My mother grew up in a small Punjabi village not far from Chandigarh. As she chopped onions for the evening meal or scrubbed the shine back onto a steel pan or watched the clouds of curds form in a bowl of slowly setting homemade yoghurt, any action with a rhythm, she would begin a mantra about her ancestral home. She would chant of a three-storeyed flat-roofed house, blinkered with carved wooden shutters around a dust yard where an old-fashioned pump stood under a mango tree.… In England, when all my mother's friends made the transition from relatives' spare rooms and furnished lodgings to homes of their own, they all looked for something ‘modern. ’ “It's really up to date, Daljit,” one of the Aunties would preen as she gave us the grand tour of her first proper home in England. “Look at the extra flush system … Can opener on the wall … Two minutes' walk to the local amenities …” But my mother knew what she wanted. When she stepped off the bus in Tollington, she did not see the outside lavvy or the apology for a garden or the medieval kitchen, she saw fields and trees, light and space, and a horizon that welcomed the sky which, on a warm night and through squinted eyes, could almost look something like home.

THE superior in Thailand has been described as unquestioned and domineering. Inferiors stand in awe of (fy-eng) the superior. Yet, the superior is expected to act to his inferiors in a concerned and benevolent fashion. He should aid his inferiors yet not dominate them to such an extent as to destroy their sense of autonomy. In this paper I shall extend previous discussions of Thai superior-inferior behavior by showing the compatibility of the Thai concepts of benevolence and awe. This sense of awe felt towards a superior permits him to undertake actions considered benevolent by his inferiors. To illustrate this situation I shall describe certain types of contact that occurred between rural Thai officials, as superiors, and villagers as their inferiors.

Recent studies of peasant rebellions in colonial countries have tended to focus attention on the persons who rebelled. The egregious conditions that aroused their indignation, the social and economic transformations that gave them the capacity to act, the leaders who came forward to mobilize them—these are the questions most commonly asked to explain peasant militancy and rebellion.

This perspective can yield only a partial view, for it leaves in the shadows one of the two major actors in such a confrontation; the regime. It is too easily assumed that the fate of traditional or colonial regimes is sealed, and need elicit little interest except as a source of grievances. Yet comparing regimes that have experienced rebellion with those that have not reveals that some have dealt much more successfully with modernization than others. While the attempts of some to modernize institutions only exacerbated the grievances of their restless populations, others have developed new capabilities for ruling. Indeed, the capabilities of political systems are probably more various than either the grievances or the capabilities of the groups challenging them.

The common model of the Hindu temple of South India has stressed its significance as the main integrative factor binding the disparate elements of precolonial society into one social fabric. As a focal point for economic redistribution, the South Indian temple was the conduit through which exchange occurred: material goods were transformed into the symbols of prestige and influence known as temple honors (Appadurai and Breckenridge 1976). The legitimacy of the medieval South Indian ruler rested on his role as the donor par excellence, and his sovereignty had a ritual basis that was far stronger than his more mundane methods of control (Stein 1980: 45–46). The foremost reason South Indian temples were able to perform this integrative function was their wide appeal in the society—their ability to incorporate members of different communities into one community of worship. By providing employment to artisans, peasants and shepherds and by lending money to agriculturalists in their vicinities, South Indian temples also redistributed the property of the wealthy to other segments of society (Spencer 1968:292). The widespread approval accorded to patrons of temples meant that, during the later Vijayanagara age, religious gifting could be used as a strategy by outside warriors for creating allegiances on the local level in Tamil Nadu (Appadurai 1977:55–59).

