Contention about representations of history and the purposes of History education has long surrounded Japanese History textbooks. From 2012, the ascent of powerful nationalist Prime Minister Abe Shinzō raised questions about possible political pressures on textbook content. This article analyzes recent market-leading junior high school and high school History textbooks to discover how pedagogical format and content related to controversial topics or national identity have changed since 2012. It finds that leading junior high school textbooks have largely maintained their representation of controversial topics, while developing investigative, analytic pedagogical approaches. Coverage of some aspects of ethnic and cultural diversity within Japan has increased. Following the implementation of a new curriculum from 2022, some high school textbooks for the new compulsory subject “Integrated History” facilitate a more analytic, “disciplinary” pedagogy than previously evident in compulsory high school History. Nonetheless, an “enhancing collective memory” approach to History pedagogy remains central throughout secondary education. These developments suggest that power over History education in Japan is distributed between a range of actors. The state, the market, and social pressures all influence the content of History textbooks in Japan.

This article explores the early development of Japan’s recording industry, focusing on locally driven “minor transnational engagements” between emerging Japanese record companies and foreign recording experts. The initial phase of Japan’s recording history mirrored the pattern in most countries from the early 1900s, with major record companies organizing international recording expeditions equipped with new acoustic disc recording technology. However, it was homegrown firms in the 1910s, especially the Nipponophone Company (Nihon Chikuonki Shōkai 日本蓄音器商會), that positioned themselves as the main producers of Japanese titles and gramophones. In the second half of the 1920s, the industry evolved further with the introduction of electrical recording technology, and Japanese record companies embraced it by partnering with international labels to establish multinational ventures. With a focus on the acoustic recording era of the 1910s and early 1920s, this article investigates Nipponophone’s recruitment of foreign recording experts, who not only shared their technical knowledge but also served as strategic conduits for expanding the company’s presence across regional and international markets. Nipponophone and other domestic record companies grew through expert collaborations and secondhand emulation. Their efforts, rather than global campaigns led by the multinational major labels, played a decisive role in shaping Japan’s early recording industry.

During the Imjin War (1592–1598), a new type of warfare centered on the harquebus was introduced into Korea. This led to the formation of a new infantry-based military composed largely of harquebusiers. Existing scholarship on the military change of Korea in this period has primarily focused on the emergence of the standing army. However, most of the troops were militiamen, similar to those of the prewar military. This article examines the broader contours of Korea’s military organization during this transformative period, with particular attention to the composition and roles of the forces. To be sure, a new standing army unit was organized, but its proportion was small both in absolute numbers and in participation in actual warfare. Instead, the militia continued to constitute the core of the Korean military and carried out the majority of wartime operations. The Korean court did not intend to raise a standing army as the new center of military power. This was due to its strong ideological commitment to the militia system and the actual military environment that Korea was facing. The Korean case presents a distinctive example of how the introduction of harquebus could coexist with the persistence of militia-based military structures.

This article interrogates the entrenched binary between modernism and realism in postwar Korean art through an analysis of the multifaceted practice of Shin Hak-chul (b. 1943). While often associated with 1980s minjung (people’s) art, Shin’s work resists reductive classification, exploring both modernist experimentation and realist critique. From the 1960s to the 1980s, his trajectory challenged the formalism of institutional modernism while reimagining the conceptual, affective, and material scope of realism. Examining his use of object-installation, photomontage, sculpture, and painting, this study shows how his work rendered the real as a convergence of material presence, perceptual immediacy, and historical consciousness. Central to the analysis is Shin’s Modern Korean History series (1980–1985), which exemplifies what I term “monumental corporeality”: a visual language of embodied memory and historical trauma. Situating Shin’s practice within both the Korean art world and broader postwar currents, the article advances an original, elastic historiography of contemporary Korean art – one attentive to how artists negotiated intersecting esthetic and sociohistorical imperatives amid rapid modernization. More broadly, it reframes realism as both a critical method and a transhistorical form within global debates over history, form, and representation.

This article has a two objectives. The first objective is to investigate the history of identity politics in Bangladesh from the British and Pakistani periods to the post-independence era. It argues that the syncretic culture that flourished during the Muslim rule was deliberately disrupted by the British divide-and-rule policy of partitioning Bengal in 1905 along religious lines, fomenting such communal hatred between Hindus and Muslims that resulted in the partition of 1947, with East Bengal joining Pakistan. This also sowed the seeds of identity politics and a “pendulum syndrome” in future Bangladeshi politics, marked by a perpetual strife between advocates of ethnolinguistic nationalism on one side and religious nationalism on the other, which has become a perennial source of violence and volatility for the nation, hindering its growth and progress. The second objective is to explore how Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore has been drawn into this strife, facing accusations of being an Islamophobe and a Hindu chauvinist, and why there have been recurrent attempts to replace his song as the country’s national anthem. The article concludes with a rebuttal to such accusations based on evidence highlighting the song’s historical contributions to the nation despite the ongoing campaigns against it.

