would at the very least introduce new 
J46 163 costs, and at worst could be thoroughly undermined by the 
J46 164 incentives to 'free ride'. In recent years, indeed, increasing 
J46 165 international economic integration has begun to undermine the 
J46 166 consensus that even the national level of government is 
J46 167 appropriate. Some of the debate over the transfer of macroeconomic 
J46 168 'sovereignty' under the European Monetary System and the Delors 
J46 169 Plan has been conducted precisely with a view to internalize 
J46 170 spillovers among nation states (MacDougall Report, 1977; 
J46 171 Padoa-Schioppa, 1987).<p/>
J46 172 <p_><tf_>3.4.3. Income redistribution.<tf/> Two main reasons argue 
J46 173 for assigning the distributional functions of government to the 
J46 174 central level and to confine the role of local governments to those 
J46 175 policies that do not have a significant redistributive impact 
J46 176 (Oates, 1972). First, when income levels differ between areas, a 
J46 177 given reduction in overall inequality can be achieved more 
J46 178 efficiently if redistribution occurs between individuals than 
J46 179 between different areas. Second, population mobility restricts the 
J46 180 ability of local governments to make independent choices about 
J46 181 redistributional priorities. Any jurisdiction attempting to operate 
J46 182 a more redistributive policy than its neighbours will tend to 
J46 183 attract individuals who benefit from it, and to be less attractive 
J46 184 to those who lose. The ability of the area to sustain any degree of 
J46 185 redistribution above its neighbours is reduced, or, where mobility 
J46 186 is high, eliminated altogether.<p/>
J46 187 <p_>In practice, in most European countries, this does not need to 
J46 188 be an all-or-nothing choice, and the range of functions operated by 
J46 189 state and local governments does include many with some 
J46 190 redistributive effect. Where mobility is low, the fiscal 
J46 191 externalities from independent redistributive policies may be weak, 
J46 192 and other considerations may be more relevant in determining 
J46 193 assignment. In addition, it is possible - albeit at a cost - to 
J46 194 devise financing arrangements for local government that largely 
J46 195 offset the budgetary consequences of fiscally-induced migration. 
J46 196 Economies of scale, informational requirements for efficiently 
J46 197 targeting redistributional policies towards individuals, and the 
J46 198 interaction between government unit size and the effectiveness of 
J46 199 local elections as a control mechanism, are other key issues in 
J46 200 determining the level of government. Helm and Smith (1987) argue 
J46 201 that the appropriate assignment for the implementation of 
J46 202 redistributive policies may contrast sharply with the conventional 
J46 203 wisdom that redistribution should be left to higher tiers of 
J46 204 government.<p/>
J46 205 <h_><p_>4. Assignment of tax instruments<p/>
J46 206 <p_>4.1. Principles<p/><h/>
J46 207 <p_>Much as for spending, tax assignment hinges on economies of 
J46 208 scale, the extent of interjurisdictional spillovers and population 
J46 209 mobility. Although US evidence suggests that there could be 
J46 210 substantial economies of scale in tax administration, its 
J46 211 importance can easily be overstated. It is generally possible to 
J46 212 assign the administration of taxes to a higher tier of government 
J46 213 whilst allowing lower levels of government to choose the tax rates 
J46 214 and other taxation parameters. Separating tax policy and tax 
J46 215 administration may give rise to certain problems with achieving 
J46 216 appropriate incentives for enforcement efficiency, but it seems to 
J46 217 work reasonably well in many countries.<p/>
J46 218 <p_>Interjurisdictional spillovers in taxation raise the 
J46 219 possibility of 'tax exporting' - levying taxes on non-residents to 
J46 220 finance the services supplied to residents. Taxes on business 
J46 221 activity and sales generally suffer from this deficiency, and are 
J46 222 particularly inappropriate where government units are small, and 
J46 223 the degree of economic integration high. In many countries taxes on 
J46 224 business constitute a significant revenue source for local 
J46 225 governments. However, as economic integration has increased within 
J46 226 Western Europe, pressure for the reform of local business taxes has 
J46 227 grown, with local control over business taxes being effectively 
J46 228 ended in the UK and Germany, and active debate over the future of 
J46 229 local business taxation in France and North America.<p/>
J46 230 <p_>Population mobility places some constraints.
J46 231 
J47   1 <#FLOB:J47\><h_><p_>VOCATIONAL QUALIFICATIONS IN BRITAIN AND 
J47   2 EUROPE: THEORY AND PRACTICE<p/>
J47   3 <p_>by S J Prais<p/><h/>
J47   4 <p_>This Note considers three questions bearing on the reform of 
J47   5 vocational qualifications in Britain, against the background of 
J47   6 changes being introduced by the National Council for Vocational 
J47   7 Qualifications. First, in what important respects did Britain need 
J47   8 a reformed and centrally-standardised system of vocational 
J47   9 qualifications? Secondly, what are the proper criteria for choosing 
J47  10 between alternative methods of awarding qualifications? Much that 
J47  11 is at issue hinges on the relative importance of externally-marked 
J47  12 <tf|>written tests as compared with <tf|>practical tasks assessed 
J47  13 by an instructor; the discussion and conclusions reached here in 
J47  14 relation to vocational testing apply in large measure also to 
J47  15 current debates in other contexts, such as the proper role of 
J47  16 teacher-assessed coursework in school examinations at 16+ (GCSE) 
J47  17 and the official teacher-assessment of pupils at age 7 (SATs) 
J47  18 currently being administered in British schools for the first time. 
J47  19 Our third question is: in what significant ways do Continental 
J47  20 systems of awarding qualifications differ from those now proposed 
J47  21 for Britain?<p/>
J47  22 <h_><p_>Need for a standardised system<p/><h/>
J47  23 <p_>It is now accepted on all sides that Britain needs more of its 
J47  24 workforce to be vocationally trained to intermediate levels; that 
J47  25 is to say, to craft or technician standards as represented, for 
J47  26 example, by City and Guilds examinations (at part 2) or BTEC 
J47  27 National Certificates and Diplomas. In engineering, building and 
J47  28 related trades there has for long been a system for the award of 
J47  29 qualifications that has worked more or less satisfactorily; indeed, 
J47  30 the City and Guilds system established at the end of the last 
J47  31 century was in many ways an internationally admired pioneer, and 
J47  32 its syllabuses and examinations were followed, and are still 
J47  33 followed, in many parts of the world. In other occupations, such as 
J47  34 office work or retailing, a variety of qualifying bodies grew up in 
J47  35 Britain - such as the Royal Society of Arts, the London Chamber of 
J47  36 Commerce and Industry, Pitman's, the Institute of Drapers - which 
J47  37 developed (what has been called) a 'jungle' of qualifications at a 
J47  38 variety of unco-ordinated levels. In many other occupations in 
J47  39 Britain there was no system of qualifications at all.<p/>
J47  40 <p_>On the other hand, in Germany - but also, for example, in 
J47  41 France, Austria, Switzerland and the Netherlands - vocational 
J47  42 qualifications and associated part-time or full-time courses were 
J47  43 developed which covered virtually the whole range of occupations in 
J47  44 the economy. The qualifications awarded usually at ages 18-20 at 
J47  45 the end of these vocational courses - the 
J47  46 <foreign|>Berufsschulabschluss in Germany and the 
J47  47 <foreign_>Certificat d'aptitude professionelle<foreign/> in France 
J47  48 - are as widely understood as, say, O-level passes were recently in 
J47  49 Britain (the narrower and clearer range of attainments encompassed 
J47  50 by an O-level pass make it a more appropriate standard of 
J47  51 comparison than the new GCSE, with the very wide range of 
J47  52 attainments spanned by its awards).<p/>
J47  53 <p_>What was essentially wrong in Britain with engineering and 
J47  54 building qualifications was that too few people took them - but I 
J47  55 believe there was nothing fundamentally wrong with the 
J47  56 qualification-procedure itself. For the rest of the economy there 
J47  57 was a serious need (a) to make the system coherent, so that 
J47  58 equivalent levels could more easily be recognised; and (b) to 
J47  59 expand the occupational coverage. These two objectives - greater 
J47  60 recognisability and expansion of coverage - are of course to some 
J47  61 extent linked. Greater recognisability should lead to greater 
J47  62 marketability, reduced transaction costs in the labour market, and 
J47  63 to greater demand for qualifications and skills both by employers 
J47  64 and by trainees. The benefits to be expected are similar to those 
J47  65 ensuing from 'hallmarking'. There are also economies of scale in 
J47  66 organising training programmes, and in specifying standards and 
J47  67 certification-procedures for a limited number of defined 
J47  68 training-occupations at defined levels. Something is of course lost 
J47  69 in standardising and restricting the number of training-occupations 
J47  70 and levels: just as something is lost in not having a suit made to 
J47  71 measure; but, it hardly needs saying, manufacturing to standardised 
J47  72 sizes enables many more to buy a decent suit.<p/>
J47  73 <h_><p_>Criteria for vocational qualifications<p/><h/>
J47  74 <p_>There has always been debate on the relative roles of theory 
J47  75 and practice in general education; that debate has been at least as 
J47  76 vigorous in relation to vocational education and the award of 
J47  77 vocational qualifications. The unsatisfactory extremes of relying 
J47  78 solely on 'time-serving' or solely on 'pencil-and-paper' tests have 
J47  79 often been contrasted as the basis for the award of vocational 
J47  80 qualifications.<p/>
J47  81 <p_>In general, it is clear that all procedures for the award of 
J47  82 qualifications can provide no more than imperfect indicators of 
J47  83 future capability. Before describing how qualifications are awarded 
J47  84 in practice, let us for a moment consider the issues in an entirely 
J47  85 theoretical way, with the aid of some basic statistical 
J47  86 mathematics. Suppose we wish to estimate the capability of a 
J47  87 person, not simply in relation to what he has done so far, but in 
J47  88 relation to what he is likely to be able to do in the future under 
J47  89 similar, but not identical, circumstances to those encountered in 
J47  90 the past; for example, the quality of materials may alter, designs 
J47  91 may alter, the type of person under whom (or with whom) he will be 
J47  92 working may alter. Let <*_>xi<*/> denote his true, but yet 
J47  93 unobserved, capability in the future; and let x denote his 
J47  94 performance as measured by some test-procedure based on his past 
J47  95 performance in specimen tasks. Without affecting the argument, 
J47  96 these can both be considered as multi-dimensional - relating, for 
J47  97 example, to speed of work, accuracy of work, cleanliness, etc. In 
J47  98 choosing amongst alternative test-procedures we have to accept, as 
J47  99 said, that none will be wholly accurate; and we have also to accept 
J47 100 that testing is an expensive process, and only limited resources 
J47 101 can be devoted to it.<p/>
J47 102 <p_>The expected total discrepancy between test and actual 
J47 103 performance can be divided into two components. In statisticians' 
J47 104 terms they correspond to bias and variance; in educationists' terms 
J47 105 they correspond, respectively, to Validity and Reliability. In 
J47 106 detail - when choosing between alternative estimators, or between 
J47 107 alternative test-procedures, we wish to minimise:-<p/>
J47 108 <p_>(a) the bias: that is, in a sufficiently large number of 
J47 109 repeated applications we would like the expected value to 
J47 110 correspond to the true value, that is, we wish to minimise<p/>
J47 111 <p_>E{x}-<*_>xi<*/>;<p/>
J47 112 <p_>and<p/>
J47 113 <p_>(b) the variance: as between alternative test-procedures which 
J47 114 were equally satisfactory from the point of view of their bias, we 
J47 115 choose the one that has the minimum variability in repeated 
J47 116 applications (whether by different examiners, or on different 
J47 117 samples of questions or tasks); that is, we choose the alternative 
J47 118 which yields the minimum value of<p/>
J47 119 <p_>E{(x-E{x})}<sp_>2<sp/>.<p/>
J47 120 <p_>These two components contribute to the total discrepancy 
J47 121 between test and actual performance as follows:-<p/>
J47 122 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J47 123 <p_>i.e. Total mean-square-error =Variance +(Bias)<sp_>2<sp/><p/>
J47 124 <p_>=Reliability +(Validity)<sp_>2<sp/>.<p/>
J47 125 <p_>In contrasting written and practical testing of vocational 
J47 126 capability, it is widely agreed that written tests have greater 
J47 127 Reliability in the sense that different external examiners would 
J47 128 give much the same marks if they independently examined a group of 
J47 129 candidates. On the other hand, it is argued by those of 'modern' 
J47 130 views, written tests have a lower Validity since they are applied 
J47 131 under 'artificial' examination conditions, and do not test what the 
J47 132 candidate actually does in the course of his work; on that view, 
J47 133 the greatest Validity attaches to the assessment of practical tasks 
J47 134 carried out by the candidate in a workplace environment, preferably 
J47 135 in the course of his normal work and assessed by his normal 
J47 136 workplace supervisor. Any lower Reliability of such procedures 
J47 137 resulting from the supervisor knowing his own trainee or for any 
J47 138 other reason, it has sometimes incautiously been suggested, is of 
J47 139 no consequence.<p/>
J47 140 <p_>The view in favour of giving great weight to written testing 
J47 141 can perhaps be summarised as follows. First, any argument that 
J47 142 bases itself on the notion that Validity (ie lack of bias) is all 
J47 143 that matters, is essentially wrong. We need to be concerned with 
J47 144 the total expected error associated with a qualification-procedure 
J47 145 (ie Validity plus Reliability); we are likely to be misled if we 
J47 146 focus on only one component. Secondly, if in reality there was a 
J47 147 relation such that procedures of high Reliability had low Validity, 
J47 148 and vice versa, then that relation needs careful empirical 
J47 149 research. The relation is likely to vary from one occupation to 
J47 150 another; for example, it is likely to depend on the relative 
J47 151 importance in each occupation of applied craft tasks and of 
J47 152 planning tasks. Thirdly, we have to take into account the costs of 
J47 153 testing. One simple rule seems to hold very widely, namely, that 
J47 154 pencil-and-paper tests are quicker and cheaper to administer than 
J47 155 assessing practical tasks; consequently, written tests method can 
J47 156 examine a much wider range of activities per unit of resources 
J47 157 devoted to certification.<p/>
J47 158 <p_>A simple example may not be out of place. A carpenter or 
J47 159 mechanical fitter needs to know which type of metal screw to choose 
J47 160 for each job; screws come in a myriad of different lengths, 
J47 161 diameters, threads, heads (flat, round, Phillips, etc.); and in 
J47 162 different metals (brass, steel, chrome, etc.). If a final 
J47 163 assessment of capabilities had to wait till the candidate had used 
J47 164 each type in the course of his normal work in front of his 
J47 165 supervisor, and had done so properly on a sufficient proportion of 
J47 166 repeated occasions, it would take a very, very long time for him to 
J47 167 be judged as qualified. On the other hand, a few specimen written 
J47 168 questions, such as:-<p/>
J47 169 <p_>Which kind of screw would you use for fitting a mirror to a 
J47 170 bathroom wall, and why?<p/>
J47 171 <p_>would only take a few minutes. By testing that the candidate 
J47 172 knows why he is doing what he is doing, and not merely observing 
J47 173 that he is doing it correctly, we attain greater confidence that he 
J47 174 can operate under the variety of different circumstances that arise 
J47 175 in practice. Notice also that he needs to be tested not only on 
J47 176 which is the right type of screw but, if that type is not readily 
J47 177 available, he needs to know which of the available alternatives are 
J47 178 acceptable, even if less than ideal; and he also needs to know 
J47 179 which are not acceptable, even if the customer would not 
J47 180 immediately twig. The case for testing knowledge, and not merely 
J47 181 observing practice, is thus a strong one even for the simplest of 
J47 182 tasks.<p/>
J47 183 <p_>But let us return to the costs of testing. Inevitably only a 
J47 184 sample of relevant knowledge and skills can be tested. Otherwise 
J47 185 not only would the direct costs of examination become excessive, 
J47 186 but so would the indirect costs; as HMI recently noted, the new NVQ 
J47 187 assessment procedures have already <quote_>"encroached on the time 
J47 188 available for teaching and learning"<quote/>. This was said in 
J47 189 relation to engineering qualifications; but HMI were probably also 
J47 190 influenced by the example they quoted of the hairdressing NVQ which 
J47 191 involves a <quote_>"1000 task checklist"<quote/>.<p/>
J47 192 <p_>Clearly, the greater the number of test-items, the greater can 
J47 193 be our confidence in the final verdict - but also the greater is 
J47 194 the cost. By the familiar statistical rule, a doubling in the 
J47 195 required precision requires a quadrupling in the number of 
J47 196 test-items. This rule applies if the observations are independent; 
J47 197 if they are correlated and, so to speak, to some extent they test 
J47 198 the same capability in another way, then more than a quadrupling 
J47 199 will be necessary (it may not even be possible to double the 
J47 200 precision after a certain point). In other words, the way the first 
J47 201 ten questions or ten tasks are dealt with by the candidate tells us 
J47 202 a great deal about him; if we aimed to double our confidence in our 
J47 203 judgement we are likely to require many more than forty questions 
J47 204 or tasks. Further, because practical tests are so very much more 
J47 205 expensive than written tests, both in administration and marking, 
J47 206 it is efficient when working within a limited budget to allocate 
J47 207 more questions to written tests than to practical tests. A complex 
J47 208 balancing exercise is thus involved in the economic design of 
J47 209 test-procedures; it is not surprising that in reality they are 
J47 210 developed only slowly over the years, often with step-by-step 
J47 211 experimentation, and require an intimate knowledge of the details 
J47 212 of each occupation.
J47 213 
J48   1 <#FLOB:J48\>Like the council, the house was more than willing to do 
J48   2 so, and the request was usually granted <tf_>pro forma<tf/> (though 
J48   3 the house would eventually require that the petitioner offer 
J48   4 evidence that he or she was worth less than pounds10 per annum). In 
J48   5 most cases, the house simply moved the court in question to waive 
J48   6 its customary fees and admit the petitioner to writ process and 
J48   7 representation free of charge.<p/>
J48   8 <p_>Another common request of this kind was for the house to 
J48   9 override claims of privilege which had protected defendants from 
J48  10 legal action. Where the defendant was a member of the house, as 
J48  11 often happened, the house normally informed the individual of the 
J48  12 complaint and solicited his response. Almost invariably the member 
J48  13 agreed to waive privilege and allow the matter to be heard. There 
J48  14 was a sense in all of these cases that the Lords expected as much 
J48  15 from fellow members. Where the member was not forthcoming, as 
J48  16 occurred in one case, the house could override privilege on its own 
J48  17 initiative. In this instance, Lord Deyncourt had left his 
J48  18 94-year-old father destitute by refusing to pay rents on properties 
J48  19 divested to him in trust, forcing his father to sue in Chancery to 
J48  20 collect the arrears. Lord Deyncourt's subsequent claim of privilege 
J48  21 had stayed the suit and his father therefore petitioned the house 
J48  22 for relief. The Lords summarily ordered the suit to proceed, 
J48  23 notwithstanding the claim of privilege, unless the arrears of rent 
J48  24 were paid before the beginning of the next legal term. Not all 
J48  25 claims, however, involved members of Parliament. In one notable 
J48  26 case, the house was asked to override a general protection issued 
J48  27 by the Privy Council in favour of the Muscovy Company against suits 
J48  28 initiated by its creditors. It did so without hesitation.<p/>
J48  29 <p_>The Lords were also asked on occasion to intercede directly in 
J48  30 lower court proceedings. In one case they did so to protect a 
J48  31 plaintiff against what appeared to be prejudicial actions taken by 
J48  32 the staff of the court of Wards. In another, they were asked to 
J48  33 prevail upon the court of Requests to expedite a case which had 
J48  34 been inadvertently suspended by the departure of the then Master, 
J48  35 Sir John Suckling, who had conducted the initial hearings. More 
J48  36 often, however, the problems encountered by litigants were 
J48  37 recurring ones which arose because of procedural or structural 
J48  38 defects in the system. Frequently cited as problematic were the 
J48  39 rules governing Bill of Review procedure in the court of Chancery. 
J48  40 In the absence of any outside appellate recourse from the court, 
J48  41 disgruntled litigants wishing to challenge a Chancery decree were 
J48  42 forced to secure a rehearing in that court through a Bill of 
J48  43 Review. However, the procedure was inherently prejudicial to the 
J48  44 applicant. In order to be granted a review, the appellant had to 
J48  45 demonstrate his 'good faith' by first fulfilling all of the 
J48  46 conditions of the original decree; that is, the judgment had to be 
J48  47 obeyed in all points before a bill to reverse it would even be 
J48  48 entertained. This imposed undue hardship in many cases, especially 
J48  49 where, as often happened, the decree involved a major financial 
J48  50 settlement between the parties. In addition, the complainant was 
J48  51 forced to provide bonds and securities to guarantee the payment of 
J48  52 costs and damages should the case go against him. Perhaps more 
J48  53 importantly, the bill would only be granted if the petitioner could 
J48  54 demonstrate some error or errors in the law in the body of the 
J48  55 decree. Only those errors could be discussed, and then 
J48  56 <quote_>"without averment or further examination of matter of 
J48  57 fact"<quote/>. It was, as Sir Matthew Hale later described it, a 
J48  58 <quote_>"somewhat straight-laced"<quote/> procedure. In special 
J48  59 cases a bill might be allowed if new matter were discovered which 
J48  60 could not have been made available for the original hearing, but 
J48  61 this was much more the exception than the rule. In short, the 
J48  62 procedure was not designed to accommodate a rehearing on the 
J48  63 general merits of the cause or on the basis that the proceedings 
J48  64 had been arbitrary or corrupt. And yet that was very often what was 
J48  65 needed. In the case of Richard Wright, for example, the masters of 
J48  66 the court had issued a decree awarding possession of a piece of 
J48  67 property to Wright's adversaries, contrary to a report issued by 
J48  68 referees and without a hearing by the Lord Chancellor. As he 
J48  69 explained to the House of Lords (<quote_>"his last refuge"<quote/>) 
J48  70 he was required to turn over the property in question before he 
J48  71 could be admitted to a Bill of Review. He requested that they 
J48  72 prevail on the Lord Keeper to waive that condition. The Lords 
J48  73 agreed and recommended that the case be reheard on a Bill of 
J48  74 Review, with the sole proviso that Wright put in sufficient 
J48  75 security to defray any costs or damages that might be awarded. A 
J48  76 similar situation had occurred in the case of a London merchant. 
J48  77 George Morgan had actually obtained a decree in Chancery from Lord 
J48  78 Chancellor Bacon awarding him pounds22,600 in settlement of some 
J48  79 long-standing commercial accounts. Unfortunately, Bacon's decree 
J48  80 was abruptly voided by Lord Keeper Williams, solely on the basis of 
J48  81 a petition from the seven defendants. His decision - that Morgan 
J48  82 should settle instead for pounds879 - was made out of term and 
J48  83 without a proper hearing. Again, by the rules of the court once the 
J48  84 decree had been enrolled Morgan would have had to accept the lesser 
J48  85 amount and presumably discharge the defendants of their obligation 
J48  86 before he could be admitted to a Bill of Review. That was clearly 
J48  87 unreasonable and the Lords ordered instead that the case be reheard 
J48  88 in its entirety (this time by Lord Keeper Coventry) and that 
J48  89 neither party was to <quote_>"take any benefit of any former decree 
J48  90 or order."<quote/> The Lord Keeper was additionally requested to 
J48  91 proceed with <quote_>"all convenient expedition"<quote/>.<p/>
J48  92 <p_>Perhaps not surprisingly, the Lords were also called upon to 
J48  93 intercede in a variety of jurisdictional disputes, typically in the 
J48  94 context of a complaint made by a petitioner that his or her 
J48  95 legitimate proceedings in one court had been stayed by an 
J48  96 injunction issued out of another - the usual result of collateral 
J48  97 actions frequently undertaken by defendants. The petitioner would 
J48  98 then request that the house overrule the injunction or, 
J48  99 alternatively, make a clear determination on where the suit ought 
J48 100 best to be tried. Ralph Starkey, for example, petitioned the house 
J48 101 in 1626 asking for a determination on the proper jurisdiction for a 
J48 102 case involving a disputed will and property in Cheshire. Starkey 
J48 103 had initiated proceedings in Chancery, but the defendant (his 
J48 104 younger brother) had then secured a reference to the judges to 
J48 105 determine whether the Chancery proceedings did not in fact infringe 
J48 106 on the jurisdiction of the County Palatine of Chester. The judges 
J48 107 ruled that they did and the Chancery proceedings were stayed. In 
J48 108 reviewing the case the Lords determined that the suit ought to 
J48 109 proceed in Chancery, notwithstanding the Chester jurisdiction. 
J48 110 Their decision was based on the fact that the northern jurisdiction 
J48 111 would not accept the depositions of witnesses taken in the earlier 
J48 112 Chancery proceedings and, since most of Ralph Starkey's witnesses 
J48 113 were now dead, his case would have been wholly and unfairly 
J48 114 compromised. Equitable considerations, rather than a strict ruling 
J48 115 on jurisdiction, carried the day. In another case in 1628 Sir 
J48 116 Humphrey Ferrers petitioned the house protesting an injunction 
J48 117 issued out of the court of Wards which had stayed proceedings in 
J48 118 the Prerogative Court of Canterbury touching the estate of his 
J48 119 father-in-law, Sir John Packington. The injunction had ostensibly 
J48 120 been issued to protect the interests of Sir John's grandson, a ward 
J48 121 of the Crown, but had actually been granted on a minor technicality 
J48 122 at the behest of his widow, to prevent the ecclesiastical court 
J48 123 from awarding administration of the estate to Ferrers. The Lords 
J48 124 reviewed the case in full and determined that the Ward's injunction 
J48 125 amounted to unwarranted and unnecessary interference. They not only 
J48 126 ordered that the proceedings should continue in the Prerogative 
J48 127 Court (taking the concerns of the court of Wards into account), 
J48 128 but, in a rather unusual departure, went on to issue their own 
J48 129 recommendations as to how the case should actually be settled. As a 
J48 130 rule, injunctions were seen as a nuisance and an impediment to 
J48 131 judicial celerity and the courts which had granted them were 
J48 132 expected to offer clear and reasonable justification for their 
J48 133 issue or withdraw them.<p/>
J48 134 <p_>Most of these actions were designed to facilitate proceedings 
J48 135 elsewhere and did not constitute a formal appeal, at least in a 
J48 136 conventional sense. Clearly, however, the Lords were required to 
J48 137 consider the substance of many of these cases in order to make an 
J48 138 informed decision on how best to resolve them elsewhere. And they 
J48 139 could (and did) choose in a number of instances simply to void all 
J48 140 prior proceedings and former decrees in a case in favour of an 
J48 141 entirely new trial of the central matters in dispute. That was not 
J48 142 the same as reversing the substance of an earlier decree in favour 
J48 143 of one party over another, but for the aggrieved plaintiff, it 
J48 144 amounted to a successful appeal all the same.<p/>
J48 145 <p_>The house was, of course, willing and able to hear appeals 
J48 146 fully itself. In the case of complaints from the courts of common 
J48 147 law it generally did so, according to statutory authority, by way 
J48 148 of writ of error. Its appellate jurisdiction over courts of equity 
J48 149 was perhaps less clearly defined, but evolved rapidly (largely out 
J48 150 of necessity) through the Parliaments of the 1620s. As suggested 
J48 151 above, the absence of appellate recourse from the courts of equity, 
J48 152 and most particularly from the court of Chancery, was one of the 
J48 153 central complaints against the early modern legal system. But it 
J48 154 was also a difficult problem to resolve. On the face of it the 
J48 155 limitation made sense. In theory the provision of equitable remedy 
J48 156 was the responsibility of the king, who acted through 
J48 157 'intermediaries' appointed from his council. As James I reminded 
J48 158 his Star Chamber audience in 1616, the Lord Keeper was nothing so 
J48 159 much as <quote_>"the dispenser of the king's conscience"<quote/>, 
J48 160 and the principle undoubtedly applied relative to the 
J48 161 responsibilities of the Lord Privy Seal in the court of Requests. 
J48 162 To suggest that an appeal was possible, in any conventional sense, 
J48 163 from either court, was to imply that royal justice was fallible or 
J48 164 that it could be (or ought to be) subject to independent review. 
J48 165 Contemporary political theory would not easily accommodate that 
J48 166 sort of assertion.<p/>
J48 167 <p_>However, the theory itself bore little relation to practical 
J48 168 reality. None of these courts was any longer an adjunct assembly of 
J48 169 the king's council. They were completely independent and thoroughly 
J48 170 institutionalized courts with highly sophisticated procedures and 
J48 171 professional staffs and, in truth, they operated far more 
J48 172 frequently with reference to principles of common law than to any 
J48 173 'divinely ordained' system of natural law. Moreover, as suggested 
J48 174 above, the powers exercised by these courts had steadily expanded 
J48 175 during the early seventeenth century and their actions - 
J48 176 particularly in real property disputes - could have a considerable 
J48 177 and often decisive impact. In view of the increasing delegation of 
J48 178 real judicial authority within the courts themselves (notably to 
J48 179 the masters in both Chancery and Requests) and the increasing 
J48 180 participation of the common law judges in equity proceedings, the 
J48 181 immunity of those decisions from subsequent review or reversal must 
J48 182 have seemed both anachronistic and unfair.<p/>
J48 183 <p_>As it was, once a Chancery decree had been enrolled the 
J48 184 disgruntled litigant had few options. He or she could proceed by 
J48 185 Bill of Review, with all of the limitations which that involved, or 
J48 186 he could petition the king, requesting an entirely new hearing by a 
J48 187 special commission of review appointed under the Great Seal. The 
J48 188 latter procedure was inevitably slow and expensive and remained 
J48 189 singularly unpopular. The only other avenue of redress was to 
J48 190 proceed by private bill and attempt to reverse the decree by act of 
J48 191 Parliament. Again, this method involved great cost and delay, 
J48 192 requiring as it did extensive hearings by both houses. It was, 
J48 193 however, tried repeatedly in the 1620s, notably without success. Of 
J48 194 the seven bills presented to reverse decrees in the court of 
J48 195 Chancery, five never made it past a first reading in the House of 
J48 196 Commons.
J48 197 
J49   1 <#FLOB:J49\><p_>Similarly, where the intervener pays on account of 
J49   2 the debt but not on behalf of the debtor, there is no reason why he 
J49   3 should have conducted himself as the debtor's agent so long as the 
J49   4 debtor's assent is not explained by reference to the law of 
J49   5 agency.<p/>
J49   6 <p_>There is a further and different reason for preferring the 
J49   7 second, non<?_>-<?/>contractual, explanation. The agency solution 
J49   8 is only necessitated by the assumption that payments in discharge 
J49   9 generate unexecuted promises. That assumption mistakes the nature 
J49  10 of discharge even in the simple two party situation, for even there 
J49  11 a payment in discharge is a self-executing transaction leaving the 
J49  12 recipient creditor with nothing more to do. That being the case in 
J49  13 the two party situation, there is no reason why payments in 
J49  14 discharge by third parties should be differently construed; no 
J49  15 reason therefore to see the debtor's adoption as an attempt to make 
J49  16 himself a party to an executory contract rather than as an 
J49  17 acceptance of a benefit already executed.<p/>
J49  18 <p_>For these reasons it is thought that the agency explanation of 
J49  19 the debtor's adoption and consequent discharge is wrong and that 
J49  20 the non<?_>-<?/>contractual explanation is to be preferred. 
J49  21 However, that too is not free from difficulties.<p/>
J49  22 <p_>Its first challenge arises from a group of cases, usually 
J49  23 encountered in the context of novation, which may appear to have 
J49  24 assumed that, where the intervener attempts to discharge a debtor 
J49  25 by promising the creditor to pay the debt in place of the debtor, 
J49  26 the debtor can only be discharged if he makes himself a party to a 
J49  27 tripartite contract with the creditor and intervener. It is 
J49  28 submitted, however, that that is not the law, since each of these 
J49  29 cases is explicable on the narrower ground that the intervener did 
J49  30 not offer his promise rather than its performance, in satisfaction 
J49  31 of the debt. Where it is clear that the promise is offered and 
J49  32 accepted in satisfaction, nothing obstructs the application of the 
J49  33 rule that the debtor can perfect his discharge by simple, 
J49  34 non-contractual assent.<p/>
J49  35 <p_>The second difficulty arises from <tf|>Snelling v. <tf_>John 
J49  36 Snelling & Co<tf/>. In that case each of three brothers, who were 
J49  37 directors of the company, promised the others that in the event of 
J49  38 his resigning his directorship he would forfeit the debt owed to 
J49  39 him by the company. When one brother resigned, he none the less 
J49  40 claimed the debt. Ormrod J held, following <tf_>Scruttons Ltd.<tf/> 
J49  41 v. <tf_>Midland Silicones Ltd.<tf/> and passing somewhat gingerly 
J49  42 over <tf_>Hirachand Punamchand<tf/> v. <tf|>Temple, that the 
J49  43 company could not resist the action on its own initiative and would 
J49  44 have failed had not the promisee-brothers come in to protect it.<p/>
J49  45 <p_>The case is not easily distinguishable from <tf|>Hirachand 
J49  46 unless on one ground. The debtor was the company. The creditor was 
J49  47 the plaintiff brother who had resigned his directorship. The 
J49  48 interveners were the brothers who had given good consideration for 
J49  49 the debtor's discharge. The distinguishing factor was that at the 
J49  50 time of the transaction the discharge was to operate, not 
J49  51 immediately, but on the happening of a future event. The creditor's 
J49  52 action was brought after the critical event had occurred. The 
J49  53 problem which the case raises in the present context is whether the 
J49  54 futurity of the discharge can account for the fact that even after 
J49  55 the event had happened the debtor could not adopt and thus defend 
J49  56 himself.<p/>
J49  57 <p_>One of us has argued that the element of futurity was 
J49  58 sufficient to distinguish <tf|>Hirachand. That view required that a 
J49  59 transaction for the future discharge of a debtor should be 
J49  60 construed as an executory contract which would remain executory 
J49  61 even after the critical event had occurred. However, that now seems 
J49  62 wrong, because, once the event has happened, the creditor has 
J49  63 nothing more to do in order to execute his promise to discharge. If 
J49  64 he has nothing more to do, his promise cannot still be executory, 
J49  65 and the debtor should be able to perfect his discharge by 
J49  66 assenting. If this argument be right, the factor which 
J49  67 distinguishes <tf|>Snelling from <tf|>Hirachand carries no real 
J49  68 difference, a result which compels us to argue that <tf|>Snelling 
J49  69 ought to have followed <tf|>Hirachand and to have distinguished 
J49  70 <tf_>Midland Silicones<tf/>.<p/>
J49  71 <p_>At this point a larger problem behind <tf|>Snelling is 
J49  72 revealed, for the question now becomes whether a rational 
J49  73 distinction can be made between the <tf|>Belshaw v. <tf|>Bush group 
J49  74 of cases and <tf_>Midland Silicones<tf/>. More particularly the 
J49  75 question is whether the principle of <tf|>Belshaw can be prevented 
J49  76 from operating to allow strangers to take the benefit of exemption 
J49  77 clauses to which they are not parties.<p/>
J49  78 <p_>The resolution of that very large problem could not be avoided 
J49  79 here if the <tf|>Belshaw cases were so few or equivocal as to be 
J49  80 threatened by the cases on exemption clauses. Since that is not the 
J49  81 case, we do not feel justified in digressing at great length from 
J49  82 our central theme. It is enough to indicate two possible solutions. 
J49  83 One is that the <tf|>Belshaw cases ought indeed to be allowed to 
J49  84 achieve the results which were reached in the <tf|>Eurymedon only 
J49  85 by stretching established doctrines of agency and formation of 
J49  86 contract, should be allowed, that is, to provide the revolutionary 
J49  87 short cut to a <foreign_>jus quaesitum tertio<foreign/> in this 
J49  88 kind of case. The other is that the <tf|>Belshaw cases should be 
J49  89 dogmatically excluded from operating upon transactions to discharge 
J49  90 obligations which have not yet arisen, a dogma which might none the 
J49  91 less turn out to have as little foundation in principle as the rule 
J49  92 which excludes the creation of a trust of a covenant to convey 
J49  93 future property.<p/>
J49  94 <h|>(b) Non-volunteers
J49  95 <p_>Where the intervener is not a volunteer a distinction must be 
J49  96 made between cases in which the voluntary character of his payment 
J49  97 is negatived by reason of a secondary liability, whether personal 
J49  98 or proprietary, itself not voluntarily incurred, and cases in which 
J49  99 it is negatived by some other factor.<p/>
J49 100 <p_>Where the intervener is not a volunteer because of his 
J49 101 secondary liability to make the payment, the debt is automatically 
J49 102 discharged by his payment. This proposition cannot be explained by 
J49 103 reference to the principles governing joint or joint and several 
J49 104 liability because the secondary liability is generally not of that 
J49 105 kind. Moreover, although the proposition can be supported from 
J49 106 dicta which assume its truth, we have not been able to discover a 
J49 107 case in which it has been fully considered. Its proof is therefore 
J49 108 somewhat indirect and is as follows.<p/>
J49 109 <p_>In the case which the proposition supposes, the intervener can 
J49 110 claim reimbursement from the debtor whether or not the debtor 
J49 111 adopts the intervention. The success of the claim for reimbursement 
J49 112 means that the debtor must have received a benefit by the payment. 
J49 113 If the payment did not discharge the debt, the debtor would have 
J49 114 received no benefit. The proposition thus comes down to this, that, 
J49 115 where the intervener can claim reimbursement irrespective of the 
J49 116 debtor's assent the debt must have been discharged by the 
J49 117 intervener's payment.<p/>
J49 118 <p_>This can be further supported by a simple historical argument. 
J49 119 The majority of claims to reimbursement were brought through the 
J49 120 count for money paid. That count recited that the money had been 
J49 121 paid at the request of the defendant. Where the intervener had paid 
J49 122 by reason of a secondary liability, the courts would 'imply' a 
J49 123 request on the part of the defendant, the debtor. By 'implying' 
J49 124 that request the courts assimilated compulsory payments to payments 
J49 125 expressly authorized by the debtor and thus made it unnecessary to 
J49 126 advance any other explanation why a compulsory payment did, but a 
J49 127 voluntary payment did not, automatically discharge the debt.<p/>
J49 128 <p_>Where the intervener is not a volunteer by reason of a factor 
J49 129 other than a secondary liability, his payment does not discharge 
J49 130 the debt. This proposition is subject to one insecure exception.<p/>
J49 131 <p_>The cases which allow the intervener reimbursement irrespective 
J49 132 of the debtor's assent to the intervention do not, subject to the 
J49 133 exception shortly to be mentioned, go beyond non-volunteers who are 
J49 134 such because of secondary liability. That means that a 
J49 135 non-volunteer who, for instance, is compelled to pay by duress or 
J49 136 who pays by mistake cannot move straight to reimbursement from the 
J49 137 debtor. And, if he cannot, although not a volunteer, the reason can 
J49 138 only be that the debt is not discharged by his payment.<p/>
J49 139 <p_>The explanation is that such payments can be recovered from the 
J49 140 creditor directly. Thus, slightly varying the facts of <tf|>Astley 
J49 141 v. <tf|>Reynolds, if a pawnbroker will not release pledges unless 
J49 142 the pledgor pays his brother's debt as well as his own, and the 
J49 143 pledgor is thus constrained to pay in order to obtain his property, 
J49 144 he may recover from the pawnbroker. It the pledgor chooses to leave 
J49 145 the money with the pawnbroker, his election to do so, unlike his 
J49 146 original payment, is a voluntary act and puts him back, 
J49 147 <foreign|>quoad the debtor, in the position of a voluntary 
J49 148 intervener. Applying the ordinary rule for volunteers, the debt 
J49 149 will then be discharged when the debtor assents.<p/>
J49 150 <p_>The insecure exception relates to cases in which the intervener 
J49 151 is constrained to act by necessity. It is arguable that he is then 
J49 152 entitled to claim reimbursement from the debtor on the same basis 
J49 153 as if he had paid under the constraint of a secondary liability. If 
J49 154 that is so, it follows that, here too, the payment must 
J49 155 automatically discharge the debt.<p/>
J49 156 <p_>A payment by necessity has in common with payments under the 
J49 157 compulsion of secondary liability the fact that there is no 
J49 158 question of immediate recovery from the creditor. If it is right 
J49 159 that a payment by necessity is to be treated on the same ground as 
J49 160 one made by reason of a secondary liability, there is some basis 
J49 161 for saying that the true rule is that every non-voluntary payment 
J49 162 of another's debt discharges the debt, unless the factor negativing 
J49 163 the voluntary character of the payment is such as to allow the 
J49 164 intervener an immediate right of recovery against the creditor.<p/>
J49 165 <p_>Answering the question whether the intervener's payment 
J49 166 discharges the debtor's debt, we have now considered the case where 
J49 167 the intervener is a volunteer and, with some inescapable 
J49 168 anticipation of the discussion of reimbursement, the case where he 
J49 169 is not. Before considering the intervener's restitutionary rights, 
J49 170 it is necessary to recall that we have not considered one species 
J49 171 of voluntary intervener, namely the intervener who pays under a 
J49 172 secondary liability voluntarily incurred. This is the case of 
J49 173 <tf|>Owen v. <tf|>Tate which will be considered in Part III. It 
J49 174 need only be said at this point that it may be a case in which the 
J49 175 intervener's payment, though voluntary, discharges the debt 
J49 176 irrespective of the debtor's assent.<p/>
J49 177 <h_><p_>II. Can the Intervener Recover?<p/>
J49 178 <p_>(a) Volunteers<p/><h/>
J49 179 <p_>Where the intervener's payment was voluntary and the debtor by 
J49 180 assenting chooses to perfect his discharge, the intervener cannot 
J49 181 recover from the creditor but can claim reimbursement from the 
J49 182 debtor provided that the debtor, when he assents, knows that the 
J49 183 intervener, when he paid, did not intend to make him a gift of his 
J49 184 discharge. The cases in which an assenting debtor comes under no 
J49 185 obligation to reimburse the intervener are: (i) where he assents 
J49 186 believing that the intervener acted <foreign_>donandi 
J49 187 animo<foreign/>; (ii) where - if such a case exists - the 
J49 188 intervener's payment, although voluntary, automatically discharged 
J49 189 the debt so that the debtor's assent is not the exercise of a 
J49 190 choice whether or not to accept the benefit.<p/>
J49 191 <p_>The first proposition in this statement, namely that after the 
J49 192 debtor's assent no action can be brought by the intervener to 
J49 193 recover his payment from the creditor, requires no discussion. Once 
J49 194 the debtor perfects his discharge the intervener has obtained all 
J49 195 that he paid the creditor for.<p/>
J49 196 <p_>The proposition that the intervener can recover from the 
J49 197 assenting debtor, except in the given cases, may seem heterodox at 
J49 198 first sight, since there are very many cases which lay down that a 
J49 199 voluntary payment may not be recovered. Those cases are, however, 
J49 200 concerned with debtors who either have not assented or have 
J49 201 assented within one of the two excepted cases set out above.<p/>
J49 202 <p_>Thus, <tf_>Re Cleadon Trust Ltd.<tf/> is a complex example of a 
J49 203 type of case in which the voluntary intervener fails against a 
J49 204 debtor who has never assented to the intervention and who, by 
J49 205 resisting the claim for reimbursement, insists that he has not done 
J49 206 so.
J49 207 
J50   1 <#FLOB:J50\><h_><p_>LEGISLATION<p/>
J50   2 <p_>Rights, Restraints and Pragmatism:<p/>
J50   3 <p_>The Human Fertilisation and Embryology Act 1990<p/>
J50   4 <p_>Jonathan Montgomery<p/><h/>
J50   5 <p_>The Human Fertilisation and Embryology Act 1990 represents a 
J50   6 milestone in biomedical regulation. Not only does it finally bring 
J50   7 to fruition the long running government discussions about the 
J50   8 proper limits of reproductive science, it also provides the first 
J50   9 attempt in English law to provide a comprehensive framework for 
J50  10 making medical science democratically accountable. Its interest 
J50  11 therefore arises both from the solutions it adopts for particular 
J50  12 issues and from the model of regulation on which it builds. If the 
J50  13 licensing authority which lies at the heart of its provisions 
J50  14 proves successful, it is likely to be replicated in the oversight 
J50  15 of many controversial areas of medical progress.<p/>
J50  16 <p_>The 1990 Act is also significant as a model for establishing a 
J50  17 workable compromise between incompatible ethical positions. The 
J50  18 issues underlying the provisions of the Act are not ones on which a 
J50  19 consensus exists within our society. This resulted in an unusual 
J50  20 Parliamentary history. The Bill was introduced into the House of 
J50  21 Lords as a Government Bill but was mostly unwhipped and it 
J50  22 contained alternative versions of the crucial clause dealing with 
J50  23 the permissibility or otherwise of research on human embryos. The 
J50  24 original text of section 11 provided both an absolute prohibition 
J50  25 of embryo research and a provision permitting the licensing of such 
J50  26 research together with the proviso that both clauses could not be 
J50  27 in force at the same time.<p/>
J50  28 <p_>Thus, while the Government was clear when it introduced the 
J50  29 Bill that legislative provision had to be made, there was less 
J50  30 clarity as to the content of that provision. The uncertainty 
J50  31 extends back beyond the drafting of the Bill itself. The Committee 
J50  32 of Inquiry into Human Fertilisation and Embryology (the Warnock 
J50  33 Committee) received representations from the public, deliberated 
J50  34 the issues and reported in 1984. Yet this was felt to be 
J50  35 insufficient consultation and a second document to elicit comment 
J50  36 was published in 1986. Only after this second consultation did the 
J50  37 Government feel able to publish its own proposals in a White Paper. 
J50  38 The primary reason for this reticence was the reluctance to deal 
J50  39 with matters of conscience as Government proposals rather than by 
J50  40 way of private members' bill. This in turn springs from the 
J50  41 problems of identifying a consensus on such matters. In the event, 
J50  42 the 1990 Act can be seen as providing an institutional framework in 
J50  43 which compromises can be worked out rather than enshrining 
J50  44 solutions to the disagreements. It is appropriate, therefore, to 
J50  45 consider briefly why a consensus has proved so difficult to 
J50  46 achieve.<p/>
J50  47 <p_>Behind the provisions of the Act lie at least two issues of 
J50  48 principle on which there is wide disagreement and little scope for 
J50  49 compromise. The first issue concerns the status of the human 
J50  50 embryo. <}_><-|>One<+|>On<}/> the one side stand those who hold 
J50  51 that human embryos have the same moral status as mature adults from 
J50  52 the time of their conception onwards and that any steps leading to 
J50  53 their destruction must be analysed as a breach of fundamental human 
J50  54 rights. From this standpoint, research must be outlawed unless it 
J50  55 can be carried out without interfering with the embryo's 
J50  56 development. Abortion can only be permissible where it is carried 
J50  57 out to protect this same value of human life, that is to save the 
J50  58 life of the mother. On the other stand those who believe that 
J50  59 whatever status should be accorded to the human embryo, it is less 
J50  60 than that of mature adults and may therefore sometimes be 
J50  61 outweighed by the interests of adults who stand to benefit from 
J50  62 research or termination. The position of principle taken by the 
J50  63 first group prevents compromise because any concession will 
J50  64 necessarily be its abandonment. Concessions can be offered only as 
J50  65 a tactical ploy to secure a regime as close as possible to the 
J50  66 ideal.<p/>
J50  67 <p_>Accepting a less absolutist position on the rights of the human 
J50  68 embryo does not, however, resolve the issues. It is necessary to 
J50  69 determine the strength of the claims which are said to outweigh 
J50  70 those of the embryo. Those who believe that abortion is permissible 
J50  71 because the interests of the woman outweigh those of the fetus may 
J50  72 still believe that the need for research cannot justify killing an 
J50  73 embryo. To carry the debate further, it is necessary to consider 
J50  74 the strength of the claims to be weighed against those of the 
J50  75 embryo/fetus. Few would deny that pure research is valuable, but 
J50  76 whether it outweighs that of the embryo must depend in large part 
J50  77 on the importance of its application and here there is considerable 
J50  78 disagreement. Research is largely, although by no means 
J50  79 exclusively, expected first to improve our understanding of 
J50  80 infertility and how to overcome it, and second to help reduce the 
J50  81 incidence of genetic disorders. The latter issue is difficult 
J50  82 enough, raising the acceptability of eugenic approaches to human 
J50  83 reproduction. On the former there is even less agreement.<p/>
J50  84 <p_>The status of infertility raises the second of the major 
J50  85 background issues to the 1990 Act on which consensus is absent. 
J50  86 Much rhetoric has emerged under the slogan of 'the right to 
J50  87 reproduce' but the concept remains an obscure one. It might refer 
J50  88 to a range of claims. It can refer to no more than the negative 
J50  89 right no to be robbed of the capacity to procreate without just 
J50  90 cause. At the other extreme it might be said to entail a duty on 
J50  91 the state to provide services to help overcome infertility. Between 
J50  92 these two versions of the right is a claim that the state should 
J50  93 facilitate assisted reproduction by removing any rules of law which 
J50  94 prevent individuals taking steps to overcome their inability to 
J50  95 have children. The Human Fertilisation and Embryology Act 1990 says 
J50  96 nothing about claims of the first two types, but goes some way 
J50  97 towards meeting the third type of claim in the new status 
J50  98 provisions, which permit some of those who use assisted 
J50  99 reproductive techniques to be defined in law as parents (see below) 
J50 100 without recourse to a court.<p/>
J50 101 <p_>The strength of claims based on a right to reproduce depends on 
J50 102 the way in which infertility is classified. If being infertile is 
J50 103 to be ill, then overcoming it can more easily be said to be a state 
J50 104 responsibility. The National Health Service Act 1977 creates a duty 
J50 105 to provide services for the diagnosis and treatment of illness 
J50 106 (section 3) and defines <quote|>"illness" as <quote_>"any injury or 
J50 107 disability requiring medical or dental treatment or 
J50 108 nursing"<quote/> (section 128). Yet (like kidney dialysis) 
J50 109 infertility treatment does not cure the underlying problem, but 
J50 110 rather overcomes some of its effects. The question is: how 
J50 111 important is it to overcome them? In the view of some it is a low 
J50 112 priority and cannot outweigh the interests of embryos: 
J50 113 <quote_>"Infertility is a grief, not a disease. Those who suffer it 
J50 114 are not in pain and are not ill."<quote/> Assessed subjectively, 
J50 115 however, infertility may be experienced as an extreme deprivation, 
J50 116 particularly in the face of a culture which regards a childless 
J50 117 woman as incomplete.<p/>
J50 118 <p_>These background issues are ones on which society is deeply 
J50 119 divided. In passing the 1990 Act, Parliament could have sought to 
J50 120 resolve them, but it will be argued here that the bulk of the 
J50 121 provisions of the Act do not provide answers to the questions, but 
J50 122 set up a forum in which they can be debated. Some parts of the Act 
J50 123 prohibit certain types of research activity outright, the 
J50 124 amendments to the Abortion Act 1967 alter the protection offered 
J50 125 for the human fetus and the status provisions do promote assisted 
J50 126 reproduction in some circumstances. These provisions can be seen as 
J50 127 resolving debates, but at the heart of the Act is the new statutory 
J50 128 licensing authority. Here the provisions do promote activities, but 
J50 129 are facilitative rather than prescriptive. The balance between the 
J50 130 competing views of the underlying issues of principle is left to be 
J50 131 determined within the regulatory structure of the authority, it has 
J50 132 not been established by Parliament itself.<p/>
J50 133 <h_><p_>A Web of Regulation<p/><h/>
J50 134 <p_>The nature of the forum in which the debates about infertility 
J50 135 treatment and embryo research are to be carried out is structured 
J50 136 by a complex web of discretion, restraints, control and 
J50 137 accountability. The Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority is 
J50 138 to be given powers to oversee the activities of individual health 
J50 139 practitioners, and will not be limited to applying standards 
J50 140 established by Parliament or government. It will be able, indeed 
J50 141 required, to develop its own standards of what is acceptable and 
J50 142 proper. The authority will thus have considerable autonomy. It will 
J50 143 not be left entirely to its own devices, however, and a series of 
J50 144 checks will exist to supervise the exercise of its power.<p/>
J50 145 <p_>At a statutory level the 1990 Act establishes the ground rules 
J50 146 on which practitioners and the Authority will be required to 
J50 147 operate. Section 3 sets out a wide-ranging prohibition on creating, 
J50 148 keeping or using human embryos. Section 4 prohibits the storage and 
J50 149 use of human gametes. Exemption from these offences is provided for 
J50 150 those who have been licensed. Thus, an extensive dispensing power 
J50 151 is conferred upon by the Authority. It is not unlimited. Licences 
J50 152 may not authorise keeping an embryo beyond the appearance of the 
J50 153 primitive streak, placing a human embryo in an animal or replacing 
J50 154 the nucleus of an embryo (intended to prevent cloning).<p/>
J50 155 <p_>In addition to these provisions specifying what may not be 
J50 156 authorised, the Act also sets down the type of activities which can 
J50 157 be licensed (see Sched 2). These are, however, broadly phrased, and 
J50 158 include in relation to treatment <quote_>"using gametes"<quote/> 
J50 159 and <quote_>"placing an embryo in a woman."<quote/> Licences for 
J50 160 research must be "<quote_>necessary or desirable"<quote/> for 
J50 161 specified purposes, but these include "<quote_>promoting advances 
J50 162 in the treatment of infertility"<quote/> as well as increasing 
J50 163 knowledge about the causes of miscarriages and congenital disease. 
J50 164 These are narrower than the text of the Bill as originally printed, 
J50 165 which would have allowed research to be licensed <quote_>"for the 
J50 166 purpose of increasing knowledge about the creation and development 
J50 167 of embryos and enabling such knowledge to be applied."<quote/> 
J50 168 However, the purposes for which the Authority can grant licences 
J50 169 remain defined only at an abstract level.<p/>
J50 170 <p_>Having conferred this considerable flexibility upon the 
J50 171 licensing authority, the Government has also reserved a number of 
J50 172 powers to reduce it. The boundaries of the power to license may be 
J50 173 contracted and expanded by regulations. By requiring annual reports 
J50 174 to the Secretary of State, detailing both past activities and those 
J50 175 projected for the following twelve months, the Act seeks to ensure 
J50 176 that the Authority's practice can be monitored (s 7). The reports 
J50 177 are to be laid before Parliament by the Minister. Nevertheless, 
J50 178 pending the exercise of the power to make regulations, considerable 
J50 179 trust is placed in the members of the Authority.<p/>
J50 180 <p_>The Act permits the Authority to exercise a high degree of 
J50 181 control over practitioners. In addition to the power to grant or 
J50 182 withhold licences, the Authority will be able to issue mandatory 
J50 183 directions (ss 23 and 24). Failure to comply with these directions 
J50 184 will sometimes constitute an offence (s 41(2)), but will always 
J50 185 empower the Authority to revoke a licence (s18(1)(c)). Secondly, a 
J50 186 code of practice is to be drawn up to provide guidance as to the 
J50 187 proper conduct of licensees. This is less coercive than the power 
J50 188 to give directions in that disobedience will not in itself 
J50 189 constitute an offence, but it may be taken into account by the 
J50 190 Authority when considering revocation (s 25).<p/>
J50 191 <p_>In practice, this will make it difficult for practitioners to 
J50 192 resist the power of the Authority to make policy on controversial 
J50 193 matters. The difficulties of the Voluntary Licensing Authority in 
J50 194 the face of practitioners who are sufficiently confident of the 
J50 195 rightness of their activities to disregard peer pressure should not 
J50 196 be repeated. This will represent a considerable inroad into such 
J50 197 people's clinical autonomy. Opportunities to challenge decisions 
J50 198 are limited. Appeal against refusal of a licence by the Authority's 
J50 199 licence committee lies to the Authority and will take the form of a 
J50 200 full rehearing (s 20). However, appeal outside the Authority will 
J50 201 be available only on a point of law (s 21).
J50 202 
J51   1 <#FLOB:J51\><p_>Another factor which might be thought to count 
J51   2 against epiphenomenalism is that the supposition of efficacy plays 
J51   3 a causal role in the explanation of human behaviour. Such behaviour 
J51   4 exhibits certain complex regularities which call for explanation 
J51   5 and which, at present, we explain (at least partly) in 
J51   6 psychological terms. These psychological explanations, though 
J51   7 typically of a rational rather than a mechanistic kind, attribute a 
J51   8 causal efficacy to the mental: they represent the subject's 
J51   9 behaviour as falling under the control of his beliefs and desires, 
J51  10 or under the control of his decisions and intentions, which are 
J51  11 responsive to his beliefs and desires. The claim might then be that 
J51  12 such explanations gain credibility from the fact that, as well as 
J51  13 being in their own terms successful, they cannot at present be 
J51  14 replaced by non<?_>-<?/>psychological explanations which cover the 
J51  15 same ground.<p/>
J51  16 <p_>These common-sense points against the epiphenomenalist are not, 
J51  17 to my mind, decisive. There is no denying the conflict between 
J51  18 epiphenomenalism and our ordinary conception of ourselves as 
J51  19 agents. But the fact that this is our <tf|>ordinary view of the 
J51  20 <}_><-|>situaton<+|>situation<}/> does not mean that it is correct. 
