The significance of the coup d'état of 1861 in late-Ch'ing history has been appraised by many scholars. A fairly typical viewpoint has been expressed by the eminent Chinese historian Wu Hsiang-hsiang: ‘Had there not been the coup of 1861, there would not have been the coup of 1898.’ One need not entertain the same degree of determinism to acknowledge, with Wu, that the coup of 1861 was important in its effects on the exercise of imperial power in later decades. The coup did, in fact, not only provide the immediate circumstances which favored an unprecedented experiment with the Ch'ing imperial form, namely, a regency formed by the empresses-dowager, but it did also enable the famous (or infamous) empress-dowager, Tz'u-hsi, to secure her rise to a supremacy in court affairs which ended only with her death in 1908. In view of this second development, scholars have long argued that Tz'u-hsi was both the mastermind and chief beneficiary of the coup, which was the product of her intrigues and manipulations. In fact, it has been called her (Yehonala's) coup d'état. While this view will presently be examined, my main purpose here is to define the nature of the political crisis from which the coup of 1861, as well as the idea of the female regency, originated. This, I believe, is one aspect of the subject that has not been sufficiently investigated.

This essay considers the role of translatability in Gandhi's project of ‘Truth’. I will argue that translation as a category and a mode of thinking grounds what Gandhi's autobiography refers to as ‘the Story of My Experiments with Truth.’

Less than fifteen months after Prime Minister Hamaguchi Osachi was fatally wounded by the right-wing fanatic Sagoya Tomeo on 14 November 1930, the ‘mysterious priest’ Inoue Nissho orchestrated the Ketsumeidan jiken, or ‘Blood-Pledge Corps Incident’, in which the former Finance Minister Inoue Junnosuke and the Director-General of Mitsui Dan Takuma, were shot and killed, on 9 February and 5 March 1932, respectively. What made the Ketsumeidan Incident all the more shocking in the troubled context of the Depression and the Manchurian Incident was the fact that at one point the terrorists had planned to kill twenty of Japan's political and financial leaders, not just Inoue Junnosuke and Dan Takuma. The grim implications of this bold conspiracy were soon driven home when Prime Minister Inukai Tsuyoshi was also gunned down in the 15 May Incident that year.

This paper takes a critical look at a recent attempt by the Pakistani state to manage religious thought and practice, under the broad banner of ‘Enlightened Moderation’. One of the key Islamic thinkers associated in popular imagination with this project is Javed Ahmed Ghamidi. In contextualizing the work and role of Ghamidi, it is tempting to work backwards from his opinions on Islamic truth to situate him as a reformer whose interventions are primarily oriented to the task of reconciling Islam to conditions of liberal modernity. Against such a tendency it is argued here that such an exercise of classification and categorization needs to be undertaken with greater care as against a critique of the imperialist typology of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ Islams, a project of delineating authentic from inauthentic Islams has also more recently been activated.

‘Tax avoidance’ and ‘tax evasion’ are terms so frequently referred to in economic and business relationships today that they constitute part of our conversational language and people in general use these terms even without knowing their exact meaning and difference. Whereas tax avoidance implies a situation in which the taxpayer reduces his tax liability by taking advantage of the loop-holes and ambiguities in the legal provisions, in the case of tax evasion, facts are deliberately misinterpreted and the tax liability is understated. Thus, while tax avoidance is perfectly legal and is, at times, referred to as ‘tax planning’, tax evasion is illegal and, therefore, carries with it the risk of penalties and prosecutions under the tax laws. As such, the black economy comprises the sum total of all the various methods of tax evasion but does not include tax avoidance. Accordingly, whereas the consequences of the two phenomena are different for the taxpayers, both reduce the revenue of the Exchequer and consequently need to be checked to the greatest extent possible.

