North Korea is one of the most efficient totalitarian regimes existing in the world today. Especially after 1958 Premier Kim Il-song intensified the drive to heighten the cult of personality and to consolidate the control and administrative mechanisms in order to ensure the maintenance and operation of an efficient and effective power structure.

Between 1953 and 1958 the socioeconomic environment in North Korea underwent a radical change. Adjustments in the structure and function of local administrative and control mechanisms reflected these economic changes. The prefecture (the kun, or county) became the most important administrative unit. Through collectivization of farms and accompanying administrative reorganization, the ri (the precinct) was transformed from a purely administrative unit to a production unit. The functions traditionally performed by the People's Committees at the prefectural level were dispersed among different agencies, and the party structure at the prefectural level was expanded and given new powers. These measures were carried out between 1953 and 1964 for the purpose of increasing efficiency and efficacy in local administration. They were also designed to insure party control over the entire society. At the end of the reform period, the supremacy of the party was structurally guaranteed. The improvement in control, administration, and production, however, does not necessarily result from structural changes alone, and the problem of controlling and manipulating human beings still remains as an important problem.

In a recent article in this journal, William C. Kirby (1995) chronicled the development of China's Company Law, which was crafted in 1904 to promote industrial development by codifying a commercial code. Among other objectives, the Company Law was aimed at providing institutional support for the emergence of modern legal corporations. Indeed, it was a widespread belief among the Qing reformers of the period that “Modern industrial capitalism … demanded Western corporate structures to do business’ (Kirby 1995, 43). Kirby argued that after numerous revisions it has become clear that the Company Law has failed to promote the emergence of privately owned, publicly traded corporations. Given China's rich commercial tradition, its dramatic post-1978 reforms, and its rapid economic growth over the last two decades, Kirby's finding raises a most puzzling question for China scholars: Why is there not a single privately owned, publicly traded corporation (PPC) in mainland China?

The following represents an amplification of some rather poorly expressed remarks made at the panel on Chinese Studies and the Disciplines at the recent meeting of the Association for Asian Studies.

The essential point (banal but nevertheless true) is that whatever a man's discipline, the broader and deeper his general culture—his “general education,” the more willing he is to bring whatever wisdom he has to bear on the subject he is treating. Whether this wisdom derives from the “methodology” of his discipline or not, it increases the likelihood of his saying something significant. Conversely, the mechanical application of an isolated “discipline” narrowly conceived in terms of a selfcontained “model” or “system” to a culture (whether contemporary or “traditional”) which has not been studied in any of its other aspects by a person of limited culture may lead to sterile and even preposterous results.

Revisiting the political and social history of Seoul, Korea, in 1945, this article assesses responses to Japanese defeat and the end of empire in the context of American military occupation. The arrival of the Americans forced Japanese and Koreans alike to rethink their positions in the world. Drawing on past colonial practices, Japanese residents used the immediate post-surrender moment to ponder their future prospects, recording those thoughts in a number of public and private sources. They negotiated the passage from a colonial to a post-imperial society, I argue, by embracing a consciousness of a defeated people while disregarding criticisms of colonial rule. This investigation seeks to interpret the immediate post-World War II moment in Seoul less as a founding moment of the Cold War and more as an important transition in the history of decolonization.

Through an analysis of Third Sister Liu, a popular musical of the early 1960s, this article illustrates how the Chinese Communist Party mobilized state and society to express disparaging ideas about the intellectual during the Great Leap Forward. The Chinese intellectual was not any specific social type, group, or individual, but a substrate upon which the party organized and promoted its vision and division of society. Official representations, organization, and the threat of punishment underpinned the party's efforts and produced local resistance toward the party's understanding of the intellectual. The author's analytical approach stresses the social work of construction that reproduced the intellectual as a major political subject, an official classification, and an embodied identity in socialist China. The analysis illuminates heretofore obscured dimensions of Communist Party rule and experiences of those affected by the classification.

Here are two passages chosen from a genre of Bengali domestic science/advice manuals for women in late-nineteenth-century Bengal. The first passage is from Strir sahit kathopakathan [“Conversations with the Wife”], one of the most popular of all advice manuals, first published in 1884 and reissued eight subsequent times, the last in 1909. Its author was Dhirendranath Pal, a prolific writer who published seven books in Bengali and eleven in English between the 1880s and the early twentieth century. The second passage is from Nari dharma [“Woman's Dharma”], a manual of advice for women written by Nagendrabala (Mustaphi) Dasi in 1900, and one of only two advice manuals authored by women I have found in this period. Its author was born in 1878, and, by her death in 1906 at the age of twenty-eight, she had published numerous collections of poetry, two books of advice for women, and one novel.

The dormant political atmosphere, so long characteristic of the colonial society of the Indies, was undergoing an almost imperceptible change at the dawn of the twentieth century. Apart from the official adoption of the “Ethical Policy”—the moral assumption by the Netherlands of a concern for “native” welfare—ripples indicative of a new consciousness were occurring within the indigenous society. A movement for female education and emancipation was instigated by Raden Adjeng Kartini, daughter of the Regent of Djapara. A socio-cultural organization of Javanese intellectuals named Boedi Oetomo (Splendid Endeavor) was founded in May 1908. The Sarekat Islam (United Islam), initially concerned with economic matters, had by 1912 begun to stress religious principles and was soon to gain a mass following under Hadji O. S. Tjokroaminoto. The Eurasian E. F. E. Douwes Dekker, through agitation and the establishment of a real independence party, the Indische Partij (Party of the Indies), was the first to make a major contribution in the field of political nationalism.

