Chariot Volume 2

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Acknowledgement of Country We acknowledge that Chariot 2019 was created on land that always has and always will belong to the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin Nations. We acknowledge that this land was stolen and that sovereignty over it was never ceded, and that no acknowledgement is enough to right this wrong. We pay respect to Wurundjeri elders past, present, and future, and extend this respect to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people; people who have been sharing stories for thousands and thousands of years.

CHARIOT Volume 2 2019

Cover Artwork by Kiara Allis Cover & internal design by Simran Kaur 2


Contents EDITORS

Rebecca McGrath Lindsay Wong


Tori Waqanaceva-Simpson Elizabeth Seychell Libby Wong


Benjamin Cronshow Ella Syme Hilary Kwan Matthew Tomlinson Rebecca McGrath Tori Waqanaceva- Simpson Lindsay Wong

China’s Divisive Family Planning Campaign Tori Waqanaceva-Simpson Desired and Derided: Harmful Representations Of Indigenous Sexuality in Colonial Australia Ella Syme The Nixon Administration Intervention in Chile 1970-1973 Benjamin Cronshaw

Simran Kaur

Chariot is the undergraduate history journal of the University of Melbourne. The views expressed herein are not necessarily the views of the university, the printers, or the editors. All writing and artwork remains the property of the creators.


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The Fight for Rights: Slaves, Women, and the Poor in the French Revolution Rebecca McGrath


The Global Significance of Mao Zedong’s Proclamation of The People’s Republic of China Hilary Kwan


A Political End to a Political War Matthew Tomlinson




The Astonishing Rise of Japan and the “Asian Tigers” in the 1980’s Lindsay Wong


Embodying Ambiguity: Transgressions of Gender Binaries in Early Modern Europe Ella Syme


EDITORIAL Rebecca McGrath & Lindsay Wong

Chariot: Volume 2 has been a labour of love and determination. Us editors, Lindsay and Bec, along with our dedicated team of sub-editors, have been working hard with our talented contributors to make this edition great. The process has been challenging but rewarding, and we are so excited to finally present you with the second edition of Chariot. Chariot aims to showcase the voices of undergraduates interested in history at the University of Melbourne. In this edition, you will find a range of non-fiction works across eras of history, from Indigenous history to the Cold War. The submissions to this edition show the increasing interest in Asian history and history of sexuality from undergraduate students, and a continued interest in the many wars and conflicts of the twentieth century. Still in the early years of this magazine, we are finding our place as a voice in interrogating and investigating history. We aim to reach far and wide within these pages and hope that as each edition comes, the page count will rise alongside an increase in diversity of contributions and subjects taught at the University of Melbourne. Continuing to build a new student magazine is a difficult but tremendously rewarding task. We were extremely lucky to be preceded by Danielle Scrimshaw, who laid impressive foundations for Chariot in 2018. After reading the works in this edition, we encourage you to interact with history in your own way. We believe there is no one place to focus our attention in the study of history, and hope this magazine continues to build upon diversity in history research and interest. This edition may have been a long time coming, but we know that the pieces in these pages are engaging and thought-provoking, and worth the wait.

