Which historic English county has the highest population?

The historic county boundaries in the north west. Image: Wikishire.

Last week, apropos of nothing in particular, I found myself pondering a question: which historic English county has the highest population?

This is not an easy question to answer. Wikipedia has a list of the ceremonial counties of England, which you can sort by population, to learn that the most populous is – oh, here’s a shock – Greater London. 

But that’s not an answer to our question, because Greater London is very much not a historic county: it’s existed only since 1965, when it swallowed most of Middlesex, and digested large chunks of Essex, Kent and Surrey, too. In fact, of the 10 most populous, modern ceremonial counties, no fewer than six are modern creations. They’re the ones in bold:

1. Greater London (8,778,500)

2. West Midlands (2,864,900)

3. Greater Manchester (2,782,100)

4. West Yorkshire (2,299,700)

5. Hampshire (1,829,500)

6. Kent (1,820,400)

7. Essex (1,802,200)

8. Lancashire (1,485,000)

9. Merseyside (1,406,400)

10. South Yorkshire (1,385,000)

Source: ONS, 2016, via Wikipedia.

That these ‘metropolitan counties’ should dominate the rankings is unsurprising. They were created in 1974, to cover England’s largest urban areas, most of which crossed county boundaries. There was also a sixth, Tyne & Wear, the Newcastle-Sunderland conurbation, as well as assorted new non-metropolitan counties like Avon, Cleveland and Humberside. Nobody much loved any of these, so most of them were abolished little over a decade later, and for the last few years we’ve been slowly, painfully re-creating them, in the form of combined authorities with metro mayors and so forth. 

So why are they still on the list? Because, even if they don’t exist as governments, several still exist for ceremonial purposes – such as, for example, counting the people who live there. 

This, in terms of answering our original question, presents us with a problem. While we know that 1.8m people live in modern Essex, we don’t know how many people live in historic Essex – that is, the modern county, plus the five London boroughs carved from its historic territory.

And that’s a relatively easy one to work out. Others are more complicated. Manchester city centre was once in Lancashire, but the modern city includes chunks of Cheshire too.

Manchester, its territory shaded by historic county. Image: Wikishire.

Meanwhile the City of Birmingham includes territory from Warwickshire, Staffordshire and Worcestershire.

Birmingham, its territory shaded by historic county. Image: Wikishire.

These problems exist all over the shop: the historic county boundaries often bear very little resemblance to contemporary government ones. We can make some educated guesses – Middlesex is likely to be huge, because it’s completely built up; Lancashire and Yorkshire contain large chunks of more than one major city, so they’re likely near the top, too – but how can we get more exact figures?

At this point we run into two other problems. One is that county boundaries have historically been more fluid than we sometimes like to admit. Many had “exclaves” – that is, detached sections surrounded by other counties – while a number of cities counted as counties in their own right, most famously Bristol, which straddled the boundary between Gloucestershire and Somerset. 

For our purposes, to keep things simple, we’ll use the boundaries described by those bad boys of the Association of British Counties and Wikishire – which are based, best one can tell, on the boundaries as they pertained in around 1888, after the Victorians had tidied up the exclaves, but before they’d messed things up by creating the London County council.

Click to expand. Image: ABC.

The other problem is that I am quite lazy. 

So, anyway, I asked Twitter.

Nobody out there seemed to have done the legwork on this before – weird, when you consider what an important question it is, really – so nobody could point me to a dataset. But two different people felt inspired to look into the matter themselves. 

The first was Stephen Jorgenson-Murray. He told me he used

...the 2015 population estimates from the ONS, and the Ordnance Survey historical county borders (which it says are from circa 1888). I just put them into QGIS geographic data software, and let it do all the hard work of adding them up.

Here’s the result:

Click to expand. 

Cricket fans may notice something about the counties at the left of the chart: the bigger counties are far more likely to be in first-class counties, that is, the top league of country cricket. This is no surprise, really: all else being equal, you’d expect a larger population to be able to pull together a better team.

Here’s the same chart, with the first-class counties in red:

Click to expand. 

One is missing: the historic Welsh county of Glamorgan also plays in the same league. But that still fits our pattern: it contains both Cardiff and Swansea and so, according to Stephen’s data, accounts for 1.3m people, nearly 40 per cent of the entire Welsh population.

Anyway, that’s enough about cricket, here’s the top 10:

1. Yorkshire (5,341,332)

2. Lancashire (5,030,958)

3. Middlesex (4,244,926)

4. Essex (3,139,392)

5. Surrey (3,114,947)

6. Kent (2,886,310)

7. Staffordshire (2,194,038)

8. Hampshire (2,171,352)

9. Warwickshire (1,739,412)

10. Cheshire (1,691,045)

Source: Stephen Jorgenson-Murray.

Yorkshire is huge – despite being only a county, it has a population roughly on a par with Scotland. That partly reflects the sheer size of the land it covers, vastly bigger than any other county. But it’s also because it contains two old metropolitan counties (West Yorkshire, the Leeds-Bradford area; plus South Yorkshire, the Sheffield one), and Middlesbrough too. 

Lancashire is not much smaller. It’s still a fairly populous county in its own right; throw in the majority of the Liverpool and Manchester urban areas, and you end up with nearly 5m people. (The same two city regions also account for Cheshire’s place lower down the list.)

The next four counties on the list are all London-ish ones. Middlesex accounts for nearly half the population of Greater London - everything north of the Thames or west of the river Lea. Meanwhile Essex, Surrey and Kent all combine fairly big surviving counties with a handful of modern London boroughs. What was once Surrey, indeed, includes a large chunk of central London: the entire South Bank.

