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An ancient civilization emerged in the Red River delta of what is today northern Vietnam which, by about 500 BCE, was characterized by the production of magnificent bronze drums. The region fully entered recorded history, however, only after Chinese imperial conquests extended into the area beginning in 214 BCE. Soon afterwards the area became part of an independent kingdom called Southern Yue (Nam Viet). In 111 BCE, it was absorbed into the Han Dynasty. The Red River delta then remained loosely part of empires based in China until 938 CE, when a Cantonese invasion fleet was defeated, and the Red River area became an independent state called Dai Viet. In the thirteenth century Dai Viet heroically repulsed three Mongol invasions, and in the fifteenth century Dai Viet began to expand south into the land of Champa (today’s central Vietnam). By the eighteenth century, Viet rule extended to the far southern Mekong delta. Meanwhile, from the sixteenth century Vietnam was divided between northern and southern strongmen. A major rebellion that began in 1771 ended with the unification of the whole of Vietnam under the Nguyen dynasty in 1802.
Vijayrajsinh, the leader of the protesting farmers in Dholera, often complained about how people from the BJP have captured the mamlatdar office (Block Development Office). According to him, they do not let any work happen without approval from the local BJP leaders. He claimed that the mamlatdar advised him to speak to the local BJP head to expedite the process of converting his agricultural land to non-agricultural land. Furious at this, Vijayrajsinh preferred to wait instead of talking to a ‘stupid’ from the BJP.
In the initial days of fieldwork, I viewed these stories usually targeted against the RSS or BJP with suspicion. After all, Vijayrajsinh was fighting against the BJP government in his opposition to the Dholera SIR project. However, spending time, one could witness the ubiquity of middlemen, brokers inside the government offices, and how each one of them was associated with the Hindutva organisations. Thus, these ‘men’ from right-wing Hindu nationalist organisations were part of the everyday state. For example, interviews with talatis working in and around the Dholera SIR villages that witnessed a massive spike in land prices underlined it. The talatis are government officials at the lowest echelons of bureaucracy in rural Gujarat tasked with duties such as maintaining crop and land records of the village, collecting tax revenue and irrigation dues in addition to delivering government-led development projects. In private, they agreed to have brokered land deals for private buyers, in many cases by using their past networks in Hindutva organisations. While their task as officials was to act as conduits to bring the state closer to citizens, their moonlighting was entirely against such a novel idea.
Similarly, in land deals, there is a ubiquity of private intermediaries usually referred to as dalals (brokers). Broker is used here to refer to the private agents or intermediaries who are not officially associated with the state. Under middlemen, I include both brokers and government officials who moonlight.
In recent years, the Japanese public has hailed a new national hero, the late Lieutenant General Higuchi Kiichirō. Unlike other notable military figures of his era, Higuchi’s heroism is unconventional, if not unique. Despite playing a leading role in the defence of Hokkaido against the Soviet Red Army in 1945, it is humanitarian efforts that have cemented Higuchi’s lasting legacy in public memory. Presently, a plethora of publications, TV documentaries, a museum, and monuments praise his actions during the ‘Otpor Incident’, in which he is said to have saved up to 20,000 Jewish refugees stranded in the winter of 1938 along the Soviet-Manchukuo border. This article questions the authenticity of Higuchi’s acclaimed rescue efforts, highlighting discrepancies that cast doubt on the entire narrative. It suggests the possibility of the ‘Otpor Incident’ being a complete fabrication or, at best, an extremely exaggerated account of a minor event, aimed at enhancing post-war personal and national reputations. Critically, this piece contends that Higuchi’s current recognition is part of a strategic move by nationalist groups in Japan to use Holocaust narratives to divert attention from Japan’s history of wartime aggression and colonialism. To substantiate this view, this article assesses the evidence of Higuchi’s involvement in the supposed rescue, examines the narrative’s post-war evolution, and analyses the motives for its initial dissemination and recent surge in popularity.
This article looks at the opium economy and the opium regime in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century British Burma, focusing particularly on the Burma–China and Burma–Siam borderlands. It explores British responses to complaints from China, as well as Siam, regarding the smuggling of opium from Burma in the very decades — the 1910s, 1920s, 1930s — when the world was moving towards regulation and prohibition. It explains how and why the British Burma government failed to curb both the cultivation of poppy in Burma's uplands and the smuggling of opium to/from neighbouring China and Siam. The colonial government frequently sought to explain away why so little had been achieved and why opium continued to find its way across the border (e.g., from Kengtung state to Siam). Rather than taking these facts at face value, this article reveals the potent relationship between borderlands, smuggling, and state-making, while linking this finding to ideas about Zomia and establishing what was distinctive about the Burma–China–Siam borderland compared with others in the British Empire in Asia.