Academic literature on the topic 'Hong Kong (China) – Social conditions – 20th century'

Sanitary reforms in China began in parts of the country where European influence was strong. The British colony of Hong Kong was at the forefront of sanitary reforms, where the population naturally had to adapt to the difficult conditions of the climate, the burden of infectious diseases and constant overcrowding. By the early 1880s, the colony's growing Chinese population and disorderly housing development raised serious concerns among the European community that the presence of the Chinese posed a tangible threat to the health and well-being of Europeans in this part of East Asia. This sentiment prompted a series of sanitary reforms, catalyzed by the reports of colonial engineer Osbert Chadwick, a staunch advocate of sanitation and equal access to modern sanitary infrastructure. His reports of 1882 and 1902 set the course of sanitary reform in Hong Kong for the long term. They were also a response to the Hong Kong Chinese community's request for universal access to adequate methods of rainwater and domestic sewage disposal, as well as access to a more equitable water supply. Like all fast-growing global cities, Hong Kong's continued development was impossible without an extensive sanitation transformation program. It was advocated not only by the most far-sighted members of the colonial administration, but also by much of the colony's Chinese population.

Since the end of the 20th century, African businessmen have gradually moved from Hong Kong to Guangzhou Xiaobei and Guangyuan West Road. However, with the occurrence of the epidemic, due to policy, economic, and social reasons, the commerce and trade in Guangzhou, China and Africa have undergone great changes. Many previous the migration laws and migration patterns of African businessmen in Guangzhou have changed, this paper focuses on the way of maintaining China-Africa after the epidemic and the directions that can be explored in the future. The study found that kinship capital has a crucial influence on African businessmen in Guangzhou, and international students have also become a large part of Africans in Guangzhou. From a macro level, although the China-Africa policy has been strictness, there are still many possibilities for development, and this also provides a new development direction - online cross-border commerce. At the micro level, kinship capital determines and lays the foundation for the work and life of African businessmen in Suzhou. In the future, the China-Africa Business Association will conduct online cross-border commerce and trade through online live streaming, while African businessmen who stay in Guangzhou will build a bridge between China-Africa commerce and trade with their student status and kinship capital.

At the turn of the 19th and 20th century Chinese market was attractive to Western merchants. The Anglo-Dutch company Royal Dutch Shell used demand from local consumers to sell fuel and test development mechanisms under permanent political instability and economic turbulence. The practices gained over the previous years helped the company quickly restore work in the region after the end of the Second World War and integrate into the economic system of Hong Kong which was undergoing major changes in the 1950s—1980s. Forced out of China, Royal Dutch Shell had become one of the key players in the fuel market of the British colony, using it as a platform for improving the mechanisms of business in a period of dynamic economic development and a solid foundation for working in the Asian region. At the turn of the 1970s—1980s the Anglo-Dutch group began to restore its positions in the PRC which were lost in the middle of the XX century by consistently gaining a foothold in the promising market that had a serious resource base and increased demand for products of fuel and energy complex. The conditions created by the Chinese authorities allowed Royal Dutch Shell to establish and develop multichannel cooperation with local companies in exploration and production, transportation and storage, as well as processing and sale of fuel resources. The Chinese side acted as a recipient of technology, management practices and investments provided by Royal Dutch Shell. The variety of joint projects and the diverse nature of the interaction between Royal Dutch Shell and Chinese companies in the last third of the XX century became the basis for the bilateral economic relations development at the beginning of the XXI century.

Background/Context For centuries, the notions of citizenship and citizenship education have been associated with the nation-state and civic elements. However, since the late 20th century, these traditional notions have been challenged by globalization. In the discourse of globalization, citizenship, and citizenship education, some scholars suggest a simplistic replacement or shift from national citizenship to global citizenship, regional citizenship, or local and group identities. Against these simplistic, single-leveled approaches is the argument for both the continuing importance of nation-specific characteristics of citizenship and the strong need to diversify the nation-state-oriented and civic-specific framework to form multileveled and multidimensional ones. They accommodate individuals’ engagement in the various domains of human activities and their memberships at various levels, ranging from individual to community, local, national, and international or global ones. Some scholars have advocated a multidimensional model of citizenship education by regrouping human relationships and activities into four major dimensions—personal, social, spatial, and temporal—which can intersect with various levels in the multilevel polity. However, these general, static frameworks are not backed by strong empirical evidence and do not explain the complexity of interplay among different actors at the same level and/or between levels. Purpose The purpose of the article is twofold. First, it aims to provide empirical evidence for the general framework of multileveled and multidimensional citizenship education by assessing students’ views of citizenship in a multileveled polity with reference to Hong Kong and Shanghai in China. Second, with the help of the comparative study, the article is intended to supplement the general framework by proposing a theoretical framework that explains the complex interplay of different actors in their choices of citizenship elements from a multileveled polity. Setting The study took place in three public junior secondary schools in Shanghai and three aided secondary schools in Hong Kong and assessed their students’ views of the global, national, local, and personal-social domains of multiple identities in a multileveled polity. Research Design The study adopted a mixed methodology of observations, questionnaires, and interview surveys to collect data. Data Collection and Analysis Data are drawn from questionnaires completed by 1,402 students attending Grades 7–9, and 38 interviews with principals, teachers, and students from both societies between 2002 and 2003. Conclusions/Recommendations The study shows that although students of Hong Kong and Shanghai were aware of having multiple citizenships, some of their views of the relative importance of, and the interrelationships among, four dimensions of citizenship differed. The patterns of their perceptions of multiple citizenships reflect similarities and differences in the organization of citizenship education between schools in Hong Kong and Shanghai, the nation-state's influences on local citizenship curricula, and local governments’ development considerations in remaking collective identity. With the help of the comparative study, the article supplements the general framework by proposing a theoretical framework for interpreting citizenship and citizenship education as dynamic, context-bounded, and multi-leveled social constructions reinvented through the intertwined interactions of different actors in response to social changes, including globalization.

The article is devoted to the architecture of European banking institutions in Guangzhou, built on the territory of Shamyan island in the late 19th – early 20th century. A brief historical excursion into the history of the formation of the British and French concessions is given. This publication examines the stylistic and compositional features of the architecture of such banking institutions as: Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation; The Chartered Bank of India, Australia and China; International banking corporation (City Bank); Bank of Taiwan; Commercial Corporation of Mitsubishi; Yokogama Specie Bank; The E.D.Sassoon & Co.Ltd. и D. Sassoon Sons Co. Ltd; Bank of Indochina; China & France Industry Bank. A composite and stylistic analysis was conducted, an iconographic description of the buildings of the main banks located within the boundaries of the former European concessions on Shamyan Island is given The study reveals the general principles of the development of the architecture of banking institutions in Guangzhou. The materials and results of the research carried out by the authors of this article allowed us to formulate the following conclusions: 1. The territorial isolation of the Shamyan island from the Chinese part of Guangzhou, as well as the operation within the concessions of British and French laws, contributed to the fact that the development of the architectural ensemble of the island as a whole was carried out in line with the advanced West European architectural and urban trends. 2. Most of the banking buildings here are built in the eclectic style with the predominance of neoclassicism features, of course, this fact is connected with the desire of the owners of bank corporations to demonstrate to the clients and competitors the financial strength of their organizations. 3. In the architecture of the considered banking institutions there is an active use of tectonics and elements of the order system, colonnades, arcades, the allocation of the first floor in the form of a rustic plinth. The motifs of Renaissance architecture, Baroque and Art Nouveau are also traced. 4. The formation of the appearance of banking buildings in Shamyan was strongly influenced by local conditions. The hot and humid subtropical climate of the south of China contributed to the spread in the architecture of the structures of this type of order colonnades, forming deep open verandas, as well as the use of X-shaped creaks-elements to ensure the natural ventilation of buildings, which, in addition, became an expressive element of the facade decoration

Quan, Elizabeth. Beyond the Moongate: True Stories of 1920s China. Toronto: Tundra Books, 2013. Print.“Beyond the Moongate” is a reminiscence of two long-ago childhood years spent by the author as a young girl in her father’s hometown in inland China in the 1920s. This is probably an important book that has the potential to complicate history (i.e. make more interesting). I use “probably” and “potential” because a young reader likely would not pick up on these themes. A keen reader willing to question and explore further, however, is rewarded with a deeper understanding not only of Chinese history but also of Canadian history and the discipline of history itself.The “remote village in the south” is described as “not yet touched by technology” and many “pre-technology” examples are given such as brick stoves, wooden wash basins in the courtyard, oil lamps, “primitive machines,” and clothing “stitched entirely by hand.” This implies a contrast to more advanced technology elsewhere (if it was not unusual, why write about it?). Where was this “elsewhere”? Was it Canada in 1920? If so, it might reflect the social class of the author’s family since one can imagine similarly “pre-technology” conditions in parts of Canada at the same time. Or, the “elsewhere” might have been other parts of China – cities like Hong Kong or Shanghai. Or, is the author comparing technological expectations in the 21st-century to remind readers it has not always been so? These options (and more) are potential topics for interesting historical research into the “facts” of when technology arrived in various areas (or didn’t) and what this says about development.One could also explore the concept of “technology” itself. China is often described as the origin of many technologies we take for granted (e.g. paper, gunpowder, ceramics) and each story in this book features various technologies such as fabric for blouses and pants; lumber for houses and furniture; the cultivation of a variety of food; writing with ink, brushes, and paper. The issue then is not so much having technology but the effects of the availability of new or relatively advanced technologies.There are some rich social and cultural research possibilities, too. When they first arrive, the author’s father “kowtows” to his mother which makes her deeply happy. Kowtowing is fascinating because in English it has come to represent “groveling” or “giving in” (not deep respect) and has been the source of much diplomatic tension. Also, the author refers to the people of her ancestral land as the “Hans” which is not the whole story because there are various other “peoples” in China that mean deep discussions about Chinese identity even today.The story hopefully makes one rethink the status of immigrants in Canada. It is often assumed that immigrants to North America came and stayed because they were poor, had escaped poverty or tyranny, and it was impossible to go home (until modern times of cheap airfare). It is sometimes acknowledged that many people (some Chinese and Japanese that I know for sure) dreamed of becoming rich and going home or, at least, having their remains sent home after death. The idea that a whole family could afford to go back to China (or any homeland) for years in the 1920s might seem unusual to some readers. There is, however, much evidence that people came and went quite regularly although the issue of not getting permission to enter Canada (even if your parents and family were allowed) sadly led (and probably still leads) to many heart-breaking stories.The artwork that accompanies each story is brightly coloured and complements the text nicely giving visual representation of the written descriptions. I am curious whether it appeals to other readers because it has a feel (in the colours, lines, and facial expressions) that seems quite different than many other picture books. The author’s bio at the back highlights her watercolourist credentials and mentions a connection to Jack Pollack (not to be confused with Jackson Pollack).I think this is an important book that could be enjoyed by young readers in grades 3-6 but could also be used with older students in high-school or even university to problematize (and thus look beyond) the seemingly simple and factual stories. In fact, such a discussion might start with the subtitle itself by unpacking what the concept of “true stories” might mean.Recommended: 3 out of 4 stars Reviewer: David SulzDavid is a Public Services Librarian at University of Alberta and liaison librarian to Economics, Religious Studies, and Social Work. He has university studies in Library Studies, History, Elementary Education, Japanese, and Economics; he formerly taught in schools and museums. His interests include physical activity, music, home improvements, and above all, things Japanese.

