Historical accounts of the Second Anglo-Burmese War (1852–53) emphasize national bias, monocausality and events immediately preceding the outbreak of hostilities. Asian historians find Europeans culpable. Governor-General Dalhousie ‘was an imperialist of the deepest dye, who longed to extend his Indian empire at the cost of the Burmese.’ The East India Company in its unquenchable ‘thirst for conquest’ coveted Burma. ‘There was a desire for war on the part of the British trading community in Burma … as it would permanently safeguard commercial interests in the country.’ Anglophile historians blame the Burmese. The ‘intransigence and xenophobia which radiated from the court of Ava… drove [Dalhousie] into war.’ Dalhousie himself blamed an unrestrained military officer whom he labeled the ‘combustible commodore.’ Despite imperial apologetics, critical Englishmen felt unease at the ‘double government's’ Blue Book coverup and sought with mixed success to disclose the ‘whole ugly truth.’

Mao Zedong's historic swim in the Yangtze River on 16 July 1966, which heralded a new phase of the Cultural Revolution, was a carefully staged political performance and a notable example of body politics in Communist China. Beginning in the late 1950s, Mao began to broadcast the idea that he was a keen swimmer and to convince the masses to take up swimming. The swim was the climax of those efforts and an integral part of the Mao cult. Swimming in Mao's China offers a useful lens for understanding the close relationship between sports, the body, and politics. Swimming was a means for Mao to mobilize mass support for his political authority and a venue for the masses to practise and perform Maoism. This article examines the constructive process and meanings of Mao's swimming body, and the extent to which the bodies of the populace were regulated through the mass-swimming craze. Drawing on untapped archival materials related to mass swimming in Mao's China, this article argues that swimming both solidified and destabilized the Mao cult and became a venue through which political values were shaped, indoctrinated, contested, and repudiated.

Mass disease and starvation in the princely state of Travancore during the Second World War claimed some 90,000 lives. However, this episode has never received much prominence, especially when compared to the simultaneous crisis in Bengal. It is, in many ways, forgotten. Instead, Travancore’s wartime food management apparatus appears in some accounts as a success story. How did this happen? Integration into the world economy, the reordering of a rigid social structure, and popular political pressures on an autocratic princely regime created a unique set of conditions that left Travancore vulnerable to food scarcity and conflict during the Second World War. A particularly draconian princely regime that suppressed civil liberties prevented the gravity of the situation from being understood. This culminated in vastly unequal suffering and disease-related deaths. But the story is not merely one of despair. The Indian communists took advantage of war conditions to bring together agricultural and factory labourers and contribute to improving the food situation in this ‘People’s War’, while mainstream nationalists sought to obstruct the war effort and have the British ‘quit’ India. Wartime activities would shape the unique post-colonial politics of what became the state of Kerala in 1956. Intervening at the intersection of the historiographies of food and the princely states, this article adds a regional perspective to the nation-centric social history of the Second World War in South Asia. Hunger was a constitutive experience of this period across various parts of India, but the post-colonial political legacies of war could be regionally distinct.

Viewed from an historical, comparative perspective, the newspaper has proven itself an unusually adaptable tool of communication. It has served many masters: national states with different political ideologies; political parties of right, left and centre; economic interests of capital and labour; national movements and individuals. The contents of newspapers have been equally as varied, ranging from newspapers of record, newspapers offering their readers news of national and local politics, finance, and international affairs to those specializing in news of sex, crime, sport and scandal. Newspapers have differed, too, in their physical dimensions: some print enough in a single issue to fill a weighty book, others are no more than a single page of type.