China’s Divisive Family Planning Campaign Tori Waqanaceva-Simpson

Almost forty years after its implementation, China’s ‘one child’ policy still abounds in controversy and speculation of its success. Demographers continue to debate the actual figure of ‘births averted’ and if this figure is due completely to the one-child policy, or if it is more reflective of a general fertility decline experienced by many East Asian countries in the last half decade.1 The fertility decline, which has led to below replacement levels, has produced an ageing population with detrimental consequences to rural communities when coupled with mass internal urban migration.2 Although many have suffered throughout the enforcement of the one-child policy – most notably baby girls and couples forced into abortions and sterilisations – it is unlikely that the policy is the cause of China’s current prosperity.3 The one-child policy is not the main cause of China’s current prosperity, and it has resulted in serious disadvantages to rural communities. During Mao Zedong’s first decade in power, China’s fertility rate reached a high of around six births per adult female.4 This increase was due to a combination of post-war stabilisation and a lack of family planning policies, which allowed for unfettered population growth.5 Additionally, Mao favoured a “more people, more power” principle, which sometimes put him at odds with those advocating stricter family planning, such as Deng Xiaoping and well-known economist Ma Yinchu.6 Fertility rates plunged during the great famine of 1959-1961, before a significant rebound called for the first family planning policy to be implemented.7 This policy set loosely enforced birth quotas of around three children per couple in urban areas and densely populated rural areas, whilst establishing family planning commissions throughout the country.8 During the 1970s, the birth quota system became more strictly enforced, reducing the limit to two children per couple. This coincided with a ‘marrying later’ and ‘longer gaps between births’ campaign, culminating in the Later, Longer and Fewer policy.9 The transition of family planning from a private decision to a State mandated policy was aided by Party propaganda espousing the benefits of nationwide prosperity.10 However, further mobilisation would be required during Deng Xiaoping’s reform period and the implementation of the ‘one-child’ policy.11 The one-child policy was established in 1979 during the Reform Era of Deng Xiaoping, and aimed to “limit the population of the country within 1.2 billion by the end of the twentieth century”.12 This ambitious goal required stronger compliance incentives, or “carrot and stick” measures, which involved rewarding couples who complied and punishing those who did not.13 Most rewards were bound to the dissolving commune system, which handed out extra grain, marriage and maternity leave, and a priority in health care, education and employment opportunities, if a couple complied.14 However, these rewards diminished in value as the nationwide process of decollectivisation took place between 1979 and 1984.15 Coercion became the primary method for ensuring policy compliance, most notably through forced abortions and sterilisations, causing a global outcry of human rights violations.16 Financial penalties and aggressive mass education programs were also utilised, whilst some couples engaged in bribery, infanticide, and avoided registering


births.17 As scholars Zhang and Cao note, there is an “…abuse of power by some corrupt officials who take bribes from those families who wish to have out-of-plan births and want to avoid economic penalties, or to avoid sterilization.”18 Indeed, at the beginning of the one-child policy there was an immense backlash from rural communities, which led to policy alterations in the mid-1980s.19 Some scholars suggest that due to traditional values, rural families placed significant importance on producing sons and having larger families.20 During the mid-1980s, the Party partially relaxed its one-child policy to allow rural couples to have a second child if their first child was a girl.21 Couples would also be allowed to have a second child if one or both parents were only children.22 As Liang and Lee summarise “to mitigate the tensions among the [rural] people and corruption of the officials thereof, a second birth may be allowed in the rural areas and a third permitted under special conditions, but no more beyond that.”23 Fertility rates continued to decline, and reached below population replacement levels in the mid-1990s.24 This was assisted through the use of stricter fines for non-compliance, and an increase in the minimum age to marry.25 Moreover, the economic prosperity which China had achieved through its ‘open-door’ reforms, along with an increase in women’s schooling, household income, and the shift from agricultural to industrial production, further influenced the downward fertility trend.26 At the turn of the 21st century, China had revised its population goal of remaining under 1.2 billion to the achievable 1.3 billion, whilst also witnessing its fertility rate fall in line with its GDP per capita.27 In 2016, the end of the one-child policy was realised when the State adopted a nation-wide two-child policy.28 However, this has not resulted in a remarkable increase in births, and it is predicted that China will experience a negative population growth, peaking around 2030 with 1.45 billion people.29 Many scholars have suggested that this negative population growth has resulted from socioeconomic changes, rather than the one-child policy.30 The success of the one-child policy has primarily been espoused by the Chinese government, concluding that “400 million” births had been averted due to their family planning programs.31 However, many demographers have debated this figure, with Wang et al. producing an in-depth study of the State’s claims, finding that they are based on erroneous assumptions and simplistic models, with the actual births-averted figure being much lower.32 Although many scholars do recognise that the one-child policy certainly had an impact on fertility rates, they assert that socioeconomic factors are primarily responsible.33 Key factors influencing the fertility decline include: female education, poverty reduction, and a shift in cultural attitudes. Female literacy rates had been increasing prior to the one-child policy, and coincided with an increase in female workforce participation.34 Along with advances in health care, increases in female employment and education participation tend to correlate with decreased fertility rates.35 Poverty has also been steadily declining which has led to an increase in living standards, although more noticeably in urban, rather than rural populations.36 These factors have also precipitated a change in cultural behaviour, and when coupled with aggressive family planning propaganda, have also contributed to the decrease in fertility.37 Arguably the most effective family planning campaign of “Later, Longer and Fewer,” witnessed a dramatic decrease in fertility before the extreme one-child policy was implemented.38 Some scholars suggest that there was no need for the one-child policy as China was already curbing its population growth in the early 1970s.39 Indeed, other East Asian countries experienced similar fertility decline without extreme family planning policies.40 As a result of the dramatic fertility decrease and the restrictions imposed by the one-child policy, China now experiences an imbalanced sex-ratio and ageing population. A preference for sons contributed to a rise in female infanticide, unregistered female births, and sex selective abortions.41 This has led to a sex-ratio in 2000 of 120 males per 100 females, compared to a normal distribution situated between 103-107.42 Furthermore, this ratio tends to be more extreme throughout rural communities as the pressure to have a son is magnified by agrarian demands and imbedded traditional values. As Fairbank and Goldman explain: “male heirs are desirable to continue the family line. Furthermore, because girls marry out of the family, families want a son to take care of the parents in their old age, especially with the loss of social security


