Journal articles on the topic 'United States. Continental Army – Biography'

The American Revolution was a gruesome warthat resulted in the independence of the United States of America from the British crown and countless casualties to both belligerents. However, from these desperate times, the treatment of traumatic head injury was elucidated, as were the origins of American neurosurgery in the 18th century. During the war, the surgical manual used by military field surgeons was titled Plain Concise Practical Remarks on the Treatment of Wounds and Fractures, by Dr. John Jones. This manual explains the different types of cranial injuries understood at that time as well as the relevant surgical treatment. This article seeks to review the surgical treatment of head injury in the Revolutionary War as outlined by Dr. Jones’s manual.

ABSTRACT Introduction Sexually transmitted infections (STIs) continue to plague militaries and defense forces. While the historical recognition of the impact of STIs on operations is evident, contemporary surveillance and research activities are limited. As Neisseria gonorrhoeae and other sexually transmitted pathogens become increasingly resistant to antibiotics, the role of the Department of Defense (DoD) in disease surveillance and clinical research is essential to military Force Health Protection. Methods The Infectious Disease Clinical Research Program (IDCRP) of the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences partnered with the DoD Global Emerging Infections Surveillance (GEIS) program to monitor the distribution of gonorrhea antimicrobial resistance (AMR) both domestically and abroad. The DoD gonococcal reference laboratory and repository was established in 2011 as a resource for confirmatory testing and advanced characterization of isolates collected from sites across the continental United States (CONUS) and GEIS-funded sites outside the continental United States (OCONUS). The IDCRP is currently implementing surveillance efforts at CONUS military clinics, including Madigan Army Medical Center, Naval Medical Center Camp Lejeune, Naval Medical Center Portsmouth, Naval Medical Center San Diego, and San Antonio Military Medical Center (efforts were also previously at Womack Army Medical Center). The reference laboratory and repository receives specimens from OCONUS collaborators, including Armed Forces Research Institute of Medical Sciences (AFRIMS; Bangkok, Thailand), Naval Medical Research Unit No. 3 (NAMRU-3), Ghana Detachment (Accra, Ghana), Naval Medical Research Unit No. 6 (NAMRU-6; Lima, Peru), U.S. Army Medical Research Unit – Georgia (USAMRD-G; Tbilisi, Republic of Georgia), and U.S. Army Medical Research Directorate – Kenya (USAMRD-K; Nairobi, Kenya). The gonococcal surveillance program, to include findings, as well as associated clinical research efforts are described. Results Among N. gonorrhoeae isolates tested within the United States, 8% were resistant to tetracycline, 2% were resistant to penicillin, and 30% were resistant to ciprofloxacin. To date, only one of the 61 isolates has demonstrated some resistance (MIC=1 μg/ml) to azithromycin. No resistance to cephalosporins has been detected; however, reduced susceptibility (MIC=0.06–0.125 μg/ml) has been observed in 13% of isolates. Resistance is commonly observed in N. gonorrhoeae isolates submitted from OCONUS clinical sites, particularly with respect to tetracycline, penicillin, and ciprofloxacin. While no azithromycin-resistant isolates have been identified from OCONUS sites, reduced susceptibility (MIC=0.125–0.5 μg/ml) to azithromycin was observed in 23% of isolates. Conclusion Continued monitoring of circulating resistance patterns on a global scale is critical for ensuring appropriate treatments are prescribed for service members that may be infected in the U.S. or while deployed. Domestic surveillance for gonococcal AMR within the Military Health System has indicated that resistance patterns, while variable, are not dramatically different from what is seen in U.S. civilian data. Global patterns of gonococcal AMR have been described through the establishment of a central DoD gonococcal reference laboratory and repository. This repository of global isolates provides a platform for further research and development into biomedical countermeasures against gonococcal infections.

The National Transportation Noise Map (NTNM) provides daily averaged A-weighted equivalent sound levels across the continental United States (CONUS) due to road traffic. The NTNM maps the spatial variability of road traffic noise, but not the temporal or spectral variability. A physics-guided model was developed to predict the temporal and spectral variability of road traffic noise across CONUS. Empirical models were developed to predict hourly road traffic volume and vehicle class mix across CONUS based on publicly available traffic volume measurements and geospatial data. The Federal Highway Administration’s Traffic Noise Model characterizes average spectral levels by vehicle class; by combining the empirical model with the Traffic Noise Model’s characteristic vehicle class spectra, hourly traffic noise predictions across CONUS are made which include temporal and spectral variability. This physics-based modeling approach improves upon nation-wide mapping of road traffic noise. [Work supported by U.S. Army SBIR.]

When examining the outbreak and protracted course of the Sino-Japanese War, it is important to note the attitudes of neighboring countries such as the United States and the Soviet Union toward the Sino-Japanese issue, which arose as a result of Japan's aggressive continental policy, and how these attitudes influenced the outbreak of the war. Given that the Sino-Japanese War was a protracted eight-year war fought by the Chinese government with the support of the Soviet Union, the United States, and the United Kingdom, and that it was an international event that directly influenced the outbreak of the Asia-Pacific War, it is necessary to understand the diplomatic process surrounding the war, not just the decision to escalate the war within the Japanese leadership and the decision to wage a protracted global war. After the Manchurian Incident, Japan's East Asian policy included an aggressive expansion of its influence on the Chinese mainland, which was embodied in aggressive public policies such as the army-led campaign to separate Hwaseong from North Korea. In response to these Japanese public policies, the Chinese government actively sought internal and diplomatic means to resist, while the Soviet Union and the United States, both of which were paying attention to East Asian affairs, gradually shifted their policies toward supporting China in the Sino-Japanese conflict and deterring Japanese aggression. The fact that 1935 was the year when Japan's public policy became overtly aggressive, as symbolized by the separation of Hwaseong, and that Sino-Japanese relations began to trend in a friendly direction from this year shows that the attitude of neighboring countries toward the Sino-Japanese dispute had already shifted in a direction favorable to China before the outbreak of the Sino-Japanese War.

The Treaty of Paris of 1783 brought the American War of Independence to a formal end. But all was not resolved with the return of peace to North America. Loyalists had to build new lives in Canada and elsewhere across the British empire. Similarly, Canadians who had supported and fought for the revolutionary cause were no longer welcome in their ancestral homeland. After years of hardship in the ranks of the Continental Army, they remained south of the border. Both in and out of military service, Canadian soldiers and their families held the political and the military authorities of the United States to the lofty pledges they had made in 1775–1776. In response, despite acute financial constraints, American leaders sought to honor their word. Through varied forms of compensation, policymakers aimed to uphold the moral character of the young nation and to ensure that all those who sacrificed for liberty might reap the blessings of independence.

The essay is dedicated to a rather extraordinary episode in the literary biography of the Siberian poet Georgy Vyatkin (1885–1938), when one of his poems was translated by the American social worker Alice Stone Blackwell (1857–1950) and published in 1916 in the magazine “The Russian Review.” The authors carefully reconstruct political and ideological contexts of this publication, directly linked to the United States’ entry into the Great War. They pay special attention to the literary and social activities of Alice Stone Blackwell. They discuss what place Vyatkin’s poem “To the Descendants’ took in Vyatkin’s literary biography in the time of the Great War. In 1914 he became a front-line correspondent for the Kharkov newspaper “Utro.” By 1915 he was drafted as a “ratnik” (soldier) by the army, and further served as an assistant within the medical and nutritional detachment under the command of another poet, Sasha Chernyi (Alexander Glikberg; 1880‒1932). Throughout the Great War, Vyatkin created an œuvre of literary works in verse and prose, which also includes his poem “To Descendants,” that was published in the magazine “Europe’s Messenger” and translated into English. Vyatkin revised some of his war poems after the Revolution, and adapted them to the circum- stances of the Civil War, from the perspective of the “White” press. At the same time, he became the Secretary of the War Archives Commission, which was created in 1918 under the leadership of the folklorist Ivan Ulyanov (1876–1937), who collected evidence of the modern memory of the Great War.

