Author's note: A few years ago, I read David Johnson's Spectacle and Sacrifice: The Ritual Foundations of Village Life in North China.1 The book immediately caught my attention because it dealt with parts of China that I know well: southern Hebei and eastern Shanxi provinces, where I was conducting research for a new book. Johnson describes festivals that helped bind together communities, and in several cases had information showing that some of them had been revived after the Cultural Revolution.

One, particularly, seemed noteworthy: Guyi Village in the south of Hebei Province. This is near the steel-making city of Handan and one of the most polluted parts of China. I had been there several times and was fascinated with the idea that this area could also be home to elaborate, multi-day rituals that seemed otherwise not to exist in North China. According to Johnson's informants, local scholars had visited the village in the 1990s and seen exciting performances of Zhuo Huanggui, or Chasing the Yellow Demon, an exorcistic purging ritual performed at the end of the fifteen-day Chinese New Year's festival. I contacted local officials and academics, who were unsure if the ritual would be performed again. No one, it seemed, had been out to the village in years. So in mid-February 2014, I set off to see if anything was left of these complex performances.2

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.

This essay discusses three contrasting versions of the relationship between good and evil in contemporary China: a spirit medium who maneuvers between them, a charismatic Christian group that forges an identity by defending the border between them, and an official state and religious discourse of banal goodness and universal love that seeks to annihilate evil. Each defines good and evil differently, but more importantly, each imagines the nature of the boundary itself differently—as permeable and negotiable, clear and defensible, or simply intolerable. These varied conceptions help to shape alternate views of empathy, pluralism, and the problem of how to live with otherness.

This article explores one Cambodian village's engagement with the remains of the dead encountered during postwar resettlement. For Khmer Buddhists, the correct material transformation of the bodies of the dead is critical, but these processes were often disrupted in Cambodia's recent troubled past. This article describes the subsequent ramifications of these interrupted processes for both the living and the dead in Reaksmei Songha village in northwestern Battambang. Various residents had encountered the bones of the war dead, and some described sightings of ghosts. Kinship played a vital role in villagers’ responses to unearthed bones. However, residents tended to downplay the impact of these remains and their ghostly counterparts, possibly because of their own affective identification with the plight of the dead.

During the Cambodian Genocide (1975–79), about 12,272 to 20,000 people were jailed in the infamous Tuol Sleng (S-21) prison. Only a handful survived. This study focuses on how former S21 perpetrators relate today to their role in the genocide. Through a vast network of fear and torture, the Khmer Rouge instituted a program of “thought reform” in order to accomplish total obedience. Based on court testimonies, archival material, and semi-structured interviews with surviving S-21 guards and interrogators, this study shows how the former S-21 personnel manifest a lingering obedience orientation toward authority, limited reflection about the past, and little empathy toward their victims. The study demonstrates the long-lasting implications of the mindset that was established by the Khmer Rouge. More needs to be done to face the past and to “remove the guards from their prisons” in Cambodia.

Responding to recent critical reflection on the concept of anuvāda within the fields of translation studies and South Asian literary cultures, this article explores the complex colonial mediations shaping modern Bengali understandings of the term. The goal is to situate the production of new meanings of anuvāda within the zone of the Dubash, a phrase used here to conjure the highly mediated space of vernacular translation as practiced by Bengali intellectuals under colonial rule. This article argues that if we wish to employ anuvāda as a tool for rethinking the meaning and practice of translation, we must first attend to the processes that transformed the norms and goals of textual transmission in the colonial era. In the end we can hope not only to enrich our understanding of South Asian translational practices but also to appreciate the role played by translation in the story of literary modernity in Bengal.

In the twentieth century, authoritarian states throughout Asia mobilized mass populations to adopt modern subjectivities and national identities. Literacy campaigns and the development of formal education systems were key strategies in shaping these subjectivities and identities, a social process that continues to have enormous material, affective, behavioral, and epistemological ramifications, even long after the eclipse of the authoritarian governments themselves. To contribute more to the understanding about how these massive social projects coerced and persuaded nonurban, pastoral, and semi-nomadic populations, this article explores the 1950s and 1960s Cultural Campaigns in the socialist Mongolian People's Republic (1924–90), which emphasized hygiene, health, literacy, and ideology. Oral history accounts document how the socialist Mongolian state infiltrated the private spaces of Mongolians and shaped their attitudes toward reading and writing and other desirable social goals. Additionally, these accounts suggest ways that pastoral Mongolians subtly resisted and challenged the authority of the socialist Mongolian state.

Ruling large expanses of terrain, imperial Chinese state-builders deployed bureaucratic resources sparingly, explicitly defining administrative priorities for county-level jurisdictions. Supported by primary evidence from the Qing dynasty (1644–1911), this article investigates where exactly the empire placed its priorities, what their effect was, and how rational the system was. The empire's priorities were the product of manmade spatial organization, defying macro-regional center-periphery divides, patterns debated in past issues of this journal. Moreover, even when priorities were biased, outdated, and manipulated, they had tangible effects on local state presence, creating distinct bureaucratic spheres: the many non-prioritized routine counties tended to have smaller governments with more first-time magistrates, whereas priority counties typically had bigger governments led by magistrates who were chosen in a deliberative yet corruptible process. The construction and uses of the empire's mental map demonstrates the merits and vicissitudes accompanying the still ongoing Chinese practice of differentiated local government.

This essay examines the circulation and consumption of foreign literature in socialist China, showing that even during the most xenophobic times of High Maoism, Chinese readers had access to foreign literature through a variety of channels. An unstated though widely shared commitment to the intrinsic value of foreign culture, I argue, reveals deeply ingrained cosmopolitan practices that belie a nationalistic surface rhetoric. To trace the interest in and commitment to foreign literature, this article inspects three distinct yet overlapping modes of literary circulation: the private sphere, the restricted public sphere of internal publications, and the open public sphere. Access to foreign literature was limited, but the flow of transnational culture never stopped, as editors and readers alike perpetuated an intellectual framework that was grounded in the valorization of transnational culture and that predated the People's Republic's founding in 1949. These findings call for a reevaluation of Chinese socialist cultural consumption and production from a transnational perspective.