benefits in the post-Mao era. In addition, the return to the family farm created an incentive to increase family size in order to have more hands to work in the fields.”43 The sex-ratio disparity has caused the Party to formally address the issue, including in its Population and Family Planning Law of 2001 that baby girls must not be discriminated against.44 Fortunately, recent research has reported a change in reproductive behaviours, with a majority of couples preferring to have both a son and a daughter.45 Coinciding with the sex-ratio imbalance is China’s ageing population, which has been fuelled by an increase in life expectancy.46 Urban areas of China experienced a more dramatic fertility decline than rural areas, thus the problem of an ageing population is more severe throughout the cities.47 However, urban areas are more likely to have the necessary facilities in place to manage their ageing population, compared to rural communities who also suffer from a large youth migration to the cities.48 The absence of a capable social welfare system further burdens only-children, who may have to care for their spouse’s parents and their own parents.49 When analysing these two particular consequences of the one-child policy - the sex-ratio and ageing population - it becomes evident that while China successfully reduced its fertility rate, it is now facing a new set of challenges which undermine its recent economic prosperity. Moreover, the one-child policy has furthered the divide between urban and rural populations, severely disadvantaging rural communities. As Political Scientist Tyrene White contends, the one-child policy was more readily accepted by urban populations, noting: “because China’s birth limitation program had begun in earnest in urban areas in the early 1970s, and because urban living had already begun to encourage lower levels of fertility, most urban couples of childbearing age either agreed with the state’s arguments or acceded reluctantly.”50 Couples in urban areas also benefitted from the available sex-selection technology, whilst government agencies exercised more direct control with many urban residents working in state-owned institutions.51 This meant that non-compliance could result in a loss of employment or social welfare payments.52 Women in urban areas were more likely to have abortions due to a desire to have smaller families, better access to abortion services, an increased frequency of premarital sex, and a postponing of childbearing to later years.53 As China’s rural population struggled to conform to the one-child policy, the mid-1980 policy relaxation – which allowed for a second child if the first was a girl – fuelled a “sibling generation” which contrasted the predominantly only-child family structure in urban populations.54 This population disparity has impacted rural to urban migration trends with new challenges mounted on employment and family structure dynamics. The success of reducing China’s fertility rate was closely linked to its transformative socioeconomic conditions, along with aggressive propaganda campaigns which began prior to the one-child policy. Fertility rates lowered substantially more within urban areas, while rural residents protested eventually being allowed to have a second child if the first was a girl. Furthermore, the prosperity that China now enjoys has been hampered by the problems caused by the one-child policy, namely an ageing population, a sex-ratio imbalanced cohort, and a persisting urban rural divide. It is difficult to determine whether China will be able to successfully mitigate these issues. However, it is certain that the one-child policy was one of the world’s most ambitious, and controversial, population control experiments ever undertaken.