Abstract Introduction The purpose of our study is to compare pectoralis major tears in active duty military personal repaired surgically in the forward deployed setting to those performed in the Continental United States. Materials and Methods Retrospective comparison of all pectoralis major tendon repairs performed at Madigan Army Medical Center from 2000 to 2007 to a forward deployed series treated by two deployed United States Air Force orthopedic surgeons at one expeditionary medical treatment facility over a 4-month deployment cycle from December 2013 through March 2014. Results Fourteen patients from the CONUS group and eight patients from deployed group were compared; they had a mean age of 32 years (21–52) all with pectoralis major ruptures that underwent operative fixation. Nineteen of the 22 patients (86%) sustained their injuries during bench press. The average bench press weight was similar with 271.8 lbs in the CONUS group and 273.1 lbs in the deployed group. There were 9 complete tears and 5 partial tears in the CONUS cohort whereas 7 complete tears and 1 partial tear in the deployed cohort, with all tears in both groups occurring at the insertion of the humerus. All 22 patients in both cohorts denied the use of anabolic steroids. The average DASH score at final follow-up was 12.74 in the CONUS group and 36.44 in the deployed group. The CONUS group reported that 7 out of 8 immediate repair patients and 4 out of 6 delayed repair patients returned to functional work level within 6 months with the 2 patients in the delayed repair group taking longer than 9 months to return to work. The deployed members reported return to functional work level at an average of 6.5 months. Both cohorts had early return to weight lifting at 6 and 7 months, respectively. The CONUS group reported a 39% bench press weight reduction and 34% pushup maximum reduction whereas the deployed cohort reported a 20% and 8% reduction respectively. Conclusions When comparing deployed to CONUS results, we demonstrated that surgical repairs at one permanent US military in-theater tertiary referral medical center were as successful as repairs performed at one CONUS US Army academic tertiary referral medical center. Although in-theater surgical repair was technically feasible and clinically successful, we believe the lengthy convalescence, stringent post-operative restrictions, demanding environment and impact on operational readiness should preclude deployed surgical repairs from becoming standard practice.

Abstract The historical memory of Theodore Roosevelt as an athlete and as a builder of America’s modern sporting landscape is an enduring one. Scholars and lay historians alike have often recounted Roosevelt’s athletic feats. And indeed many connections do exist. The National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) links Roosevelt to its earliest days. Fans of the Army-Navy football game tout Roosevelt as a forefather. Journalists covering Roosevelt’s time in the White House have left behind dozens of stories describing the president’s wrestling, hiking, sparring, and tennis matches. Despite these connections (and others), however, the broadly accepted historical memory is imprecise—at times exaggerating Roosevelt’s impact on the sporting world and at other times failing to appreciate the complexity and contradictions inherent in Roosevelt’s “athletic doctrine.” This article begins to remedy that imprecision by examining the historiography and historical memory of Roosevelt the athlete and identifying the tenets of Roosevelt’s athletic doctrine. Then, and most significantly, the study examines several examples of Roosevelt’s limited influence over the development of modern sporting culture in the United States. The goal of the study is not to knock Roosevelt from his pedestal within U.S. sports history but rather to reconsider the intricacies of Roosevelt’s athletic biography and to recalibrate our understanding of Roosevelt’s influence over sporting culture.

Abstract. Arthur Casagrande (1902–1981) is one of the main people responsible for the geotechnics that we know today. Born in Haidenschaft, now Slovenia, he went to the United States in 1926 to participate in major civil engineering projects: he graduated in 1924 from the Technische Hochschule in Vienna, Austria. On this visit to the USA he met Karl Terzaghi (1883–1963), the father of soil mechanics and geotechnology, who taught him the basic concepts of this discipline to which Casagrande dedicated the rest of his life. In his early years of work with Terzaghi, Casagrande focused on research studies, such as the development on the limits of Atterberg published in 1932, and the development of equipment for soil trials, such as the Casagrande spoon also developed in 1932. Casagrande not only dedicated himself to research in his early years, but he also carried out studies throughout his professional career, such as those carried out on liquefaction, which he began in 1937 and continued throughout his life. Casagrande not only made important contributions in the field of geotechnology, but also lectured at Harvard University, which he joined in 1932. He also consulted and was involved in several projects for the Army Corps of Engineers of the United States. In addition, Casagrande made an important contribution to the 1st International Conference of Soil Mechanics and Foundations Engineering that took place at Harvard University in 1936. The aim of this paper is to analyze, through the biography of Casagrande, his contribution to the field of geotechnics, based on his research, teaching, and consulting work. Moreover, Casagrande influenced other important people in the field, such as Terzaghi, Peck, and even the work with his brother Leo, and, of course, the influence of these people on Casagrande's team.

The published document is a report on the New York Deanery of the Aleutian and Alaskan Diocese in 1898 submitted by the Dean John Nedzelnitsky to Bishop Tikhon (Bellavin). It is deposited in the Library of Congress Manuscript Division as a part of Alaskan Russian Church Archives (Cont. D 452–453, New York, N.Y. Nedzelnitskii, John, 1896–1899). Father Nedzelnitsky (1866–1946) is not widely known thus the paper provides his short biography. The Dean John Nedzelinsky was a dedicated Russian Orthodox missionary whose observations are a valuable source for the study of history of Russian Church in America. The document provides a vivid picture of the Russian Church activities in continental United States during the period of its rapid development due to influx of many new converts from Austria-Hungarian empire. The report has a traditional structure and follows the instructions issued by Bishop Tikhon. It touches upon all major aspects of managing the Diocese and runs about its activities and troubles in a frank and realistic manner. It can be seen from the report that in the given period the issues a Diocese was facing could be solved through reorganizing its management and far-sighted recruitment and allocation policy, with the key role of an honest and laborious person to be in charge of its further implementation. Moreover, the document gives a picture of the period as seen by two distinguished Orthodox missionaries since the report also contains interesting recommendations on the church activities that were later adopted by Bishop Tikhon. Tikhon’s own commentary and notes accompanying the report are of special interest revealing his colorful and engaging personality (in the text of the publication they are given in square brackets). The publication is unabridged and is provided by the introduction and reference information, including an estimate of the report’s significance for further research in the field.

