The great Chinese philosopher Ch'eng Hao (1032–1085) once set forth in a A memorial to the throne a three-point training program for statesmen. His formula for success is as valid today as it was for the Sung emperors nearly a thousand

years ago:

understand the principles taught in books;

find out the right and wrong in history;

know how to deal with men;

—more briefly, knowledge and wisdom.

The expansion of political participation is generally recognized as an essential aspect of modernization. China's twentieth-century experience certainly fits this model. Yet we are far from understanding the processes by which participation expanded in China—especially in the early twentieth century, when complex patterns of social change and institutional reform brought new groups to political awareness. Who comprised the newly participant strata in the first decades of this century? How large and powerful were they? How did their members participate? Who were their leaders?

The nationalist military intelligence service has long been a controversial topic in the history of the Chinese Republic (1912–49). This organization, known as the Military Bureau of Statistics and Investigation (Junshi Weiyuanhui Tongji Diaocha Ju, or Juntong), first impinged on civilian society in the 1930s, when it carried out violent deeds against urban-based intellectuals critical of the Nationalist party's rule. Newspaper writers and editors subsequently compared Juntong to the infamous Eastern Depot and Embroidered Guards of the despotic Ming emperors, denouncing the “feudal” and “fascist” nature of Nationalist rule in political tracts and assemblies. During the Pacific War the image of Juntong's chief, General Dai Li (1897–1946), was blackened when he was compared to the Nazi Heinrich Himmler by the Western press. In the bitter and protracted civil struggles between the Chinese Communist party (CCP) and the Guomindang (GMD) after 1941, the Communists focused sharply on the atrocities committed by Juntong and portrayed Dai Li as a monstrous instrument of Chiang Kai-shek's dictatorship.

In 1941–42 Dr. Robert B. Hall, professor of geography at the University of Michigan, investigated Japanese settlements throughout Latin America. Since his survey was made in the months just before and after Pearl Harbor, when Japan was winning successive victories, Professor Hall found the Japanese at a high peak of morale which sometimes bordered on arrogance. Subsequently, as the Allies gained the upper hand, the total situation of the Japanese underwent a marked decline. Under these circumstances it seemed likely that a postwar study might provide a valuable insight into several aspects of sociocultural change. Plans for a follow-up of Dr. Hall's work by the writer were discussed in 1947, and a decision was made to concentrate on Peru.

This essay takes issue with the idea that the trade in remittance letters (qiaopi 侨批) was a modern form of “transnational capitalism” that relied on trust in a system of impersonal rules rather than “a distinctive form of ‘Chinese capitalism’” dependent on cultural or familial affinities, and that qiaopi traders used instrumental economic practices to transnationalize their businesses. The essay aims to identify alternatives to modern capitalism that are, at the same time, robustly cosmopolitan, and for which modernity is multiple rather than modular. Ethnicity and identity matter greatly in diasporic Chinese business culture, as sources of entrepreneurial resilience and creativity, especially in the early stages of diaspora formation. Far from forming an obstacle to economic growth and technological innovation, business familism, social networks, and their associated cultural values can be shown, at least in some periods and contexts, to have assisted economic development in Chinese societies at home and abroad, by enabling social mobility, furthering family interests, building partnerships, facilitating contracts, and promoting other practices proper to a modern market economy.

An explosion of early childhood programs in Yogyakarta, Indonesia, has followed on disaster, democratization, growth of the middle class, and global neoliberal reform at the beginning of the twenty-first century. New forms of professional expertise have emerged as a part of this global assemblage to deal with the expanded notions of development advocated by the World Bank and other intergovernmental organizations. Yet, what has remained relatively unremarked is the continued reliance on older New Order forms of social welfare linked to the community form and women's labor. Here, trauma healing programs aimed at the young after the 2006 earthquake, new preschools and playgroups in the era of democratization, and the proliferation of international curricula and pedagogy illustrate how the restless contingency associated with global assemblages is rooted in durable forms of community organization.