J51  21 Just what grounds do we have for supposing that human behaviour 
J51  22 <tf|>is intentional, and <tf|>does qualify as action, in the 
J51  23 relevant sense? Again, there is no denying that, for ordinary 
J51  24 purposes, we need to make use of psychological explanations. But it 
J51  25 could still be claimed that the <tf|>ultimately correct 
J51  26 explanations (maybe only discernible from a God's-eye view) are 
J51  27 purely physical. And indeed this is something which the defender of 
J51  28 the science-efficacy argument himself accepts. The most that 
J51  29 follows from these lines of reasoning is that the onus is on the 
J51  30 epiphenomenalist to try to justify his unusual position. But 
J51  31 presumably he is happy to take on this challenge. For he can say 
J51  32 that what supplies the justification is the scientific evidence in 
J51  33 favour of the view that the physical world is a closed system, 
J51  34 together with the already established case against 
J51  35 token-identity.<p/>
J51  36 <p_>However, it seems to me that epiphenomenalism is open to a much 
J51  37 more powerful objection than either of these. For I cannot see how, 
J51  38 if epiphenomenalism were true, the mind could form a topic for 
J51  39 overt discussion. Certainly, if mental items have no causal access 
J51  40 to our speech centres, the notion of an introspective report 
J51  41 collapses: even if the subject retains an introspective knowledge 
J51  42 of his mental states, his utterances do not count as 
J51  43 <tf|>expressing that knowledge if it contributes nothing to their 
J51  44 production. But I cannot even see how, on the epiphenomenalistic 
J51  45 view, our language, as a medium for our utterances, makes semantic 
J51  46 contact with the mind at all. In what sense, for example, could the 
J51  47 word 'pain', as overtly used, be said to signify a certain type of 
J51  48 sensation, if neither the occurrence of the sensations nor our 
J51  49 introspective conception of their type affects its overt use? Quite 
J51  50 generally, it seems to me that if the mental contributes nothing to 
J51  51 the way in which the linguistic practices involving 'psychological' 
J51  52 terms are developed and sustained in the speech-community, and in 
J51  53 no other way affects the production of utterances employing these 
J51  54 terms, then, in respect of their overt use, the terms should be 
J51  55 analysed in a purely behaviourist or functionalist fashion - which 
J51  56 would deprive the epiphenomenalist of the linguistic resources to 
J51  57 enunciate his thesis. It is true, of course, that each 
J51  58 language-user may <tf|>mentally interpret each term as signifying a 
J51  59 certain kind of (dualistically conceived) mental item. But I cannot 
J51  60 see how such private interpretations could have any bearing on the 
J51  61 objective meaning of the terms, as employed in speech and writing, 
J51  62 if, with respect to this employment, they are causally idle. (This 
J51  63 is not, of course, to endorse Wittgenstein's private language 
J51  64 argument. The sort of private interpretations which Wittgenstein 
J51  65 was trying to exclude would not, on my interactionist-dualist view, 
J51  66 be causally idle.)<p/>
J51  67 <p_>It does not follow from this that the state of affairs which 
J51  68 epiphenomenalism postulates is one which could not obtain - that 
J51  69 there could not be a world in which the mental had no causal 
J51  70 influence on the physical. Nor does it even follow that we can know 
J51  71 <tf_>a priori<tf/> that the actual world is not of this kind. For 
J51  72 it cannot be established a priori that the mental actually is a 
J51  73 topic for overt discussion. None the less, if the point is correct, 
J51  74 there is a sense in which, as overtly expressed, epiphenomenalism 
J51  75 becomes self-refuting. For if it is only possible to provide a 
J51  76 publicly audible or visible formulation of the thesis if the mental 
J51  77 is causally efficacious, then any attempt to provide such a 
J51  78 formulation can only succeed if the thesis is false. In effect, 
J51  79 then, we either have to accept that the thesis is false, or abandon 
J51  80 the attempt to make its truth or falsity an issue for public 
J51  81 debate, or even for private but vocal soliloquy. If this does not 
J51  82 quite refute epiphenomenalism, it at least renders it the sort of 
J51  83 position which cannot be seriously entertained - the sort of 
J51  84 position whose falsity (to echo Hume on the existence of body) we 
J51  85 are forced to take for granted in all our reasonings, even of a 
J51  86 philosophical kind.<p/>
J51  87 <p_>Having pressed this objection against epiphenomenalism, I must 
J51  88 now add a qualification. In claiming that if epiphenomenalism were 
J51  89 true, the mind could not form a topic for overt discussion, I have 
J51  90 been assuming that if mental events have no causal influence on the 
J51  91 physical world, then their occurrence will be, in every way, 
J51  92 irrelevant to any explanation of physical phenomena. This 
J51  93 assumption is a very natural one - and something which orthodox 
J51  94 epiphenomenalists are unlikely to dispute. However, so long as we 
J51  95 grant the coherence of theism, I think we can envisage two 
J51  96 situations in which the assumption would be false.<p/>
J51  97 <p_>The first situation is that in which, while mental items have 
J51  98 no <tf|>causal influence on physical phenomena, they serve as 
J51  99 'occasions' for God to bring about certain physical events. For 
J51 100 example, it might be that whenever a human subject decides to act 
J51 101 in a certain way, God, taking note of the decision, causes the 
J51 102 subject's motor-neurons to fire in the appropriate way. The 
J51 103 decision itself does not cause the neuronal event; it does not even 
J51 104 <tf|>indirectly cause it, by causally influencing God's decision, 
J51 105 since God is here thought of as entirely active and free, and hence 
J51 106 as not subject to any kind of external pressure. It is just that 
J51 107 God chooses to control the physical on-goings in such a way as to 
J51 108 match the subject's state of mind.<p/>
J51 109 <p_>The second situation is one in which, instead of controlling 
J51 110 the physical on-goings in a piecemeal fashion, God deliberately 
J51 111 arranges things, in advance and globally, so that the biological 
J51 112 creatures which evolve are constituted in a way which secures a 
J51 113 match between the functional roles of their neural states and the 
J51 114 psychological character of the mental items which these states 
J51 115 causally generate. Everything which occurs in the physical world 
J51 116 has an efficient cause in the preceding physical conditions, and 
J51 117 the mental items caused by neural states and events are themselves 
J51 118 causally idle. But since God has selected the physical and 
J51 119 psychophysical laws and the initial physical conditions of the 
J51 120 universe with a view to ensuring that the mental and the physical 
J51 121 realms harmonize in the appropriate way, there is still a sense in 
J51 122 which the fact that neural states and events have certain 
J51 123 psychological effects features in the ultimate explanation of the 
J51 124 physical phenomena. Thus when a subject makes a decision and his 
J51 125 muscles contract appropriately, we can say that, although it does 
J51 126 not contribute anything causally to the muscular movement, this 
J51 127 decision does have an ultimate explanatory bearing on the movement; 
J51 128 for it is only because the preceding central-neural event is 
J51 129 empowered to produce that sort of decision that it is also 
J51 130 empowered, by the structure of the organism and the physical laws, 
J51 131 to produce that kind of physical effect.<p/>
J51 132 <p_>Now of these two situations, it is only the second which has 
J51 133 any real relevance to the issue which concerns us. For the first, 
J51 134 in which God takes human mental items as occasions for causing 
J51 135 physical events, is not really an epiphenomenalist situation in the 
J51 136 intended sense. It does not deny the causal efficacy of the mental 
J51 137 <tf|>in deference to the claims of physical science<tf/>, and, if 
J51 138 anything, it looks more like an occasionalistic version of 
J51 139 interactionism than a form of epiphenomenalism. In any case, it 
J51 140 would be hard to find any rationale for it except as part of a 
J51 141 quite general occasionalist theory, such as that of Malebranche, 
J51 142 which denies the causal efficacy of mental and physical events 
J51 143 alike. The second situation, however, in which the physical world 
J51 144 is a closed system and God is the transcendent architect of the 
J51 145 psychophysical harmony, does yield a form of epiphenomenalism in 
J51 146 the intended sense. And it might be that, if such a situation 
J51 147 obtained, the explanatory link between mentality and behaviour 
J51 148 would be enough to render the mind a topic for overt discussion - 
J51 149 and, indeed, enough to allow us to retain some conception of 
J51 150 ourselves as agents. I shall return, briefly, to this point 
J51 151 presently. But, for the time being, let us continue with the 
J51 152 assumption that epiphenomenalism represents the mind, not merely as 
J51 153 having no causal influence on physical events, but as having no 
J51 154 explanatory role either.<p/>
J51 155 <p_>On this assumption, as we have seen, epiphenomenalism is a 
J51 156 position which, even if logically coherent, cannot be seriously 
J51 157 entertained. And here the crucial point is not that it conflicts 
J51 158 with common sense (i.e. in respect of our conception of ourselves 
J51 159 as agents and our employment of psychophysical explanations), but 
J51 160 that the supposition of its truth would oblige us to suppose that 
J51 161 the mind was not a topic for overt discussion. In this respect, 
J51 162 then, things are looking good for the identity-theorist. All he 
J51 163 needs to do, it seems, is to vindicate premise (a) of the 
J51 164 science-efficacy argument, and then validate the move from (a) to 
J51 165 (b), and the identity of mental with physical events will 
J51 166 automatically follow.<p/>
J51 167 <p_>However, while it is certainly true that claim (b), together 
J51 168 with the falsity of epiphenomenalism, would be enough to establish 
J51 169 the token-identity thesis, it would be wrong to conclude that our 
J51 170 argument against epiphenomenalism has made the prospects for this 
J51 171 thesis any better. Quite the reverse. For a little reflection shows 
J51 172 that the argument in question should be taken as an argument 
J51 173 against the acceptance of claim (b) rather than as a step in the 
J51 174 direction of token-identity. Let me explain.<p/>
J51 175 <p_>Claim (b) asserts that the physical world is a closed system. 
J51 176 Taken in the context of premise (a), from which it is inferred, 
J51 177 this implies not just that the only events which cause (or 
J51 178 contribute to the causation of) physical events are physical, but 
J51 179 also that the only qualitative factors which are ultimately (i.e. 
J51 180 metaphysically-fundamentally) operative in the causation of 
J51 181 physical events are physical. But, thus interpreted, it is easy to 
J51 182 show that, combined with what we have already established, claim 
J51 183 (b) itself generates a sort of epiphenomenalism. For although it 
J51 184 leaves room for the causal efficacy of mental items, it does not 
J51 185 leave room for the causal efficacy of their psychological 
J51 186 properties. Thus it allows us to say that a person's decision to 
J51 187 cross the road caused the subsequent firing of his motor-neurons; 
J51 188 but it does not allow us to say that its being a decision, or its 
J51 189 being a decision of that specific psychological type, played any 
J51 190 causal role in bringing about this effect. In short, it obliges us 
J51 191 to conclude that, with respect to the causation of the physical by 
J51 192 the mental, psychological properties are causally idle. Now I am 
J51 193 not suggesting that this conclusion immediately follows from claim 
J51 194 (b) <tf_>taken on its own<tf/>. After all, someone might accept 
J51 195 that it is only physical factors which are causally operative, but 
J51 196 secure the causal efficacy of psychological properties by 
J51 197 identifying them with physical properties. Or again, he might 
J51 198 accept that it is only physical factors which are ultimately 
J51 199 operative, but, by pressing some form of metaphysical reduction of 
J51 200 mental facts to physical facts, allow psychological properties to 
J51 201 enjoy a derivative efficacy.
J51 202 
J52   1 <#FLOB:J52\>Why should the denial of it strike Protagoras as 
J52   2 'incredible' (170 c 9)? The answer is clear from what was said 
J52   3 above in explanation of the slogan 'Man is the measure.' The import 
J52   4 of that slogan is not just that people believe all and only truths, 
J52   5 but also that we may apply ordinary criteria for deciding who 
J52   6 believes what. Furthermore Protagoras has all along implicitly 
J52   7 acknowledged that when we do apply those ordinary criteria we find 
J52   8 people believing the sorts of thing that Plato observes people to 
J52   9 believe. For if it were not evident that (to put it at its mildest) 
J52  10 people hold different and conflicting beliefs, there would have 
J52  11 been no need for Protagoras to introduce qualifiers and speak of 
J52  12 things being true for people; plain unqualified truth would have 
J52  13 done instead. There is thus no doubt that Protagoras will join 
J52  14 Plato in making the observation with which Plato's argument begins, 
J52  15 the observation that people think Protagoras wrong.<p/>
J52  16 <p_>There is a second contrast between Plato's own argument and the 
J52  17 argument that a belief that there are false beliefs guarantees its 
J52  18 own truth. When people think that people differ from one another in 
J52  19 what they know, then they think, not only that some people make 
J52  20 mistakes which others manage to avoid, but also that some people 
J52  21 have true beliefs which not all others share. This, I take it, is 
J52  22 the import of the remarks in 170 b 6-9 about knowledge, ignorance, 
J52  23 truth and falsehood. The consequence is that if Plato manages to 
J52  24 vindicate this generally held belief, he will have established that 
J52  25 Protagoras is wrong on two counts, rather than just on one; he will 
J52  26 have established not only that one's beliefs can be untrue, but 
J52  27 also that there can be truths which one does not believe.<p/>
J52  28 <p_>The third contrast is this. Plato observes not just that 
J52  29 someone, but that everyone, save perhaps for Protagoras himself, 
J52  30 thinks Protagoras wrong; there is, Plato observes, an almost 
J52  31 universal consensus of opinion against Protagoras. There was no 
J52  32 parallel to this in our argument concerning the belief that at 
J52  33 least one belief is not true. If that argument works at all, then 
J52  34 it works even if only one person believes that there are untrue 
J52  35 beliefs; and it certainly does not work any better if that belief 
J52  36 is shared by lots of people. Plato's argument does by contrast need 
J52  37 the premiss that, with the possible exception of Protagoras 
J52  38 himself, everyone thinks that man is not the measure. It needs this 
J52  39 premiss for two reasons, one slight and one serious. The slight 
J52  40 reason is that only if Protagoras is outnumbered can Plato infer, 
J52  41 as he does in the aside at 171 a 1-3, that Protagoras' doctrine is 
J52  42 more untrue than true. The serious reason is that unless it is 
J52  43 already accepted that no one else agrees with Protagoras' doctrine, 
J52  44 getting Protagoras to disagree with it will not mean that the 
J52  45 consensus against Protagoras' doctrine is completely unanimous. Yet 
J52  46 complete unanimity is what Plato wants: he means to prove that 
J52  47 Protagoras' doctrine is not true for anyone whatsoever (171 c 6-7; 
J52  48 compare 170 e 9 - 171 a 1). Only thus can Plato drop all 
J52  49 qualifications and call Protagoras' doctrine just plain untrue, 
J52  50 without any fear of the riposte: <quote_>"Some people think it 
J52  51 untrue; but others think otherwise; and might not both sides be 
J52  52 right?"<quote/><p/>
J52  53 <p_>How can Protagoras be encouraged to join the consensus that man 
J52  54 is not the measure? Perhaps he does not need to; perhaps he is 
J52  55 already party to that consensus anyway. If so, we can proceed at 
J52  56 once to the conclusion that Protagoras' doctrine is not true for 
J52  57 anyone, and thus is not true at all (170 e 7 - 171 a 1). If not, 
J52  58 there is a little more work to do. Plato undertakes that extra work 
J52  59 at 171 a 6 - c 3. Protagoras must, says Plato, agree that those who 
J52  60 disagree with him think the truth when they think him mistaken; and 
J52  61 so he must himself agree he is mistaken. The converse, Plato points 
J52  62 out, does not hold: people other than Protagoras are under no 
J52  63 corresponding pressure to agree with him and think themselves wrong 
J52  64 (171 b 4-5). Why does Plato bother to point this out? Perhaps 
J52  65 Protagoras might otherwise try to declare a draw on the grounds 
J52  66 that his opponents are in a position exactly like his own; and 
J52  67 might then try to urge that this draw is yet another illustration 
J52  68 of how man is the measure. If it was intended to stop Protagoras 
J52  69 defending himself in this way, then Plato's remark is a success. 
J52  70 Those who disagree with Protagoras can hardly be expected to accept 
J52  71 also that his doctrine is true, or true for them, or even true for 
J52  72 Protagoras himself; after all, qualified truth, truth-for, is 
J52  73 Protagoras' notion, not theirs. Thus while the opposition need not 
J52  74 in any way accept the doctrine of Protagoras, Protagoras must agree 
J52  75 with the opposition that his doctrine is false. And thus the 
J52  76 doctrine of Protagoras is not true for anyone, not even for 
J52  77 Protagoras himself.<p/>
J52  78 <p_>Few readers of the <tf|>Theaetetus feel entirely satisfied by 
J52  79 this. Protagoras is made to concede that the views of his opponents 
J52  80 are true. That, readers rightly feel, is a big concession. Need 
J52  81 Protagoras make it? Can he not simply say that what others think on 
J52  82 this topic is true for them, and for them alone? Why need 
J52  83 Protagoras himself accept as true what other people think on this 
J52  84 topic? Is Plato being fair when he has Protagoras accept the other 
J52  85 side's belief as true, instead of merely true for the other side 
J52  86 (171 a 8, b 2, b 6, b 11; compare b 1)? Yes, Plato is being fair. 
J52  87 Protagoras cannot here concede only that the opinion of those who 
J52  88 disagree with him is true for them. He must go further, and 
J52  89 speaking for himself say that their opinion is true. This can be 
J52  90 shown even if for the moment we allow that some beliefs can be true 
J52  91 for one person without being true for every other person; for even 
J52  92 if some beliefs can do that, the belief that man is not the measure 
J52  93 could not be among them. Consider an analogy; 'Traffic keeps left' 
J52  94 is, if you care to put it that way, true in Wales, and not true in 
J52  95 Canada; but such things as 'Traffic keeps left everywhere', 
J52  96 'Traffic keeps left somewhere', or 'Traffic keeps left in Canada', 
J52  97 purport to be true no matter what the country in which they are 
J52  98 said; such a thing therefore could not be true in only some 
J52  99 countries; such a thing would have to be either true everywhere or 
J52 100 else true nowhere whatsoever. As with truth in places, so too with 
J52 101 truth for people. If a belief purports to be true for every person, 
J52 102 it cannot be true for only some; such a belief would have to be 
J52 103 either true for everyone, or else true for no one whatsoever. This 
J52 104 applies to the widespread consensus that Protagoras is wrong. Those 
J52 105 party to the consensus hold, among other things, that if the best 
J52 106 that can be said for a belief is that it is their belief, then that 
J52 107 belief is not true. Now you cannot think such a thing, and think 
J52 108 also that the best that can be said for it is that you think it. It 
J52 109 would be absurd for me to say 'If something is only my opinion, 
J52 110 then it is not true; but mind you, this is only my opinion.' The 
J52 111 belief that Protagoras is wrong therefore purports to be something 
J52 112 more than just true for those who happen to accept it. That is why 
J52 113 Protagoras cannot simply say that the opinion of his opponents is 
J52 114 true for them, and stop there; that is why he must go on to say for 
J52 115 himself that their opinion is true. But once Protagoras does that, 
J52 116 there is a universal consensus that it is, without qualification, 
J52 117 false to say that man is the measure. And so we can conclude that 
J52 118 man is not the measure, full stop.<p/>
J52 119 <h_><p_>Why not everything flows<p/><h/>
J52 120 <p_>Protagoras' theory of relative truth may therefore be rejected. 
J52 121 When however the Secret Doctrine was first expounded, Protagoras' 
J52 122 theory of truth was connected with a metaphysic summarised in the 
J52 123 slogan 'all things flow'. That metaphysic implies that all our 
J52 124 thoughts, even those that apparently contradict one another, are 
J52 125 nevertheless equally true. That metaphysic therefore cannot be 
J52 126 allowed to stand. For if we allow that metaphysic to stand, then 
J52 127 our refutation of Protagoras will mean only that the truth which 
J52 128 equally characterises all our thoughts is not a relative truth, but 
J52 129 an absolute one, unqualified by any reference to their thinkers. 
J52 130 And if any thought is guaranteed to be unqualifiedly true just 
J52 131 because it is thought, then that threatens objectivity no less than 
J52 132 a guarantee that any thought is true for its thinker.<p/>
J52 133 <p_>Plato has a fairly brisk way with the idea that 'all things 
J52 134 flow'. Those who accept that slogan should accept, says Socrates, 
J52 135 that everything is changing in every way at every time 
J52 136 (<tf|>Theaetetus 182 a 1). The 'every' here is to be taken with the 
J52 137 utmost strictness. It is not just that we have, for example, 
J52 138 Socrates change from seeing to not seeing the whitewashed wall as 
J52 139 white, and the whitewashed wall change from being white for 
J52 140 Socrates to not being white for him. It is not only objects, 
J52 141 whether perceiving or perceived, that change; perceptions and 
J52 142 perceived qualities must change too. Thus Socrates' glimpse of the 
J52 143 wall too must be changing, from being a glimpse to not being a 
J52 144 glimpse; and likewise the whiteness which makes the wall white for 
J52 145 Socrates cannot be stably a whiteness, but must itself be changing 
J52 146 (182 d 1 - e 5).<p/>
J52 147 <p_>We will later explore the consequences of this completely 
J52 148 universal change. In the meantime, let us ask why Plato insists 
J52 149 that those who accept the slogan 'all things flow' must believe the 
J52 150 particularly extreme version of that doctrine which he expounds. 
J52 151 Plato does in fact offer us some argument for his insistence. At 
J52 152 181 e 5-8 he points out that if any less extreme version were true, 
J52 153 then saying 'everything moves' would be no more correct than saying 
J52 154 'everything is still'. The trouble is that this argument sounds 
J52 155 less than conclusive. It invites the reply: 'all things flow' is 
J52 156 only a slogan; the doctrine which we mean by that slogan is the one 
J52 157 summarised so well at <tf|>Theaetetus 156 a 2 - 157 c 2; according 
J52 158 to this doctrine of ours, the 'things' which 'flow' are perceiving 
J52 159 subjects, such as Socrates, and perceived objects, such as walls; 
J52 160 the sense in which a perceiving subject 'flows' is that Socrates, 
J52 161 who perceives the wall as white now, can nevertheless perceive 
J52 162 other things differently, and can even perceive the wall 
J52 163 differently at some other time; likewise, the sense in which a 
J52 164 perceived object 'flows' is that the wall, which now is white for 
J52 165 Socrates, can nevertheless have other colours for other people, and 
J52 166 can even have other colours for Socrates himself at some other 
J52 167 time; perceived qualities and perceptions of those qualities are 
J52 168 not themselves among the 'things' which, according to our doctrine, 
J52 169 'flow'; so perhaps 'all things flow' is therefore a poor slogan for 
J52 170 our own modest doctrine, and a better slogan for a doctrine far 
J52 171 more extreme; but at most that requires us to abandon the slogan; 
J52 172 it hardly requires us to accept the extreme doctrine; and in that 
J52 173 case, Plato's refutation of the doctrine that 'all things flow' is 
J52 174 a refutation of a doctrine that nobody either does or need hold; 
J52 175 Plato has just invented an easy target for himself. Such at any 
J52 176 rate is the accusation which Plato's arguments invite. But is Plato 
J52 177 guilty as charged?<p/>
J52 178 <p_>Plato is innocent; there are sound reasons for him to formulate 
J52 179 and refute the extreme doctrine that 'everything is changing in 
J52 180 every way at every time'. The first reason is that only the extreme 
J52 181 doctrine coheres with Protagoras' claim that man is the measure of 
J52 182 all things.
J52 183 
J53   1 <#FLOB:J53\>I aim to make these inadequacies clear, and then to add 
J53   2 some brief speculations on why they are present.<p/>
J53   3 <p_>There is one significant feature of Aristotle's whole 
J53   4 discussion in Book VI, which I would not regard as an 'inadequacy', 
J53   5 but which deserves a mention here at the outset. That is the 
J53   6 tension between Aristotle's reasoning in this book and his 
J53   7 discussion of infinity in Book III. To put it very roughly, his 
J53   8 position in Book III is that there is no 'actual' or 'completed' 
J53   9 infinite, and all infinity is merely 'potential'. But in Book VI he 
J53  10 shows no such tendency to be suspicious of the infinite, and 
J53  11 apparently accepts without qualms that a line does ('actually') 
J53  12 contain infinitely many points, that a stretch of time does 
J53  13 ('actually') contain infinitely many instants, and so on. Thus his 
J53  14 answer in this book to Zeno's most famous paradox on motion 
J53  15 apparently accepts that one who traverses a finite distance has 
J53  16 thereby completed a series of infinitely many distinct tasks, in 
J53  17 traversing the infinitely many 'half<?_>-<?/>distances' contained 
J53  18 within the original distance. This is possible, he here says, 
J53  19 because the finite time available may equally be divided into a 
J53  20 corresponding and infinite series of 'half-times' 
J53  21 (233<sp_>a<sp/>13-31, 239<sp_>b<sp/>9-29). Later in Book VIII he 
J53  22 will reconsider this paradox, and with the doctrine of Book III in 
J53  23 mind he will deny that a moving body ever does pass over infinitely 
J53  24 many 'actual' points (263<sp_>a<sp/>4-<sp_>b<sp/>9). But here in 
J53  25 Book VI we find no such complications. A simple hypothesis 
J53  26 evidently suggests itself: Book VI was written before the doctrine 
J53  27 of Book III was worked out. (In my concluding section I shall note 
J53  28 some other pointers to the early date of Book VI.)<p/>
J53  29 <h_><p_>I The Definition of a Continuum<p/><h/>
J53  30 <p_>In chapter 3 of Book V Aristotle defines what it is for one 
J53  31 thing to be continuous with another. He begins by defining 
J53  32 'succession' (<TranslitG_>t<*_>o-grave<*/> veFexes<TranslitG/>): 
J53  33 one thing succeeds another when it comes after it, in position or 
J53  34 in some other way, and there is nothing between them that is of the 
J53  35 same kind (226<sp_>b<sp/>34-227<sp_>a<sp/>6). A special case of 
J53  36 succession is 'being next to' (<TranslitG_>t<*_>o-grave<*/> 
J53  37 vech<*_>o-acute<*/>menon<TranslitG/>): one thing is next to another 
J53  38 when it succeeds it and is also in contact with it 
J53  39 (227<sp_>a<sp/>6), contact being defined as occurring when (some 
J53  40 part of) the 'limits' of the two things are in exactly the same 
J53  41 place (226<sp_>b<sp/>21-3). A special case of being next to is 
J53  42 'continuity' (<TranslitG_>t<*_>o-grave<*/> 
J53  43 sunech<*_>e-acute<*/>s<TranslitG/>): one thing is continuous with 
J53  44 another when they are next to one another and in addition the 
J53  45 limits at which they touch are the same thing, or 'have become 
J53  46 one', being indeed 'held together' as the word 
J53  47 <TranslitG_>sun-ech<*_>e-acute<*/>s<TranslitG/> implies. 
J53  48 Aristotle's thought evidently is that things which are merely next 
J53  49 to one another need not hold together - one may move one of them 
J53  50 leaving the other where it is - whereas if they are continuous then 
J53  51 they move together (227<sp_>a<sp/>10-17).<p/>
J53  52 <p_>At the opening of Book VI Aristotle recalls this definition, 
J53  53 and appears to suppose that it has also explained to us what it is 
J53  54 for a single thing to be a continuous thing - or, as I shall say, a 
J53  55 continuum - though clearly it has not explained this at all 
J53  56 (231<sp_>a<sp/>21-6). But if we follow through the argument that he 
J53  57 at once plunges into, we can I think reconstruct the definition 
J53  58 that he has failed to state but must have had in mind. For he 
J53  59 claims that it follows from the definition that a continuum (such 
J53  60 as a line) cannot be made up from indivisible things (such as 
J53  61 points). The first argument is simply that an indivisible thing has 
J53  62 no limits, for a limit 
J53  63 (<TranslitG_>v<*_>e-grave<*/>schaton<TranslitG/>) must be different 
J53  64 from what it limits, and thus what has limits must have parts, and 
J53  65 must therefore be divisible (231<sp_>a<sp/>25-9). As a second 
J53  66 argument Aristotle adds that indivisible things such as points 
J53  67 cannot form a continuum by being in contact with one another, even 
J53  68 if we waive the point about their lack of limits. For, he says, if 
J53  69 a point could be in contact with a point then they would have to be 
J53  70 in contact 'as wholes', and this (I think) he takes to imply that 
J53  71 they would have to be in exactly the same place. At any rate he 
J53  72 objects that contact of this kind will not produce anything 
J53  73 continuous, because a continuous thing will be divisible into parts 
J53  74 that occupy <tf|>different places (231<sp_>a<sp/>29-<sp_>b<sp/>6). 
J53  75 (The thought here seems to be this. When one (perfect) sphere 
J53  76 touches another there will be a point on the surface of the one 
J53  77 that touches a point on the surface of the other, and these are 
J53  78 different points, just as the face of one cube in contact with the 
J53  79 face of another are different faces (see n. 5 above). Hence one 
J53  80 point may be said to be in contact with another, but such contact 
J53  81 yields spatial coincidence, so no matter how many points we may put 
J53  82 together that are in contact with one another in this way we shall 
J53  83 still not form anything bigger than a single point. But this 
J53  84 subtlety is generally ignored in what follows, where it is simply 
J53  85 claimed that indivisible things cannot be in contact (e.g. 
J53  86 231<sp_>b<sp/>17).) Finally he adds as a third argument that points 
J53  87 cannot even be successive, since between any two points there will 
J53  88 be a line (and hence, he presumably means to add, a further point) 
J53  89 (231<sp_>b<sp/>6-10). Summing up this reasoning, Aristotle 
J53  90 concludes that what a thing is made up from it may also be divided 
J53  91 into, and so we have shown that a continuum cannot be divided into 
J53  92 indivisibles. Anything whatever must be either divisible or 
J53  93 indivisible, and if divisible then either divisible into 
J53  94 indivisibles or divisible only into what may always be divided 
J53  95 further; this last is a continuum. And conversely every continuum 
J53  96 is divisible into what may always be divided further, for if it 
J53  97 could be divided into indivisibles then one indivisible could touch 
J53  98 another, <quote_>"for the limits of (two) continuous things touch, 
J53  99 and are one"<quote/> (231<sp_>b<sp/>10-18).<p/>
J53 100 <p_>Now, if this argument is to be intelligible, what must we take 
J53 101 the definition of a continuum to be? First, it must evidently be 
J53 102 given as a premiss that a continuum has at least two parts which do 
J53 103 not coincide (213<sp_>b<sp/>4-6). For Aristotle clearly does not 
J53 104 count a point as <tf|>itself a continuum, and this seems to be the 
J53 105 minimal premiss needed to rule out that suggestion. To avoid some 
J53 106 complications I should like to strengthen this premiss a little to 
J53 107 the following: a continuum may always be <tf|>divided (without 
J53 108 remainder) into two parts that do not coincide. It is true that, 
J53 109 given a 'logic of parts' that is nowadays orthodox, the supposedly 
J53 110 stronger version would follow at once from the original. For the 
J53 111 now orthodox logic supposes that, given any one proper part of a 
J53 112 thing, there will always be some <tf|>one further part of the 
J53 113 thing, which comprises all the rest of it excluding the given part. 
J53 114 Thus the whole may be said to be divided into these two parts in 
J53 115 the sense that the two do not overlap one another - i.e. they have 
J53 116 no common part - and together they exhaust the original whole, in 
J53 117 so far as every part of it must overlap at least one of these two. 
J53 118 But it seems to me doubtful that Aristotle would accept the 
J53 119 assumption on which this reasoning is based. For example, it 
J53 120 implies that if we begin with a line three inches long, and 
J53 121 subtract a part one inch long from the middle of it, then the two 
J53 122 separated line-segments remaining may be counted as together 
J53 123 forming <tf|>one part of the original. But this is not a very 
J53 124 natural use of the notion of one part, and equally it is not very 
J53 125 natural to say that the operation just envisaged would divide our 
J53 126 three-inch line into just two parts. I shall come back to this 
J53 127 problem shortly, but for the moment let us simply side-step it, by 
J53 128 adopting the stronger premiss: any continuum may always be divided 
J53 129 into two.<p/>
J53 130 <p_>Then it is perfectly clear from the whole run of Aristotle's 
J53 131 discussion that we must add a further premiss: any division of a 
J53 132 continuum into two (non-coincident) parts must divide it into parts 
J53 133 that are continuous with one another in the sense defined in Book 
J53 134 V, i.e. the two parts must touch, and the limits where they touch 
J53 135 must 'be one'. These two premisses are, I imagine, the premisses 
J53 136 that Aristotle regards his argument in this passage as depending 
J53 137 upon, and as given by the (unstated) definition of what a continuum 
J53 138 is. We may therefore re<?_>-<?/>construct the definition by 
J53 139 designing it to yield just these premisses: a continuum is anything 
J53 140 which (i) can be divided into two parts, and (ii) is such that any 
J53 141 two parts into which it is divided must share a limit. But if this 
J53 142 is indeed the definition Aristotle has in mind, then either it is 
J53 143 incorrect or the conclusion that he attempts to deduce from it will 
J53 144 not follow. That is, it will not follow that the parts into which a 
J53 145 continuum may be divided must themselves be further divisible.<p/>
J53 146 <p_>Suppose we take a finite line, and suggest 'dividing' it into 
J53 147 these two parts: one part is to be an end-point of the line, and 
J53 148 the other part is to be all the rest of the line, excluding this 
J53 149 end-point. (Thus the second part is what we call a 'half-open' 
J53 150 interval, containing all the points of the line except this one 
J53 151 end-point.) Now we may surely assume that a finite line is a 
J53 152 continuum, if anything is, so if Aristotle's definition is correct 
J53 153 then the two parts into which we have divided it must share a 
J53 154 limit. According to one of Aristotle's lines of thought, they do 
J53 155 not, since he claims that a point has no limit. But in that case we 
J53 156 must simply reject the definition as incorrect. However, if my 
J53 157 interpretation is right, then he also has another line of thought 
J53 158 which allows points to be in contact with one another ('as wholes') 
J53 159 despite their alleged lack of limits. This is most easily 
J53 160 harmonized with his general position by allowing that a point may 
J53 161 be said to be <tf_>its own<tf/> limit. If we do allow this, then 
J53 162 the suggested definition of a continuum may be retained, even in 
J53 163 the face of this example. For the end-point of the line, and the 
J53 164 rest of the line, now do share a limit, namely the end-point 
J53 165 itself. It is its own limit, and it must also be reckoned to be one 
J53 166 of the limits of the rest of the line. For we cannot say that the 
J53 167 rest of the line has no limit in this direction without once more 
J53 168 subverting the suggested definition, and if it is to have a limit 
J53 169 then clearly there is no other candidate than this same end-point. 
J53 170 Thus, if the definition is to be retained, while admitting this 
J53 171 example as a 'division', then we must conclude that it is possible 
J53 172 to divide a line into two parts, where <tf|>one of these parts is a 
J53 173 mere point, and hence not further divisible. (And we may add, 
J53 174 incidentally, that <tf|>any point of the line may thus be exhibited 
J53 175 as one of the parts into which it may be divided, by considering a 
J53 176 division into three parts, one of which is the given point, one the 
J53 177 rest of the line (if any) that is to the left of it, and one the 
J53 178 rest of the line (if any) that is to the right of it.)<p/>
J53 179 <p_>There are two possible avenues one might explore, in seeking to 
J53 180 rescue Aristotle from this objection. One would be to note that I 
J53 181 have merely conjectured his definition of a continuum (since he 
J53 182 fails to state any definition himself), and to seek for an 
J53 183 alternative conjecture. Here one may remark that he quite often 
J53 184 appears to take, as <tf|>definitive of a continuum, the thesis that 
J53 185 in this passage he is attempting to prove.
J53 186 
J54   1 <#FLOB:J54\>We will suppose that at the time of utterance both 
J54   2 parties are alive. What is required for the truth of this 
J54   3 conditional? Following Stalnaker's idea, it is true iff in the 
J54   4 situation as close as possible to ours but in which John dies 
J54   5 before Joan, Joan inherits the lot. Thus if, for example, John's 
J54   6 will actually leaves everything to Joan, a situation as close to 
J54   7 ours as possible is one in which his will is unchanged, and hence a 
J54   8 situation in which, given the normal flow of events, Joan will 
J54   9 inherit the lot. (If John is going to die before Joan, then the 
J54  10 situation to consider is the actual future course of events: 
J54  11 nothing is more similar to the actual world than itself.) In this 
J54  12 case, Stalnaker's theory seems to give precisely the right 
J54  13 result.<p/>
J54  14 <p_>It also delivers the right result in the case of 
J54  15 (<tf|>1.21),<p/>
J54  16 <p_>If someone broke in, they must have repaired the damage before 
J54  17 they left,<p/>
J54  18 <p_>which, arguably, has to be treated as undefined by the 
J54  19 probability theory. Consider a world in which someone did break in, 
J54  20 but which is otherwise as similar as possible to ours. In ours, 
J54  21 there is no trace of violent entry. How could this be, unless the 
J54  22 intruder had repaired the damage behind him? So the closest (that 
J54  23 is, most similar) world in which the antecedent is true is one in 
J54  24 which the consequent is true, so the conditional is true (and hence 
J54  25 can be used to infer that no one broke in, given that no intruder 
J54  26 would stop to repair the damage behind him).<p/>
J54  27 <p_>Stalnaker explicitly considers, and rejects, the theory 
J54  28 mentioned in chapter <tf|>2.4 that a conditional requires for its 
J54  29 truth some connection between what would make its antecedent true 
J54  30 and what would make its consequent true. He offers the following 
J54  31 counterexample: suppose that at the time of the Vietnam conflict 
J54  32 you are convinced that the United States will use nuclear weapons, 
J54  33 come what may. You therefore also think that the Chinese entering 
J54  34 the conflict would have no effect whatsoever on the US decision to 
J54  35 use nuclear weapons. Yet you will confidently affirm the 
J54  36 conditional:<p/>
J54  37 <p_>1) If the Chinese enter the Vietnam conflict, the United States 
J54  38 will use nuclear weapons.<p/>
J54  39 <p_>Notice that on Stalnaker's theory this conditional is, if your 
J54  40 political views are correct, true, because any smallest revision of 
J54  41 the actual world which verifies the antecedent will of course 
J54  42 verify the consequent. But this is not to say that the truth of the 
J54  43 consequent is <tf_>in general<tf/> sufficient for the truth of the 
J54  44 conditional. On the contrary, this will not always hold: not, for 
J54  45 example, in conditionals of the form 'if not-<tf|>A then 
J54  46 <tf|>A'.<p/>
J54  47 <p_>What impact does Stalnaker's account of the truth conditions of 
J54  48 conditionals have upon validity? It turns out that his account of 
J54  49 truth conditions validates (in the standard sense) just the 
J54  50 arguments that are valid in the probabilistic sense.<p/>
J54  51 <p_>He agrees with the probabilistic theory in finding (<tf|>2.8.1) 
J54  52 invalid, and he offers a sophisticated explanation of the 
J54  53 appearance of validity (Stalnaker [1980]). His idea is that 
J54  54 (<tf|>2.8.1) corresponds to a 'reasonable' inference: one such 
J54  55 that, in any context in which the premises are acceptable, so is 
J54  56 the conclusion. But reasonable inferences can be invalid, and 
J54  57 (<tf|>2.8.1) is an example. If we think it is valid, it is because 
J54  58 we mistake reasonableness for validity.<p/>
J54  59 <p_>Everything hinges, of course, on the account of reasonableness. 
J54  60 Without giving Stalnaker's whole theory, let us simply see how it 
J54  61 is intended to apply to the example. A context in which the premise 
J54  62 of the argument is acceptable is one which leaves open whether it 
J54  63 was the butler or the gardener who did it. (If you knew who did it, 
J54  64 you shouldn't assert the premise, but simply 'the gardener did it', 
J54  65 or 'the butler did it', as the case may be.) When you have asserted 
J54  66 or accepted the premise, the context includes the premise: it is 
J54  67 now part of what is taken for granted. Hence when you evaluate the 
J54  68 conclusion, you should consider a world in which the gardener 
J54  69 didn't do it, but in which the premise holds true. Such a world 
J54  70 must be one in which the butler did it. Reasonableness puts 
J54  71 restrictions on what alternative worlds to consider in evaluating a 
J54  72 conditional.<p/>
J54  73 <p_>Even if reasonable, the argument is invalid, by Stalnaker's 
J54  74 account. For there is no guarantee whatsoever that in the world 
J54  75 most like ours, assuming that ours is one which verifies the 
J54  76 premise, but in which the gardener did not do it, the butler did. 
J54  77 One possibility is that our world is one in which the butler and 
J54  78 the gardener were in league: they both did it. The most similar 
J54  79 world to this verifying 'The gardener did not do it' could well be 
J54  80 one in which the victim was not murdered at all: a world in which, 
J54  81 say, the victim fell (rather than being pushed). The relevant world 
J54  82 cannot be exactly like our world, since in our world (we are 
J54  83 supposing) the butler and gardener both did it. A world in which 
J54  84 the butler-gardener conspiracy broke down might well be less 
J54  85 similar to ours than one in which the conspiracy is in force, but 
J54  86 the conspirators were thwarted at the last moment by their victim's 
J54  87 accidental death. The truth of the premise of the argument thus 
J54  88 does not guarantee the truth of the conclusion, upon Stalnaker's 
J54  89 semantics.<p/>
J54  90 <p_>Stalnaker intends his account to apply to subjunctive as well 
J54  91 as indicative conditionals. But how will it specify the difference 
J54  92 between matched pairs of these different kinds of conditional? For 
J54  93 example<p/>
J54  94 <p_><tf|>2.4.34) If Oswald didn't shoot Kennedy, someone else 
J54  95 did.<p/>
J54  96 <p_><tf|>2.4.35) If Oswald hadn't shot Kennedy, someone else would 
J54  97 have.<p/>
J54  98 <p_>Let us apply Stalnaker's recipe to these successively, 
J54  99 retaining the background assumptions we relied upon in chapter 
J54 100 <tf|>2.4 to justify the reasonableness of accepting the first while 
J54 101 rejecting the second.<p/>
J54 102 <p_>For (<tf|>2.4.34) we consider a world in which Oswald didn't 
J54 103 shoot Kennedy. Remember that Oswald's guilt was a disputed 
J54 104 question, but Kennedy's death from shooting was not. So a similar 
J54 105 world will be one in which Kennedy died from a shooting, while not 
J54 106 having been shot by Oswald. Such a world, obviously, verifies the 
J54 107 consequent. Hence Stalnaker's account has it that (<tf|>2.4.34) is 
J54 108 true, and this is as it should be.<p/>
J54 109 <p_>What should we consider for (<tf|>2.4.35)? Although Stalnaker 
J54 110 is not explicit, he clearly intends us to consider a world in which 
J54 111 Oswald did not shoot Kennedy. (In other words, we revise the 
J54 112 antecedent from 'hadn't' to 'didn't'.) So it would appear that we 
J54 113 have to consider just the same world as we did before. And just as 
J54 114 we must revise the antecedent, to apply Stalnaker's recipe, so we 
J54 115 have to revise the consequent. What we need to consider, then, is 
J54 116 whether in a world in which Oswald did not shoot Kennedy, but which 
J54 117 is otherwise as like as possible to this, someone else shot 
J54 118 Kennedy. In short, we seem to have the same question before us as 
J54 119 we did in the case of (<tf|>2.4.34), in which case we should give 
J54 120 the same answer. But this answer, that (<tf|>2.3.35) is true, 
J54 121 conflicts with our original intuition. (We imagined that we thought 
J54 122 Oswald acted alone, there was no conspiracy, so if he hadn't shot 
J54 123 Kennedy no one else would have.)<p/>
J54 124 <p_>Stalnaker recognizes that there will be considerable 
J54 125 context-sensitivity in point of what counts as the world most 
J54 126 similar to ours in which the antecedent holds, and he suggests that 
J54 127 this can account for the difference between (<tf|>2.4.34) and 
J54 128 (<tf|>2.4.35). What remains unclear, however, is the relationship, 
J54 129 which presumably ought to be systematic, between the contexts we 
J54 130 envisage for (<tf|>2.4.34) and (<tf|>2.4.35), and the different 
J54 131 dimensions of similarity relevant to the truth conditions. For 
J54 132 (<tf|>2.4.35) we want to count a world in which Oswald did not 
J54 133 shoot Kennedy and Kennedy was not shot as the most similar to ours; 
J54 134 for (<tf|>2.4.34) we want to count a world in which Oswald did not 
J54 135 shoot Kennedy, and he was shot, as the most similar to ours. But 
J54 136 what features of the context make for this difference? Clearly a 
J54 137 vital difference is that in (<tf|>2.4.34) it is taken for granted, 
J54 138 as part of the background, that Kennedy was shot. In (<tf|>2.4.35) 
J54 139 this background assumption somehow gets suspended in selecting the 
J54 140 relevant world. But what is the mechanism? It is certainly relevant 
J54 141 that the envisaged use of (<tf|>2.4.35), unlike (<tf|>2.4.34), 
J54 142 takes for granted that Oswald in fact did shoot Kennedy, yet any 
J54 143 world which will satisfy Stalnaker's test will be one in which the 
J54 144 presupposition is abandoned. Perhaps abandoning taken-for-granted 
J54 145 facts induces much more relaxed standards of similarity. A world as 
J54 146 similar as possible to this one but in which Oswald didn't shoot 
J54 147 Kennedy is certainly not this world, in the context of 
J54 148 (<tf|>2.4.35), but is not certainly not this world in the context 
J54 149 of (<tf|>2.4.34).<p/>
J54 150 <p_>The more obvious account of 'most similar' in this case brings 
J54 151 out both the indicative and the subjunctive as true. This is not 
J54 152 invariable. Gibbard [1980] has suggested the following case, 
J54 153 designed to show that Stalnaker's account works best for 
J54 154 subjunctive conditionals, and the probability theory for indicative 
J54 155 ones.<p/>
J54 156 <p_>Jack and Stone are playing poker and Stone has just bet the 
J54 157 limit in the final round. Zack has seen Stone's hand, seen that it 
J54 158 is a good hand, and has signalled its contents to Jack. Zack 
J54 159 remains unaware of the contents of Jack's hand. Stone, suspecting 
J54 160 mischief, orders the room to be cleared. Not knowing the outcome of 
J54 161 the game, Zack can confidently assert later:<p/>
J54 162 <p_><tf|>2) If Jack called, he won.<p/>
J54 163 <p_>His grounds are that Jack is an experienced player, wants to 
J54 164 win, and, knowing Stone's hand, knows whether or not he will win by 
J54 165 calling. However, Zack can reasonably be doubtful about<p/>
J54 166 <p_><tf|>3) If Jack had called, he would have won.<p/>
J54 167 <p_>After all, Stone's hand was good, and it's not likely that Jack 
J54 168 had a better. Let us first confirm Gibbard's claim that the 
J54 169 probability theory gives an acceptable account of (<tf|>2), and 
J54 170 then see how Stalnaker's account deals with the two sentences.<p/>
J54 171 <p_>On the probability theory, (<tf|>2) is assertible iff it has 
J54 172 high probability, which by (<tf|>1.4), means that Pr (Jack won|Jack 
J54 173 called) is high. The result is that (<tf|>2) is ruled highly 
J54 174 assertible, as it seems to be, since, given that Jack called, it is 
J54 175 extremely likely that he won.<p/>
J54 176 <p_>Turning now to (<tf|>3), Gibbard argues that our intuitions 
J54 177 harmonize with Stalnaker's account. We in fact regard the truth or 
J54 178 falsehood of (<tf|>3) as determined by whether or not Jack's hand 
J54 179 was better than Stone's. On Stalnaker's account, we must find a 
J54 180 world as similar as possible to ours, but in which Jack called. 
J54 181 According to Gibbard, such a world is determined by the following 
J54 182 criteria:<p/>
J54 183 <p_><quote_>it is exactly like the actual world until it is time 
J54 184 for Jack to call or fold; then it is like the actual world apart 
J54 185 from whatever it is that constitutes Jack's decision to call or to 
J54 186 fold, and from then on it develops in accordance with natural 
J54 187 laws.<quote/> (pp. 227-8: I have changed Gibbard's Pete to Jack)<p/>
J54 188 <p_>However, it seems that a world in which Jack calls, and which 
J54 189 is maximally similar to ours, is a world in which Jack knows 
J54 190 Stone's hand and calls. Preserving similarity with our world, this 
J54 191 can only be because Jack knows that he has a winning hand. In this 
J54 192 world, therefore, the consequent of the conditional is true, rather 
J54 193 than false, and so, contrary to Gibbard's claim, Stalnaker's 
J54 194 account seems not to deliver the desired result for (<tf|>3).<p/>
J54 195 <p_>Gibbard envisages Zack's response to (<tf|>3) as occurring when 
J54 196 Zack is still ignorant of what Stone did. The most natural setting 
J54 197 for (<tf|>3), however, is one in which it is known that Jack 
J54 198 folded. Given that he folded because he knew Stone had the better 
J54 199 hand, Stalnaker's account clearly works well. The alternative world 
J54 200 is like our world up to the time of Jack's decision. Before then, 
J54 201 he knows he has a losing hand.
J54 202 
J55   1 <#FLOB:J55\>In effect, the sub-commissions, instead of expediting 
J55   2 valuation, had actively engaged in collusion with local vested 
J55   3 interests to restrict the amount of teind available for 
J55   4 redistribution: a situation that can be traced directly to the 
J55   5 hostile reception accorded to Charles's legal decreet of 18 
J55   6 September 1629.<p/>
J55   7 <h_><p_>Class Collusion<p/><h/>
J55   8 <p_>The legal decreet can be separated into five major components 
J55   9 affecting the future disposal of superiorities and teinds under the 
J55  10 general headings of compensation for surrenders, costing of teinds, 
J55  11 limitations on purchase, quantification of teinds and 
J55  12 redistribution for pious and other uses. Other than costing and 
J55  13 quantification where the Commission for Surrenders and Teinds was 
J55  14 empowered to make empirical revisions, Charles was content to 
J55  15 ratify recommendations already made by the Commission.<p/>
J55  16 <p_>Compensation to the temporal lords for loss of their 
J55  17 superiorities was confirmed as 1000 merks for every chalder of 
J55  18 victual or 100 merks of free rent: that is, ten times the 
J55  19 feu-duties hitherto paid by their feuars less the feu-duty paid by 
J55  20 the temporal lords themselves to the Crown. Superiorities were to 
J55  21 be purchased at a price specified as ten years' rental (that is, 
J55  22 free rent), an offer initially made to John Maitland, first earl of 
J55  23 Lauderdale, but regarded as prejudicial to the nobility when upheld 
J55  24 by the Commission on 29 June 1627. The actual mechanism of sale, 
J55  25 suggested by the militant vanguard on 10 November 1628, was not 
J55  26 approved formally until 17 July 1630. Feuars who advanced the 
J55  27 purchase price for superiorities to temporal lords were to hold 
J55  28 their kirklands directly of the Crown as freeholders. Their 
J55  29 feu-duties, which were now owed to the Crown, were to be retained 
J55  30 for up to ten years to recoup monies advanced to temporal lords. 
J55  31 Thus, by mortgaging the kirklands to existing feuars, temporal 
J55  32 lords were to be compensated for their superiorities at no cost to 
J55  33 the Crown. Not every feuar, however, had a sum equivalent to ten 
J55  34 years' rental readily available. Nor were all feuars prepared to 
J55  35 combine to strip temporal lords of their superiorities. Moreover, 
J55  36 no change was proposed in apportioning taxation. Feuars who bought 
J55  37 out superiority were still to pay reliefs to temporal lords who 
J55  38 remained responsible for uplifting taxes from kirklands.<p/>
J55  39 <p_>The price at which heritors could acquire control of their own 
J55  40 teinds was costed at nine years' purchase for every 100 merks paid 
J55  41 annually in money: that is, a purchase price equivalent to nine 
J55  42 years' valued rent. Where teinds were paid in kind, the same 
J55  43 costing applied once the valuations were commuted into monetary 
J55  44 sums - allowance having been made for regional variations in the 
J55  45 quality and quantity of crops designated as teind. However, not 
J55  46 every heritor was entitled to purchase control over his own teinds. 
J55  47 Charles ratified his agreement of the previous summer with the 
J55  48 royal burghs that teinds assigned to ministers' stipends, 
J55  49 educational provision and social welfare could be led by but not 
J55  50 sold to heritors - a prohibition on purchase extended to the teinds 
J55  51 of universities and hospitals in 1633. Moreover, heritors had to 
J55  52 await the expiry of existing tacks before purchasing their teinds 
J55  53 from clerical titulars. When Charles eventually abrogated this 
J55  54 provision on 20 May 1634, churchmen not heritors were given the 
J55  55 first priority to buy out tacksmen and secure the whole teinds of 
J55  56 parishes for the permanent use of the Kirk. Heritors were also 
J55  57 required to pay teinds to tacksmen of temporal lords and lay 
J55  58 patrons with no immediate prospect of leading, far less of 
J55  59 purchasing, their own teinds. For valuations could not be concluded 
J55  60 until current tacks - usually long leases - had expired.<p/>
J55  61 <p_>While the right to purchase their own teinds was neither 
J55  62 guaranteed nor immediate for some heritors, it was not practicable 
J55  63 for others. The right to purchase was not so much a standing 
J55  64 concession as a singular option. The coronation parliament of 1633 
J55  65 went on to impose specific time-limits on this option. All heritors 
J55  66 whose teinds had already been valued were obliged to make an offer 
J55  67 to purchase by the autumn of 1635. Those heritors awaiting 
J55  68 valuation of their teinds were given no more than two years to make 
J55  69 an offer on the completion of valuation. Because of a lack of ready 
J55  70 cash, few heritors outwith the ranks of the nobility and leading 
J55  71 gentry were able to exercise their option to purchase within two 
J55  72 years. Heritors were not entirely quit of superiority if they 
J55  73 purchased their own teinds. The formal contract of sale issued from 
J55  74 1631 required heritors to provide the titular of every parish with 
J55  75 a written undertaking not only to pay reliefs for taxation, but to 
J55  76 meet their share of parochial teinds apportioned to ministers' 
J55  77 stipends, other pious uses and the king's annuity.<p/>
J55  78 <p_>Where the teinds were intermingled with other landholding dues 
J55  79 and were thus to be valued conjointly, Charles determined that the 
J55  80 quantity to be assessed as teind should be the fifth part of the 
J55  81 valued or constant rent: that is, a fifth of composite sums paid as 
J55  82 feu-duty was to be accounted teind when determining the valued rent 
J55  83 of each estate. Where the teinds were assessed separately, Charles 
J55  84 allowed a deduction of one-fifth of their estimated value to be 
J55  85 retained as a personal allowance for the heritor. Basically, this 
J55  86 personal allowance from the valued rent was afforded because teind 
J55  87 quantified separately tended to carry a higher valuation than that 
J55  88 where teind was intermingled with other landholding dues. The 
J55  89 personal allowance was thus a practical corrective to titulars 
J55  90 profiteering from the loading of valuation in their favour. This 
J55  91 personal allowance primarily benefited barons and freeholders who 
J55  92 were now guaranteed a minimum share of their own teinds whether or 
J55  93 not they exercised their option to purchase.<p/>
J55  94 <p_>Indeed, the personal allowance was the only guaranteed portion 
J55  95 of the heritors's teinds not liable to redistribution. The legal 
J55  96 decreet upheld the revised minimum for ministers' stipends raised 
J55  97 by the Commission from 500 merks or 5 chalders of victual to 800 
J55  98 merks or 8 chalders on 30 May 1627. While the amount requiring 
J55  99 redistribution within each parish varied, the national minimum was 
J55 100 an identified target. However, the contribution towards pious uses 
J55 101 was not limited by national ratings or current demands, but was 
J55 102 elastically geared to future local aspirations for schooling and 
J55 103 social welfare. Contributions to the king's annuity were fixed 
J55 104 nationally but variably in accordance with the Commission's 
J55 105 recommendation of 29 May 1627. The rating of 6 per cent to be 
J55 106 exacted as annuity applied only to payments of teind in money, not 
J55 107 in kind where exactions varied according to the type and quality of 
J55 108 victual and fluctuated annually according to local rates of 
J55 109 commutation. Given that a significant if indeterminate proportion 
J55 110 of teind was to be redistributed, the heritors' inducement to 
J55 111 purchase was not so much financial as managerial.<p/>
J55 112 <p_>Reflecting on the legal decreet on 24 October 1629, Charles 
J55 113 affirmed that he had provided the necessary guidelines for the 
J55 114 surrender of superiorities and teind redistribution <quote_>"that 
J55 115 non of our subjectis interested can have just caus to 
J55 116 complain"<quote/>. The presentation of the legal decreet before a 
J55 117 Convention of Estates in July 1630 provided no ringing endorsement 
J55 118 from the political nation, however. The resistance encountered over 
J55 119 teind redistribution was such that leading officials were initially 
J55 120 averse to moving its ratification <quote_>"for feir of 
J55 121 repulse"<quote/>. Only adroit presentation of the legal decreet as 
J55 122 a composite package by the lord president, William Graham, seventh 
J55 123 earl of Menteith, ensured acceptance. Nonetheless, the gentry, as 
J55 124 spokesmen not just for the shires but for the political nation as a 
J55 125 whole, called upon the Convention to petition the king to take 
J55 126 account of <quote_>"the great feare"<quote/> aroused by his efforts 
J55 127 to compel compliance with the Revocation Scheme.<p/>
J55 128 <p_>While Charles remained unresponsive to such petitioning, he had 
J55 129 already provided the touchstone for the furtherance of class 
J55 130 collusion. His quantification of teind as a fifth of the valued 
J55 131 rent, when intermingled with other landholding dues, was open to 
J55 132 manipulation by titulars and lay patrons with the active support of 
J55 133 heritors. Taking advantage of ties of social deference and the 
J55 134 loading of proof against heritors, titulars and lay patrons 
J55 135 concocted valued rents that devalued the amounts apportioned as 
J55 136 teind. The coronation parliament pointed out that valued rents were 
J55 137 undervalued by as much as a third in relation to feu-duties where 
J55 138 teinds and other landholding dues were paid as composite sums. 
J55 139 Undervaluing could not be accomplished, however, without the 
J55 140 connivance of the sub-commissions who were empowered to scrutinise 
J55 141 all landed titles and contractual conditions. Thus, collusion was a 
J55 142 community enterprise designed to diminish the amount of teind 
J55 143 available for redistribution for ministers' stipends, pious uses 
J55 144 and, above all, the king's annuity. By 1 July 1635, collusion had 
J55 145 become so prevalent that the Commission for Surrenders and Teinds 
J55 146 was itself censured by Charles for its routine acceptance of 
J55 147 valuations from sub-commissions in which valued rents had been 
J55 148 diminished by a third in relation to composite feu-duties. An 
J55 149 official committee of inquiry into the operation of the Commission 
J55 150 reported to Court by the end of December 1636 that <quote_>"the 
J55 151 great ill of undervaluing"<quote/> was the foremost impediment to 
J55 152 comprehensive teind redistribution. Moreover,<quote_>"the farr 
J55 153 greater sort"<quote/> of the teinds were <quote_>"not yet 
J55 154 valued"<quote/>.<p/>
J55 155 <h_><p_>Limited Accomplishment<p/><h/>
J55 156 <p_>No more than seven temporal lords had commenced negotiations 
J55 157 with the Commission prior to the Convention of Estates in July 
J55 158 1630, which served to expose the critical weakness of the 
J55 159 Revocation Scheme - notably, the king's lack of financial resources 
J55 160 to implement the surrender of kirklands, regalities and heritable 
J55 161 offices. Prior to the implementation of his legal decreet, Charles 
J55 162 was already committed to expenditure of around pounds250,000 for 
J55 163 the compulsory purchase of four regalities and twelve heritable 
J55 164 offices. Yet the annual income ordinarily available to the Crown 
J55 165 during the first four years of his reign had dropped by 
J55 166 pounds27,321-14/4 (from pounds223,930-7/4 to pounds196,608-13/-) 
J55 167 and his expenditure had moved from a modest surplus of 
J55 168 pounds64,838-15/8 to an accumulating deficit of pounds137,640-7/6. 
