On May 16-17 FSI will be co-sponsoring a conference with the Department of History and the Center for East Asian Studies on Same-Sex Desire and Union in China: Interdisciplinary and Historical Perspectives.

OVERVIEW

Same-sex desire and union are themes of basic importance to multiple fields of Chinese studies, notably Ming-Qing literature, but also history, anthropology, and contemporary cultural and political studies. After long occlusion by mainstream scholarship, these themes have recently become a central focus for a growing number of international scholars. In a complementary development, queer activism and cultural production are highly visible features of the increasingly robust civil societies that have emerged in the People’s Republic of China (PRC), Taiwan, and Hong Kong over the past decade or two. The following is a brief overview of just a few of the questions and challenges that scholars face today.

A rich body of homoerotic literature survives from Late Imperial China (especially the 17th-19th centuries), but much of this material has been neglected until very recently (in part because censorship by successive political regimes made once famous works obscure and hard to find). Indeed, a prominent part of elite male discourse and lifestyle was a homoerotic sensibility that focused in part on cross-dressing boy actors as objects of aesthetic idealization and sexual desire. By the eighteenth century, as commercial opera in Beijing achieved its mature form, to consort with boy actors had become a fashionable (if controversial) status symbol for elite men, and a high-class homosexual brothel/escort scene flourished in close connection with the theater. This world is richly documented in the drama, vernacular fiction, and literati jottings of the era, and it is now a rising priority for literary scholars and historians. But we have barely scratched the surface of this material, and mainstream scholarship has hardly begun to take account of its implications. A handful of scholars have also begun to explore drama and verse written by women, which contain many homoerotic themes; but this exciting body of texts remains largely unknown to the wider field of Chinese literature.

During the same era, a skewed sex ratio and shortage of wives among the poor meant that increasing numbers of marginalized males lived outside the normative family system. In that context, same-sex union (often framed by chosen kinship forms such as ganqin adoption or sworn brotherhood) was the dominant mode of alliance, although there is also evidence of widespread wife-sharing and other non-normative family forms. Although organized according to age hierarchy, such same-sex unions appear to have been far more symmetrical and consensual than anything found in the elite homoerotic scene. Judicial anxiety focused on the security threat supposedly posed by this growing underclass of marginal males, who were stereotyped as sexual predators threatening the women and adolescent boys of established families; legal prohibitions of male-male sodomy (fully developed in the eighteenth century) focused on suppressing this threat. As a result of these prohibitions, China’s vast legal archives from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries contain masses of evidence about male same-sex relations that scholars have only just begun to investigate.

At the same time, there is considerable evidence in legal sources that male same-sex relations were also widespread within settled peasant communities. A common – if seldom openly acknowledged – pattern was for a young male, in the years leading up to marriage, to play the penetrated role in a sexual relationship with an older man. The penetrated role was stigmatized, but it was also understandable and largely tolerated as a stage of the maturation process on the path to full social adulthood, which came with marriage. This way of understanding and experiencing same-sex relations has much in common with practice in other premodern societies, but it seems radically different from the modern egalitarian template of sexual orientation.

The fall of the empire in 1912 ushered in a new era in which anxious elites promoted a Westernized vision of modernity in order to resist and catch up with the developed imperialist powers. A notable feature of this vision was a re-imagination of same-sex desire in terms of the newly imported concept of “homosexuality,” which implied pathology. This modernity involved the active suppression of longstanding forms of elite self-expression (for example, patronage of cross-dressing actors), but also the emergence of new images and self-conscious identities (for example, the concept of the lesbian as a social figure). Something similar happened in Japan and many other parts of the world during roughly the same era. This transformational process continues in China to this day; questions of identity and social role, in particular, remain open and fluid. A key issue now, in our era of accelerated globalization, is the ways in which imported concepts and vocabulary will articulate with locally emerging forms of identity, politics, and cultural expression.

The contemporary queer scene in “Greater China” (including the PRC, Hong Kong, and Taiwan) serves as a revealing barometer of wider political and social change. In Taiwan since the end of martial law (1987), queer politics and culture have become among the most striking and visible dimensions of a new democratic society. In a less open but no less dramatic way, the PRC in the post-Mao era (since 1978) has also witnessed an efflorescence of queer associations, social life, and cultural production. In cities like Beijing, such activity takes place within a broad, ambiguous grey area that enjoys no legal protection, but in practice is often tolerated by authorities. The underground film scene is especially lively. In both Taiwan and the PRC, queer life is a prominent feature of the fledgling civil societies that have emerged with the demise of more repressive political regimes.