Abstract. By American standards, New Orleans is a very old, very popular city in the southern part of the United States. It is located in Louisiana at the mouth of the Mississippi River, a river which drains about 40% of the Continental United States, making New Orleans a major port city. It is also located in an area of major oil reserves onshore, as well as offshore, in the Gulf of Mexico. Most people know New Orleans as a tourist hotspot; especially well-known is the Mardi Gras season at the beginning of Lent. People refer to the city as the "Big Easy". A recent biography of the city refers to it as the place where the emergence of modern tourism began. A multicultural city with a heavy French influence, it was part of the Louisiana Purchase from France in early 1803, when the United States bought it, doubling the size of the United States at that time. Today, in the year 2007, New Orleans is now known for the devastating impacts it withstood during the onslaught of Hurricane Katrina in late August 2005. Eighty percent of the city was submerged under flood waters. Almost two years have passed, and many individuals and government agencies are still coping with the hurricane's consequences. And insurance companies have been withdrawing their coverage for the region. The 2005 hurricane season set a record, in the sense that there were 28 named storms that calendar year. For the first time in hurricane forecast history, hurricane forecasters had to resort to the use of Greek letters to name tropical storms in the Atlantic and Gulf (Fig.~1). Hurricane Katrina was a Category 5 hurricane when it was in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico, after having passed across southern Florida. At landfall, Katrina's winds decreased in speed and it was relabeled as a Category 4. It devolved into a Category 3 hurricane as it passed inland when it did most of its damage. Large expanses of the city were inundated, many parts under water on the order of 20 feet or so. The Ninth Ward, heavily populated by African Americans, was the site of major destruction, along with several locations along the Gulf coasts of the states of Mississippi and Alabama, as well as other parts of Louisiana coastal areas (Brinkley, 2006). The number of deaths officially attributed to Hurricane Katrina was on the order of 1800 to 2000 people. The cost of the hurricane in terms of physical damage has been estimated at about US $250 billion, the costliest natural disaster in American history. It far surpassed the cost of Hurricane Andrew in 1992, the impacts of which were estimated to be about $20 billion. It also surpassed the drought in the US Midwest in 1988, which was estimated to have cost the country $40 billion, but no lives were lost. Some people have referred to Katrina as a "superstorm". It was truly a superstorm in terms of the damage it caused and the havoc it caused long after the hurricane's winds and rains had subsided. The effects of Katrina are sure to be remembered for generations to come, as were the societal and environmental impacts of the severe droughts and Dust Bowl days of the 1930s in the US Great Plains. It is highly likely that the metropolitan area of New Orleans which people had come to know in the last half of the 20th century will no longer exist, and a new city will likely replace it (one with a different culture). Given the likelihood of sea level rise on the order of tens of centimeters associated with the human-induced global warming of the atmosphere, many people wonder whether New Orleans will be able to survive throughout the 21st century without being plagued by several more tropical storms (Gill, 2005). Some (e.g., Speaker of the US House of Representatives Hastert) have even questioned whether the city should be restored in light of the potential impacts of global warming and the city's geographic vulnerability to tropical storms.

Most historians now agree that the United States won its independence not with citizen-soldiers but through the exertions of a small coterie of hardened military professionals. These men fought for eight years in George Washington’s Continental Army which, these historians maintain, was fundamentally different from contemporary European institutions. This article argues that this distinction is largely overstated. Continental officers and soldiers considered themselves as members of a military community which traversed national and institutional boundaries. Their adherence to a set of common norms, customs, and behaviours suggests that, far from unique, the Continental Army was an extension of ‘Military Europe’.

ABSTRACT This article describes how the U.S. Army developed a new ad hoc medical formation, named Urban Augmentation Medical Task Force for the Department of Defense (DoD) in response to the Coronavirus Disease 2019 pandemic in the Continental United States during the spring of 2020. We review the role of the DoD support of the Federal Emergency Management Agency as a part of Defense Support of Civilian Authorities.

ABSTRACT This article describes the utilization of a new ad hoc medical formation, named Urban Augmentation Medical Task Force for the Department of Defense response to the coronavirus disease 2019 pandemic in the Continental United States during the spring of 2020. Military medical personnel from these units were used to staff a variety of different mission assignments. We review the benefits and limitation of this type of formation and recommend future force allocation models.

Sarah Elise Wiliarty, The CDU and the Politics of Gender in Germany: Bringing Women to the PartyReviewed by Louise K. Davidson-SchmichSilja Häusermann, The Politics of Welfare State Reform in Continental Europe: Modernization in Hard TimesReviewed by Aaron P. BoeseneckerMartin Klimke, The Other Alliance: Student Protest in West Germany and the United States in the Global SixtiesReviewed by Chris LoreKatja M.Guenther, Making their Place: Feminism after Socialism in Eastern GermanyReviewed by Ingrid MietheBrian M. Puaca, Learning Democracy: Education Reform in West Germany, 1945-1965Reviewed by Miriam IntratorHans Kundnani, Utopia or Auschwitz—Germany’s 1968 Generation and the HolocaustReviewed by Joyce Marie MushabenRuth H. Sanders, German: Biography of a LanguageReviewed by Kurt R. JankowskyAndrew Wright Hurley, The Return of Jazz: Joachim-Ernst Berendt and West German Cultural ExchangeReviewed by Jonathan WipplingerTheo Sarrazin, Deutschland schafft sich ab: Wie wir unser Land aufs Spiel setzenReviewed by Randall Hansen

Abstract Introduction The Secretary of the U.S. Army issued two directives in late 2017 to directly combat the problem of suicide in the U.S. Army. The first was to develop an Army tool to assist commanders and first-line leaders in preventing suicide and improving behavioral health (BH) outcomes, which has been previously published as the BH Readiness and Risk Reduction Review (R4). The second was to conduct an evaluation study of the tool with Army units in the field. This study is the first to empirically examine the Army’s tool-based methods for identifying and caring for the health and welfare of soldiers at risk for suicide, and this article outlines the methodology employed to study the effectiveness of the R4 tools and accomplish the Secretary’s second directive. Methods The Walter Reed Army Institute of Research Institutional Review Board approved the R4 study. The study employed a repeated measurements in pre/post quasi-experimental design, including a nonequivalent but comparable business-as-usual control group. The R4 intervention consisted of the R4 tools, accompanying instructions, and an orientation. Samples were drawn from two geographically separated U.S. Army divisions in the continental United States, each composed of four comparable brigades. Study implementation consisted of three phases and three data collections over the course of 12 months. Soldiers completed anonymous survey instruments to assess a range of health factors, behaviors, characteristics, tool-related decision-making processes, and the frequency, type, and quality of interactions between soldiers and leaders. Results The R4 study commenced on May 6, 2019, and concluded on June 4, 2020. Sample size goals were achieved for both the divisions at all three data collection time points. Conclusions The methodology of the R4 study is critical for the U.S. Army from both a precedential and an outcome-based standpoint. Despite the use of many previous tools and programs for suicide prevention, this is the first time the Army has been able to empirically test the effectiveness of tool-supported decision-making among Army units in a rigorous fashion. The methodology of such a test is a critical marker for future interventional inquiries on the subject of suicide in the Army, and the results will allow for more informed decision-making by leaders when approaching these ongoing challenges.

ABSTRACT Introduction American Indian and Alaska Native (AI/AN) individuals in the USA experience higher rates of mental illness and preventable death than the general population. Published research demonstrates that AI/AN veterans experience similar disparities to other minorities compared to non-minority veterans; few studies, however, have assessed mental health outcomes in AI/AN active duty military members. The objective of this study was to determine differences in depression, anxiety, hazardous alcohol consumption, and suicidal ideation among AI/AN soldiers compared to soldiers of other races during the Coronavirus Disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic. Materials and Methods We conducted repeated cross-sectional electronic surveys to assess the mental health of active duty and activated reserve U.S. Army soldiers within three commands in the Northwestern Continental United States , Republic of Korea, and Germany during May-June 2020 (T1) and December 2020-January 2021 (T2). The primary exposure of interest in the present analysis was race and ethnicity, and the primary outcomes were probable depression with functional impairment (subsequently “depression”), probable anxiety with functional impairment (subsequently “anxiety”), hazardous alcohol use, and suicidal ideation. Multivariable logistic regression models were used to determine the association between demographics and COVID-19 concerns on mental health outcomes for each time point. Results A total of 21,293 participants responded to the survey at T1 (participation rate = 28.0%), and 10,861 participants responded to the survey at T2 (participation rate = 14.7%). In the multivariable model, AI/AN participants had 1.36 higher adjusted odds of suicidal ideation (95% CI: 1.02-1.82) at T1 and 1.50 greater adjusted odds of suicidal ideation at T2 (95% CI: 1.00-2.24), when compared to non-Hispanic White participants. During T1, there was no significant difference detected between AI/AN and non-Hispanic White participants for anxiety (adjusted odds ratio: 1.21; 95% CI: 0.91-1.60) (Table IV). However, AI/AN participants had 1.82 greater adjusted odds of anxiety when compared to non-Hispanic White participants at T2 (adjusted odds ratio: 1.82; 95% CI: 1.29-2.57). There were no significant differences detected between AI/AN participants and non-Hispanic White participants in multivariable models for either depression or hazardous alcohol use at both time points. Conclusions Although we hypothesized that all adverse mental health outcomes would be higher for AI/AN service members at both time points, there were no significant differences at each of the time points analyzed for most of the outcomes analyzed. However, differences in suicidal ideation were found at both time points. Analyses and proposed interventions should account for diversity and heterogeneity of AI/AN populations.