J55 169 Furthermore, the revenues raised from the land tax of pounds400,000 
J55 170 and the 5% tax on annualrents<&|>sic! voted by the Convention of 
J55 171 Estates in 1625, were earmarked for British expeditionary forces on 
J55 172 the continent, national defence and the maintenance of the Scottish 
J55 173 establishment at Court and in Edinburgh. Although both taxes were 
J55 174 renewed by the Convention of 1630, military and establishment 
J55 175 expenditure was still accorded priority.<p/>
J55 176 <p_>Charles's continuing financial embarrassment obliged him to 
J55 177 rely on feuars to buy out their own superiorities, a policy impeded 
J55 178 partly by legal loopholes arising from transfer of title, but 
J55 179 primarily because feuars were unprepared to advance the requisite 
J55 180 lump sums. Charles took four years to clear up the loopholes 
J55 181 arising from his legal decreet. As well as prohibiting temporal 
J55 182 lords questioning their feuars' titles at law, feuars were obliged 
J55 183 to produce documentary evidence that compensation, including any 
J55 184 arrears of feu-duty, had been paid in full before they received a 
J55 185 charter for their kirklands direct from the Crown. Actual, as 
J55 186 against threatened, legal action between temporal lords and their 
J55 187 feuars was rare. Conversely, bands of suspension raised between 
J55 188 August 1632 and January 1634 reveal that only the most prominent 
J55 189 gentry among feuars of kirklands had sufficient local standing or 
J55 190 independent resources to enforce their right to buy out 
J55 191 superiority. The tendency among most feuars was to collude actively 
J55 192 with temporal lords in exploiting legal loopholes. Thus, feuars 
J55 193 resigned their kirklands in favour of their temporal lords who then 
J55 194 registered the resigned lands as their property with the Commission 
J55 195 for Surrenders and Teinds. On the lands being declared exempt from 
J55 196 revocation, they were granted back to the feuars.<p/>
J55 197 <p_>The financial embarrassment of the Crown - which led Charles to 
J55 198 suspend negotiated surrenders of regalities and heritable offices 
J55 199 in October 1634 - was compounded by temporal lords withholding 
J55 200 payments of their feu-duties for over seven years. Only eleven 
J55 201 temporal lords, less than a third of the total number, had made any 
J55 202 meaningful effort to negotiate with the Crown. Although no temporal 
J55 203 lord was exempted from the scope of revocation, Charles had not 
J55 204 enhanced prompt compliance by his blatant favouring of courtiers. 
J55 205 No more than two temporal lords, both anglicised absentees - James 
J55 206 Stewart, fourth duke of Lennox and James Colville, Lord Colville - 
J55 207 were prepared to make unconditional surrenders.
J55 208 
J56   1 <#FLOB:J56\>In 1935 the historian G. M. Trevelyan called Edmonds a 
J56   2 historian. Edmonds took umbrage at that description. He insisted 
J56   3 that he was <quote_>"but a G.S.O. writing a military account of a 
J56   4 modern campaign with the assistance of friends"<quote/>. The 
J56   5 friends he referred to were the thousands of correspondents, all 
J56   6 former participants in the events he was trying to describe, upon 
J56   7 whose co-operation he depended to supplement the official written 
J56   8 records.<p/>
J56   9 <p_>Edmonds produced several drafts of each book before he 
J56  10 dispatched the final typescript to the publisher. He began by 
J56  11 reading through all the pertinent documentary evidence, war 
J56  12 diaries, surviving operational orders, and any private papers which 
J56  13 participants in the events he was analysing had made available to 
J56  14 him, he made notes on them, and then produced a first draft. He 
J56  15 then checked through his notes once again to ensure that he had 
J56  16 omitted nothing of importance. But he was far too good a historian 
J56  17 to believe that all the evidence could be found in the documents or 
J56  18 for that matter that the documents were necessarily accurate. War 
J56  19 Diaries were often written up well after the events they purported 
J56  20 to describe and by officers who were not present at the time. 
J56  21 <quote_>"Reports of operations written immediately after an 
J56  22 action"<quote/>, he wrote in 1931, <quote_>"are of little value 
J56  23 except as a general guide"<quote/>.<p/>
J56  24 <p_>There were also occasions when he discovered that deliberate 
J56  25 attempts had been made to tamper with or suppress evidence. During 
J56  26 his period as Sir John French's Chief of Staff in 1914, Sir 
J56  27 Archibald Murray sometimes falsified the times and dates of orders. 
J56  28 But Edmonds was able to detect this because of the date and time 
J56  29 stamp which his confidential clerk had placed on the documents in 
J56  30 question. One of Edmonds's assistants discovered that Sir Henry 
J56  31 Wilson removed copies of operations orders from the GHQ files for 
J56  32 August 1914 because they reflected badly on the shaken state of 
J56  33 mind of the headquarters staff. In June 1917 Sir Henry Rawlinson's 
J56  34 Chief of Staff, Sir Archibald Montgomery-Massingberd, destroyed 4 
J56  35 Army's War Diary for the opening weeks of the Battle of the Somme, 
J56  36 probably in the hope of concealing the fact that Rawlinson had been 
J56  37 reluctant to follow Haig's order and to seek a quick breakthrough 
J56  38 on 1 July. He substituted for it his own narrative of events. But 
J56  39 Edmonds detected this fraud by checking the narrative against the 
J56  40 evidence presented in the war diaries of subordinate formations. 
J56  41 Efforts were also made to omit evidence which might reflect badly 
J56  42 on the commanders in question. Thus the 3 Army war diary contained 
J56  43 no mention of a warning that the army had received about an 
J56  44 imminent German counter-attack at Cambrai on 30 November 1917. 
J56  45 Edmonds also had access to typescript copies of Haig's personal 
J56  46 diary and noted that not every entry had been written at the time 
J56  47 it purported to have been and that some passages had been inserted 
J56  48 later.<p/>
J56  49 <p_>The oral and written reminiscences of survivors were vital 
J56  50 because they enabled Edmonds to amplify and cross-check the written 
J56  51 record. He therefore had copies of his first draft made and 
J56  52 circulated them to as many participants as possible. Drafts of the 
J56  53 Loos volume were sent to about 700 officers, more than half of whom 
J56  54 made suggestions which Edmonds thought it worth while to consider. 
J56  55 Drafts of the volume which examined the opening of the German March 
J56  56 offensive in 1918, an action which was pre-eminently a soldier's 
J56  57 battle, seem to have been sent to just about every commander down 
J56  58 to battalion and battery level. Edmonds himself questioned 
J56  59 surviving senior officers over lunch. Some followed Haig's example 
J56  60 and lent him copies of their diaries or other private records. But 
J56  61 Edmonds did not treat the mass of information he gathered in this 
J56  62 way uncritically. He understood that memories were apt to lapse 
J56  63 after the passage of years and that his respondents might try to 
J56  64 put the best possible gloss on their actions. <quote_>"It is the 
J56  65 duty of the historian to make head against these difficulties with 
J56  66 the aid of the documents and the evidence of other 
J56  67 witnesses."<quote/> Edmonds did any necessary rewriting and 
J56  68 produced a second draft incorporating any relevant French, German, 
J56  69 or Italian material. That was then sent to the Dominion general 
J56  70 staffs and to the Australian official historian, C. E. W. Bean, for 
J56  71 their comments. Only then did he prepare a final draft.<p/>
J56  72 <p_>The danger of Edmonds's determination to tap every available 
J56  73 source of information was that it did lay him open to pressure to 
J56  74 doctor his conclusions to suit the wishes of his informants. If he 
J56  75 did not do so they might simply refuse further co-operation and the 
J56  76 geese which lay the golden eggs might drop dead. Many of his 
J56  77 informants were ambivalent about helping him. <quote_>"Yes: we all 
J56  78 want to know the TRUTH, as you say"<quote/>, Sir Ivor Maxse, a 
J56  79 former divisional and corps commander, wrote to him in 1927, 
J56  80 <quote_>"But who knows where to discover it? and, if discovered, 
J56  81 how to reproduce it? or whether it should be <tf|>told?"<quote/> 
J56  82 Some witnesses were undoubtedly concerned about their personal 
J56  83 reputations. In lending Edmonds some of his private papers Lawrence 
J56  84 asked in return that <quote_>"if you are using anything which might 
J56  85 be controversial I should like to know what it is"<quote/>. Others 
J56  86 were less concerned about their personal reputations and were more 
J56  87 concerned about the effect criticisms of the high command might 
J56  88 have upon the willingness of the next generations to submit to 
J56  89 military discipline. For example, one former divisional commander, 
J56  90 Major-General A. Solly Flood, sent Edmonds a press cutting critical 
J56  91 of Haig together with a note saying:<p/>
J56  92 <p_><quote_>But setting aside all questions of loyalty to our 
J56  93 revered chief, articles couched in these terms cause one much 
J56  94 anxiety on account of the effect they must have on the minds of the 
J56  95 uninformed public and of posterity, which may be called upon in 
J56  96 their turn to undertake service on behalf of their King and 
J56  97 country.<quote/><p/>
J56  98 <p_>A third category were worried lest criticisms of the army's 
J56  99 conduct might harm Britain's international prestige. In 1929 Sir 
J56 100 Arthur Conan Doyle raised the issue of Edmonds's description of the 
J56 101 precipitous retreat of 21 Division at Loos in September 1915: 
J56 102 <quote_>"Very frankly. Could it be toned down into more general 
J56 103 terms?"<quote/> he asked, <quote_>"You have to remember that there 
J56 104 are fellows of the baser sort in America & elsewhere who will leave 
J56 105 out all your compensating paragraphs and simply quote the passages 
J56 106 which describe the panic. Then there may be a row."<quote/> 
J56 107 Similarly, Sir George Macdonogh warned him that it might be unwise 
J56 108 to include criticisms of General P<*_>e-acute<*/>tain's conduct in 
J56 109 1918. <quote_>"It has got to be remembered that not merely is he 
J56 110 still alive but he is also at present the French Minister of 
J56 111 War."<quote/> Edmonds generally met his critics at least half-way. 
J56 112 He dealt with pressures like these in one of two ways. He confined 
J56 113 the text to a bald narrative of events and omitted criticisms or he 
J56 114 placed awkward evidence in footnotes or appendices, perhaps on the 
J56 115 assumption that only those already in the know would bother to read 
J56 116 them. In the volume published in 1927 examining the second Battle 
J56 117 of Ypres in 1915 he agreed to Sir Arthur Currie's request that he 
J56 118 should suppress the fact that three times during the battle he had 
J56 119 ordered his Canadians to retreat. When he exposed one of Murray's 
J56 120 attempts to change the date and time of a GHQ operations order in 
J56 121 August 1914 he did so in a footnote to an appendix. Similarly, when 
J56 122 Montgomery-Massingberd complained that the first draft of the 
J56 123 volume on the battle of the Somme had been written in a 
J56 124 <quote_>"captious spirit"<quote/> he agreed to revise it and tone 
J56 125 down the criticisms. Only by turning to the volume of appendices 
J56 126 could a reader discover that during the planning stage of the Somme 
J56 127 Haig and Rawlinson had disagreed fundamentally about whether 4 Army 
J56 128 should attempt to break clean through the German defences on the 
J56 129 first day of the battle. In 1937 he informed Liddell Hart that 
J56 130 <quote_>"In my first draft [of <tf|>OH, ii. (1918)] I took the same 
J56 131 view as you do to the 'backs to the wall' order (? where was the 
J56 132 wall), but found that hundreds of my correspondents in the fighting 
J56 133 units were against me and I felt bound to alter it."<quote/><p/>
J56 134 <p_>Just occasionally he let himself go when his targets could not 
J56 135 retaliate or when the need to stay silent had passed. In the first 
J56 136 edition of the volume examining the retreat from Mons, published in 
J56 137 1922, he made no mention of the panic which for a time seems to 
J56 138 have gripped the headquarters of Haig's 1 Corps and led to it 
J56 139 diverging from Smith-Dorrien's 2 Corps. But in 1933, five years 
J56 140 after Haig's death, he published a revised edition in which he 
J56 141 described this incident and added that <quote_>"Haig momentarily 
J56 142 lost his head - a remarkable lapse for so stout hearted a 
J56 143 fighter."<quote/> There was, as he laconically noted <quote_>"a gap 
J56 144 in the records"<quote/> about this incident. Similarly, by 1947 
J56 145 enough had happened to remove any inhibitions he might have felt 
J56 146 about criticizing P<*_>e-acute<*/>tain. In the 'Retrospect' to the 
J56 147 final volume in the series he felt free to write that 
J56 148 <quote_>"After General P<*_>e-acute<*/>tain was given command of 
J56 149 the French Armies on 15th. May 1917, our Allies did very 
J56 150 little"<quote/>, and that his refusal to reinforce Gough's 5 Army 
J56 151 in March 1918 <quote_>"very nearly brought about a 
J56 152 disaster"<quote/>.<p/>
J56 153 <p_>Edmonds's work received a mixed reception both from 
J56 154 participants and from later historians. Some readers liked what he 
J56 155 had written. Haig read and commented upon all the volumes up to and 
J56 156 including Loos before he died. <quote_>"They are all 
J56 157 excellent"<quote/> he wrote of some draft chapters on Neuve 
J56 158 Chapelle, <quote_>"and I congratulate you on the way in which you 
J56 159 have told the story so accurately, <tf_>and yet without attaching 
J56 160 blame to anyone<tf/>..."<quote/>. More surprisingly this camp also 
J56 161 included Field Marshal Lord Wavell, who reviewed several volumes in 
J56 162 the <tf_>Times Literary Supplement<tf/>. In 1949 he described the 
J56 163 series as <quote_>"the best official military history yet 
J56 164 written"<quote/> possibly because he shared Edmonds's view that 
J56 165 many British generals in France and Flanders had believed that they 
J56 166 were engaged in <quote_>"Open Warfare at the Halt"<quote/> but in 
J56 167 reality <quote_>"warfare on the Western Front after 1914 was Siege 
J56 168 Warfare and should have been treated as such"<quote/>.<p/>
J56 169 <p_>However, some readers thought that he had gone too far to meet 
J56 170 the wishes of his informants and that his books were anodyne. Sir 
J56 171 William Robertson read one draft and wrote that <quote_>"It leaves 
J56 172 the same taste behind it as when one drinks skimmed milk. I suppose 
J56 173 he wished to avoid having trouble with anyone as to what he says, 
J56 174 and therefore leaves out most of what is worth saying."<quote/> And 
J56 175 thirdly, there were those like Liddell Hart, whose view of the high 
J56 176 command's respect for the truth was very largely soured by the fact 
J56 177 that Edmonds often told him what he really believed in private but 
J56 178 would not say the same thing in print. Liddell Hart believed that 
J56 179 Edmonds's practice of covering up the deficiencies of the high 
J56 180 command meant that he was only storing up trouble for the future. 
J56 181 <quote_>"Any writer of history"<quote/> he informed Edmonds in June 
J56 182 1934, <quote_>"who helps to flatter the 'brasshat's' self-delusion 
J56 183 as to the respect in which he is held, is preparing the country for 
J56 184 a greater disaster"<quote/>.<p/>
J56 185 <p_>His books were a qualified success when measured against the 
J56 186 self<?_>-<?/>imposed task of instructing young officers but 
J56 187 concealing the worst mistakes of their seniors. Some of the 
J56 188 evidence which Edmonds had concealed remained hidden for a long 
J56 189 time. As late as 1952 the publication of Robert Blake's <tf_>The 
J56 190 Private Papers of Douglas Haig<tf/> could still evoke a sense of 
J56 191 shock amongst those not already privy to what one reader of them 
J56 192 called <quote_>"the petty jealousies that pervaded high 
J56 193 places"<quote/>. In 1932 Lord Gort told Edmonds that if only the 
J56 194 next generation of officers read his books they would avoid some of 
J56 195 the worst mistakes of their predecessors.
J56 196 
J57   1 <#FLOB:J57\>France, Russia and America concluded versions of it. 
J57   2 The resumption of war in 1859 had hardened Palmerston's outlook; he 
J57   3 dismissed apprehensions that the fall of Peking might subvert the 
J57   4 Chinese empire, and disrupt trade. The aftermath produced his 
J57   5 public conversion, in language greeted with incredulity: Britain 
J57   6 was morally bound to rehabilitate the central authority she had 
J57   7 undermined; hence the deployment of her troops to counter the 
J57   8 Taiping rebels. It should not be forgotten that Lewis's argument 
J57   9 against the coercion of both China and Japan in 1857 impressed 
J57  10 Palmerston. The <tf_>de facto<tf/> protectorate that Lewis feared 
J57  11 became a reality, while the Indian Mutiny inspired profound 
J57  12 misgivings at the thought of responsibility for another huge 
J57  13 Oriental dependency. The Chinese empire was appreciably weaker than 
J57  14 the Ottoman, but as in the latter, a network of interlocking 
J57  15 agreements spread the burden among Western nations, and restrained 
J57  16 others from too much interference harmful to Britain's local 
J57  17 economic superiority. Although Japan's external trade was a 
J57  18 fraction of China's, Palmerston attached similar importance to 
J57  19 international co-operation there, when it came to bombarding the 
J57  20 Japanese into compliance with the letter and spirit of agreements 
J57  21 which granted extraterritoriality and designated treaty ports on 
J57  22 the Chinese pattern. The Anglo-Japanese treaty of Yedo could not be 
J57  23 directly attributed to force, unlike that of Tientsin in the same 
J57  24 year, <quote|>"unless", observed Lewis drily, <quote_>"the Emperor 
J57  25 of Japan is influenced by the example of his brother of 
J57  26 China"<quote/>.<p/>
J57  27 <p_>The fiercer Japanese reaction to Europeans coming among them 
J57  28 resulted in a succession of Western naval operations, the largest 
J57  29 of which assembled seventeen warships - eight British, the rest 
J57  30 French, American and Dutch - to silence the batteries guarding the 
J57  31 Straits of Shimonoseki at the entrance to the Inland Sea. The 
J57  32 United States Navy was represented, owing to the civil war in 
J57  33 America, by a small vessel under the command of a junior officer, 
J57  34 for whom Palmerston wanted the Order of the Bath that was to be 
J57  35 conferred on senior allied officers in the action. A beneficiary of 
J57  36 China's defeat at the hands of Britain and France, the United 
J57  37 States had not, after all, been a belligerent power in the 
J57  38 conflict; although units of her navy did come under and return 
J57  39 Chinese fire. Her insignificant naval participation at Shimonoseki 
J57  40 should be marked, the prime minister argued, to draw her into more 
J57  41 active promotion of <quote_>"the common cause"<quote/>. The civil 
J57  42 war growth of the American fleet, and speculation about its future 
J57  43 employment, reinforced the case for partnership with her in the Far 
J57  44 East, where her traders and missionaries were busy. Co-operation 
J57  45 helped to disarm critics at home. Cobden and Bright found it 
J57  46 difficult to attack the United States, while Gladstone hoped their 
J57  47 joint efforts in China would offset Anglo-French discord in Europe. 
J57  48 Interrogated by a friend, he confessed to the <quote_>"misery ... 
J57  49 it is not too strong a word"<quote/> of having to endorse decisions 
J57  50 that flowed from a policy and the commencement of war which he 
J57  51 still condemned: <quote_>"Often have I tried to cure or mitigate 
J57  52 the system of parading force which I conceive to be the root of the 
J57  53 evil."<quote/> Later, when the question of coercing Japan arose he 
J57  54 asked only that the resort to force should be <quote|>"<tf|>short". 
J57  55 The British bombardment of Kagoshima, which unintentionally burnt 
J57  56 down the town, revived moral unease in Parliament. Ministers, said 
J57  57 Layard in his successful explanation, conformed to the wishes of 
J57  58 backbenchers, <quote_>"who were forever telling the Government that 
J57  59 it was their duty to open fresh markets all over the 
J57  60 world"<quote/>. The Kagoshima debate <quote_>"went well"<quote/>, 
J57  61 wrote Gladstone in his diary, reconciled, politically, at any rate, 
J57  62 to the element of violence in commercial empire.<p/>
J57  63 <p_>Lord Elgin, who recorded his distaste for much that he had to 
J57  64 do in the Far East, put it to Gladstone, doubtfully, that 
J57  65 compulsion on the Chinese to follow their strong trading instincts 
J57  66 without hindrance amounted to liberation of a sort: <quote_>"This 
J57  67 may hardly be a justification of such force, but it affords some 
J57  68 grounds for a new and better order of things."<quote/> Trade 
J57  69 improved; but little else. If legalizing the import of opium into 
J57  70 China from India, to whose finances it was so important, ended 
J57  71 abuses connected with smuggling the drug before 1858, that legality 
J57  72 did not still the prickings of conscience, even in mercantile 
J57  73 circles handling the commodity. The value of opium was still about 
J57  74 twice that of imports from Britain in 1865, evidence of China's 
J57  75 intractability to Westernization, as of India's in a lesser degree. 
J57  76 The illusion of trade as civilizing in itself had begun to fade by 
J57  77 then. Palmerston was conscious of the subtle change and its 
J57  78 damaging implications. To call British policy in the Far East 
J57  79 'selfish' was to misunderstand its main concern, fundamentally the 
J57  80 same anywhere, the accessibility of markets. Government had an 
J57  81 absolute duty to expand the nation's trade "<quote_>by every means 
J57  82 in its power ... and so to render our own people happy and 
J57  83 prosperous at home"<quote/>. That great purpose was not to be 
J57  84 confused with the sectional interests of British merchants 
J57  85 overseas. Those who challenged his definition of the national 
J57  86 interest in global commerce were <quote_>"doing their best to take 
J57  87 the bread out of the mouths of our 
J57  88 working<?_>-<?/>classes"<quote/>; a statement that wrung a cry of 
J57  89 protest from Bright. <quote_>"I do not admit"<quote/>, said 
J57  90 Palmerston, <quote_>"... that our policy has been a selfish one in 
J57  91 the sense in which the word is sometimes employed."<quote/> The 
J57  92 welfare of the country and the classes could not be sacrificed to 
J57  93 international altruism which had no place in the real world.<p/>
J57  94 <p_>Morocco, unlike China and Japan, produced talk of resignation 
J57  95 in the cabinet. The Anglo-Moroccan commercial treaty of 1856, which 
J57  96 broke down the country's isolation, had a strategic motive. Unable 
J57  97 to prevent Spain's invasion in 1859-62, warranted by the attacks of 
J57  98 Riffian tribesmen on her enclaves in the North and supported as it 
J57  99 was by the European Great Powers, Britain came to the Sultan's 
J57 100 rescue with diplomacy and finance. She objected to any significant 
J57 101 cession of territory and arranged a loan for him in London towards 
J57 102 the indemnity on which the Spanish evacuation of the fortress city 
J57 103 of Tetuan was conditional. The cabinet twice considered 
J57 104 guaranteeing the loan to attract investors, and decided against it. 
J57 105 Russell, with some encouragement from the prime minister, proposed 
J57 106 to ignore the collective opinion after his colleagues had 
J57 107 dispersed. He or Russell, Gladstone believed, might have to resign; 
J57 108 but the foreign secretary dropped the idea for the time being. 
J57 109 <quote_>"So that is over"<quote/>, the chancellor told his wife in 
J57 110 January 1861. Later that year he had second thoughts, and ideally 
J57 111 wanted a joint Anglo-French guarantee: <quote_>"Thus ... mutual 
J57 112 jealousies would be neutralized."<quote/> There was reason to fear 
J57 113 France behind Spain. Morocco's trade, which Britain dominated, 
J57 114 could not compare with that of Turkey. The case for a loan was far 
J57 115 more political and military than economic. The cabinet refused to 
J57 116 see it in November 1860 as <quote|>"<tf|>preventive", afraid of 
J57 117 taking on, at a difficult juncture in the affairs of Europe, a 
J57 118 tangible commitment to the preservation of Moroccan independence. 
J57 119 Gladstone did not contest Palmerston's insistence on the value of 
J57 120 her independence to the British position in Gibraltar, and 
J57 121 therefore in the Mediterranean. Neither man thought it probable 
J57 122 that Parliament would agree to a loan on its security, which it 
J57 123 regarded jealously.<p/>
J57 124 <p_>Layard, who arrived at the Foreign Office in the summer, acted 
J57 125 as intermediary between the government and the City, relaying Baron 
J57 126 Rothschild's advice that <quote_>"a virtual guarantee"<quote/> 
J57 127 would be needed to get the money on the right terms. Palmerston 
J57 128 wrote a long memorandum on the arrangement that Rothschild wanted. 
J57 129 According to the prime minister, it involved only <quote_>"a shadow 
J57 130 of responsibility"<quote/> and avoided recourse to Parliament. In 
J57 131 fact, it involved a substantial responsibility without 
J57 132 Parliamentary sanction. Under the convention with Morocco, a 
J57 133 British commissioner, whose duties the minister resident and 
J57 134 consuls discharged, received half the total customs revenue on 
J57 135 which the loan was secured; subtracted interest and sinking fund 
J57 136 payments; and returned the surplus to the Moroccans. Gladstone felt 
J57 137 the additional functions given to Britain's representatives might 
J57 138 very well lead to further interference in the country and 
J57 139 Anglo-French dissension. Lewis disliked the evasion of 
J57 140 Parliamentary sanction by the absence of a formal guarantee, when 
J57 141 investors supposed, as they were meant to do, that government would 
J57 142 not see them lose their money. In his memorandum, Palmerston 
J57 143 anticipated that if the Sultan failed to meet these obligations, 
J57 144 <quote_>"we as a maritime power ... have ample means without 
J57 145 trouble or exertion ... to compel him to stand by his 
J57 146 bargain"<quote/>. The cabinet reluctantly agreed to the convention; 
J57 147 <quote_>"an impolitic measure"<quote/>, Lewis called it. 
J57 148 Parliament, apparently, had few questions. The City was distinctly 
J57 149 pleased with the loan, four times oversubscribed, <quote_>"both as 
J57 150 a political and a financial operation"<quote/>. With official 
J57 151 British sponsorship, the Sultan paid 5 per cent on his bonds; 
J57 152 without it, the Pasha of Egypt had recently had to pay 10 per 
J57 153 cent.<p/>
J57 154 <p_>Palmerston's personal crusade against the slave trade finally 
J57 155 succeeded when it did only because states too powerful to coerce 
J57 156 abandoned policies that would have ensured its defeat. Secession, 
J57 157 civil war and Lincoln dispersed the Southern lobby in Congress. 
J57 158 France's revival of the traffic under the guise of 'free 
J57 159 emigration' lent it a veneer of respectability. Slaves purchased on 
J57 160 the coasts of Africa landed in French sugar colonies as indentured 
J57 161 labour, with the prospect of freedom to go home, in theory, on the 
J57 162 expiry of their contracts. France wanted to be able to tap the 
J57 163 supply of coolies available from India to British territories as 
J57 164 voluntary substitutes for freed negroes. Britain's objections 
J57 165 rested on her regulations governing the supply of indentured labour 
J57 166 and its treatment, and on the partial diversion of the flow that 
J57 167 was none too large from her own sugar colonies. The French were, 
J57 168 they made it clear, driven to the expedient of 'free emigration' 
J57 169 from Africa. Talking to Palmerston in November 1857, Napoleon's 
J57 170 minister of state, Fould, maintained, not altogether 
J57 171 disingenuously, that their captives or subjects were all that 
J57 172 African chiefs had to sell in exchange for European goods. They 
J57 173 certainly had nothing else so valuable. Fould did not deny, 
J57 174 speaking privately, that his country was dealing in slaves. The 
J57 175 French government, throughout, contended otherwise; this official 
J57 176 pretence exasperated Palmerston: <quote_>"it is not a question of 
J57 177 law but of common sense"<quote/>, he remarked. Disturbing in 
J57 178 themselves, the open activities of the French emboldened 
J57 179 clandestine slavers of various nationalities. French vessels 
J57 180 engaged in recruiting 'free emigrants' were fitted out as slavers. 
J57 181 Two earned notoriety. The human cargo of the misnamed <tf_>Regina 
J57 182 Coeli<tf/>, lying off the West African shore, staged a bloody 
J57 183 revolt, known to the world after the ship was found drifting and 
J57 184 taken into Freetown harbour. When Palmerston, out of office, saw 
J57 185 the Emperor and Walewski in Paris some months later, they talked 
J57 186 about the revived French slave trade, exposed for what it was.<p/>
J57 187 <p_>Within weeks, two French battleships entered the Tagus and 
J57 188 secured the release of the <tf_>Charles et Georges<tf/>, arrested 
J57 189 in Mozambique waters and brought to Lisbon, whose captain alleged 
J57 190 that he had been picking up <quote|>"colonists". The British were 
J57 191 severely embarrassed by their inability to help Portugal, whom they 
J57 192 stood treaty-bound to aid; but they left her to suffer for having 
J57 193 carried out the general anti-slavery policy adopted at Britain's 
J57 194 instance and overseen by her. Malmesbury, the foreign secretary of 
J57 195 the moment, consulted Palmerston, and instructed Cowley at Paris to 
J57 196 transmit what he had said to the ex-premier, soon to visit the 
J57 197 Emperor at Compi<*_>e-grave,<*/>gne about the danger of war and 
J57 198 France's neglect of arbitration over the <tf_>Charles et 
J57 199 Georges<tf/>. The British ambassador was enjoined to tread 
J57 200 delicately, <quote_>"but we cannot pass over the event in 
J57 201 silence"<quote/>. Napoleon lost no time in moving towards the 
J57 202 British, and exploiting the nervousness of the Tory government. 
J57 203 Negotiations on the availability of coolie labour had been 
J57 204 initiated in January 1858 when Palmerston was still prime minister 
J57 205 and following the candid discussion with Fould. <quote_>"The French 
J57 206 are, I believe, excessively anxious not only to get the thing done, 
J57 207 but to get it done <tf|>immediately"<quote/>, wrote the civil 
J57 208 servant who had talks with Persigny, the ambassador in London, that 
J57 209 were cut short by the change of ministry.
J57 210 
J58   1 <#FLOB:J58\><p_>It was the second total war within a generation 
J58   2 that finished off for the then-foreseeable future the particular 
J58   3 form of politico-economic dispensation which the Conservatives had 
J58   4 come to control so firmly by the 1930s. The Conservatives of the 
J58   5 time could hardly be said to have been entirely in the grip of 
J58   6 economic orthodoxy of the kind preached by Alfred Marshall, 
J58   7 authority in economics before Keynes. While they had little choice 
J58   8 about going off the gold standard, the Tories had dispensed with 
J58   9 free trade, and behind the shield of protection they showed that 
J58  10 they were no slaves to free-market ideology by engaging in 
J58  11 substantial intervention in industrial organization in order to 
J58  12 ameliorate unemployment. The National Government was adventurous in 
J58  13 the economic sphere by previous peace-time standards, but what 
J58  14 restrained it was the only tenet of Gladstonian Liberalism which it 
J58  15 did, if sometimes only emotionally, adhere to - the balanced 
J58  16 budget, balanced preferably at low levels of taxation and 
J58  17 expenditure. In the 1920s, Neville Chamberlain had developed 
J58  18 Beveridge-style social security plans, but had drawn back at the 
J58  19 cost. The means test was more in accord with the maxims of 'sound 
J58  20 finance' to which few contemporaries did not subscribe. To borrow 
J58  21 the Dickensian allusions used in Chamberlain's 1934 Budget speech, 
J58  22 the Conservatives could prosper politically in what was later 
J58  23 depicted as being Bleak House (although many, perhaps most, did not 
J58  24 see it at the time as being bleak at all) because the electorate 
J58  25 did not have great expectations from the state. The Second World 
J58  26 War changed that. To the neo-classical question, 'Where is the 
J58  27 money going to come from?' the answer became: 'They always seem to 
J58  28 find it for wars, so they can find it during peace.' Hence, funding 
J58  29 the Beveridge plan was supposed to be no problem. Moreover, Keynes 
J58  30 seemed to be saying that high levels of public spending were a 
J58  31 guarantee of peace-time full employment. It was not until the war 
J58  32 that Keynes's ideas were acted upon - in the 1941 Budget to be 
J58  33 precise. There is now no compelling reason to believe that adopting 
J58  34 his ideas - which kept changing and which were not fully set out 
J58  35 until <tf_>The General Theory<tf/> was published in 1936 - would 
J58  36 have meant a cure for the unemployment of the 1930s. As for the 
J58  37 foreign examples that the National Government was supposed to have 
J58  38 foolishly ignored, the evidence about the effectiveness of the 
J58  39 various New Deals in bringing down unemployment now seems, at best, 
J58  40 to be inconclusive. Nevertheless, in the period immediately 
J58  41 afterwards, those who either believed, or affected to believe, that 
J58  42 'something could have been done' about the large-scale unemployment 
J58  43 were able to rewrite recent British economic history to the 
J58  44 detriment of the Conservative Party. As one historian later 
J58  45 remarked, <quote_>"that Jarrow, rather than Coventry, should still 
J58  46 be the symbol for a whole decade points to a propaganda victory the 
J58  47 Left won not in the thirties but in the forties."<quote/><p/>
J58  48 <p_>This propaganda victory was made possible by the fact that 
J58  49 Britain, while not suffering disproportionately during the 
J58  50 Depression, did subsequently have a different experience from most 
J58  51 other European countries in that she was one of the few which did 
J58  52 not suffer the greater hardships of occupation and/or military 
J58  53 defeat. For those searching for grievances in British politics, the 
J58  54 hardships of the 1930s were the best available. The peculiar 
J58  55 war-time atmosphere in Britain may have been a particularly fertile 
J58  56 one for the development of grievances. For there was all the 
J58  57 disruption of total war, and, yet, from Britain's expulsion from 
J58  58 continental Europe in 1940 down to her return four years later on 
J58  59 D-Day, it was the minority of her armed forces that had to fight. 
J58  60 The North African campaign was important to Britain's morale, and 
J58  61 El Alamein was a signal victory, but it was a sideshow compared 
J58  62 with the Eastern Front. Hence, except for the brave and the 
J58  63 unlucky, there was plenty of time for the Army Bureau of Current 
J58  64 Affairs to do its work, and for events like the Cairo Parliament. 
J58  65 After all, Nazi Germany was not stopped by Churchill's speeches 
J58  66 (<quote_>"some chicken, some neck"<quote/> and so on). The Russians 
J58  67 bled Nazi Germany white. Evelyn Waugh, in the guise of Guy 
J58  68 Crouchback, was dismissive of the Soviet contribution and of King 
J58  69 George VI's gift of the Sword of Stalingrad. He was able, too, to 
J58  70 resist the image of Stalin as 'Uncle Joe'. Others perhaps were less 
J58  71 resistant, especially as once Nazi Germany had attacked her former 
J58  72 Soviet ally, the British official propaganda machine actively 
J58  73 promoted a favourable image of Stalin's tyranny. A Red Army Day was 
J58  74 held in 1943. The Ministry of Information went so far as to advise 
J58  75 George Orwell's publishers against bringing out <tf_>Animal 
J58  76 Farm<tf/>. It seems likely that the Russian war achievement 
J58  77 reflected favourably on Labour: the Soviet Union was <tf|>the 
J58  78 socialist country. Moreover, when it came to Britain's evident 
J58  79 unpreparedness for war in 1939, as the title of one infamous 
J58  80 pamphlet would have it, the <tf_>Guilty Men<tf/> were all supposed 
J58  81 to be the Conservative ministers of the 1930s, and if the pamphlet 
J58  82 was even one<?_>-<?/>quarter as effective as propaganda as it is 
J58  83 commonly assumed to have been, it may well have helped to pave the 
J58  84 way for 1945, in deflecting attention from Labour's undistinguished 
J58  85 record on defence and pinning the blame on the 'Old Gang'. If so, 
J58  86 it helped to bring down Churchill, one of the few who were 'not 
J58  87 guilty', almost all of them Tories.<p/>
J58  88 <p_>Even the Conservatives' expectation that they would benefit, as 
J58  89 they had in 1918, by being associated with a war-winning leader 
J58  90 proved false. The situation was different. In 1918, Lloyd George 
J58  91 led the war-time Coalition against the rest. In 1945, Churchill led 
J58  92 the Conservatives against a Labour Party whose major leaders had 
J58  93 been prominent members of Churchill's war-time administration: 
J58  94 Ernest Bevin, Herbert Morrison, Stafford Cripps and Attlee himself. 
J58  95 Apart from Churchill, Labour had held the key positions: Bevin as 
J58  96 Minister of Labour, Morrison as Home Secretary and Attlee often 
J58  97 effectively the prime minister while Churchill ran the war. The 
J58  98 Foreign Secretary had been a Tory, Eden: but Churchill was often 
J58  99 his own Foreign Secretary. A Conservative in name or spirit was 
J58 100 always Chancellor of the Exchequer: but concern about paying for 
J58 101 wars is greatest once they are over. If the Conservatives secured 
J58 102 some marginal advantage from parading as a National Government in 
J58 103 1935 - and remembering the scale of their 1924 victory, for 
J58 104 example, it need only have been marginal - it may have been very 
J58 105 much less than Labour derived in 1945 from its association with the 
J58 106 war-time National Government. The charge of inexperience and 
J58 107 incapacity could no longer stick. Labour also possibly derived some 
J58 108 advantage from believing that they would lose the post-war election 
J58 109 anyway. It made them less inhibited about promising the New 
J58 110 Jerusalem. When the Conservatives held back in 1943 from a 
J58 111 commitment to the Beveridge plan, the Labour backbenchers pressed 
J58 112 for a division. James Griffiths said to Beveridge: <quote_>"This 
J58 113 debate, and the division, make the return of a Labour Government to 
J58 114 power at the next Election a certainty."<quote/> Possibly it did, 
J58 115 but Griffiths was one of the few Labour politicians who saw 
J58 116 this.<p/>
J58 117 <p_>The 1945 general election would have been even more remarkable 
J58 118 than it was if the Conservative Party had displayed a monopoly of 
J58 119 virtue in conducting its campaign. Churchill, though, combined 
J58 120 promises about executing his 'four year's<&|>sic! plan' to extend 
J58 121 state social provision with a commitment <quote_>"to make an early 
J58 122 reduction in taxation"<quote/>. The Liberals similarly combined 
J58 123 pledges to extend public expenditure with <quote_>"a progressive 
J58 124 reduction in the burden of taxation"<quote/>, and Labour promised 
J58 125 <quote_>"social provision against rainy days, coupled with economic 
J58 126 policies calculated to reduce rainy days to a minimum"<quote/>, and 
J58 127 <quote_>"taxation which bears less heavily on the lower income 
J58 128 groups"<quote/>. Churchill, however, not entirely consistently, 
J58 129 also reminded the electors that:<p/>
J58 130 <p_><quote_>the State has no resources of its own. It can only 
J58 131 spend what it takes from the people in taxes or borrowing. Britain 
J58 132 is now a nation of taxpayers ... The willingness of this generation 
J58 133 to bear their fair share of sacrifices must, though we hope for 
J58 134 relief, be continued ... the plans for social progress which we are 
J58 135 determined to carry out, cause and require a much higher 
J58 136 expenditure than before the war. The burden must be borne by all 
J58 137 citizens as taxpayers. There is no easy way of one section getting 
J58 138 great benefits from the State at the expense of another. The nation 
J58 139 can have the services it is prepared to pay for. Where all benefit, 
J58 140 all will have to contribute. The revenue is not created by waving a 
J58 141 magic wand.<quote/><p/>
J58 142 <p_>These economic liberal sentiments were always unlikely to be 
J58 143 music to the ears of an electorate then being told that a largely 
J58 144 cost-free New Jerusalem was on offer as the alternative. 
J58 145 Retrospectively, it is not unreasonable for a historian to write 
J58 146 that:<p/>
J58 147 <p_><quote_>Britain came out of the Second World War as an 
J58 148 obsolescent industrial economy with grievous weaknesses. Instead of 
J58 149 first devoting all possible resources and effort to remedying this, 
J58 150 she chose to load this economy with the vast and potentially 
J58 151 limitless cost of the Welfare State, placed current expenditure 
J58 152 before capital investment, and thus set the pattern of the next 
J58 153 thirty years.<quote/><p/>
J58 154 <p_>It may well be that <quote_>"by the time they took the bunting 
J58 155 down from the street after VE-Day and turned from the war to the 
J58 156 future, the British in their dreams and illusions and their 
J58 157 flinching from reality had already written the broad scenario for 
J58 158 Britain's post-war descent."<quote/> In a liberal democracy, 
J58 159 though, the electorate had to be persuaded of the necessity for 
J58 160 some form of programme of 'national efficiency' involving, as it 
J58 161 seemed very likely to do, high social costs with widespread 
J58 162 unemployment in what it would have to be hoped would be the interim 
J58 163 period, while awaiting problematical long-term benefits for the 
J58 164 economy. Even dressed up, this would have been an unlikely message 
J58 165 to win sufficient support in 1945 in competition with the more 
J58 166 comfortable attractions of the Keynesian Welfare State, which do 
J58 167 not lack electoral appeal even now.<p/>
J58 168 <p_><quote_>"They have had a very hard time"<quote/> was 
J58 169 Churchill's magnanimous verdict on the electorate which had turned 
J58 170 him out of office, and the story has been told many times of how, 
J58 171 under his leadership, the Conservative Party then modernized itself 
J58 172 to become between 1945 and 1951 <quote_>"the most effective 
J58 173 Parliamentary Opposition of the century"<quote/>. Much has tended 
J58 174 to be made, not least by that politician's official biographer, of 
J58 175 R. A. Butler's work at the Research Department in restoring Tory 
J58 176 fortunes:<p/>
J58 177 <p_><quote_>It was he ... who cut the Party afloat from its 1930s 
J58 178 unemployment moorings; it was he who had brought it to accept the 
J58 179 concept of the Welfare State; it was he perhaps above all, who made 
J58 180 sure that, if the voice of the Tory turtles was still heard in the 
J58 181 land, they were henceforth regarded as mere historical 
J58 182 curiosities.<quote/><p/>
J58 183 <p_>Easily perceived electoral realities in fact dictated the 
J58 184 Conservatives' behaviour after the 1945 defeat. Labour were 
J58 185 <quote_>"the masters of the moment and not only of the moment but 
J58 186 for a very long time to come"<quote/>, Sir Hartley Shawcross told 
J58 187 them from the government benches. Churchill was not alone in 
J58 188 feeling that there was <quote_>"some disgrace in the size of the 
J58 189 majority"<quote/> that Labour had obtained. It took little insight 
J58 190 to appreciate that, in immediate retrospect and for many years 
J58 191 afterwards, the popular conception of the interwar era seemed to be 
J58 192 less of <tf_>The Lost Weekend<tf/> than a mood of <tf_>Goodbye To 
J58 193 All That<tf/>. There was certainly no 'back to 1939' sentiment to 
J58 194 parallel that of 'back to 1914' in the 1920s. With an electoral 
J58 195 base of 39.8 per cent of the vote in 1945, in reality the 
J58 196 Conservative position always was far from being hopeless. Given 
J58 197 what the war-time Coalition Government had done and planned for 
J58 198 with its concurrence and its related promises in 1945, the 
J58 199 difficulty of the Conservative Party was not 'to accept the concept 
J58 200 of the Welfare State', or, come to that, Keynesian economics, but 
J58 201 to reassure the electorate that the clock would not be turned back.
J58 202 
J59   1 <#FLOB:J59\>The Lambeth Freehold Land Society enjoyed as its patron 
J59   2 one of the most persistent campaigners for electoral reform, Locke 
J59   3 King.<p/>
J59   4 <p_>The brightest constellation of Liberal patrons was to be found 
J59   5 on the board of the National Freehold Land Society. It was 
J59   6 originally conceived in 1849 as an offshoot of the Metropolitan 
J59   7 (later National) Parliamentary and Financial Reform Association, a 
J59   8 body which had involved both Francis Place and Feargus O'Connor in 
J59   9 its early months. In practice, the council of the Association 
J59  10 became dominated by former Anti-Corn Law League activists. It was 
J59  11 this body which delegated twelve of its members to form the initial 
J59  12 steering committee of what, following the style of the parent 
J59  13 organization, was at first titled the Metropolitan and Home 
J59  14 Counties Freehold Land Society. Among the twelve were Sir Joshua 
J59  15 Walmsley (president of both the Association and the Society); 
J59  16 Cobden; Joseph Hume, the promoter of 'the Little Charter'; Samuel 
J59  17 Morley; and Gilpin. John Bright joined as director a year later, 
J59  18 having initially devoted his energies to an abortive 'Commons' 
J59  19 League' (whose objectives likewise included the exploitation of the 
J59  20 forty-shilling freehold franchise).<p/>
J59  21 <p_>The freehold land movement thus gave the impression, as George 
J59  22 Thompson remarked, of being <quote_>"a confederacy mainly of 
J59  23 Liberal politicians"<quote/>. By any standards the contingent of 
J59  24 Liberal parliamentarians involved was both sizeable and important, 
J59  25 and it provides perhaps the fullest index of the movement's initial 
J59  26 political seriousness. For Cobden especially, freehold land 
J59  27 societies were more than merely a vehicle for stiffening the 
J59  28 Liberal spine of county electorates: <quote_>"In proportion as this 
J59  29 40s. freehold movement made progress, in the same proportion would 
J59  30 they find the votes of the House of Commons on all liberal 
J59  31 questions would make progress."<quote/> Their presence, and 
J59  32 especially that of Cobden, should be seen in the context of that 
J59  33 sense of isolation and frustration experienced by Anti-Corn Law 
J59  34 Leaguers in the decade following repeal. As McCord some time ago 
J59  35 observed, <quote_>"the disappearance of Corn as an immediate 
J59  36 political issue put the initiative in British politics back firmly 
J59  37 in the hands of the established parties."<quote/> It was this cadre 
J59  38 which pushed for the formation of an umbrella body, the Freehold 
J59  39 Land Union, and for a newspaper, <tf_>The Freeholder<tf/>, which 
J59  40 like <tf_>The League<tf/> before it was distributed gratis to the 
J59  41 influential as well as sold to the faithful.<p/>
J59  42 <p_>Yet these moves to place the freehold land movement on a 
J59  43 professional footing similar to the Anti-Corn Law League were also 
J59  44 an indication of a failure of political imagination. Cobden 
J59  45 especially was incapable of thinking in terms of a wider reforming 
J59  46 movement: his lukewarm response to the Commons' League, with its 
J59  47 broad parcel of reforming policies, suggests a loss of political 
J59  48 nerve, whilst his fixation that the freehold land movement could 
J59  49 reinstate him and his followers at the pivotal point of political 
J59  50 action reveals a misreading of both the mood of the working class 
J59  51 and its capacity for action on the issue. <quote_>"The 
J59  52 forty-shilling scheme <tf|>alone will not do the work, and 
J59  53 <tf|>alone it will not work extensively,"<quote/> wrote Bright to 
J59  54 Cobden, <quote_>"I think you exaggerate the extent to which people 
J59  55 will adopt the system, especially as no definite object or battle 
J59  56 is before them."<quote/> In a private letter, the Sheffield MP John 
J59  57 Arthur Roebuck was more forthright: <quote_>"Cobden is a poor 
J59  58 creature, with one idea -the making of county voters. He is daunted 
J59  59 by the country squires, and hopes to conquer them by means of these 
J59  60 votes."<quote/><p/>
J59  61 <p_>If Cobden intended the freehold land movement to absorb 
J59  62 political energies largely baffled since Repeal, he also meant it 
J59  63 to serve the same function as the League in clothing an attack on 
J59  64 the landed interest:<p/>
J59  65 <p_><quote_>I want it as a means to all that we require, and upon 
J59  66 my conscience it is, I believe, the only stepping-stone to any 
J59  67 material change. The citadel of privilege in this country is so 
J59  68 terribly strong, owing to the concentrated masses of property in 
J59  69 the hands of the comparatively few, that we cannot hope to assail 
J59  70 it with success unless with the help of the propertied classes in 
J59  71 the middle ranks of society, and by raising up a portion of the 
J59  72 working class to become members of the propertied order; and I know 
J59  73 of no other mode of enlisting such co-operation but that which I 
J59  74 have suggested.<quote/><p/>
J59  75 <p_>The requisite <quote_>"portion of the working class"<quote/> 
J59  76 Cobden defined as <quote_>"teetotallers, non-conformists and 
J59  77 rational Radicals"<quote/>. Whatever its shortcomings as a grand 
J59  78 political strategy, the participation of prominent advanced 
J59  79 Liberals in the movement visibly set a seal of approval on the 
J59  80 working<?_>-<?/>class ethic of self-help, whilst avoiding any 
J59  81 offensive suggestion of charity or patronage. Much of the 
J59  82 movement's significance lay in its extending that code of 
J59  83 self-improvement, which had hitherto been largely confined to the 
J59  84 labour movement, into the new context of liberalism.<p/>
J59  85 <p_><quote_>"The citadel of privilege"<quote/> was assailed both at 
J59  86 the polls and through the routine functioning of the societies. 
J59  87 Their very <tf_>modus operandi<tf/> advertised the virtues of free 
J59  88 trade in land. Supporters argued for the social necessity of the 
J59  89 sale and dispersal of landed property unhindered by the laws of 
J59  90 settlement, primogeniture, mortmain or entail. In the counties, 
J59  91 though few electoral victories could positively be ascribed to the 
J59  92 movement, societies formed the nucleus for constituency 
J59  93 organization and broadened awareness of Liberal policies and 
J59  94 personalities.<p/>
J59  95 <p_>There are also grounds for suggesting that the movement to some 
J59  96 extent did undermine the confidence of landed interests. At its 
J59  97 simplest, evidence of this can be found in proceedings before the 
J59  98 revising barristers' courts, where the franchises created through 
J59  99 theses societies were vigorously contested by protectionist 
J59 100 interests. The quality of land, building construction, and services 
J59 101 such as mains drainage, were all disputable when a franchise was 
J59 102 initially registered, and most societies took care to retain the 
J59 103 services of both builders and surveyors to attest on such issues. 
J59 104 Still more indicative of Tory disquiet was the formation in 1852 of 
J59 105 a <quote_>"defence Society (for it really was a defence movement on 
J59 106 our part, and we were driven to it)"<quote/>. The Conservative Land 
J59 107 Society copied the very procedures of the societies it opposed, and 
J59 108 like the National and other municipal societies developed large 
J59 109 suburban estates, similarly evolving into a permanent building 
J59 110 society:<p/>
J59 111 <p_><quote_>FREEHOLD LAND SOCIETIES have done good service to the 
J59 112 Radical cause at the late election. Lancashire has long since been 
J59 113 secured through their means, and the West Riding all but converted 
J59 114 into the pocket borough of the Cobden family. In East Surrey and 
J59 115 Middlesex the Conservative candidates were defeated solely by their 
J59 116 means, and in many other counties there would not have been a 
J59 117 contest, much less a hard battle, had it not been for the exertions 
J59 118 of radical Freehold Land Societies ... Why should not the 
J59 119 'CONSTITUTIONAL PARTY' have their LAND SOCIETIES, and raise up a 
J59 120 counteracting body of intelligent freeholders to poll against those 
J59 121 of their destructive rivals? This course ought to have been pursued 
J59 122 years back.<quote/><p/>
J59 123 <p_>The most realistic attempt to counteract the impact of the 
J59 124 freehold land movement was made in the form of proposals for 
J59 125 legislative intervention to curtail the scope of its political 
J59 126 activity. Disraeli discussed such a project, <quote_>"which will 
J59 127 probably be the key to future power"<quote/>, as early as 1850. It 
J59 128 was the end of the decade, however, before he presented a package 
J59 129 of reforms to Parliament which would, if passed, have nullified the 
J59 130 movement's additions to the electorate. The 1859 Reform Bill was 
J59 131 the most eloquent testimony to the impact of the freehold land 
J59 132 movement. It is now largely remembered as the occasion of the 
J59 133 collapse of Derby's second ministry, and for what Bright 
J59 134 contemptuously described as <quote_>"fancy franchises"<quote/> - 
J59 135 electoral qualifications based upon educational criteria, and on 
J59 136 savings bank investments. However, the Bill also proposed the 
J59 137 abolition of the forty-shilling freehold county vote, transferring 
J59 138 existing voters to the boroughs in which their property was 
J59 139 situated, but disenfranchising those whose qualification lay in a 
J59 140 county constituency alone. The ministry's defeat came with the 
J59 141 division on Russell's amendment that it was <quote_>"neither just 
J59 142 nor politic to interfere"<quote/> in the forty-shilling freehold 
J59 143 franchise. The contemporary Tory response to the freehold land 
J59 144 movement suggests that Cobden's enthusiasm for it may not have been 
J59 145 as tactically inept as his recent biographers, and before them 
J59 146 Roebuck and Bright implied.<p/>
J59 147 <p_>None the less, it failed <quote_>"to effect a breach in that 
J59 148 fortress of landlordism, the county representation"<quote/>, as the 
J59 149 1852 <tf_>Reformers' Almanac<tf/> had predicted. The political 
J59 150 appeal of the movement depended heavily on its being seen as a 
J59 151 cognate organization within a concerted campaign for reform. The 
J59 152 steady decline of 'Liberal' interests in the counties (from a peak 
J59 153 of 71 in 1835 to 36 in 1847) was hardly arrested by the movement at 
J59 154 the general election of 1852, which saw a total of only thirty 
J59 155 Radical Liberals returned for the English counties. Parliamentary 
J59 156 patrons reassessed their support in the light of both the election 
J59 157 and the difficulties experienced by the Parliamentary and Financial 
J59 158 Reform Association that year. Bright was the first to decline 
J59 159 re-election to the board of the National Freehold Land Society (by 
J59 160 1858 only Gilpin remained). A careful estimate of the allotments 
J59 161 created by freehold land societies, made by Thomas Beggs the 
J59 162 following year, put the total at 19,500 - an impressive figure but, 
J59 163 diluted over forty-four counties, unlikely to force a rout at the 
J59 164 polls. Seven years later, in a speech opposing Disraeli's Reform 
J59 165 Bill, Bright estimated the total votes created at 36,000. The only 
J59 166 specific victories ascribed to the movement by its supporters were 
J59 167 East Surrey (where the National Society consolidated Locke King's 
J59 168 thin majority), Middlesex (<quote_>"though by the hair of his [the 
J59 169 Radical member's] head"<quote/>), and North Warwickshire.<p/>
J59 170 <p_>If election results disappointed parliamentary Liberals, they 
J59 171 only reflected the experience of the Freehold Land Union and the 
J59 172 <tf|>Freeholder in trying to marshal the constituent parts of the 
J59 173 movement. The Union had no coercive powers, and it was a frequent 
J59 174 complaint that societies' officials failed to take it seriously, or 
J59 175 provide statistical data to enable the movement's progress to be 
J59 176 monitored. Cassell, editor of the <tf|>Freeholder, another casualty 
J59 177 of 1852, voiced similar complaints. Middle-class liberalism had 
J59 178 failed to hijack what was essentially a working-class movement. As 
J59 179 such its aims and aspirations differed form those of its patrons, 
J59 180 as the authors of <tf_>Progress of the Working Classes<tf/> 
J59 181 observed:<p/>
J59 182 <p_><quote_>Freehold Land Societies started with the intention of 
J59 183 manufacturing forty-shilling freeholders. ... That objective is now 
J59 184 quite a matter of secondary consideration. The shareholders may not 
J59 185 care less for the freehold, or the political power it confers; but 
J59 186 their leading desire is to add a house to the land, and thus secure 
J59 187 free homes.<quote/><p/>
J59 188 <p_>From the mid-1850s the direction of freehold land societies' 
J59 189 literature increasingly emphasized the building function. This was 
J59 190 not an abrogation of their pedigree, since mutual improvement had 
J59 191 always shared with radical politics the shaping of the movement. 
J59 192 Even the most commercial societies continued to advertise an 
J59 193 intention to help <quote_>"prevent ... the evil operation of those 
J59 194 laws that fostered the possession of large estates, and gave to the 
J59 195 few an undue influence over the many"<quote/>. If this was bravado, 
J59 196 it was none the less bravado that seems to have sold shares. 
J59 197 Likewise, the <tf_>Freehold Land Times<tf/>, which commenced in 
J59 198 1854 and was, in contrast to the earlier <tf|>Freeholder, a 
J59 199 strictly commercial venture, maintained a policy of editorial and 
J59 200 news coverage of a Liberal bent, in support for example of land 
J59 201 reform and free trade, and attacking the conduct of the Crimean 
J59 202 War.<p/>
J59 203 <p_>What militated most against the ambitious agenda parliamentary 
J59 204 Liberals tried to impose on the movement, was the range and 
J59 205 character of the societies it awkwardly embraced. Not only were 
J59 206 certain societies uninterested in Liberal parliamentary 
J59 207 aspirations; some were actively hostile. There was little in common 
J59 208 between the National and even the larger provincial societies, and 
J59 209 still less between the latter and the small groups, based on local 
J59 210 and workplace communities, which were the typical form the movement 
J59 211 took, for example, in Sheffield. These contrasts themselves 
J59 212 reflected the often sharply-differentiated experience of labour in 
J59 213 the major industrial cities. To a significant extent Chartism had 
J59 214 exposed such differences rather than reconciled them: it was hardly 
J59 215 likely that a modest venture like the Freehold Land Union would 
J59 216 succeed.<p/>
J59 217 
J60   1 <#FLOB:J60\>Texts which challenge these assumptions commonly find 
J60   2 themselves in the no-person's land between writings for adults 
J60   3 (so-called) and writings for children (so-called).<p/>
J60   4 <p_>In peer-texts, the adult reader (real or otherwise) can adjust 
J60   5 to the degree of control which the author appears to be exercising. 
J60   6 As an adult reader, my selection of a text may be governed, in 
J60   7 part, by the amount of effort I wish to bring to it and by a 
J60   8 judgement of how much effort is warranted. With books 'for 
J60   9 children', or 'unskilled' readers, because of the status of the 
J60  10 audience, the author-reader (or narrator-narratee) relationship is 
J60  11 a more than usually unbalanced power relationship. The audience is 
J60  12 created by the writer much more directly than with a peer-text, in 
J60  13 the sense that the text does more than display its codes, grammar, 
J60  14 and contracts; it suggests what the reader must be or become to 
J60  15 optimize the reading of the text. Drawing on the power-codes of 
J60  16 adult-child, book-child, and written-oral relationships, it 
J60  17 <tf|>prescribes what the reader <tf|>must be, and indeed, because 
J60  18 there is both an authoritarian and an educational element involved, 
J60  19 what the reader <tf|>can be. The exercise of such power is by no 
J60  20 means inevitable, although it is so characteristic as to define the 
J60  21 children's book for many readers. Very often there seems to be a 
J60  22 deliberate attempt to limit the child-reader's interaction with the 
J60  23 text. This may seem to be benevolent, if one believes that the 
J60  24 'open' text is fundamental to literary development or, as 
J60  25 Jacqueline Rose suggests merely a fact of life for the 'impossible' 
J60  26 category of children's fiction.<p/>
J60  27 <h_><p_>What Texts Imply<p/><h/>
J60  28 <p_>Criticism, especially of children's literature perhaps, is 
J60  29 controlled by perception of genre; is children's literature 
J60  30 identifiable by lexical items, grammatical structures, higher level 
J60  31 narrative units, or an overall tonal strategy? For example, what 
J60  32 gives away the 'implied audience' for this quotation?<p/>
J60  33 <p_><quote_>"He woke up with a jerk, shivering with cold. He began 
J60  34 to stretch his cramped legs but they hurt. Opening his eyes, he 
J60  35 looked around in the darkness. He knew immediately where he was. He 
J60  36 had been locked under the stairs. He peered through the crack at 
J60  37 the side of the small door. It was pitch black."<quote/><p/>
J60  38 <p_>It could be that the verb <quote_>"woke up"<quote/>, rather 
J60  39 than 'woke' or 'was awake' and the economical syntax (and lack of 
J60  40 punctuation) of the second sentence are intended to link the 
J60  41 discourse to the mind of the character. But unfortunately, the 
J60  42 stylistic simplicity of the passage - that is, its lack of 
J60  43 deviation or variety - merely points up the logical and referential 
J60  44 anomalies. (How could he <quote_>"peer through"<quote/> a 
J60  45 <quote|>"crack" (or is it really a 'gap'?) which he could not see 
J60  46 (as it was <quote_>"pitch black"<quote/>)? Indeed, how could he 
J60  47 know that he was under the stairs if it was so dark; and if he knew 
J60  48 by some means other than sight, why are we not informed about it?) 
