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In the context of this symposium, this article reviews social science research in the emerging field of environment and health in China, with a particular focus on the impacts of pollution. It begins with a discussion of the particular nature of China's environment-related health problems, distinguishing the different challenges presented by diseases of poverty, affluence and transition. It then reviews recent developments in policy and civil society with regard to environment and health, and the extent to which work in the social sciences has advanced our knowledge of these and of state–society interactions. The article concludes with some reflections on the need for and challenges of interdisciplinary and international collaboration in this area.
Food safety is a matter of intense contestation in the Chinese media. Through three case studies, this article shows that government and corporate elites strive to maintain media hegemony while citizen-consumers and activists engage in counter-hegemonic practices. Under conditions of hegemony, citizen dissent is most likely to take one of two forms: diffused contention or radical protest. Like the yin and yang of civic dissent, these two forms are both the results of, and responses to, state and corporate hegemony.
After Bao Dai went to France in late 1953 to pursue possibilities for negotiating full independence with the Laniel government, Ngo Dinh Diem departed the United States for Europe, sensing that he may find a role in the changing situation. Ngo Dinh Diem’s youngest brother, Ngo Dinh Luyen (1914–1990), was a childhood friend of Bao Dai from their schoolboy days in France and served as a go-between. Although Bao Dai had never been comfortable with Ngo Dinh Diem’s strong anti-French attitude, in May 1954 he turned to him because there was no other person of his stature and reputation as an uncompromising nationalist. Furthermore, Ngo Dinh Nhu’s emergence as a political figure in Saigon the previous year suggested that Ngo Dinh Diem had a point of access into the political world of the State of Vietnam. Two other considerations were apparently on Bao Dai’s mind. Ngo Dinh Diem’s appointment would apply pressure on the French to sign the independence treaty, and no other Vietnamese politician was likely to elicit the American assistance that would be necessary for the future of his government. However, Bao Dai soon realized that with the appointment of Ngo Dinh Diem he had ended his role in the political life of his country, and he never returned to Vietnam.
In the summer of 1954, Ngo Dinh Diem was seemingly without any firm source of support. The United States was beginning to provide institutional assistance but was non-committal regarding Ngo Dinh Diem himself, being unsure of whether he would be able to surmount the daunting situation in Saigon. The French army had regrouped to southern Vietnam and was still the pre-eminent military force in the country. The French military commander and commissioner in Vietnam was General Paul Henri Romuald Ély (1897–1975), who made no secret of his opinion that Ngo Dinh Diem should be replaced.
After conquering the Yangtze River basin and proclaiming the Qin Empire in 221 bce, Qin Shi Huang, “The First Emperor of China,” sent thousands of his soldiers over the mountains into the valleys and coastlands of what is now South China. He also sent convicts and women to establish a population of northerners there. After years of hard fighting against local people, Qin commanders built a city on the site of modern Guangzhou (Canton), the main seaport for trade into the southern seas. When the Qin Empire collapsed after Qin Shi Huang’s death in the year 210 bce, this coastal outpost became the center of a regional kingdom ruled by the senior commanding officer, Zhao To.
As armies fought for control of the empire in the north, Zhao To proclaimed himself King of Nan Yue (Southern Yue). Zhao To is among the first historical figures with a role in Vietnamese history. Sometime during the first quarter of the second century bce, he extended his authority over the people living in the Red River plain of northern Vietnam. Yue had been the name of a state on the south-central coast of China (the modern province of Zhejiang) during the sixth to fourth centuries bce. It was appropriated by Zhao To and eventually applied to the Red River plain by ancient Chinese dynasties; in Vietnamese, it is pronounced Viet.
The Ly family was based in the upper plains of the Red River where they enjoyed direct control of what was then the agricultural core of the country. The Tran family viewed matters from the perspective of the coast, which by the mid twelfth century had become part of a lively network of foreign trade stimulated by the economy of Southern Song. The port of Van Don was a gathering place for merchants and travelers from the coasts of southern China and elsewhere. Here, local products found a market and foreign goods were available. Wealth accumulated in the hands of producers, traders, officials, and those who were politically and militarily ascendant, namely the Tran. The founding of the Tran dynasty brought a new perspective to Thang Long, linking it more directly to the economy and culture of Southern Song than was possible by any overland connection. It was the result, however, of a long and violent struggle during the second and third decades of the thirteenth century. Nguyen Non and Doan Thuong partitioned the Ly dynastic heartland and resisted the upriver advance of the Tran.
Possession of the king gave the Tran an advantage that they were quick to exploit. Within days of finding protection with her brother Tran Tu Khanh, Thuan Trinh gave birth to the princess Thuan Thien. A thatched palace was quickly built on the southern edge of Thang Long for Ly Sam, the king. Thuan Trinh was elevated to the status of queen. Tran Tu Khanh, his eldest brother Tran Thua, and Tran Thua’s eldest son Tran Lieu, then 5 years old, all received prestigious court appointments. Reinforced by men who followed the king, Tran Tu Khanh resumed his attacks on the two local strongmen who were his chief enemies, Nguyen Non at Bac Ninh and Doan Thuong at Hai Duong, pushing both men back and putting them on the defensive. An effort to present a façade of royal normalcy was undertaken in 1217 with the king’s birthday festival, replete with a five-peak bamboo mountain and outings for the king to watch fishermen.
Le Tranh had six sons. The eldest, although reported to have been intelligent and well educated, was so obstinate that while still small he poisoned his mother because she opposed his will. But what most disqualified him to be king was that he liked to wear women’s clothing. The second and third sons were born only seventy-five days apart in 1488. In 1499, Le Tranh had designated the third son, Le Thuan, as crown prince. He reportedly passed over the second son, Le Tuan, because he was “immature, without moral goodness, incompetent, and unworthy.” While the younger three sons and members of their entourages appear to have played roles in later intrigues, no further specific information about them has been recorded. Le Thuan’s mother, a royal concubine, had died when he was small. His paternal grandmother, the Truong Lac queen mother, was his adoptive mother.
Objections to Le Tuan being named crown prince were about more than his personal qualities. His mother had begun as a poor peasant across the river from Dong Kinh. Destitute, she had sold herself into slavery. When her owner was arrested for some unrecorded offense, she was confiscated and became the property of an official who brought her into royal service where she became a servant of Le Tranh’s mother. Le Tranh took her as a concubine. She died shortly after giving birth to Le Tuan. Another royal concubine named Nguyen Kinh raised the motherless boy and attached her aspirations to the prospect of him becoming king. Nguyen Kinh and members of Le Tuan’s mother’s family were disappointed when he was not named crown prince. However, this did not put an end to their hopes.
This paper attempts to revise aspects of the existing interpretations of Nie Hai Hua (A Flower in a Sinful Sea) by applying perspectives from post-colonial studies to the study of this late Qing Chinese novel. Here the novel is read as a national narrative that portrays the emergence of China as a modern nation state from a decaying empire, with its intelligentsia caught between their desire to embrace modernity and nostalgia for cultural traditions. From the mid-nineteenth century to the early twentieth century, traditional Chinese scholars were faced with a predicament: they were lured by the modernity represented by Western learning, on the one hand, but were tied by an emotional link to Chinese tradition, on the other. In a disintegrating society, they struggled both to preserve their own cultural identity and construct a new identity. The opposing groups of Chinese literati portrayed in the novel in fact reflect the schizophrenic state of the Chinese consciousness on the threshold of modernity.
To write the story of the nation demands that we articulate that archaic ambivalence that informs modernity.1