The Netflix/BBC eight-part limited true crime series The Serpent (2021) provides a commentary on the impact of the tourist industry in South-East Asia in the 1970s. The series portrays the story of French serial killer Charles Sobhraj (played by Tahar Rahim)—a psychopathic international con artist of Vietnamese-Indian descent—who regularly targeted Western travellers, especially the long-term wanderers of the legendary “Hippie Trail” (or the “Overland”), running between eastern Europe and Asia. The series, which was filmed on location in Thailand—in Bangkok and the Thai town of Hua Hin—is set in a range of travel destinations along the route of the Hippie Trail, as the narrative follows the many crimes of Sobhraj. Cities such as Kathmandu, Goa, Varanasi, Hong Kong, and Kabul are featured on the show. The series is loosely based upon Australian writers Richard Neville and Julie Clarke’s true crime biography The Life and Crimes of Charles Sobhraj (1979). Another true crime text by Thomas Thompson called Serpentine: Charles Sobhraj’s Reign of Terror from Europe to South Asia (also published in 1979) is a second reference. The show portrays the disappearance and murders of many young victims at the hands of Sobhraj. Certainly, Sobhraj is represented as a monstrous figure, but what about the business of tourism itself? Arguably, in its reflective examination of twentieth-century travel, the series also poses the hedonism of tourism as monstrous. Here, attention is drawn to Western privilege and a neo-orientalist gaze that presented Asia as an exotic playground for its visitors. The television series focuses on Sobhraj, his French-Canadian girlfriend Marie-Andrée Leclerc (played by Jenna Coleman), and the glamourous life they lead in Bangkok. The fashionable couple’s operation presents Sobhraj as a legitimate gem dealer: outwardly, they seem to embody the epitome of fun and glamour, as well as the cross-cultural sophistication of the international jet set. In reality, they drug and then steal from tourists who believe their story. Sobhraj uses stolen passports and cash to travel internationally and acquire more gems. Then, with an accomplice called Ajay Chowdhury (played by Amesh Adireweera), Sobhraj murders his victims if he thinks they could expose his fraud. Often depicted as humourless and seething with anger, the Sobhraj of the series often wears dark aviator sunglasses, a detail that enhances the sense of his impenetrability. One of the first crimes featured in The Serpent is the double-murder of an innocent Dutch couple. The murders lead to an investigation by Dutch diplomat Herman Knippenberg (played by Billy Howle), wanting to provide closure for the families of the victims. Knippenberg enlists neighbours to go undercover at Sobhraj’s home to collect evidence. This exposes Sobhraj’s crimes, so he flees the country with Marie-Andrée and Ajay. While they were apprehended, Sobhraj would be later given pardon from a prison in India: he would only received a life sentence for murder when he is arrested in Nepal in 2003. His ability to evade punishment—and inability to admit to and atone for his crimes—become features of his monstrosity in the television series. Clearly, Sobhraj is represented as the “serpent” of this drama, a metaphor regularly reinforced both textually and visually across the length of the series. As an example, the opening credit sequence for the series coalesces shots of vintage film in Asia—including hitchhiking backpackers, VW Kombi vans, swimming pools, religious tourist sites, corrupt Asian police forces—against an animated map of central and South-East Asia and the Hippie Trail. The map is encased by the giant, slithering tail of some monstrous, reptilian creature. Situating the geographic context of the narrative, the serpentine monster appears to be rising out of continental Asia itself, figuratively stalking and then entrapping the tourists and travellers who move along its route. So, what of the other readings about the monstrosity of the tourism industry that appears on the show? The Hippie Trail was arguably a site—a serpentine cross-continental thoroughfare—of Western excess. The Hippie Trail emerged as the result of the ease of travel across continental Europe and Asia. It was an extension of a countercultural movement that first emerged in the United States in the mid 1960s. Agnieszka Sobocinska has suggested that the travellers of the Hippie Trail were motivated by “widespread dissatisfaction with the perceived conservatism of Western society and its conventions”, and that it was characterised by “youth, rebellion, self-expression and the performance of personal freedom” (par. 8). The Trail appealed to a particular subcultural group who wanted to differentiate themselves from other travellers. Culturally, the Hippie Trail has become a historical site of enduring fascination, written about in popular histories and Western travel narratives, such as A Season in Heaven: True Tales from the Road to Kathmandu (Tomory 1998), Magic Bus: On the Hippie Trail from Istanbul to India (MacLean 2007), The Hippie Trail: A History (Gemie and Ireland 2017), and The Hippie Trail: After Europe, Turn Left (Kreamer 2019). Despite these positive memoirs, the route also has a reputation for being destructive and even neo-imperialist: it irrevocably altered the politics of these Asian regions, especially as crowds of Western visitors would party at its cities along the way. In The Serpent, while the crimes take place on its route, on face value the Hippie Trail still appears to be romanticised and nostalgically re-imagined, especially as it represents a stark difference from our contemporary world with its heavily-policed international borders. Indeed, the travellers seem even freer from the perspective of 2021, given the show’s production phase and release in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, when international travel was halted for many. As Kylie Northover has written in a review for the series in the Sydney Morning Herald, the production design of the programme and the on-location shoot in Thailand is affectionately evocative and nostalgic. Northover suggests that it “successfully evokes a very specific era of travel—the Vietnam War has just ended, the Summer of Love is over and contact with family back home was usually only through the post restante” (13). On the show, there is certainly critique of the tourist industry. For example, one scene demonstrates the “dark side” of the Hippie Trail dream. Firstly, we see a psychedelic-coloured bus of travellers driving through Nepal. The outside of the bus is covered with its planned destinations: “Istanbul. Teheran. Kabul. Delhi”. The Western travellers are young and dressed in peasant clothing and smoking marijuana. Looking over at the Himalayas, one hippie calls the mountains a “Shangri-La”, the fictional utopia of an Eastern mountain paradise. Then, the screen contracts to show old footage of Kathmandu— using the small-screen dimensions of a Super-8 film—which highlights a “hashish centre” with young children working at the front. The child labour is ignored. As the foreign hippie travellers—American and English—move through Kathmandu, they seem self-absorbed and anti-social. Rather than meeting and learning from locals, they just gather at parties with other hippies. By night-time, the series depicts drugged up travellers on heroin or other opiates, disconnected from place and culture as they stare around aimlessly. The negative representation of hippies has been observed in some of the critical reviews about The Serpent. For example, writing about the series for The Guardian, Dorian Lynskey cites Joan Didion’s famous “serpentine” interpretation of the hippie culture in the United States, applying this to the search for meaning on the Hippie Trail: the subculture of expats and travellers in south-east Asia feels rather like Joan Didion’s 60s California, crisscrossed by lost young people trying to find themselves anew in religion, drugs, or simply unfamiliar places. In Slouching Towards Bethlehem, Didion writes of those who “drifted from city to torn city, sloughing off both the past and the future as snakes shed their skins”. (Lynskey) We could apply cultural theories about tourism to a critique of the industry in the series too. Many cultural researchers have critiqued tourists and the tourism industry, as well as the powers that tourists can wield over destination cultures. In Time and Commodity Culture, John Frow has suggested that the logic of tourism is “that of a relentless extension of commodity relations, and the consequent inequalities of power, between centre and periphery, First and Third World, developed and undeveloped regions, metropolis and countryside”, as well as one that has developed from the colonial era (151). Similarly, Derek Gregory’s sensitive analyses of cultural geographies of postcolonial space showed that Nineteenth-century Orientalism is a continuing process within globalised mass tourism (114). The problem of Orientalism as a Western travel ideology is made prominent in The Serpent through Sobhraj’s denouncement of Western tourists, even though there is much irony at play here, as the series itself arguably is presenting its own retro version of Orientalism to Western audiences. Even the choice of Netflix to produce this true crime story—with its two murderers of Asian descent—is arguably a way of reinforcing negative representations about Asian identity. Then, Western characters take on the role of hero and/or central protagonist, especially the character of Knippenberg. One could ask: where is the Netflix show that depicts a positive story about a central character of Vietnamese-Indian descent? Edward Said famously defined Orientalism as “a way of coming to terms with the Orient that is based on the Orient’s special place in European Western experience” (1). It became a way for Western cultures to interpret