J60  49 The summarizing mode is so pervasive that it constantly shifts 
J60  50 towards implicit authorial control, which in turn becomes a marker 
J60  51 (or an assumed marker) of the genre of children's literature. And 
J60  52 this is quite apart from the grammatical features; five of the 
J60  53 seven sentences have the same structure (six if we discount the 
J60  54 clause <quote_>"Opening his eyes"<quote/>). Yet Michelle Magorian's 
J60  55 <tf_>Goodnight Mr Tom<tf/> not only won the British Library 
J60  56 Association's Carnegie Medal, but also (ironically enough), the 
J60  57 International Reading Association's Children's Book Award (1982). 
J60  58 Since this extract is characteristic of the novel, we may have here 
J60  59 some indication of the relative stress laid by judges upon content 
J60  60 and style.<p/>
J60  61 <p_>Magorian's text tells rather than shows, explicates rather than 
J60  62 demonstrates; and books which retain this dominating narrational 
J60  63 presence, the residual or 'transferred' storyteller, are a textual 
J60  64 echo of storying as an event which the storyteller essentially 
J60  65 controls. In general, it seems that this control is only 
J60  66 reluctantly relinquished (which may say something about the 
J60  67 adult-child relationship), which can scarcely be for so simple a 
J60  68 reason as that the reading audience cannot understand the text 
J60  69 without a built-in prompter. In fact, even skilled readers have 
J60  70 difficulty with the voice of the storyteller addressing the 
J60  71 audience 'directly' in 'two<?_>-<?/>dimensional' printed texts. As 
J60  72 the history of the early novel demonstrates, the act of storying 
J60  73 involves a narrative voice or stance, an implied narrator or author 
J60  74 or quasi-storyteller (or a device to replace it); and this produces 
J60  75 a grammatical and psychological situation of immense complexity.<p/>
J60  76 <p_>When, as in texts designed to be read <tf|>to children (or, 
J60  77 indeed, any audience) there is a first-person marker, there can be 
J60  78 problems, as we have seen from <tf_>The Tale of Tom Kitten<tf/>. 
J60  79 One of the most complex instances is the opening of Milne's 
J60  80 <tf_>Winnie-the-Pooh<tf/>. The narrative begins with a direct 
J60  81 address to the implied reader, marked by second-person form: 
J60  82 <quote_>"Anyhow, here he is ... ready to be introduced to 
J60  83 you."<quote/> It then moves to a situation where the first-person 
J60  84 narrator describes how she or he tells a story to Christopher 
J60  85 Robin, who now becomes both a character <tf|>and an addressee: 
J60  86 <quote_>"You aimed very carefully at the balloon, and fired. 'Did I 
J60  87 miss?' you asked."<quote/><p/>
J60  88 <p_>The problems confronting a reader of that text and a listener 
J60  89 to that reader are formidable, not least because the reader implied 
J60  90 (and thus required) by the text is not the actual receiver. Hence 
J60  91 the linguistic needs are different. There is an entertaining 
J60  92 paradox here. The storyteller's summaries, intended to make things 
J60  93 easier for the <tf|>listener, are quite likely when they appear in 
J60  94 a text being read silently to make things more difficult for the 
J60  95 <tf|>reader. They have not sprung from a genuine need (on the part 
J60  96 of the reader), and as a result they require an artificial 
J60  97 convergence of text-codes and reader-codes, rather than, as in the 
J60  98 case of the 'given' text, allowing an exploration of codes which 
J60  99 <tf_>may not<tf/> cohere, <tf_>and may not need to<tf/>. (The 
J60 100 implications of this can be seen in Robert Leeson's account of the 
J60 101 history of children's literature, which emphasizes the interplay of 
J60 102 oral and written patterns in a socio<?_>-<?/>political context.)<p/>
J60 103 <p_>An example of both the summary and the quasi-storyteller's 
J60 104 voice can be seen in Ruth Park's novel <tf_>Playing Beattie 
J60 105 Bow<tf/> (which won the Australian Children's Book of the Year 
J60 106 Award in 1981):<p/>
J60 107 <p_><quote_>As she stood there, looking up at the askew, rusted 
J60 108 pulley, and the edge of the roof above it, a small patch of the sky 
J60 109 suddenly lost its stars.<p/>
J60 110 <p_>Someone was lying on the warehouse roof looking down at her.<p/>
J60 111 <h_><p_>Chapter 7<p/><h/>
J60 112 <p_>When Abigail realised that she was being spied upon 
J60 113 ...<quote/><p/>
J60 114 <p_>Here we have three renditions, or variations, of the same 
J60 115 essential semantic set, which progressively 'close' the text. 
J60 116 <quote_>"A small patch of the sky suddenly lost its stars"<quote/> 
J60 117 requires a considerable interpretive effort by the reader, and it 
J60 118 carries several possibilities. <quote_>"Someone was lying on the 
J60 119 warehouse roof"<quote/> restricts these possibilities. 
J60 120 <quote_>"Looking down on her"<quote/> and <quote_>"realised that 
J60 121 she was being spied upon"<quote/> similarly move from 'showing' to 
J60 122 'telling', from 'open' to 'closed'. Of course, it could be argued 
J60 123 that this progression reflects the deductions made by Abigail, so 
J60 124 that Park holds to the contract of narration through a single 
J60 125 consciousness. However, the progression from stylistic deviation 
J60 126 (the adverb in an adjectival position in <quote_>"askew, rusted 
J60 127 pulley"<quote/>) to clich<*_>e-acute<*/> (<quote_>"being spied 
J60 128 upon"<quote/>) re-assumes control. This is further corroborated by 
J60 129 the explanatory work of the first sentence in the new chapter, and 
J60 130 of course we need not assume that the presence of a chapter 
J60 131 division requires a break in the flow of reading.<p/>
J60 132 <h_><p_>The Reader and Meaning<p/><h/>
J60 133 <p_>Children are <tf|>developing readers; their approach to life 
J60 134 and text stems from a different set of cultural standards from 
J60 135 those of adult readers, one that may be in opposition, or perhaps 
J60 136 based on orality. Hence they do 'possess' texts, in the sense that 
J60 137 their meanings are their own and private, even more than adults. 
J60 138 Adult readers know the rules of the game, even if they don't know 
J60 139 that they know; and their understanding, as we have seen, may rest 
J60 140 on belonging to 'interpretive communities' which not only know the 
J60 141 rules of the game but share their knowledge and attitudes. I would 
J60 142 like to lay bare some of these rules, and suggest that 
J60 143 child-readers cannot possibly have access to all of them. So, 
J60 144 regardless of what the text prompts, they are not necessarily in a 
J60 145 position to make use of it.<p/>
J60 146 <p_>But surely we can have <tf|>some idea of what children 
J60 147 understand, otherwise the whole edifice of communication, 
J60 148 publishing, and language teaching for children comes tumbling down. 
J60 149 For example, what about comprehension texts, still so much alive in 
J60 150 public examinations?<p/>
J60 151 <p_>It seems obvious that all we are doing if we ask questions 
J60 152 about the 'content' or 'meaning' of a text is testing a child's 
J60 153 social competence (which is, perhaps, all we should do, or should 
J60 154 hope to do). That is, children who are successful in comprehension 
J60 155 tests demonstrate no more than that they can find the answer 
J60 156 implicit in the question. The 'real' meaning of the text to the 
J60 157 individual remains hidden; children (perhaps for ever afterwards) 
J60 158 develop the skill to say what they are supposed to say, and may 
J60 159 well assume that their private understandings are in some way 
J60 160 'wrong' - just as those who set the examination questions must 
J60 161 assume that their own reading of the text is in some way 
J60 162 'right'.<p/>
J60 163 <p_>In his excellent book <tf_>Developing Response to Fiction<tf/>, 
J60 164 Robert Protherough suggests that there is a spectrum between what 
J60 165 is 'objectively' correct - that is, something which all speakers of 
J60 166 the language will agree on as being 'there' in the text - and 
J60 167 things which are subjective and purely personal. His spectrum 
J60 168 (which could, I think, bear some modification) runs, in outline, 
J60 169 thus:<p/>
J60 170 <p_><quote_>1 Matters of fact<p/>
J60 171 <p_>2 Clear implications<p/>
J60 172 <p_>3 Manifest literary effects [e.g. symbols, motifs, shifts of 
J60 173 viewpoint]<p/>
J60 174 <p_>4 Shared associations<p/>
J60 175 <p_>5 Significance to the reader based on 'a particular stance' 
J60 176 [that is, a doctrine or ideology]<p/>
J60 177 <p_>6 Private associations<quote/><p/>
J60 178 <p_>Some of these - perhaps the first four - might seem to be the 
J60 179 common property of all readers. We read within a reading community, 
J60 180 and therefore can share meanings and understanding. But is this 
J60 181 really so?<p/>
J60 182 <p_>To look at it another way, are there degrees of understanding, 
J60 183 which, when we are writing or prescribing fiction, we will accept? 
J60 184 Is there another spectrum between total understanding of what the 
J60 185 writer intended and a free-form, totally personal reading, which, 
J60 186 say, takes <tf_>After the First Death<tf/> as a drawing-room comedy 
J60 187 or <tf_>The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe<tf/> as a pagan text? 
J60 188 (The latter example is not as grotesque as it may appear. The book 
J60 189 has been banned in certain areas of the USA on just those grounds.) 
J60 190 Is there such a thing as 'total' comprehension? And are there 
J60 191 degrees of comprehension which we might accept as adequate, or 
J60 192 normal, or worth giving a good mark to?<p/>
J60 193 <p_>It is obvious that there are limits to the shared making of 
J60 194 meaning. What the author meant is, strictly speaking, unknowable, 
J60 195 even to the author. But we have to assume a certain congruence 
J60 196 between what you see and what I see and what a child-reader sees; 
J60 197 otherwise the whole business of making books (and, especially, 
J60 198 talking about them) becomes a nonsense. There must be a middle 
J60 199 ground of common-sense agreement about what meaning is.<p/>
J60 200 <p_>This may not seem to have got us very far; but it may at least 
J60 201 have made us cautious about assuming any similarity of 
J60 202 understanding between readers. What we need to do now is to 
J60 203 investigate the way in which texts work - what the shared rules are 
J60 204 - so that we can see where individual readers are likely to go 
J60 205 their own ways.<p/>
J60 206 <p_>Equally, the way texts are organized and our understanding of 
J60 207 that organization have a profound effect on the way we see the 
J60 208 world. As Roger Fowler puts it: <quote_>"Linguistic codes do not 
J60 209 reflect reality neutrally; they interpret, organize, and classify 
J60 210 the subjects of discourse. They embody theories of how the world is 
J60 211 arranged: world-views or ideologies. For the individual, these 
J60 212 theories are useful and reassuring, making his relationship with 
J60 213 the world simple and manageable."<quote/>
J60 214 
J61   1 <#FLOB:J61\><h_><p_>Chapter 8<p/>
J61   2 <p_>Your word is my command: the structures of language and power 
J61   3 in women's science fiction<p/>
J61   4 <p_>Lucie Armitt<p/><h/>
J61   5 <p_>One of the frustrations felt by some readers and critics of 
J61   6 science fiction stems from the fact that, despite the potential for 
J61   7 innovation inherent in the apparently limitless narrative 
J61   8 possibilities of the genre, in actuality such innovation is rarely 
J61   9 fully realised within either content or form.<p/>
J61  10 <p_>My first serious encounter with science fiction was through an 
J61  11 interest in the political implications of language and its 
J61  12 structures for women. Language is of paramount importance with 
J61  13 regard to how we structure reality (providing a cognitive framework 
J61  14 for compartmentalising objects and sensations into linguistic units 
J61  15 of meaning). Indeed it has been argued that <quote_>"reality 
J61  16 construction is probably to be regarded as the primary function of 
J61  17 human language"<quote/>, a claim which emphasises the need for 
J61  18 women to challenge the patriarchal bases of language if we are also 
J61  19 to challenge the patriarchal bases of society. However, trapped as 
J61  20 we are within a patriarchal linguistic and social framework, it is 
J61  21 very difficult for any writer to distance herself from that 
J61  22 framework and write through and about alternative structures whilst 
J61  23 still aiming to depict reality as it is lived and experienced. As 
J61  24 this essay sets out to demonstrate, it is not enough merely to 
J61  25 challenge surface manifestations (with revisions of words such as 
J61  26 'chairman', 'mastery', 'authoress' and so on, important though such 
J61  27 revisions are), but we must also analyse and subvert the deep 
J61  28 structural principles of language. Because of its ability to 
J61  29 provide the writer with this much-needed distancing from lived 
J61  30 reality, science fiction is an obvious choice for the writer intent 
J61  31 on such exploration. The two novels upon which this essay focuses 
J61  32 (Doris Lessing's <tf_>The Marriages Between Zones Three, Four and 
J61  33 Five<tf/>, and Suzette Elgin's <tf_>Native Tongue<tf/>) succeed in 
J61  34 illustrating two important issues: first, that the power structures 
J61  35 upon which societies depend are structured by and through the 
J61  36 structures of language; and, second, that by providing a fictional 
J61  37 context for what has otherwise been largely theoretical 
J61  38 abstraction, contemporary science fiction by women has made a by no 
J61  39 means insignificant contribution to the current theoretical debate 
J61  40 on women's relationship to language - and thus power.<p/>
J61  41 <p_>An essential starting point for any critique of language as a 
J61  42 power base <tf|>of or <tf|>for society is to demystify this ability 
J61  43 to shape and control our thoughts, perceptions and behaviour. In 
J61  44 <tf_>The Marriages Between Zones Three, Four and Five<tf/> Doris 
J61  45 Lessing begins with a vision of language as pre-eminently 
J61  46 deterministic of behaviour patterns in both the individual 
J61  47 characters and the societies depicted. To language is attributed an 
J61  48 autonomy outside of human communication and almost pre-existing of 
J61  49 any social referent whatsoever. She personifies language as a 
J61  50 pseudo-deity whose origins are unquestioned, and whose demands 
J61  51 remain unchallenged: <quote_>"there was an Order, and it said, 
J61  52 simply, that she must go"<quote/>, (p. 13). Throughout the novel 
J61  53 the main protagonists' behaviour is directed and determined by this 
J61  54 <quote|>"Order", a term for which we are given no further 
J61  55 definition, and which incorporates for the reader the dual 
J61  56 implications not only of the linguistic imperative but also of a 
J61  57 hierarchical power structure (both implications being significant 
J61  58 to its understanding). So the main characters of the novel are 
J61  59 impelled to act by unspecified drives and urges which have no 
J61  60 contextual reference and which are never fully explained, but which 
J61  61 exist and are articulated and understood solely at the level of 
J61  62 language. The narrative opens:<p/>
J61  63 <p_><quote_>Rumours are the begetters of gossip. Even more are they 
J61  64 the begetters of song. We, the Chroniclers and song-makers of our 
J61  65 Zone, aver that before the partners in this exemplary marriage were 
J61  66 awake to what the new directives meant for both of them, the songs 
J61  67 were with us, and were being amplified and developed from one end 
J61  68 of Zone Three to the other.<quote/> (p. 11)<p/>
J61  69 <p_>It is perhaps fitting that rumour should be the catalyst which 
J61  70 initiates the narrative, it being the one form of utterance which 
J61  71 typically lacks a definite source or origin for its existence. In 
J61  72 addition, it is all the more fitting that the event concerned is a 
J61  73 marriage, because mainstream linguistic theory has frequently used 
J61  74 the social contract of the marriage vow as the primary illustration 
J61  75 of the 'illocutionary speech act', a term which is of value to this 
J61  76 argument because it hints at the power which even conventional 
J61  77 linguistic theory attributes to language as the initiator, as well 
J61  78 as the descriptor, of social codes. The term 'speech act' refers to 
J61  79 an utterance which not only articulates, but actually brings into 
J61  80 being a particular state of affairs. Thus, for example, in speaking 
J61  81 the words which form the marriage vows, the marriage itself is 
J61  82 brought into existence. It is created <tf|>by and <tf|>through 
J61  83 language. As is clear from the quotation cited above, once the 
J61  84 rumour is initiated in <tf_>The Marriages<tf/>, the marriage is 
J61  85 seen to exist, and neither Al-Ith nor Ben Ata has the power to 
J61  86 change events, which are from then on pre-ordained.<p/>
J61  87 <p_>I would not wish to suggest, however, that Lessing's vision of 
J61  88 language is that of an entirely self-referential or 
J61  89 self-perpetuating system (an approach which would toe the line of 
J61  90 traditional linguistic theory). Many of the theories put forward 
J61  91 both by psychoanalytic and later structuralist theoreticians could 
J61  92 be usefully applied to this text, particularly where they have 
J61  93 relevance to women's marginal position to the Symbolic Order or to 
J61  94 the dominant discourse. At one point in the narrative Lessing 
J61  95 refers to the orders by which Zone Four functions as 
J61  96 <quote|>"<foreign|>ukases" (p. 251), a term deriving from Tsarist 
J61  97 Russia, and which has come to take on the meaning of 'any arbitrary 
J61  98 order.' The implications of this word are doubled by the pun 
J61  99 inherent in this definition which refers to the arbitrary nature of 
J61 100 the power base upon which Zone Four (and by extension the 
J61 101 patriarchal establishment) is based, and which makes fully apparent 
J61 102 (i) the intrinsic nature of the relationship between language and 
J61 103 the structures of power; and (ii) the fact that such structures are 
J61 104 not pre-ordained at all, but entirely arbitrary.<p/>
J61 105 <p_>H<*_>e-acute<*/>l<*_>e-grave<*/>ne Cixous distinguishes between 
J61 106 the Realm of the Gift and the Realm of the Proper 
J61 107 (<foreign|>Propre), a distinction worth applying here as Zone Three 
J61 108 could be considered representative of the former, and Zone Four the 
J61 109 latter. From a linguistic perspective this is manifested through 
J61 110 Zone Four's barked commands and imperatives (one might well say 
J61 111 that 'sentences are passed' on the ordinary people of the zone by 
J61 112 those positioned higher up the military hierarchy), while Zone 
J61 113 Three's communication works via finely tuned spatial techniques 
J61 114 which take us beyond the limits of word and sentence. The confusion 
J61 115 and dislocation felt by Jarnti  and Ben Ata at encountering Zone 
J61 116 Three (either directly or via Al-Ith) is due to the fact that - 
J61 117 their commands being misplaced and indeed irrelevant in that region 
J61 118 - they lack any ability to shape or construct reality through 
J61 119 language. The linguistic units which frame the commands 
J61 120 simultaneously pre-package their perceptions of reality. Under the 
J61 121 rules of the Realm of the Proper, language 
J61 122 ap-<tf_>propr<tf/>-iates, leaving no room for the creation or 
J61 123 generation of the alternative visions associated with the Realm of 
J61 124 the Gift.<p/>
J61 125 <p_>Science fiction often draws very closely on narrative devices 
J61 126 and structures common to other forms of popular fiction, and in 
J61 127 some ways the narrative concerns of <tf_>The Marriages<tf/> works 
J61 128 through similar methods to the folktale or quest allegory. The 
J61 129 story of a queen of one land who marries the king of another in 
J61 130 order to restore harmony to her realm is a conventional one within 
J61 131 such literature, and in line with the allegorical form both Al-Ith 
J61 132 and Ben Ata are personifications of the abiding characteristics of 
J61 133 their own respective zones. In this context Waelti-Walters' 
J61 134 comments on the fairytale form are significant:<p/>
J61 135 <p_><quote_>Woman is gift and possession ... the touchstone of the 
J61 136 whole system of values men in our civilisation have built up 
J61 137 between themselves and which has taken symbolic form in 
J61 138 language.<quote/><p/>
J61 139 <p_>Initially, as implied above, Al-Ith embodies the Realm of the 
J61 140 Gift and Ben Ata the Realm of the Proper, the two forming an 
J61 141 irreconcilable dichotomy. Through their enforced marriage, however, 
J61 142 these contrasting features gradually become blurred, and Al-Ith in 
J61 143 particular forms the site of the conflagration of the two, rendered 
J61 144 visible through her pregnancy with Arusi. Thus she takes on board 
J61 145 this role of the touchstone of the value system, her victimisation 
J61 146 at the hands of a hostile system becoming more and more apparent as 
J61 147 the narrative progresses. Waelti-Walters' comment refers to the 
J61 148 linguistic implications of this (the use of the term 'symbolic' 
J61 149 here relating to the importance of language in the forging of 
J61 150 social codes, rather than the more specific psychoanalytic 
J61 151 definition of the term). The basic structuralist argument, deriving 
J61 152 from the work of Ferdinand de Saussure, argues that language 
J61 153 operates via a system of signs (the sign being the twofold 
J61 154 combination of the sound/word and the mental concept) which take on 
J61 155 meaning in relationship to each other and the system as a whole. 
J61 156 Later advocates of structuralism came to believe that this 
J61 157 linguistic model could usefully be applied to other social codes 
J61 158 and to the workings of literary narratives, one of the most 
J61 159 important of these being Propp's <tf_>Morphology of the Folk 
J61 160 Tale<tf/>. Lessing's narrative works quite closely along 
J61 161 folk<?_>-<?/>legend parallels, about which Propp notes: 
J61 162 <quote_>"Functions constitute the basic elements of the tale, those 
J61 163 elements upon which the course of the narrative is built"<quote/> - 
J61 164 the 'function' in this sense being the way in which any particular 
J61 165 action or event takes on significance (or indeed signification) 
J61 166 within the narrative as a whole. In the traditional folktale, 
J61 167 'functions' take on significance primarily as they relate to, or 
J61 168 derive from, the underlying moral code (which structuralist critics 
J61 169 would also interpret as a linguistic code), this being the 
J61 170 <tf|>real (if frequently disguised) power behind its telling. As 
J61 171 various critics, including Waelti-Walters, have shown, this moral 
J61 172 code is not an apolitical guideline for children, but a product of 
J61 173 the prevailing ideology out of which the tale arises, and which 
J61 174 seeks primarily to protect the <tf_>status quo<tf/>. This is where 
J61 175 <tf_>The Marriages<tf/> departs from the afore-mentioned model. 
J61 176 Lessing not only foregrounds ideology within her narrative 
J61 177 framework, but demonstrates the significance of language to it. The 
J61 178 Chronicler is the persona whose main function is to stress the 
J61 179 folk-legend quality of the tale. He it is who interrupts the 
J61 180 narrative, just as the reader forgets that this is a story told by 
J61 181 a storyteller, to remind us that chroniclers in the two zones 
J61 182 frequently take one scene and depict it in very different ways, 
J61 183 turning it in the process into history or myth (fact or fiction) as 
J61 184 best suits their purposes. So Lessing's Chronicler reminds us that 
J61 185 language plays a central role in the <tf|>construction of so-called 
J61 186 'truth' (to 'chronicle' an event being to present it as 'fact'); 
J61 187 thus truth is never absolute, but at all times remains a subjective 
J61 188 - and in this context an ideological - construct, something that 
J61 189 can work for good or ill. As the Chronicler states: 
J61 190 <quote_>"Describing we become. We even - and I've seen it and have 
J61 191 shuddered - summon"<quote/> (p. 243).<p/>
J61 192 <p_>But language is not just depicted as a key to power in this 
J61 193 novel, it also becomes one of the fundamental keys to knowledge. It 
J61 194 is through writing his version of the story of Al-Ith that the 
J61 195 Chronicler learns: <quote_>"I write in these bald words the deepest 
J61 196 lessons of my life"<quote/> (p. 242), lessons which Al-Ith will 
J61 197 come to share. Referring to the intrinsic relationship between 
J61 198 language and our perceptions of reality, Grace comments that, 
J61 199 through language, <quote_>"we do not just see shifting patterns of 
J61 200 light, we see people and objects and actions"<quote/>. When Al-Ith 
J61 201 attempts to initiate herself into Zone Two without being granted 
J61 202 access to it by 'the Order', she stands just over the threshold of 
J61 203 the zone and considers:<p/>
J61 204 <p_><quote_>that all around her, above her, were people - no, 
J61 205 beings, were something, then, or somebody, invisible but there.... 
J61 206 Almost she could see them ... as if flames trembled into being....
J61 207 
J62   1 <#FLOB:J62\><h_><p_>KNOW THYSELF vs COMMON KNOWLEDGE:<p/>
J62   2 <p_>BLEICH'S EPISTEMOLOGY SEEN THROUGH TWO SHORT STORIES BY 
J62   3 BALZAC<p/><h/>
J62   4 <p_>Reader-response theorists, still haunted by the spectre of the 
J62   5 'affective fallacy', yet equally aware of the dangers of an 
J62   6 objectivist stance, are faced with a problem of authority: who or 
J62   7 what is the ultimate source of meaning? At one end of the spectrum, 
J62   8 authority may be invested in the actual author of the text, as in 
J62   9 the theory of E. D. Hirsch; at the other, meaning may be a function 
J62  10 of the individual reader's identity, an approach favoured by Norman 
J62  11 Holland. Other works, such as Wolfgang Iser's <tf_>The Act of 
J62  12 Reading<tf/>, or Stanley Fish's <tf_>Affective Stylistics<tf/>, 
J62  13 grant the written text a measure of authority by claiming that the 
J62  14 reader's response is guided and limited by specific objective 
J62  15 textual structures.<p/>
J62  16 <p_>Epistemologies may shift authority from the subjective to the 
J62  17 intersubjective: meaning is a function not of the individual reader 
J62  18 but of intersubjective communities. The later work of Stanley Fish, 
J62  19 introducing the notion of 'interpretive communities', falls into 
J62  20 this category. David Bleich's <tf_>Subjective Criticism<tf/>, 
J62  21 whilst appearing to favour the subjective end of the spectrum, also 
J62  22 has something of the 'community spirit'. As will emerge, the 
J62  23 relationship posited between individual subject and community is a 
J62  24 problematic one.<p/>
J62  25 <p_>Reading the theory 'through' Balzac's <tf_>Le Colonel 
J62  26 Chabert<tf/> and <tf|>Adieu, I shall explore a number of problems 
J62  27 surrounding Bleich's epistemology, and consider some of the wider 
J62  28 implications arising from the concept of community.<p/>
J62  29 <h_><p_>I. Bleich's Epistemology<p/><h/>
J62  30 <p_>According to Bleich, paradigms or world-views are set up to 
J62  31 meet the epistemological needs of the present. The objective 
J62  32 paradigm which he challenges is no exception: <quote_>"The notion 
J62  33 of objective truth has the epistemological status of God: it is an 
J62  34 invented frame of reference aimed at maintaining prevailing social 
J62  35 practices."<quote/> This paradigm, claims Bleich, has outlived its 
J62  36 usefulness. Its epistemological presuppositions must be revised in 
J62  37 the light of work carried out by figures such as Einstein, 
J62  38 Heisenberg, and Gombrich. 'Facts' or 'knowledge' do not exist 
J62  39 independent of the investigator: they are a function of his motives 
J62  40 and the means of investigation. 'Facts' are not found, but made.<p/>
J62  41 <p_>Bleich's 'subjective paradigm' is intended to supersede the 
J62  42 objective approach. How does this new epistemology operate in the 
J62  43 field of reader-response? According to Bleich, though the literary 
J62  44 text has physical properties, its meaning depends entirely on a 
J62  45 process which he calls 'symbolization'. Symbolization, the reader's 
J62  46 initial response, can be defined as a peremptory perception and 
J62  47 evaluation of the text. It is an imaginative interiorization which 
J62  48 is differentiated from a purely sensorimotor response.<p/>
J62  49 <p_>Interpretation of the text is referred to as motivated 
J62  50 'resymbolization', where resymbolization is defined as the 
J62  51 mentation involved in a conscious response to the symbolization. It 
J62  52 is a reframing of the symbolization which occurs when the present 
J62  53 adaptive needs of the individual demand an act of explanation or 
J62  54 interpretation. The interpretation should not be considered in 
J62  55 terms of a true/false polarity, but rather in terms of validity or 
J62  56 conviction. It is not concerned with a recovery of 'fact' or 
J62  57 'truth': its success depends upon its meeting of present demands or 
J62  58 adaptive needs: <quote_>"The logic of interpretation is that its 
J62  59 resymbolising activity is motivated and organised by the conscious 
J62  60 desires created by disharmonious feelings or self-images; the goal 
J62  61 of these desires is increasing the individual's sense of 
J62  62 psychological and social adaptability"<quote/> (<tf_>Subjective 
J62  63 Criticism<tf/>, p. 83).<p/>
J62  64 <p_>Central to Bleich's epistemology is the individual's capacity 
J62  65 for reflective thought. Bleich refers to a 'subjective dialectic', 
J62  66 the individual's ability (for example, when hearing a story) to ask 
J62  67 himself questions and receive answers. This activity is a sign that 
J62  68 symbolization (imaginative response), and not just a sensorimotor 
J62  69 activity (registering the visual stimuli of print), has taken 
J62  70 place. In the context of the reading act, Bleich introduces a 
J62  71 valuable hermeneutic tool: the 'response statement'. This is a 
J62  72 recording by the reader of his subjective responses as he reads. 
J62  73 The 'response statement' is used alongside the subject's 'meaning 
J62  74 statement' or interpretation of a text, with a view to bringing to 
J62  75 reflective attention the subjective stratum of response, and 
J62  76 thereby acknowledging its influence on the apparently objective 
J62  77 'meaning statement'. The reading subject is, we might say, 
J62  78 answerable to and for himself; he is responsible for his reading. 
J62  79 The important thing is to know that you know.<p/>
J62  80 <p_>Knowledge, however, does not stop with the individual subject 
J62  81 and his reflective powers: it must be 'negotiated' in a community: 
J62  82 <quote_>"To know anything at all is to have assigned a part of 
J62  83 one's self to a group of others who claim to know the same thing 
J62  84 .... The degree to which knowledge is not part of a community is 
J62  85 the degree to which it is not knowledge at all"<quote/> 
J62  86 (<tf_>Subjective Criticism<tf/>, p. 296). The community is also 
J62  87 deemed to have reflective powers, to be conscious of, and able to 
J62  88 articulate its own motivation for knowledge-seeking. It, too, is 
J62  89 answerable to and for itself; it, too, is responsible. Bleich 
J62  90 considers this new epistemology to be ethically superior to its 
J62  91 objective counterpart: operating according to the rules of the 
J62  92 latter, the subjective stratum of any knowledge-seeking act goes 
J62  93 unnoted and probably unnoticed. Interpretation operating under the 
J62  94 objective paradigm has no authority: authority requires a 
J62  95 hermeneutic moment which reveals the interests or motivations of 
J62  96 the seeker of knowledge or explanation.<p/>
J62  97 <h_><p_>II. Balzac and Bleich<p/><h/>
J62  98 <p_>Both <tf_>Le Colonel Chabert<tf/> and <tf|>Adieu represent 
J62  99 characters prompted by their present adaptive needs to engage in 
J62 100 knowledge-seeking acts, and to form some kind of intersubjective or 
J62 101 community relationship. Both texts, to a certain extent, play out 
J62 102 or dramatize some of Bleich's ideas. Tompkins has noted that 
J62 103 Bleich's privileging of self-knowledge, manifested in the 
J62 104 'subjective dialectic' and 'response statement', marks an 
J62 105 inconsistency in his epistemology. I shall show that <tf_>Le 
J62 106 Colonel Chabert<tf/> dramatizes the very epistemological issues at 
J62 107 stake. Both short stories, in fact, not only 'stage' some of the 
J62 108 theoretical concepts; they also serve to challenge the theory and 
J62 109 to reveal some of the implications which arise from the 
J62 110 relationship between individual subject and intersubjective 
J62 111 community.<p/>
J62 112 <p_><tf_> Le Colonel Chabert<tf/> tells the tale of a Napoleonic 
J62 113 colonel injured and left for dead after the battle of Eylau. 
J62 114 Suffering from a severe head-wound, the colonel digs his way out of 
J62 115 a mass grave, recovers his health and memory, and returns to what 
J62 116 is, by then, Restoration Paris. There he enlists the help of the 
J62 117 solicitor Derville, in an attempt to regain public recognition. 
J62 118 After a crucial meeting with Chabert, his wife, since remarried, 
J62 119 realizes that his physical appearance has so altered as to render 
J62 120 him unrecognizable to the public. After a series of manoeuvrings, 
J62 121 she successfully thwarts Chabert's attempts, and the colonel fades 
J62 122 into obscurity.<p/>
J62 123 <p_><tf_>Le Colonel Chabert<tf/> prompts several questions about 
J62 124 the nature of self-knowledge. For example, can the individual's 
J62 125 grasp of self-identity be challenged by an external authority? 
J62 126 Early in the short story, one of Derville's clerks vouches for the 
J62 127 authority of the subject: <quote_>"<foreign_>Je l'appelle pour lui 
J62 128 demander s'il est colonel ou portier, <tf_>il doit savoir, 
J62 129 lui<tf/><foreign/>"<quote/> (p. 31, my italics). As far as Chabert 
J62 130 is concerned, his self-knowledge, his knowledge of who he is, is, 
J62 131 quite literally, self-evident. There can be no question of 
J62 132 intersubjective negotiation:<p/>
J62 133 <p_><quote_><foreign_>-Il faudrait peut-<*_>e-circ<*/>tre 
J62 134 transiger, dit l'avou<*_>e-acute<*/>.<p/>
J62 135 <p_>-Transiger, r<*_>e-acute<*/>p<*_>e-acute<*/>ta le colonel 
J62 136 Chabert. Suis-je mort ou suis-je vivant?<foreign/><quote/> (p. 
J62 137 58)<p/>
J62 138 <p_>To this extent, Bleich's privileging of knowledge of self seems 
J62 139 to find literary support. However, Chabert's self-knowledge is 
J62 140 challenged and indeed denied by the <foreign|>'comtesse', a 
J62 141 representative of the community which is Restoration society. As 
J62 142 Chabert discovers, even self-knowledge is negotiable: 
J62 143 <quote_>"<foreign_>tout se plaide<foreign/>"<quote/> (p. 72). 
J62 144 Derville, using terms which would not be out of place in Bleich's 
J62 145 own work, makes the point that self-knowledge becomes knowledge 
J62 146 only if and when negotiated in a motivated community: 
J62 147 <quote_>"<foreign_>Vous <*_>e-circ<*/>tes le comte Chabert, je le 
J62 148 veux bien, mais il s'agit de le <tf|>prouver juridiciairement, 
J62 149 <*_>a-grave<*/> des gens qui vont <tf_>avoir 
J62 150 int<*_>e-acute<*/>r<*_>e-circ<*/>t<tf/> <*_>a-grave<*/> nier votre 
J62 151 existence<foreign/>"<quote/> (p. 70, my italics). This raises a 
J62 152 number of points which are inadequately covered by Bleich. Exactly 
J62 153 how does his epistemology reconcile self and community? On the one 
J62 154 hand, it seems impossible to deny the privileged nature of 
J62 155 self-knowledge, specifically, of the reflective ego: to do so would 
J62 156 be to deny the basic ontological structure of the self. The 
J62 157 <foreign|>'comtesse' sees only a part of the problem when she tells 
J62 158 Chabert that <quote_>"<foreign_>renoncer <*_>a-grave<*/> 
J62 159 vous-m<*_>e-circ<*/>me<foreign/>"<quote/> would mean 
J62 160 <quote_>"<foreign_>commettre un mensonge <*_>a-grave<*/> toute 
J62 161 heure du jour<foreign/>"<quote/> (p. 107). To deny the reflective 
J62 162 ego is, ultimately, to deny life itself. Chabert himself touches on 
J62 163 the problem when he expresses a desire for the ontologically 
J62 164 impossible: <quote_>"<foreign_>Je voudrais n'<*_>e-circ<*/>tre pas 
J62 165 moi.<foreign/>"<quote/> In the closing pages of the text, his 
J62 166 attempted self-renunciation hints at the fact that to abolish the 
J62 167 reflective ego is to cease to be a human subject: 
J62 168 <quote_>"<foreign_>Pas Chabert! pas Chabert! ... Je ne suis plus un 
J62 169 homme, je suis le num<*_>e-acute<*/>ro 164, septi<*_>e-grave<*/>me 
J62 170 salle<foreign/>"<quote/> (p. 121).<p/>
J62 171 <p_>If self-knowledge is an ontological necessity, how can it be 
J62 172 integrated into an epistemology such as Bleich's, which insists on 
J62 173 the intersubjective negotiation of all knowledge? Self-knowledge is 
J62 174 by definition solipsistic. If <quote_>"<foreign_>tout se 
J62 175 plaide<foreign/>"<quote/>, how can proof be offered to a third 
J62 176 party? How can Chabert's reflective awareness of himself become 
J62 177 material which is accessible to intersubjective negotiation?<p/>
J62 178 <p_>This problematic relationship between transcendent subject and 
J62 179 community is briefly raised by Tompkins, who compares Bleich's 
J62 180 concept of community to that of Stanley Fish:<p/>
J62 181 <p_><quote_>Both statements suggest that individual or subjective 
J62 182 knowledge exists prior to the formulation of publicly shared 
J62 183 assumptions and that membership in an interpretive community is a 
J62 184 conscious act entered into freely by each individual .... This 
J62 185 description [of the interpretive community] stands Fish's concept 
J62 186 on its head. Instead of the individual's being constituted by the 
J62 187 assumptions of the group, the group is formed by individuals who 
J62 188 then negotiate its assumptions into existence.<quote/> (p. 1073)<p/>
J62 189 <p_>The conflict appears to be irreconcilable. One can adopt Fish's 
J62 190 stance, whereby the subject is constituted by group assumptions and 
J62 191 correlatively loses the freedom of the self-reflective, 
J62 192 transcendent self. In this case we can no longer talk of authority 
J62 193 or responsibility: the subject is not answerable to or for himself. 
J62 194 Alternatively, one can seek to preserve, as Bleich does, the 
J62 195 freedom of the transcendent self, in which case we cannot accept 
J62 196 that all knowledge is negotiated in a community.<p/>
J62 197 <p_><tf_>Le Colonel Chabert<tf/> plays out this epistemological 
J62 198 conflict to perfection. In Chabert's case, joining the community 
J62 199 represented by the <foreign|>'comtesse' would mean denying his own 
J62 200 existence; it results in an ontological impasse. Extending this, 
J62 201 and taking Chabert's case as exemplary, we might ask how can 
J62 202 individuals be convinced to join a particular community? Thomas 
J62 203 Kuhn, referring to paradigm switches and communities of scientists, 
J62 204 suggests that persuasion can go only so far: <quote_>"The transfer 
J62 205 of allegiance from paradigm to paradigm is a conversion experience 
J62 206 that cannot be forced."<quote/> Richard Norman, considering a 
J62 207 similar problem in terms of seeing 'gestalt' figures (duck/rabbit; 
J62 208 old/young woman), states: <quote_>"I cannot 'choose' or 'decide' to 
J62 209 see the figure in a certain way. If I am able to see it as a 
J62 210 picture of an old woman, this is because that way of seeing forces 
J62 211 itself upon me. We can speak of the dawning of an aspect."<quote/> 
J62 212 Proffered 'proof' about the 'gestalt' figure ('here is the nose, 
J62 213 here the chin', etc.) is proof only to one who is already 
J62 214 in-context: <quote_>"The 'evidence' each gives will be understood 
J62 215 in the relevant way only by one who is already convinced"<quote/> 
J62 216 (p. 335). Neither Fish, who takes the same line (the subject is 
J62 217 always-already<&|>sic! in context), nor Bleich considers in 
J62 218 sufficient detail the processes of joining and leaving 
J62 219 communities.<p/>
J62 220 <p_>The conflict between Chabert and the <foreign|>'comtesse', a 
J62 221 spokeswoman for the Restoration community, extends the issue into 
J62 222 the domain of ethics: what happens when there is a conflict of 
J62 223 interests between communities? How are differences settled? How, 
J62 224 exactly, does communication and negotiation take place? In the case 
J62 225 of Chabert, the innocent victim seems to fall prey to an anonymous 
J62 226 corporate body.<p/>
J62 227 <p_>Bleich notes: <quote_>"If there is no external standard, 
J62 228 collective interests are the highest authority, and knowledge 
J62 229 depends ultimately on how individuals form groups and circumscribe 
J62 230 the existence of other groups"<quote/> (<tf_>Subjective 
J62 231 Criticism<tf/>, p. 264).
J62 232 
J63   1 <#FLOB:J63\><h_><p_>GENDER AND NARRATIVE IN THE FICTION OF APHRA 
J63   2 BEHN<p/>
J63   3 <p_>By Jacqueline Pearson<p/><h/>
J63   4 <p_>Aphra Behn is still a neglected writer, and even among those 
J63   5 critics who have given her work more than a passing acknowledgement 
J63   6 there is a striking lack of consensus about the nature and extent 
J63   7 of her achievement, especially in her fiction. She has been praised 
J63   8 as innovative and original: Robert Adams Day thus finds 
J63   9 <tf|>Oroonoko <quote_>"entirely original"<quote/> in its narrative 
J63  10 methods and praises its <quote_>"astonishing innovations"<quote/>. 
J63  11 On the other hand, many accounts of the rise of the novel ignore or 
J63  12 understate her contribution: Ian Watt's classic study, <tf_>The 
J63  13 Rise of the Novel<tf/>, makes only two brief references, and even 
J63  14 in a full-length study of Behn's work, F. M. Link finds her fiction 
J63  15 unoriginal and concludes that she <quote_>"made no significant 
J63  16 contribution to the development of the [novel] form"<quote/>. And 
J63  17 if there is little agreement on questions of originality and 
J63  18 influence, there is no more on the themes of the novels. 
J63  19 <tf|>Oroonoko, for instance, has been seen as expressing 
J63  20 <quote_>"republican prejudices"<quote/>, or as demonstrating a 
J63  21 strongly royalist viewpoint, or both. There is especially a lack of 
J63  22 consensus on Behn's treatment of gender: some critics find her a 
J63  23 vigorous feminist, making 'suffragette' claims for women, while 
J63  24 others argue that she compromised with a male-dominated literary 
J63  25 establishment and that her work consequently displays a 
J63  26 <quote_>"masculine set of values"<quote/>.<p/>
J63  27 <p_>A high proportion of recent criticism of Behn's fiction adopts 
J63  28 a na<*_>i-trema<*/>vely literalist reading, taking <tf|>Oroonoko 
J63  29 and even <tf_>The Fair Jilt<tf/> and other tales quite simply as 
J63  30 self-revelation, as direct autobiography. As a result of, and a 
J63  31 reaction against, this kind of reading, the most promising recent 
J63  32 reassessments have focused on the role of the narrators. The 
J63  33 narrator has been seen to provide circumstantial detail, local 
J63  34 colour, a vivid immediacy, and a <quote_>"breezy colloquial 
J63  35 quality"<quote/>, to offer <quote_>"a viable standard of judgement 
J63  36 for the readers"<quote/>, to unify the novel and involve the reader 
J63  37 emotionally in the narrative, and also <quote_>"to attest the truth 
J63  38 of the whole story"<quote/>. I shall argue, however, that the 
J63  39 situation is still more complex, and that the narrator, who is not 
J63  40 coterminous with 'Aphra Behn', is a complex and subtle part of 
J63  41 Behn's treatment, both open and implied, of issues of gender and 
J63  42 power. In order to do this, I shall briefly examine the strategies 
J63  43 with the narrator in a range of Behn's fiction, before going on to 
J63  44 a fuller analysis of the role of the narrator in <tf|>Oroonoko.<p/>
J63  45 <h|>I
J63  46 <p_>In Behn's fourteen fictions, the narrator is never definitely 
J63  47 male: six give no clue to gender, though she sometimes seems to be 
J63  48 female by implication, and in eight, 'The Unfortunate Happy Lady', 
J63  49 <tf|>Oroonoko, <tf_>The History of the Nun<tf/>, 'The Nun', 'The 
J63  50 Lucky Mistake', 'The Unfortunate Bride', 'The Wandering Beauty', 
J63  51 and 'The Unhappy Mistake', she is definitely female. In the 
J63  52 simplest cases the female sex of the narrator lends an authority to 
J63  53 her accounts of women's lives and natures, and reflects the 
J63  54 empowering of women, or the mockery of men, within the narratives. 
J63  55 In more complex tales, the female narrator is depicted, like the 
J63  56 female characters, as embedded within patriarchy and limited by it. 
J63  57 These women are torn by contradictions, powerful and governing 
J63  58 within their fictions, powerless outside them, and their narratives 
J63  59 are deeply coloured, even undermined, by these contradictions. What 
J63  60 they present as simple narratives, entertaining stories or moral 
J63  61 tales, turn out to encode quite different meanings, more sinister, 
J63  62 revealing, and subversive, over which the narrators have less 
J63  63 perfect control. Narrators are given to Freudian slips, unnoticed 
J63  64 and unacknowledged self-contradiction, uncomfortable ambivalences, 
J63  65 not fully articulated, about the tales they tell. It is these 
J63  66 complex, uncomfortable, flawed, or even duplicitous narrators who 
J63  67 are Behn's most effective tool in her analysis of patriarchy.<p/>
J63  68 <p_>The most obvious of the contradictions imported by the 
J63  69 narrators is their misogyny, paradoxically most apparent in the 
J63  70 case of specifically female narrators. Tales may condemn female 
J63  71 weakness, like 'The Nun', or celebrate female strength, like 'The 
J63  72 Unfortunate Happy Lady', yet in both the female narrator displays 
J63  73 an oddly masculine misogyny: <quote_>"our Sex seldom wants matter 
J63  74 of Tattle"<quote/>, <quote_>"how wretched are our Sex, in being the 
J63  75 unhappy Occasion of so many fatal Mischiefs"<quote/>, <quote_>"'tis 
J63  76 the humour of our Sex, to deny most eagerly those Grants to Lovers, 
J63  77 for which most tenderly we sigh, so contradictory are we to our 
J63  78 selves"<quote/>. The authority of the female narrator is thus used, 
J63  79 paradoxically, to give an authoritative insider's view of female 
J63  80 weakness, as the female narrator seeks male approval by attacking 
J63  81 her own sex or by modest self-deprecation. Such ambiguities are 
J63  82 perhaps best understood as the result of the self-divisions - 
J63  83 <quote_>"so contradictory are we to our selves"<quote/> - 
J63  84 experienced by the female narrator, anxious to succeed within a 
J63  85 male-dominated literary establishment and consequently obliged to 
J63  86 accept its standards, and yet also, sometimes admittedly, sometimes 
J63  87 not, highly critical of that male world and its male 
J63  88 inhabitants.<p/>
J63  89 <p_>The language of the narrators is important in establishing 
J63  90 these contradictions. It is typically marked by apparent humility 
J63  91 or self-deprecation, though this is often actually <quote_>"a means 
J63  92 of self-assertion and a means of commenting upon the limited roles 
J63  93 that women are expected to play"<quote/>. This can be seen 
J63  94 especially in the use of apparently or mockingly humble adverbs, 
J63  95 like 'perhaps' or 'possibly'. These adverbs appear to create an 
J63  96 allegedly female tentativeness, though one very often suspects 
J63  97 irony in this apparent self-deprecation, since it actually creates 
J63  98 a playful knowingness, often exploited for erotic effect. In 'The 
J63  99 Unfortunate Happy Lady' the assumed na<*_>i-trema<*/>vety of the 
J63 100 female narrator's voice touchingly and humorously dramatizes the 
J63 101 real innocence of her heroine Philadelphia, and we hear 
J63 102 simultaneously the two polarized female voices of the tale, the 
J63 103 innocent and the experienced: <quote_>"She apprehended, that 
J63 104 (possibly) her Brother had a Mistress ..."<quote/> (p. 45). A 
J63 105 similar device can be seen in 'The Court of the King of Bantam', 
J63 106 where the narrator assumes an apparent coy and tentative tone which 
J63 107 is actually playfully revealing and which asserts her authority 
J63 108 over even the <quote|>"unfeminine" explicitness of the tale: 
J63 109 <quote_>"... her Bed. Where I think fit to leave 'em for the 
J63 110 present; for (perhaps) they had some private Business"<quote/> (pp. 
J63 111 31-2).<p/>
J63 112 <p_>Similarly, the narrator's claims to ignorance demonstrate not 
J63 113 so much narrative failure as the cool and perfect control of the 
J63 114 gentlewoman-amateur, an exasperating mockery of the reader for our 
J63 115 need for detail, verisimilitude, and coherent narrative structure: 
J63 116 <quote_>"The rest I have forgot"<quote/>, <quote_>"I had forgot to 
J63 117 tell you ..."<quote/>, <quote_>"I had forgot to tell my Reader 
J63 118 ..."<quote/>. In light tales like 'The Court of the King of Bantam' 
J63 119 the narrator's apparent lack of authority and of certain knowledge 
J63 120 on some details serves to comic effect. Here the narrator is not 
J63 121 specifically female, and may possibly be, by implication, male 
J63 122 (<quote_>"my Friend the Count"<quote/>, p. 27; <quote_>"In less 
J63 123 Time than I could have drank a Bottle to my Share"<quote/>, p. 30). 
J63 124 If this is so, the apparent imperfection of his narrative authority 
J63 125 would serve to parallel the tale's mockery of Sir Would-be King and 
J63 126 the travesty of patriarchal authority that he represents. In more 
J63 127 serious tales, and where the narrator is more explicitly female, 
J63 128 the effect can, as we shall see, be different. The narrator may, 
J63 129 for instance, deliberately limit her field of expertise. Thus in 
J63 130 <tf_>The History of the Nun<tf/>, the female narrator concentrates 
J63 131 on her story of passion and moral paradox, for <quote_>"it is not 
J63 132 my business to relate the History of the War"<quote/> (p.304) which 
J63 133 provides a background; or a possibly female narrator will point out 
J63 134 the imperfections and inconsistencies in presumably male 
J63 135 authorities - <quote_>"Some authors, in the relation of this 
J63 136 battle, affirm, that <tf|>Philander quitted his post as soon as the 
J63 137 charge was given ..."<quote/>. Writing in a world where female 
J63 138 authorship was the subject of a vigorous and largely hostile 
J63 139 scrutiny by the representatives of the dominant culture, Behn has 
J63 140 her female narrators humbly accede to the view that female 
J63 141 creativity should be confined to certain fields, but this 
J63 142 transparently ironic humility does not so much accept the 
J63 143 conventional limitations as draw mocking attention to them. 
J63 144 <quote|>"History" may be the locus of a specifically male 
J63 145 authority, but male <quote|>"authors" are mocked by implication for 
J63 146 the imperfectness of <tf|>their authority.<p/>
J63 147 <p_>Behn's narrators also offer a critique of the inequalities 
J63 148 encoded in the gendered language of society. Some words are 
J63 149 revealed to have different meanings depending on whether applied to 
J63 150 male or female subjects. Thus Sylvia would be <quote|>"undone" by 
J63 151 losing her virginity, while Philander is <quote|>"undone" by 
J63 152 failing to have sex and proving impotent at his first encounter 
J63 153 with her. <tf_>Love Letters<tf/>, and many other Behn tales and 
J63 154 plays, criticize society's language of gender not only by explicit 
J63 155 statements of the equality of men and women - they respond to 
J63 156 sexual passion with <quote_>"equal fire, with equal languishment", 
J63 157 with "equal ravishment"<quote/> (<tf|>LL, pp. 53, 243) - but also 
J63 158 by allowing women to appropriate for their own uses a sexual 
J63 159 vocabulary in which they have previously been the objects of male 
J63 160 language. Thus men can be 'beautiful' and 'lovely' in the eyes of 
J63 161 women as much as women can in the eyes of men, women are 
J63 162 conventionally addressed by men as <quote|>"charmer", but the word 
J63 163 can also, more unconventionally, be used by women of men, and while 
J63 164 Behn does not explicitly reject the conventional belief that women 
J63 165 are <quote_>"the soft ... Sex"<quote/>, she also allows sympathetic 
J63 166 males to display <quote|>"softness". <tf_>Love Letters<tf/> and 
J63 167 other tales thus imply a biological equality between the sexes, but 
J63 168 also allow their narrators to explore the socially constructed 
J63 169 inequalities.<p/>
J63 170 <h|>II
J63 171 <p_>Behn's narrators, then, are often specifically female. The 
J63 172 implied reader may also be female, as she is invited to enter 
J63 173 closed female worlds of nunnery or brothel. A female reader is 
J63 174 constructed within the text, by, for instance, Behn's use of the 
J63 175 first person plural, which is not the authorial 'we' and contrasts 
J63 176 sharply with the narrator's jauntily individualistic 'I', but which 
J63 177 implies a female reader and a sympathetic complicity between her 
J63 178 and the author - <quote_>"how wretched are our sex ..."<quote/> (A 
J63 179 similar device can be found in Behn's plays: in the prologue to her 
J63 180 first performed play, <tf_>The Forc'd Marriage<tf/> (1670), women 
J63 181 in the audience are identified as <quote|>"Spies" for the 
J63 182 <quote|>"Poetess".) Behn's dedication of work to individual women 
J63 183 also suggests that she aimed for a female readership: the printed 
J63 184 text of <tf_>The Feign'd Curtezans<tf/> (1679) is dedicated, for 
J63 185 instance, to Nell Gwyn, and <tf_>The History of the Nun<tf/> to 
J63 186 Hortense Mancini, Duchess of Mazarine. The historical evidence, 
J63 187 fragmentary though it is, also suggests that many women read Behn's 
J63 188 work. Almost all women writers between the 1670s and the middle of 
J63 189 the eighteenth century are aware of Behn's example and had probably 
J63 190 read some of her works: Anne Finch knew Behn's work as a poet, 
J63 191 Catherine Trotter had read <tf_>Agnes de Castro<tf/>, which she 
J63 192 adapted for the stage in 1695, Jane Barker had by 1726 read at 
J63 193 least <tf_>The History of the Nun<tf/> and 'The Wandering Beauty', 
J63 194 which she retells in <tf_>The Lining of the Patchwork Screen<tf/>, 
J63 195 and many other women writers refer to Behn and her work. Mary 
J63 196 Wortley Montagu, whose reading is better documented than that of 
J63 197 most women, was acquainted with Behn's <tf_>The Emperor of the 
J63 198 Moon<tf/>, knew her poems well enough to quote two of them, fifteen 
J63 199 years apart, and had probably also read <tf|>Oroonoko. In the 
J63 200 mid-eighteenth century <tf|>Oroonoko was adapted and included in 
J63 201 one of the first women's magazines, thus reaching a still wider 
J63 202 middle-class audience. And, to take a final, celebrated example, 
J63 203 Mrs Keith of Ravelstone, as a young girl in London in about the 
J63 204 1760s, heard Behn's novels <quote_>"read aloud for the amusement of 
J63 205 large circles of the first and most creditable society"<quote/>. 
J63 206 The female reader is both constructed within the text and a 
J63 207 historical reality outside it.<p/>
J63 208 <p_>However, while Behn expected and encouraged women to read her 
J63 209 tales, her female narrators sometimes imply, image, or address 
J63 210 specifically male readers, often for critical or ironic purposes. 
J63 211 The tales are full of female authors, writers, narrators, actors, 
J63 212 orators, and painters, producing works which are shown consumed by 
J63 213 a specifically male public.
J63 214 
J64   1 <#FLOB:J64\><h_><p_>The architecture and art of medieval Greece<p/>
J64   2 <p_>Byzantine church building<p/><h/>
J64   3 <p_>Leaving aside the sparse but picturesque remains of strictly 
J64   4 Western church building in medieval Greece, as at <tf|>Isova or 
J64   5 <tf|>Zaraka (names in italics refer to sites discussed in the 
J64   6 Entries), we are left with two principal building forms of the 
J64   7 Byzantine world. The earliest and the simplest is the type known as 
J64   8 a basilica, where a rectangular central hall or nave, usually 
J64   9 separated from side aisles by rows of columns, and with clerestory 
J64  10 windows and a wooden roof, has a projecting apse at the opposite 
J64  11 end from that of the entrance; it was normally approached through a 
J64  12 colonnaded atrium, or open courtyard. Originating in pagan 
J64  13 antiquity as an assembly hall, this is the basic form of early 
J64  14 Christian basilica, and from its adoption for Christian worship in 
J64  15 the fourth century it became standard practice to give it an 
J64  16 east-west orientation.<p/>
J64  17 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J64  18 <p_>In size it could vary greatly, and the largest, a few of which 
J64  19 still survive (e.g. the <tf_>church of the Akheiropoietos, 
J64  20 Thessaloniki<tf/>), were of great grandeur, many of them 
J64  21 embellished with spectacular mosaics. By the later seventh century 
J64  22 there were scores of buildings of this type on the Greek mainland, 
J64  23 although only a few are still visible, and even fewer standing. In 
J64  24 succeeding centuries the basilica design, when used for larger 
J64  25 churches, seems to have been reserved mainly for those which were 
J64  26 the seat of a bishop, and it was associated with this use (as in 
J64  27 the original building of the <tf_>Mitropolis, Mystra<tf/>) into the 
J64  28 later Byzantine period. It has been suggested that the conversion 
J64  29 of the <tf|>Parthenon in <tf|>Athens to a church provided a model 
J64  30 for this association.<p/>
J64  31 <p_>Early variations on the basilica form, besides the addition of 
J64  32 further side aisles, could involve the insertion of a transverse 
J64  33 aisle, or transept, close to the east end, and a porch, or narthex, 
J64  34 across the west end. During the sixth and seventh centuries the 
J64  35 grandest basilicas began to have a central cupola, as in the 
J64  36 <tf_>Basilica B, Philippi<tf/>. In the middle and later Byzantine 
J64  37 periods it was not common to build large new basilicas - those at 
J64  38 <tf_>Serres, Veroia<tf/> and of <tf_>the Koimisis, Kalabaka<tf/> 
J64  39 (which in any case probably replaced an early Christian building of 
J64  40 the same design), are unusual in their size. The great majority of 
J64  41 basilicas built after the ninth century tend to be quite modest in 
J64  42 size, and the absence of a cupola may be due for the most part to a 
J64  43 simple shortage of funds; the large number to be found at 
J64  44 <tf|>Kastoria or <tf|>Veroia are mostly small or very small and 
J64  45 must constitute a local exception, while those of <tf_>Ag 
J64  46 Khristoforos, Mystra<tf/> and <tf_>Ag Ioannis Khrysostomos, 
J64  47 Geraki<tf/>, are more typical.<p/>
J64  48 <p_>While the basilica form had links with antiquity, the second of 
J64  49 the two Byzantine building forms was developed exclusively in the 
J64  50 service of Christian architecture. Byzantine church building after 
J64  51 the seventh century becomes overwhelmingly an architecture that 
J64  52 exploits the dome. The basilica form was progressively superseded 
J64  53 from the sixth century by a variety of designs which have in common 
J64  54 a structure that is sufficiently strong to support a drum and 
J64  55 cupola over an open, square space. The main centres for 
J64  56 experimentation in these new designs would most probably have been 
J64  57 in Asia Minor and in Constantinople itself, and there is still 
J64  58 discussion as to where certain features originated. (The supreme 
J64  59 dome of the entire Byzantine period was always that of Ag Sofia, 
J64  60 Constantinople, which was built between 532 and 537, but the 
J64  61 architects of this building are known to have come from Asia 
J64  62 Minor.) The drum could be supported either on the four wall 
J64  63 sections abutting on to the crossing, on free-standing masonry 
J64  64 piers, on columns, or (very commonly) on a combination of one or 
J64  65 other system. In all cases the weight of the octagonal or circular 
J64  66 drum, with the cupola above it, had to be transferred down to the 
J64  67 four supporting members, and this was actually achieved by means of 
J64  68 pendentives; in their finest form these are a sophisticated piece 
J64  69 of engineering in which a concave section of a sphere receives the 
J64  70 weight of a quarter of the drum on its upper section and passes it 
J64  71 down to the single member (pier, column or wall section) out of 
J64  72 which it is built.<p/>
J64  73 <p_>The most common solution to this problem throughout all of 
J64  74 Greece became the so-called 'inscribed cross' or 'cross-in-square' 
J64  75 plan, and this was in common use by the eleventh century. It 
J64  76 involved the dome over the central square space of the naos being 
J64  77 supported either on four columns or, very commonly, on two columns 
J64  78 and the two wall sections either side of the main apse; to north, 
J64  79 south and west there were usually barrel vaults, with often a 
J64  80 fourth one to the east adjoining the apse. On the plan the dome and 
J64  81 its adjacent vaults thus appear as 'inscribed' within an 
J64  82 approximately square outer space. There are many possible 
J64  83 variations on this; these include greater or smaller depth of 
J64  84 lateral barrel vaults, the insertion of buttressing 
J64  85 semi<?_>-<?/>domes on eastern and western sides of the drum, 
J64  86 extending the western bay to enlarge the space of the naos, 
J64  87 inserting galleries in the crossing and thus adding a second 
J64  88 storey, and so on, but the one constant factor remained the 
J64  89 emphasis on the central dome.<p/>
J64  90 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J64  91 <p_>At an early stage further spaces were added, such as the two 
J64  92 subsidiary apsed chambers built either side of the main apse; these 
J64  93 became standard in most churches, and are called the prothesis and 
J64  94 diaconicon; only the smallest churches might not have them. Almost 
J64  95 invariably the inscribed cross design incorporated a narthex to the 
J64  96 west, with sometimes a second, or exonarthex, as well, and larger 
J64  97 churches often had a gallery above this. Further domes could also 
J64  98 be added - either one over the bema, or over narthex and gallery, 
J64  99 or four more over each of the four corner bays. Indeed, either the 
J64 100 multiplication of domes, or the expansion of the central dome to 
J64 101 exceptional diameter or height, became the chief ways in which 
J64 102 builders or patrons could express the importance of a new church; 
J64 103 such expression was otherwise left to lavishness of patterns in 
J64 104 exterior brickwork, richness of interior decoration in the carving 
J64 105 on capitals and templa, and to colourful frescos or mosaics on the 
J64 106 upper surfaces of the building.<p/>
J64 107 <p_>In some, less usual, cases there was experimentation with the 
J64 108 use of further apsidal forms (or absidioles) to north and south, 
J64 109 and even to the west as well; examples of this are the churches of 
J64 110 <tf_>Ag Apostoloi, Athens (Agora)<tf/>, the original form of 
J64 111 <tf_>Ag Andreas, Peristera<tf/> and the katholikon of the monastery 
J64 112 at <tf|>Molyvdoskepastos. Such apsidal forms provided a more varied 
J64 113 exterior profile, with inside a more fluid and varied spatial 
J64 114 quality. Far more common, as a way of imparting individuality to 
J64 115 the exterior of churches, was the use of brick ornament; this could 
J64 116 be quite restrained, as in the ubiquitous form of string courses of 
J64 117 bricks set with projecting corners to produce the 'dog-tooth' 
J64 118 effect, or more lavish and varied as at <tf|>Elassona or 
J64 119 <tf|>Gastouni, or they could be set in blind arcades or niches. 