Endnotes 1 Zhongwei Zhao, “Closing a Sociodemographic Chapter of Chinese History,” Population and Development Review 41, no. 4 (2015): 682. 2 Fei Wang, Liqiu Zhao, and Zhong Zhao, “China’s family planning policies and their labor market consequences,” Journal of Population Economics 30 (2017): 32, DOI: 10.1007/s00148-0160613-0. 3 Feng Wang, Yong Cai, Ke Shen, and Stuart Gietel-Basten, “Is Demography Just a Numerical Exercise? Numbers, Politics, and Legacies of China’s One-Child Policy” Demography 55 (2018): 697, 700, 710,; D. E. Mungello, Drowning Girls in China (Plymouth: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2008), 118. ProQuest eBook. 4 Zhongwei Zhao and Fei Guo, “Introduction” in Transition and Challenge: China’s Population at the Beginning of the 21st Century, eds, Zhongwei Zhao and Fei Guo (Oxford Scholarship Online, 2007): 1, 3. DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199299294.001.0001. 5 Wang, Zhao, and Zhao, “China’s family planning policies,” 33. 6 Junsen Zhang, “The Evolution of China’s One-Child Poliwcy and Its Effects on Family Outcomes,” Journal of Economic Perspectives 31, no. 1 (2017): 142,; John King Fairbwank and Merle Goodman, China: A New History (2nd Ed.) (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press, 2006), 419. 7 Wang, Zhao, and Zhao, “China’s family planning policies,” 33. 8 Ibid; Zhang, “The Evolution of China’s One-Child Policy,” 142. 9 Ibid, 142-143; Wang, Zhao, and Zhao, “China’s family planning policies,” 33. 10 Zhang Weiguo, “Implementation of State Family Planning Programmes in a Northern Chinese Village,” The China Quarterly 157 (1999): 205, stable/655870. 11 Tyrene White, China’s Longest Campaign: Birth Planning in the People’s Republic, 1949-2005 (New York: Cornell University Press, 2006), 111. 12 Zhang, “The Evolution of China’s One-Child Policy,” 141; Qiusheng Liang and Che-Fu Lee, “Fertility and population policy,” in Fertility, Family Planning and Population Policy in China, eds. Dudley L. Poston Jr., Che-Fu Lee, Chiung-Fang Chang, Sherry L. McKibben, and Carol S. Walther (Milton Park, Oxon: Routledge, 2006), 8. 13 Ibid. 14 Weiguo, “Implementation of State Family Planning Programmes,” 207. 15 White, China’s Longest Campaign, 112. 16 Liang and Lee, “Fertility and population policy,” 15-16; Weigou Zhang and Xingshan Cao, “Family Planning During the Economic Reform Era,” in Transition and Challenge: China’s Population at the Beginning of the 21st Century, eds. Zhongwei Zhao and Fei Guo (Oxford Scholarship Online, 2007), 19, DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199299294.001.0001; Weiguo, “Implementation of State Family Planning Programmes,” 207; Zhang, “The Evolution of China’s One-Child Policy,” 143. 17 Zhang and Cao, “Family Planning During,” 19; 18 Ibid, 25. 19 Liang and Lee, “Fertility and population policy,” 16. 20 Elisabeth Croll, “Introduction: Fertility Norms and Family Size in China,” in China’s One-Child Family Policy, eds. Elisabeth Croll, Delia Davin, and Penny Kane (Basingstoke, Hampshire: MacMillan, 1985), 3; Liang and Lee, “Fertility and population policy,” 11; Wang, Zhao, and Zhao, “China’s family planning policies,” 33;