In August 1927 the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) in Jiangxi seemed moribund, yet by the end of 1930 the movement was larger and more active than ever before. How did this occur? Past studies have especially emphasized Mao Zedong's famous rural guerrilla strategy, but this was only part of the story. Equally significant was the little-studied success of members of the Jiangxi hill-country elite who were also in the CCP in using established schools and educational societies, time-honored traditions of local strongman behavior, and existing bandit–secret society gangs to build many localized base areas. Such techniques were congenial to CCP leaders and essential to the movement's survival in the early days when its prestige and material resources were at a very low ebb, and when radical reforms would almost certainly have failed. Nevertheless, this strategy also fostered parochial attitudes and organizational weaknesses that clashed with the later efforts of Mao and his allies to carry out mass mobilization and fundamental land reform. Only after a prolonged and violent crisis within the base areas did the “Maoist” policies vital for the revolution's long-term growth begin to overcome the policies of elite coalition building that had been necessary for the movement to obtain its initial foothold in the Jiangxi hill country.

The twenty years during which the Tasaday of the southern Philippines have drawn the attention of anthropologists and social scientists can be divided into two major periods. The first is the “discovery” of the Tasaday in the early 1970s, followed by nearly fifteen years of relative neglect. The second is the eruption in the late 1980s of charges that the Tasaday were an instance of fraud, deception, and political corruption by the Marcos regime.

Initially, the Tasaday were portrayed as exotic in their isolation, their hunting and gathering lifestyle, their nakedness, their existence in caves, and their gentleness. Exotic “others” have been similarly characterized by descriptive (usually one-word) labels that emblemize what the people and the society are thought to be about. Thus, Kalinga are litigious, Samoans are sexually liberated, Tikopians are hierarchical, Javanese are patient, Balinese are theatrical, and Yanomamo are fierce.

The importance of public health as a factor in national development and progress is too often neglected. Whenever an appraisal is made of progress accomplished during a certain period, the emphasis is on political, cultural and economic aspects of national life, while improvements in health conditions are, as a rule, seen as a result rather than as a cause of the progress.

The late Yuan popular rebellions began in 1351 when two independent White Lotus Societies, in north and south China, both purveying a chiliastic Buddo-Manichean ideology, recruited to their cause a following of socially miscellaneous elements who called themselves Red Turbans, and provoked an empire-wide attack upon the landlords and the local officials. One key to the failure of the rebels to rise above the rioting phase lay in their inability to gain massive and sustained peasant support. The result was that the landlord gentry, leading peasant militia (i-ping), were able to contain and suppress these riots by 1353–54 in cooperation with the Yuan bureaucracy. However, when the Yuan Chancellor Toghto was for political reasons cashiered in January 1355, the dynasty lost control of the pacification process. In these circumstances, new leadership emerged from both of the original rebel organizations, and stepping into the control vacuum left by the Yuan, pressed an entirely new policy of cooperation with the landlord gentry and their i-ping. The main leaders in this were Ch'en Yu-liang and the future Ming founder, Chu Yuan-chang. Chu's victory over Ch'en, his chief rival, is due largely to the tighter centralization of his embryonic imperial regime.

This article investigates relationships between refugee flight and environmental change during the Sino-Japanese War of 1937–45 through a study of land reclamation projects in Shaanxi's Huanglongshan region. During the conflict with Japan, China's Nationalist government resettled thousands of refugees who fled war-induced natural disasters in Henan to Huanglongshan to reclaim uncultivated wastelands. Land reclamation reflected an ongoing militarization of China's environment, as political leaders looked to land reclamation to provide relief for refugees, further economic mobilization by exploiting untapped natural resources, and foster an ethos of dedication and self-sacrifice for the nation. Unrestrained land clearance decimated forests that had returned to Huanglongshan's hillsides since its abandonment during the rebellions of the late Qing. By compelling displaced people to cultivate marginal lands, war also threatened the health of refugees by exposing them to endemic disease. Yet the militarizing logic that motivated these reclamation initiatives continued to reshape China's natural landscape long after the Sino-Japanese War ended.

In the early twentieth century, the sovereignty of a territory north of the China-Korea Tumen River border was under severe dispute between China, Korea, and Japan. Based on a Jesuit memoir and map of Korea published in eighteenth-century Europe, a Japanese colonial bureaucrat and international law expert, Shinoda Jisaku, asserted that a vast region north of the China-Korea border should be regarded as a “no man's land.” Employing Chinese, Japanese, Korean, and European materials, this article traces the origin and evolution of such a definition. It demonstrates that the Jesuit map and description were based on false geographic information, which the Korean court deliberately provided to a Manchu official in 1713 in order to safeguard its interests. During prolonged intercommunication between diverse areas of the globe during the past three centuries, spatial and legal knowledge has been produced, reproduced, and transformed within imperial and colonial contexts.

