The 1895 riot at Kalugumalai in the Tirunelveli District of Madras Presidency, South India, pitted the local Nadar community, then newly-converted to Roman Catholicism, against the main Hindu castes of Kalugumalai, particularly those associated with its Hindu temple and the Ettaiyapuram zamindari estate within which the town lay. It was the violent climax to a long-running dispute over the Nadars' right to take processions through the main streets, and one of the bloodiest episodes in a conflict which posed a severe threat to public order throughout South India in the late nineteenth century.

To call Chinese nationals who have emigrated abroad ‘overseas Chinese’ seems very natural, especially since most joined together to form communities of fellow nationals outside of China. (It is not always appropriate to include the children and grandchildren of these emigrants, however.) The term implies a uniformity to the communities that Crissman made explicit in a model which proposed to tie them together and link them to cities in China.

The starting point of this essay is with some findings on employment in the South Indian city of Coimbatore which we reported in an earlier paper (Harriss, 1982). There we described the principal social characteristics of broad groups of workers, defined after categories proposed by Bromley and Gerry (1979)—those of ‘permanent wage work’, ‘short-term wage work’, ‘casual work’ and ‘self-employment’ or ‘dependent work’ in petty production and trade. We established that in Coimbatore there is little movement of individual workers from other forms of employment into permanent wage work and also that it is unusual to find households with members both in permanent wage work and in other forms of employment. These findings prompt the question whether or not there can be said to exist a ‘labour aristocracy’ in the city of Coimbatore. More broadly they suggest questions concerning forms of social organization and class formation amongst urban workers. We will take up these questions here complementing our earlier studies of small-scale production and the relationships between different levels of production in Coimbatore, and so contributing to the rather limited literature on the lives and work of the urban working poor of India. A further part of our purpose is thus to describe the backgrounds, conditions of work, residential communities and organizations of this important group of people.

While it is very well known that the small Indian state of Kerala has many extraordinary anthropological, demographic, ecological, economic, educational, historical, political, religious, etc. features (which are reflected in a vast and to some extent learned literature), so that it is quite unlike what Stokes denotes as ‘the great agricultural plains areas, which for centuries before the British had experienced large-scale political organization’, it is yet possible that certain of its peculiarities are still insufficiently appreciated. So I here note some of the ‘surprises’ (as well as the uncertainties) which I experienced as a result of spending nearly three months in 1981–82 doing fieldwork in the lowlands of rural Trivandrum District, in the extreme south of Kerala, while also consulting the excellent library of the Centre for Development Studies near Trivandrum city. Whether Kerala bears comparison with Java, as some have claimed, I cannot say; but, of course, it provided an extraordinary contrast to the villages in southeastern Karnataka where I had worked in 1977–78.

Siam and the Semi-colonial Issue

The issue of Siam as a semi-feudal, semi-colonial social formation, mooted by Thai Marxists in the 1950s, and again in the 1970s, has by the 1990s by and large been set aside by critically-minded academics for its inability to provide a lineage for the strain of capitalist mode of production that has emerged by the second half of the twentieth century. Nevertheless, the ‘semi-colonial’ as an analytical framework retains its force in confronting the assumed independence and an unreflexive racially based elite nationalism that has so defined Thai self-representations and public culture, but also in how Thailand is understood by others.

The existing literature has examined the Chinese nationalism of Chinese overseas merchants, detailing their financial contributions to the anti-Japanese war and their participation in boycott movements of Japanese goods. This paper uses Japanese consular reports, prewar Japanese publications, as well as Chinese and Japanese newspapers from Taiwan, Fujian, Japan, Singapore, and the United States to study the adoption of multiple nationalities, including Japanese nationality, by overseas Chinese merchants to reduce commercial risk and seek out economic opportunity. The phenomenon suggests that overseas Chinese merchants were not simply agents of Chinese nationalism.