The curtain rose. The howling of desert wind filled the performance hall in the Shanghai Grand Theatre. Into the center stage, where a scenic construction of a mountain cliff and a desert landscape was dimly lit, entered the character of the Daoist priest Wang Yuanlu (1849–1931), performed by Chen Yizong. Dressed in a worn and dusty outfit of dark blue cotton, characteristic of Daoist priests, Wang began to sweep the floor. After a few moments, he discovered a hidden chambre sealed inside one of the rock sanctuaries carved into the cliff.Signaled by the quick, crystalline, stirring wave of sound from the chimes, a melodious Chinese ocarina solo joined in slowly from the background. Astonished by thousands of Buddhist sūtra scrolls, wall paintings, and sculptures he had just accidentally discovered in the caves, Priest Wang set his broom aside and began to examine these treasures. Dawn had not yet arrived, and the desert sky was pitch-black. Priest Wang held his oil lamp high, strode rhythmically in excitement, sat crossed-legged in a meditative pose, and unfolded a scroll. The sound of the ocarina became fuller and richer and the texture of the music more complex, as several other instruments joined in.Below is the opening scene of the award-winning, theatrical dance-drama Dunhuang, My Dreamland, created by China’s state-sponsored Lanzhou Song and Dance Theatre in 2000. Figure 1a: Poster Side A of Dunhuang, My Dreamland Figure 1b: Poster Side B of Dunhuang, My DreamlandThe scene locates the dance-drama in the rock sanctuaries that today are known as the Dunhuang Mogao Caves, housing Buddhist art accumulated over a period of a thousand years, one of the best well-known UNESCO heritages on the Silk Road. Historically a frontier metropolis, Dunhuang was a strategic site along the Silk Road in northwestern China, a crossroads of trade, and a locus for religious, cultural, and intellectual influences since the Han dynasty (206 B.C.E.–220 C.E.). Travellers, especially Buddhist monks from India and central Asia, passing through Dunhuang on their way to Chang’an (present day Xi’an), China’s ancient capital, would stop to meditate in the Mogao Caves and consult manuscripts in the monastery's library. At the same time, Chinese pilgrims would travel by foot from China through central Asia to Pakistan, India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka, playing a key role in the exchanges between ancient China and the outside world. Travellers from China would stop to acquire provisions at Dunhuang before crossing the Gobi Desert to continue on their long journey abroad. Figure 2: Dunhuang Mogao CavesThis article approaches the idea of “abroad” by examining the present-day imagination of journeys along the Silk Road—specifically, staged performances of the various Silk Road journey-themed dance-dramas sponsored by the Chinese state for enhancing its cultural and foreign policies since the 1970s (Kuang).As ethnomusicologists have demonstrated, musicians, choreographers, and playwrights often utilise historical materials in their performances to construct connections between the past and the present (Bohlman; Herzfeld; Lam; Rees; Shelemay; Tuohy; Wade; Yung: Rawski; Watson). The ancient Silk Road, which linked the Mediterranean coast with central China and beyond, via oasis towns such as Samarkand, has long been associated with the concept of “journeying abroad.” Journeys to distant, foreign lands and encounters of unknown, mysterious cultures along the Silk Road have been documented in historical records, such as A Record of Buddhist Kingdoms (Faxian) and The Great Tang Records on the Western Regions (Xuanzang), and illustrated in classical literature, such as The Travels of Marco Polo (Polo) and the 16th century Chinese novel Journey to the West (Wu). These journeys—coming and going from multiple directions and to different destinations—have inspired contemporary staged performance for audiences around the globe.Home and Abroad: Dunhuang and the Silk RoadDunhuang, My Dreamland (2000), the contemporary dance-drama, staged the journey of a young pilgrim painter travelling from Chang’an to a land of the unfamiliar and beyond borders, in search for the arts that have inspired him. Figure 3: A scene from Dunhuang, My Dreamland showing the young pilgrim painter in the Gobi Desert on the ancient Silk RoadFar from his home, he ended his journey in Dunhuang, historically considered the northwestern periphery of China, well beyond Yangguan and Yumenguan, the bordering passes that separate China and foreign lands. Later scenes in Dunhuang, My Dreamland, portrayed through multiethnic music and dances, the dynamic interactions among merchants, cultural and religious envoys, warriors, and politicians that were making their own journey from abroad to China. The theatrical dance-drama presents a historically inspired, re-imagined vision of both “home” and “abroad” to its audiences as they watch the young painter travel along the Silk Road, across the Gobi Desert, arriving at his own ideal, artistic “homeland”, the Dunhuang Mogao Caves. Since his journey is ultimately a spiritual one, the conceptualisation of travelling “abroad” could also be perceived as “a journey home.”Staged more than four hundred times since it premiered in Beijing in April 2000, Dunhuang, My Dreamland is one of the top ten titles in China’s National Stage Project and one of the most successful theatrical dance-dramas ever produced in China. With revenue of more than thirty million renminbi (RMB), it ranks as the most profitable theatrical dance-drama ever produced in China, with a preproduction cost of six million RMB. The production team receives financial support from China’s Ministry of Culture for its “distinctive ethnic features,” and its “aim to promote traditional Chinese culture,” according to Xu Rong, an official in the Cultural Industry Department of the Ministry. Labeled an outstanding dance-drama of the Chinese nation, it aims to present domestic and international audiences with a vision of China as a historically multifaceted and cosmopolitan nation that has been in close contact with the outside world through the ancient Silk Road. Its production company has been on tour in selected cities throughout China and in countries abroad, including Austria, Spain, and France, literarily making the young pilgrim painter’s “journey along the Silk Road” a new journey abroad, off stage and in reality.Dunhuang, My Dreamland was not the first, nor is it the last, staged performances that portrays the Chinese re-imagination of “journeying abroad” along the ancient Silk Road. It was created as one of many versions of Dunhuang bihua yuewu, a genre of music, dance, and dramatic performances created in the early twentieth century and based primarily on artifacts excavated from the Mogao Caves (Kuang). “The Mogao Caves are the greatest repository of early Chinese art,” states Mimi Gates, who works to increase public awareness of the UNESCO site and raise funds toward its conservation. “Located on the Chinese end of the Silk Road, it also is the place where many cultures of the world intersected with one another, so you have Greek and Roman, Persian and Middle Eastern, Indian and Chinese cultures, all interacting. Given the nature of our world today, it is all very relevant” (Pollack). As an expressive art form, this genre has been thriving since the late 1970s contributing to the global imagination of China’s “Silk Road journeys abroad” long before Dunhuang, My Dreamland achieved its domestic and international fame. For instance, in 2004, The Thousand-Handed and Thousand-Eyed Avalokiteśvara—one of the most representative (and well-known) Dunhuang bihua yuewu programs—was staged as a part of the cultural program during the Paralympic Games in Athens, Greece. This performance, as well as other Dunhuang bihua yuewu dance programs was the perfect embodiment of a foreign religion that arrived in China from abroad and became Sinicized (Kuang). Figure 4: Mural from Dunhuang Mogao Cave No. 45A Brief History of Staging the Silk Road JourneysThe staging of the Silk Road journeys abroad began in the late 1970s. Historically, the Silk Road signifies a multiethnic, cosmopolitan frontier, which underwent incessant conflicts between Chinese sovereigns and nomadic peoples (as well as between other groups), but was strongly imbued with the customs and institutions of central China (Duan, Mair, Shi, Sima). In the twentieth century, when China was no longer an empire, but had become what the early 20th-century reformer Liang Qichao (1873–1929) called “a nation among nations,” the long history of the Silk Road and the colourful, legendary journeys abroad became instrumental in the formation of a modern Chinese nation of unified diversity rooted in an ancient cosmopolitan past. The staged Silk Road theme dance-dramas thus participate in this formation of the Chinese imagination of “nation” and “abroad,” as they aestheticise Chinese history and geography. History and geography—aspects commonly considered constituents of a nation as well as our conceptualisations of “abroad”—are “invariably aestheticized to a certain degree” (Bakhtin 208). Diverse historical and cultural elements from along the Silk Road come together in this performance genre, which can be considered the most representative of various possible stagings of the history and culture of the Silk Road journeys.In 1979, the Chinese state officials in Gansu Province commissioned the benchmark dance-drama Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road, a spectacular theatrical dance-drama praising the pure and noble friendship which existed between the peoples of China and other countries in the Tang dynasty (618-907 C.E.). While its plot also revolves around the Dunhuang Caves and the life of a painter, staged at one of the most critical turning points in modern Chinese history, the work as a whole aims to present the state’s intention of re-establishing diplomatic ties with the outside world after the Cultural Revolution. Unlike Dunhuang, My Dreamland, it presents a nation’s journey abroad and home. To accomplish this goal, Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road introduces the fictional character Yunus, a wealthy Persian merchant who provides the audiences a vision of the historical figure of Peroz III, the last Sassanian prince, who after the Arab conquest of Iran in 651 C.E., found refuge in China. By incorporating scenes of ethnic and folk dances, the drama then stages the journey of painter Zhang’s daughter Yingniang to Persia (present-day Iran) and later, Yunus’s journey abroad to the Tang dynasty imperial court as the Persian Empire’s envoy.Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road, since its debut at Beijing’s Great Hall of the People on the first of October 1979 and shortly after at the Theatre La Scala in Milan, has been staged in more than twenty countries and districts, including France, Italy, Japan, Thailand, Russia, Latvia, Hong Kong, Macao, Taiwan, and recently, in 2013, at the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts in New York.“The Road”: Staging the Journey TodayWithin the contemporary context of global interdependencies, performing arts have been used as strategic devices for social mobilisation and as a means to represent and perform modern national histories and foreign policies (Davis, Rees, Tian, Tuohy, Wong, David Y. H. Wu). The Silk Road has been chosen as the basis for these state-sponsored, extravagantly produced, and internationally staged contemporary dance programs. In 2008, the welcoming ceremony and artistic presentation at the Olympic Games in Beijing featured twenty apsara dancers and a Dunhuang bihua yuewu dancer with long ribbons, whose body was suspended in mid-air on a rectangular LED extension held by hundreds of performers; on the giant LED screen was a depiction of the ancient Silk Road.In March 2013, Chinese president Xi Jinping introduced the initiatives “Silk Road Economic Belt” and “21st Century Maritime Silk Road” during his journeys abroad in Kazakhstan and Indonesia. These initiatives are now referred to as “One Belt, One Road.” The State Council lists in details the policies and implementation plans for this initiative on its official web page, www.gov.cn. In April 2013, the China Institute in New York launched a yearlong celebration, starting with "Dunhuang: Buddhist Art and the Gateway of the Silk Road" with a re-creation of one of the caves and a selection of artifacts from the site. In March 2015, the National Development and Reform Commission (NDRC), China’s top economic planning agency, released a new action plan outlining key details of the “One Belt, One Road” initiative. Xi Jinping has made the program a centrepiece of both his foreign and domestic economic policies. One of the central economic strategies is to promote cultural industry that could enhance trades along the Silk Road.Encouraged by the “One Belt, One Road” policies, in March 2016, The Silk Princess premiered in Xi’an and was staged at the National Centre for the Performing Arts in Beijing the following July. While Dunhuang, My Dreamland and Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road were inspired by the Buddhist art found in Dunhuang, The Silk Princess, based on a story about a princess bringing silk and silkworm-breeding