Southeast Asian Studies (SEAS) in China has experienced significant changes in the past twenty years. China's rising political and economic power has stimulated growing demands for better understanding of the wider world, resulting in the rapid development of area studies in recent years. Although SEAS in China predated the relatively recent notion of ‘area studies’ by at least half a century, the boom in area studies has profoundly transformed the field, most notably by attracting a large number of scholars to conduct policy-relevant research. Not only does the ‘policy turn’ reflect shifts of research paradigms in the field of SEAS, but it is also consistent with some larger trends prevailing in China's higher education sector and rapidly changing society in general. This article shows that SEAS in China has grown even more imbalanced, as indicated by the rapid growth of language programmes, absolute domination of short-term policy research, and further marginalisation of humanistic subjects. To respond, Chinese universities have adopted new approaches to SEAS depending on their distinct disciplinary foundations, language coverage, faculty interests, and local governments’ policy preferences.

As the central Thai government expanded into the northern region during the early decades of the twentieth century, thousands of northern monks created a movement spearheaded by the famous monk, Khruba Srivichai (1878–1939). Even after Srivichai's multiple arrests and the disrobing of some 1,000 of his disciples in 1936, tensions continued. Oral histories reveal underlying differences in religious interpretations; one was outrage at the construction of funerary chedis on temple grounds. To understand why northerners found this practice sacrilegious, this essay undertakes an ideological archaeology into the ‘space of dissension’ of differing central and northern Thai funerary practices.

In Cambodia, orphan dance shows were once popular as a way to preserve endangered art forms and to cultivate children's dignity and well-being. But they came to be seen as exploitative instead, and today are nearly nonexistent. This article examines the confluence of changes that caused this reversal of opinion. The reversal is due to both covert factors such as changes in constructions of childhood, and overt factors such as changes in audience composition. The rise and fall of Cambodian orphan dance shows took place largely within foreign communities, with little local input.

This article focuses on racialisation as a signifying practice and cultural process that attributes difference in Malaysia. It attempts to think with and against the concept of racialisation with an aim to add to a clearer understanding of the cultural politics of ‘race’. It focuses on the hierarchies of power and marginalisation, visibility and invisibility, inclusion and exclusion that are built into dominant discourses and modes of knowledge production about race, citizenship, and culture in Malaysia. This article aims to show how the political mobilisation of race as a remnant of colonial governmentality disciplines social processes through the notion of multiculturalism. For this reason, it sets up state-endorsed ‘multiracialism’ and a people-driven ‘multiculturalism’ as oppositional ways of thinking about race. It concludes by briefly identifying some key drivers for cultural transformation and speculating if these people-centred processes can offer a more imaginative racial horizon.

This article argues for understanding the reform of the Buddhist tradition in nineteenth-century Siam as a shift towards a secular conceptual grammar, and positions this shift within the dual imperial context of Siam. The binary conceptual structure that can be traced in the Nangsue Sadaeng Kitchanukit (Elaboration on major and minor matters, 1867) also included an opposition between Buddhism and Islam, documenting not only the epistemic marks of the Christian missionary encounter, but also the inner-political imperial context of Siam's hegemony over the Islamic sultanate of Patani.

This article sets out to demonstrate the Southeast Asian nature of Nanzhao as a Sinitic state similar to Dai Viet. Previous studies have focused on Nanzhao's relations with Tang China, and emphasised the heavy Tang influence on its political organisation. Examining Nanzhao's expansion of governance into the Upper Ayeyarwady and Upper Mekong river regions during the eighth and ninth centuries, I argue that it was a kingdom characterised by a combination of Sinitic-style bureaucracy with indigenous Southeast Asian allegiance ties. I demonstrate how Nanzhao utilised these features to broaden its entire power base by administering conquered peoples and maintaining trade routes in the Upper Ayeyarwady and the Upper Mekong from a network of walled-cities. Though Confucianism exerted limited influence at the local level, the elite invoked Confucian civilising ideology to morally justify their governance of conquered peoples. The authority of the king extended beyond the core area, and his bureaucracy was powerful enough to loosely administer regional areas and to shift subdued peoples to populate strategic points within the kingdom, while governing Mon-Khmer polities at the southern periphery indirectly through their own leaders.

In August 1902, the Siamese army occupied the northern township of Phrae after a rebellion by Shan timber workers, miners and traders. The Siamese general who investigated the rebellion claimed that the Shan attack on Phrae was part of a wider plot to restore Prince Myngoon to the Burmese throne. Myngoon was exiled from Burma in 1868 and had been living in Indochina since 1889. Most observers have regarded the so-called ‘Myngoon plot’ as implausible. This article provides the first detailed history of the plot. It argues that the plot was a product of ‘seditious state-making’ in the borderlands of mainland southeast Asia, a region in geopolitical flux. This exploration of the Myngoon plot uncovers a cosmopolitan web of seditious statecraft that extended from India, through Burma and Indochina and into Siam. The Shan rebellion was one outbreak in a region-wide web of Shan agitation dating from the early 1880s. The rebellion took place at the intersection of the competing colonial agendas of Siam, Britain and France, and various actors in this competition had been planting the seeds of a Myngoon-led rising since the 1880s. Myngoon's story was the product of a time when British, French and Siamese colonial agents were still grappling (and colluding) with dispersed and fragmented royal power.

