As is well known, the 1857 mutiny of Indian soldiers in the Company Army – collectively known as sepoys – was prompted by the proposed introduction of a new weapon for general use, a rifled musket known as the Pattern 1853 Enfield. This weapon required a new kind of greased cartridge, the loading of which entailed a new “firing” drill. Controversies over this new cartridge and drill prompted discontent among the “native” soldiery, which ultimately led to the collective decision to refuse to touch the offending cartridge and, naturally, load the weapon – a refusal that constituted the “mutiny” phase of 1857. This chapter begins with a reexamination of this drill and the circuitous, controversial decision to order eighty-five elite “skirmishers” of the Bengal 3rd Light Cavalry to perform it in late April. Their refusal to obey that order led to their court-martial for mutiny and imprisonment. The violent revolt began two weeks later, but not in the cantonment proper. Rather, it began in a hybrid space of commerce, leisure, and recreation on the edge of the cantonment known as the “sadr” (main) bazaar. The bulk of the chapter is devoted to a description of the sadr bazaar and its denizens.

Chapter 6 examines another group of ‘returnees’ in Heyang: young entrepreneurs with various backgrounds of urban socialization. They represent a generation of youth caught in the crosshairs of institutionalized competition, an achievement-complex, mounting youth unemployment, and a pervasive experience of ‘involution.’ Through the social category of fanxiangqingnian, “return youth,” this chapter examines how xiangchou becomes a mobilizing discourse that can encourage return from the standpoint of individual choice and desire, and how it helps reshape the overall discourse surrounding the countryside as both a place and ‘lifestyle’ considered as desirable to return to. Xiangchou becomes a language of ‘escape’ and a materialized reality where one can seemingly ‘escape to’. However, the experience of the young entrepreneurs in Heyang also underscore the complexities of this ‘return’ in the forms of the limitations, challenges, and dilemmas that they encounter in the village.

The conclusion describes the current political circumstances after the 2022 presidential election and explores what this means for South Korean democracy. It summarizes the book’s main arguments and theoretical contributions to the broader field, and it outlines future directions for the study of right-wing politics and activism. I also discuss some of the comparative implications that this study has for a more general understanding of the relationship between historical legacies, political institutions, and democratic life.

This chapter focuses on the county level of analysis. Drawing from fieldwork conducted in the county seat, it studies the Jinyun County’s response to the 19th Party Congress and state’s further elaboration upon the Rural Revitalization Strategy. It highlights how a ’xiangchou plan’, concocted in summer 2018, culminated in a five-year developmental strategy: ’Jinyun’s Xiangchou Industries to Enrich the People’. Interviews highlight the county’s ambitions to coin the term “Xiangchou Industries” and to make it a national model for revitalization, replicable and adaptable by small towns and villages nationwide. The usage of xiangchou as the means and model for rural revival highlights the potency of feelings such as ‘homesickness’ embedded in xiangchou, and it reminds us how the countryside is central to the imagining of this ‘hometown.’ This Chapter also discusses the application of the ’hometown ethnography’ as method and explores the ’hometown’ as a topic for ethnographic study.

The military revolt and widespread rebellion that overtook north India in 1857 was, arguably, the most significant challenge to the British Empire in the nineteenth century. Given the global historical significance of 1857, it is not surprising that the events of that year have been subjected to intense scrutiny by historians – especially as that fateful year began to loom large after 1900 as “India’s First War of Independence.” Historians have long noted that the first serious blood spilled in 1857 occurred in the military garrison town of Meerut, north of Delhi. And historians almost always point to the catalyzing role of local women – usually described as “prostitutes” – of the cantonment bazaar, who were said to have provided the spark that set the cantonment on fire. But who were these women? Surprisingly, despite 170 years of historiography, this question has not been asked till now. It is at the heart of the present study.

Dehlvi’s 1914 memoir raises the possibility that the women of the Meerut were not bazaar prostitutes but “women whose men had been imprisoned” – “respectable” women, wives, mothers, sisters, and daughters. Building on this clue, this chapter asks who were these women, why were they at the cantonment, and how did they regard the British? For answers, this chapter turns to “family pension” records from the 1850s. What emerges are soldiers’ family relationships and, from the British point of view, their scandalous nature. British “Pension Paymasters” came to argue that many bereaved women receiving pensions were not what they claimed to be, namely, war widows. Official distrust of such women grew dramatically in the mid-1850s, largely based on a narrowing definition in the official mind of what constituted legitimate marriage. The result was the denial of pensions to these women and, not infrequently, their criminal prosecution, especially in the region of Bihar and eastern Uttar Pradesh, whose marriages were deemed insufficiently legitimate. Pension fraud investigations also revealed, in the western reaches around Delhi, the Punjab, and Afghanistan, secondary marriages to younger women.

Chapter 2 illustrates the ideologies and worldviews of the South Korean right. I specifically analyze the processes through which liberal democracy became a core ideological principle for the South Korean right and the ways in which the concepts of liberal democracy and freedom have been used by them. Tracing narratives and counternarratives about liberal democracy over time, I argue that the core ideas of liberal democracy championed by the South Korean right – as a defense against communism, North Korea, and the radical left – have not changed substantively. While liberal democracy, as used by the right, was merely political rhetoric intended to disguise political repression and legitimize authoritarian rule in the period before democratization, liberal democracy is currently used in a democratized context as the opposite of direct and participatory democracy and left populism. The right’s idea of liberal democracy in South Korea, with its fixation on anticommunism and the glorification of former authoritarian leaders, fundamentally distorts the meaning of democracy.

Starting with President Yoon Suk-yeol’s sudden martial law declaration on December 3, 2024, the introductory chapter presents a puzzle: Why did Yoon’s action gain substantial support from the ruling People Power Party and many citizens, and why is Korean society witnessing large-scale reactionary movements that fervently support the antidemocratic president and martial law? What are the larger structural conditions that have produced the current outcome? Emphasizing the roles of the far right in shaping post-authoritarian South Korean politics, the chapter introduces who belongs to the South Korean right wing and what their characteristics are. By locating the South Korean case in a larger global perspective, the introduction demonstrates how the particular historical and geopolitical conditions of the Korean War, national division, and authoritarianism have shaped the right-wing politics of South Korea in ways that are distinctive from their Western counterparts. Putting the interactions between historical legacies, right-wing infrastructures, and political actors on the right at the center of the analysis, the chapter builds a theoretical framework for the book. Then, I describe the methodology adopted in the book and provide an overview of each chapter.

This chapter introduces the central contextual and theoretical framework of this book. It provides a historical overview of the PRC’s development from the Mao era to the present, highlighting the formation and intensification of the urban-rural divide during a condensed period of urban-biased modernization. It then discusses how xiangchou is used and understood in this book within this developmental context as both a ‘structure of feeling’ and a form of affective governance. Literary and cultural analysis demonstrates how xiangchou can be understood akin to the nostalgic structure of feeling, whereas a discursive analysis of the term’s use in both state and academic discourses since the mid-2000s demonstrates its salience as both an emotionally affective and politically effective term. The language of xiangchou can blur the distinction between public and private desires, local and national imperatives, highlighting nodes of intersection between statecraft and the ordinary lives of citizens in villages like Heyang.

The epilogue provides a reflection on the experience of writing this book and it uses an anecdote surrounding the construction of a pond in Heyang village as a way to provide an update on the changes and developments in village life since the primary research for this book was conducted in 2017-2022.