Translation, History and Arts : New Horizons in Asian Interdisciplinary Humanities Research [1 ed.] 9781443851176, 9781443849395

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Translation, History and Arts

Translation, History and Arts: New Horizons in Asian Interdisciplinary Humanities Research

Edited by

JI Meng and Atsuko Ukai

Translation, History and Arts: New Horizons in Asian Interdisciplinary Humanities Research, Edited by JI Meng and Atsuko Ukai This book first published 2013 Cambridge Scholars Publishing 12 Back Chapman Street, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2XX, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2013 by JI Meng, Atsuko Ukai and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-4939-1, ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-4939-5

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments .................................................................................... vii Preface ....................................................................................................... ix Haneda Masashi Introduction ............................................................................................. xiii Paving the Way Christian Henriot Part I: Translation and Cross-Cultural Scientific Communication Chapter One ................................................................................................ 2 Conflicts and Interactions in Early Modern Chinese Scientific Translations Meng Ji Chapter Two ............................................................................................. 27 Gravity of Modernity: Reactions to the “New Astronomy” in Iran and Japan Isahaya Yoichi Chapter Three ........................................................................................... 48 A Study on the Geographical Understanding of ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ Otsuka Osamu Part II: Museums, Image and Identity Construction Chapter Four ............................................................................................. 70 The History of Japonisme as a Global Study Ukai Atsuko Chapter Five ............................................................................................. 88 Exhibitions of Art in Iran and the Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art Terada Yuki

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Chapter Six ............................................................................................. 109 Constructing an Imaginary of Taiwanese Aborigines through Postcards (1895-1945) Lee Ju-Ling Part III: Religions, Ideology and Gender Chapter Seven......................................................................................... 136 Marriage and Conversion as a National Issue: The Discourses over Lina Joy’s Litigation in Contemporary Malaysia Mitsunari Ayumi Chapter Eight .......................................................................................... 157 I Am Not a Social Historian: The Use of the Term “Social History” in Postwar Japan Uchida Chikara Chapter Nine........................................................................................... 176 Prostitutes, Brothels and the Red Light District: The Management of Prostitution in the City of Hanoi from the 1870s to the 1950s Isabelle Tracol-Huynh Contributors ............................................................................................ 194 Index ....................................................................................................... 195

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Translation, History and Arts: New Horizons in Asian Interdisciplinary Humanities Research is a collection of research papers originally presented at the international conference Todai Forum in October 2011 in Lyon, France, under the auspices of the University of Tokyo, Japan. The Todai Forum is a joint venture between the University of Tokyo and leading universities of the world. It takes place every two years and provides a unique opportunity for young researchers from different countries to present and discuss their ideas and methods in an open and friendly research exchange environment. This volume contains nine original research papers presented at the workshop “Local History in the Context of Global History” held at the Lyons Institute of East Asian Studies (IAO). They stand at the frontier of interdisciplinary humanities research, covering a broad range of disciplines such as translation and cross-cultural studies, history, area studies, art history, and so on. Participants in the workshop included research students, senior researchers and professional fellows working on comparative area and cultural studies involving Japan, China, the Middle East, and the EU. In the two-day workshop, panel discussants and the general audience had a stimulating and fruitful exchange of ideas and research methodologies which greatly advanced the theme of the workshop, the development of a new discursive narrative of local histories against the backdrop of the increasingly globalized contemporary world. A distinctive feature of the papers collected into this volume is their intended configuration and interpretation of local socio-cultural and historical events from a global perspective, with a view to establishing new links and associations among different societies and cultural systems that will bring new insights into the making of modern world history. The book is divided into three thematic parts, with each part containing three illustrative case studies: Part 1 Translation and Cross-Cultural Scientific Communication; Part 2 Museums, Image and Identity Construction; and Part 3 Religions, Ideology and Gender. Each part approaches the main research question, that is, the re-construction of local histories at a global level from a distinct disciplinary perspective; and the case studies presented touch upon East Asia, Europe and the Middle East.

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Acknowledgments

We would like to express our sincere gratitude to the contributors of this volume, and to Professor HANEDA Masashi, then director of the Institute for Advanced Studies on Asia (IASA) for initiating the workshop. We extend our thanks to Professor Christian Henriot, Director of the Lyon Institute of Asian Studies (IAO) for his organization and the local support given to the workshop. Last but not least, we would like to thank Dr. Gaynor Sekimori and Mr. Yasuhiro Sekimori for their professional editorial assistance and the timely delivery of the manuscript. Meng Ji, University of Western Australia, Australia UKAI Atsuko, The University of Tokyo, Japan May 2013

PREFACE HANEDA MASASHI

The nine articles in this collection are based on the presentations made by the various authors at a conference entitled “Local History in the Context of Global History” held by the École Normale Supérieure de Lyon (ENSL) in France. At the request of the editors, I would like, as one of those responsible for the conference, to explain briefly its background and purposes. The conference was planned to be at the point of intersection between two academic initiatives: the University of Tokyo (Todai) Forum and a joint research project conducted through a grant-in-aid from the Japanese Society for the Promotion of Sciences (JSPS), “Eurasia in the Modern Period: Towards a New World History”. To elaborate, the University of Tokyo holds an international symposium called the Todai Forum every other year at different places around the world with the purpose of introducing aspects of excellent research in various fields conducted within the university to academics abroad. France was chosen for the location of the symposium in 2011 and various academic activities were held in Paris and Lyon. A large number of those were workshops on specialist themes held jointly between scholars from the University of Tokyo and their counterparts in France. The present conference was organized as one such. When plans for the Forum started to be discussed, I was asked by the planning committee, as director of the Institute of Advanced Studies on Asia at the university, to come up with a project. I therefore proposed to my old friend and colleague, Professor Christian Henriot of ENSL, that we hold a joint Japanese-French workshop. Fortunately Professor Henriot was receptive to the idea and the shape and content of the workshop, as well as its participants, gradually took form over a series of discussions. The end result was the workshop “Local History in the Context of Global History”, held as one of the events of the Todai Forum. This title was determined with Professor Henriot’s help based on the original plan I had proposed. Its intent was derived in the following way. Since 2009, I have been conducting a joint research project called “Eurasia

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in the Modern Period: Towards a New World History” funded by a grantin-aid from the JSPS. It is a large-scale programme, involving more the fifty people, both directly and indirectly. Its aim is to seek out a methodology to describe “our world history” anew, a world history that will bring into being a sense among all people of belonging to the same world (a consciousness of being global citizens), and that goes beyond preexisting methodologies and viewpoints that see the world and its history in terms of a dichotomy between self and others, Europe and Asia. When I was asked to plan something for the Todai Forum, I wondered whether I might be able to organize a workshop in Lyon as part of the work of the joint project that I headed. Because funding for the running of the session would have to be provided from my own resources, some kind of financial backing was necessary, but I also felt strongly that I wanted Professor Henriot and other French scholars to share an awareness of the issues associated with the project. In a book I published in Japanese in 2005, called Creation of the Concept of the Islamic World (University of Tokyo Press), I pointed out that the concept of a kind of regional space called the “Islamic world” that was created in nineteenth-century Western Europe has exerted a strong influence on people’s view of the world and on their historical understanding. I will not go into detail here, but there can be no denying that the concept and framework of “civilization” and “region/area” concerning “Europe” and the “Islamic world” has become the basic unit by which people in many countries of the modern world understand world history. For example, in Japan today the past of closed regional areas such as the “Islamic world”, “Europe” and “East Asia” is understood and narrated chronologically, and in general the aggregate of their various histories is considered to be world history. The history of the “Islamic world”, together with the history of its opposing concept, “Europe”, are indispensable elements for understanding and describing world history in Japan. The situation is not so different in other countries as well. However, we should be more aware that understanding world history as an assemblage of local histories that emphasize the historical differences between each region and assert their own individuality has played a part in the national and regional conflicts that have broken out in the modern world and in actions motivated by religious fundamentalism. Here the words “local” and “regional” are used to typify the phenomenon. It goes without saying that the sovereign nation-states established all over the world since the nineteenth century are one type of “region”, with a framework further strengthened geographically. We have used the

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expression “global history” in the title of the workshop, but I would like to call attention to the fact that this is not a synonym of “history of globalization”. A distinguishing feature of our understanding of world history as an assemblage of local histories is that we regard it as the gradual coming together, politically, economically and culturally, of originally separate regions around the world. The “history of globalization” is frequently understood as sharing common characteristics with this world history, and so our project began with the aim of resetting the understanding and description of such world history. Is it really suitable to retain the structure of existing world histories, which take as their highest concern the narration of local and national histories that emphasize uniqueness, and examine as a matter of course their exchanges as well as their confrontations and conflicts? Even if we recognize that there is a difference between self and other, is it so impossible to comprehend a world history that stresses the commonality of “global citizens” that goes beyond this? It is my basic contention that it is very possible. If we want to construct “our world history”, which sees the world as one, as our project sets out to do, it is of crucial important how we understand and narrate the histories of the regions that make up that world. Thus we must seriously reconsider discuss the connections between local history and world history. I passed on these thoughts to Professor Henriot when we were at the planning stage of the workshop, and, fully understanding the nature of my concern, he began choosing scholars from the French side to present papers. He also set up a dedicated website for those attending the workshop and devoted himself to both the preparations for, and the running of, the workshop. I would like to express my deep gratitude here for his friendship. The workshop was held on October 21 and 22 at ENSL. It was a great success, with dozens of people attending on both days. A feature of the workshop was the debate on the same theme by both senior and junior scholars, divided into a number of sessions. On the first day, there was a discussion among twelve established scholars, including Professor Henriot and myself, while on the second day, eleven post-doctoral and doctoral students gave papers. Besides myself, three members of staff from the Institute for Advanced Studies on Asia at the University of Tokyo took part in the senior session (KURODA Akinobu, YASUTOMI Ayumu and TSUJI Asuka). As well, reports were also given by Dong Shaoxin and Sun Yinggang from the National Institute for Advanced Humanistic Studies at Fudan University in China, with which the Institute for Advanced Studies on Asia has close academic ties at various levels. From the French side,

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joining Professor Henriot, were a number of prominent historians of Asia and Africa, including François Gipouloux, Sylvie Denoix, Jean-Pascal Bassino, Guillaume Carré and Frédéric Abécassis. These senior members participated fully in the junior session on the second day, making many comments and asking numerous questions following each paper, so contributing to a lively discussion. The articles in this volume, which all share a common understanding of the issues raised in the workshop, have been prepared for publication taking into account the various points raised at the time. Of particular note is the commentary by Professor Henriot. As the person behind the planning of this workshop, I would be more than happy if this volume, edited by the fresh talents of Ukai Atsuko and Meng Ji and abundantly incorporating the message of young researchers, was able to raise new questions concerning the present understanding of world/global history.

INTRODUCTION PAVING THE WAY CHRISTIAN HENRIOT INSTITUT D’ASIE ORIENTALE UNIVERSITY OF LYON (LYON 2)

We live today in the age often hailed as that of globalization, as if the planet, by virtue of the Internet and near light-speed communications, had become a huge global village. The self-immolation of a poor young peddler in Tunisia in 2010 almost instantly reverberated all over the planet, causing much disquiet among the ruling regimes of most Arab countries, and eventually bringing down a few in the course of protest movements by the population. One could easily slip into believing modern revolutions happen by way of Facebook and social networks. Without denying the reality of the massive surge in exchange and communications in the 21st century, many historians would hold a dim view of such a shortsighted perspective on the flows of people, goods and ideas in the present as in the past. The fury behind the peasant movements that sparked the French Revolution—not to mention the various failed jacqueries of the 18th century—resonates very clearly in the contemporary Arab revolutions. Yet it takes a lot more factors than popular discontent and instant communications to make even a succession of small disruptive events mature into a full-blown rebellion and the fall of an abhorred ruler. It takes even more to build a new, stable, and long-lasting political and social order on the debris of the toppled regimes. Yet these contemporary events also highlight the need to examine more closely the many innocuous processes that took place before, over decades if not more, and nurtured changes in perceptions, sensibilities and expectations across class lines in most societies all over the planet.1 There 1

Birgit Schaebler and Leif Stenberg, eds., Globalization and the Muslim World: Culture, Religion, and Modernity (New York: Syracuse University Press, 2004); John Guidry, Michael D. Kennedy, and Mayer Zald, eds., Globalizations and

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has been a propensity in the last decade to re-read the past in terms of earlier “globalizations” and to try to redefine the successive stages of the interlocking process that somehow shortened distances and intensified relations between the different human groups living in various parts of the planet. 2 The study of major historical processes like the European maritime expansion or colonization, once viewed from the perspective of a European “center” radiating toward ever expanding “peripheries”, is now framed within the study of globalization.3 The addition of this conceptual framework does bring into play the notion of a shifting ground rather than well-cordoned entities (like nations) into historical analysis. Historians have been made much more aware of the need to rethink their approach to hitherto dominant historical categories. Some have attempted to grapple seriously with globalization in theoretical terms and to question its underlying concepts.4 Yet the “reinvention of the past” through a reading based on globalization can also mean hardly more than a rehashing of conventional topics under a new garb. Classical topics like the missionary enterprise,5 the colonial conquest, 6 human trade, 7 economic crises, 8 the creation of

Social Movements: Culture, Power, and the Transnational Public Sphere (Ann Arbor, Mich.: University of Michigan Press, 2000); James Petras and Henry Veltmeyer, Globalization Unmasked: Imperialism in the 21st Century (London: Zed Books, 2001). 2 A. G. Hopkins, ed., Globalization in World History (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2002); Jürgen Osterhammel and Niels P. Petersson, Globalization: A Short History, trans. Dona Geyer (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009); Barry Gills and William R. Thompson, eds., Globalization and Global History (London: Routledge, 2006); O. S. Labianca and Sandra Arnold Scham, Connectivity in Antiquity: Globalization as a Long-Term Historical Process (Sheffield: Equinox Publishing, 2006). 3 Geoffrey C. Gunn, First Globalization: The Eurasian Exchange, 1500-1800 (London: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2003). 4 Amar Acheraiou, Questioning Hybridity, Postcolonialism and Globalization (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011); George Modelski, Tessaleno Devezas, and William R. Thompson, eds., Globalization as Evolutionary Process: Modeling Global Change (London: Routledge, 2008). 5 Luke Clossey, Salvation and Globalization in the Early Jesuit Missions, Reissue (Cambridgeௗ; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011). 6 Ruth Mayer, Artificial Africas: Colonial Images in the Times of Globalization (Lebanon (N.H.): University Press of New England, 2002); Sharae Deckard, Paradise Discourse, Imperialism, and Globalization: Exploiting Eden (London: Routledge, 2009).

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technological infrastructures,9 or even less brutal but nonetheless obvious forms of political, economic or intellectual influence by the major powers 10 or lesser intrusive groups 11 offer a fertile terrain for academic cum commercial opportunities. Marketeering by publishing companies quite evidently rides on this instrumentalization of “globalization” as a trendy catchword to lure potential readers in search of replies to pervasive social anxieties. 12 Popular books have contributed to the idea that globalization emerged almost as soon as man appeared on earth.13 The rise of cultural history may also have contributed to a focus on the “global” in consumption patterns.14 This is not to deny a genuine effort in coming to terms with breaking away from Euro-centric views of history. There has been a steady, though unevenly successful current in historical research, mostly in Anglo-Saxon academia, that meant to break through the 7

Clarence J. Munford, American Crucible: Black Enslavement, White Capitalism, and Imperial Globalization; An Interpretation of Western Civilization Since 1441 (Trenton: Africa World Press, 2009). 8 Robert Boyce, The Great Interwar Crisis and the Collapse of Globalization (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012). 9 Dwayne R. Winseck and Robert M. Pike, Communication and Empire: Media, Markets, and Globalization, 1860–1930 (Durham: Duke University Press Books, 2007). 10 J. T. Way, The Mayan in the Mall: Globalization, Development, and the Making of Modern Guatemala (Durham: Duke University Press Books, 2012); Neil Smith, American Empire: Roosevelt’s Geographer and the Prelude to Globalization (Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 2004). 11 Richard Foltz, Religions of the Silk Road: Premodern Patterns of Globalization (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010). 12 Without questioning the intrinsic value of the following classics in modern Chinese history, one can observe the successive shifts of perspective about a given community. Anita Chan, Richard Madsen, and Jonathan Unger, Chen Village: The Recent History of a Peasant Community in Mao’s China (Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 1992); Anita Chan, Richard Madsen, and Jonathan Unger, Chen Village Under Mao and Deng (Berkley, Calif.: University of California Press, 1992); Anita Chan, Richard Madsen, and Jonathan Unger, Chen Village: Revolution to Globalization (Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 2009). 13 Nayan Chanda, Bound Together: How Traders, Preachers, Adventurers, and Warriors Shaped Globalization (New Haven [Conn.]: Yale University Press, 2008); Quercus, The Great Migrations: From the Earliest Humans to the Age of Globalization (London: Quercus, 2009). 14 Jeremy Prestholdt, Domesticating the World: African Consumerism and the Genealogies of Globalization (Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 2008).

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boundaries of both national and local histories and the prevalent view of a modern world entirely shaped by the West. The main current I refer to is that of “world history”, which lately has rejoined the globalized view of the world under the notion of “global history”. These fields are too broad for a thorough examination here, but a brief discussion will help contextualizing the nature of the present volume. World history and global history both represent considerable fields of scholarship on which numerous scholars have written at length.15 Many historians, especially in Europe, have remained oblivious to an approach that appeared disconnected from their practice of history, use of sources, and choice of scale in research topics. World history seems to fit better certain fields like economic history or imperial history.16 World history likes wide spaces and longue durée, which often implies working through processing sets of data collected mostly from a variety of works in secondary literature. Yet major milestones have generated a lively debate among historians, mostly in the English-speaking world. 17 They contributed to de-center the historian’s gaze and to challenge heretoforedominant certainties about the forces that shaped the world. By and large, global history appears to be a late rejoinder to world history under the multidimensional impact—including historical research—of globalization. 18 While proponents of each field may reasonably quibble about differences, the trend toward blending is unmistakable. From the perspective of situating the contributions in the present volume, however, another concept needs to be brought into the discussion. Sanjay Subrahmanyam’s conception of connected history represents one of the latest and most perceptive additions to such attempts to grasp historical trends and turns of events not just across boundaries, but through a more dynamic view that places the emphasis on shifts and nodes across 15

This is too wide a field to discuss in this paper. Best is to sift through the two most representative journals: Journal of World History and Journal of Global History. 16 For a very thoughtful review of the various concepts and discussion of the French field, see Richard Foltz, Religions of the Silk Road: Premodern Patterns of Globalization, New Edition (Palgrave Macmillan, 2010). 17 In relation with Asia, the major seminal works are Andre Frank, ReOrient Global Economy in the Asian Age (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998); Kenneth Pomeranz, The Great Divergence: China, Europe, and the Making of the Modern World Economy (Princeton N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2000); Kenneth Pomeranz, The World That Trade Created: Society, Culture, and the World Economy, 1400-the Present (Armonk N.Y.: M.E. Sharpe, 1999). 18 Giorgio Riello, “La Globalisation de l’histoire globale : une question disputée,” Revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine n° 54–4bis, no. 5 (2007): 23–33.

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space and time.19 While issues of scale are not an exclusive preserve of connected history, this is perhaps where it finds a most fertile ground. For scholars like myself, whose focus has been on a specific city—Shanghai— though one that appears prima facie as a node, this perspective offers a great potential in examining local history within an interlocking web of continuous and sustained flows. Nodes and flows provide invigorating clues for the study of historical processes across space and time. Connected history does not assume or superimpose a predefined view on the nature, the direction, or the value of these flows and nodes. It is an invitation to shy away from preconceived notions and to force the gaze on the multitude of interconnected “butterfly effects” that shaped and nurtured historical events at all levels. 20 It facilitates a more open discussion of historical processes as resulting from shifting asymmetrical flows. The asymmetry was never constant; it does not imply patterns of dominance vs. submission (or conquest, etc.). 21 On the opposite, asymmetry helps provide historical reasoning with an opportunity to reexamine the patterns of exchange and interaction in a new light, while still offering a framework to integrate the undeniable shifts that occurred over time, including those that accompanied the “rise of the West”. The essays in the present volume all share the same disposition to examine historical processes at work in different contexts, mostly in the modern societies of East Asia, the Middle East or Europe, from the perspective of cultural friction and interaction. They explore ways through which a shifting gaze opens up new horizons to embrace a de-centered view of history and to track down the various threads and layers of meaning that lay beneath these historical processes. The volume is the result of a “Young scholars workshop” held in Lyon at the Ecole Normale Supérieure de Lyon during the Todai Forum with the combined support of the Institute of Advanced Studies on Asia and the Lyons Institute of East Asian Studies (IAO). The authors of the essays made an earnest attempt to 19

Sanjay Subrahmanyam, “Par-delà l’incommensurabilité : Pour une histoire connectée des empires aux temps modernes,” Revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine n° 54–4bis, no. 5 (2007): 34–53; Sanjay Subrahmanyam, “Connected Histories: Notes Towards a Reconfiguration of Early Modern Eurasia,” Modern Asian Studies 31, no. 3 (juillet 1997): 735–762. 20 The Modern Girl around the World Research Group et al., eds., The Modern Girl Around the World: Consumption, Modernity, and Globalization (Durham: Duke University Press Books, 2008). 21 Rudolf G. Wagner, “China ‘Asleep’ and ‘Awakening.’ A Study in Conceptualizing Asymmetry and Coping with It.,” Transcultural Studies 0, no. 1 (March 25, 2011): 4–139.

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experiment with refreshing approaches to history, as well as to enter into a conversation across the genuine diversity of studied topics. There was a real challenge in bringing together these contributions and, for the editors Meng Ji and Ukai Atsuko, to weave them into a tightly knit volume. As the guest writer of this short introduction, I take the full measure of the enthusiasm these young scholars put into this project and their commitment to tackle challenging issues in a collegial and open spirit. The volume starts with an exploration of processes in the circulation of discursive constructions, concepts, and knowledge. Words are the carriers of how we perceive the world around us and how we reason or fantasize about it. Meng Ji’s chapter addresses how the Chinese visions of the world and China resulted from several successive, through overlapping shifts. Her take on the topic is based on the processing and analysis of occurrences of descriptive words or expressions defining the entity known as “China” in a broad sample of Chinese, Japanese, and Western works. She highlights through her method the formidable potential that digital textual repositories and terminology databases offer in the study of such discursive constructions in situated contexts. Isahaya Yoichi focuses on the circulation of astronomical knowledge. Rather than pursuing the conventional diffusionist model of a modern West radiating to less advanced societies, Isahaya examines the processes and the actors behind the introduction of the “New astronomy” in both Iran and Japan. He points out several similarities in terms of timing, the nature of actors, the unsatisfactory characters of the initial translations, etc. Yet Isahaya also establishes the fairly late formation of a “center of gravity” for the scientific currents from Europe. Otsuka Osuma discusses geographical knowledge in Persianate societies in the 14th century and the competition between two major contemporary works, one a historical chronicle presenting the contacts between the Persianate societies and China, and one a cosmographical work that placed “Iran” at the center of world, though with a rich content on the many kinds of peoples living in Persianate societies, from Chinese to the people of West Europe. Otsuka argues that the uncontested success of the latter work among literati in Persianate societies resulted from its choice of situating “world history” in an Iran-centric worldview. The second part of the volume addresses a set of intertwined issues about images of the self and the other, from the individual to collective identities, through art and photographic collections. Ukai Atsuko examines a particular field, Japonisme, and its ramifications beyond the formal boundaries of art production. Through the study of original collections in local French museums, she is able to argue convincingly about the steady

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cross influence between Japan and the West, but also about genuine forms of “fusion” (forms, materials) in everyday objects. Ukai also points to larger circles of diffusion of materials and crafts that link a spate of countries within Europe and the Arab world and Japan. She questions both the notion of Japonisme and suggests enlarging our vision of the phenomenon to include a broader span of cultural products. Finally, Japonisme also needs to steer away from a perspective that tends to encapsulate, hence reify, “Japanese art” or even “Asian art”. In her study of the Museum of Contemporary Art in Teheran and the development of its collection from the 1960s to the post-Islamic Revolution period, Terada Yuki places the building of art collections within their global contexts. She questions the usual divide both between Iranian art and Western art and between the pre- and post-Islamic revolution periods, even if there was clearly a shift after 1979, yet with a surprisingly steady capacity to present to Iranian audiences windows into both worlds. Lee Ju-ling follows a very original path in tracking how photography by the Japanese in colonial Taiwan served way beyond the original intention of the photographers— many were taken initially during anthropological fieldwork—to construct images that set both the colonizers and the colonized in worlds apart. The imagery centered on the naked bodies of the native population in the mountains in counterpoint to the fully dressed bodies of the colonizers, and their degrees of “cultural achievement” as the colonizers tamed these “savage” bodies into “civilized” bodies. The last part of the volume revolves around the legal position of women in two very different settings, colonial Indochina and contemporary Malaysia, and how Japanese historians position themselves within modern historical research trends. Mitsunari’s essay on the litigation by a Muslim-born woman to convert in order to marry a Christian man explores the complex ramifications of gender status, religious vs. civil law, and the conflict between diverging notions of human rights. Mitsunari deftly highlights how this particular individual’s case turned into a major controversy that involved a complex web of religious, ethnic, and identity issues in Malaysian society. In colonial Indochina, prostitution thrived in the major cities, which posed a challenge to authorities eager to protect the health of European residents and soldiers. Isabelle Tracol-Huynh brings to light the extraordinarily cumbersome and by and large unmanageable process of regulating prostitution. It was not just the usual game of “hide and seek” between the police and the prostitutes, but the problems inherent to the transposition of regulations from the home country onto a different and hybrid population of prostitutes and local residents. There was also a surprising inadequacy

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between these regulations and the different layers of legal jurisdiction over different parts of the territory. Eventually these gaps and inconsistencies foiled the attempt to bring prostitution under control. Uchida Chikara’s study proposes a study of “social history” as a cultural phenomenon and examines its reception in Japan. Actually, Uchida questions this notion of reception as several Japanese historians who felt “victims” of a form of label—social historian—pressed upon them by the combined impact of a form of academic fad and editorial pressures by publishers. We have here an example of a discursive construction that leads to a kind of branding at odds with how local historians might conceive their own work. Uchida reflects upon the possibility of a global “social history”, which in fact tended to penetrate the diverse community of Japanese through a piecemeal process spread over time, with no clear pattern of influence. Altogether, this volume seeks to present alternative pathways in the study of historical issues. The authors engage in perceptive attempts to walk through their object of study with a constant concern about connecting the dots beyond their respective sphere in temporal and geographical terms. They have pursued a conversation with each other that deserves a special mention, as it required a genuine disposition to reach out. This edited volume will remain as the manifestation of a need to break through conventions and experiment with new forms of passage in historical scholarship.

PART I TRANSLATION AND CROSS-CULTURAL SCIENTIFIC COMMUNICATION

CHAPTER ONE CONFLICTS AND INTERACTIONS IN EARLY MODERN CHINESE SCIENTIFIC TRANSLATIONS MENG JI Introduction This study offers an empirical investigation of the expansion of Western scientific concepts and ideas in China in the nineteenth century, which was a formative period for the construction of the national identity of modern China. It is based on the exploration of a large-scale online data base of historical Chinese texts and translations produced amidst the influx of Western sciences in the Qing dynasty (Lackner, Amelung and Kurtz, 2001). Instead of focusing on one particular Chinese translation and a Chinese or Western translator, this chapter attempts to explore underlying patterns of the dissemination and assimilation of key Western terms and expressions in China’s native language and cultural system. It represents a useful effort at developing empirical lines of investigation for historical linguistic research (Lackner, et al, 2001; Nevalainen and RaumolinBrunberg, 2003; Ji, 2010 and 2011). The introduction and translation of Western sciences was an extremely complex historical process which involved the competition and reconciliation among different traditions of thoughts and modes of thinking in the modernizing Chinese state. This was reflected in the creation of a modern Chinese scientific terminology which underpinned the modernization of China’s native language and scientific system. The current study focuses on the translation and variation of nation-related terms and expressions in early modern Chinese, drawing upon quantitative textual materials collected from large-scale data bases of historical Chinese translations. Nation is a keyword in understanding the making of the modern world in the nineteenth century. It has provided a focus of significant research which deploys nation state as the basic unit of historical analyses (Shafer, 1955; Seymour, 2004; Chernilo, 2007). As a typically modern concept, the

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translation of nation from European languages to Chinese provides an illustrative case study of the cross-cultural and cross-linguistic interactions between China, Europe and Japan in the nineteenth century. Tsai (2011) noticed that the development of an ethnocentric concept of nation in Chinese might date back to 755 AD, which marked the outbreak of the notorious An Lushan Insurgence. Tsai argued that the notion of nation was not alien to imperial China. The concept of nation had always been deeply embedded within the empire building enterprise of China, long before the expansion of Western industrialism in East Asia in the nineteenth century. In this chapter, I contend this view by arguing that while the ethnocentric conception of nation might well have been part of the traditional Chinese psychology, the translation and introduction of nation state construed in the modern sense have transformed the Chinese native knowledge body systematically and profoundly. It must be pointed out that the introduction and assimilation of Western scientific concepts in China was a highly dynamic and progressive process that can hardly be explained by the diffussionist model that advocates the transmission of modern values and concepts from the Western centre to non-Western peripheries. On the contrary, the nineteenth century witnessed turbulent encounters between Western and native Chinese cultures which have given rise to different traditions of translation and distinct forms of scholarly publication in China, and it is this which provides the topic of the current study. Through an empirical historical linguistic study of early Chinese translations and scholarly writing on nation related terms and expressions, this chapter will bring useful insights into the emergence and consolidation of the modern concept of nation in the Chinese lexis and will shed new light on the internal and external dynamics of the development of a working scientific language system in early modern Chinese.

Historical Materials Used In order to track the translation of nation-related concepts and expressions into Chinese in the nineteenth century, this study uses a large-scale multilingual data base of early modern Chinese scientific translations. The data base used is known as the Modern Chinese Scientific Terminologies or the MCST. 1 It was launched to the public in 2001 by Friedrich Alexander University of Erlangen Nürnberg, Germany. By 2005, the data 1

http://mcst.uni-hd.de/search/searchMCST_short.lasso, last access on 31 August, 2011

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Conflicts and Interactions

base contained roughly 9,500 texts and more than 136,000 words or expressions widely selected from early modern Chinese translations of western scientific works. The MCTS includes both the original texts in English, French, Dutch, German, Japanese and Italian, and their translations to early modern Chinese. The majority of translations collected in the MCST were produced in the nineteenth century, with a limited number of texts collected from previous centuries and the early twentieth century. To facilitate the use of the data base, the corpus builders furnished the English translations of the original texts in the other European languages listed above. A distinctive feature of the MCST is its versatile and innovative annotation system which allows the user to explore the data base in variety of ways: from individual word search to other linguistically rich search options such as lexical definition, semantic and cognitive functions of a character word and/or a morpheme in historical and modern Chinese. Table 1. Historical materials used (1) Text Genres Bilingual / multilingual dictionary Encyclopaedic account Japanese translation of western works Chinese translations of Japanese/ western works Scientific / political treatises in original Chinese Journals edited by foreigners Journals edited by Chinese

Items Studied

Language Pairs Involved (SL/TL)2

Items Studied

16

English Chinese

11

7 1 (2 editions) 6

Japanese Chinese French Chinese

4 4

Dutch Chinese

1

6

German Chinese

1

1

English Japanese

1

1

Original Chinese

16

Table 1 shows the various types of source texts used in the current study. They were retrieved and sorted automatically by the MCST, for they contain instances of nation-related expressions and terms. These include sixteen bilingual and/or multilingual dictionaries which make up the bulk 2

The source language (SL) is given first and it is followed by the target language in any language pair given in Table 1.

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of the texts used in this study; seven encyclopaedic accounts by native Chinese scholars based on their overseas trips to Europe, North America and Japan in the nineteenth century; two editions of a highly influential Japanese translation of western science texts; six Chinese translations of western and Japanese scientific works and treatises; six scientific and political treatises in original Chinese; and lastly, two journals edited by western scholars and native Chinese social reformers and political activists, respectively. The diversity of the historical materials used is also reflected in the variety of language pairs studied. These include English/ Chinese and Chinese/English translations; Japanese/Chinese translations; French/Chinese translations; Dutch/Chinese translations; German/Chinese translations; and English/Japanese translations. Apart from actual translations, the MCST identified a large number of texts written in original Chinese which involve the interpretation and contextualization of nation-related terms and expressions. In the current study, I intend to include not only actual translations, but also historical texts in early modern Chinese. That is because contemporaneous publications in original Chinese provide useful first-hand materials regarding the acceptance, variation and assimilation of imported western concepts and idea sets in the country at the time. These texts represent early attempts and language experiments made by native Chinese scholars to modernize China’s existing cultural and language system, and thus provide important information regarding the varying levels of the penetration of modern western thought and expressions into the native knowledge body of China in the nineteenth century. A major language pair studied is English and Chinese, which involves eleven items of translated works. It is followed by Japanese/Chinese translation, French/Chinese translation, Dutch/Chinese translation and German/Chinese translation. It should be noted that such a proportion among the different language pairs studied does not necessarily reflect the general patterns of early Chinese translations of western, and later Japanese, scientific works during the course of the nineteenth century. These historical texts have been extracted from the MCST only because they contain instances regarding the use and translation of nation-related terms and words which are the focus of the current study. Both Chinese and Japanese deployed the character-based writing system in the nineteenth century. Given their morphological similarities, in the exploration of the MCST, the automatic search engine retrieved an instance of early Japanese translations of ‘nation’ from imported English scientific works. The Japanese text is titled Tetsugaku jii ဴᏥᏐᙡ (A Dictionary of Philosophical Terms; 1881, 1884) by the Japanese

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Conflicts and Interactions

philosophers and linguists Inoue Tetsujirǀ and Ariga Hisao. This was a highly influential scientific translation in Japan in the late nineteenth century, which played an instrumental role in the consolidation of modern Japanese scientific terminology (Takahiro, et al, 1997). A large number of expressions and terms coined in this dictionary proved successful and long-lasting. Given the intensified cultural and scientific interactions between Japan and China in the late nineteenth century, many of the terms that originated in this early Japanese scientific dictionary eventually become high frequency words in modern Chinese scientific terminology. We thus retain the expression extracted from Tetsugaku jii in the text body under investigation, given its strong influence on and wide presence in early modern Chinese scientific translations and the general scientific discourse at later times.

Translation of Nation-Related Concepts into Modern Chinese in the Nineteenth Century Early 1800s Table 2 shows the thematic distribution of the historical textual materials studied here. In the MCST, nation-related terms and expressions first appeared in historical texts which date back to the 1820s. Two instances were found in A Dictionary of the Chinese Language (1815-23) (Ch. Wuche yun fu ஬㌴㡩ᗓ) by the Scottish missionary Robert Morrison (1782-1834). Morrison was arguably the first protestant missionary in imperial China. He authored a number of important early Chinese translations, such as the first Chinese translation of the Bible from English; and the first major Chinese-English dictionary, i.e. A Dictionary of the Chinese Language, which was hugely influential among early missionaries and western scholars of Chinese and Asian Studies (Hancock, 2009). This dictionary made an important contribution to the romanization of early modern Chinese and laid the foundation of the phonology of modern mandarin Chinese (Coblin, 2003). An important feature of Morrison’s Chinese-English dictionary is that the Scottish missionary deliberately avoided a literal and de-contextualized translation of the Chinese character words which would inevitably lead to what he called broken and incomprehensible English.

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Table 2. Historical materials used (2) Thematic Areas General International Relations and Politics Politics and Law Politics and Economy Philosophy Science and technology

Items Studied 17 9 4 1 4 (incl. 3 editions) 3

Morrison was apparently critical of previous European translations of historical Chinese texts. He noticed that the obscure and sometimes strictly literal translations of historical Chinese into European languages had failed to convey the essence of the traditional Chinese language and culture, causing wide-spread misunderstanding of the native Chinese knowledge body among the European readership; moreover, sometimes such ill-translated works had resulted in an ethnocentric and unjustified superior feeling among the Europeans towards cultural forms and civilizations in other parts of the world. In his momentous A Dictionary of the Chinese Language, Morrison succeeded in developing a translation language that allowed his contemporaneous European readership a much better access to the native Chinese culture as represented by its unique character writing system. Morrison’s dictionary was full of vivid and detailed descriptions of each traditional Chinese character and/or character word collected in the dictionary. To some extent, Morrison’s dictionary is better described as a cultural dictionary rather than a lexical dictionary. The two nation-related expressions identified by the MCST in Morrison’s dictionary are (1) ᒞᅧ (shuguo) and (2) 㐍㈉அᅧ (jingong zhi guo), both translated as “tributary nation”. As the historical data collected from the MCST shows, Morrison’s translation represents one of the earliest attempts at interpreting traditional Chinese society by deploying modern western concepts of nations and states. It thus made the first step in comparing the traditional Chinese political and social system with modern western societies which in turn made important preparations to promote cross-cultural and cross-linguistic contacts between China and the west in the nineteenth century.

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1840s and 1850s In the two decades of the 1840s and 1850s, as the cross-cultural interactions between China and the west intensified, more historical documents were published which contained expressions and terms touching upon modern nations and states. At least three major historical publications produced in this period were extracted from the MCST. They reflect the progressive development of nation related terms in historical Chinese. The three historical volumes extracted are Haiguo si shuo ᾏᅧ ᅄ茢 (Four/ General Accounts of Foreign Countries) (1846) (4 volumes) by Liang Tingnan; Yinghuan zhi lue ℠⎔ᚿ␎ (Brief Account of World Countries) (1848) (10 volumes) by Xu Jiyu; and Zengguang Haiguo tu zhi ቔᘅᾏᅧᅯᚿ (Additions to the Illustrative Account of World Countries) (1852) by Wei Yuan. These early publications on world histories were invariably written in historical Chinese. They provided encyclopaedic accounts of cultural and social facts of foreign countries and societies to the Qing people and their rulers, who had been isolated from the rest of the world since the eighteenth century. At least ten instances of nation-related expressions and words were identified in these three books. They were the English translations provided by the MCST for the original texts written in historical Chinese. Table 3 shows the Chinese expressions with their English translations provided by the MCST. One may infer from Table 3 that parallel to the efforts made by early western missionaries at translating traditional Chinese culture and its language for the western readership, there was a growing tendency among pioneering Chinese intellectuals to introduce foreign societal and cultural phenomena to the Chinese audience. Through the introduction of western social and cultural events to the Chinese readership, authors of these early world histories were consciously or unconsciously making comparisons between the traditional Chinese society and overseas countries and societies, especially in Europe and North America. It was a complex social and cognitive process through which the Chinese people gradually learnt to understand themselves and the outside world by using modern concepts and expressions, such as nation.

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Table 3. Translation of nation related terms in the 1840s and 1850s Dimension of Meaning

Ethnic Group (7)

People of a Nation (2)

Chinese/ Chinese Translation

Pinyin

English/English Translation

Publication Date

✀㢮

zhonglei

nation

1846

᪘㢮

zulei

nation

1846

᪘㢮

zulei

nation

1848

᪘㢮

zulei

nation

1852

ዀ᪘

yizu

foreign nation

1852

✀㢮

zhonglei

nation

1852

᪘✀

zuzhong

nation

1852

ᅧẸ

guomin

people of a nation

1852

ᅧẸ

guomin

nation

1852

In Table 3, the English word ‘nation’ has been used in the MCST to translate a number of Chinese character words which may be roughly divided into two groups: (1) nation as ethnic groups and (2) nation as people, representing a sovereign state. It implies that in these early accounts of western cultures and societies, Chinese intellectuals began to notice important differences between China and the Chinese people from foreign countries and their peoples. These include differences in terms of race, ethnicity, and the civil status of people in a sovereign country, which was an important feature of emerging modern nation states in the west, and which stood in contrast with the Chinese feudal society at the time. The English translations provided by the MCST may not be a close or literal translation of the Chinese historical texts. They do however provide useful clues as to the development of nation-related concepts and expressions in early Chinese writings, especially those on international relations and foreign politics of the Qing Empire. In the hugely influential Haiguo si shuo) (Four/ General Accounts of Foreign Countries) by Liang Tingnan in 1846, the Chinese scholar wrote as follows:

10

Conflicts and Interactions ⮳㞥ṇ୐ᖺ௨ྡྷ㸪๎஫ᕷ୙䳽ࠋ඼᫬☎▼㙠⦻රᐁ㝞᪸ (Chen Ang) ዌ✃㸸“⮧㐢やᾏእㅖᅧ㸪ⓙዊṇ᭾㸪ᝳ⣚ẟ୍✀ (this race) Ⳙ 㸪඼ ୰ ᭷ ⱥ ᆂ 㯪 (Yingguili) ㅖ ᅧ (broadly referring to the UK) 㸪 ✀ 㢮 (nation) 㞪ศ㸪⫆Ề๎୍㸪ㄳ㣢╩ࠊ᧙ㅖ⮧㜵Ⱳࠋ” ๎␜᫬ᕬฟἄᾏୖ ▯ࠋ(᦬༹஬·ⱥྜྷ฼ᅜ୍)

In this passage, Wei quoted a Chinese military officer’s observation of the difference between the UK and other western countries, in which he deliberately emphasized the racial differences between the British people and peoples of other European countries. It was one of the earliest accounts of the UK as a modern nation in Chinese official documents of the Qing Dynasty. The officer, Chen Ang, noticed that in the kingdoms of Yingguili (broadly referring to the UK), the races of the peoples were different but their behaviour and ways of acting were similar. Chen urged the Qing governors to take particular caution against this red-haired race which already had begun to patrol waters near China. In the MCST, the Chinese term zhonglei ✀㢮 (ethnic groups) was translated as ‘nation’. Though this translation is contestable, it serves as an indication of a growing awareness among the Chinese people of the racial differences between themselves and other peoples at the time. As the current study will show, ethnic differences. which seemed to attract much attention by the Chinese people and their rulers in their early contacts with western countries, were to become an important part of the development of nationrelated terms and expressions in modern Chinese.

1860s and 1870s From the 1860s, as Table 4 shows, the translation of important western concepts and ideas such as modern nation and state entered into a new stage in imperial China. This is reflected in the copious western materials translated into early modern Chinese which covered a variety of western language and sources. The MCST has collected a number of widely disseminated and hugely influential translations produced in the twenty years of the 1860s and the 1870s. For the purpose of the current study, I focus on those translations in the MCST which involve the interpretation and contextualization of nation-related terms and expressions against the background of the modernizing Chinese state during this period. These include:

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(1864)

Wheaton, Henry (1836) William Martin (tr.), Elements of International Law ࠓⴙᅧබἲࠔ, ໭ி: ྠᩥ㤋 (1866-9) Lobscheid, Wilhelm, English and Chinese Dictionary, with Punti and Mandarin Pronunciation, ࠓⱥ⳹Ꮠ඾ࠔHong Kong: Daily Press Office (1868) Wang, Tao ⋤㡗,ࠓₔ​㞉㗴ࠔ(Idle Notes of Travel) (㉮ྥୡ ⏺ྀ᭩), 㛗Ἃ: ᓅ㯄᭩♫ (1872) Cai, E, ⶧㘥, “ㄽ㑥ᅧ⮬୺Ḓ” (On the Sovereignty of States) ㍕ࠓ᪂Ꮵ኱ྀ᭩ࠔ, ୖᾏ㸸✚ᒣႛグ᭩ᒁ (1872) William Martin, “ྛᅧ㏆஦” (Recent Events in Each Country) ㍕ࠓ୰す⪺ぢ㗴ࠔ1:2 (1872-3) Doolittle, Justus, A Vocabulary and Handbook of the Chinese Language, Foochow and Shanghai: Rosario, Marcal & Co,ࠓⱥ ⳹ⴆᯘ㡩ᗓࠔ (1874) Lemaire, G., Giquel, Prosper, Dictionnaire de poche FrancaisChinois suivi d’un dictionnaire technique des mots usités à l’arsenal de Foutcheou, Shanghai: American Presbyterian Press ࠓ₎ἲㄒᙡ౽もࠔ (1876) Li, Shuchang 㯪ᗢᫀ,ࠓすὒ㞯ㄅࠔ(Western Magazines) (㉮ ྥୡ⏺ྀ᭩, 㛗Ἃ: ᓅ㯄᭩♫ (1877) Guo, Songtao 㒌ᔞ⇼,ࠓ೔ᩔ⯅ᕮ㯪᪥グࠔ(Diaries in London and Paris) (㉮ྥୡ⏺ྀ᭩), 㛗Ἃ: ᓅ㯄᭩♫ A closer look at the nine items listed above finds that the authors and translators of these dictionaries and books seem to fall under three types of people actively involved in the cross-cultural exchange between China and the west in the 1860s and 1870s. These include first of all prominent western missionaries such as William Martin, Wilhelm Lobscheid and Justus Doolittle; and secondly, western Sinologists and diplomats like Gabriel Lemaire, who served in the French consulates in Shanghai, Canton and Beijing for more than twenty years, and who had a thorough understanding of the traditional Chinese culture and language. The third group of people includes enlightened Chinese politicians and eminent social activists such as Wang Tao, Cai E, Li Shuchang and Guo Songtao. These three groups of people played different yet complementary roles in promoting the modernization of the Chinese language and society in the

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Conflicts and Interactions

latter half of the nineteenth century. On the one hand, western missionaries and scholars actively promoted the translation of western scientific works into Chinese and the compilation of bilingual Chinese dictionaries; on the other hand, native Chinese politicians and social reformers were fully devoted to the introduction and propagation of western sciences, politics and cultures within a society ever restive against its conservative Qing rulers. This marked an important turn in the cross-cultural contacts between China and the west in the nineteenth century. The techniques and methods used to promote more progressive foreign cultures in China in the 1860s and 1870s had seen important shifts from previous decades. For example, with regard to native Chinese writing, a new type of travel account began to emerge and thrive in the mid-nineteenth century. It was based on the personal experiences of Chinese politicians and diplomats during their visits to, and stays in, Europe. This new type of travel account gradually replaced the encyclopaedic style of historical writing in the early nineteenth century as discussed briefly above. This new type of travel writing had an obvious advantage over the earlier encyclopaedic writing to bring updated and first-hand information of the west to the Chinese readership. Many of these travel accounts took the form of personal diaries. They contained rich and detailed descriptions of foreign peoples and their social systems, which generated in the mass Chinese readership a curiosity and keen interest in western cultures and societies. This new travel writing often used plain and vernacular language, which stood in contrast with the highly formal style of encyclopaedic writing in previous decades. All these features of the new Chinese travel account fostered a favourable cultural atmosphere and an enlightened public opinion toward the introduction and assimilation of modern western concepts and ideas into China. Table 4 provides a summary of the different translations of nation related terms and expression to Chinese in the 1860s and 1870s. When compared to the previous two decades of the 1840s and the 1850s, important differences in the Chinese translation of ‘nation’ seem to emerge in the mid nineteenth century. First of all, the translation of nation as state or country using historical Chinese lexis such as guo ᅧ (state; country) or bang 㑥 (state) seems to prevail. It substitutes for the translation of ‘nation’ mainly as zulei ᪘㢮 (ethnic groups) or zhonglei ✀㢮 (racial group) in the 1840s and 1850s. The second most recurrent translation of ‘nation’ is min Ẹ (people) and guomin ᅧ Ẹ (people representing a nation). This is followed by the translation of ‘nation’ as zhonglei ✀㢮 (racial groups) and zulei ᪘㢮 (ethnic groups), and a couple of outliers

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which do not represent the mainstream translation of nation in the 1860s and 1870s. For example, in the MCST, nation was translated once as ⣡ៅ (NA-ZHEN) which was a transliteration coined by mimicking the sound of the English word. It occurred in Guo Songtao’s Diaries in London and Paris published in 1877. The new patterns of the translation of ‘nation’ in the 1860s and the 1870s suggest two parallel and competing translation traditions in China at the time. On the one hand, in the compilation of important bilingual dictionaries and the translation of major western works, western scholars and Sinologists had primarily translated ‘nation’ as a country, state and/or people into early modern Chinese. On the other hand, in the new travel writing mentioned above, Chinese scholars continued the tradition of the 1840s and 1850s which invariably highlighted the racial and ethnic differences distinguishing the Chinese peoples from westerners. Table 4. Translation of nation related terms in the 1860s and 1870s Dimensions of Meanings

Publication Date

English/ English Translation

Chinese/ Chinese Translation

Pinyin

Nation; country (11)

1864-77

nation; country

ᅧ; 㑥

guo; bang

People (4)

1869

nation

Ẹ

min

1864

nation

Ẹ✀

minzhong

1872

the people of a nation

ᅧẸ

guomin

1872

nation

ᅧẸ

guomin

1868

nation

✀㢮

zhonglei

1877

nation

᪘㢮

zulei

1876

nation

✀㢮

zhonglei

1877

nation

⣡ៅ

nashen

1877

science of law of nation

බἲஅᏥ

gongfa zhi xue

Ethnic group (3)

Others (2)

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Conflicts and Interactions

1880s and 1890s In the 1880s and 1890s, the translation of western scientific works in China continued the momentum built in the previous two decades. As shown below, the MCST has identified nine items of historical documents produced in this period which contained nation-related terms and expressions. A number of important patterns seem to emerge which underlie the cross-cultural scientific exchange between China, Japan and the West in the late nineteenth century. Following the tradition of bilingual dictionary compilation initiated by pioneering western missionaries such as Robert Morrison), Wilhelm Lobscheid and Justus Doolittle, native Chinese and Japanese scholars such as Guang Qizhao and Inoue Tetsujirǀ began to compile English-Chinese and English-Japanese dictionaries. The newly compiled dictionaries mainly served general native Chinese and Japanese speakers, as well as a growing number of local officials working with westerners. In China, Guang Qizhao published the first EnglishChinese dictionary An English Chinese Dictionary in Hong Kong in 1882. It was the first time that a native Chinese scholar had taken the lead in compiling a bilingual Chinese dictionary. The significance of this work was that it broke new paths and created new traditions in dictionary making in China under the strong influence of western missionaries and Sinologists. They represent important contributions made by native scholars who worked alongside their western counterparts, in their joint though differently purposed efforts to modernize the Chinese language and its grammatical, lexical and phonological system. Guang’s English Chinese Dictionary proved hugely successful not only inside China but also in Japan, when the Sino-Japanese relationship entered into escalating competition. (1881) ஭ୖဴḟ㑻, ᭷㈡㛗㞝,ࠓဴᏥᏐᙡࠔ(Tetsugaku jii) (1st edition) , ᮾி: ᮾὒ㤋 (1882) 㒹඼↷,ࠓ⳹ⱥᏐ඾㞟ᡂࠔKwong, Ki-chiu, An English and Chinese Dictionary, Hong Kong (1884) ஭ୖဴḟ㑻, ᭷㈡㛗㞝,ࠓဴᏥᏐᙡࠔ(2nd edition), ᮾி: ᮾὒ 㤋 (1886) Schlegel, Gustave, Nederlandsch-Chineesch Woordenboek met de Transcriptie der Chineesche Karakters in het Tsiang-Tsiu Dialekt, Leiden: Brill, 13 Vols. ࠓⲴ⳹ᩥㄒ㢮ཨࠔ (1890) 㯣㑂᠇, Huang, Zunxianࠓ᪥ᮏᅧᚿࠔ(History of Japan) (1893) “ᨻ἞அᏥ” (Political Studies) ㍕ࠓ༂ሗࠔ116

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(1894)

Robertson, Edmund; John Fryer and Wang Zhensheng (trans.) ࠓබἲ⦻ㄽࠔ(On International Law) , ୖᾏ: Ụ༡〇㐀ᒁ (1895) 㨯※ (⦅) “ቔᘅᾏᅧᅯᚿ” ㍕ࠓ୰㡑㜝ಀྐᩱ㍴せࠔ (1898) ୎♽ⶱ, Ding, Zuyin, “ⴙᅧබἲ㔚౛” (Case Studies of Elements of International Law) ㍕ࠓᖖ⇍୎Ặྀ᭩ࠔ In Meiji Japan, the translation and assimilation of western scientific imports was from the beginning firmly embedded within the modernization process of the country. In 1881, one year before the publication of Guang’s An English Chinese Dictionary, Japanese philosophers Inoue Tetsujirǀ and Ariga Hisao published the hugely influential Tetsugaku jii (A Dictionary of Philosophical Terms) in Tokyo. Tetsugaku jii represents a cornerstone in the introduction and assimilation of modern western sciences in East Asia in the late nineteenth century. It symbolizes an important qualitative shift in Japan’s western learning which moves away from a passive position of ‘borrowing’ to a more proactive attitude of ‘taking’ to modernize and enhance its native knowledge body. In the creation of modern Japanese terms and expressions to translate English scientific terminology, the two native Japanese scholars rather successfully integrated imported western scientific input into the character-based writing system of Japanese and Chinese. A large number of words and expressions created in Tetsugaku jii stood the test of the time and rival translations, and were eventually built into modern Japanese and later, modern Chinese scientific language. The huge success attained by Tetsugaku jii, however, should not be construed as an isolated case; rather, its widely acknowledged linguistic and scientific achievement owes a great deal to the efforts made by pioneering cross-cultural mediators working in the previous decades of the nineteenth century. For example, Inoue Tetsujirǀ, one of Tetsugaku jii’s authors, was fluent in German with an in-depth understanding of western, especially modern German philosophy and philology, and indeed taught German courses at the Imperial University of Tokyo (later the University of Tokyo). In 1883, he published a revised and enlarged version of Wilhelm Lobscheid’s momentous An English Chinese Dictionary, fourteen years after the first printing of the German missionary’s work in Hong Kong in 1869. With a thorough understanding of both western languages and cultures and native Japanese and Chinese cultures, Inoue developed a working translation model which was based on the extraction and alignment of stem words in English and in Chinese characters to create modern Japanese scientific terms and expressions (Takano, 2006).