and understand the East, and for reducing and homogenising it into a more simplistic package. Orientalism explored discourses that grew to encompass India and the Far East in tandem with the expansion of Western imperialism in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It examined a dualistic ideology: a way of looking that divided the globe into two limited types without any room for nuance and diversity. Inclusive and exclusive, Orientalism assumed and promoted an “us and them” binary, privileging a Western gaze as the normative cultural position, while the East was relegated to the ambiguous role of “other”. Orientalism is a field in which stereotypes of the East and West have power: as Said suggests, “the West is the actor, the Orient is a passive reactor… . The West is the spectator, the judge and jury, of every facet of Oriental behaviour” (109). Interestingly, despite the primacy in which Sobhraj is posited as the show’s central monster, he is also the character in the series most critical of the neo-colonial oppression caused by this counter-cultural tourism, which indicates ambiguity and complexity in the representation of monstrosity. Sobhraj appears to have read Said. As he looks scornfully at a stoner hippie woman who has befriended Ajay, he seems to perceive the hippies as drop-outs and drifters, but he also connects them more thoroughly as perpetrators of neo-imperialist processes. Indicating his contempt for the sightseers of the Hippie Trail as they seek enlightenment on their travels, he interrogates his companion Ajay: why do you think these white children deny the comfort and wealth of the life they were given to come to a place like this? Worship the same gods. Wear the same rags. Live in the same filth. Each experience is only then taken home to wear like a piece of fake tribal jewellery. They travel only to acquire. It’s another form of imperialism. And she has just colonised you! Sobhraj’s speech is political but it is also menacing, and he quickly sets upon Ajay and physically punishes him for his tryst with the hippie woman. Yet, ultimately, the main Western tourists of the Hippie Trail are presented positively in The Serpent, especially as many of them are depcited as naïve innocents within the story—hopeful, idealistic and excited to travel—and simply in the wrong place, at the wrong time. In this way, the series still draws upon the conventions of the true crime genre, which is to differentiate clearly between good/evil and right/wrong, and to create an emotional connection to the victims as symbols of virtue. As the crimes and deaths accumulate within the series, Sobhraj’s opinions are deceptive, designed to manipulate those around him (such as Ajay) rather than being drawn from genuine feelings of political angst about the neo-imperialist project of Western tourism. The uncertainty around Sobhraj’s motivation for his crimes remains one of the fascinating aspects of the series. It problematises the way that the monstrosity of this character is constructed within the narrative of the show. The character of Sobhraj frequently engages with these essentialising issues about Orientalism, but he appears to do so with the aim to remove the privilege that comes from a Western gaze. In the series, Sobhraj’s motivations for targeting Western travellers are often insinuated as being due to personal reasons, such as revenge for his treatment as a child in Europe, where he says he was disparaged for being of Asian heritage. For example, as he speaks to one of his drugged French-speaking victims, Sobhraj suggests that when he moved from Vietnam to France as a child, he was subject to violence and poor treatment from others: “a half-caste boy from Saigon. You can imagine how I was bullied”. In this instance, the suffering French man placed in Sobhraj’s power has been promoted as fitting into one of these “us and them” binaries, but in this set-up, there is also a reversal of power relations and Sobhraj has set himself as both the “actor” and the “spectator”. Here, he has reversed the “Orientalist” gaze onto a passive Western man, homogenising a “Western body”, and hence radically destabilising the construct of Orientalism as an ideological force. This is also deeply troubling: it goes on to sustain a problematic and essentialising binary that, no matter which way it faces, aims to denigrate and stereotype a cultural group. In this way, the character of Sobhraj demonstrates that while he is angry at the way that Orientalist ideologies have victimised him in the past, he will continue to perpetrate its basic ideological assumptions as a way of administering justice and seeking personal retribution. Ultimately, perhaps one of the more powerful readings of The Serpent is that it is difficult to move away from the ideological constructs of travel. We could also suggest that same thing for the tourists. In her real-life analysis of the Hippie Trail, Agnieszka Sobocinska has suggested that while it was presented and understood as something profoundly different from older travel tours and expeditions, it could not help but be bound up in the same ideological colonial and imperial impulses that constituted earlier forms of travel: Orientalist images and imperial behaviours were augmented to suit a new generation that liked to think of itself as radically breaking from the past. Ironically, this facilitated the view that ‘alternative’ travel was a statement in anti-colonial politics, even as it perpetuated some of the inequalities inherent to imperialism. This plays out in The Serpent. We see that this supposedly radically different new group – with a relaxed and open-minded identity—is bound within the same old ideological constructs. Part of the problem of the Hippie Trail traveller was a failure to recognise the fundamentally imperialist origins of their understanding of travel. This is the same kind of concern mapped out by Turner and Ash in their analysis of neo-imperial forms of travel called The Golden Hordes: International Tourism and the Pleasure Periphery (1976), written and published in the same era as the events of The Serpent. Presciently gauging the effect that mass tourism would have on developing nations, Turner and Ash used the metaphor of “hordes” of tourists taking over various poorer destinations to intend a complete reversal of the stereotype of a horde of barbaric and non-Western hosts. By inferring that tourists are the “hordes” reverses Orientalist conceptions of de-personalised non-Western cultures, and shows the problem that over-tourism and unsustainable visitation can pose to host locations, especially with the acceleration of mass travel in the late Twentieth century. Certainly, the concept of a touristic “horde” is one of the monstrous ideas in travel, and can signify the worst aspects contained within mass tourism. To conclude, it is useful to return to the consideration of what is presented as monstrous in The Serpent. Here, there is the obvious monster in the sinister, impassive figure of serial killer Charles Sobhraj. Julie Clarke, in a new epilogue for The Life and Crimes of Charles Sobhraj (2020), posits that Sobhraj’s actions are monstrous and unchangeable, demonstrating the need to understand impermeable cases of human evil as a part of human society: one of the lessons of this cautionary tale should be an awareness that such ‘inhuman humans’ do live amongst us. Many don’t end up in jail, but rather reach the highest level in the corporate and political spheres. (Neville and Clarke, 2020) Then, there is the exploitational spectre of mass tourism from the Hippie Trail that has had the ability to “invade” and ruin the authenticity and/or sustainability of a particular place or location as it is overrun by the “golden hordes”. Finally, we might consider the Orientalist, imperialist and globalised ideologies of mass tourism as one of the insidious and serpentine forces that entrap the central characters in this television series. This leads to a failure to understand what is really going on as the tourists are deluded by visions of an exotic paradise. References Frow, John. Time and Commodity Culture: Essays on Culture Theory and Postmodernity. Oxford UP, 1997. Gemie, Sharif, and Brian Ireland. The Hippie Trail: A History. Manchester UP, 2017. Gregory, Derek. “Scripting Egypt: Orientalism and the Cultures of Travel.” In Writes of Passage: Reading Travel Writing. Eds. Duncan James and Derek Gregor. Routledge, 1999. 114-150 . Kreamer, Robert. The Hippie Trail: After Europe, Turn Left. Fonthill Media, 2019. Lynskey, Dorian. “The Serpent: A Slow-Burn TV Success That’s More than a Killer Thriller.” The Guardian, 30 Jan. 2021. 1 Oct. 2021 <https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2021/jan/29/the-serpent-more-than-a-killer-thriller-bbc-iplayer>. MacLean, Rory. Magic Bus: On the Hippie Trail from Istanbul to India. Penguin, 2006. Neville, Richard, and Julie Clarke. The Life and Crimes of Charles Sobhraj. Jonathan Cape, 1979. ———. On the Trail of the Serpent: The Life and Crimes of Charles Sobhraj. Revised ed. Vintage, 2020. Northover, Kylie. “The Ice-Cold Conman of the ‘Hippie Trail’.” Sydney Morning Herald, 27 Mar. 2021: 13. Price, Roberta. “Magic Bus: On the Hippie Trail from Istanbul to India.” The Sixties: A Journal of History, Politics and Culture 2.2 (2009): 273-276. Said, Edward. Orientalism: Western Conceptions of the Orient. Penguin, 1995. Sobocinska, Agnieszka. “Following the ‘Hippie Sahibs’: Colonial Cultures of Travel and the Hippie Trail.” Journal of Colonialism and Colonial History 15.2 (2014). DOI: 10.1353/cch.2014.0024. Thompson, Thomas. Serpentine: Charles Sobhraj’s Reign of Terror from Europe to South Asia. Doubleday, 1979. Tomory, David, ed. A Season in Heaven: True Tales from the Road to Kathmandu. Lonely Planet, 1998. Turner, Louis, and John Ash. The Golden Hordes: International Tourism and the Pleasure Periphery. St Martin’s Press, 1976.