The contemporary Chinese queer scene is characterized by a vital transnational cross-fertilization that takes in Western countries and overseas Chinese as well – for example, some of the key activists in Taiwan, Hong Kong and the PRC have spent long stints in North America, Australia, or Europe for education or work, and in that setting have been able to network with Western activists and scholars, and with other Chinese living abroad. By the same token, the study of homosexuality in Chinese history and culture (like the broader field of Chinese studies) has become an increasingly transnational enterprise, involving scholars in all parts of Greater China, together with North Americans, Australians, and Europeans, as well as Chinese expatriates who teach on foreign campuses.

The purpose of this two-day conference is to bring people together for a conversation across boundaries of discipline, period, and geography. Scholars in separate fields (and locations) have conducted enough work by now that we are reaching something like a critical mass. But so far, most of us have focused on our own narrow disciplines and topics of research – and at this point, we would all benefit from cross-fertilization and synthesis. What bigger picture emerges when we cast our separate findings in historical and interdisciplinary light? How do historical and comparative perspectives help to illuminate contemporary developments?

The conference will consist of five panels of speakers (three per panel), followed by a round table discussion among four prominent scholars (two historians and two literature specialists) from outside the field of Chinese studies, to highlight comparative and theoretical issues that have emerged from the conference papers. If, as I expect, the event is a success, I hope to edit a conference volume for publication.

The conference is free and open to the public.

In December 2007, for the first time ever, South Koreans, anxious about the economy, elected a businessman as their president. Pro-growth conservative Lee Myung-bak won a resounding victory, with 49 percent of the vote, over left-center candidate Chung Dong-young, who won only 26 percent. Lee's margin would have been even greater had it not been for the late entry into the race by another conservative, Lee Hoi-chang, who finished third with 15 percent.

Korean voters had become tired of ten years of rule by the left-center, and they saw incumbent President Roh Moo-hyun as confrontational and ineffective. By contrast, Lee, a former Hyundai Engineering and Construction CEO, has a reputation for being a pragmatic, can-do leader. As mayor of Seoul (2002-2006), he beautified the city and reformed its mass transit system.

Lee is scheduled to be inaugurated on February 25 for a single five-year term, but he faces two early challenges. First, just before the election, the left-center camp passed a bill establishing a special prosecutor to investigate allegations that Lee had been involved in business fraud and other corruption. The special prosecutor is supposed to announce his findings before the inauguration. A regular prosecutor earlier found the charges to be unfounded, and most observers think that the special prosecutor will not turn up significant new information.

Second, President-elect Lee must counter centrifugal forces in the conservative party ahead of parliamentary elections on April 5. Lee Hoi-chang's defection has already split the conservative camp, and now President-elect Lee and former conservative party leader Park Geun-hye (daughter of the late President Park Chung Hee) are feuding over how much say each should have in choosing candidates for the parliamentary election.

If President-elect Lee is cleared by the special prosecutor and if he successfully manages relations with Park, Lee's party will likely win a very large majority in the parliamentary election, offering him the opportunity to be a strong and effective executive.

As president, Lee will face two long-term challenges. First, as Lee has promised Korean voters, he must strengthen the economy. While the Korean economy has been growing at a rate of about 5 percent in recent years, the average Korean has felt hard-pressed by large increases in housing and education costs. Lee plans to focus on deregulation and attracting foreign investment. He has, however, already been forced to scale back his promise of 7 percent annual growth to 6 percent at least for his first year in office.

Second, although North Korea was not a major issue in the election campaign, due to the apparent progress in Six-Party talks to end North Korea's nuclear weapons program, many experts are skeptical that North Korea will fully abandon its nuclear ambitions. Lee supports engagement of North Korea and continued humanitarian aid, but he has said he will not provide major economic aid to North Korea until it ends its nuclear weapons program. This marks a significant departure from the policy of his predecessors Roh Moo-hyun and Kim Dae-jung. A renewal of tensions with North Korea could threaten South Korean economic growth and Lee's popularity.

Lee strongly supports South Korea's alliance with the United States. He may seek talks with the United States to adjust or delay implementation of agreements reached in recent years to reduce the United States' role in South Korea's defense. Lee also supports early ratification of the U.S.-Korea Free Trade Agreement (FTA), the largest U.S. free trade agreement since NAFTA. (The U.S. Congress has not yet approved the U.S.-Korea FTA.)

Many experts believe that the near coincidence of Lee's election and the inauguration of a new U.S. administration in January 2009 offers a major opportunity to strengthen U.S.-South Korean relations. Shorenstein APARC and the New York-based Korea Society recently announced the formation of a study group of senior former U.S. officials and experts to issue a report and recommendations on how the next U.S. administration can work with President Lee. The study group will travel to Seoul in early February for meetings with President-elect Lee and his economic, foreign policy, and security advisors.

Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of the election of Lee was that Koreans did not think it remarkable. They simply took it for granted that the election would be free, fair, and peaceful. Yet it has only been twenty years since South Koreans literally forced a military-backed government to allow them to vote democratically for their chief executive. In those two decades, there have been five presidential elections, with Lee's victory making the second full-fledged transfer of power between political camps. Moreover, this election was conducted at very low cost, using public funds; companies were not "squeezed" for campaign contributions as in the past. South Korea has demonstrated itself to be, along with Australia and New Zealand, the most democratic country in East Asia and a model of political development for the entire international community.

Japan's ruling party suffered a historic defeat Sunday. For the first time since the conservative Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) was formed in 1955, an opposition party has become the largest party in the upper house.

The powerful message delivered by Japanese voters has significant implications not only for Japan but also for the rest of the world, not least for its close ally, the United States.

The election result revives momentum in Japan toward creation of a viable two-party system, potentially ending the conservative postwar monopoly on power. Japanese voters expressed deep anxiety about the impact of economic change upon their treasured social order. They embraced the campaign of the Democratic Party (the main opposition) against growing income inequality and the failure of the state to take care of an aging population.

Equally important, the vote was a humiliating defeat for Prime Minister Shinzo Abe's agenda of giving priority to revising Japan's antiwar Constitution and allowing its military to take on a global role in support of the US. Democratic Party leader Ichiro Ozawa effectively portrayed Mr. Abe as a man out of touch with the concerns of ordinary Japanese. But he also articulated an alternative vision of Japan's international role, calling for closer ties to its Asian neighbors and sending troops overseas only under the auspices of United Nations peacekeeping missions.

Since 9/11, Japan has been among the most loyal, if not unquestioning, of US allies. It sent troops to Iraq, provided logistical support to the war in Afghanistan, and outdid the US in putting pressure on North Korea. Most recently, Abe echoed the rhetoric of the Bush administration, calling for formation of a "values-based" alliance of democracies along with India and Australia, implicitly aimed at containing a rising China. The election results will certainly slow, if not reverse, this tight synchronization.

For the business community, the vote will raise concerns that needed economic policy actions such as fiscal reforms will get stalled in a gridlocked parliament. The vote reminds politicians that the economic recovery has left an awful lot of Japanese behind, with real wages falling, youth unemployment high, and the elderly drawing down their savings to survive. Abe's feel-good rhetoric and focus on security just angered those Japanese.

There remains strong support for gradual change. Most Japanese want the country to take on a more "normal" security role, but one that will stop far short of overdrawn fears of a remilitarized Japan. And many Japanese, particularly in the younger generation, back economic reform, though not at the expense of social stability.

The most intriguing question is the future of Japan's democracy. Abe is resisting calls for his resignation, attributing the vote to a series of scandals in his Cabinet and most of all to the revelation that the government's national pension system had lost the records of some 50 million people. The election result was bad luck, Abe claimed, not a repudiation of his administration's overall policies -- a view shared by Washington policymakers.

Exit polls do confirm that voters were strongly motivated by these issues. But they also express little faith in the personal leadership of Abe, who tried to cover up the pension debacle. He suffered from an unfavorable comparison to his predecessor, Junichiro Koizumi, one of Japan's most popular postwar leaders.

But the election suggests that Mr. Koizumi's personal charisma only temporarily reversed a longer trend of drift away from the ruling conservatives, particularly by unaffiliated swing voters in Japan's cities and suburbs. Mr. Ozawa, one of Japan's most brilliant politicians, managed to both regain those voters and steal away traditional conservative backers in rural areas among farmers and pensioners worried about their future.

Ozawa, whom I have known for more than two decades, is a man of uncommon political vision. He is a former LDP stalwart who has relentlessly pursued the goal of creating a clearly defined two-party system that can create real competition. He was the architect of a split in the LDP that briefly brought the opposition to power in the early 1990s.

Over dinner last fall, Ozawa laid out to me what seemed then like an incredibly audacious plan to regain power. First to win a series of local elections, leading up to a defeat of the LDP in the upper house election, forcing in turn the dissolution of the lower house and new elections. He clearly hopes to split the LDP again and pry away its coalition partner, the New Komeito Party, as part of his strategy of realignment.

The Democratic Party has yet to demonstrate its own ability to rule, but it would be unwise to underestimate Ozawa. And it would be foolish to dismiss the desire for change delivered by Japanese voters on Sunday.

Reprinted with permission by the Christian Science Monitor.