As China approaches economic superpower status, its need to achieve considerably higher standards of corporate governance is becoming paramount. Despite impressive recent advances in its capital and stock exchange markets, the on-going overhang of state ownership in its former state-owned enterprises, together with an unwieldy and ineffective dual board governance system, has left China facing major corporate governance problems that will deter the private investment necessary for its continued growth. This paper illustrates these problems, and suggests possible reforms that will provide the foundation for the efficient further development of China's capital markets that is needed to help China become a major economic superpower.

Central to the modern rebirth of Bodh Gaya as the place of Buddha's enlightenment is the growing influence of Buddhist missionaries and transnational religious networks on this pilgrimage landscape in North India. Although this process began in the late nineteenth century, it was not until after India's independence that Buddhism became an integral part of the nation-building project and a key site of post-colonial diplomacy with neighbouring Asian countries. Symbolic of these international and diplomatic ties are the increasing numbers of foreign Buddhist monasteries and temples that have acquired land around Bodh Gaya. This paper seeks to document the historical and transnational religious processes that support the growing globalization of Bodh Gaya and to survey the institutional means through which monasteries have elevated the Buddhist memory of the site. In tracing these different national and regional networks of Buddhism, I argue that there is an underlying tension between Buddhist culture anchored in the national polity and the forces of globalization and religious experience that seek to transcend it.

This paper explores the politics of Sri Lanka's Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP) in the post-1994 period, when it re-created itself as a mainstream parliamentary political party and came to play a critical role in the collapse of the 2001–2004 peace process. The fundamental analytical enigma of the JVP lies in explaining its hybrid Marxist/Sinhala nationalist persona, which enabled it to craft a highly effective campaign of opposition to the Ranil Wickremasinghe government's two-track agenda of peace with market reforms. This paper examines how the JVP's Marxism relates to its Sinhala nationalism, and how it fits within the Sri Lanka's Marxist tradition as a whole. It argues that the JVP's increasing emphasis on Sinhala nationalism post-1999 has occurred in the context of de-radicalisation and parliamentary habilitation, and discusses the relevance of its ideological orientation to the material basis of Sinhala nationalism and its relationship with the social democratic state.

Writing to John Morley, the Secretary of State for India, a few days after the first terrorist bomb was thrown by a Bengali, the Viceroy Lord Minto declared that the conspirators aimed ‘at the furtherance of murderous methods hitherto unknown in India which have been imported from the West, and which the imitative Bengali has childishly accepted’.This notion later was taken up and developed by Times correspondent Valentine Chirol, who wrote that Bengalis had ‘of all Indians been the most slavish imitators of the West, as represented, at any rate, by the Irish Fenian and the Russian anarchist’. Chirol went on to say that ‘European works on various periods of revolutionary history figure almost invariably amongst seizures of a far more compromising character whenever the Indian police raids some centre of Nationalist activity.’ This indicated that Bengali revolutionary terrorism was simply a takeoff on the European variety. The only indigenous element in it was the dangerous infusion of Hindu religious fanaticism.

In an age sceptical of the historic role of great men there is universal agreement that Mahomed Ali Jinnah was central to the Muslim League's emergence after 1937 as the voice of a Muslim nation; to its articulation in March 1940 of the Pakistan demand for separate statehood for the Muslim majority provinces of north-western and eastern India; and to its achievement in August 1947 of the separate but truncated state of Pakistan by the Partition of India. Subcontinental judgements of Jinnah are bound to be parti pris and to exaggerate his individual importance. While Pakistanis generally see him as the Quaid-i-Azam, Great Leader, or father of their nation, Indians often regard him as the Lucifer who tempted his people into the unforgivable sin against their nationalist faith. Among distinguished foreign scholars, unbiassed by national commitment, his stature is similarly elevated. Sir Penderel Moon has written:

There is, I believe, no historical parallel for a single individual effecting such a political revolution; and his achievement is a striking refutation of the theory that in the making of history the individual is of little or no significance. It was Mr Jinnah who created Pakistan and undoubtedly made history.