skills to the western regions of China in the Tang Dynasty (618-907) has a different historical origin. The princess's story was portrayed in a woodblock from the Tang Dynasty discovered by Sir Marc Aurel Stein, a British archaeologist during his expedition to Xinjiang (now Xinjiang Uygur autonomous region) in the early 19th century, and in a temple mural discovered during a 2002 Chinese-Japanese expedition in the Dandanwulike region. Figure 5: Poster of The Silk PrincessIn January 2016, the Shannxi Provincial Song and Dance Troupe staged The Silk Road, a new theatrical dance-drama. Unlike Dunhuang, My Dreamland, the newly staged dance-drama “centers around the ‘road’ and the deepening relationship merchants and travellers developed with it as they traveled along its course,” said Director Yang Wei during an interview with the author. According to her, the show uses seven archetypes—a traveler, a guard, a messenger, and so on—to present the stories that took place along this historic route. Unbounded by specific space or time, each of these archetypes embodies the foreign-travel experience of a different group of individuals, in a manner that may well be related to the social actors of globalised culture and of transnationalism today. Figure 6: Poster of The Silk RoadConclusionAs seen in Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road and Dunhuang, My Dreamland, staging the processes of Silk Road journeys has become a way of connecting the Chinese imagination of “home” with the Chinese imagination of “abroad.” Staging a nation’s heritage abroad on contemporary stages invites a new imagination of homeland, borders, and transnationalism. Once aestheticised through staged performances, such as that of the Dunhuang bihua yuewu, the historical and topological landscape of Dunhuang becomes a performed narrative, embodying the national heritage.The staging of Silk Road journeys continues, and is being developed into various forms, from theatrical dance-drama to digital exhibitions such as the Smithsonian’s Pure Land: Inside the Mogao Grottes at Dunhuang (Stromberg) and the Getty’s Cave Temples of Dunhuang: Buddhist Art on China's Silk Road (Sivak and Hood). They are sociocultural phenomena that emerge through interactions and negotiations among multiple actors and institutions to envision and enact a Chinese imagination of “journeying abroad” from and to the country.ReferencesBakhtin, M.M. The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays. Austin, Texas: University of Texas Press, 1982.Bohlman, Philip V. “World Music at the ‘End of History’.” Ethnomusicology 46 (2002): 1–32.Davis, Sara L.M. Song and Silence: Ethnic Revival on China’s Southwest Borders. New York: Columbia University Press, 2005.Duan, Wenjie. “The History of Conservation of Mogao Grottoes.” International Symposium on the Conservation and Restoration of Cultural Property: The Conservation of Dunhuang Mogao Grottoes and the Related Studies. Eds. Kuchitsu and Nobuaki. Tokyo: Tokyo National Research Institute of Cultural Properties, 1997. 1–8.Faxian. A Record of Buddhistic Kingdoms. Translated by James Legge. New York: Dover Publications, 1991.Herzfeld, Michael. 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Echoes of History: Naxi Music in Modern China. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000.Shelemay, Kay Kaufman. “‘Historical Ethnomusicology’: Reconstructing Falasha Liturgical History.” Ethnomusicology 24 (1980): 233–258.Shi, Weixiang. Dunhuang lishi yu mogaoku yishu yanjiu (Dunhuang History and Research on Mogao Grotto Art). Lanzhou: Gansu jiaoyu chubanshe, 2002.Sima, Guang 司马光 (1019–1086) et al., comps. Zizhi tongjian 资治通鉴 (Comprehensive Mirror for the Aid of Government). Beijing: Guji chubanshe, 1957.Sima, Qian 司马迁 (145-86? B.C.E.) et al., comps. Shiji: Dayuan liezhuan 史记: 大宛列传 (Record of the Grand Historian: The Collective Biographies of Dayuan). Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959.Sivak, Alexandria and Amy Hood. “The Getty to Present: Cave Temples of Dunhuang: Buddhist Art on China’s Silk Road Organised in Collaboration with the Dunhuang Academy and the Dunhuang Foundation.” Getty Press Release. Sep. 2016 <http://news.getty.edu/press-materials/press-releases/cave-temples-dunhuang-buddhist-art-chinas-silk-road>.Stromberg, Joseph. “Video: Take a Virtual 3D Journey to Visit China's Caves of the Thousand Buddhas.” Smithsonian, December 2012. Sep. 2016 <http://www.smithsonianmag.com/smithsonian-institution/video-take-a-virtual-3d-journey-to-visit-chinas-caves-of-the-thousand-buddhas-150897910/?no-ist>.Tian, Qing. “Recent Trends in Buddhist Music Research in China.” British Journal of Ethnomusicology 3 (1994): 63–72.Tuohy, Sue M.C. “Imagining the Chinese Tradition: The Case of Hua’er Songs, Festivals, and Scholarship.” Ph.D. Dissertation. Indiana University, Bloomington, 1988.Wade, Bonnie C. Imaging Sound: An Ethnomusicological Study of Music, Art, and Culture in Mughal India. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998.Wong, Isabel K.F. “From Reaction to Synthesis: Chinese Musicology in the Twentieth Century.” Comparative Musicology and Anthropology of Music: Essays on the History of Ethnomusicology. Eds. Bruno Nettl and Philip V. Bohlman. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991. 37–55.Wu, Chengen. Journey to the West. Tranlsated by W.J.F. Jenner. Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 2003.Wu, David Y.H. “Chinese National Dance and the Discourse of Nationalization in Chinese Anthropology.” The Making of Anthropology in East and Southeast Asia. Eds. Shinji Yamashita, Joseph Bosco, and J.S. Eades. New York: Berghahn, 2004. 198–207.Xuanzang. The Great Tang Dynasty Record of the Western Regions. Hamburg: Numata Center for Buddhist Translation & Research, 1997.Yung, Bell, Evelyn S. Rawski, and Rubie S. Watson, eds. Harmony and Counterpoint: Ritual Music in Chinese Context. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1996.

Samurai and Chinese martial arts themes inspire and permeate the uniquely philosophical lyrics and beats of Wu-Tang Clan, a New York-based hip-hop collective made popular in the mid-nineties with their debut album Enter the Wu-Tang: Return of the 36 Chambers. Original founder RZA (“Rizza”) scored his first full-length motion-picture soundtrack and made his feature film debut with Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai (Jim Jarmusch, 2000). Through a critical exploration of the film’s musical filter, it will be argued that RZA’s aesthetic vision effectively deterritorialises the figure of the samurai, according to which the samurai “change[s] in nature and connect[s] with other multiplicities” (Deleuze and Guattari, 9). The soundtrack consequently emancipates and redistributes the idea of the samurai from within the dynamic context of a fundamentally different aesthetic intensity, which the Wu-Tang has always hoped to communicate, that is to say, an aesthetics of adaptation or of what is called in hip-hop music more generally: an aesthetics of flow. At the center of Jarmusch’s film is a fundamental opposition between the sober asceticism and deeply coded lifestyle of Ghost Dog and the supple, revolutionary, itinerant hip-hop beats that flow behind it and beneath it, and which serve at once as philosophical foil and as alternate foundation to the film’s themes and message. Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai tells the story of Ghost Dog (Forest Whitaker), a deadly and flawlessly precise contract killer for a small-time contemporary New York organised crime family. He lives his life in a late 20th-century urban America according to the strict tenets of the 18th century text Hagakure, which relates the principles of the Japanese Bushido (literally, the “way of the warrior,” but more often defined and translated as the “code of the samurai”). Others have noted the way in which Ghost Dog not only fails as an adaptation of the samurai genre but thematises this very failure insofar as the film depicts a samurai’s unsuccessful struggle to adapt in a corrupt and fractured postmodern, post-industrial reality (Lanzagorta, par. 4, 9; Otomo, 35-8). If there is any hope at all for these adaptations (Ghost Dog is himself an example), it lies, according to some, in the singular, outmoded integrity of his nostalgia, which despite the abstract jouissance or satisfaction it makes available, is nevertheless blank and empty (Otomo, 36-7). Interestingly, in his groundbreaking book Spectacular Vernaculars, and with specific reference to hip-hop, Russell Potter suggests that where a Eurocentric postmodernism posits a lack of meaning and collapse of value and authority, a black postmodernism that is neither singular nor nostalgic is prepared to emerge (6-9). And as I will argue there are more concrete adaptive strategies at work in the film, strategies that point well beyond the film to popular culture more generally. These are anti-nostalgic strategies of possibility and escape that have everything to do with the way in which hip-hop as soundtrack enables Ghost Dog in his becoming-samurai, a process by which a deterritorialised subject and musical flow fuse to produce a hybrid adaptation and identity. But hip-hip not only makes possible such a becoming, it also constitutes a potentially liberating adaptation of the past and of otherness that infuses the film with a very different but still concrete jouissance. At the root of Ghost Dog is a conflict between what Deleuze and Guattari call state and nomad authority, between the code that prohibits adaptation and its willful betrayer. The state apparatus, according to Deleuze and Guattari, is the quintessential form of interiority. The state nourishes itself through the appropriation, the bringing into its interior, of all that over which it exerts its control, and especially over those nomadic elements that constantly threaten to escape (Deleuze and Guattari, 380-7). In Ghost Dog, the code or state-form functions throughout the film as an omnipresent source of centralisation, authorisation and organisation. It is attested to in the intensely stratified urban environment in which Ghost Dog lives, a complicated and forbidding network of streets, tracks, rails, alleys, cemeteries, tenement blocks, freeways, and shipping yards, all of which serve to hem Ghost Dog in. And as race is highlighted in the film, it, too, must be included among the many ways in which characters are always already contained. What encounters with racism in the film suggest is the operative presence of a plurality of racial and cultural codes; the strict segregation of races and cultures in the film and the animosity which binds them in opposition reflect a racial stratification that mirrors the stratified topography of the cityscape. Most important, perhaps, is the way in which Bushido itself functions, at least in part, as code, as well as the way in which the form of the historical samurai in legend and reality circumscribes not only Ghost Dog’s existence but the very possibility of the samurai and the samurai film as such. On the one hand, Bushido attests to the absolute of religion, or as Deleuze and Guattari describe it: “a center that repels the obscure … essentially a horizon that encompasses” and which forms a “bond”, “pact”, or “alliance” between subject/culture and the all-encompassing embrace of its deity: in this case, the state-form which sanctions samurai existence (382-3). On the other hand, but in the same vein, the advent of Bushido, and in particular the Hagakure text to which Ghost Dog turns for meaning and guidance, coincides historically with the emergence of the modern Japanese state, or put another way, with the eclipse of the very culture it sponsors. In fact, samurai history as a whole can be viewed to some extent as a process of historical containment by which the state-form gradually encompassed those nomadic warring elements at the heart of early samurai existence. This is the socio-historical context of Bushido, insofar as it represents the codification of the samurai subject and the stratification of samurai culture under the pressures of modernisation and the spread of global capitalism. It is a social and historical context marked by the power of a bourgeoning military, political and economic organisation, and by policies of restraint, centralisation and sedentariness. Moreover, the local and contemporary manifestations of this social and historical context are revealed in many of the elements that permeate not only the traditional samurai films of Kurosawa, Mizoguchi or Kobayashi, but modern adaptations of the genre as well, which tend to convey a nostalgic mourning for this loss, or more precisely, for this failure to adapt. Thus the filmic atmosphere of Ghost Dog is dominated by the negative qualities of inaction, nonviolence and sobriety, and whether these are taken to express the sterility and impotence of postmodern existence or the emptiness of a nostalgia for an unbroken and heroic past, these qualities point squarely towards the transience of culture and towards the impossibility of adaptation and survival. Ghost Dog is a reluctant assassin, and the inherently violent nature of his task is always deflected. In the same way, most of Ghost Dog’s speech in the film is delivered through his soundless readings of the Hagakure, silent and austere moments