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CONTENTS
Vol. 15, No. 4: OctoberDecember 1983
Daniel B. Ramsdell - Asia Askew: US Best-Sellers on Asia,
1931-1980
Jonathan Goldstein - Vietnam Research on Campus: The
Summit/Spicerack Controversy at the University of Pennsylvania,
1965-67
Zawawi Ibrahim - Malay Peasants and Proletarian Consciousness
Kevin J. Hewison - Political Conflict in Thailand: Reform,
Reaction, and Revolution by David Morell and Chai-anan
Samudavanija / A Review Essay
Robert Lawless - A Quasi History of the Central Vietnamese
Highlanders. Sons of the Mountains: Ethnohistory of the Vietnamese
Highlands to 1954 and Free in the Forest: Ethnohistory of the
Vietnamese Highlands, 19541976, by Huynh Kim Khanh / A
Review Essay
Cedric Sampson - The Origins of the Vietnamese Revolution:
Taking the Long View. Vietnamese Tradition on Trial 1920-1945 by
David G. Marr; Vietnamese Communism, 19251945 / A Review
Essay
Penelope B. Prime - Class Conflict in Chinese Socialism by Richard
C. Klaus / A Short Review
BCAS/Critical AsianStudies
www.bcasnet.org
CCAS Statement of Purpose
Critical Asian Studies continues to be inspired by the statement of purpose
formulated in 1969 by its parent organization, the Committee of Concerned
Asian Scholars (CCAS). CCAS ceased to exist as an organization in 1979,
but the BCAS board decided in 1993 that the CCAS Statement of Purpose
should be published in our journal at least once a year.
We first came together in opposition to the brutal aggression of
the United States in Vietnam and to the complicity or silence of
our profession with regard to that policy. Those in the field of
Asian studies bear responsibility for the consequences of their
research and the political posture of their profession. We are
concerned about the present unwillingness of specialists to speak
out against the implications of an Asian policy committed to en-
suring American domination of much of Asia. We reject the le-
gitimacy of this aim, and attempt to change this policy. We
recognize that the present structure of the profession has often
perverted scholarship and alienated many people in the field.
The Committee of Concerned Asian Scholars seeks to develop a
humane and knowledgeable understanding of Asian societies
and their efforts to maintain cultural integrity and to confront
such problems as poverty, oppression, and imperialism. We real-
ize that to be students of other peoples, we must first understand
our relations to them.
CCAS wishes to create alternatives to the prevailing trends in
scholarship on Asia, which too often spring from a parochial
cultural perspective and serve selfish interests and expansion-
ism. Our organization is designed to function as a catalyst, a
communications network for both Asian and Western scholars, a
provider of central resources for local chapters, and a commu-
nity for the development of anti-imperialist research.
Passed, 2830 March 1969
Boston, Massachusetts
Vol. 15, No. 4/0ct.-Dec., 1983
Contents
Daniel B. Ramsdell 2 Asia Askew: U.S. Best-Sellers on Asia, 1931-1980
Jonathan Goldstein 26 Vietnam Research on Campus: The Summitt
Spicerack Controversy at the University of
Pennsylvania, 1965-67
Zawawi Ibrahim 39 Malay Peasants and Proletarian Consciousness
KevinJ. Hewison 56 Political Conflict in Thailand: Reform, Reaction,
Revolution, by David Morell and Chai-anan
Samudavanija/reviewessay
Robert Lawless 60 A Quasi History of the Central Vietnamese
Highlanders; Sons ofthe Mountains: Ethnohistory of
the Vietnamese Highlands to 1954 and Free in the
Forest: Ethnohistory ofthe Vietnamese Central
Highlands, 1954-1976, by Gerald Cannon Hickey/
review essay
Cedric Sampson 63 The Origins of the Vietnamese Revolution: Taking
the Long View; Vietnamese Tradition on Trial, 1920
1945, by David G. Marr and Vietnamese Commu
nism, 1945-1945, by Huynh Kim Khanh/review essay
Penelope B. Prime 69 Class Conflict in Chinese Socialism, by Richard C.
Kraus/a short review
71 List of Books to Review and Correspondence
Index for 1983
Contributors
Jonathan Goldstein: Department of History, West Georgia
College, Carrollton, Georgia
Kevin J. Hewison: School ofHuman Communications, Mur
doch University, Murdoch, West Australia
Robert Lawless: Department of Anthropology, University
of Florida, Gainesville, Florida
Penelope B. Prime: University of Michigan, Ann Arbor,
Michigan
Front cover graphics courtesy ofDaniel B. Ramsdell
Daniel B. Ramsdell: Department of History, Central Wash
ington University, Ellensburg, Washington
Cedric Sampson: Department of History, Los Angeles
Mission College, San Fernando, California
Zawawi Ibrahim: Development Studies, School of Social
Sciences, Universiti Sains Malaysia, Penang, West Malaysia
The fine drawings ofIndonesia appearing in this issue are by Hans Borunt .
Leiden. The Netherlands.
Asia Askew: U.S. Best-Sellers on Asia, 1931-1980
by Daniel B. RamsdeU
American Images of Asia
The idea for this project emerged from twenty years of
teaching American college students, including beginning
and advanced undergraduates, about Asia and some of its
parts. For years my assumption and that of many col
leagues, administrators and curriculum specialists was that
college students would not enroll in courses in non
Western areas unless they were interested in advance and
therefore receptive to the information provided. Thus,
American institutions of higher learning have only rarely
required the study of Asia or other segments of the non
Western world. Teachers of such subjects, moreover, have
often been smug in the conviction that at least their
students were not captives, but vitally interested in the
subject. My own experience suggests that juniors and
seniors signed up for courses on Asian History are indeed
willing and receptive, frequently superior students major
ing in History. Their receptiveness, however, does not
necessarily mean that they are well informed in advance.
Instead, I have come to the conclusion that the information
many American college students have about Asia is actu
ally "misinformation" presumably derived impressionisti
cally from a variety of uncatalogued sources.
In teaching World Civilization mostly to freshmen
general education students (some of them "captive") I
discovered that, for many, the acceptance of my informa
tion on Asia (and other less familiar parts of the world) was
determined mainly by the degree to which my statements
conformed to their existing notions and beliefs. This
seemed to confirm the suspicion that facile generalizations
about Asia and Africa, for example, were more common
than for territories whose peoples and cultures were better
known because knowledge of them was part of the common
lore of the land and had been presented more frequently at
earlier educational levels. Both phenomena-impression
istic misinformation and facile generalizations about
Asia - have remained surprisingly stable over the past two
decades. Reflecting upon this stability I ultimately decided
to seek the sources ofthe generalizations from which misin
formation has come and also the reasons for their
durability.
2
Undoubtedly the most common sweeping generaliza
tion I have heard over the years about Asia is that the
people of Asia regard human life cheaply. This is a view
often expressed by both the "interested" and the "general"
student, as well as many non-students. The perpetrators of
this cliche usually make no distinction between various
parts of Asia. The other very common generalization is
closely related to the concept inherent in the first: the
notion that the world is somehow divided into East and
West and that they are irrevocably different and distinct
from each other. Associated with this idea is the belief, in
America at least, that the West means Europe and its
cultural offshoots (especially North America) and the East
embraces everything else, presumably beginning with
Turkey and the "Near East." It is evident that this view still
prevails in the United States where politicians talk about
preserving Western civilization and in the popular press
where the East-West struggle is perpetually discussed.!
Despite the two-day Cancun Conference in October 1981
there is virtually no recognition in the American media of a
North-South or rich-poor dichotomy in world affairs. We
have been conditioned to think that the world is divided
into East and West. The myth of East-West world division
has been studied in a fascinating but little recognized book
by John M. Steadman, The Myth ofAsia (Simon and Schus
ter, 1969). Steadman and others
2
have assailed the cliches
derived from these generalizations, but they have persisted
nevertheless.
In recent years there have begun to appear serious
studies of image formation, including some excellent ones
on American images of Asia. The pioneer work was Harold
Isaacs' highly acclaimed Scratches on Our Minds: American
Views ofChina and India. This lengthy book first appeared in
1958 and has been reprinted and revised frequently there
1. In this struggle, however, at present the "evil" East is strangely led by
the U.S.S.R., a European nation and the East-West struggle has thus
become a contest between the "Free World" and Communism.
2. For example, Edward Said, Orientalism (New York, 1978).
after. Among other things, Isaacs ponders the sources of
popular images of China and India and includes commen
tary on motion pictures, best-selling books, and other ex
pressions of popular culture. The heart of the study, how
ever, was based upon interviews with 181 persons whom
Isaacs regarded as leaders in American life at the time the
study was undertaken. A book of essays, edited by Akira
Iriye and published in 1975 under the title of Mutual Images:
Essays in American-Japanese Relations, contains several il
luminating expositions. The two best essays are Nathan
SBBgB IiIr lonl5
uni&l fBnilfic5
Glazer's "From Ruth Benedict to Herman Kahn: The Post
war Japanese Image in the American Mind" and "U.S.
Elite Images of Japan: The Postwar Period" by Priscilla
Clapp and Morton Halperin. Like Isaacs' study, both of
these are primarily concerned with elites and their percep
tions. Also noteworthy is Sheila Johnson's 1975 book
American Anitudes Toward Japan, 1941-1975 which ex
ConcubinB5, gBi5hBI
onBI bBndH5,
PUB5I5, IriIdBtl, Bnd IIBR5
all play their parts in the drama of-
Steghen ChaSe - the rugged, brilliant, young
American businessman whose driving ambition brings
him to the brink of disaster
Hester- his exotically beautiful, strangely tormented,
young wife
HO - the powerful Chinese merchant prince, wise and
wily, who eventually becomes Stephen's friend
Kendall - smooth and ruthless, Stephen's associate
in the company, who eventually becomes his most dan
gerous enemy
An unforgettable story of bold Americans in China on the eve
of the revolution, trying to cope with an alien civilization that
is itself in turmoil.
"An utterly fascinating tale" -BOSTON TRANSCRIPT
A PYRAMID BOOK 600 Cover painting by Bob Abbett Printed In U.S.A.
Graphics courtesy ofDaniel B. Ramsdell
amines popular attitudes and emphasizes the use of best
sellers, but Johnson draws no conclusions of significance
and confines herself to a single nation.
There are other generalized treatments of certain as
pects of the image of Asia in the United States or the
Western World. Raymond Dawson's The Chinese
Chameleon: An Analysis 0/ European Conceptions o/Chinese
Civilization (London, 1967) is a broad historical examina
tion of European views of China, based mainly on litera
ture and art. Robert McClellan, The Heathen Chinee: A
Study 0/ American Anitudes Toward China, 1890-1905 (Col
umbus, OH, 1970) is a scholarly monograph based on
literary, magazine and congressional sources for the period
in question. Also scholarly but more analytical is The Un
welcome Immigrant: The American Image o/the Chinese, 1785
1882 (Berkeley, 1969) by Stuart Creighton Miller. A more
3
recent book by the well known historian of modem China,
Jerome Ch'en, China and the West: Society and Culture 1815
1937, contains a chapter on mutual images, again derived
mostly from literature and the press. In 1937 Eleanor Tup
per and George E. McReynolds published a surprisingly
good book, Japan in American Public Opinion, but the public
opinion studied by the authors was limited to newspapers.
More recently Jean-Pierre Lehmann studied mostly Eng
lish and French literary material to produce The Image of
Japan: From Feudal Isolation to World Power (London,
1978). All of the above concentrated upon a single country
in East Asia. The studies of Steadman and of Edward Said
(see below) are wider in scope, but are also based heavily
on literary, artistic and philosophical sources of Western
literature and "high culture."
Although the studies noted here represent a good start
toward the definition of American images of Asia, they
neglect certain areas altogether and leave unanswered
questions about the sources of popular attitudes. In this
study I intend to examine a single source of such attitudes
about Asia: best-selling books in the United States.
3
The Pattern of Dest-Sellers on Asia
There is a substantial literature about best-sellers in
this country, although most of it is out-of-date and none at
all is specific in treatment of non-Western peoples or na
tions. The major studies of best-sellers are Frank L. Mott's
Golden Multitudes (New York, 1947) which traces Ameri
can best-sellers from colonial times until the date of publi
cation, and James D. Hart, The Popular Book: A History of
America's Literary Taste (New York, 1950) which is a some
what more critical study. Mass Culture: The Popular Arts in
America (Glencoe, Ill., 1957), edited by Bernard
Rosenberg and David White, consists of articles on various
features of popular culture, including books. Lists of best
sellers with comment is provided in Alice Hackett's Eighty
Years of Best Sellers (New York, 1977), previously pub
lished as Sixty Years of Best Sellers. By far the best critical
study of American best-sellers in general is Suzanne Ellery
Greene's Books for Pleasure: Popular Fiction 1914-1945
(Bowling Green, OH, 1974). There are also many articles
on the subject, few of them of a serious nature. Most of
those who write about best-sellers are deprecatory of their
subject, but seem to think that such popular books reflect
middle-class thinking and values in American society.
From the inception of best-seller lists there has been dis
agreement over their validity and the manner of their prep
aration. Also controversial has been the subject of the
ingredients necessary for best-seller success. Much has
been written about this, especially in high-brow magazines
like The Saturday Review in the 1940s and 1950s. Interest in
this subject has waned in recent years and, fallible as the
lists may be, this study will not take up the question of their
validity or the related issue of how they are created.
In determining the geographical scope of "Asia" for
this study, I have included South and East Asia, but not the
so-called "Near East." This latter area, traditionally seen
3. There are obviously other important sources of images of Asia. In the
future I also intend to examine motion pictures, textbooks, magazines and
newspapers.
by Europeans and Americans as that of Islamic culture and
civilization, is the subject of immense quantities of print in
the United States, but very few best-selling books. The
general Western misunderstanding of this part of the world
is treated in fascinating fashion in a recent book by Edward
Said,Orientalism.
In assessing American best-sellers about Asia and
Asians in the following pages, I started by preparing a
year-by-year list of books (Appendix B) which are also
categorized according to their major characteristics. Here I
have registered all books appearing on the weekly best
seller lists of The New York Times Book Review and Pub
lisher's Weekly between 1931 and 1980. I selected 1931 as an
innaugural date largely because definitive lists are not av
ailable earlier and because there are few books about Asia
before 1931 in the more general compilations of best
sellers.
4
In order to understand the accompanying graphs il
lustrating the fortunes of best-sellers on Asia it is necessary
to refer to Appendix A which explains the point system
used. A quick glance at the graphs yields some rather
obvious conclusions. Interest in books about Asia
remained low throughout the 1930s with no more than two
books a year through 1941. The years ofthe Second World
War brought about a quantum leap in best-sellers on Asia,
many of them non-fiction dealing with aspects of the war
itself. In 1942 there were ten books and in 1943 twenty,
twice the number in one year than had made the list for the
whole previous decade. The all-time zenith in American
publishing for best-selling books about Asia was 1943, both
in number of titles and in the accumulation of points ac
cording to the system in use in this study. The remaining
war years also saw high figures which began to decline with
the termination of hostilities. The late 1940s and 50s also
produced several reminiscences of wartime. A moderately
high level was maintained in this period, although the
year-by-year pattern was uneven. The average number of
best-seller titles on Asia from 1947 to 1960 was 7.7.
Beginning with the early 1960s interest in Asia as
manifested in best-selling books began to diminish'. The
decline can be accounted for in part by the general dis
interest of Americans in the outside world, a tendency
which grew stronger, ironically and devastatingly, with the
4. Popular impressions in writing were, of course, present before 1931
Certain kinds of books which were later made into movies and contributed
significantly to American images of China included the Fu Manchu books
by Sax Rohmer (published between 1913 and 1957) and the Charlie Chan
books by Earl Derr Biggers which appeared serialized in the Saturday
Evening Post from 1925 to 1932. These books did not make best-seller lists,
although portions were undoubtedly read by i 1 1 i ~ n s . Others in a similar
vein include a series ofMr. Moto books by John P. Marquand from 1935 to
1942. Moto and Chan were Japanese and Chinese detectives who were
suitably obsequious to the Westerners among whom they dwelt. Fu
Manchu was the archtypical sinister villain, the popular embodiment of
the Yellow Peril. Another series featuring a Chinese detective was the
Judge Dee series by Robert van Gulick, first appearing in the U.S. in 1958
and lasting until the author's death in 1967. Authors who influenced
scholars and specialists and hence had an important indirect cumulative
impact include such persons as Edgar Snow, Nym Wales, Agnes Smedley,
and Anna Louise Strong, all of whom wrote on China, mostly in the 1930s
and 1940s. Except for Snow's wartime People on Our Side, none of their
works made best-seller lists, It is fair to conclude, therefore, that they had
relatively scant direct influence on popular images of Asia.
4
VI
21l
til
16
t4
12
10
8
6
4
2
1200
1100
1000
900
800
700
600
500
400
300
20.0
100
Total
number of
best
sellers
Points
Non-Fiction Fiction
'-.----- ~ -
o "'"VI4' a v/'4<,-' 1' , VA--J
Jl 12 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 4344 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 5859 60 61 62 6364 65 6667 6869 70 11 72 73 74 75 76 17 7b 79 bO
Year
intensification of the Vietnam war. That war, moreover
unlike earlier encounters, did not provide publishers with
the opportunity to glorify the deeds of heroic military men
in best-selling books.
Undoubtedly the most common sweeping generaliza
tion I have heard over the years about Asia is that the
people of Asia regard human life cheaply.
Aside from war, American popular interest in Asia
has been slim. The blockbusting best-sellers on Asia in
recent years (such as ShOgun, Dynasty and The Far Pavilions,
set respectively in Japan, China and India) all featured
heavy doses of warfare and other violence. To be sure, this
may also be said of many other best-sellers, particularly
lately. The other noticeable trend of the last twenty years
has been the appearance of several major best-sellers with
essentially Asian locales or themes. Of the overall total of
fifty best-sellers frbm 1961 to 1980, eleven ranked in the
"A" popularity grade. In contrast, between 1946 and 1960
only three books out of 121 achieved "A" ranking. There
were four books in this category before 1946.
In his famous study, Scratches on Our Minds, Harold
Isaacs contended
5
that American interest in China was
much greater and more intense than interest in India the
other large and ancient civilization in Asia. Isaacs'
aPI?ears to be confinned by best-sellers lists, although
Chma leads all other countries by a margin narrower than
might be expected. In the fifty year period covered by this
study there were fifty-six books entirely or partially about
China. This number was split almost evenly between
twenty-nine fiction and twenty-seven non-fiction titles.
Japan ranked second with fifty-five (only thirteen fiction,
but forty-two non-fiction) while India was third with forty
three (twenty-five fiction and eighteen non-fiction). No
other individual nation accounted for more than eleven
(Bunna), but there were thirty books, mostly non-fiction
travel or memoirs, that were too generalized in content to
break down by country. According to the point system
Ch.ina outdistanced the others by a wider margin with 5,600
po1Ots (3,770 fiction, 1,830 non-fiction). Japan's point total
was 3,334 (1,483 fiction, 1,851 non-fiction) and India's
3,267 (2,284 fiction, 983 non-fiction). The next highest
accumulation of points was 983 for Vietnam.
The fiction books on China fall mainly into the two
categories of H (Americans or Europeans in Asia) and J
(Asians in an Asian setting). Of the twelve books in the
latter grouping eight were by Pearl Buck whose overall
influence and career will be discussed later. There were
fifteen fiction titles set in China in which the main
characters were Westerners through whose eyes the picture
of China and her people was presented. These books began
5. On page 239, for example. Harold Isaacs, Scratches on Our Minds.
American Views o/Chino andlnd;a (White Plains, N. Y., M. E. Sharpe, 1980
ed.).
6
with Alice Tisdale Hobart's Oil for the Lamps of China in
1933 and continued until the present, the most recent ex
ample included here being Manchu, by Robert Elegant, in
1980. of the H category books featured foreigners
who are mIlItary men or soldiers of fortune, but the trend is
not overwhelming. Oil for the Lamps of China has as its
protagonist a businessman, The Keys ofthe Kingdom a priest,
and The Black Rose, a historical novel, an English
The vision of China and the Chinese people
Imparted through the words and thoughts of the Western
heroes of these novels is a consistent one which will be
taken up in greater detail later.
. surprise at finding Japan with fifty-five best-selling
tItles, Just one less than China, is mitigated by the realiza
tion fourteen of them, or twenty-five percent, were
non-fictIon works published during the war years. Before
War II there was only one book with Japan as its
subject to make U.S. best-seller lists. This was North to the
Orient, by Anne Morrow Lindbergh in 1935. About twenty
percent of it concerned Japan. One may conclude, there
fore, that popular interest in Japan, as reflected in best
selling books, only began with the war.
. . The trend for non-fiction war books to dominate pub
hsh10g on Japan continued through the late 1940s and the
entire decade of the fifties, though not with such great
intensity after 1945. Of the twenty-seven best-sellers on
Japan from 1946 to 1959, twenty were directly related to
the Second World War in the fonn of memoirs, histories,
and personal reminiscences. Indeed, of the fifty-five titles
altogether on Japan, thirty-five, or sixty-four percent, were
The most common types were wartime jour
nalIstIc accounts and biographies or memoirs of U.S. mili
tary figures. There is little doubt that the major American
popular image of Japan is in connection with war. 6
ranked a close third among countries of Asia,
both 10 number of books and in points.
7
Fiction titles on
India were particularly common with twenty-five, almost
double the number on Japan. The fiction works on India
began with Louis Bromfield's two major best-sellers about
Americans and Europeans in India, The Rains Came (1937)
and Night in Bombay (1940). Overall best-seller interest in
India was highest during and shortly after World War II.
From 1946 to 1960 there were seventeen fiction titles on
India, seven by John Masters whose specific contributions
will be taken up later. After 1960, interest of any sort in
India virtually disappeared. From 1961 through 1980 there
were but six best-sellers on India, two of them fiction works
of recent vintage by M. M. Kaye.
The majority of fiction books about India fall into the
H category: Americans or Europeans in Asia. Most of the
seventeen titles so classified were historical and reflected
the heritage of British imperialism in the sub-continent.
6. My impression is that Japan still conjures up Pearl
Harbor In the minds of a great many Americans. From my teaching,
moreover, I have concluded that December 7, 1941, is the best known
single date in American history.
7. The locale of some of the books included under India is in what is now
Pakistan: Most of are fictional titles with historical settings where the
IS always deSIgnated as India. It is, therefore, appropriate to
Include o.nly one national category, namely India, for that portion of
South ASIa presently composed of India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh.
There was only one India book with an East-West love
theme as the major component. The romance in this case
(Elephant Hill. by Robin White, 1959) featured an Indian
man and an American woman. Many of the books on
China, Japan, and India contained sub-themes of East
West romance, but it was not often the major subject.s
Ordinarily, moreover, the man has been Western and the
woman Asian.
The relative shortage of non-fiction best-sellers about
India may be explained by the absence of warfare there in
which Americans participated. Elsewhere in Asia, where
Americans have fought, books with war themes have been
prominent in the non-fiction realm. In the late 1940s and
early 1950s there were several journalistic accounts, usu
ally covering much of Asia, in which India was included.
Since Indian independence in 1947 there have been only a
sporadic few non-fiction best-sellers focusing on the sub
continent, mainly travel accounts and ambassadorial recol
lections. I am tempted to conclude that Americans lost
what little interest they had in India after the British de
parted. In any event, it is doubtful if Americans have
formed strong impressions of India from best-selling books
in the past fifty years.
After China, Japan, and India no single nation in
South or East Asia has attracted much interest in American
publishing. Taken as a whole, and including general books,
the list on Southeast Asia runs to forty-five books (twenty
four fiction and twenty-one non-fiction). The biggest fic
tional best-seller about Southeast Asia was The Ugly Ameri
can (1958) which was set in several fictional countries.
There have been ten best-sellers on Indonesia, nine of
them fiction, mostly in the H category and all published
before 1962. They generally concern the colonial experi
ence and fail to depict Indonesians in a meaningful way.
Burma has been the subject of eleven titles. The six non
fiction books on Burma were by Americans or Britons
relating their personal experiences during the Second
World War. The five fiction works include two with a
Western male-Burmese female love story, while the
other three are wartime novels. (The love stories were also
set in wartime.) Of the seven best-sellers on Vietnam all
were in some way related to the American presence there
and to warfare as well. Graham Greene's The Quiet Ameri
can (1956) long preceded direct U.S. involvement in the
Vietnam war, but centered its attention upon clandestine
American activity in the former French colony. Surpris
ingly, in view of the fifty years when it was an American
possession, not much interest in the Philippines is evident
in best-seller lists. Only five books on the Philippines are
included. They all appeared between 1943 and 1946 and
were all, needless to say, war related.
There were also three best-sellers on Malaysia, none
of them noteworthy, and one each on Thailand, Laos and
Kampuchea. The only popular book about Thailand ever
published in the United States was Margaret Landon's
Anna and the King of Siam (1944). This is the book from
8. Three times for Japan: The Hidden Flower. by Pearl Buck (1952),
which came the immensely popular stage and screen musi
cal The King and I which has been viewed in one form or
another by many millions of Americans.
9
Although the
book itself did not have such great impact, the result of this
single work has been to perpetuate one of the most monu
mental insults of modem times upon the people of Thai
land and their king. A recent article by William Warren has
exposed the credentials of Anna Leonowens whose two
nineteenth century books served as the basis for Landon's
best-seller,lo but the damage has already been done. It is
unlikely that the American image of Thailand will be re
paired in the near future.
Aside from war, American popular interest in
Asia has been slim. The blockbusting best-sellers
on Asia in recent years (such as ShOgun, Dynasty.
and The Far Pavilions, set respectively in Japan,
China, and India) all featured heavy doses of
warfare and other violence.
The one book on Laos was Thomas Dooley's account
of his own medical work there in the 1950s. It was patroniz
ing to the Laotians. The only study featuring Kampuchea
was the book by the British journalist William Shawcross,
Sideshow (1978). This is one of the few intelligent studies of
any aspect of Southeast Asian politics to make U.S. best
seller charts. There is little doubt that its climb was due to
the subtitle: Kissinger. Nixon, and the Destruction of
Cambodia and the criticism of American foreign policy
implied therein. Overall, works on Southeast Asia, gener
ally and particularly, have not conveyed favorable impres
sions to Americans of the inhabitants of this part of the
world. The individuals portrayed, especially in fiction, are
invariably depicted in a negative manner.
There were ten U.S. best-sellers on Korea, nine of
which, including two in fiction, concerned the Korean War
and American participation in it. This total includes three
specific studies of General Douglas MacArthur. The rem
iniscences of MacArthur (1964) and the recent full length
biography by William Manchester (American Caesar. 1978)
also contain material on Korea, but have been classified
under East Asia because of their broad scope. The only
book about Korea not specifically related to war was Pearl
Buck's 1963 novel, The Living Reed which carried a fictional
Korean family through several generations including war in
the 1950s.
9. The first film version appeared in 1946 under the same title as the book.
Rex Harrison starred as King Monkut. The Rodgers and Harnmerstein
musical version appeared on Broadway in 1951 and on film in 1956
starring Yul Brynner. Both were acclaimed critically and did well at
box The musical production has been frequently revived in touring
compames and there was even an unsuccessful attempt at a television
series in 1972.
Sayonara. by James Michener (1954), You Only Live Twice. by Ian Fleming
10. William Warren, "Anna and the King: A Case of Libel," Asia, 2:6
(1964), and once for China: The World ofSuzie Wong. by Richard Mason
(MarchI April 1980), pp. 42-45.
(1957). 7
"The Big Five"
Of the 178 authors listed in Appendix C, very few have
had great cumulative impact over the years. The names of
five stand out above all the others. They are Pearl Buck,
Lin Yutang, John Masters, James Michener, and James
Clavell. The first two of these were regarded by their con
temporaries as "friends" of Asia, and the latter three are
primarily adventure writers of recent years. Collectively
they may be considered "The Big Five" of U.S. best-selling
authors on Asia.
Pearl Buck
Pearl Buck was the first in point of time and also
impact. She was easily the most influential writer of popu
lar novels about Asia to publish in the United States. She
was an active author and speaker for over forty years and is
still one of the best known American names associated with
China and things Chinese. 11
Buck was of missionary background which is fitting
since missionaries provided the most important general
source of person-to-person contacts with Chinese prior to
World War II. Although she was born in the United States
in 1892, Buck was taken to China by her parents while an
infant and she remained there for most of the next forty
years. She could read, speak and write Chinese. Until fame
found her in middle age her sojourns in the U.S. were
relatively brief. She attended Randolph-Macon Women's
College from which she graduated in 1914, then returned to
China where she married John Lossing Buck, an agri
cultural specialist, in 1917. She returned to the U.S. with
her husband and received an M.A. in English from Cornell
University in 1926. By this time she had begun to publish
articles on China in magazines like Atlantic Monthly , Forum,
and Asia. Pearl Buck was an outstanding example of the
middle class American who, though not born to wealth,
was well educated and had respected family status. She also
grew up in privileged circumstances by virtue of her alien
status in China.
During the period covered by this study Buck had
twice as many books on U.S. best-seller charts as the next
author-John Masters. Her sixteen books amassed a total
of 1,818 points which is almost double the total of James
Michener in second place. Buck had eleven fiction titles on
China, plus one each on India, Japan and Korea and
another that related to both China and Burma. She had two
non-fiction best-sellers, one mainly about Japan and the
other largely autobiographical about growing up in China.
She also wrote many other books which did not make the
best-seller lists and countless articles, many in popular
magazines such as Good Housekeeping. Her works, more
over, spanned a longer period of time than any other au
thor on the list: thirty-eight years from The Good Earth in
1931 to Three Daughters of Madame Liang in 1969. The
cumulative influence of these books was very great, but
Pearl Buck kept herself in the public eye in other ways as
well.
11. Many of the prominent Americans interviewed by Harold Isaacs cited
Pearl Buck and her books as the source of their original exposure to
China. See Isaacs, pp. 155-158.
Of "The Big Five" Buck was the only author who
produced fiction that primarily concerned Asians in Asia.
Her first such effort, The Good Earth, catapulted Pearl Buck
to fame in the United States and much of the rest of the
world. Despite some rather petty criticism, she was
awarded the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1931.
12
The Good
Earth was a simple, sentimental tale of a hardworking
Chinese man, his good and bad times, and the tribulations
encountered by himself, his unlettered wife, and his family.
The book was presumed to uphold the simple dignity of the
earth-bound Chinese peasant and evoke sympathy for him
in affluent American readers. It was, in any event, an
instant hit and Pearl Buck became America's number one
expert on China, a role which she apparently relished over
much of the next four decades.
Once established as a China expert, Pearl Buck's
name began to pop up in the American press almost any
time something pertaining to China did. This included
controversy. In 1933 the Presbyterian Board of Foreign
Missions threatened to expel Buck from their membership
following an article in Harper's which criticized the arro
gance of some foreign missionaries in China and also
questioned aspects of Christian theology. She implied, for
example, that the doctrine that one is eternally damned
unless saved by Christ was a superstition that should not be
inflicted upon the Chinese. 13 After fundamentalists and the
press picked up the issue, Buck resigned from the mission
board later in that year. Thereafter, in her lectures and
writings she seemed to drift away from the traditional
missionary position with respect to China.
There was a certain amount of criticism of Buck's
works in the United States in the 1930s. For example, in
1935, a Kansas City mother attacked The Good Earth as
"filthy" and sought to have it banned from public schools.
No nationwide movement of this sort materialized and
most criticism of Buck in this period came from Chinese.
Elitist Chinese scholars took her to task for concentrating
on what they regarded as the lowliest member of society.
One scholar, Kiang Kang-hu, in a long article in The New
York Times Book Review in 1933, attacked the accuracy of
Buck's portrayal of Chinese customs and declared that she
caricatured Chinese by emphasizing "a few special points
and [she] makes things appear queer and unnatural to both
Western and Chinese eyes."14 Buck answered this and
other criticism so vigorously that she, not the Chinese
scholars, was accepted in the U.S. as the real expert on
China. It is clear, however, that she helped promote the
cliche that Chinese (and hence "Orientals" of all descrip
tions) valued life cheaply. She said as much in an article in
Asia in October 1937 while commenting on the inhumanity
of the war then in progress between China and Japan. 15
12. Some criticized the selection on the grounds that the Pulitzer was
supposed to go to a distinctively American work by an American author.
Many thought Pearl Buck and The Good Eanh did not meet these criteria.
13. Pearl Buck, "Is There a Case for Foreign Missions?," Harper's Maga
zine, 166:2 (Jan. 1933), pp. 143-155.
14. The New York Times Book Review, Jan. 15, 1933. The article by Kiang is
on pages 2 and 6, while Buck's reply appears on pags 2 and 17.
15. "What we now see in China, therefore, is the combination of parts of
two civilizations, without the restraint of the balancing parts; that is, a war
carried on with modem weapons, the product of the West, and with a
8
Indeed, throughout the Sino-Japanese conflict Pearl
was busy in the U.S. in support of the Chinese cause in
particular and in calling attention to troubles in East Asia in
general. It is apparent that she was awarded the Nobel
Prize for Literature in 1938 mainly out of sympathy for
China in her hour of peril. Nearly everyone in the United
States (and many in Europe as well) who commented on
the Nobel selection indicated that she was not a literary
giant, but many claimed that she deserved it nevertheless.
Actually, I think that the Nobel committee as well as many
Americans who read her writings on China, felt that the
downtrodden people of China (like the hero and his wife in
The Good Earth) were the ones who deserved the recogni
tion. Granting the Nobel Prize to Pearl Buck was as close as
they could get to meeting this recognition.
Retaining her reputation as a China expert after Pearl
Harbor, Buck began to take up the question of race pre
judice in her lectures and other public appearances. She
was unmistakably a "liberal" on this issue and it is likely
that she contributed more than she has been credited for to
the liberal movement against racism in America because
she was taken seriously as one who "really understood
Orientals." In the war years she frequently attacked
American racism and smugness, contending in a February
1942 speech that "the peoples of Asia want most of all in
this war their freedom" [from white Western oppression].
She called on the U.S. to practice the democracy it pro
fessed, implying thereby that this had not been the case in
the past. In addition, she claimed that to many Asians the
United States and Britain appeared to be fighting more to
save imperialism than for the freedom of all people. She
predicted by implication the postwar feelings of nation
alism and anti-colonialism that stunned the world. She was,
of course, criticized in the American press for the expres
sion of these unpopular views, but she was also recognized
as a member of the "establishment" whose views could not
be sloughed off with contempt.
After the Second World War Buck remained active in
a variety of causes as well as continuing to produce books in
rapid order. She published five novels in the late 1940s
under a pseudonym, though none concerned China or
other parts ofAsia and none was a best-seller. In 1948 Buck
testified before a Congressional committee against univer
sal military training which she called a "breeder of war. " In
the same year she spoke out against censorship in the U.S.
which she apparently thought was a serious danger. In the
early 1950s, like almost every prominent American with
experience in China, she was attacked by McCarthyites. She
was not a major target, but non-approval from HUAC
(House Un-American Affairs Committee) caused cancela
tion of a high school commencement speech in Washing
ton, D.C. in 1951. Despite her reputation and continued
commentary on Chinese affairs, Pearl Buck rarely returned
to China after she became famous. In any case, she was not
really welcome there. Even in her later years, after the
thaw had begun in American-Chinese relations, she was
refused a visa by the People's Republic.
In the last two decades of her life Buck devoted much
of her time to seeking care for neglected children of Ameri
can fathers and Asian mothers. She set up a foundation for
this purpose while she and her second husband, publisher
Richard J. Walsh, adopted eight children of various back
grounds. Through these means she managed to remain in
the public eye in the U.S. as such activities were ideal for
reportage in women's magazines. It is probably fair to say,
however, that the heyday of her influence was in the late
1930s and the wartime years. Her postwar influence was
largely residual, based on the mark she had made earlier.
At the time of their publication most of Pearl Buck's
books were reviewed favorably by critics. She was seen as
one who "understood" China and the Chinese in a nation
which did not. Those who sang her praises often did so for
her perceived contributions to bridging the East-West gap.
That such a gap existed was taken for granted by all Ameri
cans who ever said anything about it and apparently is still
accepted as a kind of immutable principle. The influence of
the likes of Aristotle and Rudyard Kipling is very hard to
overcome. In Buck's later novels, like The Hidden Flower,
the main theme was East meeting West. Prominent figures
praised her for this. In reviewing her autobiography Edgar
Snow lauded her for contributions to the understanding of
China. 16 Harold Isaacs also praised Buck for her positive
contributions to the American image of China and the
Chinese.
Despite the favorable reviews, by the time of her death
in 1973 Pearl Buck had gone out of fashion as a China
expert. Her works could then be attacked as "puerile. "17
Even in the days of her greatest popularity, the praise had
been mixed with negative comments. For example, critics
often referred to her style as "biblical," meaning that it was
ponderous and moralistic. It was also noted that she dealt
mainly in types and that her characters lacked psychologi
cal insight. She was often described as a "woman's
novelist." Apparently, this meant that she was sentimental
to a fault. Christian critics, Catholic and Protestant, were
also sometimes harsh. A Jesuit journal called her
dogmatic, 18 while the obituary in Christianity Today pointed
out that many evangelicals considered her hostile to them
and their sense of mission. 19
While Buck sought to banish the stereotype of the
yellow-menacing Chinese and to portray them as individu
als with common human attributes, it is also true that the
characters in her books often emphasized rather than min
imized the differences between "East" and "West." A
perceptive comment on Buck and her popUlarity was that
she "makes her followers feel they are getting a learned
insight into ways and things Chinese. "20 Actually, stories
like The Good Earth had plots that were essentially Ameri
can: poor boy makes good by dint of hard work and self
16. See Edgar Snow, "Pearl Buck's Worlds," a review of My Several
Worlds, by Pearl S. Buck, in Nation, 179:20 (Nov. 13, 1954), p. 426.
17. So described by Helen F. Snow (Edgar Snow's ex-wife) in The New
Republic, Mar. 24, 1973, p. 28.
18. Dorothy G. Wayman in a review of My Several Worlds in America, 92:6
(Nov. 6, 1954), p. 160.
spirit of utter disregard for individual human life, which is the result of life
19. Christianity Today, Mar. 30, 1973, p. 29.
in the Orient." Asia. 37:10 (Oct. 1937), p. 672. "Western Weapons in the
Hands of the Reckless East," by Pearl Buck. The title of this piece is also
20. Louise Lux. review of Kinfolk in New York Times Book Review, Apr. 24.
revealing.
9 1949, p. 30.
sacrifice. Other assessments of Buck as a literary figure
described her respectively as a fatalist regarding women, 21
a naturalist possibly influenced in college by Zola,22 and as
a novelist of the depression.
23
Her preeminence as a pur
veyor of popular impressions of China to the American
public was and remains, however, unchallenged.
Before taking up the careers of the other super best
sellers, it seems appropriate here to include a brief sum
mary of Buck's best-sellers in the order of their appear
ance. The Good Earth, her first best-selling novel, was the
most widely acclaimed of her many works. It was the story
of a Chinese peasant, Wang Lung, and his wife and their
rise to prosperity through. perseverance, hard work and
many vicissitudes. Original reviews of The Good Earth were
almost all favorable. This work was followed in 1932 by
Sons, a sequel which concentrated attention mainly on one
of Wang Lung's sons who became a warlord. Sons was
received less positively than The Good Earth. The third
book in the House ofEarth trilogy, A House Divided, which
appeared early in 1935, did not make U.S. best-seller lists.
It focused on the third generation of the Wang family and
was set in the period ofthe revolution. Reviews of this book
were mostly negative with one American critic describing it
as "the worst novel ever written by a competent novel
ist. "24
Buck's next best-seller was Dragon Seed in 1942. It was
largely a story of resistance and collaboration in the war
with Japan. One "good" Chinese family contended against
a "bad" one. The Chinese in it remained peasants and
were, as before, presented as both simple and simple
minded. It received mixed reviews. The Promise in 1943 was
a sequel to Dragon Seed and also set in Burma during the
unsuccessful campaign against Japan. In this novel Buck
stressed white racism against Chinese who were again de
picted as simple, naive, and hard working. Most American
reviewers of The Promise were positive, but some
questioned her harping upon the faults of the U.S. and
Britain in the Burma campaign.
Pavillion of Women in 1946 concerned a Chinese
matron in a wealthy family who brings in concubines to
please her husband and seeks personal happiness for her
self. There was a missionary of no particular sect in this
novel and also a spiritual message. The heroine in her later
life becomes a compassionate "do-gooder." Reviews were
mixed. Peony in 1948 was focused on Jews in China with a
story about a bondmaid who falls in love with a Jewish boy.
The love is unrequited and Peony ends up in a convent. The
reviews were largely negative.
Kinfolk, the following year (1949) was soap opera. A
Chinese scholar living in New York finds that two of his
children are drawn back to China by their own inclinations
and the other two are shanghaied back. As a result all kinds
of complications arise, pitting members of the family
against each other. In this novel is seen another favorite
21. Margaret Lawrence. The School of Femininity (Port Washington.
N.Y., 1936), pp. 318-323.
22. Oscar Cargill, Intellectual America (New York, 1941). pp. 146-148.
23. Carl Van Doren, The American Novel, /789-/939 (New York, 1940), p.
353.
24. Malcolm Crowley, "Wang Lung's Children," New Republic, May 10,
1939, p. 24.
theme of treatises on China-the conflict of generations
and of tradition versus progress. In 1951 God's Men con
cerned two American men, both sons of missionaries born
in China. They go different ways, one to become "good,"
the other "bad." It was a sentimental story that was both
praised and attacked by contemporary reviewers.
Appearing two years before Michener's Sayonara,
Buck's next best-seller, The Hidden Flower (1952) was prin
cipally a love story with an "unhappy" ending between an
American military man and a Japanese woman. The re
views were widely mixed with some lambasting it and
others singing its praises. Buck strayed from China again in
1953 with Come My Beloved which was set in India and
focused on altruistic American missionaries who, over sev
eral generations, get progressively closer to the people.
One reviewer described the theme of this novel as "man
kind is all one family."2s In 1956 Imperial Woman was a
fictionalized biography of the Empress Dowager Ci Xi
(Tz'u Hsi) who was portrayed in a flattering manner. Most
of the reviews of Imperial Woman were mildly positive.
Buck usually sought topicality. Letters from Peking in
1957 features a part-Chinese man who remains in China
when the Communists gained control. He writes a final
letter to his American wife in Vermont, whereupon the
wife recalls with sentiment the things from their past. This
novel was praised as a novel of "understanding," apparently
of East and West with Buck doing the "understanding." Her
next best-seller was the non-fiction A Bridge for Passing
(1962) which was set in Japan, was partially autobiograph
ical, and also described the death of her husband. It was a
sentimental and melancholy book. Next was Buck's lone
novel of Korea, A Living Reed, which was discussed earlier.