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Conflicts and Interactions

The publication of Tetsugaku jii in 1881 indicated that Japan had achieved a rather advanced level in the scientific and cultural exchange with the West in the late nineteenth century. Textual materials extracted from the MCST database suggest that this was a crucial turning point in the Sino-Japanese relationship amid the modernization of the region at that time. From the 1880s onwards, an increasingly large number of Chinese political and intellectual elites began to notice and criticize the very different models of social and cultural modernization between the two neighbouring countries of Japan and China. These include the eminent Chinese scholar and political activist Huang Zunxian, who published his epic forty-volume Riben tu zhi ᪥ᮏᅧᚿ (History of Japan) in 1890. It was undoubtedly the most influential and representative study of Japan, especially its modern social and political reforms, published in China in the nineteenth and early twentieth century (Jin, 2005). The changing balance of power between China and Japan had stimulated a new wave of western learning in China, which now focused on political reforms and China’s recasting of its role and position in the changing geopolitical map of East Asia at the time. This was reflected in a variety of scholarly publications. Translation of western works on international politics and laws remained the main source of modern western scientific imports in China. In 1894, the renowned English missionary and Sinologist John Fryer and his Chinese collaborator Wang Zhengshen translated an article by Edmund Robertson originally published in Encyclopaedia Britannica and published their Chinese translation under the title of Gongfa zong luni බ ἲ ⦻ ㄽ (On International Law). An important feature of western scientific translations produced in China in the late nineteenth century was their publication with newly established official institutes promoting western learning, for example, the General Bureau of Machine Manufacture of Jiangnan (Jiangnan zhi zao zong ju Ụ ༡〇㐀ᒁ). It was set up and financed by a few enlightened Chinese highranking officials to promote self-strengthening military, scientific, technical and educational reforms across the country. At the same time, native Chinese scholars began to work on the revision, editing and interpretation of previous translations by western scholars. In 1898, the Chinese scholar and politician Ding Zuyin published his Case Studies of Elements of International Law. In this book, Ding tried to interpret and revise an earlier Chinese version (Martin, 1864) of Henry Wheaton’s Elements of International Law by providing detailed case studies to facilitate the understanding of the English original for the Chinese readership. Pioneering journals and magazines sprang up in the second half of the nineteenth century. They provided much-needed venues

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for heated public debates among Chinese intellectuals and political activists on social and cultural reforms in China. Established in Shanghai in 1874, Hui Bao ༂ሗ was one of the first newspapers created by Chinese people in the country. In the MCST, an article published in Hui Bao in 1893 was extracted; it was titled “On Political Studies”. Table 5. Translation of nation related terms and expressions in 1880s and 1890s Dimensions of Meaning Nation (15)

Chinese/Chinese Translation ᅜ; 㑥

Pinyin guo; bang

English/English Translation country; state

People (10)

Ẹ; ே; ⓒጣ

min; ren; baixing

people

Others (3)

ே㢮 㒊 ᨻ

renlei bu zheng

humankind section; part politics

Within the new context of the assimilation of, and resistance to, western scientific imports in the 1880s and 1890s, I proceed to identify the changing patterns of the translation of keywords such as nation in the MCST database. Table 5 summarizes the translation and the use of nationrelated terms and expressions in the various types of historical documents analyzed above. As one may see in Table 5, compared to the translation of ‘nation’ in the 1860s and 1870s, two important dimensions of meaning would seem to be established in the Chinese translation of ‘nation’, i.e. nation as a political and geographical concept, and nation referring to the people representing a state or country. The translation of ‘nation’ as ethnic groups and/or racial groups into Chinese in the 1860s and 1870s was minimal in the 1880s and 1890s. At the same time, a number of once-off translations persisted which imply the shifting alignment between early modern Chinese and imported western scientific works in the last twenty years of the nineteenth century.

1900s - 1920s The first thirty years of the twentieth century include the largest amount of historical translations of expressions and words related to nation in the MCST database. Similar to the previous periods studied, these thirty years saw the continuation and competition among different traditions of dictionary compilation and science translation in China. These remained

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the main channels for the importation and assimilation of modern western scientific ideas and concepts in the modernizing Chinese state at the turn of the twentieth century. Western missionaries and Sinologists, despite their different nationalities and religious affiliations, continued to promote the traditions of bilingual dictionary making in Chinese and western languages. (1900) 㒯や᠕, “┒ୡ༴ゝ” ㍕ ኟᮾඖ (⦅)ࠓ㒯や᠕㞟ࠔ (1902) Mateer, Calvin, Technical Terms English and Chinese, Shanghai: Presbyterian Mission Press (1903) Liszt, Franz von, ၟົ༳᭩㤋 (㆞) “ᅧ㝿බἲ኱⥘” ㍕ࠓᨻᏥྀ ᭩ࠔୖᾏ: ၟົ༳᭩㤋 (1905) ᡝ㬨ឿࠓฟ౑஑ᅧ᪥グࠔ(㉮ྥୡ⏺ྀ᭩), 㛗Ἃ: ᓅ㯄᭩♫ (1907) ΎỈ⃈ (ⴭ), ᙇ᫓℀, 㒌㛤ᩥ (㆞),ࠓ₎㆞ἲᚊ⥂⃽㎫඾ࠔ, ᮾ ி: ዋᩥ㤋᭩ᒁ (1908) ᡝ㬨ឿ, ➃᪉ (ⴭ),ࠓิᅧᨻせࠔ, ୖᾏ: ၟົ༳᭩㤋 (1909) 㒯や᠕, “┒ୡ༴ゝᚋ⦅” ㍕ ኟᮾඖ (⦅)ࠓ㒯や᠕㞟ࠔ (1912) Giles, Herbert A., A Chinese English Dictionary, Shanghai: Kelly and Walsh (1913) ⏣㑔៞ᙗ (ⴭ), ⋤ᡃ⮪ (㆞)ࠓ₎㆞᪥ᮏἲᚊ⥂⃽㎫඾ࠔ, ୖᾏ: ၟົ༳᭩㤋 (1916) Hemeling, Karl Ernst Georg, English-Chinese Dictionary of the Standard Chinese Spoken Language and Handbook for Translators, including Scientific, Technical, Modern and Documentary Terms, Shanghai: Statistical Department of the Inspectorate General of Customs (1919) ௵㬨ᑆ, “ⓐ᫂⯅◊✲஧” ㍕ ௵㬨ᑆ (⦅)ࠓ⛉Ꮵ㏻ㄽࠔ, ୰ᅧ⛉ Ꮵ♫ (1921) 㝣఑㬨, ᏵၿⰋ (⦅)ࠓἲ⳹᪂Ꮠ඾ࠔ, ୖᾏ: ၟົ༳᭩㤋 (1927) Medard, J., Vocabulaire Français-Chinois des sciences morales et politiques, Tianjin: Société Française de Librairie et d´Édition; ࠓἲ₎ᑙ㛛モ඾ࠔ In 1902, the American Presbyterian missionary Calvin Mateer published his Technical Terms: English and Chinese in Shanghai. Mateer held important positions in his service in Shandong province for more than forty years. In 1882, he founded Tengchow College as the first modern institution of higher education in China. Tengchow College became a predecessor of the prestigious Qi Lu University, and finally Shandong University. In 1890, a group of western missionaries and native Chinese

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scholars established the widely influential Educational Association of China (Yizhi shu hui ┈ᬛḎ఍). Calvin Mateer led the committee of experts working on the standardisation of Chinese medical and scientific terminology (Wright, 1998). Technical Terms, English and Chinese represents an important effort made by the American missionary and educator at regulating and systemizing the use of scientific terms and nomenclature in modern Chinese amid the influx of western scientific works into China. The value and significance of Mateer’s work however was not fully recognized at the time of its publication. Another eminent western scholar highlighted in the MCST is the English diplomat and Sinologist Herbert Allen Giles. During his political career in China and later as a university professor at Cambridge University, Giles translated a range of Chinese literary and philosophical classics including Confucius, Laozi and Zhuangzi. Giles was known for his invention of the Wade-Giles Chinese transliteration system, which provided a romanized version of the Chinese character-based writing system. The Wade-Giles system was the most widely used system of transcription of Chinese in the English-speaking world for the most part of the twentieth century (Tao, 1990). In his three-volume A English and Chinese Dictionary (Yinghua zi dian ⳹ ⱥ Ꮠ ඾ ), first published in Shanghai in 1892 and reprinted in London in 1912, Giles applied the Wade-Giles system throughout. A English and Chinese Dictionary is believed to be the first widely published English-Chinese dictionary, and had a huge impact on the compilation of any English and Chinese dictionary to come (Chien, 1986). Giles’s contemporaneous Karl Ernst Georg Hemeling was a German Sinologist, who served in various official positions for nearly twenty years in the late Qing dynasty. In 1916, he published the English-Chinese Dictionary of the Standard Chinese Spoken Language and Handbook for Translators, including Scientific, Technical, Modern and Documentary Terms. Hemeling’s English-Chinese dictionary symbolizes a further step towards the standardization of Chinese scientific terminology. Unlike Calvin Mateer, who attempted to regulate the emerging Chinese scientific terminology outside the Chinese official system, Hemeling, a hired official of the late Qing government, collaborated closely with his Chinese colleagues and published his translator-training dictionary with the Statistical Department of the Inspectorate General of Customs of the Guangxu administration (Vittinghoff, 2002). As a result, while the influence of Mateer’s publication on Chinese scientific term standardization remained rather limited within the circles of western scholars and missionaries, Hemeling’s English Chinese dictionary was

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well known among the Chinese officials and the mass Chinese readership (Zhao, 2005). Mateer’s and Hemeling’s works represent two very different approaches to the development of modern Chinese scientific terminology. Whereas Mateer pursued his translation enterprise closely in line with western traditions of scientific investigation and disciplinary construction, Hemeling adopted a more practical approach to meet the needs of translator training and bilingual dictionary making of the Qing government. As materials collected in the MCST database suggest, another important trend in the systematic introduction of western scientific imports in China at the time was the establishment of professional publishing houses by Chinese intellectuals and social activists and the organized translation and edition of western scientific works by native Chinese scholars. The Commercial Press (Shangwu yin shu guan ၟົ༳᭩㤋) was a good example. One of the most prestigious publication companies in China, the Commercial Press was founded in 1897 by a group of pioneering Chinese intellectuals and entrepreneurs working at the American Presbyterian Mission Press. Since its early days, the Commercial Press aimed to promote western sciences and cultures to educate and enlighten the mass Chinese readership. A number of important scientific works and bilingual dictionaries, especially on law, international relations, politics and economics were published by the Commercial Press in the early twentieth century. In 1903, the Commercial Press translated and published the German jurist and international law reformer Franz von Liszt’s International law: Systematically Presented (first published in Berlin in 1888). In 1913, under the auspices of the Commercial Press, Wang Wozang translated the Japanese Legal and Economic Dictionary by Tanabe Keiya. Another important bilingual dictionary, the French-Chinese Dictionary, was compiled by the eminent Chinese entrepreneur and philanthropist Lu Bohong and published with the Commercial Press in 1921. The commission and coordination of translation by independent publishing firms such as the Commercial Press played an instrumental role in regulating and systematizing western scientific input in China. It symbolizes the emergence of a translation market of western scholarly works in China. The official status and the professional management of the Commercial Press ensured the far-reaching influence of its publications over a long period of time. It played a hugely important role in forging new traditions of western learning in China, by prioritizing the practical needs of the mass Chinese readership under changing social and cultural circumstances.

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Table 6. Translation of nation related terms in the 1900s; 1910s and 1920s Dimensions of Meaning Nation (25)

Chinese/ Chinese Translation ᅜ; 㑥

People (8)

Ẹ; ᅧẸ

Ethnic Groups (5) Others

᪘㢮; Ẹ᪘ බ

Pinyin

guo; bang min; guomin zulei; minzu gong

English/ English Translation country; state people ethnic groups public

Publication Date 1900s 1920s 1900s 1920s 1900s 1920s 1912

Within the new social background of China’s translation of western scientific works at the turn of the twentieth century, I proceed to study the translation of nation-related expressions and terms in the MCST database. Table 6 shows the summary of the translation of ‘nation’ in the historical texts produced between the 1900s and the 1920s in the database. It is interesting to find that the patterns of translation in the early twentieth century show striking similarities with the patterns found in Table 4, which summarizes the translation of nation into Chinese in the 1860s and 1870s. This recurrent pattern of translation underpins three important dimensions of meaning of ‘nation’ in early modern Chinese: firstly, nation as a state, a political and administrative unit; secondly, nation referring people as subordinates under the authority or control of a political unit; and thirdly, nation referring to the ethnic groups of the people representing a state.

Comparison of the Patterns of Translation of ‘Nation’ into Early Modern Chinese We have so far studied the changing patterns of the translation of nationrelated terms and expressions in China in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Table 7 shows the distribution of the Chinese translation of three important dimensions of meaning of ‘nation’ in the five historical periods under investigation: (1) nation as a geopolitical concept; (2) nation translated as the people of a country; and (3) nation translated as ethnicity or the ethnic composition of a nation. Because of the different sizes of the historical texts studied in each period, the raw frequencies of occurrence of words are converted into the relative proportions among the three dimensions of meaning. From the statistics

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provided in Table 7, we may uncover some underlying patterns of the shifting meaning of nation in early modern Chinese. Table 7. Patterns in the diachronic translation of nation into early modern Chinese Historical Phases 1820s-1830s 1840s-1850s 1860s-1870s 1880s-1890s 1900s-1920s

Nation 100 0 55 53.6 65.8

People 0 22 20 35.7 21.1

Ethnicity

Others

Total

0 78 15 0 13.1

0 0 10 10.7 0

100 100 100 100 100

Figure 1. Patterns in the diachronic translation of nation into early modern Chinese

Firstly, in the early nineteenth century, which marks the beginning of the intensifying cross-cultural scientific contacts between China and the west, the term nation was used by pioneering western missionaries like Robert Morrison) to describe the traditional Chinese political system conveyed in historical Chinese lexis such as jingong zhi guo 㐍 ㈉ அ ᅧ (tributary countries) and shuguo ᒞ ᅧ (subordinate countries). That is, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, nation was exploited as a geopolitical concept in early Chinese-English translations. Important changes took place in the 1840s and 1850s, when ethnicity or ethnic differences between the Chinese and western peoples were highlighted in early Chinese

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writings on western cultures and societies. The recurrence of ethnic issues in these early Chinese writings made important preparations for the development of the multidimensional meaning of ‘nation’ in translations at later times. The next two decades of the 1860s and the 1870s saw an influx of western scientific works into China. In these two decades, more diversified translations of nation began to emerge. This was shown in the translation of nation primarily as a geopolitical concept, followed by people, ethnicity and a few outliers or non-regular translations. In the last two decades of the nineteenth century, i.e. the 1880s and 1890s, while the pattern of the translation of nation as state and people retained, the translation of nation as ethnicity turned out minimal. In the 1900s and 1920s, a tripartite model of the translation of nation seems to have been established. During this period, despite the very diverse historical materials studied in the MCST, the translation of nation into early modern Chinese alternated between state, people and ethnicity, with very few outliers or irregular translations as had occurred in the previous decades of the nineteenth century.

Conclusion Section 1 offered an empirical investigation of the translation and evolution of nation-related concepts and expressions in early modern Chinese. It provided an empirical study of the quantitative historical materials retrieved from large-scale databases of early modern Chinese translations. In the exploration of the database, it was found that despite the changing patterns of the translation of nation, the translation of nation in the mid-nineteenth century proved to be the most stable model. It developed three important dimensions of meaning of nation in early modern Chinese, i.e. nation as a geopolitical unit, nation as people and nation as an ethnic concept. Through the exploration and comparative study of quantitative historical linguistic materials, this study yielded original findings regarding the changing use of nation-related terms in early modern Chinese. It illustrated the instrumental role played by scientific translations in the emergence and development of modern concepts and terms in Chinese from the nineteenth century onwards. The corpus-based historical sociolinguistic analysis demonstrated that modernization of China’s native language and culture has been a progressive and dynamic progress which involved interactions among different groups of people in different historical stages. Based on the case study of the translation of key words and expressions such as nation in Chinese, this study sheds new light on the complex historical process of

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the construction of China’s modern scientific language, which was the outcome of the variation and appropriation of western scientific texts within the native Chinese culture and knowledge body.

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References Chernilo, D. A Social Theory of the Nation State: the Political Forms of Modernity beyond Methodological Nationalism. London and New York: Taylor and Francis, 2007. Chien, D. “A Brief History of Chinese Bilingual Lexicography”. In The History of Lexicography: Papers from the Dictionary Research Centre, ed. R.R.K. Hartmann. Amsterdam: John Benjamin, 1986. Coblin, S. “Robert Morrison and the Phonology of Mid-Qing Mandarin.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, Series 3, 13: 3 (2003): 339-55. Crowley. T. An Introduction to Historical Linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009. Hancock, C. Robert Morrison and the Birth of Chinese Protestantism. London: T. and T. Clark International, 2009. Ji, M. “A Corpus-based Study of Lexicalization in Historical Chinese.” Literary and Linguistic Computing 25: 2 (2010): 199-213. —. “An Evolution Model of Historical Chinese Linguistics.” Paper presented at the 20th International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Osaka, Japan, 2011. Jin, G. T. “Origin and Evolution of Reforms in China.” Criticism of Politics and Social Philosophies 13 (2005): 1-51. Lackner, M, Amelung, I. and Kurtz, J. (2001) A Repository of Chinese Scientific, Philosophical and Political Terms Coined in the Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Century. Introduction to the Modern Chinese Scientific Terminology database, online accessible at http://mcst.unihd.de/helpMCST/intro.lasso Lackner, M. et al. (eds.) New Terms for New Ideas: Western Knowledge and Language Change in Late Imperial China. Leiden: Brill, 2001. Nevalainen, T. and Raumolin-Brunberg, H. Historical Sociolinguistics. London: Longman, 2003. Schreibman, S. et al. (eds.) A Companion to Digital Humanities. London: Blackwell, 2007. Seymour, M. The Fate of the Nation State. Montréal and London: McGillQueen’s University Press, 2004. Shafer, B. Nationalism: Myth and Reality. New York: Harcourt Brace, 1955. Takahiro, K. et al. “Historical Development of English-Japanese Dictionaries in Japan (3): Tetsugaku-Jii (A Dictionary of Philosophy, 1881) by Tetsujiro Inoue et al.” Lexicon 27 (1997): 74-137. Takano, S. ‘Tetsugaku jii’ no wasei kango: sono goki no seiseihǀ, zǀgohǀ ࠗဴᏛᏐᙡ࠘ࡢ࿴〇₎ㄒ : ࡑࡢㄒᇶࡢ⏕ᡂἲ࣭㐀ㄒἲ (Word

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stems in Tetsugaku jii, formation and method of creation). Bulletin of the Institute of Humanities 37 (2004): 87-108. Accessible online at human.kanagawa-u.ac.jp/kenkyu/publ/pdf/syoho/no37/3707.pdf Tao, H. “Wade-Giles or Hanyu Pinyin: Practical Issues in the Transliteration of Chinese Titles and Proper Names.” Cataloguing and Classification Quarterly 12: 2 (1990): 105-24. Tsai, Mon-Han (2011) “Two View of Foreigners and Minorities in Imperial China: A Genealogy of Modern East Asia.” In Mid-Term Review Report of the Centre of Minorities Research, pp. 173-94. Osaka: Kansai University, 2011. Uchida, K. “Letters from Kwong’s Grandchildren.” Wakumon 19 (2010): 131-46. Vittinghoff, N. Die Anfänge des Journalismus in China (1860-1911). Opera Sinologica 9. Berlin: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2002. Wright, D. “The Translation of Modern Western Science in Nineteenth Century China.” Isis 89: 4 (1998): 653-73. Zhao, X. Y. “Historical studies of the Beijing dialect by Foreign Scholars in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Century.” Beijing Historical Documents, No. 4, 2005. Accessible online at http://jds.cass.cn/Item/ 5768.aspx

CHAPTER TWO GRAVITY OF MODERNITY: REACTIONS TO THE “NEW ASTRONOMY” IN IRAN AND JAPAN ISAHAYA YOICHI Introduction This study compares the reactions of Iran and Japan to the “new astronomy” around the turn of the nineteenth century. We focus, in particular, on translations of European works concerning the “new astronomy” into Persian and Japanese: in Persian, Tarjome-ye Hei’at (Translation of the Science of Configuration, 1818) by MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd (1791-1849), and in Japanese, Seijutsu hongen taiyǀ kynjri ryǀkai shinsei tenchi nikynj yǀhǀki ᫍ ⾡ ᮏ ※ ኴ 㝧 ❓ ⌮ ஢ ゎ ᪂ ไ ኳ ᆅ ஧ ⌫ ⏝ ἲ グ (Ground of Astronomy, Newly Edited and Illustrated: on the Use of Celestial and Terrestrial Globes according to the Heliocentric System (hereafter cited as the Ground of Astronomy), 1793) by Motoki Ryǀei ᮏ ᮌ Ⰻ Ọ (1735-94). Both works are almost the first translations from European languages into either Persian or Japanese concerning the “new astronomy”. In comparing these two works, although the historical backgrounds were quite different in each region, we can find quite a few similarities worth noting. Through this study, we will deal with the aporia that exists in finding universality in locality. The attraction of western science and technology—to which, in many cases, the adjective “modern” is attached—was virtually a world-wide phenomenon. In this study, we will examine the “gravity of modernity” from the viewpoint of astronomy, focusing on the local historical context in each region, Iran and Japan.

History of Science in the Context of Global History Although the history of science has not so far necessarily focused on global history, it is quite likely that the studies made in this field have

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greatly contributed to the writing of history on a global scale. 1 This is because, throughout the history of science, it is possible to look at the gap between the universal and the local, which is a key issue in studying global history.2 Universality is considered to be a feature of science in a modern sense, so in this recognition, we cannot put adjectives on the concept of science in order to localize it: i.e., we cannot say, “European” science or “Islamic” science.3 At the same time, however, we know well that even now there are various intellectual systems across the globe. When we pay attention to the issue how “the universality of science” was generated under this plurality, we necessarily focus on the “locality of science”, and science(s) should be located in the social context of each region. For this approach, we can consider the sciences to which adjectives are attached: for example, “Iranian Science”, “Japanese Science”, and so on.4 When we speak of a “social context”, we refer to what kind of scientific factors were important in a certain society, and how one society reacted in encountering another science foreign to it. Therefore, it is worthwhile to consider science(s) in regional and religious contexts, in order to offer a new perspective for studies in global history. Firstly, we cannot overlook the fact that the notion of “science” itself—in particular, “modern science”—rests on a certain theoretical basis. This notion has a close connection with the notion of “Europe” that was generated by intellectuals of nineteenth century northwestern Europe. 1

Of course, we can already find several attempts to consider the history of science on a global scale; for example, an issue of Isis (vol. 101, no. 1, 2010) has a special section focusing on “Global Histories of Science.” The article by Elshakry contained in it is particularly connected with the perspective of this article (Elshakry 2010). 2 For example, Masashi Haneda perceives Asian waters as several maritime worlds, none of which is a closed or homogenous area, but a loose geographical unit open to the outside. By doing so, he aims to deconstruct the hard framework of nation states, and to synthesize all kinds of cross-cultural contacts (Haneda 2009a, 3). Hence, we can conduct such study by analyzing science. Kuroda Akinobu’s studies, focusing on monetary systems, have also without any doubt greatly contributed to elucidating this kind of gap on a global scale (Kuroda 2003). 3 Roshdi Rashed, a historian of Arabic mathematics, aimed to transcend the discourse of “science as a western phenomena”, through his studies concerning algebra based on Arabic sources (Rashed 1994). 4 Abdelhamid Sabra, a historian of Arabic science, asserted that “all history is local, and the history of science is no exception. There can be no history of science that is not concerned with a localized episode or a sequence of such episodes… all history of science must be contextual, because all historical events are local” (Sabra 1996, 654-5).

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At that time, all positive values, as far as they could imagine, were attributed to “Europe”—for instance, progress, democracy, freedom, equality, secularity, and universality; of course, “science” was also one of these elements. “Europe”, which held multiple and peculiar notions, clarified its identity through juxtaposition with the “Orient”, “Asia”, and the “Islamic world”, which were regarded as holding negative values that were against “Europe” (Haneda 2007; 2010, 6-7). In such discourse, “modern science” was necessarily born in “Europe”, and as a result, “western science” became synonymous with “modern science”. This kind of discourse has been continually reproduced even down to our time (Grant 1997; Huff [1993] 2003). In this sense, the modern era is the period in which other areas were attracted, as by a kind of gravity, to modern/western science in Europe. However, one of the important tasks of studies on global history is to reconsider such Eurocentric historical narratives (Manning 2003; Haneda 2010). A series of results on global history—especially in economic history—have recently revealed the lack of reality in the perspective that Europe was on the rise and leading the world to the extent that no other region came close to it around the seventeenth century when modern/western science seems to have been born in the aforementioned discourse (Frank 1998; Pomeranz 2000). Under these circumstances, we also need to reexamine the notion of “modern science” itself, according to recent results from studies in the history of science. As a premise, we should rather consider what kind of attraction/gravity of so-called “western science” was exerted on other areas far from the centers of this science; necessarily, some parts of geographical Europe would be included in “the other areas”. What importance/gravity did European science hold for the other areas? To answer this question, we need to contextualize the science in each area. Comparing the aforementioned first translations of scientific European works into Persian and Japanese will provide clues in seeking the answers to the above-mentioned issues.

What is the “New Astronomy”? Before going into the details of our discussion, we need to define the meaning of the “new astronomy”. In sum, the “new astronomy” refers to what was based on the achievements of Tycho Brahe (1546-1601) and Johannes Kepler (1571-1630), and which developed in Europe. The construction of a comprehensive heliocentric celestial model by Copernicus (1473-1543) marked a watershed in the birth of modern science in the aforementioned discourse (Westman 1990; Huff [1993]

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2003, 325-31). However, quite a few scholars—particularly specialists in “Arabic astronomy”5—have unearthed some lost history; and as a result, we have recently come to understand how far Copernicus relied on the achievements of his Arabic predecessors (Saliba 2007). In fact, Copernicus followed Aristotelian natural physics, in which celestial mechanics were differentiated from terrestrial ones. In the former sphere, celestial bodies were permitted to make only circular motions. Each orb, in which each planet is included, has a physical entity; that is to say, no object can go between these orbs. In addition, he made use of a technical tool (the so-called “৫njsƯ” couple) invented by NaৢƯr al-DƯn ৫njsƯ (1201-74), a thirteenth century Muslim polymath active mainly in the Iranian plateau, for constructing his model to represent celestial motions (Kennedy 1966). We can also point to the fact that the lunar model by Ibn al-ShƗtir (1304-75) is in accordance with the Copernican lunar model (Roberts 1957). ‘AlƯ QnjshchƯ (1403-74), a Muslim immigrant astronomer, who went from Samarqand to Istanbul, even mentioned the possibility of the earth’s motion in the course of freeing astronomy from natural physics (Ragep 2001). According to a range of recent studies by historians of Arabic astronomy, therefore, we might conclude that almost all the materials existed in the “Islamicate” world to apprehend the Copernican theory from a technical and theoretical viewpoint.6 In fact, Abnj ৫Ɨleb-e HoseynƯ wrote a Persian treatise concerning the heliocentric cosmology in 5

Here we define “Arabic astronomy” through a slight modification of Sabra’s definition of “Arabic science”; “the term Arabic (or Islamic) science denotes the scientific activities of individuals who lived in a region that roughly extended chronologically from the eighth century A.D. to the beginning of the modern era, and geographically from the Iberian Peninsula and North Africa to the Indus valley and from southern Arabia to the Caspian Sea—that is, the region covered for most of that period by what we call Islamic civilization, and in which the results of the activities referred to were for the most part expressed in the Arabic language” (Sabra 1996, 655). Here, we would like to modify the final words from “the Arabic language” to “the Arabic script” because other languages written in Arabic script—such as Persian and Turkish—also played an important role in developing this kind of astronomy. 6 The term Islamicate was coined by Marshall Hodgson, who defined the term as something that “...would refer not directly to the religion, Islam, itself, but to the social and cultural complex historically associated with Islam and the Muslims, both among Muslims themselves and even when found among non-Muslims” (Hodgson 1974, 1: 59). Quite a few scholars who engaged in writing astronomical works in these regions were non-Muslim, so we cannot necessarily explain the characteristics of Arabic astronomy by means of Islam. Therefore, “Islamicate” might be preferable to “Islamic” in this context.

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the last half of the eighteenth century in India. Although it is probable that he knew about the new cosmology from Europeans who had come to India, his proofs for the sustenance of the cosmology are different from those of Copernicus. Abnj ৫Ɨleb was familiar with Arabic astronomy, so it was not impossible for him to have comprehended the heliocentric celestial model (although it as unsuitable as that of Copernicus)7 by means of the accumulated knowledge of Arabic astronomy (Ma‘sumi-Hamedani 1982). However, the achievements of Tycho Brahe went beyond the framework of Aristotelian natural physics. He carried out observations on a comet appearing in 1577 and proved that the appearance and disappearance of this comet were phenomena occurring on the outside of the sublunary sphere, in which celestial objects, according to the concepts of natural physics, keep their immutable and unchanging states. Therefore, his observations came as a blow, undermining the dominant Aristotelian natural physics. Kepler, Tycho’s pupil, later offered his three laws (based on Tycho’s vast observation records), in which the heliocentric cosmology was a premise, and in which the planets, including the earth, have elliptical orbits, despite the fact that only circular motions had been permitted in natural physics. We can trace this kind of development only in certain areas of Europe, and people from other regions did not know about these developments except through persons or works from those areas. This European astronomy is what we refer to as the “new astronomy”. In this study, we will pay attention to how this new astronomy was transmitted to other areas through translation.

Comparing the First Persian and Japanese Translations In the above sections, we have noted the importance of considering the history of science in a global context and have defined the “new astronomy”. Here we turn our attention to the reason why we have selected Iran 8 and Japan as comparative objects in considering the transmission of the new astronomy. 7

Copernicus could not “physically” put his theory on a fundamental basis, so his theory was not necessarily superior to the Ptolemaic one of his time. Rather his worth was to offer an alternative model, which offered precision similar to the Ptolemaic one, to predict celestial motions. The “Copernican revolution” was not achieved by Copernicus himself but by his successors who constructed the new astronomy (Takahashi 1993). 8 First, we have to deal with the problematic issue of what constitutes “Iran.” Rudi Matthee, a historian of the Safavid dynasty (1501-1722), referred to this issue in

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ࢥ࣋ࣝࢽ࢟ࣗࢫ

Figure 1. The Koperunikusu no kynjri ⟠ⓒ⪥ᑽஂᩝࣀ❓⌮ (Copernican System) appearing in the Ground of Astronomy (GA, 8: 53a). However, this system is not exactly that of Copernicus himself since the knowledge that the elliptical orbit of a comet penetrates the orbits of planets is based on the discoveries of his successors.

this way; “The period of the Safavids, the dynasty that took control of Persia in the early 16th century, is often considered the beginning of modern Persian history, just as the state they created is said to mark the genesis of the Persian nation-state. It would be anachronistic to call Safavid Persia a modern nation-state….Yet it is also true that the Safavids made many original contributions and their legacy survives in various ways. They unified much of Persia under a single political control, transforming an essentially tribal nomadic order into a sedentary society deriving most of its revenue from agriculture and trade. Most important, the Safavids introduced a concept of patrimonial kingship, combining territorial authority with religious legitimacy that with modifications would endure until the 20th century” (Matthee 2008). Therefore, we would like to define Iran as almost the same region as the Safavid domain.

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The reasons have to do with the similarities and differences in astronomy in both regions. Both areas had taken quite different roads until the turn of the nineteenth century, at least with regard to astronomy. Iran, needless to say, was a part of the Islamicate world, in which astronomy had been eagerly studied from several standpoints, partly for religion and partly with reference to monarchies. To represent celestial motions, astronomers used geometrical or trigonometric approaches (Saliba 1998). On the other hand, Japan had been influenced by Chinese astronomy, whose main task was astronomical reforms leading to calendar-making in order to legitimatize the monarchs. In contrast to Arabic astronomy, no geometrical models were constructed in Chinese astronomy; rather, the approach was empirical and algebraic (Martzloff 2009). Therefore, the astronomical works in these regions had necessarily been written in “cultural languages”: that is, in Arabic and Chinese, respectively. However, in both Iran and Japan, western scientific knowledge was translated into the vernacular languages: i.e., Persian and Japanese. Just at the turn of the nineteenth century, these two regions started to translate this kind of knowledge from European languages. Through comparing the first translations in Persian and Japanese, we find the following similarities, which are worth noticing: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

The translations from European works on the new astronomy were first done at about the same time: that is, around the turn of the nineteenth century. In both cases, the translators were governmental officials, so these translations were a product of their official enterprises. The translators actually did not specialize in astronomy, so it is preferable to call them linguists. In both cases, rather than advanced astronomical works, the books could be categorized as being for a general audience. Later intellectuals familiar with astronomy, in both cases, declared their dissatisfaction with the first translations. Both translators regarded the works on the new astronomy as objects lying outside of their astronomical traditions.

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The Periods of Translations Few researchers have concerned themselves with the acceptance of the new astronomy in Iran. 9 However, recently a manuscript of a Persian astronomical treatise was found in Iran through a footnote in an article by Kamran Arjomand (1997, 9n15): a manuscript of the Tarjome-ye Hei’at (Translation of the Science of Configuration)) by MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd (17911849).10 In this treatise, the author referred to the year during which he was writing as follows. In this time, when twenty-two years have passed since the august and auspicious enthronement [of Fath‘alƯ ShƗh (r. 1797-1834)]—may God assist [him] eternally—provinces have been rendered prosperous….11 (TH, 7)

The twenty-second year of the reign of Fath‘alƯ ShƗh was 1818. From the introduction, we also know that this work was a translation from a “French summary” (TH, 12-13), but the original has not yet been identified.12 This

9

There are few studies on astronomy in the Qajar period (1779-1925), when the new astronomy was transmitted to Iran. The lack of such studies is easily perceivable in the volumes and chapters of The Cambridge History of Iran, one of the most reliable references for the history of Iran. From the Arab invasion, a chapter—at least—is assigned to science in each period, but this continuity suddenly ends before a volume including the Qajar period. In addition, even in recent times, the following has been recognized: “All Iranian astronomers, by the time DƗr al-Fonnjn (a modern educational institution) was established (in 1851) by the hand of AmƯr KabƯr, had been faithful to the tradition of Ptolemy, and not bent any effort toward making innovations and changes in astronomy” (Rouhani 2005: 373). 10 This manuscript is preserved in the Library of Madrese ‘ƖlƯ ShahƯd Mo৬ahharƯ SepahsƗlƗr, Tehran (No. 616): 72 folios. We follow the pagination appearing at the head of the manuscript, which might well have been done by the cataloger of the library. Actually, there is no mention of the title in this treatise. For the sake of convenience, we call it the Tarjome-ye Hei’at (Translation of the Science of Configuration) in accordance with the library catalogue (Danesh-Pazhuh 1962, 429-30). 11

˷ Ϊ˷ϳ΍ – ϝΎϓϥϮϳΎϤϫ ϥϮϤϴϣ αϮϠΟ ί΍ ϝΎγ ϭΩ ϭ ΖδϴΑ Ϫ̯ ίϭήϣ΍ ϪΑ ΩϼΑ ̶Σ΍Ϯϧ ˬΩέά̶̳ϣ - ϝ΍ίϵ΍ ϝί΍ ̶ϟ΍ ௌ ... Ϫ̯ ϪΘθ̳ ΩΎΑ΁ ̵ϮΤϧ 12 However, there are some clues for identifying the French summary. For instance, the names of planets are listed by their proximity to the sun: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Ceres, Pallas, Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus (TH, 108). Pallas was discovered by the astronomer Heinrich Olbers on March 28, 1802; this

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treatise is based on a heliocentric cosmology (TH, 108), and one section is assigned to Kepler’s laws (TH: 112-3). Since it is not known for a fact that any works concerning the new astronomy were written in Iran prior to this work, we have concluded, based on our current knowledge, that it is the first treatise on the new astronomy in Iran.13 In contrast to the Persian translation, the first Japanese translation concerning the new astronomy is so famous that we can find many studies on this work. This work by Motoki Ryǀei ᮏᮌⰋỌ (173594) is titled Seijutsu hongen taiyǀ kynjri ryǀkai shinsei tenchi nikynj yǀhǀki ᫍ⾡ ᮏ※ኴ㝧❓⌮஢ゎ᪂ไኳᆅ஧⌫⏝ἲ グ (The Ground of Astronomy, Newly Edited and Illustrated: on the Use of Celestial and Terrestrial Globes according to the Heliocentric System). Its original is the Dutch translation, Gronden der Sterrenkunde, gelegd in het Zonnestelzel bevatlijk gemaakt; in eene Beschrijving vant’n Maaksel en Gebruik Figure 2. The Front Cover of der nieuwe Hemel- en Aard-globen the Ground of Astronomy (Amsterdam: 1770), which is the (GA, 1) translation of Gorge Adams’s Treatise Describing and Explaining the Construction and Use of New Celestial and Terrestrial Globes (1766) (GS, 8: 1r; bibl. 1). Ryǀei translated the work in 1793.14 therefore provides solid evidence to prove that the original was written after the time that Pallas was discovered. 13 However, it is not the first “Persian” work concerning the new astronomy. It is known that Persian treatises were compiled in India, where Persian was used, particularly at the court of the Mogul empire (1526-1857), before this treatise (Ansari 1992). But these treatises in India are not as comprehensive as the Translation of the Science of Configuration, and we have not traced well the scientific influence of India on Iran in that period. Rather, we find a negative proof to estimate this influence in the introduction of the QƗnnjn-e NƗ‫܈‬erƯ (NƗ‫܈‬er’s Canon), as we shall mention later. 14 Before this work, in fact, Ryǀei translated Dutch books in which the Copernican heliocentric cosmology was mentioned: for example, the Oranda chikynj zusetsu 㜿 ⹒㝀ᆅ⌫ᅗㄝ (Dutchman’s Illustration of the Earth). Its original is the Dutch translation Atlas van Zeevaert en Koophandel door de geheele Weereldt

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Official Enterprises Both in Iran (1818) and in Japan (1793), therefore, the first translation concerning the new astronomy came into being at the turn of the nineteenth century. In addition, both translators of the works were governmental officials in each region. Regarding MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd (1791-1849), the author of the Translation of the Science of Configuration), we can, fortunately, extract some information from his great-grandchild’s autobiography. According to this work, MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd learned French under Francophone missionaries in Ormieh, which is in northeastern Iran. He was motivated to learn it by the following incident: Napoleon sent a letter to Fath‘alƯ ShƗh (r. 1797-1834) through an Armenian man, but no one could manage the Figure 3. MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd letter properly; as a result, the ShƗh ordered (Bamdad 1992/3, 4: 76) that men should be gathered who were familiar with French and English to deal with foreign affairs at his court (Ansari, n.d. 12-13). Whether this episode is true or not, it clearly true that the reign of Fath‘alƯ ShƗh was an era in which Iran became open to accepting European scientific achievements (Giahi Yazdi 2009, 102). Therefore, we can say that MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd belongs to the first generation to acquire European languages in the Qajar administration. In his early career, he served ‘AbbƗs MƯrzƗ (1789-1833), who was appointed the Crown Prince of Fath‘alƯ ShƗh in Tabriz, the center of the Azerbaijan region. After the First Russo-Persian War (1804-13) ended in failure, the Qajar court became keenly aware of European advanced (Amsterdam: 1745) of the Atlas de la navigation et du commerce qui se fait dans toutes les parties du monde (1715), by Louis Renard. This work only mentions Copernican heliocentric cosmology in a passing reference that hardly constitutes an introduction to heliocentric Copernican theory. In addition, there is another translation prior to the Ground of Astronomy: the Tenchi nikynj yǀhǀ ኳᆅ஧⌫⏝ ἲ (The Use of Celestial and Terrestrial Globes), dated 1774. Its Dutch original is Tweevoudigh Omdewiis van de hemelshe en aardsche Globen (Amsterdam: 1660; first edition, 1620). In this work, Kepler’s contributions did not appear either (Nakayama 1969, 174-7). Therefore, we can say that the Ground of Astronomy was the first Japanese translation concerning the new astronomy.

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technology and sought to adopt it. Under ‫ޏ‬AbbƗs MƯrzƗ, thanks to its geographical position and the political situation, Tabriz functioned as the gateway for the entry of modern influences in that period. As a result, western ideas entered first via Turkey and Russia, and later through the French and British embassies in Azerbaijan (Busse 2011). It was under these circumstances that MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd translated a French astronomical book into Persian for the sake of AbbƗs MƯrzƗ in 1818. On the other hand, Motoki Ryǀei ᮏᮌⰋỌ (1735-94)—the author of the Ground of Astronomy—was also one of the privileged persons who could access European knowledge in the same period in Japan. He belonged to the third generation of a hereditary family of Oranda-tsnjji 㜿 ⹒㝀㏻モ (interpreters of Dutch) in Nagasaki. In his lifetime, the VOC (the Dutch East India Company) was the only European company permitted to engage in commerce in Nagasaki, which remained as the single place of European commercial activities with the Japanese authorities in that period. As a result, European scientific knowledge was transmitted only through Dutch works. Besides engaging in other duties (Matsui 2007; Haneda 2009b), Motoki Ryǀei produced several translations in the fields of astronomy and geography. In the Ground of Astronomy, he stated that since there had been never a professional translation of a Dutch work in Japan, his predecessors were skeptical about even the possibility of a literal translation and were reluctant to try it (Nakayama 1969, 173). Under these circumstances, he managed to produce the first “professional” translations, among which the Ground of Astronomy in 1793 was included. Although the original is not an advanced treatise for professional astronomers but a textbook for navigators, elliptic orbits are clearly mentioned and Tycho’s observations on comets are reflected in this work. Therefore, we can include it in the works on the new astronomy.

As Linguists So far, we have mentioned the similarities of the authors: they were both officials, and both translated works about the new astronomy around the turn of the nineteenth century. In addition, we can point out a further similarity between the authors: that is, they were non-professionals in astronomy.

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Figure 4. Motoki Ryǀei and his wife (Honma 2009, 77)

Although we have do not have a great deal of information about MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd, we can say that he appears to have established a position as a linguistic expert. After translating scientific works from French into Persian, he was dispatched to Petersburg as a core member of a mission that lasted from April 1829 to February 1830. According to the mission’s report (he was also involved in its compilation), Nicholas I, the then Emperor of Russia (r. 1825-55), was astonished at MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd’s excellence in speaking French (SM, 241). Eventually, he was promoted to be the minister of foreign affairs in the reign of Moতammad ShƗh (r. 183448). 15 As far as the surviving sources are concerned, his activities pertaining to astronomy are unknown, except for this translation. Likewise, as Nakayama has stated, Motoki Ryǀei was also not a practical astronomer. There is no evidence that he ever conducted any astronomical

15

With regard to MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd, a few works have been ascribed to him (Derayati 2010, 11: 206): 1. TƗrƯkh-e A‫ۊ‬vƗl-e ValƯ‘ahd-e NƗyeb al-Sal‫ܒ‬ane (The Biography of the Crown Prince [‘AbbƗs MƯrzƗ]). 2. Jarre-thaqƯl (The Science of Mechanics). 3. SafarnƗme-ye MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd-e An‫܈‬ƗrƯ be Pe‫ܒ‬rzbnjrgh (Travelogue to Petersburg by MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd-e An‫܈‬ƗrƯ).

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observations. He remained fundamentally a linguist, studying astronomy as an avocation (Nakayama 1969, 173).

Map 1. Tabriz and Nagasaki in Eurasia

Translations of General Books Concerning the New Astronomy As the most remarkable similarity between the contents of the two translations, we can point out that neither translation—and without doubt, the originals of each also—uses any numerical formulae. We have stated that the original of the Ground of Astronomy was a textbook for navigators; similarly, the original of the Translation of the Science of Configuration) would have been this kind of work: that is, not for professional astronomers. It is natural, because neither MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd nor Motoki Ryǀei was particularly familiar with astronomy; they should rather be called linguists. Therefore, they could not have selected more advanced astronomical works as the object for their translations.

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Criticism by Later Intellectuals As a result, later intellectuals familiar with astronomy—interestingly enough, in both cases—declared their dissatisfaction with these translations. In Iran, ‘Abd al-GhaffƗr Najm al-Doule authored comprehensive volumes on the new astronomy, entitled QƗnnjn-e NƗ‫܈‬erƯ (NƗ‫܈‬er’s Canon), in 1865 (Arjomand 1997, 20). Although the work was not published for some reason, Ma‘snjmƯ-HamedƗnƯ states that a proper understanding of the new science in Iran might have been first achieved through this work (Ma‘sumi-Hamedani 1984, 129). The introduction to NƗ‫܈‬er’s Canon says, In Iran—may God guard her from casualties—any book on this knowledge [new astronomy] has still not been written except for two old and quite short treatises, which had previously been translated into Persian. Most of their expressions are unfamiliar and vague, so that not just anyone can gain benefit from them.16 (QN, 2r; cf. Mathur 1985, 154)

It is probable that one of the “two old and quite short treatises” is the Translation of the Science of Configuration).17 In Japan, when Motoki Ryǀei finalized the Ground of Astronomy, the shogunate aimed to reform the astronomical system to compile a more accurate calendar. This reform is called the Kansei Astronomical Reform ᐶ ᨻ ᨵ ᬺ (Astronomical Reform in the Kansei era), and the Kansei Astronomical System ᐶᨻᬺ was made public in 1798 as the result of the reform. As Nakayama has stated, this calendar is significant, because in it the Japanese, for the first time, successfully adopted western 16

˷ ΎϬϧΎλ – ϥ΍ήϳ΍ έΩ ϥϮ̩ έΎδϴΑ ‫؞‬ϟΎγέ ϭΩ ΰΟ ˬΩϮΑ ϩΪθϧ ϪΘηϮϧ ϢϠϋ Ϧϳ΍ έΩ ̶ΑΎΘ̯ ίϮϨϫ – ϥΎΛΪΤϟ΍ Ϧϋ ௌ β̨̯ϴϫ ˬϪϤϬΒϣ ϭ ϪγϮϧ΄ϣήϴϏ Ε΍έΎΒϋ ΕήΜ̯ ί΍ ϭ Ϊϧ΍ ϩΩϮϤϧ ϪϤΟήΗ ̶γέΎϓ Ζϐϟ ϪΑ ϢϳΪϗ Ϫ̯ ϪϨϬ̯ ήμΘΨϣ .ΩήΑ ϩΪ΋Ύϓ ϥ΁ ί΍ ϥ΍ϮΘϧ 17 We can attest to this fact because the manuscript’s flyleaf states that the manuscript of the Translation of the Science of Configuration had previously been preserved in the library of “‘AlƯqolƯ MƯrzƗ” (TH, flyleaf). Undoubtedly, “AlƯqolƯ MƯrzƗ” denotes ‘AlƯqolƯ MƯrzƗ E‘tezƗd al-Sal৬ane (1819-80) because it is known that books stocked in his library were transferred after his death to the SepahsƗlƗr Library where the manuscript in question is now preserved (Homayun-Farrokh 1968, 167). He was appointed the director of the DƗr al-Fonnjn, the first modern educational institute in Iran, in December 1857 and recommended ‘Abd al-GhaffƗr Najm al-Doule to compile the NƗ‫܈‬er’s Canon. Therefore, it is certain that Najm alDoule knew this treatise, since it was also an official work dedicated to a prince, and his director E‘tezƗd al-Sal৬ane possessed this work.

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measurements in an official astronomical reform. We can regard Takahashi Yoshitoki 㧗ᶫ⮳᫬ (1764-1804) and Hazama Shigetomi 㛫㔜 ᐩ (1756-1816) as central figures in the reform. Takahashi Yoshitoki, as the tenmonkata ኳᩥ᪉ (official astronomer), read the Dutch translation of a French astronomical book, Astronomie, by Jérôme Lalande (1732-1807). 18 Although he was not familiar with Dutch to any large extent, he was immediately impressed by its accuracy and advanced content. As a result, dedicating the remainder of his life to analyzing the content, he translated as many as eleven volumes, the Rarande rekisho kanken ࣛ ࣛ ࣥ ࢹ ᬺ ᭩ ⟶ ぢ (Private Review of Lalande’s Astronomie), of which eight volumes have survived to the present. This work served as a fundamental basis for the next astronomical reform, the Tenpǀ Astronomical Reform ኳಖᨵᬺ in 1844. His colleague Hazama Shigetomi wrote Figure 5. The title page of the a review of the Ground of Astronomy, in Private Review of Lalande’s which he severely criticized Motoki’s Astronomie (Hirose 1972, 474) translation as follows: I think that Motoki was not familiar with astronomy, so he did not strictly inquire into astronomical values. He was not familiar with [astronomy], so gave them only by means of his talent for Dutch. Thus I will revise the values, and give accurate ones.19 (GA, bibl. 6; Hirose 1972, 430).