Japan's involvement as a donor of Official Development Assistance (ODA) can be traced back, historically, to post-second world war arrangements for war damage reparations. At that time, the late 1940s, early 1950s, Japan was itself a low-income country, whose industries had suffered widespread dislocation and ruin due to war. Yet, the new post-war Japanese government, eager to work its way back into the comity of nations, undertook to make reparation for the destruction of economic assets in the territories that had been fought over. The reparations agreements concluded in the 1950s involved many of the developing countries on the Asia/Pacific Rim—reflecting the pattern of wartime conquest—some of them independent, others still under European colonial rule. Thailand and the People's Republic of China were excluded from reparations, the former due to its wartime co-belligerent status, the latter since it was unrecognized by Japan, ironically in view of their subsequent emergence as the largest recipients of Japanese bilateral ODA by the 1980s. In the event, by the time Japanese reparations had become available, reconstruction assistance had already begun to give way to post-reconstruction support for public sector economic growth. A greater part of these reparations consisted of deliveries of Japanese capital goods and equipment, e.g., cargo ships, through transfer mechanisms designed to match Japan's re-emergent industrial export capabilities with the import requirements of Southeast Asian economic development.By way of contrast with the contemporary Western orientation in development assistance to Asia, driven by a 'Big Push' syndrome towards relatively large-scale infrastructure projects through such mechanisms as the Colombo Plan, the Japanese experience with reparations provided from the outset a closer strategic integration between Japan's international donor obligations, on the one hand, and its export strategy and dynamic competitive advantages in international trade, on the other.

This paper looks at the establishment of experimental winter overland postal routes in the late 1870s and 1880s, which eventually led to the creation of the Great Qing Imperial Post Office in 1896. The history of this experiment sheds much light on important issues in the establishment of what was to become the country's most crucial information-bearing network, in particular those related to collaboration and negotiation between foreign and Chinese officials, and those between local interests and the central authorities. It also explores how foreign processes and management had to be adapted in order to function in a Chinese context.

In March 1878, Robert Hart, inspector general of the Chinese Maritime Customs Service, instructed Gustav Detring, commissioner of Tianjin Port, to investigate the possibility of introducing overland public postal routes in China, beginning with Beijing to Tianijn, Niuzhuang, Yantai, and then to Zhenjiang, a treaty port on the lower Yangtze River.

The three main challenges involved were: to establish a reliable workforce, to design appropriate routes, and to win the cooperation of local governing officials. Although the winter service was initiated on time, problems repeatedly arose from each one of these challenges.

During the later years of the War of Resistance to Japan (1937–1945), United States (US) propaganda activities intensified in both Japanese military-occupied and ‘free’ regions of China. One of the most important organizations behind these activities was the Office of War Information (OWI). This paper examines the OWI, and particularly its Overseas Office, as key institutional actors within a broader US total war effort which touched the lives of civilian populations in East Asia as well as combatants, arguing that:

• • US propaganda institutions and propagandists played demonstrable roles in representing and shaping the experience of war in China;

• • these institutions, which included Asians and individuals of Asian descent, simultaneously acted to advance US goals in the wartime ‘Far East’;

• • while cooperation between US and Chinese governments was sporadic in the area of psychological warfare, conflicts over control often undermined or limited operations;

• • despite these shortcomings, US propaganda institutions (which included both the OWI and offices within the Department of State) had developed comparatively wide-ranging capabilities by the end of the war, and continued operations into the Civil War of 1945–1949.

By 1945 propaganda had become an activity which regularly targeted allied populations as well as enemies. This process was facilitated by the early twentieth-century communications revolution, but was planned and controlled by the new engineers of the post-war order.

Wireless radio broadcasting in colonial Singapore began with amateur organizations in the early 1920s, followed by commercial ventures and, finally, the establishment of a monopoly state broadcasting station. Listeners followed local broadcasting as well as international short wave radio. Both participants in and the content of radio reflected the multiracial, cosmopolitan make-up of a colonial port city which functioned through the lingua franca of English. The manner in which early broadcasting developed in Singapore sheds light on the creation of different imagined communities and the development of civil society. There was an increasing presence of non-Europeans, women, and youth, many of whom were drawn by the mystique of this new technology. Wireless radio also brought about a transformation in the public soundscape. These themes contribute to our understanding of the global history of radio as well as the nature of colonial societies within the British empire.