Introduction“From every kind of man obedience I expect; I’m the Emperor of Japan.” (“Miyasama,” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s musical The Mikado, 1885)This commentary is facilitated by—surprisingly resilient—oriental stereotypes of an imagined Japan (think of Oscar Wilde’s assertion, in 1889, that Japan was a European invention). During the Victorian era, in Britain, there was a craze for all things oriental, particularly ceramics and “there was a craze for all things Japanese and no middle class drawing room was without its Japanese fan or teapot.“ (V&A Victorian). These pastoral depictions of the ‘oriental life’ included the figures of men and women in oriental garb, with fans, stilt shoes, kimono-like robes, and appropriate headdresses, engaging in garden-based activities, especially tea ceremony variations (Landow). In fact, tea itself, and the idea of a ceremony of serving it, had taken up a central role, even an obsession in middle- and upper-class Victorian life. Similarly, landscapes with wild seas, rugged rocks and stunted pines, wizened monks, pagodas and temples, and particular fauna and flora (cranes and other birds flying through clouds of peonies, cherry blossoms and chrysanthemums) were very popular motifs (see Martin and Koda). Rather than authenticity, these designs heightened the Western-based romantic stereotypes associated with a stylised form of Japanese life, conducted sedately under rule of the Japanese Imperial Court. In reality, prior to the Meiji period (1868–1912), the Emperor was largely removed from everyday concerns, residing as an isolated, holy figure in Kyoto, the traditional capital of Japan. Japan was instead ruled from Edo (modern day Tokyo) led by the Shogun and his generals, according to a strict Confucian influenced code (see Keene). In Japan, as elsewhere, the presence of feudal-style governance includes policies that determine much of everyday life, including restrictions on clothing (Rall 169). The Samurai code was no different, and included a series of protocols that restricted rank, movement, behaviour, and clothing. As Vincent has noted in the case of the ‘lace tax’ in Great Britain, these restrictions were designed to punish those who seek to penetrate the upper classes through their costume (28-30). In Japan, pre-Meiji sumptuary laws, for example, restricted the use of gold, and prohibited the use of a certain shade of red by merchant classes (V&A Kimono).Therefore, in the governance of pre-globalised societies, the importance of clothing and textile is evident; as Jones and Stallybrass comment: We need to understand the antimatedness of clothes, their ability to “pick up” subjects, to mould and shape them both physically and socially—to constitute subjects through their power as material memories […] Clothing is a worn world: a world of social relations put upon the wearer’s body. (2-3, emphasis added)The significant re-imagining of Japanese cultural and national identities are explored here through the cataclysmic impact of Western ideologies on Japanese cultural traditions. There are many ways to examine how indigenous cultures respond to European, British, or American (hereafter Western) influences, particularly in times of conflict (Wilk). Western ideology arrived in Japan after a long period of isolation (during which time Japan’s only contact was with Dutch traders) through the threat of military hostility and war. It is after this outside threat was realised that Japan’s adoption of military and industrial practices begins. The re-imagining of their national identity took many forms, and the inclusion of a Western-style military costuming as a schoolboy uniform became a highly visible indicator of Japan’s mission to protect its sovereign integrity. A brief history of Japan’s rise from a collection of isolated feudal states to a unified military power, in not only the Asian Pacific region but globally, demonstrates the speed at which they adopted the Western mode of warfare. Gunboats on Japan’s ShorelinesJapan was forcefully opened to the West in the 1850s by America under threat of First Name Perry’s ‘gunboat diplomacy’ (Hillsborough 7-8). Following this, Japan underwent a rapid period of modernisation, and an upsurge in nationalism and military expansion that was driven by a desire to catch up to the European powers present in the Pacific. Noted by Ian Ferguson in Civilization: The West and the Rest, Unsure, the Japanese decided […] to copy everything […] Japanese institutions were refashioned on Western models. The army drilled like Germans; the navy sailed like Britons. An American-style system of state elementary and middle schools was also introduced. (221, emphasis added)This was nothing short of a wide-scale reorganisation of Japan’s entire social structure and governance. Under the Emperor Meiji, who wrested power from the Shogunate and reclaimed it for the Imperial head, Japan steamed into an industrial revolution, achieving in a matter of years what had taken Europe over a century.Japan quickly became a major player-elect on the world stage. However, as an island nation, Japan lacked the essentials of both coal and iron with which to fashion not only industrial machinery but also military equipment, the machinery of war. In 1875 Japan forced Korea to open itself to foreign (read: Japanese) trade. In the same treaty, Korea was recognised as a sovereign nation, separate from Qing China (Tucker 1461). The necessity for raw materials then led to the Sino-Japanese War (1894–95), a conflict between Japan and China that marked the emergence of Japan as a major world power. The Korean Peninsula had long been China’s most important client state, but its strategic location adjacent to the Japanese archipelago, and its natural resources of coal and iron, attracted Japan’s interest. Later, the Russo-Japanese War (1904–05), allowed a victorious Japan to force Russia to abandon its expansionist policy in the Far East, becoming the first Asian power in modern times to defeat a European power. The Russo-Japanese War developed out of the rivalry between Russia and Japan for dominance in Korea and Manchuria, again in the struggle for natural resources (Tucker 1534-46).Japan’s victories, together with the county’s drive for resources, meant that Japan could now determine its role within the Asia-Pacific sphere of influence. As Japan’s military, and their adoption of Westernised combat, proved effective in maintaining national integrity, other social institutions also looked to the West (Ferguson 221). In an ironic twist—while Victorian and Continental fashion was busy adopting the exotic, oriental look (Martin and Koda)—the kimono, along with other essentials of Japanese fashions, were rapidly altered (both literally and figuratively) to suit new, warlike ideology. It should be noted that kimono literally means ‘things that you wear’ and which, prior to exposure to Western fashions, signified all worn clothing (Dalby 65-119). “Wearing Things” in Westernised JapanAs Japan modernised during the late 1800s the kimono was positioned as symbolising barbaric, pre-modern, ‘oriental’ Japan. Indeed, on 17 January 1887 the Meiji Empress issued a memorandum on the subject of women’s clothing in Japan: “She [the Empress] believed that western clothes were in fact closer to the dress of women in ancient Japan than the kimonos currently worn and urged that they be adopted as the standard clothes of the reign” (Keene 404). The resemblance between Western skirts and blouses and the simple skirt and separate top that had been worn in ancient times by a people descended from the sun goddess, Amaterasu wo mikami, was used to give authority and cultural