To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
Of course, there are some men and women who, for the sake of idle pleasures, are unwilling to take on the responsibility of having children; such people should be educated in socialist morals, to make them understand that bringing up children is a parental responsibility, and is also every citizen's duty to the state.
Zhongguo funü (Women of China), 1955 (Evans 1995:368)
Sex is a critical site where the normalizations of cultural citizenship are being reformulated. If the passion to pursue the meaningfulness of sexual desire propels Chinese men into transnational networks, it also lies at the heart of cultural citizenship. Cultural citizenship, perhaps more so than legal subjectivity or theories of psychological personality, establishes proper and improper sex in postsocialist China.
Lisa Rofel (2007:95)
Citizens of the People's Republic of China, no longer subjects of the old imperial regime, embody notions of gender and sexuality with deep roots in the past. Even in the gay community that has grown in major urban centers, powerful affinities for family and kinship continue to dominate nascent sexual identities. The most important link that embodied citizens share with their late imperial ancestors lies in the connection between childrearing and loyalty to the government. The Qing government installed Mencian Confucianism as the prevailing orthodoxy, and it was Mencius who declared that not having a son was the most unfilial act of all. A son's foremost obligation to his parents was to have a son of his own to continue the family line. Similarly, to “seek a loyal subject in a filial son” was a maxim of late imperial governance, and the Qing court campaigned relentlessly to anchor all male subjects firmly in families in which they could be properly socialized as orderly subjects. China's Communist government remains firmly committed to family-based citizenship, particularly in the post-Mao era.
In a family-based polity, childbearing and childrearing are the tasks of mothers, whose privileged role was vaunted and protected by late imperial policies. The Qing court bestowed honorific titles on mothers and grandmothers of successful officials. Literati memoirs never failed to pay homage to the guidance and sacrifice of mothers. And the vast medical corpus devoted to “women's medicine” elaborated the formulae and protocols for conceiving, carrying, and delivering healthy babies, especially boys (Yi-Li Wu 2010). A mother's moral character as well as her education shaped her ability to nurture a fetus, as detailed prescriptions for taijiao (fetal instruction) show. In that sense, a woman's fidelity to her husband's family was an integral part of her pledge of loyalty to the government. It bound her to bear and rear the offspring of the next generation, to carry on the family line and supply subjects loyal to the state – or, failing that, to supply her husband with a concubine who would bear sons for her, or see to the adoption of an heir in the event of her husband's untimely death.
Boji was a widow.…Once…she found herself at night in a house that had caught fire. Those nearby cried, “Lady, flee!” Boji said, “The rule for women is that when the matron and governess are not present, they do not leave the house at night. I await the coming of the matron and governess.” [The matron arrived, but the governess did not, and so]…she continued to stay there until the fire reached her and she died.…Thus did Boji fulfill to the utmost the duty of wifehood.
Liu Xiang, Lienü zhuan (Biographies of Exemplary Women), first century BCE, chapter 4.2 (O’Hara 1945:105).
One year after my mother died I got a stick and a bowl and started out begging. It was the spring of the year and I was twenty-two. It was no light thing for a woman to go out of her home. That is why I put up with my old opium sot so long. But now I could not live in my house and had to come out. When I begged I begged in the parts of the city where I was not known, for I was ashamed.
Ning Lao T’ai-t’ai (Pruitt 1945:62)
Boji was an aristocrat who lived before the first century CE. Ning Lao T’ai-t’ai was a working woman who came of age at the end of the Qing dynasty. Each articulates clearly a conviction that women belong at home, and that “coming out” risks shame and dishonor. To be sure, Boji was mildly ridiculed by a noted sixteenth-century scholar who found her story an example of womanly virtue taken too far (Handlin 1975:19–20). But the testimony of Ning Lao T’ai-t’ai shows that ideas about the proper separation of men and women retained their power into the twentieth century.
Her body is pure, her heart is settled, and moral principles are upheld. Growing up, she obeyed her parents’ original instruction. Following their original instructions, she guarded against her own feelings. “Not violating [parents’ wishes]” means not breaching moral principles. The words of her betrothal came from her parents. Bringing no blemish to her body and no disgrace to her parents, The key to upholding her will is determination. She would die if her will was taken away; if it prevailed, she would live. Because her will could not be taken away, she took her life.
Poem by a faithful maiden in praise of a faithful maiden's suicide, Qing dynasty, eighteenth century (Weijing Lu 2008:148)
One day I was called in to show my goods to a family where the daughter was to be married. I saw her. She was not beautiful, but was well grown and pleasant to look upon. A month later I heard that she was dead. She had taken opium. Her family had sold her to a wealthy man of the town for a concubine.