that mirror as well the creeping, sterile atmosphere in which most of the film’s action takes place. It is an atmosphere of interiority that points not only towards the stratified environment which restricts possibility and expressivity but also squarely towards the meaning of Bushido as code. But this atmosphere meets resistance. For the samurai is above all a man of war, and, as Deleuze and Guattari suggest, “the man of war [that is to say, the nomad] is always committing an offence against” the State (383). In Ghost Dog, for all the ways in which Ghost Dog’s experience is stratified by the Bushido as code and by the post-industrial urban reality in which he lives and moves, the film shows equally the extent to which these strata or codes are undermined by nomadic forces that trace “lines of flight” and escape (Deleuze and Guattari, 423). Clearly it is the film’s soundtrack, and thus, too, the aesthetic intensities of the flow in hip-hop music, which both constitute and facilitate this escape: We have an APB on an MC killer Looks like the work of a master … Merciless like a terrorist Hard to capture the flow Changes like a chameleon (“Da Mystery of Chessboxin,” Enter) Herein lies the significance of (and difference between) the meaning of Bushido as code and as way, a problem of adaptation and translation which clearly reflects the central conflict of the film. A way is always a way out, the very essence of escape, and it always facilitates the breaking away from a code. Deleuze and Guattari describe the nomad as problematic, hydraulic, inseparable from flow and heterogeneity; nomad elements, as those elements which the State is incapable of drawing into its interior, are said to remain exterior and excessive to it (361-2). It is thus significant that the interiority of Ghost Dog’s readings from the Hagakure and the ferocious exteriority of the soundtrack, which along with the Japanese text helps narrate the tale, reflect the same relationship that frames the state and nomad models. The Hagakure is not only read in silence by the protagonist throughout the film, but the Hagakure also figures prominently inside the diegetic world of the film as a visual element, whereas the soundtrack, whether it is functioning diegetically or non-diegetically, is by its very nature outside the narrative space of the film, effectively escaping it. For Deleuze and Guattari, musical expression is inseparable from a process of becoming, and, in fact, it is fair to say that the jouissance of the film is supplied wholly by the soundtrack insofar as it deterritorialises the conventional language of the genre, takes it outside of itself, and then reinvests it through updated musical flows that facilitate Ghost Dog’s becoming-samurai. In this way, too, the soundtrack expresses the violence and action that the plot carefully avoids and thus intimately relates the extreme interiority of the protagonist to an outside, a nomadic exterior that forecloses any possibility of nostalgia but which suggests rather a tactics of metamorphosis and immediacy, a sublime deterritorialisation that involves music becoming-world and world becoming-music. Throughout the film, the appearance of the nomad is accompanied, even announced, by the onset of a hip-hop musical flow, always cinematically represented by Ghost Dog’s traversing the city streets or by lengthy tracking shots of a passenger pigeon in flight, both of which, to take just two examples, testify to purely nomadic concepts: not only to the sheer smoothness of open sky-space and flight with its techno-spiritual connotations, but also to invisible, inherited pathways that cross the stratified heart of the city undetected and untraceable. Embodied as it is in the Ghost Dog soundtrack, and grounded in what I have chosen to call an aesthetics of flow, hip-hop is no arbitrary force in the film; it is rather both the adaptive medium through which Ghost Dog and the samurai genre are redeemed and the very expression of this adaptation. Deleuze and Guattari write: The necessity of not having control over language, of being a foreigner in one’s own tongue, in order to draw speech to oneself and ‘bring something incomprehensible into the world.’ Such is the form of exteriority … that forms a war machine. (378) Nowhere else do Deleuze and Guattari more clearly outline the affinities that bind their notion of the nomad and the form of exteriority that is essential to it with the politics of language, cultural difference and authenticity which so color theories of race and critical analyses of hip-hop music and culture. And thus the key to hip-hop’s adaptive power lies in its spontaneity and in its bringing into the world of something incomprehensible and unanticipated. If the code in Ghost Dog is depicted as nonviolent, striated, interior, singular, austere and measured, then the flow in hip-hop and in the music of the Wu-Tang that informs Ghost Dog’s soundtrack is violent, fluid, exterior, variable, plural, playful and incalculable. The flow in hip-hop, as well as in Deleuze and Guattari’s work, is grounded in a kinetic linguistic spontaneity, variation and multiplicity. Its lyrical flow is a cascade of accelerating rhymes, the very speed and implausibility of which often creates a sort of catharsis in performers and spectators: I bomb atomically, Socrates’ philosophies and hypotheses can’t define how I be droppin’ these mockeries, lyrically perform armed robberies Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me Battle-scarred shogun, explosion. … (“Triumph”, Forever) Over and against the paradigm of the samurai, which as I have shown is connected with relations of content and interiority, the flow is attested to even more explicitly in the Wu-Tang’s embrace of the martial arts, kung-fu and Chinese cinematic traditions. And any understanding of the figure of the samurai in the contemporary hip-hop imagination must contend with the relationship of this figure to both the kung-fu fighting traditions and to kung-fu cinema, despite the fact that they constitute very different cultural and historical forms. I would, of course, argue that it is precisely this playful adaptation or literal deterritorialisation of otherwise geographically and culturally distinct realities that comprises the adaptive potential of hip-hop. Kung-fu, like hip-hop, is predicated on the exteriority of style. It is also a form of action based on precision and immediacy, on the fluid movements of the body itself deterritorialised as weapon, and thus it reiterates that blend of violence, speed and fluidity that grounds the hip-hop aesthetic: “I’ll defeat your rhyme in just four lines / Yeh, I’ll wax you and tax you and plus save time” (RZA and Norris, 211). Kung-fu lends itself to improvisation and to adaptability, essential qualities of combat and of lyrical flows in hip-hop music. For example, just as in kung-fu combat a fighter’s success is fundamentally determined by his ability to intuit and adapt to the style and skill and detailed movements of his adversary, the victory of a hip-hop MC engaged in, say, a freestyle battle will be determined by his capacity for improvising and adapting his own lyrical flow to counter and overcome his opponent’s. David Bordwell not only draws critical lines of difference between the Hong Kong and Hollywood action film but also hints at the striking differences between the “delirious kinetic exhilaration” of Hong Kong cinema and the “sober, attenuated, and grotesque expressivity” of the traditional Japanese samurai film (91-2). Moreover, Bordwell emphasises what the Wu-Tang Clan has always known and demonstrated: the sympathetic bond between kung-fu action or hand-to-hand martial arts combat and the flow in hip-hop music. Bordwell calls his kung-fu aesthetic “expressive amplification”, which communicates with the viewer through both a visual and physical intelligibility and which is described by Bordwell in terms of beats, exaggerations, and the “exchange and rhyming of gestures” (87). What is pointed to here are precisely those aspects of Hong Kong cinema that share essential similarities with hip-hop music as such and which permeate the Wu-Tang aesthetic and thus, too, challenge or redistribute the codified stillness and negativity that define the filmic atmosphere of Ghost Dog. Bordwell argues that Hong Kong cinema constitutes an aesthetics in action that “pushes beyond Western norms of restraint and plausibility,” and in light of my thesis, I would argue that it pushes beyond these same conventions in traditional Japanese cinema as well (86). Bruce Lee, too, in describing the difference between Chinese kung-fu and Japanese fighting forms in A Warrior’s Journey (Bruce Little, 2000) points to the latter’s regulatory principles of hesitation and segmentarity and to the former’s formlessness and shapelessness, describing kung-fu when properly practiced as “like water, it can flow or it can crash,” qualities which echo not only Bordwell’s description of the pause-burst-pause pattern of kung-fu cinema’s combat sequences but also the Wu-Tang Clan’s own self-conception as described by GZA (“Jizza”), a close relative of RZA and co-founder of the Wu-Tang Clan, when he is asked to explain the inspiration for the title of his album Liquid Swords: Actually, ‘Liquid Swords’ comes from a kung-fu flick. … But the title was just … perfect. I was like, ‘Legend of a Liquid Sword.’ Damn, this is my rhymes. This is how I’m spittin’ it. We say the tongue is symbolic of the sword anyway, you know, and when in motion it produces wind. That’s how you hear ‘wu’. … That’s the wind swinging from the sword. The ‘Tang’, that’s when it hits an object. Tang! That’s how it is with words. (RZA and Norris, 67) Thus do two competing styles animate the aesthetic dynamics of the film Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai: an aesthetic of codified arrest and restraint versus an aesthetic of nomadic resistance and escape. The former finds expression in the film in the form of the cultural and historical meanings of the samurai tradition, defined by negation and attenuated sobriety, and in the “blank parody” (Otomo, 35) of a postmodern nostalgia for an empty historical past exemplified in the appropriation of the Samurai theme and in the post-industrial prohibitions and stratifications of contemporary life and experience; the latter is attested to in the affirmative kinetic exhilaration of kung-fu style, immediacy and expressivity, and in the corresponding adaptive potential of a hip-hop musical flow, a distributive, productive, and anti-nostalgic becoming, the nomadic essence of which redeems the rhetoric of postmodern loss described by the film. References Bordwell, David. “Aesthetics in Action: Kungfu, Gunplay, and Cinematic Expressivity.” At Full Speed: Hong Kong Cinema in a Borderless World. Ed. and Trans. Esther Yau. Minneapolis: Minnesota UP, 2004. Bruce Lee: A Warrior’s Journey. Dir./Filmmaker John Little. Netflix DVD. Warner Home Video, 2000. Daidjo, Yuzan. Code of the Samurai. Trans. Thomas Cleary. Tuttle Martial Arts. Boston: Tuttle, 1999. Deleuze, Gilles, and Félix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus. Trans. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: Minnesota UP,1987. Forman, Murray, and Mark Anthony Neal, eds. That’s the Joint!: The Hip-Hop Studies Reader. New York: Routledge, 2004. Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai. Dir. Jim Jarmusch. Netflix DVD. Artisan, 2000. Hurst, G. Cameron III. Armed Martial Arts of Japan. New Haven: Yale UP,1998. Ikegami, Eiko. The Taming of the Samurai. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1995. Jansen, Marius, ed. Warrior Rule in Japan. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1995. Kurosawa, Akira. Seven Samurai and Other Screenplays. Trans. Donald Richie. London: Faber and Faber, 1992. Lanzagorta, Marco. “Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai.” Senses of Cinema. Sept-Oct 2002. http://www.sensesofcinema.com/contents/cteq/02/22/ghost_dog.htm>. Mol, Serge. Classical Fighting Arts of Japan. Tokyo/New York: Kodansha Int., 2001. Otomo, Ryoko. “‘The Way of the Samurai’: Ghost Dog, Mishima, and Modernity’s Other.” Japanese Studies 21.1 (May 2001) 31-43. Potter, Russell. Spectacular Vernaculars. Albany: SUNY P, 1995. RZA, The, and Chris Norris. The Wu-Tang Manual. New York: Penguin, 2005. Silver, Alain. The Samurai Film. Woodstock, New York: Overlook, 1983. Smith, Christopher Holmes. “Method in the Madness: Exploring the Boundaries of Identity in Hip-Hop Performativity.” Social Identities 3.3 (Oct 1997): 345-75. Watkins, Craig S. Representing: Hip Hop Culture and the Production of Black Cinema. Chicago: Chicago UP, 1998. Wu-Tang Clan. Enter the Wu-Tang: 36 Chambers. CD. RCA/Loud Records, 1993. ———. Wu-Tang Forever. CD. RCA/Loud Records, 1997. Xing, Yan, ed. Shaolin Kungfu. Trans. Zhang Zongzhi and Zhu Chengyao. Beijing: China Pictorial, 1996. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Eubanks, Kevin P. "Becoming-Samurai: Samurai (Films), Kung-Fu (Flicks) and Hip-Hop (Soundtracks)." M/C Journal 10.2 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/11-eubanks.php>. APA Style Eubanks, K. (May 2007) "Becoming-Samurai: Samurai (Films), Kung-Fu (Flicks) and Hip-Hop (Soundtracks)," M/C Journal, 10(2). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/11-eubanks.php>.