The Taiwan Incident of 1874 – a prolonged Sino-Japanese confrontation over the killing of Ryukyu castaways, whom Japan claimed as its subjects – marked the full maturation of a new mode of Qing war preparation. This mode was characterized by global coordination, domestic and international competition, and the swift mobilization of personal connections to secure foreign weapons and loans – resources that were often interconnected. Facilitated by the efforts of various actors, this internationalized approach became a standard practice during the empire’s final decades. As the empire could no longer rely on domestic self-sufficiency in arms and funding, Qing military operations came to reflect the broader influence of global military and financial resources. The Qing empire’s capacity to mobilize global resources in pursuit of national objectives helps explain its resilience in an era dominated by imperial powers.

In July 1939, Wang I-lü, a recent high school graduate, was reported to have fallen down a staircase while wearing high heels. The accident triggered heated public debates in Shanghai. Some condemned high heels as dangerous and decadent; others defended them, while Wang’s classmates denied Wang had ever worn them. Amid these conflicting voices, this article treats the death of Wang I-lü not as a question of forensic fact but as a historically situated event, one that maps the cultural trajectory of the high heel in modern China. Wang I-lü’s accident is indeed not an isolated incident: high-heeled women were frequently depicted falling down. The falling-down girl phenomenon encapsulates, as argued, a mixture of male affects, including fears of modernity, voyeuristic fascination, nationalist concerns, and the urge to control the female body. Meanwhile, women also held ambivalent attitudes toward high heels, though in different ways. They either regarded the high heel as a sign of vanity or employed it to negotiate visibility and identity. The high heel thus constitutes not only an object of foot fetishism, one that fuses Freudian male desire with Foucauldian biopolitical control, but also a thing utilized by women for imagining and enacting varied forms of womanhood, forms that were not necessarily resistant to men nor entirely emancipatory or conservative but rather responded to women’s own diverse circumstances.

This article sheds light on the understudied significance of Islam, Communism, and global politics in defining what constituted an acceptable “religion” (shūkyō 宗教) in wartime Japan. An analysis of the Japanese Imperial Diet’s debates on the place of Islam in the Religious Organizations Law of 1939, which defined state-sanctioned religious organizations, reveals that Muslim attention from around the world, international politics, the global spread of Communism, and the relatively short history of Islam in Japan, affected politicians’ decision not to mention Islam as a religious organization in the law. While previous literature on the Religious Organizations Law has not adequately addressed the significance of international and non-Euro-American transnational influences, this article argues that lawmakers viewed the power of transnational Muslim and Communist networks as crucial when defining both officially acceptable “religion” and the Shrine (jinja 神社), or Shrine Shinto, as the national core to be protected under this law. The debates surrounding Islam offer fertile ground for examining the significance of global affairs in determining acceptable forms of “religion” in Japan, as well as the broader implications of what Japanese state officials called “religion” and “thought” (shisō 思想) in wartime Japanese and world politics.

This article examines the evolving category of yellow music in the People’s Republic of China from the Maoist era to the early reform period, with a focus on the reception and regulation of Teresa Teng’s music. It argues that yellow music was not a static or CCP-invented concept, but one that expanded and contracted in response to shifting political climates and ideological campaigns. Drawing on archival documents, official newspapers, and autobiographical accounts, this article explores how the label “yellow” was applied to a wide range of musical styles and examines how this shaped public musical consumption. Instead of framing yellow music listening as an explicit form of resistance, this article highlights how such practices reflected unmet emotional and esthetic needs. The entry and eventual state appropriation of Teng’s music illustrate both the cultural consequences of the Cold War and the CCP’s adaptable approach to cultural governance. Teng’s widespread popularity helped revive suppressed traditions of individual emotion and love in music, and her gradual rehabilitation reveals a negotiated space between official ideology and popular demand. Ultimately, this article sheds light on the dynamic interplay between state control, listener agency, and global influence in socialist and post-socialist China.

Ku Hung-Ming 辜鴻銘 (pinyin: Gu Hongming, 1857–1928) was the first Chinese translator who translated Confucian classics into English, breaking the long-time monopoly of translation of Confucian classics by Western missionaries. He also translated Western poems into Chinese and elaborated on his thought on translation in his writings. However, Ku is peripheralized in contemporary Chinese historiography of translation. This article investigates this striking phenomenon, arguing that Ku’s peripheralization is due to Chinese translation historiographers’ subscription to the dual meta-narratives of individual enlightenment and national salvation, their colonial mentality, and the impact of the century-long trivialization of Ku in China. This article throws into relief the intricate relationship between translation historiography and its socio-political context, calling for attention to this under researched area of translation studies. It also sheds important light on contemporary Chinese intellectual landscape, calling for a decolonized understanding of Chinese culture.

