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In the world today, few nations are as homogeneous as Korea. There are no ethnic or linguistic minorities anywhere in its indigenous population. But the kinship-like bonds of this nation, together with its ties to the land itself, have fostered a monolithic view of the past. There is a tendency among Koreans to think of every artifact taken from Korea's soil as the handiwork of their forebears, every ancient tribe as ancestors, all prehistoric languages as forms of early Korean. However, in the remote past the Korean peninsula was a multicultural place.
Just when Korea became so homogeneous is not altogether clear, but certainly, there was a time when many diverse groups of people lived in that part of the world. Such was clearly the case around the beginning of the Christian era. In 108 BC, when Han Chinese forces first established commanderies on the peninsula, the region was already filled with local polities. In their interaction with these local groups, a process which had already been going on for centuries, the Chinese transcribed a scattering of names as best they could in phonograms. Some of the group names are thus preserved in Chinese historical annals; and from these records we know a little about where they lived and how they related to each other. But little institutional memory of the languages remains. For the most part, the vague records left about the peoples on the Korean peninsula provide room largely only for guesswork.
What is referred to here as “Early Modern Korean” extended from the beginning of the seventeenth century down to the end of the nineteenth century. It is the stage of the language represented in the texts written after the end of the Middle Korean period but before writing practices were updated and rationalized to reflect contemporary speech around the turn of the twentieth century. Early Modern Korean was, in that sense, a transition stage between Middle Korean and Contemporary Korean.
The Early Modern period began after the Japanese invasion of Korea in 1592. That invasion, followed by the seven, horrific years of the Imjin Wars, followed in turn by more years of widespread famine and disease, exacted a terrible price on Korean society. No books were published during that time, and when publication did resume around fifteen years later, Korean writing had changed. Gone were the diacritic dots used to mark tones; the triangle symbol used to write z had disappeared; consonant clusters and other kinds of spellings were confused and inconsistent; grammatical patterns and styles were noticeably altered. The differences in the textual records were so great, in fact, it was long believed that the wars with the Japanese had caused people to change the way they talked. Even today one sometimes hears it said that Hideyoshi's invasions caused Koreans to forget how to pronounce z's or to distinguish tones.
The story of Contemporary Korean begins with Korea's fitful emergence on the world stage in the late nineteenth century. The opening of Korean ports to outside powers brought sweeping political and social change to the country, and the pace and pressure only intensified over the next half-century. For the most part, the change was traumatic. The history of the Japanese colonial period, the partition of the country into north and south, and the culminating, internecine Korean War, was grim.
But the history of the language that played out against this backdrop was not altogether a story of misfortune. The reform of the language, particularly in how it was written, was very much at the center of what in Korea is called the “enlightenment period.” The stage for that movement was set in the early nineteenth century, when there developed out of the Sirhak (Practical Learning) tradition a body of scholarship, known as “enlightenment thought,” that argued for the opening of Korea to Western culture and technology. Then, when Korean ports were forcibly opened to foreign commerce with the Kanghwa Treaty of 1875, many of those Korean intellectuals looked toward constructing policies of reform and modernization. Thus began the “enlightenment period.”
At the top of the reformers' agenda was language. The creation of a modern state required a modern standard language for the proper functioning of society and government.
Whereas most discussions of history have centered on the rift between China and Japan, this book focuses on three other divisions stemming from deep-seated memories within Northern Asia, which increasingly will test U.S. diplomacy and academic analysis. The first division involves long-suppressed Japanese and South Korean memories that are critical of U.S. behavior – concerning issues such as the atomic bombings, the Tokyo Tribunal, and the Korean War. The second division is the enduring disagreement between Japan and South Korea over history. What can the United States do to invigorate urgently needed trilateral ties? The third and most important division is the revival of a sinocentric worldview, which foretells a struggle between China and other countries concerning history, one that has already begun in China's dispute with South Korea and is likely to implicate the United States above all.