Attitudes of Translators Finally, the attitudes of the translators toward the new astronomy constitute another similarity: that is, both considered the new astronomy to lie outside of their astronomical traditions. In his translation, Motoki Ryǀei clearly does not value the new astronomy, whether superior or not; 18 The Dutch translation of this book, which Takahashi translated into Japanese, was translated in 1773 from the second edition, published in 1771. 19 ⵹ࢩࠊᮏᮌẶኳᏛࣤ୙Ꮫࣀேࢼࣜࠋᨾࢽ⢒ࠎኳᩥࣀྡᩘࣤ▱ࢸ⩻ヂࢼࢫ ⪅࢔ࣜ୙▱ࢩࢸ⹒ㄒࣤ௨ࢸ㍕ࢫࣝ⪅࢔ࣜṈࢽ⢒ࠎṇஅࢩࢸྡᩘࣤᣲࢢࠋ

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simultaneously, we cannot find that he intends to use this knowledge for any particular purpose in his work. As Nakayama has correctly noted, the new astronomy, which he only glanced at in his translation, in the end amounted to merely a “strange western theory” for him (Nakayama 1972, 94). We can detect the same attitude in MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd, who regarded the work on the new astronomy which he translated in 1818 as an object foreign to himself. He learned “a different kind of science and newlyinvented technology by the people [French]” from one of the French envoys (TH, 12), and carried out the translation. His attitude toward the new astronomy was at bottom the same as that of Najm al-Doule—the author of NƗ‫܈‬er’s Canon in 1865—who recognized that works on the new astronomy had amounted only to two before his volume, as we have cited above, despite the fact that there was a huge accumulation of astronomical works based on their tradition.

Different Orbits: After the First Translation When we examine the first translations of works on the new astronomy in Iran and Japan, we can trace many similarities; in this sense, the “gravity of modernity” functioned to an equal extent in both regions. Through secondary sources, in addition, we know that this way of accepting the new astronomy was also true in the Ottoman Empire (Ihsanoglu 1992). However, work in both regions continued along quite different lines after the first translations. In Japan, after Takahashi’s Private Review of Lalande’s Astronomie, his son and colleagues inherited his enterprise of making a comprehensive translation of Lalande’s volumes. As a result, the Shinkǀ rekisho ᪂ ᕦ ᬺ ᭩ (Astronomy by the New Technique) was compiled in 1826. The structure of the Astronomy by the New Technique was on the order of Chinese/Japanese traditional astronomy; namely, the first chapters were about the motions of the sun and moon, and solar and lunar eclipses were discussed in the following chapters (Nakayama 1969, 201-2). In this work, therefore, we can trace the fact that the new astronomy was absorbed into Japanese traditional astronomy (Nakayama 1972, 128). On the contrary, in Iran, we can see a comprehensive acceptance of the new astronomy in the aforementioned NƗ‫܈‬er’s Canon in 1865, in which the achievements of the new astronomy are faithfully reflected. In Iran, however, the new astronomy repelled quite a few people, in particular the clerics, who engaged in astronomical works according to their traditional style, and in fact they had previously been the driving force in developing

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astronomy in this region. The conflict over astronomy continued for a long time, and Ptolemaic astronomy continued to be taught well into the twentieth century in traditional Iranian schools (Arjomand 1997, 24).

Conclusion We have found many similarities between the first translations of works on the “new astronomy” in Iran and Japan, in the contents, authors, background of the translation, and attitudes toward the new astronomy. Therefore, we can certainly attest that attraction to the new astronomy existed in both Iran and Japan, and we can designate these phenomena as the “gravity of modernity”. When we regard modernity as a phenomenon on the global scale, we find that the gravity of modernity began to function at the turn of the nineteenth century in Iran and Japan, at least in the field of astronomy. From this, we can conclude that it was only at the turn of the nineteenth century that “western science” was acknowledged as being outside the indigenous astronomical traditions of these regions. Through this kind of mutual interaction, “western science” gradually took shape as “modern science”.

Acknowledgements I would like to express my deep gratitude to Dr. Ma‘sumi Hamedani and Dr. Giahi Yazdi, who frequently and freely gave of their time to help clarify the meaning of the passages in Persian sources. I also express particular thanks to Dr. Ohashi, who assisted me in widening my acquaintance with the technical points of astronomy and astronomical sources in Japanese. This work is supported by a Grant-in-Aid for JSPS Fellows.

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References GA. Motoki Ryǀei. Seijutsu hongen taiyǀ kynjri ryǀkai shinsei tenchi nikynj yǀhǀki ᫍ⾡ᮏ※ኴ㝧❓⌮஢ゎ᪂ไኳᆅ஧⌫⏝ἲグ (The ground of astronomy, newly edited and illustrated: on the use of celestial and terrestrial globes according to the heliocentric system). Facsimile. Library of Waseda University, Tokyo, No. ࢽ5. 2335. In Temmon rekigaku shoshnj ኳ ᩥ ᬺ Ꮫ ᭩ 㞟 (Collection of astronomical and calendrical books). I & II, ed. Sugita Tsutomu. Tokyo: Waseda University Press, 1996-97. In Japanese. QN. ‘Abd al-GhaffƗr Najm al-Doule. QƗnnjn-e NƗ‫܈‬erƯ (NƗৢer’s canon). MS. Mashhad; Library of ƖstƗne Qods Ra਌avƯ, No. 12214. In Persian. SM. MƯrzƗ Muৢ৬afƗ AfshƗr. SafarnƗme-ye MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd-e An‫܈‬ƗrƯ be Pe‫ܒ‬rzbnjrgh (Travelogue to Petersburg by MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd-e AnৢƗrƯ). In SafarnƗme-ye Khosrou MƯrzƗ be Pe‫ܒ‬rzbnjrgh va TƗrƯkh-e ZendegƯ-ye ‘AbbƗs MƯrzƗ-ye NƗyeb al-Sal‫ܒ‬ane (Travelogue to Petersburg by Khosrou MƯrzƗ and the biography of ‘AbbƗs MƯrzƗ, Crown Prince), ed. Muতammad Golban. Tehran: KetƗbkhƗne-ye MostoufƯ, 1970. In Persian. TH. ণajj MƯrzƗ Mas‘njd b. ‘Abd al-RaতƯm al-AnৢƗrƯ al-TabrƯzƯ. Tarjome-ye Hei’at (Translation of the science of configuration). MS. Tehran: Library of the Madrese ‘ƖlƯ ShahƯd Mo৬ahharƯ SepahsƗlƗr, No. 616. In Persian. Ansari, ‘Abd al-Hoseyn Mas‘ud. n.d. ZendegƗnƯ-ye Man va NegƗhƯ be TƗrƯkh-e Mo‘Ɨ‫܈‬er-e ƮrƗn va JahƗn (My life and a look at the history of modern Iran and the world). ƖftƗb. Ansari, Razaullah S.M. “Modern Astronomy in Indo-Persian Sources.” Transfer of Modern Science and Technology to the Muslim World, ed. Ekmeleddin Ihsanoglu, pp. 121-44. Istanbul: Research Centre for Islamic History, Art and Culture, 1992. Arjomand, Kamran. “The Emergence of Scientific Modernity in Iran: Controversies Surrounding Astrology and Modern Astronomy in the Mid-Nineteenth Century.” Iranian Studies 30, nos. 1-2 (1997): 5-24. Bamdad, Mahdi. Shar‫ۊۊ‬Ɨl-e RejƗl-e ƮrƗn dar Qarn-e 12, 13, 14 HejrƯ (Biography of Iranians in the twelfth, thirteenth and fourteenth centuries A.H.). 6 vols., 4th edition. Tehran: ZavvƗr, 1992/3. Busse, Heribert. “‫ޏ‬ABBƖS MƮRZƖ QAJAR.” In Encyclopaedia Iranica. http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/abbas-mirza-qajar (last updated: July 13, 2011).

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Danesh-Pazhuh, Mohammad-Taqi. 1962. Fehrest-e KetƗbkhƗne-ye SepahsƗlƗr (The catalogue of the Sepahsalar Library). Vol. 3. Tehran: ChƗpkhƗne-ye DaneshgƗh-e TehrƗn, 1962. Derayati, Mostafa, ed. FehrestvƗre-ye DastnevƯshƗ-ye ƮrƗn (The short catalogue of Iran manuscripts). 12 vols. Tehran: Library, Museum and Documentation Center of The Islamic Consultative Assembly, 2010. Elshakry, Marwa. “When Science Became Western: Historiographical Reflections.” Isis 101: 1 (2010): 98-109. Frank, Andre G. Reorient: Global Economy in the Asian Age. Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 1998. Giahi Yazdi, Hamid-Reza. TƗrƯkh-e Nojnjm dar ƮrƗn (The history of astronomy in Iran). Tehran: Daftar-e PazhnjheshhƗ-ye FarhangƯ, 2009. Grant, Edward. “When Did Modern Science Begin?” The American Scholar 66: 1 (1997): 105-13. Haneda Masashi. Gaynor Sekimori, trans. “Modern Europe and the Creation of the ‘Islamic World’.” International Journal of Asian Studies 4:1 (2007): 201-20. —. “Framework and Methods of Comparative Studies on Asian Port Cities in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries.” In Asian Port Cities, 1600-1800: Local and Foreign Cultural Interactions, ed. Haneda Masashi, pp. 1-12. Singapore: NUS Press in association with Kyoto University Press (Japan), 2009a. —. “Canton, Nagasaki and the Port Cities of the Indian Ocean: a Comparison.” In Asian Port Cities, 1600-1800: Local and Foreign Cultural Interactions, ed. Haneda Masashi, pp. 13-23. Singapore: NUS Press in association with Kyoto University Press (Japan), 2009b. —. “Atarashi sekaishi to Yǀroppashi” ᪂ࡋ࠸ୡ⏺ྐ࡜࣮ࣚࣟࢵࣃྐ” (New world history and European history). Journal of History for the Public 7 (2010): 1-9. Hirose Hideo. Yǀgaku ὒᏛ (Western Learning). Vol. II. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1972. Hodgson, Marshall. The Venture of Islam: Conscience and History in a World Civilization. 3 vols. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974. Homayun-Farrokh, Rokn al-Din. KetƗb va KetƗbkhƗnehƗ-ye ShƗhanshƗhƯye ƮrƗn (Books and libraries in Pahlavi Iran). Tehran: EnteshƗrƗt-e VezƗrat-e Farhang va Honar, 1968. Honma Sadao. 2009. “Nihon no Koperunikusu” ᪥ᮏࡢࢥ࣌ࣝࢽࢡࢫ” (Japanese Copernicus). In Kynjshnj no Rangaku: Ekkyǀ to kǀrynj ஑ᕞࡢ ⹒ Ꮫ : ㉺ ቃ ࡜ ஺ ὶ (Dutch Learning in Kynjshnj: trans-border

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Gravity of Modernity

exchange), ed. Wolfgang Michel, Kawashima Mahito and TorƯ Yumiko, pp. 73-78. Kyoto: Shibunkaku Shuppan, 2009. Huff, Toby E.. The Rise of Early Modern Science. Second Edition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Ihsanoglu, Ekmeleddin. “Introduction of Western Science to the Ottoman World: A Case Study of Modern Astronomy (1660-1860).” In Transfer of Modern Science and Technology to the Muslim World, ed. Ekmeleddin Ihsanoglu, pp. 67-120. Istanbul: Research Centre for Islamic History, Art and Culture, 1992. Kennedy, Edward S. “Late Medieval Planetary Theory.” Isis 57:3 (1966): 365-78. Kuroda Akinobu. Kahei shisutemu no sekaishi ㈌ᖯࢩࢫࢸ࣒ࡢୡ⏺ྐ (Global history of monetary systems: interpreting the asymmetric characters). Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2003. Manning, Patrick. Navigating World History: Historians Create a Global Past. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003. Martzloff, Jean-Claude. Le calendrier chinois: structure et calcus (104 av. J.-C.-1644). Indétermination céleste et réforme permanente. La construction chinoise officielle du temps quotidien discret à partir d’un temps mathématique caché, linéaire et continu. Paris: Honore Champion, 2009. Ma‘sumi-Hamedani, Hoseyn, ed. Abnj ৫Ɨleb-e HoseynƯ-ye ৡafavƯ. ResƗle’Ư dar EthbƗt-e Hei’at-e JadƯd (A treatise for testifying the new science of configuration). In Ma‘Ɨref 1: 2 (1982): 117-85. Mathur, M.N. “QƗnnjn-i NƗৢirƯ: a Persian Treatise on Modern Astronomy.” Studies in History of Medicine and Science 9: 3-4 (1985): 153-59. Matsui Yoko. “Edo-jidai Dejima ni okeru nichiran kankei no ninaitetachi Ụᡞ᫬௦ฟᓥ࡟࠾ࡅࡿ᪥⹒㛵ಀࡢᢸ࠸ᡭࡓࡕ” (Those in charge of Japanese-Dutch relations at Dejima in the Edo period). In Ynjrashia ni okeru bunka no kǀrynj to tenpen (Cultural interaction and transition in Eurasia), ed. Haneda Masashi, pp. 147-61. Tokyo: Institute for Advanced Studies on Asia, University of Tokyo, 2007. Matthee, Rudi. “SAFAVID DYNASTY.” In Encyclopaedia Iranica. http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/safavids (last updated: July 28, 2008). Nakayama Shigeru. A History of Japanese Astronomy: Chinese Background and Western Impact. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1969. —. Nihon no temmongaku᪥ᮏࡢኳᩥᏛ (Astronomy in Japan). Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1972.

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Pomeranz, Kenneth. The Great Divergence: China, Europe, and the Making of the Modern World Economy. Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2000. Ragep, Jamil. “Freeing Astronomy from Philosophy: an Aspect of Islamic Influence on Science.” Osiris 16 (2001): 49–71. Rashed, Roshdi. Angela Armstrong, trans. The Development of Arabic Mathematics: between Arithmetic and Algebra. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic, 1994. Originally published in French. Paris: Société d’Édition les Belles Lettres, 1984. Roberts, Victor. “The Solar and Lunar Theory of Ibn ash-ShƗ৬ir: a PreCopernican Copernican Model.” Isis 48: 4 (1957): 428-32. Rouhani, Javad. “Nojnjm va MonajjemƯn dar SadehƗ-ye Dahom ta SƯzdahom-e HejrƯ-QamarƯ dar SarzamƯnhƗ-ye EslƗmƯ” (Astronomy and astronomers in the Islamic realms from the tenth through thirteenth centuries A.H.). In ‘Olnjm-e Ma‫ܲۊ‬e: Az ƖghƗz-e ‫܇‬afavƯye ta Ta’sƯs-e DƗr al-Fonnjn (Pure science: from the beginning of the SafavƯd period to the establishment of the DƗr al-Funnjn), ed. Mehdi Mohaghegh, pp. 371-94. Tehran: Anjoman-e ƖthƗr va MafƗkher-e FarhangƯ 2005. Sabra, Abdelhamid I. “Situating Arabic Science: Locality versus Essence.” Isis 84: 4 (1996): 654-70. Saliba, George. “Persian Scientists in the Islamic World: Astronomy from Maragha to Samarqand.” In The Persian Presence in the Islamic World, eds Richard G. Hovannisian and Gorgese Sabagh, pp. 126-46. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. —. Islamic Science and the Making of the European Renaissance. Cambridge: The MIT Press, 2007. Takahashi Ken’ichi, trans. 1993. Nicolaus Copernicus. De revolutionibus. Tokyo: Misuzu Shobǀ, 1993. Westman, Robert. S. “Proof, Poetics, and Patronage: Copernicus’s Preface to De revolutionibus.” In Reappraisals of the Scientific Revolution, eds David C. Lindberg and Robert S. Westman, pp. 167-205. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990.

CHAPTER THREE A STUDY ON THE GEOGRAPHICAL UNDERSTANDING OF ণAMD-ALLƖH MUSTAWFƮ OTSUKA OSAMU Introduction Geographical works can often contribute to an understanding of a writer’s or his/her contemporaries’ view of the world and their cultural background. They in particular may offer a panorama of the contemporary world. Concerning the transmission of geographical knowledge through Eurasia, the significance of the Mongol empire, including the Ilkhanid dynasty (1256-1335), has been stressed: One of the most important contributions of the Middle Ages to the creation of the modern world system was the diffusion and “integration of geographical information”, a body of knowledge that once in existence became a “permanent” feature of the new world order. And, undeniably, the Mongolian Empire played a critical role in the promotion, creation, and circulation of such knowledge. (Allsen 2001: 113)

The JƗmiұ al-TawƗrƯkh (Collected Chronicles)1 completed in 13072 by the Ilkhanid vizier, RashƯd al-DƯn (d. 1318), famous as the ‘first world history’, is generally regarded as the representative work providing evidence for cultural contacts and exchanges between ‘Persianate societies’ 3 and China. 4 Of course, as Allsen has stressed, the JƗmiұ al*I wish to thank Professor Dr. B. Hoffman for her useful comment. 1 On the JƗmiұ al-TawƗrƯkh, see Melville 2008. 2 The date of dedication of the JƗmiұ al-TawƗrƯkh is mentioned in the TƗrƯkh-i NjljƗytnj (History of NjljƗytnj) (al-QƗshƗnƯ 1384kh: 54). 3 In this paper, I use the notion of ‘Persianate societies’ as those regions where Persian was used as the administrative and literary language from the eleventh

Otsuka Osamu

49

TawƗrƯkh, which includes not only the history of Iran but also that of India, China, Europe, and others (RashƯd al-DƯn 1373kh: 20), is a very suitable work to represent the geographical knowledge of the early fourteenth century. However, the geographical part of this work has not survived and, as it was quoted by few contemporary and later authors,5 it does not seem to have influenced later intellectuals. On the other hand, there exists another geographical work written within the Persianate societies of the mid-fourteenth century, a time when Ilkhanid rule had been taken over by subsequent dynasties: the Nuzhat alQulnjb (Delight of the Hearts) written by ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ (d. ca. 1344). Unlike the JƗmiұ al-TawƗrƯkh, many copies of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb have come down to us, and at present there are more than one hundred manuscripts preserved in libraries around the world.6 The rich stock of manuscript proves that the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb was in wide use not only in Iran proper but beyond in those Persianate societies where Persian prevailed as a language of literature, administration and learning. This ‘popularity’ makes it a proper example for analyzing its perception of the world with respect to the topic of transmission of knowledge in the middle of the fourteenth century.

Contents of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ was an Ilkhanid financial official, who was famous as the author of a Persian general history, the TƗrƯkh-i GuzƯda (Selected History) written in 1329/30, and a rhymed general history, the ܱafarcentury to the nineteenth century. They include Iran, Afghanistan, India, Central Asia and Anatolia (Kondo 2011: i). 4 Allsen explains that RashƯd al-DƯn’s JƗmiұ al-TawƗrƯkh therefore reflect(s) both the transcontinental political tensions and the universal political pretensions of the Mongolian Empire, itself an echo or perhaps the culmination of Chinese and ancient Near Eastern claims of universalism (Allsen 2001: 197). 5 Theories exist concerning the missing geographical part of the JƗmiұ alTawƗrƯkh. While some historians doubt that it was ever completed, others believe it was completed and subsequently lost. Currently the latter opinion seems to be the accepted one (Allsen 2001: 104; Melville 2012: 171). 6 While the main bibliographical survey of Persian manuscripts lists only around 70 manuscripts (Storey 1972: 129-31), the latest catalogue of the Persian manuscripts preserved only in Iran contains 106 (DirƗyatƯ 1389kh: 652-5). As DirƗyatƯ sometimes counts the same manuscript over again, the true number of the manuscripts in Iran may be less than one hundred. However, when we consider the number of manuscripts preserved outside Iran, the total number is still over one hundred.

50

The Geographical Understanding of ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ

NƗma (Book of Victory) written in 1334/35. 7 His third work was the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb, which he finished in 1339/40. The Nuzhat al-Qulnjb has been used as a source for the later Ilkhanid period on two counts: for information concerning such subjects as administrative organization, commerce, economic life, sectarian divisions and tax collection (Spuler 1986: 122a), and for its unique map of ƮrƗn-ZamƯn (the land of Iran),8 that employs a grid system using lines of longitude and latitude.9 Thus it has been used primarily as a geographical, rather than cosmographical, source. 10 As a result, only some of its sections, particularly the geographical ones, have been critically edited and translated:11 1. G. Le Strange, “Description of Persia and Mesopotamia in the Year 1340 A.D. from the Nuzhat-al-঱ulnjb of ণamd-Allah Mustawfi, with a Summary of the Contents of that Work,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 34-1 (1902), 4974. (translation of the second chapter of Section 3) 2. ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ, Nuzhat al-Qulnjb (G. Le Strange ed.), Leiden & London, 1915. (text of Section 3) 3. ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ, Nuzhat al-Qulnjb (G. Le Strange tr.), Leiden & London, 1919. (translation of Section 3) 4. J. Stephenson ed. & tr., The Zoological Section of the Nuzhatu-l-Qulnjb of ‫ۉ‬amdullƗh al-MustaufƯ al-QazwƯnƯ, London, 1928. (text and translation of the third chapter of Section 1) 5. ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ, Nuzhat al-Qulnjb (M. DabƯr-SiyƗqƯ ed.), Qazwin, 1381kh. (text of the first chapter of Section 3)

7

For MustawfƯ’s biography, see Melville 2003. MustawfƯ determined the territory of ƮrƗn-ZamƯn to extend from Konya (west) to Amu Darya (east), and from Basra (south) to Darband (north) (MustawfƯ 1915: 2021). Melville considers this work ‘might even be said deliberately to preserve a nostalgic image of an Ilkhanid empire that was already collapsing by the time he (i.e. MustawfƯ) wrote’ (Melville 2003: 634a). 9 For a reproduction of the map from a 16th century copy of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb (Ms. London British Library, Add. 16736, fols. 143b-144a; cf. Tibbetts 1992: 152). 10 Two major geographical researches about ࠂrƗn-ZamƯn have been published based on the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb (Le Strange 1905; Krawulsky 1978). 11 Although a complete lithograph edition was published in Bombay (ed. by MƯrzƗ Muতammad ShƯrƗzƯ, Bombay, 1894), this edition is very rare and seems to have been edited with ‘regrettable carelessness’ (MustawfƯ 1915: xiv). 8

Otsuka Osamu

51

Table 1. Contents of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb Preface by the author (1b-5a) Table of contents (5b-8a) Introduction 1: Treatise concerning the spheres, the heavenly bodies, and the elements (8a-53a) Introduction 2: Notice of the inhabited quarters of the earth, with an explanation of latitude and longitude, and the division of countries among the seven climes (53a-58a) Section 1: i. The mineral, ii. plant, and iii. animal realms (58a-142a) Section 2: Man, his nature, faculties, and qualities (142a-210a) Section 3: Geography (210a-354b) Table 1 gives the contents of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb based on the folios of the Istanbul manuscript (Ms. Süleymaniye Library, Fatih 4517). 12 Although J. Stephenson, the editor of the zoological section, stressed that it was ‘a scientific encyclopaedia, or perhaps a popular educator in science’ (Stephenson 1928: ix), modern researchers have looked on it primarily as a geographical work, with the result that the whole text has not yet been critically edited or translated. In fact, the section on geography occupies 145 folios, less than half the total text (354 folios).

Purpose of Writing the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb and its Sources My first purpose in this paper is to explain the significance of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb in the context within which it was written. To do so, I will examine it as a cosmographical/encyclopaedic, rather than a geographical, work of the middle of the fourteenth century. Before doing so, however, I would like to consider the author’s purpose in writing it. His preface, edited by M. DabƯrsiyƗqƯ, reads: My friends said to me that as you have much knowledge concerning ૜rƗn, if you write such information in the Persian language, it will be the light on the meeting of scholars (MustawfƯ 1381kh: 31).

12

Unfortunately there are no critical studies on the manuscripts of the Nuzhat alQulnjb. As far as we know, the two oldest manuscripts are the Paris manuscript (Ms. National Library, Ancien Fonds 139) copied in 853/1449 (Blochet 1905: 3823) and the Istanbul manuscript (Ms. Süleymaniye Library, Fatih 4517) copied in 885/1480-1 by AnwarƯ b. BayƗnƯ. Here I use the latter one temporarily. For the Istanbul manuscript, see Itani 1993.

52

The Geographical Understanding of ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ

He thus discloses that he was (1) encouraged by his friends (2) to write about his knowledge concerning ࠂrƗn-ZamƯn (3) in the Persian language. Since being “encouraged to write by his friends” is the normal rhetoric for pre-modern Persian authors (Melville 2012: 165), we can focus on the other two points as being important to him, that is, writing down knowledge concerning ࠂrƗn-ZamƯn in the Persian language. Table 2 lists twenty two sources mentioned in the author’s preface (MustawfƯ 1381kh: 30, 32-33).13 In particular, he stressed the significance of the first four for providing him with a great amount of knowledge: (1) ‫܇‬uwar al-AqƗlƯm (Figures of the Climes) of Abnj Zayd BalkhƯ (d. 934), (2) KitƗb al-TibyƗn (Book of Explanation) of Aতmad b. ‫ދ‬Abd-AllƗh, 14 (3) KitƗb al-MasƗlik wa al-MamƗlik (Book of Routes and Kingdoms) of Ibn KhurdƗdbih (d. ca. 912/3), and (4) JahƗn-NƗma (Book of the World).15 Although he admired these four works, he pointed out the disadvantage that, as they were written in the Arabic language, people whose mother tongue was Persian (ahl-i ұAjam) could not profit from them (MustawfƯ 1381kh: 30-31).16 This encouraged MustawfƯ to write in Persian to inform Persians of the knowledge contained in them.

13

In addition to these works, some others were quoted in the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb, such as ‫ދ‬AufƯ’s JƗmiұ al-‫ۉ‬ikƗyƗt (Collected Anecdotes) and YƗqnjt’s Muұjam alBuldƗn (Collection of Districts). For example, in the Zoological chapter alone, the JƗmiұ al-‫ۉ‬ikƗyƗt is quoted thirteen times (Stephenson 1928: xii). 14 This book seems to be a topography of Qazwin. MustawfƯ mentioned it in his historical work, the TƗrƯkh-i GuzƯda, “Aতmad b. AbƯ ‫ދ‬Abd-AllƗh narrated in the KitƗb al-BunyƗn (sic) that the city of Qazwin was built by ShƗpnjr b. ArdashƯr…” (MustawfƯ 1362kh: 773). 15 The author’s name is not mentioned. The JahƗn-NƗma seems to be identified as a Persian geographical work written by NajƯb BakrƗn in 1208 (Melville 2012: 166). However since MustawfƯ identifies it as an Arabic work, it would seem to be another source. 16 This rhetoric is also used in the concise general history, NiܲƗm al-TawƗrƯkh (Order of Histories) of BayঌƗwƯ, written in 1275 (BayঌƗwƯ 1382kh: 3).

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53

Table 2. Sources of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb 1. Abnj Zayd Aতmad b. Sahl BalkhƯ, ‫܇‬uwar al-AqƗlƯm 2. Aতmad b. ‫ދ‬Abd-AllƗh, KitƗb al-TibyƗn 3. Abnj QƗsim ‫ދ‬Abd-AllƗh b. KhurdƗdbih KhurƗsƗnƯ, KitƗb al-MasƗlik wa al-MamƗlik 4. JahƗn-NƗma 5. Abnj ‫ދ‬Abd-AllƗh al-KƗtib al-WƗqidƯ, ܑabaqƗt-i HamadƗnƯ (The Generations of Hamadan) 6. ZakarƯyƗ b. Muতammad b. Maতmnjd KammnjnƯ QazwƯnƯ (d. 1283), ұAjƗyib al-MakhlnjqƗt (Marvels of Creatures) 7. ———, ƖthƗr al-BilƗd (Monuments of the Countries) 8. Ibn al-BalkhƯ, FƗrs-NƗma (1105-18) (Book of Fars) 9. NƗৢir al-DƯn MunshƯ KirmƗnƯ (d. 13C), Dar Dhikr-i WilƗyat-i KirmƗn (About the Province of Kirman) 10. ‫ދ‬AlƯ b. ‫ދ‬ƮsƗ al-ণarrƗnƯ, ұAjƗyib al-Ba‫ۊ‬r (908-932) (Marvels of the Sea) 11. Abnj RayতƗn Muতammad b. Aতmad BƯrnjnƯ KhwƗrazmƯ Munajjim (d. after 1050), ƖthƗr al-BƗqiya (Remnants) 12. ———, KitƗb al-TafhƯm fƯ al-TanjƯm (Instruction in Astrology) 13. ণƗfi਌ KhalƯl QazwƯnƯ, IrshƗd dar Dhikr-i QazwƯn (Guidebook about Qazwin) 14. RisƗla-yi Malik-ShƗhƯ (Article of Malik-ShƗh) 15. ণƗfi਌ ‫ދ‬Abd al-RaতmƗn Muতammad b. IsতƗq al-IৢfahƗnƯ, TƗrƯkh-i I‫܈‬fahƗn (History of Isfahan) 16. ‫ދ‬Umar SahlƗn SƗwajƯ, RisƗla al-SanjarƯya fƯ al-KƗyinƗt alұUn‫܈‬rƯya (Article of Sanjar about Elements) 17. ұAjƗyib al-AkhbƗr (Marvels of Anecdotes) 18. Tu‫ۊ‬fat al-GharƗyib (Present of Marvels) 19. Abnj al-ণasan ৡnjfƯ (d. 986), ‫܇‬uwar al-KawƗkib (Images of the Fixed Stars, 949-983) 20. TƗrƯkh-i Maghrib (History of Maghrib) 21. NaৢƯr al-DƯn ৫njৢƯ (d. 1274), AkhlƗq-i NƗ‫܈‬irƯ (Ethics of Naৢir) 22. ———, Tansnjq-NƗma-yi ƮlkhƗnƯ (Mineral Cures of Ilkhan) The Nuzhat al-Qulnjb frequently quotes one of the most famous cosmographies, ұAjƗyib al-MakhlnjqƗt (Marvels of Creatures) of ZakarƯyƗ QazwƯnƯ (ৡafƗ 1372kh: 281). The first half of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb (see

54

The Geographical Understanding of ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ

Table 1) is quite similar to the structure of the ұAjƗyib al-MakhlnjqƗt.17 Its author, ZakarƯyƗ QazwƯnƯ was born in Qazwin from a family of Arabian origin. He also wrote a geographical work, ƖthƗr al-BilƗd (The Monuments of the Countries) and MustawfƯ seems to have reformed and ‘updated’ these two Arabic works of ZakarƯyƗ’s to create his own cosmography.18 MustawfƯ also used other sources including commentaries on the Qur‫ދ‬Ɨn, and books on ণadƯth, law, theology and, rhetoric (MustawfƯ 1381kh: 33). 19 His main sources are not however based just on written works, but also on his own experience as a financial official visiting large cities like Sul৬ƗnƯya, TabrƯz, BaghdƗd and IৢfahƗn, which he admired ‘like heaven’ (MustawfƯ 1381kh: 30). It is noticeable that he did not mention the celebrated work of RashƯd al-DƯn in his geographical work, though he had stressed its significance in his general history, the TƗrƯkh-i GuzƯda (MustawfƯ 1362kh: 7, 562, 81516). Although RashƯd al-DƯn’s work is the main source for modern researchers investigating the transmission of knowledge in the fourteenth century, it seems to have been used by few contemporaries. Nor is RashƯd al-DƯn’s ƖthƗr wa A‫ۊ‬yƗ (Monuments and Living Things), concerning agricultural knowledge, quoted in the section on plants in the Nuzhat alQulnjb. MustawfƯ quoted RashƯd al-DƯn’s work only once in the section on geography, when he was describing cities in Yuan dynasty China: Jurjat. In the works of RashƯd al-DƯn (muৢannafƗt-i RashƯdƯ), this is mentioned as a long and broad kingdom which adjoins Cathay. They count it as possessing a population of 70,000 men. (MustawfƯ 1915: 257; MustawfƯ 1919: 250)

It is significant that although MustawfƯ had access to some of RashƯd alDƯn’s works (muৢannafƗt-i RashƯdƯ), including the JƗmiұ al-TawƗrƯkh, he only quoted from a small part of it.20 And despite the fact that RashƯd alDƯn’s geographical work, the ‫܇‬uwar al-AqƗlƯm (Figures of the Climes) is 17

The contents of the ұAjƗyib are as follows: Chapter 1, The spheres, stars, time; Chapter 2, The elements, minerals, plants and animals (ZakarƯyƗ 1849: 13-15; Storey 1972: 124). 18 Although there are two earlier Persian geographical works (the ‫ۉ‬udnjd al-ұƖlam by an anonymous author written in 982/3 and the JahƗn-NƗma mentioned above) that have come down to us, MustawfƯ may not have known of them and so considered his work the first Persian geographical work. 19 On the sources of the geographical part of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb not mentioned in MustaawfƯ’s preface, see Krawulsky 1978: 22-24. 20 This explanation seems to be quoted from Volume 1 of the JƗmiұ al-TawƗrƯkh (RashƯd al-DƯn 1373kh: 909).

Otsuka Osamu

55

considered to have been compiled on the basis of the knowledge of the philosophers and learned men of India, China, Europe, and so on (Allsen 2001: 103), it does not seem to have influenced MustawfƯ’s geographical writing, and indeed it seems to have been quoted only by BanƗkatƯ (d. 1329/30) 21 and not by later authors.22 Apparently therefore, the Nuzhat alQulnjb was compiled on the basis of traditional geography.

Features of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb As Table 1 indicates, the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb is a comprehensive cosmography encompassing astronomy, botany, mineralogy, zoology, geography, related anecdotes, and so on. When investigating the transmission of knowledge, we should compare it with the earlier popular cosmographies that are frequently quoted, the TafhƯm fƯ al-TanjƯm (Instruction in Astrology) and the ұAjƗyib al-MakhlnjqƗt. For example, in the section on astronomy, MustawfƯ mentions the various translations of the Arabic phrase qamar: The first sphere is the place of moon (qamar). It is called by the Persians mƗh, by the Turks Ɨy, by the Mongols sƗrƗ, by the Greeks QFS?, by the Hebrews sƗw, by the Hindus JND?, by the Chinese ynjya (yue). In the theory of Abnj RayতƗn (BƯrnjnƯ), its diameter is 639.5 fasangs 23 … (MustawfƯ/Fatih 4517: 9b)

Having elucidated the various Persian, Turkish, Greek, Hebrew, and Chinese translations, he then explained features of the moon based on BƯrnjnƯ’s TafhƯm. Such translation of certain technical terms into each of the languages used in the Ilkhanid dynasty is one of the features of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb. Following his explanation concerning astronomy, MustawfƯ introduced various calendars, dividing them into those used in ࠂrƗn-ZamƯn and those which were not.

21

For RashƯd’s influence on BanƗkatƯ’s geographical writing, see BanƗkatƯ 1378kh: 315-8. 22 Allsen stressed that the ‫܇‬uwar al-AqƗlƯm had been used as one of the standard geographical works of the Safavid era, based on Iskandar MunshƯ (d. 1634)’s account (Allsen 2001: 104). However the ‫܇‬uwar al-AqƗlƯm, mentioned by Iskandar MunshƯ, is apparently identified with Abnj Zayd BalkhƯ’s geographical work, not with RashƯd al-DƯn’s (Iskandar MunshƯ 1382kh: 949). 23 This diameter is the same as that of TafhƯm (BƯrnjnƯ 1386kh: 158).

56

The Geographical Understanding of ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ (1) Calendars used in ࠂrƗn-ZamƯn: 1. Arabic Islamic Calendar (al-IslƗmƯya al-‫ދ‬ArabƯya):24 23b-36b25 2. Syriac Alexandrian Calendar (al-IskandarƯya al-SuryƗnƯya): 36b-38a 3. Turkic Uyghuric Calendar (al-UyghurƯya al-TurkƯya): 38a-38b 4. Malik ShƗh’s JalƗlƯ Calendar (al-JalƗlƯya al-MalikƯya): 38b 5. Ghazan’s KhƗnƯ Calendar (al-KhƗnƯya al-GhazanƯya): 38b-39a 6. Yazdgird’s Persian Calendar (al-FƗrisƯya al-YazdjirdƯya): 39a-40a (2) Calendars not used in ࠂrƗn-ZamƯn: 1. Arabic JƗhilƯya Calendar (al-JƗhilƯya al-‫ދ‬ArabƯya): 40a-40b 2. Chinese Calendar (al-Khi৬ƗyƯya): 40b 3. Khwarazmian Calendar (al-KhwƗrazmƯya): 40b 4. Greek Calendar (al-RnjmƯya): 40b-41a 5. Soghdian Calendar (al-SughdƯya): 41a 6. Qoptic Calendar (al-Qib৬Ưya al-BukhtunaৢৢarƯya): 41a-41b 7. Calendar of Muqtaঌid (al-MuqtaঌidƯya): 41b 8. Indian Calendar (al-HindƯya): 41b 9. Israelite Jewish Calendar (al-YahnjdƯya BanƯ IsrƗyƯl): 41b-42b

This section is also apparently based on the earlier cosmographies (BƯrnjnƯ 1386kh: 241; ZakarƯyƗ QazwƯnƯ 1849: 67-8426). However, MustawfƯ added five calendars that were created after the time of BƯrnjnƯ or were not known by him; the Turkic Uyghuric Calendar, the JalƗlƯ Calendar of Malik ShƗh (d. 1092), the KhƗnƯ Calendar of GhƗzƗn KhƗn (d. 1304), the Chinese Calendar, and the Calendar of Muqtaঌid (d. 902). In addition, MustawfƯ divided the calendars into those used in ƮrƗn-zamƯn or those that were not, whereas BƯrnjnƯ divided them into lunar and solar. In the sections on mineralogy, botany and zoology, MustawfƯ quoted mainly from the ұAjƗyib al-MakhlnjqƗt adding, as in the astronomy section, new information, for example: Baghl, the Mule, is called qƗ‫ܒ‬ir by the Turks and lƗ’njsa by the Mongols. It is begotten of a horse and an ass; that which has the ass for its father is better than that which has the ass for its mother; its qualities are more those of the horse than the ass … (Stephenson 1928: 3-4)

24 After explaining the features of the Hijra calendar, MustawfƯ added a concise general history up to the year 740/1339-40. Although no attention has been paid to this section, the last part is a quite important contemporary source for the history of the post-Ilkhanid period (MustawfƯ/Fatih 4517: 25b-26b). 25 The folio numbers are based on the Istanbul manuscript. 26 ZakarƯyƗ QazwƯnƯ listed only two calendars: the Arabic Islamic Calendar and the Persian Calendar.

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The ұAjƗyib al-MakhlnjqƗt has the same explanation about the origin of the mule (ZakarƯyƗ QazwƯnƯ 1849: 376-77). However at its head, MustawfƯ added explanations about the different names of the animals in each language used in ƮrƗn-zamƯn. To conclude, the purpose of MustawfƯ’s cosmographical work was to explain all of the knowledge known to ƮrƗn-ZamƯn. He rearranged earlier cosmographical works according to new information he had acquired concerning the peoples of other lands, for example the Turks and the Chinese. In fact, it is a guide book for all the peoples living in ƮrƗn-zamƯn.

Geographical understanding in the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb As mentioned above, the last half of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb concerns the geography of the world, and modern scholars consider it the most significant section. I would like to round out this paper by explaining how geographical knowledge was rearranged through the transmission of knowledge in the middle of the fourteenth century. The geographical section of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb consists of five chapters: (1) the two sanctuaries (Mecca and Medina, pp. 1-18), (2) ƮrƗnZamƯn (pp. 18-242), (3) neighboring lands and cities related to the Persian kings (pp. 242-55), (4) neighboring lands and cities not related to the Persian kings (pp. 255-77), and (5) wondrous things in each city (pp. 27797). 27 MustawfƯ divided the world into three parts according to their relationship with ࠂrƗn-ZamƯn. His view of the world is evaluated by Melville as follows: Mostowfi presents a view that is partly traditional and conventional of Persia as part of an Islamic world centered on the Hejaz rather than an element in the Mongol empire, and repeating some information derived directly from the Arab geographers of the 9th and 10th century (Melville 2003: 634)

As Melville explains, the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb does not seem to have been influenced by ‘foreign’ geographical knowledge. I will now examine how MustawfƯ rearranged earlier geographical knowledge. (1) The importance of Mecca and Medina In the beginning of the third section, MustawfƯ stressed that because Mecca and Medina are the best parts of the world and the qibla of the 27

The complete text of the third section was edited and translated by G. Le Strange. The page numbers are based on his edition (MustawfƯ 1915).

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The Geographical Understanding of ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ

believers, a description of these places would be given first (MustawfƯ 1915: 1). These two places are very important for Muslims, for they have to identify precisely the direction of the qibla. A Persian general history written before the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb, the Mujmal al-TawƗrƯkh wa al-Qi‫܈‬a‫܈‬ (ca. 1126) also has a geographical section concerning Mecca and Medina, with colored pictures (Anon. 2000: 372-76). It is not unusual for Muslim writers to begin their geographical surveys with Mecca and Medina. (2) Iran-centrism After describing Mecca and Medina, MustawfƯ turns to his main topic, ƮrƗn-ZamƯn. He starts with the five kinds of geographical understanding of the world that were established by Persians, Arabs, Greeks and Indians (Table 3 ʊ Table 7).28 This was based on BƯrunƯ’s TafhƯm (BƯrnjnƯ 1386kh: 194-97), although MustawfƯ slightly changed the divisions given there. (2)-1. Persian geographical understanding I First of all, MustawfƯ introduced the Persian (FƗrsiyƗn) anecdote that the world was divided by Hermes, who is known as the prophet IdrƯs, into seven parts in the shape of a circle (MustawfƯ 1915: 18, Table 3). Such a division of the world was well known from the early Islamic period. However, in most Arabic geographical sources, the center of the world was not ƮrƗn-ZamƯn, but Babylon (BƗbil) (Mas‫ދ‬njdƯ 1967: 31-32; YƗqnjt 1979: 27). Also, in MustawfƯ’s main source, the TafhƯm, the phrase ƮrƗnShahr (Country of Iran) was used (BƯrnjnƯ 1386kh: 194), not ƮrƗn-ZamƯn.29 According to Bert G. Fragner’s article concerning the concept of Iran, ƮrƗn-ZamƯn is an imitation of the phrase ƮrƗn-Shahr, 30 which had been used in the pre-Islamic Sasanid period, and MustawfƯ employed it repeatedly (Fragner 2001: 349). The phrase ƮrƗn-Shahr can be seen in the afore-mentioned Persian general history, Mujamal al-TawƗrƯkh wa alQi‫܈‬a‫ ܈‬written about 1126 (Anon. 2000: 367), but as Fragner explains, in the course of the fourteenth century, the phrase ƮrƗn-ZamƯn came to replace it.

28

These diagrams do not appear in the manuscripts of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb. I have reconstructed them, based on diagrams in the TafhƯm. 29 However BirnjnƯ used ‘Babylon’ instead of ƮrƗn-Shahr in his other work, the Ta‫ۊ‬dƯd NihƗyƗt al-AmƗkƯn (BƯrnjnƯ 1992: 136). I have yet to determine why BƯrnjnƯ took this double standard. 30 According to Fragner, the phrase ƮrƗn-Shahr was the official designation of the Sasanian empire. The concept of this political entity was invented by the early founders of this empire (Fragner 2001: 344).

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Table 3. Persian geographical understanding I

Hindnj ChƯn, MƗchƯn

TƗzƯ, Yaman,

KhitƗ, Khutan

ণabash ƮrƗn-ZamƯn

Turk, Khazar

ShƗm, Miৢr, Maghrib Rnjm, Farang, ৡiqlƗb

North

(2)-2. Persian geographical understanding II The second kind of Persian geographical understanding is based on an ancient Persian heroic epic, more precisely on the story about FarƯdnjn and his three sons. Here the world was divided by FarƯdnjn into three parts, according to latitude. FarƯdnjn gave the eastern part to his son Tnjr, the western part to his son Salm and the central part to his youngest son Ʈraj. This central part came to be called ƮrƗn after Ʈraj (MustawfƯ 1915: 18-19, Table 4).31 MustawfƯ used the words east (qism-i sharqƯ) and west (qism-i gharbƯ), instead of Turk and Rnjm as did BƯrnjnƯ (BƯrnjnƯ 1386kh: 195). This is because, according to MustawfƯ’s definition, Rnjm was part of ƮrƗnZamƯn32 and therefore could not be used to refer to regions outside ƮrƗnZamƯn. ࠂrƗn-ZamƯn was placed at the center of the world in both types of understanding. 31

MustawfƯ mentioned two other ancient Persian kings related to the name of ƮrƗn: Kaynjmarth and Hnjshang. He then concluded that the more credible account was that of Ʈraj, the son of FarƯdnjn (MustawfƯ 1915: 18-19). 32 Concerning the definition of ƮrƗn-ZamƯn, MustawfƯ mentioned that ‘ƮrƗn starts from Qnjniya in Rnjm, in longitude 56°30’, and ends at Balkh on the Oxus in longitude 91°’(MustawfƯ 1915: 20; MustawfƯ 1919: 22).

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The Geographical Understanding of ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ

Table 4. Persian geographical understanding II East Tnjr

Center (ƮrƗn) Ʈraj North

West Salm

(2)-3. Geographical understanding of the Arabs In contrast to the Persian geographical understanding, the Arab understanding was that the world was divided into three parts according to genealogy by the Arabs (ahl-i ұArab). Both BƯrnjnƯ and MustawfƯ report the biblical anecdote of Noah. According to both biblical and Qur‫ދ‬anic traditions, the world was divided into the three parts by Noah and given to his sons; the southern part (the land of the black-skinned people) was given to Ham, the northern part (the land of the white-skinned people) was given to Japheth and the middle part (the land of the brown-skinned people) was given to Shem. However after that, MustawfƯ simply adds ‘ƮrƗn is included in the middle part’ (MustawfƯ 1915: 19). This does not appear in the TafhƯm. Table 5. Geographical understanding of the Arabs Black-skinned people to ণƗm Brown-skinned people to Shem (૜rƗn) White-skinned people to Japhet North (2)-4. Geographical understanding of the Greeks

MustawsƯ’s explanation about the geographical understanding of the Greeks (ahl-i YnjnƗn) was the same as BƯrnjnƯ’s. Asia (ƮsiyƗ) was placed in one half of the eastern part of the world. The western part was divided into two by the Mediterranean Sea (DaryƗ-yi ShƗm); the southern part was Africa (LnjbƯya) and the northern part was Europe (NjrufƗ). Asia was also divided into two parts: Smaller Asia (ƮsiyƗ-yi Khurd) and Larger Asia

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(ƮsiyƗ-yi Buzurg). (BƯrnjnƯ 1386kh: 195; MustawfƯ 1915: 19; Table 6) 33 MustawfƯ then explained which district should be included in each division. According to him, Larger Asia is the east, and includes KhitƗ, Khutan, MƗchƯn, ChƯn, Hind, Sind, and so on, whereas Smaller Asia is located between Larger Asia and Europe, and includes ƮrƗn-ZamƯn, ণijƗz, Yaman and Khazar. He repeatedly stressed that ƮrƗn-ZamƯn was the center of the world (MustawfƯ 1915: 19). Table 6. Geographical understanding of the Greeks Larger ƮsiyƗ Smaller ƮsiyƗ

LnjbƯya NjrufƗ North

(2)-5. Geographical understanding of the Hindus In discussing the geographical understanding of the Hindus, both BƯrnjnƯ and MustawfƯ divided the world into nine parts in squares. Each part had its own name: Dakshin, Njtar, Bnjrb, Basjin, AgnƯ, Asyan, BƗyab, Nayrit and Madwaysh (BƯrnjnƯ 1386kh: 197; MustawfƯ 1915: 19-20, Table 7),34 and MustawfƯ added information about the peoples living in each; ‫ދ‬Arabs live in Dakshin, Turks live in Njtar, Bnjrb means Great and Little China, Bashjim is the land of Misr and Barbar, AgnƯ is the land of the Hindnjs, Aysham means KhitƗ and Khotan, BƗyab means Rnjm and Farang, Nayrit is the land of the Copts, Barbar, Africa, Andalus, and the central square called Madwaysh is the land of the Iranians (ƮrƗniniyƗn) (MustawfƯ 1915: 19-20).

33

This kind of geographical understanding is represented in the Christian T-O map. 34 MustawfƯ’s contemporary, BanƗkatƯ (d. 1329/30) drew this kind of map in his general history, the TƗrƯkh-i BanƗkatƯ (History of BanƗkatƯ), showing nine countries. However the names of nine countries are different from those mentioned by BƯrnjnƯ and MustawfƯ (BanƗkatƯ Ayasofya 3026: 106a). On the other hand, RashƯd al-DƯn divided not whole, but ‘India’ into nine parts which were larger than ƮrƗn-zamƯn(RashƯd al-DƯn 1384kh: 22). It is noticeable that each contemporary historian rewrote traditional anecdotes to make them conform to his own view of the world.

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The Geographical Understanding of ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ

Table 7. Geographical understanding of the Hindus AgnƯ (Hindnj)

Dakshin (‘Arab)

Nayrit (Qib৬, Babar, IfrƯqƯya, and Andals)

Bnjrb (ChƯn and MƗchƯn)

Madwaysh (૜rƗn)

Bashjim (Miৢr and Barbar)

Ayshan (KhitƗ and Khutan)

Njtar (Turk) North

BƗyab (Rnjm and Farang)

To conclude, MustawfƯ based himself completely on BƯrnjnƯ’s TafhƯm to explain the geographical understanding of each people and there is no difference here between the two cosmographies. What MustawfƯ did was to rewrite the TafhƯm from the viewpoint of Iran-centrism, adding quotations and new explanations that placed ࠂrƗn-ZamƯn at the center of the world.35 At the end of the section, he wrote: According to every theory, ૜rƗn is placed at the central part of the habitable earth, and the best place of all of the lands and quarters and cities and districts (MustawfƯ 1915: 20).

Geographical understanding concerning neighboring countries Given that MustawfƯ’s geographical understanding was Irano-centric, how did he perceive regions outside ƮrƗn-ZamƯn. Was he, like RashƯd al-DƯn, interested in the new information being transmitted at the time? As mentioned above, MustawfƯ distinguished the regions related to Persian kings from those without such a relationship. He listed six cities alphabetically as eastern countries: Bakin, Wall of Gog and Magog, Samarqand, SiyƗwukhsh-Gird, FarghƗna and Kang-Diz, whose founders were said to have been ancient Persian kings (MustawfƯ 1915: 242-47). For example, he wrote under ‘Bakin’: Bakin. In the region of China (ChƯn). It was founded by Alexander the Greek. Or some say it was founded by Kay Khusraw, because Alexander 35 His famous map mentioned above, which seems to have been the first to employ a grid system of longitude and latitude is in fact Irano-centric and not a world map (Tibbetts 1992: 152).

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only had destroyed cities in the world. It is of the third clime, and is a great city. Its climate is good and a little cold. It is a populous city and all kinds of grains are produced. It is very good city (MustawfƯ 1915: 243).

In this way, MustawfƯ tried to relate neighboring cities to Persian kings, using traditional Persian anecdotes, not Chinese ones. He went on to explain the whole world in a context well-established in Persianate societies. How then did he understand regions not related to Persian kings? He listed 29 eastern countries, including China and India, and 27 western countries, including Europe and Africa. For example, under the heading of China (ChƯn) he wrote: China (ChƯn). It is called ManzƯ by the Mongols, and ‫܇‬Ưn by the Arabs. It is a very big country, including the Second, Third and Fourth Climes. Its capital is called MajƯn, located in the Second Clime (longitude 12°, latitude 22°). Most of its people are idolaters as those who adhere to the religion of MƗnƯ the painter. There are some Muslims and Christians among them, but there are no Jews.… In this country all arts have reached a high degree of perfection, and there are many big cities there (MustawfƯ 1915: 257).