Her final best-seller, The Three Daughters ofMadame Liang,
appeared in 1969 with all the ingredients of a standard
potboiler. Madame Liang grew up in the early days of the
revolution and now her three daughters return to the Com
munist controlled mainland where they encounter diverse
adventures. This last of Pearl Buck's novels about China
concentrated upon highly educated Chinese in marked de
parture from the peasantry of her earliest and most famous
work.
LinYutang
With five books and 562 points Lin Yutang ranks as the
second most influential interpreter of China for American
popular audiences through the medium of best-sellers. He
is the only native Asian member of the Big Five lineup of
super best-sellers. Like Pearl Buck, Lin Yutang's impact
was heightened by his presence in the United States at a
time of relatively high public interest in Asia, just before
and during the Second World War. In addition to the five
books which made best-seller lists, Lin wrote many others
and contributed numerous articles to The New York Times
Magazine and other periodicals. He also lectured widely in
the eastern U.S. on a variety of subjects pertaining to
China.
In many ways Lin complemented Buck nicely. They
25. Mary Johnson Tweedy, review of Come My Beloved in New York Times
Book Review, Aug. 9, 1953, p. 5.
10
were contemporaries, both of whom arrived in the United
States and rose to prominence in the mid-1930s. While Lin
represented in himself the educated upper-class Chinese,
Buck stood for the common peasant in her novels. Lin was
hardly a typical Chinese, if there has ever been such a thing.
He was, nevertheless, characteristic of the kind of person
who represents the people of one nation to those of an
other, especially in modern times. That is to say, he was a
person of privilege from one country, China, who became
quite familiar with the customs of another, the U.S., to
whom he then sought to present important aspects of his
native land. The result, influenced by class as well as cul
ture, was distortion as is commonly the case.
Lin was the son of a Chinese Christian clergyman and
born in Fukien Province in 1895. He was educated in mis
sion schools, mostly in Shanghai and, after a brief stint
teaching English, went to Harvard where he received an
M.A. and then to Leipzig University where he obtained a
Ph.D. in Philosophy in 1923. He then returned to China to
become a professor at Peita (China's most prestigious uni
versity) from 1923 to 1926. He was regarded as a radical in
these days, but he moved on to Amoy University as Dean
of the Arts College. He also served briefly as secretary to
Eugene Chen in the Wuhan Government in 1927. He was
with Academia Sinica in the early 1930s. Throughout this
period of his life in China Lin wrote steadily, mostly essays
and translations to and from English. He also edited a
humor magazine, Lun Yu. He was clearly well known in
scholarly circles in China, but he was not regarded there as
a major scholar in any field.
Lin's first best-seller in the United States was The
Importance of Living in 1937. This book purported to de
scribe a style of life, presumably Chinese, calculated to
provide a maximum amount of enjoyment. It was referred
to by some as an example of popular hedonism. 26 Its timing
was excellent as the war between China and Japan soon
aroused American interest in Eastern Asia. The book also
established Lin's reputation as a China expert, whereupon
he began to write about and comment on all kinds of things
pertaining to China. For example, he wrote about Chinese
drama for the entertainment section of the New York Times
and for the New York Times Magazine he prepared an article
comparing the Chinese and Japanese for the benefit of
American readers. ("The Japanese are busier but the
Chinese are wiser.")27 The majority of Lin's articles and
speeches in the late 1930s called for increased American
assistance for his beleaguered homeland. He occasionally
mixed in criticism of Western misunderstanding of China,
but it appears that he contributed not a little to that mis
understanding himself.
Lin loved to make predictions and to pontificate. In
March 1937 he declared that he didn't think Japan would go
to war with China. He also insisted that Communism could
not exist in China because the Chinese believed in a "per
26. For example, Robert F. Davidson, Philosophies Men Live By (New
York, Dryden Press, 1952). Davidson devoted one offourteen chapters in
this college text to "Popular Hedonism: The Cyrenaics, Epicurus and Lin
Yutang."
27. Lin Yutang, "As 'Philosophic China' Faces 'Military Japan,' " New
York Times Magazine, Dec. 27,1936, p. 5.
sonal government" and not in "systems." He was inclined
to stereotype his own countrymen. He promoted the
Chinese as lovers of peace. In reference to Chinese soldiers
in 1937 Lin stated that the Chinese soldier "has better
nerves than many European soldiers. His insensitivity to
pain is almost amazing. Life to him is cheap. "28 Later the
same year Lin clearly revealed his class origins in an article
about Chinese coolies in which he depicted Chinese work
ingmen in a condescending manner. 29 American readers of
this article were likely to conclude that Chinese houseboys,
rickshaw pullers, etc., were born to such occupations and
happy with them. His treatment differed not at all from the
common Western view that most Chinese were subhuman
and deserved to occupy positions of servitude.
As the war in China dragged on and American aid did
not materialize, Lin became increasingly bitter and hostile
toward U.S. policy. He began to express the view, widely
held before and since in China, that Western imperialism
and its ramifications were responsible for China's prob
lems. In a June 1941 article, Lin averred, "Years ago the
white man used to send gunboats to shoot Chinese, having
previously sent missionaries to make sure that their souls
would go to heaven when they were shot. That ought to
make it about even, according to the Occidental way of
thinking, but it does not make sense to an Oriental. Save
our bodies, but leave our souls alone. "30 In two non-fiction
books which made best-seller lists during World War II,
Lin Yutang brought this line of thinking to its culmination
and, in the process, started his own demise as a major
interpreter of China in the U.S.
The books were Between Tears and Laughter, published
in 1943, and Vigil of a Nation in 1945. The first of these
consisted in part of an attack on the United States and its
wartime allies for not assigning higher priority to the China
theater. Lin also excoriated Western imperialism and
materialism, accusing the U.S. and the West of patronizing
the Chinese. American reviewers vigorously denounced
Lin and his book for daring to question the priorities of the
war effort. Amerasia condemned the book for its rejection
of materialism and accused Lin of Gandhism which was out
of favor during a popular shooting war.3l The views ex
pressed in Between Tears and Laughter closely paralleled
those of Chiang Kai-shek whose famous book, China's
Destiny, appeared the same year. Both Chiang and Lin
essentially blamed Western imperialism for China's diffi
culties which could be overcome only by a revival ofConfu
cian values and virtues. Other American reviews of this
book were similarly unfriendly, some downright angry.
28. Lin Yutang, "Can China Stop Japan in Her Asiatic March?," New
York Times Magazine, Aug. 29,1937, p. 5. The depiction of Chinese and
other Asians (but especially Chinese) in this manner has been going on for
a long time. Akira Iriye quotes from a British newspaper at the beginning
of the twentieth century: "Think what the Chinese are; think of their
powers of silent endurance under suffering and cruelty; think of their
frugality; think of their patient perseverance, their slow dogged persis
tence, their recklessness oflife." Akira Iriye, "Imperialism in East Asia,"
in James B. Crowley, Modern East Asia: Essays in Interpretation (New
York, 1970), p. 145.
29. Lin Yutang, "Key Man in China's Future-the Coolie," New York
Times Magazine. Nov. 14,1937, pp. 8-9,17.
30. By-lined article in the New York Times. June 8, 1941, p. 19.
31. Unsigned review in Amerasia. 7:9 (Sept. 1943), pp. 286-289.
II
Vigil ofa Nation was based on a short trip to China and
was a virulent assault upon the Chinese Communists ac
companied by strong expressions of support for Chiang
Kai-shek and his "Nationalist" cohorts. This book drew
criticism from many persons including Edgar Snow whose
earlier works had sung the praises of the Chinese Com
munists. Vigil of a Nation was undoubtedly Lin Yutang's
most controversial book. Amerasia devoted an entire issue
to it 32 while scholarly criticism found expression in an
articie by Michael Lindsay from Yan'an,
stronghold.
33
Lin vehemently denounced his cntlCS whIle
some anti-Communist reviewers, like Freda Utley, ap
plauded Lin and his work. Lin Yutang's views in this book
presaged those of the so-called China lobby which was to
emerge shortly and contribute significantly to the
McCarthyite witch hunts of the early 1950s. Vigil ofa Nation
also marked the beginning of Lin's postwar role as an
anti-Communist publicist.
Despite the consonance of Lin's political position with
that of the emergent anti-Communist right in the U.S.,
there is no doubt that his general influence declined after
the establishment of the People's Republic of China in
1949. In 1954 Lin was lured to Singapore to become the first
chancellor of anew, privately funded university for
Chinese students. The initially advertised purpose of Nan
yang University was to countera.ct the Com
munism in all of Southeast ASIa. In thiS post Lm was
apparently as irascible as ever. He resigned before the
university opened its doors, citing obstruction from
quarters, most of it Communist inspired. After that, Lm
spent some time in the U.S., some in Hong Kong and
visited Taiwan frequently. He repeatedly refused a post m
the Taiwan government, but he remained a staunch
Communist. In the 1960s he developed a new typewnter
for the Chinese language and he brought out a monumental
Chinese-English dictionary in 1972.
34
By the time of his
death on March 26, 1976, his preeminence as an interpreter
of China to the American people had been all but for
gotten. .
Lin contributed significantly to the Amencan popular
image of China in the 1930s and the Second
War through his novels and non-fictIon books. ?IS
Chinese origins, Lin did not break down the cliched m
terpretations of his countrymen offered by. Pearl Buck.
Indeed, he reinforced these stereotypes as hiS characters,
particularly in fiction, were stock characters. The work of
Lin in English and its popularity in the U.S. suggest that
commercial success stems directly from a willingness to
adhere to existing images and prevailing stereotypes. Lin is
really unique among authors on this list as native interp
reter of his own people who, however, did them. a
service in the long run. Lin has never been admIred m
China and was often ridiculed by other Chinese as one who
had no qualifications to portray things Chinese to the rest of
the world. In the United States Lin was popular as long as
32. Vol. 9:5 (Mar. 9, 1945). The co-editors of Amerasia were Philip J.
Jaffe and Kate L. Mitchell.
33. Michael Lindsay, "Conflict in North China: 1937-1943," Far Eastern
Survey. 14:13 (July 4, 1945), pp. 172-176.
34. Chinese-English Dictionary ofModern Usage (Hong Kong, 1972).
he did not seriously challenge the existing notions about
China while playing the role of "wise and kindly
opher." Once he dropped this to attack the West and ItS
pretensions, his influence began to disappear.
John Masters
After Buck and Lin the other members of the "Big
Five" seem less interesting and significant, but they never
theless deserve brief mention, in part because they are still
active writers. John Masters placed eight books, mostly
with Indian locales, on American best-sellers list from
to 1961. He ranks second in number of books and fourth m
points with 586. He is the only author of the "Big to
concentrate on India and he has been, therefore, an Im
portant figure in establishing, pr?moting, nurturing. the
American popular image of IndIa. In to the
best-sellers, two of which were non-fictIonal autobiO
graphical accounts, Masters published five other novels
India seven novels with non-Indian settings, and one addi
tionai volume of autobiography. After the early 1960s his
popularity waned, perhaps as a result of
can interest in the subcontinent and the deromantlclZmg of
imperialism. Masters' later books were also invariably re
viewed unfavorably.
Like Buck and Lin, Masters was not brought up in the
United States. He was, in fact, born in India in 1914. His
father was a military officer, a career followed by John
Masters as well. He attended Sandhurst and served four
teen years in the British Army in India, endingwith Indian
independence in 1947. He then imr,nigrated to the U.S: to
begin a writing career. When intervIewed after the publIca
tion of his first book, Nightrunners of Bengal, m 1951,
Masters announced his intention of writing thirty-five
novels about the British experience in India. He then began
to tum out approximately one novel per year throughout
the 1950s. Masters is, still writing but seems to have aban
doned the ambitious plan for thirty-five books on India. He
has been much less of a public figure or pleader for special
causes than either Buck or Lin Yutang.
Although Masters wrote formula historical romances
set in India with European heroes, most of his earlier books
received praise from reviewers. He was sometimes com
pared favorably to Kipling, once for describing the "feroc
ity with which Oriental natives fought European troops so
long ago. "35 He was occasionally. as me!o
dramatic and no one saw him as a major literary figure WIth
prize winning potential. Some reviewers called his novels
loose and flamboyant and in the 1950s he was condemne.d
by some for his "lushly erotic scenes" and "crudely erotIc
episodes," obviously a major reason for the
larity. His autobiographical praise. for therr
sentimental treatment of the life of a soldier at a tIme when
such a life had romantic attraction in the U.S. He also
evoked nostalgia for the days of empire.
Masters' appeal and also his stereotyping are both
evident in pronounced form in Bhowani Junction
The central character in this novel is an Anglo-Indian wo
35. Harrison Smith, review of Nightrunners ofBengal, in Saturday Review,
Feb. 10, 1951, p. 13.
12
man who is wooed respectively by an Anglo-Indian man,
an Indian, and an Englishman. The Anglo-Indian man is
clumsy and foolish, but well-meaning. The Indian is shy
and reticent, but political. He refuses to kiss the girl before
marriage. The Englishman (a soldier) is decisive, cour
ageous, and virile. He and the heroine make love fre
quently and passionately, but in the end she returns to the
Anglo-Indian essentially because he is one of her own and
he needs taking care of. The Britisher and the Indian do
not. The time setting is 1946 as Britain prepares to leave
India. There is a story line revolving around attempts by
Indian Communists to stir up trouble and the efforts of
British and Indian officials to prevent it. The tale is rela
tively innocuous, but John Barkham called Bhowani Junc
tion the best novel of India since E. M. Forster's Passage to
India.
36
Masters' perspective, however, more closely re
sembles Kipling. The overall impression is that India is
ungovernable, especially by Indians.
Another frequently 0CCUI'I'iDg theme, largely in
fiction, is that Asian women are sexually sub
servient and available to Westerners. Tied to this
is the normaDy imp6cit notion tbat Asian women
prefer Western men as lovers, presumably be
cause they are more "manly," "virile," and less
chlldlike.
Masters' inftuence was of short duration. His treat
ment ofIndia and Indians was essentially that ofthe foreign
imperialist master. It is hard to imagine his books selling
well in India. In sum, the popular novels of John Masters
exemplify the impermanent but romanticized American
vision of India under British rule, replete with problems of
mostly Indian origin and potentially solvable by European
minds and vigor.
James Michener
James Michener's 5'12 books on Asia with 9841f2 points
rank him as a member ofthe super best-selling authors. His
books on Asia were published between 1947 and 1963,
although he has continued to write mammoth novels on
other subjects in the past two decades. Michener easily
ranks as one of the most popular authors in American
history. His writing career began with material on Asia and
he was for some time identified in the popular mind with
that continent. He frequently talked about "my part of the
world," by which he meant the Pacific, and he was briefly
considered an "expert" on just about anything pertaining
36. New York Times Book Review, Mar. 28, 1954, p. 1. Forster's famous
1924 book along with George Orwell's Burmese Days (1934) represent to
some extent opposite views of imperialism to those expressed by the
popular writers. Both concentrated on negative, even hostile, features of
British presence in India and Burma, but neither book made U.S. best
seller lists. Forster depicted in forthright manner and Orwell in exag
gerated fashion the overbearing condescension of white Europeans to
ward Asian "natives."
13
to any part ofAsia. Unlike Buck or Lin, he never became a
polemicist for causes relating to Asia, although he has
spoken out on some controversial social issues in the U.S.
in the last ten years.
Of the "Big Five" best-selling authors identified in this
study, Michener is the only one who spent his formative
years in the U.S. He was born in 1907 and raised near
Philadelphia. He spent some of his youth travelling in the
United States and graduated with honors from Swarthmore
College in 1929. In the 1930s he taught at prep schools and
also spent two years in Europe on wanderjahr. He received
a Masters Degree in Education from Colorado State Col
lege in 1936 and taught there and elsewhere, specializing in
social studies education. He was a visiting professor at
Harvard in 1940-41. He also did some editing for Macmil
lan and contributed articles to scholarly journals in his
specialty. During World War II Michener served in the
Navy and spent most of his time in the South Pacific. After
the war Michener published Tales ofthe South Pacific which
was a series of loosely connected stories set in wartime
among the islands of that part of the world. The book was
widely praised for its originality with Michener receiving
the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1948. Later the material in
this book became the enormously popular Broadway mu
sical and motion picture, South Pacific. Michener's fame
and success were assured.
None of his later worlc received as much critical ac
claim as Tales of the South Pacific, but his popularity re
mained high as he concentrated on stories and novels with
Asian or Pacific settings. The Bridges of Toko-Ri was orig
inally published in full in a single issue of Life (July 6, 1953)
which had, in fact, commissioned the novel. This short
novel of the Korean war thus had a vast readership, not
necessarily reflected in best-seller lists. Some of the scenes
were placed in Japan. Michener followed this with
Sayonara, a romance between an American Air Force offi
cer and a Japanese woman, in 1954; Caravans, the only
U.S. best-seller ever about Afghanistan in 1963; and
Hawaii, the first of his monumental novels, in 1959.
The last named book deserves inclusion in this study
because, despite the geographical setting, a majority of the
fiction characters are Asians. It is essentially a plotless tale,
panoramic in scope, covering respectively the Polynesian,
U.S. missionary, Chinese, and Japanese settlers of Hawaii.
The treatment is designed to be sympathetic to all, but the
characters, without exception, are stock. In the end the
reader is left with the old stereotypes: the Chinese are
clannish, hard working, and fanatic in devotion to land.
The Japanese are stubborn, excessively loyal,politically
oriented, and consider themselves as Japanese rather than
Americans. The original Polynesian Hawaiians perhaps
come off best as the victims of everyone else. Yet, the
author seems to see this victimization and all other de
velopments on the islands as inevitable, presumed conse
quences of progress. There is also racism in the text that is
not confined to the minds and words of fictional characters.
Descriptive passages on the physical features of Chinese
and Japanese frequently refer to "slanting eyes" and other
supposed racial characteristics.
In his books Michener became the master purveyor of
the national stereotypes of various Asian peoples. By the
1960s the original critical praise of Michener had dwindled
to abrasive criticism. Orville Prescott summed up Michen
er's approach to his subjects by referring to Caravans as a
"sleek combination of lively travelogue and mediocre fic
tion. "37 Robert Payne commented that "one wishes to
heaven he wrote as well about people as he wrote about
mountains. "38
James ClaveU
James Clavell, a contemporary writer of three [now
37. New York Times, Aug. 9, 1963, p. 21.
38. New York Times Book Review, Aug. 11, 1963, p. 5.
four] best-sellers with Asian settings, rounds out the big
five. So far Clavell has contributed novels about prison
camp locale and with historical settings in Hong Kong and
Japan. It seems highly unlikely that any of his work will
ever be considered literature, although there is no doubt
that he has had considerable impact in recent years. Clavell
was born in Australia of British parents in 1924. His father
was a naval officer, a career which James also intended to
pursue. However, he was captured by the Japanese Army
in Malaya in 1942 and spent the remainder of World War II
in a POW camp in Singapore. His prison experience
formed the basis for his first best-selling novel, King Rat, in
1962. Before this success Clavell was mainly occupied as a
screenwriter in both England and the United States.
As yet Clavell has not been regarded by the American
public or media as an expert on Asia nor has he been asked
to pontificate on political or other matters. He contributed
two rather trivial articles to The Far Eastern Economic Re
view in 1978 and 1979. Neither had anything to do with
economics. He was also interviewed frequently by Ameri
can media when his third novel, Shogun, was made into a
popular television mini-series in September 1980. In his
blockbusting novels, Tai-Pan and Shogun [also Noble House,
published in 1981], Clavell followed the popular formula
which includes large doses of adventure, violence, sex, and
war. These ingredients, in the hands of Clavell (also
Masters and Michener) have proved to be as successful a
mix in Asian settings as elsewhere.
Of Clavell's books, King Rat received the most favor
able reviews, mainly for raising questions about human
survival rather than for its Asian setting or depictions. In
fact, Asian characters play only insignificant roles in it.
Tai-Pan is a rousing adventure novel, set in south China
during the Opium War (1839-1942). The story line con
cerns efforts by Britishers to gain control of Hong Kong,
settle it, and develop it. The principal hero is a Scotsman
with Herculean ability. His is the only well-developed per
sonality. The others, Chinese and Europeans, are all
stereotypes. The major female character is the hero's
Chinese mistress who is one-dimensional and reflects all
the standard cliches about Chinese women. The love in
terest, typically, is European man-Chinese woman, al
though there are some European females, including one
whose behavior may be described as lewd. Otherwise, the
Chinese are depicted as sly and devious, preoccupied with
"joss" or fate. A few have redeeming features and most of
the Europeans are also full of negative qualities. The
Chinese, both men and women, are superstitious and ob
sessed with "face," a major concern of Westerners who
write novels about China.
Shogun was a blockbuster best-seller twice, once at
publication in 1975 and again after the television mini
series was aired. It is the fictionalized story of Will Adams,
the first Englishman to reach Japan in 1600. The name of
the hero is changed and the history is inaccurate, although
all the major characters are based on historical persons.
The author has telescoped into a single year most of the
characteristics of Japanese culture and society that are
commonly known to the rest of the world. Aside from the
historical inaccuracy, the novel can be regarded as (1) an
East-West love story, and (2) a historical adventure story
set in Japan. Despite claims to the contrary,39 the book
14
leaves the reader with the same old feeling of Western
superiority, especially in terms of morality. To be specific,
the English hero has modern values with respect to life and
society, whereas the Japanese characters retain values of
the sixteenth century. The hero has compassion, the
Japanese do not. On the whole Japanese are portrayed as
brutal, sadistic, and suicide-crazy with women willing to
fall in love with the first Westerner available. Like the
Chinese in Tai-Pan, the Japanese in ShOgun are obsessed
with fate, this time called karma. Despite its shortcomings,
this book probably had a more forceful impact on the
American reading public than any other book published on
Japan in the past fifty years. The impact was greatly aug
mented by the television program which aroused much
transient comment, but actually went even further in sug
gesting the cultural and moral superiority of the West. In a
postscript to the collection of essays on ShOgun (see foot
note 39), Henry Smith inferred that the TV program was
based on ". . . a tacit conviction that the American tele
vision public in 1980 is so xenophobic that it cannot tolerate
an image of the Japanese (or presumably other such non
white, non-Christian cultures) as anything more than in
comprehensible 'aliens.' "40
From the above recapitulations it is apparent that
three of the five super best-selling authors (Masters,
Michener, and Clavell) have written essentially adventure
stories with what Americans have often regarded as "ex
otic" settings. Masters and Clavell have mainly produced
historical romances with plots, while Michener's contribu
tions have either been panoramic and plotless (Hawaii) or
contemporary (Sayonara). All three see Asian lands and
peoples through the eyes of their white, Western heroes.
They represent most fully the American (also Western)
perception of the "East" as "exotic," a place for men, but
not women, and for adventure. The first two, Buck and
Lin, however, were publicists and general experts on China
as well as authors of books which made best-seller lists.
Their impact differed from that of the adventure writers as
they were more serious and avowed "friends" of China. Of
all the five, Pearl Buck had the greatest long-range influ
ence on American images of Asia, particularly China.
Racism, Sexism and Popular Literature
Space does not permit detailed evaluation of the other
best-selling authors. The cumulative impact of their works
has tended to reinforce the features and patterns presented
by the more famous writers. In the main these are stereo
types heavily laced with racism. Common features include
Asian "lack of leadership," Westerners surpassing Orien
tals at "Oriental" techniques, sexual subservience and
availability, portrayal of Asians as childlike, burdened by
"face" and superstition.
In the last decade and a half distinguishable minorities
in the United States have complained about the dehuman
ized manner in which they have been depicted in popular
literature.
41
Indeed, the civil rights movement in the U.S.
has had as an objective not only equal treatment in law (yet
to be achieved), but also the removal of racial and sexist
stereotyping in all forms of popular expression (also un
achieved). The overall image of Asia and its peoples pro
jected in the best-sellers studied here is sufficiently nega
tive to warrant continuing the movement for redress.
The composite picture of Asia drawn from best-sellers
is that it is a wartorn continent where much of the manly
fighting has been done by white Westerners. It is seen as a
region interesting primarily when visited by and under the
influence of foreigners who regard the local inhabitants
with condescension. In a word, racism has been and still is a
major component of best-selling books in America that
have to do with Asia and its people.
Racism, an ideological form of murder, is not always
blunt but it is present, sometimes perhaps unconsciously, in
almost all of the books under study here. The idea that to
Asians life is cheap is but the most obvious manifestation of
the racism.42 Rather blatant racism appears repeatedly in
the earlier novels, Oilfor the Lamps of China and The Black
Rose, where Chinese are regularly referred to as "ugly,"
"grotesque," and "yellow." The sentiment did not die with
postwar enlightenment. Racism is abundantly evident, for
example, in Hawaii and the James Bond thriller You Only
Live Twice (1964) where one reads: "The samurai face was
perhaps etched in more sinister, more brutal lines. The hint
of Tartar, tamed and civilized, lurked with less conceal
ment, like a caged animal, in the dark pools of his eyes" (p.
85). And racism is ubiquitous in The Ambassador (1965), a
novel of Vietnam: "Asia was a brutal continent ... people
were millenially passive under plague, famine, smallpox,
hookworm and the lash of the prince's minions" (p. 76).
Finally, the descriptions in Manchu (1980) might have been
taken from The Black Rose, written thirty-five years earlier.
A passage describing the hero's son by his Manchu wife
reads: "Robert's mind was quicksilver, wholly European in
its flexibility and its logic. On that Adam Schall and Francis
[the hero] agreed .... Joseph King [a Chinese Catholic]
insisted that the boy's intellect was-by some miracle
Chinese in its subtlety and its retentiveness. Robert's three
teachers agreed completely that his brain was not Manchu,
whatever else it might be" (p. 443).
Another aspect of racism is found in the stereotyping
of Asians as childlike and lacking in leadership qualities. It
is not only in novels but also in serious non-fiction works
that one finds this sentiment. The general picture of Asian
39. In 1980 a group of American scholars devoted an entire book of
twelve articles to a consideration ofShogun as literature and as a source of
information on Japan. Henry Smith, ed., Learning from ShOgun: Japanese
History and Western Fantasy (Santa Barbara, 1980). Most of the articles in
this book praised Clavell for writing a "pro-Japanese" book which was
designed to show how some Japanese ways may be superior to those ofthe
West. Such an assessment of ShOgun is questionable, for the novel comes
off mainly as a preposterous story of adventure in which Japanese remain
stereotyped as severely as ever.
40. Ibid., p. 162. 15
41. A vast number of books and articles have taken up this subject in
recent years. From an Asian-American perspective it is addressed in Amy
Tachiki, et aI., Roots: An Asian-American Reader (Los Angeles, 1971). An
ongoing academic example is provided by The Journal of Ethnic Studies
which began publication in 1973 and consists of articles and reviews
reflecting an awareness of the problem from an internal American
perspective.
42. The truth of this matter, it seems to me, is that Asian life is indeed held
cheaply, but by Westerners who have regularly been willing to kill Asians
indiscriminately and in large numbers.
men in American best-sellers is that they are ineffective in
many ways and are easily surpassed at their own "Oriental"
techniques by Westerners among them. This view is pres
ent in one form or another in The Lost Horizon, The Black
Rose, Bhowani Junction, Soldier of Fortune, Elephant Hill,
You Only Live Twice, Tai-Pan, Shogun, The Far Pavilions,
Manchu, Shibumi, and The Ninja. The last two are recent and
very conspicuous examples.
Another frequently occurring theme, largely in fic
tion, is that Asian women are sexually subservient and
available to Westerners. Tied to this is the normally im
plicit notion that Asian women prefer Western men as
lovers, presumably because they are more "manly,"
"virile," and less childlike. A good example of this, already
referred to, is Bhowani Junction. We also encounter it in The
Purple Plain, a novel of wartime Burma where an English
airman gradually falls in love with an "almost white"
Burmese nurse named Anna. The hero describes his be
loved: "[her face] had all the great Eastern fatalism in it, so
attractive and hypnotically beautiful, and yet something
else besides: a rare kind of wakefulness, as if that school in
Rangoon had given her the start of a bright emancipation"
(p. 274). Other examples ofthis typical Western stereotype
of feminine beauty cum servitude and fatalism are found in
Elephant Walk (1949) where a beautiful Srilankan girl is
described as an "animal" and in The World of Suzie Wong
(1957) which features a torrid romance between a Hong
Kong prostitute and a middle-aged English painter. It is
also apparent in You Only Live Twice, Shogun, The Honour
able Schoolboy, and many other novels.
A patronizing attitude toward Asia is suggested by
such titles as India and the Awakening East which implies that
the "East" (whatever is meant by the word is unclear) has
been asleep. Presumably, while somnolent, the "East" has
been passed by so that it is "backward," "under
developed," or perhaps "emerging." Such terminology,
found in the text as well as the titles of many books, is in
part derived from a very old Western attitude about Asia.
It is epitomized in Napoleon's famous and often quoted
cliche about China as a sleeping giant. Such imagery, more
over, inevitably carries with it the notion that the Western
World has been and remains awake and vital in contrast.
The suggestion of backwardness which implies technical
incompetence and childlike behavior appears in one way or
another in almost all of the 243 books on the list, including
the most recent like ShOgun, The Far Pavilions, and Manchu.
The kind of racism, mixed with condescension, found
in most best-sellers, is summed up in what might be called
the "Great White Father" syndrome. This attitude has
been admirably described by Warren Cohen in reference to
George Sokolsky, an important American journalist in
China in the 1920s and 1930s:
He was not a racist, at least not in the same sense that his
countrymen were and remain racists. Toward the Chinese,
however, he revealed a familiar ambivalence. Too often his
correspondence with other Americans referred to the child
like ways of the Chinese, describing them as ungrateful
children who required a firm hand. Chinese were not dogs,
but they were not quite the equals ofadult American males.
Sokolsky had come among the Chinese people seeking to be
the Great White Father.
43
This "Great White Father" syndrome is found in many
persons, both in fiction and in reality, who have visited and
travelled not only in China but other parts of Asia as well.
Examples from books in this study include ShOgun, Manchu,
Tai-Pan, and The Lost Horizon. Non-fiction journalists, trav
ellers, missionaries and memorialists have also seen them
selves in this same role. To name a few: Dooley, Seagrave,
and MacArthur.
The dominance of war and wartime settings has al
ready been noted. Indeed, all wars have been popular
except the Korean and Vietnam conflicts which ended
without victory for the United States. Nevertheless, they
too received some attention in best-sellers. In contrast to
the popularity of war is the almost complete neglect of any
sympathetic treatment, either in fiction or non-fiction, of
the nationalist aspirations of the peoples of Asia. Such
aspirations were often among the causes of the wars. The
clash between colonialism and nationalism, in fact, is not
treated seriously in a single American best-seller about
Asia in the last fifty years, with the possible exception of
The Ugly American.
44
European colonials are not always
treated favorably either, but few authors have questioned
their right to be there, to have servants and adventures, and
to make love to the women. The author of the one critical
study of U.S. best-sellers has intimated that best-sellers
tend to be behind the times and reflect views that are more
conservative than those of the American mainstream. 45
This is a cogent observation, but when it comes to depicting
Asian nationalism, American best-sellers seem to be so far
behind that they will never catch up. (Will large numbers of
Americans ever want to read books about the maltreat
ment and exploitation of Asians or other non-whites in
their own environment?)
It is also obvious from the authors and titles included
in this study that there is almost nothing which could hon
estly be called "literature." The presence of Aldous Hux
ley and Lao She (Lau Shaw) does not contradict this state
ment, because neither accumulated many points or exerted
ongoing influence. Pearl Buck probably comes the closest
of the principal authors involved to consideration as a
"person of letters," but she too does not really qualify.
Books by authors who ordinarily wrote about other sub
jects were undoubtedly popular because they confirmed
the existing American beliefs and misunderstandings about
their Asian settings. There appears to be no other explana
tion for such poorly written books as Soldier of F onune or
The Ambassador, for example. The best-sellers seem to bear
out my original suspicion: that what one has to say about
Asia (or another less familiar area) will be accepted by the
audience to the extent that it reinforces existing beliefs and
opinions, no matter how incorrect they may be.
46
43. Warren I. Cohen, The Chinese Connection: Roger S. Green. Thomas W.
Lamont. George E. Sokolsky and American-East Asian Relations (New York,
1978), p. 283.
44. It does appear in a few, such as Masters' Bhowani Junction.
45. Suzanne Ellery Greene, Books/or Pleasure: Popular Fiction. 1914-1945
(Bowling Green, OH, 1974), pp. 73-75, passim.
46. I have a mental image of an editor receiving a manuscript from a
popular author which fails to conform to cliches, but instead treats Asians
as real people. The editor, however, forces revision to fit the coverage
16
I conclude from this study (as well as from general
observation) that it is in the best interests of Americans to
shed the attitudes which these best-selling books have up
held over a period of fifty years. The world of the future will
have as a major component the third world, including Asia.
To continue to view it with contempt and condescension
will be a major disaster. In very recent years there appears
to be a gradually growing awareness by certain ellts in this
country of the importance of Asia for its people rather than
as a battleground. However, there also seems to be a gap
between this awareness and the attitude of the general
public. Thus, although a few elites may have come to
respect Asia or parts thereof, popular books reflecting that
attitude have yet to appear. Instead, the same old cliches
continue to prevail and we still get students with the old
notions. In the last analysis, therefore, the list of best
sellers on Asia included in this study basically reads like a
list of what not to read about the world's largest continent.
*
back into the familiar mode. Such editorial practice is common in news
reporting on Asia in the United States. See John Hohenberg, Between Two
Worlds: Policy, Press, and Public Opinion in Asian-American Relations (New
York, 1967), especially pp. 412436.
Appendix A
Classification of Books
In the list of books provided in Appendix B where the
listing is by year of publication, the books are given by title
with an indication of (F) for fiction or (NF) for non-fiction.
I have additionally classified the books on the following
basis which represents seven fiction divisions and twenty
non-fiction. Each of these has been assigned an alphabeti
cal designation for easy identification.
Fiction Categories
G-War novels
H-Americans or Europeans in Asia (contemporary or
historical)
HH- Americans in a Chinatown setting
J - Asians in an Asian setting
K-East-West love story
L-Asians and Americans (or Europeans) in Hawaii
M- Novels set in Japanese prison camps
The twenty non-fiction categories break down into five
subdivisions.
Non-Fiction Categories
Unclassified
N- Religion or philosophy
O-Asians in the United States (including Hawaii)
Travel
P-Travel accounts by famous persons, not included as
personal experiences.
Q-Travel accounts by non-famous persons
R - Books about the characteristics of Asian countries or
peoples.
Journalism
S-Travel accounts by journalists
T -Wartime journalism (both at battlefield and political
level)
History
U -U.S. (or European)-Asian relations
V-Biographies, autobiographies, or memoirs of U.S.
military men of high rank.
VV- "Straight" military histories
W- Biographies of Asians
NN- Popularized history
F- McCarthyite polemics on Asia
FF-The U.S. in Indochina
Personal Experiences
X-Travel accounts, not included under P or Q. (Usually
indicating a more serious study of a prolonged stay in
Asia)
Y - Wartime experiences of servicemen, missionaries, or
other participants.
Z-Accounts of ambassadors and other high ranking
persons.
E-Accounts (often autobiographical) of famous persons
who spent long periods of time in Asia.
EE-Other personalized accounts.
SS-Fantasy
There are a few books which fit into more than one categ
ory and they are so indicated. The primary national area of
each book is also indicated.
The last two columns in Appendix B represent an
attempt to assess the importance of each book. Four grades
of popularity were calculated, according to the following
system:
Popularity Grade A-A top best-seller which as in first
place on at least one weekly list or
made the charts for thirty weeks or
more.
Popularity Grade B-On a best-seller list for 20-29 weeks
with a high placement of fifth or bet
ter, or one of the top ten best-sellers
in a given year.
Popularity Grade C-On a best-seller list for 6-19 weeks
with a high placement of tenth or
better.
Popularity Grade O-On a best-seller list for 1-5 weeks.
A formula for assigning points to each book was de
veloped based on the popularity grade. The point system is
as follows:
Fiction Titles
Popularity Grade A-Number of pages x .6
Popularity Grade B-Number of pages x .4
Popularity Grade C-Number of pages x .3
Popularity Grade 0-Number of pages x .2
Non-Fiction Titles
Popularity Grade A-Number of pages x .5
Popularity Grade B- Number of pages x .3
Popularity Grade C-Number of pages x .2
Popularity Grade O-Numberofpages x .1
Since some of the books dealt only partially with Asia, they
17
received fewer points based on the percentage of the book
that concerned Asia.
I have used a lower scale for non-fiction books because
I reasonably believe that there were fewer readers of non
fiction as a whole. Almost all of the non-fiction books noted
in this study are truly forgettable. Outside of the most
recent publications still in the public mind and a very small
number of untypical older works, like John Hersey's
Hiroshima, they are extremely shallow. This is also true of
much of the fiction, but several books in this category have
maintained some stature and are remembered many years
after their publication.
AppendixB
U.S. Best-SeUers Partially
or Entirely about Asia, 1931-1980
Main Area Pop.
or Nation Cat. Grade Pts.
1931 (1)
The Good Earth (F), Pearl Buck. 375 pp. China J A 255
1932 (1)
Sons (F), Pearl Buck. 467 pp. China J B 187
1933 (2)
Lost Horizon (F), James Hilton. 277 pp. Tibet H B 111
Oil for the Lamps ofChina (F), Alice Tisdale Hobart. 403 pp. China H B 161
1935 (1)
North to the Orient (NF), Anne Morrow Lindbergh. 40%. 255 pp. Japan, China P B 31
1937 (2)
The Rains Came (F), Louis Bromfield. 597 pp. India H B 239
The Importance ofLiving (NF), Lin Yutang. 459 pp. China R B 138
1939 (1)
Inside Asia (NF), John Gunther. 599 pp. Asia S B 180
1940 (1)
Night in Bombay (F), Louis Bromfield. 351 pp. India H B 140
1941 (1)
The Keys ofthe Kingdom (F), A.J. Cronin. 60%. 344pp. China H B 83
1942 (10)
Suez to Singapore (NF), Cecil Brown. 65%. 545 pp. Southeast Asia P B 106
Dragon Seed (F), Pearl Buck. 378 pp. China J B 151
Government by AssassiTUltion (NF), Hugh Byas. 369 pp. Japan T D 37
Behind the Face ofJapan (NF), Upton Close. 427 pp. Japan T D 43
How War Came (NF), Forrest Davis & Howard K. Lindley. 30%. 342 pp. Japan U D 10
Reportfrom Tokyo (NF), Joseph Grew. 88 pp. Japan U C 18
The Wisdom ofChiTUl and India (NF), Lin Yutang. 1104 pp. China, India N C 220
Retreat to Victory (NF) , Allan Michie. 20%. 498 pp. Japan T D 10
With Japan's Leaders (NF), Frederick Moore. 365 pp. Japan U D 37
Thre Three Bamboos (F), Robert Standish. 396 pp. Japan J C 119
1943 (20)
Pacific Charter (NF), Hallett Abend. 302 pp. Asia T D 30
My War with Japan (NF), Carroll Alcott. 368 pp. Japan Y D 37
The Weeping Wood (F), Vicki Baum. 10%.531 pp. Indonesia H D 11
Retreat with Stilwell (NF), Jack Belden. 368 pp. Burma T D 37
The Promise (F), Pearl Buck. 248 pp. China, Burma J C 74
18
Retreat, Hell (F) William F. Camp. 530 pp. Philippines G D 106
The Soong Sisters (NF), Emily Hahn. 339 pp. China W D 34
Betrayalfrom the East (NF), Alan Hynd. 60 %. 287 pp. Japan U D 17
They Call It Pacific (NF), Clark Lee. 374 pp. Japan T C 75
Between Tears and Laughter (NF), Lin Yutang. 216 pp. China R B 65
Father and Glorious Descendant (NF), Pardee Lowe. 322 pp. Chinatown R D 32
For All Men Born (F), Margaret Macka. 292 pp. Hawaii L D 58
I Saw the Fall ofthe Philippines (NF), Carlos Romulo. 323 pp. Philippines Y C 65
Burma Surgeon (NF), Gordon F. Seagrave. 295 pp. Burma Y A 148
Between the Thunder and the Sun (NF), Vincent Sheean. 20%. 428 pp. East Asia T B 26
Tokyo Record (NF), Otto Tolischus. 462 pp. Japan T D 46
Guadalcanal Diary (NF), Richard Tregaski. 263 pp. Japan T A 132
Indigo (F), Christine Weston. 374 pp. India H C 112
Battlefor the Solomons (NF), Ira Wolfert. 200 pp. Japan T D 20
The Dark Woman (F), P.C. Wren. 320pp. India H D 64
1944 (10)
Ten Years in Japan (NF), Joseph Grew. 554 pp. Japan Z B 166
China to Me: A Partial Autobiography (NF), Emily Hahn. 429 pp. China X B 129
Anna and the King ofSiam (NF), Margaret Landon. 360 pp. Thailand X B 108
Revolt in Paradise (NF), Alexander McDonald. 20%. 288 pp. Hawaii 0 D 6
Tarawa: The Story ofa Battle (NF), Robert Sherrod. 183 pp. Japan T C 37
People on Our Side (NF), Edgar Snow. 40%. 324 pp. Asia T B 9
Bonin (F), Robert Standish. 286 pp. Japan H D 57
They Shall Not Sleep (NF), Leland Stowe. 65%. 399 pp. Asia T B 78
Shark's Fins and Millet (NF), Ilona Ralf Sues. 331 pp. China X D 33
One Damn Thing After Another (NF), Tom Treanor. 25%. 294 pp. Asia Y C 15
1945 (12)
The Black Rose (F), Thomas Costain. 403 pp. China H A 242
Report from Red China (NF), Harrison Forman. 250 pp. China T D 25
The Perennial Philosophy (NF), Aldous Huxley. 30%. 312 pp. India N D 9
Solution in Asia (NF), Owen Lattimore. 214 pp. East Asia U C 43
Vigil ofaNation (NF), Lin Yutang. 262 pp. China X C 52
The Open City (F), Shelley Smith Mydans. 245 pp. Philippines M D 49
Forever China (NF), Robert Payne. 573 pp. China Y D 57
Virgin with Butterflies (F), Tom Powers. 20%. 188 pp. India H D 8
Home to India (NF), Santha Rama Rau. 236 pp. India R D 23
Officially Dead (NF), Quentin Reynolds. 244 pp. China Y D 24
Rickshaw Boy (F), Lau Shaw. 384 pp. China J C 115
American Guerrilla in the Philippines (NF), Ira Wolfert. 301 pp. Philippines Y C 60
1946 (13)
Pavillion ofWomen (F), Pearl Buck. 316 pp. China J C 95
Man-Eaters ofKumaon (NF), James E. Corbett. 233 pp. India Q
C 47
The River (F), Rumer Godden. 176 pp. India H D 35
Hiroshima (NF), John Hersey. 118 pp. Japan Y D 12
Vedantafor the Western World (NF), Christopher Isherwood, et al. 453 pp. India N D 45
The Meeting ofEast and West (NF) , F. S. C. Northrop. 25%. 531 pp. Asia N D 13
Wake ofthe Red Witch (F), Garland Roark. 434 pp. Indonesia H C 130
Burma Surgeon Returns (NF), Gordon S. Seagrave. 268 pp. India, Burma Y C 54
Not So Wild a Dream (NF), Eric Sevareid. 10%.516 pp. China, India T B 15
This House Against This House (NF), Vincent Sheean. 25%. 420 pp. China, India T D 11
While Time Remains (NF), Leland Stowe. 10%.379 pp. Asia Q C 8
General Wainwright's Story (NF), Jonathan Wainwright. 314 pp. Philippines, Japan V D 31
19
Main Area Pop.
or Nation Cat. Grade Pts.
