The study of abandoned civilizations, and of the reasons for the disaster, is a field in which many imaginations have wandered. In several parts of Southeast Asia, notably in Cambodia, northern Siam (the Kingdom of Haripunjaya), the Pagan area in the dry zone of Burma, and the dry zone of Ceylon, this pattern has been repeated. Only in Ceylon is there a more or less continuous historical record, plus numerous stone inscriptions, to assist in solving the puzzle. Otherwise the cases are suggestively alike. All arose on reasonably level plains (often the only level land in the region), in a climate of alternating wet and long dry seasons, which especially in the tropics usually means irrigation if agriculture is to be productive enough to support a more than primitive civilization. All did in fact depend heavily on extensive irrigation, and appear to have shared the characteristics which Wittfogel has associated with this kind of basis: a strong central state, massive public works, a highly structured society, and a powerful ramified bureaucracy. All were plagued with chronic invasions from nearby densely populated areas, and all collapsed with dramatic suddenness, to be blotted out by jungle so that with some even their memory was forgotten. Finally, all were abandoned at about the same period, the thirteenth century (Angkor Vat somewhat later), and with few exceptions no significant attempts were made to reoccupy them until very recent years.

When one thinks about the people that are portrayed by modern Chinese authors, one inevitably sees, foremost in the gallery, the image of Ah Q, the homeless farm hand who lives in a village temple, the tragic hero of a mock epic. The image, as one recent Chinese critic puts it, is similar to a caricature sketched by a cartoonist; the character is portrayed by strokes swift in movement, simple in outline, and suggestive in tone. One might first associate Ah Q with frolic pleasantry, but the lasting impression is awe and pity.

The True Story of Ah Q (1921), during the last few decades, has been regarded as the most penetrating satire of the spirit of compromise and rationalization that is prevalent in China. The name Ah Q has come to describe all that is false in reason, cowardly in action, and unstable in principle. The character of Ah Q, however, does not yield to a simple definition. The evasive spirit which hovers beyond the immediate satire engraves the image of Ah Q on the memory of the reader.

An assault upon the massive problem of economic stagnation fundamentally requires the pursuit of three kinds of basic social and economic changes. First, and perhaps most important, a society must either mobilize domestic savings or attract foreign financing in order substantially to raise its level of investment. This is the problem of financing. Second, these resources must be employed to change production functions in important sectors of the economy to provide increased yields from the utilization of the country's economic endowments. This is the problem of technology. Third, the society must revamp its institutions in such fashion that high levels of savings and investment are perpetuated and the search for new and more productive techniques of production—innovation—becomes a basic social propensity. This is the problem of institutional change.

The Mongolian People's Republic, or Outer Mongolia as it is more commonly known, is a country of some 600,000 square mile area which is bounded on the north by Soviet Siberia, on the south by China, with Manchuria to the east and Sinkiang to the west. Many centuries ago, the western world lived in fear of the Mongol hordes which swept westward as far as the Danube laying waste to all which lay before them. Over the years, the power and importance of Mongolia declined and it fell, at different times, under Russian and Chinese influence respectively. More recently it was under Chinese domination in the first decade of the twentieth century. In 1911, as a result of internal disorders within China, the Mongolians were able to break loose and set themselves up as an autonomous nation. This so-called period of autonomy lasted until 1921 at which time the Soviets gained de facto control of the government. Actual power still resided legally in the hands of a local theocratic ruler. Upon his death in 1924, the present government was established. Since 1924, Outer Mongolia has been a Soviet satellite in the same sense that the eastern European nations have been since the end of World War II. In fact, Outer Mongolia has the dubious distinction of having been the first “People's Republic” to survive as an “independent” nation. Recently, this small nation has been in the public eye as a result of the Soviet Union's unsuccessful attempt to secure for it UN status.

Chinese have been immigrating to Siam for at least six centuries. We are concerned here with the process whereby the descendants of Chinese immigrants become full members of Thai society. Assimilation is, of course, a social process. For the descendants of a given immigrant, its progress is defined by increasing social intercourse with members of Thai society, first public and then private and intimate; and by self-identification in an ever larger proportion of social situations as Thai rather than Chinese. Since social interaction is based on linguistic communication, assimilation perforce involves a command of the Thai language. Taking over the language of the society with which immigrants are in contact is but one part of acculturation, that is, the progressive incorporation of the way of life of the other society. While extensive acculturation can take place without complete assimilation, complete assimilation is inevitably accompanied or closely followed by fairly full acculturation. For our purposes here, assimilation is considered complete when the immigrant's descendant identifies himself in almost all social situations as a Thai, speaks the Thai language habitually and with native fluency, and interacts by choice with Thai more often than with Chinese.

Most of the discussion regarding the language issue in India so far has revolved about two problems. One of these concerns the spread of Hindi knowledge in those areas or fields of endeavor where other regional languages or English are now used; the other, the enrichment of Hindi vocabulary (or, as is usually stated, the development of the Hindi language), so as to make it possible to use it for dealing with topics related to modern science and technology. The Central Government and several of the state governments have devoted much effort towards the solution of these problems by setting up special departments for the creation of vocabulary lists to deal with new subjects, encouraging attempts to introduce Hindi in universities and legislative bodies, and fostering the growth of societies for the propagation of Hindi learning. These activities have aroused a great deal of controversy, and so much has been written about the pros and cons of the issues involved that the above two problems seem to be the only ones associated with language in the public mind.