MustawfƯ does not seem to have written anything new about the east. This section included the names BalƗsaghnjn, Tabbat, TarsiyƗn and Uyghnjr, Tangut, Jurja, ChƯn, KhitƗ, Khutan, MƗchƯn, and so on (MustawfƯ 1915: 255-64); some ‘new’ cities were mentioned, but no additional description was given, other than their name and exact location.

The popularity of the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb among the later authors Apparently, MustawfƯ’s cosmography, with its Iran-centrism and multilingual approach, was admired in Persianate societies, in contrast to RashƯd al-DƯn’s geographical work. Its popularity can be seen from its circulation. Together with the above-mentioned large number of the surviving copies, it was frequently quoted by later authors. Its popularity can be assessed by the evaluation given it by two intellectuals, KhwƗndAmƯr (d. 1535) and KƗtib Çelebi (d. 1657). KhwƗnd-AmƯr wrote ‘MustawfƯ’s learning and comprehensiveness can be clearly seen, and many strange and marvelous things can be learned from it’ (KhwƗnd-AmƯr 1362kh: 221; Melville 2003: 634a). Even as late as the Ottoman period, KƗtib Çelebi valued it as a meritorious work, because ‘wondrous things of

64

The Geographical Understanding of ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ

the world, that confuse the senses and present the marvels of all things, were written in it’ (KƗtib Çelebi 1990: 1945).

Conclusion In the Ilkhanid period, the transmission of many kinds of knowledge was occurring throughout Eurasia. RashƯd al-DƯn’s JƗmiұ al-TawƗrƯkh, written at the time, has been admired as a universal work representing its period. However, its geographical knowledge was not quoted by later authors. Instead, intellectuals in Persianate societies preferred the first Persian cosmographical work, the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb, which emphasized the presence of ࠂrƗn-ZamƯn. This work contained information about the many kinds of peoples living in Persianate societies, from Chinese to the people of West Europe. Because of the multiplicity of peoples and languages that co-existed in fourteenth century Persianate societies, the Nuzhat al-Qulnjb played an important role as a concise guide to all knowledge. However, in addition to traditional knowledge influential at that time, its Iran-centrism made it more popular than RashƯd al-DƯn’s universal work.

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References Allsen, Th. T. Culture and Conquest in Mongol Eurasia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001. Anon. Mujmal al-TawƗrƯkh wa al-Qi‫܈‬a‫܈‬, eds S. Najmabadi & S. Weber. Edingen-Neckarhausen: Deux Mondes, 2000. BanƗkatƯ. TƗrƯkh-i BanakatƯ, Ms. Istanbul, Süleymaniye Library, Ayasofya, MS 3026. BayঌƗwƯ. NiܲƗm al-TawƗrƯkh, ed. M. Muতaddith. Tehran: BunyƗd-i MawqnjfƗt-i Duktur Maতmnjd AfshƗr, 1382kh. BƯrnjnƯ, Abnj RayতƗn. Ta‫ۊ‬dƯd al-AmƗkƯn, ed. F. Sezgin. Frankfurt: Institut für Geschichte der Arabisch-Islamischen Wissenschaften, 1992. —. al-TafhƯm, ed. J. HumƗ’Ư. Tehran: Mu’assasa-yi Nashr-i HumƗ, 1386kh. Blochet, E. Catalogue des manuscrits persans, Vol. 1. Paris: Réunion des bibliothêques nationales, 1905. DirƗyatƯ, M. FihristwƗra-yi Dast-Niwisht-hƗ-yi ƮrƗn, Vol. 10. Tehran: KitƗb-khƗna, Mnjza wa Markaz-i AsnƗd-i Majlis-i ShnjrƗ-yi IslƗmƯ, 1389kh. Fragner, B. G. “The Concept of Regionalism in Historical Research on Central Asia and Iran.” In Studies on Central Asian History in Honor of Yuri Bregel, ed. D. DeWeese, pp. 341-54. Bloomington Indiana: Indiana University, 2001. Iskandar MunshƯ. TƗrƯkh-i ұƖlam-ƗrƗ-yi ұAbbƗsƯ, ed. Ʈ. AfshƗr, 2 vols. Tehran: Mu’assasa-yi IntishƗrƗt-i AmƯr KabƯr, 1382kh. Itani, Kǀzǀ. “Fatih 4517 perushiyago shahon Nuzhat al-Qulub ni mieru Rnjm chihǀ no kijutsu ni tsuite” Fatih4517 ࣌ࣝࢩ࢔ㄒ෗ᮏ Nuzhat alQulub ࡟ぢ࠼ࡿ࣮࣒ࣝᆅ᪉ࡢグ㏙࡟ࡘ࠸࡚ (On the Description of Rnjm in the Persian MS. of Nuzhat al-Qulnjb [Fatih 4517, SüleymaniyeIstanbul]).” Faculty of Letters Review, Otemon Gakuin University 27 (1993): 97-104. Jwaideh, W. ed. The Introductory Chapters of YƗqnjt’s Muұjam al-BuldƗn, Leiden: Brill, 1959. KƗtib Çelebi. Kashf al-ܱunnjn, ұan AsƗmƯ al-Kutub wa al-Funnjn, Vol. 2. Beirut: DƗr al-Fikr, 1990. KhwƗnd-AmƯr. TƗrƯkh-i ‫ۉ‬abƯb al-Siyar (M. DabƯr-SiyƗqƯ ed.), Vol. 3. Tehran: KitƗb-furnjshƯ-yi KhayyƗm, 1362kh. Kondo, Nobuaki, ed. Perushiago bunkakenshi kenkynj no saizensen ࣌ࣝ ࢩ࢔ㄒᩥ໬ᅪྐ◊✲ࡢ᭱๓⥺ (New Perspectives on the History of Persianate Societies). MEIS Series No.16 Studia Culturae Islamicae

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No. 99. Tokyo: Research Institute for Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, 2011. Krawulsky, D. ƮrƗn – Das Reich der Ʈl‫ې‬Ɨne, Wiesbaden: Reichert, 1978. Le Strange, G. “Description of Persia and Mesopotamia in the Year 1340 A.D. from the Nuzhat-al-঱ulnjb of ণamd-Allah Mustawfi, with a Summary of the Contents of that Work.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 34-1 (1902): 49-74. —. The Lands of the Eastern Caliphate, Cambridge: Cambridge Univerity Press, 1905. Mas‫ދ‬njdƯ, Abnj al-ণasan ‫ދ‬AlƯ b. al-ণusayn b. ‫ދ‬AlƯ. al-TanbƯh wa al-IshrƗf, ed. M. J. de Goeje. Leiden: Brill, 1967. Melville, Charles. “ণamd-AllƗh Mostawfi,” Encyclopaedia Iranica, 11: 631b-634b, 2003. —. “JƗme‫ ދ‬al-TawƗrƯ঴,” Encyclopaedia Iranica, 14: 462a-468b, 2008. —. “The Mongol and Timurid Periods, 1250-1500.” In Persian Historiography, ed Charles Melville, pp. 155-208. London & New York: I.B. Taurus, 2012. MustawfƯ, ণamd-AllƗh. Nuzhat al-Qulnjb, Ms. Istanbul, Süleymaniye Library, Fatih 4517. —. Nuzhat al-Qulnjb, ed. MƯrzƗ Muতammad ShƯrƗzƯ, lith. Bombay 1894. —. Nuzhat al-Qulnjb, ed. G. Le Strange. Leyden: Brill & London: Luzac and Co., 1915. —. Nuzhat al-Qulnjb (G. Le Strange tr.), Leyden: Brill & London: Luzac and Co., 1919. —. TƗrƯkh-i GuzƯda, ed ‫ދ‬A. NawƗ’Ư. Tehran: Mu’assasa-yi IntishƗrƗt-i AmƯr KabƯr, 1362kh. —. Nuzhat al-Qulnjb, ed. M. DabƯr-SiyƗqƯ. Qazwin: Nashr-i ণadƯth-i Imrnjz, 1381kh. al-QƗshƗnƯ, Abnj al-QƗsim. TƗrƯkh-i NjljƗytnj, ed. M. Hambly. Tehran: Shirkat-i IntishƗrƗt-i ‫ދ‬IlmƯ wa FarhangƯ, 1384kh. RashƯd al-DƯn, Faঌl-AllƗh. JƗmiұ al-TawƗrƯkh, eds. M. Rawshan & M. MnjsawƯ, 4 vols. Tehran: Nashr-i Alburz, 1373kh. —. JƗmiұ al-TawƗrƯkh: TƗrƯkh-i Hind wa Sind wa KashmƯr, ed. M. Rawshan. Tehran: MƯrƗth-i Maktnjb, 1384kh. ৡafƗ, Dh. TƗrƯkh-i AdabƯyƗt dar ƮrƗn, Vol. 3, Tehran: IntishƗrƗt-i FirdawsƯ, 1372kh. Spuler, B. “ণamd-AllƗh MustawfƯ ঱azwƯnƯ.” Encyclopaedia of Islam, new edition, Vol. 3, pp. 122a-122b. Leiden: Brill, 1986. Storey, C. A. Persian Literature: A Bio-Bibliographical Survey. Vol. 2, Part1. London: Luzac and Co, 1972.

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Tibbetts, G. R. “Later Cartographic Developments.” In The History of Cartography, eds. J. B. Harley & D. Woodward, Vol. 2, Book 1, pp. 137-55. Chicago & London: University of Chicago Press, 1992. YƗqnjt al-ণamawƯ Muұjam al-BuldƗn, Vol. 1. Beirut: DƗr al-IতyƗ al-TurƗth al-‫ދ‬ArabƯ, 1979. ZakarƯyƗ b. Muতammad al-QazwƯnƯ, 1849. ұAjƗyib al-MakhlnjqƗt wa GharƗ’ib al-MawjnjdƗt, ed. F. Wüstenfeld. Göttingen: Dieterischen Buchhandlung, 1849.

PART II MUSEUMS, IMAGE AND IDENTITY CONSTRUCTION

CHAPTER FOUR THE HISTORY OF JAPONISME AS A GLOBAL STUDY UKAI ATSUKO Introduction The term “Japonisme” has become widely used over the past twenty years, both in France and in Japan. In this paper, I shall consider the nature of Japonisme studies that have been conducted to date predominantly by Japanese and French researchers, and some problems within them. The French term Japonisme dates back to 1872, when it was used for the first time in an article by the art critic Philippe Burty (1830-90) that was published in the magazine La renaissance littéraire et artistique. 1 Oher similar terms were already in use—and continue to be used today—terms such as “Japonaiserie” and “Japonerie”, the Japanese equivalents of “Chinoiserie” or “penchant for China”, and “Japonisant”, meaning Japanophile. The term “Japonisme” first appeared in the Japanese Kojien dictionary in the fourth edition of 1993 with the definition, “Penchant for Japan. Especially used in regard to items popularized in nineteenth-century France through the influx of ukiyo-e and exhibitions at the Paris Exposition Universelle. Its influence was particularly pervasive in the impressionist and other art circles.” The phenomenon of Japonisme in art history manifested itself in a devotion to things Japanese and to the Japanese-style, which took hold from the time of the aforementioned influx of artistic crafts from Japan. La Japonaise (1875), a painting by Claude Monet shown at the second group show of the Impressionist painters in 1876, depicts the artist’s wife adorned in an elaborate kimono and standing on a decorative Japanese straw mat covered floor against a wall embellished with paper fans. The 1 Philippe Burty, “Japonisme,” Renaissance littéraire et artistique, May 1872-Feb 1873. Philippe Burty published a series of seven articles under the title “Japonisme” over the course of one year.

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extent of the phenomenon is exemplified by the fact that Vincent van Gogh decorated his studio with ukiyo-e and produced an oil painting of a Japanese Oiran courtesan (1887). Japonisme was more than the act of simply imitating Japanese artworks. It encapsulated “having an interest in Japan” or “being influenced by Japan” in the broadest sense, inclusive of the Japanese way of life and world view, specifically by seeking out knowledge of formative principles, new materials, and the techniques that underlay Japanese artistry, as well as the aesthetics and sense of beauty behind them. In other words, the term ‘Japonisme’ as used among researchers in Japan and France today has shifted in meaning from “an interest in Japanese artwork” to “the ripple effect that the same had on French art.” Thus the term ‘Japonaiserie’ is often used to describe the clear-cut transference and incorporation of Japanese ukiyo-e images into Western paintings. 2 Commenting on the surging wave of Japonisme inundating the art world in France, art critic Ernest Chesneau stated in 1878:3 Enthusiasm burned through all the ateliers with the speed of a flame along a trail of powder. We could not but admire the unexpected compositions, the science of form, the richness of tone, the originality of picturesque effect and, moreover, the simplicity of the means employed to achieve such results.

Chesneau tells us what French art critics saw at the time: aesthetics which were considered uniquely Japanese manifested not only in new and novel motifs, but also in revolutionary screen compositions. Clearly, the Japonisme phenomenon had captured the attention not only of French artists, but of critics as well. In this paper, I would like to discuss first the development of Japonisme studies and their characteristics and the act of collecting artworks. I will then examine two examples of Félix Bracquemond’s Service Rousseau and decorative book bindings in Nancy. The former 2

A journal titled “The Report of the Society for the Study of Japonaiserie” was first published by the Society for the Study of Japonaiserie in 1981 but later had its name changed following an adjustment to the society’s own name. The journal is currently published under the title Studies in Japonisme. 3 Ernest Chesneau, “Le Japon à Paris” [originally published 1878], in Le Japonisme exposition: Paris, Galeries nationales du Grand Palais, 17 mai-15 août 1988, Musée d’art occidental, Tokyo, 25 septembre-11 décembre 1988, ed. Réunion des musées nationaux, National Museum of Western Art-Tokyo, and Japan Foundation, (Paris, Ed. de la Réunion des musées nationaux, 1988), p. 16. Translated from the original French.

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demonstrates the problematic of Japonisme studies, and the latter offers us the possibility of expanding the existing discipline as a global study.

The phenomenon of Japonisme and its studies The gradual adoption of Japanese artistry into “Western” art in the latter half of the nineteenth century has been elucidated through the study of Japonisme. Such studies, marked in Japan by the launch of the Society for the Study of Japonisme 4 in 1980, began as an effort to document the introduction, modification, and emulation of “Japanese Art“ through an exploration of source materials, for example by identifying the specific Japanese ukiyo-e print used as a motif in a given painting. It has been theorized that imitation took place in the early stages of Japonisme and the subsequent reception of “Japanese Art” can be broken down into stages. The Asian art historian Geneviève Lacambre describes the reception of “Japanese Art” as divided into four distinct stages:5 The introduction of Japanese motifs into a repertoire of eclecticism—this adds without replacing the decorative motif of any specific time or country; The preferential imitation of these exotic or naturalistic motifs—with the latter, naturalistic motifs, being assimilated particularly quickly; The imitation of refined techniques from Japan; Analysis of the principles and methods that one can discover from Japanese art and their application.

In her opinion, Japonisme was not merely imitation, but rather developed to encompass an analysis and application of principles and methods discovered in Japanese aesthetics and techniques. Among researchers in Japan, Akiko Mabuchi has written several articles on the links between Japonisme and naturalism in Japan. 6 The term “Japonisumu”, (the Japanese pronunciation of Japonisme), became popularized after appearing 4 The society was known as the Society for the Study of Japonaiserie at the time of its establishment but later changed its name to the Society for the Study of Japonisme. 5 Geneviève Lacambre, “ Les milieux japonisants à Paris, 1860-1880,” in Japonisme in Art: An International Symposium, ed. The Society for the Study of Japonisme (Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1980), pp. 49–50. 6 Akiko Mabuchi, Japonisumu: genso no Nihon (Tokyo, Brücke, 1997).

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in the catalogue for Le Japonisme, an exhibition held at the Grand Palais in Paris and the National Museum of Western Art in Tokyo. For the most part, studies began with researchers from France and Japan investigating the history of French-Japanese bilateral cultural exchanges. However, over time Japanese researchers expanded into Belgium, Vienna, and the United States, thereby demonstrating that France was not the sole subject of Japonisme studies. Moreover, Japonisme studies look at myriad works ranging from those of a flat dimension, such as pictures and ukiyo-e paintings, to the three-dimensional, such as pottery, architecture and clothing. Progress in the study of Japonisme in fashion7 has shed light on stages spanning the use of fabric with Japanese motifs in clothing and the application of designs inspired by the structure and composition of kimonos. Also, rather than simply focusing on comparisons between flat-dimensional works, such as the integration of ukiyo-e prints into paintings, attention has also been paid to illustrating how two-dimensional Japanese artistic works were modified for use in French crafts.

The exhibition, collection, and movement of artworks Before discussing Japonisme studies, I would like to touch on the early transfers of artwork from Japan to other countries. It is already wellknown that, starting in the seventeenth century, the Dutch East India Company had exported large quantities of Japanese gold lacquerware and Arita porcelain to Europe. In the eighteenth century ‘Chinoiserie’, or a fondness for things Chinese, was prevalent and as part of this trend Japanese artistic crafts were also increasingly incorporated into Rococo decorative arts. In the nineteenth century, Japanese arts and crafts became a common sight at auction houses in Paris, and by the early 1840s, some shops in Paris were already dealing in Japanese goods. At the same time, the Goncourt brothers, avid collectors of Far Eastern art, claimed their place as early Japonisants in 1861 as they documented their acquisition of Japanese prints in a private journal. World Expositions served as one key catalyst in exposing persons outside of Japan to Japanese products. It is known that Japanese works were displayed at the 1853 World Exposition in New York and in the Dutch exhibition space at the 1855 Paris Universal Exposition. Furthermore, Japanese works of art became more widely known when the Tokugawa government, the Saga and Satsuma samurai 7

Akiko Fukai, Japonism in Fashion (Kyoto, Kyǀto Fukushoku Bunka Kenkynj Zaidan, 1996), pp. 16-27.

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clans, as well as private Japanese merchants, all took part in the 1867 Paris Exposition Universelle, where they exhibited original paintings, ukiyo-e prints, folding screens, swords, porcelain china, lacquerware, netsuke sculptures, combs, inro boxes and other artistic crafts. In 1878 the Meiji government, in a plan to boost exports by winning a prize at the Paris Exposition, submitted numerous artistic crafts that it had itself standardized as “suitable for practical use in Western countries”. Artwork from the East was also exhibited at venues other than world expositions. One such example is the 1873 Far Eastern Art Exhibition held at the Palais de l’Industrie in Paris by the banker Henri Cernuschi (182096) and the art critic Theodore Duret (1838-1927), two men who had spent time in Japan from 1871 to 1872 collecting bronze products and Buddhist statues that they then transported home to France. Moreover, in 1876, Lyon-born industrialist Émile Guimet (1836-1918) and illustrator Felix Régamey (1844-1907) traveled to Japan and later, in 1879, opened a museum of Eastern art in Lyon centering on the Buddhist artworks Guimet had collected. This museum was subsequently moved to Paris and inaugurated as the Musée national des Arts asiatiques-Guimet, or the Guimet Museum, in 1889.8 Collections that have hardly been made public also exist. One such that I have studied is the Cartier–Bresson collection, housed in the Museum of Fine Arts in Nancy. Charles Cartier–Bresson (1852-1921), the great-uncle of the famed photographer Henri Cartier– Bresson (1908-2004), was a successful textile industrialist who accumulated a collection of 706 “items of the Far East”. At the same time that the late-nineteenth century world expositions helped Japanese artworks reach the masses, the history of various collections and exhibitions shows that individuals in France were actively obtaining artworks in Japan—and displaying them at home. The influx of artworks from Asian countries, shown in public, then went on to inspire artists and art critics.

The exhibition of Service Rousseau, a case of Japonisme or rather “Asianism”? François Eugène Rousseau (1827-90), a seller and manufacturer of ceramics and glassware, commissioned the printmaker Felix Bracquemond (1833-1914) to design his next tableware set. Bracquemond has been 8

Atsushi Miura, “Furansu—1890 nen izen,” in Japonisumu nynjmon. Ed. The Society for the Study of Japonisme (Kyoto, Shibunkaku Shuppan, 2000), pp. 2650.

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credited for being the first to discover the Hokusai Manga in 1856, when he received Japanese ceramics packed in the actual prints. Bracquemond’s Service Rousseau, a tableware set produced in the 1860s using Hokusai and Hiroshige prints as motifs, gained popularity and became known as ‘Service Japonais’. After its initial exhibition at the 1867 Universal Exposition in Paris, the service made further appearances at the 1878 and 1889 Paris Expositions, and continued to be produced until the 1930s. In 1988, the Musée d’Orsay held an exhibition of the Service Rousseau along with other works from its collection. In Japan the Service Rousseau belonging to the Musée National Adrien Dubouché collection was displayed at the 1998 Japonisme in Decorative Arts exhibition, held at the Tokyo Metropolitan Teien Art Museum and other locations. In addition, the service belonging to the Musée d’Orsay has recently been on display at the “France Meets Japan: Ukiyo-e Influence on French Ceramics” exhibition held at the Tokyo National Museum in 2008. This exhibit featured the Service Rousseau along with the original prints upon which its designs were based, thereby making clear the incontestable fact that the source of its design was derived from Japanese works of art. The search for the sources of these designs was carried out by Ikegami Chnjji. In his essay, “Copperplate Etchings by Felix Bracquemond Derived from the Works of Hokusai Manga and Hiroshige’s Designs of Fish”, 9 Ikegami points out one by one the relation of Bracquemond’s etchings to works from both the Hokusai Manga and Hiroshige’s Designs of Fish. This Service Rousseau borrowed from the Musée des art décoratif de Paris was displayed at the Shanghai World Expo in 2010. (Figures 1, 2) Let us consider the significance of the exhibition of this artwork—a longstanding example of Japonisme itself—in China. World expositions have always been a venue for competition between countries. France held regular national expositions every five years until 1855 when, in an attempt to rival the London World Exhibition of 1851, it modified the domestic event into its own first world exposition. In 1970, over 64 million visitors attended the Osaka Exposition—the greatest number ever recorded in the history of world expositions at the time. Then, in 2010, the Shanghai World Expo attracted an even higher number of visitors and established a new record. In this way, the Shanghai World Expo added a fresh page to the history of World Expositions. It is likely that countries around the world had never before been so conscious of the host country when constructing their exhibitions. The 9

Ikegami Chnjji, “Hokusai Manga to Hiroshige no ‘Sakana Zukushi’ to ni yoru Ferikkusu Burakkumon no dǀhanga”, Kobe daigaku bungakukai kenkynj 43 (1968).

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Japan Pavilion, for one, featured a keen focus on the history of SinoJapanese friendship, including the history of Japanese diplomatic envoys. Also, especially in the Asian pavilions, numerous countries put so much emphasis on introducing their own relationships with China that their individual descriptive points were either ambiguous or fundamentally indistinguishable. In addition, themes in the Industry Pavilions— promoting such concepts as Japan and Korea’s “advanced technology” and “urban space for the near future”—also did little to significantly differentiate Asian countries from one other. Of particular interest to Expo visitors was the World Exposition Museum, where the 2010 organizers introduced the history of World’s Fairs. The museum comprised two parts: the screening of a film summarizing the history of the world expositions thus far, and an exhibition of paintings and photographs showing what past expositions had looked like and what they had actually displayed. Among the exhibited items selected to represent World’s Fairs through the ages was a twelve-piece Service Rousseau10 tableware set belonging to the Musée des Arts Décoratifs in Paris, which was prominently placed in the center of the hall. Here, in China, was the Service Rousseau meant to exemplify “the influence of China on the West”? Placed beside the Service Rousseau was Émile Gallé’s The Carp (1878), a glass vase also commonly used within Japonisme studies to represent “Japan’s influence” on Western art. In Japan, the vase’s motif has been shown to derive from the Hokusai Manga’s “Gyoran Bodhisattva”, but the two carp motif—found in this vase as well as in many of Gallé’s works—and the bodhisattva herself both trace back to China. The discovery of source Japanese designs used in Western art is an essential element of Japonisme studies; however, when viewed in light of the above examples, there is less appeal to an insistence that these motifs are “unique to Japan” and to pontifications on the influence of “Japan” on “the West”. The artworks exhibited at the World Exhibition Museum signify that what had become so markedly popular in France was none other than “Asian” motifs. This presents us with the notion that one need not explore the influence of Japan, but instead look to shift the research framework from Japonisme studies to Asian studies. At this exhibition, I made the personal discovery of the possibility of understanding this great phenomenon as neither Chinoiserie nor Japonisme, but as Asianism. .

10 For a discussion of Bracquemond and the Service Rousseau, see Okuda Katsuhiko, “Ferikkusu Burakkumon to Tǀjiki no Japonisumu,” in Japonisumu kenkynj 26 (2007): pp. 16-29.

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Issues in Japonisme studies Japonisme is supposed to be one way of looking at “Japan as seen in the eyes of the West”, where one’s point of view does not lie on the side of Japan. The primary purpose of Japonisme studies is to elucidate how “Japanese Art“ was received in other countries. And it is unfortunate that this study has led to extreme discourse such as that suggesting Japonisme was vital to the discovery of modern “European” aesthetics. Can we not restate the definition of Japanese art, as used in the study of Japonisme, to connote something that does not exist here in Japan but, instead, has been crafted in Europe? After all, the concept of “Japanese painting” did not exist in Meiji Japan; it was not until Western paintings and techniques made their way to Japan that “Japanese art” became a category unto itself. It was then that the Meiji government began making use of this manufactured image in an effort to promote Japanese art as representative of Asian art. When speaking of our contemporary study of Japonisme, one must admit that discourse has not succeeded in illuminating such realities but instead propagates the same manufactured imagery of long ago. In Japan, mainstream research conducted thus far into the history of Japanese and French art has been based on the study of Western art history; as such, a considerable amount of research has addressed “the influence of Western art on Japan”. From this, the study of Japonisme came into the world as a way to explore the converse influence of Japan. However, this new twist actually represents nothing more than a change in the direction of the “influence”. At the root of these disciplines, the dichotomy of “here” and “there”, or East and West, has not changed. In order to deconstruct this dichotomy, a third axis must be established. One way of doing this could be to add the United States and China, areas that have not been significantly studied thus far, as targets for survey in order to further explore the manufacture and foreign reception of “things Japanese”. Also, if we are to look at the World Exposition as a battleground where individual countries compete by promoting their differences, then it would be useful to explore exactly which differences were emphasized by any given Asian country as a means to set itself apart in the midst of this “Asian boom”. For countries participating in nineteenth-century world expositions, this ability to differentiate oneself was key to victory in competition, and necessary for identifying not only the “art of one’s country”, but also “the country itself”.

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Japonisme and the “Nancy Book Bindings” as reflections on Global Art History In the spring of 2005, two books on “Japanese Art” by Louis Gonse, bound by Camille Martin and Victor Prouvé with the assistance of René Wiener were acquired for 46,000 euros by the École de Nancy museum. Their bindings are inspired by Japanese woodblock prints and they were originally exhibited at the Salon de la Société Nationale des Beaux-arts that took place on the Champ de Mars in 1893. The three artists exhibited eight bindings, thus giving Nancy’s School of Decorative Arts international exposure. These books are long-standing examples of Japonisme art works. Among the three artists from Nancy, let us focus on the activities of René Wiener (1855-1939), who actually bound the books. In 1879, he took over his grandfather’s book and paper shop and turned the window into a gallery for artists. His father, Lucien Wiener (1828-1909), was curator of the Musée Lorrain, and it is a well-known fact that most of René Wiener’s collection was donated to this Museum after his death. The documents shown here do not come from the Musée Lorrain but from Nancy’s municipal library. After an examination of work in this library, I discovered books featuring oriental or Japanese style bindings made by René Wiener (Figures 3, 4, 5). What is important to notice here, is the fact that the materials used for these covers were paper or leather imported from Japan. The “leather” used for this kind of craft is called “himekawa” and “kinkarakami”. The paper used for the inside cover is called “chiyogami”. Chiyogami is a type of paper used for printing in colour, forms and motifs that have been carved on woodblocks. “Chiyo” means “a long period” or “a thousand years” and the most commonly used motifs for its decoration are the pine tree, bamboo, plum tree, crane and tortoise, because these elements are all symbols of longevity. At the beginning of the Edo period, chiyogami was made by the masters of ukiyo-e themselves. Later it was used to make doll’s kimonos, the inside of small boxes and as wrapping paper. At the Musée Lorrain, in René Wiener’s collection, I found two types of chiyogami. René Wiener acquired chiyogami designed for the purpose of covering the inside of book bindings. Amongst the book bindings made by René Wiener, several covers have also been made out of Japanese materials. We can find himekawa printed with insects and made in Harima, present-day Himeji. After the 1893 World Exhibition in Chicago, this type of paper was exported to Europe in large quantities. It is interesting to know that other types of leather-like bindings are actually made with paper that has the appearance of Japanese leather. The Japanese

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invented this paper after the introduction of gilded leather techniques from Europe. In Western European palaces and mansions, leather was used instead of wallpaper because it was more resistant to the damage caused by insects. During the Edo period, the Dutch introduced this leather wallpaper in Japan. Since the gilded leather imported from Europe was expensive, it was used only to cover smaller objects, such as snuff boxes, horse saddles and sword sheaths. During the same period, a new technique, by which colour could be added onto the leather appeared. It gave birth to kinkarakawa, which can be literally translated as “Chinese gilded leather” in this context the word “Chinese” has the meaning of “a foreign country”. In Japan, a country of highly skilled paper makers, the technique needed to make kinkarakawa gave birth to kinkarakami, which can be literally translated as “gilded leather paper”. Kinkarakami is made by first applying silver leaf onto Japanese paper. This paper is then placed between two sheets of wood on which motifs have been carved in order to create an embossment. The resulting luxurious embossed paper, very similar to leather in appearance was shown at the Vienna World Exhibition on 1873 and later exported to Europe as wallpaper. It was awarded a first prize at the Paris Exhibition in 1900, as one of the best imitations of leather using paper. After visiting Japan with Émile Guimet in 1876, Félix Régamey returned in 1899 to study Japanese education in the field of the arts. Some of the drawings he produced during this trip show the making of kinkarakami. After visiting a factory, Régamey talked of the “artistic industry of Japan”. We may conclude, therefore, that René Wiener used Japanese materials such as himekawa, kinkarakami and chiyogami to make his bindings. Kinkarakami is the result of a technique used to make European gilded leather applied to Japanese paper and was considered a “traditional Japanese industrial product”. Gilded leather imported by Japan from Europe and gilded paper imported by Europe from Japan were used to make small personal items. This shows that the use of a foreign material to personalize everyday items is a universal trend. The bound books kept at the municipal library in Nancy stand out as a particular example of craftsmanship made with materials imported from Japan. They are by nature completely different to the type of bindings bought by the Museum of the École de Nancy. We may therefore ask the following question: can these bindings in Nancy’s municipal library be considered an illustration of Japonisme? As is explained above, the simple act of appreciating Japanese art or collecting it is not considered as an illustration of Japonisme, but rather as the manifestation of a taste for japonaiseries. Japonisme is considered as a phenomenon that affected artists and critics during the second half of the

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nineteenth century. The study of Japonisme is based on the identification of “Japanese style” motifs or on the appraisal of Japanese “aesthetics” through an emphasis of Japan on Western art. However, the book bindings introduced here testify to the borrowing of an art culture from Japan in an even more concrete manner than that of aesthetics since the materials themselves were imported from Japan. The books from the Nancy municipal library are neither copies of Japanese paintings taken for reference, nor works of art designed to be exhibited as typical examples of Japanese motifs. They are simply books that passed through the hands of various people, and illustrated the use of traditional European techniques applied to Japanese materials. The existence of these bindings shows that through the applied arts, devotion to “things Japanese” reached a much wider public in the form of items for everyday use. If we tentatively call this Japonisme, this type of Japonisme is not one of “fine art” but of crafts. Therefore it embodies a more popular dimension of Japonisme that the one we are used to. The interesting point in this particular example is that it is a manifestation of a cross influence, rather than the unidirectional influence of Japan on the West. It may even be possible to consider it as a point of fusion between the two cultures. We could say that the desire for and the use of foreign materials in the personalisation of everyday items such as snuff boxes in Japan and book bindings in France is universal. If we look at the bindings kept in Nancy, without confining ourselves strictly to the realm of Japonisme, they can be considered as an illustration of worldwide cultural interaction. Leather craft was created in the fourteenth century in the northern African town of Gadamis, and introduced to Europe through Spain. It then developed during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Portugal, Italy, France, Belgium and the Netherlands started producing leather and used it as wallpaper. This leather was introduced in Japan during the seventeenth century and used in the crafting of household goods such as snuff boxes and sword sheaths. In Japan, leather craft was applied to paper, giving birth to kinkarakamigilded leather paper, which was in its turn introduced to Europe during the nineteenth century. This paper was used in Europe as a new kind of wallpaper and as binding paper, an entirely new form of art. Considered as such, it is possible to extend the topics of artistic, technological and cultural interactions beyond the boundaries of comparative cultural studies. The bindings of Nancy’s municipal library have proved to be a necessary step in the study of Japonisme as a phenomenon and also as a field of study.

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Conclusion The aforementioned Charles Cartier–Bresson Collection, “A Taste of the Far East”, includes a total of 706 works of art. The origins of exactly 631 works are Japanese, 65 are Chinese, three are Tibetan, two are Thai, and five are uncertain. Upon analyzing the numbers, a researcher in the field of Japonisme would likely surmise that the Japanese artworks must occupy a position of importance since they comprise approximately ninety percent of the collection. However, by turning one’s attention to the fact that works from outside of Japan, albeit a minority, are most certainly represented, one may see that what was important in the eyes of the collector was not whether or not the artwork came from Japan, but that these works were “items of the Far East”. We tend to make interpretations conveniently in accordance with our own interests and perspectives. Following the advent of the phenomenon of Japonisme, Japonisme studies have continued to promulgate imagery that presumes the existence of a “Japanese art”. It is dangerous to encapsulate “Japanese” or even “Asian” art in this way when working with art history because one runs the risk of manufacturing something devoid of substance. The case study of the Service Rousseau thus shows us the possibility of reflaming Japonisme as “Asianism”. In Japan, the influence of “Japanese art” on “Western art” has been the subject of extensive research through the study of Japonisme. This research though has mainly focused on motifs borrowed from Japanese prints and drawings and deployed in “Occidental” paintings and crafts, or “Japanese aesthetics” as perceived by critics and artists. This conventional approach is limited by a rather narrow, uni-directional view of artistic production in the nineteenth century. Another example, a specific case study of rare books with decorative bindings that I discovered during fieldwork at the Municipal Library of Nancy in France shows, the limitations of comparative study by asking how, after the introduction of objects from the Far East and an initial period of motif imitation in the late nineteenth century, did artists and designers adapt them more deeply to their work, and what do these works make us to think about the circulation of objects and culture. These book bindings used kinkarakami (embossed decorative paper imitating leather) and chiyogami (Japanese decorative printed paper). They are the product of the combination of Japanese raw materials and French binding techniques, and constitute a site of novel cultural fusion. From this case study, I have argued the global perspective and demonstrate how the history of decorative paper can provide a way to get beyond the binaries which have long dominated and limited the study

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of Japonisme. This topic shows us the importance of finding similarity such as the use of new foreign materials to customize personal belongings; gilded leather for snuff boxes in Japan and book bindings in France, rather than emphasizing the differences between two “cultures” which has been a common future of comparative studies so far. In this paper, I have discussed several unique aspects of the phenomenon of Japonisme and its study, but the problems that emerge therein are not confined to the study of Japonisme alone. Comparative culture and cross-cultural studies have, as new disciplines, attracted attention across many fields. However, it is also true that oftentimes such research both starts and ends with a narrow view of the limited relationship shared by two regions. Assuming that we must consciously locate Area Studies within the larger span of history, then it is imperative that we not only go beyond existing disciplines but also defy the boundaries of what constitutes both locality and “the nation state” in order to create a historical narrative that is not biased by them.

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References Amano, Chika. Sǀshoku/Geijutsu; Art/Décoratif ⿦㣭/ⱁ⾡ (Decoration/ Art). Tokyo: Brücke, 2001. Chesneau, Ernest. “Le Japon à Paris” [originally published 1878]. In Le Japonisme exposition: Paris, Galeries nationales du Grand Palais, 17 mai-15 août 1988, Musée d’art occidental, Tokyo, 25 septembre-11 décembre 1988, ed. Réunion des musées nationaux, National Museum of Western Art-Tokyo, and Japan Foundation, 16. Paris: Ed. de la Réunion des musées nationaux, 1988. Fukai, Akiko. Japonisumu in fasshon: umi o watatta kimono ࢪ࣏ࣕࢽࢫ ࣒࢖ࣥࣇ࢓ࢵࢩࣙࣥ: ᾏࢆΏࡗࡓ࢟ࣔࣀ (Japonisme in fashion: Kimono across the seas). Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1994. Goncourt, Edmond de, and Jules de Goncourt. Hokousaï. Genève-Paris: Slatkine Reprints, 1986. —. La maison d’un artiste (House of an artist). Genève-Paris: Slatkine Reprints, 1986. Gonse, Louis. L’art japonais (Japanese art). Paris: A. Quantin, 1883. —. “L’art japonais et son influence sur le goût européen” (Japanese Art and its Influence on European Taste). Revue des arts décoratifs, April 1898. Ikegami, Chnjji. “‘Hokusai Manga’ to Hiroshige no ‘Sakana Zukushi’ to ni yoru Ferikkusu Burakkumon no dǀhanga” ࠕ໭ᩪₔ⏬ࠖ࡜ᗈ㔜ࡢ ࠕ 㨶࡙ࡃࡋࠖ࡜࡟ࡼࡿࣇ࢙ࣜࢵࢡࢫ࣭ࣈࣛࢵࢡࣔࣥࡢ㖡∧⏬ (Copperplate etchings by Felix Bracquemond derived from the ‘Hokusai Manga’ and Hiroshige’s ‘Designs of Fish’). Kobe daigaku bungakukai kenkynj 43 (1968): 30-62. Inaga, Shigemi. Kaiga no tǀhǀ - orientarisumu kara Japonisumu e ⤮⏬ࡢ ᮾ᪉ʊ࢚࢜ࣜࣥࢱࣜࢬ࣒࠿ࡽࢪ࣏ࣕࢽࢫ࣒࡬ (The Orient of Painting: Orientalism to Japonisme). Nagoya: The University of Nagoya Press, 1999. Lacambre, Geneviève. “Les milieux japonisants à Paris, 1860-1880.” In Japonisme in Art: An International Symposium, ed. Society for the Study of Japonisme, pp. 49–50. Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1980. Mabuchi, Akiko. Japonisumu: Gensǀ no Nippon ࢪ࣏ࣕࢽࢫ࣒ࠊᗁ᝿ࡢ ᪥ᮏ (Japonisme: Japan of the imagination). Tokyo: Brücke, 1997. Madsen, Stephan Tschudi. L’Art nouveau. Paris: Hachette, 1967. Miura, Atsushi. “Furansu—1890 nen izen.” ࣇࣛࣥࢫࠊ㸯㸶㸷㸮ᖺ௨๓ (France before 1890). In Japonisumu nynjmon ࢪ࣏ࣕࢽࢫ࣒ධ㛛, ed.

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Society for the Study of Japonisme, pp. 26-50. Kyoto: Shibunkaku shuppan, 2000. Okuda, Katsuhiko. “Ferikkusu Burakkumon to Tǀjiki no Japonisumu” ࣇ ࢙ ࣜ ࢵ ࢡ ࢫ ࣭ ࣈ ࣛ ࢵ ࢡ ࣔ ࣥ ࡜ 㝡 ☢ ჾ ࡢ ࢪ ࣕ ࣏ ࢽ ࢫ ࣒ (Felix Bracquemond and Japonisme in ceramics). Japonisumu kenkynj 26 (2007): 16-29. Omoto, Keiko and Francis Macouin. Quand le Japon s’ouvrit au monde (When Japan Opened to the World). Paris: Réunion des Musées Nationaux, 1990. Oshima, Seiji. Japonisumu㸫Inshǀha to ukiyoe no shnjhen ࢪ࣏ࣕࢽࢫ࣒ ʊ ༳ ㇟ ὴ ࡜ ᾋ ୡ ⤮ ࡢ ࿘ ㎶ (Japonisme: At the perimeters of Impressionism and Ukiyo-e). Tokyo: Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko, 1992. Yamada, Chisaburoh. Japon et Occident 㸫 Deux siècles d’échanges artistiques (Japan and the West: Artistic exchanges over two centuries). Paris: Bibliothèque des arts, 1977. Weisberg, Gabriel. “Félix Bracquemonf & Japanese Influence in Ceramic Decoration.” The Art bulletin Vol. 2 (Sept. 1919), College Art Association of America, 1969. —. “Félix Bracquemond & Japonisme.” Art quarterly Vol. 32 (Spring), Detroit Institute of Arts, 1969. —. The Independent Critic: Philippe Burty and the Visual Arts of MidNineteenth Century France. New York: Peter Lang, 1993. Wichmann, Siegfried. Japonisme. Paris: Editions du Chêne, 1982.

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Figures 1 and 2. The Exhibition of the Service Rousseau at the Shanghai World Expo 2010 (Taken by the author with permission on October 9, 2010.)

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Figure 3. Cover of book Le Japon Pratique, Atelier Wiener, Bibliothèque municipale de Nancy, numéros de cote 313.995

Figure 4. Inside of the book Le Japon Pratique, Atelier Wiener, Bibliothèque municipale de Nancy, numéros de cote 313.995

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Figure 5. Cover of book Peintre et Imagier, Atelier Wiener, Bibliothèque municipale de Nancy, numéros de cote 650.994

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CHAPTER FIVE EXHIBITIONS OF ART IN IRAN AND THE TEHRAN MUSEUM OF CONTEMPORARY ART TERADA YUKI Introduction This paper attempts to study the museums and exhibitions of art in Iran from a global perspective which sees the world as one entity rather than two separate spheres. The Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art (TMoCA) in Iran possesses a valuable international collection of modern and contemporary art. The dichotomy between the “West” and the “nonWest” has so long been taken for granted within academia and is so persistent that TMoCA’s collection has often been seen as being contrary to the stereotypical images of the Islamic Republic, or as being an exceptional case. However, it is hypothesized that if analyzed from a new perspective, both local developments and global patterns can be well illustrated. Section One of this paper provides a broad definition of what is meant by “global perspective” or “global consciousness”, and discusses its relation to the study of museums and exhibitions. Section Two goes on to explain how official institutions for exhibiting art in Iran come into being, by looking at the process through which the categories of traditional and modern art were constructed. Section Three takes the TMoCA as a case study and highlights how it has changed over time. By illustrating the features of various exhibitions at the TMoCA since its inauguration, the paper highlights the fact that the decision-making of museums takes place in relation to the international context.

Study of Museums with a Global Consciousness This section first explains the importance of positioning the study of museums in the global context. The dichotomy between the “West” and

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the “non-West” has long been taken for granted. Especially in the modern and contemporary world, the “West” is often seen as the centre of influence, as a result of the legacy of the colonial period. By contrast, in the academic field of history, from which this paper finds its source of inspiration, several attempts have been made to write a global history. Renowned scholars such as Christopher Alan Bayly (The Birth of the Modern World, 1780-1914: Global Connections and Comparisons, Blackwell History of the World, 2004) have so far succeeded in highlighting the point that the centre of the world was not merely the “West”, but that various regions worldwide have taken part in constructing global history. However, the tendency to divide the world into several categories such as the “West”, “Europe”, “Asia”, “Middle East”, and “Africa” still remains as a problem. Categorization in the subject of history, which deals with the events that happened in the past, is problematic because it may result in the misconception that these categories have always been there as separate entities. Also, these categories are often conceptual rather than based on actual geography.1 As a result, history, if written based on these categories, may be biased according to certain prejudices. Therefore, it is believed that only the new approach of global history, which sees the world as a whole entity rather than the combination of separate spheres, can offer insight that goes beyond biased categorizations and help to provide equal perspectives to local history. Since almost every country in the world now possesses its own museums, it is not an exaggeration to say that the construction of museums has been a global phenomenon. Despite some diversity, museums in each place share to a certain extent similar concepts and functions. The concept of the museum is explained by Matsumiya (2009: 10) as providing the framework for things that have independent functions while at the same time being able to be ramified. Unlike museums in their early form, “curiosity cabinets”, which collected all sorts of different objects, modern museums broadly share the functions of categorizing objects and exhibiting them to a public audience.2 The following features are common in the course of the history of museums. Private collections (royal, aristocratic, and church collections) were opened to the public during the seventeenth century. For the purpose of the 1

Haneda (2007) raises the question of categorization in his study of the terms “Europe” and “Islamic world”. 2 Similar concepts and functions can be found in varieties of institutions where objects are categorized and exhibited. This includes libraries, botanical gardens, zoos, and so on (Matsumiya, 2009).

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education of staff and students, the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford University was opened in 1683 and from the eighteenth century onwards, more collections were made open for the public, including the Uffizi, Florence (1743), the Capitoline Museum, Rome (1734), and the Belvedere, Vienna (c. 1781). Besides the purpose of education, another feature to be emphasized is the museum’s symbolic role. The first example of this kind is the Louvre in Paris. It was declared a public museum in 1793 as a result of the French Revolution and soon became the symbol of egalitarianism.3 Similarly, collections were displayed and understood in a way which reflected the specific national identity. Although museums share these common features worldwide, the study of museums has long been done in a “Eurocentric” manner. For example, case studies in the pioneering study by Bourdieu (1966) are confined to those of “European” countries. Duncan (1995) analyzes art museums as rituals, which itself was innovative, but the study is claimed to be that of the “West” and it did not deal with the dichotomy between the “West” and the rest. Recently, however, Cuno (2011: 8) has highlighted the role of encyclopedic museums by arguing “encyclopedic museums are cosmopolitan institutions dedicated to the proposition that, by gathering and presenting representative examples of the world’s diverse artistic cultures ‘under one roof’, work to dissipate ignorance and superstition about the world and promote tolerance of difference itself”. Cuno admits being inevitably confronted by the criticism that encyclopedic museums are the result of imperialism.4 It is true that disputes (such as the case of the Parthenon marbles in the British Museum5) between one side claiming certain artifacts belonging to them and the other side requesting the return of artifacts to the original site are likely to continue. But the idea of encyclopedic museums is more encompassing than other museum studies. In view of the fact that when artifacts are put into museums they become

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“Museum” The Concise Oxford Dictionary of Art Terms, by Michael Clarke and Deborah Clarke. Oxford University Press Inc. Oxford Reference Online. Oxford University Press. Accessed September 12 2012 http://www.oxfordreference.com /views/ENTRY.html?subview=Main&entry=t4.e1133 4 Regarding this view, Cuno (2011: 89) replies, “while they might be witnesses to empire, they are not instruments of empire”. 5 The marbles, known as the Elgin Marbles, from Greece’s Parthenon have been situated in the British Museum for over 150 years ever since the British diplomat, Lord Elgin, sent them to England when Athens was under Turkish occupation. The Greek government has requested the return of the marbles several times, but they have been turned down by the British Parliament.

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representatives of the past, the concept of seeing the world as a whole shares the essence of the newly introduced approach to global history. For a new approach to global history, Haneda (2012: 16) suggests that more attention be paid to the following three elements. First, in order to overcome “Eurocentric” history, the notion of “centre” itself must be questioned. Even though we pay attention to areas which are categorized as “non-Europe”, if we continue writing history with the notion of “centre”, certain structural problems will remain. Second, he argues that the chronological way of writing history is not ideal. Last but not least, he emphasizes the necessity to observe connections and relations carefully as this will highlight the fact that actual history is more complicated than simplified notions such as “Europe” and “non-Europe”, or “West” and “non-West”. Especially regarding the first and second suggestions, this paper argues against the interpretation that museums in “non-European” countries are backward in the sense they were constructed chronologically later than the ones in “Europe” under the prevailing influence of “Europe”. Having said that, this paper regards the case of museums in Iran neither as a “centre”, nor as being dependent on the dichotomy between the “West” and “non-West”, but as a local institution developed within the global context. The study of art in Iran is prone to various categorizations and it has often been labeled as “non-Western”, “Islamic”, “Middle Eastern”, “Near Eastern”, and/or “Persian”, but the TMoCA, which may potentially be called an encyclopedic museum, is indeed one of the best case studies for highlighting the relation between the local and global elements. Gholamali Taheri, Art Advisor of the Director General for Visual Arts Affairs in the TMoCA, calls it “a platform for International Modern Art” that was “meant to connect to the huge global infrastructure of art and culture and to keep up with international art movements” (2009: 19).