Thunder out ofChina (NF), Theodore White & Annalee Jacoby. 331 pp. China T C 66
1947 (8)
Admiral Halsey's Story (NF), William F. Halsey & Joseph Bryan. 310 pp. Japan V D 31
Three Came Home (F), Agnes Keith. 316 pp. Indonesia M B 126
Silver Nutmeg (F), Norah Lofts. 368 pp. Indonesia H D 74
Tales ofthe South Pacific (F), James Michener. 326 pp. Polynesia H B 130
The Chequer Board (F), Nevil Shute. 30%. 380 pp. Burma K C 34
Richer by Asia (NF), Edmond Taylor. 60%. 432 pp. India Z D 43
Where Are We Heading? (NF), Sumner Welles. 15%.397 pp. Asia U D 6
Secret Missions (NF), Ellis Zacharias. 50%. 433 pp. Japan Y C 43
1948 (7)
The Purple Plain (F), H. E. Bates. 308 pp. Burma G,K D 62
President Roosevelt and the Coming ofthe War (NF), Charles A. Beard.
30%. 614pp. Japan U C 37
Peony (F), Pearl Buck. 312 pp. China J C 94
Gandhi's Autobiography (NF), Mohandas K. Gandhi. 640 pp. India W D 64
Son ofthe Moon (F), Joseph G. Hitrec. 383 pp. India J C 115
The Stilwell Papers (NF), Joseph Stilwell. 357 pp. China, Burma V C 71
On Active Service in Peace and War (NF), Henry Stimson &
McGeorge Bundy. 20%. 698 pp. East Asia Z C 28
1949 (5)
Kinfolk (F), Pearl Buck. 406 pp. China 0 C 122
The Jungle Is Neutral (NF), Frederick Chapman. 384 pp. Malaysia Y D 38
The Way ofa Fighter: The Memoirs ofClaire Lee Chennault (NF), Claire
L. Chennault. 375 pp. China V D 38
Gypsy Sixpence (F), Edison Marshall. 10%.371 pp. India H C 11
Elephant Walk (F), Robert Standish. 278 pp. Sri Lanka H C 71
1950 (4)
High Valley (F), Charmian Clift & George Johnston. 313 pp. Tibet J C 94
Life's Picture History ofWorld War /I (NF), Life Magazine. 15%.368 pp. Japan T D 6
Long the Imperial Way (F), Hanama Tasaki. 372 pp. China, Japan J D 74
Out ofThis World: Across the Himalayas to Forbidden Tibet (NF),
Lowell Thomas, Jr. 320 pp. Tibet P B 96
1951 (12)
The Left Hand ofGod (F), William E. Barrett. 275 pp. China H C 73
God's Men (F), Pearl Buck. 375 pp. China H C 21
Strange Lands and Friendly People (NF), William O. Douglas.
10%. 336pp. India P C 7
While You Slept: Our Tragedy in Asia and Who Made It (NF), John T.
Flynn. 158 pp. China F D 16
The Riddle ofMacArthur (NF), John Gunther. 70%. 240pp. Japan, Korea V C 34
War in Korea: The Report ofa Woman Combat Correspondent (NF),
Marguerite Higgins. 223 pp. Korea T C 45
The Pepper Tree (F), John Jennings. 50%. 417 pp. Indonesia D D 42
White Man Returns (NF), Agnes Keith. 310 pp. Indonesia X C 62
American Diplomacy, 1900-1950 (NF), George F. Kennan. 20%. 154 pp. East Asia U C 6
Nightrunners ofBengal (F), John Masters. 298 pp. India H C 60
Back to Mandalay (NF), Lowell Thomas. 320 pp. Burma T D 32
The China Story (NF), Freda Utley. 274 pp. China F C 55
20
1952 (10)
Look Down in Mercy (F), Walter Baxter. 308 pp. Bunna, India, Malaysia G D 62
The Hidden Flower (F), Pearl Buck. 308 pp. Japan K C 92
Journey to the Far Pacific (NF), Thomas E. Dewey. 335 pp. Asia P C 67
Beyond the High Himalayas (NF), William O. Douglas. 352 pp. India P C 70
Hold Back the Night (F), Pat Frank. 210 pp. Korea G C 63
A Many-Splendored Thing (NF), Han Suyin. 366 pp. China W C 73
Himalayan Assignment (F), Van Wyck Mason. 282 pp. Tibet, China H D 56
Windom's Way (F), James Ullman. 286 pp. Southeast Asia H C 86
Windows for the Crown Prince (NF), Elizabeth Vining. 320 pp. Japan Z B 96
Shanghai Conspiracy: The Sorge Spy Ring (NF), Charles A. Willoughby.
25%. 315pp. Japan U D 8
1953 (10)
Come, My Beloved (F), Pearl Buck. 311 pp. India H C 93
Postcards from Delaplane (NF), Stanton Delaplane. 10%.255 pp. Japan Q
C 5
Northfrom Malaya (NF), William O. Douglas. 352 pp. East Asia P C 70
The Lattimore Story (NF), John T. Flynn. 118 pp. China F D 12
Kingfishers Catch Fire (F), Rumer Godden. 282 pp. India H C 85
The Vermillion Gate (F), Lin Yutang. 438 pp. China J D 87
The Lotus and the Wind (F), John Masters. 275 pp. India H D 55
The Bridges at Toko-Ri (F), James Michener. 25%. 146 pp. Japan G C 7
India and the Awakening East (NF) , Eleanor Roosevelt. 50%. 237 pp. India P C 24
The World and the West (NF) , Arnold Toynbee. 30%. 99 pp. Asia U C 6
1954 (12)
The Bridge Over the River Kwai (F), Pierre Boulle. 224 pp. Bunna G B 100
Ambassador's Report (NF) , Chester Bowles. 415 pp. India Z C 83
My Several Worlds: A Personal Record (NF) , Pearl Buck. 407 pp. China E B 122
General Dean's Story (NF), William F. Dean & William Worden. 305 pp. Korea Y D 31
Soldier ofFortune (F), Ernest K. Gann. 217 pp. China H B 87
Seven Years in Tibet (NF), Heinrich Harrer, 314 pp. Tibet E C 63
The Untold Story ofDouglas MacArthur (NF), Frazier Hunt. 20%. 533 pp. East Asia V D 11
Bhowani Junction (F), John Masters. 394 pp. India H C 118
The Ramayana (F), Aubrey Menen. 276 pp. India J D 55
Sayonara (F), James Michener. 243 pp. Japan K B 73
The Final Secret ofPearl Harbor (NF), Robert A. Theobald. 10%. 202 pp. Japan F C 4
MacArthur, 1941-1951 (NF), Charles A. Willoughby & John
Chamberlain. 441 pp. Japan, Korea V C 88
1955 (5)
Hiroshima Diary (NF), Michihiko Hachiya. 238 pp. Japan EE C 48
Venture into Darkness (F), Alice Tisdale Hobart. 367 pp. China H C 110
Nectar in a Sieve (F), Kamala Markandala. 254 pp. India J D 51
Coromandel (F), John Masters. 347 pp. India H D 69
Tiger ofthe Snows: The Autobiography ofTen zing ofEverest (NF),
Norgay Tenzing & J. R. Ullman. 294 pp. Nepal W C 59
1956 (7)
Imperial Woman (F), Pearl Buck. 402 pp. China J B 161
The Seven Islands (F), Jon Godden. 157 pp. India J D 31
The Quiet American (F), Graham Greene. 249 pp. Vietnam H C 75
21
J
Main Area Pop.
or Nation Cat. Grade Pts.
A Single Pebble (F), John Hersey. 181 pp. China J B 76
Bugles and a Tiger: A Volume ofAutobiography (NF), John Masters. 312 pp. India E D 31
Remember the House (F), Santha Rama Rau. 241 pp. India J C 72
MacArthur: His Rendezvous with History (NF), Courtney Whitney. 547 pp. Japan, Korea V D 55
1957 (13)
Letter from Peking (F), Pearl Buck. 252 pp. China H C 76
The Spiral Road (F), Jan de Hartog. 465 pp. Indonesia H D 93
The Flower Drum Song (F), C. Y. Lee. 244 pp. Chinatown 0 C 73
Scent ofCloves (F), Norah Lofts. 60%. 320 pp. Indonesia H D 38
Day ofInfamy (NF), Walter Lord. 243 pp. Japan T C 49
Stopover: Tokyo (F), John P. Marquand. 313 pp. Japan H C 94
The World ofSuzie Wong (F), Richard L. Mason. 344 pp. China K B 138
Far, Far the Mountain Peak (F), John Masters. 471 pp. India H C 141
Rascals in Paradise (NF), James Michener & Arthur Day. 20%. 374 pp. Southeast Asia W C 15
The Last Parallel: A Marine's War Journal (NF), Martin Russ. 333 pp. Korea Y C 67
Bridge to the Sun (NF), Gwen Terasaki. 260 pp. Japan EE D 26
The Mountain Road (F), Theodore White. 347 pp. China H C 104
The Innocent Ambassadors (NF), Philip Wylie. 384 pp. Asia Q B 81
1958 (5)
Baa Baa Black Sheep (NF), Gregory Boyington. 30%. 384 pp. Japan Y A 52
The Time ofthe Dragons (F), Alice M. Ekert-Rotholz. 468 pp. China, Japan H C 140
The Mountain Is Young (F), Han Suyin. 511 pp. Nepal K C 153
The Ugly American (F), Charles Lederer & Eugene Burdick. 285 pp. Southeast Asia H A 171
Wedemeyer Reports (NF), Albert C. Wedemeyer. 50%. 497 pp. East Asia V B 75
1959 (3)
Hawaii (F), James Michener. 937 pp. Hawaii L A 562
The Liberation ofthe Philippines (NF), Samuel E. Morison. 470 pp. Japan VV D 47
Elephant Hill (F), Robin White. 245 pp. India K C 74
1960 (7)
Citizen Ahroad (NF), Eben N. Bay. 30%. 264 pp. Asia Q D 8
The Night They Burned the Mountain (NF), Thomas Dooley. 192 pp. Laos Y B 58
Diamond Head (F), Peter Gilman. 20%. 416 pp. Hawaii L C 125
Meeting with Japan (NF), Fosco Maraini. 467 pp. Japan S D 27
The Venus ofKonpara (F), John Masters. 338 pp. India H D 78
Return to Japan (NF), Elizabeth Vining. 285 pp. Japan X D 29
Fuelfor the Flame (F), Alec Waugh. 468 pp. Malaysia H C 140
1961 (5)
The Road Past Mandalay: A Personal Narrative (NF), John Masters. 344 pp. Burma Y D 34
The White Rajah (F), Nicholas Monsarrat. 404 pp. Indonesia H,K D 121
Gifts ofPassage (NF), Santha Rama Rau. 223 pp. India R D 22
Japanese Inn (NF), Oliver Statler. 365 pp. Japan NN B 110
The Key (F), Jun'ichiro Tanizaki. 183 pp. Japan J D 37
1962 (3)
A Bridge for Passing (NF), Pearl Buck. 256 pp. Japan R C 51
A Thousand Springs: The Biography ofa Marriage (NF), Anna
Chennault. 318 pp. China V C 64
King Rat (F), James Clavell. 406 pp. Indonesia M D 81
22
1963 (3)
The Living Reed (F), Pearl Buck. 478 pp.
The Sand Pebbles (F), Richard McKenna. 597 pp.
Caravans (F), James Michener. 341 pp.
1964 (4)
You Only Live Twice (F), Ian Fleming. 240 pp.
The Martyred (F), Richard E. Kim. 316 pp.
Reminiscences (NF), Douglas MacArthur. 35%. 438 pp.
Diplomat Among Warriors (NF), Robert Murphy. 10%.470 pp.
1965 (3)
The Green Berets (F), Robin Moore. 341 pp.
Iwo Jima (NF), Richard F. Newcomb. 338 pp.
The Ambassador (F), Morris L. West. 275 pp.
1966 (3)
The Arrogance ofPower (NF), J. William Fulbright. 25%. 264 pp.
The Search for Amelia Earhart (NF), Fred Goerner. 10%.326 pp.
I Saw Red China (NF), Lisa Hobbs. 217 pp.
1967 (5)
Tai-Pan (F), James Clavell. 590 pp.
The Fall ofJapan (NF), William Craig. 368 pp.
Incredible Victory (NF), Walter Lord. 331 pp.
The Quotations ofMao (NF), Mao Tse-tung. 182 pp.
The Bitter Heritage: Vietnam and American Democracy /94/-/966 (NF),
Arthur Schlesinger, Jr. 128 pp.
1968 (1)
Anti-Memoirs (NF), Andre Malraux. 30%. 420 pp.
1969 (2)
Present at the Creation: My Years in the State Department (NF), Dean
Acheson. 15%.798 pp.
Three Daughters ofMadame Liang (F), Pearl Buck. 315 pp.
1970 (1)
Ambassador's Journal (NF), John K. Galbraith. 656 pp.
1971 (1)
Stilwell and the American Experience in China (NF), Barbara Tuchman.
621 pp.
1972 (2)
Fire in the Lake (NF), Frances Fitzgerald. 491 pp.
The Best and the Brightest (NF), David Halberstam. 688 pp.
1975 (1)
ShOgun (F), James Clavell. 802 pp.
1976 (1)
The Woman Warrior: Memoirs ofa Girlhood Among Ghosts (NF), Maxine
Hong Kingston. 209 pp.
1977 (3)
Dynasty (F), Robert Elegant. 625 pp.
The Honourable Schoolboy (F), John LeCarre. 60% 533 pp.
Decent Interval (NF), Frank Snepp. 590 pp.
23
Korea J B 191
China H C 179
Afghanistan H A 205
Japan H,K B 96
Korea G C 95
East Asia V A 77
Japan, Korea Z A 24
Vietnam G A 205
Japan VV D 34
Vietnam H B 110
East Asia FF D 7
Japan SS C 7
China Q D 22
China H A 354
Japan NN D 37
Japan NN C 66
China N D 18
Vietnam FF D 13
Asia X C 84
East Asia Z B 36
China J D 63
India Z C 131
China V B 186
Vietnam FF C 98
Vietnam FF A 344
Japan H A 481
Chinatown 0 D 21
China H A 375
China H A 192
Vietnam FF C 118
1978 (4)
The Far Pavilions (F), M. M. Kaye, 957 pp. India H B 382
American Caesar: Douglas MacArthur. 1880-1964 (NF), William
Manchester. 40%. 793 pp. East Asia V A 159
The Snow Leopard (NF), Peter Matthiesen. 338 pp. Nepal X C 68
In Search ofHistory: a Personal Adventure (NF), Theodore White.
40%.561 pp. China X,Z A 112
1979 (5)
Shadow ofthe Moon (F), M. M. Kaye. 614 pp. India H C 184
The White House Years (NF), Henry Kissinger. 40%.1521 pp. Asia Z B 182
Sideshow: Kissinger, Nixon and the Destruction ofCambodia (NF),
William Shawcross. 467 pp. Kampuchea FF D 47
Serpentine (NF), Thomas Thompson. 563 pp. India, Southeast Asia W C 113
Shibumi (F), Trevanian. 50%. 374 pp. Japan H B 150
1980 (3)
Manchu (F), Robert Elegant. 560 pp. China H C 168
China Men (NF), Maxine Hong Kingston. 308 pp. China EE C 61
The Ninja (F), Eric Van Lustbader. 360 pp. Japan H B 144
Appendix C
Best-Selling Authors, Listed Alphabetically
30. Costain, Thomas
31. Craig, William
32. Cronin, A.J.
1
1
1
1945
1967
1941
242
37
83
Number
33. Davis, Forrest % 1942 5
ofBooks Years Points 34. Day, Arthur % 1957 71/2
35. Dean, William F. % 1954 15%
1. Abend, Hallett 1 1943 30 36. Delaplane, Stanton 1 1953 5
2. Acheson, Dean 1 1969 36 37. Dewey, Thomas E. 1 1952 67
3. Alcott, Carroll 1 1943 37 38. Dooley, Thomas 1 1960 58
4. Barrett, William E. 1 1951 73 39. Douglas, William O. 3 1951-1953 147
5. Bates, H.E. 1 1948 62 40. Ekert-Rotholz, Alice M. 1 1958 140
6. Baty, Eben N. 1 1960 8 41. Elegant, Robert 2 1977-1980 543
7. Baum, Vicki 1 1943 11 42. Fitzgerald, Frances 1 1972 98
8. Baxter, Walter 1 1952 62 43. Fleming, Ian 1 1964 96
9. Beard, ChariesA. 1 1948 37 44. Flynn, John T. 2 1951-1953 28
10. Belden, Jack 1 1943 37 45. Forman, Harrison 1 1945 25
11. Boulle, Pierre 1 1954 100 46. Frank, Pat 1 1952 63
12. Bowles, Chester 1 1954 83 47. Fulbright, J. William 1 1966 7
13. Boyington, Gregory 1 1958 52 48. Galbraith, John K. 1 1970 131
14. Bromfield, Louis 2 1937-1939 379 49. Gandhi, Mohandas K. 1 1948 64
15. Brown, Cecil 1 1943 106 50. Gann, Ernest K. 1 1954 87
16. Bryan, Joseph 1/2 1947 15% 51. Gilman, Peter 1 1960 125
17. Buck, Pearl 16 1939-1969 1818 52. Godden, Jon 1 1956 31
18. Bundy, McGeorge 1/2 1948 14 53. Godden, Rumer 2 1946-1953 140
19. Burdick, Eugene 1/2 1958 85% 54. Goerner, Fred 1 1966 7
20. Byas, Hugh 1 1943 37 55. Greene, Graham 1 1956 75
21. Camp, William M. 1 1943 106 56. Grew, Joseph 2 1942-1944 184
22. Chamberlain, John % 1954 44 57. Gunther, John 2 1939-1951 214
23. Chapman, Frederick 1 1949 38 58. Hachiya, Michihiko 1 1955 48
24. Chennault, Anna 1 1962 64 59. Hahn, Emily 2 1943-1944 163
25. Chennault, Claire L. 1 1949 38 60. Halberstam, David 1 1972 344
26. Clavell, James 3 1962-1975 916 61. Halsey, William F. % 1947 15%
27. Clift, Charmian 2 1950 47 62. Han, Suyin 2 1952-1958 226
28. Close, Upton 1 1942 43 63. Harrer, Heinrich 1 1954 63
29. Corbett, JamesE. 1 1946 47 64. Hartog, Jan de 1 1957 93
24
65. Hersey, John 2 1946-1956 88 122. Payne, Robert 1 1945 57
66. Higgins, Marguerite 1 1951 45 123. Powers, Tom 1 1945 8
67. Hilton, James 1 1933 111 124. Rama Rau, Santha 3 1945-1961 117
68. Hitrec, Joseph G. 1 1948 115 125. Reynolds, Quentin 1 1945 24
69. Hobart, Alice Tisdale 2 1933-1955 271 126. Roark, Garland 1 1946 130
70. Hobbs, Lisa 1 1966 22 127. Romulo, Carlos 1 1943 65
71. Hunt, Frazier 1 1954 11 128. Roosevelt, Eleanor 1 1953 24
72. Huxley, Aldous 1 1945 9 129. Russ, Martin 1 1957 67
73. Hynd, Alan 1 1943 17 130. Schlesinger, ArthurM., Jr. 1 1967 13
74. Isherwood, Christopher 1 1946 45 131. Seagrave, Gordon S. 2 1943-1946 202
75. Jacoby, Annalee 1/2 1946 33 132. Sevareid, Eric 1 1946 15
76. Jennings, John 1 1951 42 133. Shaw, Lau 1 1945 115
77. Johnston, George 112 1950 47 134. Shawcross, William 1 1979 47
78. Kaye, M. M. 2 1978-1979 566 135. Sheean, Vincent 2 1943-1946 37
79. Keith, Agnes 2 1947-1951 188 136. Sherrod, Robert 1 1944 37
80. Kennan, George F. 1 1951 6 137. Shute, Nevil 1 1947 34
81. Kingston, Maxine Hong 2 1976-1980 82 138. Snepp, Frank 1 1977 118
82. Kim, Richard E. 1 1964 95 139. Snow, Edgar 1 1944 39
83. Kissinger, Henry 1 1979 182 140. Standish, Robert 3 1942-1949 247
84. Landon, Margaret 1 1944 108 141. Statler, Oliver 1 1961 110
85. Lattimore, Owen 1 1945 43 142. Stilwell, Joseph 1 1948 71
86. LeCarre, John 1 1977 192 143. Stimson, Henry
1h
1948 14
87. Lederer, Charles
1h 1958 851/2 144. Stowe, Leland 2 1944-1946 86
88. Lee, e. Y. 1 1957 73 145. Sues, Ilona Ralf 1 1944 33
89. Lee, Clark 1 1943 75 146. Tanizaki, Jun'ichiro 1 1961 37
90. Lin, Yutang 5 1937-1953 562 147. Tasaki, Hanama 1 1950 74
91. Lindbergh, Anne Morrow 1 1935 31 148. Taylor, Edmond 1 1947 43
92. Lindley, Howard K.
1h
1942 5 149. Tenzing, Norgay % 1955 29%
93. Lofts, Norah 2 1947-1957 112 150. Terasaki, Gwen 1 1957 26
94. Lord, Walter 2 1957-1967 115 151. Theobald, Robert 1 1954 4
95. Lowe, Pardee 1 1943 32 152. Thomas, Lowell, Jr. 2 1950-1951 128
96. MacArthur, Douglas 1 1964 77 153. Thompson, Thomas 1 1979 113
97. McDonald, Alexander 1 1944 6 154. Tolischus, Otto 1 1943 46
98. Mackay, Margaret 1 1943 58 155. Toynbee, Arnold 1 1953 6
99. McKenna, Richard 1 1963 179 156. Treanor, Tom 1 1944 15
100. Malraux, Andre 1 1968 84 157. Tregaskis, Richard 1 1943 132
101. Manchester, William 1 1978 159 158. Trevanian 1 1979 150
102. Mao, Tse-tung 1 1967 18 159. Tuchman, Barbara 1 1971 186
103. Maraini, Fosco 1 1960 47 160. Ullman, James Ph 1952-1955 115112
104. Markandala, Kamala 1 1955 51 161. Utley, Freda 1 1951 55
105. Marquand,John 1 1957 94 162. Van Lustbader, Eric 1 1980 144
106. Marshall, Edison 1 1949 11 163. Vining, Elizabeth 2 1952-1960 125
107. Mason, F. Van Wyck 1 1952 56 164. Wainwright, Jonathan 1 1946 31
108. Mason, Richard L. 1 1957 138 165. Waugh, Alec 1 1960 140
109. Masters, John 8 1951-1961 586 166. Wedemeyer, Albert e. 1 1958 75
110. Matthiesen, Peter 1 1978 68 167. Welles, Sumner 1 1947 6
111. Menen, Aubrey 1 1954 55 168. West, Morris L. 1 1965 110
112. Michener, James 5112 1947-1963 984112 169. Weston, Christine 1 1943 112
113. Michie, Allan 1 1942 10 170. White, Robin 1 1959 74
114. Monsarrat, Nicholas 1 1961 121 171. White, Theodore 2112 1946-1978 149
115. Moore, Frederick 1 1942 37 172. Whitney, Courtney 1 1956 55
116. Moore, Robin 1 1965 205 173. Willoughby, Charles A. Ph 1952-1954 52
117. Morison, Samuel E. 1 1959 47 174. Wolfert, Ira 2 1943-1945 80
118. Murphy, Robert 1 1964 24 175. Worden, William % 1954 151f2
119. Mydans, Shelly Smith 1 1945 49 176. Wren, P.e. 1 1943 64
120. Newcomb, Richard F. 1 1965 34 177. Wylie, Philip 1957 81
121. Northrop, F.S.C 1 1946 13
25
178. Zacharias, Ellis M. 1 1947 43
Vietnam Research on Campus:
The Summit/Spicerack Controversy at the
University of Pennsylvania, 1965-67
by Jonathan Goldstein
The current debate over compensation to Vietnam
War veterans whose health was apparently impaired while
spraying "Agent Orange" has diverted the concern of
many American academics from the impact of that spray
ing on a large civilian population. During that war
this ethical concern received more attention from U.S.
academics than it does today. In 1%6, twenty-two U.S.
scientists, including seven Nobel laureates, petitioned
President Johnson to end "the employment of anti-person
nel and anti-crop chemical weapons in Vietnam."1 Con
Copyright Jonathan Goldstein, 1983. Used here with the author's per
mission. The original version of this article was delivered before the
annual meeting of the Southeastern Conference of the Association for
Asian Studies, Boone, North Carolina, January 20, 1983. Criticisms of
that version by Southeastern Conference colleagues is gratefully ack
nowledged. Research for this project was funded in part by grants from
West Georgia College Learning Resources Committee. The author also
wishes to thank the following individuals for their research or secretarial
assistance: Stephen Hanser, National Defense University/West Georgia
College; Michael Bums, Office of Congressman Newt Gingrich; Gayle
Peters, Atlanta Federal Archives and Records Center; Anne Manning,
Dianne Dennard, Joanne Artz, and Myron House, of the Ingram Library,
West Georgia College; and Debby North, typist, of the President's Office,
West Georgia College.
1. "Scientists Speak Out on CB Weapons," Bulletin ofthe Atomic Scientists
22, no. 9 (November 1966), pp. 39-40. According to the New York Times.
after the 1966 protest by 22 American scientists, White House sources
"left no doubt" that the Administration would continue using chemicals in
South Vietnam. New York Times, September 21, 1966. Other anti-CBW
protest in 1966 was described in Le Montie, January 18, 1966; Science 151
no. 3708 (January 28, 1966), p. 309; Letters: Philip Siekevitz and Richard
Nagin, Science 152, no. 3718 (April 1, 1966), p. 15; Jean Mayer, Science
152, no. 3720 (April 15, 1966), p. 291; "Chemical, Biological Weapons,"
Science 153, no. 3743 (September 23, 1966), p. 1508; Scientific Research 1,
no. 10 (October 1966), p. 11; Jean Mayer and Victor Sidel, "Crop De
struction in South Vietnam," Christian Century 83, no. 26 (June 29, 1966),
pp.829-32.
For the purposes of this study, Michael Klare's definitions of chemical
and biological warfare will be used. Chemical warfare involves "the
military employment of chemicals toxic to men, animals, or plants." This
would include battlefield weapons like the mustard gases of World War I,
as well as agents which poison the food supplies or industrial crops of
enemy countries. Chemical weapons include lethal agents as well as
irritating and incapacitating agents which restrict the military effective
ness of enemy soldiers or of an enemy civilian group without necessarily
26
cern was also expressed in well publicized gestures by the
American Anthropological Association, American Associ
ation for the Advancement of Science, Council of the Fed
eration of Atomic Scientists, Physicians for Social Re
sponsibility, Rockefeller University Faculty, and indi
vidual scholars such as the nutritionist Jean Mayer. All of
their representations were without effect in that use of
Agent Orange continued until nearly the end of American
military presence in Vietnam.
The pressures of the Indochina War coincidental with
public disclosure of chemical and biological warfare
(CBW) research at University of Pennsylvania produced a
twenty-month-Iong campus controversy over the propriety
of such weapons and whether such research ought to be
undertaken on that campus. Penn, a private Philadelphia
university, committed itself to classified poison gas and
bacteriological warfare research before and during the
Indochina conflict. While not actually producing the
weapons on campus, Penn was involved in the sophisti
cated, computer-assisted analysis of the production, deliv
ery, and effects of the entire spectrum of CBW weaponry:
chemicals incapacitating to humans; herbicides; toxic bac
teria; and the political and psychological consequences of
the uses of such weapons. The history of Penn's involve
ment is detailed in section three ofthis paper. Until 1%7,
producing permanent physiological injury. Examples of the second cate
gory are tear-and-nausea gases like DM (diphenyl aminochlorarsine), CN
(chloroacetophenone) and CS (O-chlorobenzalmalononitrile) and the
"psycho-chemicals" or hallucinogens which produce temorary mental
derangement. Biological warfare consists of "intentional employment of
living organisms or their toxic products to cause death, disability or
disease in man, animals, plants or food supplies." Theoretically, a multi
tude of bacteria, viruses, rickettsiae, fungae or toxins could be employed
as BW agents; in order to be effective in warfare, however, the following
characteristics must be present: (1) the agent must be lethal or incapacitat
ing and should be capable of being produced economically in adequate
quantities from available materials; (2) the agent must retain its virulence
during production, storage, and transportation; (3) the agent must be
easily and effectively disseminated without exposing the user to injury;
and (4) the targets of such agents must have no widespread or natural or
acquired immunity. Michael Klare, "CBW Research Directory," Viet
Report 3, nos. 4 and 5 (January 1968), p. 25.
D
THE
SCIENCE
WORLD
MATIC PROTEST AT PENN
CB WARFARE RESEARCH
lind this mask is one of 18 or
faculty members at the Unl
, of Pennsylvania who will don
asks for the spring commence
procession next monfh to ex
their feelings about continued
cal and biological warfare re
I there. A growing faculty group
: satisfied that the university
istration is genuinely trying to
In offcampus home for re
I under Project Summit and
t Spicerack-both Defense De
ent CBW contracts (SR, Oct.
1). Unless all affiliation with
esearch is cut, the academic
lsion will see this unusual pro
'he administration says the re
I will be stopped when the
Courtesy ofJonathan Goldstein
when its Board of Trustees cancelled the University's
Pentagon CBW contracts, the viewpoints of the contending
factions at Penn were symptomatic of clashes of moral and
academic values among American academics at large. To
comprehend the Penn experience as a microcosm of debate
among U.S. academics it is necessary to view the Penn
episode within a broad historical context: the development
of U.S. CBW research; the processes whereby such studies
become "married" to American universities; the Indo
chinese-American War; and the introduction, by the mid
1960s, of CBW as a counterinsurgency tool in the war. The
novel usage of CBW for counterinsurgency, rather than for
traditional battlefield combat, ignited a particular concern
with CBW research which might not have otherwise arisen.
Apart from a brief and undocumented article in the
October 1967 Nation magazine there has been no history of
Penn's experience, analyzing each of the factions who par
took in the Penn controversy. 2
2. Gabriel Kolko, "Universities and the Pentagon," The Nation 205, no.
11 (October 9, 1967), pp. 328-332.
Information on each ofthe factions involved in the Summit/Spicerack
27
controversy has been derived from various sources. The most helpful
sources on the student movement were telephone interviews with Jules
Benjamin (August 8 and 9, 1982) and student publications in Mr. Benja
min's personal archives, especially: Joel Aber, Jules Benjamin, and Robin
Martin (a.k.a. Robin Maisel), Germ Warfare Researchfor Vietnam (Phila
delphia: Philadelphia Area Committee to End the War in Vietnam, 1966),
which included Fred Stanton's "ICR Song"; Robin Maisel, "Philadelphia
Committee Fights Germ War Research," Bring the Troops Home Now
Newsletter I, no. 3 (June 9, 1965), pp. 17-20; Joel Aber and Jules Benja
min, "Germ Warfare Research for Vietnam," Bring the Troops Home Now
Newsletter I, no. 15 (October 17, 1966), pp. 7-8; and Jules Benjamin,
"Weed Killers," in a 1966 University of Pennsylvania magazine, title
uncertain. Also useful were a series of articles in the Philadelphia Bulletin,
March 6, 7, 9, 14, 1966, entitled: "The Left-A View From Within,"
published after reporter Eugene Meyer infiltrated major left-wing student
groups in Philadelphia, including CEWV and SDS. The student news
paper, DP. from August 1965 through May 1967, indicated student opin
ion in its polls, editorials, letters to the editor, and reports of activities of
the student government. The most useful sources of information on the
viewpoint of the trustees and administrators were: Minutes ofthe Board of
Trustees. Vol. 30 (March 11, 1966-May 1, 1967); Vol. 31 (May 4, 1967
May 28, 1968); and interviews with: ex-Provost David Goddard, February
1974 in person, and March 1982 via telephone; trustee Thomas Sovereign
Gates, Jr., June 15, 1982; Donald S. Murray, Assistant to Penn President
Gaylord Hamwell for Federal Relations, June 14, 1982, who also shared
portions of his personal archive with me; and Fran Rozinski, Administra
tive Assistant to the Board of Trustees, March 22, 1982. The most useful
documents reflecting faculty viewpoints were: University ofPennsylvania,
Faculty Senate Minutes and Agenda, 1965-66, and University of Penn
sylvania, Meeting of the Senate of the University of Pennsylvania, April
13, 1967, and May 3, 1967. The following publications also indicated
faculty attitude: William Gomberg, "Freedom as a Disguise for Majority
Tyranny," BioScience 17, no. 8 (August 1967), pp. 530-31; Edward
Herman and Robert Rutman, "University of Pennsylvania's CB Warfare
Controversy," BioScience 17, no. 8 (August 1967), pp. 526-29; Kolko,
"Universities"; Albert Mildvan, letter circulated to faculty colleagues,
February 22, 1967, among the papers of ex-Faculty Senate Chairman
Julius Wishner; Julius Wishner, introduction to "University of Pennsyl
vania Integrated Statement of University Policy on Conduct of Research
Programs," MUP Bulletin 54, no. 4, (December 1968), pp. 453-57; Julius
Wishner, "University of Pennsylvania's Research Policy," BioScience 17,
no. 8, (August 1967), pp. 529-30; andJulius Wishner, Letter tothe Editor,
Philadelphia Bulletin. November 14, 1966. The following Penn faculty and
staff were interviewed regarding the Summit/Spicerack controversy:
Gabriel Kolko (History, now of York University), written interrogations,
Spring 1982; Sidney A. Bludman (Physics), March 22, June 16, August 19,
and September 3,1982; Robert Davies (Veterinary Medicine), June 16,
1982; Edward Herman (Finance), June 16, 1982; Julius Wishner (Psychol
ogy and ex-Faculty Senate Chairman), March 24, 1982; and Karolyn
Burdon, Administrative Assistant to the Faculty Senate, March 22, 1982.
Professors Davies, Herman, Wishner, Kolko, and Rutman also shared all
or portions of their Summit/Spicerack personal archives with me.
The most useful general sources on chemical and biological warfare
research included: William Buckingham, Operation Ranch Hand. The Air
Force and Herbicides in Southeast Asia (Washington: Office of Air Force
History, 1982); Carol Brightman, "The Weed Killers," Viet-Report 2, no.
4/5 (June/July 1966); pp. 914,33-45; Brightman, " 'The Weed Killers'
A Final Word," Viet-Report 2, no. 7 (October 1966), pp. 3-5; Klare,
"CBW Research Directory," pp. 24-36; Klare, "The University and CBW
Research-An Announcement," Viet-Report 3. no. 1, (January
February 1967), pp. 36-88; Elinor Langer, "Chemical and Biological
Warfare (I): The Research Program," Science 155, no. 3758 (January 13,
1967), pp. 174-79; Langer, "Chemical and Biological Warfare (II): The
Weapons and the Policies," Science, Vol. 155, no. 5759 (January 20,
1967), pp. 299-303; and Sol Stem. "War Catalog of the University of
Pennsylvania," Ramparts 5, no. 3, (August 1966), pp. 31-40.
Efforts to procure the entire texts of the Summit and Spicerack
contracts from the Defense Department under the Freedom of Informa
tion Act with the assistance of the Office of Congressman Newt Gingrich.
or from the University of Pennsylvania, were unavailing. Letters are on
file from Robert Lomdale, Associate Secretary, University of Pennsyl
vania, dated May 25, 1982; Donald L. Howarth, Chief, Freedom of
Information Management, Department of the Air Force. dated August 4.
1982; and Robert W. Poor, Acting Chief, Legal Office, Department of the
Army, Armament Research and Development Command, dated July 22,
1982.
Humane vs. Inhumane Warfare:
The Development of U.S. CBW Weaponry
By the 1950s, according to Science magazine investi
gator Elinor Langer, the nuclear age military establishment
regarded the U.S. Army Chemical Corps as custodian of a
probably useless and potentially embarrassing arsenal.
Battlefield usage of poison gas had been commonplace in
World War I. As industrialized nations developed protec
tive defenses against such weaponry, the usage of poison
gas became increasingly obsolete. All major industrialized
powers nevertheless prepared for the possibility of repeat
usage in World War II. Perha:ps because of this readiness,
no one used poison gas on the battlefield. Although the
United States had not signed the 1925 Geneva Protocol
outlawing poison gas in warfare, President Roosevelt went
as far as to foreswear the first use of all varieties of CBW
chemical and bacteriological-in World War II.
In the years after World War II, the Chemical Corps,
with its CBW arsenal, received increasingly bad pUblicity.
According to Langer, CBW was easily misunderstood by
the general public, who considered it correctly or incor
rectly a "dirtier" kill than shooting or bombing. The bac
teriological aspects ofCBW could be considered "medicine
turned inside out." CBW researchers bred into pathogenic
organisms such qualities as resistance to antibiotics.
"Legitimate" medical researchers strived to do the oppo
site, according to this popular view.
Because of its negative public image and perceived
obsolescence, the Chemical Corps, after World War II,
subsisted on budgetary dregs of about $35 million a year.
Its most active support came from the Chemical Warfare
Association, a group of military and industrial executives
supported by chemical companies. The Corps continually
feared disbandment.
3
CBW had been successfully used by industrialized
Italy as an airborne antipersonnel weapon in its 1936 con
flict with underdeveloped Abyssinia. Emperor Haile
Selassie, in a well-publicized address before the League of
Nations, described the ravages wrought on his people by
the aerosol spraying of poisons. The Army Chemical Corps
was aware of the Abyssinian example. In the 1950s, with
the onset of limited counterinsurgency warfare rather than
direct battlefield combat between industrialized states, the
Corps saw an opportunity for a new lease on life. In 1959 it
launched "Operation Blue Skies," a media effort stressing
the advantages of aerosol-spraying of herbicides and in
capacitating agents as effective means of waging limited
war in an era when nuclear powers were reluctant to use
atomic devices. The Corps' pleas for expansion were en
dorsed by a variety of groups ranging from the House
Committee on Science and Astronautics, concerned with
global politics, to the American Chemical Society, an in
dustriallobby with a vested financial interest in CBW. An
ACS Newsletter editorial entitled "Chemical Agents for
Guerrilla War" summarized the "humane" argument for
CBW:
3. Langer, "Chemical (I)," pp. 174-75; Langer, "Chemical (II)," p. 302;
Buckingham, Operation, pp. iii, 3, 9-11.
In the cave and tunnel warfare ofthe jungles there seem to be
significant possibilities for riot-control agents used on mobs
in the U.S. and elsewhere. To flush all parties out ofhiding,
temporarily unfit for combat, seems a desirable alternative to
indiscriminate slaughter.
4
Chemistry Professor Knut Krieger, who directed CBW
research at Penn for fourteen years, argued that chemical
biological warfare was a "little less inhumane" than con
ventional, and especially atomic, weapons. S
By the mid-1960s, as guerrilla warfare escalated in
Indochina, the "humane" counterinsurgency argument ad
vocated by the Chemical Corps and its allies in govern
ment, industry, and academia resulted in a comprehensive
upgrading of U.S. CBW capabilities. In 1961, the research
and development budget for CBW for all three military
services was about $57 million. By 1964, it had risen to
about $158 million, a level maintained through 1967. A
clear commitment had been made to developing an old
method of warfare within a new military context.
6
CBW in the Indochinese-American War
According to the official Air Force history of its use of
chemical weaponry in Indochina, its "Operation Ranch
Hand" was authorized by President Kennedy in November
1961. "Ranch Hand" required South Vietnamese partici
pation and the mission-by-mission approval of the United
States Embassy in Saigon, the Military Assistance Com
mand in Vietnam, and the Saigon government in its spray
ing of aerosol herbicides. "Ranch Hand" began its actual
defoliation work in January 1962. By the time it ended nine
years later, some eighteen million gallons of defoliants,
such as "Agent Orange," had been sprayed on an esti
mated 20 percent of South Vietnamese jungles, including
36 percent of its mangrove forests. The Air Force carried
out similar herbicide operations in Laos from December
1965 to September 1969 with the permission of the Laotian
government. A U.S. National Academy of Sciences regis
ter of damages published in 1974 was compiled by U.S. and
Saigon government investigators just prior to the collapse
of the Saigon government. It concentrated on the oblitera
tion of vegetation, but no study was conducted on the
effects of carcinogens on Indochinese populations and on
U.S. aviators, which probably should also be taken into
account.
7
4. "Chemical Agents for Guerrilla Warfare," Chemical and Engineering
News, August 16, 1965, p. 7; Armed Forces Chemical Journal 8, no. 4
(July-August 1959), p. 18; "The Case for Gas Warfare," Armed Forces
Chemical Journal 17,no. 2 (June 1963), pp. 12-13; "Moral AspectsofCBR
Warfare," ArmedForces Chemical Journal 17, no. 2 (June 1963), p. 6.
5. Quoted in Stem, "Catalog," p. 38.
6. Langer, "Chemical (I)," p. 174. According to Langer, CBW procure
ment figures after 1967 were classified.
7. Buckingham, Operation, pp. iii-iv; The Effects of Herbicides in South
Vietnam (Washington: National Academy of Sciences, 1974), Part A Sum
mary and Conclusions; and Arthur Galston, "Herbicides in Vietnam,"
New Republic 157, no. 22 (November 25, 1967), pp. 19-22. For additional
details on the defoliation program, see: Buckingham, "Operation Ranch
Hand: Herbicides in Southeast Asia," Air University Review 34, no. 5
(July-August 1983), pp. 42-53; John Lewallen, Ecology of Devastation:
Indochina (Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1971); Ngo Vinh Long, "Leaf
Abscission," in Cambodia. The Widening War in Indochina, ed. by Jonathan
28
The American public knew little about the herbicide
program in the early 1960s. There were published reports
in the Western press conveying to readers the Hanoi gov
ernment's allegations about the use of chemical warfare by
the Americans against civilians, but these reports had lim
ited circulation among Americans. According to such re
ports, as early as 1963 the U.S. used toxic aerosol products
to destroy cultivated Viet farmlands: 320,000 hectares in
1963, 500,000 in 1964, and 700,000 in 1965.