21 Ibid. 22 Ibid, 33-34; Wang, Zhao, and Zhao, “China’s family planning policies,” 34. 23 Liang and Lee, “Fertility and population policy,” 16. 24 Ibid, 12; Zhao, “Closing a Sociodemographic Chapter,” 682. 25 Wang, Zhao, and Zhao, “China’s family planning policies,” 34; Liang and Lee, “Fertility and population policy,” 17. 26 Wang, Zhao, and Zhao, “China’s family planning policies,” 36; Zhang and Cao, “Family Planning During,” 26. 27 Liang and Lee, “Fertility and population policy,” 17; Wang, Cai, Shen, and Gietel-Basten, “Is Demography Just a Numerical Exercise?” 702. 28 Wang, Zhao, and Zhao, “China’s family planning policies,” 35. 29 United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs: Population Division, World Population Prospects: The 2017 Revision, Volume II: Demographic Profiles,; Wang, Zhao, and Zhao, “China’s family planning policies,” 32. 30 Zhao, “Closing a Sociodemographic Chapter,” 684. 31 Wang, Cai, Shen, and Gietel-Basten, “Is Demography Just a Numerical Exercise?” 698. 32 Ibid, 697, 700, 708, 714. 33 Zhongwei Zhao and Guangyu Zhang, “Socioeconomic Factors Have Been the Major Driving Force of China’s Fertility Changes Since the Mid-1990s,” Demography 55 (2018): 735, https://doi. org/10.1007/s13524-018-0662-y; Zhang, “The Evolution of China’s One-Child Policy,” 141; Zhao, “Closing a Sociodemographic Chapter,” 684; Wang, Zhao, and Zhao, “China’s family planning policies,” 35, 36. 34 Wang, Cai, Shen, and Gietel-Basten, “Is Demography Just a Numerical Exercise?” 700. 35 Ibid. 36 Judith Banister, “Poverty, Progress, and Rising Life Expectancy,” in Transition and Challenge: China’s Population at the Beginning of the 21st Century, eds. Zhongwei Zhao and Fei Guo (Oxford Scholarship Online, 2007): 145, DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199299294.003.0009 (quote); Zhao and Zhang, “Socioeconomic Factors Have Been,” 740. 37 Zhao, “Closing a Sociodemographic Chapter,” 681-682. 38 Martin King Whyte, Wang Feng, and Yong Cai, “Challenging Myths About China’s One-Child Policy,” The China Journal no. 74 (2015): 152; Zhang, “The Evolution of China’s One-Child Policy,” 143,152; Wang, Zhao, and Zhao, “China’s family planning policies,” 35. 39 Whyte, Feng, and Cai, “Challenging Myths,” 152; Wang, Cai, Shen, and Gietel-Basten, “Is Demography Just a Numerical Exercise?” 700; Wang, Zhao, and Zhao, “China’s family planning policies,” 36. 40 Fairbank and Goldman, China, 419 (quote); Wang, Cai, Shen, and Gietel-Basten, “Is Demography Just a Numerical Exercise?” 700. 41 Yong Cai and William Lavely, “Child Sex Ratios and Their Regional Variation,” in Transition and Challenge: China’s Population at the Beginning of the 21st Century, eds. Zhongwei Zhao and Fei Guo (Oxford Scholarship Online, 2007): 109-110, DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199299294.003.0007; Li Zhang, Xiaotian Feng, and Qingsong Zhang, “Changing patterns of desired fertility,” in Fertility, Family Planning, and Population Policy in China, eds. Dudley L. Poston Jr., Che-Fu Lee, Chiung-Fang Chang, Sherry L. McKibben, and Carol S. Walther (Milton Park, Oxon: Routledge, 2006): 106. 42 Cai and Lavely, “Child Sex Ratios,” 109.


43 Fairbank and Goldman, China, 419. 44 Zhang and Cao, “Family Planning During,” 21. 45 Ibid, 30; Zhang, Feng, and Zhang, “Changing patterns of desired fertility,” 105. 46 Feng Wang and Andrew Mason, “Population Ageing: Challenges, Opportunities, and Institutions,” in Transition and Challenge: China’s Population at the Beginning of the 21st Century, eds. Zhongwei Zhao and Fei Guo (Oxford Scholarship Online, 2007): 179, DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199299294.003.0011. 47 Ibid, 181. 48 Ibid, 196. 49 Jiali Li, “China’s One-Child Policy: How and How Well Has it Worked? A Case Study of Hebei Province, 1979-88,” Population and Development Review 21 no. 3 (1995): 583, stable/2137750. 50 White, China’s Longest Campaign, xii. 51 Zhang, “The Evolution of China’s One-Child Policy,” 145. 52 Ibid. 53 Wei Chen, “Induced Abortion and its Demographic Consequences,” in Transition and Challenge: China’s Population at the Beginning of the 21st Century, eds, Zhongwei Zhao and Fei Guo (Oxford Scholarship Online, 2007): 94. DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199299294.003.0006. 54 White, China’s Longest Campaign, 264.