authenticity to Japan’s modernisation projects. The Imperial Court, with its newly ennobled European style aristocrats, exchanged kimono silks for Victorian finery, and samurai armour for military pomp and splendour (Figure 1).Figure 1: The Meiji Emperor, Empress and Crown Prince resplendent in European fashions on an outing to Asukayama Park. Illustration: Toyohara Chikanobu, circa 1890.It is argued here that the function of a uniform is to prepare the body for service. Maids and butlers, nurses and courtesans, doctors, policemen, and soldiers are all distinguished by their garb. Prudence Black states: “as a technology, uniforms shape and code the body so they become a unit that belongs to a collective whole” (93). The requirement to discipline bodies through clothing, particularly through uniforms, is well documented (see Craik, Peoples, and Foucault). The need to distinguish enemies from allies on the battlefield requires adherence to a set of defined protocols, as referenced in military fashion compendiums (see Molloy). While the postcolonial adoption of Western-based clothing reflects a new form of subservience (Rall, Kuechler and Miller), in Japan, the indigenous garments were clearly designed in the interests of ideological allegiance. To understand the Japanese sartorial traditions, the kimono itself must be read as providing a strong disciplinary element. The traditional garment is designed to represent an upright and unbending column—where two meters of under bindings are used to discipline the body into shape are then topped with a further four meters of a stiffened silk obi wrapped around the waist and lower chest. To dress formally in such a garment requires helpers (see Dalby). The kimono both constructs and confines the women who wear it, and presses them into their roles as dutiful, upper-class daughters (see Craik). From the 1890s through to the 1930s, when Japan again enters a period of militarism, the myth of the kimono again changes as it is integrated into the build-up towards World War II.Decades later, when Japan re-established itself as a global economic power in the 1970s and 1980s, the kimono was re-authenticated as Japan’s ‘traditional’ garment. This time it was not the myth of a people descended from solar deities that was on display, but that of samurai strength and propriety for men, alongside an exaggerated femininity for women, invoking a powerful vision of Japanese sartorial tradition. This reworking of the kimono was only possible as the garment was already contained within the framework of Confucian family duty. However, in the lead up to World War II, Japanese military advancement demanded of its people soldiers that could win European-style wars. The quickest solution was to copy the military acumen and strategies of global warfare, and the costumes of the soldiery and seamen of Europe, including Great Britain (Ferguson). It was also acknowledged that soldiers were ‘made not born’ so the Japanese educational system was re-vamped to emulate those of its military rivals (McVeigh). It was in the uptake of schoolboy uniforms that this re-imagining of Japanese imperial strength took place.The Japanese Schoolboy UniformCentral to their rapid modernisation, Japan adopted a constitutional system of education that borrowed from American and French models (Tipton 68-69). The government viewed education as a “primary means of developing a sense of nation,” and at its core, was the imperial authorities’ obsession with defining “Japan and Japaneseness” (Tipton 68-69). Numerous reforms eventually saw, after an abolition of fees, nearly 100% attendance by both boys and girls, despite a lingering mind-set that educating women was “a waste of time” (Tipton 68-69). A boys’ uniform based on the French and Prussian military uniforms of the 1860s and 1870s respectively (Kinsella 217), was adopted in 1879 (McVeigh 47). This jacket, initially with Prussian cape and cap, consists of a square body, standing mandarin style collar and a buttoned front. It was through these education reforms, as visually symbolised by the adoption of military style school uniforms, that citizen making, education, and military training became interrelated aspects of Meiji modernisation (Kinsella 217). Known as the gakuran (gaku: to study; ran: meaning both orchid, and a pun on Horanda, meaning Holland, the only Western country with trading relations in pre-Meiji Japan), these jackets were a symbol of education, indicating European knowledge, power and influence and came to reflect all things European in Meiji Japan. By adopting these jackets two objectives were realised:through the magical power of imitation, Japan would, by adopting the clothing of the West, naturally rise in military power; and boys were uniformed to become not only educated as quasi-Europeans, but as fighting soldiers and sons (suns) of the nation.The gakuran jacket was first popularised by state-run schools, however, in the century and a half that the garment has been in use it has come to symbolise young Japanese masculinity as showcased in campus films, anime, manga, computer games, and as fashion is the preeminent garment for boybands and Japanese hipsters.While the gakuran is central to the rise of global militarism in Japan (McVeigh 51-53), the jacket would go on to form the basis of the Sun Yat Sen and Mao Suits as symbols of revolutionary China (see McVeigh). Supposedly, Sun Yat Sen saw the schoolboy jacket in Japan as a utilitarian garment and adopted it with a turn down collar (Cumming et al.). For Sun Yat Sen, the gakuran was the perfect mix of civilian (school boy) and military (the garment’s Prussian heritage) allowing him to walk a middle path between the demands of both. Furthermore, the garment allowed Sun to navigate between Western style suits and old-fashioned Qing dynasty styles (Gerth 116); one was associated with the imperialism of the National Products Movement, while the other represented the corruption of the old dynasty. In this way, the gakuran was further politicised from a national (Japanese) symbol to a global one. While military uniforms have always been political garments, in the late 1800s and early 1900s, as the world was rocked by revolutions and war, civilian clothing also became a means of expressing political ideals (McVeigh 48-49). Note that Mahatma Ghandi’s clothing choices also evolved from wholly Western styles to traditional and emphasised domestic products (Gerth 116).Mao adopted this style circa 1927, further defining the style when he came to power by adding elements from the trousers, tunics, and black cotton shoes worn by peasants. The suit was further codified during the 1960s, reaching its height in the Cultural Revolution. While the gakuran has always been a scholarly black (see Figure 2), subtle differences in the colour palette differentiated the Chinese population—peasants and workers donned indigo blue Mao jackets, while the People’s Liberation Army Soldiers donned khaki green. This limited colour scheme somewhat paradoxically ensured that subtle hierarchical differences were maintained even whilst advocating egalitarian ideals (Davis 522). Both the Sun Yat Sen suit and the Mao jacket represented the rejection of bourgeois (Western) norms that objectified the female form in favour of a uniform society. Neo-Maoism and Mao fever of the early 1990s saw the Mao suit emerge again as a desirable piece of iconic/ironic youth fashion. Figure 2: An example of Gakuran uniform next to the girl’s equivalent on display at Ichikawa Gakuen School (Japan). Photo: Emerald King, 2015.There is a clear and vital link between the influence of the Prussian style Japanese schoolboy uniform on the later