Towards the Construction of Museums A period of intensive museum building took place in Iran around the 1960s and 1970s, but what was meant by “art” had to be defined beforehand, depending on which objects were to be selected and exhibited in museums. In Iran, the court painters of the latter half of the 19th century who were commissioned by the kings and the state-run school played significant roles in the creation of both terminology and discipline. Court painters of that time were privileged to be able to study abroad and they were expected not only to produce paintings at court but also to pass on their newly acquired knowledge to students in Iran. It was in the DƗr al-

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Funnjn 6 where painting was first taught as an academic subject. Abu’l Hassan Ghaffari (also known as Sani’ al-Mulk), who was a leading painter of Mohammad Shah (reg. 1834-48) of the Qajar dynasty and who studied in Italy between 1845-50, was appointed director of the state printing press and the chief editor of Iran’s first illustrated newspaper in 1861. This coincided with the start of the first art classes at the DƗr al-Funnjn (Keshmirshekan, 2004: 72). Nevertheless, the decade of the 1860s is considered a turning point. Until the second half of the nineteenth century, “art” and “handicraft” were indistinguishable (Ekhtiar, 1999: 50, Keshmirshekan, 2004: 73). Before that, the four Farsi words for art or craft—sƗna’at, fann, pƯša, and hunar—were used interchangeably, and Seyed Hossein Nasr (in Ekhtiar, 1999: 63) further explains that it is a recent phenomenon to describe the modern European concept of “art” by using the word hunar. Consequently, the concept of “art” was consolidated and gradually spread with the schooling system in Iran.7 Another important figure, Mohammad Ghaffari (known as Kamal al-Mulk) (1847/8-1940), was appointed artist at the court of Nasir al-Din Shah (reg. 1848-96) of the Qajar dynasty after graduating from the DƗr al-Funnjn, and later he was sponsored to study in Florence, Rome, Paris and Vienna (1897-1900/1) during the reign of Mozaffar al-Din Shah (reg. 1896-1907) of the Qajar dynasty. Although media such as miniature painting, manuscript illustration and lacquer-work continued as art forms (even to the present day), Mohammad Ghaffari was responsible for widely introducing easel-painting and founded the Madrasa-ye ৢanƗye‫ ޏ‬wa pƯša va honar (School of Applied Arts and Crafts) in 1911. Later, graduates of this academy played important roles in the Honarkada-ye honarhƗ-ye zƯbƗ (College of Fine Arts8), founded in 1940, and the 1940s saw the beginning of the so-called modern art movement among Iranian artists. The style of what was considered “modern art” was differentiated from “traditional art” and crafts. In terms of exhibitions, the private sector was active in organizing and staging modern art during the 1950s. The Apadana gallery, the first art gallery in Tehran, was opened in September 1949 by Mahmud Javadipur (1920-2012) and Hossein Kazemi (1924-96) (both were painters who obtained bachelor degrees in fine arts from the University of Tehran in 1947 and in 1945 respectively), together with Houshang Ajoudani. 6

It was originally founded in Tehran as Iran's first polytechnic in 1851. According to Ekhtiar (1999: 63), “The only instance in which ‘art’ in any way approximated an academic discipline before the mid-nineteenth century had been in the education of kings and princes within the royal household”. 8 It became a faculty of Tehran University in 1948/9. 7

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Another important space was created in 1954 by an Armenian Iranian, Marcos Grigorian. After studying at the Accademia di Belle Arti in Italy, he opened the Galerie Esthétique (1954-59) (Daftari, 2002: 48). These private initiatives gradually paved the way for official interest in modern art, and key figures such as Marcos Grigorian also worked as art impresarios under the supervision of the Ministry of Culture at the first Tehran Biennial in 1958. As Layla Diba recalls, the first Tehran Biennial was a crucial moment for modernism in Iran (Art Tomorrow, 2010).9 The 1960s and 1970s were a period of intensive museum building at state level. Museums and cultural institutions created during this period include not only the TMoCA, but also the Negarestan Cultural Centre, the Reza Abbasi Museum, the Khorramabad Museum, the National Carpet Gallery and the Abgineh Museum for ceramics and glass works, among others. The intensive construction of museums required considerable resources, and these were made possible by the initiative taken by Queen Farah Diba-Pahlavi, who married Mohammad Reza Shah (reg. 1941-79) of the Pahlavi dynasty in 1959. She founded not only the Daftar-e Makhsnjsa-ye ShahbƗnnj Fara (Office of Queen Farah) and the BonyƗd-e Fara-ye Pahlavi (Farah Pahlavi Foundation) in order to support avantgarde art, but also started to build up her own collection. Under her guidance, objects representing both traditional and modern Iranian culture were collected in these museums and shown to the public view. The concept of museums was, therefore, quickly introduced in Iran during this short period of time and traditional art and modern art became treated in a parallel manner, though under the broad category of “art”. As Farah Diba herself recalls, “I was constantly concerned with promoting our Iranian traditional art but, at the same time, with introducing contemporary and modern art” (Dehghan, 2012). The term, “contemporary art”, refers to the works by living artists, although there is no clear distinction between “modern” and “contemporary”. Her interest in art is evidenced from her decision to study architecture at the École Spéciale d’Architecture in Paris after finishing her schooling in Iran.10 But in order to build the valuable collection of Iranian artifacts from scratch, the help of advisors such as Mehdi Mahboubian, the most important Jewish Iranian art dealer in Tehran in the 1970s, was necessary. Although collections in museums are meant to represent “Iranian” art, 9

Art Tomorrow. 2010. “Modern and Contemporary Iranian Art in New York” Accessed September 10, 2012 http://www.artomorrow.com/eng/index.asp?page =49&id=317 10 Farah Diba met Mohammed Reza Pahlavi for the first time in Paris at the Iranian Embassy in 1959.

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considering that many artifacts had to be bought back from abroad as they were preserved in countries outside Iran, the process of building museums was transnational, involving more than one nation. Similarly, the role of both domestic and foreign advisors cannot be underestimated in assembling the collections for the TMoCA, the subject of this paper.

History of the TMoCA Collection The collection of the TMoCA consists of two parts: the international collection and the Iranian collection. The international collection was assembled before the revolution of 1979, but the Iranian collection continued to be expanded after the revolution. This section looks at how its collection was built up, down to its inauguration. Importantly, the TMoCA was at first planned as an exhibition space for works by Iranian artists. In an interview with the Guardian newspaper (August 1, 2012) Farah Diba explained her initial idea of setting up the TMoCA as follows: There was an exhibition which I participated in and there Mrs. Iran Darroudi [an Iranian artist] had put some of her works on display. It was an exhibition held in a place between Pahlavi Street and Shahreza Street, the place where City Theatre was built, there was an old building in a place called Municipal Gardens. I remember Mrs. Darroudi telling me she wished we had a place where we could put our works on show permanently, that was how the idea for Tehran’s museum of contemporary art came up. (Dehghan, 2012)

Kamran Diba (b. 1937), the artist and architect, who is a cousin of Farah Diba and who also played a key role in the foundation of the museum, also recalls that when he was involved in the design and construction of the TMoCA, only Iranian art was to be displayed. Initially they had thirty prominent Iranian artists to display, he said, and “buying art from outstanding exhibitions gradually made our collection more inclusive” (Samadian, 2011: 113). As interest in collecting works by Iranian artists increased, the international collection also started, in the garden of the Niavaran Palace located in northern Tehran. Farah Diba began collecting international works, including those of Picasso, Dali, and Chagall (Kiarostami, 2009). Aydin Aghdashloo (a director of the museum in 1977) recalled that “the first collection of this type was gathered there” and “when the museum’s establishment became serious and construction began, it was the same

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collection that was expanded” (Kiarostami, 2009). Whereas works in Iran were purchased at local shows or directly from artists, the process of building the international collection was more complicated and needed a greater budget. Although purchase orders needed the approval of Farah Diba, Kamran Diba, who was the director between 1977 and 1978, worked as the project planner, and was deeply involved in the decision making process.11 The international collection is roughly divided into three groups; late nineteenth century artworks (Impressionists), works of the modern period starting from the beginning of the twentieth century, and works of the second half of the twentieth century. However, the biggest collection is American art from the 1960s and 1970s. With the help of its patron, Farah Diba, international advisors such as Toni Shaffrazi (who had a gallery in New York), and its first curator, David Galloway, some of the best works of that time were collected, including Rothko, Bacon, Warhol, Dine, Johns, Oldenberg, Lichtenstein, Rauschenberg, Hockney, Nicholson, Twombly and Tapies (Issa, 2001: 22). There are perhaps two intertwined reasons for this: one concerns preference and the other finance. In fact, Aydin Aghdashloo revealed his concern at that time in a documentary: It was mainly the oil money. A budget which was allocated by the oil company at the time. But no one verified or audited the expenses. As a result the collection was based on Kamran Diba’s personal taste which was deeply Americanized. All of a sudden he would purchase thirty or forty hyperrealist works. I thought we had more pressing needs and a better project planning was required, and not as “hip”. So I wasn’t really crazy about this museum and its programs. (Aghdashloo in Kiarostami, 2009)

Kamran Diba admits that in Iran during the 1970s, there was an interest in various categories of art works, such as the Impressionists. Nevertheless, as the following remark shows, he was more concerned about a dialogue between the international collection and the Iranian collection. Logically, for a society moving towards modernism at an accelerating pace, we should have reflected a much more updated version of western 11

Individuals such as Donna Stein and David Galloway (from the United States), and Mr. Karimpasha Bahadori, who was the chief of staff of the Cabinet, were involved. Nevertheless, most of the paintings were bought under the direct supervision of Farah Diba’s office with help from Mr Bahadori. According to Farah Diba, when Mr Bahadori left the office, Mr Diba became more involved in the selection of art works (Dehghan, 2012).

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Exhibitions of Art in Iran art. I preferred to put our attention and budget towards the contemporary artworks of the latter half of the 20th century, to have more congruence and synchronization with our Iranian artworks as the museum’s treasure. (in Samadian, 2011: 113)

Considering that artistic activity was particularly flourishing in the United States during the 1960s and 1970s, Kamran Diba’s comment is very much justified. Also, although the term, “western art” is mentioned above, how the collection was gathered was not dependent on the “West” as a category. Kaman Diba stressed that he was not hesitant to acquire artworks from anywhere if they made the collection inclusive and unique. For instance, among the artworks commissioned was the Black Pool by Noriyuki Haraguchi from Japan (Samadian, 2011: 114). The personal taste of key individuals may have shaped the outline of the collection. However, both Farah Diba and Kamran Diba were aware of the types of art beginning to be considered valuable and important in the global art scene and possibly they were even thinking ahead of their time. One of the key works among the international collection is Jackson Pollock’s “Mural on Indian Red Ground” (1950). Jackson Pollock is considered as a pioneer of contemporary art and his contribution to the shift of the centre of artistic activity from Paris to New York cannot be overlooked. Recently, an auction house estimated the value of “Mural on Indian Red Ground” at US$250 million.12 The exact value of the entire collection is not known, but it is estimated around US$1 to 2.5 billion (Tiat, 2007), while other sources say it is around US$3 billion. It was the economic situation that partially made the purchase of the collection, including its masterpieces, possible. Due to the oil and economic crisis, Iran was the biggest art buyer at the time. According to Kamran Diba’s account, the amount of money spent on purchasing the collection was about US$4 million, although the exact figure is not known.13 Nevertheless he was cautious about how to spend the budget efficiently. As explained earlier, it was the connection between works by contemporary Iranian artists and global art movements that was considered most important. But, at the same time, it made sense to buy larger numbers of less expensive art works from the United States rather than spending a similar amount of money on one very expensive piece such as the works of the Impressionists. 12

This is more than his most expensive painting, No. 5, 1948 (1948), sold for US$140 million in 2006 (Terada, 2012: 64) 13 According to the documentary, “The Treasure Cave” (Kiarostami, 2009), this figure might be slightly underestimated.

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Inauguration (1977) The foundation of the TMoCA was based on the local context, but the museum developed in connection with the global art market as well as with the financial situation. This section looks at the period of its inauguration. To what extent the TMoCA was connected with the public and society at the time is hard to determine. Some evidence suggests that elements of tradition and modernity were well incorporated, so that it was welcomed by the local as well as the international public. The needs of the public were taken into consideration regarding the location of the museum, and its architecture was designed accordingly. The TMoCA, together with the Carpet Museum, were to be built next to Laleh Park (formerly Farah Park) to provide easy access for large numbers of people. Spending time in parks with family and friends is a part of the daily life of the people of Iran. Many ordinary people would visit the TMoCA just as they would visit the park. 14 The architecture, which defines the uniqueness of the museum, was inspired both by ancient architecture and modernity. One of its features is explained as “the rich, playful quality of the undulating and volumetric vernacular roofscapes of Yazd, Kashan and other desert towns”, and galleries are lit by natural light coming through the windows (Diba, 1981: 34). Nevertheless, not everyone welcomed the direction cultural activities were taking at that time. The inauguration, to which leaders of state, foreigners, artists, art lovers and intellectuals were invited, lasted several nights. Photos that remain of the third evening, capturing people dancing to music and celebrating, portray an atmosphere somewhat different from that of today, and it has been said that “the exuberance of some of the performances and the modernity of the artworks testified to the gap between the ideas of the elite and the conservative values of the majority of Iranians” (Kiarostami, 2009). At a time when there was a strengthening of the political tone against the regime, some people found the museums and cultural activities disconnected with society. Indeed, according to some accounts from Iranians, exhibitions which were mostly visited by artists and art students, were poorly publicized and the average visitor was alienated (McFadden, 1981: 11). After its opening in October 1977, the TMoCA organized several exhibitions as well as educational programmes for school children. Both international art works and Iranian art were exhibited, but one aspect of the concept of museum related to the issue of identity was highlighted 14

Galloway, David. 2011, lecture given in the Institute for Advanced Studies on Asia in the University of Tokyo, November 5.

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particularly by the exhibition of domestic art. 15 It is said, “Museums construct the ‘other’ to construct and justify the ‘self’”. 16 Indeed, observation of cultural events during the 1960s and 1970s tells us that the trend of museum building and the search for identity coincided. Among the exhibitions of local artists, the SaqqƗ-khƗneh exhibition in 1977 reflected the lively art scene at that time. The exhibition included works by pioneering artists of the SaqqƗ-khƗneh school, such as Parviz Tanavoli (b. 1937), Faramarz Pilaram(1938-83), Mansur Qandriz (1935-65), Nasser Ovissi (b. 1934), Sadegh Tabrizi (b. 1939), Jazeh Tabatabai (1931-2008) and Massoud Arabshahi (b. 1935). SaqqƗ-ۙƗna refers to the neotraditionalist movement that emerged in Iran in the 1960s and the term, SaqqƗ-ۙƗna17 was first applied by Karim Emami, an Iranian art critic, to describe the atmosphere of the paintings of Charles Hossein Zenderoudi, exhibited in the Third Tehran Biennial in 1962. The success of this school was two-fold: the enthusiasm of several artists who had studied in Europe to search for their authentic identity upon their return to Iran, and official interest that contributed to the shaping of this school. 18 For example, it was written in the Galerie Esthétique’s publication that “one must be of one’s time…Cubism or any other Western style cannot develop widely in our country because they lack authenticity” (Farhang in Daftari, 2002:65). Meanwhile, state patronage played a vital role. It is evident in the biennials and the selection of various awards and prizes that art inspired by “local” motifs was preferred. By reviewing the common characteristics of the works, the brochure of the Second Teheran Biennial19 stated that artists attempted to 15

Before the revolution (1979), roughly 15 exhibitions took place, which include the selections from the Ludwig Collection, “Graphic Art: the Movement Toward Modernism”, a traveling exhibition of David Hockney prints, as well as “An Experience of Neighborhood: Teheran/ Brooklyn”. For more details, see McFadden (1981: 11). 16 This is the view of theorists such as Ivan Karp summarized by Parker and Rashad (2011: 165). 17 The term SaqqƗ-ۙƗna refers to the public water dispensers in Iran. 18 Achieving authenticity has always been the dream of Iranian artists. According to Emami (1977), artists like Jalil Ziapur and Hushang Peeshknia, who used Iranian subject matter such as women in chador or scenes from the bazaars and shrines applying the forms of Cubism or using Expressionist painting techniques had little success. Also, there were attempts to create a “national” style based on Achamenian, Sasanian or Safavid styles of art, but they were not very successful either. 19 Keshmirshekan (2004: 143) also explains that there were five Tehran Biennials before the Islamic Revolution in 1979 and that “the first four Biennials included

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demonstrate a “national” and “Iranian” atmosphere (Keshmirshekan, 2004) While they were interested in international art, artists whose works were inspired by local motifs were at the heart of the art scene. This implies that increased cross-cultural activities also encouraged artists to think about the issue of “self” and “other”. Also, the trend of museum buildings to place Iranian art in juxtaposition with international art helped to foster the construction of a local identity.

The TMoCA in Post-Revolutionary Iran During the revolutionary upheavals, according to several personal accounts, demonstrations took place in the centre of Tehran, just across from the museum. Although they were never carried out, the museum also received bomb threats (McFadden, 1981: 12). It is said that “the most valuable as well as the potentially most controversial works (female nudes, Warhol’s silkscreened portraits of the Empress, etc.)” were transferred to the museum’s storage room by Kamran Diba and after he left Iran in the fall of 1978, the task to remove almost all the international collection into the basement was carried on later under the direction of Mehdi Kossar20 (McFadden, 1981: 12). The ancient art and sites in Iran too were placed under special protection in case any angry mob or different factions in opposition to each other might attempt to destroy the art and the national heritage. Thanks to this, almost all the artworks were protected, and were neither looted nor damaged. All the same, some, including the painting of Farah Diba drawn by Andy Warhol, which was cut by knives, were damaged during the upheavals. The TMoCA was closed under the orders of Khomeini in February 1979. As McFadden (1981: 12) suggests, closing it was not so much to do with the kinds of art. In fact, other museums focusing on traditional objects such as carpets and ceramics were also closed. Nevertheless, compared with the “traditional art” and artifacts in other museums, “modern” and “contemporary art” faced a complex situation with criticism the works of Iranian artists which reflected official sanctioning of the modem artistic movements. These events were seminal cultural moments that epitomised the introduction of modernism proper. The fifth Tehran Biennial was, however, a regional exhibition in 1966, which included artists from Iran, Pakistan, and Turkey”. 20 He was a former dean of the faculty of fine arts of Tehran University. According to Hobbs (chief curator of the TMoCA from August to December 1978), Kossar appealed to the supporters of the Shah while he sympathized with the revolutionaries (Hobbs, 1981: 23).

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of modernization gradually spreading throughout Iranian society and among the intelligentsia, as evidenced by Gharb Zadegi, written in 1962 by Ale Ahmad. Gharb Zadegi is translated variously as “Westoxication” and “Westmania” and interpreted as a term to describe a disease that must be stopped before it is too late (Milani, 1992: 156). Since “modernization” was equated with “westernization” to a certain degree, when the museum re-opened after about eight months, the international collection was kept in the storage room and was not exhibited publicly. For a long time, the TMoCA only exhibited art works by Iranian artists, and especially during the war with Iraq (1980-88), its walls were covered by art works expressing nationalistic sentiments.21 Gholam-Ali Taheri, the director of the TMoCA (1984-85) stressed this point, saying that, “We felt that we had to accept some responsibility. In other words, while working as artists, we, as its artistic leaders, were given the mission to direct the movement in the ideal way desired” (Kiarostami, 2009). In post-revolutionary Iran, the institutional side of museums consolidated the role of museums as the face of the nation. Since the revolution, the directors of the TMoCA) have been appointed directly from the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance. Hence, it is not an exaggeration to say that the appointment of the director does reflect official ideas to a great extent. Nevertheless, the form of art presented in the public place has gradually become more diverse. The change in atmosphere can be found in a comparison of the biennials of the early 1990s and the 2000s. The first biennial in post-revolutionary Iran was organized in November, 1991. Its objectives, as stated in the catalogue, contained such expressions as “upholding and honouring the identity of the art of the Islamic Revolution” and the “development of the contemporary art of Islamic Iran”. The catalogue of the second biennial, which took place in 1993, also stated that “one of the most important objectives of the painters in the recent era is to achieve Iranian-Islamic identity” and “spiritual thoughts of the Islamic Revolution” as one of the criteria for judgment. This trend of emphasizing the Islamic elements in painting was seen in the third biennial of 1995 too, and the TMoCA handed its special prize to two artists “who have rendered the space and symbols of Islamic faith”.22 On the other hand, “Islam” was not mentioned as a single term in the biennials of 2000 and 2003, although they were held under the Islamic Republic. Rather, in the catalogue of the 2000 biennial, it was stated, “we 21

For examples and an analysis of this type of work, see Chelkowski (2002). The works were “Would We Forget?” by Mr. Nasser Palangi (b.1957) and “Praying on the last day of Ramadan” by Mr. Kazem Chalipa (b.1957).

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do not intend to deny figurative painting as long as it is progressive, creative and expressive and most important of all stimulates the mind”. And in 2003, it went further and described the history of Iran as “unstable” and so “artists have learnt to compensate for the inadequacies of their nature and the wickedness of regimes with a delicate touch”. Ideas behind the biennials show that in post-revolutionary Iran, emphasis was given to the “Iranian-Islamic” identity in the early stages but the styles of paintings gradually became more diverse. Also, the number of participants in 2000 was almost double compared with 1991, and this illustrates the growth of cultural activities.23 Changes took place in the TMoCA too. The directors of the TMoCA have changed several times (in fact, more than thirty times) since the revolution, which mirrors the socio-political circumstances. One of the largest events took place during the directorship of Alireza Sami-Azar who decided to hold a major exhibition of the international collection. He worked as director from 1998 till 2005 under the presidency of Mohammad Khatami, 24 and the international collection that had been hidden in the storage room was exhibited once again. At the beginning of his directorship, exhibitions were held on a thematic basis such as “Expression/Abstraction” (1999), “From Cubism to Minimalism” (2000), “Pop Art” (2000) and “Impressionism and Post-Impressionism” (2002). But the exhibition, “Modern Movement – The International Collection of the Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art” that began in the autumn of 2005 and lasted for six months was the largest in scale and attracted worldwide attention. The aim of the exhibition was to introduce the modern art movement chronologically and the catalogue of the international collection, The International Collection of The Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art, that included 160 important works (both paintings and sculptures) was published at the same time. What we need to remember, however, is that the exhibitions have been taking place under the framework of the Islamic Republic of Iran. This means that, although there is no written guidance, the decision not to show nude paintings is obvious.25 Moreover, the middle part of “Two Figures Lying on a Bed with Attendant” (1968), a triptych by Francis Bacon, was 23 There were 550 artists with 2600 submissions in 1991 and 1371 artists with 5290 submissions (832 female, 539 male, age ranges from 21 to 71 years old) in the biennial of 2000. 24 During the Khatami presidency, a dialogue between civilisations was advocated and this was reflected in the cultural atmosphere too. 25 In TMoCA, there are about twenty paintings that contain nudity; these have never been shown in the museum following the revolution.

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exhibited, but it was removed from the wall within an hour. According to Sami-Azar, although the museum simply wanted to exhibit “the outstanding experiences of modern art”, “people at the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance told me that they didn’t have a major problem with this painting, but with the political changes happening in the country they predicted that the new administration at the ministry would dislike such a painting and it could create problems for all of us”, and as a result it was taken back to the storage room (Kiarostami, 2009). Although these three panels are printed in the catalogue, this incident represents the limitations posed by socio-political demands. Although, after the exhibition “Modern Movement – The International Collection of the Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art”, the director of the TMoCA was changed again in accordance with political changes, the international collection has continued to be exhibited at the museum occasionally on a thematic base. In 2009, the catalogue of the international collection under the name Masterpieces of the World’s Great Artists was again published. Instead of reprinting the one made under the directorship of Sami-Azar, a few changes were made. For instance, the paintings of Francis Bacon were not printed, and the name of the first director Kamran Diba was simply not mentioned. Also, by stating that “the period prior to the Islamic revolution of 1978 was too short”, more emphasis was put on its post-revolutionary history (Gholamali Taheri, 2009: 19). In 2012, when the author visited the museum, this catalogue could be purchased in the museum bookshop together with a catalogue focusing on the works of Iranian artists, The Iranian Collection of the Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art – Iranian Modern Art Movement (2006). This includes 276 works collected both before and after the revolution. Generally speaking, there are various types of exhibitions in the TMoCA today. Exhibitions in connection with revolutionary art take place according to ideological need, but the museum does not seem to mind exhibiting the international collections occasionally on a thematic basis. In the summer of 2012, the exhibition, “Pop Art, Op Art” was organized, and famous works by Warhol, David Hockney, Roy Lichtenstein, Victor Vasarely, Richard Hamilton and Jasper Johns were featured. Nevertheless, they were exhibited together with Mexican works that commemorated the centenary of the Mexican revolution and the bicentenary of the country’s independence. It seems that the ideological balance was maintained by showing its appreciation of the idea of revolution while exhibiting the international collections. Also, one should not forget about less controversial exhibitions, such as calligraphy, which may provide substitutes. Indeed, the “Pop Art, Op Art” exhibition was quickly replaced

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by a calligraphy exhibition during the week Iran was hosting the NonAligned Movement Summit and many visits by diplomats were expected. In this way, the category of art the TMoCA exhibits is not only “modern” and “contemporary”, but also “traditional”. The TMoCA also possess the binding, text, and 118 illustrations of the Shahnama of Shah Tahmasp, 26 which is normally labeled as “Islamic art”, suggesting that there are overlapping characteristics in the context of exhibitions with other museums such as the National Museum, focusing on Iranian artifacts and Islamic art.

Implications The final section of this chapter evaluates the activities of the TMoCA to emphasize both its unique features, which developed locally, and its function, which is shared internationally in terms of the museum as a modern global institution. The Iranian Cultural Heritage Organization defines museums, first, as serving educational and demonstrative purposes, and second, as being places to conserve historical and natural objects and national and ethnic cultures (Saremi, Frahani, and Amani, 1993). When evaluated from the first point, although there is a general consensus that the TMoCA is one of the best museums in the Middle Eastern region in terms of its collection, there are some elements, which the TMoCA still needs to fulfill. First of all, because art works from abroad have not been purchased since the revolution, its international collections are not up to date. Although the museum has attempted to buy works from abroad several times, its budget has so far only been allocated to expand the collection of art works by Iranian artists. Moreover, due to the frequent changes of directors, each director has only a short time to dedicate himself to developing the quality of the museum. On this point, the TMoCA lacks long-term art history experts committed to studying its art works. However, there are a few individuals who have worked extensively over thirty years. The most famous of all is Firouz Shahbazi, who was hired a few months before the TMoCA’s inauguration in 1977. The life story of Shahbazi reveals that the institutional side of a museum developed locally in unique circumstances. Before the revolution, Shahbazi worked as a secretary to Kamran Diba, and during the revolutionary turmoil, only he had access to the storage room, called the “treasure room”. After the 26

They were acquired by selling a painting by Willem de Kooning, and this incident still remains controversial.

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revolution, he started taking care of the art works in the “treasure room”, as well as the works installed in the museum for exhibitions. Although he worked with professionals such as David Galloway at the time of the museum’s inauguration, time was too short to acquire all the essential skills needed for an “art conservator”. Therefore, after the revolution, he took private courses to become a professional. Over thirty years, the person who used to be called a “guard” became an “art conservator” (Kiarostami, 2009). Similarly, the word “curator” was not introduced widely until recently. It was during the directorship of Sami-Azar that several individuals from foreign countries were invited to work as “curators”. According to Sami-Azar, there were several cases in which Iranians too were temporarily hired as advisors in choosing works for the exhibitions, but Iranian society was not so familiar with “curator” as a fulltime occupation.27 Regarding the second part of the definition, the museum’s role in presenting national and ethnic cultures, it seems that the TMoCA has been achieving this in a more than satisfactory way. Since its inauguration, the TMoCA has proudly presented its valuable collections of both international and Iranian art. After the revolution, cultural policies seem to prefer showing revolutionary art by Iranian artists followed by a certain degree of change in atmosphere which took place in the early 2000s. In this way, the TMoCA continued to function as the face of the nation. However, being the face of nation does not mean the TMoCA is the voice of the actual art community in Iran. In post-revolutionary Iran, private galleries, which can operate with fewer restrictions, have grown rapidly compared with the cultural spaces governed by the public sector. Currently there are more than a hundred private galleries,28 and both established artists including pioneers of modern art who have been active since before the revolution, as well as artists of the younger generation are promoted. In addition, many galleries online are also using works of contemporary Iranian artists for online exhibitions and sales. In this way, artists are connected to the international art market and reach a global audience regardless of location. Nevertheless, the purpose of this paper is, not to try to determine the best place to exhibit the cutting edge of art, but to question the validity of the mainstream framework which saw the world as the “West” and the rest, by looking at the case study of the TMoCA in a broader context. 27

Personal interview with Sami-Azar (2012) Renowned and active galleries are listed in the Tehran Gallery Guide, which can be accessed online (http://www.aiaf.info/) 28

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The above point leads us to the final but fundamental questions: Whose museum? Whose art? Depending on who is in control, the types of censored art have changed. For example, revolutionary art criticizing the Pahlavi regime29 was never shown in the TMoCA before the revolution. This made Hobbs (1981: 23) recall in retrospect that “the museum under Her Majesty’s patronage had been a political tool: it endowed the throne with the look of benevolence, liberality and international[ism]”. Upon the reopening of the TMoCA, a symbolic action was documented: a red banner with “This belongs to the people, and we represent the culture of the people” written in Farsi was draped across the entrance (McFadden, 1981: 12). However, there is not an enough evidence to suggest that the TMoCA and other official cultural institutions belong to “the people” in the post-revolutionary era. On the contrary, one must realize that such discussion should neither be confined to the boundary of “nation” nor a concept such as the “West” and “Islam”. Indeed, the TMoCA has the potential to function as an encyclopedic museum. Of course, one might criticize that the collection is not up-to-date, nor is it complete, due to the censorship. But as long as it has the essence of an encyclopedic museum, in that it offers both international and Iranian collections, one can claim that the TMoCA represents global history and thus belongs to the world. Future research must analyze from which strata of society people who visit museums in Iran come, and how the art exhibited is perceived at the local and global level. In order to know to whom museums belong, we must know whose past we are dealing with. Eventually it is left for us, global citizens, to decide whose culture is represented in the individual museums, but this study hopes that one day we will perceive museums as places to exhibit “our” past (by not emphasizing the division between “self” and “other” so much) in the world as a whole.

Conclusion Having looked at the history of TMoCA from its foundation, it is clear that exhibitions and museums of art cannot be explained without referring to their relation with the global context. When analyzed by the new global perspective which overcomes artificial categorizations, common features 29

According to Hobbs, who went to see the revolutionary exhibition (whose subject was the Jaleh Square Massacre, which occurred when the Shah declared martial law) at Tehran University, this kind of show would only last a few days before it was censored and destroyed (1981: 21).

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of the museums and exhibitions both before and after the revolution of 1979 are illustrated. It may seem surprising that there are any exhibitions at all of the international collection in Iran, which includes “Western” art, and it might be thought that the so-called “Western” media would cover the story when there are such exhibitions. However, apart from the one obvious rule of not exhibiting works with nudity in a public place, a closer look at today’s situation at the TMoCA shows great possibility and flexibility when it comes to exhibiting, in theory, almost all of its collection. Different types of exhibitions over thirty years continuously reflect the intention to show display ideal images for both domestic and international consumption, but it must be emphasized that representations of ideal images have been complex. They cannot simply be described by concepts such as the “West” and “Islam”, but rather have to be understood as an issue that goes beyond institutional boundaries.

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References Bourdieu, Pierre, Alain Darbel and Dominique Schnapper. L’amour de L’art, Les musées d’art européens et leur public. Paris: Éditions de Minuit, 1966. Chelkowski, Peter. “The Art of Revolution and War: The Role of the Graphic Arts in Iran.” In Picturing Iran: Art, Society and Revolution, eds. Shiva Balaghi and Lynn Gumpert, pp. 128-41. London: I.B. Tauris, 2002. Cuno, James. Museums Matter: In Praise of the Encyclopedic Museum. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2011. Duncan, Carol. Civilizing Rituals: Inside Public Art Museums. London: Routledge, 1995. Daftari, Fereshteh. “Another Modernism: An Iranian Perspective.” In Picturing Iran: Art, Society and Revolution, eds. Shiva Balaghi and Lynn Gumpert, pp. 39-87. London: I.B. Tauris, 2002. Dehghan, Saeed Kamali. “Former Queen of Iran on Assembling Tehran’s Art Collection.” Guardian, August 1, 2012. Accessed September 10, 2012. http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/aug/01/queen-iran-art-collection ?intcmp=239 Diba, Kamran. Saqqakhaneh (Exhibition catalogue), 1977. —. Kamran Diba, Buildings and Projects, Stuttgart: Hatje, 1981. Emami, Karim. “Saqqakhaneh School Revisited (NegƗhi dobƗra be maktab-e SaqqƗ-঴Ɨna), Exhibition catalogue.” Saqqakhaneh (Exhibition catalogue), 1977. Ekhtiar, Maryam. “From Workshop and Bazaar to Academy: Art Training and Production in Qajar Iran.” In Royal Persian Paintings: The Qajar Epoch 1785-1925, eds. Maryam Ekhtiar, and Layla Diba, pp. 50-65. New York: I.B. Tauris, 1999. Haneda, Masashi, 2007. “Modern Europe and the Creation of the ‘Islamic World’.” International Journal of Asian Studies, Vol. 4 Part 2 (July 2007): 201-20. —. Atarashii sekaishi e, chikynj shimin no tame no kǀsǀ ᪂ࡋ࠸ୡ⏺ྐ ࡬㸸ᆅ⌫ᕷẸࡢࡓࡵࡢᵓ᝿ (Towards a new world history, a concept for global citizens). Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2012. Hobbs, Robert. “Museum under Siege.” Art in America 69, no. 8 (October 1981): 17-25. Issa, Rose. Iranian Contemporary Art. London: Booth-Clibborn, 2001.

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Saremi, Katayun, Abbas Rafi, Frahani, and Fereydoon Amani. Iranian Museums Compilation. Tehran: Iranian Cultural Heritage Organization, Scientific and Cultural Publications Company, 1993. Keshmirshekan, Hamid. “Contemporary Iranian Art: Neo Traditionalism from the 1960s to 1990s.” Ph.D. diss., School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London, 2004. —. “SAQQƖ-঳ƖNA ii. School of Art.” Encyclopedia Iranica. Accessed September 10, 2012. http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/saqqa-kanaii-school-of-art Kiarostami, Bahman. The Treasure Cave (A Film Produced by Arte France, Point Du Jour), 2009. Matsumiya, Hideharu. Museum no shisǀ ࣑࣮ࣗࢪ࢔࣒ࡢᛮ᝿ (Idea of the Museum). Tokyo: Hakusuisha, 2009. McFadden, Sarah. “The Museum and the Revolution.” Art in America 69, no. 8 (October, 1981): 9-16. Milani, Farzaneh. Veils and Words: The Emerging Voices of Iranian Women Writers. New York: Syracuse University Press, 1992. Parker, Sharon. and Violet Ciotti Rashad. “A Passion for Collecting,” Art Tomorrow 4 (Spring 2011). Samadian, Sahar. “Art Collection: A Chain of Meaning – Conversation with Kamran Diba.” Art Tomorrow 4, (Spring 2011). Tait, Robert. “The Art No One Sees: A Basement that Symbolises Cultural Isolation.” Guardian, October 29, 2007. Accessed September 10, 2012. http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2007/oct/29/artnews.iran Terada, Yuki. “Jackson Pollock: A Centennial Retrospective.” Art Tomorrow 7 (Winter 2012). Taheri, Gholam Ali. “The Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art: A Platform for International Modern Art.” In Masterpieces of the World’s Great Artists. Tehran: Institute for Promotion of Contemporary Visual Arts, 2009.

CHAPTER SIX CONSTRUCTING AN IMAGINARY OF TAIWANESE ABORIGINES THROUGH POSTCARDS (1895-1945) LEE JU-LING Introduction During Japanese colonial rule, Taiwan was described as a “savage island” in both literary narratives and visual sources, where the Taiwanese aborigines were the main actors. 1 The abundant presence of Taiwanese aborigines in the media suggests the necessary existence of savages in colonial relations, in order to justify the Japanese civilizing mission on the island.2 The representation of the body, particularly nudity, was one of the means by which Japanese rulers highlighted their civilized position in relation to the newly conquered island, full of “carnivorous savages” with bared bodies. With the expansion of the Japanese empire, the discourse of national identity and the ethnicity of Japan in relation to its colonies were closely tied, and affected the representation of Taiwanese aborigines in visual sources. Interestingly, instead of reflecting the fruit of the Japanese civilizing mission, postcards illustrating Taiwanese aborigines seem to construct a “timeless Indigenous Taiwan” (Barclay, 2010, p. 86) by concealing changes and representing what was seen as authentic

1

In the universalizing context of the 19th century where human cultures were hierarchized into savage and civilized, Japanese journals began to describe Taiwanese aborigines as merciless carnivorous savages since even before the Japanese Expedition of 1874 to Taiwan (Fraleigh, 2012; Eskildsen, 2002; Yamaji, 2004). 2 The term “savage” or “barbarian” used in this study refers to the attitude of Japanese colonizers toward the ethnic minorities living on the Island, while the term “aborigine” is the translation of “yuanzhumin” which is favored today to designate the indigenous inhabitants of Taiwan.

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indigenous culture.3 However, it is behind the stagnation of time where there lies a flowing confrontation between ethnic, cultural and national identity performed by means of the representation of the body. Postcards represented the uncovered bodies of aboriginal men and women in different ways: the image of aboriginal women reflected the adoption of Japanese and Chinese clothes more often than men’s, and the female body became the locus for the confrontation of culture and identity. The image of aboriginal men, on the other hand, continued to portray the body half covered in traditional clothes with almost no change and so created a stagnated imaginary of the “native island”. This suggests the important role of gender in the construction of identity through the representation of the body and the need to examine how physical differences delineate the identity of the Other. This study will analyze how nudity came to shape the imaginary of Taiwanese aborigines through postcards and so construct and assure the identity of Japanese colonizers of the island. The examination will consist of two parts. First, the relation between identity, image and the representation of the body will be discussed in the context of Japanese colonialism in the early twentieth century. What was the context in which the existence of the savage, as played by the Taiwanese aborigines, appeared necessary in the construction of identity? How was the representation of body tied to the construction of identity under colonial conditions? What was unique about the medium of the postcard in circulating the image of aborigines and transmitting the message? The second part of this study focuses on the examination of the image. Under what circumstance was the image of aborigines produced? How does gender participate in the creation of “difference” through the representation of body and contribute to the construction of identity? How did nudity come to shape Formosa as a timeless island and create the image of the Taiwanese indigenes as the Other? The representation of body illustrated in the postcards portrays the complex question of cultural and ethnic identities between the colonizer and the colonized, and reveals the contradictions rooted in the policy of assimilation.

3

In examining the postcards collection of US consul to Taiwan Gerald Warner (1937-41), Barclay suggests that the Warner collection presents the notion of “timeless indigenous Taiwan” (author’s italics), referring to Johannes Fabian’s theory concerning the “denial of coevalness” in anthropological practice and discourse (Fabian, 1983.) Barclay argues that the Government-General of Taiwan “played an active role in the production and dissemination of picture postcards to propagate a particular view of life in the ‘Aborigine Territory’” (Barclay, 2010, p. 81).

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Identity, Image and Representation of the Body The construction of identity in the colonial relationship was reciprocal, since colonialism “was as much involved in making the metropole, and the identities and ideologies of colonizers, as it was in (re)making peripheries and colonial subjects” (Comaroff and Comaroff, 1997, p. 22). In the case of Japanese colonialism, it is important to portray the compelling need to define the national, ethnic and cultural identity that Japan confronted at that time. The “middle ground” between civilization and savagery where the civilized Western world situated Japan was crucial to the crisis of identity; therefore eliminating this middle ground was an urgent task. 4 Appropriating Western civilization, mimicking Western imperialism and accentuating the uncivilized status of the colonized involved elevating Japan’s standing in the Western dominated international order and weakening this middle ground (Eskildsen, 2002). With growing tension among the imperialist nations and a rising unease about Japan’s expansion, Japanese colonialism tried to legitimize itself on the basis of its difference from European colonialism. In fact, Japanese colonialism contributed to an ambivalent sense of identity that set it apart from the Western colonial powers, by incorporating the differences in its empire. The mixed-ethnic theory that appeared among Japanese intellectuals in the 1910s was crucial in “rationalizing and sustaining the emperor system in its incorporation of the colonies into the imperial family”, as Oguma puts it (Ching, 2001, p.108; Oguma, 1995). Japanese colonialism thus appeared as “a parasite that grew in the spaces between the binaries of ‘Europe’ and ‘Asia’, ‘victimizer’ and ‘victim’, ‘colored’ and ‘empire’”; it “oscillate[d] uneasily between the seeing subject and the object seen, between the colonizer and the colonized” (Tierney, 2005, p.10). 5 This study examines “image” in terms of the ambivalence of identity that developed along with the colonial assimilation policies.

4

Fukuzawa Yukichi (1835-1901) in his Outline of the Theory of Civilization divided world societies into three categories representing different evolutions, in which Japan was situated in the “half-civilized” (hankai) stage, between the “primitive” (yaban) and the “civilized” (bunmei) stages. According to Eskildsen, this middle ground “might under other circumstances have served as a basis for solidarity between the Japanese and other East Asian peoples” (Eskildsen, 2002, p. 393). 5 For a detailed examination of Japanese colonial identity, see Tierney, 2005, chap. 1.

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By constantly discovering barbarians in its newly colonized territories, Japan confirmed itself as a part of the civilized world.6 The indispensable presence of savages in the construction of Japanese colonial identity was emphasized by exaggerating the way in which they were represented, as a cruel and barbarous ethnic group, as well as by exaggerating their presence through colonial literature and visual sources, though the population of colonized ethnic minorities in the Japanese empire was only a tiny fraction of the total population. By uncivilizing and exaggerating the representation of the Taiwanese aborigines through the media, the colonizers were able to confirm their own status as “bringers of civilization”. However, it is important to acknowledge the diversity of representations through visual materials as well as through other kinds of narration, which pursue a heterogeneous construction of image of aborigines. The present study takes up the subject of postcards, for they appear to offer a sharper distinction between colonizers and aborigines than appears in the other media of the time. In the early twentieth century, visual materials were important in transmitting information. With the invention of the camera in the middle of the 19th century, during Japanese colonial rule, photography was largely used by the colonizers to record folk ways on the island besides painting. Since the beginning of colonization, the Japanese colonizers meticulously elaborated an image of Taiwanese aborigines for the western world, emphasizing Japan’s status as a civilized colonizer. Postcards, illustrated journals and commercial sources were widely used to picture Taiwanese aborigines, through which the imaginary of Taiwanese aborigines was constructed. 7 This study has chosen postcards as its subject because of their popularity, acquirability and direct visual impact at that time.8 The 6

Komori Yǀichi argues that “civilization and enlightenment” (bunmei kaika) was a form of “self-civilization” that Japan used to escape from being considered as barbarian by Western powers. At the same time, Japan had to “discover ‘savages’ in its neighborhood […] in order to prove that it was indeed civilized” (Komori, 2001, pp. 17-19). 7 International exhibitions also offered a convenient space where Japan exhibited Taiwanese aborigines together with other colonized ethnic groups, and showed the world its status as a civilized colonizer (Lu, 2005); (Hu, 2005). 8 Three major collections comprise the main sources of this research: (1) The collection of the National Central Library entitled the Landscapes Postcard Series (Taiwan Fengjing mingxinpian xilie), in which Volumes 1 to 10 illustrate aboriginal customs. The library makes available the scanned edition of its postcard collections on the website “Taiwan Memory” (http://memory.ncl.edu.tw). (2) Lafayette College’s collection, which contains digitized photographs, negatives, postcards, and slides of imperial Japan (1868-1945), its Asian empire (1895-1945)

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postcard made its first appearance on the world stage around the 1870s and the Japanese government began to produce postcards around 1873. It was not however until 1900 that the Japanese government legalized the postal use of privately produced postcards. There was a postcard boom in Japan during the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-5 and in 1905 the GovernmentGeneral of Taiwan published two sets of commemorative postcards celebrating the tenth anniversary of Japanese rule in Taiwan. After this, postcard exchange and exhibitions began to develop on the island (Barclay, 2010, p. 81). The images on postcards published in Taiwan can be categorized into two types: photographs and paintings. Diverse themes were represented, from modern constructions and natural resources of the island, to Taiwanese traditional customs and the people’s daily life. The role of the postcard in introducing Taiwan to naichijin was conspicuous, and Japanese painter Ishikawa Toraji (1875-1964) wrote that “the landscape and costumes of Taiwan were mainly introduced to Japan through postcards and photography; drawings on the other hand were not often seen”. 9 Postcards with images of aborigines, especially those taken in photography, comprise a considerable proportion of the major postcard collections today. For example, in the Lafayette College collection, about 31% of the 1018 postcards depicting Taiwan under Japanese rule are images of aborigines, though aborigines comprised only 3% of the total population of the island at that time 10 . The Japanese painter Takehisa Yumeji (1884-1934) became conscious of this exaggerated presence of images of aborigines circulating in Japan only when he first visited Taiwan in 1933: and occupied Japan (1947-52), is available on the website “East Asia Image Collections” (http://digital.lafayette.edu/collections/eastasia). This open-access online archive provides copious images in high resolution with detailed information and sources; it is a valuable resource for academic research. (3) The online private collection “Taiwan Pictures Digital Archives” (http://taipics.com), which also contains a large collection of postcards and images of Taiwan under Japanese occupation, categorized by different themes. 9 Taiwan nichinichi shinpǀ, April 15, 1917[1]. The term naichijin referred to Japanese who came from the islands of Japan, to distinguish Japan from its colonies in the East Asia. The term hondǀjin was used to refer to the Han people who had migrated to the island of Taiwan centuries ago. The Japanese rulers continued to use the ancient designation according to the Chinese view, which distinguished the aborigines into seiban and jukuban, literally “raw savages” and “cooked savages”, suggesting “non-sinicized” and “sinicized” aborigines. Banjin, “uncivilized/savage people”, referred to aborigines in general. In this article we will respect these appellations. 10 Author’s calculation. East Asia Image Collections, last accessed April, 2011.

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Constructing an Imaginary of Taiwanese Aborigines “In Taiwan, there were seiban and Japanese in uniform,” this was my first cultural and geographic knowledge of Taiwan. […] There is nothing shameful about ignorance, because in my opinion many Japanese only acknowledge Taiwan without the existence of hondǀjin. […] It just seems like hondǀjin appeared suddenly out of the mountain. Thus, when I arrived in Taiwan, I was quite surprised to realize that there existed hondǀjin and a large number of Japanese in uniform. (Taiwan nichinichi shinpǀ, Nov. 14, 1933[6].)

This disproportional and exaggerated presence of aborigines in the postcards reveals the role of the savage in colonial relations and the influence of the visual effect of postcards at that time. Here the representation of the body had an important role in making the rhetoric of exaggeration reliable and authentic by creating the image of the Other, and meanwhile involved progressively the complex question of identity within the continuous promotion of assimilation policies. The link between nudity and the construction of identity is brought out, first of all, by the clothing and the representation of the body, considered the central concerns in the discourse of ethnic and cultural identity. As soon as the colonial authority established itself on the island, the first of the police infractions (ikeizai) promulgated on August 5, 1895 prohibited naichijin from going out with their thighs uncovered. 11 This was in response to an edict issued on June 12 by the first Governor-General of Taiwan, Kabayama Sukenori (1837-1922), in which was mentioned the inappropriate behavior of Japanese workers who had come to work in the newly occupied Taiwan and offended against “good morals and upset discipline” by going around with bare legs.12 This edict, aimed at naichijin in particular, shows that since the beginning of colonial rule, colonizers took body representation as a means to establish prestige and authority, by shaping a distinction between colonizers and colonized.13 The policy of assimilation (dǀka), and its successor Japanization (kǀminka), eagerly promoted from the 1920s tied the representation of the body more and more closely to the construction of identity. Bodily procedures, such as speaking Japanese and wearing Japanese kimono, were crucial in determining the process of becoming Japanese and creating imperial subjects out of colonial subjects. With this appearance of such assimilatory 11

“Ikeizai seitei” [Enactment of Ikeizai], Taiwan shiryǀ kǀhon, 1895. “Ninpu torishimari ni kansuru jitatsu o hassu” [Announcement of the Instruction Concerning the Ban against Workers], Taiwan shiryǀ kǀhon, 1895. 13 This can be considered as the “self-civilization” of Japan in the colony, in order to create and reinforce its status of “civilized colonizer” and distinguish itself from the colonized people. 12

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practices, cultural assimilation “became the only avenue for the colonized seeking deliverance from political and economic inequality” (Ching, 2001, p. 104). On the one hand, the representation of body was employed in the assimilation policies as a means to achieve cultural assimilation by suppressing physical differences, and on the other, through postcards, as a means to create the image of the Other by isolating and underlining differences. This reveals the deep contradiction within the assimilation policies and makes the differences ambivalent.

Constructing an Imaginary of a “Timeless” Native Island through Postcards Several questions must be addressed when examining the representation of the bodies of Taiwanese aborigines on postcards. Who were the image creators and how might the photographers perceive the nudity of aborigines and represent it through the camera? What was concealed and denied in this process? At the beginning of colonization, access to the mountainous area was strictly controlled, and academic researchers and war photographers were some of the few people who could go there. Torii Rynjzǀ (1870-1953), Mori Ushinosuke (1877-1926) and Inǀ Kanori (18671925) etc. represented the Japanese anthropologists conducting research in colonial Taiwan and some of photos they took were made into postcards.14 Postcard production blossomed in the prosperity of the Taishǀ period. Because of a lack of equipment in Taiwan, postcards were printed in Japan and published in Taiwan by bookshops, divers associations, commercial firms, travel and news agencies and photo studios etc.15 As access to the 14

For a general introduction to Japanese anthropologists conducting research in colonial Taiwan, see Nihon Juneki Taiwan Genjnjmin Kenkynjkai, 2001. Some botanists, zoologists and geographers such as Kawakami Takiya (1871-1915), Sasaki Shunichi (1907-57) and Kano Tadao (1906-45), also captured images of aborigines. Before the presence of the Japanese observer, photographs of Taiwanese aborigines during the Qing dynasty were mostly taken by western missionaries, merchants and soldiers. Some of these images were made into postcards and continued to circulate during the period of Japanese rule (Wang YaLun, 1997). For the development of photography in Taiwan during the Japanese occupation, see Lai Zhi-Zhang, 1989; Huang Ming-Chuan, 1996. 15 In some cases, we can narrow the supposition of potential photographers of postcard images by the publishers who worked regularly with the same photographers; sometimes we can identify the photographers by the published photo collections of anthropologists such as Taiwan banzoku zufu [The Catalogue of Taiwanese Aborigines], which is the photo album of anthropologist Mori

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mountainous area became much easier and secure after the 1920s along with the military suppression, several accompanying factors further increased the production and circulation of postcards with photos of aborigines: the growth of photographic studios during the 1920s, the popularization of hiking in the 1920s and the promotion of tourism in the 1930s encouraged commercial photographers, journalists and tourists to step into aboriginal lands. 16 As the prewar situation of the late 1930s grew tenser, access to mountainous areas and the use of cameras were strictly controlled by the Government-General of Taiwan. Postcards became an important resource by which the colonial government restrained and “sold” the image of the aborigine outward, as witnessed by the American journalist Harrison Forman (1904-78) during his visit to the aboriginal tribe in Kappazan in 1938: So much fuss and concern about photography in J. Emp. [Japanese Empire] -- no pis. [pictures] from more than 100 meters, etc. -- yet you can buy for a few cents each a picture of almost anything or place you want. The J. [Japanese] are inveterate camera enthusiasts and picture post-card buyers, and picture post-cards may be purchased at any R.R. [Rail Road] station, shop, hotel, or refreshment stand. (Forman, 1938)

The analysis of photos of aboriginal women on postcards will now be taken up to demonstrate the process in the constitution of postcard images. What first catches our attention about postcard images depicting naked Taiwanese aboriginal women is their bare breasts. These images comprise actually only a tiny proportion of the major postcard collections today; however, they were repeatedly published by different publishers with some modifications (hand coloring, captions and formatting etc). Most of the topless Taiwanese aboriginal women on postcards were represented in scenes of labor, such as weaving, burden-carrying and hulling etc. (Figures 2-4). The bare breasts of aboriginal women were represented as a symbol Ushinosuke, Tǀkyǀ Daigaku Sǀgǀ Kenkynj Shiryǀkan shozǀ Torii Rynjzǀ Hakushi satsuei shashin shiryǀ katarogu [The Catalogue of Photos taken by Torii Rynjzǀ Reserved by the University Museum of the University of Tokyo] of Torii Rynjzǀ and Yineng Jiaju shoucang Taiwan yuanzhumin yingxiang [Photographs of the Taiwan indigenous people collected by Inǀ Kanori] of Inǀ Kanori etc. However, it remains difficult to identify the photographer of a large amount of the postcard images. 16 The fifth Governor-General of Taiwan, Sakuma Samata (1844-1915), launched a series of armed campaigns between 1910 and 1915 to suppress aborigines; one of the real objectives, though, was to secure the natural resources of mountainous areas.

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of indigenous culture, in the same way their labors were considered typical of indigenous cultural practices. The topless aboriginal women on postcards were often accompanied by children, or were suckling infants (Figures 1 and 2), which emphasizes the female role of fertility. The photographs on postcards suggested the intention to connect ethnic identity with the naked body.