Desired and Derided: Harmful Representations of Indigenous Sexuality in Colonial Australia Ella Syme

An exploration of Australia’s late colonial history sees a prevalence of colonial literature and media in which gender, race and sexualities intersect. The focus of such discourse is primarily on Indigenous women, whose bodies and sexuality were both constructed and controlled through this colonial ideology. Australia’s late colonial period saw multifaceted representations of Indigenous sexuality, and in the years between 1880 and 1900, Indigenous Australian women were portrayed as both objects of sexual fascination and sexually promiscuous beings. These constructions, despite their disparities, were used as a way to control the sexuality of Indigenous women. By detailing the colonial obsession with Indigenous bodies it is possible to observe the extent to which male settlers felt entitled to the Indigenous body, as evidenced by accounts of exploitation. Ideas of Indigenous promiscuity helped to further justify such exploitation and additionally allowed for representation of Indigenous women as contaminants of syphilis, in both cases transferring the culpability for abuse and disease onto the women themselves. Libby Connors speaks of the “gendered nature of colonialism” and in Australia, this gendering is evidenced by the language used to describe the bodies of Indigenous women in colonial print media and literature, usually relegating them to objects of sexual fascination.1 Marcia Langton draws attention to the ‘white male fantasy’ of ‘black velvet’ and this term in particular, was significant in the construction of Indigenous sexuality in the late colonial period.2 It is important to mention that, although references to the colloquialism ‘black velvet’ are used in a historical context, the harmful impact of this terminology did not end with the colonial rule. Throughout this piece, any reference to the term is by no means a reflection of modern attitudes, but rather an attempt to expose the extent to which gendered language assisted in endorsing male control over the sexuality of Indigenous women. Ann McGrath describes the use of the term as a sign that Indigenous women “had come to be viewed as sex symbols”.3 Although referring to its use from 1910 onwards, McGrath’s argument can be applied to the late 19th-century discourse in much the same way. It is clear that, even before 1910, ‘black velvet’ had been used to denote Indigenous woman as highly eroticized beings whose bodies invited the touch of white settlers. Henry Lawson, in his 1899 poem The Ballad of The Rouseabout, used the term ‘black velvet’ to describe the skin of Indigenous Australian women: “I know the track from Spencer’s Gulf and north of Cooper’s Creek/Where falls the half-caste to the strong, ‘black velvet’ to the weak”.4 Historian Liz Conor has highlighted how Lawson’s stanza “grades the sexual access to women”, with those women considered having “black velvet” skin as the sexual conquests of ‘weaker’ men.5 Even though ‘black velvet’ was a polysemous term used to both sexualise Indigenous women and denote them as inferior even when compared to other women, it carried clear sexual innuendo. Yet, ‘black velvet’ conveyed more than just sexual insinuations about female bodies; as well as being highly gendered, it was also a highly racialised term. As Conor further argues, the term “specified interracial