J64 120 This ornament is never found inside, as interiors were completely 
J64 121 covered by carefully developed didactic programmes of decoration in 
J64 122 fresco or mosaic, as we shall now see.<p/>
J64 123 <h_><p_>Byzantine artistic practice<p/><h/>
J64 124 <p_>Over the centuries the Byzantines developed an approach to 
J64 125 imagery markedly different from that prevailing in western Europe. 
J64 126 Mainly codified before and during the period of Iconoclasm 
J64 127 (726-843), it involved the concept of an image, when created in the 
J64 128 correct way, being a receptacle for the spirit of the person or 
J64 129 subject it portrayed. For the Byzantine beholder, an image, or 
J64 130 <tf|>icon, was not just a <tf|>likeness of a saint, but contained 
J64 131 the essence of the prototype, and so actually <tf|>was the subject 
J64 132 portrayed. Other factors followed from this. If by reason of the 
J64 133 life he or she had led while in the world, a saint was worthy of 
J64 134 veneration, so the image of the saint was equally worthy; one of 
J64 135 the church fathers had already written in the fourth century: 
J64 136 <quote_>"Honour paid to the icon passes on to the 
J64 137 prototype"<quote/>. To pay honour and respect to a person must 
J64 138 involve some form of communication, and so the iconic image is 
J64 139 invariably shown in a frontal pose (or nearly so) and with the eyes 
J64 140 open. To portray a figure in a way in which the beholder could not 
J64 141 communicate with it would have been pointless as it could not have 
J64 142 been 'understood'.<p/>
J64 143 <p_>The Byzantines had a strongly hieratic view of the universe, 
J64 144 and this too was clearly expressed in their art. Just as the most 
J64 145 sacred subjects, such as the feasts of the Dodecaorton, are of 
J64 146 greater sanctity than lesser episodes of Christ's life, so images 
J64 147 of these feasts are also more venerable. A hierarchy of sanctity 
J64 148 grew up as a  product of this outlook, and the most complete 
J64 149 expression of the Byzantine view of the Christian universe became 
J64 150 the extended sequence of images that can be found in a Byzantine 
J64 151 church. The image of the most venerable of all subjects, Christ 
J64 152 Pantocrator, can usually be found in the highest part of the church 
J64 153 building - the summit of the cupola; below this are often found 
J64 154 adoring archangels. The dome of the church becomes identified in 
J64 155 this way with the dome of heaven. The second most sacred part of 
J64 156 the church, the main apse, houses the next most holy of images - 
J64 157 that of the Mother of God. Either some of the feasts of the 
J64 158 Dodecaorton, or else the four evangelists, can then be found in the 
J64 159 four pendentives supporting the cupola;  below these, in the 
J64 160 soffits of the arches and in wall niches and subsidiary vaults, are 
J64 161 usually images of single saints from the service books of the 
J64 162 orthodox church. The image which displays the church's dedication 
J64 163 can often be found on  the north wall adjacent to the templon. On 
J64 164 the lowest wall areas there was either a cladding of marble sheets, 
J64 165 often decoratively cut to form symmetrical patterns (as at 
J64 166 <tf_>Osios Loukas<tf/>), or more commonly, plaster painted to 
J64 167 imitate marble; this was ultimately a continuation of an antique 
J64 168 Roman practice.<p/>
J64 169 <p_>It should be emphasized that complete uniformity can never have 
J64 170 been intended; no two church interiors are ever identical, but 
J64 171 there are enough features in common to demonstrate the existence of 
J64 172 a general approach. It has even been suggested that the marriage of 
J64 173 the architecture with the imagery that it housed became so intimate 
J64 174 that it is difficult to visualize one without the other; certainly 
J64 175 some form of close collaboration between builders and painters or 
J64 176 mosaicists must have existed for such a perfectly integrated 
J64 177 concept to have become established. It was also within this context 
J64 178 that the use of portable icons was established from earliest times. 
J64 179 Today icons will be found in large numbers on later decorative 
J64 180 wooden iconostases, but the custom of displaying in some special 
J64 181 way icons of particular significance, some perhaps relating to the 
J64 182 dedication of the church, is probably quite an early one. The 
J64 183 practice of kissing icons, which is still universally observed, 
J64 184 also certainly has early origins.<p/>
J64 185 <p_>The modern visitor to a Byzantine church should be aware that 
J64 186 the forms of the building in which he finds himself were developed 
J64 187 in partnership not just with the imagery that they contain; they 
J64 188 would also have grown up in answer to liturgical needs, and can to 
J64 189 this extent be assessed on purely functional grounds. The orthodox 
J64 190 liturgy, although subject to modification and adaptation, from 
J64 191 early days took on certain formal needs which remained fairly 
J64 192 constant. In later centuries new demands also arose which needed to 
J64 193 be accommodated; the rite of baptism for example, had been very 
J64 194 important in the early church, thus necessitating a baptistry 
J64 195 building (as at <tf|>Amfissa). This sacrament was given less 
J64 196 emphasis as the centuries passed, and separate baptistries were not 
J64 197 built, but it was revived towards the end of the Byzantine period, 
J64 198 and started again to have its own accommodation, usually in part of 
J64 199 the narthex.
J64 200 
J65   1 <#FLOB:J65\>Having produced his famous Tower monument in praise of 
J65   2 the Communist International (an uncompromisingly modern and 
J65   3 technologically daring project), Tatlin concerned himself with the 
J65   4 invention of an 'air bicycle', or glider, the <tf|>Letatlin. It was 
J65   5 intended to be based on bird flight. It was ridiculed as primitive 
J65   6 by some of the technicist Soviet critics of the time. Tatlin 
J65   7 replied, in terms similar to those of Malevich's memoirs:<p/>
J65   8 <p_><quote_>I want to give back to people the feeling of flight. 
J65   9 This we have been robbed of by the mechanical flight of the 
J65  10 aeroplane. ... We can no longer feel the movement of our body in 
J65  11 the air.<quote/><p/>
J65  12 <p_>As he grew older and more isolated, Tatlin was referred to by 
J65  13 some in vaguely pitying terms as a clown, or Big Fool. In fact his 
J65  14 life exemplified the real dilemmas of a struggle with the dichotomy 
J65  15 between art and technology. If in his Tower he used his 
J65  16 revolutionary outlook and artistic imagination and daring to reveal 
J65  17 the possibilities of technological innovation, which would 
J65  18 otherwise be assimilated to archaic, traditional patterns of 
J65  19 thinking and daily life, with his glider he seemed to resist the 
J65  20 inevitable drift and rationale of mechanical, industrial culture. 
J65  21 He insisted that he conceived the glider as an artist, that it 
J65  22 should be aesthetically perfect. Against the 'iron laws of 
J65  23 technology' it was considered a failure. Yet although his proposal 
J65  24 was taken for what it partly was - a critique of social life and 
J65  25 values - in some ways Tatlin was still bound by technological 
J65  26 priorities. He still felt, like Leonardo before him, that the 
J65  27 'feeling of flight', which is really a psychological desire and 
J65  28 dream of freedom, could be satisfied by a machine. The drama of his 
J65  29 whole position was to be caught between the real and the imaginary, 
J65  30 between art as a representation of life, and life itself.<p/>
J65  31 <h|>MEXICANIDAD
J65  32 <p_>Quite different issues are raised by the itineraries of the 
J65  33 Mexican painter Diego Rivera. He made the aspiring artist's journey 
J65  34 from periphery to centre: he travelled to Italy, and to Paris where 
J65  35 he painted as one of the cubists. He also absorbed at first hand 
J65  36 the energy of the two emergent global powers, the USA and the USSR, 
J65  37 and he joined those other Mexican intellectuals whom the 
J65  38 revolutionary upheaval of 1910-20 spurred to travel widely over 
J65  39 their own country for the first time. But the key move of Rivera's 
J65  40 was from the metropolitan art centres back to his own country at a 
J65  41 time when Mexico was reasserting itself against the effects of 
J65  42 centuries of invasion and brutalization by outsiders. He radically 
J65  43 changed his style and began to produce the monumental, didactic 
J65  44 murals in which he set out to reinvent the history of Mexico (and 
J65  45 its modern development) in visual images for a still-overwhelmingly 
J65  46 non-literate population.<p/>
J65  47 <p_>In Paris Rivera may well have absorbed the avant-garde 
J65  48 discovery of 'primitive' and non-European art: some of the 
J65  49 evocations of Mexico in his early murals appear to owe something to 
J65  50 the paradisal tropics of Gauguin and Rousseau. But in Mexico such 
J65  51 'primitivism' became absorbed in the powerful and complex movement 
J65  52 of indigenism or nativism which was a driving force of the 
J65  53 revolution in the area of culture and which spread across all 
J65  54 disciplines (art, architecture, archaeology, folklore, music, 
J65  55 poetry, education, literature, medicine, and so on). 
J65  56 Anthropologists define nativism as an organized and conscious 
J65  57 effort on the part of members of a society to revive parts of its 
J65  58 own culture - in Mexico this implied not only national resurgence 
J65  59 but also the rediscovery of indigenous cultural values despised by 
J65  60 most of the ruling class within Mexico itself.<p/>
J65  61 <p_>Characteristically, Rivera's style evolved from primitivist 
J65  62 projections to an extraordinary effort of factual research into 
J65  63 ancient and folkloric Mexico, which he converted into painted 
J65  64 images. In a late mural like the one in the Hospital de la Raza in 
J65  65 Mexico City, Rivera gave a vast and detailed portrayal of Aztec 
J65  66 medical practices equal space with a portrayal of modern medicine. 
J65  67 This in itself was a bold assertion, but when one looks longer at 
J65  68 the layout of this painting one sees complex tensions of fact, 
J65  69 fantasy, and desire. The Aztec scenes are painful but open and 
J65  70 communal; the modern ones painless but torn by class strife and 
J65  71 segmented into alienating boxes. The very colour and conviviality 
J65  72 of the Aztec scenes show the way in which Rivera has marshalled and 
J65  73 constructed an ancient world to point beyond the present to a 
J65  74 Utopian communist future.<p/>
J65  75 <p_>Rivera's gargantuan project and his position in 
J65  76 twentieth-century art raise many questions. Interestingly, some of 
J65  77 the contradictions of his art become clearest in the comparison 
J65  78 between his own painting and that of his wife Frida Kahlo, 
J65  79 certainly his equal as an artist. In keeping with his 
J65  80 socio-political role as educator and illustrator, his relationship 
J65  81 to the masses always seems to be one of depicting and organizing 
J65  82 <tf_>from the outside<tf/>. He stylized both ancient and modern 
J65  83 Mexicans as a people, as a historical force. Rivera's contemporary, 
J65  84 the Peruvian critic Jos<*_>e-acute<*/> Carlos 
J65  85 Mari<*_>a-acute<*/>tegui, had said that the <quote_>"idealization 
J65  86 and stylization of the Indian"<quote/> was an inevitable feature of 
J65  87 'indigenist' literature in Latin America. An 'indigenous' 
J65  88 literature would appear only <quote_>"when the Indians themselves 
J65  89 are able to produce it"<quote/>.<p/>
J65  90 <p_>It is revealing too that women could enter Rivera's murals only 
J65  91 allegorically. Even though very often they were his friends or 
J65  92 lovers, in the mural they took on a generalized, abstracted 
J65  93 persona, an actor either in historical events or in the world of 
J65  94 concepts: 'fertility', 'America', 'agitation', etc. Frida Kahlo's 
J65  95 method - although she lived with Rivera for so many years and was 
J65  96 as militantly communist as he - was almost opposite. She had no 
J65  97 links with the tradition of 'high art' and architecture. She was 
J65  98 self-taught and because of ill-health was almost forced to work on 
J65  99 a domestic scale, and even from her bed. Where Rivera generalized, 
J65 100 Kahlo particularized, thinking on the level of the individual and 
J65 101 lived experience. When Kahlo came to represent the Indian, it was 
J65 102 the Indian in herself. <tf_>My Nurse and I<tf/> (1937) conveys the 
J65 103 idea of being nurtured by the indigenous culture of Mexico in as 
J65 104 intimately close, as physical, a metaphor as one can imagine (Kahlo 
J65 105 herself was of mixed ancestry: German on her father's side, Spanish 
J65 106 and Indian on her mother's). By showing herself as an adult she 
J65 107 implies the continuation of this nourishment throughout her life. 
J65 108 She suggests the 'continuity of consciousness', claimed by 
J65 109 revolutionary archaeologists between the ancient and contemporary 
J65 110 Indians of Mexico, by giving her nurse an archaic mask; this in 
J65 111 turn modifies a comforting image into one of power.<p/>
J65 112 <p_>While Kahlo and Rivera shared the same enthusiasm for Mexican 
J65 113 popular culture, Kahlo's relationship to these sources was less 
J65 114 schematic, more organic than Rivera's. Her own work was strongly 
J65 115 influenced by the style of popular <foreign|>retablo, or 
J65 116 <tf|>ex<?_>-<?/>voto paintings, where the traumas of individual 
J65 117 lives are rendered with cruel and often bloody directness. In one 
J65 118 sense these vernacular images represent the breaking-out of a 
J65 119 suppressed voice; the same can be said of Kahlo's work as a woman 
J65 120 artist. Through the individual she arrived at the general, the 
J65 121 collective.<p/>
J65 122 <p_>Nativism seems to have been an extremely complex phenomenon in 
J65 123 Mexico. A more subtle analysis would have to take account of class 
J65 124 (in the dichotomy between Rivera's 'personality' portraits of the 
J65 125 rich and famous and his 'humble' portraits of the poor, it is hard 
J65 126 not to see a form of primitivism which has been avidly consumed as 
J65 127 such by Mexico's upper classes). And this is further complicated by 
J65 128 the tendency of Europeans to see Mexican nativism in primitivist 
J65 129 terms. In fact there is a sense in which the Indian in Mexico 
J65 130 became part of Europe's argument with itself. The elements in 
J65 131 Mexican culture formerly thought inferior to European elements were 
J65 132 made visible and celebrated in <tf|>Mexicanidad, and gradually 
J65 133 became fashionable, rather in the way Africanity did in Paris in 
J65 134 the 1920s. Rivera and the other artists had done much to define 
J65 135 this Mexicanity. And although, unlike Africanity, Mexicanity was 
J65 136 constructed 'at home', it could be said to have created an 
J65 137 imaginary Mexico which would later have to be 'deconstructed' in 
J65 138 the name of the real.<p/>
J65 139 <h_><p_>ANOTHER AVANT-GARDE<p/><h/>
J65 140 <p_>There is a significant sequel to this story of the Mexican 
J65 141 experience: its almost complete suppression in European and North 
J65 142 American histories of twentieth-century art soon after the Second 
J65 143 World War. In his <tf_>Concise History of Modern Painting<tf/>, 
J65 144 which has become a standard textbook since its publication in 1959, 
J65 145 Herbert Read actually declared that he was deliberately leaving out 
J65 146 the Mexican artists. He left out much else besides, in fact the 
J65 147 whole relationship of art to social change. But this was not 
J65 148 unusual. With the growth of the art market, the philosophy of the 
J65 149 Cold War, the aggressive exportation of western culture and 
J65 150 life-style to the rest of the world, especially by the USA (an 
J65 151 exportation, overwhelmingly, of <tf|>objects), modern art was 
J65 152 constructed almost as a western capitalist monopoly enterprise. 
J65 153 This has made the cultural expression of the power relations more 
J65 154 complex. We see, for example, the projecting on an international 
J65 155 scale (with the help of the art market, of corporate 
J65 156 self<?_>-<?/>interest, of museums and publicity), as in some way 
J65 157 universally 'modern', of art which actually embodies local or 
J65 158 national myths (<quote_>"Pop Art is American ethnic art"<quote/> - 
J65 159 Rasheed Araeen). Many major 'Third World' cities today (Rio de 
J65 160 Janeiro, Caracas, Buenos Aires, Manila, Delhi, etc.) are as 
J65 161 instantly well informed of developments in Paris or New York as 
J65 162 those cities themselves, sometimes more so. But the traffic is 
J65 163 always in one direction, confirming their satellitization in the 
J65 164 world of multi<?_>-<?/>national capitals. Their reception, their 
J65 165 critical transformation of new ideas, let alone their own 
J65 166 discoveries, remain unknown and forcibly localized. New dialectics 
J65 167 between local and global, between art centres and the rest, are 
J65 168 coming into existence. On the one hand, artists of Third World 
J65 169 origin find themselves marginalized within western capitals or 
J65 170 separately categorized according to an exclusive mainstream. On the 
J65 171 other, there are numbers of artists (film-makers, theatre groups, 
J65 172 etc.) working 'locally' in the Third World but with modern 
J65 173 techniques and world connections.<p/>
J65 174 <p_>Any attempt to describe the relations of these artists to the 
J65 175 dominant centres of power in the post-war world would produce the 
J65 176 most complex map: of emigrations, of returns, of exile, of staying 
J65 177 home. Such conditions are not generally known, let alone the 
J65 178 significance of an individual's movement and practice between 
J65 179 different social spaces and cultural contexts. But a particular 
J65 180 perspective is shared by all those who take the question radically 
J65 181 'from the other side'. Their consciousness of the daily 
J65 182 socio-economic realities of 'underdevelopment' - of which a 
J65 183 colonized culture is part - becomes inseparable from their critique 
J65 184 of art, of its commercialization and neutralization in western 
J65 185 cultural institutions. This perspective is expressed too, I 
J65 186 believe, in radically different meanings and uses of 
J65 187 'primitivism'.<p/>
J65 188 <p_>Consider, for example, the work of two outstanding Brazilian 
J65 189 artists, Lygia Clark (1920-88) and Helio Oiticica (1937-80), of 
J65 190 which the 'international museum circuit' remains ignorant. In the 
J65 191 1950s a 'universal' modernist movement was tested out in Brazil: 
J65 192 constructivism. It flourished as part of the post-war economic and 
J65 193 construction boom, answering the desire of dynamic sections of the 
J65 194 Brazilian society to create an 'absolutely modern' environment. 
J65 195 Both Lygia Clark's and Helio Oiticica's early work was done in the 
J65 196 constructivist vein (and has always since retained some traces of 
J65 197 its geometric ordering). But almost at once they began to question 
J65 198 its application as a ready-made model to Brazilian conditions, and 
J65 199 to explode the limitations of its rationale.<p/>
J65 200 <p_>According to a technicist notion of constructivism, Lygia 
J65 201 Clark's and Helio Oiticica's work apparently 'went back' to 
J65 202 'primitive' materials, to the body, to 'primordial' sensations, 
J65 203 relationships. In fact its radicalism was of another kind. An acute 
J65 204 sensitivity to traditions and tensions in their own environment is 
J65 205 combined with a searching questioning of the artist's production in 
J65 206 a corporate, consumer society.<p/>
J65 207 <p_>By the early 1960s, Lygia Clark had broken with the traditional 
J65 208 idea of sculpture as a detached object, in which the body's energy 
J65 209 and the artist's expressive power are somehow captured, frozen.
J65 210 
J66   1 <#FLOB:J66\><h_><p_>PORTRAITURE AS HISTORY AND THEATRE<p/><h/>
J66   2 <p_>The insistence that portraiture could serve the same edifying 
J66   3 function as history painting was to some extent opportunistic. 
J66   4 Theorists such as Richardson and Reynolds had their own interests 
J66   5 as practising artists to serve, and the promotion of portraiture as 
J66   6 a serious branch of art lent respectability to their efforts. 
J66   7 However, throughout the eighteenth century, artists, critics and 
J66   8 patrons acknowledged that portraiture could and did have a function 
J66   9 beyond the obvious one of 'face painting'. Its perception as 
J66  10 history accompanied the growth of a genre of theatrical 
J66  11 portraiture, which, in its initial stages, was primarily 
J66  12 commercial. By the end of the century, changes in the theatre 
J66  13 itself and in the perception of actors gave the stage added status 
J66  14 as a subject and concern for painters. It was understandable 
J66  15 therefore that artists should see in the theatre a means of fusing 
J66  16 portraiture and history, and Lawrence's portraits represent the 
J66  17 climax of this tendency.<p/>
J66  18 <p_>From the seventeenth century, the equation of portrait 
J66  19 patronage with personal vanity was denied by those who saw a more 
J66  20 public role for the genre. Many country houses had a 'gallery of 
J66  21 worthies' containing either painted or sculpted depictions of 
J66  22 famous men and, less frequently, women, from the past and present. 
J66  23 Such galleries were intended to suggest the learning and judgment 
J66  24 of the house's owner, but they were also interpreted as an 
J66  25 incitement to noble behaviour. The portrait's power was seen to lie 
J66  26 more in the choice of the person represented than in the quality of 
J66  27 the painting itself, so that the Brown Gallery at Knole contained 
J66  28 portraits of worthies to which the names were attached arbitrarily. 
J66  29 To counterbalance this tendency to ignore the portrait's aesthetic 
J66  30 value, Jonathan Richardson insisted that its true power lay in the 
J66  31 skill of the artist to reveal the nobility of the sitter's 
J66  32 character. Richardson, who equated the genre's status with that of 
J66  33 history painting, defined a portrait as <quote_>"a sort of General 
J66  34 History of the Life of the Person it represents, not only to Him 
J66  35 who is acquainted with it, but to Many Others"<quote/>. By 
J66  36 successfully depicting a 'great man', a portrait painter could 
J66  37 therefore convey the idea of greatness to an observer, whether or 
J66  38 not that observer had any foreknowledge of the sitter. The portrait 
J66  39 thus transcended the specificity of its subject by focusing on the 
J66  40 salient virtues of the sitter's character. With such a theoretical 
J66  41 basis, portraits could be seen as having a public role, and one 
J66  42 critic even went so far as to suggest that portrait painting should 
J66  43 become for England what history painting was for Italy.<p/>
J66  44 <p_>Later in the century, this conception of portraiture permeated 
J66  45 Royal Academy lectures and discourses. Reynolds referred to the 
J66  46 genre infrequently and cautiously, but in his Fourth Discourse he 
J66  47 implicitly acknowledged the value of portraiture that was 
J66  48 <quote|>"general" rather than <quote|>"specific": <quote_>"but it 
J66  49 happens in a few instances, that the lower may be improved by 
J66  50 borrowing from the grand. Thus if a portrait-painter is desirous to 
J66  51 raise and improve his subject, he has no other means than by 
J66  52 approaching it to a general idea"<quote/>. In this same Discourse, 
J66  53 Reynolds deplored the specificity that resulted when a portrait 
J66  54 painter attempted history, as <quote_>"An History-painter paints 
J66  55 man in general; a Portrait-painter, a particular man, and 
J66  56 consequently a defective model."<quote/> Here he identified the 
J66  57 essential problem of specificity, which not only hampered the 
J66  58 portrait painter searching for a means of universalizing his works, 
J66  59 but potentially threatened the universality of history painting 
J66  60 itself. Reynolds's warning was undermined by the wild success of 
J66  61 West's and Copley's modern history paintings, which drew their 
J66  62 popularity in part from the number of identifiable portraits 
J66  63 contained within them. This dissolving of the boundaries between 
J66  64 portraiture and history led Northcote to contend <quote_>"Portrait 
J66  65 often runs into history and history into portrait, without our 
J66  66 knowing it"<quote/>, and by 1809, one critic could argue the 
J66  67 benefits of including portraits in history painting, and look 
J66  68 forward to the time when West's example <quote_>"will ultimately 
J66  69 banish all imaginary <tf|>monsters from the historical canvass 
J66  70 [sic]"<quote/>. Writing in the <tf_>Anti-Jacobin Review<tf/>, this 
J66  71 critic was responding to Opie's Royal Academy lectures, and 
J66  72 challenging that artist's scorn for those who were interested only 
J66  73 in <quote|>"likenesses". Significantly, this partisan reviewer saw 
J66  74 portraits of 'great men' within a war-weary country as serving an 
J66  75 inspirational and educative function.<p/>
J66  76 <p_>The nature of the relationship between portraiture and history 
J66  77 painting was explored most subtly by Fuseli, who interpreted the 
J66  78 former as being concerned, broadly, with the depiction of 
J66  79 character: <quote_>"Portrait is to historic painting in art, what 
J66  80 physiognomy is to pathognomy in science. <tf|>That shows the 
J66  81 character and powers of the being which it delineates, in its 
J66  82 formation, and at rest; <tf|>this shows it in exertion."<quote/> 
J66  83 Fuseli's sensitivity to the role of portraiture within history 
J66  84 painting is revealed through his invention of a category of 
J66  85 <quote|>"dramatic" painting, which, together with the 
J66  86 <quote|>"historical" and the <quote|>"epic", formed his three 
J66  87 branches of history in painting. The introduction of this dramatic 
J66  88 argument into a predominantly historical agenda is a significant 
J66  89 change of emphasis, and one which reflects the growing importance 
J66  90 of a theatrical model to the historical painters of the Royal 
J66  91 Academy.<p/>
J66  92 <p_>Theatrical portraiture emerged as a sub-genre in the 1740s and 
J66  93 50s when David Garrick became aware of the valuable publicity to be 
J66  94 gained from depictions of himself in character. Topical portraits 
J66  95 of this kind proved successful commercial speculations for both 
J66  96 actor and artist, particularly when shown at a public exhibition. 
J66  97 Because they were primarily commercial in their content and 
J66  98 intention, theatrical portraits were at first held in low regard. 
J66  99 Actors and actresses, struggling to increase their status in a 
J66 100 mobile society, would often take offence when portraits in street 
J66 101 dress were exhibited with allusions to their profession, perceiving 
J66 102 an important difference between a sensational image of public 
J66 103 performance and a private declaration of status. Lawrence himself 
J66 104 suffered the outrage of Elizabeth Farren, when her portrait was 
J66 105 accidently<&|>sic! exhibited under the title 'An Actress', rather 
J66 106 than 'A Lady'. Equally, critics of the Shakespeare Gallery warned 
J66 107 artists not to look to the stage for their inspiration, fearing 
J66 108 (not without cause) that the exhibition could turn into a mere 
J66 109 collection of costume portraits. However, the contempt with which 
J66 110 theatrical portraits seemed to be held was offset by more positive 
J66 111 responses. 'Anthony Pasquin's' often brutal criticisms of Royal 
J66 112 Academy exhibitions included praise of Samuel de Wilde's theatrical 
J66 113 portraits, and Reynolds, who professed to abhor <quote_>"the 
J66 114 theatrical pomp and parade of dress and attitude"<quote/> was the 
J66 115 eager purchaser of Zoffany's portrait of Garrick as Abel Drugger. 
J66 116 Reynolds also painted several theatrical portraits, including 
J66 117 <tf_>Mrs. Abington as Miss Prue<tf/> (1771; New Haven, Yale 
J66 118 Centre), which offended against his own rules of specificity.<p/>
J66 119 <p_>It was Reynolds who first used theatrical subjects as a means 
J66 120 of realizing his ambition to elevate the genre of portraiture. 
J66 121 Several of his theatrical portraits show his attempt to cast this 
J66 122 genre into a pseudo-historical mould. <tf_>Garrick Between Tragedy 
J66 123 and Comedy<tf/> (1760-62; private collection) plays learnedly on 
J66 124 the theme of the Judgment of Hercules and alludes to Shaftesbury's 
J66 125 <tf|>Characteristicks. Such works came to be read as transcending 
J66 126 the narrow bounds of both face painting and theatrical portraiture. 
J66 127 Thus <tf_>Mrs. Abington as the Comic Muse<tf/> (<tf|>c. 1769; 
J66 128 Waddesdon) was the subject of a commemorative poem by Edward 
J66 129 Jerningham, who declared that the portrait, then hanging at Knole, 
J66 130 acted as a sort of <quote|>"talisman" against sadness, while 
J66 131 Reynolds's depiction of the actress Fanny Kemble in street dress 
J66 132 was referred to as an <quote_>"instructive canvas"<quote/> exciting 
J66 133 <quote_>"moral worth"<quote/>. Here Richardson's idea that a 
J66 134 portrait could instruct by merely exhibiting the virtue of its 
J66 135 sitter makes its way into ephemeral criticism. But it was 
J66 136 Reynolds's portrait of <tf_>Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse<tf/> 
J66 137 (plate 41) that went the furthest towards exemplifying his own 
J66 138 ideals, and which had the greatest impact on Lawrence.<p/>
J66 139 <p_>In his otherwise sparse and somewhat lame academy discourses 
J66 140 Lawrence's observations on Reynolds's portrait of Siddons emerge as 
J66 141 a strong testimony to his interest in this subject. Calling the 
J66 142 painting <quote_>"a work of the highest epic character, and 
J66 143 indisputably the finest female portrait in the world"<quote/>, 
J66 144 Lawrence goes on to praise Reynolds and Siddons for the cooperation 
J66 145 which led to the painting's creation. By using the term 'epic', 
J66 146 Lawrence implicitly links the portrait with Fuseli's highest 
J66 147 category of history painting. Lawrence's own evaluation of 
J66 148 theatrical portrait to epic history painting was made possible by 
J66 149 the public perception of Siddons, and his choice of Siddons's 
J66 150 brother, John Philip Kemble, as a theatrical/historical subject 
J66 151 equally owed much to the public perception of that actor.<p/>
J66 152 <p_>The status of the actor in the eighteenth century was enhanced 
J66 153 when regulation of the theatres led to a monopoly, allowing 
J66 154 Garrick, as manager of Drury Lane, to gain an unprecedented 
J66 155 fortune. Garrick used his wealth and fame as a passport to genteel 
J66 156 society, and Kemble followed his lead when he assumed the 
J66 157 management of Drury Lane under Richard Brinsley Sheridan's 
J66 158 jurisdiction. Garrick's ascent had aroused as much suspicion as 
J66 159 admiration, with observers such as Horace Walpole rejecting his 
J66 160 claims to gentility as mere emulation. Kemble however benefited 
J66 161 from Garrick's example and inspired greater regard for his personal 
J66 162 qualities. Just as his private character was declared to be above 
J66 163 reproach, so his public persona was represented as exhibiting the 
J66 164 values of nobility, dignity and restraint. Haydon reported that 
J66 165 <quote_>"Kemble as an Actor & West as a Painter have more claims on 
J66 166 society from the honour of their private characters, than the 
J66 167 greatness of their genius"<quote/>, but the <tf_>Gentleman's 
J66 168 Magazine<tf/> extended his claim without qualification, referring 
J66 169 to Kemble as a <quote_>"man in whom private worth unites itself to 
J66 170 public activities"<quote/>. His image was enhanced by an 
J66 171 association with primarily tragic roles: unlike Garrick, who 
J66 172 <quote_>"would play Punch rather than not be acting"<quote/>, 
J66 173 Kemble <quote_>"was impressed with a higher sense of the 
J66 174 <tf|>dignitiy and <tf|>utility of his art"<quote/>, as the 
J66 175 portrayal of comic characters was felt to be <quote_>"below the 
J66 176 attention of such a performer"<quote/>. That such qualities were 
J66 177 the result of a critical construction can be proven by comparing 
J66 178 them to adverse criticisms which viewed his acting as sloppy, 
J66 179 ranting and overtly emotional. Apologists explained his 'classical' 
J66 180 style in terms that were appropriated from Reynolds's 
J66 181 <tf|>Discourses:<p/>
J66 182 <p_> The truth is, that the advocates for natural representation, 
J66 183 forget what Mr. Kemble always bore in mind, that it is the best 
J66 184 part of Nature only, which should be faithfully given; that 
J66 185 stooping to represent the common effects of common life, either in 
J66 186 person or action, degrades the character and the art.<p/>
J66 187 <p_>Kemble's Coriolanus was extolled as <quote_>"the <tf_>beau 
J66 188 id<*_>e-acute<*/>al<tf/> of Rome"<quote/>; his stage presence was 
J66 189 compared to the effect of the Apollo Belvedere and the Laocoon; and 
J66 190 his later biographer, the dramatist James Boaden, quoted Reynolds's 
J66 191 Seventh and Thirteenth Discourses in an attempt to classify the 
J66 192 special nature of his acting. Boaden referred to Kemble's method as 
J66 193 <quote_>"academic or critical"<quote/>, and distinguished between 
J66 194 the <quote|>"academic" and <quote|>"vulgar" styles of performance, 
J66 195 just as Reynolds had polarized the <quote|>"academic" and 
J66 196 <quote|>"vulgar" styles of painting in his <tf|>Discourses.<p/>
J66 197 <p_>The appropriation of Reynolds's terminology was more than 
J66 198 simple plagiarism. Establishing Kemble's credentials, even in 
J66 199 retrospect, was crucial, as from the end of the eighteenth century 
J66 200 the stage was seen as having a political as well as moral purpose, 
J66 201 <quote_>"animating by example the love of a country, public 
J66 202 courage, and all those virtues that must grace the English 
J66 203 character, keep them free from the yoke of foreign tyranny and that 
J66 204 unparalleled catalogue of vices existing in a neighbouring 
J66 205 nation"<quote/>. Drury Lane was under the management of the Whig 
J66 206 and sometimes radical Sheridan, and when Kemble purchased part of 
J66 207 the rival theatre Covent Garden in 1803, popular polemic saw him 
J66 208 either as representative of ancient virtues, order and hierarchy, 
J66 209 or as tyrannical and autocratic - both contrasting with Sheridan's 
J66 210 policies. As a manager Kemble was attacked for his <quote_>"want of 
J66 211 respect for the public"<quote/> and <quote_>"aristocratic 
J66 212 impulse"<quote/> or praised for his disdain for popular opinion. 
J66 213 Both detractors and defenders contrasted Kemble's aloofness with 
J66 214 the populism of Sheridan, who put the desires of the majority of 
J66 215 his audience for proper seating and accessible entertainment before 
J66 216 those of the privileged few.
J66 217 
J67   1 <#FLOB:J67\>The problem is compounded by the fact that uncertainty 
J67   2 concerning the undoubtedly different appearance of the models that 
J67   3 lie behind the two books makes it highly problematic to assess the 
J67   4 nuances of their stylistic rapport. However, having said this, it 
J67   5 will be observed that although they share the same attitudes to 
J67   6 composition and to the rendering of bricks and drapery folds, the 
J67   7 miniatures of the two books are clearly distinguished from each 
J67   8 other in terms of facial types and the use of colour. The tones 
J67   9 favoured in the Lectionary, whilst bright, are nevertheless more 
J67  10 harmonious and less abrasive than those which were generally 
J67  11 preferred in the Troper. The lectionary is closer to the mainstream 
J67  12 of Anglo-Saxon art than is the Troper. As no more than one artist 
J67  13 seems to have worked in either manuscript, at the very least we can 
J67  14 safely conclude that the two books are not contemporary works of 
J67  15 the same artist. The main texts of the two volumes were written by 
J67  16 different hands of quite different aspects (neither of which have 
J67  17 been recognized elsewhere). Nor are the monumental display scripts 
J67  18 of the two books particularly close. On the other hand, a modest 
J67  19 scribal relationship between them is provided by their 
J67  20 inscriptions. The small inscription <foreign|>b.ciliccus 
J67  21 (basiliscus) written up the side of the page, beside the Q to 
J67  22 Luke's gospel in the Lectionary, is comparable in arrangement and 
J67  23 script (rustic capitals) to the inscriptions written around all 
J67  24 eleven surviving pictures in the Troper. Whether these similarities 
J67  25 amount to sufficient evidence for assigning both books to the same 
J67  26 centre of production is open to doubt: even if they be regarded as 
J67  27 earlier and later works of the same artist this need not 
J67  28 necessarily imply that they were executed at the same centre. The 
J67  29 safest and most reasonable course for the present is surely to 
J67  30 group them more loosely, as the products of related artistic 
J67  31 milieux. Now, far from being an anticlimax, the suggestion of a 
J67  32 looser association between them is itself of some import, implying 
J67  33 as it does that this divergent, progressive style - practised 
J67  34 either by two artists or by one developing his idiom over a number 
J67  35 of years, in either case possibly at different centres - was 
J67  36 potentially a more widespread phenomenon.<p/>
J67  37 <p_>Returning to the issue that is of primary concern here, namely 
J67  38 that of clarifying and defining more precisely the nature of the 
J67  39 innovative qualities of these two decorated books, there are three 
J67  40 basic points which should be made.<p/>
J67  41 <p_>In the first place, since art historical discussion has tended 
J67  42 to focus on the miniatures alone, emphasizing their atypical 
J67  43 qualities, it is worth stressing that the organization, 
J67  44 <foreign|>mise-en-page and writing of the two manuscripts as a 
J67  45 whole are not comparably unusual. Notwithstanding certain 
J67  46 constructional anomalies (particularly in the Troper), both books 
J67  47 are generally well produced, written in well sustained, fairly 
J67  48 elegant late English Caroline minuscule, with capitals in gold, 
J67  49 red, blue and lilac. The text hand of Caligula, notable for the 
J67  50 flowing, curling tail of g and for the use of two forms of q - a 
J67  51 regular minuscule, and a diminutive majuscule - is difficult to 
J67  52 parallel closely, but the general aspect of the neat, rectilinear, 
J67  53 mainly upright script with triangular serifs on the ascenders finds 
J67  54 analogies in several manuscripts of mid- to late eleventh-century 
J67  55 date, including volumes from Exeter and Bury St Edmunds. The script 
J67  56 of the Lectionary is strongly reminiscent of Worcester bookhands of 
J67  57 the third quarter of the eleventh century. In size and proportions 
J67  58 the Lectionary compares closely with the Gospel Lectionary of St 
J67  59 Margaret. The Troper is a little smaller than the Troper in the 
J67  60 Bodleian and somewhat larger than that in Corpus Christi College, 
J67  61 Cambridge. Like the Cambridge Troper (and other music manuscripts), 
J67  62 the minuscule text in Caligula is very small in relation to the 
J67  63 space between the ruled lines, allowing plenty of room for the 
J67  64 neums above; and, as is the case in both unillustrated Tropers, 
J67  65 coloured majuscules and rustic capitals play a crucial role in 
J67  66 subdividing and organizing the text. The use of projecting 
J67  67 ascenders and descenders to characterize and accentuate display 
J67  68 script is another important feature in the design of the Troper 
J67  69 which is paralleled in numerous other contemporary manuscripts.<p/>
J67  70 <p_>Secondly, consideration of such analogies as may be found for 
J67  71 the distinctive style of the artwork in these two books reveals it 
J67  72 as a native tradition reformulated apparently through familiarity 
J67  73 with certain continental works. Although rooted in the vocabulary 
J67  74 of Anglo-Saxon manuscript decoration of the 1020c, the style 
J67  75 attests to a new relationship with contemporary illumination in 
J67  76 Flanders and Lotharingia. Modest reflections of the same manner are 
J67  77 to be seen in several other English books dating from the last 
J67  78 three decades of the eleventh century.<p/>
J67  79 <p_>The ornamental initial in the Troper and many of the decorative 
J67  80 features of the Lectionary, particularly in its canon tables, are 
J67  81 appreciable as a development of the art of the Eadui Gospels and 
J67  82 the Arundel 155 Psalter, Christ Church manuscripts of the previous 
J67  83 generation. The treatment of the figures is reminiscent of that in 
J67  84 the Old English Hexateuch. The choice and use of colours - heavy 
J67  85 tones scumbled with white - invites comparison with the Hexateuch, 
J67  86 the mid-eleventh-century Canterbury <tf_>Rule of St Benedict<tf/>, 
J67  87 the Illustrated Miscellany and the later Exeter Gospels. On the 
J67  88 other hand, the best analogies for the general style of most of the 
J67  89 figural compositions are undoubtedly found in eleventh- and 
J67  90 twelfth-century manuscripts from Flanders and Lotharingia. The 
J67  91 influence of styles or indeed the participation of artists from 
J67  92 these areas is quite possible in view of England's continuing 
J67  93 contacts with Flanders and Lotharingia in the mid-eleventh century. 
J67  94 There were, it will be recalled, four Lotharingian bishops in 
J67  95 England during the reign of Edward the Confessor. Given that the 
J67  96 Gospel Lectionary is known to have been at Hereford in the late 
J67  97 eleventh century, while it has been suggested that the Troper may 
J67  98 have been made for Edward the Confessor, it is interesting to 
J67  99 recall that the bishop of Hereford during the period 1061-79 was 
J67 100 Walter of Lotharingia, who had come to England with Edward and had 
J67 101 formerly been a royal chaplain.<p/>
J67 102 <p_>Echoes of the style of the two books are found in two English 
J67 103 Romanesque manuscripts: the Shaftesbury Psalter and a closely 
J67 104 related copy of Boethius, <tf_>De consolatione philosophiae<tf/>, 
J67 105 which is now in the Bodleian Library; both are dated to the second 
J67 106 quarter of the twelfth century and are associated with the West 
J67 107 Country. However it is open to question whether these formal 
J67 108 similarities represent an actual connection between the two 
J67 109 Anglo-Saxon and the two Romanesque books, as opposed to being the 
J67 110 coincidental result of independent influence from related 
J67 111 Continental sources. Of more immediate relevance are certain 
J67 112 parallels to be seen in the decoration of a few English manuscripts 
J67 113 of late eleventh-century to early twelfth-century date. For 
J67 114 instance, to begin with the most limited case, the distinctive 
J67 115 manner of rendering bricks, but not any other feature, is matched 
J67 116 in one of the drawings in the Cotton Caligula A.XV computistica, a 
J67 117 Christ Church book dating from <tf|>c. 1073. More impressive are 
J67 118 the analogies provided by Durham Cathedral Library, MS B. II. 16, a 
J67 119 copy of Augustine, <tf_>In evangelium Iohannis<tf/>, made at St 
J67 120 Augustine's, Canterbury, towards the end of the eleventh century 
J67 121 and sent to Durham shortly afterwards. As the decoration of the 
J67 122 book consists purely of initials, not miniatures, this naturally 
J67 123 limits the extent of the parallels; nevertheless the same foliate 
J67 124 forms reappear and a number of the figural initials are painted in 
J67 125 a manner akin to that used in the Troper - rich colours, thickly 
J67 126 applied, their tones modified by the application of white (fig. 
J67 127 25). Another book, Cambridge University Library, MS Ii. 3. 33, a 
J67 128 copy of Gregory's <tf_>Registrum epistolarum<tf/> ascribed to 
J67 129 Christ Church and dating from between 1079 and 1101, has three 
J67 130 decorated initials painted in a related style (all on fol. 
J67 131 5<sp_>r<sp/>), although with less use of white. The fact that these 
J67 132 analogies as indeed the earlier eleventh-century English ones occur 
J67 133 in manuscripts of Canterbury, particularly Christ Church, origin is 
J67 134 worth noting; on the other hand this in itself is insufficient 
J67 135 grounds for ascribing the Troper and the Lectionary to that centre. 
J67 136 The principal importance of the three later Canterbury books is 
J67 137 that they reveal that the stylistic innovations of the Troper and 
J67 138 particularly the Lectionary were not wholly isolated in the context 
J67 139 of English art in the second half of the eleventh century: 
J67 140 affiliated modes of decoration were evidently being explored, 
J67 141 albeit in a discreet way, at Canterbury in the decades after the 
J67 142 Norman Conquest.<p/>
J67 143 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J67 144 <p_>The third point, which relates specifically to the Troper, is 
J67 145 the essential originality of its decorative programme. Fine 
J67 146 illustrated early medieval tropers are very rare, and the sum total 
J67 147 of decoration in the other two surviving Anglo-Saxon tropers is a 
J67 148 single ornamental initial. Furthermore, irrespective of the 
J67 149 irresolvable issue of whether or not there may once have existed 
J67 150 other Anglo-Saxon tropers with more extensive decoration, the 
J67 151 idiosyncratic arrangement of the miniatures within the surviving 
J67 152 portion of the Caligula Troper, the discrepancies in their size and 
J67 153 finish, their unusual subject matter and their divergent 
J67 154 iconographies and decorative features argue strongly in favour of 
J67 155 this being the first manuscript in which these pictures were added 
J67 156 to this text. Moreover, the way in which they were actually applied 
J67 157 to the book, far from reflecting an inherited layout, suggests 
J67 158 rather that their inclusion represented an afterthought or a change 
J67 159 in plan. Some of the pictures, only four of which occupy a full 
J67 160 page (the remainder vary in size), were clearly squeezed into 
J67 161 spaces that were hardly sufficient to receive them; and on one 
J67 162 occasion the addition of a miniature obliterated at least one line 
J67 163 of text and probably more.<p/>
J67 164 <p_>A thorough review of the iconography of the miniatures and 
J67 165 their various analogues remains a desideratum; nevertheless, the 
J67 166 basic point that there is a range of unusual subjects and an 
J67 167 eclecticism of iconography and design here for which a single model 
J67 168 could not account is not in doubt. Five of the miniatures - the 
J67 169 Naming of John, the Release of St Peter, the Temptation of St 
J67 170 Martin, the Annunciation to Joachim, and Joachima and Anna with 
J67 171 Mary - are the only known representations of the subject in 
J67 172 question in an Anglo-Saxon manuscript, while the treatment of the 
J67 173 subjects that do occur elsewhere remains distinctive, even when a 
J67 174 familiar iconographic type provides the basis of the work. Thus in 
J67 175 the case of the two-part miniature of the Passion of St Lawrence 
J67 176 (fig. 24), although the illustration to Psalm XXXIII in the Utrecht 
J67 177 Psalter and its early eleventh-century Anglo-Saxon copy, Harley 
J67 178 603, provide precedents for the iconography of the lower scene (his 
J67 179 martyrdom itself), the upper scene is unique in the insular milieu. 
J67 180 The inclusion of the diminutive, green, bestial demon at Decius' 
J67 181 shoulder, inciting him to evil, is particularly to be noted since 
J67 182 this seems to have been a favourite motif of the artist and its 
J67 183 'brother' appears in his representation of the Temptation of St 
J67 184 Martin. In tracing the pictorial ancestry of these demons to the 
J67 185 illustration to Psalm XXV in the Utrecht Psalter, and the figural 
J67 186 initial to <tf_>Pusillus eram<tf/> in the Corbie Psalter, we should 
J67 187 not overlook the possible influence of dramatic literary portrayals 
J67 188 of devils as very physical <tf_>agents provocateurs<tf/> such as 
J67 189 are found in the Old English poems <tf|>Juliana and <tf|>Andreas. 
J67 190 Similarly, in the case of the image of Stephen (fig. 23), whereas 
J67 191 in the contemporary Bury Psalter and the earlier Benedictional of 
J67 192 St <*_>AE-ligature<*/>thelwold we see the saint depicted at the 
J67 193 moment of his martyrdom according to a well established 
J67 194 iconographic tradition, here we are presented instead with an 
J67 195 iconic, frontal figure, holding palm, stole, open book and censer, 
J67 196 who fills his frame, and who invites comparison with other 
J67 197 monumental hieratic figures, ranging from the evangelists in 
J67 198 certain Insular gospel books to those in a late eleventh-century 
J67 199 copy of the New Testament from the area of Agen-Moissac. The fact 
J67 200 that this image and that of St Andrew are iconic, while the 
J67 201 miniatures for St Martin, St Lawrence and St Peter are narrative 
J67 202 (consisting of one, two and three scenes respectively) is 
J67 203 symptomatic of the eclectic qualities of this remarkable decorative 
J67 204 programme as a whole.
J67 205 
J68   1 <#FLOB:J68\><h_><p_>Humphrey Searle<p/>
J68   2 <p_>BY<p/>
J68   3 <p_>DAVID C. F. WRIGHT<p/><h/>
J68   4 <p_>Many composers suffer neglect and some are, or become, 
J68   5 completely forgotten. Few composers, however, have been as badly 
J68   6 treated as Humphrey Searle.<p/>
J68   7 <p_>He was born in Oxford on 26th August, 1915, one of three sons 
J68   8 born to Humphrey Frederic, a civil servant, and Charlotte Mathilde 
J68   9 May who, although born in England, had no English blood. Her father 
J68  10 was Sir William Schlich, who came from Darmstadt in Germany, and 
J68  11 Lady Schlich was of French, Belgian and Italian descent. Humphrey's 
J68  12 paternal grandfather trained as an organist and was part of a 
J68  13 musical family that lived in Devon.<p/>
J68  14 <p_>At school, Humphrey had piano lessons but was never proficient 
J68  15 as a pianist, although, in later life, he could be persuaded to 
J68  16 play a Bach Prelude and Fugue at parties. What he did become, 
J68  17 however, among many other things, was a competent conductor with an 
J68  18 impeccable ear for meticulous sound that earned him respect as a 
J68  19 record reviewer, writer and commentator. In all his critical 
J68  20 writings he was always constructive; he was never harsh or scathing 
J68  21 - which is some indication of the fundamental goodness of his 
J68  22 character. In fact, some have said that this was one cause of the 
J68  23 neglect of his music, particularly from the 1970s onwards. He 
J68  24 championed many musicians and young composers to the extreme of his 
J68  25 unfailing generosity, and his own career suffered. He was reticent 
J68  26 and self-effacing - often to the point of being embarrassing. If 
J68  27 the present writer commented on one of the many touches of genius 
J68  28 in his work he would invariably reply by demonstrating some passage 
J68  29 in Bach, Beethoven or Liszt that he thought to be marvellous.<p/>
J68  30 <p_>Searle's real awakening to music came in 1928 when he went to 
J68  31 Winchester School, where he met Robert Irving and James Robertson. 
J68  32 Irving was to become musical director of the Sadler's Wells Opera 
J68  33 at the same time that Humphrey Searle was on its advisory panel in 
J68  34 the 1950s. The availability of a gramophone at school enabled the 
J68  35 three students to familiarize themselves with the classical 
J68  36 repertoire and with such modern works as were recorded. Searle 
J68  37 began to take harmony lessons with George Dyson, who was 
J68  38 <quote_>"profoundly impressed"<quote/> by him. Having won a 
J68  39 Classical scholarship to Oxford University, Searle went up in 1933 
J68  40 and, while he was absorbing the appropriate material for his 
J68  41 degree, he pursued musical studies with Sydney Watson, the organist 
J68  42 of New College.<p/>
J68  43 <p_>If interest in music germinated in 1928, then it blossomed six 
J68  44 years later when Searle heard the first English performance of 
J68  45 Berg's <tf|>Wozzeck under Sir Adrian Boult, broadcast in March, 
J68  46 1934. <quote_>"It knocked me sideways"<quote/> admitted Searle, 
J68  47 who, consequently, put his energies into finding out about the 
J68  48 serial style of composition as advocated by Arnold 
J68  49 Sch<*_>o-umlaut<*/>nberg, the leader of the Second Viennese School, 
J68  50 which included Webern and Berg, two of Sch<*_>o-umlaut<*/>nberg's 
J68  51 distinguished pupils. Today, there is no doubt about the eminence 
J68  52 of Berg's incredible score but it says a very great deal for Searle 
J68  53 that he recognized its greatness at once. Fifty years or so later, 
J68  54 musical opinion has realized that twelve-note music is an original 
J68  55 means of composition without the restrictions of traditionalism. In 
J68  56 the hands of brilliant composers such as Sch<*_>o-umlaut<*/>nberg, 
J68  57 Webern and Berg and, indeed Searle, this musical language has 
J68  58 proved itself to be wide-ranging and varied in expression and 
J68  59 emotion - yet embodying the strictest discipline, as is 
J68  60 demonstrated, for example, in the language of Bach.<p/>
J68  61 <p_>The history of music has produced many enigmas. One such is 
J68  62 vacillating fashion. A composer's work can be subjected to savage 
J68  63 hostility and, later, with a change in musical trends, it is 
J68  64 reassessed as acceptable and sometimes admired. Yet the composer, 
J68  65 if he is still living, cannot claim recompense for the injustice he 
J68  66 has suffered. There is some truth in Arthur Honegger's remark that 
J68  67 the only qualification for the possibility of being a great 
J68  68 composer is being dead.<p/>
J68  69 <p_>Searle was helped in his research by Theodor Adorno, who had 
J68  70 studied with both Sch<*_>o-umlaut<*/>nberg and Webern and had come 
J68  71 to Oxford as a refugee from Nazi Germany. We may not be able fully 
J68  72 to grasp what it meant in those days to espouse the cause of serial 
J68  73 music. It was, to say the least, unfashionable. After the war, 
J68  74 Searle was to make an equally courageous stand for the music of 
J68  75 Liszt, serving as secretary of the Liszt Society for twenty-two 
J68  76 years from 1950. At that time, Liszt was absurdly claimed to 
J68  77 <quote_>"compose music of empty grand gesture"<quote/>, which, it 
J68  78 was alleged, stemmed from <quote_>"the reckless extroversion of his 
J68  79 oscillating character"<quote/>. Humphrey Searle's heroic position 
J68  80 has, subsequently, been vindicated but, at the time, he stood alone 
J68  81 in this country and its moribund musical establishment, whose 
J68  82 members thought him to be mad and, furthermore, to be shunned at 
J68  83 all costs. It cannot be emphasized enough that he took the brunt of 
J68  84 acrimonious criticism of serial composition in this country. Later, 
J68  85 with the partial rebirth of the musical establishment, younger 
J68  86 composers gained some success with their twelve-note works and it 
J68  87 is to Humphrey Searle that they owe a considerable debt of 
J68  88 gratitude. Their respective attainments, however, brought no 
J68  89 recognition for Searle. He was still ignored and, while he did not 
J68  90 complain, inwardly he was hurt. He used to say that the music 
J68  91 business was a savage jungle and some music lovers are fickle, 
J68  92 subscribing to the immature notion that what cannot be whistled or 
J68  93 immediately understood is rubbish. This denotes a parochial 
J68  94 dependence on the security of predictability and obviousness to the 
J68  95 <tf|>ennui that may accompany it.<p/>
J68  96 <p_>Professor of Music at Oxford, while Searle was there, was Sir 
J68  97 Hugh Allen, who saw the enormous potential in him and, 
J68  98 consequently, promised a travelling scholarship when he had taken 
J68  99 his Classics degree. It was not only Allen and Dyson who recognized 
J68 100 the gifts latent in this young man. William Walton saw some of 
J68 101 Searle's compositions and urged him to pursue his musical studies 
J68 102 without delay, recommending lessons with John Ireland at the Royal 
J68 103 College of Music. On his entering the College Searle's parents 
J68 104 withdrew their financial support since they were opposed to a 
J68 105 musical career, wanting their son to sit the Civil Service 
J68 106 examination. Searle was undeterred and made the first of many 
J68 107 stands showing the admirable courage and tenacity that never 
J68 108 deserted him.<p/>
J68 109 <p_>Searle studied with Ireland only for a short while and liked 
J68 110 him very much. As for Ireland, he always said of Humphrey Searle: 
J68 111 <quote_>"He is the cleverest musician I have ever met"<quote/>. 