Photo by Sangharsh Lohakare on Unsplash ABSTRACT The public should debate the ethical and social challenges arising from heritable human genome editing (HHGE). The notorious case involving He Jiankui may have led to the disfavor of gene editing and a precautionary approach. While the de facto global moratorium on HHGE is clearly justified considering our current inability to implement it safely and effectively, the difficult ethical considerations should be addressed prior to the ability to initiate widespread HHGE. This piece argues that prospective patients and other members of society beyond the scientific community must be included in the conversation. It emphasizes the potential role of those not directly participating in HHGE science, calling the broader academic community not simply to wait for scientists’ results and only afterward react. Pointing to key historical examples, I contend that scientific progress is intrinsically linked with the surrounding societal discussion and that it is not only scientists who can influence where the HHGE story ends. INTRODUCTION l. Rogue Scientists Chinese biophysicist He Jiankui announced the world’s first genetically modified babies in 2018. Naturally, the treatment aroused the attention of the world’s media, which focused on He’s reckless actions. Indeed, in setting up and carrying out the procedure in question, he flouted norms of good scientific practice on a range of levels—errors paid with time in prison. Since the He controversy, few scientists have aggressively approached heritable human genome editing (HHGE) and challenged the current research norms. The most outspoken exception is the Russian molecular biologist Denis Rebrikov of the Pirogov Russian National Research Medical University. He publicly declared his intention to apply clustered regularly interspaced short palindromic repeats (CRISPR) to embryos to help couples avoid passing serious medical conditions to their children. However, Rebrikov met fierce opposition both inside and beyond Russia and, with leading CRISPR scientists and bioethicists abroad describing him as a “cowboy” who had “weak data” and was trying to “grab some attention.”[1] So far, Rebrikov’s plans have failed to come to fruition. Although there are 126 entries listed in a registry of HHGE research recently created by the World Health Organization (WHO),[2],[3] it seems that clinical HHGE has been paused for the time being. ll. Steering the Conversation A section of the scientific community has been trying to steer the ethical debate on HHGE away from the actions of rogue scientists and back to an issue that is central to the matter—the interests of patients. The majority would agree that the most compelling potential application of germline genome editing is for the prevention of devastating genetic conditions, for example, when both parents carry Huntington’s disease, for which “genome editing offers the only prospect of bearing a healthy, genetically related child.”[4] Despite such justification for scientists to continue pursuing research in the area, there has been a notable reticence in the wider academic community regarding making the ethical case for HHGE and clarifying in which medical situations such a technique might be reasonably applied. Even among those who recognize that the HHGE cases' controversies should not be a reason for panic over designer babies, some believe that starting the ethical debate is premature. A key part of the argument is that the current technological and scientific knowledge available is far from ready to deliver on treatments. A similar stance preventing debate in the wider society is that “difficult questions” about cost, accessibility, and social justice remain.[5] Whether intended or not, the implication is that the position of wider society in the HHGE story should be a reactive one, namely waiting to see what the scientists throw at them and then dealing with it. I argue that there is not only an immediate need for broader academic and societal input on the ethical and social aspects of the HHGE debate but that there is a deep symbiosis between scientific progress and its surroundings, whereby science both shapes and is shaped by the societal environment in which it takes place. The WHO published a position paper, recommendations, and a framework for governance. The framework for governance describes global standards for the governance and oversight of HHGE.[6] The position paper emphasized the importance of global and inclusive dialogue,[7] and many other boards have also called for broad public engagement.[8] It is imperative that WHO’s governance framework meets everyone’s needs. After all, as with any medical treatment, it is not the scientist who developed the treatment or the doctor who delivers it that is most important– that honor falls to the patient. In the case of HHGE, the beneficiaries include those members of society who hope to reproduce. Yet HHGE has the potential to impact society. We all should have an opportunity to be a part of world-changing decisions that lead to the creation are made and feel a responsibility to participate. lll. Shutting Down the Academic Debate At the 30th Annual Conference of the Japanese Association for Bioethics, which took place in late 2018 after He’s experiment, the discussion about HHGE was shut down quickly. Notwithstanding the understandable issues raised with He’s case, one participant after another stood up to voice support for an outright and complete ban on the use of CRISPR.[9] The ban was based on the grounds that editing the human genome would result in a cascade of unforeseen and irreversible consequences for future generations. One participant forcefully argued that “the deoxyribose nucleic acid (DNA) rubicon should never be crossed for above all, it was deeply immoral to do so when there was no way of obtaining the consent of those who would actually stand affected—our descendants.”[10] Another saw it as putting humanity on a slippery slope toward enhancements, and some feared the catastrophic mistakes that might result from their use.[11] While the above event provides just one snapshot of the debate that was taking place around the world at the time, it captures the strong reservations in the scientific community. It is a common view, not only in Japan, that the human genome is something sacred, a relic handed down from generations, that we ought to treasure and preserve. In support of such a view, religious and other more pragmatic reasons are offered. For example, some may fear the disasters that might befall us if we choose to intervene in the process through which we pass our genetic code from one generation to another. Such arguments are certainly still at the heart of the ethical debate, but the foundations upon which they are built are by no means universally accepted. Stanford University bioethicist Henry Greely writes, “the human germline genome” does not exist; instead, each of us has a unique genome.[12] Greely argues that HHGE is no different from the changes our genomes have undergone through numerous medical interventions. For example, synthetic insulin has increased the number of people with DNA variations that lead to diabetes. Those with this condition would have died as a child in the past. However, now they live long enough to be able to reproduce. Similarly, the transition from hunting to farming centuries ago resulted in a greater number of copies in our gene pool of starch-digesting genes. Yet Greely suggested that, practically, HHGE is “not very useful in the near- to midterm” (by which he means “the next several decades”)[13] “mainly because other technologies can attain almost all the important hoped-for benefits of [HHGE], often with lower risk,” citing embryo selection and somatic gene editing as two alternative options. Greely argued that applying HHGE for enhancement beyond disease prevention and is currently not a realistic option because we lack the necessary knowledge. In Greely’s opinion, “how worried should we be [about HHGE]…? A bit, but not very and not about much.”[14] Greely’s assertions that other scientific debates should take precedence and that the concerns are not ripe for debate yet are concerning. lV. Why Shutting Down the Debate Might Not be a Good Idea First, the timeframe described by Greely seems somewhat out of line with that described by leading scientists. As far back as 2018, at the same Summit where He made his revelations, George Q. Daley stressed that HHGE is scientifically feasible here and that the ethical considerations can no longer be put off: “…a number of groups have applied gene editing now to human embryos in the context of in vitro fertilization and attempting to determine variations of a protocol that would enhance the fidelity and reduce mosaicism. I think there has been an emerging consensus that the off-target problem is manageable, and in some cases even infinitesimal. There are some interesting proofs of principles, like diseases such as beta-thalassemia that could potentially be approached with this strategy.”[15] It would also be possible to challenge Greely on various other aspects. One of which would be the number of cases to which HHGE would be relevant and the kinds of moral allowances that might be made, and each case concludes that more urgency is required in the ethical debate. Greely suggests that most people can use preimplantation genetic testing (PGD), which is the embryo selection process, and that perhaps HHGE could apply to couples where both have the same autosomal recessive gene.[16] Greely rules out considering HHGE in cases where PGD is applicable. Greely concedes PGD does not already represent the answer on this topic, as it often fails to provide couples with enough healthy embryos to transfer. As a resolution to this issue, he points to the creation of eggs using induced pluripotent stem cell (iPSC) techniques, whereby eggs can potentially be created from other cells.[17] However, given the extremely limited success of iPSCs in the clinical arena to date, in vitro gametogenesis is a highly speculative solution. Certainly, the progress of iPSC research is not such a safe bet that placing all our hopes on it at the expense of HHGE techniques is currently justified. (Also, it should be noted that making eggs using the iPSC technique is hardly an ethical problem-free area itself.) In summary, the cases of couples looking to conceive that Greely rules out by pointing to PGD should be kept on the HHGE table, as various other scholars have suggested.[18] Many of us debating HHGE are not scientists, so the best we can do is draw from the information we glean from those more technically capable. As a society, we are not just passive observers of science; we should have influence over decisions that impact society. Indeed, even if the available science is not yet at a place where we should be worried about large-scale ethical and social concerns, the story will continue to unfold in the future. While Greely is happy to see the human race “muddle through” the ethical challenges of scientific breakthroughs, such a position fails to recognize that society at large is far from powerless. V. Society Influencing Scientific Progress There are some notable examples of society’s impact on scientific progress. For example, political policies led to the development of nuclear technology for war and strategic deterrence, despite societal objections seen through demonstrations of people protesting using the slogan “no nukes.” Furthermore, the Bush administration drastically limited the use of embryonic stem cells in the 2000s due to a strong religious and cultural influence on policy.[19] Societal debate potentially serves as a powerful factor in guiding science. Where societal acceptance is ambiguous, science tends to operate on its own. But where science would impact life’s fundamental issues like war, how embryos should be valued, or the end of life, society should weigh in and influence the role of science. Societal views on the current global moratorium on HHGE could lead to a ban, as has been advocated.[20] On the other hand, societal views that value HHGE as a way to expand reproductive autonomy may justify permitting its use. Opening an ethics debate about it would enable scientists to pursue technologies that society deems justifiable as well as set limits for where they should stop. Making this process more difficult, the He affair has clearly colored public discourse on HHGE in a way that inhibits debate. In Japan, a sequence of questionnaires in 2016, 2018, and 2019 showed that the widely publicized HHGE scandal led to a significant decline in the acceptance of genome editing technology in general, particularly for human reproduction. Specifically, the surveys revealed a stark rise in disapproval of the technology’s use on fertilized human eggs—from 12 percent in 2018 to 29 percent in 2019.[21] The three scientists that conducted these surveys suggested that “the news of the twin babies in China had a substantial influence on the Japanese public,” damaging the reputation of HHGE.