The Peiyang Army was the most significant military development in China between the Hsiang and Huai Armies which suppressed the Taiping and Nien rebellions in the 1860's and the army that Chiang Kai-shek raised and employed in the northern expedition of 1926–27. The Peiyang was the first Chinese army to be comparatively modern in training and discipline as well as in weaponry. Formed for the most part by Yuan Shih-k'ai while he was governor-general of Chihli province from 1901 to 1907, the Peiyang Army grew to six divisions of about 10,000 men each. Size alone gave the army a major role in politics during the last decade of the Ch'ing dynasty and the early years of the Republic.

Hong Kongs Political Development since the 1960s has seemed to indicate bright prospects for democratization, since Hong Kong had attained most of the “prerequisites” for democratization (Lipset 1994). Hong Kong had considerable wealth and a rising middle class, no extreme or intolerable inequalities, and a high level of socioeconomic development. According to the wealth explanation of Lipset (1959) and Huntington (1984), Hong Kong's robust economy should make possible high levels of urbanization, industrialization, education, literacy, and mass media exposure, all of which are conducive to democracy.

For most cultures and most of human history, the death penalty was taken for granted and directed at a wide range of offenders. In ancient Israel, death was prescribed for everything from murder and magic to blasphemy, bestiality, and cursing one's parents. In eighteenth-century Britain, more than 200 crimes were punishable by death, including theft, cutting down a tree, and robbing a rabbit warren. China of the late Qing dynasty had some 850 capital crimes, many reflecting the privileged position of male over female and senior over junior.

The emergence of an historiographical tradition in Ceylon was caused by the importance of an unbroken succession of ordinations in the Sangha for the survival of Theravada Buddhism and by the emergence of the Sinhalese nation. One of the main factors of this nation-building process was the acceptance of Buddhism as the national religion. The survival of Buddhism depended on the state of the Sangha. History of Theravada Sangha is largely a history of efforts towards monastic reforms, and most reforms were implemented by the worldly power. The description of Asoka's religious politics in Sinhalese chronicles laid a basis for state-Sangha relations. Political thinking shows a dualism of ideological concepts based on religious values and of a tradition of practical political science. The impact of historical factors in the development of Sangha structures becomes visible from a comparison of these structures is the predominantly Buddhist countries and in the Buddhist minority community in Bengal. In this context, recent changes in state-Sangha within society, and the interrelations of Buddhism and popular cults can be analyzed as a result of the interaction of ideological, historical and political factors.

One of the most controversial interpretations of recent Indian history is that the British governed the subcontinent through a strategy of divide and rule which led to Hindu-Muslim conflict and ultimately the 1947 partition. Divide et Impera has often been portrayed in vernacular tracts, Congress publications, and scholarly works as a fundamental cause of communal tension.

The similar assumptions, methodology, and sources upon which these assessments rest, however, have resulted in a clouding of key issues and a misreading of the historical record. The studies generally focus upon twentieth-century developments such as Hindu and Muslim political parties or communal riots and then project their findings backward to earlier periods. Because British attempts to play Hindu and Muslim against one another apparently intensified antagonism following the Morley-Minto reforms, it is argued that similar policies prior to 1900 helped create the initial estrangement between the two communities. Communal activities are admittedly easier to examine once Hindus and Muslims began to organize for elections and legislative proceedings, but preoccupation with formal competition and a concomitant simplistic explanation of the origins of communalism have postponed a much-needed investigation of the formative period in the nineteenth-century when British rule and changes within Indian society set the stage for subsequent communal organization.

