The Chinese State at the Borders
Diana Lary, ed.
2007,Chapter 4: What Happens When Wang Yangming Crosses the Border? by Timothy Brook, p. 74-76.
The emperors of the Ming dynasty ruled a bounded territory. There might be occasional doubt as to where exactly the border ran in places where the terrain was rough and the state’s ability to control local populations weak. But everyone understood that borders existed, and all who served the Ming understood that imperial sovereignty extended only that far and not an inch beyond. A border marked a clear break between the order that Chinese sovereignty was thought to create and the disorder that its absence must imply. Being at the edge of sovereignty, where one thing became another, borderlands were places where sovereignty was difficult to enforce, where control required more stringent enforcement than was necessary elsewhere, and where administrative operations had to permit innovations and compromises that were unacceptable in the heartland. Borderlands were troubling to rule-enforcers; they were also politically dangerous for those faced with adjusting heartland rules to conditions in the periphery. This chapter is about one instance of alleged border-crossing in a Ming borderland and the great political excitement that this allegation caused. Continue reading…
The 1989 Tiananmen incident was a crucial test of the vitality of the new ideas about the state and society developed in the late 1980s. Immediately after 4 June, almost all of these ideas were attacked in both the official media and academic journals. People who had advocated them were completely silenced. Many of those who had pioneered them belonged to either what Goldman termed the “democratic elite” – Hu Yaobang’s intellectual network and their associates – or Zhao Ziyang’s “think tanks.” Both groups were purged after the incident. Their members were jailed, fled overseas, or simply ceased publication in academic journals. In her book, Goldman described the fates of some of these scholars, which partially explained why most of these people became silent. 
Shen Zonglian, our former Representative to Tibet, has been teaching in Lynchburg College (VA) since the government retreated to Taiwan. He is both capable and reliable, with a good command of both Chinese and English, and he is able to use the Tibetan language. While I was serving as Foreign Minister I used to entrust him with matters of contacting the Dalai Lama’s followers … My opinion is that now we should secretly dispatch Shen to India, and make contact with [the Dalai Lama’s brother] Gyalo Thundrup who is now in Kalimpong. After Shen has explored the whole situation more clearly in India, he may come to Taiwan to give you a firsthand report … It is better that Shen should not come to Taiwan [before he goes to India], and for the time being his secret contact with us should be kept completely confidential … In your future instructions I beg your Excellency to use “Mary” as nickname for Shen, “Li Da” for the Dalai Lama, and “Hua Sheng” for Gyalo Thundrup. 
In 1912 and 1913, the new Ministry of Education began to design a school system that would manifest the Republican spirit. Its first edict was terminological: the modern schools established in the late Qing period would now be called “schools” (xuexiao) rather than “study halls” (xuetang). The ministry tried to erase all traces of imperial education by banning official Qing textbooks, the terms that referred to the imperial system and the Qing court, the study of Confucian classics in primary school, and the practice of awarding imperial titles to graduates. The unified educational system was meant to create enlightened citizens (guomin) for the new republic.
Although motorcycle racing resumed slowly after the war, it grew gradually to become as popular as it had been in the interwar period. This growth was steered by the industrial policies of both private and public sector interests. Competition racing to cull the oversized herd of makers operating in the early 1950s was a plan that developed gradually. The issue of “competition theory” with regard to the weeding out of weaker manufacturers in postwar Japan is important. In the motorcycle industry, competition was far more than a theory — it was a brutal reality for many dozens of manufacturers that could not rise to the challenges posed both by their peers and by the nation’s geography. Racing thus ultimately strengthened the motorcycle industry, enabling Japan to enter the international motor vehicle market.
By the time this chapter was finished, the jury was still out as to whether the government could implement its bold reform program. By the end of 2001, it appeared that Prime Minister Koizumi was locked in stalemate. His administration was still popular and continued to obtain 80 percent support among the voters, but in reality he had accomplished little. Some commentators branded the prime minister “Mr. Nato” – No Action, Talk Only – indicating that his enormous degree of personal popularity was no substitute for effective implementation of reform (Japan Today 2001f; Oriental Economist 2001c).
The hot, humid weather did little to stifle the jubilant mood that 1 July afternoon in Shibuya ward, Tokyo. For the hundred or so well-wishers gathered outside the new residence of His Majesty’s Canadian representative to Japan, Dominion Day, 1929 seemed unlike any other. Traders and diplomats mingled with missionaries, teachers and social workers, reflecting the diversity of Canada’s involvement in the Orient. A hush came over the crowd as A.E. Bryan, the president of the newly formed Canadian Association, rose to address the gathering. He opened the ceremony by welcoming Hugh Keenleyside, who had arrived in May as chargé d’affaires. Then, Dr. D.R. MacKenzie, the longest serving Canadian missionary in Japan, spoke to the crowd, impressing all with his sense of history. He surveyed Canada’s past, from Cartier’s search for a passage to Asia to the dominion’s newfound diplomatic status, and concluded the legation was an idea whose time had come. After a brief speech by Keenleyside and a phonograph recording of prime minister Mackenzie King’s remarks at the recent Peace Tower carillon dedication, the ceremony reached its finale. For the first time in Asia, Canada’s red ensign was hoisted atop the legation as all assembled sang ‘O Canada’ and ‘God Save the King’.