The problem of the relation of the individual to society and to the state was central to Gandhi's political thought and action. It has been said that Gandhi's “deliberate onslaught on the creed of individualism as it has been in operation during the last two or three centuries gave it a mortal blow.” How are statements like this to be reconciled with the fact that Gandhi appealed to individual conviction in his campaigns?

In analyzing this problem we should look at the main concepts of social and political philosophy which had an impact on Gandhi's life and thought. Indian philosophy is of special importance in this context and therefore a major part of this paper is devoted to the discussion of Indian concepts and ideas as they were understood and interpreted by Gandhi. Much of Gandhi's thought and action can be explained only in terms of the historical situation and the social setting of his day and age. But Gandhi's campaigns and his contribution to the Indian freedom movement have been described by many authors and therefore no attempt is made in this paper to outline the course of events.

The first major schism to rend the inner core of the ruling group which had been in control in Japan since the Restoration in 1868, occurred in 1873 through differences of opinion over the proposal to send an expedition to Korea. For several years previous to 1873 there had been a growing demand, particularly on the part of the ex-samurai group, to make war on Korea. The dynamics, in this case, were neither obscure nor occult; they simply represented another example of the intimate relation which often exists between domestic policy and foreign policy.

Harry benda's association with Asian studies stemmed from bitter accident, for he had been of a Prague Jewish family; when Hitler took over Czechoslovakia, his father arranged for Harry's exodus by getting him a job in a Dutch trading firm in the East Indies. A brother was the only other member of the family to escape death under Nazi rule. In Java, Benda settled down to learn the life of a European merchant, but he had too lively a mind to be content with latter-day colonial society. He saw the remnants of a great indigenous tradition around him, and the stirrings of a new life; he began to meet scholars who were interested in Indonesian culture and from them developed a broad intellectual interest in the people of Java. Many of these intellectuals vanished into concentration camps with the coming of the Japanese; and in 1943 Benda joined them, when the Japanese decided to intern Jews. For many of those intellectuals who survived the camps, the experience was a time of learning and reorientation; so also for Benda, whose interest in Indonesian society deepened into the determination to pursue its study as a career.

On the fateful day of July 3, 1914, the second Simla Convention was signed and sealed by Sir Arthur Henry McMahon and Lonchen Shatra (actually, while the Lonchen signed and sealed, McMahon initialed and sealed); Ivan Chen, who had initialed the first earlier in April, kept his own counsel. A joint British-Tibetan declaration stipulating that its terms would apply to China only when the latter fell in line with its two other signatories was attached to the Convention. On that same day, in Simla, the new Trade Regulations between British India and Tibet were signed.

It is reasonable to assume that Kaga han, in view of its size, large rice and other exports, and central coastal location, provided the lion's share of ships and shipowners operating in the Japan Sea during the two centuries before Perry. Villagers were going from Noto to North Honshu and Hokkaido both for temporary occupation and for permanent residence in the mid-seventeenth century and diereafter; and some of these emigrants became useful Kaga han trade agents. Moreover, transport of rice and salt respectively to Tsuruga and Echigo from Noto villages early in the Tokugawa period can be documented. Kaga han needed an all-water route to Osaka because of the high cost of transshipping rice by land from Tsuruga to Osaka. This may have been the main reason for the development in the latter part of the seventeenth century of nishi mawari, the route for ships going from the Japan Sea through the Inland Sea.

One of the most striking phenomena in early twentieth-century China is her rapid adaptability to modern nationalism. Viewed from the events of the period 1902 to 1911, this newly emerged spirit was expressed in many ways, and China's response to foreign investment in her mining industry was certainly one index of them. Indeed, this response had fully developed into a national movement in which China's major purpose was first to confront the established interests of foreign powers in China, and second, to implement what later proved to be an unsuccessful program of industrialization under her own control, with heavy emphasis on mining and railway development. However, the development of the spirit, in this phase, did not constitute an overall defiance of the treaty system which consisted of unequal terms and served as the foundation of Sino-foreign relations. China's objective was basically a negative one and had only limited positive perspective.

