The history of Sino-American relations during World War II can offer a window onto understanding the contemporary relations between the two countries. By way of a conclusion, the chapter offers three main “lessons” from the volume that point toward a new perspective on this critical relationship: 1. We must pay attention to grassroots interactions, 2. Drawing on Chinese sources is critical in understanding relations, 3. We must question our assumptions about the other side.

Focusing on the efforts to recover, repatriate, and rebury thousands of fallen soldiers from the China-Burma-India Theater, this chapter analyzes how the disparate treatment of American bodies and Chinese bodies defined the Sino-American relations in the immediate postwar period. The first part of this chapter examines how well-established institutions, ambulant resources, and cooperative regimes enabled US servicemen to salvage the bodies of American soldiers from distant theaters of war to reinter them in national and private cemeteries on American soil. The second part addresses the struggle of the Chinese government in Nanjing, the Chinese military command in India, and the Chinese communities in Burma to provide proper burials for the dead of the Nationalist expeditionary forces. China lacked the formal institutions and infrastructure to manage war graves in foreign territories, and failed to garner the support of local authorities. When the political chaos of the Chinese Civil War led to the cessation of funding from the Nationalist government, the graves of Chinese soldiers in India and Burma fell into oblivion.

The final chapter turns to developments in the last decade of colonial rule. It will examine how wartime changes gradually diluted the Cochin State’s authority over the port of Cochin rendering its separate existence increasingly untenable. The Cochin State would thus become one of the first princely states to accede to the independent Indian state after zealously guarding its sovereignty for decades. This chapter explains this turnaround and examines how the transition to post-colonial sovereignty affected the Cochin State’s relationship with the harbour. It then discusses the post-colonial Indian state’s policies towards the port of Cochin, which has continued to attract significant investment to this day. We will analyze the extent to which development projects around the harbour have continued to bolster state authority in independent India and how this has served to obscure the divisive history of port development at Cochin. The resulting erasure of the long history of coastal transformations and uncertain technological interventions around Cochin has not only facilitated more reckless development over the last few decades despite protests, but it has also recently begun to allow successive governments to downplay the role of these local.

The history of Sino-American relations since the eighteenth century has been powerfully influenced by a series of ad hoc, one might say grassroots American actors, often only loosely bound to the United States government. This insight is the central theme running through this introductory chapter which seeks to offer a new window onto Sino-American relations. While these ad hoc relationships had a powerful influence on US-China relations since the earliest interactions between the two countries, World War II marked a turning point as these ad hoc actors were subsumed into a larger state-centered system of engagement.

This chapter explores the Japanese colonial origins of Angang between 1915 and 1945. The outbreak of World War I reconfigured the geopolitical balance in East Asia, enabling Japan to develop ironmaking in Anshan. World War I also led to the rise of the Soviet Union, prompting interest in economic planning among many outside Russia, including Japanese researchers in Manchuria. These new developments in the interwar years crystallized in state-directed industrialization in Northeast China under Japanese occupation from 1931 to 1945. Through Soviet-inspired economic policies, the Japanese-sponsored puppet regime of Manchukuo developed Shōwa Steelworks in Anshan to support Japan’s war and imperial expansion. Reflecting the quintessentially colonial nature of Manchukuo, Chinese workers faced various forms of violence and discrimination on a day-to-day basis, increasing the forced labor mobilization of Chinese prisoners of war. Through planning and violence, the Japanese occupation regime turned Manchuria into the largest heavy industrial region on Chinese soil.

This chapter explains how the artificial creation of the Nigerian state – spurred principally by colonialism – drove colonial and eventually Indigenous officials to promote a system of regionalism to accommodate the creation of a federal system of government. In doing so, the concept of ethnicity was arbitrarily and crudely introduced to the complex and diverse patchwork of peoples inhabiting what would become Nigeria. Regionalism fostered self-interested political groups, whereby the individual interests of Nigeria’s three principal regions (North, West, and East), each dominated by one of three major ethnic groups (Hausa/Fulani, Yoruba, and Igbo), competed amongst one another for power, leading to extraregional conflicts. Complicating this system was the presence of many hundreds of other, much smaller, minority ethnic groups. The promotion of regionalism would ultimately give rise to ethnonationalism, in which Nigeria’s three largest ethnic groups were given precedence over minority groups, leading to intra-regional conflict. The concepts of regionalism and ethnicity would become inseparably intertwined and would significantly hamper decolonization and efforts at building a consolidated and equitable state.