Ohkawa and Rosovsky allege that the jump in Meiji land productivity was the result of exploitation of a large technological backlog which the Bakuhan system created in the advanced region of Tokugawa Japan, such as kinki, by blocking technological diffusion. This allegation is without factual substance—land productivity was probably the highest in the kinki region (prefectures of Kyoto, Osaka, Nara, Wakayama, Mie, Hyogo, and Shiga), but this region was the last place where farming technology could have been bottled up. The han governments could not set up effective artificial barriers there because their landholdings were so fragmented and so intermingled with others in kinki and also because technology-diffusion forces such as traffic, population density, and commercialization were so great. Therefore, it is the specialization of land and labor in order to produce certain crops for the market that was largely responsible for the high land productivity in kinki. Likewise, it is highly likely that the alleged rise in Meiji land productivity can be attributed chiefly to accelerated commercialization and specialization, brought about by the coming of railroads, the commutation of taxes, the great inflation (1877–1881), and general changes in demand. Autonomous and competitive han, driven by the necessity of meeting their increasing expenditures, expanded interregional trade and diffused, rather than obstructed, technology thus overcoming artificial and natural barriers.

This introduction discusses how to think about the U.S. military presence as an understudied force of globalization both theoretically and historically. In an effort to bring together three articles written by a sociologist, an anthropologist, and a historian, it engages theoretically with issues of unequal power relations, feelings of ambivalence, and postcolonial agency. It also provides summaries of three case studies on South Korea, Okinawa, and mainland Japan to show both intentional and unintentional cultural consequences of the long-term U.S. military presence in these societies.

The main contention of this essay is that railways in Malaya were constructed specifically to serve the tin and rubber industries which were dominated by Western capitalist enterprise. The railroads were concentrated in the west coast states, reinforcing the trend toward economic specialization that had already begun. The pattern of subsequent capital investment which was related to railroad development produced wide regional inequalities. It gave rise to a spatial dualism that was most evident in the emergence of export-oriented enclaves and the associated infrastructure in the western states, leaving the eastern states outside the mainstream of capitalist development. The railways did not stimulate well-rounded economic development in the country because they had little or no multiplier effect on the local economy. The benefits of railroad construction accrued largely to the British economy. I seek to make clear the links between railway development in Malaya, the emergence of an extractive-colonial economy heavily specialized in tin and rubber, and the incorporation of the country into the international capitalist system.

The period 1740–1800 is full of striking political and military events. Beginning with Nadir Shah's conquest, India experienced internal wars and Asian and European assaults, which overwhelmed the Mughal Empire and led to British supremacy. This essay endeavors to show the nature of the culture of India during this rather disturbed period.

Few would deny that one of the most important factors shaping the Chinese economy in the past hundred years or so was the economic contact between China and the West. This external economic confrontation has been widely held by the Chinese as a factor detrimental to the development of the Chinese economy. First, it is argued that foreign trade and foreign investment in China upset the Chinese economy by ruining handicraft industries and disrupting agriculture. Secondly, foreign trade and investment in China are alleged to have drained the Chinese economy of its wealth because of the secular unfavorable balance of trade of China and the large amount of income made or remitted to their home countries by Western enterprises in China. Thirdly, it is maintained that foreign enterprises in China were so effective in their competitive power or enjoyed so many advantages secured on their behalf by their respective governments that the Chinese-owned modern enterprises were hopelessly oppressed and had little chance, if any, to grow.

The studies in this volume explore some of the main aspects of Hinduism in India and of Buddhism in Ceylon. Because each article is based on the author's field observations, it deals with the realities of religion as well as with its ideology, and with actual religious behavior no less than with its hopes and beliefs. These papers are not intended to give a systematic coverage of the two religions; each is rather a systematic analysis of a certain part of the religion as practiced. The emphasis is on structure and process more than on description and content. The gods are not catalogued nor are the main ceremonies enumerated; rather, the meaning of deities and of ritual in the lives of the practitioners is examined.

Among the cardinal weaknesses of existing studies on British land policy in Ceylon is the almost total neglect of any reference to the theoretical foundations of this policy, and the tendency to study the situation in Ceylon in isolation instead of against the background and within the wider context of a colonial land policy. These weaknesses are all the more glaring for the years from c. 1830 to 1855 when a common land policy was gradually but systematically imposed throughout the British Empire, and an institutional apparatus controlling land policy and emigration was built up. The basis of the land policy of these years was an adherence to some of the fundamental principles of the theories of Edward Gibbon Wakefield.

In recent years, the Philippines, along with numerous other “developing” nations of the world, has experienced an accelerated change in many of its basic social institutions. To put it simply, we can describe these changes as part of the transition from a traditionalized, agriculturally oriented socio-economic structure to one more in line with the goals and institutions of a modern industrial society. The actual situation, however, is more complex, and a number of other factors not necessarily related to industrialization have been involved. These include changes in the demographic structure, shifting loci of political power, and the “demonstration effect” of numerous external agencies which have widened both taste and aspiration horizons.

The basic unit for economic and social activities in rural Japan is the buraku, a cluster of houses, surrounding rice fields, and, very often, a small acreage of forest land. Although the buraku has had no legal status, since the war, it remains as the focus of loyalty and in-group feeling beyond the level of the household. It is within the buraku that the Japanese farmers cooperate with each other to meet and to solve their immediate problem. The lowest level of formal government in the farming countryside is the mura or son (village). It is at this point of contact that the Japanese farmer as a buraku inhabitant meets government in the actual administration of law. The Japanese farmer regards village administration in two ways. On the one hand, it provides him with formal machinery for the solution of the immediate and personal problems he faces in his community.