Youth frustration was a front-running issue during Nepal's decade-long civil war (1996–2006) and democratic protests (2003–2006). Young activists were mobilized as foot soldiers in these political battles, but they also capitalized on their position to establish themselves politically. They earned public recognition for their direct action; however, they have struggled to stay relevant as their parties shifted from protesting against the government to running the government. In response, youth activists leveraged the public support they earned and general concern over youth disenfranchisement to demand an active role in state restructuring. The Maoist-majority Constituent Assembly government partially heeded them by handing over the task of drafting the National Youth Policy to their youth wings and other youth activists. This policy shaped the youth-focused agenda of the newly designed Ministry of Youth and Sports and other government bureaus. This article uses the National Youth Policy as the context for an examination of how youth activists are establishing public authority beyond (violent) protest. By focusing on the micro-politics of the committee appointed to draft the Policy, I analyse the techniques its members used to assert their political values and agendas through policymaking in order to secure their positions during politically turbulent times. This article elucidates how formalized governing practices and revolutionary politics blend to reconstitute state order in the aftermath of civil war.

In the early eighteenth century, a husband and co-wife trio undertook a household project in Maratha-ruled Tanjavur. These migrants from the Western Deccan jointly authored a set of Sanskrit commentaries invested in the idea of ‘Maharashtrianness’. The unusual authoring of a Sanskrit commentary by these women alongside their husband exemplifies broader changes that were taking place in Sanskrit intellectual circles in early modern South India. Tracing new formulations of regional identity, changing ideologies of gender, and shifts in the very labour of Sanskrit intellectual production, I demonstrate how new avenues of access to Sanskrit emerged for women in early modern South India. These new avenues of access were facilitated by the growing importance of the household as a site of cultural production and the rise of new regional courts in the Karnatak and Coromandel Coast regions.

The mando is a secular song-and-dance genre of Goa whose archival attestations began in the 1860s. It is still danced today, in staged rather than social settings. Its lyrics are in Konkani, their musical accompaniment combine European and local instruments, and its dancing follows the principles of the nineteenth-century European group dances known as quadrilles, which proliferated in extra-European settings to yield various creolized forms. Using theories of creolization, archival and field research in Goa, and an understanding of quadrille dancing as a social and memorial act, this article presents the mando as a peninsular, Indic, creolized quadrille. It thus offers the first systematic examination of the mando as a nineteenth-century social dance created through processes of creolization that linked the cultural worlds of the Indian and Atlantic Oceans—a manifestation of what early twentieth-century Goan composer Carlos Eugénio Ferreira called a ‘rapsodia Ibero-Indiana’ (‘Ibero-Indian rhapsody’). I investigate the mando's kinetic, performative, musical, and linguistic aspects, its emergence from a creolization of mentalités that commenced with the advent of Christianity in Goa, its relationship to other dances in Goa and across the Indian and Atlantic Ocean worlds, as well as the memory of inter-imperial cultural encounters it performs. I thereby argue for a new understanding of Goa through the processes of transoceanic creolization and their reverberation in the postcolonial present. While demonstrating the heuristic benefit of theories of creolization to the study of peninsular Indic culture, I bring those theories to peninsular India to develop further their standard applications.