[22] It seems likely that the public distaste for HHGE was prompted by He’s research rather than considerations about the scientific potential of HHGE The change in public opinion may also make politicians and scientists more hesitant when it comes to taking the lead in the HHGE debate. Ultimately, this can restrict the public discussion of the central ethical challenges of the technology and hinder efforts to determine whether there is a responsible path forward other than an outright ban. Stressing the importance of the issue again to potential patients and failing to engage further with the HHGE debate is surely not something society should allow. While there are many important ongoing debates about genetics, like biohacking and DIY hobbyists, HHGE deserves attention as well. In fact, attention to the ethics of HHGE should help — more awareness of how these tools can be applied and what germline genome editing is will make people more alert to the existing danger and better understand how to mitigate it. Perhaps more importantly, a clear message from society to researchers about what objectives are reasonable to pursue regarding the HHGE technologies will facilitate good science. Having a publicly determined criterion would allow scientists to not live in fear that they might be blacklisted for seeking progress in grey areas and instead confidently chase progress where it is allowed. Vl. What Now? HHGE is here (or will be soon) and brings many ethical and social challenges. However, the challenges should not be left to individual scientists and couples in desperate situations to manage alone. Moving toward how these challenges can be met practically, it is helpful to draw a parallel with the issue of implementing human rights. In the early 21st century, political philosopher Michael Freeman of the University of Essex lamented that implementing human rights had been left to lawyers. Although legal experts were clearly essential in putting together the global human rights framework, Freeman’s concern was that they were not best placed to understand implementing human rights in various contexts. Setting out a broader, interdisciplinary approach, he called for social scientists to tackle these difficult questions, ultimately moving human rights forward around the world. Similarly, in medical technology like HHGE, scientists are crucial to the story, but at the same time, they are not trained to deal with all the accompanying challenges. Bioethicists are also important, clarifying the arguments that society needs to resolve. There is a need for even wider input from across the scholarly community. For instance, as with human rights, international and domestic regulation is required, and clearly, the legal community has a role here. Moreover, as described by Freeman, since all law is political in its creation and has impacts across society, political scientists and sociologists can provide impactful input. CONCLUSION We are in it together, and we have roles to play in the discussion of HHGE. Societal discourse does not always trail the scientific reality, but rather, it can condition the path that science will follow. Given the importance of what is at stake, not only for the potential patients, but for humanity, we should not leave the HHGE debate only to scientists, and we should not leave it until later. - [1] Cohen J. “Embattled Russian scientist sharpens plans to create gene-edited babies,” Science, 21 Oct. 2019. doi:10.1126/science.aaz9337. [2] World Health Organization. “WHO issues new recommendations on human genome editing for the advancement of public health,” News release, 12 July 2021, www.who.int/news/item/12-07-2021-who-issues-new-recommendations-on-human-genome-editing-for-the-advancement-of-public-health. [3] World Health Organization. “Human Genome Editing Registry,” https://www.who.int/groups/expert-advisory-committee-on-developing-global-standards-for-governance-and-oversight-of-human-genome-editing/registry. 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[8] Daley GQ, Lovell-Badge R, and Steffann J. “After the Storm–A Responsible Path for Genome Editing,” New England Journal of Medicine 380, no. 10 (2019): 897-9. doi:10.1056/NEJMp1900504. [9] 30th Annual Conference of the Japanese Association for Bioethics, 8-9 Dec. 2018, Kyoto Prefectural University, Kyoto. [10] 30th Annual Conference of the Japanese Association for Bioethics, 8-9 Dec. 2018, Kyoto Prefectural University, Kyoto. [11] 30th Annual Conference of the Japanese Association for Bioethics, 8-9 Dec. 2018, Kyoto Prefectural University, Kyoto. [12] Greely HT. “Why the Panic Over ‘Designer Babies’ Is the Wrong Worry,” LeapsMag, 30 Oct. 2017, leapsmag.com/much-ado-about-nothing-much-crispr-for-human-embryo-editing; Greely HT. “CRISPR’d babies: human germline genome editing in the ‘He Jiankui Affair’,” Journal of Law and the Biosciences 2019; 6(1): 111–83. doi: 10.1093/jlb/lsz010; Greely HT. CRISPR People: The Science and Ethics of Editing Humans (Massachusetts: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 2021). [13] Greely HT. “Why the Panic Over ‘Designer Babies’ Is the Wrong Worry,” LeapsMag, 30 Oct. 2017, leapsmag.com/much-ado-about-nothing-much-crispr-for-human-embryo-editing. [14] Greely HT. “Why the Panic Over ‘Designer Babies’ Is the Wrong Worry,” LeapsMag, 30 Oct. 2017, leapsmag.com/much-ado-about-nothing-much-crispr-for-human-embryo-editing. [15] Daley, G. (n.d.). Genome-editing-pathways to Translation. Transcript of the Human-Genome Editing Summit 2018 Hong Kong. Retrieved March 17, 2022, from https://diyhpl.us/wiki/transcripts/human-genome-editing-summit/2018-hong-kong/george-daley-genome-editing-pathways-to-translation/ [16] Greely HT. “CRISPR’d babies: human germline genome editing in the ‘He Jiankui affair’,” Journal of Law and the Biosciences 2019: 6(1): 111–83. doi:10.1093/jlb/lsz010. [17] Greely HT. CRISPR People: The Science and Ethics of Editing Humans (Massachusetts: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 2021). [18] Rasnich R. “Germline genome editing versus preimplantation genetic diagnosis: Is there a case in favour of germline interventions?.” Bioethics 2020; 34(1): 60–9. [19] Murugan, Varnee. “Embryonic stem cell research: a decade of debate from Bush to Obama.” The Yale journal of biology and medicine vol. 82,3 (2009): 101-3. [20] Lander E, Baylis F, Zhang F, et al. “Adopt a moratorium on heritable genome editing,” Nature 2019; 567(7747): 165–8. pmid:30867611. [21] Watanabe D, Sato Y, Tsuda M, and Ohsawa R. Increased awareness and decreased acceptance of genome-editing technology: The impact of the Chinese twin babies. PLoS ONE 2000; 15(1): 1-13. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0238128. [22] Watanabe D, Sato Y, Tsuda M, and Ohsawa R. Increased awareness and decreased acceptance of genome-editing technology: The impact of the Chinese twin babies. 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Introduction Lillian Ng was born in Singapore and lived in Hong Kong and the United Kingdom before migrating to Australia with her daughter and Ah Mah Yin Jie (“Ah Mahs are a special group of people who took a vow to remain unmarried … [so they] could stick together as a group and make a living together” (Yu 118)). Ng studied classical Chinese at home, then went to an English school and later on studied Medicine. Her first book, Silver Sister (1994), was short-listed for the inaugural Angus & Robertson/Bookworld Prize in 1993 and won the Human Rights Award in 1995. Ng defines herself as a “Chinese living in Australia” (Yu 115). Food, flesh and meat are recurrent topics in Lillian Ng´s second novel Swallowing Clouds, published in 1997. These topics are related to desire and can be used as a synecdoche (a metaphor that describes part/whole relations) of the human body: food is needed to survive and pleasure can be obtained from other people´s bodies. This paper focuses on one type of meat and animal, pork and the pig, and on the relation between the two main characters, Syn and Zhu Zhiyee. Syn, the main character in the novel, is a Shanghainese student studying English in Sydney who becomes stranded after the Tiananmen Square massacre of June 1989. As she stops receiving money from her mother and fears repression if she goes back to China, she begins to work in a Chinese butcher shop, owned by Zhu Zhiyee, which brings her English lessons to a standstill. Syn and Zhu Zhiyee soon begin a two-year love affair, despite the fact that Zhu Zhiyee is married to KarLeng and has three daughters. The novel is structured as a prologue and four days, each of which has a different setting and temporal location. The prologue introduces the story of an adulterous woman who was punished to be drowned in a pig´s basket in the HuanPu River in the summer of 1918. As learnt later on, Syn is the reincarnation of this woman, whose purpose in life is to take revenge on men by taking their money. The four days, from the 4th to the 7th of June 1994, mark the duration of a trip to Beijing and Shanghai that Syn takes as member of an Australian expedition in order to visit her mother with the security of an Australian passport. During these four days, the reader learns about different Chinese landmarks, such as the Forbidden City, the Great Wall, the Ming Tomb and the Summer Palace, as well as some cultural events, such as a Chinese opera and eating typical foods like Peking duck. However, the bulk of the plot of the book deals with the sexual relationship, erotic games and fantasies of Syn and Zhu Zhiyee in the period between 1989 and 1992, as well as Syn´s final revenge in January 1993. Pigs The fact that Zhu Zhiyee is a butcher allows Lillian Ng to include references to pigs and pork throughout the novel. Some of them refer to the everyday work of a butcher shop, as the following examples illustrate: “Come in and help me with the carcass,” he [Zhu Zhiyee] pointed to a small suckling pig hung on a peg. Syn hesitated, not knowing how to handle the situation. “Take the whole pig with the peg,” he commanded (11).Under dazzling fluorescent tubes and bright spotlights, trays of red meat, pork chops and lamb cutlets sparkled like jewels … The trays edged with red cellophane frills and green underlay breathed vitality and colour into the slabs of pork ribs and fillets (15).Buckets of pig´s blood with a skim of froth took their place on the floor; gelled ones, like sliced cubes of large agate, sat in tin trays labelled in Chinese. More discreetly hidden were the gonads and penises of goats, bulls and pigs. (16)These examples are representative of Syn and Zhu Zhiyee´s relationship. The first quotation deals with their interaction: most of the time Zhu Zhiyee orders Syn how to act, either in the shop or in bed. The second extract describes the meat’s “vitality” and this is the quality of Syn's skin that mesmerised Zhu when he met her: “he was excited, electrified by the sight of her unblemished, translucent skin, unlined, smooth as silk. The glow of the warmth of human skin” (13). Moreover, the lights seem to completely illuminate the pieces of meat and this is the way Zhu Zhiyee leers at Syn´s body, as it can be read in the following extract: “he turned again to fix his gaze on Syn, which pierced and penetrated her head, her brain, eyes, permeated her whole body, seeped into her secret places and crevices” (14). The third excerpt introduces the sexual organs of some of the animals, which are sold to some customers for a high price. Meat is also sexualised by Zhu Zhiyee´s actions, such as his pinching the bottoms of chickens and comparing them with “sacrificial virgins”: “chickens, shamelessly stripped and trussed, hung by their necks, naked in their pimply white skin, seemed like sacrificial virgins. Syn often caught Zhu pinching their fleshy bottoms, while wrapping and serving them to the housewives” (15-16). Zhu also makes comments relating food with sex while he is having lunch next to Syn, which could be considered sexual harassment. All these extracts exemplify the relationship between Syn and Zhu Zhiyee: the orders, the looks and the implicit sexuality in the quotidian activities in the butcher´s shop. There are also a range of other expressions that include similes with the word `pig´ in Ng´s novel. One of the most recurrent is comparing the left arm and hand of Zhu Zhiyee´s mother with a “pig´s trotter”. Zhu Zhiyee´s mother is known as ZhuMa and Syn is very fond of her, as ZhuMa accepts her and likes her more than her own daughter-in-law. The comparison of ZhuMa´s arm and hand with a trotter may be explained by the fact that ZhuMa´s arm is swollen but also by the loving representation of pigs in Chinese culture. As Seung-Og Kim explains in his article “Burials, Pigs, and Political Prestige in Neolithic China”: In both Melanesia and Asia, pigs are viewed as a symbolic representation of human beings (Allen 1976: 42; Healey 1985; Rappaport 1967: 58; Roscoe 1989: 223-26). Piglets are treated as pets and receive a great deal of loving attention, and they in turn express affection for their human “parents.” They also share some physiological features with human beings, being omnivorous and highly reproductive (though humans do not usually have multiple litters) and similar internal anatomy (Roscoe 1989: 225). In short, pigs not only have a symbiotic relationship with humans biologically but also are of great importance symbolically (121). Consequently, pigs are held in high esteem, taken care of and loved. Therefore, comparing a part of a human´s body, such as an arm or a hand, for example, to a part of a pig´s body such as a pig´s trotter is not negative, but has positive connotations. Some descriptions of ZhuMa´s arm and hand can be read in the following excerpts: “As ZhuMa handed her the plate of cookies Syn saw her left arm, swollen like a pig´s trotter” (97); “Syn was horrified, and yet somewhat intrigued by this woman without a breast, with a pig´s trotter arm and a tummy like a chessboard” (99), “mimicking the act of writing with her pig-trotter hand” (99), and ZhuMa was praising the excellence of the opera, the singing, acting, the costumes, and the elaborate props, waving excitedly with her pig trotter arm and pointing with her stubby fingers while she talked. (170) Moreover, the expression “pig´s trotters” is also used as an example of the erotic fetishism with bound feet, as it can be seen in the following passage, which will be discussed below: I [Zhu Zhiyee] adore feet which are slender… they seem so soft, like pig´s trotters, so cute and loving, they play tricks on your mind. Imagine feeling them in bed under your blankets—soft cottonwool lumps, plump and cuddly, makes you want to stroke them like your lover´s hands … this was how the bound feet appealed to men, the erotic sensation when balanced on shoulders, clutched in palms, strung to the seat of a garden swing … no matter how ugly a woman is, her tiny elegant feet would win her many admirers (224).Besides writing about pigs and pork as part of the daily work of the butcher shop and using the expression “pig´s trotter”, “pig” is also linked to money in two sentences in the book. On the one hand, it is used to calculate a price and draw attention to the large amount it represents: “The blouse was very expensive—three hundred dollars, the total takings from selling a pig. Two pigs if he purchased two blouses” (197). On the other, it works as an adjective in the expression “piggy-bank”, the money box in the form of a pig, an animal that represents abundance and happiness in the Chinese culture: “She borrowed money from her neighbours, who emptied pieces of silver from their piggy-banks, their life savings”(54). Finally, the most frequent porcine expression in Ng´s Swallowing Clouds makes reference to being drowned in a pig´s basket, which represents 19 of the 33 references to pigs or pork that appear in the novel. The first three references appear in the prologue (ix, x, xii), where the reader learns the story of the last woman who was killed by drowning in a pig´s basket as a punishment for her adultery. After this, two references recount a soothsayer´s explanation to Syn about her nightmares and the fact that she is the reincarnation of that lady (67, 155); three references are made by Syn when she explains this story to Zhu Zhiyee and to her companion on the trip to Beijing and Shanghai (28, 154, 248); one refers to a feeling Syn has during sexual intercourse with Zhu Zhiyee (94); and one when the pig basket