Figure 1. ྎ‴⏕ⶽ䝥䝴䝬᪘ぶᏊ [Parent & Child Aborigines, Formosa] (East Asia Image Collections [lw0366], 1907-18)

Figure 2. ྎ‴䝸䝸䝴䞁♫ⶽ፬䛾ᶵ⧊ [Savage woman at weaving, Formosa] (East Asia Image Collections [lw0137], 1918-33)

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Figure 3. (ྎ‴䛾ⶽ᪘)䜰䝭᪘ - Ỉ䜢Ữ䜐ዪ [Ami woman carrying water] (East Asia Image Collections [wa0320], 1933-41)

Figure 4. (ྎ‴䠅䝍䜲䝲䝹᪘ⶽ፬䛾⢖ᦍ [Pounding millet by savage women, Formosa] (East Asia Image Collections [lw0108], 1933-41)

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We can find the same pattern in photos taken by Japanese anthropologists who represented the aboriginal people as members of primitive tribes, and “the rereading of indigenous nakedness” was key to this.17 Anthropologists recorded what they considered typical of indigenous cultural symbols and removed what they saw as “unauthentic”. Fabian suggests that the discourse of anthropology constructs the Other “in terms of distance, spatial and temporal”, in order to “keep the Other outside the time of anthropology” (Fabian, 1983, p. x). Anthropology has practiced a “denial of coevalness” which places “the referents of anthropology in a Time other than the present of the producer of anthropological discourse” (Fabian, 1983, p. 31). Through postcards, the manipulation of body representation was one of the means by which the “denial of coevalness” was created and the nudity that represented primitiveness was thus connected to ethnic identity. As a part of the images of Taiwanese aborigines that circulated through different media during the early period of colonization were taken by anthropologists, the way they took photos of aborigines would be shared by later photographers, whether they were anthropologists or not. The manipulation of body representation is even sometimes traceable. Figure 4 depicts a hulling scene where the woman on the right is strangely topless in contrast to the other three, who are fully clothed. This marked contrast, which might have been arranged by the anonymous photographer, demonstrates that the female body was bound to a cultural and ethnic identity. These four postcards published in different periods demonstrate the ongoing interpretation of the naked body of aboriginal women by photographers and publishers.18 This connection between the female body and ethnic identity was formed through two processes: the discourse of gender inversion and the gendered costume. In the discourse of gender inversion largely applied to describe primitive society, the roles of female and male were considered to be a reversal of those in modern society. Barclay points out that in the Warners’ commercial imagery, indigenous men “pose for portraits in colorful garb, play music, dance, hunt, fish, and drink alcohol” (Barclay, 17

Harrison demonstrated the manipulation through a photo of a topless Bunun woman weaving, taken by anthropologist Mori Ushinosuke, contrary to the photographer’s note that witnessed to the fact that most Bunun women wore full Chinese dress (Harrison, 2003, p. 344). 18 It is difficult to identity the precise date of publication for a postcard. However some indices can provide an upper or lower limit, such as postcard formats modified with the evolution of postal regulations, cancellation marks or written messages etc. This study respects the postcard provider’s estimation of date if there is no obvious mistake.

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2010, p. 97), while women were represented as undertaking all the labor. 19 However, their snapshots show men laboring in a variety of capacities (Barclay, 2010). Gender inversion can also be traced in the construction of the literary and pictorial representation of Taiwan under Qing rule and further embodies the notion of “timelessness” by continuing the Qing narrative structure.20 Despite postcard images illustrating topless aboriginal women, women often appeared in postcard dressed partially or totally in Chinese costume, mixed with traditional tribal costumes, reflecting the diversity of choices of adaptation by aboriginal women.21 With the decline of the power of the indigenous elites as a result of subjugation to Japanese conquest, men chose to appropriate elements of metropolitan or western costume that represented a claim to modernity and power. Women, who adopted fully Chinese style clothing earlier and with more flexibility than men, now “became the bearers of the new ethnic identity and began to adopt newly fashioned versions of older styles for special occasions” (Harrison, 2003, p. 343). With costume being assigned to a character specifically gendered, the female body became the locus of ethnic identity, and the same went for nudity. The superposition of the three elements of “gender”, “nudity” and “native labor” through images responds to the stereotype of what a primitive and matriarchal society should be and involves the naked bodies of aboriginal women in the construction of ethnic identity, without which female ethnic identity appeared less convincing and authentic. Along with the adoption of Chinese and Japanese costume, the locus of ethnic identity assumed by the female body showed the transition from one part of the body to another. This study argues that as the bodies of indigenous women were gradually covered, bare feet become one of the few signs that could still suggest ethnic identity; through postcards, it reveals the contradiction within the assimilation policies. After the last 19

Barclay suggests that the concealment of forced labor which caused the Musha Incident was manifested by the lack of images of aboriginal men engaged in labor (Barclay, 2010). On 27th October 1930, the Seediq indigenous group in Musha attacked the village and killed over 130 Japanese, because of long-term oppression by Japanese authorities. In response, the Japanese led a counter-attack, killing over 1,000 aborigines. The handling of the incident by the Japanese authorities was strongly criticized and lead to many changes in aboriginal policy 20 Emma Teng shows that in the travel literature and ethnographic illustrations about Taiwan during the Qing Dynasty, gender inversion is often used to represent the ethnic differences of Taiwanese aborigines (Teng, 2004). 21 Aboriginal women wearing Japanese kimono were curiously rarely seen on postcards, though some women began to wear kimono with the promotion of Japanization in the 1930s.

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major uprising against colonial rule by aborigines, the Musha Incident of 1930, the aboriginal policy underwent massive changes and “the ideology of subordination and dedication […] replaced the instrumentality of transgression and assimilation” (Ching, 2001, p. 165). The image of Taiwanese aborigines was radically transformed into that of faithful subjects of the Japanese Empire. In a travel writing entitled “Tayal’s welcome” (Taiyaru wa maneku) published in 1935, the author ƿshima Masamitsu (1884-1965) annotated a picture of a group of aboriginal women in their traditional tribal costume as follows: “The women had specially changed into their traditional costume (they wore rubberbottomed tabi, because they dislike going barefoot)” (Tokuni bansǀ o shita musumetachi (hadashi wa iyada tote gomusoko tabi o haku)) (ƿshima, 1935, p. 13).22 This articulation appeared meaningful in the post-Musha period as well as in a period when Japan was preparing to invade Asia and needed to transform its colonized subjects into loyal imperial subjects. The other photos in the book showed a diversity of tendency to adopt tabi; members of the Women’s Youth League (Joshi seinendan) probably favored tabi.23 Whether the aboriginal women’s disposition was faithfully represented by the author or not, the narrative reveals that feet had become the bearer of meaning through which an uncovered part of the body was connected to ethnic identity. Curiously, in all the postcards that this study has so far discovered, almost all aboriginal women had bare feet and rarely wore tabi and geta. We will examine the concealment of images of aboriginal women wearing shoes on postcards through one of the works of the Japanese painter Shiotsuki Tǀhǀ (1886-1954) illustrating a 17-year-old native girl named Sayon (Figure 5).

22 The image cannot be provided in this article because of copyright restructions. The book is currently preserved in the Archives of the Institute of Taiwan History, Academia Sinica. ƿshima Masamitsu was a zoologist and this travel account was about his meeting with the Atayal tribe during field research in Taiwan in 1935. Tabi are traditional Japanese socks worn both by men and women with geta and other traditional footwear. 23 In the Warner collection of snapshots taken between 1937 and 1941, another narration was recorded. Almost every aboriginal woman in these snapshots had bare feet, except one picture showing members of the Women’s Patriotic Association (Aikoku fujinkai), who were wearing kimono, tabi and geta.

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One of the first drawings of Taiwanese aborigines can be traced to European illustrations based on descriptions of Europeans merchants, missioners, and writers etc. who stopped by Taiwan centuries ago. Since the Qing formally annexed Taiwan in 1864, government officials had drawings made to illustrate the customs of Taiwanese aborigines. During the colonial rule, the enthusiasm for an aboriginal theme among both Japanese and Taiwanese artists rose through the annual Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition, which constantly encouraged the representation of local color (Yan, 2001, p. 26). 24 It was also developed in a context where accumulated information such as photos, literary works and academic Figure 5. “Sayon no kane” researches etc. related to aboriginal issues [The Bell of Sayon] provided painters with a well informed (Wang, The Portrays of channel to explore the land of aborigines, Sayon by Shiotsuki Tǀhǀ, while access to the mountainous area became p. 65.) assured in the 1920s. Shiotsuki Tǀhǀ, a Western-style painting teacher in a high school in Taipei and a judge of Taiten and Futen, was one of the prominent artists in colonial Taiwan. He was devoted to research of characteristic nanpǀ (southern) art and continued to reflect and work on aboriginal themes. Sayon, the heroine in several of his works, was a Tayal girl who had drowned in a storm in September 1938 while helping carry the luggage of her Japanese teacher, who had been called up for war. Sayon was quickly idealized by the Government-General of Taiwan as an example of patriotism. Shiotsuki drew several portraits of Sayon in different representations and the painting of Figure 5 entitled “The Bell of Sayon” (Sayon no kane) is

24

The Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition (Taiwan bijutsu tenrankai, 1927-36), better known as Taiten, was held by Association of Education in Taiwan (Taiwan kyǀiku kyǀkai). It was suspended in 1937 because of the Sino-Japanese war, and the next year the colonial government inaugurated the Taiwan Governor-General’s Exhibition (Taiwan sǀtokufu bijutsu tenrankai, 1938-43), also called Futen. These two exhibitions played a crucial role in promoting the development of art in Taiwan and encouraging young Taiwanese towards the vocation of artist.

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probably the final one. 25 In this painting, Shiotsuki portrayed Sayon without any details that could indicate the identity of the heroine. She was dressed in traditional costume, with bare feet, and sitting in the most comfortable posture. If the colonial construction of Sayon’s dedication lay in the fact that she had died “in the performance of her duty as an ordinary subject of the empire” (author’s italics) (Ching, 2001, p. 163), then Sayon, who had become completely anonymous in this portrait, was able to represent every aboriginal woman; as Shiotsuki notes: “Women in the mountains appear to me as if they were all Sayon. The name of Sayon can represent every woman of Takasagozoku […]” (Wang, 1996, p. 68). 26 The bare feet of Sayon bear witness “to her earthiness and primitiveness, which distinguishes her from acculturated aboriginal women in Japanese kimonos that were common in this period of cultural imposition” (Ching, 2001, p. 163). Thus, what made extraordinary the “ordinariness” of Sayon was not her dedication and subordination as an “acculturated subject”, but her being a member of primitive race, exemplified by the bare feet which would most appropriately represent her ethnic identity. Nevertheless, there is a certain similarity between the image of the “acculturated aboriginal women in Japanese kimonos” that Ching takes as an example to contrast to the portrait of Sayon, and the portrait of Sayon itself. Figure 6 is a postcard depicting four Tayal women dressed in kimono, and the caption on the postcard, “Musha Hikayabu village aboriginal women in Japanese clothing” (Musha Hikayabuban banjo no wasǀ), immediately evokes the Musha incident. 27 Their hands, quietly crossed in front of their bodies, and their attitude, more reserved and contrived than Sayon in Figure 5, demonstrated the excellent work of Japanese colonizers who had successfully transformed the savages into acculturated subjects under the Japanese empire. What links these four women dressed in kimono with Sayon dressed in traditional costume are 25

The date of the creation of this portrait is uncertain. It may have been made in 1942 or 1943 (Wang, 1996, p. 67). After the incident, Shiotsuki went to visit Sayon’s tribe in order to get inspiration for the creation of her portrait. Even if Shiotsuki’s travel notes witness the changes within the tribe brought by the Japanization movement, his description on the Tayal girls’ body representation reveals an artist’s concern of how to (re)construct the image of aborigines (Wang, 1996, pp. 63-64). 26 In the late 1930s, Japanese used the derivative term Takasagozoku to refer to Taiwanese aboriginals. 27 This postcard has no reference to the date of creation and author. In the notes of the East Asia Image Collection, the same photo appears in the July 1937 issue of Taiwan Gaho, entitled “Japanized Taiyal Women” (Nihonka Taiyaru banjo). See East Asia Image Collection (http://digital.lafayette.edu/collections/eastasia).

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the bare feet sticking out under the kimono. The bare feet constituted the image of semi-acculturated subject and suggested their primitiveness despite the garment they were wearing, which revealed the impossibility of aborigines becoming fully Japanese in the eyes of the colonizer. Here was the contradiction within the assimilation policies. For aboriginal men, the naked body suggested physical endurance and freedom of movement for hunting or war, activities that marked their masculinity and social status. The bare body was associated with strength, power, authority and confidence, through which their domination in the community was marked (Harrison, 2003). Nudity was associated with masculine valor and the Japanese colonizers gave it a pejorative meaning when it appeared on postcards. The exaggeration of their savagery was manifested through the uncovered body, which symbolized their uncivilized status, and they often appeared armed for battle, and in hunting and headhunting scenes Figure 6. 㟝♫ࣄ࢝ࣖࣈⶽⶽዪࣀ࿴⿦ (Figures 7-8). The image of armed and naked aborigines continued the [Musha Hikayabu village Aborigine women in Japanese clothing] (East Asia fierce and primitive elements Image Collections [lw0472]) contained in the literary and visual narrations circulating from the time of the Qing Dynasty, and corresponded to the barbaric nature that Japanese colonizers tried to construct in order to justify the bloody repression of the 1910s. 28 It also suggests that the difference in the representation of body

28

Some measures were also applied to postcards in order to demonstrate the Government-General’s efforts and success in removing old aboriginal customs. For example in 1913 the Government-General prohibited the circulation of postcards depicting headhunting scenes. “Seiban ehagaki kinshi” [Prohibition against postcards illustrating seiban], Taiwan nichinichi shinpǀ, June 11, 1913 [2]. This might reinforce the role of nudity in representing the savageness of aborigines,

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through postcards comes from the different valor of nudity associated with women and men.

Figure 7. ฟ⊟䠄䝃䜲䝉䝑䝖᪘䠅 [Saisiat men preparing for the hunt] (East Asia Image Collections [cf0362], 1918-33)

Figure 8. ྎ‴ⶽே䝜ᷳ [Armed Atayal men on guard tower] (East Asia Image Collections [lw0304], 1918-33)

since the old customs considered barbarous could no longer be displayed through postcards.

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These photographs were sometimes reused by other commercial sources to illustrate the conflict between the Japanese army and the aborigines. For example, in the “Taiwan Photograph Album” (Taiwan shashinchǀ) (Figure 9), the upper photo was taken in October 1914, depicting a search-andrescue party sent to the outpost of the village Rikiriki attacked by aborigines of the Paiwan tribe.29 The lower photo showed an aboriginal man ready to go head-hunting, and we can also find postcards illustrated with the same photo. The superposition of these two images drew a contrast between the Japanese military in uniform equipped with modern arms and the naked aboriginal man practicing head-hunting, regarded as barbaric by the colonizers.

Figure 9. Taiwan shashinchǀ. Vol. 1, No. 2 (1914) (East Asia Image Collections [ts0057])

29

This album was published monthly from November 1914 to December 1915, a total of 14 volumes, by the Taiwanese Photography Society (Taiwan shashinkai).

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As aboriginal men began to wear Western or Japanese clothing in response to the loss of power through the Japanese conquest, the adoption of clothing became the symbol of the struggle of identity encountered by the “semi-civilized” aborigines in the colonizer’s eye. In Nakamura Chihei’s fictionalized narrative based on the Musha Incident, “Mist-Enshrouded Village” (Kiri no bansha), published in 1939, its careful descriptions of the dressing and undressing of the aborigines at various critical junctures pointed to “the shifting subject positions the native occupied” and “the constantly changing power dynamic between the domesticating colonial power and its reluctant subjects” (Kleeman, 2003, p. 33). From the late 1930s, the image of aborigines was radically transformed into faithful subjects ready to fight for the Japanese Empire. This transformation suggested “an attempt by the colonial government to contain the irrepressible contradictions exemplified by the Musha uprising”, and it also represented “an equally urgent need to mobilize aborigines conscript labor for Japan’s war effort” (Ching, 2001, p. 152). In propaganda and commercial publications, contrasting images of half naked aboriginal men wearing traditional tribal clothing and of men wearing Japanese uniform and Western clothing were often set up and served to formulate a clean distinction between the “developed” (shinkaseru) and “undeveloped” (shinkashinai) aborigines (Figure 10). The image of aboriginal men wearing Japanese military uniform who participated in the Volunteer Army (shigangun) was largely used to support the Greater East Asian CoProsperity Sphere.30 The faithful aboriginal soldier was now a civilized subject wearing a Western suit; the improved life of the young aboriginal couple was represented by the husband fully dressed in a Western suit and the wife in a Japanese kimono.31

30

During the Pacific War, the Japanese government mobilized the Taiwanese aborigines under the name of the Takasago Volunteer Army (Takasago giynjgun) to support the Japanese army. 31 See images from Takeuchi, Jihen to Taiwanjin, p. 169. One image entitled “two warriors from aboriginal tribes (on campaign)” shows two aborigines wearing Western suits, and another entitled “Young aboriginal couple in their improved life” shows a well-dressed aboriginal couple. The images cannot be provided in this article because of copyright restrictions. The book is currently preserved in the Archives of the Institute of Taiwan History, Academia Sinica.

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Figure 10. 㧗◁᪘஧㢟㻌 ୖ: 㐍໬䛫䜛㧗◁᪘㻌 ୗ: 㐍໬䛧䛺䛔㧗◁᪘ [Two faces of Takasagozoku. Above: developed Takasagozoku. Below: undeveloped Takasagozoku] ƿgata, Takasagozoku, p. 3 (Image provided by Archives of Institute of Taiwan History, Academia Sinica)

Curiously, the image of aboriginal men represented through postcards does not seem to reflect the transformation of identity performed by the body representation; the aboriginal men on postcards remained half naked in traditional tribal clothing and very few wore uniform, or western or Japanese dress. This study assumes several hypotheses that may explain the lack of postcards picturing the adoption by aboriginal men of Japanese or Western clothing. The first reason is the reduction of postcard production and the difficulties surrounding the conservation of postcards circulated during the war, when postcards illustrating aborigines wearing military uniform might have been published. The second concerns the marketability of postcards with images of the legendary “savages” in traditional clothing over those in suits. Finally, the lack of postcards picturing aboriginal men wearing elements symbolizing their civilized status may correspond to the general analysis of the Musha Incident which tended to see the incident as “an unpredictable outbreak of the barbarism lurking deep within the aborigines” (Kleeman, 2003, p. 29), despite the eradication of customs considered barbarous and the civilizing measures set up on the aboriginal territory by the colonial government.

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However, the image of aborigines in the post-Musha period did not draw on an exaggeration of barbaric scenes; rather, what dominated the post-Musha period was a peaceful and idyllic atmosphere that concealed an incident considered by the colonial government to be an embarrassment. This ambience is demonstrated in Figure 11. 32 Literary works appeared more interested in the transformation and struggle for identity faced by the aborigines than the postcards. The close cooperation between the image producer, the postcard publisher and the colonial government further involved the concealment in the postcards of the transformation of aborigines.33 One of the few things from which we may observe the transformation of the identity of aborigines through postcards is the prohibition in 1942 of postcards depicting the “ancient” customs of aborigines; this demonstrated their “new” status in the Japanese empire during wartime. 34 This absence of any image of aboriginal men participating actively in the process of civilization made Taiwan a timeless Native Island.

Figure 11. ↮ⲡ䛾࿡䛻䜴䝑䝖䝸䛸 [Savage youths resting, Formosa] (East Asia Image Collections [lw0029], 1933-45) 32

This postcard was published after 1933. The annotation on the postcard described the tranquil life in aboriginal lands: “What cheerful men! They seem to be about to fall asleep while smoking in a bored fashion.” (nan to yǀkina renchnj dewa arimasenka taikutsuǀsni tabako o sutteiru mani sorosoro nemukunaru). 33 Barclay demonstrates the close cooperation between photographer Segawa Kǀkichi (1906-98), publisher Katsuyama Yoshisaku (ca. 1900-?), water-color painter Lan Yin-Ding (1903-79), and Suzuki Hideo (1898-1987), the chief of the Divion of Aborigine Affairs, in the production and publication of postcards illustrating Taiwanese aborigines (Barclay 2010). 34 “Takasagozoku no kynjfnjshnj o shuzai no ehagaki issǀ” [Prohibition against postcards illustrating Takasago’s ancient customs], Taiwan nichinichi shinpǀ, June 19, 1942 [2].

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Conclusion The construction of the identity of Taiwanese aborigines through images exhibited a fluidity in the representation of the body. The nude was not merely a criterion to distinguish the civilized from the uncivilized; it was ethnicized and gendered in the colonial and transcultural context. The body of the aborigines was variously represented between the two genders, as well as within different media. On the one hand, the Japanese empire tried to differentiate itself from Western colonialism by incorporating difference; on the other hand, “difference” was one of the essential elements in the construction of the discourse of the primitiveness of Taiwanese aborigines, and it was frequently utilized through the representation of the body to create an image of the Other. The images of Taiwanese aborigines reveal the importance of gender and body representation in the construction of ethnic identity within the constantly changing power relation between the colonizer and the colonized, as well as the important role of postcards in delineating another imaginary of aborigines. It is “not only about peddl[ing] postcards, but sell[ing] an empire” (Barclay, 2010, p. 81). The identity of aborigines was constructed, transformed or concealed through the process of covering or uncovering the body. The continued employment of images depicting the aborigines with bare bodies in postcards not only helped create a sense of stagnation and timelessness, but also revealed the contradictory emotions faced by the Japanese colonizers who explored the external barbarous other with the expansion of empire while discovering the internal barbarous self through contact with its colonies. At the same time, postcards perhaps also suggest the desire shared by some photographers, artists and publishers who tended to conserve the last few signs of aboriginal ethnicity, which was being erased and universalized by means of other visual sources during the war, and also in reality.

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References Newspaper Taiwan nichinichi shinpǀ —. April 15, 1917 —. June 11, 1913 —. Nov. 14, 1933 —. June 19, 1942 Books and Journals Barclay, Paul D. “Peddling Postcards and Selling Empire: Image-Making in Taiwan under Japanese Colonial Rule.” Japanese Studies 30: 1 (2010): 81-110. Ching, Leo T S. Becoming “Japanese”: Colonial Taiwan and the Politics of Identity Formation. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001. Comaroff, Jean & Comaroff, John. Of Revelation and Revolution. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997. Eskildsen, Robert. “Of Civilization and Savages: The Mimetic Imperialism of Japan’s 1874 Expedition to Taiwan.” The American Historical Review 107: 2 (2002): 388-418. Fabian, Johannes. Time and the Other: How Anthropology Makes its Object. New York: Columbia University Press, 1983. Forman, Harrison. Diary, 1938. Fraleigh, Matthew. “Transplanting the Flower of Civilization: the “Peony Girl” and Japan’s 1874 Expedition to Taiwan.” International Journal of Asian Studies 9: 2 (2012): 177-209. Fukuzawa Yukichi. An Outline of the Theory of Civilization, trans. David A. Dilworth and G. Cameron Hurst. Tǀkyǀ: University of Tokyo, 1973. Harrison, Henrietta. “Clothing and Power on the Periphery of Empire: the Costumes of the Indigenous People of Taiwan”. Positions: East Asian Cultural Critique 11: 2 (2003): 331-60. Hu Jia-Yu. “Bolanhui yu taiwan yuanzhumin-zhiminshiqi de zhanshi zhengzhi yuࠕtazheࠖyixiang” (Great exhibitions and the Taiwanese indigenous people - the politics of representation and the image of others in the colonial period). Bulletin of the Department of Anthropology 2 (2005): 3-39. Huang Ming-Chuan. “Taiwan yingxiang shi.” Taiwan Historical Materials Studies 7 (1996): 3-18.

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Kleeman, Faye Yuan. Under an Imperial Sun: Japanese Colonial Literature of Taiwan and the South. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2003. Komori Yǀichi. Posuto koroniaru 䝫䝇䝖䝁䝻䝙䜰䝹 [Postcolonial]. Tǀkyǀ: Iwanami Shoten, 2001. Lai Zhi-Zhang. 1989. “Xiezhen xiangpian zuowei yizhong yixiang yu yuyan-tan rijushiqi de Taiwan shying xiezhen fazhan” (Photography as intention and language - Discussion about the development of photography in colonial Taiwan). In Taiwanshi yan jiu xueshu yantaohui lunwenji, pp. 177-202. Taipei: Taiwan Fenguan, 1989. Lu Shao-Li. Zhanshi Taiwan: quanli, kongjian yu zhimin tongzhi de xingxiang biaoshu (Exhibiting Taiwan: Power, space and image representation of Japanese colonial rule). Taipei: Maitian chuban, 2005. Mori Ushinosuke. Taiwan banzoku zufu ྎ‴⻅᪘ᅗ㆕ (Catalogue of Taiwanese Aborigines). Taihoku: Rinji Taiwan Kynjkan Chǀsakai, 1918. Nihon Juneki Taiwan Genjnjmin Kenkynjkai ed.. Taiwan genjnjmin kenkynj gairan – Nihon kara no shiten ྎ‴ཎఫẸ◊✲ᴫぴ䚸᪥ᮏ䛛䜙䛾ど Ⅼ (General presentation of the aboriginal research in Taiwan – from the viewpoint of Japan). Tǀkyǀ: Fnjkyǀsha, 2001. Oguma Eiji. Tanitsu minzoku shinwa no kigen: “Nihonjin” no jigazǀ no keifu ༢୍Ẹ᪘⚄ヰ䛾ᮇ㝈䚸᪥ᮏே䛾⮬⏬ീ䛾⣔㆕ (The myth of the homogeneous nation, A genealogy of ‘Japanese’ self images). Tǀkyǀ: Shinyǀsha, 1995. Oguma Eiji. David Askew trans. A Genealogy of ‘Japanese’ Self-images. Melbourne: Trans Pacific Press, 2002. ƿshima Masamitsu. Taiyaru wa maneku (Tayal’s Welcome). Tǀkyǀ: Daiichi Shobo, 1935. Riben Shunyi Taiwan yuanzhumin yanjiuhui ed. Yineng Jiaju shoucang Taiwan yuanzhumin yingxiang (Photographs of the Taiwan indigenous people collected by Inǀ Kanori). Taipei: Shunyi Taiwan yuanzhumin bowuguan, 1999. Taiwan shashinkai ed. Taiwan shashinchǀ ྎ‴෗┿ᖒ (Taiwan photo album), 1 (2), 1914. Taiwan shiryǀ hensan iinkai ed. Taiwan shiryǀ kǀhon ྎ‴㈨ᩱ✏ᮏ (Taiwanese documents and manuscripts). Taihoku: Taiwan shiryǀ hensan iinkai, 1895. Takeuchi Kiyoshi. Jihen to Taiwanjin ஦ኚ䛸ྎ‴ே (The Incident and the Taiwanese). Tokyo: Nichiman Shinko Bunka Kyǀkai, 1940.

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ƿgata Tarǀ. Takasagozoku 㧗 ◁ ᪘ (The tribe of Takasago). Tokyo: Ikuseisha Kǀdǀkaku, 1942. Teng, Emma. Taiwan’s Imagined Geography: Chinese Colonial Travel Writing and Pictures, 1683-1895. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2004. Tierney, Robert. Going Native: Imaging Native in the Japanese Empire. Thesis (Ph. D). Stanford University, 2005. Torii Rynjzǀ Photographic Record Society ed. Tǀkyǀ Daigaku Sǀgǀ Kenkynj Shiryǀkan shozǀ Torii Rynjzǀ Hakushi satsuei shashin shiryǀ katarogu (Catalogue of photos taken by Torii Rynjzǀ in the University Museum of the University of Tokyo). Tokyo: Tǀkyǀ Daigaku Sǀgǀ Kenkynj Shiryǀkan, 1990. Wang Shu-Jin. “Yanyue taofu de shayong huaxiang” (Portrayal of Sayon by Shiotsuki Tǀhǀ). Bulletin of the National Museum of History 6: 4 (1996): 52-69. Wang Ya-Lun. Faguo zhencang zaoqi Taiwan yingxiang, 1850-1920: sheying yu lishi de duihua (The precious photo collection of Taiwan in France, 1850-1920: Dialogue between photography and history]. Taipei: Xiongshimeishu, 1997. Yamaji Katsuhiko. Taiwan no shokuminchi tǀchi: “mushu no yabanjin” to iu gensetsu no tenkai ྎ‴䛾᳜Ẹᆅ⤫἞䠖䛂↓୺䛾㔝⻅ே䛃䛸䛔䛖ゝㄝ 䛾ᒎ㛤 (Colonial rule in Taiwan: Deployment of the discourse of “Masterless Savages”]. Tǀkyǀ: Nihon Tosho SentƗ, 2004. Yan Juan-Ying; Takeyoshi Tsuruta. Fengjing xinjing: Taiwan jindai meishu wenxian daodu (Landscape moods: Selected readings in modern Taiwanese art). Taipei: Xiongshitushu gufenyouxiangongsi, 2001. Websites East Asia Image Collections, (Easton, PA: Lafayette College, 2012), http://digital.lafayette.edu/collections/eastasia/. Last accessed Aug. 2, 2012.

PART III RELIGIONS, IDEOLOGY AND GENDER

CHAPTER SEVEN MARRIAGE AND CONVERSION AS A NATIONAL ISSUE: THE DISCOURSES OVER LINA JOY’S LITIGATION IN CONTEMPORARY MALAYSIA MITSUNARI AYUMI

On May 30, 2007, the Federal Court of Malaysia dismissed a controversial plea for conversion out of Islam by a Malay and, at least officially, Muslim woman. The case was unprecedented in Malaysia, since Islam has long functioned as an ethnic identifier of Malays in a social and political context as well as in the constitutional setting. The name of the appellant was Lina Joy. Her plea, originally personal litigation for her marriage with a Christian man, developed into a national controversy and attracted wide attention from both home and abroad. The publicity of the case may be attributed to a series of advocacy movements by the Article 11 Coalition, an alliance of NGOs demanding the actualization of the freedom of religion on constitutional grounds and criticizing a perceived inclination of the judiciary toward Islam. This further triggered a rise of opposing discourses arguing that the status of the Syariah (Sharia) courts and the position of Islam enshrined in the Constitution were under challenge. This paper makes a critical analysis on these dichotomous discourses concerning Lina Joy’s case, to reveal the political process whereby the litigation of an ordinary woman developed into a national controversy over the status of the Syariah courts and Islam in Malaysia, and to consider the process of the formation of dichotomous discourses that readily converged on a rather simple conflictive understanding of the event: conflict between Islam and human rights and between Muslim and non-Muslim.

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The public connotation of Lina Joy’s case Malaysia, which became politically independent in 1957,1 is a multi-ethnic and multi-religious country (see Graph1, 2 2 below). It is composed of Malays, the biggest ethnic group, 3 Chinese and Indians. 4 In religious terms, these ethnic groups roughly correspond with religious groupings, with the Malay population constitutionally defined as Muslim. No one group is in an overwhelming majority, either ethnically or by religious affiliation; Islam is however defined as the “religion of the Federation” in the Federal Constitution5. Malaysia has long been struggling to promote the coexistence of its citizens along with attaining economic development. As exemplified by the declaration of former Prime Minister Mahathir 6 that industrial modernization is compatible with religious values and his successor

1

Malaysia is composed of the southern part of the Malay Peninsula and the northern part of Borneo. The Malay states in the peninsula achieved political independence from Britain on 31 August 1957, and united with Sabah and Sarawak in Borneo, and with Singapore, on 16 September 1963, being renamed the Federation of Malaysia. However Singapore separated from the Federation in 1965. 2 Department of Statistics Malaysia, Official Website, 2011. http://www.statistics .gov.my/portal/download_General/files/BPBM/2011/mac/05_Population.pdf (Accessed 11 Jun. 2011) 3 The term “Bumiputeras” (the natives of the land) including both Malay and “other Bumiputeras” (the natives of the Malay Peninsula and Borneo) is also frequently used to describe ethnic composition. While in all they constitute almost 12% of the total Malaysian population, the “other Bumiputeras” are not a single and homogeneous population. 4 Since the British colonial government brought in immigrants as workers in tin mining and on rubber plantations, there are many Chinese and Indians in Malaya. Under the protection policy of the time, most Malays remained in their villages, not entering such colonial industries. The society of British Malaya became a socalled “plural society”. 5 Article 3 of the Federal Constitution. See section 2 also for description. 6 Tun Dr. Mahathir bin Mohamad held the post from 1981 to 2003. During his period of office, Malaysia achieved high economic growth and also experienced a resurgence of Islam in terms of social awareness as well as political sense. Tun Dr. Mahathir made various policies to manipulate Islamic awareness and passion among the Malay middle class, and the reform of the Syariah judiciary was one such. For the Islamic resurgence in Malaysia, see Judith Nagata [1984] etc. For the reform of the Syariah judiciary and administration, see Sharifah Zaleha [1985], Sharifah Zaleha and Sven Cederroth [1997] and Peletz [2002].

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(former) Prim Minister Abdullah Badawi’s 7 slogan of “Islam Hadhari” (Civilizational Islam), Malaysia has presented itself as a model of a progressive Muslim society. Since the separate jurisdiction of the Syariah and civil courts 8 has been a symbol of the attainment of modern governance in an “Islamic” institution, it is an irony that this became the main subject of the controversy.

Graph 1. Ethnic Composition

Graph 2. Religious Composition

The conversion of Lina Joy, who was born Muslim, was brought into the official sight because in Malaysia, professing Islam is not only a personal matter but also an issue pertaining to the collective identity of Malay ethnicity, since the Federal Constitution defines ethnic Malays as being Muslim. Lina Joy asked the civil court to approve her conversion from Islam to Christianity without the permission of any religious authority on the grounds of freedom of religion. However, judicial precedent did not support the civil court dealing with the renunciation of Islam, as this matter is under the jurisdiction of the Syariah court. Besides the collective nature of Muslim identity, which is the primary explanation for the public nature of Lina Joy’s case, there is another factor which resulted in her petition taking on a certain significance that transcended simple personal destiny and took on a wider political connotation. At the very same time as her judicial procedure in the middle 7

Tun Abdullah bin Haji Ahmad Badawi succeeded the post of Prime Minister from Mahathir in 2003 and held the post until 2009. 8 Syariah generally means Islamic law. In Malaysia, Syariah courts have been established in each state to deal with family law matters and violations against the religious teachings of Muslims, other than those criminal cases and civil cases that fall under Federal jurisdiction. See also section 2.

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of the 2000s, claims over the constitutional provision came from nonMuslims. They requested that their religious as well as civil rights be guaranteed within the framework of the Constitution, as interreligious marital disputes that had become deadlocked in the jurisdictional gray zone of the civil and Syariah courts were being vociferously reported at that time. Lina Joy’s litigation, a jurisdictional issue, was also positioned as part of political litigation criticizing a perceived “Islamization of the judiciary”. Lina Joy’s petition thus attracted national attention. In analyses of Malaysian politics, her case is often referred to as one of the barometers of Malaysian politics of the mid-2000s, the post-Mahathir era. Gordon P. Means sees the case as an example of “covert or overt murtad (apostasy)” by “secular Muslims”, which heightened the fears of “conservative Muslims” [Means 2009: 344]. Coincidentally, the relationship between Syariah jurisdiction and the clause of religious freedom in the Constitution were being openly questioned by non-Muslims as well as “liberal Muslims”, a demonstration of their concern over the issue of “Islamization” [ibid: 343-8]. In considering the role of Islam in the political field, Means carefully describes the various orientations of “Muslims” by adopting terminology such as “secular Muslims”, “liberal Muslims” as well as “conservative Muslims”, and points out that in the post-Mahathir era in Malaysia, the issue of political Islam has become increasingly a matters for ordinary citizens, and does not exclusively belong to “high politics”. By contrast, Joseph Chingyong Liow strongly emphasizes the cleavage between Muslim and non-Muslim rather than assessing the “secular Muslims” or “liberal Muslims” who supported Lina Joy’s case. In referring to the controversy over the case, Liow understands the reaction of “Islamic civil society” toward Lina’s petition to be defensive or responsive, and the concern of “majority [to be] not so much her personal faith or conversion but the infallible authority of the Shari’a court” [Liow 2009: 144]. Liow also argues that the timing of the Lina Joy verdict, which coincided with debate over the creation of an Inter-Faith Commission, made Muslims perceive it as threat [ibid: 145]. While these analyses have emphasized civil or political movements, with Lina Joy’s case being referred to as a notable event in the debates over political Islam or “Islamization”, Maznah, Zarizana and Chin’s approach is more detailed about the case itself. They examine the political nature of the judicial structure as a result of which personal litigation can easily develop into a political issue, focusing on how legal reforms to “assert Islam’s dominance in governance have affected fundamental issues

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of citizenship rights” and “pervade the private realm” [2009: 77]. They assert that because of the political nature of the judicial boundaries, when interreligious problems surface as judicial litigation, the issue tends to emphasize ethnic/religious harmony over personal happiness [ibid: 94]. They correctly point out the structure of Lina Joy’s plea and the debates over the case; while the plea concerned personal destiny, it was never confined to just a private issue because of the political-judicial situation surrounding it. From my point of view, however, by putting this case in the same arena as that of Shamala and Subashini,9 non-Muslim wives in conflict with their Muslim convert husbands, as being “connected to the nature and direction of law reforms and political battles within the system” [ibid: 93], undermines the analytical approach towards the nature and the function of the narrative itself, whether it is a supportive or opposed, in making the issue a national debate. This paper’s purpose is therefore to clarify the formation of narratives about Lina Joy’s petition, especially the supporting narratives equating the issues surrounding her case with those of non-Muslim wives. In other words, I will discuss “the political structure of narratives in politicizing Lina’s case”, and analyze the process of development of the case as a representative one in the constitutional question. Through the discourses, the name of Lina Joy has become a symbol of the struggle for “what the possible future should be” in the political ambiguity of the post-Mahathir era, but I further note that the composition of supportive/oppositional discourses easily give the assumption that “the Syariah laws are uniform in the whole country”, while in actuality, “they are not administered by one single federal Syariah court” and this has led to a stereotypical understanding of the case as a conflict between Muslim and non-Muslim.10

Background to the politicization of Lina Joy’s petition The Constitutional Setting The religion of Islam in Malaysia is institutionalized and functions as a political and cultural symbol for the boundary between Malays and other ethnic groups. Malaysia is a multi-ethnic and multi-religious country comprised of Malays, Chinese, Indians, “other Bumiputeras” and so on. 9

See section 3 for more detailed information. Shamsul [2012: 12]. I am indebted to Shamsul [ibid] for this perspective. He points out the problem of the gap between the actual interpretation and administration of Syariah laws and “the perceived homogenization” in the narratives analyzing Malaysia.

10

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While religious composition roughly corresponds to ethnic grouping, its actual distribution does not accord to ethnic boundaries, except for that of the Malays. The Constitution of Malaysia, often referred to as a social contract or an outcome of the mutual agreement between the constituent ethnic groups, ensures in Article 153 special privileges in work and education for the Malays and “other Bumiputeras”, deemed to be the indigenous people of the land. 11 In addition, in Article 160 the Constitution defines a Malay as “one who professes the religion of Islam, habitually speaks the Malay language [and] conforms to Malay custom.”12 Article 3 states that “Islam is the religion of the Federation; but other religions may be practised in peace and harmony in any part of the Federation” and it positions the rulers of each state as Heads of Religion.13 While Article 11 enshrined the freedom of religion, it is subject to Clause 4 of same Article: “State law and in respect of the Federal Territories of Kuala Lumpur and Labuan, federal law may control or restrict the propagation of any religious doctrine or belief among persons professing the religion of Islam.”14 Placing Islam in an official setting, in line with the preservation of the Malay sultanates and Malay privileges, is one of the characteristics of Malaysian indigenousness set forth in the Constitution.15

Jurisdiction of the Syariah Courts Along with the political and social setting of Islam and Malay ethnicity, in Malaysia, the judiciary of personal law for Muslims and non-Muslims is established separately. Since the administration of Islam is basically a state matter under the federal system, each state now has a three-tiered Syariah court system with a series of Syariah enactments pertaining to family law and so on.16 The present Syariah judicial system was constructed in the 11

Public discussion of these provisions has been prohibited since 1971 because of the centrality of the issue [Abdul Aziz Bari 2003: 208]. 12 Article 160, the Federal Constitution of Malaysia. Of these, Islam is the most important condition as a visible and divisive factor between Malays and nonMalays. Because all Malays are constitutionally Muslim and almost 90% of Muslims are Malays, Malay identity and Islam are closely related. 13 For states not having a ruler and for the federal territories, the Yang di-Pertuan Agung (the title of the ruler chosen from state rulers once every two years) acts as the Head of Religion. 14 Article 11, the Federal Constitution of Malaysia. 15 Abdul Aziz Bari [2003: ch.5]. 16 Jurisdiction of the Syariah courts is provided in each state’s enactments, and that state’s enactments can stipulate only within the limits referred to in the “State list” in the Constitution. Generally, the jurisdiction of Syariah courts encompasses

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post-colonial era, but it was dramatically reformed in the 1970s and 1980s, with the marked revival of Islamic awareness in society and under the strong initiative of the then Prime Minister Mahathir. As a number of researchers have pointed out, this was part of the government’s effort to establish a state-defined “orthodoxy” of Islam so as to establish and uphold the political legitimacy of the ruling party, Barisan Nasional (National Front). 17 Under this policy, almost all the states enacted more detailed substantive and procedural law, and kadi courts were re-established as Syariah courts, more independent of the Majlis Agama Islam (Council of Islamic Affairs) in each state. Through these reforms, the Syariah court functioned in a more judicial way, in comparison with its former, quasi-administrative role. The finishing touch was to give more power to Syariah jurisprudence by adding Article 121 (1A) to the constitution in 1988, taking away the power of the civil courts to reverse the decisions made in the Syariah courts. However, there remains a challenge for the federal government, since the Syariah courts hold independent jurisdiction not only from the civil courts, but also from each other in different states. Shamsul refers to this plurality of Syariah interpretation in each state in Malaysia as one form of “legal pluralism”. But, according to him, this “plurality” is seldom taken into consideration in public discourse; “(t)he perceived homogenization of Syariah laws has been the biggest source of disinformation of ‘religious conflict’ in Malaysia” [2012: 11-12], he contends.

“Islamization of the Judiciary” ? In the 2000s, amid competition for the blueprint of the post-Mahathir era, the political idiom of both Malay chauvinism and Islamic hegemony, such as debates over the “Islamic state”, came to be emphasized. In this circumstance, non-Muslims, comprising about 40% of the Malaysian Muslim family law matters, management of public religious property, penalties for deviation from proper religious practices, etc. But Syariah courts do not deal with criminal matters like murder, theft and others that are included under federalsecular jurisdiction, however much the crime might be against the prohibitions of Islam. The same is true of civil jurisdiction. That is to say, state Syariah courts only have jurisdiction over matters pertaining to the personal law of Muslims and religious prohibitions, which do not fall within the federal-secular jurisdiction. 17 Barisan Nasional (National Front) is the ruling party and is a coalition mainly composed of the United Malays National Organization (UMNO), the Malaysian Chinese Association (MCA, and the Malaysian Indian Congress (MIC), the political parties representing the three largest ethnic groups.

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population, were said to feel increasingly anxious about their civil and religious rights, and in this context, the jurisdiction of the civil courts in relation with the Syariah courts was becoming the focus of public discussion. This was because a number of legal petitions concerning interreligious conflict has become deadlocked in the “legal limbo” of dual jurisdiction. In such cases, the civil courts often avoided dealing with interreligious conflict, reasoning that the issue belonged to the Syariah courts , even though one party was a non-Muslim. This judicial tendency is referred to as “the Islamization of the judiciary” and has drawn criticism from religious and human rights NGOs, including non-Muslims as well as a few “liberal” Muslims. A typical case of an interreligious family conflict arises as a result of the conversion to Islam of one spouse in a marriage. As Malaysian law does not permit the registration of a marriage between a Muslim and a non-Muslim, if one partner in a civil marriage converts to Islam, or one in a Muslim marriage renounces Islam, legally such a marriage is supposed to be anullled. Adding to the complex situation, since both civil acts and Syariah enactments prescribe this, both civil and Syariah courts can deal with such litigation and there is no unitary course of procedure available. Problems arise because after the conversion of one spouse, the legal status of the couple/family stretches over two jurisdictions. Thus there has emerged an ambiguity over the jurisdiction for dealing with such marital issues, though according to the Constitution, non-Muslims do not come under Syariah jurisdiction. The case of Kaliammal and Maniam Moorthy, which occurred between late 2005 and 2006, had a strong impact on society. This was a dispute between Kaliammal—the Hindu wife of the deceased Maniam Moorthy, who was alleged to have converted to Islam (but the allegation was made only after he fell into coma, and he remained so until died)—and MAIWP (Majlis Agama Islam Wilayah Persekutuan: The Islamic Religious Council of the Federal Territories) over the burial of the husband according to the proper ceremony of his religion. MAIWP asked the Syariah court to check the evidence of the dead man’s conversion, and his Hindu wife asked the same of the civil high court. The high court decided 18 on the basis of Article 121(1A) of the Constitution that it did not have jurisdiction to pass judgment on this case because the Syariah court had already judged that the dead man was a Muslim. The Indian community in Malaysia, nonMuslims and a few “liberal” Muslim organizations and personnel, and 18

Kaliammal Sinnasamy lwn. Pengarah Jabatan Agama Islam Wilayah Persekutuan and Yang Lain 2005 [HCKL].

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non-Muslim politicians of the ruling party as well as opposition parties, criticized the decision and called for article 121(1A) to be repealed.19 To make matters worse, this overt criticism and demands for the amendment of the Constitution were perceived as a challenge to the Syariah court’s judiciary and incurred criticism in their turn and led to a defensive campaign by Muslim bodies.20 Other famous cases included those of Shamala21 and Subashini,22 who were both Hindu wives who tried to reconvert their converted children to their original religion, Hinduism, as their children’s conversion took place and was registered by their converted husbands unilaterally without the wives’ knowledge. Both had married Hindu husbands and registered their marriage under the secular marriage law for non-Muslim citizens. After a few years of marriage, the husbands converted to Islam and filed a suit in the Syariah court to dissolve the marriage and claim custodial rights of their now Muslim children. In considering the issue of dissolving a marriage based on conversion, while the civil courts decided that marriages contracted under the secular act could be dissolved only by the civil courts,23 they admitted that the procedure that underage children go through to convert to Islam was legal. As a result, the issue of jurisdiction pertaining to religious status remained unresolved. 19

“10 menteri Kabinet bukan Islam serah memorandum kepada PM (10 NonMuslim cabinet members submitted a memorandum to the PM).” in Utusan Malaysia, Jan 20, 2006. However, nine of them withdrew it three days later. 20 “Pindaan perlembagaan tidak jelas kedudukan Islam”, 2006/1/15, Utusan Malaysia (http://www.utusan.com.my/utusan/info.asp?y=2006&dt=0115&pub =utusan_malaysia&sec=Dalam_Negeri&pg=dn_01.htm Accessed 2006/1/30), “Mahasiswa bantah syor pinda perlembagaan”, 2006/1/21, Utusan Malaysia (http://www.utusan.com.my/utusan/info.asp?y=2006&dt=0121&pub=utusan_mala ysia&sec=Politik&pg=po_10.htm Accessed 2006/1/30). 21 Shamala Sathiyaseelan v. Dr. Jeyaganesh C Mogarajah and Anor ([2004] 2 CLJ). The high court ruled that the conversion of two underage children by their father without the knowledge of their mother was legal. As a result of another judgment regarding parental authority, Shamala and her Muslim husband obtained joint custody, and Shamala was granted physical custody considering the ages of the two small children. Both Shamala and her husband appealed the decision. 22 Subashini a/p Rajasingam v Saravanan a/l Thangathoray [2007] 2 MLJ 798, [2007] 2 MLJ 705. 23 This ruling was made for the first time in Shamala’s case in 2004 and was praised as epoch-making. (“Shamala-Ridzwan’s custody case raises constitutional issues” Utusan Malaysia, 24 June 2004.) The judgment in Subashini’s case in 2007 and in Yong Fuat Meng and Chin Yoon Kew’s case in 2008 also followed this decision (http://www.cljlaw.com/CLJ_Bulletin/Bulletin_24_2008.htm Accessed 20 Dec 2009).

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On the other hand, there have also been some cases where Syariah courts have recognized a Muslim convert as a non-Muslim. The case of Nyonya Tahir was one such. Though according to her identity card, she was a Malay Muslim,24 her family was Chinese and Buddhist and she had practiced Buddhism before and after she married a Chinese man. After her death, her family testified at the Syariah court about her religious life during her lifetime and her wish to be buried as a Buddhist. Despite her official status, the Syariah court in Negeri Sembilan ruled that she was a non-Muslim. There are said to be other cases where the same court allowed Muslim converts to leave the religion.25 These precedents show that the Syariah court in Negeri Sembilan would recognize Muslims leaving the religion. At the legislative level, Negeri Sembilan is the only state where a specific procedure is prescribed for conversion out of Islam.26 But perhaps not placing much hope on this possibility, Lina Joy and her lawyer chose to file suit with a civil court. The case was brought to the Federal court in May 2006, when tensions over religious boundaries had heightened following the controversy over the Moorthy case. The appeal requested a review of the judicial precedents, the hottest idiom in the interreligious issue at that time.

Lina Joy’s appeal Lina Joy’s profile Lina Joy, whose original name was Azlina binti Jailani, is a Malay woman born to Malay Muslim parents as the third of six children on 8 January 1964. She was baptized in 1998 and applied to have her conversion registered so she could legally marry a Christian man.27 In 1998, she went 24

She was a granddaughter of a Malay Muslim woman and a Chinese convert to Islam. 25 “Malaysiakini.com - Apostasy - the debate continues”, (http://www.sistersin islam.org.my/news.php?item.69.27 Accessed 2012/10/31). 26 Other states, for example, Kelantan and Malacca, prescribed restrictions regarding apostasy, whereas the Federal Territory only enacted that if a person in a Muslim marriage was an apostate, the marriage would be annulled by the decision of the Syariah court.. Many states do not mention conversion out of the religion, and so neither specific procedures to do so nor restrictions are prescribed. 27 At the NRD, she submitted the statutory declaration dated February 21, 1997 which stated; (i) that she had never professed or practiced Islam as her religion since birth; (ii) that she had embraced Christianity in 1990; and (iii) that she intended to marry a Christian (http://www.malaysianbar.org.my/selected

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to the National Registration Office (NRD) to have her conversion to Christianity noted on her identity card, which showed her religious status as “Islam”. She made application to change her name from Azlina binti Jailani to Lina Joy with the reasoning that she had converted to Christianity. The NRD changed her registered name as she had made application but her religious status remained as “Islam”. The NRD demanded that she show a document confirming her “conversion out of Islam” issued by a Syariah court before it would change her religious status, since the NRD was not entitled to decide whether a person professed Islam or not. Lina Joy filed an objection to the NRD decision in the civil court, but it was dismissed by the High Court in 1999, the Appeal Court in 2005, and finally by the Federal Court in 2007. She was aged 33 when she made her first appeal and 43 when it was finally rejected.

The course of the litigation Lina Joy requested the High Court to issue an order to the NRD to accept her application, on the basis of the freedom of religion. The Malaysian Government and the Islamic Religious Council of the Federal Territories opposed the appeal as defendants, insisting that the case, because it pertained to the religion of Islam, was under the jurisdiction of the Syariah court, and that the civil court had no jurisdiction. The appeal was dismissed by the High Court on 18 April 2001 on the grounds it did not have the jurisdiction to decide whether a person professed Islam or not, and that Lina Joy, being Malay, could not renounce Islam since the Constitution defined ethnic Malays to be Muslim. 28 She appealed the decision in 2002. On 19 September 2005, the Appeal Court composed of three judges issued the majority ruling that the High Court’s decision was reasonable and dismissed the appeal. The majority decision stated: “Muslims in this country, where Islam is the official religion, are subject to special laws that no other community is subject to. In particular there are statutory offences that are committable by Muslims as Muslims that are not committable by others. Against that background must be mentioned the fact that whether a person has renounced Islam is a question of Islamic law that is not within the jurisdiction of the NRD and that the NRD is not equipped or qualified _judgements/lina_joy_v_majlis_agama_islam_wilayah_persekutuan_2_ors_2005_ ca.html Accessed 27 June 2008). 28 “Registration Department acted unreasonably, says counsel”, 2004/10/14, Utusan Malaysia (http://www.utusan.com.my/utusan/info.asp?y=2004&dt=1015 &pub=utusan_express&sec=Court&pg=ct_08.htm Accessed 2006/8/21).