The area around Greater London, its territory shaded by historic county. Image: Wikishire.

Staffordshire and Warwickshire owe their place on the list to the West Midlands: Wolverhampton and the Black Country were once in Staffs, Coventry was once in Warks, and Birmingham itself was split between the two, with some of its southern suburbs like Longbridge creeping over into Worcestershire. 

That leaves Hampshire. That doesn’t touch any major metropolitan country, but nearly a million people live in the Southampton-Portsmouth urban area, which was on occasion discussed as a possible metropolitan county in its own right. What’s more, Bournemouth, though jetissoned to Dorset in 1974, was once in Hampshire too. 

Historic Hampshire. Image: Wikishire.

I said that two people answered my call for help on this question. The other was a postgraduate scientist, who tweets as @robert_squared. He was kind enough to make me this map. (5e+06 is just a fancy way of saying “5 million”.)

Image: @robert_squared.

So: which historic English county has the highest population? Yorkshire, then Lancashire, then Middlesex. Great.

Does... does anyone remember why I asked this in the first place? Anyone?

No?

Jonn Elledge is the editor of CityMetric. He is on Twitter as @jonnelledge and also has a Facebook page now for some reason. 

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Which nations control the materials required for renewables? Meet the new energy superpowers

Solar and wind power facilities in Bitterfeld, Germany. Image: Getty.

Imagine a world where every country has not only complied with the Paris climate agreement but has moved away from fossil fuels entirely. How would such a change affect global politics?

The 20th century was dominated by coal, oil and natural gas, but a shift to zero-emission energy generation and transport means a new set of elements will become key. Solar energy, for instance, still primarily uses silicon technology, for which the major raw material is the rock quartzite. Lithium represents the key limiting resource for most batteries – while rare earth metals, in particular “lanthanides” such as neodymium, are required for the magnets in wind turbine generators. Copper is the conductor of choice for wind power, being used in the generator windings, power cables, transformers and inverters.

In considering this future it is necessary to understand who wins and loses by a switch from carbon to silicon, copper, lithium, and rare earth metals.

The countries which dominate the production of fossil fuels will mostly be familiar:

The list of countries that would become the new “renewables superpowers” contains some familiar names, but also a few wild cards. The largest reserves of quartzite (for silicon production) are found in China, the US, and Russia – but also Brazil and Norway. The US and China are also major sources of copper, although their reserves are decreasing, which has pushed Chile, Peru, Congo and Indonesia to the fore.

Chile also has, by far, the largest reserves of lithium, ahead of China, Argentina and Australia. Factoring in lower-grade “resources” – which can’t yet be extracted – bumps Bolivia and the US onto the list. Finally, rare earth resources are greatest in China, Russia, Brazil – and Vietnam.

Of all the fossil fuel producing countries, it is the US, China, Russia and Canada that could most easily transition to green energy resources. In fact it is ironic that the US, perhaps the country most politically resistant to change, might be the least affected as far as raw materials are concerned. But it is important to note that a completely new set of countries will also find their natural resources are in high demand.

An OPEC for renewables?

The Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) is a group of 14 nations that together contain almost half the world’s oil production and most of its reserves. It is possible that a related group could be created for the major producers of renewable energy raw materials, shifting power away from the Middle East and towards central Africa and, especially, South America.

This is unlikely to happen peacefully. Control of oilfields was a driver behind many 20th-century conflicts and, going back further, European colonisation was driven by a desire for new sources of food, raw materials, minerals and – later – oil. The switch to renewable energy may cause something similar. As a new group of elements become valuable for turbines, solar panels or batteries, rich countries may ensure they have secure supplies through a new era of colonisation.

China has already started what may be termed “economic colonisation”, setting up major trade agreements to ensure raw material supply. In the past decade it has made a massive investment in African mining, while more recent agreements with countries such as Peru and Chile have spread Beijing’s economic influence in South America.

Or a new era of colonisation?

Given this background, two versions of the future can be envisaged. The first possibility is the evolution of a new OPEC-style organisation with the power to control vital resources including silicon, copper, lithium, and lanthanides. The second possibility involves 21st-century colonisation of developing countries, creating super-economies. In both futures there is the possibility that rival nations could cut off access to vital renewable energy resources, just as major oil and gas producers have done in the past.


On the positive side there is a significant difference between fossil fuels and the chemical elements needed for green energy. Oil and gas are consumable commodities. Once a natural gas power station is built, it must have a continuous supply of gas or it stops generating. Similarly, petrol-powered cars require a continued supply of crude oil to keep running.

In contrast, once a wind farm is built, electricity generation is only dependent on the wind (which won’t stop blowing any time soon) and there is no continuous need for neodymium for the magnets or copper for the generator windings. In other words solar, wind, and wave power require a one-off purchase in order to ensure long-term secure energy generation.

The shorter lifetime of cars and electronic devices means that there is an ongoing demand for lithium. Improved recycling processes would potentially overcome this continued need. Thus, once the infrastructure is in place access to coal, oil or gas can be denied, but you can’t shut off the sun or wind. It is on this basis that the US Department of Defense sees green energy as key to national security.

The ConversationA country that creates green energy infrastructure, before political and economic control shifts to a new group of “world powers”, will ensure it is less susceptible to future influence or to being held hostage by a lithium or copper giant. But late adopters will find their strategy comes at a high price. Finally, it will be important for countries with resources not to sell themselves cheaply to the first bidder in the hope of making quick money – because, as the major oil producers will find out over the next decades, nothing lasts forever.

Andrew Barron, Sêr Cymru Chair of Low Carbon Energy and Environment, Swansea University.

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.