In recent studies of warlordism, one source has not, to my knowledge, been used. This is the collection of reports of the Sino-foreign salt inspectorate held in the Toyo Bunko. Of all the institutions of the China coast, the salt inspectorate, its offices deep in the interior, its revenues a magnet for predatory armies, was perhaps in closest touch with warlordism. This paper studies the relationship of salt and warlordism in Szechwan between 1914 and 1922. Szechwan in this period has been selected for 3 reasons. First, the reports from the inspectorates of Ch'uan-nan and Ch'uan-pei, which together covered not only Szechwan but also Yunnan, Kweichow and Hupei as supplied by its salt, are unusually informative on politics. Second, between 1914 and 1922, Szechwan, a border province both northern and southern or neither, ran a full gamut of warlordism: regional, provincial, subprovincial and stabilized. It also attracted the attention of ‘guest armies’ from outside. Third, 1914–1922 has coherence; 1914 saw Yüan Shih-k'ai ascendant and the inspectorate established in Szechwan; 1922 saw Yüan's legatee Hsü Shih-ch'ang descendant, and Liu Hsiang, the embodiment of stabilized warlordism in Szechwan, ascendant.

One of the interesting questions concerning the Meiji Restoration of 1868 is the degree to which the Western-oriented intellectuals of Japan compromised their scholarly curiosity about European civilization by serving the pre-Restoration Tokugawa government and its successor, the Meiji oligarchy. In what ways might their duties as civil servants colour their objectivity in studying the newly found academic disciplines of the West? What tensions did late Tokugawa and early Meiji scholar-bureaucrats perceive between their investigations of European knowledge and their service in a partisan regime? An examination of the career of Nishi Amane (1829–1897), who was an important scholar of Western philosophy as well as a bureaucrat in both the Tokugawa and Meiji governments, casts some light on the problem of the intellectual as public servant in early modern Japan. This study will concentrate on three important events in Nishi's life: his decision to flee his feudal clan in order to study the West in 1854; his refusal to join the Restoration movement in 1868; and his defence of the idea that scholars could serve the new state without compromising their objectivity in 1874.

Colonial regimes have frequently shown a preference for sharing the burdens of defence with certain ethnic groups of the countries under their control. The advantages of a policy of this type—the essence of the divide and rule system—were many and varied. Binding natives to the service of colonial defence solved the functional problems of manpower in situations where no adequate corps of white regulars was readily available. The practice was cheaper to maintain and found to be an effective instrument of control. Its employment also drew off warlike elements that might have made trouble.

Mumbādevī is the patron Goddess of the city of Mumbai, one of the largest and most cosmopolitan cities of Asia. Local traditions say that Mumbādevī was a Koḷī Goddess and worshipped by the indigenous Koḷī fisher community for centuries. However, since the turn of the twentieth century the temple of Mumbādevī and the rituals surrounding the Goddess have gradually been Sanskritised. Today, Mumbādevī is more closely associated with the Gujarati community. This paper examines this transformation and in doing so reflects on the survival of Mumbādevī, the ongoing popularity of Goddess worship in Mumbai and the failure of Hindu fundamentalists to subordinate the Mother Goddesses of Mumbai to a more limited range of Hindu Gods.

Many cultures include in their narrative discourse tales of women who have gone to war or joined the hunt and indeed Chinese culture has produced a plethora of tales which relate the deeds of such strong and exceptional women. The general opinion from Western academics about these women is that they are rebelling against restraints imposed upon their sex by patriarchal society and ‘under the guise of patriotism or wifely devotion [find] an understandable motive for rejecting hearth and home.’ That patriarchal discourse should perpetuate through history and literature a subversive mode of thinsimply because it was duped by the invocations of patriotism an loyalty appears less than convincing. Certainly, if these are the woman warrior's motives then they have been exceptionally well disguised by the literary redactions of the deeds of the women warriors in Chinese culture. It is the intention of this article to explicate the complexity of the woman warrior in Chinese culture and reveal the multiplicity of discursive functions she fulfils by using the specific case of two mid Qing texts, Honglou meng and Jinghua yuan. The contradictions embodied in the recurring form of the woman warrior and her Amazonian sisters hold a key to understanding the complex and ambiguous signifying systems of sexual ideology in mid Qing Chinese culture. In this respect I will be invoking an Althusserian notion of the specific relationship between ideology and literature whereby the particular feelings or perceptions generated by the literature are regarded as being produced by the ideology within 'which it bathes, from which it detaches itself as art, and to which it alludes' through an internal distanciation from that very same ideology.2 In Honglou meng and Jinghuayuan this internal distanciation is made apparent by the elaborate use of myth in the former and irony in the latter.