The Australian Army served in numerous theatres and campaigns throughout World War II, earning distinction and at times facing significant challenges. After Australia declared war on Germany on 3 September 1939, Australians deployed and served in combined Allied armies in Europe, North Africa, the Middle East and Asia.1 Conversely, the Australian Army made up the bulk of Allied ground forces in the South West Pacific Area (SWPA) during the Japanese push south in the months following the attack on Pearl Harbor. After the consolidation of their initial advances, the Japanese extended their area of control and established a perimeter line of defence from the Aleutians in the north to the Gilbert and Marshalls in the south. In 1942–43, Australian troops carried the bulk of responsibility in the fight against the Imperial Japanese Army and Navy in a gruelling battle for the island of New Guinea. Thus, by 1943, the Australian Army was the most experienced Allied force in the Pacific.

When Germany invaded Poland, German officials set up a research project into the possible military uses of uranium fission. A nuclear reactor, what the Germans called a “uranium machine,” needed a moderator to slow down neutrons. Water, heavy water, and pure carbon in the form of graphite were all considered, but water would need uranium in which the percentage of isotope 235 is increased, and it did not appear feasible for German industry to produce graphite with sufficient purity. Paul Harteck and his collaborator Wilhelm Groth first tried to separate the uranium isotopes with a separation tube. When this failed, the two physical chemists turned to centrifuges. Scientists in Berlin, Heidelberg, and Leipzig began experiments on the behavior of materials when bombarded with neutrons and on model nuclear reactors. At first the materials needed were scarce but Germany captured the Norsk Hydro in Norway, the largest heavy water producer in the world, and the defeat of Belgium brought with it tons of uranium compounds. From the start of the war through to the autumn of 1941, this research had low priority and made modest progress. At this stage of the war, powerful new weapons did not appear needed.

In order to determine what really happened when Werner Heisenberg and Carl Friedrich von Weizsäcker met with Niels Bohr in occupied Copenhagen in September 1941, this visit has to be placed in several contexts. By this time the German uranium research had demonstrated that atomic bombs were probably feasible, even if not for Germany during the war. The summer 1942 German offensive against the Soviet Union had not yet begun to falter, although Heisenberg was nevertheless privately very anxious about the war. The Germans alienated Bohr and his colleagues by their participation in cultural propaganda and nationalistic and militaristic comments about the war. A comparison with Heisenberg’s other lecture trips abroad shows that he acted the same way in other places. Heisenberg’s subsequent efforts in 1942 to gain support from Nazi officials by both describing the power of atomic bombs and the threat that the Americans might get them first also do not fit with an attempt at Copenhagen to forestall all nuclear weapons. Instead the best explanation for the visit is Heisenberg and Weizsäcker’s fear of American atomic bombs falling on Germany.

The five years or so after World War II saw a wave of novels dealing centrally with male homosexuality. They fall roughly into two groups. First, a group of novels about military life, including Norman Mailer’s The Naked and the Dead (1948) and James Jones’s From Here to Eternity (1951), covered homosexuality as an important component of their gritty realism. Second, a group of novels set during or after the war, including Charles Jackson’s The Fall of Valor (1946), Gore Vidal’s The City and the Pillar (1948), and James Barr’s Quatrefoil (1950), featured gay protagonists and explicitly engaged the plight of the gay minority. The social mobilizations and disruptions of the war and its aftermath enabled new gay visibility and nascent pro-homosexual politics—but also the deepening stigmatization and surveillance of homosexuality. I argue that the novels named above, among others, attempt to work through the ambiguous social position of homosexual identity produced by the war. Oscillating between pathologization and affirmation, these novels typically prove unable to imagine the integration of gay men into society, even as they are energized by a discourse of liberal tolerance.

This chapter examines newspaper discourse in the Donetsk and Luhansk ‘People’s Republics’, analysing the content of twenty-six local newspapers between the start of the Euromaidan demonstrations in late 2013 and the end of 2017. The goal of this chapter is to uncover the themes and narratives in DNR and LNR print media, and examine how these narratives relate back to ideology and identity building. Three main narratives are identified: ‘business as usual’, ‘war and memory’, and ‘loss and guilt’. Newspapers in the Donbas ‘Republics’ continued to perform ‘typical’ activities as a source of information for local communities. However, a significant part of their content did address the development of collective identity, for example, through references to newly instated public holidays and a kinship with Russia and the Russian language. However, this ‘ingroup’ identity remained impoverished, projecting an identity discourse without a sui generis, unifying coherence. Instead, negative descriptions of the ‘outgroup’ (i.e., Ukraine/the ‘Kyiv regime’) received much more attention, with a view to demonising Ukraine and Ukrainians in the eyes of the local population.