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to decide. What the Islamic law on the matter is has not been ventilated in this appeal.”29 Whereas the minority decision judged that “(i)t is a case where a public decision-maker misconstrued the relevant law and took into account extraneous considerations. The appellant is entitled to have an NRIC in which the word ‘Islam’ does not appear.”30 On 13 April 2006, Lina Joy was permitted to appeal to the Federal Court where again the case came before three judges. At the hearing, her representative claimed that she had a right to choose any religion, and, because the case was about the interpretation of the Constitutional provision, the civil court had jurisdiction over the case. The majority decision stated that the proper court for certifying whether a person is Muslim or not is the Syariah court. Thus, the statement that the appellant can no longer be under the jurisdiction of the Syariah Court, as jurisdiction of the Syariah Court only for a person who professing the religion of Islam, can / should not be emphasized. The way a person conversion out from a religion is necessarily accords rules or the law or practice determined or prescribed by the religion itself. The appellant is not prevented from marriage. Freedom of religion under the Article 11 of the Federal Constitution requires the appellant to comply with the practices or Islamic religious law, specifically the one about convert out from religion. When such provisions are observed and the Islamic religious authority certified apostasy, then the appellant can profess Christianity. In other words, one cannot convert in or out from religion at his / her whims. When he / she professes a religion, common sense requires him / her to comply with the practices and laws of 31 the religion.

The minority judge was of the opinion that the National Registration Regulations 1990, requiring differential treatment for Muslims and nonMuslims, was “discriminatory and unconstitutional and should therefore be struck down” and that it was not reasonable to apply the regulations to Lina Joy. Concerning the issue of jurisdiction, the judge stated; “(s)ince 29

Lina Joy v Majlis Agama Islam Wilayah Persekutuan & 2 Ors 2005 [CA] (http://www.malaysianbar.org.my/selected_judgements/lina_joy_v_majlis_agama_ islam_wilayah_persekutuan_2_ors_2005_ca.html Accessed 27 June 2008). 30 See footnote 29. 31 Lina Joy lwn Majlis Agama Islam Wilayah Persekutuan & Yang Lain Mahkamah Persekutuan [Putrajaya] Ahmad Fairuz Khn, Alauddin Mohd Sheriff Hmp, Richard Malanjum Hmp [Rayuan Sivil No: 01-2-2006(W)] 30 Mei 2007 [2007] CLJ JT(1), http://www.cljlaw.com/public/cotw-070608.htm (Accessed 11 June 2007)

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constitutional issues are involved especially on the question of fundamental rights as enshrined in the Constitution it is of critical importance that the civil superior courts should not decline jurisdiction by merely citing Article 121(1A). …Legislations criminalizing apostasy or limiting the scope of the provisions of the fundamental liberties as enshrined in the Constitution are constitutional issues in nature which only the civil courts have jurisdiction to determine.”32 Of the statements in the majority decision, remarks such as “freedom of religion under Article 11 of the Federal Constitution requires the appellant to comply with the practices of Islamic religious law, specifically the one about converting out from religion” gives the impression that there is a specific law dealing with apostasy in Islam, though in actuality it has not come up, either politically or legislatively, except in 1992 when the state of Kelantan passed the Hudud bill that included the provision of the death penalty for apostates.33 By reasoning that the issue was under the jurisdiction of the Syariah court, the judgement avoided mentioning the law for apostasy, though it still noted the dualistic framework of the Syariah and civil courts. This kind of framework was shared in the public discourse, including that of Lina Joy’s supporters. In other words, both supporting discourses, the one based on human rights and that of the opposition based on Syariah jurisdiction were constructed on the same framework and on much the same basis.

The formation of the narratives Article 11 Coalition The number of reports about Lina Joy’s case doubled when the appeal to the federal court was permitted in June 2006. Publicity about the case after 2006 owed to the strategy adopted by supporting bodies that was based on Article 11 in the Constitution. The Article 11 Coalition was established in May 2004 focusing on, as the name indicates, religious freedom and equality in the Malaysian judicial system. It was a coalition of non-Muslim religious organizations, human rights lawyers and women’s bodies including a “liberal” Muslim body, with diverse backgrounds and objectives: the Women’s Aid Organization, 34 Sisters in Islam, 35 32

See footnote 31. The bill has not been implemented since it contravened the criminal jurisdiction of the Syariah court fixed by the Constitution. 34 The Secretariat is located in the WAO office. 33

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MCCBCHST,36 the Bar Council Malaysia and HAKAM37 and so on. From the 2000s onward, these organizations have been active in discussing the issue of interreligious conflicts in the field of judicial and religious administration.38 The Article 11 Coalition basically supported the complete fulfillment of religious freedom and the investment of equal rights in interreligious marital disputes to non-Muslim wives (/husbands) of spouses who were Muslim converts.39 They stated that the freedom of religion was set as the basis of equality in judicial and administrative rights. Also, the Coalition repeatedly emphasized the superiority of the Constitution in the judicial system in Malaysia, and regarded the phenomenon called “Islamization of the judiciary” as a serious problem, since “(the civil court) judges have declined to adjudicate on pressing issues simply because they involved some elements of Islamic law, leaving litigants without any remedy”.40 They asserted that the position of Islam in Malaysia be only as given and defined by the Constitutional framework.41

Support of the Lina Joy case by the Article 11 Coalition The Article 11 Coalition also supported Lina Joy’s litigation on constitutional grounds. They stated that “the coalition believes that the clear provision in Article 11(1) of the Constitution that ‘Every person has 35

Sisters in Islam (SIS) is an organization of Muslim women engaged in educational activities, especially concerning women’s conjugal rights in Islamic law. 36 MCCBCHS (Malaysia Consultative Council of Buddhism, Christianism, Hinduism, Sikhism, Taoism) is a multi-religious organization comprised of a representative religious body of each religion in Malaysia except Islam. Established in 1983, it is a collective organization to negotiate with the government on “Islamization”. Constitution of MCCBCHS. 37 HAKAM is a body advocating human rights established under the Bar Council. 38 MCCBCHS, the Bar Council, and Sisters in Islam once tried to establish an Inter-Faith Committee for the purpose of discussing the position of interreligious conflicts in the Islamic religious administration and judiciary. But the government rejected the proposal since conservative Muslim organizations opposed it, perceiving it as “anti-Islamic” [Liow 2009]. 39 Official website of Article 11, “A Look at the Article 11 Coalition: Background”: http://www.article11.org/ (Accessed 20 Dec. 2007). 40 Open letter addressed to the Malaysian Government “Reaffirming the Supremacy of the Federal Constitution”. 41 See Article 11 coalition’s statements of intent at http://www.article11.org /Resources/FAQ.html (Accessed 20 Dec. 2007).

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the right to freely profess and practice …his religion’ must be fully respected”, and deny that they encourage Muslims to renounce Islam.42 The Coalition participated in all Lina Joy’s hearings at the Federal Court by watching brief, advocated support for the case through an online news site calling for online signatures, and held open forums entitled “Article 11: Protection for all” in some cities in Malaysia. Utilizing Internet media,43 they succeeded in disseminating information on the issues—with “universal” language and concepts—and were noticed by the global society also. That the foreign press and ambassadors crowded into the Federal Court on the day of the final judgment could be perceived as a consequence of these advocacy movements. However, the Article 11 Coalition stopped its activities in the public sphere at the end of 2006, before the Lina Joy case had reached judgment. This sudden halt occurred immediately after strong opposition by Muslims who surrounded their forum site in July 2006, and the Prime Minister at that time asked all the parties to stop discussing religion. After the incident, Muslim NGOs also formed their own coalition called PEMBELA,44 and criticized what they perceived as attempts to limit the status of the Islamic judiciary.

Generalization of Lina’s request In respect of the social as well as the judicial context of Malaysia, the issues pertaining to Lina Joy’s case and those of the above-mentioned nonMuslim wives were not necessarily the same. The biggest difference is the fact that Lina Joy was born a Muslim. In addition, the case was about the change of her own religious status, and neither her partner nor her family 42 “The Coalition called Article 11: Myths and Facts”, which I obtained at the office of the Women’s Aid Organization on 20 February 2009. The original source is also available online: http://aliran.com/282.html (Accessed 30 Jan. 2013) 43 For example, Malaysiakini (Malaysia today), an internet news site, personal blogs of their members as well as the Article 11 Coalition’s own official website. In Malaysia, internet media are not under government control, unlike newspapers, magazines, and TV channels; thus, blogs and news-sites have been platforms for liberal discussion [Iga 2008]. The room for social movements expanded after the Reformasi movement in 1998 (the Reformasi is a movement that formed shortly after the then Deputy Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim was sacked in September 1998; it consisted of several mass demonstrations and rallies against the longstanding BN government and the then Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad). The activities of NGOs and advocacy movements taking advantage of the internet have proliferated since then [Loh: 2003, 93-95]. 44 See next section.

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was involved in the judicial procedure. Only she was positioned between the Syariah and civil courts, unlike the non-Muslim wives’ cases, where conflicts over marital / family relationships were dragged into Syariah jurisdiction. And since she declared that she had converted out of Islam, which is deemed a grave sin in the religion, there was also a possibility of being accused of apostasy, which some states considered a crime. Nevertheless, in the discourse of the Article 11 Coalition, both Lina Joy’s case and the non-Muslim wives’ cases were considered to have the same basis. The common signification attached to them was the issue of religious equality. By professing the freedom of religion, they emphasized the superiority of the Constitution, or more exactly, confirmation of the superiority of secularism in the Constitution in the perceived context of the “Islamization of the judiciary”. Because of this wider agenda, Lina Joy’s case, though different from the other cases concerning people not originally Muslims, was connected with them as a shared issue and signification. In the socio-political context of Malaysia also, the position that Lina Joy occupied was very specific, in that she was a Malay woman. Implicitly accompanying her petition were questions about the identity and special position of Malays, a core idea of Malaysian politics, even though the issue in the litigation was focused simply on religious conversion. By centering on the freedom of religion, the question of her identity or belonging may be given secondary or ambiguous importance, and this possibly enlarged the range of the constitutional questions pertaining to civil rights and status in a manner never seen before. This implies that her litigation had greater significance and is why it began to be positioned as a test case of the constitutional agenda. Its inclusive character gave the nonMuslim community, who were “outsiders” in terms of Syariah jurisdiction though an interested party, a renewed basis for their own claims. Lina Joy’s litigation has been generalized as representing fundamental questions about Malaysia’s constitutional and political framework.

Impact of the personal motive Along with the constitutional question, it is worth mentioning that Lina Joy’s actions, both administrative and judicial, emanated from a personal motive: marriage to the man of her choice. Not a lot of information was made available about her personal details, but a few were known. However, the fact of her wishing to marry the man of her choice and the very ordinariness of her aspiration made an abstract constitutional issue more specific and real. This is apparent in a statement on the Federal court

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decision by the president of the Women’s Aid Organization, who said that the decision “denied Lina Joy of her right to choose her religion, her right to choose her partner and her reproductive rights (in terms of bearing a legitimate child)”. 45 In another sense, the limited personal information functioned to de-contextualize her identity, thus making the audience sympathize with her wishes regarding her situation. This maybe is why Lina Joy’s case has attracted a wide range of public interest, not only from within the society in which the petition took place, but also from abroad. Her legal struggle eloquently informed and persuaded global society that the event was a “human rights issue”, since national policy was causing suffering to her “personal life”. 46 It is also understandable that the Muslim coalition and the Malay papers tried to suggest a counter-personalized story by referring to the grief of “Azlina’s mother”,47 besides presenting the issue in a de-personalized form, such as “Syariah judiciary under challenge”.

Counter narratives Formation of PEMBELA The PEMBELA 48 coalition was formed in July 2007 “to develop an attitude and to work together to address various issues related to the 45 “Denying all her rights”, 2007/5/30, Malaysiakini (http://www.malaysiakini.com /news/67958 Accessed 2007/5/30). 46 For example, “Malaysia rejects Christian appeal”, 2007/5/30, BBC News (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/6703155.stm Accessed 2007/6/1), and “Life as a secret Christian convert”, 2006/11/16, BBC News. (http://news.bbc .co.uk/2/hi/programmes/crossing_continents/6150340.stm Accessed 2011/4/30). 47 For example, “Ibu ke Mekah doa Lina Joy kembali ke pangkuan Islam”, 2006/8/18, Utusan Malaysia (http://www.utusan.com.my/utusan/info.asp?y =2006&dt=0818&pub=utusan_malaysia&sec=Dalam_Negeri&pg=dn_01.htm Accessed 2007/12/20), “Ibu syukur rayuan Lina Joy ditolak”, 2007/5/31, Utusan Malaysia (http://www.utusan.com.my/utusan/info.asp?y=2007&dt=0531&pub =utusan_malaysia&sec=Mahkamah&pg=ma_01.htm Accessed 2007/12/20). 48 Perbadanan membela Islam㸭PEMBELA. PEMBELA is a Malay term meaning “defender”. Joining the coalition were Peguam Pembela Islam (Lawyers Defending Islam), formed by Muslim lawyers who opposed the decision of the Bar Council to support Joy’s litigation, Wadah Pencerdasan Umat (The Platform of Intelligent People), Persatuan Peguam Syarie Malaysia (Malaysian Syariah Lawyers Association), Muslim Professional Forum, Jemaah Islah Malaysia, Teras Pengupayaan Melayu (Core Malay Empowerment), academic members, student organizations and so on (from Perutubuhan-Pertubuhan Pembela Islam Desak

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position of Islam in Malaysia”.49 Its formation was triggered by anxiety and anger over the discourse used by the Article 11 Coalition in supporting Lina Joy’s litigation. As Liow states, it was a defensive reaction against what was perceived as a “challenge” to the position of Islam in the Constitution and the status of the Islamic judiciary. With ABIM, 50 the most influential Muslim organization in Malaysia, as the directing body, it includes over 70 Muslim NGOs. In short, it was a coalition formed to give a voice to the Muslim majority, as opposed to the “minority” and “liberal” Muslims who, by setting forth the freedom of religion, were interpreting Islam in a too liberal way.51

Protect Syariah jurisdiction PEMBELA did not dispute Lina Joy’s conversion overtly, but objected to the case since it “may have a great impact on the position of Islam in the Constitution and the laws of Malaysia”. 52 According to their argument, apostasy is an issue pertaining only to the religion of Islam, so the procedure in the Syariah court was necessary. Thus requests to override “the proper” jurisdiction of the Syariah court were perceived by them as a challenge to Syariah jurisdiction. That is why their concern was directed to the status of Islam in the Constitution and the judicial system of Malaysia, and the subject of criticism was not Lina Joy, but “specific parties”, who discussed the case.53 They considered the case of Azlina Jailani (Lina Joy) to be similar to that of Maniam Moorthy as well as to that of Meor Atiqulrahman Ishak and others, which pertained to the religious freedom of Muslim minors Masalah Murtad Ditangani Secara Serius, http://www.myislamnetwork.net /modules/news/article.php?storyid=1 Accessed 2007/12/20). 49 See footnote 48. 50 Angkatan Belia Islam Malaysia (The Muslim Youth Movement) is the one of the most influential Muslim organization in Malaysia. It was established in 1972 as a student organization and has expanded its support among the urban middle class as well as intellectuals. 51 [2006. 8. 4] Issues of religious sensitivity should not be openly debated in the public arena: MPF, by Dr. Mazeni Alwi (http://www.myislamnetwork.net /modules/news/article.php?storyid=55 Accessed 2007/12/20). 52 [2007. 5. 29] Siaran Media PEMBELA: Menjelang Keputusan Kes Azlina Jailani, by Yusri Mohamad (http://www.myislamnetwork.net/modules/news /article.php?storyid=175 Accessed 2007/12/20). 53 [2006. 7. 21] Kelab Intelektual Muda Menentang Usaha Perlekeh dan Menghina Islam. (http://www.myislamnetwork.net/modules/news/print.php?storyid=13 Accessed 2007/12/20).

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who violated school regulations by wearing a serban (Muslim turban) and were consequently expelled.54 These cases were brought to and dealt with by the civil court even though religious issues were involved. PEMBELA did not argue about Syariah rules for apostasy or the decisions of the Syariah courts in Malaysia in apostasy cases, but rather concentrated on defending against a perceived threat to the Syariah court system. The logic of both PEMBELA and the Article 11 Coalition brought them into confrontation, taking opposite sides at each end of the dichotomous framework of the jurisdictional issue without reference to religious ideas about apostasy, through which the potential diversity of Syariah interpretation might have been exposed.

Conclusion In this article, I have tried to shed light on the political nature of the discourse pertaining to Lina Joy’s case by focusing on how Lina Joy, the person concerned, is narrated / qualified in the controversy. There was a double trigger attached to the case as it developed into a public debate. First, in the Malaysian social and political context, where questions about personal religious status are matters of public identity, the implications of Lina Joy’s plea could not be confined to the private sphere. At the same time, the publicity over her case greatly contributed to the advocacy movement through which her name came to represent the national debate. The narratives surrounding the case, whether of the court judgment, or supporting or opposing discourses, were made on a common framework: their concern was much more with what might be called the “Islamization of the judiciary” and what kind of status the Syariah court should be given in the framework of a modern judiciary, than with the conversion itself. Lina Joy’s plea that her conversion and marriage be permitted, stemming from personal motives, was submerged within this stream of narrative and made to contend with both state policy and public opinion.

54

The Serban Case: Full Judgment delivered by Datuk Abdul Hamid Mohamad FCJ (http://www.malaysianbar.org.my/selected_judgements/the_serban_case_full _judgment_delivered_by_datuk_abdul_hamid_mohamad_fcj.html. Accessed 2008/ 5/1).

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Nagata, Judith. The Reflowering of Malaysian Islam: Modern Religious Radicals and Their Roots. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 1984. Peletz, M. G. Islamic Modern. Princeton; Princeton University Press, 2002. Rau and Kumar. General Principles of the Malaysian Legal System. Kuala Lumpur: International Law Book Service, 2008. Shamsul A. B. “Competing domains of control: Islam and human rights in Malaysia.” In Islam and Human Rights in Practice: Perspectives across the Ummah, eds. Shahram Akbarazadan & Benjamin MacQueen, pp. 108-17. London: Routledge, 2008. —. “One State, Three Legal Systems: Negotiating justice in a multi-ethnic and multi-religious Malaysia.” A paper for the Session on “Religious Diversity, Legal Pluralism, and Social Conflict” at the 2012 International Conference on Law and Society, Honolulu, Hawaii, 5-8 June 2012. Sharifa Zaleha Syed Hassan. From Saints to Bureaucrats: A Study of the Ddevelopment of Islam in the State of Kedah. University Microfilms International, 1985. Sharifa Zaleha Syed Hassan & Sven Cederroth. Managing Marital Disputes in Malaysia: Islamic Mediators and Conflict Resolution in the Syariah Courts. Richmond: Curzon, 1997. Yamamoto, Hiroyuki. Datsushokuminchika to nashonarizumu: Eiryǀka Boruneo ni okeru minzoku keisei ⬺᳜Ẹᆅ໬࡜ࢼࢩࣙࢼࣜࢬ࣒, ⱥ 㡿໭࣎ࣝࢿ࢜࡟࠾ࡅࡿẸ᪘ᙧᡂ (Decolonization and Nationalism: The Creation of Nations in British North Borneo). Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press, 2006. Yegar, Moshe. Islam and Islamic Institutions in British Malaya: Politics and Implementation. Jerusalem: The Magnes Press, Hebrew University, 1979.

CHAPTER EIGHT I AM NOT A SOCIAL HISTORIAN: THE USE OF THE TERM “SOCIAL HISTORY” IN POSTWAR JAPAN UCHIDA CHIKARA Introduction: Is Social History Global? Today, the term “social history” is widely known among all historians. Irrespective of research area, social history constitutes a research field on a par with political, cultural, and economic history, and large numbers of books on a subject’s social history can soon be found using any Internet search engine. In this chapter, we will consider the history of social history’s historiography, since any historiography has its own historical process and associated cultural phenomena. As we shall see below, the term “social history” received much attention particularly because it was used in the title of the journal of the French Annales School, without whose popularity, social history would not have been recognized as an established research field by historians the world over. This trend is not limited to the academic world in France or to researchers of French history. For example, in Japan, the research trend known as “social history” received much attention in the 1970s and had become an established research field by the 1990s. Japanese social historians include researchers over a broad area, including Japanese, German, and French history. Some scholars, including Iggers (1996; cf. Iggers 1986), argue that the establishment of social history suggests a transformation in the style of historiography into a broader context. The appearance of social history was a turning point for the study of the history of historiography in the twentieth century. Just as some scholars familiar with the Annales School have sometimes maintained, social history is a “new history”, and the community of historians entered a new era with its conceptualization. Furthermore, the widespread use of the same term, “social history”, might

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seem to connote a global phenomenon. Although there are many differences in the content of the term in each country, wherever it appears it can be translated into some form of “social history”, or at least in a way that includes the words “social” or “society”; hence, it is easy to assume some type of simultaneous transformation in the global historical academy. When it comes to the social history in Japan, some scholars expressly emphasize the association with French history. Indeed, it might be imagined that the social history boom in Japan was simply a consequence of that in France, and that Japanese social historians were influenced by research trends prevalent within French academia. Indeed, as will be described in detail below, some scholars exaggerate the French influence on Japan and endeavor to demonstrate that the French historical revolution was exported to Japan. This chapter will examine whether, for the global history of historiography, we can really say that the appearance of “social history” in Japan was the result of influence from French historians. Was “social history” actually global? Even when we focus just on the relationship between France and Japan, this question may be answered in two possible ways. One approach is to make a rigorous definition of “social history”, and then analyze the discourses of social historians in each country in order to examine whether they satisfy the definition or not. This is the commonsense approach, but one that presents a major problem: we need to know “what social history is” before beginning the analysis. This would not matter if the social history phenomenon was in the distant past and its impact had been approximately determined, but if we adopt this method, we will be unable to ascertain more than what we already know about social history because it would have already been described in the definition. As a result, all we achieve is to establish the historical distribution of the definition, which has been done previously. The other approach is to consider how some Japanese historians came to be regarded as “social historians”. This limits the question to how people used the term in Japan and temporarily ignores what kind of history each historian wrote. In the 1970s and 1980s, as we shall see, “social history” was often quite loosely defined. Yet, defining our terms loosely is a rather common function of how we use language. Typically, when using a term in speech or text, we do not always consult a dictionary in order to determine its definition. Rather, the definition is derived from the frequent use of the term. Although, in an academic context, terms are usually used after they have been defined, this style of using a term is a rare occurrence in our language activity as a whole. ”Social history” began to be used in Japan after the 1970s in phrases such as “That person is a social historian”

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or “This book is about social history”, as people attempted to create a proper definition, or gave up trying to do so. In this context is it worth noting that, during the “social history” boom in Japan, one of Japan’s “social historians”, Amino Yoshihiko, constantly maintained that he himself was not, in fact, a social historian. Though he discussed the term “social history” beginning with a structured definition, there is no doubt that he either felt embarrassed about being called a “social historian” or believed that there was something incorrect about being so called. This paper is an attempt to highlight the source of that feeling. It first discusses the history of the concept of “social history” in Japan, primarily in the 1970s and 1980s, in order to consider how to deal with the term within the history of historiography. It then reviews the use of the term “social history” in France and Japan, and goes on to demonstrate how it was used in Japan and in what context a “social historian” would want to deny that he was one himself. The final section will discuss in what scenario the term “social history” when used in Japan is global, and how this concept should be dealt with.

Are They Social Historians? This section will demonstrate that, from a synchronic perspective, there is a tendency to consider the concept of “social history” as global among the community of historians in France and Japan. It will review the following topics: “social history” according to the Annales School, “social history” according to Japanese historians, and how scholars combined the two to create a global history of historiography. I will first briefly introduce the concept of “social history” according to the French Annales School. The Annales School is the name given to a group of historians, and was the product of the association between two scholars of French history—Marc Bloch (1886–1944) and Lucien Febvre (1878–1956); it centered on their journal ”Annales”, and later on the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales (EHESS). The name of the school was derived from the title of the journal to denote the group as a whole, which has included many remarkable historians, such as Fernand Braudel (1902–1985), Jacques Le Goff (1924–), and Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie (1929–). The school began in the 1920s and continues to this day, with some generational changes.1 1

See, for example, Burke (1990). Although I cannot go into detail here, we must note that many scholars, including Burke, point out that the School should not be regarded as one body whose members share some clear agreement or policy.

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“Social history” has been one of the mottos or synonyms associated with the Annales school, similar to “new history (nouvelle histoire)” and “total history (histoire totale)”, ever since it appeared in the title of the journal Annales d’histoire sociale in 1939.2 Originally, the phrase seems to have been used with regard to a new historiography that enabled a reader to understand human life, unlike classical political history. However, Febvre, one of the founders, had another purpose in employing the term “social history”. Marc Bloch and I […] understood perfectly well that social, in particular, is one of those adjectives that has been made to say so many things in the course of time, that in the end it means almost nothing at all. However, that is exactly why we have supported it. […] We were in agreement in thinking that, precisely, a word as vague as this seemed to have been created and put on earth by a special decree of historical providence to serve as the insignia of a journal that wished not to close itself off behind a wall but to radiate widely, freely, even indiscriminately […] a spirit, its spirit […]. (Febvre 1953: 19–20; cf. Sewell 2005: 318)

Although many scholars have meticulously discussed what “social history” is, Febvre thought that the term could function well because of its very ambiguity, not its exactitude. This paper will respect that idea. Let us now consider how was the term used among Japanese historians after scholars there discovered they possessed a research trend that was a counterpart of “histoire sociale”. They began to pay attention to the concept of “social history” from the 1970s onwards, and by the 1980s, people interested in history, even those outside universities, had become aware of the term. This decade was in fact known for a boom in “social history”. In October 1982, leading social historians published a new journal called “Studies of Social History” [Shakaishi kenkynj] (to March 1988); around the same time, many history books were introduced with titles that included the term “social history”. People could easily quote the names of well-known social historians like Abe Kin’ya (professor of German Medieval Studies, 1935–2006), Amino Yoshihiko (professor of Japanese Medieval Studies, 1928–2004), and Ninomiya Hiroyuki (professor of French history, 1932–2006).3 2

The journal title was revised as follows: Annales d’histoire économique et sociale (1929–39); Annales d’histoire sociale (1939–42); Mélanges d’histoire sociale (1942–44); Annales d’histoire sociale (1945); Annales. Economies, sociétés, civilisations (1946–94); and Annales. Histoire, Sciences sociales (1994–). 3 The editorial board of the journal “Studies of Social History” originally consisted of Abe, Ninomiya and Rachi Chikara in addition to an anthropologist, Kawada

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As we shall see, while the term “social history” was very obscure in Japan, it is also true that the trend had some substance. “Social history” in Japan in the 1980s was characterized by the fact that Japanese social historians placed great emphasis on the common people in a micro-history in order to criticize the Marxist historiography (a materialistic concept of history) current at that time, which had acquired broad orthodoxy soon after World War II. 4 Compared with Marxist history writing, which emphasized the economic, especially productive, aspect of history, Japanese social historians focused on customs and law in the daily lives of the common people.5 For example, one topic social historians were eager to discuss was the various forms of human relationships in history. Despite the difference in specialties, Abe and Amino frequently held dialogues, for example, on asylums as a system for cancelling and resetting existing difficult human relationships. This suggests two similarities with the Annales School: a perspective that could easily be associated with the School’s famous discussion of “sociabilité”, and an emphasis on the world of anthropology, such as introducing anthropological jargon into historical research. At that time, historians of French history like Ninomiya and Fukui Norihiko were linked to “social history” because they were engaged in translating the discussions of the Annales School in order to introduce them to Japanese readers. Thus a natural corollary was that some researchers, who were not committed to French history, were also regarded as social historians, and were known to publish articles that Junzǀ. Amino did not participate on the board, but contributed his article to the first issue. As a result, readers were assured of Amino’s close relationship with the journal. 4 In Amino’s case, his experience of, and the failure of, Leftist political activity in the 1950s, the National History Movement (Kokuminteki rekishigaku undǀ), was also decisive in his stance as a historian. Led by Marxist historians like Ishimoda Shǀ, this movement aimed at the creative interchange between historians and people and the construction of a cultural basis of the future communist revolution. Amino was a young leader of the movement, but finally left all political activity after furious factional fighting in 1953. Afterward he had a strong distrust in authoritative Marxism and Marxist historiography. See Oguma (2002: Ch. 8). 5 The authority of Marxist history (Sengo rekishigaku) weakened after the 1960s following the failure of political activities, and several new concepts appeared to renovate authorized Marxist historiography. A famous example is “people’s history” (minshnjshi) by Irokawa Daikichi (1925–), Kano Masanao (1931–), and Yasumaru Yoshio (1934–). See Gluck (2007: especially Ch. 1–3). Social history is a last concept that appeared in the series through which historians aimed to overcome the rigidification of Marxist historiography.

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contained the term “social history” in the title. Besides the abovementioned “Studies of Social History”, Abe published Keiri no shakaishi [A Social History of Executioners] in 1978 and Amino was one of the editors of the Social History of Japan series (8 volumes, 1986–88). In addition, professors known as “social historians” held many discussions and conversations with one another, probably because publishers presented them with a number of opportunities to do so. As a result, readers in Japan tended to associate the names of these professors and researchers with “social history”. Moreover, at this time, scholars discussed the term “social history” as a concept in the methodology of historical research, and tried to make its implications clear by comparing it with contemporary research trends in countries such as France, Germany, and the United Kingdom.6 However, in many cases, the term was used rather loosely, for its definition was discussed after its instigation and frequent use. Ninomiya’s definition in 1979 is a good example of one confirming such ambiguity. During discussions on “social history” with his colleagues from among circles of historians in Europe, he stated that “[in each country] in general the concept of ‘social history’ was posed as an antithesis. This concept was originally not self-restrictive but “spilling out” [hamidashite iku]” (Shibata, Chizuka, and Ninomiya 1999: 217). Calling attention to the “social histories” of each country, he stressed their spirit of rebelliousness against a top-down narrative and a curiosity toward new approaches to history, and did not assign the term a unified conclusive definition. This idea adhered fundamentally to Febvre’s above-mentioned explanation of “social”. What kind of implications have scholars derived from such a concept when viewing the history of historiography more globally? Because the French Annales School has gained a worldwide reputation, scholars are 6

Japanese historians introduced and translated the British tradition of social history, such as the work of G. M. Trevelyan and the New Left Group. This was the case too for German and Italian research trends. Nevertheless, these introductions were not well known even within Japanese history circles in general, outside scholars studying each country’s history. I would like to question why only information about the French Annales School became widespread even though research trends in West Germany, the United Kingdom and other countries had been introduced. History circles in North America also had research trends called “social history” or “new history” (e.g. Iggers 1996). However, historians in Japan rarely mentioned these trends in their comparisons of social history in Japan and France. Probably the main reason was that American studies is a relatively new research field and scholars in it often take an independent stance as regards the community of historians.

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urged to recognize the impact of the school even outside the Francophone countries. For example, Peter Burke describes in an epilogue entitled “The Annales in Global Perspective” in The French Historical Revolution: Annales School, 1929-1989 (Burke 1990) how history circles in many countries familiarized themselves with the studies of the school. However, he gave a negative estimation of the influence of the Annales School, rather than of “social history”, in Japan. “[D]espite Bloch’s interest in Japan, and the general Japanese enthusiasm for Western intellectual trends, it is not easy to identify a study of Japanese history in the Annales tradition. A number of Japanese historians have studied at the Hautes Etudes, but they all work on the history of Europe” (Burke 1990: 99). Nevertheless, even for Japanese researchers, there is the temptation to state that social history in postwar Japan originated from a French research trend. An encyclopedia of Japanese history, written by Japanese scholars and first published in the 1980s, deals with this concept as follows: “Part of the recent academic trend was inspired by rich ideas gained through the translation and introduction of works by historians from the French Annales School. A tendency to willingly adopt the viewpoint of social history can be seen especially among some medieval historians in Japan who find similarities to their own research objectives, and many aspects of the concrete lives of non-agricultural people” (Kokushi daijiten, s.v. shakaishi [Social history]). In this entry, the phrase “some medieval historians in Japan” must include Abe and Amino, in view of the books the author of the entry lists as references. When scholars wish to state the relationship between the two “social histories”, it is safer to use the intermediary of an abstract expression like “inspired by rich ideas”, as in this case. Another work, 20-seiki Nihon no rekishigaku (Historiography in Twentieth Century Japan) by Nagahara Keiji, assesses Amino’s work as follows: “Looking at only the dates of publication, it could be seen that there was an [approximately] ten-year delay after social history was introduced by the professors of so-called Western history, before it attracted a great deal of attention in academic and journalistic circles. Yet, this is not necessarily the fact. […] Without doubt, the social history studied by Amino gradually produced fruit as the 1970s started” (Nagahara 2003: 221–222). This suggests the independence of Amino’s social history from Western research trends, but a later passage implies quite the contrary. “By my guess, when Amino constructed his social history of the Japanese Middle Ages, especially in the late 1980s, one of his guidelines might well have been Fernand Braudel’s Civilisation matérielle, économie et capitalisme: XVe̻ࣟࣟXVIIIe siècle. [It was originally

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published in 1979 and translated into Japanese 1985–99.] Many of the topics which he has dealt with are common to what Braudel discussed in that book” (Nagahara 2003: 231). Though Nagahara seems to have recognized Amino’s autonomy in the 1970s (“the social history studied by Amino gradually produced fruit as the 1970s started”), he “guessed” that by the late 1980s Braudel had had a direct influence on him. Although Nagahara carefully described the relevance between the social history written by Amino and the French, the book A Global History of Modern Historiography (Iggers and Wang 2008) embraced only Nagahara’s latter observation. “[N]ot only were the works of Lucien Febvre and Marc Bloch translated into Japanese, but Fernand Braudel’s monumental Civilisation matérielle, économie et capitalism: XVe̻ࣟࣟXVIIIe siècle also appeared in Japanese between 1985–99, inspiring Amino Yoshihiko (1928–) [sic], one of the most prolific historians in contemporary Japan, to produce, among other works, his Nihon chnjsei no hi nǀgyǀmin to tennǀ (Emperor and NonPeasants in Medieval Japan), a landmark study of medieval Japanese society” (Iggers and Wang 2008: 331–332). The book by Amino mentioned here was published in 1984, before the translation of the Braudel work became available, so Iggers and Wang have mistakenly overvalued Braudel’s impact on the historian. As this example shows, scholars seem compelled to describe the concept of “social history” in Japan as having a determinant relationship with French social history. The temptation is particularly strong when they analyze and construct the history of historiography globally or synchronically.

Are They Not Social Historians? Certain famous Japanese “social historians”, such as Abe and Amino, avoided being connected with the Annales School or the French style of “social history”. We will not deal here with Japanese professors of French history, like Ninomiya, since they did not mind their work being compared with contemporary French research trends. Some might certainly have absorbed the work of the Annales School and introduced its ideas to Japanese readers after reading not only the translations but also the original texts and old documents. How though did Abe and Amino, who were not originally linked to the School, feel about such hasty comparison? While both Abe and Amino tolerated the “social historian” label, as seen above, they sometimes expressed an unmistakable feeling of embarrassment. In 1985, Abe wrote:

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Twenty years have passed since I started my research into social history. All I did was to seek my ideal methodology for historical research, but I now hear various voices from others. Although I have not recently read the works of the Annales School, there are times when I might have been called an introducer of that school. (Abe 1985: 244)

Abe called his research method “social history” and defined the term in his own way. To him, “social history” entails research into human “relationships mediated by things, or those tied with invisible emotional bonds [kizuna]” (Abe 2007: 109). In this regard, he separated “social history” from the Annales School, and so felt awkward when others wanted to link him to that school and not to “social history”. Amino, by contrast, felt that both “social history” and the Annales School were equally strange and imposed from outside his academic career and so expressed his discomfort: If I consider I might have worked conscious of “social history”, I feel a nagging sense of strangeness. This is the reason why another question remains to be asked: whether I could adequately demonstrate all my feelings only by declaring that what I have done is “social history”. (Amino and Abe 1994: 276–277)

Furthermore, in later years, his denial came to be stated more clearly and directly. I have not read [the books of the Annales School] at all. This is why I was so embarrassed when others mentioned the similarity [of my work] with [that of] the Annales School or called my style social history. This is completely contrary to the truth. […] I have not received any direct influence because in the first place I cannot read French. (Amino and Oguma 2008: 189–190) And I have never claimed [the term] “social history” for myself. It is a fact that Mr. Abe Kin’ya emphasized this term, and I guess that interviews with him made people believe the same applied to me. I still feel that the boom of social history in Japan was an invented image to a large extent. (Amino and Oguma 2008: 190)

A further source (Ochi 2009) presents a similar response by Amino to the same question. We need to pay attention to Nagahara’s statement, mentioned in the previous section, that Amino seemed to have consulted Braudel’s book. Nagahara was one of Amino’s rivals, and the information appears in a context where Nagahara seems to be pointing out Amino’s possible faults.

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In reality, Amino told a friend (Professor Katsumata) that Nagahara’s book (Nagahara 2003) is “full of slander [directed] at me” (Kasamatsu and Katsumata 2007: 7). In fact, Nagahara’s comment cannot be more than a “guess”. Amino did work as one of the review authors of Braudel’s La Méditerranée et le monde méditerranéen à l’époque de Philippe II, for he “could not refuse the persistent entreaty by Mr. Fujiwara Yoshio [the actual editor] in spite of [his] firm rejection” (Amino 1999: 74); however, I am still unable to find an instance of Amino’s referring to Civilisation matérielle, économie et capitalisme. In reality, Amino read many more books outside Japanese history than might be expected. He described as exceptional a number that were translated from French into Japanese, for instance, Paul Vidal de la Blache’s Principes de géographie humaine (1922; translated in 1940), Febvre’s La terre et l’évolution humaine (1922; translated in 1941 and 1972), and Bloch’s Les caractères originaux de l’histoire rurale française (1931; translated in 1959) (Amino and Oguma 2008: 189–190; Amino 1999: 74). Furthermore, he once referred to Numa Denis Fustel de Coulanges’s La cité antique (1864; translated into Japanese in 1969) in a note in Muen, kugai, raku (Amino 1996: 322). We therefore cannot assume he was never interested in works from French history circles. Does that mean though that he is a social historian or that he was a Japanese epigone of the Annales School? The latter would be quite far-fetched. Let us try to understand Abe and Amino’s claims not just by collecting circumstantial evidence about them, but also considering their own explanations. Abe stated that “All I did was to seek my ideal methodology for historical research” (Abe 1985: 244), and both he and Amino felt that being compared to the Annales School or social history was odd for them in the context of what they had done. It was difficult for them to acknowledge that their research had developed in its own context, particularly when others highlighted references to French trends. While these two “social historians” denied that their research styles had originated in France, they each attempted to position them in a broader context and in a different way. In some books, such as Jibun no naka ni rekishi o yomu (History as a Dialogue with Oneself, Abe 2007), Abe claimed that his own “social history” was firmly based on his personal activities. After describing some individual experiences that continued to motivate his studies about the German Middle Ages, he wrote that he began to construct his methodology of a “new social history” in order to make clear “the origin of the modes of human relationships and their changes” during his residence in Germany (Abe 2007: 104). By adding the adjective “new”, he differentiated his own methodology from the social

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history of the French school, which was never mentioned in the book. Since the book was first published in 1988, he focused on his new research project, the modes of human relationships in Japanese society, later called sekenron [theory of social life] (e.g. Abe 1995). This meant that he achieved an independent methodology, by identifying his own style, different from foreign trends.7 Amino looked for similarities to, or the origins of, his interests in twentieth century Japanese historiography, even prior to the “social history” boom of the 1980s. He sometimes found similarities in historical studies in Japan; thus, he stated that “Japanese history has a tradition of ‘social history’ that dates quite far back and also researchers who worked in a style like ‘social history’, though without saying it clearly” (Amino and Abe 1994: 274). From the 1990s onward, he sought his own roots and placed himself within postwar Japanese historiography. He explained that an “interest in folklore” and an “interest in the discriminated, women or children” formed an “academic current that was frequently called ‘social history’” and that “in such circumstances, even I, who had read few works of the Annales School, was regarded as a member of ‘social history’” (Amino 2000: 98). A further point that should be made is that the concept of “social history” has a historical continuity in Japan too. As Amino often pointed out, some historians used this term around the time of the birth of the Annales school, or the same time as the interaction between Bloch and Febvre (cf. Kokushi daijiten, s.v. “Shakaishi”). In fact, I found a mention of this term dating from 1895 by the economist and historian Taguchi Ukichi (Taguchi 1895: 40). Of course, it was in a different context from the social history of the 1920s or 1980s and further research is required concerning what Taguchi wanted to express by the term at that time. It implies however the possibility that the concept existed discontinuously from before the beginning of twentieth-century Japan. Although I need to analyze the content of each usage further, Japanese historians may unconsciously have used this concept regularly when they wished to comprehend history more totally or to focus on a new field. The

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Abe is a professor of German Medieval History, so must have been familiar with contemporary research trends in West Germany. He conducted research in Göttingen for two years from 1969 and formed a friendship with Helman Heimpel (1901–1988). However, information about Abe is still very limited, compared with Amino, about whom so many contemporary witnesses wrote. What I can write at present is just that Abe did not seem willing to introduce West German historical trends to Japan and that people in the 1970s and 1980s did not expect him to do so.

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synchronic perspective to the history of historiography raised in the previous section would neglect this possibility. While the synchronic view of the concept of “social history” suggests its global character, a diachronic one highlights its indigeneity, or the individuality of each “social historian”. My question is why were the “social historians” dealt with as a part of a larger trend, despite their insistence on the contrary? Of course, the disregarding of their feelings would not be considered a problem in many ordinary empirical analyses. However, Abe’s statement that “All I did was to seek my ideal methodology for historical research” must be an expression of his own actual feeling, not a lie. Other than the synchronic or diachronic, is there any other way to view the same situation, or is there a narrative of “social history” that Abe and Amino could accept? It should be macroscopic and global but should allow us to appreciate each historian’s autonomy and encourage us to inquire into each individual style, not simply follow the latest trends.

Social Histories as a Synchronization and Unearthing From the arguments mentioned in the previous section, it is not right to conclude that “social history” in Japan was completely autonomous of any French trend. If it was, we would be unable to determine why the Annales School and the French concept of “social history” suddenly received increased attention from Japanese readers. We have to search for a model that satisfies both synchronic and diachronic viewpoints after considering what type of trend “social history” created for Japanese history circles. First, we cannot say that France was responsible for the new trend in Japan. With regard to Japanese historians of French history like Ninomiya, it is possible to discuss how they created their own research styles after studying the works of the Annales School or contributed something new to studies on the School to Japanese readers. However, for Abe and Amino, the French style of social history was far from their own research. Their books and papers do not include enough citations of, or references to, French historical works to allow us to determine what level of influence it might have had. Both, particularly Amino, might actually have read a great many books, including works by the Annales figures. This does not imply however that their uniqueness originated in their reading of French works. Neither Abe nor Amino identified themselves with the French trend, Abe explaining his own research style using his personal life history and Amino putting himself in the same shoes as the postwar historians in Japan.

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Yet it is true that “social history” was a great stimulus for marketing by publishers in Japan in the 1980s. People in the mass media attempted to create a blueprint that linked the Japanese “social historians” to French “social history”, like the case where Amino was forced to write an article on Braudel’s books about the Mediterranean Sea. The more they received such publication projects, the more people thought of them as “social historians”. As Amino stated, the “social history” image given to them and its boom were actually commercially driven to a significant extent. Also in the background was the earnest interaction by Japanese historians with historians in foreign countries at the same time attention was being given to French “social history”. Japanese historians returned to the international stage in the 1950s, and by the 1980s, private academic institutes such as the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science and the Institut de Recherche de la Maison Franco-Japonaise were eager to invite foreign researchers to Japan, which resulted in a third form of international academic exchange following the trade of books and survey visits. Under such circumstances, Japanese readers and publishers found Abe and Amino to be the “social historian” equivalents of the French trend in spite of the independence of their research activities. The researchers who could have been termed “social historians” actually became them. Although they went with the name despite embarrassment, they asserted their independence especially when they felt that it had created a bias toward them or interrupted the development of their research. Nevertheless, the recognition that they might be social historians remained. As a consequence, the attention to “social history” seemed to be regarded as if the French trend had generated it. This “synchronization” could mislead a later observer into feeling that there was a causal connection between the communities of historians in the two countries, or tempt the observer into dealing with social history as one global trend. Using the word “synchronization”, and neither “influence” nor “inspiration”, what I would like to express is this: when there are two communities loosely connected to the extent that one only slightly or partly knows the other, people will observe similar trends in both, creating some relevance, including an influential relationship, after they have been mediated by a term described by multiple features rather than by sole definition. Often the central players would plead against such a discourse, feeling that it neglects the intrinsic context of the situation. In such an event, we should not suppose any direct relationship but should assume a synchronization of timing. In the case of “social history” in Japan, although Abe and Amino were certainly familiar with the works of the Annales School to some extent, it is not reasonable to say that their

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reading of them was one of the sources of their creativity or to claim any direct relevance. Even if we state that Japanese social historians were “inspired” by French research trends, the basic outline would continue to be misleading. The possible essence is not “social history” itself, but a curiosity about the outside world or a search for an ideal methodology. Conversely, we always need the imagination to consider if, in fact, a cultural influence might turn out to be this type of “synchronization”. External events always exist for any specialist, and the most stoic specialists glance outside their fields even though they typically only conduct research within their own. If you can imagine the way in which some external noise is amplified by chance, another metaphor—“cultural resonance”—is applicable. Here, I refer to the theory of “cultural resonance”, which was presented by an area studies scholar named Yano Tǀru (1980) to analyze South East Asian societies. According to him, “cultural resonance” implies “sympathizing with the value judgments of each other [and with] similar cultural elements among different cultural systems”, but he stresses that these elements are not necessarily the same or homogeneous (Yano 1980: 85–86). Yano explains that political motifs such as “revolution” and “socialism” were imported and accepted in a completely dissimilar form to that of the original, after the motif resonated with a different political culture in the society in South East Asia. In particular, he pointed out that in this process of acceptance, “unearthing” (horiokoshi) takes place. The phrase “unearthing” implies “a phase where the foreign cultural element educes the similar equivalence from an indigenous cultural stock as authenticity or canon” (Yano 1980: 95). Basically, his theory explains an event where the import of a foreign idea leads to an unexpected consequence, but the object of the synchronization is where elements that are very similar create a “cultural resonance”. Here in particular, the “unearthing” is full of tension. At first both Abe and Amino tolerated having their names linked to the Annales School or “social history” and their academic conversations exhibited this, but they finally sought to describe the roots of their research from a domestic or personal context. This led to Abe advancing to his next research project, the modes of human relationships in Japanese society, as we have seen above. This fact indicates that various contexts can be the object of a “unearthing”, and that “unearthing” itself can help a scholar discover new creativity. The models mentioned in this section are widely applicable not only to historical studies or political ideas but to any cultural phenomenon in general, because in cultural events it is rare for the uniformity of a name to imply the perfect sameness of its content. With regard to “social history”

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in Japan, each professor envisaged his/her own image of “social history”. Therefore, the concept may easily become a platform for “cultural resonance”, simply because of the very ambiguity of its content.

Conclusion With regard to the observation of cultural phenomena such as the “social histories” of both France and Japan, we have found there to be a danger in presupposing the diffusion model, as if a cultural phenomenon or idea moves from here to there. This model would be misleading in that it would neglect each actor’s creativity or innovation. This is because everyone receives a cultural item in different ways, and so even naming it is difficult. This is completely different from the case of a person or thing moving from here to there. For a case study of the concept of “social history” in Japan, the model of synchronization accompanied by unearthing is more suitable. Moreover, two trends linked by a term without a single definition but with multiple characteristics were often narrated with a causal sequence, or with its moderated version. The post-hoc observation of the situation makes it appear as if something ideological moved from France to Japan or as if there was some association between the two. Further, especially in this case, it is doubtful that a discussion about French history will directly affect one on Japanese or German history, constructed after reading documents written in the native medieval language. The assigning of the name “social history” only followed the proactive endeavors of each historian; so, if you reduce all the various activities and achievements down to one name, historians will always feel strange and embarrassed. This can be termed “naming harassment”. In fact, the same event can also possibly be explained from a domestic or personal context. This paper has sometimes focused on the relationship between France and Japan, but not precisely. Professors in the community of French historians may have a more united and clearer image and definition of “social history”, regardless of their being French or Japanese. This is why this paper has not fully analyzed the work of Japanese historians on French history, but only those engaged in German and Japanese history. In this sense, it is not enough to make an analysis only on the basis of the historian’s nationality. The same structure shown in this paper exists even after downsizing to a personal level. When then will “social history” become global? The answer is it will happen only when someone post hoc observes the situation as it is static. If you analyze “social history” as if it is far in the past, you may find its

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global character. However, if you respect each historian’s self-directive activity, it is impossible to consider if the activity is global, or even local; it should be individual. An ambiguous term invokes our imagination and, hence, will be used more frequently. Further, the more frequently people use a term, the more ambiguous it will become and the more meanings it will accrue, unless its users are firmly aware of its definition, like scholars. Therefore, many such examples exist everywhere in the world. What then exactly is the community that is formed around such ambiguous terms? For instance, there are a great many historians, scientists, and scholars in the world and some of them often gather internationally. All the same, they do not all necessarily follow the same definition of “what history (science or research) is”. This being so, can they still say, “I am a historian (scientist or scholar)”?