There is a story that the Jain saint Bhadrabāhu predicted a famine which would last for twelve years and, as a result of this famine, he led twelve thousand Jains in search of better lands. King Candragupta Maurya is said to have accompanied them and lived for twelve years after the death of the saint in Mysore; then, according to the legend, he starved himself to death. In commenting on this Jain story, Vincent Smith says, “… after much consideration I am disposed to accept the main facts as affirmed by tradition. It being certain that Candragupta was quite young and inexperienced when he ascended the throne in or about 322 B.C., he must have been under fifty when his reign terminated twenty-four years later … the twelve years' famine is not incredible. In short, the Jain tradition holds the field, and no alternative exists.”

The central role of the intellectual in Chinese history, and the centrality of A history to the Chinese intellectual—this is the most persistent theme in the provocative writings of Ku Chieh-kang (b. 1893), iconoclast editor of the Kushih pien and historical revisionist par excellence. During the nineteen-twenties and thirties Ku Chieh-kang was a pre-eminent exponent of that non-Marxist scholarship which set for its goal a purge and reconstruction of China's major intellectual traditions. In this essay, as we examine his efforts to “reorganize the nation's past,” we will want to keep in mind that his interests in China's past and China's present meet in his concern with the place of intellectuals and scholarship in the larger society.

Collaboration, that is, the full cooperation of a subjected people with an enemy occupying power, may easily be misjudged. On the one hand the judge, holding in advance that the people under consideration are non-collaborators, may dismiss evidence which seems to confirm collaboration. On the other hand the judge may interpret the people's non-resistance to the invader's rule as endorsement and hence collaboration. In both cases analysis of collaboration rests upon value judgments and substitutes inference from abstraction for empirical investigation.

This paper explores the contradictory discourses on manners, safety and emotion that arose with mass motorization in Japan in the 1960s and which continue through the present. It documents the way in which multiple government entities end up working at cross-purposes in their attempts to cultivate safer drivers and slow the epidemic of traffic accidents. On the one hand, the discourse on driving manners suggests a widespread embrace of the Traffic Bureau's and other government agencies' concern with safety. On the other hand, the emphasis on manners may lead to angrier driving, which promotes accidents according to psychological studies of driving. The picture that emerges is one in which attempts at social control are complicated by the often unpredictable emotional reactions of subjects caught in a web of institutional and ideological processes. By exploring the relationship of emotion to driving school curricula and the discourse on manners, this article extends previous studies of self, social control, and social management in Japan.

The present article will analyze some of the major currents in the study of Chinese culture in terms of functioning communities. We will turn, first, to works of the nineteenth and early twentieth century, showing why these accounts, no matter how well done, were not community studies. We shall then turn successively to the pioneer scientific work on Chinese communities, the social surveys, and to the several published community studies which are largely anthropological in their organization and execution. The second section of this paper deals with the methodology of modern community studies in China and discusses problems of field method and of topical organization and interpretation. In a third section the emphasis rests upon subdisciplinary specializations, e.g., economic, sociological, psychological and so on. In this case, the term “subdisciplinary” is used because, with certain notable exceptions, the specialist work has been carried on within a broader anthropological approach. In this section we will attempt to outline what has been done, and to point out the most significant gaps that remain.

It is impressive how, in Prasenjit Duara's essay, Asian regions are understood and presented—in the breadth of the world, not as objects with sharp edges, or compact entities of cultures, economies, and politics, not as blocks of which the present and the global so often are still thought to be made. Reading Duara's essay, I was made to think of the celebrated Japanese architect Fumihiko Maki's current grand plan for Singapore, the epitome of Asia today, a design conceived not as a space made of buildings, offices, and flats, not of blocks, but of flows—bridges and flyovers, “links,” as Maki calls them. These links are there as the most powerful part of the whole, making the city-state space by cutting through it, over the blocks, and along them. The links are empowered to make everything in the city-state to face the open, and to move into the open. A skeptic, of course, may ask, “into what open?” Indeed, the “links” of Singapore, at least those already in action, often lead from offices, flats, and blocks into one mega-supermarket and then into another.