This paper investigates the intersection of the Japanese gramophone industry and Chinese folk storytelling performances during the Second Sino-Japanese War, centering on a 1941 recording project conducted in Japanese-occupied Chōsen. While the project aimed to promote East Asian cultural synthesis in line with Japan’s expansionist agenda, it also captured marginalized local subgenres that had been overlooked even by Chinese companies. The article explores the political motivations behind the project, shaped by the shifting propaganda objectives of the Japanese colonial authorities and their complex interactions with private gramophone companies, Chinese performers, and local audiences. Moving beyond the conventional colonial narrative focused on Japan’s formal colonies, it instead examines Japan’s engagement with the would-be colonized Huabei Plain through a bottom-up lens. The paper argues that cultural production under Japanese imperial expansion was marked by contingency and disorganization, especially in regions not yet formally colonized. Ultimately, this reveals the fractures within Japan’s colonial vision – a result chaotically shaped by the inconsistencies of imperial cultural policy, the disadvantaged position of private gramophone companies under wartime constraints, the ambiguous collaboration of Chinese performers, and the resilience of local cultural connoisseurship.

The relationship between Nepal and China during the 1910s to 1940s remains an underexplored topic. This article revisits this thirty-year period by examining Chinese knowledge production on Nepal as an early instance of inter-Asia engagement. First, it demonstrates how epistemological barriers – shaped by coloniality and asymmetrical worldviews – severely hindered direct Chinese understanding of Nepal, despite sustained intellectual efforts. It then interrogates the in-betweenness of this disconnection, arguing that these mediated engagements were not merely failures of direct contact. Instead, the article contends that the liminal, hybrid, and shifting nature of these mediated encounters enabled forms of subjectivity transference and affective affiliation that were productive in sustaining inter-Asian referencing. To support this claim, the article examines the writings of various Chinese political critics, officials, and diplomats on Nepal. Despite their limitations, these intellectual engagements are ultimately seen as productive. First, they expose the liminal, shifting, and dynamic nature of knowledge production, in contrast to the fixed forms associated with colonial epistemologies. Second, they enable forms of subjectivity transference that foster affective affiliations. They also offer renewed possibilities for understanding inter-Asian referencing as a methodological strategy for rethinking inter-Asian relationalities.

Few village-born social movements have influenced international relations as much as the campaign against Myitsone Dam in Burma (Myanmar). This village-born resistance led in 2011 to the suspension of a major Burmese and Chinese infrastructure project. This suspension became a symbol of democratization in Burma and a much-discussed setback of Chinese development-investment abroad. However, research literature on the Myitsone Dam has tended to conflate the local rural resistance with the broader ethnic Kachin and Burmese anti-dam movements. In contrast, this study focuses specifically on the local villages directly affected by the project, exploring their diverse stories and responses to the mega-project. Combining diverse published sources with ethnographic fieldwork and interviews done since 2010, it tells a story of displacement, resistance, social divisions, and complex relations with outsiders. This is a two-part article series. Another article – Part 1 – explores the Myitsone Dam’s rural story from its earliest days until the mega-project’s fall. This article – Part 2 – examines what has occurred after the mega-project’s suspension. It explores local village experiences after most residents had been resettled into relocation villages, from 2010 until now. This story begins with a bomb attack against the project and traces the village struggles until a post-coup gold mining boom.

Few village-born social movements have influenced international relations as much as the campaign against Myitsone Dam in Burma (Myanmar). This village-born resistance led in 2011 to the suspension of a major Burmese and Chinese infrastructure project. This suspension became a symbol of democratization in Burma and a much-discussed setback of Chinese development-investment abroad. However, research literature on the Myitsone Dam has tended to conflate the local rural resistance with the broader ethnic Kachin and Burmese anti-dam movements. In contrast, this study focuses specifically on the local villages directly affected by the project, exploring their diverse stories and responses to the mega-project. Combining diverse published sources with ethnographic fieldwork and interviews done since 2010, it tells a story of repression, resistance, social divisions, and complex relations with outsiders. This is a two-part article series. This article here – Part 1 – examines what occurred before the mega-project’s suspension. It tells the Myitsone Dam’s rural story from its earliest days until the mega-project’s fall: from 2002 to 2011. This story begins with the unexpected arrival of Japanese visitors and traces the village struggles up to the project’s dramatic downfall.

Hallyu has expanded significantly through digital platforms since the 2010s. While Netflix has played a crucial role in distributing Korean content worldwide, its platform-driven strategies typically favour commercially optimised and formulaic narratives. This article examines an alternative dynamic through the 2021 Netflix docuseries My Love: Six Stories of True Love, which builds upon South Korean director Moyoung Jin’s earlier independent documentary My Love, Don’t Cross That River. Produced with local teams across six countries under Jin’s executive oversight, the series preserves an aesthetic and political sensibility rooted in Korea’s minjung documentary tradition. Its sustained focus on marginalised elderly couples and the intimate relationship between camera and subject represents a significant departure from Netflix’s standard original docuseries, which often centre on scandalous crimes, sensational narratives, or planetary issues such as climate crisis. The article investigates how culturally specific narratives can achieve global resonance without diminishing local contexts. The analysis traces the culturally sensitive translation of a local independent documentary to a transnational Netflix series, arguing that such cross-cultural initiatives signal a multidirectional and inclusive reimagining of Hallyu that challenges its predominantly market-driven circulation patterns.