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References Abe Kin’ya. Keiri no shakaishi: Chnjsei Yǀroppa no shomin seikatsu ฮྣ ࡢ ♫ ఍ ྐ ʊ ୰ ୡ ࣚ ࣮ ࣟ ࢵ ࣃ ࡢ ᗢ Ẹ ⏕ ά (Social History of Executioners: Ordinary People’s Lives in Medieval Europe). Tokyo: Chnjǀ kǀron shinsha, 1978. —. Rekishi to jojutsu: Shakaishi e no michi Ṕྐ࡜ླྀ㏙ʊ♫఍ྐ࡬ࡢ㐨 (History and Narration: Way to Social History). Kyoto: Jimbun shoin, 1985. —. “Seken” to wa nanika ࠕୡ㛫ࠖ࡜ࡣఱ࠿ (What is ‘Social Life’). Tokyo: Kǀdansha, 1995. —. Jibun no naka ni rekishi o yomu ⮬ศࡢ࡞࠿࡟Ṕྐࢆࡼࡴ (History as a Dialogue with Oneself). Tokyo: Chikuma shobǀ, 2007 (originally published in 1988). Amino Yoshihiko. Zǀho muen, kugai, raku: Nihon chnjsei no jiynj to heiwa ቑ ⿵↓ ⦕࣭බ ⏺࣭ ᴦ ʊ᪥ ᮏ୰ ୡࡢ⮬ ⏤࡜ ᖹ࿴ (Muen, Kugai, Raku: Freedom and Peace in Medieval Japan). Expanded version. Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1996. —. “Atarashii jinruishi e to izanau sho: “Chichnjkai” ni furete” ᪂ࡋ࠸ே 㢮ྐ࡬࡜ㄏ࠺᭩ʊࠗᆅ୰ᾏ࠘࡟ゐࢀ࡚ (Invitation to a New Human History). In “Chichnjkai” o yomu ࠗᆅ୰ᾏ࠘ࢆㄞࡴ (Reading “The Mediterranean”), ed. Fujiwara shoten henshnjbu, pp. 74–80. Tokyo: Fujiwara shoten, 1999. —. “Sengo rekishigaku kara mananda koto: Tsnjshi Nihon shakai no rekishi kankǀ o ki ni” ᡓᚋṔྐᏛ࠿ࡽᏛࢇࡔࡇ࡜ʊ㏻ྐࠗ᪥ᮏ♫ ఍ ࡢ Ṕ ྐ ࠘ ห ⾜ ࢆ ᶵ ࡟ (What We Have Learned from Postwar Historiography. On the Occasion of the Publication of the Comprehensive History of Japanese Society). In Rekishi to deau Ṕྐ ࡜ฟ఍࠺ (Meetings with History). Tokyo: Yǀsensha, 2000 (originally published in 1998 as Amino Yoshihiko no sekai ⥙㔝ၿᙪࡢୡ⏺ [The World of Amino Yoshihiko]). Amino Yoshiko and Abe Kin’ya. Taidan chnjsei no saihakken: ichi, zǀyo, enkai ᑐㄯ୰ୡࡢ෌Ⓨぢʊᕷ࣭㉗୚࣭ᐗ఍ (Conversation: The Rediscovery of the Middle Ages: Marketplaces, Gifts, and Banquets). Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1994 (originally published in 1982). Amino Yoshihiko and Oguma Eiji. “Jinruishiteki tenkanten ni okeru rekishigaku to Nihon” ே 㢮 ྐ ⓗ ㌿ ᥮ Ⅼ ࡟ ࠾ ࡅ ࡿ Ṕ ྐ Ꮫ ࡜ ᪥ ᮏ (History and Japan in a Tranformative Period of Humankind). In “Nihon” o megutte: Amino Yoshihiko taidanshnj ࠕ᪥ᮏࠖࢆࡵࡄࡗ࡚

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ʊ⥙㔝ၿᙪᑐㄯ㞟 (About Japan, A Collection of Conversations with Amino Yoshihiko), pp. 149–241. Tokyo: Yǀsensha, 2008 (originally published in 2001). Burke, Peter. The French Historical Revolution: Annales School, 19291989. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1990. Gluck, Carol. Rekishi de kangaeru Ṕ ྐ ࡛ ⪃ ࠼ ࡿ (Thinking about history). Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 2006. Febvre, Lucien. Combats pour l’histoire. Paris: Librairie Armand Colin, 1953. Iggers, Georg G. Yǀroppa rekishigaku no shinchǀrynj ࣮ࣚࣟࢵࣃṔྐᏛ ࡢ ᪂ ₻ ὶ (New Directions in European Historiography). Trans. Nakamura Mikio, Suekawa Kiyoshi, Suzuki Toshiaki and Taniguchi Kenji. Kyoto: Kǀyǀ shobǀ, 1986 (originally published in 1975). —. 20-seiki no rekishigaku 㸰㸮ୡ⣖ࡢṔྐᏛ (Historiography in the Twentieth Century). Trans. Hayashima Akira. Kyoto: Kǀyǀ shobǀ, 1996 (originally published in 1993 in German). Iggers, Georg G., and Wang, Edward Q. with contributions from Supriya Mukherjee. A Global History of Modern Historiography. Harlow: Pearson Longman, 2008. Kasamatsu Hiroshi and Katsumata Shizuo. “Amino Yoshihiko san no omoide” ⥙㔝ၿᙪࡉࢇࡢᛮ࠸ฟ (Memories of Amino Yoshihiko). Tosho 698 (May 2007): 2–11. Kokushi Daijiten (Encyclopedia of National History). 1986. Tokyo: Yoshikawa kǀbunkan. Nagahara Keiji. 20-seiki nihon no rekishigaku 㸰㸮ୡ⣖᪥ᮏࡢṔྐᏛ (Historiography in Twentieth Century Japan). Tokyo: Yoshikawa kǀbunkan, 2003. Ochi Shin’ya. “’Shiryǀgaku’ to iu ba” ࠕ㈨ᩱᏛࠖ࡜࠸࠺ሙ (The Field of’Material Studies’). In Umi to hinǀgyǀmin: Amino Yoshihiko no gakumonteki kiseki o tadoru ᾏ࡜㠀㎰ᴗẸʊ⥙㔝ၿᙪࡢᏛၥⓗ㌶㊧ ࢆࡓ࡝ࡿ (The Sea and Non-Agricultural People: Following in the Footsteps of Amino Yoshihiko’s Scholarship), ed. Kanagawa daigaku jǀmin bunka kenkynjjo, pp. 241–251. Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 2009. Oguma Eiji. “Minshu” to “aikoku”: sengo nihon no nasshonarizumu to kǀkyǀsei ࠕẸ୺ࠖ࡜ࠕឡᅜࠖʊᡓᚋ᪥ᮏࡢࢼࢩࣙࢼࣜࢬ࣒࡜බ ඹ ᛶ (Democracy and Patriotism: Nationalism and Community in Postwar Japan). Tokyo: Shin’yǀsha, 2002. Sewell, William H., Jr. Logics of History: Social Theory and Social Transformation. University of Chicago Press, 2005.

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Shibata Michio, Chizuka Tadami, and Ninomiya Hiroyuki. “Shakaishi” o kangaeru” ࠕ♫఍ྐࠖࢆ⪃࠼ࡿ (Thinking about “Social History). In Rekishi, Bunka, Hyǀshǀ Ṕ ྐ ࣭ ᩥ ໬ ࣭ ⾲ ㇟ (History, Culture, Representation), ed. Ninomiya Hiroyuki, pp. 209–253. Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 1999 (originally published in 1979). Taguchi Ukichi. “Rekishi wa kagaku ni arazu” Ṕ ྐ ࡣ ⛉ Ꮫ ࡟ 㠀 ࡎ (History is not Science). In Taiyǀ 1, no. 11 (November 1895): 37–42 (2041–2046). Yano Tǀru. “Bunkateki kyǀmei” no riron ࠕ ᩥ ໬ ⓗ ඹ 㬆 ࠖ ࡢ ⌮ ㄽ (Theory of “Cultural Resonance”). In Tǀnan Ajia sekai no ronri ᮾ༡ ࢔ࢪ࢔ୡ⏺ࡢㄽ⌮ (Logic in the East Asian World), 82–130. Tokyo: Chnjǀ kǀronsha, 1980.

CHAPTER NINE PROSTITUTES, BROTHELS AND THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT: THE MANAGEMENT OF PROSTITUTION IN THE CITY OF HANOI FROM THE 1870S TO THE 1950S ISABELLE TRACOL-HUYNH

The management of prostitution in Hanoi is at the crossroads between global and local history. Geographically far from the metropole, Vietnam was nevertheless included in the general regulatory system set up in France and in the overseas French colonies. Ideas, medical innovations and even people went back and forth between France, the Maghreb and Indochina, and within Indochina itself (Tonkin-Cochinchina 1 , HanoiSaigon). The French general regulations were adapted to the local context in Tonkin and Hanoi in particular. Although prostitution occurred in many cities in Tonkin, such as Haiphong, Nam Dinh, Sontay or Langson etc., Hanoi is the most interesting case study for several reasons. Regulation was a concern since the very beginning of the Hanoi municipality until the very end of the colonization. The two instruments of the French regulationist system, the vice squad and the municipal dispensary, were set up in the late 1880s. Physicians, police and administrators tried to get control over the prostitution world because Hanoi had an important European population and European garrison. Finally, Hanoi was the seat of several administrations as well as medical associations such as the Medical 1

From 1863 until 1954, Vietnam did not exist as a country. It was divided into two protectorates, Tonkin (North) and Annam (centre), and one colony, Cochinchina (South). Those three entities were part of French Indochina along with modern day Cambodia and Laos.

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Society of Indochina and the Prophylactic League. For all these reasons, there is an important set of archives about prostitution in this city. Since prostitution was an urban phenomenon and the regulation of prostitution a municipal duty, this paper shall study the main provisions of the regulations in Hanoi, and then analyze the local adaptations of the French regulatory system by using colonial archives2 such as police and medical reports as well as juridical texts.

Prostitution in Hanoi Hanoi was the one of the most important cities in French Indochina, along with Saigon in the south and Haiphong in the north. It was the starting point of the French colonization of Tonkin, the northern part of Vietnam, both in 1873 and in 1882. This city was important on several levels: economically, it was the door to the Red River delta and to China; demographically, Hanoi was one of the oldest cities of Tonkin and the most populated one; and politically, Hanoi had been the capital of Vietnam, therefore, its domination was symbolically important. During the colonial period, Hanoi became even more important because the French decided to make Hanoi their capital. Hanoi was a multi-scale capital: it was 1) a municipality; 2) the capital of the Résidence Supérieure du Tonkin (government of Tonkin), in other words the capital of the whole Tonkin protectorate; and 3) the capital of French Indochina which included Vietnam, Lao and Cambodia. Because of its political importance, Hanoi had to be the perfect colonial city and an example of colonial success. Colonial authorities used several tools such as architecture, hygiene, the sciences and education to control the population by setting up a process of dressage [breaking in] of souls and bodies (Saada 2007, 79), which included the regulation of prostitution. Prostitution was not a colonial invention. The codes promulgated by Vietnamese emperors raised this issue, though not without ambiguity. Article 332 of the Gia Long code, which dates to 1812, seemingly bans prostitution, yet articles 338 and 340 refer to prostitutes as a socioprofessional category. In his comments on the Vietnamese legislation, Philastre summarized the problem by saying that “legislators condemned 2

In Vietnam: Trung Tâm Lѭu Trӳ Quӕc Gia 1 [Vietnam National Archives 1] (hereafter VNA1) in Hanoi and Trung Tâm Lѭu Trӳ Quӕc Gia 2 [Vietnam National Archives 2] (hereafter VNA2) in Ho Chi Minh City. In France: Archives Nationales d’Outre-Mer [National Overseas Archives] (hereafter ANOM), formerly known as the Centre des Archives d’Outre-Mer (CAOM), Aix-enProvence.

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the principle but did not try to punish the fact itself, because they may have considered that to be impossible” (1909, 548). The jewel of Vietnamese literature, Kim vân Ki͉u (The Tale of Kieu), describes “women with torn wombs” and “green-coloured houses” well before French colonization3 (Nguyên Du 1961, 46 and 71). Prostitution has a long history, of which the colonial period is an important moment because it was then that prostitution became institutionalized by way of health and police regulations. Prostitution acquired, for the same reasons as other social phenomena, increased visibility when a modern administration with its regulations and instruments of control was established. The set up of the administration was early in Hanoi as well as the regulation system with its instruments. The change was not only institutional, for the great visibility of prostitution came in large part due to the economic and social changes that took place in the colonial period. Urbanization was on the rise throughout this period, and it was the cause and consequence of a migratory movement that impelled many young women, most of whom had no education whatsoever, to leave the countryside and try their luck in the city. Life in the city was reputed to be easier than in the countryside, and working as a prostitute appeared to be more lucrative than staying and working in the rice paddies. Thӏ TuyӃn, a young 15-year-old prostitute, left her village for Hanoi “because [she had] heard that you could live easily in Hanoi without working too much.”4 Prostitution was an essentially urban phenomenon, and in the colonial period in Tonkin, the growth of prostitution and the progression of urbanization followed the same rhythm.5 The cities were synonymous with important clientele, but also— and indeed above all—with anonymity. Young women came to the city to get married or find better work, following the advice of family members, friends, or sometimes other people they met on the way—people who were often recruiters working for the proprietresses of both authorized and clandestine brothels. A recruiter reported: “My proprietress told me that if I by chance meet any women who want to go into prostitution, then I 3

The author, Nguyên Du (1766–1820) is a celebrated Vietnamese. This epic poem, considered the greatest masterpiece of Vietnamese literature, has a prostitute as its heroine. 4 “Procès-verbal du commissaire de police de Haiphong, 22 mai 1925”, Tribunal de Haiphong [Court of Haiphong], file No 1831 Délits d’excitation de mineure à la débauche commis par Nguyen Thi Hai, Nguyen Thi Thuan… à Haiphong (1925), VNA1. 5 Prostitution existed in the countryside too but it did not have the same importance and visibility as it did in the cities.

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should bring them to her, and it’s because of this request that I, when I have the time, head onto the boats to recruit the young women arriving from the countryside.”6 Whether voluntary or not, these women greatly increased the ranks of prostitutes, especially as there was a growing demand. Soldiers were an important part of the clientele of Hanoi prostitutes and brothels (Tracol 2005, 19-29):

Figure 1. Patrons of the Hanoi official brothels in 1930 (Joyeux 1930, 453-675)

Hanoi was an important place militarily 7 because it was the capital of Tonkin and of Indochina and also because of the close proximity of China. The presence of rebels in the Black River area and in the mountains explains the necessity of the presence of considerable numbers of troops in the city. Nationalism was quite advanced in Tonkin and soldiers were used as a tool to maintain the colonial order. Soldiers may be the traditional clientele of prostitutes but they were not their only clients. There was a growing demand also from the civilian side, because the development of a Vietnamese middle class resulted in “an explosion of pleasure-seeking” and an increase in both the forms and sites of pleasure (Nguyên Van Ky 1992, 637). The “green-coloured houses” of KiӅu’s time were not the only prostitution places during the colonial period: songstress houses, furnished accommodations, rendez-vous houses and dance halls thrived in colonial Hanoi (Trӑng Lang 1938). Although morally condemned, prostitution was tolerated and supervised by the French colonial authorities, who had demonstrated a 6 “Interrogatoire par le commissaire de Ng thi Do, n°439, 1er juin 1914”, Tribunal de Haiphong, file No 677 Délit de mise en gage de mineur et d’excitation de mineure à la débauche (1914), VNA1. 7 The Citadel of Hanoi shows the importance of the army in the city. See figures 3 and 4.

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concern for public order and public hygiene from the outset of colonization.

The regulation of prostitution France was known for its regulatory policy, both at home (Corbin 1990) and in its colonies (Taraud 2003). As the colonial conquest progressed and the European population increased, the regulations on prostitution were exported to Vietnam with few modifications (Rodriguez 2001). The French protectorate over Tonkin was officially created in 1885. The same year, the Military Commandment and the Military Health Services laid the foundations of the first prophylactic campaign. The French military authorities were concerned about the physical health of the troops and about the conservation of manpower, since the tropical climate had already reduced the numbers of soldiers. The first civil regulation regarding prostitution was adopted in 1886 in Haiphong, the largest harbour in Tonkin for both civilians and soldiers,8 and in 1888 in Hanoi when the city became a French municipality.9 Since 1800, municipalities had to control prostitution in French cities and it was the same in the colonies: in 1888. After 1888, Hanoi Mayors took several decrees to improve the regulation of prostitution and prostitution was still regulated in the 1950s.10 In 1949, Hanoi municipality became Vietnamese but the regulation of prostitution was still in order (Vann 1999, 302). A directive of the Bao Dai government reminded the governors of north, centre and south Vietnam that they should enforce the regulation of prostitution in order to fight the venereal danger.11 Colonial administrators based the regulatory framework on the regulatory model established in France and other parts of the French colonial empire, notably the French North Africa12. These first regulations were accompanied by the creation of vice squad among the police, an indispensable tool for establishing a regulatory system along French lines, 8

Decree of the General Resident of Annam and Tonkin, April 28, 1886. Decree of the Resident-Mayor of Hanoi, December 21, 1888. 10 September 9, 1906, December 16, 1907, May 18, 1915, and February 3,1921. This last decree applied in the whole Tonkin. This decree was the last one even though projects were made in 1936 and 1938. They never succeeded. 11 “Secrétaire d’Etat à l’Intérieur aux gouverneurs régionaux du nord, centre sud Viêt-Nam, 14 août 1953”, Mairie de Hanoi, après 1945, D638, file No 294, Bài trͳ n̩n mãi dâm - Quy chê nhà chͱa (1948-1953), VNA1. 12 While working on the 1921 regulation project, the colonial authorities studied the new Casablanca regulation (Joyeux 1930). 9

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given the fact that vice squad agents were charged with monitoring the entirety of the prostitution process. This supervision began by entering prostitutes into a special register of the vice squad. This process was called the mise en carte, or “carding”, because upon being registered, the prostitute received an individualized card containing her photograph and description. The prostitute was required to present this card whenever police asked for it, as well as at each medical visit. During her registration, she was to provide as much information as possible: her name, of course, but also her age, place of birth, the address of her most recent home, and the address where she intended to practice her profession, whether it be the address of a brothel or the address of her own home. Medical visits were the second dimension of the regulation of prostitution and the registered prostitutes, also called filles soumises [submissive women], were to be examined every week at the municipal dispensary.13 The primary role of the vice squad was to identify and register all prostitutes and to make them visible to the eyes of the authorities, but most of the prostitutes did not want to register with the police and to be medically examined, so they did everything they could to avoid the regulation. The prostitutes who refused to register were called insoumises, in contrast to the filles soumises, or clandestines because they worked underground and in unauthorized brothels.

Figure 2. Annual activities of the vice squad in Hanoi14 13 14

Decree of the Resident Superior in Tonkin, February 3, 1921. Source: annual reports of the municipal Bureau of Hygiene.

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The numbers of clandestine prostitutes used in the above diagram are far lower than the actual number, because they only refer to those the police were able to arrest, and they could by no means arrest them all: We can say that there are more than 2,000 prostitutes in Hanoi [in 1915]. Among them, only 909 are registered and among those 909 girls, only 82 are regularly examined at the dispensary. The surveillance, which is made by only one official of the vice squad, is highly inadequate because only a few prostitutes are controlled: 82 prostitutes are examined but only about 40 undertake a regular medical examination.15

In 1937, Dr. Joyeux, the Director of the Hanoi Hygiene Bureau and therefore in charge of the municipal dispensary, estimated their number from between 5,000 and 6,000. He also wrote that the police officially asserted that there were far more than 3,000 clandestine prostitutes in the city. Unfortunately, he did not explain the methodology he used to quantify clandestine prostitution (Joyeux 1937, 460). Other prostitutes registered at first but then did not show up for the medical examination and were therefore called en fuite [in flight]: in 1930, there were 194 registered Vietnamese prostitutes in Hanoi and 293 “in flight” prostitutes.16 In 1930, the Health Director in Tonkin sadly observed that the police controlled only 5% of the prostitutes and that 95 % of the Hanoi prostitutes were clandestine.17 Prostitutes were able to hide themselves from the vice squad which had, at most, ten policemen to monitor all the Hanoi prostitutes. 18 The director of the Municipal Hygiene Service of Hanoi made a note of this state of affairs: “A carded woman in Hanoi, knowing that she won’t be able to avoid entering the dispensary, goes away, for example, to a female guardian in Haiphong […] Sometimes, for the very same reason, a woman escapes to… a nearby house, which is a clandestine brothel or a furnished

15

“Directeur de l’école de médecine de l’Indochine au Président de la commission municipale, 25 mars 1915”, Mairie de Hanoi [Hanoi municipal records], file No 2585 Correspondances relatives à la prostitution à Hanoi (1915-1916), VNA1. 16 “Rapport du Dr Joyeux, directeur du service municipal d’hygiène de Hanoi”, Mairie de Hanoi, S03, file No 5754 Rapport annuel sur le fonctionnement du service municipal d’hygiène de Hanoi en 1930, VNA1. 17 “Directeur de la Santé au Résident Supérieur au Tonkin, 18 novembre 1930”, RSTNF [Records of the Residence Superior in Tonkin], file No 003856 Prophylaxie des maladies vénériennes (1917-1940), ANOM. 18 “Rapport annuel sur le fonctionnement du service municipal d’hygiène, année 1942”, Mairie de Hanoi, S03, file No 5769, VNA1..

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accommodation.” 19 Those prostitutes designated as sick during the examination were consigned to the dispensary or sometimes to the hospital, a situation they were especially afraid of. This fear can be explained by the prison-like dimension of the dispensary. Hanoi had a dispensary for the examination and treatment of prostitutes, but for many, “this health establishment is more like a prison; the poor women are interned behind iron fences like wild beasts. The harshness of such detention is not even compensated for by the quality of care received, for the treatment of the sick, due to a lack of resources and personnel, is notoriously insufficient.”20 In the 1930s, improvements were made to the Hanoi dispensary in an attempt to humanize the treatment of prostitutes, and Vietnamese journalists were invited to visit the dispensary to report the change to the population: “A hospital which treated sick girls—a kind treatment—should only be called a dispensary […] How can people think that it is a prison? Prisons do not have a garden full of flowers like this one, or a tiled floor”21 (Thao Thao22 1937). Thao Thao used nhà Phúcÿ˱ͥng instead of nhà Lͭc-xì which was the usual name for the Hanoi dispensary in Vietnamese to show the shift from prison to charity. 23 However, he wrote in the same article that the dispensary “has all the characteristics of a hospital of coercion, nothing can get out [...] thanks to walls as tall as the sky, famous for being impassable”, and to “ash-colored doors that are always silently closed”.24 The same impression of secret and shame can be found in VNJ Trӑng Phөng’s reportage (VNJ Trӑng Phөng 2011).

19

“Rapport annuel sur le fonctionnement du service municipal d’hygiène, année 1942, 31 décembre 1942”, Mairie de Hanoi, file No 5769 Rapport annuel sur le fonctionnement du service municipal d’hygiène de Hanoi en 1942, VNA1. 20 “Rapport sur la morbidité des troupes, réglementation militaire, réglementation civile par le bureau militaire, 9 février 1917”, RSTNF, file No 003856 Prophylaxie des maladies vénériennes (1917-1940), ANOM. 21 “Là mӝt nhà chuyên chӳa cho nhӳng gái mҳc bӋnh, nhҽ bӋnh – chӳa làm phúc – thì không gì thích-hӧp bҵng gӑi ngay nó là nhà Phúc-ÿѭӡng […] ThӃ này ma ngѭӡi ta cho nó là mӝt nhà tù à? Nhà tù làm sao lҥi có vѭӡn hoa nhѭ thӃ này? Sàn lát gҥch hoa nhѭ thӃ kia?” (March 3, 1937). 22 Thao Thao was the pen name for Cao Bá Thao, a very famous Vietnamese writer. 23 Phúc means charity. 24 “Nhà lөc sì hiӋn thӡi có tính cách mӝt nhà thѭѫng giam cҫm, mӑi cái ÿӅu không thӉ lӑt ÿѭӧc ra ngoài… tѭӡng xây cao vút, nәi tiӃn là khó vѭӧt qua” (February 19, 1937); “[…] cái cӱa sѫn mҫu tro, luc náo cNJng ÿóng im-Ӎm” (February 16, 1937).

184

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The vice squad monitored prostitutes as well as places of prostitution, which they could enter at any hour.25 Officially, brothels were supposed to request permission to open, and the madams were supposed to pay an annual tax to the municipal administration. Yet, like the prostitutes themselves, most places of prostitution were clandestine. The mission of the vice squad was to discover these hidden places—clandestine brothels, private brothels, songstress houses, and sometimes opium dens. Due to the chronic lack of manpower, however, the vice squad could barely police registered prostitutes and official brothels let alone the array of clandestine establishments. When the regulation was enacted, a vice-squad was created as well—with one policeman only. 26 In 1917, there were one European and four Vietnamese policemen27, and in 1942 there were one European and nine Vietnamese policemen in the vice-squad to monitor all the prostitutes in the city. Dr. Joyeux summed the problem up when he referred to clandestine prostitutes as a “legion” and described the vice squad as “skeletal” (1930, 487). At the same time, the colonial authorities criticized the vice-squad for being “qualitatively and quantitatively deficient”28 (Tracol-Huynh 2012, 63-64). Regulation was a failure: in its attempts to expose venues of prostitution, it also forced prostitutes further into the shadows. The regulation of prostitution, however, prevailed over the abolitionist theories which were widely discussed in Europe at the time. Prostitution in colonial Hanoi was officially maintained under constant police and medical surveillance whose main arrangements were the same as the ones in the metropole or in the other French colonies, notably North Africa (Taraud 2003): “to enclose in order to observe, to observe in order to know, to know in order to supervise and control” (Corbin 1990, 16). Nevertheless, though such general principles prevailed, local adaptations had to be made because Hanoi had its own specificities.

25

Decree of the Resident Superior in Tonkin, February 3, 1921, article12. Decree of the Resident-Mayor of Hanoi, December 21, 1888, article 1. 27 “Rapport sur le fonctionnement et les opérations du service des mœurs du 1er janvier au 31 décembre 1916, 5 janvier 1917”, Mairie de Hanoi, D638, file No 2587 Rapport sur le fonctionnement et les opérations du service des mœurs du 1er janvier au 31 décembre 1916, VNA1. 28 “Directeur de la Santé au Résident Supérieur au Tonkin, 18 novembre 1930”, RSTNF, file No 003856 Prophylaxie des maladies vénériennes (1917-1940), ANOM. 26

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Local adaptations Contrary to the situation in the French North Africa, there were no racial criteria concerning the clientele of brothels in Vietnam. 29 Measures put into place by the colonial authorities that pertained to the separation and coexistence of the populations were not found at the level of the clients, but rather at the level of the prostitutes themselves. The regulations of prostitution distinguished among Vietnamese, Chinese, Japanese and European prostitutes. The multi-racial dimension of prostitution took place in a colonial world, that is, in a world grounded upon racial distinctions and, for example, the legal texts explicitly distinguished the Japanese, Chinese and Vietnamese prostitutes’ taxation. In 1894, a decree of the Résident Supérieur of Tonkin fixed the taxes prostitutes were required to pay every three months: $3 for Japanese and Chinese prostitutes, but only $0.75 for the Vietnamese.30 Overall, in the colony, there were few Europeans compared to the native population; however, the colonial order had to be maintained, and this could not be achieved purely through military force (for more information on colonial population statistics see: de Gantès, 1981). The enforced prestige of the “White Man” became the an important means of ensuring colonial supremacy (Stoler 2002). Accordingly, Europeans had to demonstrate an exemplary appearance at all times. Within this context, it is quite clear that European prostitutes were a major problem for two reasons. Firstly, European prostitutes were not a good example of correct white behaviour. Secondly, Vietnamese men—the colonized people— could “buy” European women if they had enough money since there was no racial segregation for the clients. In October 1910, complaints were filed about clandestine European prostitutes and a daily surveillance was put into place. The police reports showed that these European women solicited both European and Asian men: 10:30: a Chinese man enters 10:35: another Chinese man enters 10:40: the two Chinese men leave

29

The prostitution world in the Maghreb was divided along religious and racial lines. In this “segregated world”, there were brothels for Muslims, for Jews and for Christians (Taraud 2003, 135). Things were different in Hanoi. 30 The official currency of French Indochina was the piastre ($). “Arrêté du Résident Supérieur au Tonkin, 26 juin 1894”, RSTNF, file No 8597 Nouvelle taxe à appliquer aux cartes des filles publiques à Haiphong (1894-1896), VNA1.

186

Prostitutes, Brothels and the Red Light District 11:25: solicitation of an Annamese31 man, who enters at once A European man who has arrived in a rickshaw enters 11:30: the Annamese man leaves 11:45: the European man leaves 12:45: solicitation of three Annamese men, who enter 01:05: the three Annamese men leave.32

The only criterion was money: if a man had enough money, no matter what his racial origin was, he could choose and have whichever prostitute he wanted. Since there were no racial distinctions for clients, the only categories which existed were those constructed by the colonial authorities regarding prostitutes. These categories were closely linked to racial categories and to political and social domination. European women could not be treated like native women, even if they were prostitutes. A distinction had to be made in order to maintain the racial boundaries and, therefore, colonial order. Those European prostitutes were called Valaques. Wallachia was part of medieval Romania, and the word Valaque was used for these European prostitutes supposedly originating from Eastern Europe. In other words, they were both European and white, but neither as European nor as white as the “real” European women from Western Europe. In Hanoi, the Valaques prostitutes had privileges such as being allowed to undergo medical examinations at home and not at the dispensary with the other prostitutes.33 In 1912 in Saigon, this privilege was seen as too dangerous for public health because there were no appropriate facilities for an adequate examination in prostitutes’ houses. In response to this concern, European prostitutes did not have to undergo medical examinations at the dispensary with the other Asian prostitutes: “This way, girls from different races in essence could avoid meeting each other during the weekly general examination.” 34 The Valaques were expelled from Indochina in 1915 but European prostitutes did not

31

In 1802 when Gia Long, the first emperor of the NguyӉn dynasty, united the country, he named it Vi͏t Nam. The word Vietnam was forbidden during the colonial period because there was no longer one country but three distinct entities and the Vietnamese were called Annamites [Annamese] by the French authorities. “Vietnam” and “Vietnamese” were then used by the nationalists in order to unify the three parts of Vietnam as one country. 32 “Rapport de l’agent des mœurs, 26 octobre 1910”, Mairie de Hanoi, file No 2583 Correspondances relatives à la prostitution à Hanoi en 1910 (1910), VNA1. 33 Decree of the Administrator-Mayor of Hanoi, January 24, 1906, article 2. 34 “Directeur local de santé au Gouverneur Général de la Cochinchine, 29 mai 1912”, file No VIA.8/286 (14), Prostitution à Saigon (1916-1917), VNA2.

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disappeared and they still had privileges. 35 The vice squad left those prostitutes alone because “for various reasons, good or bad, Tonkin authorities do their best to avoid registering European prostitutes” (Joyeux 1930, 465). Medical and police authorities showed an extreme reluctance to talk about European prostitution. The monthly reports of the municipal hygiene service of Hanoi often used the following expression in their reports about European prostitution in the city: “officially, European prostitution does not exist.”36 Another adaptation came from the specific administrative status of Hanoi. Capital of the French protectorate, Hanoi was yet not part of the protectorate because the city had been given to France by the Annamese Emperor. Hanoi was therefore a French enclave where French law applied surrounded by the Tonkin protectorate where the Annamese laws still applied: “Hanoi limits are not only municipal: they are national frontiers” (Joyeux and Virgitti 1937, 73). This administrative situation had consequences for the administration of prostitution: the regulation applied in Hanoi but not outside the city limits and the vice-squad had no authority over the suburban zone and the many prostitutes who lived and worked there: “A dozen clandestine prostitutes and prostitutes running from the vice-squad police are working in a furnished room located right outside the city limit. They scoff at the police since they are protected by the city (border) post which is as powerful as the China border post!”(Joyeux and Virgitti, 75-76). It was impossible to enforce the 1921 decree in Hanoi outskirts because they were made of villages and not real cities. They belong to Hadong province where there was no municipal dispensary, even in 1931.37 This complex situation lasted until 1943 when the Special Division of Hanoi was created, in order to control the whole prostitution world, inside and outside municipal limits:

35

The nationality of the European prostitutes were not specified in the vice squad reports, perhaps to hide the fact that French women prostitutes themselves. 36 For example: “Rapport mensuel du directeur du du service municipal d’hygiène sur le fonctionnement du service pour janvier 1931, 21 février 1931”, Mairie de Hanoi, file No 5757 Rapports mensuels sur le fonctionnement du service municipal d’hygiène de Hanoi (1931), VNA1. 37 Inspection générale de l’hygiène et de la santé publique de l’Indochine S03, file No 9, Rapports annuels des provinces du Tonkin sur l’assistance médicale (1931), VNA1.

188

Prostitutes, Brothels and the Red Light District Before the creation of that Division, the regulation of prostitution did not apply in the Hanoi suburban zone. Things will change after 1943 when the Special Division will allow the police to access that zone where so many prostitutes and songstresses work freely. We will finally control the whole prostitution world and therefore be able to improve its regulation.38

Figure 3. The “Venus belt” of Hanoi (1930s)

There is no report of the Municipal Hygiene Service after 1942 in the archives and it is therefore impossible to know if the creation of the Special Division of Hanoi changed something in the management of prostitution in the city. Besides this problematical administrative situation, the colonial authorities were faced with the fact that brothels were scattered inside the city: “The 28 brothels are scattered throughout the whole city. Their

38

“Rapport annuel sur le fonctionnement du service municipal d’hygiène, 31 décembre 1942”, Mairie de Hanoi, file No 5769 Rapport annuel sur le fonctionnement du service municipal d’hygiène de Hanoi en 1942 (1942), VNA1.

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control is therefore almost impossible.” 39 From the very beginning, the authorities, and especially the police, had asked for brothels to be brought together in one red-light district whose control would have been easier: “The creation of a red-light district is essential, but this measure will be quite problematical.”40 This ideal was fulfilled in Morocco, in Casablanca (Taraud 2003) and also in Saigon. In Hanoi, the question recurred throughout the colonial period and the municipality placed this project on the agenda several times (1916, 1917, 1926 and 1932)41, yet it never seen the light of day. The municipality did not want to pay, and argued that the Army had to pay for it since soldiers were seen as the main clientele. The geography of prostitution in the city did not change much between the 1890s and the 1940s: “The brothels are scattered in the city, as they used to be in the past”42 and the prostitution areas remained the same: around the Citadel and in the old quarter.

39 “Commissaire de police adjoint au commissaire central, 14 février 1916”, Mairie de Hanoi, file No 2585 Correspondances relatives à la prostitution à Hanoi (19151916), VNA1. 40 “Le commissaire de police de la ville de Hanoi au résident-maire, juilet 1896”, Mairie de Hanoi, file No 2580 Rapport du commissariat de police sur les maisons de tolérance sises à Hanoi (1896), VNA1. 41 “Commissaire de police adjoint au commissaire central, 14 février 1916”, Mairie de Hanoi, file No 2585, Correspondances relatives à la prostitution à Hanoi (1915-1916); “Séance municipale du 15 mai 1917”, Mairie de Hanoi, file No 2587 Correspondances relatives à la prophylaxie des maladies vénériennes (1917); “Rapport sur le fonctionnement du service des mœurs du 1er janvier au 31 décembre 1926 (arrêté du 3 février 1921), fait par l’inspecteur des mœurs”, RST, file No 78667 Dossiers divers relatifs à la police de la voie publique (1921-1942). 42 “Rapport sur le fonctionnement du service des mœurs du 1er janvier au 31 décembre 1926 (arrêté du 3 février 1921), fait par l’inspecteur des mœurs”, RST, file No 78667, Dossiers divers relatifs à la police de la voie publique (1921-1942), VNA1.

190

Prostitutes, Brothels and the Red Light District

Figure 4. Prostitution in Hanoi (1942)43

43

“Rapport annuel sur le fonctionnement du service municipal d’hygiène, 31 décembre 1942”, Mairie de Hanoi, file No 5769 Rapport annuel sur le fonctionnement du service municipal d’hygiène de Hanoi en 1942 (1942), VNA1.

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Conclusion Prostitution had its places, such as brothels, songstress houses, the vicesquad station and the municipal dispensary, which were visible and therefore part of the urban geography of Hanoi. Prostitutes, madams, vicesquad policemen, and municipal physicians were actors of urban life as well, and, for the prostitute and madams, key actors in the underground world. Prostitution was allowed by the colonial authorities, but only if strictly controlled and closely watched by the police. Just as the state required the places of prostitution to be visible and identify themselves by hanging lanterns, it also required them to be invisible by closing their windows and doors and hiding their business from public view. In the end, the prostitution world belonged to the shadows of the city because it was for the most part clandestine (Tracol-Huynh 2012). Regulation of prostitution was one of the measures put into place by the colonial authorities to ensure order and colonization itself. By regulating prostitution and by trying to track down clandestine prostitutes and putting them on the vice squad register, the authorities were striving to provide the colonizers with women who were free from venereal diseases. By medically monitoring prostitutes, they were trying to protect the health of the Europeans so as to defend the colony and not weaken the white race. By establishing racial categories for the prostitutes, they were (re)drawing and reinforcing the racial borders on which the colonial order rested.

192

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References Corbin, Alain. Women for Hire: Prostitution and Sexuality in France after 1850. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1990 (1978 in French). Gantès, Gilles de. La Population française au Tonkin entre 1931 et 1938 (Tonkin’s French population between 1931 and 1938), Master’s degree diss., University of Aix-en-Provence, 1981. Joyeux, Bernard Dr. “Le Péril vénérien et la prostitution à Hanoi” (Venereal Peril and Prostitution in Hanoi). Bulletin de la Société Médico-Chirurgicale de l’Indochine [hereafter BSMCI] (1930): 453675. Joyeux, Bernard Dr. and Virgitti, Henri. “Le Péril vénérien dans la zone suburbaine de Hanoi” (Venereal Peril in the Hanoi Suburban Zone). BSMCI (1937): 73-108. Nguyên, Du. Kim Vân Kiêu. Paris: Gallimard, 1961. Nguyên, Van Ky. La Société vietnamienne face à la modernité, le B̷c B͡ de la fin du XIXème siècle à la seconde guerre mondiale (Vietnamese society faced with modernity, Bҳc Bӝ from the end of the nineteenth century to WW2). PhD diss., Paris 7, 1992. Philastre, Paul-Louis-Félix trans. Le Code annamite (The Annamese Code), 2 vols. Paris: Ernest Leroux éditeur, 1909. Rodriguez, Marie-Corine. “L’Administration de la prostitution” (The administration of prostitution). In Vietnamese Society in Transition; the Daily Politics of Reform and Change, ed. J. Kleinen. Amsterdam: Het Spinhuis, 2001. Saada, Emmanuelle. Les Enfants de la colonie : les métis de l’Empire français entre sujétion et citoyenneté (Children of the Colony. Mixed race children of the French Empire, between subjection and citizenship). Paris: la Découverte, 2007. Stoler, Ann Laura. Carnal Knowledge and Imperial Power: Race and the Intimate in Colonial Rule. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002. Taraud, Christelle. La Prostitution coloniale, Algérie, Tunisie, Maroc (1830-1962) (Colonial prostitution, Algeria, Tunisia, Morocco [18301962]). Paris: Payot, 2003. Thao Thao. “Gái Lөc-Sì” [The Girls of the Dispensary] then “Gái TrөyLҥc” [Immoral Girls]. Vi͏t Báo. February and March, 1937. Tracol, Isabelle. “La Prostitution au Tonkin colonial : ‘Mars a toujours couché avec Vénus’; l’armée et la prostitution (1883-1940)” (“Mars always slept with Venus”; Prostitution and army in colonial Tonkin [1883-1940]). Master’s degree diss., ENS-LSH, 2005.

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Tracol-Huynh, Isabelle. “Encadrer la sexualité au Viêt-Nam colonial : police des mœurs et réglementation de la prostitution (des années 1970 à la fin des années 1930)”. Genèses 86 (2012): 56-78. —. “The Shadow Theatre of Prostitution in French Colonial Tonkin: Faceless Prostitutes under the Colonial Gaze.” Journal of Vietnamese Studies Vol. 7, No. 1 (2012): 10-51. Trӑng Lang. “Hà Nӝi lҫm than” [Miserable Hanoi]. Ĉͥi Nay, 1938 Vann, Michael G. White City on a Red River: Race, Power, and Culture in French Colonial Hanoi, 1872-1954. Ph.D. dissertation. University of California, 1999. VNJ Trӑng Phөng, Shaun Kingsley Malarney (trans.). Lͭc xì. Prostitution and Venereal Disease in Colonial Hanoi. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2011 [first edition 1937].

CONTRIBUTORS

ISAHAYA Yoichi, The University of Tokyo, Japan Meng JI, University of Western Australia, Australia LEE Ju-Ling, Lyons Institute of East Asian Studies, France MITSUNARI Ayumi, The University of Tokyo, Japan OTSUKA Osamu, The University of Tokyo, Japan TERADA Yuki, The University of Tokyo, Japan Isabelle TRACOL-HUYNH, Lyons Institute of East Asian Studies, France UCHIDA Chikara, The University of Tokyo, Japan UKAI Atsuko, The University of Tokyo, Japan

INDEX

㸿 A Dictionary of the Chinese Language, 6, 7 ‘Abd al-GhaffƗr Najm al-Doule, 40, 42 Abe, Kin’ya, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170 ABIM, Angkatan Belia Islam Malaysia (The Muslim Youth Movement), 153 Abnj ৫Ɨleb-e HoseynƯ, 30 Abnj Zayd BalkhƯ, 52, 55 Aghdashloo, Aydin, 94, 95 Aতmad b. ‫ދ‬Abd-AllƗh, 52, 53 ұAjƗyib al-MakhlnjqƗt (Marvels of Creatures), 53, 55, 56 Ajoudani, Houshang, 92 ‘AlƯ QnjshchƯ, 30 Amino, Yoshihiko, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170 Annales School, 157, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170 Apadana gallery, Teheran, 92 Ariga, Hisao, 6, 15 art in Iran, 88, 94, 95, 99, 100, 103, 104 Japanese, xix, 71, 72, 73, 77, 78, 79, 81 Article 11 Coalition, 136, 148, 149, 150, 151, 153, 154 assimilation (dǀka), 111, 114, 115, 120, 121, 124 astronomy, 33, 37, 38, 39, 55, 56 Arabic, 30, 31, 33

in Iran, 27, 31, 33 in Japan, 31, 33 new, xviii, 27, 29, 31, 33, 35, 36, 37, 39, 40, 41, 42 ƖthƗr al-BilƗd (The Monuments of the Countries), 54 ƖthƗr wa A‫ۊ‬yƗ (Monuments and Living Things), 54

㹀 Barisan Nasional (National Front), 142 Bayly, Christopher Alan, 89 Bloch, Marc, 159, 160, 164 book bindings, Nancy, 71, 78, 80, 81, 82 Bracquemond, Félix, 71, 74 Brahe, Tycho, 29, 31, 37 Braudel, Fernand, 159, 163, 164 Burty, Philippe, 70

㹁 Calendars, 56 Cartier–Bresson, Charles, 74, 81 Collection, 81 Çelebi, KƗtib, 63 Cernuschi, Henri, 74 Chesneau, Ernest, 71 China, xviii, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 16, 17, 18, 20, 21, 22, 48, 49, 54, 61, 62, 63, 70, 75, 76, 77, 177, 179 chiyogami, 78, 79, 81 colonialism, 110, 111, 130 Commercial Press (Shangwu yin shu guan ၟົ༳᭩㤋), 20 Copernicus, 29, 31, 32

Index

196

㹂 DƗr al-Funnjn, 92 Diba, Kamran, 94, 95, 96, 99, 102, 103 Diba, Layla, 93 Diba-Pahlavi, Farah (Queen of Iran), 93, 94, 95, 96, 99 Ding, Zuyin, 16 Duret, Theodore, 74

㹃 Educational Association of China (Yizhi shu hui ┈ᬛḎ఍), 19

㹄 Far Eastern Art Exhibition, 1873, 74 FarƯdnjn, 59 Febvre, Lucien, 159, 164 Federal Court of Malaysia, 136, 145, 146, 147, 148, 150, 151 Forman, Harrison, 116 Fryer, John, 16 Fukui, Norihiko, 161

㹅 Galloway, David, 95, 104 General Bureau of Machine Manufacture of Jiangnan (Jiangnan zhi zao zong ju Ụ༡ 〇㐀ᒁ)., 16 Ghaffari, Abu’l Hassan, 92 Ghaffari, Mohammad, 92 Gharb Zadegi, 100 Gia Long code, 177 Giles, Herbert Allen, 19 global history, vii, ix, xi, xvi, 27, 28, 29, 89, 91, 105, 158, 159 globalization, xi, xiii, xiv, xv, xvi Gonse, Louis, 78 Grigorian, Marcos, 93

Ground of Astronomy, 27, 32, 35, 37, 39, 40, 41 Guang Qizhao, 14, 15 Guimet Museum, 74 Guimet, Émile, 74, 79

㹆 Haiguo si shuo ᾏᅧᅄ茢 (Four/ General Accounts of Foreign Countries), 8, 9 Hanoi, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 191 Hazama Shigetomi 㛫㔜ᐩ, 41 Hemeling, Karl Ernst Georg, 18, 19 Hokusai Manga, 75, 76 Honarkada-ye honarhƗ-ye zƯbƗ (College of Fine Arts), 92 Huang, Zunxian, 14, 16 Hui Bao ༂ሗ, 17

㹇 Ibn al-ShƗtir, 30 Ibn KhurdƗdhbih, 52 Ikegami, Chnjji, 75 Indochina, xix Inǀ, Kanori, 115, 116 Inoue, Tetsujirǀ, 6, 14, 15 Iran, xviii, 27, 36, 40, 49, 88 art, xix ƮrƗn-ZamƯn, 50, 56, 57, 58, 59, 61, 62 Ishikawa, Toraji, 113 Islam, 30, 100, 105, 106, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153 Islam Hadhari (Civilizational Islam), 138 Islamization, 139, 142, 143, 149, 151, 154

Translation, History and Arts

㹈 JahƗn-NƗma (Book of the World), 52, 53, 54 JƗmiұ al-TawƗrƯkh (Collected Chronicles), 48, 49, 54, 64 Japanization (kǀminka), 114, 120, 123 Japonisme, xviii, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82 Javadipur, Mahmud, 92 Joy, Lina, 136, 138, 139, 140, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154

㹉 Kabayama, Sukenori, 114 Kaliammal and Maniam Moorthy case, 143, 145, 153 Kazemi, Hossein, 92 Kepler, Johannes, 29, 31, 35 KhwƗnd-AmƯr, 63 Kim vân Ki͉u (The Tale of Kieu), 178 kinkarakami, 78, 79, 80, 81 KitƗb al-MasƗlik wa al-MamƗlik (Book of Routes and Kingdoms), 52, 53 KitƗb al-TibyƗn (Book of Explanation), 52, 53 Kossar, Mehdi, 99

㹊 Lacambre, Geneviève, 72 Lalande, Jérôme, 41, 42 Lobscheid, Wilhelm, 11, 14, 15

㹋 Mabuchi, Akiko, 72 Madrasa-ye ৢanƗye‫ ޏ‬wa pƯša va honar (School of Applied Arts and Crafts), 92

197

Mahboubian, Mehdi, 93 Majlis Agama Islam (Council of Islamic Affairs), 142 Malaysia, xix Martin, Camille, 78 Mas‘njd, MƯrzƗ, 27, 34, 36, 37, 38, 39, 42 Mateer, Calvin, 18, 19 Medical Society of Indochina, 177 Modern Chinese Scientific Terminologies, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 13, 14, 16, 17, 19, 20, 21, 23 Monet, Claude, 70 Mori, Ushinosuke, 115, 116, 119 Morrison, Robert, 6, 14, 22 Motoki Ryǀei ᮏᮌⰋỌ, 27, 35, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41 Mujamal al-TawƗrƯkh wa al-Qi‫܈‬a‫܈‬, 58 Mujmal al-TawƗrƯkh wa al-Qi‫܈‬a‫܈‬, 58 murtad (apostasy), 139, 148, 151, 153, 154 Museum of Fine Arts, Nancy, 74 museums, 89 Ashmolean Museum, 90 Belvedere Museum, 90 British Museum, 90 Capitoline Museum, 90 curiosity cabinet, 89 encyclopedic, 90, 91, 105 Louvre, 90 Uffizi Gallery, 90 Musha Incident, 121, 123, 127, 128, 129 MustawfƯ, ণamd-AllƗh, 49, 50, 51, 52, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63

㹌 Nagahara, Keiji, 163, 164, 165, 166 Nakamura, Chihei, 127 NƗ‫܈‬er’s Canon, 42 NaৢƯr al-DƯn ৫njsƯ, 30

Index

198 Ninomiya, Hiroyuki, 160, 161, 162, 164, 168 non-Muslim wives, 140, 149, 150, 151 Nuzhat al-Qulnjb (Delight of the Hearts), 49, 50, 51, 53, 54, 55, 57, 63, 64 Nyonya Tahir case, 145

㹍 ƿshima, Masamitsu, 121

㹎 PEMBELA, 150, 152, 153, 154 postcards, 109, 113 Prophylactic League, 177 prostitution, xix, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 191 Prouvé, Victor, 78

㹏 QƗnnjn-e NƗ‫܈‬erƯ (NƗ‫܈‬er’s Canon),. ĺ See NƗ‫܈‬er’s Canon QazwƯnƯ, ZakarƯyƗ, 53, 54, 56

㹐 RashƯd al-DƯn, 48, 49, 54, 62, 63, 64 Régamey, Felix, 74, 79 Rousseau, François Eugène, 74

㹑 Saigon, 176, 177, 186, 189 Sami-Azar, Alireza, 101, 102, 104 SaqqƗ-khƗneh, 98 Sayon, 121, 122, 123 Seijutsu hongen taiyǀ kynjri ryǀkai shinsei tenchi nikynj yǀhǀki ᫍ⾡ ᮏ※ኴ㝧❓⌮஢ゎ᪂ไኳᆅ஧

⌫⏝ἲグ (Ground of Astronomy). ĺ See Ground of Astronomy Service Rousseau, 71, 74, 75, 76, 81, 85 Shaffrazi, Toni, 95 Shahbazi, Firouz, 103, 104 Shamala and Subashini cases, 140, 144 Shinkǀ rekisho ᪂ᕦᬺ᭩ (Astronomy by the New Technique), 42 Shiotsuki, Tǀhǀ, 121, 122, 123 social history, xx ‫܇‬uwar al-AqƗlƯm (Figures of the Climes), 52, 53, 54 Syariah courts, Malaysia, 136, 139, 141, 142, 143, 145, 154

㹒 TafhƯm fƯ al-TanjƯm (Instruction in Astrology), 53, 55, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62 Taheri, Gholamali, 91, 100, 102 Taiwan, xix Taiwan Photograph Album (Taiwan shashinchǀ), 126 Taiwanese aborigines, 109 Takahashi Yoshitoki 㧗ᶫ⮳᫬, 41, 42 Takehisa, Yumeji, 113 TƗrƯkh-i GuzƯda, 49, 54 Tarjome-ye Hei’at (Translation of the Science of Configuration), 27, 34, 36, 39, 40 Teheran Museum of Contemporary Art, xix, 88, 93, 94, 97, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106 Tetsugaku jii ဴᏥᏐᙡ (A Dictionary of Philosophical Terms), 5, 15, 16 Torii, Rynjzǀ, 115 translation, xviii, 2, 3, 15, 23 Chinese, 2, 4, 6, 12, 16, 20, 21

Translation, History and Arts English, 4, 8, 9 Japanese, 5, 6

㹔 Valaques, 186 van Gogh, Vincent, 71

㹕 Wade-Giles system, 19 Wang, Zhengshen, 16 Wiener, René, 78, 79 World Expositions, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77 Chicago, 1893, 78 London, 1851, 75 New York, 1853, 73 Osaka, 1970, 75 Paris, 1855, 73 Paris, 1867, 74

199

Paris, 1878, 74 Paris, 1889, 75 Paris, 1900, 79 Shanghai, 2010, 75, 76 Vienna, 1873, 79 world history, ix, x, xi, xvi, xviii, 48

㹗 Yano, Tǀru, 170 Yinghuan zhi lue ℠⎔ᚿ␎ (Brief Account of World Countries), 8

㹘 Zengguang Haiguo tu zhi ቔᘅᾏᅧ ᅯᚿ (Additions to the Illustrative Account of World Countries), 8