8
The U.S.
Government did not acknowledge spraying "Agent
Orange" or other defoliants at the early date that the Hanoi
government claimed. As late as July 1965, Defense Secre
tary Robert MacNamara publicly denied any U.S. use of
CBW in Vietnam.' It was only on November 1, 1965, that
Deputy Secretary of Defense Cyrus Vance publicly ad
mitted that "we are making limited use [of cyanide and
arsenic compounds] in the Southern part of Vietnam, but
not yet in the North."10 According to investigator Langer,
by 1967 500,000 acres of cropland had been, in DOD
parlance, "treated with herbicides. "11
From the fall of 1965 on, then, it was publicly known
that the U.S. was using chemicals in waging its war in
Vietnam. That use became a major question of conscience
for many Americans as well as antiwar elements overseas.
Under these conditions CBW research on American
campuses could no longer be considered as theoretical and
uninvolved with the war. The public disclosure of the use of
CBW in Vietnam was followed by the action of Penn stu
dents in asking for the first time whether such research was
appropriate on their campus.
Origins of Pentagon-Penn Liaison in CBW Research:
Penn's Place in the Cold War
Federal government aid to higher education is as old as
the Ordinance of 1787, which set aside public lands for
schools and declared that "the means of education shall
forever be encouraged." However, extensive government
contracting of classified war research to universities began
only in World War II. During that conflict, Penn's faculty
Grant, Laurence Moss, and Jonathan Unger (New York: Washington
Square Press, 1971), pp. 201-13; and Fred Wilcox, Waiting for an Army to
Die. The Tragedy of Agent Orange (New York: Random House, 1983).
Long observed the defoliation program first hand while serving as a
military map maker for the South Vietnamese government between 1959
and 1963. In the course of his official duties he "had occasion to be at one
time or another in virtually every hamlet and village in the country." Long
wrote the original version of his survey of defoliation for the English
language edition of Thoi Bdo Ga while he was a graduate in Vietnamese
and Chinese history at Harvard University. While the studies by Long,
Lewallen, Galston, Buckingham, and the National Academy of Sciences
essentially corroborate each other on the extent of ecological devastation,
Long and Lewallen go further to corroborate N.L.F. and D.R.V. claims
of damage to Vietnamese health, as well as to the physical environment.
Wilcox is principally concerned with damage to the health of U.S.
servicemen.
8. Le Montie, March 23, 1966, quoting A.F.P. Hanoi dispatch.
9. Le Montie, August 17, 1965, quoted MacNamara statement made in
Saigon. "No Place to Hide," Armed Forces Chemical Journal 18, no. 1
(March 1964), pp. 5-6.
10. Cyrus Vance statement to a foreign policy conference in Washington,
in DP, November 1, 1965.
11. Langer, "Chemical (II)," p. 303.
constructed ENIAC, a pioneer digital computer, and a
mini-submarine capable of penetrating anti-submarine
nets. War research at universities proved important
enough that the practice continued after the war and by
1964, Defense Department (DOD) grants to American
universities totalled $401 million. 12
From the vantage point of a large private university
like Pennsylvania, the acceptance of Government research
contracts was sound fiscal policy. In 1964 Penn ranked
eleventh in the dollar value of DOD contracts to U.S.
universities. As of August 1966, Government grants pro
vided $25 million out of a total University budget of $90
million, and represented the single largest source of Penn's
income.
i3
Penn, a private Philadelphia university, commit
ted itself to classified poison gas and bacteriologi
cal warfare research before and during the in
dochina conftict. While not actually producing
the weapons on campus, Penn was involved in the
sophisticated, computer-assisted. analysis of the
production, delivery, and effects of the entire
spectrum of CBW weaponry; chemicals incapaci
tating to humans; herbicides; toxic bacteria; and
the political and psychological consequences of
the uses of such weapons.
Over and beyond the fiscal benefits we must also con
sider the underlying assumptions of universities about their
obligations to U.S. society. At the beginning of such re
search Penn trustees, and some administrators and faculty,
recognized a university obligation to national defense and
that attitude remained essentially unchanged up to 1967.
Professor Krieger argued that
if the university depends for its freedom on a free society, it
has some responsibility to defend the free society [through
government research contracts]. I like to believe that we are
making some small contribution to the national defense. 14
Penn trustee-for-life and ex-U.S. Defense Secretary
Thomas Sovereign Gates, Jr., conceded that a university's
acceptance of certain types of military research might be
"immoral. " But the greater moral good of patriotism took
precedence:
If the government wants something done it's all right to do it
and accept the work. If there's a special problem that cuts
across an institution like a university, if they are uniquely
qualified to carry on something in our national interest that is
important to keep secret, I don't know why they shouldn't do
12. Kolko, "Universities," pp. 328-29; Interview: Don Murray, June 14,
1982.
13. Stern, "Catalog," p. 32.
14. Stem, "Catalog,"p.38;Brightman, "Weed Killers-A Final Word, "
p. 4; Interview, Donald Murray, June 14,1982.
29
it. War is immoral to begin with. What's immoral about
[CBW] compared to a flame thrower or atomic bomb? The
whole goddamn thing is immoral. IS
Under this rubric, any government-requested research
might well have been rationalized.
Acting upon such major premises, Penn accepted its
first CBW research contract in 1951 during the Korean
War. The overtures to Penn were made by William Day,
who was Special Assistant to the United States Secretary of
Defense, an engineer, and a Penn alumnus. Day's initiative
was prompted by suspicion the Chinese were develop
ing "vectors," or delivery systems, for CBW in the Korean
conftict. '6
There were contacts in the summer and fall of 1951
between Penn administrators and Air Force personnel to
discuss the project in more specific detail. Consequently a
secret CBW contract was negotiated and given the code
name "Project Benjamin" in honor of the University's
founder. When the contract was officially signed in De
cember 1951, the code-name was shortened to "Big Ben"
in deference to DOD preference for two-syllable code
names. 17
According to Trustees' Minutes, Big Ben was "a study
of biological and chemical warfare from all standpoints-:
social, political, technological, scientific. "18 A 1956 BIg
Ben annual report described the project as "an indepen
dent evaluation" for the Air Force recommending future
research and development programs in chemical as well as
bacteriological weapons. 19 Big Ben operated from January
1952 until January 1958, when it was terminated by a cut
back in Air Force funds. Professor Krieger served as princi
pal investigator, heading a team of thirty-seven employees,
consultants, and members of a Planning Council. Including
both Air Force funds and an Army Chemical Corps stipend
for field studies, $2,900,000 were expended on Big Ben.
20
Big Ben made Penn a center for Cold War-oriented
CBW research and development. In 1954, the University
established an Institute for Cooperative Research (ICR) to
house the parent CBW project and attract other
projects. ICR offered the lure of pooled of
ous university departments plus promIsed protectIon
against security leaks. Between 1954 and 1965 a significant
number of projects were undertaken in CBW. "Caramu,"
a Chemical Corps project, was begun in 1956 to estimate
casualties produced from exposure to chemical agents.
"Oro," in conjunction with Johns Hopkins University,
predicted the degree of toxicity of CBW agents delivered
under different weather conditions. "White Wing," the
close-out study for Big Ben, emphasized bacteriological
rather than chemical agents. Project Summit, undertaken
15. Interview, Thomas Gates, Jr., June 15, 1982; Who's Who in America,
IfJ76-77, p. 1120.
16. Minutes of the Board of TTlIStees, May 1, 1967; Interview, Donald
Murray, June 14, 1982.
17. Minutes of the Board of TTlIStees, May 1, 1967; Interview, Donald
Murray, June 14, 1982.
18. Minutes ofthe Board ofTTlIStees, May 1,1967.
19. Annual Report of the fCR, 1956, p. 4, in Benjamin, "Weed Killers,"
p.14.
20. Minutes ofthe Board ofTTlIStees, May 1, 1967.
in 1958, involved "analysis of air-delivered CBW agent
munition combinations in counterinsurgency situations"
and "development of mathematical models for computa
tion of weapons effects." A 1963 version of the Summit
contract mentioned evaluation of offensive and defensive
CBW systems in "acceptable target situations. "21
In 1961, two additional Chemical Corps contracts cal
led for research to "develop through pharmacological re
search, data for new CW lethal and incapacitating agents. "
At this time ICR contracted Penn's Foreign Policy Re
search Institute to produce a study concerned with psycho
logical and political implications of CBW research by the
U.S.22
Finally, in 1963, the Air Force contracted with ICR to
investigate air-delivered chemical and biological munitions
for counterinsurgent operations. This project, which paral
leled the earlier Summit contract for the Army, was given
the code name "Spicerack." Significantly, this contract,
according to a summary in the Technical Abstracts Bulletin,
was specifically concerned with counterinsurgent CBW in
Vietnam. Enough eventually became publicly known
about Spicerack and Summit to tie them both to the
Indochina war. 23
September 1965: Penn Students'
Expose of Summit/Spicerac:k
Up until September 1965, there appears to be no pub
lic record of dissent concerning the propriety of CBW
research at Penn. Trustees, administrators, and faculty and
staff privy to the knowledge that CBW research was going
on, all appear to have shared Trustee Gates' opinion that
not only were such projects proper but that the University
was an acceptable place for such study. Even those aca
demics privately opposed to CBW research refrained from
public opposition. Provost David Goddard, Professor of
Botany and the university's highest ranking academic offi
cer, asserted that "from the early days in which the Uni
versity accepted Department of Defense contracts, I had
been personally opposed to CBW research." He went on to
explain why he remained quiet about his opposition by
saying that "the University needed administrative leader
ship and were the President and Provost perceived in public
opposition to each other, this would have been destroyed."24
Such presumptions were challenged, however, through
a chain of events beginning in the suntmer of 1965. Robin
21. Summit was the code-name for U.S. Army Chemical Corps contract
DA-18-064-CML-2757 (A). Technical Abstracts Bulletin, Defense Depart
ment, 67-9,May 1, 1967, in Klare, "CBW,"p. 33;AnnuaIReportoftheICR.
1959, /9(j(), in Brightman, "Weed Killers," p. 33; Stem, "Catalog," p. 37.
Armed Forces Chemical Journal, Vol. 19, No.3 (September 1964), p. 13,
cites a $134,000 Chemical Corps grant to Penn for a "data systems
.program. "
22. Chemical Corps contracts were DA-18-108-405-CML-630 and DA
18-108-CML-6556. Annual Report of the fCR. /957. pp. 2 and 7, in Benja
min, "Weed Killers," p. 15;AnnualReportofthelCR, /962, in Stem, "War
Catalogue," p. 35; Annual Report of the ICR, /959, in Brightman, "Weed
Killers," p. 33; Letter: Jules Benjamin to author, October 12,1982.
23. Spicerack was the code-name for U.S. Air Force contract AF 08
(635)-35fJ7. Technical Abstracts Bul/etin, Defense Department, 67-11, June
1,1967, in Klare, "CBW," p. 33.
24. Letter: David Goddard to author, February 17,1983.
30
Maisel, a Penn undergraduate affiliated with the Trotskyist
Young Socialist Alliance (ySA), was employed that sum
mer as a college bookstore clerk. In the course of making
deliveries, Maisel discovered ICR's offices out of public
view on the second floor of a Mercedes-Benz dealership.
Maisel's suspicions were aroused by ICR's barred doors
and combination-locked file cabinets, devices that were
unusual even for security-minded West Philadelphians. He
then reviewed the list of ninety books ordered by the ICR
over a six-month period. He discovered that the list con
centrated on rice crop diseases and Vietnamese politics.
Maisel concluded that he had stumbled upon a university
sponsored CBW research project. Consequently he took
his suspicions to faculty and students he found sympathetic.
Gabriel Kolko, Maisel's history professor, independently
verified the substance of Maisel's suspicions and organized
a faculty protest organization, the University Committee
on Problems of War and Peace. Maisel also took his infor
mation before the Penn-based Committee to End the War
in Vietnam (CEWV), a group to which YSA members as
well as non-Trotskyists belonged. Jules Benjamin, a gradu
ate student working in Penn's Foreign Policy Research
Institute (FPRI) and member of CEWV, reconfirmed
Maisel's suspicions. Benjamin sent background material
on the ICR, Spicerack, and Summit to Ramparts and Viet
Report, and both antiwar publications gave Penn's involve
ment with the contracts widespread national publicity.
From the vantage point of a large private
university like Pennsylvania, the acceptance of
Government research contracts was sound fiscal
policy. In 1964 Penn ranked eleventh in the dollar
value of DOD contracts to U.S. universities. As of
August 1966, Government grants provided $25
million out of a total University budget of $90
million, and represented the single largest source
of Penn's income.
Based on confirmation from Kolko and Benjamin,
CEWV sent a letter to President Hamwell, requesting that
he terminate the contracts as "immoral, inhuman, and
unbefitting to an academic institution," and called for the
ICR to be shut down. Immediately afterward Maisel was
fired from his bookstore job and Benjamin was relieved of
some duties at FPRI. President Hamwell and Professor
Krieger also publicly justified the CBW research. Hamwell
was quoted to the effect that Summit and Spice rack were
"used in Vietnam to develop dispersal systems for defoli
ants. " Krieger told reporters that Spicerack scientists were
"carrying out field research on the effectiveness of chemi
cal warfare in Vietnam" and "developing delivery sys
tems" for toxic chemicals in Vietnam, specifically arsenic
and cyanide compounds and chemical defoliants. Such dis
closures in the media established the direct link between
Penn research and the Indochina war and further corrobo
rated the charges made by Maisel, Benjamin, and Kolko
that there was a connection.
Penn Trustees
Vote to Abolish
'S R 1,'
pice afScholars & Secrecy
llesearch
To Transfer 'I.:
When 'Pract;c'Colnes Under Criticisl11
By KATRINA DA M U' ..
Of The Bulletin tore l1IVersltIes
The of lhe
ty of Pennsylvani.a Penn Cancels Two PentarYon
voted to end the AIr . .
Army germ warfare p . t 1\1' I . C .
contracts or banish t rOJec S; / Ie llgan ampus
the res( Is Aroused Over Contrncts
terminate or transfer
troversial Spice Rack H
mit projects, the trus OW Vital Is Schools' I-Iclp?
on a recornmendllt\on
President Gaylord P.
In his recommend By ELLIOT CARLSO:';
Harnwell said that it Staff Rqlo.-tcr oj Tin: WALL STREET Jot:nxAI,
"undesirable" to tra Universities in growing numbers are spurn
reSE
Ing Government contracts that call for secret
:esearch.
SciE r-
V Mounting opposition, by both profes:-:ors
Pas
students, to the Vietnam war and to warreihl
T'"

research is spurring the trend. But just
tior V;
is increasing faculty conccrn thClt
WT( C'ol
)......ccla!<sified contracts l1l11y curtail a. 5cholar's tra
ges t

obligation to disseminate his research
be ..0
() findings.
nor 2
me 0
r . The Some univerRities are "caling
.-1...) down or canceling stich rpl'earc.h projects.
it. 0
() And at a number of other 5chool:-; around the

I III
country heated debate is under Wily.
Cij : The University of Pcnn:,;ylvania ihi:-; "pring

CII
(j) ! canceled lwo classified Defense
rel t:
U) contracts fOI' assessing the effectiveness of
th' "'0
. CII
(j) ;:>- I chemical-biolog-ical warfare. Administrators
hc
; abandoned the Sl million projects-Imown
lis
Spiceracl"and Summit-after a two-year cam
W,s
O
i---1 pus dispute that reached its climax when some
se -<
il professors l:,reatened to wear gas masl,s at
5, :z:
>. 15 commencc;llcnt exercises.
bE
r;( ::> () Sl;;r.f0,-,i dniversity, New Yor!, University
o (j) and the G. 8l"sity of are ti;;htening
(j) res\l"ie'.' acceptance of classified
..,
() e;:: resear<':Jl contracts from Federal ag-encies.
(j) .3 -,;.03 secret projects at these schools have al
U) 1(".;y bC'cr. ,'11ascd out. ?acuIty committees at
rn U) .. Lv1);,lIlS University, the University of
cO !",lC"bur;;h and the University of California's
0<3 Ecr!,eley campus are currently taking a new
U 1,)0:'; al :,,cr('t research.
U) 1.1";'<111" at ;\lichi;;an
U) \lId jllst last \\"('('k deb;! te erupled at the
Cij;.-..c ,:l1Iversily of 1I1icl1i;::Cll1 wilen the Michigan
r---4 Dally. lhe studcnt l1Cw"p;;per, di.;riosl'rl the ex
,
o 4-> i:;lence of ;, boul million in Defense
r cO DcpartmC'l1t projects at the scllnol. The ron
,..ro:: lracts ran;::e il'om counterinsur;;rncy projcr.l3
\",j r in Th;!ilanrl to research on 1l.1H'W ;".'0"
(I] tal ballistic
wi 11 Courtesy ofJonathan Goldstein
31

The anti-CBW movement was enhanced in the fall of

1965 when Penn acquired a chapter of Students for a
Democratic Society (SDS). This society's politics derived
from a program for radical social change outlined in the
eady 1960s in its Port Huron Statement. By 1965 SDS had
become a nationwide student antiwar organization. Its
Penn chapter co-sponsored anti-CBW activities with
CEWV, and agreed with the Trotskyist argument to op
pose CBW not because it was classified but because it was
CBW research, commissioned for counterinsurgency use in
an "unjust" war. Despite disputes on the national level
among various antiwar groups, the Penn student move
ment against CBW managed' to maintain a united position,
emphasizing the ethical and moral considerations of the
CBW issue throughout a twenty-month struggle. 25
Mention should be made also of the activities of right
wing Penn students who supported U.S. policy on the
Indochina War and also supported the continuance of
CBW research at Penn. There was at Penn an official
chapter of Young Americans for Freedom (YAF), a stu
dent group whose goal, according to its Penn chairman,
was "for anti-Communist college students-left, right, or
center-to confirm their support for the President's policy
in Vietnam." In October 1965, National Y AF organized a
demonstration in Washington in support of American war
aims which brought together 500 students from 40 colleges
in 20 states, including representatives from the Young Re
publicans and Young Democrats. Y AF was numerically
small at Penn, yet there are some indications that its view
25. Interviews: Jules Benjamin, August 8 and 9, 1982; Letter: Kolko to
author, April 26, 1982; Stem, "War Catalog," pp. 34-35; Herman and
Rutman, "University,"p.526;Klare, "CBW,"p.33;Meyer, "The Left";
DP, November 22, 1965, February 4 and 15, 1966, June 14, 1966, August
15,1966, September 28, 1966, November 18, 1966, February 9, 1967.
In the ensuing controversy over Summit and Spicerack, rarely, if
ever, would critics accuse Penn of actually brewing germs and toxic
chemicals. Rather, the controversy would be over the propriety of design
ing classified delivery systems for counterinsurgency weapons. The pro
priety of developing systems to defend one's own country against CBW
was also never seriously challenged. It was the classified nature of the
projects and their counterinsurgency applicability that was found
objectionable.
The nature of Spicerack, its predecessor Big Ben, and their Chemical
Corps counterparts such as Summit, was specifically mentioned in the
Minutes of Penn Trustees, where the work of these projects was described
as determining "the posture of the United States, both defense and
offense, in connection with BW and CW." Minutes ofthe Board ofTrustees,
May 1, 1967. The actual Spicerack contract, as cited by Stem and Langer,
called for "analyses and studies ofthe behavior, technical properties, and
performance of particular agents, munitions, weapons, components or
subsystems of CB weapons systems; estimation of the human effects of
particular C and B agents; characterization of the aerosol behavior of the
specific agents in field clouds; appraisal of the performance of candidate
munition-agent combinations under environmental conditions; examina
tion of various protective procedures in specific military situations; and
the estimation of human factors and response to the C and B environ
ment." Cornell Aeronautical Labs was subcontracted, under Spicerack,
to "conduct a detailed target analysis to determine anticipated target
neutralization requirements, protective measures against which weapon
capability should be required, minimum acceptable casualty infliction to
achieve neutralization, and munition evaluation criteria, including evalu
ation of field and operational tests. DP, November 11, 1965, April 20,
1967; Kolko, "Universities," p. 330; Stem, "Catalog," pp. '36-38; Langer,
"Chemical (I)," p. 177; Herman and Rutman, "University," p. 527;
Brightman, "Weed Killers," pp. 9, 43; Brightman, "'The Weed
KiIIers'-A Final Report," p. 5; STOP news release, April 25, 1967, in
Benjamin archives. 32
point, at least in the fall of 1965, may have been widely
shared. A Daily Pennsylvanian (DP) poll of 96 students
who had been randomly contacted indicated that 84 per
cent supported U.S. policy in Vietnam. Of course, the
official policy at that time was ambiguous since war aims
included prominent statements calling for an honorable
peace. Student perceptions might have been muddled by
the statements. Perhaps because Y AF assumed broad
based student support, perhaps because both the U.S.
government and the Penn administration were doing what
YAF was advocating, up to May 1967 Penn Y AF never
undertook campus protest or picketing as the left-wing
students did. After all they had no reason to protest, for
they stood on the side of the President of the U.S. and
Penn's president, trustees, and some faculty. 26
By December 1965 at least four factions had emerged
at Penn, with differing views on the propriety of CBW
research. The ensuing struggle involving these factions be
tween 1964 and 1967 paralleled a debate among other
American academics over the propriety of the Indochina
conflict and the means to be used in fighting that war,
including the use of CBW for counterinsurgency.
One faction was Gabriel Kolko's faculty group, the
University Committee on Problems of War and Peace.
Although the Committee had only four active members
during the first year of the CBW controversy, it exerted an
influence far broader than its numbers might suggest.
Edward Herman (Finance), Robert Rutman (Veterinary
Medicine), Albert Mildvan (Medicine), and Gabriel Kolko
(History) utilized the campus, local, national, and inter
national media, teach-ins, and faculty forums to spread
their contention that CBW was both immoral and illegal
and that CBW research at Penn should be terminated
immediately. The Committee favored Penn's immediate
and permanent divestiture of all CBW research, whether
classified or not, whether publishable or not. The politics of
the Kolko committee were radical relative to the goals
favored by most other Penn faculty. Significantly, the
members did not necessarily see themselves as radicals in
the ideological sense. Edward Herman stated that "some
of us thought we were defending law and primary values, it
la Thomas Jefferson, who would perhaps have been on our
side. Some of us were plain liberals. "27
Defenders of the status quo comprised a second fac
tion. It consisted of President Harnwell and the trustees,
administrators and faculty who had brought CBW research
to Penn in 1951 and nurtured it for fourteen years, plus
26. DP, September 17, 1965, October 20 and 25, 1965. See occasional
issues of Penn YAF's publication Veritas, for red-baiting of Koiko,
Herman, and especially Rutman.
27. Kolko's argument on the illegality of CB warfare drew heavily on the
conclusion that, since the 1925 Geneva Protocol which the United States
did not sign, there emerged "from the practice of states a rule of custom
ary international law prohibiting at least the first use of chemical warfare.
The vast majority of text-writers assert that CB warfare as defined in the
Geneva Protocol is contrary to international law." William O'Brien,
"Biological Chemical Warfare and the International Law of War,"
Georgetown Law Journal 51 (1962), pp. 36,41. Ironically, this legal study
was sponsored by the ICR in an effort to legitimize its research, long
before the 1965 controversy. DP, February 16, 1966; Letter: Edward
Herman to author, November 9, 1982.
some student and off-campus supporters, such as the cam
pus chapter of YAF. "We should engage in the business,
secret or not," argued Trustee Gates in defense of such
research. "We were meeting a national requirement of vast
importance." Defenders of secret CBW research main
tained, furthermore, that to deprive a faculty member of
the right to choose his research meant violating his aca
demic freedom, which could be defined as the right to study
anything.
28
This was the group that found itself under
attack and eventually was forced to concede defeat.
A third faction led by Faculty Senate Chairman Julius
Wishner (Psychology), may be defined as mainstream fac
ulty concerned about CBW research. Certainly some Penn
faculty remained completely on the sidelines or vacillated
throughout the entire CBW controversy. Others, as al
ready mentioned, affiliated either with the Kolko commit
tee or with defenders of the status quo. Wishner believed
that the preservation of academic freedom should be a
paramount consideration in the discussion of the propriety
of campus CBW contracts. According to Wishner, while
the topic of research should be left to the individual schol
ar, results had to be reported in literature open to the entire
scholarly community and not only as classified documents.
Under such guidelines, secret CBW research was clearly
inappropriate at Penn apart from any moral or legal con
sideration.
29
Clearly Wishner defined academic freedom
differently than did the defenders of the status quo.
Radical students constituted a fourth interest group.
Their general objectives paralleled those of the Kolko com
mittee and were summarized at the time by two Trotskyists
in an interview for the DP: "We oppose CBW research not
because it is classified but because it is CBW research,
commissioned for use in an unjust war. We should be no
less opposed if its results were wholly public. "30 On several
points, however, radical student tactics differed from those
of the Kolko committee. Whereas radical faculty worked to
win support within the Faculty Senate, the energies of
student radicals went largely into direct confrontation with
the administration and trustees through picketing, litera
ture distribution, and demonstrations. Radical students
were not entirely supported by the student body at large.
On the one occasion when student radicals attempted to
launch a political party of their own in the student govern
ment, their effort was overwhelmingly defeated at the
28. Interview, Thomas Gates, Jr., June 15, 1982. "If Itold someone what
research to do or not to do or what to publish," President Harnwell was
quoted as saying, "another portion of the faculty would be down here
knocking at the doors." Langer, "Chemical (I)," p. 177. Business Profes
sor William Gomberg lamented after the CBW controversy that "mea
sures were taken by one section of the faculty to impose restrictions on the
individual autonomy of other members." Gomberg, "Freedom," p. 530.
29. "Who is to judge what is moral and immoral research?" Wishner
asked his anti-war critics. "Are we to establish censorship of research?"
Interview, Julius Wishner, March 4, 1982. An Editorial Chairman of the
DP summari2ed the Wishner view with the question: "If chemical warfare
is deemed immoral today, might not mathematics, the basis of missile
science, be considered immoral tomorrow?" DP, March 31, 1967. See
also: Letter, Wishner to The Bulletin (Philadelphia), November 21, 1966;
Wishner, "Introduction," p. 453; Wishner, "University," pp. 529-30;
Faculty Senate Minutes, April 13, 1967, p. 16; BioScience, Vol. 17, No.8
(August 1967), pp. 524-525.
30. DP, November 18,1966. 33
polls. However, student radicals were more successful in
procuring off-campus support-locally, nationally, and
internationally-plus endorsements from the campus
newspaper, the DPY
Penn Faculty Involvement
Once the issue of CBW research had been raised by
Penn's students, faculty members became embroiled in a
debate among themselves and with others over the propri
ety of the research. After Maisel notified Kolko of the
existence of possible CBW research on campus, sympa
thetic faculty assisted radical students in their confronta
!ion with the administration. The Kolko committee, during
Its first year of existence, spoke at student-led teach-ins and
demonstrations and took an active part in contacting the
campus, local, national and international media. The com
mittee's major effort was to bring the issue of CBW before
the faculty's representative body, the Senate, for the first
time, and to keep the committee's viewpoint on legal,
moral and ethical aspects of CBW under constant discus
sion in that body during the twenty months of the crisis.
Kolko's committee sent out detailed circulars about its
position on CBW research to all faculty members prior to
the first Faculty Senate meeting in the fall of 1965. Even
before that meeting on November 3, the Physics Depart
ment voted unanimously in favor of banning classified re
search on campus. The Physics Department formally dis
associated itself from President Harnwell, who was a mem
ber of the Department, and from his scientist-allies in the
Chemistry Department, ICR and Engineering Schools.
One physicist, Sidney Bludman, became a particularly
strong supporter of the Kolko committee's effort and
spokesman for the committee's position in faculty meetings
and before professional organizations such as the Federa
tion of American Scientists. 32
Julius Wishner opened the first Faculty Senate meet
ing of 1965-66 by crediting Kolko with having "first
brought to my attention the possible existence of secret
research on campus." Despite the efforts of the Kolko
committee, faculty attention quickly turned to the issue of
31. In January 1967, an unsuccessful attempt to launch a radical political
party within the Penn Student Government was made by College for
Women sophomore Anita Dimondstein, a radical affiliated with SDS
and unaffiliated with the Trotskyist YSA. She tried to form a party to run
the. government elections on the platform: "termination of all
Umverslty DOD contracts." The party pledged "non-violent direct action
tactics': the University. refused to cooperate. Although
her polItical party won mmlIDal support, Anita continued her involvement
as an editor of the DP, and as a participant in the April 26-27, 1967, sit-in
and other demonstrations. She could be considered the most prominent
female participant in Penn's anti-CBW struggle. DP, January 17 18 and
30,1967. ' ,
32. Letter, Gabriel to the author, April 26, 1982. Examples of
Kolko-generated publiCity mc1uded: Scientijic American 214, no. 2 (Febru
1966), p. ?3; American 214, no. 2 (February 1966), p. 53;
Chemical, BIOlogical Weapons," Science 153, no. 3743 (September 23,
1966), p. 1508; Langer, "Chemical (I)"; Langer, "Chemical (II)'"
Scientijic Research I, no. 10 (October 1966), pp. 11-12; and Kolko
versities." Gabriel Kolko to faculty, October I, 13 and 15, 1965,
Kolko. ArchIve; Herman, "University," p. 526; DP, October 21, 1965;
InteTVIews: Professor Sidney Bludman, March 22, June 16, August 19,
and September 3, 1982; Letter: Sidney Bludman to Marvin Kalkstein
FederationofAmerican Scientists, December 16 1966 Wishner al'chives'
".
secrecy, rather than morality or legality, of that research.
For some this was the essence of the debate, but for others
preoccupation with secrecy may have been a safe way to
express a real opposition to CBW and its counter
insurgency use in Indochina.
Up untH September 1965, there appears to
be no public record of dissent concerning the
propriety of CBW research at Penn. Trustees,
administrators, and faculty and staff privy to the
knowledge that CBW research was going on, all
appear to have shared Trustee Gates' opinion
that not only were such projects proper but that
the University was an acceptable place for such
study.
President Harnwell responded to the faculty concern
about secrecy and authored a resolution designed to win
faculty concurrence without harming ongoing CBW re
search. The resolution stated:
The University imposes no limitation on the freedom of
the faculty in the choice offields of inquiry or the media of
public dissemination ofthe results obtained. It is the obliga
tion of a faculty member to make freely available to his
colleagues and to the public the significant results he has
achieved in his course ofhis inquiries. . . . [The faculty Jwill
assumefull responsibility in the public dissemination oftheir
results through appropriate media to insure their maximum
utility and to minimize the propagation ofe"or. 33
Harnwell's defense of the freedom to study anything and
his reference to "appropriate media" were immediately
lauded by Krieger and the CBW supporters. "Anything"
could include CBW, and thereby facilitate, in Krieger's
words, "the responsibility of the University to contribute to
national defense." "Appropriate media" could include
classified reports. Kolko and his supporters damned the
Harnwell resolution as "too elusive." They proposed and
lost, by an 83 to 182 vote, a counter-resolution for specific
condemnation of "classified research and the development
of chemical-bacteriological weapons." The Harnwell reso
lution was adopted by a simple majority.
Wishner and the majority of the articulate faculty
seem to have taken the view that the Harnwell resolution, if
expanded and implemented, could have served as a useful
first step in coming to grips with the issue of secrecy. In the
year following the passage of the Hamwell resolution,
Wishner, with the guidance of constitutional law Professor
Paul Mishkin, developed and passed through the Senate
specific criteria for acceptable research, as outlined in
broad form in the Harnwell resolution. A faculty Senate
resolution of November 10, 1966, established a special
committee to advise the administration on the acceptability
of research based on the principle that scholars could study
anything but results had to be publishable in the open
scholarly literature, not only as classified documents. In
accordance with that principle, it was argued that Penn
should not accept contracts with "clearance require
ments." "Clearance requirements" entailed approval from
an agency outside the university before results of a study
could be submitted for open publication or certain person
nel hired to work on a research project.
According to Wishner, the November 1966 resolution,
which tightened the November 1965, Hamwell resolution,
should have eliminated Summit and Spicerack. But Faculty
Senate resolutions were only advisory, never binding, on
the administration. Wishner stated later that he under
estimated the tenacity with which President Harnwell
would ignore Senate advice in order to protect "old
friends" to whom he was "personally committed" since Big
Ben days. 34
Even in 1965, however, the Kolko faction had no faith
in the "non-binding" and "vague" Harnwell resolution,
which "changed nothing" at Penn. They also doubted
whether Harnwell would implement the Wishner resolu
tion. Having been unsuccessful in faculty debate, they con
tinued their efforts in the local and national press to chal
lenge the administration. They distributed materials to
such journals as Scientific American, Science, Scientific Re
search, and The New York Times.
Ongoing Student Protests,
October 1965-March 19, 1967
As already noted, it was Penn's radical students who
initiated the protest against CBW, attracted the support of
sympathetic faculty, and focused media attention on the
issue first in the campus press (DP) and subsequently in the
nationwide left-wing press (The Militant, Ramparts, and
Viet-Report). 3S The student radicals used a variety oftactics
in their twenty-month-long protest.
After their letter to Harnwell, CEWV was responsi
ble, in October 1965, for the first international negative
publicity which Penn's contracts received. The forum was
the "International Vietnam War Teach-in" in Toronto,
sponsored by a coalition of Canadian and U.S. antiwar
groups including CEWV. At that teach-in, University of
Michigan professor Richard Mann, cued by CEWV, sug
gested a connection between ICR's studies and the Viet
nam War: "When I see the ICR at the University of Penn
sylvania trying to find out how to poison a nation's rice
supply, then I must protest. "36 Later that month, CEWV
34. Faculty Se1UJte Minutes, November 3, 1965; November 10, 1966 resolu
tion reproduced in BioScience 17, No.8 (August, 1967), pp. 524-25;
Interview, Wishner, March 24, 1982; Langer, "Chemical (I)," p. 177.
Karolyn Burdon, Administrative Assistant to the Faculty Senate, made
clear the advisory nature of Senate resolutions in a March 22, 1982
interview.
35. Th'.: Militant, newspaper of the Socialist Workers Party, the parent
organization of Penn's YSA, covered Penn's CBW controversy as early as
its November 15, 1965, issue. In all probability The Militant was alerted to
the Penn situation and continued to publicize it because of the involve
ment ofYSAers in CEWV.
33. Reproduced in BioScience, Vol. 17, No.8 (August, 1967), p. 524. 36. DP, October 11, 1965.
34
marshalled a first protest march at ICR's inconspicuous
building as part of "International Days of Protest" against
the Indochina conflict. CEWV descended on the ICR a
second time on November 8. Featured speakers included
a YSA spokesperson who emphasized opposition to "geno
cidal CBW, whether secret or not."37 On December 10,
SDS and CEWV took their demonstrating to the very heart
of the Penn campus, the circle directly outside Harnwell's
office. Signs at that demonstration advocated: "No Geno
cide Research for Vietnam," and "Stop Johnson's Dirty
War, Krieger's Dirty Research. " The demonstrators
clashed with other students and nine student pickets were
injured. SDS/CEWV sought to capitalize on this confronta
tion. Claiming violation of their right to protest, these
groups held a much larger rally on the same spot the follow
ing day. They emphasized their anti-CBW position as well
as freedom of speech. 38
In addition to the spectacular SDS/CEWV protests
which drew national and international media coverage, the
groups organized, as a regular feature on campus, weekly
"bitch-ins" on the CBW /Indochina war issues. "Bitch-ins"
were held in Houston Hall's open plaza Tuesday mornings
at 11 a.m., the only time period during the normal college
week when no classes were scheduled. Pro- and antiwar
harangues were the normal bill-of-fare. Later YSA/CEWV
introduced a guitarist who composed, performed, and later
produced a record album of songs about counterinsur
gency, CBW, and Indochina. One composition titled "The
ICR Song" reflected the philosophical orientation ofYSA/
CEWV by mocking an ICR professor, possibly Krieger:
I am a professor, I work for the University,
Ofall the professors I'm the finest byfar.
I play with air turbulence, diseases and chemicals
To put on the Spicerack at the old ICR.
Chorus: And it's ten thousand miles to the target.
My work is defensive, to save our security,
On Asian air turbulence I work pretty hard.
On rice blast diseases, anthrax and influenza
It's all in the files ofthe old ICR.
Chorus: And it's ten thousand miles to the target.
My work is benevolent, I'm a humanitarian.
My best friends are Asians, it's quite plain to see.
I'm an Ivy league soldier, an egghead with a spray gun,
For the old ICR at the old U. ofP.
Chorus: And it's ten thousand miles to the target. 39
Other student protests reflected similar intensity. On
Penn's Founder's Day, January 23, 1966, Harnwell was
greeted by a contingent of CEWV pickets, prompting the
DP headline "Harnwell Gives Honorary Degrees as Pick
ets March Outside." The following month, a city-wide
demonstration outside the Federal Courthouse re
37. DP. October IS, November 9, 1965.
3S. DP. December 10 and 13, 1975; July 31,1%7.
39. Fred Stanton's other songs included "Exploitation Blues" and "Hitler
Ain't Dead." Some were published in Broadside magazine. Aber, Benja
min, and Martin (Maisel), Germ Warfare. back cover; DP. April 6 and 26,
September2S, November 9, 1966.
emphasized the link between the issues of ICR and the
Indochina War. In March, the linkage was publicized again
at a second "International Days of Protest" demonstration
outside Independence Hall, at which CEWV, SDS, YSA,
and the newly formed Veterans for Peace in Vietnam co
operated. A "Philadelphia Committee for November 5,
1966, Mobilization" was formed by CEWV and held a City
Hall march and rally on that date. The following month a
public debate on the propriety of CBW at Penn was held
between Benjamin, representing the CEWV; a YSAer;
and two Penn Y AFers. In March 1967, prompted by the
CEWV/SDS actions, pacifist groups including the Ameri
can Friends Service Committee and the Fellowship of Re
conciliation held an "Easter Peace March" from the ICR
building to Capitol Hall, via the Army Chemical Corps
installation at Fort Detrick, Maryland. They were ad
dressed at the ICR building by faculty activist Mildvan. 40
The student newspaper was another force among the
students moving to eliminate CBW research. The DP was
run by its own self-perpetuating board of editors although it
subsisted on a stipend from the administration. Through
out the CBW controversy it took an anti-administration
view, most notably in its anti-Harnwell editorials such as
"The Many Faces of GPH" and "An Old Man." The latter
column advised Harnwell, because of his insistence in
keeping CBW at Penn, to "step aside" in favor of a man
"closer in outlook to the students for which the University
exists." The newspaper, moreover, through its daily news
coverage reported horrors of the Indochina War, which
had inescapable associations with the campus controversy.
In the two-year period August 1965-August 1967, only 54
issues of this daily paper did not mention the Indochina
conflict. Most issues were replete with news of antiwar and
antidraft protest and perceived abuses of demonstrators'
civil rights. Probably this coverage reflected an underlying
student interest in these issues.
The DP, then, working independently of the student
antiwar movement, functioned as an additional force pres
suring the administration and trustees toward the elimina
tion of CBW research. A survey of the editorial positions
taken in the October 1965 to August 1967 issues reveals, at
first, a desire that the administration disclose "all relevant
information" so that a rational dialogue could take place.
Instead of forthrightness, the newspaper staff felt that it
was treated with double talk, and thereafter was suspicious
and careful of its contacts with the administration. On
October 18, 1965, a DP editorial spoke to this point:
First we were told that the projects were not secret; then we
were assured that a statement would be issued following an
administrative meeting; then the meeting was cancelled;
finally, we are told that no disclosure can be made because
the information is classified. Equivocations only addfuel to
I
the arguments ofthe project'sfoes.
41
I
In November 1965, when the DOD acknowledged
large scale aerosol spraying of Viet rice fields, the DP
I
40. DP. January 19 and 24, February 14, March 2S, April 15 and 18,
November 4, December 6, 1966; February 9, March 10 and 13, 1%7;
Meyer, "The Left," March 7,1966.
41. DP. October 12 and IS, 1965.
35
prodded the administration further:
Can it be said any longer that the studies ofthe ICR into the
uses ofchemical and biological agents in warfare are being
done to get a better understanding of' 'defensive" measures?
A continued silence on [ICR] can only validate all that the
protesters have said. 42
When several weeks later the administration proposed "re
solving" the issue by transferring Summit and Spicerack
from the ICR to the University City Science Center
(UCSC), a private corporation ofwhich Penn was principal
stockholder, the DP criticized the administration for "skirt
ing the moral issue. "43 By the end of 1966, the DP was
editorially calling upon the administration to halt all classi
fied research. 44
March 19-May 4, 1967:
Faculty and Radical Students
Force an End to CBW Research
As already noted, mainstream faculty led by Faculty
Senate Chairman Julius Wishner, had-unlike faculty and
student radicals-maintained confidence in President
Harnwell after his November 1965 resolution on secret
research and the November 1966 implementing resolution
of the Faculty Senate. They believed Harnwell would di
vest Penn of secret research when he abolished the ICR in
late 1966. As Time and Newsweek pointed out, the transfer
of research to another part ofthe university only eliminated
the apparent target for "shrill and divisive" faculty-student
protest. Hamwell's maneuver in no way terminated Sum
mit and Spicerack, which remained contractual obligations
between Penn and the DOD. Harnwell insisted, however,
that a new home would ultimately be sought for Penn's
CBW contracts.
4S
In late 1966, according to Wishner, Harnwell gave oral
assurances that there had been no request for the renewal
of Summit from the Chemical Corps, hence it would termi
nate in March 1968. The University would furthermore
divest itself of the Air Force's Spicerack contract. Since
Spicerack contained both types of "clearance" require
ments forbidden under the November 1966 Faculty Senate
resolution, Wishner was gratified by Harnwell's assur
ances, and conveyed his gratification both to the Senate's
research oversight committee and before the Senate itself.
Despite these oral assurances to Wishner, Spicerack was
renewed in March 1967. According to Federal Relations
Coordinator Murray, the renewal was made to assure the
continuation of USAF funding of Spicerack at its probable
new home-the UCSC. A letter to Wishner and others
explaining this reasoning was en route to them when the
Philadelphia Bulletin learned of the renewal through an
inadvertent remark by Harnwell during a general interview
42. DP. November 1, 1965.
43. DP. December 8, 1965.
44. DP. April 28, September 12, November 16, 1966.
45. Scientific American 214, no. 2, (February 1966), p. 53'; "Secret Re
search at Penn," Time 88, no. 12 (September 16, 1966), p. 62; "Con
troversies: Chemical Reaction," Newsweek 68, no. 12 (September 19,
1966), p. 34.
and published it in its Sunday edition, March 19, 1967.