This paper explores the nature of film exhibition amongst the Chinese community in Manila during the Japanese Occupation of that city. Based on advertisements and film listings published in the Chinese-language press of the day (as well as on pre-war records concerning commercial Chinese entertainment in the Philippines), it explores the continuities in film exhibition practice undertaken by various theatre operators within the Binondo area of Manila both before, during, and after the war. The paper suggests not only that such practices represented a quite different trajectory from that experienced in other parts of Occupied Manila, but also that a more thorough exploration of the Manila Chinese during wartime—one which goes beyond questions of mere collaboration and/or resistance—will encourage us to question some of the assumptions that underpin recent scholarship about this community.

Revisiting the debate on how Islam's ‘learned men’ (‘ulama) have sustained their religious authority through changing historical circumstances, this article offers a longue durée account of the so-called ‘Khandan-i-Ijtihad’: a family of renowned scholars and jurists who have held scholarly and popular precedence within South Asia's Shi‘i clerical networks for some 250 years. Instead of analysing the ‘ulama as a corporate group or a class of religious professionals, this article examines the ‘ulama as members of households (khandan, khanwadah) and emphasizes the important role of family lineage and inherited social influence as conduits of clerical leadership. Tracing both the genealogical succession and the vocational enterprises of this family over several generations, the article proposes a framework for understanding an individual scholar's relationship with the collective household, arguing that a cleric's own reputation (hasab-va-nasab) rests on a mingling of ancestral pedigree and personal achievement, with the stature of individual and household perpetually affirming and reinforcing each other in the making of Islamic clerical authority. Furthermore, the article establishes the importance of the ‘ulama-biography (tazkirah) as itself a mechanism for actively sustaining the relevance of contemporary ‘ulama, by perpetually memorializing their ancestors.

Central Luzon is a fertile plain directly to the north of metropolitan Manila. This region, thoroughly colonized and densely populated, has been a centre of agrarian unrest for decades. In the forties and fifties Central Luzon formed the nucleus of a peasant movement which produced the strongest anti-Japanese guerilla-army in the whole Southeast Asia, the Hukbalahap (an abbreviation of Anti-Japanese People's Army) or in short Huks. The strength of this army came primarily from the fact that the struggle against the national enemy could be combined with the pre-war conflict between the peasants and the landowners.

The foreign missionary was always a prominent source of Sino-foreign friction. The appearance of Protestant missionaries in China's interior, and their intrusion into Chinese society in the latter half of the nineteenth century, caused strong resistance from the Chinese and many outbreaks of xenophobia. After the Boxer Uprising of 1900, however, this resistance and these outbreaks greatly declined. And the foreign missionary in the second and third decades of the twentieth century had to face new problems: namely, tension between the foreign and Chinese members within the church. In the late 1910s the missionaries found that their well-educated Chinese colleagues demanded equal treatment. Between 1925 and 1928 the missionaries and their Chinese members were involved in a severe conflict between ‘foreign’ Christianity and ‘Chinese’ nationalism, and this created even greater tension. How the missionaries responded to these problems, and how they influenced Christianity in China, deserve further analysis.

I do not understand very clearly what has happened at the Opium Conference except that Japan is taking sides with America against us. This no doubt means that Japan is glad to show America that in spite of the exclusion clause she has no objection to friendly cooperation on occasion. It is also a hint to us. . . . Japan also sometimes feels it prudent to defer to this same powerful country though in so doing she may to her great regret inconvenience her former ally.

This is what Sir Charles N. E. Eliot (1862–1931), the British Ambassador to Japan from 1920 to 1926, wrote home regarding the Japanese representatives' stance at the International Opium Conference held in Geneva from November 1924 to February 1925. At the initial meetings of the conference, unexpected arguments between the representatives of Britain and Japan puzzled the British officials. This paper examines why the Japanese delegates took such a firm attitude on the occasion, and why Japan failed to adopt policies which might have altered the situation.