sexual relations since Aboriginal women were never said to be ‘Black velvet’ to their own men”.6 Although this assertation is difficult to confirm, it is obvious from the above sources that the term was primarily used by non-Indigenous men as a way to represent the bodies of Indigenous women, racializing them as exotic, and sexualising them through the objectification of their physical appearances. Indeed, the reduction of Indigenous women to pieces of ‘velvet’ gave male settlers the belief that they were entitled to “[pick] out the best looking”.7 It was this dehumanization which helped shape the settlers’ impression of “proprietorial ownership of Aboriginal women’s bodies”.8 Even before Lawson’s poem was popularised among Australian audiences, less overt constructions of the term had been disseminated in colonial print media. A mocking comment made in the Queensland Figaro stated: “Says a Society paper, — ‘Black velvet is very fashionable’. That is no news to Queenslanders”.9 The comment, ostensibly in regard to the latest fashions, has clear racial undertones. Published in 1883, the remark was made during a period in which Australians were becoming increasingly aware of the interracial relations occurring between Indigenous women and non-Indigenous men, not just in Queensland but across the colonies.10 In this same year, Edward Curr, an Australian squatter, recorded that the skin of Indigenous women “was particularly velvet-like to the touch”.11 Indeed, the skin of Indigenous women seemed like a particular attraction to Curr, who further commented the skin of one woman to be as “smooth and bright as the wood of the box-tree off which the bark has been newly stripped”.12 Although with less overtly sexual connotations, at least in comparison to the aforementioned remarks, Curr’s observations still offer an insight into how the bodies of Indigenous women were judged and eroticised from the perspective of male settlers. Another popular poem published in 1881, written by George Herbert Gibson, reads “Oh! don’t you remember Black Alice, Sam Holt - Black Alice so dusky and dark”.13 In the following decade, more allusions to the “dusky skin” and “great black eyes” of Indigenous women found their way into newspapers.14 By evoking such language, these men reveal the extent to which the colonial gaze was focused on the bodies of Indigenous women, often exoticizing them through judgements of their physicalities and at the same time presenting them as sexual objects. Like ‘black velvet’, these representations of the bodies and sexuality of Indigenous women cannot be separated from constructions of race and gender. It was precisely because of their race and gender that Indigenous women could be perceived as “legitimate spoils of the conquered land”.15 Yet, the language which constructed them as sexual objects had ramifications beyond just a written sexualization of Indigenous bodies; it reinforced the idea that male settlers had the right to act on such desires. Although the documentation of sexual abuses carried out against Indigenous women was sadly underreported in the late colonial period, it is possible to piece together an idea of the prevalence of such acts. In a report written by commissioner Archibald Meston, it was stated that Indigenous women were subject to “kidnapping” and “nameless outrages” which sacrificed “the virtue of the women”.16 Meston further claimed that the husbands of some Indigenous women were “sent away” to avoid any objections they might have to the exploitation of their wives, revealing that such acts were very deliberate abuses of power.17 A constable in the Queensland colony wrote that men spoke freely about “seducing” Indigenous women, and considered it a “clever act” if they were able to seduce a woman “belonging to an adjoining station”.18 Such statements are not only suggestive of the sexual exploitation of Indigenous women but also highlight how some men saw the bodies of these women as their ‘belongings’. There was no consideration that Indigenous women themselves could be active agents in regards to their sexual relationships. In 1883, one contributor to the Queensland Figaro claimed they knew of “hundreds of instances where white savages have raped young [Indigenous] maiden [sic]” and then proceeded to boast about “their deeds vaingloriously”.19 This further indicates that, though acts of rape were not necessarily condoned by all, they did exist. The same contributor also drew attention to a case in which a man was tried for the rape of a young Indigenous girl.20 This case is one example which is traceable through legal documentation, and the perpetrator, Edward Camm, was charged with a lifetime of penal servitude for “having carnally known and abused… an aboriginal girl named Rosie”.21 While Camm was tried and convicted, the lack of similar