46
News of the renewal reached Wishner via that Sunday
morning's news story, and he received a number of calls
from upset faculty. Wishner was outraged at what he con
sidered Harnwell's breach oftrust, and convened the Steer
ing Committee of the Faculty Senate, with Harnwell pres
ent, to deal with the matter. According to Wishner, Harn
well was asked to explain what had happened. Wishner
stated that Harnwell's explanation was
very verbose. He seemed to be saying' 'I sort ofsigned it in a
careless moment or something." [We were] outraged at this
andaskedthe President to put in a call to the AirForce, while
he was sitting there, that rescinded his signature. He pro
ceeded to do it. We had him send a telegram on top of the
telephone call since by that time I suppose we couldn't be
sure to whom he was talking and whether he was reporting
accurately to us. 47
After the meeting, however, the administration continued
its efforts to have Spicerack relocated at the UCSC. Appar
ently Harnwell still differentiated between research under
taken at the university proper and at the University City
Science Center. Most faculty by this time did not make such
a distinction.
Consequently a loss in administrative credibility re
sulted and from mid-March 1967 moderate and radical
faculty, plus radical students and the DP, were united for
the first time on the single objective of forcing a cancella
tion of the Spicerack contract; transferral was not an ac
ceptable option to them. Even the continuation of Summit
through 1968 became secondary to the issue of Spicerack's
fate. Aroused faculty became more militant than ever.
Mildvan threatened to wear a gas mask at the May com
mencement. Kolko, in a letter to the DP of AprilS, argued
that CBW research
has given Penn a national reputation which is positive only
in that it serves as a tocsin to other universities not to walk
the same path. The Trustees and President Harnwell must
expect the sustained and growing opposition of the faculty
even if that conflict takes years and increases in its bitter
ness. Since the fall of 1964, Penn has become, through
chemical warfare research and not scholarship, the most
publicized American university. In the end, the University
will lose its chemical warfare research, even ifit is moved to
the Science Center, and that Penn-controlled organization
will become the new focus ofcontroversy. Thatfight may take
years, but the administration should now assume in its plan
ning a struggle it will eventually lose. 48
Student protest reached a critical stage after the reve
lations in the March 19 Philadelphia Bulletin. On April 4,
1967, a solitary pacifist student commenced a short-lived
one-man "stand-in" in front of Harnwell's office. He held
46. Interviews: Don Murray, June 14, 1982; Julius Wishner, March 24,
1982; DP. February 22,1967; Trustees' Minutes. April 14, 1967, p. 317.
47. Interview: Julius Wishner, March 24, 1982; Faculty Senate Minutes.
April 13, 1967, WishnerPapers;DP. March 29, 1967; The Bulletin. March
19,1967.
48. DP. AprilS, 1967. On threatened gas mask protest by faculty, see:
Faculty Senate Minutes. May 3, 1967; DP. February 22, March 13 and IS,
1967.
36
I
the placard: "End University Support of War Research."
Between April 8 and 15, Benjamin of CEWV co-chaired
Penn participation in "National Vietnam Week." A teach
in on CBW at Penn featured Carol Brightman, the author
of extensive Viet-Report articles on CBW, plus Kolko com
mitteeman Herman. The week culminated with a massive
antiwar demonstration outside the United Nations Build
ing. On April 26, the University's traditional Hey Day rites
were interrupted when, in addition to customary canes and
straw hats, some marchers donned gas masks, and stood in
silent protest during Hamwell's address in Irvine Audi
torium. According to a student organizer of that protest
"the only way to make the University cease its action in
C-B warfare is to embarrass it in public."49 By mid-April
1967, students formed an ad-hoc organization called
"STOP"-Students Opposed to Germ Warfare Research.
STOP included veteran CEWV participants such as Benja
min and the Hey Day marchers, but was led by college
junior Joshua Markel, a relative newcomer to the student
antiwar movement. As STOP protestors occupied Ham
well's office on April 26 and 27, Markel compared the Penn
president to Adolf Eichmann who, "having been told that
gassing people is immoral, agrees, but says he has to honor
his gas contract anyway. "50
From March 19, 1967, on, radical student protest re
ceived endorsement from the DP, which had not previously
advocated non-violent direct action. In March 1967, the DP
reemphasized that students and faculty were "entitled to
know where their university stands on the topical issue of
chemical and biological warfare research." Not receiving a
response from the administration it deemed as adequate,
the DP endorsed some of the most extreme demands of the
radical students. One editorial stated that, after twenty
months of equivocation, Penn could only cleanse itself by
"saying farewell to all forms of inhumane research,
whether on campus or at an off-campus front institution. "
Since the administration yet seemed unwilling to budge,
the campus newspaper took the extreme editorial position
of wholeheartedly supporting, on moral grounds, direct
action protest against the scheduled transfer of Spicerack
to the UCSC. One of their editorials was entitled "Let's
Help STOP Now. "51
Simultaneous with the radical students' and DP pro
tests, Wishner, because of what he perceived as administra
tive duplicity, convened a Faculty Senate meeting on April
13, 1967. That body voted, by 109 to 47, its "dismay" both
at the extension of Spicerack, and at the way in which the
extension was negotiated, "in such a way as to deny infor
mation to the faculty and to its appropriate committees. 5 ~
A second meeting was held on May 3, after a student sit-in
had already commenced in Hamwell's office. The debate at
that meeting, as at earlier faculty gatherings to discuss
Summit/Spicerack, was marked by bitter debate between
Kolko committee supporters and faculty advocates of
secret research. A motion was made to censure Mildvan
and his associates for bringing discredit to the University in
the national press. Wishner ruled the motion out of order
on technical grounds, later commenting that "I had the
hardest time ever of keeping members from bitter ad
hominem attacks. All the work of two years could have
come apart in personal acrimony. There would surely have
been a series of motions of censure of various personal
ities." Wishner was equally critical of the efforts of Kolko
committeemen to press the moral issue to a point where
"everything might have been lost," that is, the progress
that had been made on establishing university guidelines on
classified research. 53
The meeting reached a critical stage when Philip Rieff
(Sociology) put forth a broadly-supported motion calling
for condemnation of Hamwell if Spicerack was in fact
transferred to UCSC by any subterfuge. At that critical
moment, Provost David Goddard, the highest academic
officer in the university, pleaded that the Rieff resolution
be tabled pending the trustees' deliberations the next day,
May 4. Goddard argued that the trustees
had a far better chance to make a reasonable and wise solu
tion if the faculty wouLd trust them to act in these next few
days. A majority of you in the next few days will feel the
University has made a wise decision and that you will give it
honor and support. 54
What underlay Goddard's optimism was his awareness that
the nin-member Executive Committee of the trustees had
that very day unanimously voted to recommend to the full
board the termination of contracts that involved any
secrecy. At Goddard's request, the Senate voted to table
the censure proposal until after the full Board of Trustees'
meeting. Goddard issued a similar request for patience to
approximately 150 students that same evening. If the
Board of Trustees voted to retain Summit and Spicerack,
Goddard has claimed that he was prepared to resign, hav
ing privately opposed the research all along, and having
seen the entire future of the university jeopardized by the
continued presence of the two contracts. 55
On May 4, 1967, the Board of Trustees assembled.
Before them was the unanimous recommendation of their
own Executive Committee to terminate all secret con
tracts. Upon them were the combined pressures of faculty
dissatisfaction, a simultaneous student sit-in in the presi
dent's office, and negative publicity in campus, local, na
tional and international media. Ahead of them was Kolko's
pledge for "sustained and growing opposition on campus
even if that conflict takes years and increases in its bitter
ness," should Summit or Spicerack be retained. By a vote
of 39 to 1, the trustees chose to terminate, not transfer,
both Summit and Spicerack. Faced with chaos on campus
the trustees felt it unwise to continue projects held so much
49. DP. April 5, 10, 11 and 21, 1967.
50. "Markel has been here for three years, but this is his first step toward
real commitment to the campus New Left," the DP reported on April 26.
See also DP. April 20 and 27,1967; Herman and Rutman, "University,"
p. 528; Philadelphia Inquirer, May 5, 1967.
51. DP, March 20 and 28, AprilS, 10. 11 and 21. 1967.
52. FacuitySenate Minutes, April 13. 1967; Interview: Wishner. March 24.
1982.
37
53. Letter: Wishner to author. January 4. 1983.
54. Faculty Senate Minutes. May 3. 1967; Philadelphia Inquirer. April 27.
May 4. May 5. 1967.
55. Letter: David Goddard to author. February 17. 1983. Interviews:
Wishner, March 24. 1982; David Goddard. February 1974; and (via
telephone) March 17.1982; Philadelphia Inquirer, May4. May 5.1967.
\
in disfavor by significant elements of the campus. It re
turned both contracts, uncompleted, to the Defense
Department. 56
Significance of the Issue
What was the significance of the CBW struggle to each
of the four factions involved in the dispute?
All four agreed in the end that Penn acted sensibly in
divesting itself of the contracts, but their views were based
on varied premises. Gates argued from the Trustees' view
point that
I think we probably did the right thing, in the best interests of
the University. You can't obstinately stub your toe forever
until it's broke. You have to bend with the wind a bit. The
wind was blowing this way, and I think we had no choice. I
regret it, however. 57
For him, ending campus divisiveness prevailed over a
deeply-held patriotism. There is apparently no record of
the reactions of Harnwell and the CBW scientists to the
settlement. Some may not have been as resigned to the
outcome as Gates was, although there was little else the
trustees could have done in defense of CBW short of jeop
ardizing the entire future of the university.
For faculty moderates, the CBW crisis had forced a
resolution of the gnawing ethical dilemma of secret re
search vs. academic freedom. Penn's Senate resolved the
issue in a straightforward manner which is still in force
today. In the words of Robert Davies (Molecular Biology),
the mechanism that removed {Summit and SpicerackJ from
the University, removed in all thirty-seven classified pro
grams. All University research programs are now in the
clear. It had a major effect at the U. ofP. 58
In a retrospective article for the American Association of
University Professors Bulletin, Wishner argued that
the discussion and resolution of the many difficult problems
that arose reflected credit on the entire university commun
ity. The precedent ofresolving such problems through exten
sive faculty participation in dialogue and discussion, par
ticularly through the University Senate, is now hopefully well
established. 59
The secrecy issue at Penn was resolved, furthermore, with
out the violence and loss of life that marred a similar
controversy at the University of Wisconsin's Army Mathe
matical Research Lab.
Radical faculty and students also viewed the May 1967
denouement as a victory after twenty months of struggle.
But the radicals claimed a different victory than did
Wishner and his faculty supporters. For the radicals, the
hand of the trustees was forced, so the divestiture could
hardly be considered a creditable act. It was a calculated
56. Hennan and Rutman, "University," p. 528; Philadelphia Inquirer,
May 5,1967.
57. Interview: Gates, June 15,1982; Trustees' Minutes, May 3 and4, 1967.
58. Letter: Robert Davies to author, November 5, 1982.
59. Wishner, "University," p. 454.
and forced choice.
60
The divestiture, moreover, probably
did not substantially damage the U.S. war effort in
Indochina. Spicerack was almost immediately assumed by
the private research firm of Booz-Allen-Hamilton of
Chicago.
61
However, for the protesters, there was more
than an existential satisfaction after twenty months of ef
fort. They saw the betterment of the American university,
and American society at large, as a result of their efforts. In
a retrospective article on the Penn experience, Kolko ad
vanced the hope that
in taking such stands. the American university community
may rediscover its own essential purpose and prepare the
way for its own renaissance. It may also serve as the last
important institutional refuge for the preservation of
civilized values and conduct in America today. 62
Kolko's belief was grounded in the political victory at
Penn, where citizens, at a certain historical juncture, were
able to organize, act, and achieve local, and for themselves
moral, ends.
Although it is difficult to know for sure, the viewpoint
of radical faculty and students on the nature ofU.S. partici
pation in the Indochina conflict may be shared by more
Penn alumni today than students of 1965-67. Many stu
dents of the mid-sixties, as indicated by the DP poll cited
earlier, either sat on the sidelines throughout the entire
CBW controversy, or tacitly supported Lyndon Johnson's
policy of an "honorable peace. " Since 1965-67, the Penta
gon Papers, and other revelations, have documented the
severe nature of the U.S. counterinsurgency campaign,
which included the widespread use of "Agent Orange" and
other CBW agents. Unless one still views U.S. participa
tion in the Indochina War as a struggle in which vital U.S.
interests were at stake, then Penn's divestiture of its CBW
contracts may be considered a positive act. No other
American university, at the height of the Indochina con
flict, decided to make such a clear break with classified war
research. 1Ir
60. Letter: Hennan to author, November 9, 1982.
61. Wall Street Journal, October 25, 1967.
62. Kolko, "Universities," p. 332.
Glossary of Tenns
The following abbreviations are used in this paper:
CBW: Chemical and biological warfare, sometimes also
referred to as BW, CW, C and B, CB, C-B, or
CBR (chemical, biological and radiological
warfare).
CEWV: Committee to End the War in Vietnam
DOD: United States Department of Defense
DP: Daily Pennsylvanian. student newspaper of the
University of Pennsylvania
ICR: University of Pennsylvania'S Institute for Co
operative Research
SDS: Students for a Democratic Society
STOP: Students Opposed to Germ Warfare Research
UCSC: University City Science Center
UP: University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia (also re
ferred to as U. ofP.)
YSA: Young Socialist Alliance
38
Malay Peasants and
Proletarian Consciousness
by Zawawi Ibrahim
Introduction
The Malay peasantry and aspects of its transformation
in relation to colonialism and capitalist penetration have
attracted considerable attention among western and local
scholars alike.
1
Despite the overconcentration on "peas
ants" by such scholars, hardly any systematic analysis has
yet been undertaken on the issue of peasant ideology,
2
let
f
1. See for instance works by M. G. Swift, Malay Peasant Society in Jelebu
(London: The Athlone Press, 1965); idem, "Economic Concentration and
Malay Peasant Economy," in Social Organisation: Essays Presented to
Raymond Finh. ed., M. Freedman (London: Cass, 1967); Raymond Firth,
Malay Fisherman (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1967); S. HusinAli,
"Land Concentration and Poverty among the Rural Malays," Nusantara.
No. I, 1972; idem, Malay Peasant Society and Leadership (Kuala Lumpur:
Oxford University Press, 1975); H. M. Dahlan, "Micro-Analyses of Vil
lage Communities: A Study of Underdevelopment," The Nascent Malay
sian Society (Kuala Lumpur: University Malaya, 1976); G. Lee. "Com
modity Production and Reproduction Amongst a Malaysian Peasantry,"
Journal o/Contemporary Asia. Vol. 3, No.4, 1973; W. Richards, "Under
development of West Malaysia: A Survey," Review 0/ Indonesian and
Malaysian Affairs. No.1, 1973;R. Bach, "Historical Patterns of Capitalist
Penetration in Malaysia," Journal 0/ Contemporary Asia. Vol. 6, No.4.
1976; Jomo K. S., "Class Formation in Malaya: Capital, the State and
Uneven Development," doctoral dissertation, Harvard, 1977; Lim Teck
Ghee, Peasants and Their Agricultural Economy in Colonial Malaya 1874
1941 (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1977); Shamsul Amri
Baharuddin, ''The Development and the Underdevelopment of the Ma
laysian Peasantry," Journal o/Contemporary Asia. Vol. 9, No.4. 1979; Lim
Mah Hui, "Ethnic and Class Relations in Malaysia," Journal o/Contempor
ary Asia. Vol. 10, No.1 & 2, 1980; Fatimah Halim, "Rural Labour Force
and Industrial Conflict in West Malaysia," Journal 0/ Contemporary Asia.
Vol. 11, No.3, 1981; Shaharil Talib Robert & A. Kaur, "The Extractive
Colonial Economy and the Peasantry: Ulu Kelantan 1900-40," Review of
Indonesian and Malaysian Affairs. Vol. 15, No.2, 1981; Zawawi Ibrahim,
"Perspectives on Capitalist Penetration and the Reconstitution of the
Malay Peasantry," Jurnal Ekonomi Malaysia. No.5, 1982; idem, "Pem
bangunan Masyarakat Tani Malaysia: Satu Analisis Struktural," Prisma.
edisi Bahasa Indonesia, forthcoming.
2. Though the theoretical work and synthesis is far from complete, there
have been some recent attempts in this direction. See Clive Kessler, Islam
and Politics in a Malay State (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1978);
Halim Salleh, Bureaucrats. Petty Bourgeois and Townsmen: An Observation
on Status Identification in Kota Bharu (Monash: Centre of Southeast Asian
Studies, 1981); Shaharil Talib, "Voices From The Kelantan Desa 1900
1940," MadernAsian Studies. Vol. 17, No.1, 1973; James Scott, "Api Kecil
Dalam Pertentangan Kelas," Kajian Malaysia. Vol. 1, No. I, 1983;
Zawawi Ibrahim & Shaharil Talib, "Neither Rebellions Nor Revolutions:
alone on emerging forms of consciousness among peasants
who have been reconstituted into proletarians or other
class categories. This is surprising considering the various
socio-economic changes that have been generated by the
logic of capitalist development in contemporary rural Ma
laysia. Moreover, whatever analysis of peasant ideology
has come to the fore is often posed in terms of a rigid
dichotomy between ethnicity and class. And because the
Malaysian "plural society" is predominantly the main frame
of reference used for such an analysis, Malay peasants
would appear to be forever doomed to primordialism and
ethnic consciousness. Little attention and theoretical focus
is thus given to the interrelationship between class and
non-class (ethnic) contents to show how they are articulated
at the level of a specific ideological discourse.
The considerable focus on Malays as "peasants" is
quite understandable since the bulk of the Malay popula
tion is usually associated with non-capitalist commodity
production (smallholding rice and cash crop production, or
fishing) and by and large is still living in village society. The
British colonial policy in Malaya was primarily aimed at
preserving the bulk of Malays in the peasantry and in the
process also favored and facilitated the earlier develop-
Everyday Resistance of the Malay Peasantry Under Capitalist Domina
tion," Ilmu Masyarakat. No.2, 1983; Zawawi Ibrahim, "Perspectives
Towards Investigating Malay Peasant Ideology and the Bases of Its Pro
duction in Contemporary Malaysia," Journal o/Contemporary Asia. Vol.
13, No.2, 1983; idem, "Investigating Peasant Ideology in Contemporary
Malaysia," Senri Ethnological Studies. forthcoming.
3. See Shamsul Amri Baharuddin, RMK Tujuan dan Pelaksanaannya
(Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa. 1977); Afifuddin Hj. Omar, Peasants.
Institutions and Development in Malaysia: The Political Economy o/Develop
ment in the Muda Region. MADA Monograph. No. 36, 1978; Kamal Salih,
"Rural-Urban Transformation, Development Policy and Regional Un
derdevelopment," in Kamal Salih et. aI., Rural-Urban Transformation and
Regional Under Development: The Case of Malaysia (Nagoya: UNCIRD,
1978); David Lim, "The Political Economy in the New Economic Policy in
Malaysia," paper presented to the Third Colloquium, Malaysia Society
ASAA, University of Adelaide 22-24 August, 1981; Benjamin Higgins,
"Development Planning," in eds. E. K. Fisk & H. Osman-Rani, The
Political Economy 0/ Malaysia (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press,
1982).
39
I
ment of non-Malay immigrants as proletarians in the major
commercial-capitalist mining and plantation sectors of the
economy. A crucial aspect of this process is that their
proletarianization had no structural links with the indige
nous peasantry.
Notwithstanding the above historical factors, it would
be incorrect to assume that the socio-economic changes
generated by colonialism and post-colonial development
(especially with the increasing thrust on rural develop
ment)3 have not also affected the peasant location of Malays
in the social formation. Though still a recent process, it has
been noted that "proletarianization" has "slowly affected
the Malays. "4
This paper is an attempt to capture an instance of the
recent proletarianization of the Malay peasantry. An obvi
ous but important difference from the earlier (predomi
nantly non-Malay) proletarianization process is that these
new proletarians are generated from within, and are both
structurally and cultura!ly linked to the indigenous peas
antry. The main thrust of the paper is to analyze by way of
an empirical case study the contents of class ideological
practice among Malay peasants who have recently been
affected by such proletarianization, and have since moved
to work and live as wage-laborers in plantation society.
Explaining Class Ideological Practice:
Theoretical Issues and Framework
The present issue arises from a theoretical concern in
Marxist analysis about the relationship between class at the
level of production relations and class at the level of ideo
logical practice. Its genesis stems not from Marx per se
s
but
rather from a vulgar materialist conception of the reflection
and mechanical determination of superstructure by the
material base. Hence when a disjuncture exists at the level
of consciousness or ideological practice which does not
seem to conform to "some infrastructure that logically
preceeds it," such an ideology "thus becomes . . . imagi
nary, or epiphenomenal. "6
4. S. Husin Ali, "Some Aspects of Change, Mobility and Conflict in
Post-Merdeka Malaysia," Manusia dan Masyarakat, No.1, 1972, p. 53.
Also see Kamal Salih et. aI., Laporan Pemulihan Kampung-kampung Tradi
sional Dara, Vols. 1 & 2 (Penang: Universiti Sains Malaysia, 1981);
Shukur Kassim, "Land Reforms: Options and Realities," paper pre
sented to the Seventh Convention, Malaysian Economic Association,
Kuala Lumpur, Jan. 1820,1983; Zawawi Ibrahim, "A Malay Proletar
iat," doctoral dissertation, Monash, 1978; Fatimah Halim, op. cit.
5. According to Rude, Marx's "material being" vs. "superstructure"
relationship "becomes an endless conundrum and has been a hotly de
bated theme, susceptible to varying interpretations since Marx first
penned his famous phase in the Critique of Political Economy. Taken
literally, the formulations he then used appear to justify those
'determinists'-and critics of Marx-who have insisted that the 'super
structure' (including consciousness and ideas) must, according to Marxist
theory, be a mere and a direct reflection of the base from which it
emanates. Others, however, have argued that ideas and ideology, while in
the first instance owing to their existence to man's material being, can at
crucial moments in history, assume, temporarily at least, an independent
role. While Marx's earlier 'philosophical' formultaions were either ambi
valent or appeared to favour the first interpretation, there seems little
doubt that both Marx's and Engel's historical writing-The Eighteenth
BrurTUlire and Peasant War in Germany, for instance, lend support to the
second," George Rude, Ideology and Popular Protest (London: Lawrence
& Wishart, 1980), pp. 18-19.
6. Joel Kahn, "Explaining Ethnicity," Critique of Anthropology, Vol. 4,
No. 16, 1981, p. 49. 40
Kahn suggests that such an approach must be aban
doned, "because economic and political structures are not
directly perceivable and because ideological systems are
themselves semi-autonomous-the product of their own
internal properties as much as of economic and political
constrains."7 In his reformulation of the problem, Laclau
questions the assumption of a necessary correlation be
tween class existence at the structural and the superstruc
tural level: "Classes are poles of antagonistic production
relations which have no necessary form of existence at the
ideological and political levels. "8 Thus the disjuncture is
not essentially at the level of concrete experience but of
theory itself, as has been neatly put by Norton: "Theory of
the nature of inequalities in relations of production is not
ipso facto a theory of consciousness and action. . . . Con
sciousness is a distinct domain of social reality determined
partly by material interests, but in ways not necessarily
complying with a logic deduced by an analyst of class."9
At the level of subjective understanding, there
was a dominant proletarian ethos which drew its
sources from the fact of selling labor-power. The
Malay term tenaga, literally meaning "strength,"
handles the concept oflabor-power, and this com
mon role "we are all seUing labor-power" (kita
sarna-sarna jual tenaga) was then perceived to de
fine their daily existence and the basis of their
relations with those above them and among
themselves.
Most of these above authors recognize the flexibility of
consciousness and action in relation to class determina
tions. Thus while the ability of human beings to act as
"subject-incumbents of specific class positions" is still prem
ised on their formation "as class subjects by class ideolo
gies" which are analytically defined on the basis of produc
tion relations, these "class ideologies," however, "exist in
various kinds of articulation with non-class ideologies. "10
In other words, at this level of operation, there may be no
necessary logic why non-class values or contents should be
totally displaced by class elements.
Laclau, in his work on ideology, distinguishes two
central contradictions in the social formation-class con
tradiction and the "power-bloc vs people" contradiction
(giving rise to "class interpellation" and "popular demo
cratic interpellation" respectively)-and on this basis, as
7. Joel Kahn, "Ideology and Social Structure in Indonesia," Comparative
Studies in Society and History, Vol. 20, 1978, p. 104.
8. Ernesto Laclau, Politics and Ideology in a r ~ i s t Thought (Norfolk: Lowe
& Brydone, 1977), p. 159.
9. R. Norton, "Ethnicity and Class in the Politics of Post-Colonial
Societies," paper presented to the "Ethnicity and Class Conference,"
Wollongong, Victoria, August, 1981, pp. 4-5.
10. Goran Therborn, The Ideology of Power and the Power of Ideology
(London: Verso Press, 1980), p. 72.
serts that the ideological sphere cannot be reduced to a
direct expression of class interests. What may occur is that
these popular-democratic (or non-class) ideologies (inter
pellations) are articulated with class ideological discourses,
which then becomes the basis of political action promoting
class objectives. As Laclau states it:
Every class struggles at the ideological level simultaneously
as class and as the people, or rather, tries to give coherence
to its ideological discourse by presenting its class objectives
as the consummation ofpopular objectives. II
Classes exist at the level of the ideological and political
in a process of articulation and not of reduction. . . .
Articulation requires, therefore, the existence of non-class
contents-interpellations and contradictions-which con
stitute the raw material on which class ideological practices
operate. 12
The above reformulation, hinging on the process of
articulation, is not only a more useful theoretical pursuit
than the rather purist search for some idealized notion of
class consciousness13 or a resort to a false consciousness
type of explanation, but is also an approach which lends
itself more readily to operationalization at the level of
empirical inquiry and investigation. It gives cognizance to
the fact that at the level of concrete experience, class sub
jects are also people,14 and that as people they also have
other non-class ideational resources (universal, cultural or
ethnic) with which class ideology can exist in various forms
of articulation.
With regard to the theoretical analysis of peripheral
capitalist formations, the application of the concept of
articulation at the level of ideological discourse seems a
logical development of a concept whose theoretical useful
ness has hitherto been confined mainly at the level of
structural analysis. Its theoretical application at this level
has drawn attention to the various ways in which pre/non
capitalist modes are articulated with the dominant capitalist
mode of the social formation, IS and has generated a more
11. Laclau, op. cit., p. 109.
12. Ibid, p. 161.
13. As Shivji remarks: "In fact classes hardly become fully class conscious
except in situations of intense political struggle. Class consciousness does
not fully draw upon individuals until they are locked in political bat
tles. . . . Actually such conclusions are not only too easy to arrive at by
interviewing a few hundred workers in non-revolutionary situations and
by computing unfavorably answers as evidence that workers are not class
conscious," Issa Shivji, Class Struggles in Tanzania (London: Heinemann,
1976), p. 8.
14. According to Rude, Gramsci has, for instance, already argued that
"attention must also be paid to the simpler and less structured ideas
circulating among the common people, often 'contradictory' and confused
and compounded of folklore, myth and day-to-day popular experience. So
ideology and consciousness, in his view. . . are extended to embrace the
'traditional' classes, including the common people other than those en
gaged in industrial production, as well." George Rude, op. cit. p. 9.
15. See Ernesto Laclau, "Feudalism and Capitalism in Latin America,"
The New Left Review. No. 61, 1971;H. Wolpe, "Capital and Cheap Labour
Power in South Africa: From Segregation to Apartheid," Economy and
Society. Vol. 1, No.4, 1972; C. Meillassoux, "From Reproduction to
Production," Economy andSociety, Vol. 1, No.1, 1972; idem, ''The Social
Organisation of the Peasantry: The Economic Basis of Kinship Rela
tions," JournolofPeasantStudies, Vol. 1, No.1, 1973; G. Dupre & P. Rey,
"Reflections on ihe Pertinence of A Theory of the History of Exchange."
satisfying answer than the Frankian assertion to the prob
lematics posed by the "conservation-dissolution" effects of
capitalism. 16 The extension of this concept and its useful
ness beyond its normal structural terrain, however, has yet
to be developed more systematically.
Strikes, though, infrequent, were not an un
common form of protest among this lower class
community. What is interesting to note is that the
period before rather than after the union was
officially recognized saw more of these strikes on
the plantation. The official union line is not to
encourage strikes amongst its members, but to
pursue a gradualistic approach to the problems of
industrial relations, based on negotiation and col
lective bargaining.
Apart from Laclau, whose contribution has already
been examined above, Taylorl? is one of the few who have
come closest in attempting to grapple with the problem of
articulation at the ideological level of the peripheral forma
tion. In the context of the "restricted and uneven develop
ment" of capitalism in such a formation, Taylor recognizes
that the conservation-dissolution effects of capitalism oc
cur at both the economic as well as the ideological level.
What can be implied here is that at both levels of the
formation, there is a process of articulation of modes of
production (capitalist and non-capitalist) at work. At the
ideological level, Taylor, for instance, draws attention to
the elements of "co-existence" and "inter-penetration" of
ideologies generated from the different modes of produc
tion.
18
In this case study, the views by Laclau and Taylor are
taken as complementary to one another, and should be
combined into a single framework. The analysis herein
points to the limitations of a theoretical perspective which
attempts to reduce the emerging proletarian ideology simply
to a reflection of the material base. It is therefore sug
gested, following Laclau, that the synthesis at the ideologi
cal level should not be seen as one in which class has
displaced all other non-class values. Rather the existence of
class at this level must be conceptualized as being in a
process of articulation which requires the existence of non
class contents. In the context of the restricted and uneven
development of peripheral capitalist formation it is also
essential, as is evident in Taylor's work, to view this process
as one which is also integrally related to the articulation of
Economy and Society. Vol. 2, No.2, 1973; Samir Amin, Unequal Develop
ment (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1976); A. Foster-Carter, "The
Mode of Production Controversy," The New Left Review. No. 107,1978.
16. C. Bettleheim, "Theoretical Comments," in A. Emmanuel, Unequal
Exchange: A Study of Imperialism of Trade (New York: Monthly Review
Press. 1972), Appendix 1, p. 298; John Taylor, From Modernisation to
Modes ofProduction (London: Macmillan, 1979).
17. Ibid.
18. Ibid.
41
I
modes of production, albeit at the ideological level.
19
Hence, the entry of peasant actors into a new (capitalist)
set of production relations may not only generate a prole
tarian-class ideology which exists in a process of articula
tion with non-class ideologies, but that this process is simul
taneously one in which capitalist ideological forms are also
articulated with certain pre-capitalist/non-capitalist ideolo
gies drawn from other modes.
This factory does not want people who have moral
etiquette (budi bahasa). They only want people
who can eat people! Workers have always told me
that if they were to follow their emotions, they
would have thrown him (a pegawai) into the
boiler, so that he would turn to ashes.
A Brief Background to the Study
Research was focused on a community of Malay wage
laborers who were working and living on an oil-palm plan
tation in the southern district of Trengganu, Peninsular
Malaysia. The whole plantation, being 30,000 acres in size
and divided into five separate estates, had a predominantly
Malay labor force of about 3,000, drawn mainly from dif
ferent villages from the largely Malay populated east coast
states (especially Trengganu and Kelantan) of the country.
Altogether a period of one year was spent in the field
(spread between 1972 and 1975), with the fieldwork being
concentrated on the community residing in the main work
ers' compound (kongsi) of the central administrative area of
the whole plantation complex. At the time of research, the
compound had an estimated population of 1,500 residents,
consisting mainly ofunskilled field (both contract and check
roll/or direct) and factory workers (for the oil palm mill).
The picture during the initial period of research in
1972, six years after the inception of the plantation, was a
laboring force of relative instability. Since 1967 the com
pany had been developing the plantation in a series of
phases until it finally completed its expansion by the end of
1973. Most of its capital outlay was poured into this sector
leaving the labor force to exist only on a minimal subsis
tence, but even during this period some stabilizing trend
was already apparent amongst a small segment of the labor
ing populace. By 1972, a trade union plantation branch
(under the aegis ofthe National Union of Plantation Work
ers or NUPW) was formed, though as yet unofficially rec
ognized by the company. By the end of 1973, this body was
finally elevated to full official status, initiating a new phase
in the political development of the laboring community and
at the same time also creating a more stabilizing influence
on the existing labor force.
19. The above does not imply that in an advanced or central capitalist
mode the other cultural or non-capitalist forms of consciousness will also
disappear. It merely shows the problematics involved in assuming the
correspondence between the material base and the superstructure; some
non-capitalist ideological forms will continue to persist regardless of
changing relations of production and in the context of any social form
ation. 42
Many of the workers could be traced back to past
peasant economic activities, especially rice-growing, some
rubber smallholding or tapping, fishing or a combination of
any of these. The proletarianization of these workers could
be attributed to the combination of several factors.
Firstly, capitalist penetration in Malaysian rural soci
ety had created the conditions for the "first freedom" to
emerge, that is the separation of the producers from the
ownership of or access to the means of production, land. 20
This was also combined with the problems of actualizing
simple household reproduction in the context of a peasant
economy under capitalist domination already beset by many
inter-related factors of underdevelopment. 21 What this es
sentially means is that capital determines the conditions of
production and reproduction of the peasantry by making
commoditization a crucial component in its reproduction
cycle.
22
Household units are put under pressure to find
ways and means to produce exchange-values so as to under
write both their personal and productive consumption (Plus
"ceremonial funds" and "rent"), the level of attainment
being dependent on their class positioning in the rural
stratification system. Under these circumstances (especially
punctuated by instances of "reproduction squeeze"),
"poor"/landless and even the "middle" peasantry (owner
operators) may be forced to evolve different accomodative
strategies, or to reconstitute the existing household divi
sion of labor, to allow different forms of labor mobility,
including wage-laboring.
The plantation data reveals that most of the workers
are from the poor or middle peasantry. At least over half of
them (60 percent) are landless, while only 12 percent have
their own land (tanah sendiri) and the rest (28 percent),
though landless, have access to family land through their
fathers who still own and work on the land. In order to
come to grips with the problems of actualizing simple re
production, many of them had already evolved certain
strategies in the past. These include combining padi farm
ing (mainly for consumption) with other cash-earning peas
ant or proletarian activities (this means that some of them
were already "peasant-workers" or "semi-proletarians"
before coming to the plantation). Where the data indicates
that those from the middle peasantry had combined work
on their own land or family land with work as tenant
operators, it clearly shows that poor or landless peasants
are not the only class affected by the difficulties of actualiz
ing simple reproduction. Only 18 percent of the total work
ers felt that they still had to maintain some form of eco
nomic obligation with their former peasant activities from
their present occupation. This is an indicator of the non
20. See Firth, op. cit.; Swift, 1%7, op. cit.; S. Husin Ali, "Land Concen
tration. . . ," op. cit.; Dahlan, op. cit.; Jomo, op. cit.; Zawawi, 1982, op. cit.
21. See Henry Bernstein, "Notes on Capital and Peasantry," Review of
African Political Economy, Vol. 6, 1976. Also Dahlan op. cit.; Shamsul
Amri Baharuddin, 1979, op. cit.; Hamid Abdullah, "Some Aspects of
Rural Development in Trengganu, West Malaysia 1957-1%9," M.A.
dissertation, Universiti of Malaya, Kuala Lumpur, 1971; Yap Kim Lian &
J. A. Dixon, Socio-Economic Study ofPadi Farmers in Besut Project Area of
Trengganu (Trengganu: Pejabat Daerah Besut, 1972).
22. Bernstein, op. cit.; Zawawi, 1982, op. cit.
i
i
KILANTAN
Map of West Malaysia,
St.tes, main towns. roads. rivers and railways
TRENGGANU. STATE
Graphics counesy ofI. Zawawi
TIllENGGANU STATE and the LOCATION of 'he KEMAMAN PlANTATION
i
.. ... ........
(
)
t
N
43
viability of their past political economy23 and may quicken
the process towards their proletarianization.
24
Those who
did not feel committed to maintain any form of economic
obligation with the village economy felt that there were
already enough people-siblings, parents or close relatives
-on the land or in the village. Problems of the rural
economy were characterized by the workers as "pressing"
(terdesak), indicating features of poverty and underdevel
opment in their old society, such as "no wealth," "no
land," "no property," "nothing in the village," "not
enough to eat in the Village," "low income," "no work,"
"poor," and a general overall existence of "hardship"
(susah).
The second factor which relates to proletarianization
is the emergence under the post-colonial state of new de
velopment processes which create the conditions for the
"second freedom" 25 to emerge, that is opportunities for
the utilization of peasant labor as wage labor. In the colo
nial period, these outlets, though available, became pri
marily identified with non-Malay immigrant labor rather
than the indigenous peasantry. Given the worsening condi
tions of the peasantry and the situation in Malaysia where
the post-colonial state has embarked on a role which not
only mediates but also organizes productive capital in land
development projects,26 those peasants who have been
affected most by capitalist penetration will increasingly be
drawn into the proletarian avenues being created.
The plantation studies herein emerged as a result of
the state's attempt (in this particular case, Trengganu) to
re-organize its land resources for large-scale commercial
agriculture in order to bring in revenue for its lagging
economy. Under colonialism Trengganu suffered from un
even development and was initially insulated from the main
stream "modernization" processes because it lacked tin
and rubber, the two major revenue-making raw materials
characteristic of the richer Malaysian states. By 1921, iron
ore had become an important source of state revenue, but
by 1964 its production began to drop. Faced with the even
tual closing down of its iron-ore mine in Dungun, the state
had to tum to developing its expanse of untapped land
resources which had been found to be suitable for the
growing of an export crop, oil palm.
23. For further facts and details on the socio-economic conditions of the
Trengganu peasantry, see E. Fisk, The Economics ofHandloom Industry in
the East Coast ofMalaya. monographs of the Malayan Branch of the Royal
Asiatic Society, 32, 1959; 1960 Agricultural Census. (Malaya: Ministry of
Agriculture and Co-operatives); Firth, op. cit.; Hamid Abdullah, op. cit.;
Yap & Dixon, op. cit.; Zawawi, 1978, op. cit.
24. G. Arrighi, "International Corporation, Labour Aristocracies, and
Economic Development in Tropical Africa," in ed. R. Rhodes, Imperial
ism and Underdevelopment (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1970), p.
233.
25. In the classical usage, "second freedom" refers to a situation where
producers freed from their means of production (i.e. the first freedom) are
no longer tied either as slaves, serfs, etc. But such a situation also implies
the emergence and development of conditions in society which can utilize
and realize the initially "free" labor (e.g. the landless) as wage-labor
rather than being tied to the land as tenants or share-croppers.
26. Hamid Abdullah, "The Trengganu State Economic Development
Corporation: A Study ofIts Role in Land Development," Nusantara. Vol.
4, No.4, 1973; D. Guyot, "The Politics of Land: Comparative Develop
ment in Two States of Malaysia," Pacific Affairs. Vol. 44, No.3, 1971;
Kamal Salih, et. aI., 1981, op. cit.; Higgins, op. cit.
In 1965, a bureaucratic apparatus of the state, the
State Economic Development corporation (SEDC), was
formed to centralize operations. But, emerging in rela
tively poor Malaysia, SEDC became heavily reliant on
capital from outside. In developing the state's land re
sources, the Corporation opted for a capitalist style of land
development, as was already evident from its own profit
making Sungai Tong Oil Palm Plantation venture.
27
The
plantation under study represents a similar style of land
development; this time the SEDC merely acted as a "land
lord" who subleased the land which was to be developed by
Chinese capital from the metropolitan neo-colonial centers
of Singapore and Kuala Lumpur. Shares in the "owner
ship" of the planted acreage were later fanned out to the
"public, " but only members of the private sector, the salar
iat and other professional occupational groups who could
afford the high financial cost of investment have been the
main beneficiaries. The peasantry, on the other hand, have
been relegated to being merely sellers of labor power. 28
Thus even the initial conditions for the creation of the
"second freedom" were at the expense of the peasantry.
The Structural Context of Ideological Production
A pre-requisite for any analysis of ideology must first come
to terms with the structural context in which such an ideol
ogy is produced. In this respect, the plantation must essen
tially be seen as "a class-structured system of organisa
tion"29 in which "the basic distinction between owners and
workers are supported by a complex system of political and
legal sanctions. "30 And since
Authority and control are inherent in the plantation sys
tem . .. , the authority structure that characterises the pat
tern of economic organisation extends to social relation
ships. So we find that the plantation community is one with an
inherently rig id system ofsocial stratification. 31
In short, the plantation is an economic organization which
is organized around the control of its labor force for the
appropriation of surplus value in the productive process. It
entails a rigid demarcation between those who own the
means of production (or those who control labor ) and those
who sell their labor-power. In modem plantations (such as
the one in this case study), the class of owners may be
absent from the immediate stratification system, and their
control may be mediated by an administrative bureaucracy
with its own hierarchy which permeates almost all aspects
of social relations on the plantation. It is only by this mode
of authority structure that labor can be controlled and
organized for production.
For the Malay workers, this class basis of organization
defined their role and status position in relation to the
27. Guyot, op. cit.; Hamid, 1973, op. cit.
28. For further details, see Zawawi, 1978, op. cit.
29. Eric Wolf, "Specific Aspects of Plantations Systems in the World:
Community Subcultures and Social Classes," in ed. Horowitz, Peoples and
Cultures ofthe Caribbean (New York: Natural History Press, 1971), p. 29.
30. Ibid, p. 163.
31. George Beckford, Persistent Poverty: Underdevelopment in Plantation
Economies in the Third World (New York: Oxford University Press, 1972),
pp.53-55.
44
non-producers-the owners or those with capital
(pemodal) , employers (majikan) and the supervisors-as
those whose primary task was "work selling labor-power"
(kerja jual tenaga) and whose position in the hierarchy was
without access to either authority (kuasa) or control in the
system. Even outside the workplace this class-status di
chotomy was equally determining. Socially and spatially
the laborers constituted a distinct community of their own:
they resided together in a separate living compound typi
fied by kongsi houses, away from the rest of the plantation
community, but were yet unfree from the jurisdiction of the
plantation authority system.
Notwithstanding the above factors, the stratification
of the plantation also duplicated some of the features usu
ally associated with the wider "plural society" of Penin
sular Malaysia.
32
Division of labor to a large extent also
converged with ethnicity. Almost all the workers were
Malays whilst the higher echelons of the administrative
hierarchy were dominated by non-Malays, especially Chi
nese. Only at the lower supervisory level was there some
equality of representation among the different ethnic
groups, Malays, Indians and Chinese. 33
A few complications arise from this. Firstly, at the
level of subjective understanding, there was a dominant
proletarian ethos which drew its sources from the fact of
selling labor-power. The Malay term tenaga, literally mean
ing "strength," handles the concept of labor-power, and
this common role "we are all selling labor-power" (kita
sama-sama jual tenaga) was then perceived to define their
daily existence and the basis of their relations with those
above them and among themselves. Such an ethos was
constantly evoked to emphasize a sense of equality in terms
32. M. Freedman, "The Growth of a Plural Society in Malaya," Pacific
Affairs. Vol. 33, 1960.