creation of the Mao jacket—that of the uniform as an integral piece of worn propaganda (Atkins).For Japan, the rapid deployment of new military and industrial technologies, as well as a sartorial need to present her leaders as modern (read: Western) demanded the adoption of European-style uniforms. The Imperial family had always been removed from Samurai battlefields, so the adoption of Western military costume allowed Japan’s rulers to present a uniform face to other global powers. When Japan found itself in conflict in the Asia Pacific Region, without an organised military, the first requirement was to completely reorganise their system of warfare from a feudal base and to train up national servicemen. Within an American-style compulsory education system, the European-based curriculum included training in mathematics, engineering and military history, as young Britons had for generations begun their education in Greek and Latin, with the study of Ancient Greek and Roman wars (Bantock). It is only in the classroom that ideological change on a mass scale can take place (Reference Please), a lesson not missed by later leaders such as Mao Zedong.ConclusionIn the 1880s, the Japanese leaders established their position in global politics by adopting clothing and practices from the West (Europeans, Britons, and Americans) in order to quickly re-shape their country’s educational system and military establishment. The prevailing military costume from foreign cultures not only disciplined their adopted European bodies, they enforced a new regime through dress (Rall 157-174). For boys, the gakuran symbolised the unity of education and militarism as central to Japanese masculinity. Wearing a uniform, as many authors suggest, furthers compliance (Craik, Nagasawa Kaiser and Hutton, and McVeigh). As conscription became a part of Japanese reality in World War II, the schoolboys just swapped their military-inspired school uniforms for genuine military garments.Re-imagining a Japanese schoolboy uniform from a European military costume might suit ideological purposes (Atkins), but there is more. The gakuran, as a uniform based on a close, but not fitted jacket, was the product of a process of advanced industrialisation in the garment-making industry also taking place in the 1800s:Between 1810 and 1830, technical calibrations invented by tailors working at the very highest level of the craft [in Britain] eventually made it possible for hundreds of suits to be cut up and made in advance [...] and the ready-to-wear idea was put into practice for men’s clothes […] originally for uniforms for the War of 1812. (Hollander 31) In this way, industrialisation became a means to mass production, which furthered militarisation, “the uniform is thus the clothing of the modern disciplinary society” (Black 102). There is a perfect resonance between Japan’s appetite for a modern military and their rise to an industrialised society, and their conquests in Asia Pacific supplied the necessary material resources that made such a rapid deployment possible. The Japanese schoolboy uniform was an integral part of the process of both industrialisation and militarisation, which instilled in the wearer a social role required by modern Japanese society in its rise for global power. Garments are never just clothing, but offer a “world of social relations put upon the wearer’s body” (Jones and Stallybrass 3-4).Today, both the Japanese kimono and the Japanese schoolboy uniform continue to interact with, and interrogate, global fashions as contemporary designers continue to call on the tropes of ‘military chic’ (Tonchi) and Japanese-inspired clothing (Kawamura). References Atkins, Jaqueline. Wearing Propaganda: Textiles on the Home Front in Japan, Britain, and the United States. Princeton: Yale UP, 2005.Bantock, Geoffrey Herman. Culture, Industrialisation and Education. London: Routledge & K. Paul, 1968.Black, Prudence. “The Discipline of Appearance: Military Style and Australian Flight Hostess Uniforms 1930–1964.” Fashion & War in Popular Culture. Ed. Denise N. Rall. Bristol: Intellect/U Chicago P, 2014. 91-106.Craik, Jenifer. Uniforms Exposed: From Conformity to Transgression. Oxford: Berg, 2005.Cumming, Valerie, Cecil Williet Cunnington, and Phillis Emily Cunnington. “Mao Style.” The Dictionary of Fashion History. Eds. Valerie Cumming, Cecil Williet Cunnington, and Phillis Emily Cunnington. Oxford: Berg, 2010.Dalby, Liza, ed. Kimono: Fashioning Culture. London: Vintage, 2001.Davis, Edward L., ed. Encyclopaedia of Contemporary Chinese Culture. London: Routledge, 2005.Dees, Jan. Taisho Kimono: Speaking of Past and Present. Milan: Skira, 2009.Ferguson, N. Civilization: The West and the Rest. London: Penguin, 2011.Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. Trans. Alan Sheridan. London: Penguin, 1997. Gerth, Karl. China Made: Consumer Culture and the Creation of the Nation, Cambridge: East Asian Harvard Monograph 224, 2003.Gilbert, W.S., and Arthur Sullivan. The Mikado or, The Town of Titipu. 1885. 16 Nov. 2015 ‹http://math.boisestate.edu/gas/mikado/mk_lib.pdf›. Hillsborough, Romulus. Samurai Revolution: The Dawn of Modern Japan Seen through the Eyes of the Shogun's Last Samurai. Vermont: Tuttle, 2014.Jones, Anne R., and Peter Stallybrass, Renaissance Clothing and the Materials of Memory. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000.Keene, Donald. Emperor of Japan: Meiji and His World, 1852-1912. New York: Columbia UP, 2002.King, Emerald L. “Schoolboys and Kimono Ladies.” Presentation to the Un-Thinking Asian Migrations Conference, University of Otago, Dunedin, New Zealand, 24-26 Aug. 2014. Kinsella, Sharon. “What’s Behind the Fetishism of Japanese School Uniforms?” Fashion Theory 6.2 (2002): 215-37. Kuechler, Susanne, and Daniel Miller, eds. Clothing as Material Culture. Oxford: Berg, 2005.Landow, George P. “Liberty and the Evolution of the Liberty Style.” 22 Aug. 2010. ‹http://www.victorianweb.org/art/design/liberty/lstyle.html›.Martin, Richard, and Harold Koda. Orientalism: Vision of the East in Western Dress. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1994.McVeigh, Brian J. Wearing Ideology: State, Schooling, and Self-Presentation in Japan. Oxford: Berg, 2000.Molloy, John. Military Fashion: A Comparative History of the Uniforms of the Great Armies from the 17th Century to the First World War. New York: Putnam, 1972.Peoples, Sharon. “Embodying the Military: Uniforms.” Critical Studies in Men’s Fashion 1.1 (2014): 7-21.Rall, Denise N. “Costume & Conquest: A Proximity Framework for Post-War Impacts on Clothing and Textile Art.” Fashion & War in Popular Culture, ed. Denise N. Rall. Bristol: Intellect/U Chicago P, 2014. 157-74. Tipton, Elise K. Modern Japan: A Social and Political History. 3rd ed. London: Routledge, 2016.Tucker, Spencer C., ed. A Global Chronology of Conflict: From the Ancient World to the Modern Middle East. Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO, 2013.V&A Kimono. Victoria and Albert Museum. “A History of the Kimono.” 2004. 2 Oct. 2015 ‹http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/articles/h/a-history-of-the-kimono/›.V&A Victorian. Victoria and Albert Museum. “The Victorian Vision of China and Japan.” 10 Nov. 2015 ‹http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/articles/t/the-victorian-vision-of-china-and-japan/›.Vincent, Susan J. The Anatomy of Fashion: Dressing the Body from the Renaissance to Today. Berg: Oxford, 2009.Wilde, Oscar. “The Decay of Lying.” 1889. In Intentions New York: Berentano’s 1905. 16 Nov. 2015 ‹http://virgil.org/dswo/courses/novel/wilde-lying.pdf›. Wilk, Richard. “Consumer Goods as a Dialogue about Development.” Cultural History 7 (1990) 79-100.