Military establishments are omnipresent if not everywhere omnipotent. While these costly bureaucracies are the bane of finance ministers around the world, they do provide an important opportunity for comparative analysis. This paper examines a military system—the Indian one—through time, and attempts to demonstrate the changing relationship of that system to Indian politics and society in general, and to the low-caste communities of India in particular. We select the low-caste untouchables because they represent an extreme challenge to the integrative capacity of both political and social systems, and because they have recently been the subject of intensive political and academic concern.

The characteristic feature of Japanese warfare, prior to the introduction of firearms in 1543, was the use of swords and spears in hand-to-hand fighting. Armies were made up of small, independent bands of soldiers who fought more as individuals than as units of a tactical formation, and naval units consisted of fishing vessels that were commandeered for transporting armies within bow-range or sword-reach of the enemy. Thus, all battles, whether on land or at sea, were little more than “monster fencing matches.” But the introduction of the Portuguese arquebus and the subsequent widespread manufacture of firearms soon led to radical developments in military techniques.

The term “Anthropocene,” coined in the 1980s by the ecologist Eugene F. Stoermer and popularized at the turn of the twenty-first century by the atmospheric chemist and Nobel laureate Paul Crutzen, has been used increasingly in the past decade to highlight human activity as a geological force and to underscore the rapidly escalating impacts of human behaviors on the planet—sufficient, many have argued, to launch a new geological age. While geologists and environmentalists continue to debate the validity of Anthropocene as a formal designation, climate change; mass extinctions of plant and animal species; and widespread pollution of sky, sea, and land make clear the extent to which humans have shaped global ecologies. An understanding of Asia—home to more than half the world's population, an increasingly significant contributor to global carbon dioxide emissions, the site of the Third Pole, and an area acutely vulnerable to climate change and rising sea levels—is vital to an understanding of the physical, chemical, biological, and cultural processes that comprise the Anthropocene.

Prime Minister Shinzo Abe's troubles in 2018 owe much to Japan's resilient liberal media. Between 2011 and 2017, the media was mostly on its back foot, losing credibility over its initial coverage about the Fukushima nuclear accident and withstanding heavy-handed efforts by Abe's government to pressure and intimidate the media into self-censorship (Kingston 2018a). Since early 2017, however, the liberal Asahi newspaper led the way in exposing two cronyism scandals involving private-school projects linked to Abe. It also exposed a series of cases revolving around information disclosure practices that revealed a culture of deception aimed at avoiding government accountability. These included a cover-up at the Defense Ministry regarding a Peace Keeping Operation (PKO) in South Sudan that violated legal constraints imposed by the Diet, and revelations about doctored data used to support Abe's proposed labor reforms. In these and other cases, the government's lack of transparency and mishandling of documents drew sharp public criticism. The press played its role of informing the public about these apparent transgressions while highlighting the arrogance of power that has undermined public trust in Abe; 80 percent do not believe his self-exonerating explanations about the cronyism scandals (Bloomberg 2018). Nonetheless, in September 2018 he won reelection to a third term as Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) president and is set to become Japan's longest serving prime minister. Popular support, however, is tepid, as monthly polls since 2013 by Japan's national broadcasting organization (NHK) indicate that about 50 percent of the public supports him due to a lack of alternatives rather than his virtues as a leader (about 15 percent) or the appeal of his policies (about 15 percent). Despite mixed reviews in the press, he has won a series of elections, and in politics that is what counts (Kingston 2018b).

This essay is a revisionist history of the Padri War and the place of Tuanku Imam Bondjol in the intellectual history of the Minangkabau people of West Sumatra, of the Dutch colonial state, and of Indonesian nationalism. The Tuanku Imam is an official “national hero” from the early nineteenth century, a putative Wahhabi, and leader of the Padri War, the first Muslim-against-Muslim jihad in Southeast Asia. The essay examines the Tuanku Imam in contemporary sources and then his construction as a serviceable trope of controlled Islam, Minangkabau patriotism, or Indonesian nationalism by successive states. Using memoirs by the Tuanku Imam and his son, Sutan Caniago, the essay analyzes the Tuanku's renunciation of Wahhabism in the face of matrifocal opposition and the interplay of three connected texts that serve to secularize the story of the Padri War.