33. The preponderance of Malays in the labor force is understandable
since the east coast states such as Trengganu and Kelantan are dominated
by Malays. The predominance of the non-Malays (especially the Chinese)
is most apparent in the executive echelons of the plantation class-status
system. For instance, in the 1972-73 period, it was observed that of the
sixteen executives in the part of the plantation studied, two were Euro
peans, two were Indians, and three were Malays (mainly lower execu
tives) and the remaining nine were Chinese. Most of these non-Malays
were drawn from the west coast states where the plantation industry was
first established on a large-scale. It is obvious that historically the man
agerial skills associated with the plantation industry were identified mainly
with the Europeans and the immigrants and this may account for their
preponderance in the above plantation. Moreover, whilst the Trengganu
SEDC stipulated that all the three major ethnic groups must be equally
represented in the official hierarchy as a whole, there was no specification
that this must be so at every level of the hierarchy. Since the company was
Chinese-owned and was left relatively free to recruit its officers without
much interference by the state government and since experienced Malay
plantation executives were hard to find, especially from the local state, the
choice of non-Malays for these higher posts was unavoidable.
It is important to clarify here that the term pegawai refers to everyone
in the official hierarchy. It is obvious that, following Poulantzas, the
economic criterion alone is not sufficient to define the structural determi
nation of the pegawai class. Whilst they are excluded from the bourgeoisie,
"The use of political criteria is especially important in Poluntazas's
analysis of the class position of managerial and supervisory labour. Within
the process of material production, supervisory labour is unquestioningly
productive because of its role in coordinating and integrating the produc
tion process. But within the social division of labour, supervisory activity
represents the political domination of capital over the working class,"
Erik Olin Wright,Class. Crisis and the State (London: Verso, 1979),p. 36.
of a similar status (sama tara!) or fate (nasib). Idealizing a
similar past hardship and sharing of a common biography
further reinforced this sense of egalitarianism among mem
bers ofthe same class.
Given the "minority" status of the Malays on the
plantation, the notion "we" (kita) as used by the workers
carried both a class and ethnic dimension. At the ideolog
ical level, the similar ethnic background of the workers
gave rise to an ethnic "we" perception which was synon
ymous with a class "we" emphasis. Logically too, when the
former was used, it may at times also make room to in
corporate into the "insider" schema the pegawai (em
ployees in the hierarchy of officials/managers) Malays who
were essentially "outsiders" to the laboring class.
The congruence between ethnicity and class could also
create both ethnic and class solidarity structures, with the
former also possibly recruiting its members from the
Malays located above the workers in the plantation hier
archy. How were these ambiguities initially resolved?
Ethnic and Class Alignments in the
Formation ofa Political Community
The inter-relationship between ethnicity and class and
the complications introduced by ethnicity in the context of
what is essentially a class-based social and economic or
ganization can perhaps be initially resolved by tracing the
development leading to the formation of a political com
munity among the laborers on the plantation. An under
standing of the basis of this political community is essential
since the term implies the emergence of at least some
common interest being organized for pursuing certain goals
and forms of action as a collective.
At this level of development, the laboring community
went through two distinct social phases, the cultural and
the political. The cultural phase coincided with the early
years of the plantation when the laboring community was
still in its pioneering stage, in the context of an administra
tive structure that had yet to develop into a full-fledged
"rational-legal" system. Life in these initial years on the
plantation was often described as akin to that of a kampung
(village) where, owing to the shared hardship of a frontier
society and a relatively undeveloped infrastructure, a social
system based on a rigid class system of control and ad
ministration was rather difficult to erect. Instead a familiar
and personalized relationship was fostered between those
who controlled labor and the workers. Workers and their
pegawai lived side by side with one another, the latter being
incorporated closely into the social life of the former.
Apart from having to work together in a rather harsh
environment, both had to also be closely interdependent
and share a sense of community strong enough to overcome
common problems and issues.
To this end, the concern of the community was to
continue in the new environment some of the traditional
social and cultural bases of "living together in a commu
nity" (hidup bermasyarakat) as in their former village soci
ety. Informal leaders among the workers consisting ofa few
recognized elders (orang tua) who were knowledgeable in
custom (adat) or religion took the lead, soon to be joined by
the existing Malay pegawai. Aspects of social control of the
community were worked out through the co-operation of
45
such elders and the pegawai (which even included some
non-Malays). In this initial stage, ethnicity was only im
portant in a cultural rather than a political sense. The
prayer-house (surau), both as a religious institution as well
as a basis for social organization, became the central focus
of the community. It mediated the relationship between
Malay workers and the Malay pegawai in their midst, and in
the process also made room for some of them to assume
informal leadership roles in the community. Through the
same organization, important matters relating to the social
and cultural aspects of the community were discussed and
resolved.
As workers began to question their rights as em
ployees in the context of the industrial occupational struc
ture of the plantation, neither the prayer-house organiza
tion nor the role of these "expressive" leaders was found to
be effective in serving their interests. Moreover the one
sided emphasis of the company on capital outlay for land
development leaving little for labor welfare soon began to
leave the workers searching for other outlets to express
their socio-economic discontent and serve their instrumen
tal needs. This then marked the entry of the "political
phase" in the community in which new forms of organiza
tion and leadership began to take shape.
The early rumblings of the workers' dissatisfaction
first found expression in ethnic terms. The dominant posi
tion of the non-Malays in the new environment of the
plantation hierarchy rekindled old ethnic sentiments typi
cal of the wider society and led to the politicization of the
ethnic factor. Moreover, coming from the peasantry where
ethnic political parties are the common organizational and
political outlets for their socio-economic problems, the
initial political thrust of these emerging Malay proletarians
took the expected direction. The first move by the workers
was to form a plantation branch of the UMNO party (the
dominant Malay partner of the ruling party in the country)
in which the Malay pegawai, owing to their high social
position in the hierarchy and perceived ethnic affinities
with the workers, were invested with the formal role of
political leadership.
This first form of political experimentation proved not
to be as effective as anticipated. The workers became
aware of the restricted role that UMNO could play in
plantation society with its industrial occupation structure.
Outside political leaders, though enthusiastic about the
workers' demonstration of old loyalties, were hesitant
about formal party links being used as the primary means of
resolving problems pertaining to industrial or worker
employer relations, for the state had a vested interest in the
success of the plantation venture as a "business" enterprise
and was only too aware of the possible problems which
could arise from mixing politics (especially ethnic politics)
with business. On an informal level, a mutual understand
ing existed between state politicians and the management.
Often loyal supporters of the party would be recommended
for jobs, either as pegawai or workers on the plantation. On
the other hand, the presence of an UMNO branch on the
plantation was also seen as useful in so far as it ensured that
the "right" party did exist in the midst of these workers.
The relative ineffectiveness of the organization was
also related to the ambiguous position of the Malay pegawai
in the system. In one set of social relations, these individu
als were an integral component of the administrative hier
archy and authority structure of the plantation whose main
official role was to organize and control labor for the pur
pose of production. In another set of social relations, these
same actors occupied positions of formal political leader
ship in the very community they were supposed to control.
The latter position, if taken to its logical conclusion, would
in fact mean an alliance with the workers' economic in
terest against the management, to the possible detriment of
their own careers and vested interests in the system.
The workers' view was that such a possibility was
unrealistic. The Malay pegawai were first and foremost
"the employers' men" (orang majikan), who must also
"safeguard their own interest" (jaga kepentingan diri
mereka) or "look after their own pots and pans" (;aga periok
belanga mereka). According to the workers, while the
pegawai leadership was useful in giving the organization
some respectability when dealing with outside UMNO
leaders and organizations, their role in advancing the work
ers' interest vis-a-vis the plantation authorities was re
stricted and ineffective.
The workers' initial enthusiasm gradually turned to
hesitation. Meanwhile certain developments in the style of
administration of the plantation began to raise doubts
about the basis of an ethnic alignment between workers
and their Malay pegawai. As noted earlier, owing to the
specific conditions surrounding the nature of plantation
society in the "cultural phase," it was politically convenient
for the authorities to allow the pegawai to be voluntarily
incorporated into aspects of the social organization of the
laboring community. Indeed, in these early years it was
only through such a strategy that the company could ensure
the continuous appropriation of surplus and presence of its
labor force in the frontier phases of the plantation. Given a
situation where the initial laboring force was under the
supervision of only a handful of field stuff, familiarity and
personalized relations were recognized as an essential cul
tural apparatus which the early administrative style should
tacitly incorporate.
By the time of the emergence of the "political phase,"
the labor force had grown in size. The whole administrative
apparatus had also expanded. In the area studied, the
administrative center from the earlier phase of develop
ment was shifted to a different part of the plantation. By
then too, both the social and spatial distance between
workers and those above them began to be more structured
and stratified. The plantation as a class-structured social
and economic organization with its concomitant adminis
trative apparatus in the form of a "rational-legal"
bureaucratic system began to emerge more systematically.
A variant of the "New Style Plantation"34 started to make
its presence felt, in which personalized relations between
those in administration and those below were no longer
tolerated. The familiarity which was earlier forged between
the Malay workers and some of their Malay pegawai had to
be redefined.
The management could not do away with all forms of
involvement between these two groups, but interaction
between them gradually became formalized. Through the
34. Eric Wolf, op. cit.
46
prayer-house and UMNO, social relations became re
stricted to official occasions of meetings, and in most inst
ances, only to those few workers who were involved in the
actual committees. In the beginning, there were however a
few staunch Malay pegawai who continued to carry on their
"familiar" relationship with the laborers regardless of the
warnings by the authorities. Management soon found vari
ous excuses to either transfer or dismiss these few indi
viduals. Workers frequently referred to such pegawai as
"being too close with the workers" (terlampau rapat dengan
pekerja) and hence having "angered" the wrath of the
management.
For the workers, the above developments taught a few
initial lessons. The first lesson was that the plantation as an
industrial occupational structure required a specific form of
political relationship and organization more appropriate to
class rather than ethnic status. The role of UMNO was seen
as restricted and ineffective. Secondly, since the plantation
had a class mode of organization, there were inherent
structural limitations in the formation of any ethnic-based
alignment with those Malays in the hierarchy. Clearly, the
laborers had to seek a form of political leadership which
emerged from within their own class rather than from
above.
The workers turned to the second type of political
organization via the NUPW as a more effective and ap
propriate outlet for their problems. Through the union, the
workers were reintegrated into the wider and modem polit
ical processes of the country in their formal identity and
role as a laboring class (kaum buruh) of a specific industrial
community. Leaders too were drawn from the lower
class, and the union further linked them to other plantation
workers in the area and throughout the country. Members
of the NUPW today include the different ethnic groups and
hence are not defined by ethnicity. The national leaders of
the union are no longer the familiar ethnic patrons in
government of political parties. Initially, the national lead
ership as well as members of the NUPW had primarily been
Indians. Though still dominated by Indians, both its leader
ship and membership now also include a substantial num
ber of Malays. 35
The formation of the union and its eventual official
recognition on the plantation was not without problems.
Though initial attempts to unionize the workers began
much earlier in the first established part of the whole plan
tation, they were not successful. Only in early 1972, not
long after the formation of the UMNO branch, was there a
move to unionize in the area studied. While permission was
given to outside trade union officials to campaign among
the workers, any move to push for the recognition of the
plantation NUPW branch committees established was al
ways met negatively.
The management's decision finally to recognize the
union by the end of 1973 could be explained by a few
factors. When the company began operating in this region,
its main priority was to develop the land until all the area
sub-leased by the state was completely planted with oil
palm. For a long period most capital outlay was toward this
35. S. Arasaratnam, Indians in Malaysia and Singapore (London: Oxford
University Press, 1970), pp. 141-142.
47
end and the company was therefore not prepared to enter
into negotiation over wages or other issues relating to labor
welfare. Meanwhile, the expression of the workers' discon
tent in ethnic terms made politicians, labor officials and
management only too aware of the potentially sensitive
situation that could develop if the workers' problems could
not be formally represented through the usual channels
appropriate to an industrial occupational setting. This,
combined with the fact that the company's developing
spree was nearing completion, finally hastened the man
agement's official recognition of the union.
In terms of the initial issues posed at the beginning of
this paper, a few conclusions can now be drawn with regard
to the interrelationship between ethnicity and class at this
political level of the proletarian community. In the first
instance, it can be observed that at the formal level of
political organization of the proletarian community, there
is a definite displacement of ethnicity by class. The industrial
occupational context of the plantation places structural
limits on the usefulness of the ethnic-based political organi
zation. On the plantation, this gave impetus to the success
ful emergence of a class-based union movement. But at the
ideological level, the same logic does not necessarily fol
low. The ideological support for the union could not be
premised on class alone. The earlier ethnic content of the
workers' ideology was not simply "displaced" but existed
in a process of articulation with the emerging dominant
class content to underline the new proletarian mode of
political organization. Indeed, appeals by grassroots lead
ers to rally the workers around the union were couched in
both class and ethnic terms, the latter being a crucial re
inforcement for class political action. At the level of pro
letarian perception, a dominant class "we" worldview was
strengthened by the unfolding class structure of the new
style plantation. But the thrust of this consciousness also
drew its strength from the ethnic "we" sentiments. The
events and processes leading to the political phase served to
sharpen the workers' awareness of the contradictory posi
tion of the Malay pegawai in their midst. What was gener
ated from this experience is that the ethnic "we" percep
tion began to acquire a more specific lower-class associa
tion, and became less identified with other class outsiders
regardess of their ethnic similarity.
The Arenas of Proletarian Protest
The specific class structure of the plantation system
lends itself to forms of conflict which are generic to the
asymmetrical relations between those who own the means
of production or control labor on one hand, and those who
sell labor power on the other.36 It is essential to investigate
the arenas of conflict so as to understand more precisely the
36. As Dahrendorf observes: "An industrial enterprise is, among other
things, an imperatively co-ordinated group. It contains positions with
which are associated an expectation and a right of exercising authority and
other positions whose occupants are subjected to authority. There are
managers of many grades, and there are workers. . . . A conflict of
[latent] interest between managers and workers is thus structurally un
avoidable." R. Dahrendorf, "Towards a Theory ofSociaI Conflict," in ed.
W. Wallace, Sociological Theory (London: Heinemann, 1971), p. 221.
nature of the ideological components of proletarian protest
on the plantation. For this purpose, the discussion will
focus on two social arenas of conflict - the plantation labor
process and lower-class strikes.
The Plantation Labor Process
Theoretically, under capitalist relations of production
the laborer's social worth is primarily measured in terms of
the labor power which he can provide. According to Wolf,
the new-style plantation further reinforces this impersonal
nature of the system since such a plantation does not cater
to the "status needs" of the worker. Its social relations are
mechanical and contractual; the worker is evaluated solely
in terms of his role as a provider of muscular energy and
other aspects of his social and cultural worth are irrelevant
to those who wield authority and control the organization.
Relations of domination are not mediated "through cul
tural forms that bear the personal stamp. "37
Confronted by such a system, the workers studied in
this article began to internalize a proletarian ethos in which
their social existence was primarily determined by "work
selling labor power" (jual tenaga). Hence such comments
as: "This company is only interested in us purely for work";
"Outside work, they are not bothered about the coolies";
"Weare like the company's cows, let loose in the field for
eight hours a day." The years when the company was
concentrating its capital outlay on land development were
marked by what the workers perceived to be a period of
denial of their "moral economy," or rights to subsistence
and reciprocity. 38 Thus:
All those who live here depend on the employer (majikan)
for their livelihood. Without a doubt, it could be said that the
labourers here . . . are oppressed and squeezed daily like
land leeches by the employer, considering the low wages
paid which are not fitting with the labour power poured.
Many of these problems have already been told to various
concerned authorities . . . but they have only given weak
excuses and other kinds of explanation to the workers. . . .
They have not shown any concern towards the labourers,for
they have surrendered these matters to the employer, hence
the labourers' social existence has also been surrendered to
the employer. So what more, the employer is now free to treat
the workers according to his whims. . . .
37. E. Wolf, op. cit., p. 168. According to Wolf, "The new-style planta
tion ... dispenses altogether with personalised phrasings of its technical
requirements. Guided by the idea of rational efficiency in the interests of
maximum production, it views the labour force as a reservoir of available
muscular energy, with each labourer representing a roughly equivalent
amount of such energy ... The worker who provides a given amount of
muscular energy is remunerated in wages. Otherwise his life-risks or
life-chances are of no moment to the planners and managers of production
and distribution ... It does not extend credit to individual workers, nor
differentiate between workers according to their different needs, or the
urgency of their respective needs. It assumes no risks for the physical or
psychological survival of the people who power its operations. At the
same time, the new-style plantation is not an apparatus for the servicing of
the status needs of its workers or managers. It thus bars the worker
effectively from entering into personalised relationships with the admini
strative personnel." Ibid., p. 169.
38. James Scott, The Moral Economy of the Peasant (New Haven: Yale
This is thus the story about the life between the labourers and
the employer here; with the labourers getting only very low
wages, barely enough to eat and drink, like chickens
"scratch for food in the morning, eat in the morning;
scratch for food in the evening, eat in the evening" (Malay
proverb: "Kais pagi makan pagi, kais petang makan
petang"). Many are saying the work load is increasing, but
the rewards are not.
To a large extent, workers were able to accommodate
to their role in the overall division of labor as the main
providers of muscular energy. Nor was there any rejection
on their part, of the plantation class-status institution, or
resentment against those making a profit if labor could also
be paid with wages that were "fitting" with work. More
importantly, at this level of existence, their human worth
(maruah, being the term used to handle workers' concept of
human dignity) was still intact. The status of a coolie or
laborer, however low, did not mean a loss of their maruah
or dignity as human beings. They were coolies but not as
yet animals or slaves. In the overall division of labor, they,
like other human beings, were simply "searching for a
living" (sama-sama cari makan); the question of loss of
maruah did not arise and was irrelevant. Even what was felt
to be "exploitation" at this level still assumed a generalized
and instrumental form to which the workers could still
accommodate or take philosophically.
The danger of loss of maruah is greatest in the relations
around the productive process where the actual physical
acts of labor power production and surplus appropriation
take place. In this on-going labor process of the capitalist
system, the confrontation between capital and labor takes
on a new dimension-capitalist exploitation becomes per
sonalized and personally mediated. Here workers enter a
set of face-to-face social relations with their pegawai who
supervise and control them. The pegawai has legitimate
claims to "bureaucratic" authority (kuasa) and how he
asserts his authority to reprimand the worker or instruct
him as to how, when and how much to work may inflict
upon him a sense of moral suffering and a loss of his human
dignity. It is through such instances that exploitation be
comes personalized and the feeling of being nothing more
than a mere commodity of labor hits the worker right on his
face. He becomes deprived of his maruah. He actually feels
like an animal, a cow (lembu), a slave (hamba), a bundle of
muscular energy with no human face. Moments of such
personalized exploitation are captured below, as expressed
by the workers themselves, based on their work experience
on the plantation.
Just because he is masta or pegawai he thinks he can treat us
like slaves here-Hey here! Hey there!
Just because he has a higher rank, he thinks he can treat us
coolies like rubbish by the roadside!
All ofus have tasted it. Pegawai-they all have airs. That's
the policy ofthe pegawai as Tuan and coolies as slaves
twisted laws!
We are always chased out or abused in the factory. He
always says to us, "Ifyou want to work, work!!fnot, you can
go home!" Already two workers have been scolded like that
and they both have left.
University Press, 1976). 48
Young workers on the plantation
The main kon si compound at Padang Kubu which housed about 1,200
working (mostly unskilled and non-working population in 1972-73.
49
We don't want to hear them go on telling us, "You stupid
cow! Ifyou don't want to work, you can go home!" Neverfor
one moment should we let them feel that they can treat us like
cows, depending on them for food here!
This factory does not want people who have moral etiquette
(budi bahasa). They only want people who can eat people!
Workers have always told me that ifthey were to follow their
emotions, they would have thrown him (a pegawai) into the
boiler, so that he would turn to ashes.
The above pegawai has many times committed acts ofinhu
manity to these workers who are thirsty for work by abusing
them with words that hurt the feelings of the workers under
his charge. . . . Wefeel that what is contained in the body of
the pegawai is full of thoughts to make the workers suffer.
We have always received complaints from the workers, and
according to them, they have never disobeyed him . .. since
this is our duty as workers. But what saddens us is that these
matters touch on the personality ofthe individual worker. . . .
We on behalfofthe workers feel anxious and worried in case
anything unpleasant were to occur since both sides would be
in trouble. If they were to follow their emotions, all these
things would surely happen . ... (part of a letter from the
plantation union committee to the management)
The pegawai mentioned. . . has always caused great unrest
amongst the workers. He always uses his authority to hurt
our feelings . . . with his harsh and rough action, even
though the workers concerned may have only committed a
small mistake, which is an aspect ofhuman character. . . .
Some proper action should be taken . . . before anything
unpleasant is done by the workers who are always harboring
their grudges toward him. (part of a letter by an ordinary
worker written to outside authorities)
The above examples are instances or moments in the pro
ductive process in which authority is being asserted to
control or appropriate labor power, in this case, through
language and verbal communication. On other a
pegawai may also resort to other means and ways of makmg
the workers work harder than usual in order to maximize
productivity for the company and hence gain rec
ognition from his superiors for the of Job promo
tion or bonus increment. Such an act IS called tekan by the
workers (to tekan literally means "to press"). Both t.ypes of
action cited above are perceived by workers as vanants of
personalized modes of exploitation whose immedi.ate im
pact is to inflict upon them a sense of moral suffenng a?d
reduce their human status or maruah to a mere commodity
of labor.
Some examples of tekan are given below:
Workers work for eight hours a day. Depending on the
nature of work already done, the kind of physical area or
terrain of their work environment including the weather
(in the cool morning or in the heat of the day), a few
minutes rest "to catch their breath" are usually to be
given as a matter of course by their respective super
visor-in-charge. Those who do not grant this "goodwill"
are usually accused of indulging in "too much tekan."
Some types of work are more quantifiable than others,
yet workers are paid on a basis (that is, n?t?y
piece-rate). The may mSlst
that a certain quota be completed dunng the eight-hour
50
period before the workers could be eligible for their
daily amount. The workers would not get extra pay for
doing the extra work imposed upon them; indeed, the
workers would be pushed to work harder during a speci
fied period so as to get the amount of wages t?at
they already rightfully deserve. SometImes, a cunnmg
superior would vary this quota of work by increasing it
from day to day. Thus:
By right, some of these tasks should be done on a contract
basis, but the company wants to save money .. so they get
checkroll workers to do the job. . . . You have to work like a
punished person . ... You feel that your maruah is low
ered. ... This is only oneexampleoftekan. .. ,itdoesn't
only happen to me. . . .
Sometimes tekan is deliberately resorted to by the
pegawai as a strategy to "tame" or teach a lesson to
selected workers who are seen as troublemakers or as
not working hard enough. Sometimes the intention may
in fact be to make them leave the plantation altogether.
As a victim bemoans,
You do work which is most inappropriate . . . , odd jobs
such as cleaning drains, making drains, gardening, cutting
weeds, loading stones, orfetching firewood from the jungle.
You get the same pay as other unskilled working in the shade
inside, but you have to work harder . .. in the hot sun . ...
This shows the unjust system ofwork distribution-tekan
to those they hate!
It is apparent that under proletarian relations of pro
duction, Scott's notion of peasant moral economy takes on
an added component, namely proletarian rights to their
human worth (maruah) as human beings. For the workers,
then, the everyday class struggle (as observed by the re
searcher) was essentially an on-going struggle in the labor
process to maintain and preserve these rights to their "per
sonal moral economy. " The moral regulator was sought in
the principle of timbang rasa (their concept of empathy-to
timbang: to "weigh" and to rasa: to "feel"). According to
them, acts of personalized exploitation which inflicted
upon them loss of maruah occured because the values of
those who controlled them were not governed by this uni
versal spirit (semangat) of empathy. Only when the asser
tion of authority was guided by this "spirit" would workers
experience no loss of human worth or status. Ideally
spirit of timbang rasa, they argued, should be
voluntarily and naturally, based on human sensItivity. But
if it did not, then workers themselves felt that they should
be the ones to initiate action to instil this moral component
into the values of their immediate superiors. There was
thus a strong belief that: "We must be the people wh?
should teach (ajar) them so that they can understand a bit
of timbang rasa. Ifwe protest (lawan) everytime they 'press'
us, after a while they will know the ways of rasa."
Hence acts of personal or social protest agamst the
pegawai-ranging from verbal appeals or outbursts to defi
ance or, more extreme still, even actual physical
tion-became intricately tied to the workers' deSIre to
teach the spirit of timbang rasa to those individuals who
controlled them.
Timbang rasa is thus an integral moral and ideological
component of the proletarian consciousness and protest. It
is intricately related to the preservation of social worth and
dignity (maruah) of human beings despite their class-status
differences. The spirit of timbang rasa is not directed
against roles, institutions or the class structure; its rationale
is found on a universal human praxis which accommodates
class inequalities and the social division oflabor: "We must
have timbang rasa. We are both in search of a living (Kita
mesti ada timbang rasa. Kita sama-sama cari malum)."
Clearly, this class ideological practice draws its impetus and
strength from a synthesis of two sources-class and non
class values. Crucial to the latter is a more universal iden
tity and status of proletarians as "people" or human beings.
Lower Class Strikes
Strikes, though infrequent, were not an uncommon
form of protest among this lower class community. What is
interesting to note is that the period before rather than
after the union was officially recognized saw more of these
strikes on the plantation. The official union line is not to
encourage strikes amongst its members, but to pursue a
gradualistic approach to the problems of industrial rela
tions, based on negotiation and collective bargaining. Im
mediately after management finally decided to give official
recognition to the status of the NUPW plantation branch
by the end of 1973, it became a member of MAPA (Malay
sian Agricultural Producers' Association), a national or
ganization which caters to the interest of owners and emp
loyers in the plantation industry throughout the country.
At the national level both the NUPW and MAPA organiza
tions have evolved certain agreements which spell out com
mon and standardized guidelines relating to wages and
other terms of employment to be observed by all NUPW
MAPA. In its attempt to promote a "responsible" image,
and given the context of the political and legislative con
straints of the post-colonial state,39 the NUPW is accom
modative to the interest of capital
40
and is unlikely to resort
39. It was, according to Ali Raza, a union which was "blessed by the
government." Legislative and Public Policy Development in Malaysia's
Industrial Relations," The Journal of Developing Areas. Vol. 3, 1969, p.
358. "The present security powers ofthe Malaysian government, based on
such provisions as article 149 of the Malaysian Constitution, the Defama
tion Ordinance of 1957, the Public Order (Preservation) Ordinance of
1958, and the Internal Security Act of 1960 (as amended in 1962), are truly
very great. The government possesses extensive powers to restrict free
dom of assembly, movement and expression, to detain without trial, close
schools, ban associations, prorogue publication rights, and so on. The
phrasing of the legal clauses granting such power, is moreover, often quite
vague, and the readiness to apply them has not always been restricted by a
lively sense of the needs of a free society." Justus M. vander Kroef, cited
in B. Gunaway & H. Raghavan, The Plight ofthe Plantation Workers in West
Malaysia. With Specwl Reference to Indian Labour (Amsterdam: Anthro
pologisch-Sosiologisch Centrum, 1977), pp. 28-29.
40. See, for instance, the statements by the NUPW Secretary General,
Narayanan, accepting the interests of both domestic and foreign capital
and promising a "sensible" unionism in exchange for employment and a
"fair share of the wealth produced." Union Herald. April 1970, p. 9; also
Union Herald. August 1970. A situation of "fair share" has never been
fulfilled. Stenson, for instance, points out that "during the boom of the
early fifties even the relatively powerful NUPW gained but the crumbs of
prosperity." M. Stenson, Industrwl Conflict in Malaya (London: Oxford
University Press, 1970), p. 238. A recent observation also shows that
"plantation workers, in oontra-distinction to other poverty groups, have
not enjoyed any improvement in their economic condition." Gunaway &
Raghavan, op. cit., p. 32. 5 I
to strikes as a means to achieve its ends.
41
After the workers became officially organized in the
union, there were hardly any strikes to speak of on the
plantation. In a particular case involving the firemen in the
factory, the workers in a secret meeting decided to call a
strike but were stopped and persuaded to "negotiate" as
soon as the branch trade union leader came to know of it.
One of the major dissatisfactions among at least some of
the workers was that they found it hard to negotiate for
terms which deviated from the standardized NUPW
MAPA official agreement although in theory they were
told that it was possible. By and large, however, the major
ity of the workers were not critically inclined to the point of
questioning the dominant ideological orientation of the
union.
Most of the strikes which occured in the earlier period
were informally initiated, spontaneous and usually without
the advanced knowledge of the management or state labor
authorities. They usually involved a small section of the
laboring community and were based on some form of dis
satisfaction about conditions of work or employment. Most
of these cases were settled informally between worker and
concerned plantation authorities without resort to pro
longed bureaucratic processes or officialdom. It is easy
enough to understand the bases for such strikes. The ideo
logical underpinning is one that is directly related to work
ers' economic position and immediate instrumental in
terest as a laboring class in an industrial occupational
system.
Nevertheless, sometime in 1972, just after a union
committee had been informally set up on this part of the
plantation, a major strike did take place which involved
most of the workers from this area as well as others from
neighboring estate branches. The issues surrounding this
particular strike were not as straightforward as and cannot
simply be understood as other minor strikes. Workers
often referred to this incident as a "demonstration" (tunjuk
perasaan) rather than as a strike per se. The strike was
resolved by the intervention of state politicians and labor
authorities from outside. An understanding of this event is
both interesting and illuminating in showing how class
ideology is articulated with other non-class elements in the
context of a particular type of proletarian political action
and protest.
41. Its policy of non-alliance with political parties has apparently been
both its source of survival and its weakness. According to Stenson, its lack
of representation in the parliamentary system predominated overwhelm
ingly by "representatives of rural Malay peasant and Chinese capitalist
interests" also means that "politically the unions and their members are
isolated, if not incompetent." Op. cit., pp. 240-242. On the other hand, its
subordination to the government's wishes that it not playa "political role"
has been seen by the opposition as "betraying labour interest to the
'plantocracy' and government." Martin Rudner, "Malayan Labour in
Transition: Labour Policy and Trade Unionism 1953-63," Modem Asian
Studies. Vol. 7, No.1, 1973, p. 24. The NUPW leadership has always been
adamant that their strategy to promote "peacefulness should not be
misunderstood for synonym of weakness"; its past activities (such as the
"go-slow" of 1956, and the pilot strike of 1964) would often be cited to
show its preparedness to "turn to militancy" when necessary. K. Kuma
ran, Collective Bargaining in the Rubber Industry (Petaling Jaya: NUPW,
1967), p. 41. Stenson, remarking on the 1956 "go-slow" action com
mented that the "union . . . recognised the impossibility of a full scale
strike." Op. cit., p. 238, footnote 5.
Briefly a Malay pegawai was apparently found "guilty"
by the management for "misusing" the checkroll workers
to clear the compound of "his'.' house (which in fact be
longed to the company). The management "without
further investigation" immediately gave him 24 hours
notice to leave the plantation. When news of the sudden
dismissal was heard by workers, a few of those who were
involved in the prayer-house committee raised the idea ofa
meeting to be held that same night. It was felt that since the
pegawai was an active member of the surau organization,
and since he was supposed to leave the plantation the next
day, the occasion was a good opportunity for the commu
nity to say farewell to him. Some of the other Malay
pegawai were also invited. That night, the surau was
thronged to full capacity by workers who came to attend
the meeting. Many speeches and opinions were made; for
many, it was also a night for reflection in which all the good
things the pegawai did in the past were remembered and
praised. A few thought of his long service (orang lama) and
"good deeds" (Malay concept of jasa) for the company,
and the fact that he had been around since "the oil palm
trees were still small." Others also recalled his jasa to the
laboring community, especially his continuous involve
ment in the socio-cultural aspects of their lives through the
prayer-house, despite repeated warnings from the manage
ment. The ethnic issue was also brought up, in that the
authorities (dominated by non-Malays) were accused of
consistently victimizing those Malay pegawai who were too
involved or actively concerned with the working
community.
As the "dialogue" progressed and the night grew
older, the atmosphere of the meeting took on an expected
tum and it became evident to all who were present that the
Malay pegawai had been a victim of an unjust (tak adil)
decision, especially when the nature of his apparent
"crime" was weighed against his long service to the com
pany. In the course of events, the leaders of the yet un
official union committee took to the floor and challenged
(mencabar) the workers to go on strike the next day by
marching to the manager's office to demand for the re
instatement of the pegawai. The crowd, whose emotions
and spirit had by this time already run high (naik semangat),
simultaneously and in one voice rose in support of the trade
union leader's challenge. Thenceforward, it was the union
leaders who went round on a door-to-door campaign to all
the kongsi houses asking for the workers to strike the next
day. It is also interesting to note that in mobilizing the
workers some of these leaders also resorted to ethnicity by
apparently going around shouting "Chinese sack Malay!"
(Cina buang Melayu) in their campaign that night.
It is tempting to see ethnicity as the primary basis for
the strike. After all, the victim was not a fellow worker but
a pegawai. He was, furthermore, a fellow Malay who had
been dismissed by a Chinese manager, so the Malay work
ers presumably came to the support of their "ethnic"
pegawai. Ethnically based support by Malay lower classes
or peasants towards their Malay political elites is, for in
stance, rather typical of solidarity political structures in the
wider "plural society. "42 Thus what happened on the plan
tation reflected the model ofthe broader system, albeit in a
more specific and micro context.
was selected and each was asked his/her reason for partici
pating in the strike. Their answers (see table) are rather
revealing. As can be seen from the table, only 9 percent of
the total number of workers interviewed gave their reason
in purely ethnic terms, such as "Our race (bangsa) was
sacked" or "Spirit" (semangat) to help Malays." Over two
thirds (67 percent) of the workers did not mention ethnicity
at all. Their answers instead emphasized principles of reci
procity, empathy and justice.
Under reciprocity, what was stressed is the pegawai's
"good deeds" (jasa) through his long service with the com
pany, implying a sense of injustice in terms of the decision
made by the management. In Malay society and more
specifically in the cultural tradition of the Malay peasantry,
jasa is an important dimension of their concept of reciproc
ity, especially in their relationship with the state.
43
Work
ers' responses ranged from "He gave a lot of jasa to the
company" to "The management acted without remember
ing hisjasa" or "He was one ofthe longest-servingpegawai
Workers' Reasons for Supporting the Strike
No. of
Basis for Support Workers Percentage
(n 125) (100%)
A) E thnicity 9 7%
B) Non-Ethnic Factors:
Reciprocity principle (jasa) ,
Empathy principle (timbang
rasa) and Justice (keadilan)
84 67%
C) Ethnic & Non-Ethnic
Factors
(A+B)
32 26%
42. Note, for instance, this form of ethnic-based political mobilization in
Malaya via the UMNO variant of nationalism in the wake of its decoloni
zation. See W.R. Roff, The Origins ofMalay Nationnlism (Kuala Lumpur:
University of Malaya Press, 1967); John Funston, Malay Politics in Malay
sia: A Study ofUMNO andPAS (Kuala Lumpur: Heinemann, 1980).
43. In Malay society, the legend of Hang Tuah and Hang Jebat is il
luminating in elucidating the concept ofjasa in traditional culture. There
were two warriors of the Malaccan empire. Both had contributed jasa to
king and empire until one day the more prominent Tuah was framed by a
few who were envious of his position and closeness with the Sultan. The
Sultan immediately ordered his minister, the Bendohara, to execute Tuah.
When J ebat learnt of the news, he, being like a brother toTuah, defied the
king by running amok as a way of avenging Tuah's "death." Under
traditional Malay custom, this was an act of treason (durhaka) but Jebat was
adamant that Tuah was the vicim of injustice. Tuah, who had contributed
so much jasa to the state, was, without proper investigation and in one act
of rash decision, ordered to be killed by the Sultan. It was a breach of the
principle of reciprocity between the ruler and the ruled. But the Bendehara
had not apparently carried out his orders. Being a wise statesman, he
merely sent Tuah away into exile. Legand has it that Tuah was the only
person who could kill Jebat; the king, after learning that Tuah was still
alive, immediately ordered him to be recalled. The story ends on a sad
note, with Tuah rather reluctantly having to carry out his duties to the king
A sample of 125 workers who took part in the strike
and state by killing Jebat.
52
here" and "He had been working here since the trees were
still small. " On the other hand, his own jasa to the workers
was equally stressed in statements that "He gave a lot of
jasa to the company and workers here" and "He gave a lot
ofjasa to the coolies."
Under empathy (timbang rasa) were emphasized the
personal qualities and values of the pegawai in his dealings
with the workers. The pegawai apparently had a reputation
of being a supervisor with a lot of timbang rasa. Those who
had worked under him knew has as a strict pegawai; but at
the same time he also was known for "taking care of the
workers' feelings" (pandai ambil hati pekerja). Hence such
comments as: "He was a pegawai with the spirit of timbang
rasa, " "He knew how to consider the feelings of the work
ers," "He showed sympathy to the workers."
Factors relating to the third principle, justice, should
not be seen in isolation from the others, especially that of
jasa. Typical comments were that "The management's ac
tion was unjust (tak adil)" or that "He was not guilty; the
management did not investigate properly (tidak usul
pereksa). "
The last category (about 26 percent) consists of work
ers who mentioned both ethnic and non-ethnic factors in
combination. Here it is evident that while ethnicity was
important, it was no longer an adequate factor in itself. it
had to be expressed in conjunction with non-ethnic factors
as well.
It can be seen from the above that it is misleading to
perceive the strike simply as a demonstration of "Malay
spirit" (semangat Me/ayu). Most workers I spoke to were
adamant that the strike was an expression of "workers'
spirit" (semangat pekerja). It would be equally misleading
to reduce this spirit simply to terms of class, for it is a spirit
in which class content exists in different forms of articula
tion with non-class elements. But these elements are princi
ples which the proletarians as a class value and cherish,
whether they relate to certain cultural or universal norms of
reciprocity, empathy or justice. In this context, the work
ers' support is not a support of the person (pegawai) per se,
but rather of the spirit and principles which he embodies
and symbolizes. In their day to day existence as workers on
the plantation, these ideals remain unactualized.
As noted above, the struggle to actualize or instill
these ideals (such as timbang rasa) into the dominant value
system became an on-going necessity for the workers. In a
way, the pegawai was as much a victim ofthe system as the
workers; the decision to dismiss him was an assertion of
authority which was not governed by the principle or spirit
of timbang rasa. The decision was therefore an act of in
justice which did not take into account his jasa to the
company and breached the principles of reciprocity. The
workers also had a debt to pay; the pegawai contributed
jasa to the laboring community. It was his human disposi
tion towards timbang rasa for the underdogs that gave him
The analogy of this legend with the strike is interesting, for like lebat,
the workers felt that the pegawai was the victim of an un just decision by the
management. The latter did not apparently investigate carefully about his
alleged "crime." Neither was the "sentence" passed [the dismissal] seen
to be in accordance with the jasa rendered by the pegawai to the company.
For an interesting analysis of the above legend, see Kassim, Characterisa'
tion ojHikilyat Hang Tuoh (Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahawa, 1966).
this capacity to render jasa to the lower class. The strike
was not just in support of the spirit which he symbolized; it
was also in payment of the debt for his jasa and timbang rasa
to the workers. Ultimately it was also a spontaneous collec
tive protest and assertion by the proletarians intended to
instill the spirit of timbang rasa into a system which continu
ously negated their human, social and cultural worth in their
everyday existence under capitalist relations of production.
Articulation and Contents of Proletarian Ideology
Articulation of Class and Non-Class Ideologies
An important thrust in the analysis in this article is that
the existence of class at the level of ideology is not necessar
ily a mechanical reflection of class at the level of production
relations. This does not mean that there is no relationship
at all between these two levels. What happens at the level
of ideological discourse is that class content exists in dif
ferent forms of articulation with non-class contents.
In respect to Malay proletarians, it can be seen that
such articulation emerges by virtue of the fact that they
experience their class relations in various ways.
They experience these relations as a class, in which their
social existence, role and status is primarily defined in
terms of the labor power (tenaga) that they can sell. The
emergence of this ideology as a dominant proletarian
ethos was clearly evident on the plantation studied. Es
sentially this ideology emphasizes the equality of sharing
a similar life-chance and class-status position among
those who are at the lowest rung of the plantation hier
archy and whose role is to provide labor power in the
system. It is this same ideological underpinning (com
bined with instrumentalism) that also becomes the main
source for the formation of the lower class as a political
community .
They experience these relations as "people" or human
beings. This aspect is intricately related to the first,
specifically to the process of commoditization of man
through personalized forms of exploitation in the labor
process. The concern here is with the loss of human
dignity or their moral and social worth (maruah) as
human beings. What emerges at the ideological level is
an egalitarian norm, handled through the concept of
timbang rasa which emphasizes human empathy on the
basis of "the equality of men deriving from their intrinsic
personal or human worth. "44 The thrust of this ideology
is on change at the level of personal human values rather
than on existing roles, institutions, class structures or the
division of labor. The emphasis of this equality "exists
outside the system of social stratification"; it is instead
"rooted in the human condition, in the equality of men
as human beings, in their similar propensities to feel, to
suffer and to enjoy. "45 It is an egalitarianism which
accepts the socio-economic differences of human beings
"in search of a living."
44. Chandra Jayawardena, "Ideology and Conflict in Lower Class com
munities," Comparative Studies in Society and History. Vol. X, No.4, 1968,
p.413.
45. Ibid.
53
They experience these relations as Malays. Owing to the
complication introduced by ethnicity in the plantation
stratification system, it can also reinforce the "we"
ethnic sentiments amongst the lower class. At the same
time, the specific nature of the plantation class system
and mode of organization makes it difficult for this same
ethnic "we" lower class feeling to be extended to those
ethnic members in the official hierarchy. Whilst ethnicity
as a form of "communalism" may have a place in the
ideological make-up of the workers, the relevance of this
form of ethnicity cannot always be assumed. The strike
was illuminating in this respect for it showed that what
was more important to the workers were the non-ethnic
factors as the bases for their support. Yet if we probe
deeply, these so-called non-ethnic elements (such as
timbang rasa, jasa) are cultural categories and idioms of a
specific ethnic group. They form an important cultural
dimension of ethnicity. By this I mean ethnicity as con
notating a typification of shared knowledge, ideational
resources, cultural concepts, norms, values or symbols
which relate to how a particular ethnic group handles
and understands certain social relations or phenomena.
Indeed this cultural dimension of ethnicity may be the
very source of class consciousness. As Thompson sug
gests, "Class consciousness is the way in which these
experiences are handled in cultural terms: embodied in
traditions, value-systems, ideas and institutional
forms. "46 What Thompson forgets is that under certain
conditions, these "cultural terms" may also transcend
their original cultural origins and specificities and take
on a universal character and form at the level of ideolog
ical discourse. The concepts of timbang rasa, maruah and
jasa are all culturally derived, and specific to Malays. Yet
these are also translatable even by the Malay prole
tarians themselves into a more universal form and as
sume their own viability to underlie relations between
individuals as "people" or human beings.