In their close reading of the romantic drama The Western Wing, Stephen West and Wilt Idema paused to wonder why scholars had done so little historical research on the rich field of Chinese sexuality (1991:141–153). They blamed Confucianism and Marxism:
In China the ascendancy of neo-Confucianism after the fifteenth century, if it did not silence the earthy voice of Chinese vernacular literature, at least drove it into a kind of silent limbo. In modern China an interest in sex is officially attributed to bourgeois decadence. While traditional critics are wont to shunt the issue aside by simply saying that a certain passage is “vulgar” (li 俚), the silence of modern scholars, as philologically gifted as they are, is surely due to the fact that they too are heirs to the neo-Confucian tradition. (1991:141)
Anyone can see their point: just try checking the index of standard textbooks and sourcebooks on premodern (or modern!) Chinese history for the words “sex” and “sexuality.” Never mind that China's earliest philosophers were fascinated by sexual appetites, or that China's government has been constantly engaged in the process of regulating and prescribing sexual behavior. Historians seem not to be paying attention.
When the People's Republic of China (PRC) was formally established on 1 October 1949 the nation's new leaders faced daunting problems. Society and polity were fragmented, public order and morale had decayed, a war-torn economy suffered from severe inflation and unemployment, and China's fundamental economic and military backwardness created monumental impediments to the elite's goals of national wealth and power. Yet by 1957 the leaders of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) could look back on the period since 1949 with considerable satisfaction. A strong centralized state had been established after decades of disunity, China's national pride and international prestige had grown significantly as a result of fighting the world's greatest power to a stalemate in Korea, the country had taken major steps on the road to industrialization and achieved an impressive rate of economic growth, the living standards of its people had made noticeable if modest progress, and the nation's social system had been transformed according to Marxist precepts in relatively smooth fashion.
The poem discussed has long been regarded as a “nonsense” poem that was extemporized as part of some kind of poetry game at Court. This article presents evidence to demonstrate that through the use of puns and double entendre the poet in fact ingeniously devised a witty scatological verse. Rather than “nonsense”, the poem is discovered to offer covertly a deeply satirical social commentary on the contemporaneous relationships between men and women, aristocrats and outcastes.
Unlike most ancient Arabic poetry, the poems attributed to Umayya b. Abī l-Ṣalt treat subjects that are also prominent in the Quran, such as creation, eschatology, and episodes from Biblical history. The authenticity of this corpus has, however, been the subject of some controversy. After a critical survey of previous scholarship, this article examines one particular passage from the Umayya corpus dealing with the destruction of the ancient tribe of Thamūd, which, it is argued, is likely to be pre-Quranic. The article then proceeds to highlight the crucial differences, both in content and in literary format, that exist between Umayya's retelling of the Thamūd narrative and its earliest Quranic version, and concludes with a number of general remarks on the Quran's religious milieu as reflected in Umayya's literary output.
Conventional historiography presumes a linear development from urbanisation, the rise of indigenous middle classes and the spread of modernity towards nationalism as the logical outcome of this process. This article aims to disconnect modernity from nationalism by focusing on the role of cultural citizens in the late colonial period for whom modernity was a desirable lifestyle. The extent to which their desires and the interests of the colonial regime coincided is illustrated by a variety of advertisements and school posters, which invited members of the indigenous urban middle class to become cultural citizens of the colony.
According to the existing studies on Myanmar's economic history, agricultural land in the Lower Myanmar delta was transferred from ‘agriculturists’ to ‘non-agriculturists’ under British colonial rule. However, a clear distinction could not be drawn between the agriculturists and non-agriculturists as was generally thought with respect to their economic activity. More importantly, the categories could be applied interchangeably. The purpose of this study is to reconsider the very concept of ‘agriculturist’ as a colonial category in British Burma by exploring the hitherto unused register of holdings (Register IA, U pain hmatpoun sayin).
S.M. Kartosuwiryo, famed leader of the long and bloody Darul Islam rebellion which began in West Java in 1948, was a strong supporter of the Indonesian independence struggle and a champion of the Indonesian Republic proclaimed in 1945. This article seeks to understand how it was that Kartosuwiryo came to oppose that very Republic with such violence in 1948–49. Many scholars have sought to explain the origins of the Darul Islam movement in terms of Kartosuwiryo's fanatic Islamist ambition. However, a detailed examination of the circumstances of the revolt's gestation and outbreak indicates that it was a consequence of a complex interplay of historically contingent circumstances rather than any ideological fixity.