The rule of law has always been cherished as one of the key institutions central to the successful transformation of Hong Kong from ‘a barren rock’ into a global city. The colonial administration's respect for the principles of the rule of law, however, has been tested by sporadic political turbulence during the 150 years of British rule. Due process of law and other key principles of English laws have been compromised by political expediency when the colonizers felt threatened by challenges from various sources. The 1967 Riots was one of those difficult times. Despite the facade of public support for firmness against disturbances enjoyed by the colonial government, the exercise of some of these emergency powers, particularly the powers to detain and deport, remained highly controversial. With normalization of the Anglo-Chinese relationship in mind, the confrontation prisoners constituted a stumbling block for renewing the friendship with Beijing. The various attempts made by London at pressurizing the Hong Kong government for early release of these prisoners attest to the prevalence of political expediency over the respect for the rule of law under colonial rule.

With an interest in historicizing contemporary philanthropic formations such as corporate social responsibility, this article outlines the modern Indian governmental coding of charity as a function of profit. To do so, it charts a trajectory of legal-fiscal policy on charitable tax exemption in India, especially since the 1940s. Informed by the study of vernacular capitalism, research on economization and on epistemologies of calculation, the analysis maps juridical trajectories on the idea of charity, its relationship with trade, and, more specifically, profit-making. It demonstrates how the legal mechanism of the public trust, which serves in the late nineteenth century to institutionalize a strict distinction and separation between charity and profit-making, later reconfigures and connects them by buttressing the main legal criterion for charity in India, that is, ‘general public utility’. This legal story is deployed to draw attention to philanthropy more broadly as a key terrain for research on processes of economization and neoliberal governing. At the same time, the argument also works against the grain of palimpsests in contemporary public discourse which stage a continuous and direct line from pre-colonial vernacular practices to Indian philanthropy today.

The consolidation of the Delhi Sultanate coincided with the Mongol devastation of Transoxiana, Iran and Afghanistan. This paper studies the Persian literature of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries invested as it was in the projection of the court of the Delhi Sultans as the ‘sanctuary of Islam’, where the Muslim community was safe from the marauding infidel Mongols. The binaries on which the qualities of the accursed Mongols and the monolithic Muslim community were framed ignored the fact that a large number of Sultanate elites and monarchs were of Turkish/Mongol ethnicity or had a history of prior service in their armed contingents. While drawing attention to the narrative strategies deployed by Sultanate chroniclers to obscure the humble frontier origins of its lords and masters, my paper also elaborates on steppe traditions and rituals prevalent in early-fourteenth-century Delhi. All of these underlined the heterogeneity of Muslim Sultanate society and politics in the capital, a complexity that the Persian litterateurs were loath to acknowledge in their records.

The merchant who arrives in a locality unknown to him must also carefully arrange in advance to secure a reliable representative, a safe lodging house, and whatever besides is necessary, so that he is not taken in by a slow payer or by a cheat.

During the last ninety years of British rule in India, the ‘Jewel of the Empire’ was, as Lord Salisbury remarked in 1882, easily regarded by many British imperialists as ‘an English barrack in the Oriental Seas from which we may draw any number of troops without paying for them’. In more prosaic terms India was seen as a permanent strategic reserve and the principal means by which British interests were secured throughout Asia, from Suez to Wei-hei-wei. As such, India was a central component in the British imperial system. The empire's matchless prestige, its wealth and apparent power all stemmed in large measure from India. In the second half of the nineteenth century the Raj, the East India trade and the Indian Army demonstrated a combination of power which Britain's imperial rivals might envy but never surpass. The central importance of India is illustrated by the Victorian conception of imperial defence, which was seen to depend on the twin pillars of naval supremacy and the defence of India. The only serious military commitment which British planners admitted before the turn of the century was the possibility of meeting a Russian invasion of India across the North West Frontier. This threat existed mostly in the minds of British generals. Britain and Russia came closest to war on the Frontier at the time of the Penjdeh incident in 1885, but even then the likelihood of a Russian expedition against India was hardly more than remote. Nevertheless, the threat of invasion was the principal rationale for the nature and size of the Army in India and this consideration guided Lord Kitchener's reforms of the Indian Army during his time as Commander-in-Chief from 1902 to 1909.