47
Articulation of Capitalist-Non-Capitalist Ideologies
Another important thrust of the argument of this
paper is that the articulation of class and non-class ideol
ogies can also be seen as an articulation of modes of pro
duction, albeit at the ideological level. This particular anal
46. E.P. Thompson, The Making ofthe English Working Class (Harmonds
worth: Penguin, 1968), p. 9.
47. In this context, it is interesting to note the universalizing tendencies
and aspects of timbang rasa which transcend ethnic boundaries. In one
particular situation observed, a Chinese pegawai was transferred by the
management from the factory to the transport workshop section. About
108 Malay factory workers came to his support and signed a petition
appealing to the State Labour Department and the General Manager to
retain him in his old position. The following excerpt of the petition clearly
indicates that the Chinese pegawai had endeared himself to the workers
because of his personal sensitivity to their moral needs.
Mr. is a pegawai to whom we are loyal and respect. Through him,
we have been able to learn all the mistakes in our daily work. He has guided
us in every aspect of work and this has made us more spirited and dedicated
in our work. He has also given all ofus a lot ofmoral support in improving
and perfecting our work, He has shown no hesitation in giving us good
advice and guidance . . . , Therefore we feel most saddened about his
transfer. . since the person who has been guiding us all this time is now far
away from us,
ysis hinges on the fact that these proletarians are recently
reconstituted from the indigenous peasantry and have
brought with them their own cultural system of ideas for
handling class relations in their former society. 48
In the context of a peripheral Third World formation,
Malay peasants are best seen as non-capitalist commodity
producers articulated with a dominant capitalist mode.
49
Although Malay peasants are integrated into the capitalist
world system via the circuit of merchant capital, because
earlier pre-capitalist relations of production have been al
tered by the colonial processes into new forms which are
neither pre-capitalist nor capitalist but non-capitalist, they
still carry over some of their traditional ideological under
pinnings. Under the impact of merchant capital, these pre
capitalist forms have not been completely dissolved into
capitalist forms. 50
The "conservation-dissolution" effects of "restricted
and uneven development" of capitalism in the periphery
work equally well at the ideological level of the forma
tion.
51
As I have argued elsewhere,52 these traditional
ideological forms may underlie, mediate and partially re
produce their present relations of production, which inc
lude personalism, patron-clients, kinship, moral economy,
etc. Peasant relations of production have not as yet di
vorced man from his other social and cultural relations.
This embeddedness of their economic relations within non
economic components
53
is what theoretically gives the
peasant individual the possibility of not being defined
solely in terms of his economic worth. As such, even
though he is already a producer of commodity, he has not
as yet become a total commodity of labor. Thus peasant
class and economic relations may be personalized; the cul
tural forms which mediate these relations give enough rec
ognition to the peasant's sense ofsocial and cultural worth.
Shifting to the plantation brings him right into the
heart of the capitalist mode of production. Capitalist rela
tions of production no longer provide him with the cultural
and personalized milieu which formed the context for his
previous relations of production. Yet the Malay prole
tarians are not totally devoid of their own ideological sys
tem; in the face-to-face relations around the productive
process, they revitalize their old peasant strategies of
handling class relations. To combat the loss of maruah, they
attempt to personalize these contractual and technical rela
tions of domination. Their attempt to instill timbang rasa
into the values of their superiors or immediate dominant
actors can be seen as a strategy to insert into the system
48. Thompson, op. cit.
49. Zawawi, 1982, op. cit.
50. See Geoffrey Kay, Development and Underdevelopment: A Marxist Anal
ysis (London: Macmillan, 1975); Zawawi Ibrahim, in Journal of
Contemporary Asia, 1983, op. cit.
51. Taylor, op. cit.
52. Ibid.
53. "As a general phenomena ... productive and social relations in
peasant communities are simultaneously personal relations, either bet
ween tenants and his superior, between kin, between friend and between
neighbours.... The bonds of kinship are more or less converging with
the process of work or dominant productive relations." E. Archetti & S,
Ass, "Peasant Studies: An Overview," in Howard Newby, ed., Interna
tional Perspectives in Rural Sociology (London: Johan Wiley, 1978), p. 123.
54
____________________________ __
some peasant values and ideological content in conducting
class relations. The proletarian ideological synthesis
reached at this level of discourse should also be seen as a
process in which capitalist ideology is in articulation with
non-capitalist ideological forms.
Conclusion
The question of lower-class ideology has yet to be
explored fully in the context of contemporary Malaysian
society. It can not be denied that, given the specific histori
cal colonial experience of the society, ethnicity has
assumed a prominence both at the objective and subjective
levels of society. At the same time, the question of class
must not also be ignored. The issue is not an either/or
question. The realities of how different ideological con
tents are combined, articulated and synthesized are more
complex than what normally meets the eye of the analyst of
class or ethnicity. *
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55
A Review Essay
by Kevin J. Hewison
Twentieth century Th,ai politics has been a turbulent
affair, but never more so than during the past decade. This
period has been punctuated by the mass demonstrations
which overthrew the military dictatorship in October 1973,
the bloody, rightist restoration three years later, and the
subsequent flight of thousands of workers, peasants and
activists to the jungles and the ranks of the guerrilla. More
recently we have seen the developments of rifts within the
Communist Party of Thailand, rifts which seem to have
blunted the potential of the revolutionary movement, at
least temporarily.
For many observers the post-I973 period has been
confusing. The textbooks, models and conceptualizations
of the fifties and sixties focusing on military cliques, "loose
structure," culture and personality, and the apolitical na
ture of the mass of the population, provided few meaning
ful guidelines for an understanding of the turmoil of the
seventies. Worker, peasant and student activism, militant
buddhism and overt, organized right-wing terror all
seemed curiously out-of-place in what had been seen as a
"stable" nation.l For example, in 1975, while visiting Thai
land, David Wilson was asked how modern Thai politics
compared to the period discussed in his book, prior to 1958.
Wilson answered: "There is a kind of deja vu quality about
many things. . . in spite of the enormous change which has
occurred. The character of those changes is really
1. I am referring to the generalized picture of Thai politics presented in
David A. Wilson, Politics in Thailand. (Ithaca: Cornell University Press,
1962), and Fred W. Riggs, Thailand: The Modernization of a Bureaucratic
Polity. (Honolulu: East-West Center Press, 1966).
POLITICAL CONFLICT IN THAILAND.
REFORM, REACTION, REVOLUTION by David
Morell and Chai-anan Samudavanija. Cambridge:
Oelgeschlager, Gunn & Hain, 1981
strange. . . ."2
In the mid-seventies there were but a few serious,
English-language studies of Thai politics, with many gaps
in what was an essentially unself-conscious and mono
theoretical literature.
3
Most of these works tended to feed
off each other, adopting a theoretical perspective referred
to as the "political culture" or "culture and personality"
framework.
4
Such a framework suggests that Thai political
behavior can be best understood as representing particular,
shared patterns of attitudes, beliefs and values of the col
lective Thai. Ignoring conflict and power, an attempt is
made to apply an essentially functionalist model, empha
sizing individuality, passivity, deference and social cohe
sion, to the Thai situation. S Referring to Wilson's influen
tial study, Politics in Thailand, Herbert Phillips provides an
instructive explanation for such an approach and the justifi
cation for its retention over the past 25 years:
I suspect that one of the major reasons for Wilson's
giving short shrift to these kinds of disjunctive questions is
that they are not particularly compatible with his basic
functional framework . .. which asks how a structure op
2. Bangkok Post. 12 August 1975, p. 8.
3. Benedict Anderson, Studies ofthe Thai State. Paper, Conference on the
State of Thai Studies, Chicago, 30 March 1978, pp. 1-2.
4. Clark D. Neher, "A Critical Analysis of Research on Thai Politics," in
Neher (Ed.), Modem Thai Politics. (Cambridge: Schenkman, 1979),
pp. 457-4TI, and Peter F. Bell, "Western Conceptions of Thai Society:
The Politics of American Scholarship," Journal of Contemporary Asia.
12, I, 1982, p. 67.
5. See Neher, op. cit. pp. 459-472 for a more detailed discussion of this
approach.
56
erates, integrates, and maintains itself, not how it changes
and deals with new internally and externally generated so
cial forces or even how such forces come into existence. I
would add that we really cannot fault Wilson in this respect.
If we look around us, where do we find anybody-other than
perhaps the Marxists-who have worked out a powerful and
intellectually coherent theory ofsocial change? And who can
seriously use Marxist theory as an adequate explanation of
social change, a theory that is thoroughly indifferent to the
varieties of human experience and so dehumanizing and
simplistic . .. ?6
The events of 1973-76 served to shatter such naive,
simplistic and intellectually dubious beliefs. And, in the
past few years a number of publications have appeared
which do attempt to account for change and conflict in Thai
political and social life. Some of these works have, despite
Phillips' exhortations, taken Marxist theory seriously, and
attempted to apply it to the Thai case. 7 Others have tried to
reorient the political culture approach by integrating no
tions of conflict within it. Political Conflict in Thailand by
David Morell and Chai-anan Samudavanija falls into the
latter category, and within this framework, is a worthy
book.
The tasks Morell and Chai-anan set themselves are to
examine the events of the 1973-76 period, to explore the
causes of political conflict, and thus to improve the under
standing and analysis of Thai politics (p. 6). There can be
little doubt that they have largely succeeded in these areas.
Indeed, Morell and Chai-anan have performed an admir
able service in drawing together a mass of data in a detailed
and yet readable study. The twelve chapters of this book
should become required reading for all of those with a
serious interest in Thai politics.
Divided into three parts, Political Coriflict in Thailand is
not a blow-by-blow chronology of the events of contempor
ary politics. Morell and Chai-anan prefer to structure their
discussions around some of the important political groups
of the period. Part I provides the almost obligatory discus
sion of the supposed nexus of Thai culture and politics,
together with a useful summary of traditional political in
stitutions, the monarchy, military and bureaucracy. The
contemporary relevance of these institutions is also ex
plained, and in the final chapter of Part I, Morell and
Chai-anan examine the breakdown of what they term the
"traditional order" under the pressure of rapid social and
economic change and the Communist Party's armed strug
gle. Thus the stage is set for the discussion of the period of
open politics from 1973 to 1976.
Divided into five chapters, Part II focuses on electoral
politics, the rise and fall of the student movement, labor
organizations, and the most visible contribution for they
provide up-to-date and accurate data on political groups
6. Herbert P. Phillips, "Some Premises of American Scholarship on
Thailand," in Neher (Ed.), op. cit., p. 438. (Originally published in 1973).
7. Andrew Turton, Jonathan Fast and Malcolm Caldwell (Eds.), Thai
land: Roots ofConflict, (Nottingham: Spokesman Books, 1978), and David
Elliott, Thailand: Origins of Military Rule, (London: Zed Press, 1978).
Mention should also be made of developments in Marxist political
economy within Thailand - see, for example, recent issues of Warasan
thamtnaSat (Thammasat University Journal) and Warasan setthasat /um
muang (Journal of Political Economy).
57
which have often been neglected in previous discussions of
Thai politics. For this alone, Morell and Chai-anan deserve
considerable praise.
In the final part of the book the authors focus on the
fortunes of the Communist Party, from the coup of 1976
through to about 1980. Again, this discussion is useful for
its synthesis of Thai and English language data. And, in a
useful appendix, the authors include a list of the most
important individuals and organizations involved in mod
ern Thai politics.
In short, I was impressed with the vast knowledge of
the intricacies of politics displayed by the two authors. This
is perhaps not surprising when it is considered that
Chai-anan has himself been something of a political figure
(as was his father), being involved in the drafting of the
1974 constitution, and more recently acting as an advisor to
General Prem Tinsulanond's government. Equally, I was
impressed with the ability of the authors to utilize this
knowledge to show the complexity of Thai politics while
rendering it in an intelligible manner.
Despite its many virtues, however, I have a number of
reservations concerning the conceptual framework
adopted by the authors, and hence, a number of the obser
vations they make.
Morell and Chai-anan state that their "approach is
primarily empirical and analytical rather than theoreti
cal. ... The objective is to improve understanding ...
rather than to present or validate particular theoretical
models" (p. 6). That they eschew theory does not, in my
view, mean that there is no theory or conceptual frame
work involved in their work. It would seem that the notion
that political scientists can merely collect the so-called facts
is still alive and well.
8
Is it possible for Morell and
Chai-anan to be merely "empirical and analytical"? Obvi
ously not. If they were, how would they determine which
"facts" to collect? How do the "facts" relate to each other?
Which "facts" take primacy over others? I would therefore
argue that even if Morell and Chai-anan's theoretical per
spective is not explicit, there is an underlying, implicit
theoretical framework. And, I would add, it is a framework
which owes much to the political culture approach men
tioned above, albeit admitting the importance of conflict.
Morell and Chai-anan clearly indicate the importance,
for them, of Thai culture in explaining political behavior
early in their book when they argue that:
To comprehend modern Thai political tensions, it is essential
to explore the legacy ofthe past. Thais are conscious oftheir
heritage, openly proud ofit. This nation's continuity with the
past is evident in the attitudes, the behavior, even the termin
ology used by Thais today (p. 7).
Then, with apparent approval, they quote Thinipan
Nakata's comment that:
Thailand has undergone no traumatic break with its tradi
tional political culture, no large scale abandonment of its
earlier behavioral patterns, and no forceful change in its
political culture from without. Consequently Thai political
8. Bell, op. cit., p. 62 makes these points, more generally, about Ameri
can writings on Thailand.
I
culture is relatively stable and homogeoous" (p. 8).
For Morell and Chai-anan, Thailand's political culture is
made up of individualism, pragmatism and resistance to
social organization, and, at the same time, elitist, hierarchi
cally structured relationships. The principal determinants
of this culture are said to be the monarchy, bureaucracy,
buddhism, family socialization and the bountiful natural
environment. It is argued that each of these factors "sup
ports the others in a blend of social. freedom
tyranny that makes it possible for a hIghly organIZed mIlI
tary establishment and its allies to rule" (pp. 16-17). ..
Thus, all of the important elements of the pohtlcal
culture approach are introduced: hierarchical organization
and deference through socialization (pp. 16-17); the mon
archy as a source of political legitimacy and
cohesion within society (p. 18); the bureaucracy as the
epitome of power and authority, with the bureaucracy
being coterminous with the polity and independent of the
economy (pp. 18-20); buddhist doctrine promoting indi
vidualism and loose structure (pp. 20-21); and pleasure
seeking, general satisfaction and well-being by
the bountiful environment (pp. 21-22). In addItion, the
supposed homogeneity of Thai society is stressed (e.g.,
p.41).
Such cultural determinism (laced, in this case, with
elements of behavioralism and psychologism) has been
criticized by Barrington Moore: "Culture. . . is not some
thing that exists outside of or independently of individual
human beings living together in society. Cultural values do
not descend from heaven to influence the course of
history. "9 And yet there is a tendency cons!der culture
exactly this way in Morell and Chal-anan s book. It IS
especially noticeable when they discuss the position of the
peasantry (Chapter 8). Here it is that the
ry has generally approximated the of
content, apathetic and respectful actor 10 Thm pohtlCS
(pp. 206,212-213). .. .
This view leads to rather sweep1Og, ahlstoncal state
9. Barrington Moore, Jr., Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy.
(Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1969), p. 486 .. 0/J.. cit. 51,.
also noted Moore's criticism of the culturalIst interpretations as
cally conservative, ahistorical and uncritical," adding that while such
comments are perhaps relevant to Thai studies, they "in general.
exaggerated, indeed often unfair." It should pointed. out that
Anderson's own studies of power and the state In IndoneSia rely on
culturalist explanations. See, for example, his "The Power .in
Javanese Culture" in Claire Holt (Ed.), Culture and Politics In IndoneSia.
(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1972), p. 63, where it is stated that:
Such apparently discrete aspects ofJavanese political thought and behavior
in the contemporary period as the rejection ofporliamentary democracy. the
characteristic traits ofDja/UJrta' s inter-ethnic and international politics. the
patterns ofadministrative organiZlJtion and internal bureaucratic relation
ships. the styles ofpost-independence leadership. the forms of corruption.
and the ambiguous political position of the urban intelligentsia can and
indeed should be seen as inextricably related to one another. and that the
link is precisely the continuing cultural hold of traditional concep
tions . ...
More recently, Anderson has reaffirmed this in
and the State in Modern Indonesia. Paper, Japanese Pobtlcal ASSOCI
ation Roundtable Conference on National Interest and PolItical Leader
ship, Tokyo, 29 March-l April 1982.
58
ments where, for example, it is suggested that it is only after
October 1973 that peasants became involved in the political
process (p. 213). This represents a peculiarly narrow in
terpretation of the political process and takes little account
of possible reasons for perceived passivity. Certainly, dll!
ing the period of the absolute monarchy, the peasantry dId
become involved in political activity. Documents from the
1890s show that poor peasants were indeed prepared to
petition their rulers and to complain about the actions of
corrupt and oppressive local authorities. Many of these
complaints revolved around disputes over landholdings,
when peasants were forced off their land by powerful
merchants and nobles. 10
If a wider view of the political process is taken it might
also be suggested that the high incidence of banditry in the
countryside represents, at least in part, a response to social
and political pressures, and the tensions between local and
central authorities. II
At the same time, there have been a number of rebel
lions in which peasants have risen up against the state.
These revolts have usually taken the form of millenarian
uprisings led by holy men (phu mi bun) who promise poor
peasants a bountiful future. The best-known of these re
volts occurred at the tum of the century in the North and
Northeast, and were heavily repressed by the authorities
who argued that these movements were led by evil people
who commanded foolish illiterates and bandits.12 That
events such as these influenced political events cannot be
doubted. For example, Holm argues that the decision to
extend the railway network into the North was hastened by
these rebellions. 13 Events such as these should not be con
sidered as mere historical artifacts, as a phu mi bun uprising
was suppressed in 1959 in Nakon Ratchasima. On this
occasion more than 120 people joined together to oppose
the authorities, and although the movement was short
lived, its suppression cost the lives of at least
people, with a further forty-five being arrested. Hlgh
ranking officials referred to such rebellions as being more
dangerous than communist ins,;",gency. 14 It is !o
conceive of these events as be10g other than political 10
nature.
Even if one was to accept that Thai peasants had been
"apolitical" or politically "passive," the explanation of
fered for this by Morell and Chai-anan seems, at best,
10. See Chatthip Nartsupha and Suthy Prasartset (Eds.), The Political
Economy ofSiam. 1851-1910. (Bangkok: The Social Science Association of
Thailand, 1976), pp. 331-332,338-345, and David Bruce Rural
Society and the Rice Economy in Thailand. 1880-1930. (Ph.D. ThesIS, Yale
University, 1975), pp. 119-135, for a discussion of disputes over land
holdings.
11. Johnston, op. cit . Chapt. 4, has examined this important aspect of
rural life.
12. Chatthip and Suthy (Eds.), op. cit . pp. 356-369. See also, Yoneo
Ishii, "A Note on Buddhistic Millenarian Revolts in Northeastern Siam,"
Journal of Southeast Asian Studies. 6, 2, 1975, pp. 121-126, John B.
Murdoch "The 1901-1902 'Holy Man's' Rebellion," Journal of the Siam
Society. 6i, 1, 1974, pp. 47-66, and Tej Bunnag, "Kabot phu mi bun isan
roo so. 121" (The phu mi bun rebellion in the Northeast, 1902),
Sangkhomsat parithat. (Social Science Review), 5, 1, 1967. pp. 78-86.
13. David Frederick Holm, The Role ofthe State Railways in Thai History.
1892-1932. (Ph.D. Thesis, Yale University, 1977),pp.I14-115.
14. Siam Rath Weekly Review. 4 June 1959, p. 11, 11 June 1959, p. 4. and 9
July 1959, p. 10.
partial. They suggest that:
. . . until recently the lack ofpopulation pressures, the basic
productivity of the soil and the overall environment, and a
homogeneous political culture based on respect and love for
a hereditary monarchy rendered political passivity a domin
ant characteristic throughout Thailand's rural areas
(p.206).
A more convincing explanation of political passivity may
be found in the state's ability to repress peasants. Under
the absolute monarchy the peasants were subject to corvee
labor or military service for up to six months ofthe year. It
has often been suggested that Thai forms of slavery were
not onerous, and yet many, many peasants attempted to
avoid service. IS Tattooing of commoners for service kept
them in their place, with the death penalty for any person
(together with their families) who falsified a tattoo. 16 Even
when conscription replaced the corvee and slavery, Thais
remained reluctant servants. 17
In more recent times the repression of the peasantry
(and working class) has also been common. At the village
level relations between the state and villagers has been
based on fear, exploitation and corruption. Additionally,
commercial relations have meant increased power for land
owners and merchants in their dealings with the peasantry.
Murders and intimidation -are not uncommon in the
countryside, and these tend to persuade the poor and pow
erless to leave politics to others. 18 These aspects of politics
should certainly have been considered by Morell and
Chai-anan. Similar questions could be raised concerning
their interpretation of the labor movement.
Of equal concern is the suggestion that the polity is
independent of the economy. Certainly, Morell and
Chai-anan's discussion of the relationship between busi
ness and politics adds little to that provided by Riggs in his
1966 study, Thailand: The Modernization of a Bureacratic
Polity. It is as if the economy and capitalist class had re
mained static for twenty years and more. This is clearly not
the case, as the capitalist class has developed considerably,
both economically and politically, over this period. 19 This
area requires far more serious analysis than that provided
by Morell and Chai-anan.
At times the perspective adopted by the authors of
Political Conflict in Thailand seems to lead them to some
naive political judgments. For example, the student move
15. Chatthip and Suthy (Eds.), op. cit., pp. 165-173.
16. B. J. Terwiel, "Tattooing in Thailand's History," Journal ofthe Royal
Asiatic Society ofGreat Britain andIreland, No.2, 1979, pp. 158-159.
17. Noel Alfred Battye, The Military, Government and Society in Siam,
/868- /9/0: Politics and Militay Reform During the Reign ofKing Chulalong
/corn, (Ph.D. Thesis, Cornell University, 1974), pp. 6-7.
18. Khamman Khonkhai's novel, The Teachers of Mad Dog Swamp, (St.
Lucia: University of Queensland Press, 1982) provides a vivid account of
village and district level politics. Also see Michel Bruneau, Land Owner
ship and Tenure, Relations ofProduction and Social Classes in the Rural Areas
ofNorthern Thailand, Paper, Thai-European Seminar on Social Change in
Contemporary Thailand, University of Amsterdam, 28-30 May 1980.
19. The best discussion of the capitalist class in Thailand is Krirkkiat
ment of the 1973-76 period is criticized for being "unwilling
to adopt a conscious policy designed to ally themselves with
the palace" (p. 175). An alliance between the students and
the palace would have been powerful, but could it have
ever been possible? Three factors, two of which are men
tioned by Morell and Chai-anan, suggest that it could not.
In the first place, the king's political interests were with
stability and law and order. According to the authors he
"neither requested nor received opinions from student re
form leaders," but rather trusted the advice of counselors
on the political right (p. 271). The king was disturbed,
indeed frightened, by communist victories in Indochina,
and was deeply disturbed by the vociferousness of open
politics in his own country. Second, the palace was and is
split between the conservative advisors associated with the
king and the more extreme rightists close to the queen. The
queen and the crown prince have clearly indicated where
their political loyalties lie, and have been actively involved
in political events (p. 272). Clearly, palace intrigue is not a
thing of the past, as the lobbying over royal succession is
already in full swing. And, the increasingly interventionist
nature of the royal family has become publicly clear during
political crises in April 1981 and March and April 1983.
Third, and this point is not emphasized by Morell and
Chai-anan, the royal family rank as one of the largest
business groups in Thailand, with interests in more than
fifty companies. Through these holdings they have links
with the most powerful capitalist groups in the country: the
Kanchanapat, Lamsam, Yip-In-Tsoi, Wangless, and Te
japaibul families.
20
Such a "palace" was hardly likely to
support radical or even reform-minded students. A class
based perspective would certainly have indicated the
paucity of such a naive view of the monarchy.
There are of course a number of other interpretations
presented by Morell and Chai-anan with which I would
disagree, where their political culture approach leads them
astray. Despite the fact that power and conflict have been
given a significant place in their analysis, economic
interests still remain very much on the margin of the cul
turalist analysis. The fact that there is still no adequate class
analysis ofThai politics and society leaves a very real gap in
the literature.
Could the culturalist interpretation be saved and re
surrected if its emphasis was shifted to take account ofclass
struggle, economics and power relationships? Morell and
Chai-anan have obviously moved in this direction, and it
would be possible to go further. I would question whether
an analysis which gives precedence to cultural and ideologi
cal aspects of society can ever provide more than a cultur
ally determinist perspective to ecohomics, power and class
struggle. I would not suggest that the analysis ofculture and
ideology is irrelevant, but I would emphasize that they
should be seen for what they are, as reflections, albeit poor
and partial, of the real base of society.
Despite its shortcomings however, Political Coriflict in
Thailand is an eminently readable and data-packed inter
pretation of a very important period in modem Thai politi
cal history. It is a valuable contribution, providing its
*
Phipatseritham, Wikhro laksana leon pen chaokhong thurakit khonat yai nai
theoretical biases are kept in mind.
prathet thai (The distribution of ownership in Thai big business),
(Bangkok: Faculty of Economics, Thammasat University, 1980). See also
Kevin J. Hewison, 'The Financial Bourgeoisie in Thailand,' Journal of
Contemporary Asia, 11,4, 1981, pp. 395-412. 20. From data presented in Krirkkiat, Opt cit.
59
Review Essay
~ I
SONS OF THE MOUNTAINS:
ETHNOHISTORY OF THE VIETNAMESE
CENTRAL IDGHLANDS TO 1954, by Gerald
A Quasi History of the Central Cannon Hickey. New Haven, Connecticut: Yale
University Press, 1982, xxi, 488 pp. $45.00.
Vietnamese Highlanders
by Robert Lawless
Illustrating what may be the most peculiar notion of
"ethnohistory" ever entertained by an anthropologist,
these two volumes are both frustrating and rewarding. The
reward comes in the systematic presentation of an enor
mous amount of information; the frustration festers from
several sources. One confusing aspect of the work that
leads to great frustration is the striking difference between
the two volumes; the first volume is an impersonal and
typically undigestible history of this-happened-here-and
that-happened-there, and the second volume is a highly
personal and even idiosyncratic report on the author in
Vietnam. Several other sources of frustration will soon
become evident.
At the outset Hickey says that a major thesis of his
study is "that for a long period of time the mountain people
have been developing a common ethnic identity. It has
been a process of sociocultural change due to a number of
interrelated economic, political, religious, and geographic
factors, all of which are reflected in the events of history"
(I:xvii). Neither the historical volume nor the personal
one, however, provide the broad anthropological sweep of
interrelated ecological, economic, and sociopolitical pat
terns that might give us any r ~ a l understanding of the
highland culture. Only a 15-page appendix comes close to
furnishing the ethnographic information we need. Since
the author is an anthropologist, it is surprising that the
work is so ethnographically deficient.
Hickey does, I believe, have a notion of the thematic
thrust of his work. He sees the creation of a common
highland ethnic identity as a response to the surrounding
lowland political struggles. This response is expressed in
the aspirations of the developing highland elite. One
reason why this theme is only asserted but not demon
strated is that although Hickey has a notion he has no
theoretical framework. Such a deficiency is again
surprising-and again frustrating-in a work by an an
thropologist since the social science literature contains so
much that could be so helpful in giving this somewhat
flabby study some real muscle tone. In the second volume,
on pages 48 and 49, Hickey does mention in passing some
FREE IN THE FOREST: ETHNOIDSTORY
OF THE VIETNAMESE CENTRAL IDGH
LANDS, 1954-1976, by Gerald Cannon Hickey.
New Haven, Connecticut: Yale University Press,
1982, xx, 350 pp. $30.00.
-
of the suggested terms of anthropologists Clifford Geertz
and Fredrik Barth. And on pages 50-55 he throws in some
of the sociological banalities of Herbert Blumer.! He does
not, however, begin to tap the available treasure of
theories.
In Sons of the Mountains, the first volume, Hickey be
gins with a survey of the traditional features of each of the
ethnic groups in the Vietnamese Central Highlands. The
first recorded mention of the highlanders is written in
Sanskrit and dates from 845 A.D. Hickey does not contri
bute to the archaeological record, but he does apparently
accept the notion of cultural development indigenous to
Southeast Asia rather than the tired view of the classicists
that everything came from China and India (1:49-53).
We rarely meet the highlanders in the first half of this
first volume as Hickey makes us review a seemingly endless
parade of Cham, Khmer, and Vietnamese events, rulers,
and wars. Exactly how all this passes as ethnohistory is not
entirely clear, though Hickey does seem to be trying to
establish a pattern in which the highlanders are caught in an
international tangle beyond their control. Hickey points
out that during the southward movement of the Viet
namese and the subsequent westward movement the Viet
namese never established hegemony over the highland
areas prior to the 20th century (1:144-153). He also points
out that "the Vietnamese had [always] been imbued with a
pejorative attitude toward the ethnic groups in the moun
tains" (I: 154).
The second half of the first volume begins with the
arrival of the French. France took over the administration
of Vietnam in 1897, but French explorations of the high
lands had been going on for at least two decades before
1. The references that Hickey cites are Clifford Geertz, "The Integrative
Revolution: Primordial Sentiments and Civil Politics in the New States,"
in Clifford Geertz, ed., Old Societies and New States (New York: Free
Press), Fredrik Barth's introduction in his edited Ethnic Groups and Boun
daries (Boston: Little, Brown), and Herbert Blumer, "Collective Be
havior," in Alfred McClung Lee, ed., Principles of Sociology (New York:
Barnes and Noble).
60
that. Around the tum of the century the French began to
take action against the resistance that the highlanders were
putting up. In 1929 the first American missionaries arrived.
By 1930 the French presence in the highlands seemed per
manent, but it was to be shaken by indigenous reaction,
including the revitalization effort known as the Phython
God movement (1:343-358), and then ripped asunder by
the Japanese expansion into Southeast Asia.
All of this history is from the Western viewpoint and
from Western sources, and it is difficult to see how it
qualifies as ethnohistory. We get very little feeling for what
these events meant to the highlanders themselves. Hickey
does introduce some early highland leaders who formed
the core of the upcoming elite, and the appendixes of both
volumes have interesting kinship charts showing the inter
relationships of these leaders, but we are left at such a
distance from these men that we have little to empathize
with. It is evident that what was happening was the begin
nings of the notion of a collective identity among the high
landers as they were thrown together in road gangs, in
administrative positions, and in missionary schools.
In August 1945, the Japanese opened the political
prisons in the highlands, and many of the Viet Minh de
tainees apparently stayed in the immediate area involving
highlanders for the first time in a modem nationalist move
ment. In the ensuing struggle between the French and the
Viet Minh, most highlanders, found themselves to be un
witting victims. According to Hickey, highland leadership,
nonetheless, underwent significant advancements during
the war: "the French decide to improve secondary-level
education and there was an increase in marriages among
elite families both within and among ethnic groups"
(II:xvi). But neither increased involvement in their own
destiny by the French nor promises of autonomy by the
Viet Minh were forthcoming.
When French rule came to an end in 1954 and Vietnam
was divided at the 17th parallel, the central highlands be
came part of the territory of South Vietnam, and from 1954
to 1976 Hickey's story of the highlanders focuses on South
Vietnamese and American impingements in the Viet
namese Central Highlands. Foreshadowing the traditional
ignorance that would be such a significant part of how all
Vietnamese governments dealt with the highlanders after
the French were expelled in 1954, the so-called Social and
Economic Council for the Southern Highlander Country
produced in 1952 a plan for the highlands. Building on
historicallowlander prejudices and misconceptions,
this plan first described the 500,000 highlanders as suffering
famine and ill health because they clung to "agricultural
methods dating from the early history ofman. " It also noted
that there were 30,000 Vietnamese from the overcrowded
coastal areas installed in the highlands and described them
as pioneers in opening the gatesfor economic development of
the upland areas. The plan envisaged two major goals. One
was to "struggle against the depopulation" ofthe region by
transforming the highlanders from people "who depend on
the forest" for their livelihood to people living in "fixed
stable communities" by introducing among them modern
agriculture and animal husbandry. The other goal was to
open the highlands to Vietnamese migration from the over
populated coastal provinces (1:411-412).
The second volume "traces the ethnohistory of the
central highlands and its people from 1954 (following the
Geneva Agreements) to 1976 (the formation of the
Socialist Republic of Vietnam)" (II:xiv). And an "After
word" brings us up to January 1981. This second volume
might more appropriately be titled "Hickey in the High
lands." We are treated to detailed accounts of numerous
trips that Hickey made into the highlands, his meetings
with indigenous leaders, his usually ignored memos to
Vietnamese and American officials, elaborate accounts of
missionaries, CIA, AID, and SIL2 people in the highlands,
and his strange presentation ofthe Vietnam War.
Again, this second volume is both frustrating and re
warding. Hickey's sketching of the personalities of some of
the highlander leaders approaches one dimension of what I
had hoped for in an ethnohistory, his use of unpublished
and primary sources is a welcomed relief after the tedium of
the first volume, and his eyewitness reports are usually
colorful and often informative. There is no other source for
much of this information. The problem is, again, that
Hickey does not seem to put anything into any understand
able framework or to draw any real conclusions. He ends
both the regular part of the book and the "Afterword" on a
note of fantasy about the mountains and forests always
providing the highlanders with freedom. Hickey does seem
dedicated to defending the cultural integrity of the high
landers, but his apparent notions that this could have been
accomplished, or even helped along a bit, by simply in
terpreting their cause to the Vietnamese and Americans in
the midst of a voracious war was-at least in hindsight
rather naive. This sort of fantasy exists right alongside
detailed reports on the exclusively military aims of the
Americans and the announced bigotry of the Vietnamese. I
suspect that readers will tend to become frustrated with
Hickey personally as well as with the pecularities of his
work.
Hickey makes it clear that by the end of the French
administration a definite highlander ethnic identity had
emerged among the better-educated leaders. This identity
developed into straightforward ethno-nationalism with the
Bajaraka movement of the late 1950s and the FULRO
movement in the 1960s.
3
By 1970 the highlanders were well on their way to becoming
a people. As that decade unfolded, however, the war
worsened and became wanton, leaving no part ofthe moun
tain country untouched. It became painfully clear to the
highland leaders that the very existence oftheir people was
2. SIL refers to the Summer Institute of Linguistics, a group of funda
mentalist Christian Missionaries and Bible translators.
3. The Bajaraka movement appeared around 1958, largely as a response
to the Diem government's attempts to Vietnamize the highlanders. The
name itself is an acronym made from the key letters of the major ethnic
groups of the central highlands. The Diem regime fairly well broke the
back of the B jaraka movement and jailed many of its leaders. With the fall
of Diem in 1963 and the accompanying release of many highland leaders
several new ethnonationalist organizations appeared. Perhaps the most
militant of these was FULRO (Front Unitil! de Lutte des Races
Opprimees). Best known to Americans for its September 1964 revolt in
the United States Special Forces camps in the central highlands,
FULRO-or at least FULRO-developed leaders-seem to be still active
in the central highlands to this day.
61
being threatened. At this point, the spirit ofsurvival eclipses
the spiritofethnonationalism (1I:291).
Much of the wanton destruction of the war fell on the
highlanders through collaboration between the Viet
namese and the Americans. Hickey writes, "It is interest
ing and perhaps significant that the first American bomb
ings authorized by the South Vietnamese government were
in areas inhabited by highlanders .... As a matter of fact,
throughout the Vietnam War, American advisors pointed
out that in the highlands approval of the {Jrovince chiefs
was readily given for bombing of highland villages but
rarely for assaults 0:1 Vietnamese villages" (II: 114). Hickey
also peripherally reports that the American military establish
ment blocked every Vietnamese effort to form a coalition
government to avoid an expansion of the war (II:93).
Despite Hickey'S stated interest in supplying the his
torical context for highland events there is, nevertheless,
nothing to indicate why the missionaries, CIA, AID, and
SIL people were in the highlands in the first place and why
there was a war going on, though Hickey does give an
enormous amount of personal information on these flag
followers-almost none of it having anything to do with an
ethnohistory of the highlanders. He relates, for example,
the story of the difficulties of three Americans captured
during the Tet offensive, though their story has nothing to
do with the highlanders (II: 184-185).
Part ofthis imbalance seems related to Hickey's biased
reporting, which emphasizes the barbarism of the "Com
munists." "The Communists savagely attack" while the
good guys "attempt to clear the Communist troops out. "
Most everyone seems to have been "killed in a Communist
ambush," while it is difficult to find any mention of the
Americans killing anyone at all! This, in spite of the fact
that Hickey reports that "by 1973 the existing ethno
linguistic maps were rendered invalid. An estimated
200,000 highlanders died during the Vietnam War, and an
estimated 85 percent of the villagers were forced, one way
or another, to flee as refugees" (II:290).
Hickey's report on the highlanders since 1976 with the
reunification of north and south as the Socialist Republic of
Vietnam makes it clear "that the oft-promised autonomy
for the central highlands, that had been so much to the
heart of Communist propaganda, was not going to be
granted" (II:285). The Communist program sadly follows
the same bigotry and ignorance of all previous Vietnamese
governments in attempting to settle the "tribal nomads"
into "permanent communities" and in moving massive
numbers of lowlanders into "new populous areas" and
"economic zones" in the highlands. The highlanders are
apparently carrying on their resistance through a revival of
the FULRO movement.
These two volumes are invaluable for anyone with any
interest in the Vietnamese Central Highlands. The second
volume in particular contains an enormous amount of in
formation that is not available anywhere else at all. Be
forewarned, however, of the many frustrations involved in
* culling out the quite significant rewards in this work.
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62
Review Essay
The Origins of the Vietnamese Revolution:
Taking the Long View
by Cedric Sampson
Americans knew little about Vietnam when they as
sumed command ofthe Indochina War in 1954. There were
no American scholars who devoted their careers to its
study, and, with the exception of Virginia Thompson's
French Indochina
1
and a few other works, there was no
American body of work on the subject. And so, to better
understand the political and social forces confronting
them, Americans took possession of the entire French
work on Vietnam as part of their legacy ofwar. Thus, as the
first American scholars began to study the Vietnamese
revolution, they built on the foundation laid by decades of
French scholarly effort.
In seeking the origins of the revolution, the first ques
tion was simply, when did it begin? This is not as easy a
question as one might imagine, since the dating of the
origins of the revolution has political significance, as novel
ist Michael Herr saw in reference to the American war:
You couldn't find two people who agree when [the war]
began . ... Mission intellectuals like 1954 as the reference
date; if you saw as far back as War II and the Japanese
occupation you were practically a historical visionary.
"Realists" said that it began for us in 1961, and the common
run of Missionjlack insisted on 1965, post-Tonkin Resolu
tion, as though all the killing that had gone before wasn't
really war. 2
Ifthere was popular confusion about when it all began,
there was also disagreement among American scholars. On
the basic questions ofcausation and dating French scholars
had passed on two distinct schools of thought. The first
dated the revolution from the Japanese occupation of Viet
nam during WWII, or more precisely, from the Japanese
coup de force of March 9, 1945, in which the French
authorities who had been governing Indochina were re
1. Virginia Thompson, French Indo-China (New York, 1937).
2. Michael Herr, Dispatches (New York, 1977).
VIETNAMESE TRADmON ON TRIAL, 1920
1945, by David G. Marr. Berkeley, Los Angeles
and London: University ofCalifornia Press, 1981,
468pp.
VIETNAMESE COMMUNISM, 1925-1945, by
Huynh Kim Khanh. Ithaca and London: CorneD
University Press, 1982, 379 pp.
moved from their posts and jailed by the Japanese Army of
occupation. The coup, by this interpretation, is the first of a
series of events which eventually led to the ouster of the
French. When the Japanese surrendered five months later
on August 14, all parties were freed, including the French,
to struggle for power in Vietnam. Out of the tumult the
Viet Minh emerged on September 2 to declare the inde
pendence of Vietnam and the foundation of the Demo
cratic Republic of Vietnam. These latter events, from the
Japanese surrender to the Declaration of Independence,
are collectively known as the August Revolution.
The originator and academic mainstay of this first
interpretation was PaulMus, a French scholar whose cre
dentials included twenty years experience in Vietnam, a
prestigious appointment in the Ecole Franl;aise d'Extreme
Orient, and close familiarity with the events of 1945. Mus
believed that the March 9 coup produced a profound meta
morphosis in the collective psychology of the Vietnamese
people. His reports to the French government, his scho
larly works and the books of his students all the
coup as the single event which catalyzed Vietnamese patri
otism in the whole country.
The essence of the problem [of post World War II
Franco- Vietnamese hostilities] resides in the contrast, dis
concerting for us, between the attitude adopted by the people
at the time ofthe coup de force and their violent reactions a
few months later:.
3
Since Mus possessed an international reputation as a
scholar his observations carried great weight. This particu
lar conclusion, however, was based on what can only be
called limited personal observations. In a widely-quoted
anecdote Mus has described how, as an agent of De Gaul
le's Free French forces, he was forced to flee Hanoi on
March 10, 1945, without arms, maps or provisions. Yet he
3. Paul Mus, Le Viet-Nam chez lui (Paris, 1946) p. 10.
63
and his companion were not captured by the Japanese
because the Vietnamese people fed, lodged and guided
them. In contrast to his own pleasant experience with the
peasants, Mus cited the harsh treatment given to several
French missions shortly after the collapse of Japan five
months later. This was a period, Mus wrote, when numer
ous Frenchmen arrived at Vietnamese villages, where, "far
from finding welcome, they were beaten and put to
death."4
Although he admitted that the two peoples, French
and Vietnamese, lived as separate groups, Mus saw no
"declared hostility" between them prior to March 9, 1945.
If there had been a justified and general hatred, he argued,
it would have broken out on March 9th. The Chinese and
British occupation of Vietnam was "disastrous" for the
French because ofthe bad image it presented ofFrance and
the impression it created in the minds of the Vietnamese
people. Instead of a liberation there was an awakening for
the Vietnamese, an awakening of curiosity, an "awakening
of a whole new order of projects and possibilities. It was, in
any case, by no means based on a hatred of us. "S
Frances FitzGerald, a student of Mus, carried his
statements to the extreme when she wrote, with character
istic flair, of Mus' epiphany.
In escaping out of Hanoi at that moment in history, Paul
Mus, a Free French agent and scholar of Asian religions,
had seen its effect on the villages: the day before the coup the
French were the respected masters of the country, the day
after it they were the uninvited guests with the worst of
reputations. Later Mus realized that he had witnessed one of
those strange shifts in Vietnamese life where the resentment,
so long repressed, turns suddenly to revolt.