J68 112 That is some accolade, particularly when it is remembered that 
J68 113 Ireland met and knew many world-famous musicians - for example, he 
J68 114 used to recall encounters with Ravel.<p/>
J68 115 <p_>His allowance from his parents having ceased, Searle had to 
J68 116 earn his living, which partly came from teaching logic to a 
J68 117 clergyman in Mornington Crescent. He took his B.A. degree in 1937 
J68 118 and, with the promised scholarship, went to Vienna that autumn to 
J68 119 study with Webern, the lessons having been arranged by Adorno. With 
J68 120 Webern, Searle developed his dependable ear, but his individuality 
J68 121 meant that he did not fall into the trap of emulating so 
J68 122 illustrious a teacher. <quote_>"Imitation, I suppose, is a sincere 
J68 123 form of flattery"<quote/> he told me, adding:<p/>
J68 124 <p_><quote_>I want to write what I want to write. Anyone can copy 
J68 125 someone else and dress it up in the mendacious disguise of 
J68 126 originality. Lesser composers have done this and some have made a 
J68 127 name for themselves in this mercenary way but it says absolutely 
J68 128 nothing for their integrity or the advancement of music.<quote/><p/>
J68 129 <p_>That originality is an essential ingredient in music will be, 
J68 130 it is hoped, readily admitted. This problem greatly troubeld Walton 
J68 131 in the late 1940s. He was undergoing a crisis of his own musical 
J68 132 identity and deploring the suggestion that he was the successor to 
J68 133 Elgar. Walton enjoyed <quote_>"a few moments of Elgar"<quote/> 
J68 134 whereas, at the other end of the spectrum, he considered 
J68 135 Shostakovich to be <quote_>"the greatest composer of the twentieth 
J68 136 century"<quote/>. Sir Adrian Boult used to say how very 
J68 137 disappointing Elgar's music was and that the better it was played 
J68 138 the less he liked it - by which he meant that if Elgar's music were 
J68 139 badly played you could blame the orchestra but if it were played 
J68 140 well the only person who could take the blame was Elgar himself.<p/>
J68 141 <p_>Walton, being a discerning musician, went to Humphrey Searle 
J68 142 for advice and lessons, which is the highest compliment a composer 
J68 143 with many successes like <tf_>Fa<*_>c-cedille<*/>ade, Belshazzar's 
J68 144 Feast<tf/> and a truly memorable viola Concerto behind him could 
J68 145 pay to another. Yet that is the compliment Walton paid to Searle 
J68 146 and, as a consequence, Walton's later works have a greater 
J68 147 originality and an admirable texture, as is seen in the 
J68 148 <tf_>Johannesburg Festival Overture<tf/>, the masterly cello 
J68 149 Concerto and the Symphony no. 2, which continues to gain in 
J68 150 appeal.<p/>
J68 151 <p_>In Vienna during the years 1937-38 Searle attended the 
J68 152 Conservatoire and, among other things, took extensive tuition in 
J68 153 conducting. He visited the opera almost every night and these 
J68 154 months were among the happiest in his life. Such contentment was 
J68 155 further enhanced by the fact that Webern was a brilliant teacher. 
J68 156 Searle once told the present writer:<p/>
J68 157 <p_><quote_>It is still wrongly assumed in some quarters that 
J68 158 Webern was only interested in contemporary music. Nothing could be 
J68 159 further from the truth. It may surprise some to know that he did 
J68 160 not give me one lesson in serialism although he did suggest that I 
J68 161 analyse his <tf|>Variations for piano in my private studies. His 
J68 162 lessons with me were on the properties of the triad, traditional 
J68 163 harmony and counterpoint. Webern was an outstanding conductor of 
J68 164 the classics. The myth that modern composers are narrow-minded 
J68 165 should be dispelled once and for all. It simply is not so. Yet it 
J68 166 is very sad that musicians today who strongly object to the 
J68 167 slightest hint of criticism of Bach, Beethoven or Mozart can, and 
J68 168 do, censure music of the twentieth-century.<quote/><p/>
J68 169 <p_>Searle returned to London just before Hitler's troops took 
J68 170 Vienna in March, 1938. Back at the Royal College of Music, he 
J68 171 continued lessons in orchestration, conducting and counterpoint; 
J68 172 among his teachers were R. O. Morris and Gordon Jacob. His money 
J68 173 having run out, he had to find work and became chorus librarian 
J68 174 with the B.B.C. <quote_>"It was nothing more than being a 
J68 175 pack-horse carting music around London"<quote/> he would say. That 
J68 176 was one of his typically over-modest remarks.<p/>
J68 177 <p_>In 1939 he conducted the London String Orchestra in one of his 
J68 178 now discarded pieces as well as in Liszt's <tf|>Malediction, his 
J68 179 own arrangement of three pieces by Thomas Roseingrave and the first 
J68 180 British performance of Webern's <tf_>Five Pieces, op.<tf/> 5 - a 
J68 181 very brave choice indeed. The concert also included Searle's 
J68 182 arrangement of the <tf_>Adagio cantando<tf/> from Bernard van 
J68 183 Dieren's string Quartet no. 5. Searle had wanted to study with van 
J68 184 Dieren but the Dutch-born composer was far too ill and had, in 
J68 185 fact, died in 1936.<p/>
J68 186 <p_>When war broke out Humphrey Searle, who had by now written a 
J68 187 set of piano variations and a string quartet, moved with the B.B.C. 
J68 188 to Bristol and spent time in the stimulating company of such people 
J68 189 as William Glock, Lennox Berkeley, Arnold Cooke, the poets Dylan 
J68 190 Thomas and William Empson and the critic Henry Boys. In March, 1940 
J68 191 Searle joined the Army and was with the Gloucestershire Regiment 
J68 192 for a short while. He was then transferred to the Intelligence 
J68 193 Corps and to a remote part of Scotland, which inspired his highly 
J68 194 engaging <tf_>Highland Reel<tf/>. It was in Scotland that he 
J68 195 composed the first work of his to bear an <tf|>opus number - the 
J68 196 Suite no. 1 for string orchestra, which he acknowledged to be the 
J68 197 first work of his maturity. It was first perfomed in London in 1943 
J68 198 and conducted by Walter Goehr. The composer admitted that the work 
J68 199 owes something to Bart<*_>o-acute<*/>k. This was followed by 
J68 200 <tf_>Night Music, op.<tf/> 2, for chamber orchestra, written in 
J68 201 honour of Webern's 60th birthday, a work of great character and 
J68 202 lucidity. The <tf|>Vigil for piano, <tf|>op. 3, deliberately 
J68 203 recalls Satie's <tf|>Gymnop<*_>e-acute<*/>dies, for it was 
J68 204 dedicated to the French Fighting Forces.
J68 205 
J69   1 <#FLOB:J69\><p_>As with the decoder, the multiplexer circuit is not 
J69   2 inherently hazard free, but, with a maximum of one inverter signal 
J69   3 path difference, no glitches should be seen and the advantages of 
J69   4 flexibility and design speed still apply.<p/>
J69   5 <p_>For a logic system where many outputs are formed from the same 
J69   6 set of input signals, a decoder-based system requires one OR gate 
J69   7 for each output and one decoder to supply all the basic addresses. 
J69   8 With a multiplexer circuit, a separate MUX is needed for each 
J69   9 function.<p/>
J69  10 <h_><p_>3.6 PARITY<p/><h/>
J69  11 <p_>The parity of a binary word is defined as <tf|>even if the 
J69  12 number of bits set to 1 is even, and <tf|>odd if the number of bits 
J69  13 set to 1 is odd. A parity bit is a bit added to a binary word to 
J69  14 make the parity of the word plus the bit the same for all words in 
J69  15 the data set. Parity bits are added to data before storage or 
J69  16 transmission so that the integrity of the data can be checked and 
J69  17 corrected on retrieval or reception; if the parity has changed then 
J69  18 an error has occurred. For systems which transfer or store data as 
J69  19 parallel words it is normal to add a parity bit which makes the 
J69  20 combined word odd parity as this ensures that at least one bit is 
J69  21 1, and it is easy to detect the difference between a data value of 
J69  22 0 and no data. For serial transmission or storage, start and stop 
J69  23 bits are used to delimit a data word, and so either parity type can 
J69  24 be employed. Table 3.1 lists the parity of binary numbers from 0 to 
J69  25 9 and the codes for the numbers plus parity bits to produce odd and 
J69  26 even parity words.<p/>
J69  27 <p_>Most systems which use parity assume that any errors are 
J69  28 single-bit errors and that they occur only rarely. In the simplest 
J69  29 scheme, one parity bit is added to each word, so that if an error 
J69  30 occurs (a 1 is changed to a 0, or a 0 to a 1), the parity of the 
J69  31 word is changed and this can be detected; no correction is possible 
J69  32 in this case. To allow the correction of single errors and the 
J69  33 detection of multiple errors, several parity bits are added to each 
J69  34 word where each parity bit checks the parity of part of the word; 
J69  35 such a scheme is known as a Hamming code.<p/>
J69  36 <p_><O_>table&figure&captions<O/><p/>
J69  37 <p_>Where error rates are expected to be very low, a simple, 
J69  38 single-error correction method is possible for a block of data 
J69  39 containing <tf|>m words of <tf|>n bits. One parity bit is generated 
J69  40 for each of the <tf|>m words, so that an error indicates which word 
J69  41 is faulty, and one parity bit is generated for each bit position of 
J69  42 the <tf|>n bit words, so that an error indicates which bit position 
J69  43 is faulty. An error is therefore pinpointed and may be corrected by 
J69  44 inverting the faulty bit.<p/>
J69  45 <p_>A circuit to measure or check the parity of an eight-bit word 
J69  46 is shown in Fig. 3.11; the output is 1 if the parity of the input 
J69  47 word is <tf|>odd and 0 if the parity is <tf|>even. The output of an 
J69  48 XOR gate is 1 if the inputs are different, i.e. odd parity. If the 
J69  49 outputs of two XOR gates are used as inputs to a third XOR, then an 
J69  50 odd parity input produces a 1 at the output and an even parity 
J69  51 input results in a 0 output. This XOR tree structure may be 
J69  52 expanded (or reduced) to accommodate any number of bits. As a 
J69  53 parity generating circuit, the combined output of the eight-bit 
J69  54 input word and the parity checking circuit is a nine-bit <tf|>even 
J69  55 parity word. To obtain <tf|>odd parity for the combined word the 
J69  56 output of the parity checking circuit should be inverted.<p/>
J69  57 <h_><p_>3.7 MEMORIES AS LOGIC ELEMENTS<p/><h/>
J69  58 <p_>A memory consists of an array of elements in which single bits 
J69  59 of digital information can be stored. To access a particular 
J69  60 element, the position (or address) of that element is required, and 
J69  61 then data may be written into or read from it. (Memories are 
J69  62 discussed in more detail in Chapter 6.) Each row of a truth table 
J69  63 has a unique address given by the state of the input signals. If, 
J69  64 therefore, the input signals are connected to the address lines of 
J69  65 the memory, and the memory elements already contain the truth table 
J69  66 for the function to be generated, reading the memory at the 
J69  67 selected address results in an output of the required state. For 
J69  68 the table in Fig. 3.9, addresses 0, 3, 4 and 5 must contain 0 and 
J69  69 addresses 1, 2, 6 and 7 must contain 1 for the memory to produce 
J69  70 the correct function.<p/>
J69  71 <p_>To change the logic function performed by the memory it is only 
J69  72 necessary to change the contents of the memory. As no 
J69  73 interconnection changes are required to do this a memory seems 
J69  74 ideal in providing a flexible logic system, but a number of 
J69  75 problems arise in trying to provide this flexibility. If the memory 
J69  76 is volatile, which means that when the power is switched off the 
J69  77 information in the memory is lost, the data must be reloaded into 
J69  78 the memory every time the system is switched on. This is tedious by 
J69  79 hand and complex by computer. Non-volatile memories are either 
J69  80 permanent (<tf_>read-only memories<tf/> or ROMs), in which case 
J69  81 they must be replaced to change the logic function, or relatively 
J69  82 slow (<tf_>erasable programmable read-only memories<tf/> or 
J69  83 EPROMs). In most cases non-volatile devices require special 
J69  84 circuits or systems to alter the data stored in them.<p/>
J69  85 <p_>Memories have significant advantages over the devices described 
J69  86 earlier in systems with a large number of inputs or where the logic 
J69  87 must be adaptable during use. The size of modern memories means 
J69  88 that single-bit logic functions of 16 to 20 signals can be produced 
J69  89 by a single chip with access times in the range 25 to 150 ns and 
J69  90 eight-bit output functions of 12 to 14 inputs in similar times. As 
J69  91 such functions correspond to truth tables with between 4096 (12 
J69  92 bits) and approximately one million (20 bits) rows, construction of 
J69  93 any but the most trivial with basic gates, decoders or multiplexers 
J69  94 could not be contemplated because of the vast number of chips they 
J69  95 would need. The ability to change the logic function can be a 
J69  96 requirement of the system and, in that case, there is no 
J69  97 alternative but to use a device that can be reprogrammed, e.g. a 
J69  98 memory. An example of this is where, if one input signal stops 
J69  99 working, it may be necessary to stop the system unless the logic 
J69 100 can be reconfigured to allow for that signal failure.<p/>
J69 101 <h_><p_>3.8 PROGRAMMABLE LOGIC<p/><h/>
J69 102 <p_>The increasing complexity of integrated circuits has allowed 
J69 103 manufacturers to produce circuits which can be programmed to 
J69 104 perform random logic functions. By using these devices to replace 
J69 105 basic gates, the number of integrated circuits used to produce the 
J69 106 random logic can be reduced by about a factor of ten. A number of 
J69 107 designs exist for these devices with different names for different 
J69 108 designs. Most names are a selection from the list: array; device; 
J69 109 gate; logic; programmable. Although some devices are capable of 
J69 110 performing sequential as well as combinational logic, this section 
J69 111 will concentrate on programmable devices for combinational 
J69 112 logic.<p/>
J69 113 <p_>To make the device programmable, the manufacturer includes 
J69 114 fusible links into the signal paths. If the link is left intact, 
J69 115 then the signal is transmitted from one stage to the next; if the 
J69 116 fuse is blown, then the signal path is broken. To program one of 
J69 117 these devices it is necessary to retain all the links on the signal 
J69 118 paths required and to blow all the other fuses. Special equipment 
J69 119 is needed to provide the correct waveforms to blow the fuses 
J69 120 without destroying the device.<p/>
J69 121 <p_>In Chapter 2 it was seen that combinational logic functions 
J69 122 could be produced by generating only the terms corresponding to 
J69 123 ones in the truth table (or by generating the zero terms and 
J69 124 inverting the output). As described above, a memory generates an 
J69 125 output (0 or 1) for every row of the truth table and, therefore, at 
J69 126 least half the memory is being used inefficiently. For the example 
J69 127 based on Fig. 3.9, a circuit which outputs a one for addresses 1, 
J69 128 2, 6 and 7 is all that is needed since the other input combinations 
J69 129 will then automatically generate a zero. For sparse truth tables 
J69 130 (those with only a few rows set to one logic state and the vast 
J69 131 majority set to the other state), or tables with many don't 
J69 132 care/can't happen states, a memory is very inefficient. This is not 
J69 133 necessarily a problem for circuits made from individual chips but, 
J69 134 for the design of very large-scale integration (VLSI) devices, 
J69 135 where all the logic for a system has to fit on to one chip, it is 
J69 136 important to use space effectively.<p/>
J69 137 <p_>Basically, programmable logic implements a sum-of-products form 
J69 138 for the logic function or functions required and the programming of 
J69 139 these devices can be considered as logic minimization on a grand 
J69 140 scale. The most general design is the <tf_>programmable logic 
J69 141 array<tf/> (PLA) where both the connections to the AND gates, to 
J69 142 form the product terms, and the AND gate to OR gate connections, to 
J69 143 form the sum of products, contain fuses and can, therefore, be 
J69 144 programmed. Note that a <tf_>programmable read-only memory<tf/> 
J69 145 (PROM) fully decodes all inputs and therefore contains a fixed AND 
J69 146 array (the input decoder). The data in a PROM is stored by 
J69 147 programming the OR array.<p/>
J69 148 <p_>In a PLA each input signal is buffered and connected to every 
J69 149 AND gate in both normal and inverted form through a fusible link 
J69 150 (Fig. 3.12). For each AND gate, fuses are blown so that it receives 
J69 151 only the signals for one of the product terms in the minimized 
J69 152 expression. Each AND gate output is connected to every OR gate 
J69 153 through a link so that the product terms to be summed by an OR gate 
J69 154 can be selected. The internal design of the chip ensures that the 
J69 155 input to a gate with the fuse blown is set to the appropriate logic 
J69 156 level; high for an AND gate and low for an OR gate input.<p/>
J69 157 <p_>For the example given, the top AND gate remains connected only 
J69 158 to <tf|>A, <*_>unch<*/> and <*_>unch<*/>; the second to 
J69 159 <*_>unch<*/> and <tf|>B; the third to <tf|>B and <tf|>C; the bottom 
J69 160 gate is connected only to <*_>unch<*/> and <tf|>C. The top OR gate 
J69 161 sums the top three product terms and the lower gate sums the bottom 
J69 162 two terms. Note that the term <tf_>B<*_>dot<*/>C<tf/> is common to 
J69 163 both OR gates. The OR gate output is connected to the output pin of 
J69 164 the PLA through an XOR gate so that the output can be produced in 
J69 165 normal or complemented form. This circuit would occupy only a small 
J69 166 fraction of a standard PLA compared with three packages if simple 
J69 167 gates were used.<p/>
J69 168 <p_>A typical <tf_>field programmable device<tf/> (one that can be 
J69 169 programmed by the user) has 16 inputs, forms 48 product terms and 
J69 170 produces eight outputs. It becomes impossible to draw a circuit 
J69 171 diagram in the way used up to now as the device contains 32 
J69 172 inverters, 48 32-in AND gates, eight 48-in OR gates and eight XOR 
J69 173 gates. A shorthand method is needed to show which fuses are to 
J69 174 remain intact. A common method of doing this is shown in the lower 
J69 175 half of Fig. 3.12. One line is used to represent all the (separate) 
J69 176 inputs to a gate and crosses are used to show the connections to 
J69 177 those inputs (i.e. a cross marks where a fuse is to be left 
J69 178 intact). It is emphasized that there is no direct connection 
J69 179 between the signals marked with a cross on that line. The AND gate 
J69 180 inputs line can be termed a <tf_>product line<tf/> and the OR gate 
J69 181 inputs line a <tf_>sum line<tf/>. To keep the diagram as simple as 
J69 182 possible, the input buffers/inverters are not shown. The XOR gates 
J69 183 on the outputs are shown explicitly as they must be programmed to 
J69 184 give a normal or complemented output.<p/>
J69 185 
J70   1 <#FLOB:J70\>Another difference is that the analogue plan allows a 
J70   2 small number of 2-wire links to be used in the connection.<p/>
J70   3 <h_><p_>13.6 THE CONTROL OF SIDETONE<p/><h/>
J70   4 <p_>'Sidetone' is the name given to an effect on 2-wire systems 
J70   5 where the speaker hears his own voice in his own earphone while he 
J70   6 is speaking. (We first introduced it in Chapter 2.) Too little 
J70   7 sidetone can make speakers think their telephone is dead, while too 
J70   8 much leads them to lower their voices. CCITT recommends 'sidetone 
J70   9 reference equivalents' of at least 17 dB.<p/>
J70  10 <h_><p_>13.7 THE CONTROL OF ECHO<p/><h/>
J70  11 <p_>By ensuring that the CCITT recommended loss of 6 to 7 dB at 
J70  12 least is encountered between the two reference points at either end 
J70  13 of the 4-wire part of a connection, we not only safeguard the 
J70  14 circuit against the effects of instability; we also make it 
J70  15 unlikely that any signal echo is generated by the 2-to-4-wire 
J70  16 converter (the so-called 'hybrid' converter). These echoes are 
J70  17 caused by reflection of the speaker's voice back from the distant 
J70  18 receiving end, and Figure 13.8 shows a 'hybrid' converter causing a 
J70  19 signal echo of this kind. The problem of echo arises whenever a 
J70  20 hybrid converter is used, and it results from the non-ideal 
J70  21 electrical performance (i.e. the 'mismatch') of the device. No 
J70  22 matter whether the 4-wire line is digital or analogue, the result 
J70  23 is an echo.<p/>
J70  24 <p_>To understand the cause of the echo we have first to consider 
J70  25 composition of the hybrid itself. It consists of a 'bridge' of four 
J70  26 pairs of wires; one pair correspond to the 2-wire circuit, two more 
J70  27 pairs correspond to the 'receiver' and 'transmit' pairs of the 
J70  28 4-wire circuit, and the final pair is a balance circuit, the 
J70  29 function of which is explained below. The wires are connected to 
J70  30 the 'bridge' in such a way as to create a separation of the receive 
J70  31 and transmit signals on the 2-wire circuit from or on to the 
J70  32 corresponding receive and transmit pairs of the 4-wire circuit. It 
J70  33 is easiest to understand the type of hybrid which uses a pair of 
J70  34 'cross-coupled' transformers as a bridge. This is shown in Figure 
J70  35 13.9.<p/>
J70  36 <p_>Any signal generated at the telephone in Figure 13.9 appears on 
J70  37 the transmit pair (but not on the receive pair), while any incoming 
J70  38 signal on the receive pair appears on the telephone (but not on the 
J70  39 transmit pair). It works as follows.<p/>
J70  40 <p_><O_>figures&captions<O/><p/>
J70  41 <p_>Electrical signal output from the telephone produces equal 
J70  42 magnetic fields round windings W<sb_>1<sb/> and W<sb_>2<sb/>. Now 
J70  43 the resistance in the balance circuit is set up to be equal to that 
J70  44 of the telephone so as to induce equal fields around windings 
J70  45 W<sb_>3<sb/> and W<sb_>4<sb/>, but the cross-coupling gives them 
J70  46 opposite polarity. The fields of windings W<sb_>1<sb/> and 
J70  47 W<sb_>3<sb/> tend to act together and to induce an output in 
J70  48 winding W<sb_>5<sb/>. Conversely, the fields of windings 
J70  49 W<sb_>2<sb/> and W<sb_>4<sb/> cancel one another (due to the 
J70  50 cross-coupling of W<sb_>4<sb/>), with the result that no output is 
J70  51 induced in winding W<sb_>6<sb/>. This gives an output on the 
J70  52 transmit pair as desired, but not on the receive pair.<p/>
J70  53 <p_>In the receive direction, the field around winding W<sb_>6<sb/> 
J70  54 induces fields in W<sb_>2<sb/> and W<sb_>4<sb/>. This produces 
J70  55 cancelling fields in windings W<sb_>1<sb/> and W<sb_>3<sb/> because 
J70  56 of the cross-coupling of windings W<sb_>3<sb/> and W<sb_>4<sb/>. An 
J70  57 output signal is induced in the 2-wire telephone circuit but not in 
J70  58 the 'transmit' pair, winding W<sb_>5<sb/>.<p/>
J70  59 <p_>Unfortunately, the balance resistance of practical networks is 
J70  60 rarely matched to the resistance of the telephone. For one thing, 
J70  61 this is because the tolerance on workmanship in real networks is 
J70  62 much greater. Also, the use of exchanges in the 2-wire part of the 
J70  63 circuit (if relevant) means that it is impossible to match the 
J70  64 balance resistance to the resistance of all the individual 
J70  65 telephones to which the hybrid may be connected. The fields in the 
J70  66 windings therefore do not always cancel out entirely as intended. 
J70  67 So for example, when receiving a signal via the receive pair and 
J70  68 winding W<sb_>6<sb/>, the fields produced in windings W<sb_>1<sb/> 
J70  69 and W<sb_>3<sb/> may not quite cancel, and a small electric current 
J70  70 may be induced in winding W<sb_>5<sb/>. This manifests itself to 
J70  71 the speaker as an echo. The strength of the echo is usually denoted 
J70  72 in terms of its decibel rating relative to the incoming signal. 
J70  73 This is a value called the 'balance return loss', or sometimes, the 
J70  74 'echo return loss'. The more efficient the hybrid, the greater the 
J70  75 balance return loss (the isolation between receive and transmit 
J70  76 circuits). A variety of other problems can be caused by echo, the 
J70  77 two most important of which are:<p/>
J70  78 <p_><*_>bullet<*/>electrical circuit instability (and possible 
J70  79 'feedback')<p/>
J70  80 <p_><*_>bullet<*/>talker distraction.<p/>
J70  81 <p_>If the returned echo is nearly equal in volume to that of the 
J70  82 original signal, and if a rebounding 'echo' effect is taking place 
J70  83 at both ends of the connection, then the volume of the signal can 
J70  84 increase with each successive echo, leading to distortion and 
J70  85 circuit overload. This is circuit instability, and as we already 
J70  86 know, the chance of it occurring is considerably reduced by 
J70  87 adjusting the 4-wire circuit to include more signal attenuation. 
J70  88 The total round-loop loss in the UK digital network shown in Figure 
J70  89 13.7 is at least 14 dB, probably inflicting at least 30 dB 
J70  90 attenuation on echoes even if the hybrid has only a modest 
J70  91 isolating performance. Talker distraction (or data corruption) is 
J70  92 another effect of echo, but if the time delay of the echo is not 
J70  93 too long, then distraction is unlikely, because all talkers hear 
J70  94 their own voices anyway while they are talking.<p/>
J70  95 <p_>The echo delay time is equal to the time taken for propagation 
J70  96 over the transmission link and back again, and is thus related to 
J70  97 the length of the line itself. The longer the line, the greater the 
J70  98 delay. Should the one-way signal propagation time exceed around 8 
J70  99 ms, giving an echo delay of 15 ms or more, then corrective action 
J70 100 is necessary to eliminate the echo which most telephone users find 
J70 101 obtrusive. A one-way propagation time of 8 ms is inevitable on all 
J70 102 long lines over 2500 km, so that undersea cables of this length and 
J70 103 all satellite circuits usually require echo suppression. Further 
J70 104 propagation delay can also be caused by certain types of switching 
J70 105 and transmission equipment. Indeed, a significant problem 
J70 106 encountered with digital transmission media is that the time 
J70 107 required for intermediate signal regeneration (detection and 
J70 108 waveform reshaping) means that the overall speed of propagation is 
J70 109 actually reduced to only 0.6 times the speed of light. This means 
J70 110 that even quite short digital lines require echo suppression. Two 
J70 111 methods of controlling echoes on long-distance transmission links 
J70 112 are common. These are termed 'echo suppression' and 'echo 
J70 113 cancellation'.<p/>
J70 114 <p_>An echo suppressor is a device inserted into the transmit path 
J70 115 of a circuit. It acts to suppress retransmission of incoming 
J70 116 'receive path' signals by inserting a very large attenuation into 
J70 117 the transmit path whenever a signal is detected in the receive 
J70 118 path. Figure 13.10 illustrates the principle.<p/>
J70 119 <p_>The device in Figure 13.10 is called a 'half-echo suppressor' 
J70 120 since it acts to suppress only the transmit path. A full echo 
J70 121 suppressor would suppress echoes in both transmit and receive 
J70 122 paths.<p/>
J70 123 <p_>It is normal for a long connection to be equipped with two 
J70 124 half-echo suppressors, one at each end, the actual position being 
J70 125 specified by the formal transmission plan. Ideally half-echo 
J70 126 suppressors should be located as near to the source of the echo as 
J70 127 possible (i.e. as near to the 2-to-4-wire conversion point as 
J70 128 possible), and work best when near the ends of the 4-wire part of 
J70 129 the connection. In practice it may not be economic to provide echo 
J70 130 suppressors at all exchanges in the lower levels of the hierarchy, 
J70 131 and so they are most commonly provided on the long lines which 
J70 132 terminate at regional (class 1 of Figure 13.6) and international 
J70 133 exchanges.<p/>
J70 134 <p_>Sophisticated inner-exchange signalling is used to control the 
J70 135 use of half-echo suppressors. Such signalling ensures that on 
J70 136 tandem connections of long-haul links intermediate echo suppressors 
J70 137 are 'turned off' in the manner illustrated by Figure 13.11. This 
J70 138 ensures that a maximum of two half-echo suppressors (one at each 
J70 139 end of the 4-wire part of the connection) are active at any one 
J70 140 time.<p/>
J70 141 <p_><O_>figures&captions<O/><p/>
J70 142 <p_>The amount of suppression (i.e. attenuation) required to reduce 
J70 143 the subjective disturbance of echo depends upon the number of echo 
J70 144 paths available, the echo path propagation time, and upon the 
J70 145 tolerance of the telephone users (or data terminal devices). CCITT 
J70 146 recommends that echo suppression should exceed (15 + <tf|>n) dB, 
J70 147 where <tf|>n is the number of links on the connection.<p/>
J70 148 <p_>Unfortunately echo suppressors cannot be used in circuits 
J70 149 carrying data, because the switching time between attenuation-on 
J70 150 and attenuation-off states is too slow and can itself cause loss or 
J70 151 corruption of data. Most data modems designed for use on telephone 
J70 152 circuits are therefore programmed to send an initiating 2100 Hz 
J70 153 tone over the circuit, in order to disable the echo suppressors.<p/>
J70 154 <p_>Another form of echo control device, called an 'echo 
J70 155 canceller', can be used on either voice or data circuits. Like an 
J70 156 echo suppressor, an echo canceller has a signal detector unit in 
J70 157 the receive path. However, instead of using it to switch on a large 
J70 158 attenuator, it predicts the likely echo signal and literally 
J70 159 subtracts this prediction from the transmit signal, thereby largely 
J70 160 'cancelling' out the real echo signal. Other signals in the 
J70 161 transmit path should be unaffected. Listeners rate the performance 
J70 162 of echo cancellers to be better than that of echo suppressors. 
J70 163 This, coupled with the fact that they do not corrupt data signals, 
J70 164 is making them a popular alternative to suppressors, common on 
J70 165 digital line systems and exchanges, and standard equipment in some 
J70 166 countries (e.g. USA).<p/>
J70 167 <h_><p_>13.8 SIGNAL (OR 'PROPAGATION') DELAY<p/><h/>
J70 168 <p_>An important consideration of the network transmission plan is 
J70 169 the overall signal delay or 'propagation time'. Excessive delay 
J70 170 brings with it not only the risk of echo, but also a number of 
J70 171 other impairments. In conversation, for example, long propagation 
J70 172 times between talker and listener can lead to confusion. In the 
J70 173 course of a conversation, when we have said what we want to say, we 
J70 174 expect a fairly prompt response. If we are met with a silent pause, 
J70 175 caused by a propagation delay, then we may well be tempted to speak 
J70 176 again, to check that we have been heard. Inevitably, as soon as we 
J70 177 do that, the other party starts speaking, and everyone is talking 
J70 178 at once.<p/>
J70 179 <p_>On video the effect of signal delay is even more revealing. For 
J70 180 example, on live satellite television broadcasts, whoever is at the 
J70 181 far end always gives the impression of pausing unduly before 
J70 182 answering any question.<p/>
J70 183 <p_>Nothing can be done to reduce the delay incurred on a physical 
J70 184 cable or satellite transmission link. Thus intercontinental 
J70 185 telephone conversations via satellite are bound to experience a 
J70 186 one-way propagation delay of about 1/4 second, giving a pause 
J70 187 between talking and response of 1/2 second. Furthermore, the 
J70 188 extremely rapid bit speeds and response times that computer and 
J70 189 data circuitry is capable of can be affected by line lengths of 
J70 190 only a few centimetres or metres. Line lengths should therefore be 
J70 191 minimized and circuitous routings avoided as far as possible. It is 
J70 192 common for maximum physical line lengths to be quoted for data 
J70 193 networks. Similarly, in telephone networks, rigid guidelines demand 
J70 194 that double or treble satellite hops or other excessive delay paths 
J70 195 (i.e. those of 400 ms one-way propagation time or longer) are 
J70 196 avoided whenever possible. Excessive delays can be kept in check by 
J70 197 appropriate network routing algorithms, as we shall see in Chapter 
J70 198 14.<p/>
J70 199 <h_><p_>13.9 NOISE AND CROSSTALK<p/><h/>
J70 200 <p_>Noise and crosstalk are unwanted signals induced on to the 
J70 201 transmission system by adjacent power lines, electrostatic 
J70 202 interference, or other telecommunication lines. The only reliable 
J70 203 way of controlling them is by careful initial planning and design 
J70 204 of the transmission system and the route. One source of noise 
J70 205 results from the induction of signals on to telecommunications 
J70 206 cables which pass too close to high-power lines. Another source of 
J70 207 noise is poorly soldered connections or component failures.
J70 208 
J71   1 <#FLOB:J71\>The <tf_>deformation efficiency<tf/> concept is 
J71   2 attractive and has demonstrably led to a better understanding of 
J71   3 the important parameters to be developed to give a meaningful 
J71   4 data-base for any given material of interest. <tf_>Lyapunov 
J71   5 function stability criteria<tf/> seem to provide powerful tools for 
J71   6 delineating stable and unstable regions on these mappings of 
J71   7 deformation behaviour. Apparently, these regions so discovered do 
J71   8 actually correspond to material instabilities well-known to 
J71   9 materials scientists dealing with both metals and non-metals. One 
J71  10 remaining problem, however, is that of adequately accounting for 
J71  11 the <tf|>history of the deformation.<p/>
J71  12 <p_>Modelling of dynamic material behaviour in hot deformation can 
J71  13 most easily be included by using this mapping approach. The 
J71  14 data-base so developed could then be used to provide data as a 
J71  15 function of temperature, strain, strain rate and time (to include 
J71  16 the history of deformation ) which can then be fed into existing 
J71  17 comprehensive computer solutions for rolling, for example.<p/>
J71  18 <p_>However, many computer solutions are of the <tf|>slab type (see 
J71  19 later discussion of plastic flow) and do not include either 
J71  20 temperature or strain rate effects. Much work has been done in 
J71  21 industry on this problem, but it has not been published widely.<p/>
J71  22 <h_><p_>5.4 PHYSICAL PROPERTIES OF IMPORTANCE IN MANUFACTURE AND 
J71  23 USE<p/><h/>
J71  24 <p_>Analysis of processes such as hot forming, casting or others 
J71  25 used at high temperatures requires a knowledge of <tf_>thermal 
J71  26 conductivity<tf/> <tf|><*_>kappa<*/>, <tf_>specific heat<tf/> 
J71  27 <tf|>c, and <tf_>thermal expansion<tf/> <tf|><*_>alpha<*/>.<p/>
J71  28 <p_>The last is especially important in resistance to thermal 
J71  29 shock. A material such as silicon-aluminium-oxy-nitride has a much 
J71  30 lower thermal expansion coefficient than, say, aluminium oxide and 
J71  31 it is much more resistant to cracking when suddenly heated or 
J71  32 cooled. A high thermal conductivity is also valuable in reducing 
J71  33 any large <tf_>temperature gradients<tf/> which might otherwise 
J71  34 occur in a material or composite.<p/>
J71  35 <p_>When composites are used it is necessary to consider the 
J71  36 compatibility of expansion coefficients, otherwise high stresses 
J71  37 and even plastic deformation may occur.<p/>
J71  38 <h_><p_>5.5 CHEMICAL PROPERTIES<p/><h/>
J71  39 <p_><tf|>Oxidation is clearly important in hot working operations 
J71  40 although in an enclosed process like extrusion, for example, there 
J71  41 is very little access of air, so oxidation is substantially 
J71  42 avoided.<p/>
J71  43 <p_>The book edited by Braithwaite explains how <tf_>chemical 
J71  44 reaction with lubricants<tf/> plays a major role in the 
J71  45 effectiveness of lubricants. Titanium, for example, is very 
J71  46 difficult to lubricate because of its thin inert oxide skin. Schey 
J71  47 points out that stainless steels present the same problem.<p/>
J71  48 <p_><tf|>Corrosion is also a critical feature. A high proportion of 
J71  49 all metallic scrap arises from <tf_>rusting and related 
J71  50 electrochemical degradation processes.<tf/><p/>
J71  51 <p_>Much attention has been given to <tf|>plating and other 
J71  52 <tf_>protective coatings to avoid corrosion<tf/> and also to 
J71  53 improve other surface properties such as <tf_>hardness and wear 
J71  54 resistance<tf/> (see the handbooks by Swann, Ford and Westwood and 
J71  55 also by Peterson and Winer.<p/>
J71  56 <h_><p_>5.6 WORKABILITY<p/><h/>
J71  57 <p_>Although industrial producers will readily recognize some 
J71  58 alloys as being easier to work than others, there is no simple test 
J71  59 or clearly defined set of properties.<p/>
J71  60 <p_><tf|>Ductility is a related property, and it is generally 
J71  61 considered that a greater reduction of area to failure in a tensile 
J71  62 test indicates better workability. While this is true in general 
J71  63 terms, the actual fracture in a tensile test depends upon the 
J71  64 complex stress state in the neck region for all but the most 
J71  65 brittle alloys.<p/>
J71  66 <p_>In the comprehensive book by Atkins and Mai, various criteria 
J71  67 are mentioned which have often been proposed on the supposition 
J71  68 that fracture in tension depends upon the total plastic work or the 
J71  69 tensile plastic work expended in the deformation. It is very 
J71  70 difficult to obtain accurate experimental data because the final 
J71  71 stress state before fracture is frequently ill-defined. Recent 
J71  72 analytical work using <tf_>finite-element plasticity<tf/> has given 
J71  73 a better insight into these problems.<p/>
J71  74 <p_><tf_>Hot workability<tf/> is often described in terms of the 
J71  75 number of revolutions to failure in a torsion test, but again the 
J71  76 analytical significance is obscure. Torsion testing is also a 
J71  77 valuable indicator of <tf_>cold workability<tf/>, but the results 
J71  78 depend strongly upon the axial constraint, possibly because 
J71  79 fracture and rewelding occur during the test, so the conditions 
J71  80 must be carefully controlled.<p/>
J71  81 <h_><p_>5.7 ELEMENTS OF THE THEORY OF PLASTICITY<p/>
J71  82 <p_>5.7.1 General Theory<p/><h/>
J71  83 <p_>To understand in more detail the mechanics of the forming 
J71  84 processes which are being discussed, it is necessary to understand 
J71  85 the fundamentals underlying the theory of the plastic flow of 
J71  86 materials. This is the one unifying theme that underlies all 
J71  87 forming processes. A complete treatment of the <tf_>mathematical 
J71  88 theory of plasticity<tf/> is beyond the scope or intent of this 
J71  89 book; comprehensive early texts have been written by Nadai, Hill, 
J71  90 and Prager and Hodge. Later treatments of the theory of plasticity, 
J71  91 discussed specifically with the needs of engineers in mind, are 
J71  92 given by Ford with Alexander, Johnson and Mellor, and Alexander. A 
J71  93 simpler, more practical account is given by Rowe. What it is 
J71  94 intended to do here is to consider the basic fundamentals on which 
J71  95 the theory rests and thereby to show how a better understanding of 
J71  96 the behaviour of materials subjected to these processes can be 
J71  97 achieved.<p/>
J71  98 <p_>In the first place the question may be asked: 'What is the main 
J71  99 difference between the behaviour of metal when subjected to large 
J71 100 deformation in metal-working processes and its behaviour when 
J71 101 stressed within the elastic range?' The simple answer is that in 
J71 102 metal-working processes the amount of straining or deformation is 
J71 103 many times larger. It is this essential difference between 
J71 104 metal-working and elastic straining which is all-important in 
J71 105 formulating a workable theory. The solution of a problem in 
J71 106 elasticity is often achieved by making the assumption that the 
J71 107 external shape is unaltered during elastic straining. That this is 
J71 108 justified for most metals can be realized when it is remembered 
J71 109 that their elastic range never exceeds about 0.4 per cent strain, 
J71 110 corresponding with a change in external dimensions of 0.4 per cent, 
J71 111 and is often only 0.1 per cent.<p/>
J71 112 <p_>By their very nature the processes of metal-working demand that 
J71 113 strains of more than one hundred times this value be imposed. 
J71 114 Indeed, in the case of forging or extrusion, reductions in 
J71 115 cross-sectional area of the order of 95 per cent are found. For 
J71 116 such large deformations a more precise definition of strain is 
J71 117 necessary than simply that of '(change in length)/(original 
J71 118 length)'. For example, if a tensile specimen is stretched to double 
J71 119 its length the <tf_>engineer's strain<tf/> would be unity, or 100 
J71 120 per cent. To achieve 100 per cent compressive strain (engineer's 
J71 121 strain) it would obviously be necessary to compress the specimen 
J71 122 until it had zero thickness. Clearly, then, this measure of strain 
J71 123 is unsuitable for such large deformations, since 100 per cent 
J71 124 compression certainly represents much more straining than does 100 
J71 125 per cent extension. Thus can be realized the first result of having 
J71 126 such large deformations, namely the necessity for specifying some 
J71 127 better measure of strain. Another consequence of having large 
J71 128 strains of this order is that, as far as determining the changes of 
J71 129 shape and the forces required is concerned, it will be permissible 
J71 130 to neglect elastic strains. This considerably simplifies the 
J71 131 theoretical approach, (but it should be remembered that elastic 
J71 132 deformation is very important when considering residual 
J71 133 stresses).<p/>
J71 134 <p_>Bearing in mind the large deformations which are imposed in 
J71 135 metal-working, another question can be asked: 'Why is it that, in a 
J71 136 tensile test, the metal will rarely withstand more than about 30 
J71 137 per cent elongation without fracture, whereas in 
J71 138 metal<?_>-<?/>working processes much larger strains can be 
J71 139 imposed?' Consideration of the major processes reveals the answer 
J71 140 to this question - they are all predominantly compressive in 
J71 141 nature. Any stress system can be regarded as the sum of an 
J71 142 all-round <tf_>hydrostatic stress<tf/> (usually taken as being 
J71 143 equal to the <tf_>mean stress<tf/>) and stresses equal to the 
J71 144 differences between the actual stresses and this mean stress. It 
J71 145 was shown experimentally by Bridgman, and later again by Crossland, 
J71 146 that there is no plastic flow occasioned by this hydrostatic 
J71 147 stress. The plastic flow is caused by the <tf|>deviatoric stress 
J71 148 system, so-called because the stresses take the values by which the 
J71 149 actual stresses 'deviate' from this mean stress. Although the mean 
J71 150 stress is not responsible for any plastic flow it has a profound 
J71 151 influence on fracture, and the more compressive its value the more 
J71 152 deformation can be imposed before failure occurs owing to fracture. 
J71 153 The exact dependence is not properly understood, but the tests of 
J71 154 Bridgman and Crossland have given us much information. A corollary 
J71 155 of the observation that the mean stress occasions no plastic flow 
J71 156 is that there can be no permanent change of volume. Thus, if 
J71 157 elastic strains are neglected, it may reasonably be assumed that 
J71 158 there is no change of volume <tf_>at all<tf/> during plastic 
J71 159 flow.<p/>
J71 160 <p_>Now, almost all metal-working processes take place under 
J71 161 conditions of complex stressing. In other words, if uniaxial 
J71 162 tension or compression is regarded as a simple system of stressing, 
J71 163 in which there is only one principal stress acting along the axial 
J71 164 direction of the prismatic specimen, then most 
J71 165 metal<?_>-<?/>working processes involve more complicated systems of 
J71 166 stress. Thus, in formulating a theory, a general three-dimensional 
J71 167 system of stress must be introduced and yet another question must 
J71 168 be asked: 'How can the behaviour of metal subjected to a complex 
J71 169 system of stress be correlated with its behaviour in simple tension 
J71 170 or compression?' To answer this question it is convenient to invoke 
J71 171 the concepts of <tf_>equivalent stress (or strain)<tf/> and 
J71 172 <tf_>effective stress (or strain).<tf/> These are parameters which 
J71 173 are functions of the imposed complex stresses or strains which 
J71 174 quantify their effectiveness in causing the plastic flow of 
J71 175 materials.<p/>
J71 176 <p_>Having discussed the principles on which the theory rests, it 
J71 177 is now possible to develop the equations of plastic flow. Before so 
J71 178 doing, it is well to recall the equations of three-dimensional 
J71 179 elasticity, to compare them with those for plastic flow. Initially, 
J71 180 what may be called the <tf_>laws of elasticity<tf/> and the 
J71 181 <tf_>laws of plasticity<tf/> can be set up, as follows:<p/>
J71 182 <h_><p_>Laws of Elasticity<p/><h/>
J71 183 <p_>Hooke's Law<p/>
J71 184 <p_>Equations of Equilibrium (of stresses and forces)<p/>
J71 185 <p_>Equations of Compatibility (of strains and displacements)<p/>
J71 186 <h_><p_>Laws of Plasticity<p/><h/>
J71 187 <p_>Stress-Strain Relations<p/>
J71 188 <p_>Equations of Equilibrium<p/>
J71 189 <p_>Equations of Compatibility<p/>
J71 190 <p_>Yield Criterion (function of stresses necessary to initiate and 
J71 191 maintain plastic flow)<p/>
J71 192 <p_>To these must be added the <tf_>boundary conditions<tf/> for 
J71 193 both stresses and displacements.<p/>
J71 194 <p_>Because of the magnitude of the strains and also the 
J71 195 non<?_>-<?/>linearity of the relationships involved in 
J71 196 metal-working processes it is necessary to formulate the equations 
J71 197 in terms of incremental strains or strain rates. This difficulty 
J71 198 does not arise for elastic straining, since the strains are always 
J71 199 sufficiently small for the total strains to be used. Thus, Hooke's 
J71 200 Law for a three<?_>-<?/>dimensional system of stress, referred to 
J71 201 <tf|>x,y,z cartesian coordinates, is as follows:<p/>
J71 202 <p_><O_>formulae<O/><p/>
J71 203 <p_>In these equations, <*_>tau<*/><sb_>xy<sb/> is the stress in 
J71 204 the <tf|>y direction acting on a plane normal to the <tf|>x 
J71 205 direction, <*_>gamma<*/><sb_>xy<sb/> is the corresponding 
J71 206 engineering shear strain, <tf|>E is <tf_>Young's Modulus,<tf/> 
J71 207 <tf|>G is the <tf_>shear modulus,<tf/> <*_>nu<*/> is <tf_>Poisson's 
J71 208 ratio,<tf/> and <O_>formula<O/>. Equations (5.26) are the 
J71 209 well-known equations of elasticity representing Hooke's law. 
J71 210 Considering the first one of these equations, a positive (tensile) 
J71 211 stress <*_>sigma<*/><sb_>xx<sb/> in the <tf|>x direction produces a 
J71 212 strain of <O_>formula<O/> in that direction, whilst the positive 
J71 213 tensile stress <*_>sigma<*/><sb_>yy<sb/> will produce a negative 
J71 214 strain (contraction) of <O_>formula<O/> in the <tf|>x direction, 
J71 215 and <*_>sigma<*/><sb_>zz<sb/> similarly produces a contraction. By 
J71 216 adding together the first three equations of equations (5.26) the 
J71 217 elastic volume change is determined as:<p/>
J71 218 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>.
J71 219 <p_>(The factor <O_>formula<O/> is three times the <tf_>bulk 
J71 220 modulus<tf/> <tf|>K of the material, since <O_>formula<O/> is the 
J71 221 mean stress, or hydrostatic component of the stress system.)<p/>
J71 222 <p_>Thus, if the volume change is to be zero in plastic flow, 
J71 223 Poisson's ratio <*_>nu<*/> must be replaced by the factor 1/2 in 
J71 224 the stress-strain relations, since the right-hand side of equation 
J71 225 (5.27) then becomes zero. Young's Modulus <tf|>E has no meaning for 
J71 226 plastic flow in which the elastic strains are neglected, and must 
J71 227 be replaced by an analogous parameter which will be considered 
J71 228 later.<p/>
J71 229 <p_>In any element of material subjected to a complex system of 
J71 230 stress there are three mutually perpendicular directions in which 
J71 231 the local direct stresses attain either maximum or minimum values.
J71 232 
J72   1 <#FLOB:J72\><p_>The following issues should be incorporated into 
J72   2 all stages of the design, as an iterative process, to ensure that 
J72   3 an offshore system operates safely and efficiently.<p/>
J72   4 <p_>- workplace layout<p/>
J72   5 <p_>- console design<p/>
J72   6 <p_>- control and instrumentation design<p/>
J72   7 <p_>- VDU display design<p/>
J72   8 <p_>- manning levels and work organisation<p/>
J72   9 <p_>- communications<p/>
J72  10 <p_>- environmental issues<p/>
J72  11 <p_>- procedures<p/>
J72  12 <p_>- training<p/>
J72  13 <p_>- management and organisational issues<p/>
J72  14 <p_>- evacuation system design<p/>
J72  15 <h_><p_>Workspace Layout and Console Design<p/><h/>
J72  16 <p_>Ergonomics techniques and principles can be used to specify an 
J72  17 appropriate workplace layout, not only in relation to the platform 
J72  18 as a whole but also within the individual work areas. There are a 
J72  19 number of issues to be considered eg. the equipment requirements 
J72  20 within this workplace, necessary access space for both operation 
J72  21 and maintenance activities and the number of operators it is 
J72  22 envisaged will work in the area. The workplace layout must also be 
J72  23 considered with respect to viewing and communications requirements 
J72  24 in relation to other work areas.<p/>
J72  25 <p_>There exist a number of design recommendations based on data, 
J72  26 such as for example 560 mm clearance space must be allowed for body 
J72  27 access if the person is wearing normal clothing (obviously this 
J72  28 will be larger if protective clothing will be worn). There are in 
J72  29 addition, other considerations based on psychological factors eg. 
J72  30 performance has been shown to be better if a seated workstation is 
J72  31 positioned at right angles to the window, if appropriate, rather 
J72  32 than any other orientation. In Hardies<&|>sic! paper (4) he 
J72  33 discusses the changes in perceptions of the offshore accommodation 
J72  34 module in the 1980s. There was a move towards more pleasant 
J72  35 surroundings which led to hidden benefits in terms of increased 
J72  36 motivation, attention and a consequent reduction in accident rate. 
J72  37 It is therefore an important psychological consideration within the 
J72  38 design process.<p/>
J72  39 <p_>Anthropometric data (data on bodily dimensions 5) should be 
J72  40 used to design both control room areas and local work areas to 
J72  41 ensure that operator access to all instrumentation and other 
J72  42 equipment is efficient and comfortable, that displays and controls 
J72  43 most frequently used are within easy reach and to ensure ease of 
J72  44 maintenance. This latter is an important, often overlooked factor, 
J72  45 as a greater number of accidents occur per unit of time during 
J72  46 maintenance than during operations. An example of poor ergonomics 
J72  47 is where a valve requiring frequent maintenance is located out of 
J72  48 reach and thus necessitates the use of a ladder/scaffolding, or a 
J72  49 situation where access is restricted to a piece of equipment, the 
J72  50 maintenance of which demands the <}_><-|>used<+|>use<}/> of a large 
J72  51 or intricate tool.<p/>
J72  52 <p_>Anthropometric data should also be used to design the console 
J72  53 which houses displays and controls. This data will assist in the 
J72  54 decisions regarding the location of the instrumentation on the 
J72  55 panels to ensure that the most frequently used and important 
J72  56 displays and controls are within the primary reach envelope and 
J72  57 optimum viewing angle of the operators.<p/>
J72  58 <p_>The displays and controls used must be tailored to meet the 
J72  59 information needs of the operators. This will have implications for 
J72  60 the design and the layout of the instrumentation eg. if there is a 
J72  61 logical sequence of use of controls and displays the layout should 
J72  62 reflect this sequence and where possible the instruments should be 
J72  63 functionally grouped.<p/>
J72  64 <h_><p_>Desgin of Instrumentation<p/><h/>
J72  65 <p_>Task Analysis should be used to obtain the information on which 
J72  66 to base these decisions. This will serve to identify individual 
J72  67 elements of the task such as the following:<p/>
J72  68 <p_>- the goal of the particular task<p/>
J72  69 <p_>- the subtasks needed to achieve that goal<p/>
J72  70 <p_>- the information required in order for the operator to 
J72  71 complete that task<p/>
J72  72 <p_>- the action to be implemented<p/>
J72  73 <p_>- the feedback which is required by the operator to confirm 
J72  74 that the task has been successfully completed<p/>
J72  75 <p_>- the relevant performance shaping factors (NB. Performance 
J72  76 shaping factors are those factors which affect human performance 
J72  77 and may be of an external nature such <}_><-|>a<+|>as<}/> noise, 
J72  78 lighting etc. or of an internal nature such as stress, memory 
J72  79 overload etc.).<p/>
J72  80 <p_>This technique will be used to select a design which is 
J72  81 appropriate for the task eg. if the operator is required to compare 
J72  82 two tank levels, this is likely to be displayed in the form of two 
J72  83 vertical barcharts located next to each other. If a precise value 
J72  84 is required it may need to be displayed by means of a digital 
J72  85 indicator. If a simple on/off action is required during the task it 
J72  86 will be implemented by means of a simple switch or on/off 
J72  87 pushbuttons, whereas if continuous action is required, as in the 
J72  88 use of a hoist or crane, than a joystick would be more 
J72  89 appropriate.<p/>
J72  90 <p_>Ergonomics guidelines based on data and past experimentation 
J72  91 exist to assist the designer/ergonomist/engineer. These guidelines 
J72  92 also include advice about the use of colour, labelling, e.t.c. The 
J72  93 principles used to design VDU displays, if appropriate, are similar 
J72  94 to those for control and display design. It is useful to provide a 
J72  95 layout of information on a VDU screen which is compatible with that 
J72  96 on the hardwired control panels and which uses a consistent colour 
J72  97 coding scheme ie. colours which are ascribed specific meanings on 
J72  98 the hardwired panels should adopt the same meanings on the VDU 
J72  99 displays.<p/>
J72 100 <h_><p_>Environmental Issues<p/><h/>
J72 101 <p_>The design of the man machine interface alone however, will not 
J72 102 ensure safe operating performance. Although the ergonomics 
J72 103 techniques used to design and assess offshore systems are similar 
J72 104 to those used in any other industry, the performance constraints 
J72 105 and environmental conditions are very different.<p/>
J72 106 <p_>The levels of lighting will affect the visibility of the 
J72 107 instrumentation and equipment and if inadequate may lead to 
J72 108 hazardous situations. Noise levels which are too high are hazardous 
J72 109 to health and will affect communications.<p/>
J72 110 <p_>The thermal environment is known to have an 
J72 111 <}_><-|>affect<+|>effect<}/> upon performance (5) for further 
J72 112 details).<p/>
J72 113 <p_>Ergonomics guidelines exist to predict the length of time 
J72 114 people can be expected to work attentively at certain temperatures 
J72 115 and noise levels, where prolonged periods of exposure can lead to 
J72 116 permanent damage.<p/>
J72 117 <h_><p_>Training and Procedures<p/><h/>
J72 118 <p_>The ergonomist must not work in isolation to examine the design 
J72 119 issues relating for the workspace layout, the instrumentation and 
J72 120 consideration of the environment. 'Man at work' combines these 
J72 121 factors to produce a certain level and quality of performance. The 
J72 122 task analysis mentioned earlier will allow the analyst to examine 
J72 123 the interaction between them. The task analysis can be taken a 
J72 124 stage further and a human error analysis can be performed. Each 
J72 125 task step is examined to see if errors can potentially occur and 
J72 126 the nature of these errors. The consequences will be identified and 
J72 127 recovery points, if any, will be noted; for example if it is 
J72 128 imperative in a particular task step that a dial is read very 
J72 129 precisely, it has been identified that potentially the dial could 
J72 130 be misread or not read at all, there is no scope within the 
J72 131 procedure for the operator to recover his error and the 
J72 132 consequences lead to safety deficiencies, then a solution <tf|>must 
J72 133 be found.<p/>
J72 134 <p_>The analyst must examine the reasons why the dial could be 
J72 135 misread; eg. the operator may be experiencing performance decrement 
J72 136 due to the stress induced by the situation. The solution may well 
J72 137 be to place a flashing lamp above the dial to attract the 
J72 138 operator's attention and make some attempt to reduce his stress 
J72 139 levels.<p/>
J72 140 <p_>The resulting information provides a valuable input to training 
J72 141 programmes and the writing or operational procedures as it enables 
J72 142 the assessor to identify the following:<p/>
J72 143 <p_>- those parts of the task which may be prone to error.<p/>
J72 144 <p_>- those tasks which may be performed infrequently but it is 
J72 145 important are performed correctly.<p/>
J72 146 <p_>- those tasks which require specialist skills.<p/>
J72 147 <p_>- any pieces of equipment which require detailed 
J72 148 instruction.<p/>
J72 149 <p_>- the points in the task which require communication with other 
J72 150 parts of the platform, and those communications which are critical 
J72 151 in terms of safe operation (this will be dealt with in more detail 
J72 152 when the case study is discussed later up the paper).<p/>
J72 153 <p_>The training programme will thus be designed to provide 
J72 154 intensive training, retraining and specialist training where 
J72 155 necessary and methods can be identified for monitoring training 
J72 156 effectiveness. Procedural documents can be written using ergonomics 
J72 157 guidelines to ensure completeness, adequacy and clarity and will be 
J72 158 able to provide the necessary observations, cautions, precautions 
J72 159 etc. to ensure effective and safer operation.<p/>
J72 160 <p_>In addition to training and procedures input, the task and 
J72 161 human error analysis will contribute greatly to the quantification 
J72 162 of risk by incorporating the human errors into fault trees. It can 
J72 163 be seen that the probability of a hazardous gas release remaining 
J72 164 undetected may be the result of an instrumentation failure but it 
J72 165 may also be the result of a human being failing to read, or failing 
J72 166 to read correctly, the instrumentation and thus failing to make the 
J72 167 correct diagnosis of the circumstances.<p/>
J72 168 <h_><p_>Workload Assessment and Job Design<p/><h/>
J72 169 <p_>Having discussed the ways in which design can be used to 
J72 170 enhance human performance, assisted by correct training and 
J72 171 procedures, it must also be mentioned that a well trained employee 
J72 172 in a well designed environment may still find himself in a 
J72 173 situation which he cannot deal with, for example if the operator is 
J72 174 under stress (the issue of stress as a performance shaping factor 
J72 175 was touched upon earlier). It is useful to perform a workload 
J72 176 assessment of the tasks the operator is expected to perform. This 
J72 177 may make use of different task analysis techniques such as 
J72 178 observation techniques, walk/talk through exercises, simulation 
J72 179 etc. to determine the tasks to be performed and the time taken to 
J72 180 perform them. They can then be plotted on a time line graph. If the 
J72 181 time line shows the operator to be overloaded at certain points in 
J72 182 the shift there are certain manipulations which can be completed to 
J72 183 optimise performance.<p/>
J72 184 <p_>The following are examples of corrective actions which can be 
J72 185 taken:<p/>
J72 186 <p_>- the reallocation of some of the tasks within the shift so the 
J72 187 operator does not have periods of intense activity or boredom.<p/>
J72 188 <p_>- the reallocation of tasks between the workers.<p/>
J72 189 <p_>-the provision of additional workers on the platform or for 
J72 190 that particular work area.<p/>
J72 191 <p_>- the reallocation of tasks between men and machines ie. 