is compared to a cricket box, a wicker or wooden box used to carry or keep crickets in a house and listen to them singing (73). Furthermore, Syn reflects on the fact of drowning (65, 114, 115, 171, 172, 173, 197, 296) and compares her previous death with that of Concubine Pearl, the favourite of Emperor Guanxu, who was killed by order of his aunt, the Empress Dowager Cixi (76-77). The punishment of drowning in a pig´s basket can thus be understood as retribution for a transgression: a woman having an extra-marital relationship, going against the establishment and the boundaries of the authorised. Both the woman who is drowned in a pig´s basket in 1918 and Syn have extra-marital affairs and break society’s rules. However, the consequences are different: the concubine dies and Syn, her reincarnation, takes revenge. Desire, Transgression and Eroticism Xavier Pons writes about desire, repression, freedom and transgression in his book Messengers of Eros: Representations of Sex in Australian Writing (2009). In this text, he explains that desire can be understood as a positive or as a negative feeling. On the one hand, by experiencing desire, a person feels alive and has joy de vivre, and if that person is desired in return, then, the feelings of being accepted and happiness are also involved (13). On the other hand, desire is often repressed, as it may be considered evil, anarchic, an enemy of reason and an alienation from consciousness (14). According to Pons: Sometimes repression, in the form of censorship, comes from the outside—from society at large, or from particular social groups—because of desire´s subversive nature, because it is a force which, given a free rein, would threaten the higher purpose which a given society assigns to other (and usually ideological) forces … Repression may also come from the inside, via the internalization of censorship … desire is sometimes feared by the individual as a force alien to his/her true self which would leave him/her vulnerable to rejection or domination, and would result in loss of freedom (14).Consequently, when talking about sexual desire, the two main concepts to be dealt with are freedom and transgression. As Pons makes clear, “the desiring subject can be taken advantage of, manipulated like a puppet [as h]is or her freedom is in this sense limited by the experience of desire” (15). While some practices may be considered abusive, such as bondage or sado-masochism, they may be deliberately and freely chosen by the partners involved. In this case, these practices represent “an encounter between equals: dominance is no more than make-believe, and a certain amount of freedom (as much as is compatible with giving oneself up to one´s fantasies) is maintained throughout” (24). Consequently, the perception of freedom changes with each person and situation. What is transgressive depends on the norms in every culture and, as these evolve, so do the forms of transgression (Pons 43). Examples of transgressions can be: firstly, the separation of sex from love, adultery or female and male homosexuality, which happen with the free will of the partners; or, secondly, paedophilia, incest or bestiality, which imply abuse. Going against society’s norms involves taking risks, such as being discovered and exiled from society or feeling isolated as a result of a feeling of difference. As the norms change according to culture, time and person, an individual may transgress the rules and feel liberated, but later on do the same thing and feel alienated. As Pons declares, “transgressing the rules does not always lead to liberation or happiness—transgression can turn into a trap and turn out to be simply another kind of alienation” (46). In Swallowing Clouds, Zhu Zhiyee transgresses the social norms of his time by having an affair with Syn: firstly, because it is extra-marital, he and his wife, KarLeng, are Catholic and fidelity is one of the promises made when getting married; and, secondly, because he is Syn´s boss and his comments and ways of flirting with her could be considered sexual harassment. For two years, the affair is an escape from Zhu Zhiyee´s daily worries and stress and a liberation and fulfillment of his sexual desires. However, he introduces Syn to his mother and his sisters, who accept her and like her more than his wife. He feels trapped, though, when KarLeng guesses and threatens him with divorce. He cannot accept this as it would mean loss of face in their neighbourhood and society, and so he decides to abandon Syn. Syn´s transgression becomes a trap for her as Zhu, his mother and his sisters have become her only connection with the outside world in Australia and this alienates her from both the country she lives in and the people she knows. However, Syn´s transgression also turns into a trap for Zhu Zhiyee because she will not sign the documents to give him the house back and every month she sends proof of their affair to KarLeng in order to cause disruption in their household. This exposure could be compared with the humiliation suffered by the concubine when she was paraded in a pig´s basket before she was drowned in the HuangPu River. Furthermore, the reader does not know whether KarLeng finally divorces Zhu Zhiyee, which would be his drowning and loss of face and dishonour in front of society, but can imagine the humiliation, shame and disgrace KarLeng makes him feel every month. Pons also depicts eroticism as a form of transgression. In fact, erotic relations are a power game, and seduction can be a very effective weapon. As such, women can use seduction to obtain power and threaten the patriarchal order, which imposes on them patterns of behaviour, language and codes to follow. However, men also use seduction to get their own benefits, especially in political and social contexts. “Power has often been described as the ultimate aphrodisiac” (Pons 32) and this can be seen in many of the sexual games between Syn and Zhu Zhiyee in Swallowing Clouds, where Zhu Zhiyee is the active partner and Syn becomes little more than an object that gives pleasure. A clear reference to erotic fetishism is embedded in the above-mentioned quote on bound feet, which are compared to pig´s trotters. In fact, bound feet were so important in China in the millennia between the Song Dynasty (960-1276) and the early 20th century that “it was impossible to find a husband” (Holman) without them: “As women’s bound feet and shoes became the essence of feminine beauty, a fanatical aesthetic and sexual mystique developed around them. The bound foot was understood to be the most intimate and erotic part of the female anatomy, and wives, consorts and prostitutes were chosen solely on the size and shape of their feet” (Holman). Bound feet are associated in Ng’s novel with pig´s trotters and are described as “cute and loving … soft cottonwool lumps, plump and cuddly, [that] makes you want to stroke them like your lover´s hands” (224). This approach towards bound feet and, by extension, towards pig´s trotters, can be related to the fond feelings Melanesian and Asian cultures have towards piglets, which “are treated as pets and receive a great deal of loving attention” (Kim 121). Consequently, the bound feet can be considered a synecdoche for the fond feelings piglets inspire. Food and Sex The fact that Zhu Zhiyee is a butcher and works with different types of meat, including pork, that he chops it, sells it and gives cooking advice, is not gratuitous in the novel. He is used to being in close proximity to meat and death and seeing Syn’s pale skin through which he can trace her veins excites him. Her flesh is alive and represents, therefore, the opposite of meat. He wants to seduce her, which is human hunting, and he wants to study her, to enjoy her body, which can be compared to animals looking at their prey and deciding where to start eating from. Zhu´s desire for Syn seems destructive and dangerous. In the novel, bodies have a price: dead animals are paid for and eaten and their role is the satiation of human hunger. But humans, who are also animals, have a price as well: flesh is paid for, in the form of prostitution or being a mistress, and its aim is satiation of human sex. Generally speaking, sex in the novel is compared to food either in a direct or an indirect way, and making love is constantly compared to cooking, the preparation of food and eating (as in Pons 303). Many passages in Swallowing Clouds have cannibalistic connotations, all of these being used as metaphors for Zhu Zhiyee’s desire for Syn. As mentioned before, desire can be positive (as it makes a person feel alive) or negative (as a form of internal or social censorship). For Zhu Zhiyee, desire is positive and similar to a drug he is addicted to. For example, when Zhu and Syn make delivery rounds in an old Mazda van, he plays the recordings he made the previous night when they were having sex and tries to guess when each moan happened. Sex and Literature Pons explains that “to write about sex … is to address a host of issues—social, psychological and literary—which together pretty much define a culture” (6). Lillian Ng´s Swallowing Clouds addresses a series of issues. The first of these could be termed ‘the social’: Syn´s situation after the Tiananmen Massacre; her adulterous relationship with her boss and being treated and considered his mistress; the rapes in Inner Mongolia; different reasons for having an abortion; various forms of abuse, even by a mother of her mentally handicapped daughter; the loss of face; betrayal; and revenge. The second issue is the ‘psychological’, with the power relations and strategies used between different characters, psychological abuse, physical abuse, humiliation, and dependency. The third is the ‘literary’, as when the constant use of metaphors with Chinese cultural references becomes farcical, as Tseen Khoo notes in her article “Selling Sexotica” (2000: 164). Khoo explains that, “in the push for Swallowing Clouds to be many types of novels at once: [that is, erotica, touristic narrative and popular], it fails to be any one particularly successfully” (171). Swallowing Clouds is disturbing, full of stereotypes, and with repeated metaphors, and does not have a clear readership and, as Khoo states: “The explicit and implicit strategies behind the novel embody the enduring perceptions of what exotic, multicultural writing involves—sensationalism, voyeuristic pleasures, and a seemingly deliberate lack of rooted-ness in the Australian socioscape (172). Furthermore, Swallowing Clouds has also been defined as “oriental grunge, mostly because of the progression throughout the narrative from one gritty, exoticised sexual encounter to another” (Khoo 169-70).Other novels which have been described as “grunge” are Edward Berridge´s Lives of the Saints (1995), Justine Ettler´s The River Ophelia (1995), Linda Jaivin´s Eat Me (1995), Andrew McGahan´s Praise (1992) and 1988 (1995), Claire Mendes´ Drift Street (1995) or Christos Tsiolkas´ Loaded (1995) (Michael C). The word “grunge” has clear connotations with “dirtiness”—a further use of pig, but one that is not common in the novel. The vocabulary used during the sexual intercourse and games between Syn and Zhu Zhiyee is, however, coarse, and “the association of sex with coarseness is extremely common” (Pons 344). Pons states that “writing about sex is an attempt to overcome [the barriers of being ashamed of some human bodily functions], regarded as unnecessarily constrictive, and this is what makes it by nature transgressive, controversial” (344-45). Ng´s use of vocabulary in this novel is definitely controversial, indeed, so much so that it has been defined as banal or even farcical (Khoo 169-70).ConclusionThis paper has analysed the use of the words and expressions: “pig”, “pork” and “drowning in a pig’s basket” in Lillian Ng´s Swallowing Clouds. Moreover, the punishment of drowning in a pig’s basket has served as a means to study the topics of desire, transgression and eroticism, in relation to an analysis of the characters of Syn and Zhu Zhiyee, and their relationship. This discussion of various terminology relating to “pig” has also led to the study of the relationship between food and sex, and sex and literature, in this novel. Consequently, this paper has analysed the use of the term “pig” and has used it as a springboard for the analysis of some aspects of the novel together with different theoretical definitions and concepts. Acknowledgements A version of this paper was given at the International Congress Food for Thought, hosted by the Australian Studies Centre at the University of Barcelona in February 2010. References Allen, Bryan J. Information Flow and Innovation Diffusion in the East Sepic District, Papua New Guinea. PhD diss. Australian National University, Australia. 1976. Berridge, Edward. Lives of the Saints. St Lucia: U of Queensland P, 1995. C., Michael. “Toward a sound theory of Australian Grunge fiction.” [Weblog entry] Eurhythmania. 5 Mar. 2008. 4 Oct. 2010 http://eurhythmania.blogspot.com/2008/03/toward-sound-theory-of-australian.html. Ettler, Justine. The River Ophelia. Sydney: Picador, 1995. Healey, Christopher J. “Pigs, Cassowaries, and the Gift of the Flesh: A Symbolic Triad in Maring Cosmology.” Ethnology 24 (1985): 153-65. Holman, Jeanine. “Bound Feet.” Bound Feet: The History of a Curious, Erotic Custom. Ed. Joseph Rupp 2010. 11 Aug. 2010. http://www.josephrupp.com/history.html. Jaivin, Linda. Eat Me. Melbourne: The Text Publishing Company, 1995. Khoo, Tseen. “Selling Sexotica: Oriental Grunge and Suburbia in Lillian Ngs’ Swallowing Clouds.” Diaspora: Negotiating Asian-Australian. Ed. Helen Gilbert, Tseen Khoo, and Jaqueline Lo. St Lucia: U of Queensland P, 2000. 164-72. Khoo, Tseen; Danau Tanu, and Tien. "Re: Of pigs and porks” 5-9 Aug. 1997. Asian- Australian Discussion List Digest numbers 1447-1450. Apr. 2010 . Kim, Seung-Og. “Burials, Pigs, and Political Prestige in Neolithic China.” Current Anthopology 35.2 (Apr. 1994): 119-141. McGahan, Andrew. Praise. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1992. McGahan, Andrew. 1988. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1995. Mendes, Clare. Drift Street. Pymble: HarperCollins, 1995. Ng, Lillian. Swallowing Clouds. Ringwood: Penguin Books Australia,1997. Pons, Xavier. Messengers of Eros. Representations of Sex in Australian Writing. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2009. Rappaport, Roy. Pigs for the Ancestors. New Have: Yale UP, 1967. Roscoe, Paul B. “The Pig and the Long Yam: The Expansion of the Sepik Cultural Complex”. Ethnology 28 (1989): 219-31. Tsiolkas, Christos. Loaded. Sydney: Vintage, 1995. Yu, Ouyang. “An Interview with Lillian Ng.” Otherland Literary Journal 7, Bastard Moon. Essays on Chinese-Australian Writing (July 2001): 111-24.