6
The other French school of thought took the long view
of the Vietnamese revolution. In several articles and books
on the Vietnamese national movement published in 1955,
Jean Chesneaux traced the origins of the movement back to
the earliest days of French rule in 1862, and followed it
through successive stages of development to the founding
of the Viet Minh. "The ultimate success of the Viet-Minh
may be considered as the product of a national movement
which had developed over eighty years."7 Other French
authors who took the long view of the Vietnamese revolu
tion included Philippe Devillers, who gave the colonial
regime much of the credit for its own demise. On the eve of
the Japanese invasion, he argued, the poverty of the
people, the lack of basic freedoms, the repression of dissi
dents and the debasing of Vietnamese forms of polity had
4. Ibid .. pp. 10-13; and Viet-Nam: Sociologie d'une guerre (Paris, 1952) p.
222.
5. Mus, Le Viet-nam chez lui, pp. 22-26 and 39. Mus refined this thesis in
Viet-Nam: Sacialagie d'une guerre, where he argued that the people could
change so quickly vis-a-vis the ruling group because peasants believed in
the notion of a "Mandate of Heaven" held by a virtuous regime. When the
Japanese swept away the French regime it was obvious to the masses that
they had lost the mandate, and was therefore unworthy of further support.
6. Frances Fitzgerald, Fire in the Lake (Boston 1972) p. 63. Another
important source influenced by Mus'line of argument is Ellen J. Hammer,
The Struggleforlndochina (Stanford, Ca., 1954) pp. 6, 8-11, and 40-41.
7. Jean Chesneaux, "Stages in the Development of the Vietnam National
Movement, 1862-1940," Past and Present 7 (April, 1955) p. 73. and Con
tribution al' histoire de La nation vietnamienne (Paris, 1955).
turned the government of the colony into a "fragile edifice"
with no base of popular support.
8
Mus' influence on American scholarship, which came
by way of his well-known books and an adjunct professor
ship at Yale, was powerful. His interpretation of the Viet
namese revolution dominated American studies until it
began to be challenged by the new generation of scholars
who came to Vietnamese studies through their experience
of the war. When the first fully trained Vietnam specialists
began to emerge from American universities in the late
1960s and early 1970s they began a long but steady shift
away from the Mus interpretation.
John T. McAlister, Jr., a student of Mus at Yale,
published his Viet Nam: The Origins of Revolution
9
at the
height of the American phase of the war. For Mus the most
striking evidence of the revolutionary change which had
occurred during the Japanese occupation was to be found
in the figures on French troop levels in Vietnam-three
times as many French combatants were needed in the 1950s
as were needed to defend, administer, and instruct the
whole Indochinese Union prior to the war.IO McAlister
made the same point with more exact numbers. Prior to
1940, he wrote, a colonial force consisting of only 10,779
regular French troops, 16,218 men of the indigenous mili
tia, and 507 French police agents kept order among the
19,000,000 Vietnamese. In June 1946, less than a year after
the war ended, the French had about 33,000 officers and
men in Southern Indochina plus 6,000 Vietnamese, but
could not restore the pre-war order.
Why 39,000 men could not do the job that 27,000 had done
with ease in twice the area before the war is explained only by
the transformation that Vietnamese politics underwent dur
ing the Japanese occupation. I I
McAlister placed less emphasis on the coup de force of
March 9, 1945, and the Japanese interregnum than did his
mentor, recognizing that "fundamental changes in the
structure of politics, which are the essence of revolution,
have occurred in Viet Nam over the last four decades," that
is, since the late 1920s.12 However, since he believed that
World War II had so greatly expanded the potential of the
Vietnamese revolution, McAlister gave little attention to
the pre-war years, focusing his search for its origins on the
Japanese occupation, the events of August 1945, and the
joint Chinese and British occupations after the war.
Commendably, McAlister's intent was to demonstrate
that the American war was an extension of the French war
against the ongoing Vietnamese revolution, and not, as the
U.S. government would have it, a warofforeign aggression
on the South. However, when one searches for the origins
of the Vietnamese revolution, one must go to the begin
ning, and 1945 was not the beginning. 13
8. Philippe DeviIlers, Histoire du Vier-Nam, 1940 a1952 (Paris, 1952).
9. John T. McAlister, Jr., Viet Nam: The Origins ofRevolution (New York,
1969).
10. Mus, Sociologie, p. 40.
11. McAlister, Viet Nam, pp. 50 and 218.
12. Ibid., p. 12.
13. For a sharply critical review of certain other assumptions in
McAlister's book see Christine White, "McAlister's Vietnam," Bulletin of
Concerned Asian Scholars Vol. 2, No.3 (April-July, 1970) pp. 96-103.
64
As other scholars of this generation began completing
their studies of the Vietnamese revolution it became clear
that the search for the roots of the revolution had carried
them beyond the August Revolution into the early colonial
and pre-WWII years, and that they had accepted the long
view of the Vietnamese national struggle. Equally as im
portant, the Vietnamese people were placed at the center
of their studies. Although some authors contined to explain
the success of the Communists in Vietnam with emphasis
on the role of the Comintern, Leninist organizational
theory and techniques, and other outside influences, the
more specialized studies came to be focused on the interior
forces of revolution.
The two most recent efforts to explain the origins of
the Vietnamese revolution, David Marr's Vietnamese Tradi
tion on Trial, /920-/945 and Huynh Kim Khanh's Viet
namese Communism, /925-/945, are thus state-of-the art
work in the field of Vietnamese studies. Both treat the
period from 1920 to 1945, placing the August Revolution at
the end, rather than the beginning of their studies. Both
authors have a complete command of Vietnamese sources
and some sympathy for the Vietnamese revolution, so the
analyses are not tainted by ethnocentric myopia or Cold
War hostility to social revolution.
David Marr begins his book with the same striking
contrast noted by Mus and McAllister. How is it, he asks,
that in 1938 a mere 27,000 colonial troops could control
eighteen million Vietnamese, and yet 450,000 troops trying
to accomplish the same objective met defeat in 1954, and
1.2 million suffered the same fate in 1975? Marr lists the
answers given by others -the strength of primordial na
tionalism, the fury of an oppressed people, communist
organizing techniques, the use of modem technology, in
ternational support, Western ignorance of Vietnam, and
the impact of the mass media on the home countries-but
he finds them unsatisfactory. None ofthese answers should
be ignored, he states, yet none adequately explains how,
"in a matter of a few years, hundreds of thousands of
Vietnamese changed from seemingly docile French sub
jects to experienced political cadres, pith-helmeted sol
diers" and other anticolonial activists. (p. 1)
Marr's answer is that revolutionary developments in
modern Vietnamese history "must be understood within
the context of fundamental changes in political and social
consciousness among a significant segment of the Viet
namese populace in the period 1920-45." (p. 2) To back up
this thesis, Marr puts to use an enormous erudition in
Vietnamese source materials, primarily in the vast collec
tion of published quae ngu materials in the Bibliotheque
Nationale in Paris. In a series of discrete chapters on
morals, ethnics, feminism, and history, to name a few,
Marr traces the dominant intellectual themes of the period.
This was the time when Kantian idealism, Utilitarianism,
Darwinism and Marxism began to be discussed in Viet
namese intellectual circles, and Marr leads us expertly
through the discussions. In the end, he has fashioned an
intellectual history of the Vietnamese intelligentsia.
What, then, does this tell us about the Vietnamese
revolution? In Marr's view the intelligentsia was an im
portant factor in the revolution-they joined the Viet
Minh by the thousands in 1944-45, and their skills as writ
ers, speakers, teachers and administrators "proved ex
tremely valuable, perhaps essential." (p. 12) In effect,
Marr gives to intellectuals an importance they have not
been accorded before. Their importance was not so much
as leaders, although Marr points out that all ranking ICP
leaders of the early 1940s had been members of the new
intelligentsia, with the exception of Ho Chi Minh. What
mattered was the intellectual atmosphere the intelligentsia
created during the 1930s, without which the revolutionary
process would not have been able to work itself out.
"Neither good fortune nor wise leadership would have
counted for much ... without the ideological transforma
tions that preceded the formation of the Viet Minh and
helped the ICP to take the historical initiative." (p. 416)
In his conclusion Marr sums up these historically sig
nificant intellectual changes as follows. First, during the
prewar years members of the intelligentsia rejected "the
mood of bewilderment and pessimism which had character
ized their elders," opting instead for a spirit of optimism
and cultural pride. Secondly, intellectuals moved from a
naive acceptance of all things Western to a more critical
process of investigation and selective acculturation. Finally,
the intelligentsia influenced the peasantry toward revolu
tionary consciousness.
Intelligentsia concepts of struggle and progress reached
Vietnamese villagers in the /930s, leading some to look at
current conditions in a very different light. The fact that the
colonial economy was in turmoil and rural society severely
disrupted facilitated this process. When Vietnamese intel
lectuals and peasants came together in /945 to uphold na
tional independence and create a new society, there re
mained significant areas ofmisunderstanding and disagree
ment. Yet, there was sufficient consensus to mobilize millions
to defeat the French. (p. 4/6)
Although the above statement suggests the contrary,
Marr does not directly address the question of the role of
ideology in the revolution. In fact, he acknowledges in the
Preface that one question not answered by his book is the
extent to which elite concepts reach and motivate the Viet
namese peasantry, and promises to address the issue in his
next book, which will deal with Vietnamese peasant at
titudes, Viet Minh mass mobilization campaigns, and the
practice of people's war after 1945. (p. ix)
The implication, however, is that struggle was a con
cept that went from intellectual to peasant. Since intel
lectuals are only important to the revolution if their ideas
were part of the mass mobilization process, the point is a
rather important one to be left unsubstantiated. Intellec
tuals and their ideas are clearly worthy of a book, but until
their ideas are shown to have motivated the people, Marr's
claims for the intelligentsia'S importance in the revolution
are not proved.
The assumption that the political consciousness of
workers and peasants derived from the ideas of intellec
tuals is just that, an assumption. Exactly the opposite may
be true. It would be possible to argue that intellectuals did
not begin to think about struggle until their consciousness
on the subject was raised by peasant and worker action.
Villagers learned something about struggle from the objec
tive conditions of colonial life. A total of7,494 Vietnamese
were brought before Tribunals in Annam and cochinchina
for their revolutionary activity in the 1929 to 1931 uprisings.
65
A statistical breakdown of this number shows the following: with Vietnamese patriotic traditions, and a Communist
movement affiliated with, and deeply affected by develop
Degree of Education
ments in the international communist movement." Thus
Unlettered 6,162
Primary Certificate 433
Higher degree than above 51
Literate in characters 848
Total 7,494
Profession
Teachers 124
Civil Servants 132
Engaged in commerce 32
Workers 902
Farmers 5,341
Unemployed 973
Total 7,494
14
The figures show that 96 percent of those arrested in
demonstrations or in the Surete purges of illegal organiza
tions were workers, farmers or the unemployed, and that
82 percent could not read the works of the intelligentsia in
any language. When one reflects that those arrested were
the leaders and most active elements, the role of peasants
and workers is emphasized even more. If one further be
lieves that the ICP was pulled into the violence of those
years with some reluctance,15 and that the urban intel
ligentsia was frightened by the violence into tacit accept
ance of the French, then one can only ask, "Who was
leading whom?" Indeed, Marr's own evidence at times
shows the intellectuals struggling to keep up with the activ
ity of workers and peasants, not the other way around. 16
If Marr has done intellectual history, Huynh Kim
Khanh's Vietnamese Communism, 1925-1945 is political his
tory. In writing the story of the Vietnamese Communist
movement from its formation in 1925 until its "half
planned, half-accidental" victory in 1945, Khanh's aim is
twofold: first, to describe the Indochinese Communist
Party in detail, and second, to assess the reasons for Com
munism's success in 1945. (p. 7) The central difficulty in
understanding the nature of Vietnamese Communism,
Khanh states, is its "Janus face," its internal fusion of "two
separate movements: an antiimperialist movement integral
14. "Associations Antifran<;aises et la Propagande Communiste en In
dochine (Les faits du mois de juillet et la joumee du ler aout 1931)."
Archives Nationales, Section Outre-Mer, SLOTFOM, III 49.
15. Cedric Sampson, "Nationalism and Communism in Viet Nam, 1925
1931" (PhD dissertation, UCLA, 1975), Chapt. IX. For another point of
view on the issue of leadership see Ngo Vinh Long, "The Indochinese
Communist Party and Peasant Rebellion in Central Vietnam, 1930
1931," Bulletin a/Concerned Asian Scholars Vol. 10, No.3 (Oct.-Dec.,
1978) pp. 15-35. Long sees overwhelming evidence at national coordina
tion by the ICP, but since most of the efforts at coordination occurred after
the rising had begun, it does not seem to contradict the point made above.
16. Early on Marr states that members ofthe intelligentsia joined the Viet
Minh by the thousands in 1944-45, and that their skills "proved extremely
valuable, perhaps essential," (p. 12). On the other hand, most intellectu
als did not become involved with the Viet Minh until the Summer of 1945,
and so played no roll in early operational critiques. Rather, they had
stepped back from politics in the 1940-44 period to see which way the wind
would blow (p. 279, my choice of words).
Khanh views the history of Vietnamese Communism as a
"graft" between two elements, one indigenous (Viet
namese patriotism) and one imported (Marxist-Leninist
proletarian internationalism). (p. 20)
Khanh's chapters on the growth and development of
the ICP are detailed and authoritative in their command of
source materials; they teach us what there is to know about
the Party. He follows the ups and downs of the organiza
tion-its leadership, ideology and tactics-and then gives
his own answer to the ever-present question as to why the
ICP was successful.
There are, he states, two explanations which are usu
ally given for the success of the Communists. The first, put
forward by detractors, sees the success of the Viet Minh as
the result of fortuitous circumstances. The second explana
tion, put forward by Vietnam's historians, views the Com
munist success as the result of the correct revolutionary line
followed by the ICP leadership, that is, the long-term re
volutionary preparation involving propaganda and organi
zational work.
Khanh finds each of these two explanations inade
quate by itself. Chance alone explains little, he argues,
since the favorable circumstances of August 1945 were
available to all parties. And although the Viet Minh un
doubtedly possessed revolutionary skills, those skills would
have been useless without the revolutionary environment.
"Specifically, if the Japanese army in Indochina had not
destroyed French colonial power, it is doubtful whether
revolutionary skills would have brought the ICP close to
any of its desired objectives." (p. 335)
For Khanh, historical fortuity and revolutionary abil
ity played equally important roles in the success of Com
munism in Vietnam, although both elements came into
being prior to August 1945. "More than any other single
event, the Japanese coup served as the catalyst and con
tributed decisively to the success of the August Revolu
tion." It not only eliminated the French regime, it "awak
ened patriotism and a sense of social concern among urban
Vietnamese, who were soon to swell revolutionary ranks. "
(p.335)
Whereas Marr argues that neither good luck or good
leadership would have counted for much without the ideo
logical transformations which had taken place in the pre
Viet Minh period (p. 416), Khanh's position is closer to that
of Mus, who stressed the coup and its "awakening" of
Vietnamese patriotism. Although both authors accept as
partial explanation the argument made by Vietnamese
Communist leaders that the success of the revolution must
be credited to correct strategy and tactics, neither author
makes a good case for it before ruling it out.
A good case can be made for the role of Communist
strategy in the success of the revolution. The two works by
Marr and Khanh focus most of their attention on elite
groups; for Marr it is the intelligentsia, for Khanh it is a
political party, the ICP. DRV historians also look at the
radical intelligentsia and the Party, but with the intent of
demonstrating how they moved the masses to action. Since
the key to understanding the movement of history in mod
ern times is the recognition that elites are dependent on
66
mass mobilization for their success, there is some justifica
tion for the latter approach.
Nguyen Khac Vien's review of the Mus/Fitzgerald
analysis ofthe revolution, published in the Bulletin a decade
ago,17 was critical of their failure to recognize the years of
effort expanded by the Vietnamese people in the pre-1945
years. Vien, a well-known scholar and editor of Vietnamese
Studies, described the long preparation for the August Re
volution, the years of meetings and demonstrations, the
patient development of mass organizations, the guerrilla
actions and attacks on Japanese-held stores of rice. The
August Revolution and the DRV, he argued, were the
outcome of a long march by millions of Vietnamese, not of
a radically transformed Vietnames.e psychology. "[A]ll
that concrete history had led the people as a whole to
accomplish-and not merely to accept-the August Re
volution." This success came because Ho Chi Minh had
discovered a new "way" for the national movement.
[This "way" J continued the national tradition ofundaunted
struggle for the defense of independence while opening up
entirely new prospects by integrating the Vietnamese na
tional movement into a historical evolution and a revolu
tionary movement on a world scale. 18
Does this mean that Ho discovered the way to "graft"
the patriotic struggle with the Communist movement? No,
because the above statement is based on a different under
standing of the relationship between patriotism, national
ism and Communism. Both Khanh and Marr make sharp
distinctions between patriotism and nationalism, and be
tween nationalism and Communism. They treat them as
hardened categories, while the leaders of the ICP, the Viet
Minh and the DRV have always treated them fluidly, as
way stations to progressive enlightenment.
Political theorists in both Western and Marxist tradi
tions have recognized that there is a clearly defined process
involved in social mobilization. Patriotism, nationalism
and Communism begin as subjective ideas in the minds of
individuals, and are manifested on a collective level as
aggregate social attitudes. An individual can be a patriot at
one point, a nationalist at another, and a Communist at a
third, as can the society of which they are a part. American
social communication theorists have described the first step
in the progression, that from primordial sentiments (loy
alty to the family, village or ethnic group), to nationalism
(loyalty to a nation), a process they call national
integration. 19
Likewise, Marx recognized the galvanizing process of
17. Nguyen Khac Vien, "Myths and Realities," Bulletin of Concerned
Asian Scholars, Vol. 5, No.4 (December, 1973) pp. 56-63.
18. Ibid. p. 60.
19. Karl W. Deutsch, Nationalism and Social Communication: An Inquiry
into the Foundations ofNationality (New York and London, 1953). Clifford
Oeera (ed.), Old Societies and New States: the Questfor Modemity in Asia
and Africa (New York, 1963) pp. 107-121. John T. McAlister, Jr., South
east Asia: The Politics ofNational Integration (New York, 1973) p. 6. One
prominent Vietnamese specialist who uses a social communication
approach, although without reference to the theory, is Alexander B.
Woodside, Community and Revolution in Modem Vietnam (Boston, 1976).
Woodside describes modern Vietnamese history in terms of the search for
more effective "organized communities" (doan the) pp. 5,26 and passim.
political consciousness raising when he wrote of a class
being "for itself. " By this he meant that a class existed only
when it recognized itself to be a class, with its own class
interests. He also believed that a class had to go through a
nationalist phase, becoming first a "national class. "20 How
ever, Marx called for an expansion of political conscious
ness beyond nationalism, in which loyalty to the nation is
overridden by loyalty to one's class on a worldwide basis,
arriving at a sentiment called proletarian internationalism.
Thus, when Vietnam's historians say that the Party
followed the correct revolutionary line, they do not merely
mean that Communist ideology motivated the people, or
that the Party used the right slogans, but that Communist
ideology correctly addressed the problem of how to moti
vate the people. That meant the proper use of the village
issues for those whose consciousness was at that level, and
proper use of the national and colonial issue for those who
were at that level, all the while moving the people through
the progression of political enlightenment.
21
This is what
Vien means when he writes of Ho's "integrating the na
tional movement into a historical evolution and a revolu
tionary movement on a world scale."
In describing his own intellectual progress Ho Chi
Minh stated that he was a patriot first, and that it was his
patriotism which led him to Communism. Under Ho the
ICP attempted to lead the people through the same pro
gression. In short, the intellectual progress of the peasants
and workers mattered more in the pre-1945 period than the
intellectual progress of the intelligentsia. The ICP recog
nized this fact-Vietnamese royalists and nationalists,
French colonialists and Americans did not (despite talk of
winning the hearts and minds of the people). The results of
the struggle were predictable.
If one takes the long view, which holds that the re
volutionary consciousness of the people was high long be
fore the Japanese coup, then the question posed by Mus,
McAlister and Marr must be answered. That is, how does
one account for the striking change in French troop levels
before and after the war?22 Something changed during the
war, and if it was not the awakening of the people, then
what was it? This question is part of the larger issue of the
role of the Japanese occupation in the nationalist move
ment, which has been treated in other works by the two
authors under review, as well as by others.
23
Although a
20. In the words of the Communist Manifesto, "since the proletariat must
first of all acquire political supremacy, must rise to be the leading class of
the nation, it is, so far, itself national." David McLellan, The Thought of
Karl Marx: An Introduction (New York, 1971) p. 156.
21. Alexander Woodside makes the point as follows: "Ironically, [Com
munist organizers] appear to have perceived more profoundly than any
other Vietnamese revolutionaries the rather simple sociological truth that
a large movement could derive cohesion and even dynamism from multi
tudes of small-group attachments which fell short, in practice, of attach
ments to the movement's most complex central ideologies and philosophi
cal doctrines-provided that these small-group attachments were
associated with concrete local issues which harmonized with the general
purposes of those ideologies and doctrines." Woodside, Community and
Revolution, p.179.
22. See notes 10 and 11 above, and Marr, Tradition p. 1.
23. Huynh Kim Khanh, ''The Vietnamese August Revolution Rein
terpreted," 10urnalofAsianStudies, XXX no. 4 (August 1971)pp. 761-782;
David O. Marr, "World War II and the Vietnamese Revolution," in
67
full answer to the question is beyond the scope of a review
article, it is sufficiently strong a challenge to the long-view
thesis that at least the outlines of the answer need to be
drawn.
There are many valid reasons for the revolutionary
upsurge-the famine during the last year of the war, well
covered by Khanh, the growth of a national organization
capable of national rather than the local or regional resist
ance of earlier times, and the publication and dissemina
tion of revolutionary ideas by the intelligentsia, as sug
gested by Marr-but the most significant reason may be
the most obvious. The most important consequence of the
occupation, and the primary reason why more troops could
do less after the war than before, is that during the chaos at
the end of the war the Vietnamese revolution was armed.
Anti-colonialists and revolutionaries had always been
abundant in Vietnam, but arms had not. In 1930 the
VNQDD launched its assault on Yen Bay with homemade
bombs, wooden pikes, harvesting knives and only a few
firearms. The very purpose of the rising was to obtain
weapons. In Nghe Tinh the most serious assaults on the
French involved thousands of people at a time, unarmed
except for harvesting knives and sticks. As late as
December 1944, when Vo Nguyen Giap established the
first platoon of regular Communist forces, his thirty-four
troops had only seventeen rifles, fourteen hunting rifles and
one light machine gun with 150 bullets. 24
When the coup took place several months later, the
Viet Minh, free of countermeasures by the French police
and military forces, began to accumulate stocks of arms.
Some were acquired by disarming scattered French forces
trying to escape the Japanese. American airdrops to Viet
Minh forces also increased in the first half of 1945, and
when the Japanese surrendered some of their equipment
fell into Viet Minh hands. By August 1945 the Viet Minh
had accumulated 35,000 rifles, 1,350 automatic weapons,
200 mortars, 54 cannons and even 18 tanks.25 After the
DRV was established at least five munitions factories be
gan producing weapons for the Viet Minh, so that by the
time open warfare broke out in December 1946 they had
83,000 weapons to use against the French, no small factor
in the survival of the revolution. 26
The increased availability of weapons is only part of
the explanation, and not a comprehensive statement of the
importance of the Japanese occupation. It does, however,
point up an alternate perspective. The difference is be
tween those who argue that the Japanese occupation
boosted the revolutionary consciousness of the Vietnamese
people, and those who hold that the revolutionary con-
Alfred W. McCoy, ed., Southeast Asia under Japanese Occupation, Mono
graph Series No. 22/Yale University Southeast Asia Studies (New Haven,
1980) pp. 125-58. Truong Buu Lam, "Japan and the Disruption of the
Vietnamese Nationalist Movement," in Walter F. Vella, ed., Aspects of
Vietnamese History, (Honolulu, 1973) pp. 237-269; Jayne Werner, "The
Cao Dai: The Politics of a Vietnamese Syncretic Religious Movement"
(PhD Dissertation, Cornell University, 1976) Chapter IV.
24. Khanh, "Vietnamese August Revolution," p. 774; McAlister, Viet
Nam, pp. 153-54.
25. From a note by Bernard B. Fall in Truong Chinh, Primer for Revolt,
(New York, 1963) p. 37.
sciousness was there when the Japanese came, and that its
contribution to the Vietnamese was to their physical ability
to resist, not to their intellectual will to resist. The Japanese
provided arms to an existing revolutionary consciousness,
and once armed, no amount ofFrench or American counter
force could suppress it.
The point is important because it touches on the ques
tion of how much credit for the eventual success of the
revolution is given to the Vietnamese themselves, and how
much goes to others. The more the role of the Japanese
occupation is stressed the more the August Revolution is
an accident of history, an unintended gift to the Viet
namese people from the great powers.
The August Revolution can in one sense be seen as a
beginning, for it was then that the armed struggle pushed
the Vietnamese independence movement onto the national
scene, where it remained for thirty years. But in another
sense the August Revolution was the culmination of a
twenty year process of political development; a process,
moreover, in which the Vietnamese played the central role.
External factors assisted the cause in many ways, but al
ways it was the Vietnamese people who breathed life into
the movement and sustained its force.
These two works, by their coverage of the long process
of revolutionary development, take us a long way toward
understanding the revolution. Both books provide an
abundance of new material on an important period of
history. That the raw material might have been hung on a
tighter theoretical framework is an appeal for perfection
from what are still the best treatments available on the
intellectual development of the Vietnamese intelligentsia
in the inter-war period, and of the growth and development
of the ICP. It is from works such as these, and authors such
as these that we will one day get a definitive picture of that
broad based social force called the Vietnamese Revolu
tioo. *
26. McAlister makes this point in Viet Nam, pp. 252-53.
f.WIs '8'L
68
A Short Review
by Penelope B. Prime
One notion of a bureaucratic class in a socialist society
has been put forward by Milovan Djilas. According to
D jilas, although under socialism there is no longer private
ownership of the means of production, a small group of
people in the government bureaucracy exercise effective
economic control and can use this control to extract a
surplus. The bureaucracy which gains control of society's
economic surplus maintains the alienated condition of the
working class and becomes a ruling class in Marxian terms.
In Class Conflict in Chinese Socialism, Richard Kraus' thesis
is that Mao Zedong was aware of, and actively opposed,
the beginnings of such a class in modern China. Kraus
traces the evolution of Mao's theory of class to show the
richness of Mao's theory and to document the influence
which that theory had on post-1949 China. Kraus does not
adhere strictly to Djilas' definition of a bureaucratic class,
however, nor does he explicitly develop one of his own.
Rather, he lacks rigor in his use of such terms as "class" and
"class struggle," making his analysis unclear and the evi
dence for his thesis weak.
Kraus uses two models of Chinese social stratification
to analyze "class" conflict since 1956 when private owner
ship of the means of production was largely abolished via
land reform and the nationalization of industry and com
merce. One type of stratification is based on the ownership
of property prior to 1949, and includes, for example, land
lords, capitalists, workers and peasants. After 1949, every
one in China was officially designated with a specific class
background. According to this stratification model conflict
still existed for a while after nationalization and collectivi
zation because people still identified with their past class
interests. The second stratification model is based on occu
pation after 1949 and includes a vertical ranking of work
grades and horizontal groups defined by function or sector.
Kraus identifies this occupational stratificastion as the
foundation of China's new bureaucracy and as the "device
by which bureaucrats have attempted to shape society in
their own image" (page 37). Social conflict arises from this
second type of stratification, Kraus argues, because each
occupational rank corresponds to a different income level
and to a different amount of prestige and authority.
CLASS CONFLICT IN CHINESE SOCIALISM, by
Richard Curt Kraus. New York: Columbia
University Press, 1981, $22.50
Using these two models of stratification as a way to
conceptualize Chinese society, Kraus traces how Mao's
theory of class changed in response to debates within the
Chinese Communist Party (CCP) over the meaning and
political use of class and in reaction to the experiences of
Party-led, political campaigns from the Hundred Flowers
Movement in 1957 to the campaign against Lin Biao and
Confucius in 1974. Kraus argues that Mao's analysis shifted
from focusing on past property-based classes to pinning the
source of inequality and social conflict on China's growing
bureaucracy. And the political campaigns were attempts by
Mao to prevent the rise of a new, bureaucratic "ruling
class." Kraus also argues, though, that the attempts by the
Party to apply Mao's class theories in practice failed in two
ways. First, once the Chinese applied "class" to society it
became "stratification," losing the dynamic element Mao
envisioned. This meant that the notion of class became a
political tool with which people tried to protect their own
interests, and that "class" stratification eventually became
a type of caste system for the Chinese people. Second,
Mao's theoretical class analysis was correct, but it failed in
practice because he identified too clearly the roots of bur
eaucratic interest, forcing those who stood to lose to fight
back. A base for a bureaucratic class has formed in China
despite Mao's awareness of this possibility and his fight
against it, in part because Mao's political campaigns were
often sabotaged by those who felt threatened by them.
According to Kraus, the post-Mao struggle between Deng
Xiaoping's group and the neo-Maoist group (represented
first by the "Gang of Four"), is a manifestation of the class
struggle which so occupied Mao. A new, exploiting group
with vested interests in preserving inequality and a particu
lar bureaucratic structure has gained the upper hand, at
least for the time being.
In this reviewer's opinion, Kraus' analysis suffers from
several critical weaknesses. He focuses on Mao's analysis
of class, but is unclear about his own definition and analyti
cal use of the term "class." He fails to explain clearly how
various class definitions and labels corresponded to the
interests of different social groups, and therefore fails to
69
convince the reader of the correctness of Mao's theory
regarding the rise of anew, bureaucratically-based ruling
class. In addition, Kraus vividly describes the practical
problems that resulted when the Party operationalized
Mao's ideas about class. The result is the reader is more
likely to conclude either that Mao was just another
bureaucrat playing power politics (albeit with much success
and noble rhetoric), or that no matter how sincere his
goals, the costs of pursuing those goals the way he did were
great, and perhaps unjustifiable.
Kraus might have analyzed whether or not a bureau
cratic class exists or is forming in China by using Djilas'
definition. He could have identified who had power, hypo
thesized where class interests corresponded to power, and
then checked what social groupings were actually formed.
In his introduction, Kraus starts in this direction. He cites
some figures on how the percentage of China's gross na
tional product controlled by bureaucrats increased from
less than 10 percent in 1949 to 30 percent in 1972, with 86
percent control over the value of industrial output and 92.5
percent control over the share of retail sales (page 6). In
what follows, however, he never incorporates this into his
analysis as a reason for the formation of a new ruling class
in China.
In chapter two, where Kraus describes his two models
of "class" stratification, he again seems to begin an identifi
cation and analysis of social groups and their binding in
terests. He suggests that the two categorizations of
people-based on former relations to property and based
on positions in the newly formed occupational hierarchy
overlapped in a systematic way relating the new stratifica
tion to the old. For example, ifa person's former class position
was that of worker, or poor or lower-middle peasant, that per
son was more likely after 1949 to be employed in industry, the
military or the Party. Rich peasants, capitalists or landlords
were more likely to be employed in agriculture, commerce
or education. With this observation Kraus is suggesting
that at least during the 1950s there was some correlation
between occupational position and former property-based
class background, and that this might be an explanation for
the alignment of interests that later led to "class" conflict.
Kraus does not pursue this analysis further, however, be
cause he also argues that the relevance of the property
based categorization declined over time, while that ofoccu
pational and bureaucratic ranking increased in importance.
In addition, Kraus agrees with Mao that people with so
called "good" family backgrounds could come to represent
"bad" class ideology, thus creating a need to understand
classes in socialism as emerging from something other than
the remnants of pre-liberation economic relations.
Besides not identifying and supplying evidence to ex
plain the cohesion of social groups in China that
represented conflicting class interests, Kraus confuses the
Chinese Communist Party with the bureaucracy, and dis
cusses the two as if they were one. By doing this Kraus
overlooks one very important interpretation of Chinese
socialism; namely, that the government and the Party are
different and that Mao used the Party to check the priv
ileges and power of the government's technical and ad
ministrative bureaucrats. For Mao, strong, central leader
ship by the CCP was as essential to achieving socialist goals
as class struggle. At the same time, Mao's purpose in
encouraging criticism of the government and involving
people in mass campaigns was to prevent the governmental
organization from becoming the base of a new class. Fi
nally, by merging the Party and the government bureauc
racy, Kraus skirts the whole issue (also raised by Djilas) of
whether it is the Party with its privileged position and
power, rather than the "bureaucracy" generally, that has
become the core of a new, ruling class in China.
Finally, Kraus does not acknowledge, let alone refute,
two interpretations of China's modem politics that chal
lenge his conclusions about the accuracy of Mao's class
theory. The first is the idea that Mao used the issue of class
simply as a political weapon, that he fought his opponents
by identifying them with a reactionary class and manipu
lated revolutionary labels to support his own faction. Kraus
offers no explanation ofwhy he thinks that Mao was able to
rise above the political and bureaucratic organizations of
which he was an important part and to analyze "correctly"
what was going on around him. The second challenge to
Kraus' thesis is that opposition to Mao's ideas within the
Party arose from a genuine fear that Mao's methods were
excessive and would retard economic development, rather
than arising from a desire to preserve bureaucratic
interests. For example, Kraus' interpretation of the Great
Leap Forward is that Mao saw the policies of the Leap as
being clearly in the interests of workers and peasants, and
for people within the Party to oppose them meant not only
did bourgeois class influence still exist in China, but it had
also infiltrated the Party. In addition, for Kraus the Party
members who opposed the Leap were those "who favored
orderly, predictable, bureaucratic techniques for social
change," or in other words, were those who already had a
stake in preserving and expanding the bureaucratic
structure as it existed (page 66).
A reasonable, alternative explanation for opposition
to the Leap is that those who opposed the Leap correctly
foresaw the problems and waste that would naturally result
from the economically irrational methods applied, and by
opposing it they were in fact the true representatives of
worker and peasant interests. This is the type of reasoning
Deng's regime has used to legitimate itself, and if Kraus'
interpretation that Deng represents a group that is only
interested in maintaining the bureaucracy's power is to be
convincing, this kind of alternative interpretation must be
dealt with. An understanding of the extent to which conflict
in China should be seen as real class struggle will require
defining what constitutes a class in a socialist society and
presenting evidence to show what class interests and con
flicts have existed. *
70
Correspondence
To the Editors:
The Indonesia issue came out beautifully. I hope that
it will be of interest to our general readership and also may
be of use to Indonesians and their supporters both in West
Europe and in Indonesia.
There is, however, an error in the photo credits. The
photos on pp. 43, 45, 46, SO, 51, and 52 are not actually my
photos. They come from several sources, mostly unknown.
I wonder if a correction in the next issue of the Bulletin
would be in order. All other photos bearing my name at the
bottom are genuinely my own.
Again, the Indonesia issue looks great. The drawings
by Hans Borkent were a nice touch.
All the best,
Richard W. Franke
Montclair State College
Books to Review
The following review copies have arrived at the office of the
Bulletin. Ifyou are interested in reviewing one ormore ofthem,
write to Joe Moore, BCAS, P.O. Box R, Berthoud, Colorado
80513. Reviews of important works not listed here will be
equally welcome.
Hamza Alavi & Teodor Shanin: Introduction to the Sociology of' 'Develop
ing Societies" (Monthly Review, 1982).
Noam Chomsky: Myth and Ideology in U.S. Foreign Policy (East Timor
Human Rights Comm., 1982).
NoeIJ. Kent: Hawaii: Islands Under the Influence (Monthly Review, 1983).
Ralph W. McGehee: Deadly Deceits: My 25 Years in the CIA (Sheridan
Square, 1983).
Nishikawa Jun: Asean and the United Nations System (V.N. Institute for
Training and Research, 1983).
John J. Stephan: Hawaii Under the Rising Sun: Japan's Plans for Conquest
After Pearl Harbor (V. Hawaii Press, 1984).
East Asia
Anthony B. Chan: Arming the Chinese: The Western Armaments Trade in
Warlord China, /920-1928 (Univ. of British Columbia, 1982).
Anthony B. Chan: GoldMountain: The Chinese in the New World (New Star
Books, 1983).
John W. Dardess: Confucianism and Autocracy: Professional Elites in the
Founding ofthe Ming Dynasty (Vniv. of California Press, 1983)
K.K. Fung (ed.): Social Needs versus Economic Efficiency in China: Sun
Yefang's Critique ofSocialist Economics (M.E. Sharpe, 1982).
William Hinton: Shenfan (Random House, 1983).
Aleksandr Va. Kalyagin: Along Alien Roads (Columbia Vniv., 1983).
Nicholas R. Lardy & Kenneth Lieberthal (eds.): Chen Yun's Strategy for
China's Development: A Non-Maoist Alternative (M.E. Sharpe, 1983).
Roderick MacFarquhar: The Origins of the Cultural Revolution: The Great
Leap Forward, vol. 2 (Columbia V. Press, 1983).
Jay and Linda Matthews: One Billion: A China Chronicle (Random House,
1983).
Morris Rossabi (ed): China among Equals: The Middle Kingdom and its
Neighbors, 10th-14th Centuries (Vniv. of Calif., 1983).
Judith Stacey: Patriarchy and Socialist Revolution in China (Vniv. of Cali
fornia Press, 1983)
Hung-mao Tien (ed): Mainland China, Taiwan, and U.S. Policy (Oe1ge
schlager, Gunn & Hain, 1983).
Jonathan Vnger: Education Under Mao: Class and Competition in Canton
Schools. 1960-1980 (Columbia Vniv. Press, 1982).
SoutbAsia
Betsy Hartmann & James Boyce: A Quiet Violence: View from a Bangladesh
Village (Zed Press, 1983).
Rustom Bharucha: Rehearsals ofRevolution: The Political Theater ofBengal
(U. Hawaii Press, 1983).
Surinder Mohan Bhardwaj: Hindu Places ofPilgramage in India: A study in
Cultural Geography (Vniv. of California Press, 1983)
M.L. Dewan: Agriculture and Rural Development in India: A Case Study on
the Dignity ofLabour (Humanities Press, 1983).
S. K. Maity: Cultural Heritage ofAncient India (Humanities Press, 1983).
H. L. Deb Roy: A Tribe in Transition: The Jaintias ofMegholaya (Humani
ties Press, 1981).
S.A. Shah (ed.): India: Degradation & Development, vols. 1 & 2 (M.
Venkatarangaiya Foundation, 1982 & 1983).
Vnto Tahtinen: Indian Traditional Values (Humanities Press, 1983).
M.S. Venkataremani: The American Role in Pakistan. 1947-1958 (Human
ities Press, 1982).
Denis von der Weid & Guy Poitevin: Roots ofa Peasant Movement: Apprai
sal ofthe Movement Initiated by Rural Community Development Association
(Shubhada-Sarswat Pubs., Pune, 1981).
Shelton U. Kodikara: Foreign Policy ofSri Lanka: A Third World Perspective
(Chanakya Publications, Delhi, 1982).
Northeast Asia
Jean Esmein: Un demi plus: Etudes sur Ia defense du Japon hier et aujourd' hui
(Fondation pour les etudes de defense nanonale, Paris, 1983).
Franco Gatt: 11 Fascismo Giapponese (Franco Angeli, Milano, 1983).
Roy A. Miller: Japan's Modem Myth: The Languagt: and Beyond (Weather
Hill, 1982).
Joe Moore: Japanese Workers and the Strugglefor Power, 1945-1947 (Univ.
of Wisconsin Press, 1983)
Mine Okubo: Citizen 13660 (Univ. of Washington, 1983).
Harry Wray & Hilary Conroy (eds.): Japon Examined: Perspectives on
Modern Japonese History (Vniv. of Hawaii, 1983).
Bruce Cumings (ed): Child ofConflict: The Korean-American Relationship,
1943-1953 (Vniv. of Washington, 1983).
M. P. Srivastava: The Korean Conflict: Search for Unification (Prentice Hall
of India, 1982).
Dae-Sook Sub: Korean Communism 1945-1980: A Reference Guide to the
Political System (Vniv. Press of Hawaii, 1981).
Southeast AsIa
Benedict J. Kerkvliet: The Huk Rebellion: A Study of Peasant Revolt in the
Philippines (V. California Press, 1982).
Philippines Research Center (ed): New People's Army of the Philippines
(PRC, 1981).
E. San Juan, Jr. (ed): If You Want to Know Whot We Are: A Carlos Bulosan
Reader (West End Press, 1983).
E. San Juan, Jr.: Taward Riwl: An Essay on Noli Me Tangere and EI
Filibusterismo (PRC, 1983).
Robert Y. Siy, Jr.: Community Resource Management: Lessons from the
Zanjera:(Univ. of the Philippines, 1982).
Jim Zwick: Militarism and Repression in the Philippines (Centre for Devel
oping-Area Studies, McGill Vniv., 1983).
TAPOL (ed): West Papua: The Obliteration ofa People (TAPOL, 1983).
Thommy Svensson & Per Sorensen (eds.): Indonesia and Malaysia (Hu
manities Press, 1983).
Leon Comber: 13 May 1969: A Historical Survey of Sino-Malay Relations
(Heinemann Asia, 1983).
Wan Hashim: Race Relations in Malaysia (Heinemann Asia, 1983).
Toh Kin Woon: "The State, Transnational Corporations and Poverty in
Malaysia," Research Monograph no. 16, Transnational Corporations
Research Project, Vniv. of Sydney, Sydney, Australia, 1982.
Ernst Vtrecht: "The Social and Cultural Impact of the Activities of
Transnational Corporations in Southeast Asia," Working Paper no.
14, Transnational Corporations Research Project, Univ. of Sydney,
Sudney, Australia, 1982.
Keith St. Cartmail: Exodus Indochina (Heinemann Educational Books
Inc., 1983)
Chantal Descours-Gatin & Hugues Villiers: Guide de Recherches sur Ie
Vietnam: Bibliographies, archives et Bibliotheques de France (Editions
L'Harmattan, 1983).
Archimedes L.A. Patti: Why Vietnam? Prelude to America's Albatross
(Univ. of California Press, 1982).
Wallace J. Thies: When Governments Collide: Coercion and Diplomacy in the
Vietnam Conflict, 1964-1968 (Univ. of California Press, 1982).
71
Micronesia Support Committee & Pacific Concerns Resource Center:
From Trusteeship to ... ?, 2nd ed., (Honolulu, 1982).
Micronesia Support Committee (ed.): Marshall Islands: A Chro1UJlogy:
1944-1983 3rd revised ed. (Micronesia Support Committee, 1983).
Micronesia Support Committee (ed): PaIDu: Self-Determination vs. U.S.
Military Plans (MSC, 1983).
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