J72 192 automate parts of the system.<p/>
J72 193 <p_>Thus this activity will not only provide useful information 
J72 194 about the adequacy of manning levels but also about the 
J72 195 organisation and management of the work.<p/>
J72 196 <h_><p_>Management and Organisational Issues<p/><h/>
J72 197 <p_>It has been demonstrated by reference to the Piper Alpha 
J72 198 incident that a system must not only be designed efficiently but 
J72 199 must operate efficiently for it to be productive and the management 
J72 200 and organisational machinery must also be well oiled. In order for 
J72 201 the workers to operate in safe manner and assign safety the highest 
J72 202 priority, the management and organisation of the company must 
J72 203 create and maintain the environment in which these safe attitudes 
J72 204 will be reinforced. Management must demonstrate their commitment to 
J72 205 safety. The following are examples of organisational mechanisms 
J72 206 which will assist in the creation of a safety culture:<p/>
J72 207 <p_>- a no-blame method of incident reporting with consequent 
J72 208 remedial actions to prevent future accidents.<p/>
J72 209 <p_>- communications mechanisms to ensure that safety concerns are 
J72 210 expressed both upwards and downwards through the hierarchy.<p/>
J72 211 <p_>- the practice of training needs assessment (and reassessment 
J72 212 when new equipment is introduced), to ensure the worker is aware of 
J72 213 all job related safety concerns, and the monitoring of training 
J72 214 effectiveness.<p/>
J72 215 <p_>- an effective permit to work system.<p/>
J72 216 <p_>- auditing systems to ensure the above systems are operating as 
J72 217 they should.<p/>
J72 218 <p_>There are many more. Human Factors techniques should be used to 
J72 219 tailor the specific safety management requirements of each offshore 
J72 220 system.<p/>
J72 221 <h_><p_>Evacuation System Design<p/><h/>
J72 222 <p_>The issues the paper has discussed in relation to ergonomics 
J72 223 methods so far have been with respect to work activity on the 
J72 224 platform. The consideration of the human and its behaviour within 
J72 225 the surroundings are of prime importance when evacuating the work 
J72 226 place. Traditionally the consideration of the human element in the 
J72 227 design of evacuation systems has been confined to design aspects 
J72 228 such as the width of evacuation passageways to ensure that an 
J72 229 adequate number of people can pass and that the correct number and 
J72 230 location of lifeboats has been provided to evacuate all 
J72 231 employees.<p/>
J72 232 <p_>It is necessary to design the system in this way but equal 
J72 233 weight must be given to the human behaviourial aspects of 
J72 234 evacuation.
J72 235 
J73   1 <#FLOB:J73\>As an example, two prototype gates both 15 m wide and 
J73   2 about 15.5 m high, for a head of about 15.2 m, weighed 93.8 and 
J73   3 117.7 t, respectively. The estimated weights given by the above 
J73   4 formulas are about 102 and 107 t, satisfactorily splitting the two 
J73   5 prototype weights.<p/>
J73   6 <h_><p_>5.6 Rising sector gate<p/><h/>
J73   7 <p_>This type of gate is illustrated in Fig. 5.2. The most famous 
J73   8 application is for the gates of the Thames barrier, where the 
J73   9 inherent stiffness of the design allowed a 60 m opening to be 
J73  10 adopted for navigation, while any failure of a gate to close before 
J73  11 a surge tide would not be catastrophic, the remaining gates 
J73  12 providing enough obstruction to flows to prevent flooding 
J73  13 upstream.<p/>
J73  14 <p_>This type of gate was not short-listed during the studies for 
J73  15 the Severn Barrage Committee (Ref. 1981(1)), largely because a good 
J73  16 seal is required between the gate and the sill to prevent loss of 
J73  17 water during the generating period, and this seal would be 
J73  18 difficult to maintain. In addition, there was concern that the gap 
J73  19 underneath the gate would trap sediments and lead to difficulties 
J73  20 in opening the gate. These do not apply to the Thames barrier 
J73  21 gates, where there is a 300 mm gap between the gates and their 
J73  22 sills. Loss of water through this gap is of no economic 
J73  23 consequence.<p/>
J73  24 <p_>A slightly modified version of this gate has been proposed for 
J73  25 use where the sluice is over the turbine (Ref. 1987(12)). By making 
J73  26 one of the longitudinal chambers watertight and buoyant, the forces 
J73  27 needed to operate the gate would be reduced. In addition, because 
J73  28 the gate is located well above the seabed, there would be little 
J73  29 risk of sediment building up in the gap underneath the gate.<p/>
J73  30 <h_><p_>5.7 Gate operation<p/><h/
J73  31 <p_>Lewin (Ref. 1980(16)) has estimated that the power required to 
J73  32 open a 12 m square vertical-lift wheeled gate in 15 min is about 60 
J73  33 kW, i.e. about 15 kWh. A 20 m wide radial gate lifted 15 m will 
J73  34 require about 100 kW. Assuming that similar power would be used to 
J73  35 close the gates, which is pessimistic, these represent only around 
J73  36 0.02% of the output of a barrage.<p/>
J73  37 <p_>The simplest form of motive power for either vertical-lift 
J73  38 wheeled gates or radial gates are chains or ropes passing over 
J73  39 sprockets or drums. Each sprocket or drum is driven through a 
J73  40 reduction gearbox by a single high speed shaft, itself driven by an 
J73  41 hydraulic motor. The motive power for the hydraulic motors for a 
J73  42 number of gates could be provided by a single power source. 
J73  43 Alternatively, each gate could have its own power source, i.e. a 
J73  44 hydraulic pump driven by an electric motor.<p/>
J73  45 <p_>The use of oil-hydraulic motors instead of direct electric 
J73  46 drive has much to recommend it. Firstly, the hydraulic system is 
J73  47 sealed against the corrosive effects of a marine atmosphere. 
J73  48 Secondly, protection against overload, especially at the end of 
J73  49 travel, can be provided simply and reliably by pressure relief 
J73  50 valves instead of limit switches or other mechanisms which rely on 
J73  51 electrical contacts which can corrode. Thirdly, safety features 
J73  52 such as oil<?_>-<?/>immersed disc brakes, which cannot be released 
J73  53 until the system oil pressure has reached a certain minimum value, 
J73  54 can be readily incorporated into an oil<?_>-<?/>hydraulic 
J73  55 system.<p/>
J73  56 <p_>An oil-hydraulic system will be more expensive than an 
J73  57 electrical system, but, properly designed, will be far more 
J73  58 reliable and have a much longer working life.<p/>
J73  59 <p_>Each of the radial gates of the Haringvleit sluices is raised 
J73  60 and lowered by a pair of hydraulic rams, one at each end of the 
J73  61 gate, operating through a mechanical linkage. This removes problems 
J73  62 of corrosion of lifting chains or ropes ar the expense of requiring 
J73  63 a sophisticated system to measure and adjust the travel of each ram 
J73  64 so that the gate is not twisted.<p/>
J73  65 <h_><p_>5.8 Conclusions<p/><h/>
J73  66 <p_>The choice of type of sluice is, in practice, limited to the 
J73  67 types discussed above, and will depend on site-specification 
J73  68 factors as well as factors such as first cost. For sites with deep 
J73  69 water, say 20 m or so at mean tide, the vertical lift wheeled gate 
J73  70 appears to be the best choice. For shallower sites, especially 
J73  71 those on the routes of migratory fish, the radial gated sluice is 
J73  72 probably the best choice.<p/>
J73  73 <h_><p_>Chapter 6<p/>
J73  74 <p_>Embankments and plain caissons<p/>
J73  75 <p_>6.1 Introduction<p/><h/>
J73  76 <p_>Only in the exceptional circumstances of a narrow, steep-sided 
J73  77 site for a barrage would the 'working' components of a barrage, 
J73  78 namely the turbines in their power house, the sluices and the ship 
J73  79 lock, occupy the full width of the estuary. The remaining gaps 
J73  80 would have to be closed by embankments or plain, i.e. 
J73  81 non<?_>-<?/>working-caissons. This chapter considers both options. 
J73  82 Except where access from one bank of the estuary has to be provided 
J73  83 early in the construction programme, the non-working parts are the 
J73  84 least cost items and should be least sensitive to tidal currents 
J73  85 during construction. Thus they would normally be built when the 
J73  86 expensive turbine caissons and sluices had been placed. This 
J73  87 aspect, loosely referred to as the 'closure' of the estuary, is 
J73  88 discussed in Chapter 8.<p/>
J73  89 <h_><p_>6.2 Embankments<p/><h/>
J73  90 <p_>When considering embankments, the main questions to be 
J73  91 addressed are:<p/>
J73  92 <p_><*_>bullet<*/>What has been the experience elsewhere?<p/>
J73  93 <p_><*_>bullet<*/>What materials would be used?<p/>
J73  94 <p_><*_>bullet<*/>How would these materials be transported and 
J73  95 placed?<p/>
J73  96 <p_><*_>bullet<*/>What are the costs?<p/>
J73  97 <p_>Each of these is addressed in the following Sections.<p/>
J73  98 <h_><p_>6.2.1 Experience elsewhere<p/><h/>
J73  99 <p_>The tidal barrage at La Rance includes a short length of 
J73 100 embankment, but this was built in the dry within the area enclosed 
J73 101 by the main cofferdams and so was more akin to a normal dam than an 
J73 102 embankment built in the sea. The 20 MW pilot plant at Annapolis 
J73 103 Royal in Nova Scotia was built in an existing island and so no new 
J73 104 embankments were required. Thus there is no direct experience of 
J73 105 building an embankment for a tidal power scheme. However, there are 
J73 106 several projects where relevant experience was gained.<p/>
J73 107 <p_>In Hong Kong in the mid 1960s a dam was built across the mouth 
J73 108 of an inlet, Plover Cove, in order to form a fresh water reservoir. 
J73 109 When complete, the water behind the dam was pumped out and the 
J73 110 reservoir filled with fresh water. The dam was built mainly of 
J73 111 dredged sand on a foundation of relatively soft seabed deposits. 
J73 112 Fig. 6.1 shows the completed dam, which bears quite a good 
J73 113 resemblance to an artist's impression of the proposed embankment 
J73 114 for the Severn barrage as seen from the Welsh shore at low water 
J73 115 (Fig. 6.2). Ref. 1965(3) describes the project in detail.<p/>
J73 116 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J73 117 <p_>In the mid 1970s, an even more imaginative project was built in 
J73 118 Hong Kong to help meet the increasing demand for water. This was 
J73 119 the High Island reservoir and comprised the building of a large dam 
J73 120 at each end of High Island to link the island to the mainland. The 
J73 121 area enclosed was then converted to a fresh water reservoir with a 
J73 122 top water level some 20 m above sea level. What made this project 
J73 123 particularly interesting was the building of the cofferdam at the 
J73 124 eastern end, in water about 30 m deep, in a location exposed to 
J73 125 typhoon waves from the South China Sea. Fig. 6.3 shows the seaward 
J73 126 face of the cofferdam, which formed a permanent part of the 
J73 127 complete structure.<p/>
J73 128 <p_>In the Netherlands, the Delta project has recently been 
J73 129 completed. Apart from the Osterschelde storm surge barrier, 
J73 130 discussed in Chapter 4, and the Haringvleit sluices (Chapter 5), 
J73 131 this project has comprised a succession of large embankments built 
J73 132 to close off estuaries or embayments from the sea in order to 
J73 133 prevent a recurrence of the disastrous flooding which occurred on 
J73 134 31 January 1953 as a result of an exceptionally high surge tide. 
J73 135 These embankments have generally been based on an initial closure 
J73 136 structure which has allowed control to be achieved over the tidal 
J73 137 flows (Refs. 1965(1), 1972(1)). After closure, the embankments have 
J73 138 been completed by covering the initial structure with large 
J73 139 quantities of dredged sand with shallow slopes suitably protected 
J73 140 against wave attack. The experience gained has left the Dutch 
J73 141 dredging contractors pre<?_>-<?/>eminent in their field.<p/>
J73 142 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J73 143 <p_>A variety of closure methods was used in the Delta project, 
J73 144 including: floating in a series of conrete caissons; a series of 
J73 145 caissons with temporary openings which were opened as soon as each 
J73 146 caisson had been floated into position, and then all closed at the 
J73 147 same time to achieve total closure; and the dropping of thousands 
J73 148 of 2 t concrete blocks by a specially built cable car system, thus 
J73 149 building up a long weir which eventually appeared above the sea and 
J73 150 allowed dredging to begin. A similar system was erected to enable 
J73 151 the Osterschelde to be closed from the sea, but this was removed 
J73 152 when the environmental lobby persuaded the government that an open 
J73 153 barrier with gates should be built instead.<p/>
J73 154 <p_>In Germany, the river Eider was closed by a clever system which 
J73 155 started with a series of steel frames across the gap. Perforated 
J73 156 steel piles were then installed progressively by sliding them down 
J73 157 slots in the steel frames so that they spanned 'on edge', thus 
J73 158 presenting a moderate obstruction to the tidal flows (Fig. 6.4). 
J73 159 Dredged sand was pumped into position between the frames and 
J73 160 settled out between the piles, some being carried through the 
J73 161 perforations. Additional piles were inserted as required to prevent 
J73 162 undue loss of sand, but at the same time to avoid large loads on 
J73 163 the frames. The only materials to be brought to the site were the 
J73 164 steel frames and piles. All other methods have involved large 
J73 165 quantities of rock, concrete blocks or concrete caissons.<p/>
J73 166 <p_>The projects described above are important for tidal power in 
J73 167 that they demonstrate a variety of engineering skills that could be 
J73 168 used to construct embankments for a tidal power sheme. However, 
J73 169 they have all been built in locations where the tidal range does 
J73 170 not exceed 3.5 m, one third of the typical spring tide range of a 
J73 171 good tidal power site. Consequently, the differential heads across 
J73 172 the structures, and the velocities through remaining gaps, would 
J73 173 have been much less than those that could occur during the final 
J73 174 stages of building a tidal barrage. Other problems follow. For 
J73 175 example, temporary (and permanent) protection against waves during 
J73 176 construction has to be much more extensive in area if the still 
J73 177 water level can rise and fall over 10 m instead of 3 m.<p/>
J73 178 <p_>In 1975, towards the end of a major study of the feasibility of 
J73 179 storing fresh water in a reservoir formed by enclosing a large area 
J73 180 of the intertidal foreshore of the Wash bay on the east coast of 
J73 181 England, by an embankemnt built mainly of dredged sand, a trial 
J73 182 embankment was built 4.5 km offshore (Fig. 6.5). This trial, 
J73 183 costing <*_>pounds<*/>2.4 million, was necessary to evaluate the 
J73 184 practicalities of handling and placing large quantities of sand, 
J73 185 gravel and rock in a spring tide range of over 6 m, i.e. about 
J73 186 double the range experienced elsewhere. Ref. 1976(5) is a detailed 
J73 187 report. This trial highlighted the importance of providing suitable 
J73 188 protection of the dredged sand against scour by tidal currents and 
J73 189 waves if large losses of materials or double handling were to be 
J73 190 avoided. It also demonstrated the feasibility of transporting slope 
J73 191 protection materials by sea, and of handling and placing them using 
J73 192 floating plant. Fig. 6.6 shows a 2000 t capacity coaster being 
J73 193 unloaded by floating cranes onto 500 t capacity barges, this 
J73 194 operation being necessary because the water depth at the site was 
J73 195 insufficient for the coasters. Fig. 6.7 shows the placing of filter 
J73 196 material on the sand. The sand was excavated at a rate exceeding 1 
J73 197 t/s by a modest-sized cutter suction dredger from a nearby borrow 
J73 198 area and pumped directly to the site via a 700 mm diameter pipeline 
J73 199 laid on the seabed.<p/>
J73 200 <p_>There are many other marine engineering projects which have 
J73 201 been successully built and where the experience is of some 
J73 202 relevance to the design and construction of embankments for a tidal 
J73 203 barrage. To take one example, islands have been built of dredged 
J73 204 sand in the Beaufort Sea, north of Canada, for oil exploration.
J73 205 
J74   1 <#FLOB:J74\><h_><p_>PRESSURE COMFORT CRITERIA FOR RAIL TUNNEL 
J74   2 OPERATIONS<p/>
J74   3 <p_>R G GAWTHORPE<p/>
J74   4 <p_>Head of Aerodynamics, British Rail Research<p/>
J74   5 <p_>Derby, UK<p/><h/>
J74   6 <h|>ABSTRACT
J74   7 <p_>The discomfort felt on the ears by passengers when travelling 
J74   8 through tunnels has now reached a stage where limits of pressure 
J74   9 change have to be applied. The choice of limit is not 
J74  10 straightforward because of the variation in perception of 
J74  11 discomfort felt between one person and another and also on 
J74  12 different journeys depending on the journey characteristics. Though 
J74  13 the variations between people can be dealt with statistically, the 
J74  14 choice of a limiting pressure criterion appropriate to a particular 
J74  15 route depends on a number of complex factors. The Paper attempts to 
J74  16 categorize journeys into four different types, and to allocate a 
J74  17 pressure change criterion to each one. Such criteria are then used 
J74  18 for example by Project planners to size the tunnel cross-sections 
J74  19 on the route in conjunction with a route speed profile, or maybe 
J74  20 also to consider the need for sealed rolling stock.<p/>
J74  21 <h_><p_>1. INTRODUCTION<p/><h/>
J74  22 <p_>A feature of modern rail operations which can cause discomfort 
J74  23 to train occupants is the sensation felt on the ears from air 
J74  24 pressure pulses propagated by the trains' motion through tunnels. 
J74  25 The strength of these pressure changes (see Ref. 1) increases 
J74  26 approximately with the square of train speed, and multiple pulses, 
J74  27 of reinforced magnitude, can be produced by the interaction of 
J74  28 additional trains in the tunnel. Further, the size of the tunnel 
J74  29 cross-section area relative to that of the train has a strong 
J74  30 bearing on the pressure magnitude. Thus, considerable care is 
J74  31 needed with the design of tunnels on new routes, especially those 
J74  32 for high-speed, to avoid ear discomfort. At the present time, a 
J74  33 substantial amount of new railway building is taking place around 
J74  34 the world, often with considerable lengths of route in tunnel. It 
J74  35 is the nature of things that the public's expectation of comfort is 
J74  36 continuously growing and this emphasizes the importance of choosing 
J74  37 the right comfort criterion with which to optimize the tunnel 
J74  38 design.<p/>
J74  39 <p_>This Paper is concerned with the questions of how much comfort 
J74  40 is expected (and indeed demanded) of modern operations, how can a 
J74  41 limiting degree of discomfort be gauged and defined in measurable 
J74  42 units, and what does this mean in terms of railway operations. 
J74  43 These questions are difficult to answer. Sociological, technical, 
J74  44 and economic considerations play an important part. The passenger's 
J74  45 view of the appropriate standard of comfort together with a 
J74  46 railway's preparedness to meet it are largely dependent on the 
J74  47 current affluence of the former and the economic well-being of the 
J74  48 latter.<p/>
J74  49 <p_>Section 2 of this Paper discusses the comparatively small 
J74  50 number of railway pressure comfort criteria that are known to exist 
J74  51 at the present time.<p/>
J74  52 <p_>Section 3 describes some of the more important features of 
J74  53 human response to pressure change that need to be taken into 
J74  54 account in a comfort criterion.<p/>
J74  55 <p_>Section 4 of this Paper examines the range of railway 
J74  56 operations that are now demanding an expression of sufficient 
J74  57 comfort level, and discusses whether such a universal definition is 
J74  58 practicable. Section 4 goes on to propose a more flexible approach 
J74  59 which allows a limiting pressure specification to be chosen 
J74  60 according to the particular circumstances of the rail operation 
J74  61 concerned.<p/>
J74  62 <h_><p_>2. EXISTING CRITERIA<p/><h/>
J74  63 <p_>The need to fix limit values of pressure change on board rail 
J74  64 vehicles for reasons of passenger comfort first arose: a) for 
J74  65 high-speed passenger trains operating on new routes in hilly 
J74  66 terrain where there were frequent tunnels b) for new Metro systems 
J74  67 where commuter journeys were punctuated at frequent intervals by 
J74  68 underground station stops between sections of tight-bore tunnel. 
J74  69 The common factor between them was the frequent nature of the 
J74  70 pressure transients created in the two situations. The crucial 
J74  71 factors that brought the problem to a head were, in the first 
J74  72 instance, high train speed and, in the second, the high blockage 
J74  73 ratios of Metro trains within the tunnel cross-section. It is 
J74  74 useful to examine the form that the existing known criteria 
J74  75 take.<p/>
J74  76 <h_><p_>2.1 Japan Shin Kansen Operations<p/><h/>
J74  77 <p_>Initial service trials with the prototype 'Bullet Trains' on 
J74  78 the newly built Shin Kansen routes in the Sixties drew considerable 
J74  79 adverse reaction to the aural discomfort felt by passengers as they 
J74  80 passed through the numerous tunnels on these routes. By the current 
J74  81 standards of the day, the tunnels were built to generous 
J74  82 proportions (63.4 m<sp_>2<sp/> cross-section) in order to alleviate 
J74  83 the effect of high speed. Nevertheless, the number of tunnels, and 
J74  84 consequently the total cost of tunnel construction, limited the 
J74  85 adoption of even larger sections to reduce the discomfort to more 
J74  86 acceptable proportions. As a result of this early experience, 
J74  87 Japanese National Railways decided to embark on the revolutionary 
J74  88 process of sealing the structure of the passenger coaches so as to 
J74  89 prevent, or at least largely attenuate, the pressure transients, 
J74  90 produced within the tunnel external to the train, propagating into 
J74  91 the coach interiors. In spite of the considerable cost and 
J74  92 complexity of the modifications to coach construction that this has 
J74  93 incurred, JNR and its successor JR have persisted with this design 
J74  94 policy right into their latest rolling stock range.<p/>
J74  95 <p_>Having taken the decision to resort to pressure-sealed 
J74  96 construction, then it was feasible to go for a high standard of 
J74  97 'pressure' comfort whilst still achieving high train speeds. It can 
J74  98 also be argued that some of the incurred costs can then be balanced 
J74  99 off against the cost savings to the infrastructure allowed by the 
J74 100 modest tunnel cross-sections that are feasible. As a target 
J74 101 standard, JNR have built their Shin Kansen rolling stock to a 
J74 102 pressure criterion defined as:<p/>
J74 103 <p_>Max change of pressure = 1000 Pa<p/>
J74 104 <p_>Max rate of change of pressure = 200 Pa/s<p/>
J74 105 <p_>However, it is understood that recent reviews of the 
J74 106 maintenance costs associated with meeting these standards, 
J74 107 particularly as the stock gets older, have persuaded JR to relax 
J74 108 their criterion to:<p/>
J74 109 <p_>Max rate of change of pressure = 300 Pa/s<p/>
J74 110 <p_>It seems that the specification of overall pressure change of 1 
J74 111 kPa (for which a minimum time scale is only implied) is left 
J74 112 unaltered, although it would appear that this could be infringed in 
J74 113 long tunnels.<p/>
J74 114 <p_>The above criteria have been adopted for 'sealed' Shin-Kansen 
J74 115 stock, but it is believed that no corresponding criterion exists 
J74 116 for Japanese conventional 'unsealed' stock.<p/>
J74 117 <h_><p_>2.2 US Underground Rapid Transit Systems<p/><h/>
J74 118 <p_>The American Dept of Transportation (UMTA) have produced 
J74 119 recommendations (Ref.2) for subway train conditions. Subway tunnels 
J74 120 tend to be of tight bore and a typical journey involves several 
J74 121 tunnel transits as trains pass from tunnel into station and later 
J74 122 back into tunnel. Thus, the resulting pressure changes are 
J74 123 experienced in rather quick succession and all too often by 
J74 124 commuter travellers who may be users on a regular daily basis. 
J74 125 Thus, such travel may demand tight control over pressure 
J74 126 variation.<p/>
J74 127 <p_>UMTA recommend a pressure standard which may be expressed 
J74 128 as:<p/>
J74 129 <p_>Max pressure change = 700 Pa within a 1.7 s period<p/>
J74 130 <p_>Max rate of change of pressure = 410 Pa/s<p/>
J74 131 <p_>(over periods longer than 1.7 s)<p/>
J74 132 <h_><p_>2.3 British Railways Board<p/><h/>
J74 133 <p_>In the early-Seventies, a need arose in the UK for a pressure 
J74 134 criterion to cater for the new generation of electric trains which 
J74 135 were to operate on the newly electrified West Coast Main Line at 
J74 136 significantly higher speeds. Although this route had relatively few 
J74 137 tunnels and these were of the short-to-medium length category, 
J74 138 their cross-sectional areas were small (many less than 40 
J74 139 m<sp_>2<sp/>) and thus pressures could be substantial. A study of 
J74 140 existing conditions, which were apparently acceptable to the 
J74 141 public, and of the results of pressure chamber tests with volunteer 
J74 142 subjects (Ref. 3) resulted in a limiting criterion defined as:<p/>
J74 143 <p_>Max pressure change = 3000 Pa within any 3 s period<p/>
J74 144 <p_>At the same time, BR adopted a further criterion which was 
J74 145 specifically chosen for operation through the Anglo-French Channel 
J74 146 Tunnel that was being actively pursued in the early 1970s. The 
J74 147 configuration of the Tunnel being considered at that time was very 
J74 148 similar to the present day Tunnel and concern was expressed at the 
J74 149 pressure pulses that would be experienced on the Shuttle Trains as 
J74 150 they passed the cross-connecting ducts linking the two separate 
J74 151 running tunnels. Train operation at 120 km/h meant that these ducts 
J74 152 were passed at intervals of approximately 7 seconds, and the 
J74 153 British Railways Board (one of the members of the British Channel 
J74 154 Tunnel Company) adopted a standard for a <tf|>desirable comfort 
J74 155 level during normal operation through the Tunnel which stated:<p/>
J74 156 <p_>Max pressure change = 450 Pa<p/>
J74 157 <p_>(when repeated at 7s intervals for the 25 min tunnel 
J74 158 journey)<p/>
J74 159 <p_>A corresponding standard of 700 Pa was considered to be the 
J74 160 upper limit of acceptability for such tunnel operations. A rare 
J74 161 extreme case was not identified.<p/>
J74 162 <p_>In 1986, BRB revised their former criterion for inter-city 
J74 163 route operation and effectively relaxed the standard to allow:<p/>
J74 164 <p_>Max pressure change = 4000 Pa within any 4 s period<p/>
J74 165 <p_>Thus, the new criterion allows the maximum short duration 
J74 166 pressure change to be 4000 Pa rather than the previous 3000 Pa. The 
J74 167 basis for the decision was favourable operating experience with the 
J74 168 3000 Pa criterion together with the results of international 
J74 169 studies (Ref. 4).<p/>
J74 170 <p_>The 4000 Pa within 4 s criterion remains the BRB comfort limit 
J74 171 for all BR routes except for the proposed Rail Link between London 
J74 172 and the Channel Tunnel. This route is exceptional within the BR 
J74 173 network as it is proposed to have several tunnels (amounting to 
J74 174 approximately 30% of total route length). A recommended pressure 
J74 175 criterion for the route has been proposed to be:<p/>
J74 176 <p_>2.5 kPa within 4 s for single-track tunnels<p/>
J74 177 <p_>3.0 kPa within 4 s for double-track tunnels.<p/>
J74 178 <p_>The higher pressure permitted in a double-track tunnel allows 
J74 179 for the fact that this limit will only occur when two trains pass 
J74 180 at maximum speed within the tunnel and even then only when they 
J74 181 pass in a particular place within the tunnel. For single-track 
J74 182 tunnels, the highest pressure changes felt on each occasion will 
J74 183 always be the same (for a given operating speed). At the time of 
J74 184 writing, project studies show that relatively few tunnels are 
J74 185 single-track and that therefore this increased level is reasonable, 
J74 186 and consistent with route infrastructure economies. Notional 
J74 187 maximum speed for the route with 'non-sealed' stock is 225 km/h.<p/>
J74 188 <h_><p_>2.4 The Deutsche Bundesbahn Neubaustrecke Routes<p/><h/>
J74 189 <p_>In the early-eighties, DB decided to build a network of new 
J74 190 high-speed routes which could also be used for mixed traffic 
J74 191 operation. The first of these routes, from Hannover to Wuerzburg, 
J74 192 involved approximately 30% of the route length in tunnel due to 
J74 193 topographical and environmental restrictions. DB designed the 
J74 194 railway for operation at 300 km/h with an ultimate goal in mind of 
J74 195 350 km/h. Consequently, large diameter tunnels were planned 
J74 196 (cross-section 82 m<sp_>2<sp/>) to limit the pressure problem and 
J74 197 to ease traction energy costs associated with aerodynamic drag.<p/>
J74 198 <p_>During pressure comfort tests held in the Derby pressure 
J74 199 chamber simulating future NBS operation (Ref. 5) with unsealed 
J74 200 stock, the senior management of DB came to the decision that they 
J74 201 should adopt sealed rolling stock for future high-speed operation. 
J74 202 It was felt that the superior standards of comfort designed into 
J74 203 the NBS operation, with the ICE train in particular, necessitated, 
J74 204 at the same time, an improved pressure comfort standard. Because of 
J74 205 the similarities between NBS operation and Japanese Shin Kansen 
J74 206 services, DB decided to adopt the JNR criteria:<p/>
J74 207 <p_>Max change of pressure = 1000 Pa<p/>
J74 208 <p_>Max rate of change of pressure = 200 Pa/s<p/>
J74 209 <p_>although it is understood that the 200 Pa/s limit may be 
J74 210 relaxed to 300-400 Pa/s.<p/>
J74 211 <h_><p_>2.5 Others<p/><h/>
J74 212 <p_>Other high-speed routes such as the Italian Direttissima and 
J74 213 French TGV-Atlantique line have multiple tunnels, and presently use 
J74 214 'non-sealed' rolling stock, but FS and SNCF have not declared their 
J74 215 limiting pressure criteria. However, it is known that the next 
J74 216 generation of coaching stock to be used with the new Italian ETR500 
J74 217 train and the proposed TGV-R train will be pressure-sealed.<p/>
J74 218 <p_>There is no standard definition of 'pressure-sealed' stock. 
J74 219 However pressure sealing has been quantified for test purposes (see 
J74 220 for example Ref. 6) in relation to the degree of sealing of a 
J74 221 railway coach by a time constant associated with the time decay of 
J74 222 internal pressure of the coach (initially at an over-pressure) 
J74 223 after the pressurizing means (eg ventilation fan) is removed, 
J74 224 according to the law <O_>formula<O/><p/>
J74 225 <p_>where P<sb_>i<sb/> = coach internal pressure<p/>
J74 226 <p_>P<sb_>I<sb/> = coach initial internal pressure<p/>
J74 227 <p_>t = time in seconds from P<sb_>i<sb/> = P<sb_>I<sb/><p/>
J74 228 <p_><*_>tau<*/> = time constant in seconds<p/>
J74 229 
J75   1 <#FLOB:J75\><h_><p_>2.2 Two Phase Structures, One Three-dimensional 
J75   2 and One Two<?_>-<?/>dimensional Grain Boundary Phase<p/>
J75   3 <p_>2.2.1 Binary alloys<p/><h/>
J75   4 <p_>Most metallic alloying elements purposely added to improve 
J75   5 properties are highly soluble and do not show a marked tendency to 
J75   6 segregate on grain boundaries. Those of interest here are mainly 
J75   7 non-metallic or metalloid elements present as impurities. The grain 
J75   8 boundary is here treated as a separate phase which, being very 
J75   9 thin, is designated two dimensional (2D). Solute elements and 
J75  10 vacancies are partitioned between the bulk grain, i.e. the 3D 
J75  11 phase, and the grain boundary.<p/>
J75  12 <p_>In an alloy consisting of two elements and two bulk phases, 
J75  13 such as <*_>alpha<*/><*_>beta<*/> brass, addition of extra solute 
J75  14 element would merely change the relative volumes of the two phases 
J75  15 without any change in composition of either. This cannot happen in 
J75  16 the grain - grain boundary case since the volume (area) of the 
J75  17 latter is fixed. Adding more solute, therefore, increases the 
J75  18 concentration in both the 3D and the 2D phase. In his original 
J75  19 analysis of the thermodynamics of the partition McLean supposed the 
J75  20 grain boundary to consist of a fixed number of exactly equivalent 
J75  21 sites where solute atoms can exchange with solvent atoms with a 
J75  22 drop in energy of the system by an amount <*_>delta<*/>G per mole 
J75  23 so exchanged. He arrived at a relationship which has since been 
J75  24 widely used:<p/>
J75  25 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J75  26 <p_>where X refers to the mole fraction of the segregated solute 
J75  27 species on the grain boundary and x its mole fraction in the bulk 
J75  28 grain, R is the molar gas constant and T the absolute temperature. 
J75  29 The value of Xo, the concentration of X at which the boundary 
J75  30 appears to be saturated, can be obtained for each system by 
J75  31 experiment. For some systems saturation occurs at a monolayer of 
J75  32 atoms. For other systems Xo is a fraction of a monolayer. For atoms 
J75  33 which segregate on the boundary <*_>delta<*/>G is negative - the 
J75  34 total free energy of the system is reduced when solute atoms fall 
J75  35 into grain boundary traps and the term exp(-<*_>delta<*/>G/RT) is 
J75  36 large and positive. X/(Xo-X) is the ratio of solute to solvent 
J75  37 atoms on the grain boundary and x/(1-x) the ratio in the bulk 
J75  38 grain. The term exp(-<*_>delta<*/>G/RT) is therefore the grain 
J75  39 boundary enrichment ratio which can take large positive values up 
J75  40 to about 10<sp_>4<sp/> for values of <*_>delta<*/>G that are found 
J75  41 in practice.<p/>
J75  42 <p_>The equation has the same form as the earlier Langmuir equation 
J75  43 for adsorption on the free surface of a solid, but the analogy 
J75  44 should not be taken too far, since the environment and constraints 
J75  45 on atoms at a grain boundary are very different from those of a 
J75  46 free surface. The latter is an empty half<p_>-<p/>space and the 
J75  47 co-ordination number of atoms on a surface ranges from 1 to about 
J75  48 8, while for atoms on a grain boundary there is only a small or 
J75  49 zero reduction in co-ordination number compared with the bulk grain 
J75  50 value and can be in the range 8 to 11 for close-packed metals.<p/>
J75  51 <p_>McLean assumed that the grain boundary was 3 atoms thick and 
J75  52 that the substitutional atomic sites were of three types: oversize, 
J75  53 undersize and average. The sites of each type were assumed to be 
J75  54 exactly equivalent so that exchange of a solvent atom for a solute 
J75  55 atom always involved the same energy change. The sites were 
J75  56 therefore assumed to be pre-existing and unchanged by the 
J75  57 segregation process. Since next nearest neighbour interactions are 
J75  58 significant when exchanging a metal atom for a non-metal or 
J75  59 metalloid having also a large size difference, the McLean model is 
J75  60 valid only for low occupancy, i.e. about 1 to 2%. For fracture 
J75  61 studies much higher levels of occupancy are of interest, usually in 
J75  62 the range of 10 to 100% of a monolayer. Experimental results even 
J75  63 here have been 'fitted' roughly to the McLean equation although the 
J75  64 atomic model is no longer tenable because exchanging a layer of 
J75  65 metal atoms for non-metal or metalloid at the boundary must 
J75  66 severely change its structure. Many examples quoted later show a 
J75  67 far from linear relationship between bulk concentration and grain 
J75  68 boundary occupancy. In spite of the range of powerful experimental 
J75  69 techniques available, however, it has not been possible to reveal 
J75  70 directly the detailed way in which segregated elements are 
J75  71 distributed on grain boundaries and how the structures evolve. They 
J75  72 may be randomly distributed or in small rafts or even in multilayer 
J75  73 plates. Also, in areas of strong segregation of two elemental 
J75  74 species, they may or may not occupy nearest neighbour sites.<p/>
J75  75 <p_>Preferred models of the boundary and for build up of segregated 
J75  76 layers begin in each case with a boundary in which the most 
J75  77 disturbed sites are confined to a single mono-atomic layer. On the 
J75  78 centre layer there are only a few sites for substitution of solute 
J75  79 atoms where exchange would involve an energy change of 
J75  80 <*_>delta<*/>G max. These sites can be arbitrarily chosen to be the 
J75  81 large sites which acquire large solute atoms in place of solvent 
J75  82 atoms. When the solute atom arrives the neighbouring atoms relax 
J75  83 outwards, i.e. the two grains are prized part, so that what were 
J75  84 the next largest sites become as large as the pre-existing large 
J75  85 sites. These are now, in turn, occupied by solute atoms, so that 
J75  86 the boundary is further prized apart, thus creating new large 
J75  87 sites. Thus the value of <*_>delta<*/>G remains constant.<p/>
J75  88 <p_>If 'large' sites are created immediately adjacent only to 
J75  89 segregated solute atoms, then the layer will develop by nucleation 
J75  90 and growth of platelets. Otherwise, for more general grain boundary 
J75  91 widening the development might go through a series of ordered 
J75  92 arrangements. Large atoms might find large sites by dropping into 
J75  93 vacant sites on the boundary and diffusing within the boundary.<p/>
J75  94 <p_>It is obviously unsatisfactory to discuss the segregation up to 
J75  95 high occupancy entirely in terms of the size of the grain boundary 
J75  96 sites, since each newly arriving impurity atom will alter the 
J75  97 electron distribution over many interatomic distances. For example, 
J75  98 in iron the clean boundary has metallic bonding while the boundary 
J75  99 with a high sulphur content has weak bonding across the boundary 
J75 100 with ionic and/or covalent bonding in the boundary. The fact that 
J75 101 <*_>delta<*/>G remains constant therefore signifies only that, as 
J75 102 the boundary fills and adopts a series of new structures and types 
J75 103 of bonding, the energy drop for each newly arrived atom remains 
J75 104 sensibly constant.<p/>
J75 105 <p_>From the previous discussion it is clear that the 
J75 106 <*_>delta<*/>G = const. as the grain boundary fills with impurity 
J75 107 is not a special case; but rather is accidental. For phosphorous in 
J75 108 steel the constancy has been well established as phosphorous 
J75 109 substitutes for iron atoms. The same model can be used for the 
J75 110 cases where <*_>delta<*/>G increases or decreases with occupancy, 
J75 111 with the modification that as each atom arrives it creates sites 
J75 112 respectively greater than or not so great as those which were first 
J75 113 occupied or offer a more or a less attractive electron 
J75 114 configuration. Alternatively, as the boundary fills, the solute 
J75 115 atoms take up a series of ordered structures, each more stable than 
J75 116 the preceding one, i.e. <*_>delta<*/>G increases, or it may be less 
J75 117 stable, i.e. <*_>delta<*/>G decreasing. These changes may not be 
J75 118 smooth but are, perhaps, difficult to detect, except in certain 
J75 119 cases where saturation is reached and <*_>delta<*/>G suffers a 
J75 120 large step change in value. In the exceptional case of tin in pure 
J75 121 iron, saturation does not occur until over two monolayers have been 
J75 122 formed. The same may be true for iron containing antimony.<p/>
J75 123 <p_>There are three important consequences for systems where 
J75 124 <*_>delta<*/>G increases as the concentration of solute in the 
J75 125 boundary increases:<p/>
J75 126 <p_>1. At constant temperature over a certain range the grain 
J75 127 boundary equilibrium content of solute is a step function of the 
J75 128 concentration in the bulk grains. In an extreme case this would be 
J75 129 a step function over part of the range as shown in the diagram, 
J75 130 Fig. 6.<p/>
J75 131 <p_>2. The temperature range <}_><-|>betwen<+|>between<}/> 
J75 132 segregation and desegregation is very narrow. Again in an extreme 
J75 133 case the gap would almost disappear and the grain boundary 
J75 134 transition would approach first order kinetics.<p/>
J75 135 <p_>3. Since the conditions for near complete segregation or 
J75 136 desegregation are so critical, the quality of the grain boundary 
J75 137 structure is also critical. In the critical range, therefore, some 
J75 138 grain boundary facets are near saturation while others remain 
J75 139 unsegregated. This third effect tends to obscure the effects of 1. 
J75 140 and 2. since measurements of grain boundary composition are usually 
J75 141 taken over many facets and give an average value for heavily and 
J75 142 lightly segregated facets. The build up of segregation, therefore, 
J75 143 is smoothed out, both as a function of temperature and as a 
J75 144 function of concentration within the grains, even when very sharp 
J75 145 transitions occur on individual facets.<p/>
J75 146 <p_>Figure 6 shows grain boundary concentration versus bulk 
J75 147 concentration for selenium and tellurium in pure iron. In each case 
J75 148 a factor 3 to 4 in bulk concentration is sufficient to cover the 
J75 149 range from low grain boundary occupancy to saturation. But even 
J75 150 here the measurements are the average of many grain facets, some 
J75 151 heavily segregated, others almost free of segregate. Therefore the 
J75 152 possibility of near first order kinetics is obscured.<p/>
J75 153 <p_>A drop in the <*_>delta<*/>G value could arise simply from the 
J75 154 filling of pre-existing sites, starting with the deepest traps and 
J75 155 then filling shallower traps. Such an explanation has been given 
J75 156 for the segregation of sulphur in Ni<sb_>3<sb/>Al and 
J75 157 Ni<sb_>3<sb/>(Ti, Al) alloys. The grain boundary occupancy changed 
J75 158 with temperature increase more slowly than was consistent with a 
J75 159 single value of <*_>delta<*/>G. Thus at the higher temperature only 
J75 160 the deeper traps were filled. Over the temperature range 977 to 
J75 161 1045K there was only a factor 2 decrease in boundary sulphur 
J75 162 concentration and the maximum concentration was estimated to be 
J75 163 only 5 at.%. The pre-existing site model could here be accepted. 
J75 164 For higher concentrations, however, the interaction of solute atoms 
J75 165 on the boundary would have to be conceded. The ordered structure of 
J75 166 the Ni<sb_>3<sb/>Al type intermetallic compounds does, 
J75 167 nevertheless, give rise to lack of adaptability of atomic positions 
J75 168 to the development of close-packed grain boundary structures.<p/>
J75 169 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J75 170 <h_><p_>2.2.2 Ternary alloys<p/><h/>
J75 171 <p_>Still restricting discussion to 'two phase' systems, i.e. a 
J75 172 single bulk solid solution phase plus a grain boundary, the first 
J75 173 set of examples include those where both solute species would 
J75 174 strongly segregate to grain boundaries if present individually. 
J75 175 When present together they might either:<p/>
J75 176 <p_>1. show no interaction and each segregate as though the other 
J75 177 were not present, or<p/>
J75 178 <p_>2. strongly compete for sites, or<p/>
J75 179 <p_>3. segregate co-operatively so that each enhances the 
J75 180 segregation of the other. An example of this type has not been 
J75 181 reported.<p/>
J75 182 <p_>In a typical commercial steel there are many elements on grain 
J75 183 boundaries in small amounts which may belong to the first type, but 
J75 184 the best example is from the classical work of Seah and Hondros who 
J75 185 demonstrated in pure iron that tin up to a monolayer and sulphur up 
J75 186 to 50 at.% coverage each segregated as though the other were not 
J75 187 present, i.e. the level of each was not affected by the presence of 
J75 188 the other. Whether the two elements segregate on different parts of 
J75 189 the boundary with tin forming a double layer, whether sulphur is at 
J75 190 the tin-iron interface or whether the two elements form a solid 
J75 191 solution or compound layer is open to speculation.<p/>
J75 192 <p_>The interstitial elements carbon, nitrogen and boron, so 
J75 193 important in ferrous metallurgy, segregate strongly to ferrite 
J75 194 grain boundaries. Unlike the substitutional segregants their 
J75 195 presence in steels has a number of beneficial effects, including 
J75 196 their ability to strengthen grain boundaries and so counteract the 
J75 197 effect of embrittling species. These elements in ferrite exchange 
J75 198 interstitial sites in the grains for interstitial sites in the 
J75 199 boundary. The enrichment ratio can be very high since interstitial 
J75 200 sites in the b.c.c. structure are small. F.c.c austenite has larger 
J75 201 interstitial sites and grain boundary enrichment is consequently 
J75 202 less.<p/>
J75 203 <p_>Competition between carbon and phosphorus on the boundaries of 
J75 204 ferrite is of great practical importance since carbon strengthens 
J75 205 and phosphorus embrittles boundaries. Of the two, carbon has the 
J75 206 greater affinity for the grain boundary sites and reduces the 
J75 207 amount of phosphorus segregated.
J75 208 
J76   1 <#FLOB:J76\><h_><p_>POWERGEN'S APPROACH TO THE IMPLEMENTATION OF 
J76   2 F.G.D.<p/>
J76   3 <p_>J Evans and S K Reynolds<p/><h/>
J76   4 <p_>The paper outlines PowerGen's requirement for FGD plant and 
J76   5 discusses the selection of station site for retro-fitting, the 
J76   6 process type adopted and the main design requirements for the 
J76   7 plant. The paper concentrates on the project, contract and 
J76   8 commercial strategies for its implementation.<p/>
J76   9 <p_>Details are also given of PowerGen's first FGD plant at 
J76  10 Ratcliffe-on-Soar power station near Nottingham.<p/>
J76  11 <h|>INTRODUCTION
J76  12 <p_>This paper discusses the sulphur abatement programme proposed 
J76  13 by PowerGen and the necessity to install Flue Gas Desulphurisation 
J76  14 (FGD) plants. The paper concentrates on PowerGen's technical & 
J76  15 commercial approach to FGD and identifies the key features of the 
J76  16 first plant proposed for Ratcliffe on Soar power station.<p/>
J76  17 <h_><p_>SULPHUR ABATEMENT REQUIREMENTS<p/><h/>
J76  18 <p_>The effects of acid rain and the need for control on S02 
J76  19 emissions have been debated within the EEC for several years. These 
J76  20 discussions culminated in the production of the 'Large Combustion 
J76  21 Plant (LCP) Directive', proposed in draft in December 1983 and 
J76  22 agreed in principle in June 1988.<p/>
J76  23 <p_>The Directive covers two distinct areas, namely:-<p/>
J76  24 <p_>(a) <tf_>New combustion plant<tf/> The limits for S02 emissions 
J76  25 etc are based on best available technology.<p/>
J76  26 <p_>(b) <tf_>Existing combustion plant<tf/> The limits are covered 
J76  27 in terms of national emission limits, i.e a 'bubble' limit. These 
J76  28 bubbles are set for each of the EEC member states and have three 
J76  29 target implementation dates, 1993, 1998, and 2003. Adoption of 
J76  30 these bubble limits will necessitate reductions in S02 emission 
J76  31 levels of 20%, 40% and 60% respectively for the UK (based on the 
J76  32 1980 emissions).<p/>
J76  33 <h_><p_>THE REQUIREMENT FOR FGD RETROFITS<p/><h/>
J76  34 <p_>In order to meet its own sulphur abatement targets, PowerGen, 
J76  35 as a power utility, now has a number of options available to it. 
J76  36 These include the following:-<p/>
J76  37 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Increasing thermal efficiency of existing coal 
J76  38 fired plant<p/>
J76  39 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Increased use of low sulphur fuel imports<p/>
J76  40 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Increased use of natural gas<p/>
J76  41 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Increased use of alternative energy supplies<p/>
J76  42 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Use of 'clean coal' technology<p/>
J76  43 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Retrofitting FGD plant to existing stations<p/>
J76  44 <p_>PowerGen has examined the most economic and environmentally 
J76  45 acceptable way of achieving the sulphur abatement targets. The 
J76  46 process is however inextricably linked to almost all the major 
J76  47 investment decisions currently facing the company. The commitment 
J76  48 to reduce sulphur emissions is not just a question of assessing the 
J76  49 amount of FGD required to reduce emissions from current emitters, 
J76  50 it involves assessing both the current company emissions and the 
J76  51 long term future emissions from any future plant. This is 
J76  52 complicated by a number of factors:-<p/>
J76  53 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> PowerGen has to compete for market share within 
J76  54 the UK market which may change generation capacity within the 
J76  55 company.<p/>
J76  56 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Numerous gas turbine schemes are under 
J76  57 consideration.<p/>
J76  58 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Prediction of future coal sources (and their 
J76  59 sulphur levels) is difficult.<p/>
J76  60 <p_>Taking the above into account, PowerGen applied to the 
J76  61 Secretary of State for consent to retro-fit 4000MW of Flue Gas 
J76  62 Desulphurisation Plant.<p/>
J76  63 <h_><p_>SELECTION OF F.G.D. PROCESS TYPE<p/><h/>
J76  64 <p_>There are over 100 different types of FGD systems available 
J76  65 worldwide, ranging from pilot plant processes to systems installed 
J76  66 on several thousand megawatts of combustion plant. Detailed 
J76  67 engineering studies on a number of different FGD process systems 
J76  68 were carried out under the auspices of the C.E.G.B. and have been 
J76  69 progressed further by PowerGen. Great emphasis has also been made 
J76  70 on the operating experience of overseas FGD installations.<p/>
J76  71 <p_>In selecting the type of system to be used, PowerGen has taken 
J76  72 into account the following points:-<p/>
J76  73 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> The stations will operate on medium to high 
J76  74 sulphur, high chloride coals.<p/>
J76  75 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> The main generation stations are large (- 
J76  76 2000MW) sites<p/>
J76  77 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> The boiler units are large (500MW) and are all 
J76  78 20-25 years old<p/>
J76  79 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> The boiler units are required to operate for 38 
J76  80 months between major overhauls.<p/>
J76  81 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> The stations operate on a high load factor 
J76  82 (>80%)<p/>
J76  83 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Production of a 'socially acceptable' by-product 
J76  84 required<p/>
J76  85 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Minimisation of other effluents/waste 
J76  86 products<p/>
J76  87 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Low lifetime cost required<p/>
J76  88 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Minimum maintenance requirement<p/>
J76  89 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Proven reference list of FGD process required<p/>
J76  90 <p_>Considering the above factors, the Limestone/Gypsum process is 
J76  91 considered the most suitable for PowerGen's retrofit FGD 
J76  92 systems.<p/>
J76  93 <p_>This process is the most widely used FGD type worldwide and its 
J76  94 selection is in line with world FGD trends.<p/>
J76  95 <h_><p_>SELECTION OF STATION SITES FOR FGD RETROFITTING<p/><h/>
J76  96 <p_>In identifying which stations would be suitable for 
J76  97 retro-fitting an FGD plant, a number <}_><-|>a<+|>of<}/> factors 
J76  98 require consideration:-<p/>
J76  99 <p_>(a) <tf_>Commercial Aspects<tf/> As FGD represents a major 
J76 100 capital investment, maximum benefit (in terms of the mass of 
J76 101 sulphur removed) must be gained from its installation. This entails 
J76 102 considering only large stations, operating on high load factors 
J76 103 (i.e. base load operation) and also firing high sulphur fuels. 
J76 104 Coastal stations which may import low sulphur overseas coals are 
J76 105 not considered at present. Remaining station life also needs to be 
J76 106 taken into account in assessing the lifetime costs of the FGD 
J76 107 system.<p/>
J76 108 <p_>(b) <tf_>Environmental Aspects<tf/> Given the size of the above 
J76 109 stations (2000MW) and the relatively high fuel sulphur content, an 
J76 110 FGD system will require large quantities of reagent feedstock and 
J76 111 will produce large quantities of by-products. Transport of 
J76 112 feedstock and by-product at the power station is a major design 
J76 113 consideration. The process will also produce large quantities of 
J76 114 liquid effluent.<p/>
J76 115 <p_>(c) <tf_>Station Factors<tf/> Most of the large coal fired 
J76 116 stations within PowerGen are now over 20 years old.<p/>
J76 117 <p_>Taking into account the above factors, the most suitable power 
J76 118 stations identified within PowerGen were Ratcliffe-on-soar near 
J76 119 Nottingham and Ferrybridge C near Leeds. Both are 2000MW base load 
J76 120 stations.<p/>
J76 121 <h_><p_>DESIGN REQUIREMENTS OF THE F.G.D. PLANT<p/>
J76 122 <p_>Stack Emissions<p/><h/>
J76 123 <p_>The control of gaseous emissions are monitored and regulated in 
J76 124 the UK by HM Inspectorate of Pollution (HMIP). They in turn report 
J76 125 to the Department of the Environment (DOE). Regulations concerning 
J76 126 the emissions from large combustion works (>500MW thermal) are 
J76 127 covered in their 'Best Practicable Means Note No.27'. This note 
J76 128 however, only applies to new combustion plant<&|>sic!, there are no 
J76 129 current regulations concerning the design of a retrofit FGD plant. 
J76 130 In view of this, PowerGen proposed its own design parameters for 
J76 131 the FGD plant which were discussed and agreed with HMIP and other 
J76 132 relevant bodies. The principal parameters proposed were as 
J76 133 follows:-<p/>
J76 134 <p_>(a) <tf_>Sulphur Dioxide Emissions<tf/> The FGD plant will be 
J76 135 designed to achieve 90% SO2 removal at the mean coal sulphur level 
J76 136 with one absorber spray bank redundant. This redundant bank will 
J76 137 serve as an operational spare and will also be brought into service 
J76 138 if a high sulphur coal is fired. The plant is designed to handle 
J76 139 coal sulphur levels up to 3% (by wt) and coal chloride levels up to 
J76 140 0.6% (by wt).<p/>
J76 141 <p_>(b) <tf_>Stack Discharge Temperature<tf/> The temperature of 
J76 142 the emitted gases entering the chimney would be maintained at not 
J76 143 less than 80 degC. This means that reheating of the flue gas is 
J76 144 required.<p/>
J76 145 <p_>(c) <tf_>Dust Emissions<tf/> Dust emission from the process 
J76 146 would not exceed 85 mg/m3 (@15 degC, 1 bar, dry, 6%02).<p/>
J76 147 <h_><p_>Liquid Effluent Emissions<p/><h/>
J76 148 <p_>Due to the relatively high chloride content of UK coal, a 
J76 149 liquid purge stream will be required to control the level of 
J76 150 soluble chloride in the process. This stream will discharge calcium 
J76 151 chloride into the local watercourse.<p/>
J76 152 <p_>The purge stream however contains not only calcium chloride but 
J76 153 also flyash not removed in the ESPs, and contaminant trace metals 
J76 154 from the coal, limestone and process water feeds. This stream 
J76 155 requires treatment prior to discharge in the local water course to 
J76 156 reduce these associated contaminants to acceptable levels. 
J76 157 Treatment will be carried out in 2 x 100% water treatment plants 
J76 158 and will result in a waste sludge being produced. This will require 
J76 159 disposal, probably by landfill.<p/>
J76 160 <p_>The control of discharges into the rivers is controlled in the 
J76 161 UK by the National Rivers Authority (NRA). The large size of 
J76 162 PowerGen's stations, the high chloride content of UK coals and the 
J76 163 relatively low flowrates of UK rivers result in FGD discharges 
J76 164 being significant. Consequently the discharge limits applied by NRA 
J76 165 are very tight. Discharges are normally applied in terms of maximum 
J76 166 outfall concentrations, total mass discharges of selected species 
J76 167 and total mass of chlorides discharged.<p/>
J76 168 <h_><p_>Plant Availability<p/><h/>
J76 169 <p_>As a result of the Environmental Protection Act (1990) all 
J76 170 large combustion plant<&|>sic! will be required to operate under an 
J76 171 authorisation granted by HMIP. Whilst planned maintenance or 
J76 172 occasional outages from a well designed and operated FGD plant may 
J76 173 be acceptable, frequent outages from a poorly designed and operated 
J76 174 plant will not. Thus there is requirement to design and operate the 
J76 175 plant to high availability and reliability standards.<p/>
J76 176 <p_>Whilst HMIP have not stated an acceptable design availability, 
J76 177 they are aware of values adopted by overseas utilities, in 
J76 178 particular West Germany. In West Germany the legislation allows the 
J76 179 combustion plant to be operated for a maximum of 10 days per year 
J76 180 without the FGD operating (there is a further proviso that each 
J76 181 outage must not last longer than 72 hours). This 10 day outage 
J76 182 allowance means the FGD must be available for 355 days per year 
J76 183 (assuming continuous boiler operation) - ie a plant availability of 
J76 184 97.5%. Thus this availability figure, in the absence of specific UK 
J76 185 values, has been selected by PowerGen as a design figure. This 
J76 186 represents a very high target value, particularly in relation to 
J76 187 the PowerGen requirement for 38 months continual operation between 
J76 188 overhauls and the boiler availability levels of approximately 90% 
J76 189 currently being achieved.<p/>
J76 190 <h_><p_>Quality of By Product<p/><h/>
J76 191 <p_>It is the stated aim of PowerGen to produce a socially 
J76 192 beneficial by-product from its FGD systems, which with the 
J76 193 Limestone/Gypsum process results in the production of a commercial 
J76 194 grade gypsum.<p/>
J76 195 <h_><p_>Local Planning Restrictions<p/><h/>
J76 196 <p_>Other restrictions on the process are imposed by local 
J76 197 regulations such as visual aspects, noise levels (construction and 
J76 198 operating), road & rail traffic movements etc. These all have to be 
J76 199 catered for in the plant design.<p/>
J76 200 <p_>All aspects associated with the design of the FGD plant are 
J76 201 outlined in the PowerGen's Environmental Statement (2) which is 
J76 202 produced for the Local Authorities, County Councils and other 
J76 203 Regulatory Bodies, local groups, and the General 
J76 204 Public<}_><-|>,<+|>.<}/><p/>
J76 205 <h_><p_>PROJECT & CONTRACT STRATEGY<p/>
J76 206 <p_>Type of Contract<p/><h/>
J76 207 <p_>Traditionally within the Electrical Supply Industry the project 
J76 208 management of a large capital plant such as an FGD plant would have 
J76 209 been achieved by the letting of several contracts. A main 
J76 210 'mechanical' contract would have covered the unit plant and most of 
J76 211 the common plant, with separate contracts for the preliminary 
J76 212 civils works, main civils works, mechanical handling equipment, 
J76 213 electrical and C & I works. The contracts would also have been let 
J76 214 against tight, comprehensive specifications produced in-house.<p/>
J76 215 <p_>Whilst this form of tendering procedure produces a clearly 
J76 216 defined plant scope, it has a number of disadvantages:-<p/>
J76 217 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> a large in-house team is required to produce the 
J76 218 detailed specification and to monitor compliance of the tenders.<p/>
J76 219 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> the tenderers are forced into offering a plant 
J76 220 design which may be slightly outside their experience and 
J76 221 consequently carry a risk element.<p/>
J76 222 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> the tenderer has little room to 
J76 223 <}_><-|>optimised<+|>optimise<}/> the plant design<p/>
J76 224 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> conventional specifications tend to concentrate 
J76 225 on component rather than system designs<p/>
J76 226 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> there is little scope for fully evaluating all 
J76 227 the plant options<p/>
J76 228 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> there is a tendency to 'over-specify' the 
J76 229 plant<p/>
J76 230 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> numerous contracts would pose interface risks to 
J76 231 PowerGen<p/>
J76 232 <p_>In view of this, PowerGen decided to opt for a different 
J76 233 contract strategy which would involve a central, lump sum, turn-key 
J76 234 contract for each station, let against a performance type 
J76 235 specification. The contract covers the main FGD plant, all the 
J76 236 materials handling plant, the water treatment plant and all 
J76 237 associated plant. It also encompassed mechanical, electrical, C & 
J76 238 I, and all civil engineering and building works. PowerGen will only 
J76 239 be placing separate contracts for the following minor 
J76 240 contracts:-<p/>
J76 241 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Pre-application studies<p/>
J76 242 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Preliminary works design<p/>
J76 243 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Preliminary works<p/>
J76 244 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Unit transformers<p/>
J76 245 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Railway signalling<p/>
J76 246 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> 11kv and 3.3kv switchgear mods<p/>
J76 247 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Landscaping<p/>
J76 248 <p_><*_>bullet<*/> Finishing works<p/>
J76 249 <p_>An important feature of the contract strategy is that the 
J76 250 enquiry was issued simultaneously for both the Ratcliffe and 
J76 251 Ferrybridge plants, with the contracts being linked together. This 
J76 252 enables a high degree of standardisation to be achieved and the 
J76 253 process designs of both plants will be identical.<p/>
J76 254 <h_><p_>Selection of Tenderers<p/><h/>
J76 255 <p_>Considerable effort was made in the selection of suitable 
J76 256 tenderers for the FGD project. Generally the tenderers consisted of 
J76 257 a UK engineering company linked to an overseas group providing the 
J76 258 process technology.