Sir George Thomas Staunton (1781–1859), sinologist and politician, was a key figure in early nineteenth-century Anglo-Chinese relations. Staunton secured a post as a writer in the East India Company's factory in Canton in 1798 and was the only Englishman at the factory to study Chinese. He translated China's penal code and was promoted to chief of the Canton factory in 1816. He was a member of Britain's Amherst embassy to Peking in 1816–1817 to protest against mandarins' treatment of Canton merchants. The embassy failed to obtain an imperial interview but, despite being threatened with detention by the Chinese, Staunton insisted that the British should not submit to the emperor. Staunton returned to England in 1817, and served as a Tory MP between 1818 and 1852. Staunton's Memoirs, which were printed privately in 1856, provide a unique insight into nineteenth-century British perceptions of China.
This paper discusses the nature of local permutations of transnational Muslim networks in Thailand's southern Muslim-majority provinces and assesses their impact on creed, custom, and conflict in the region. More specifically, the paper interrogates the agenda and methods of idea and norm-propagation on the part of these agents and networks, and their evolving role, as well as the structures and conduits through which they operate and mobilize. In so doing, it finds a tremendously fluid and dynamic terrain in southern Thailand, where narratives, representations, and expressions of Islamic doctrine, legitimacy, and authority, are increasingly heavily contested within the Muslim community as a whole. In addition, the paper investigates the transnational dimensions of on-going violence in the southern provinces. Here, it argues that there is little by way of substantive evidence of any sustained penetration of the conflict in southern Thailand by external actors. No doubt, many have attempted to draw conclusions to the contrary, but their evidence and arguments, not to mention analytical methodology, are tenuous at best.
What is the nature of Chinese patriotism and nationalism, how does it differ from American patriotism and nationalism, and what impact do they have on Chinese foreign policy attitudes? To explore the structure and consequences of Chinese national identity, three surveys were conducted in China and the US in the spring and summer of 2009. While patriotism and nationalism were empirically similar in the US, they were highly distinct in China, with patriotism aligning with a benign internationalism and nationalism with a more malign blind patriotism. Chinese patriotism/internationalism, furthermore, had no impact on perceived US threats or US policy preferences, while nationalism did. The role of nationalist historical beliefs in structures of Chinese national identity was also explored, as well as the consequences of historical beliefs for the perception of US military and humiliation threats.
The lack of official government attention to Japanese war crimes during the Mao years has been widely acknowledged. Yet in the summer of 1956, years of preparatory work by Zhou Enlai culminated in the little-known and summarily dismissed trials of 1,062 self-confessed Japanese war criminals in Shenyang and Taiyuan. The extraordinarily lenient sentences given to 45 of the worst offenders – and wholesale pardons of 1,017 – were prompted by larger geopolitical considerations that effectively hamstrung PRC authorities from bringing the trials into closer alignment with previous ones in Europe and Japan. Zhou's determination to adopt a “policy of leniency” towards the Japanese prisoners, however, was sorely at odds with the sentiments of the general public. The need to prepare the people for a counterintuitive mass clemency saw a sudden and drastic shift in media discourse in 1954, followed by a series of remarkable cultural and intellectual campaigns that were designed to persuade the Chinese people that they should henceforth let bygones be bygones.
This article details the reorganization of China's national leadership training system, and analyses the reforms as an integral element of the Chinese Communist Party's efforts to adapt institutionally to a rapidly changing environment. Three main findings are presented. First, the national leadership training system is being remade under the direction of the Party's Central Organization Department to give greater emphasis to the “spirit of reform and innovation,” as seen especially in the creation of the China Executive Leadership Academy in Pudong, Shanghai, and in the formation of sister academies in Jinggangshan and Yan'an. Second, China's political elite have given greater priority to leadership innovation, although they are trying to balance this with ensuring that sufficient attention and resources are also given to preserving the ruling status of the CCP. Third, by establishing the new group of training academies under the COD, the Party is diversifying beyond the Party School system for leadership research and training. The article suggests that the guiding logic behind these reforms is to promote enough innovation in managerial training and research to enable the Party to meet the changing governance requirements of the market transition and economic globalization, while at the same time putting in place institutional measures that help to preserve the Party's rule.