The United Malays National Organization has been the strongest Malay political party since its foundation in May 1946; its leaders place it pre-eminent in the history of Malay nationalism and Malayan independence. Needless to say, these claims have been disputed by its opponents and queried by its students; not only have the origins of Malay nationalism been traced to the pre-war era, but also, it can be argued, in its early years the party's leaders were more concerned to safeguard Malay rights vis à vis the other races of Malaya, and were more inclined to collaborate with the British authorities in opposition to radicalism within their own community, than to struggle for self-government. Nevertheless, the formation of U.M.N.O. was a remarkable event. For the first time a mass and pan-peninsula Malay movement emerged to attack British policy. Its popular support, forceful leadership and effective organization surprised Briton and Malay alike. U.M.N.O. amounted to an unprecedented Malay response to colonial rule.

Post-independence ethnic minorities inhabiting the Southeast Asian borderlands were willingly or unwillingly pulled into the macro politics of territoriality and state formation. The rugged and hilly borderlands delimiting the new nation-states became battlefronts of state-making and spaces of confrontation between divergent political ideologies. In the majority of the Southeast Asian borderlands, this implied violent disruption in the lives of local borderlanders that came to affect their relationship to their nation-state. A case in point is the ethnic Iban population living along the international border between the Indonesian province of West Kalimantan and the Malaysian state of Sarawak on the island of Borneo. Based on local narratives, the aim of this paper is to unravel the little known history of how the Iban segment of the border population in West Kalimantan became entangled in the highly militarized international disputes with neighbouring Malaysia in the early 1960s, and in subsequent military co-operative ‘anti-communist’ ‘counter-insurgency’ efforts by the two states in the late 1960–1970s. This paper brings together facets of national belonging and citizenship within a borderland context with the aim of understanding the historical incentives behind the often ambivalent, shifting and unruly relationship between marginal citizens like the Iban borderlanders and their nation-state.

The notion that the series of alarming events in Europe in the first half of the seventeenth century might be connected goes back at least as far as Voltaire. Professional historians of Europe during the past forty years have fixed on this period as the principal case to test the idea that societies can undergo a ‘general crisis’, in which agricultural, demographic, climatic, economic, military and political factors are interrelated (Hobsbawm 1954; Trevor-Roper 1959; Aston 1965; Parker and Smith 1978; Parker 1979). For some this was the crisis of the transition to capitalism, for others that of the absolutist state, while more recent commentators have put more emphasis on climatic and environmental factors. The causal connections between the various factors remain the most puzzling unresolved problem.

‘. . . [T]he awakened untouchable today is repeatedly asking them [the Congress] if they could not remove the ‘social evil’ of their own creation without political power, how do they expect us [the untouchables] to liberate ourselves without political power’. (Shastri, Poona Pact. 1946, p. 24)

‘This is 1946, not 1932’. (Shastri, Poona Pact. 1946, p.76)

Shankaranand Shastri's statements help us locate two related propositions that came to constitute Dalit politics in Uttar Pradesh in the 1940s. The first proposition deals with claims made by Dalits to acquire political power—specifically in the form of adequate representation in the provincial legislative assemblies and in the Constituent Assembly. They demanded positive discrimination in the form of reservations within legislative and executive institutions. Safeguards for Dalits, it was argued, should be incorporated into the proposed constitution for Indian citizens. The second proposition concerns achhut identity, through which Dalits hoped to reconstitute their polity in UP. The Scheduled Castes Federation (SCF) and even a section of Congress Harijans staked a claim for achhut identity to distinguish their difference from ‘other communities.’ Dalit writings increasingly depicted the Poona Pact as a great betrayal by the Congress and the British. From their experience of the two general elections of 1937 and 1946, they argued that the electoral mechanism worked out under the aegis of the Poona Pact was structured against the Dalits.