J76 259 
J77   1 <#FLOB:J77\><h_><p_>AIRCRAFT DESIGNER'S VIEWPOINT OF RELIABILITY 
J77   2 AND MAINTAINABILITY<p/>
J77   3 <p_>A J Hill<p/>
J77   4 <p_>Westland Helicopters Limited<p/>
J77   5 <p_>Yeovil, England<p/>
J77   6 <p_>Abstract<p/><h/>
J77   7 <p_>Papers on Reliability and Maintainability (R&M) stress the 
J77   8 importance of R&M design to optimise Life Cycle Costs and 
J77   9 Availability. This view is reflected in the requirements placed 
J77  10 upon aircraft manufacturers by Civil and MoD customers to the 
J77  11 extent that R&M is frequently given equal priority with, for 
J77  12 example, aircraft performance requirements.<p/>
J77  13 <p_>During the initial aircraft design phase and subsequent 
J77  14 development phase, R&M engineers advise the designer on R&M 
J77  15 requirements but these requirements are frequently in direct 
J77  16 conflict with other requirements such as weight, aircraft 
J77  17 performance and cost. Although the idealised view is to treat these 
J77  18 requirements as equal, the reality is that aircraft performance and 
J77  19 weight are frequently perceived  to be more equal than other 
J77  20 specialist requirements, including R&M, particularly if the 
J77  21 aircraft experiences weight problems.<p/>
J77  22 <p_>The aircraft designer has to reconcile these conflicting 
J77  23 requirements to achieve the overall aircraft design. Frequently, 
J77  24 this results in rejection of the design recommendations of 
J77  25 specialist departments and adopting alternative design solutions to 
J77  26 meet the aircraft design objectives.<p/>
J77  27 <p_>This paper discusses an aircraft designer's view of R&M design, 
J77  28 its relationship to other design requirements and the problems 
J77  29 raised by the often conflicting requirements.<p/>
J77  30 <h_><p_>Discussion<p/>
J77  31 <p_>Introduction<p/><h/>
J77  32 <p_>Ladies and gentlemen, you will note from the Chairman's 
J77  33 introduction that my background is in aircraft maintenance, R&M and 
J77  34 Design to Cost. Therefore, I am only too aware that R&M is 
J77  35 extremely important in aircraft design and the subsequent success 
J77  36 of the aircraft in the market place, either in the military market 
J77  37 or in the civil market.<p/>
J77  38 <p_>The necessity for Failure Mode Effect and Criticality Analyses, 
J77  39 Direct Maintenance Cost Analyses and the many other R&M tools used 
J77  40 in the design and development of an aircraft is acknowledged: 
J77  41 however, these tools will not be discussed in this paper. I will 
J77  42 put forward some views of an aircraft designer on R&M issues with 
J77  43 an emphasis on maintainability. I have held the job of an assistant 
J77  44 to a Chief Designer for some years and I am, therefore, familiar 
J77  45 with R&M and other design requirements.<p/>
J77  46 <p_>Most papers on R&M are presented by R&M specialists who 
J77  47 frequently exclude other disciplines. This paper will attempt to 
J77  48 show that the aircraft designer has to reconcile the requirements 
J77  49 of R&M with other, often conflicting, requirements.<p/>
J77  50 <h_><p_>R&M Requirements<p/><h/>
J77  51 <p_>R&M has become increasingly important over the years with the 
J77  52 MoD and civil customers requiring good R&M features to minimise 
J77  53 Life Cycle Costs and to maximise the Availability of the aircraft. 
J77  54 This is a typical statement which is included in aircraft 
J77  55 specifications from the earliest stage of an aircraft project:<p/>
J77  56 <p_>Reliability and Maintainability shall be given equal priority 
J77  57 to aircraft performance<p/>
J77  58 <p_>To be given equal priority to aircraft performance means that 
J77  59 R&M requirements must be clearly defined before the design begins 
J77  60 and closely monitored during the design and development phases. 
J77  61 Figure 1 shows a simple bar chart defining the phases and the 
J77  62 activities addressed in each phase.<p/>
J77  63 <p_>In my view, the most important phase of a project is the 
J77  64 definition of the R&M requirements. In addition to requirements 
J77  65 expressed in rates, such as failures per flying hour and 
J77  66 maintenance man hours per flying hour, the R&M design features must 
J77  67 also be clearly defined. Loosely defined or ambiguous requirements 
J77  68 frequently result in very expensive re-design activities when 
J77  69 problems arise during the development phase. However, and this is a 
J77  70 very important point, the requirements must not be excessive for 
J77  71 the task.<p/>
J77  72 <p_>The next important activity is the initial design phase which 
J77  73 must be given sufficient time for R&M specialists to advise 
J77  74 designers and draughtsmen on the required R&M design features. 
J77  75 Programme Managers must ensure that the initial design timescale 
J77  76 allows the iteration of all designs before the drawings are 
J77  77 required for manufacture. Appreciable cost savings are made by 
J77  78 avoiding the re-design activities during the development phase 
J77  79 which result from designing to tight project timescales in the 
J77  80 initial design phase.<p/>
J77  81 <p_>The necessity for R&M specialist knowledge in the initial and 
J77  82 subsequent design phases is considered essential. Careful personnel 
J77  83 selection can ensure that R&M specialists provide valuable advice 
J77  84 to designers. For example, R engineers with an extensive knowledge 
J77  85 of past reliability problems, and M engineers with first hand 
J77  86 knowledge of problems unfamiliar to the designer, such as 
J77  87 maintaining naval aircraft at sea in cramped hangar conditions, 
J77  88 servicing aircraft on flight decks in adverse sea and weather 
J77  89 conditions and operating military aircraft from forward bases. 
J77  90 Thus, the R&M specialists can make important contributions to the 
J77  91 design process due to their on-the-job experience which the 
J77  92 designer or draughtsman may not possess. However, it should be 
J77  93 noted that, whereas maintainability features can be assessed with 
J77  94 reasonable confidence from drawings, reliability assessment is 
J77  95 often overturned during development due to unforeseen problems, 
J77  96 such as higher than expected local vibration levels.<p/>
J77  97 <p_>At Westland, we have a very active R&M department influencing 
J77  98 the design process. The result is large numbers of recommendations 
J77  99 for initial design and subsequent design improvements throughout 
J77 100 the design, manufacture/build and development phases in order to 
J77 101 achieve optimum R&M design. This is only to be expected, as any R 
J77 102 or M engineer worth his salt will strive to introduce the best 
J77 103 features relating to his own discipline. However, R&M engineers are 
J77 104 often not concerned with the adverse effects that the 
J77 105 recommendations have on other design requirements and may be 
J77 106 unaware of any adverse effects. The aircraft designer is, however, 
J77 107 concerned with all design parameters and has to reconcile the often 
J77 108 conflicting requirements of aircraft performance, weight and cost 
J77 109 as shown in Figure 2.<p/>
J77 110 <p_>Selecting the maintainability discipline as an example, many 
J77 111 maintainability features lead to higher acquisition costs and 
J77 112 increased weight. Whilst the cost aspect is important, an increase 
J77 113 in weight beyond the aircraft specification dry weight has serious 
J77 114 consequences to aircraft performance such as reductions in payload, 
J77 115 range, endurance and time-on-station. Any recommendation, from 
J77 116 whatever source, which compromises the aircraft specification dry 
J77 117 weight and performance will not be looked upon favourably. In other 
J77 118 words, aircraft performance requirements will take precedence over 
J77 119 other requirements, excluding safety, as any approach to the 
J77 120 customer on a reduction in aircraft performance would be rejected. 
J77 121 In the final analysis, the fighting capability of a military 
J77 122 aircraft or the commercial capability of a civil aircraft will be 
J77 123 more important.<p/>
J77 124 <h_><p_>Examples of Weight Increases<p/><h/>
J77 125 <p_>Examples of recommended maintainability features which have 
J77 126 weight and cost penalties are as follows:<p/>
J77 127 <p_>Reposition hydraulic ground servicing points from the cabin 
J77 128 roof to a position 5 feet from ground level<p/>
J77 129 <p_>The maintainability advantages of such a feature are 
J77 130 self-evident. Maintenance personnel would have easy access to the 
J77 131 servicing points, connection and disconnection of hoses would be 
J77 132 less risky to personnel, particularly on a ship rolling at sea, and 
J77 133 the hydraulic hoses would not abrade the aircraft skin. However, 
J77 134 such an improvement increases the hydraulic pipe lengths and 
J77 135 introduces an additional panel, both of which increase weight and 
J77 136 cost. The final judgement, taking into account such features as an 
J77 137 on-board electro-hydraulic servicing pump, may be to reject the 
J77 138 proposal.<p/>
J77 139 <p_>Introduce built-in steps for access to maintenance areas<p/>
J77 140 <p_>Again, the maintainability advantages are obvious, but built-in 
J77 141 steps also cause increased weight due to the steps and the required 
J77 142 strengthening of the surrounding structure. An alternative and much 
J77 143 lighter option would be to provide hard points on the aircraft for 
J77 144 GSE ladders to access the maintenance areas. However, this 
J77 145 alternative is always vetoed by customers on the grounds that GSE 
J77 146 must be minimised and that the ladder would have to be carried in 
J77 147 the aircraft, therefore providing no weight advantage. In my view, 
J77 148 the requirement to carry ladders in the aircraft on all flights is 
J77 149 questionable. Hard points and lightweight GSE ladders could provide 
J77 150 greater safety for maintainers when accessing high areas of the 
J77 151 aircraft and could be provided in more maintenance areas at a 
J77 152 reduced weight penalty. In any event, if built-in steps are chosen, 
J77 153 the number and position will be very carefully scrutinised to 
J77 154 minimise the weight and drag impact.<p/>
J77 155 <p_>Modify the fuel pump installation to allow the pump to be 
J77 156 changed without draining the fuel from the tank<p/>
J77 157 <p_>Modern fuel pump installations provide the capability to change 
J77 158 the fuel pump without entering the tank. Therefore, the advantage 
J77 159 of not draining the tank is a reduction in the Time To Repair. 
J77 160 However, this has to be weighed against the reliability of the pump 
J77 161 and the time to drain the fuel. If the pump is highly reliable and 
J77 162 the time to drain the tank is small, the additional weight and cost 
J77 163 of such an improvement is questionable.<p/>
J77 164 <p_>Provide a single point opening/closing mechanism on the engine 
J77 165 and gearbox panels<p/>
J77 166 <p_>This recommendation reflects the customer's wish to ensure the 
J77 167 safety of a maintainer when opening and closing panels, 
J77 168 particularly in adverse weather conditions ashore and at sea. 
J77 169 However, interconnected latches increase weight and cost and raise 
J77 170 questions of safety. The loss of a panel, particularly on a 
J77 171 helicopter, can be catastrophic and any design which interconnects 
J77 172 panel latches must always incorporate a separate safety latch to 
J77 173 guard against failure of the mechanism and loss of the panel.<p/>
J77 174 <p_>Provide sealed bearings in the landing gear to avoid routine 
J77 175 greasing operations<p/>
J77 176 <p_>Experience has shown that sealed bearings are not a 'fit and 
J77 177 forget' maintenance feature when sealed bearings are used in areas 
J77 178 exposed to the weather. Water ingress into the bearing, 
J77 179 particularly salt water, causes the grease to deteriorate, damaging 
J77 180 the bearings and reducing reliability. There have been reports that 
J77 181 some operators have modified sealed bearings to introduce grease 
J77 182 nipples.<p/>
J77 183 <p_>Provide a single point engine compressor washing facility with 
J77 184 a motorised ball valve operated from the cockpit<p/>
J77 185 <p_>On a multi-engined aircraft, this recommendation avoids the 
J77 186 need for maintainers to move the compressor washing rig from one 
J77 187 wash point to the other and reduces the time to wash engines. 
J77 188 However, once again the penalties are the additional weight and 
J77 189 cost of the motorised ball valve, electrical wiring and controls 
J77 190 and the addition to the overall aircraft failure rate caused by the 
J77 191 new system.<p/>
J77 192 <p_>The foregoing are typical examples of maintainability features 
J77 193 which impact on weight and cost. Other examples are:<p/>
J77 194 <p_>Fit dummy plug stowages on the main rotor head for the blade 
J77 195 heater mat plugs.<p/>
J77 196 <p_>Fit a cross spirit level in lieu of a plumb bob for aircraft 
J77 197 levelling.<p/>
J77 198 <p_>Fit a tie-down socket in the main rotor blade for blade 
J77 199 tethering.<p/>
J77 200 <p_>Fit lifting lugs to the transmission gearboxes.<p/>
J77 201 <p_>Lower the engine compressor wash panel to improve access.<p/>
J77 202 <p_>Introduce a maintenance 'bridge' to traverse the roof deck.<p/>
J77 203 <p_>Provide an in-flight compressor washing facility.<p/>
J77 204 <p_>Provide a drain pipe from each engine oil sump.<p/>
J77 205 <p_>Exclude locking wire from all aspects of design.<p/>
J77 206 <p_>Introduce quick release/self sealing couplings on hydraulic and 
J77 207 fuel lines.<p/>
J77 208 <p_>Introduce remote oil level sensing and replenishment.<p/>
J77 209 <p_>Introduce Built In Test facilities for all avionic 
J77 210 equipments.<p/>
J77 211 <p_>All the examples illustrated are accepted as good features from 
J77 212 a maintainability point of view, but each of the recommendations 
J77 213 has to be studied to assess its effect on weight and cost. If the 
J77 214 features are essential, they will be introduced but non essential 
J77 215 design features will be modified or rejected, particularly if the 
J77 216 specification dry weight and the aircraft performance is 
J77 217 compromised.<p/>
J77 218 <h|>Summary
J77 219 <p_>To summarise the points made:<p/>
J77 220 <p_>R&M requirements must be clearly defined before the initial 
J77 221 design phase commences. There must be no ambiguity in the stated 
J77 222 requirements and excessive design features should be avoided.<p/>
J77 223 <p_>R&M expertise is essential to the designer. Careful personnel 
J77 224 selection is important to provide on-the-job experience to assist 
J77 225 designers and draughtsmen.<p/>
J77 226 <p_>R&M must be an integral part of the design process. It must not 
J77 227 be regarded as a fringe activity.<p/>
J77 228 <p_>Project Managers must ensure adequate time for iteration of the 
J77 229 design in the initial design phase to avoid expensive re-design 
J77 230 activities during development.<p/>
J77 231 <p_>R&M specialists must consider the cost and weight implications 
J77 232 of R&M design improvements. Can the improvements be justified or 
J77 233 are they excessive for the task? The R&M disciplines lose 
J77 234 credibility if excessive demands are placed on the aircraft 
J77 235 designer.<p/>
J77 236 <p_>When aircraft specification dry weight is exceeded, a 
J77 237 compromise on all design features is necessary to maintain weight 
J77 238 and performance levels without adversely affecting aircraft 
J77 239 safety.<p/>
J77 240 
J78   1 <#FLOB:J78\><h_><p_>Technology transfer: the BTG model<p/>
J78   2 <p_>by Peter Tanner<p/><h/>
J78   3 <p_>Although there may be some who still think of technology 
J78   4 transfer in terms of assistance to Third World countries, most now 
J78   5 understand it to mean the process in a developed economy by which a 
J78   6 business can benefit from technology transferred to it. Even so the 
J78   7 significance of intellectual property is still not fully 
J78   8 appreciated and often undervalued, particularly in the engineering 
J78   9 field. This article draws attention to the opportunities which 
J78  10 exist, the changes of attitude necessary to take advantage of them 
J78  11 and some of the ways in which technology transfer can be achieved. 
J78  12 It is suggested that, as the world's principal exponent of 
J78  13 technology transfer, the British Technology Group (BTG) is a good 
J78  14 model for all similar activities in this field.<p/>
J78  15 <h_><p_>The paradigm shift<p/><h/>
J78  16 <p_>With a few notable exceptions, for too long technology transfer 
J78  17 has had too low a profile in the UK and been an undervalued 
J78  18 resource here. This is not generally so elsewhere. Increasingly, in 
J78  19 all other industrial countries the awareness is growing of the 
J78  20 importance and value of intellectual property as a real asset (just 
J78  21 like real estate) and awareness is also growing of the significance 
J78  22 to be attached to the transfer of it if it is to be used to the 
J78  23 maximum commercial advantage. We must ensure that we redress this 
J78  24 in the UK rather than allowing ourselves to fall further behind. To 
J78  25 do so, however, will require a radical revision of attitudes, a 
J78  26 paradigm shift in the current jargon, away from the deeply 
J78  27 ingrained 'not invented here' culture which many companies still 
J78  28 find it uncomfortable to make. In the power engineering field this 
J78  29 is particularly so. Without doubt, however, technology transfer is 
J78  30 worth taking seriously. The value of trade in IPR (intellectual 
J78  31 property rights) is considerable, amounting annually to around 
J78  32 pounds10 billion worldwide, corresponding (at a notional 5% 
J78  33 royalty) to products valued at pounds200 billion per annum and 
J78  34 growing rapidly.<p/>
J78  35 <p_>The whole topic of the exploitation of technology was aired and 
J78  36 given fresh impetus in the leading article in <tf_>IEE News<tf/> 
J78  37 (December 1990) entitled 'Not invented here or implemented here'. 
J78  38 As that article notes, <quote_>"While the British see themselves as 
J78  39 inventors par excellence, our track record of exploitation is far 
J78  40 less encouraging"<quote/>. Again, it points out, <quote_>"Although 
J78  41 a reputation for inventiveness is exciting, a competence in 
J78  42 profitable exploitation is more important for maintaining our 
J78  43 standard of living"<quote/>. We must take heed of this and in doing 
J78  44 so abandon not only the NIH syndrome but also any vestiges of a 
J78  45 nationalistic attitude in technology transfer. We need not only to 
J78  46 exploit our own ideas abroad but also to look abroad for ideas 
J78  47 which we can manufacture here, always planning for a substantial 
J78  48 financial benefit from the flow in either direction.<p/>
J78  49 <p_>Clearly we can ill afford to be parochial about technology 
J78  50 transfer. In the UK we carry out only 5% of the world's research 
J78  51 and have only around 5% of the world's industry. It is unlikely, 
J78  52 therefore, that we will find a close match between our own R&D and 
J78  53 our own industry. We must be prepared to license our ideas to 
J78  54 companies overseas (we have, after all, provided over 40% of the 
J78  55 basic research ideas over the last 30 years) and correspondingly 
J78  56 look in those countries for ideas which our industry may find 
J78  57 valuable. This is the true formula for the manufacturing prosperity 
J78  58 which we must urgently restore, rather than standing by to witness 
J78  59 its further rapid decline.<p/>
J78  60 <p_>As Lord Caldecote pointed out in the fifth Lord Nelson of 
J78  61 Stafford Lecture to the IEE in 1988, the only way the UK will 
J78  62 achieve its primary objective of providing satisfying lives for all 
J78  63 will be by the creation of wealth as measured by profitability. 
J78  64 This, he reminds us, requires the nurturing of a prosperous 
J78  65 manufacturing industry, the key to which must be greater investment 
J78  66 in innovation and an increasing commitment to it. He might have 
J78  67 gone on to add that a highly important and significant element of 
J78  68 this is the professional handling of intellectual property 
J78  69 resulting from innovation in the UK and elsewhere.<p/>
J78  70 <h_><p_>The substantive model<p/><h/>
J78  71 <p_>The <tf_>IEE News<tf/> article referred to earlier points out 
J78  72 in relation to technology transfer <quote_>"the need to add a 
J78  73 missionary zeal to convert the internal sceptics"<quote/>. BTG has 
J78  74 just such a zeal. Its mission is <quote_>"The profitable 
J78  75 exploitation of technology"<quote/> and consequently as a 
J78  76 contribution to the debate it might be instructive to spend a 
J78  77 little time looking at how it operates and how it has firmly 
J78  78 established itself as a leading technology transfer 
J78  79 organisation.<p/>
J78  80 <p_>BTG is currently still a public corporation but well on the way 
J78  81 to being privatised, which should be achieved before the end of the 
J78  82 year. To all intents and purposes it has operated as a private 
J78  83 company for many years. Although when set up as a public 
J78  84 corporation it borrowed money from the Treasury, the loans were 
J78  85 repaid long ago and it has been self<?_>-<?/>financing and 
J78  86 profitable since the early 1970s.<p/>
J78  87 <p_>The success achieved by BTG is evidence of the benefits to be 
J78  88 obtained from the efficient and professional handling of technology 
J78  89 transfer. During the last financial year BTG increased its total 
J78  90 revenue from licensing by 30% to well over pounds25 million and 
J78  91 profit before tax by over 25% to close on pounds10 million. BTG's 
J78  92 sources of innovation benefited substantially from this success; 
J78  93 over the year a total of pounds13.1 million was returned to the 
J78  94 academic sector in revenue sharing, project investment and 
J78  95 investment in patents for university inventions. The 
J78  96 professionalism and success of BTG in the handling of technology is 
J78  97 widely recognised, both in the UK and internationally. As a result 
J78  98 the number of inventions continues to rise rapidly; last year the 
J78  99 number offered to BTG increased 50% and accepted for further 
J78 100 exploitation by 35%. <p/>
J78 101 <p_>Once an invention is accepted for exploitation BTG, if 
J78 102 appropriate, takes responsibility for patenting it at its own 
J78 103 expense, funds further development if this is considered necessary 
J78 104 to improve the prospects of successful international licensing, 
J78 105 negotiates licence agreements, shares the licence income with the 
J78 106 owner of the invention (so that the institution and the inventor 
J78 107 receive 50% of the proceeds between them) and enforces the patent 
J78 108 protection if necessary. The acceptance of an invention offered to 
J78 109 BTG is the result of a favourable assessment of its commercial 
J78 110 potential by an executive in one of the Operations Divisions which 
J78 111 are the core of the business. All these executives have not only a 
J78 112 first class academic background at research and development level 
J78 113 but also a managerial commercial experience in the particular 
J78 114 sector of technology for which they are responsible.<p/>
J78 115 <p_>If an invention is one for which it is thought that useful 
J78 116 patent protection might be obtained, then through BTG's Patents 
J78 117 Department and at BTG's expense the patent cover necessary to 
J78 118 protect it will be provided. The Patents Department is amongst the 
J78 119 largest in the country, and highly regarded internationally. It is 
J78 120 certainly a considerable advantage to have a resource of this 
J78 121 calibre in-house, working closely with executives and inventors to 
J78 122 produce intellectual property of maximum value.<p/>
J78 123 <p_>It is of crucial importance not only to have the skills to get 
J78 124 a proper, well written patent application (leaving the researcher 
J78 125 thereafter free to publish if he wishes to do so) but also to be 
J78 126 able to build a stockade of patents round the key idea to achieve 
J78 127 the maximum protection. These skills have ensured that in many of 
J78 128 the areas in which the organisation operates BTG has secured such a 
J78 129 strong patent position for it to be able to take successful patent 
J78 130 action when necessary against even the most powerful multinationals 
J78 131 or even governments. Thus major cases have been won involving 
J78 132 Magnetic Resonance Imaging patents against Johnson and Johnson and 
J78 133 against the Pentagon in infringement of patents on Hovercraft, to 
J78 134 name but two. It is not only executives and patent agents working 
J78 135 together but these collaborating in one team with legal, financial, 
J78 136 commercial, marketing and other skills which give the organisation 
J78 137 its unique strength. This extends also to licensing software and 
J78 138 knowhow which, although generally not protectable by patents, still 
J78 139 constitute valuable intellectual property.<p/>
J78 140 <p_>Of course as already mentioned, it is not always the case that 
J78 141 intellectual property acquired by BTG is in a condition to be 
J78 142 immediately licensable; it may need further development before it 
J78 143 is likely to be of commercial interest. BTG has the money to invest 
J78 144 in such projects and last year this increased by 32% to a total 
J78 145 project expenditure of nearly pounds10 million. In developing 
J78 146 inventions BTG now has pounds33 million committed to 480 projects 
J78 147 as well as investments also in a number of projects with companies. 
J78 148 In these projects at universities, polytechnics and elsewhere the 
J78 149 costs supported include materials, components, apparatus and the 
J78 150 salaries of staff engaged on the project, plus a reasonable 
J78 151 allocation of overheads. It can also include the cost of market 
J78 152 research work under subcontract and other activities that enhance 
J78 153 the commercial value of the product. A feature of a number of these 
J78 154 projects is to appoint, when appropriate and with the agreement of 
J78 155 their institutions, selected post-doctoral research staff engaged 
J78 156 on the project as BTG Fellows.<p/>
J78 157 <p_>This brings us to the important stage of licensing the 
J78 158 technology that has been acquired and developed. Clearly this 
J78 159 requires a detailed knowledge of the industry involved on a 
J78 160 worldwide basis. Some of this information can be gathered from the 
J78 161 various databases increasingly becoming available. These are useful 
J78 162 but no substitute for personal contacts with the principal players 
J78 163 in the field. Contacts, levels of confidence and trust need to be 
J78 164 built up over many years so that a direct personal approach can be 
J78 165 made. All this demands well developed marketing skills, including 
J78 166 product development, the placing in the marketplace, pricing and 
J78 167 promotion. These four tenets of marketing are all critical and the 
J78 168 executive responsible for the licensing must be experienced in them 
J78 169 all. With the marketing resolved, selling will then be the 
J78 170 important activity and all will then centre on negotiating an 
J78 171 appropriate licence agreement.<p/>
J78 172 <p_>The Licence Agreement, like the Patent Specification, is a key 
J78 173 document since once the intellectual property has been made 
J78 174 available to the licensee the continuing payment of royalties and a 
J78 175 satisfactory ongoing relationship may be dependent on it. In such a 
J78 176 licence it is usual to have a down payment which has the merit of 
J78 177 identifying those seriously interested and likely to pursue the 
J78 178 activity with vigour. In certain circumstances this down payment, 
J78 179 or at least some part of it, might be treated as an advance on 
J78 180 royalties.<p/>
J78 181 <p_>The royalty level itself needs careful negotiation. In many 
J78 182 areas this works out to be around 5% for patented work although 
J78 183 this is dependent on the technology, and for software, where 
J78 184 margins are high, a level of 50% is not uncommon. As well as fixing 
J78 185 a royalty level it is standard practice also to establish a 
J78 186 guaranteed annual royalty level and to write this into the 
J78 187 agreement. This is particularly so where a degree of exclusivity is 
J78 188 concerned. Exclusivity either to manufacture or sell in certain 
J78 189 territories is not an uncommon feature, normally only over a 
J78 190 limited period but long enough to give the licensee a chance to 
J78 191 become established in the market. <p/>
J78 192 <p_>As well as having a guaranteed royalty during the exclusive 
J78 193 period it is also sensible to establish break minima for each year 
J78 194 so that if this level has not been reached the licensor can 
J78 195 terminate the agreement. This ensures that licensees do not cocoon 
J78 196 the work and prevent more serious operators taking a licence.<p/>
J78 197 <p_>However, it is not intended here to go into all the 
J78 198 ramifications of the licence deal which could well be the subject 
J78 199 of a subsequent article, but only to emphasise, by touching on the 
J78 200 detail involved, the complexity of concluding a suitable 
J78 201 arrangement and the need for involving expert advice in doing 
J78 202 so.<p/>
J78 203 <h_><p_>The success of power<p/><h/>
J78 204 <p_>Although mention was made at the beginning of this article that 
J78 205 power engineering is one of the areas where there might be a 
J78 206 reluctance to become involved with technology transfer, this was 
J78 207 the engineering area in which BTG achieved an early notable 
J78 208 success, due to the vision of the late Prof. Gordon Rawcliffe.
J78 209 
J79   1 <#FLOB:J79\><h_><p_>NON-ISOTHERMAL ADSORPTION IN A PELLET<p/>
J79   2 <p_>J. H. HILLS<p/>
J79   3 <p_>Abstract - An analytical solution is presented for the 
J79   4 temperature rise in an adsorbent pellet in the presence of both 
J79   5 internal and external mass transfer resistance, and external heat 
J79   6 transfer resistance. A linear, temperature-independent isotherm and 
J79   7 constant diffusion coefficient are assumed. Predictions are 
J79   8 compared with literature data.<p/>
J79   9 <p_><}_><-|>INTROUCTION<+|>INTRODUCTION<}/><p/><h/>
J79  10 <p_>In the design of packed bed adsorbers both equilibrium data 
J79  11 (adsorption isotherms) and rate data (effect of internal and 
J79  12 external heat and mass transfer resistances) are needed to predict 
J79  13 breakthrough curves. While there are a great deal of data on the 
J79  14 former, it is much harder to obtain reliable mass transfer data, 
J79  15 which are consequently less common in the literature. These data 
J79  16 may be obtained from experimental breakthrough curves, but a number 
J79  17 of simplifying assumptions must be made whose validity is hard to 
J79  18 check. A safer method is to subject a small quantity of adsorbent 
J79  19 to a large excess of fluid containing various fixed concentrations 
J79  20 of adsorbate, and measure the rate of uptake as a function of 
J79  21 time.<p/>
J79  22 <p_>Mass transfer resistance can arise from a number of factors: 
J79  23 diffusion through the fluid film surrounding the adsorbent pellet, 
J79  24 transport along the macropores leading from the pellet surface to 
J79  25 the interior, and transport along the micropores of individual 
J79  26 crystals. A popular simple method of analysing data is in terms of 
J79  27 an overall effective diffusion coefficient, obtained from the 
J79  28 well-known equation for unsteady-state diffusion in a sphere 
J79  29 (Crank, 1975a) or an overall mass transfer coefficient obtained 
J79  30 from the simpler linear driving force approximation (Glueckauf and 
J79  31 Coates, 1947). These methods are only valid when the effective 
J79  32 intraparticle diffusion coefficient is independent of 
J79  33 concentration, and when there is no temperature rise in the pellet. 
J79  34 If either of these constraints is violated, a time-consuming 
J79  35 numerical integration will be needed, which is particularly onerous 
J79  36 in the case of temperature effects, since the heat and mass 
J79  37 balances are strongly coupled. While a temperature rise in the 
J79  38 fluid is easily detected, it is the solid temperature which is 
J79  39 important; this is hard to measure, and must normally be inferred 
J79  40 on theoretical grounds.<p/>
J79  41 <p_>The most general solution of this problem would allow for both 
J79  42 concentration and temperature gradients within the adsorbent pellet 
J79  43 and across the fluid film, for temperature- and 
J79  44 concentration-dependent diffusion coefficient within the pellet, 
J79  45 and for a general, non-linear adsorption isotherm, <O_>formula<O/>. 
J79  46 The heat of adsorption and other physical properties may also be 
J79  47 temperature- and concentration-dependent.<p/>
J79  48 <p_>Such a complex system would require a very long numerical 
J79  49 procedure to solve it, and the general case would involve so many 
J79  50 parameters that only particular solutions could be given. Marcussen 
J79  51 (1982) included most of the elements, and his paper illustrates the 
J79  52 problems involved. Most other workers introduced considerable 
J79  53 simplification in order to make the problem tractable.<p/>
J79  54 <p_>Kondis and Dranoff (1971) used a relatively complete version of 
J79  55 the system in their study of the adsorption of ethane on a 4 
J79  56 <*_>A-circlet<*/> molecular sieve. Their numerical solution 
J79  57 considered a concentration- and temperature-dependent diffusion 
J79  58 coefficient in the micropores, and a Langmuir isotherm with 
J79  59 temperature-dependent equilibrium constant. However, they assumed 
J79  60 micropore diffusion control and constant temperature throughout the 
J79  61 pellet. Their predicted temperature variations were much greater 
J79  62 than those measured, but they point out that this could have been 
J79  63 due to experimental difficulties.<p/>
J79  64 <p_>Brunovska <tf_>et al.<tf/> (1978) gave numerical solutions for 
J79  65 the case of negligible external heat and mass transfer resistance, 
J79  66 internal mass transfer by pore diffusion with a coefficient 
J79  67 independent of temperature and concentration, and instantaneous 
J79  68 gas-solid equilibrium at all points within the pellet according to 
J79  69 a Langmuir isotherm with temperature-dependent coefficients. Later, 
J79  70 the same workers gave a very restricted set of numerical solutions 
J79  71 which included an external heat transfer resistance (Brunovska 
J79  72 <tf_>et al.<tf/>, 1980), and a simplified version in which internal 
J79  73 heat transfer resistance was neglected (Brunovska <tf_>et al.<tf/>, 
J79  74 1981).<p/>
J79  75 <p_>Chihara <tf_>et al.<tf/> (1976) assumed the isotherm to be 
J79  76 linear in both concentration and temperature, and represented the 
J79  77 overall mass tranfer resistance by the linear driving force model 
J79  78 with a coefficient independent of temperature. With these 
J79  79 assumptions, they were able to obtain a simple analytical solution 
J79  80 to the problem which they used to propose a criterion for the 
J79  81 validity of the isothermal adsoprtion model. However, the linear 
J79  82 driving force model is only exact when external mass transfer 
J79  83 controls the rate, or when the concentration profile within the 
J79  84 particle is parabolic; the latter condition holds approximately at 
J79  85 long contact times (Rice, 1982), but in most practical cases 
J79  86 internal mass transfer resistance is important, and 
J79  87 non-isothermality is most likely at short contact times.<p/>
J79  88 <p_>Ruthven <tf_>et al.<tf/> (1980) studied the case of internal 
J79  89 mass transfer control with a diffusion coefficient independent of 
J79  90 temperature and concentration, and an isotherm varying linearly 
J79  91 with temperature. Their analytical solution is in terms of the sum 
J79  92 of an infinite series, and while it was developed for the micropore 
J79  93 diffusion-controlled adsorption in molecular sieves, it can also be 
J79  94 applied, with minor modifications, to macropore diffusion control, 
J79  95 as shown later.<p/>
J79  96 <p_>Bowen and Rimmer (1973) assumed the isotherm to be 
J79  97 temperature-independent when expressed in terms of relative 
J79  98 humidity. They used the quadratic driving force approximation for 
J79  99 mass transfer, with external heat transfer resistance. The 
J79 100 equations can be solved numerically apart from the very early 
J79 101 stages, when the rate of adsorption is infinite; in this region, 
J79 102 Bowen and Rimmer proposed using external mass transfer control, 
J79 103 which leads to a simple analytical solution.<p/>
J79 104 <p_>In the present paper the effects of simultaneous internal and 
J79 105 external mass transfer resistance are combined with external heat 
J79 106 transfer resistance to give a simplified analytical solution. Both 
J79 107 the diffusion coefficient and the linear adsorption isotherm are 
J79 108 assumed independent of temperature, which can be justified if the 
J79 109 calculated temperature rise is, in fact, small. The solution is 
J79 110 presented for short adsorption times as a simple graphical 
J79 111 correlation which can be used to estimate the maximum solid 
J79 112 temperature rise, and hence to decide whether the data can fairly 
J79 113 be analysed by an isothermal model.<p/>
J79 114 <h_><p_>DERIVATION OF THE ESTIMATE<p/><h/>
J79 115 <p_>The following assumptions are made.<p/>
J79 116 <p_>(a) Uniform, spherical pellets of adsorbent.<p/>
J79 117 <p_>(b) Mass transfer resistance can be represented externally by a 
J79 118 fluid-to-particle mass transfer coefficient, <tf|>k, and internally 
J79 119 by a constant effective diffusion coefficient, <tf|>D.<p/>
J79 120 <p_>(c) The isotherm is linear with distribution coefficient 
J79 121 <tf|>K.<p/>
J79 122 <p_>(d) There is no internal heat transfer resistance, so the 
J79 123 pellet is at uniform temperature. Externally, fluid-to-particle 
J79 124 heat transfer is governed by a heat transfer coefficient, 
J79 125 <tf|>h.<p/>
J79 126 <p_>(e) Bulk fluid concentration <tf|>c<sb_>B<sb/> and temperature 
J79 127 <tf|>T<sb_>B<sb/> are constant.<p/>
J79 128 <p_>(f) <tf_>K, D, k<tf/> and <tf|>h are constants, independent of 
J79 129 the pellet temperature.This assumption, which will only be true for 
J79 130 very small temperature rises, effectively uncouples the heat and 
J79 131 mass balances, and means that a standard isothermal mass transfer 
J79 132 equation can be used, with the temperature rise calculated from the 
J79 133 rate of adsorption.<p/>
J79 134 <p_>Crank (1975b) gives the analytical solution for isothermal 
J79 135 adsorption in a sphere with both internal and external mass 
J79 136 transfer resistance:<p/>
J79 137 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J79 138 <p_>where <O_>formulae<O/>, and <*_>beta<*/><sb_>n<sb/> are the 
J79 139 roots of <O_>formula<O/>, the equilibrium solid phase concentration 
J79 140 of adsorbate, is given by <O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J79 141 <p_>Equation (1) is exact, but difficult to use at short exposure 
J79 142 times (<*_>tau<*/><*_>unch<*/>0) because an excessive number of 
J79 143 terms are needed for convergence. In this case, an asymptotically 
J79 144 correct solution can be derived from the solution for penetration 
J79 145 into a semi-infinite solid, also given by Crank (1975c). For small 
J79 146 times, adsorbate only penetrates the surface layers of the sphere, 
J79 147 so the effects of curvature can be neglected.<p/>
J79 148 <p_>Expressed in terms of <*_>nu<*/> and <*_>tau<*/>, the result 
J79 149 is:<p/>
J79 150 <p_><O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J79 151 <p_>The relative error involved in using eq. (2) rather than (1) is 
J79 152 less than 1% for <O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J79 153 <p_>The heat balance for a single pellet can be written:<p/>
J79 154 <p_><O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J79 155 <p_>Now, writing <O_>formula<O/> and replacing <tf|>t by the 
J79 156 dimensionless <*_>tau<*/>:<p/>
J79 157 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J79 158 <p_>where <O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J79 159 <p_>Differentiating eq. (2) and substituting for 
J79 160 d<tf_>q<tf/>/d<tf|><*_>tau<*/> in (3) gives:<p/>
J79 161 <p_><O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J79 162 <p_>To integrate eq. (4), use exp (<*_>alpha<*/><*_>tau<*/>) as 
J79 163 integrating factor, and integrate the right hand side by parts. The 
J79 164 result is:<p/>
J79 165 <p_><O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J79 166 <p_>The remaining integral in eq. (5) can be transformed by writing 
J79 167 <O_>formula<O/>. The result is:<p/>
J79 168 <p_><O_>formula<O/><p/>
J79 169 <p_>where <O_>formula<O/> is known as Dawson's integral, and can be 
J79 170 found in standard tables and computer libraries.<p/>
J79 171 <p_>A final transformation of eq. (6) can be made by the 
J79 172 introduction of the dimensionless groups:<p/>
J79 173 <p_><O_>formulae<O/><p/>
J79 174 <p_>The resulting expression is:<p/>
J79 175 <p_><O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J79 176 <p_>Figure 1 shows a graph of 
J79 177 <tf|><*_>theta<*/>/<*_>theta<*/><sb_>h<sb/> as a function of <tf|>x 
J79 178 for various values of the parameter <*_>mu<*/>. The curves pass 
J79 179 through a maximum at a value of dimensionless time <tf|>x given by 
J79 180 the implicit equation:<p/>
J79 181 <p_><O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J79 182 <p_><O_>figures&captions<O/><p/>
J79 183 <p_>The corresponding maximum temperature rise is given by:<p/>
J79 184 <p_><O_>formula<O/>.<p/>
J79 185 <p_><tf|>x<sb_>m<sb/> and <O_>formula<O/> are functions of 
J79 186 <*_>mu<*/> alone, and are plotted in Fig. 2. Thus the effects of 
J79 187 internal and external mass transfer resistance on particle 
J79 188 temperature can be combined in a single parameter <*_>mu<*/>, and 
J79 189 Fig. 2 can be used directly to estimate the magnitude of any 
J79 190 temperature rise in the adsorbent. All the parameters involved in 
J79 191 <*_>theta<*/><sb_>h<sb/> and <*_>mu<*/> can be determined 
J79 192 experimentally: <tf_>a, <*_>rho<*/><sb_>s<sb/><tf/> and 
J79 193 <tf|>C<sb_>ps<sb/> can be measured for the solid particles, <tf|>k 
J79 194 and <tf|>h estimated from standard correlations, and <tf|>K and 
J79 195 <tf|>D calculated from the adsorption experiments themselves by 
J79 196 assuming a negligible temperature rise.<p/>
J79 197 <h|>DISCUSSION
J79 198 <p_>Because of experimental difficulties, very few workers have 
J79 199 actually measured the temperature of the adsorbent during an 
J79 200 adsorption experiment, and the majority of those who have measured 
J79 201 it have done so in conditions where there is no external mass 
J79 202 transfer resistance (pure adsorbent gas). Marcussen (1970) worked 
J79 203 with water vapour in air adsorbing onto alumina pellets and made 
J79 204 some temperature measurements, but does not record the results in 
J79 205 enough detail to check the present theory.<p/>
J79 206 <p_>Bowen and Rimmer (1973) measured the rates of adsorption and 
J79 207 the temperature rise when 2.83 mm pellets of activated alumina were 
J79 208 used to adsorb water vapour from a stream of nitrogen at 
J79 209 30<*_>degree<*/>C. As explained above, they compared their 
J79 210 experimental data with the results of a numerical integration using 
J79 211 the quadratic driving force approximation, but for short exposure 
J79 212 times they replaced this with external mass transfer control, 
J79 213 leading to a very simple analytical result which, expressed in our 
J79 214 nomenclature, is:<p/>
J79 215 <p_><O_>formulae<O/><p/>
J79 216 <p_>Comparison with Fig. 2 shows that eq. (10) underestimates 
J79 217 <tf|>x<sb_>m<sb/> for <*_>mu<*/><20, while eq. (11) grossly 
J79 218 overestimates <*_>theta<*/><sb_>m<sb/> except at very low values of 
J79 219 <*_>mu<*/>. Both the simple equations (10) and (11) and the more 
J79 220 complex (8) and (9) predict <tf|>x<sb_>m<sb/> to be independent of 
J79 221 gas-phase concentration of adsorbent and <*_>theta<*/><sb_>m<sb/> 
J79 222 to be proportional to this concentration when <tf|>K and <tf|>D are 
J79 223 concentration-independent.<p/>
J79 224 <p_>The experimental data presented in Table 1 of Bowen and 
J79 225 Rimmer's paper can be used to estimate <tf|>K and <tf|>D at 
J79 226 different humidities. Since the temperature measurements (although 
J79 227 not the mass transfer ones) were made on a single pellet in the 
J79 228 flowing gas stream, <tf|>k and <tf|>h can be estimated from the 
J79 229 Fr<*_>o-umlaut<*/>ssling equation as given by Rowe <tf_>et al.<tf/> 
J79 230 (1965):<p/>
J79 231 <p_><O_>formulae<O/><p/>
J79 232 <p_>which gives <O_>formula<O/> and <O_>formula<O/> at a Reynolds 
J79 233 number of 48.9. (The authors quote <tf|>Re = 40, but this is 
J79 234 inconsistent with their other data.)<p/>
J79 235 <p_>From the literature, <O_>formula<O/> and <O_>formula<O/>, and 
J79 236 in another paper (Rimmer and Bowen, 1972) the authors give a value 
J79 237 of <O_>formula<O/> for this experiment.<p/>
J79 238 <p_>Table 1 presents the results of the calculations for the time, 
J79 239 <tf|>t<sb_>m<sb/>, at which the peak temperature occurs, and the 
J79 240 maximum temperature rise, <*_>theta<*/><sb_>m<sb/>. Since the 
J79 241 isotherm is not completely linear, both <tf|>K and <tf|>D vary 
J79 242 somewhat with the relative humidity of the inlet gas, which leads 
J79 243 to a small predicted variation of <tf|>t<sb_>m<sb/> as shown in the 
J79 244 table.<p/>
J79 245 <p_>Figure 3 compares the measured temperature rise at different 
J79 246 relative humidities with the predictions of Table 1, and of Bowen 
J79 247 and Rimmer's simple theory [eq. (11)]. It can be seen that eq. (11) 
J79 248 gives a large over-prediction in all cases, whereas eq. (9) (Table 
J79 249 1) gives good predictions for relative humidities up to about 50%. 
J79 250 For higher RH, the temperature rise exceeds 10<*_>degree<*/>C, 
J79 251 which almost certainly affects both <tf|>K and <tf|>D 
J79 252 significantly, so the whole basis of the present theory breaks 
J79 253 down.<p/>
J79 254 <p_><O_>figure&caption<O/><p/>
J79 255 <p_>The actual values of <*_>nu<*/> and <*_>tau<*/><sb_>m<sb/> for 
J79 256 these experiments are such that the use of eq. (2) in place of eq. 
J79 257 (1) introduces an error of about 1%.<p/>
J79 258 
J79 259 
J80   1 <#FLOB:J80\><h_><p_>Shop Floor Data Captures Top Flight 
J80   2 Maintenance<p/><h/>
J80   3 <p_>LAST year international aerospace maintenance engineers FFV 
J80   4 Aerotech acquired one of the best equipped maintenance facilities 
J80   5 in the UK at Stansted and set about becoming the first company in 
J80   6 the industry worldwide to control Job Costing via computerised Shop 
J80   7 Floor Data Capture (SFCD).<p/>
J80   8 <p_>The requirements of SFDC for aircraft maintenance are different 
J80   9 from the standard production control systems in manufacturing. A 
J80  10 full maintenance overhaul on an aircraft can involve 16,000 
J80  11 different jobs with the customer charged on a labour plus parts 
J80  12 basis.<p/>
J80  13 <p_>FFV Aerotech employs over 700 permanent staff and 120 
J80  14 sub-contractors. The 'Heavy Check' in which the company specialises 
J80  15 can take between 30,000 and 40,000 man hours at a cost to the 
J80  16 customer of pounds1.2 million with the labour content accounting 
J80  17 for 80%.<p/>
J80  18 <p_>FFV's aim was to pull in quickly accurate records of the time 
J80  19 spent on each job and thus reduce the 35 days taken between 
J80  20 completing a maintenance overhaul and invoicing the customer. The 
J80  21 company's aim was to achieve good financial management, rapid job 
J80  22 costing and accurate job tracking.<p/>
J80  23 <p_>Capturing the data on the shop floor was the first key step. 
J80  24 All job sheets are now bar coded and each engineer has a personal 
J80  25 bar code number. SFDC terminals manufactured by Source Computer 
J80  26 Systems collect the data.<p/>
J80  27 <p_>When each job is issued the engineer takes the job card to the 
J80  28 terminal and passes a wand over the bar code and over his personal 
J80  29 bar code. The Source terminal logs the time and the number; when 
J80  30 the job is finished, the engineer repeats the process and the 
J80  31 terminal clocks him off. FFV Aerotech thus has an accurate record 
J80  32 of the time to be booked to each job which can be used for job 
J80  33 costing.<p/>
J80  34 <p_>A further benefit is the saving in skilled man hours. With the 
J80  35 previous manual system booking on and off each job took an average 
J80  36 of ten seconds per man. The control clerk entered the engineer's 
J80  37 name and the time against the job on a tabloid size record 
J80  38 sheet.<p/>
J80  39 <p_>At shift change, with 120 engineers booking in at the same 
J80  40 time, delays inevitably mounted. Using the Source terminals it 
J80  41 takes just three seconds for each man to enter his personal bar 
J80  42 code and the bar code on his job card before he is contributing to 
J80  43 FFV's productive man hours.<p/>
J80  44 <h_><p_>Major advantage<p/><h/>
J80  45 <p_>FFV chose Source terminals after evaluating the market in 
J80  46 depth. A major advantage is their flexibility, enabling FFV to 
J80  47 expend or adapt their use once the system was up and running. 
J80  48 Secondly, the robust construction enables them to withstand the 
J80  49 engineering environment of the engine service bays. FFV also wanted 
J80  50 terminals with the ability to continue collecting data if the main 
J80  51 frame went down. The Source 400 series terminals can store up to 
J80  52 2,000 transactions if necessary before they need to be downloaded. 
J80  53 Source also offer both fixed and hand held versions; in aircraft 
J80  54 maintenance it is often impractical to wire up terminals on the 
J80  55 hangar floor as this interferes with the movement of aircraft.<p/>
J80  56 <p_>The VAS report writing facility generates an initial report on 
J80  57 the booking of jobs. A second <}_><-|> reports <+|>report<}/> 
J80  58 throws up errors and anomalies for investigation. Amendments 
J80  59 necessitated because, for example, an engineer omits to book off 
J80  60 before leaving the premises, are made by the supervisors of the 
J80  61 appropriate departments. The system also has the flexibility to 
J80  62 cope with a group of people working on one job or an engineer 
J80  63 working on another job while waiting for the issue of spare 
J80  64 parts.<p/>
J80  65 <p_>The job record is transmitted to the Accounts Department for 
J80  66 job costing so that delays between completion of work and invoicing 
J80  67 are kept to a minimum. Previously, collating, totalling and 
J80  68 checking this information manually took ten man hours a day. The 
J80  69 customer also receives a copy of the job record on his aircraft so 
J80  70 that he has a detailed, factual analysis of the time spent and the 
J80  71 work carried out. If necessary, daily reports can be produced for 
J80  72 the customer and the work signed off as it progresses.<p/>
J80  73 <p_>In the longer term the data gathered for the shop floor will 
J80  74 prove an important marketing tool in improving estimates, 
J80  75 turnaround times and customer service levels, says group project 
J80  76 manager Mike Gray.<p/>
J80  77 <p_>At present there is no detailed record of the work content 
J80  78 required on an ageing jet aircraft. The production of a labour and 
J80  79 parts data base will enable FFV to estimate the cost and turnaround 
J80  80 time of heavy maintenance checks. <quote_>"Such a system will be 
J80  81 invaluable in optimising the productivity of our maintenance 
J80  82 facilities and give us the information we need to offer fixed price 
J80  83 quotations,"<quote/> explains Mike Gray.<p/>
J80  84 
J80  85 <h_><p_>Plastic Media Paint Stripping in Aircraft 
J80  86 Maintenance<p/><h/>
J80  87 <p_>THE world is becoming so environmentally conscious that any 
J80  88 technique that eliminates or reduces pollution is being strictly 
J80  89 monitored. Recent trials indicate that plastic media paint 
J80  90 stripping may represent one such 'green' technique.<p/>
J80  91 <p_>All aircraft, civil or military, fixed wing or rotary have to 
J80  92 be painted several times in their lives to enhance their appearance 
J80  93 and invariably, to update their livery. Typically, an aircraft is 
J80  94 paint stripped and then repainted, as several coats of paint may 
J80  95 mean reduced revenue because of weight limitations; particularly 
J80  96 relevant in the case of larger, commercial aircraft.<p/>
J80  97 <p_>Traditionally, the most commonly practicised technique for 
J80  98 paint stripping of aircraft has been chemical stripping, 
J80  99 predominantly used methylene chloride. Apart from the problems of 
J80 100 safe disposal of materials, operator working conditions are 
J80 101 hazardous and the overall technique is costly. An alternative 
J80 102 method of shot blasting the surface has also been used and although 
J80 103 paint stripping is achieved, the substrate is invariably 
J80 104 damaged.<p/>
J80 105 <p_>In the last few years, in the light of the problems associated 
J80 106 with the above techniques, many aerospace repair and maintenance 
J80 107 organisations have conducted trials on a new technique of plastic 
J80 108 media paint stripping which in environmental terms is non-hazardous 
J80 109 and if conducted correctly, achieves removal of paint coatings 
J80 110 without damaging the substrate material beneath.<p/>
J80 111 <p_>Although several aerospace organisations have given approval 
J80 112 for the use of plastic media, trials are still in progress to 
J80 113 clearly define the advantages and disadvantages of this technique 
J80 114 over traditional methods.<p/>
J80 115 <p_>Several types of plastic media are available, generally made of 
J80 116 a thermoset polyester, urea formaldehyde or melamine formaldehyde. 
J80 117 Plastic media vary in size from 80-8 mesh (approximately 0.13 - 2.4 
J80 118 mm in size) and in hardness from 3 - 4 on the mohs scale. As a 
J80 119 general guide, harder plastic media are faster cutting and are more 
J80 120 suitable for hard surfaces and tenacious coatings, whilst software 
J80 121 plastic media are used on more delicate parts. Plastic media also 
J80 122 vary in terms of breakdown. Those plastic media with limited 
J80 123 breakdown rondate in operation, thus losing their cutting action 
J80 124 and developing abrasive peening effects.<p/>
J80 125 <h_><p_>Several distinctive advances over traditional 
J80 126 techniques<p/><h/>
J80 127 <p_>Plastic media paint stripping has several distinctive 
J80 128 advantages over traditional techniques. It is non-hazardous in 
J80 129 environmental terms. Dependent on the specific application, plastic 
J80 130 media paint stripping is between 2 - 10 times cheaper than chemical 
J80 131 stripping. Unlike chemical stripping, with selected plastic media, 
J80 132 it is possible to remove paint coat by coat, without damaging the 
J80 133 substrate material beneath.<p/>
J80 134 <p_>Plastic media can be used on metallic and composite surfaces 
J80 135 which is contrary to chemical stripping which is limited to 
J80 136 metallic surfaces only. To date, plastic media have been used 
J80 137 successfully to strip graphite/epoxy, kevlor and 
J80 138 fibre<?_>-<?/>glass composite surfaces. Presently, aerospace repair 
J80 139 and maintenance organisations are only permitted to remove paint 
J80 140 from composite surfaces using mechanical means such as sanding. 
J80 141 Although sanding has been successful over many years, it is a time 
J80 142 consuming technique and one in which damage to the substrate may 
J80 143 easily occur.<p/>
J80 144 <p_>Controlled, dry plastic media paint stripping is best achieved 
J80 145 manually, using skilled personnel as coat thicknesses vary 
J80 146 considerably and it is essential not to dwell on the surface and to 
J80 147 aim at multiple passes rather than a continued attack on one area. 
J80 148 Excessive dwelling results in overheating, with the risk of warpage 
J80 149 and even material loss.<p/>
J80 150 <p_>As most aircraft structures and therefore assemblies are 
J80 151 mixtures of metallic and composite materials which always vary in 
J80 152 thickness, it is essential prior to stripping that an appropriate 
J80 153 stripping technique is designated for each area.<p/>
J80 154 <p_>The equipment used for plastic media paint stripping must 
J80 155 satisfy the separation requirements necessary to ensure safe 
J80 156 operator working conditions. Thus, it is necessary to identify what 
J80 157 materials are being removed, how they are likely to appear as a mix 
J80 158 in the plastic media and whether they can be removed prior to 
J80 159 re-blasting by air wash, sieve or mechanical separator.<p/>
J80 160 <p_>The equipment must control delivery sufficiently to enable very 
J80 161 low air pressures to be achieved at consistently high feed rates. 
J80 162 Consistency here is of paramount importance as small variations of 
J80 163 pressure and feed rate will vary particle velocity considerably 
J80 164 which may result in substantial damage, if delicate structures are 
J80 165 being treated.<p/>
J80 166 <p_>Metal Improvement Company have been active for over 40 years in 
J80 167 the standard aircraft maintenance operation of controlled shot 
J80 168 peening and shot blasting of aerospace structures to remove 
J80 169 corrosion, expose exfoliation corrosion, reduce fretting fatigue 
J80 170 and restore fatigue life and stress corrosion resistance. They now 
J80 171 include plastic media paint stripping in the services they offer on 
J80 172 site, or at least 3 U.K. facilities. Metal Improvement Company are 
J80 173 an international corporation with 34 divisions worldwide. They 
J80 174 believe that plastic media paint stripping can achieve excellent 
J80 175 results providing caution, care and control are exercised in the 
J80 176 selection of both the type of plastic media and the equipment to be 
J80 177 used for each specific allocation.<p/>
J80 178 
J80 179 <h_><p_>Kardex Carousel Storage Keeps British Airways Aircraft on 
J80 180 the Move<p/><h/>
J80 181 <p_>REVIEWING spares storage and maintenance supply systems for 
J80 182 their multi<?_>-<?/>million pound aircraft fleets at Heathrow, 
J80 183 British Airways with their reputation for efficiency, could not 
J80 184 afford to have their heads in the clouds!<p/>
J80 185 <p_>Moves from multiple locations to a more central, but smaller 
J80 186 Engineering Stores facility at Heathrow created the potential for 
J80 187 greater operational efficiency, but presented physical problems of 
J80 188 storage capacity.<p/>
J80 189 <p_>While high density automated storage and retrieval held the 
J80 190 promise of solving the equation, the company were aware that 
J80 191 success or failure would turn on system reliability.<p/>
J80 192 <p_>Aircraft service schedules, being pre<?_>-<?/>planned, demand 
J80 193 instant spare parts availability, with aircraft allocated specific 
J80 194 time slots, location and positions in the workshop.<p/>
J80 195 <p_>Delays in supplying spares for aircraft servicing and 
J80 196 maintenance, which may hold up an aircraft being released into 
J80 197 service are costly. Additionally, there is a domino effect on later 
J80 198 scheduling.<p/>
J80 199 <p_>Absolute reliability of any automated storage system was, 
J80 200 therefore, crucial and the lynch pin of success.<p/>
J80 201 <p_>Today, 10 Industriever rotary carousel automated storage and 
J80 202 retrieval systems from Kardex Systems (UK) Limited are holding a 
J80 203 wide variety of spares for the British Airways fleets of 34, 1-11s; 
J80 204 43, 737's; 17 Tristars and 7 A.320 Airbuses.<p/>
J80 205 <p_>As part of Phase 1 of the installation, four Industrievers were 
J80 206 installed in June, 1989, with a further three in Phase 2, followed 
J80 207 shortly after by three more in Phase 3.<p/>
J80 208 <p_>The interest of British Airways in rotary carousel storage 
J80 209 technology was first stirred in 1986 when methods of concentrating 
J80 210 aircraft spares into a more centralised location were examined. At 
J80 211 this time, parts were held both at Heathrow and Gatwick, entailing 
J80 212 considerable transhipment. Inside large stores areas, conventional 
J80 213 racking was employed both at floor level and on mezzanines. The 
J80 214 system suffered from demanding a high level of physical effort, 
J80 215 much walking to and from different locations with the bending, 
J80 216 stooping and reaching associated with conventional racks and 
J80 217 shelves.<p/>
J80 218 <h|>Appraisal
J80 219 <p_>As part of their appraisal, managers from BA conducted 
J80 220 extensive studies into the concept of rotary carousel systems and 
J80 221 the relative qualities of specific manufacturers. Several 
J80 222 Industriever sites were visited, to examine systems in operation, 
J80 223 including installations in other aviation-related engineering 
J80 224 establishments. A visit to Hanover Fair, Europe's shop window for 
J80 225 industrial goods, was followed by a visit to Kardex's manufacturing 
J80 226 facility at Belheim in West Germany.<p/>
J80 227 <p_>Feasibility studies established essential criteria and examined 
J80 228 the capability of carousel systems to meet them; for example, 
J80 229 bottlenecks, hold-ups at access points were not acceptable. Picking 
J80 230 and replenishment rates were established and the new installation 
J80 231 planned jointly by BA managers and Kardex personnel.<p/>
J80 232 