This article explores the politics of surveillance, suppression, and resistance within a women's correctional facility in 1970s Calcutta, a city in eastern India. I highlight the excessively violent treatment of women political prisoners, who were captured and tortured for their active participation in a Maoist guerrilla (Naxal) movement. I argue that the state officials who formed the lowest rung of the government's machinery to supress the movement—the police, prison guards, and wardens—partially usurped these carceral worlds during conditions of social unrest to create small regimes of de facto sovereignty over prison publics. During that critical period in the history of political uprising in the region, the central government coercively implemented a series of ‘constitutional actions’ in the name of internal security threats and withdrew civil liberties from Indian citizens. Political opponents were captured and imprisoned, and prisons became a space for licensed excess. I show how women political prisoners cooperated and conspired with women convicts (the latter having nurtured their own coping skills and structures to deal with persecution and negligence while in the detention system) to develop multiple forms of resistance to the extra-legal use of authority in prison, especially in the context of a volatile socio-political environment in the city.

In the years 1856–60, Great Britain, France and China were involved in a war, which has been referred to by different names, depending, naturally enough, on the nationality of the historian. Scholars in China, almost without exception, call it the Second Opium War. Historians in England, however, usually prefer to call it the Second Anglo-Chinese War or even the Second China-foreign War. It has been given yet another name, the Arrow War. None of these names is, strictly speaking, entirely appropriate. To begin with, the war was not fought over the question of opium, although in many ways it was a continuation of the Opium War of less than two decades before. In the last analysis, it was a consequence of an ever-expanding British economy. Secondly, although it is true that Great Britain and China were the chiefcontenders, the title Anglo-Chinese War ignores the part played by France in the campaign. Then the name Second China-foreign War, apart from betraying the English desire to forget that part of their past, is misleading because it focuses attention on China herself rather than on British encroachment on that country. Finally, the Arrow incident was, like the burning of opium by Commissioner Lin, an immediate cause of the quarrel; but once London had decided to resort to arms, little further reference was made to it in British diplomatic documents. The name Arrow War is particularly irrelevant for the period after the scene of confrontation had changed from Canton to Tientsin and then Peking. On balance, however, the names Second Anglo-Chinese War and Arrow War seem preferable because they do not carry overtones of nationalist prejudice. The latter title has the additional merit of illustrating how, in the age of European expansion, a small diplomatic incident could be magnified to justify the use of force to press home demands unrelated to it. It reflects the fact that the receiving end—in this case China, and in particular her Imperial Commissioner for Foreign Affairs, Yeh Ming-ch'en—tried throughout to argue the case over the specific casus belli, whereas for the British the whole affair was merely a pretext for wider demands to be made on China. Thus it seems more appropriate to call the conflict the Arrow War; and in order to examine its origins, the first step will be to analyse the documentary evidence related to the Arrow incident. Some papers in the Chinese language have only recently been made available to scholars in the Public Record Office. London, and these provide additional information for a re-investigation of the origins of the war.

This paper argues that the concept of moral economy, formulated by E.P. Thompson and developed in Asian contexts by James Scott and Paul Greenough can be usefully employed to analyse the peasant narratives of Premchand, one of the greatest writers in Hindi-Urdu literatures. But such an application is possible only if the concept is expanded further. In Premchand's works related to peasantry we find several ideological currents. However, the idea of peasantry's own cultural resources in opposition to other social groups appears to be predominant in his later works. There is a sense of centrality of peasant culture which Premchand and some others among the Hindi literary intelligentsia came to acquire, and deployed for various purposes—against colonial regime, against the products of colonial modernity (e.g., factories, English schools, courts, medical profession), against the new urban middle classes and their culture, against urbanism as a whole and, sometimes, even against the Congress, the representative of organized nationalism. Distinct from both the everyday forms of resistance and open rebellion, Premchand visualizes a comprehensive peasant paradigm in opposition to colonialism, and urban middle-class perspectives.