This thesis examines the political activism of Hong Kong youths known as the Post-80s. In contrast to dominant discourse in Hong Kong claiming that these youths are driven by economic concerns, based on 18 months of fieldwork, I suggest that the Post-80s are instead striving to reimagine what politics means as a part of life in the postcolonial city. It is emphasised that youths are 'protesting' as an act of rejecting mainstream politics, and as a means to realise their desire for a different form of politics to emerge in the city. By bringing youth voices to the forefront, this thesis addresses two broad themes - why and how the Post-80s protest. The thesis first provides an overview of Hong Kong politics, arguing that youths express a deep sense of dissatisfaction towards the political culture in society dictated by financial interests, and towards the hierarchical structures within the political domains that stifle the public voice. The thesis then reviews how the Post-80s challenge these conditions by positing a form of alternative politics predicated on individualistic self-representation manifesting through the self, body, and space. I look at youth claims that becoming political is an 'individual choice', and the ways in which their strong sense of individuality interacts with/counteracts the limitations on their political participation imposed by familial ties and gender roles. I then explore Post-80s attempts to dispel bodily passivity in protests through the incorporation of performance art into their political actions to empower the individual activist, and analyse youth attempts to reconfigure urban space into political sites of individualistic experimentation. The conclusion reviews the impact Post-80s activism has had on the realpolitik of the city, noting the inherent contradictions within the political efforts of the Post-80s and their limited ability to inflict widespread structural changes in Hong Kong politics.

Lai Wing Sze.
"Architecture Department, Chinese University of Hong Kong, Master of Architecture Programme 2001-2002, design report."
Includes bibliographical references (leaves [49]).
PROLOGUE --- p.1
THESIS STATEMENT --- p.2
METHODOLOGY --- p.3
PERCEPTION & PHENOMENON --- p.4
INTENTION
RELATION
INTENTION & RELATION
GESTURE IN OUR VISUAL EXPERIENCE --- p.9
MATERIAL
SURFACE
ENVELOPE
FORM
STRUCTURE
LANDSCAPE
DYNAMICS IN VISUAL EXPERIENCE --- p.15
MOVING OBJECT
CHANGING PERSPECTIVE
LIGHT
HUMAN ACTIVITY
PROGRAM --- p.19
DEAF COMMUNITY
THEATRE OF SILENCE
SITE --- p.23
LOCATION
SITE PHOTO
SOLAR STUDY
EXISTING BUILDINGS
DESIGN STRATEGY --- p.32
THEATRE-IN-THE-ROUND
WORKING MODEL
FINAL DESIGN --- p.37
FINAL MODEL
DRAWING
VARYING COMPOSITION

Tang, Cheuk Pan.
"December 2010."
Thesis (M.Phil.)--Chinese University of Hong Kong, 2011.
Includes bibliographical references (leaves 95-101).
Abstracts in English and Chinese; some appendixes includes Chinese.
Abstract --- p.i
Abstract (Chinese Translation) --- p.ii
Acknowledgements --- p.iii
Contents --- p.iv
Chapter Chapter One --- Introduction --- p.1
Chapter 1 --- Background and Issues --- p.1
Chapter 1.1 --- Karaoke-A Big Business
Chapter 1.2 --- Karaoke's Significance within the Community
Chapter 2 --- Literature Review --- p.6
Chapter 2.1 --- Medium of Karaoke
Chapter 2.1.1 --- MV
Chapter 2.1.2 --- Karaoke
Chapter 2.2 --- "Identities, Mass Society Theory and Mass Culture Theory"
Chapter 3 --- Methodology and Approach --- p.19
Chapter 3.1 --- Research Questions and Analytical Framework
Chapter 3.2 --- Data Collection
Chapter 3.2.1 --- Participation Observation
Chapter 3.2.2 --- Individual Interviews and Group Discussion
Chapter 3.2.3 --- Other Findings - Questionnaires
Chapter 3.3 --- Limitations
Chapter 3.4 --- Translations
Chapter Chapter Two --- Cantopop and Karaoke Boxes in Hong Kong --- p.26
Chapter 1 --- An overview of Cantopop in Hong Kong before Karaoke --- p.27
Chapter 1.1 --- Change of Population of Hong Kong 1940s to 1970s
Chapter 1.2 --- Music of Hong Kong before 1970s
Chapter 1.3 --- Germination of Cantopop - 1970s
Chapter 1.4 --- Cantopop and Hong Kong 1980s
Chapter 1.5 --- "Cantopop and Hong Kong 1990s - 2000s, a Different Music Scene"
Chapter 2 --- A Historical Review of Karaoke Boxes Businesses in Hong Kong of the 1990s - 2000s --- p.38
Chapter 2.1 --- Karaoke Boxes' Heyday and Exclusive Right Tryout
Chapter 2.2 --- Karaoke Boxes of the Big Two
Chapter 2.3 --- "Neway, California Red and K-net"
Chapter 3 --- Implication of the Development of Cantopop and Karaoke Box Businesses --- p.45
Chapter 4 --- Karaoke Boxes - A Reflection of Consumption Culture of Hong Kong --- p.46
Chapter 4.1 --- Indoor Consumption Culture
Chapter 4.2 --- Standardization and Personalization
Chapter 4.3 --- Fast Food Culture
Chapter 4.4 --- From Businessmen to Consumer
Chapter Chapter Three --- Overwhelming of the Karaoke Boxes Chains in Hong Kong --- p.51
Chapter 1 --- A common Term: K-Song --- p.54
Chapter 2 --- Interviews and Discussions of K-Song --- p.58
Chapter 2.1 --- Individuals
Chapter 2.2 --- Group Discussions
Chapter 3 --- The implication of the Term K-Song --- p.61
Chapter 3.1 --- """I am not one of them"" - As a Tool for Construction of Identity"
Chapter Chapter Four --- The Karaoke's Goers in Hong Kong --- p.66
Chapter 1 --- Emotional Satisfaction of a Performer in a Karaoke Room --- p.66
Chapter 1.1 --- Lyrics and Role Play
Chapter 1.2 --- Desire to Perform
Chapter 2 --- Audience in Karaoke --- p.73
Chapter 2.1 --- A Desirable Place for Social Gathering
Chapter 2.2 --- Certainties in Karaoke Boxes as a Social Activity
Chapter 2.3 --- Bonding between Participants in the Karaoke Room
Chapter 3 --- Why Karaoke? Intention and Behavior in Karaoke Room --- p.77
Chapter 3.1 --- Results from Interviews and Questionnaires
Chapter 3.2 --- Interpretation of Results from Participant Observation: Affect and Cognition of Customers towards Karaoke Boxes 4 The Goer's Goal --- p.80
Chapter Chapter Five --- Conclusion --- p.84
Chapter Appendix I --- Questions Used in Interviews and Discussions --- p.88
Chapter Appendix II --- Questionnaires Used --- p.89
Chapter Appendix III --- Summary of Questionnaire Results --- p.91
Chapter Appendix IV --- Phonetic Transcriptions & English Translations of Chinese Terms --- p.93
Bibliography --- p.95

劉小麗.
Submitted: March 2010.
Thesis (doctoral)--Chinese University of Hong Kong, 2010.
Includes bibliographical references (p. 244-253).
Electronic reproduction. Hong Kong : Chinese University of Hong Kong, [2012] System requirements: Adobe Acrobat Reader. Available via World Wide Web.
Abstracts in Chinese and English.
Liu Xiaoli.

By the late twentieth century, Hong Kong had entered the public and private consciousness as one of the world’s greatest business centers. In the background looms its mysterious past as a port in the “Orient,” a place of intrigue, trade, shipping, and smuggling of drugs and gold. This chapter develops the argument about the social networks of capital, and it is integrated with an interpretation of Hong Kong’s rise as the decision-making, management center of Asia from the 1840s to the early twentieth century. Then, the city’s transformation during the Cold War era is examined, and this sets the base for interpreting Hong Kong’s current position as corporate management and business services center of the Asia-Pacific. The discussion of several recent examples of the city’s enhanced integration with mainland China points to possible trends that may impact the city’s future. Finally, an examination of threats to Hong Kong since 1950 highlight how the city’s political-economy has maintained resilience under uncertain conditions.