This article examines the collaboration between the law firm of C.W. Baron van Heeckeren from Semarang and the Oei Tiong Ham Concern (OTHC). From the 1880s this Dutch law firm became the centre of a close-knit group of Dutch lawyer-entrepreneurs who through interlocking business directorships developed important sectors of the Javanese economy and the city of Semarang. In doing so Van Heeckeren and his associates teamed up with the Chinese business elite of the port-city. In particular they worked with the foremost Overseas Chinese capitalist, Major Oei Tiong Ham, developing profitable partnerships. The Dutch lawyers acted not only as his legal advisors, but developed his sugar empire as directors-shareholders, held major stakes in his shipping business and coolie trade, and profited from his opium trade. They moreover helped Oei Tiong Ham to acquire real estate and enterprises formerly belonging to powerful Chinese opium farmers and collaborated with him in developing infrastructural and housing projects. This article provides new and revealing details about how the business world of colonial Java worked during the early phase of Dutch economic imperialism and how the Chinese business elite seized the opportunities provided by the Dutch colonial state to advance their business interests.

This article examines colonial secularism in Burma through a history of the built environment of Rangoon. The creation of the colonial city in the 1850s as an ordered grid of ethnic neighbourhoods and established religions served as a pedagogy of the secular, teaching its population to internalise religious difference. And yet, against this secular vision in brick and pavement there were exceptional spaces that enacted alternative visions. The Thayettaw monastic complex began as home for the diverse displaced ethnic monasteries of the pre-colonial town, but it soon defied the boundaries of colonial rule. Its practice of Buddhism became a mechanism for mobility, interaction, and interconnection.

Film censorship screens the nation as a ‘way of seeing’ that is both fundamental to the art of governance and vulnerable to the flexibility of contemporary global images. In Thailand, this historically-conditioned regime arose in the geopolitics of the 1930 Film Act, the Motion Pictures and Video Act of 2008, and a coterminous regulation of visuality as a form of cultural governance. I pursue a close reading of two banned films by Apichatpong Weerasethakul and Nontawat Numbenchapol, respectively, to illustrate the aesthetics of film censorship in light of the development of a national cinema, especially to consider the strategies that film-makers use to negotiate the governance of vision.

This article proposes that Singapore should be considered as a settler colony during its first years of settlement. The first Residents, William Farquhar, Thomas Stamford Raffles and John Crawfurd all attempted to build Singapore as a settler colony, similar to those in Australia and North America. The difference was, however, that they looked to attract Chinese, Malay and Indian settlers as well as Europeans. By viewing Singapore as a settler colony, this article reinterprets our understanding of who constitutes a settler within settler colonial frameworks. It concludes that settler colonialism was not directly about moving indigenous people off the land, but rather establishing a new system of sovereignty in which individuals (regardless of race) were allowed to own land and become settlers. Nevertheless, the actions of the settlers and the British authorities created violent tensions with the original Malay inhabitants that were only resolved by the transfer of sovereignty from Sultan Hussein to the East India Company.

The origins of the Cold War in Southeast Asia are most often located in the immediate aftermath of the Second World War, in the late 1940s. Historians sometimes trace its origins to Japan's expansionist phase in the 1930s, which accelerated the decline of the European and American colonial order in this part of Asia. However, the necessity of the fight against communism appeared very clearly in the minds of the leaders of the major colonial powers well before the 1930s. Focused on the case of Siam, this article aims to show that the origins of the Cold War in Southeast Asia dated back to as early as the 1920s with the emergence of international cooperation in the fight against communism and the Thai elite's manipulation of imperialist powers to further their own political agenda and support their dominance in the domestic political arena. The Cold War in Southeast Asia was not only about the postwar fight against the spread of communism, but also closely intertwined with the decolonisation and nation-building efforts of every country in the region — including of the so-called un-colonised Thailand.

This article responds to recent calls to consider how religion is defined and deployed in and about Myanmar. Discussing local Pentecostal efforts to evangelise to Buddhists in contemporary Yangon, it presents the encounter with the religious other as one ground from which definitions of religion might emerge. I show that, by taking up new opportunities to share the gospel, believers entered into a long conversation between Christianity and Buddhism dating back to the colonial period. Tracing the different definitions of religion that this conversation generates, and attuning to the dissonances between them, might offer alternate ways for approaching what gets termed the religious and the secular in the study of Myanmar.

This article analyses the roles and activities of three groups of Chinese communist revolutionaries in the early phase of the First Indochina War. The author argues that although the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) did not begin to provide substantial aid to North Vietnam until 1950, the involvement of Chinese communists, including members of both the CCP and the Indochinese Communist Party (ICP), in the First Indochina War started at the very moment the war broke out in 1946. Although the early participants were not as prominent as the Chinese political and military advisers who arrived after 1949, their activities deserve to be examined, not only because they were the forerunners of later actors, but also because they had already made concrete contributions to the Vietnamese revolution before the founding of the People's Republic of China and the arrival of large-scale Chinese military and economic aid. Moreover, interactions between early Chinese participants and the Vietnamese revolutionaries established a pattern that would characterise Sino–Vietnamese relations in the subsequent decades.

The Chinese Protectorate was first established in Singapore in 1877 with the limited objective of preventing abuses in Chinese labour migration, but it evolved multiple functions dedicated to governing Chinese migrants and residents in colonised Malaya. The Protector possessed extensive statutory powers and he was regarded as the official authority on all matters ‘Chinese’. This was an important yet under-studied colonial institution in the history of Chinese migration and settlement in Singapore and Malaysia. This article narrates the history behind the establishment of the Protectorate in the 1870s when ‘racialised governmentality’ of the Chinese population was institutionalised in colonised Malaya. The article underscores the significance of imperial and local contexts of the Protectorate's creation, arguing that it was a product of flexible adaptation of empire-wide practices of ‘protecting’ and governing liberated slaves, indigenous peoples and subsequently, indentured Indian labourers ‘humanely’. It is notable, therefore, that there was a coeval and conjoined discussion of migration control of Chinese as well as Indian labour migrants in Malaya during this period, but this history is hidden from plain sight by popular approaches studying labour migration as components of ethnic diasporas migrating from a single point of origin.