This paper considers the extent to which Subhas Chandra Bose and the Indian National Army (INA) contributed to India's liberation from British imperialism. The fundamental issue examined is why leaders of the Indian National Congress appropriated the INA legacy, contrary to two decades of non-violent struggle and regardless of the incompatibility of Bose's ideology and strategic vision. Drawing on published sources that chart policy decisions and illustrate the attitudes of leading actors in the formulation of Congress policy, this paper hypothesizes that Congress leaders defended INA prisoners-of-war and questions why the Congress apparently abandoned its long-established principles for immediate political gains, only to re-prioritize anew India's national interests once the public excitement over the INA had quietened. It illustrates that the Congress's overt and zealous defence of the INA was intended to harness public opinion behind an all-India issue rooted in sentimentalism and patriotism. The paper concludes that such support was crucial to the Congress's post-war electioneering campaign and was designed to counter the Muslim League's equally emotive electoral messages.

This paper examines the relationship between ethnic configuration and state social policy in a Chinese context. Why did the Chinese communist government have to implement a preferential policy towards ethnic minorities, and to what extent has this policy come to reshape peoples’ consciousness of their group membership? As well as analysing the reasons and intents of the Chinese Communist Party when dealing with the minority issue before and after it attained power, this paper argues that categorizing of the population served to establish the state apparatus. Why the project of ethnic identification was first initiated in Fujian (a province best known for its overwhelming Han culture) is also discussed. By unfolding the process of searching for ethnic representation in Fujian in the early 1950s, this paper further argues that the major concern of the party-state regarding ethnic minorities is to hold onto its power. Finally, this paper documents how government agents, when investigating ethnicity, interacted with the local population. The Fujian case implies as well as exemplifies how ethnicity can be invented, constructed or reconstructed as a particular representation in relation to state formation.

This article explores ideas of belonging that gained prominence among Indian Tamils in interwar British Malaya by revisiting a transnational dialogue that has been under-represented in the community's history. Through an analysis of the developments that unfolded during and in the decade following Periyar E. V. Ramasamy's first visit to Malaya in 1929, it positions the diaspora within the politics of a reform movement that had a profound impact on Tamil cultural and political consciousness in two colonial societies. Having originated in the former Madras Presidency, the Self-Respect movement entered Malaya at a time when both societies were engulfed in momentous change. Led by the middle class, the movement's subsequent ‘Malayanization’ raised salient questions of political allegiance as it was adapted, challenged, and ultimately reapplied to India in the interest of defending the Tamil homeland. Through an analysis of the contentious loyalties that Malayan Self-Respecters encouraged, and the responses that surfaced in the process, this article will demonstrate that the movement opened up critical new discursive spaces through which the diaspora engaged with its ‘home’ and ‘host’ societies.

In Taiwan, the legalised gambling sponsored by the government—the Public Welfare Lottery—was re-introduced on January 2002. Since then, the unprecedented lottery fever has become a social phenomenon that deserves our attention. This research focuses on the ‘public welfare’ effects as the name of the lottery was billed. The study consists of qualitative and quantitative analyses, which has served effectively to assess the advocacy of the ‘social ill’ for the ‘social good’.

By conducting a web survey on the Internet, the empirical study enables us to examine the statistical significance of socio-economic and demographic variables on the behavioural tendency of purchasing the lottery. The results of the logistic regression model reveals that those who are younger, have-nots and with experiences on any previous lottery games are more likely to wager on the Public Welfare Lottery. Other major findings include two distinctive perspectives perceived by those who purchase the lottery and those who do not, i.e. lottery buyers tend to legitimise their action into socially justifiable causes, and those who do not purchase the lottery, by contrast, believe that the lottery has negative impacts on society. The paper concludes by discussing its methodological limitations and opportunities for future research.

This essay looked into how a group of residents in a Chinese community negotiated with the ideological tropes inscribed in the spatial, which aimed to build up state–people trust on the future course of national development. Under investigation was a slum-turned-socialist-model community called “Cucumber Lane” in two historical junctures in which its spatial settings were radically reorganized. It was argued that the two spatial reorganizations exemplified two major state-led projects of modernity, each of which entailed a specific representation of space that ideologically adumbrated a specific course of national development. It was found that while the residents welcomed the project of modernity launched in the 1960s with enthusiasm, they received the other in the 1990s largely with apathy, and even with mistrust and disbelief.