legal reports during the late colonial period suggests that most sexual abuses of Indigenous women were disregarded in co lonial law. It was assumed that white men had unrestricted access to Indigenous lands, as well as to the bodies of Indigenous women . Furthermore, the common portrayal of Indigenous women as ‘prostitutes’, meant they “had little protection from the colonial law when they suffered sexual abuse and exploitation with allegations against white men usually dismissed”.22 Indeed, Camm’s lifetime sentence was an unusually harsh penalty.23 Unfortunately, despite the lack of documentation of cases like that of Edward Camm and Rosie, it is no doubt that the sexual exploitation of Indigenous women remained at the forefront of colonial society. Although their objectification as embodiments of desirability meant Indigenous women were deemed to be sexually available to male settlers, such sexual exploitations were also justified by seemingly contrasting notions of Indigenous promiscuity. Returning to the constructions of Indigenous sexuality, it is possible to observe a “tension …. between sexual desire and racial disgust”.24 This tension played out through the representation of Indigenous women. While the use of the term ‘black velvet’ and preoccupations with the bodies of Indigenous women were common, this sexual desire did not negate the racial disgust which portrayed Indigenous women as licentious. Such accounts are in seeming contrast to the images of ‘black velvet’ as desirable and ‘touchable’, and yet in both cases the constructions of female sexuality were used as a way to justify the control of Indigenous bodies. In some instances, representations of Indigenous promiscuity moved away from print media and entered into the realm of legal literature. In an 1884 parliamentary debate, politician A.H. Palmer asserted that “the black had no idea of chastity”.25 In further emphasis of this, Palmer implied Indigenous women were so licentious that “a fig of tobacco would purchase any [Indigenous] woman”.26 The belief that any “existence of chastity” in Indigenous women was “preposterous”acted to reinforce the assumption that the bodies of Indigenous women could be used to fulfil the sexual needs of any and every settler might have, without objection from the women themselves.27 This belief was manifested in the accounts of sexual exploitation experienced by Indigenous women. A report into the Coranderrk Reserve, a self-sufficient farm established by members of the Kulin Nation, similarly indicates the beliefs held by some white settlers that Indigenous women were sexually promiscuous. When asked if he had noticed any interactions between Indigenous girls and male settlers in the nearby towns, one respondent claimed that he had seen Indigenous girls “putting themselves in the way of them [white men]”.28 Another respondent, when asked if Indigenous girls should be permitted to find work outside of the Coranderrk Reserve, asserted his belief that this would be “a very dangerous thing”. 29 In this instance, the danger lay with the fact that the reserve would be forced to “receive them [the girls] back again with babies”.30 These responses suggest that it was the licentiousness of the girls, rather than any male influence, which would result in an unwanted pregnancy. It was therefore not the non-Indigenous men whose sexual urges were deemed uncontrollable. Instead, any “illicit” relations between male settlers and Indigenous women was reversed onto the women themselves, whose promiscuity and unchastity tempted their treatment.31 The writing of individuals like Walter Roth, Queensland’s first ‘Protector of Aborigines’, was similarly significant in forming perceptions of Indigenous sexuality.32 Chapter XIII of Roth’s Ethnological Studies Among North-West Central Queensland Aborigines was titled “ethno-pornography”, and this seems to be an adequate description of his perception of Indigenous sexualities. In particular, Roth’s account of the initiation ceremony of young women helped support the idea that Indigenous women could be sexually exploited by male settlers because they were used to such treatment at the hands of their Indigenous men. Again, we see how Indigenous women in the late colonial period had limited control over their own sexualities, at least in the prevalent literature of the time. Rather, representations of their sexuality was appropriated by male settlers, who often used their perceptions of Indigenous male violence towards Indigenous women to justify their own. Roth stated that women during initiation were required to “submit in rotation to promiscuous coition”. 33 The ‘promiscuity’ of the act was highlighted by Roth through his observation that “any male”, barring a blood relative, were “allowed to indulge in the common orgie”.34


Roth’s comments on venery are also suggestive of how male settlers justified the rape of Indigenous women. His claims that, to fulfil any sexual desires, an Indigenous man either “borrows a wife from her husband … or else violates the female when unprotected” are equally suggestive that Indigenous women willingly partook in sexual relations with any man, or else were used to being ‘violated’ by members of the opposite sex.35 As we have seen, male settlers took this as justification for the ways in which they fulfilled their own sexual desires. In one sense, Roth’s claims reasserted the idea that Indigenous women were promiscuous and indiscriminate in their choice of sexual partners. They also supported the idea that Indigenous women were sexually available, and this helped to excuse the acts of rape and other sexual abuses. As well as providing a justification for the sexual exploitation of Indigenous women, the constructions of female promiscuity also presented settlers with an opportunity to negate the blame for the undesirable aspects of their own sexuality. As Ann McGrath highlights, colonial discourse which presented Indigenous women as prostitutes and sexually promiscuous not only helped male settlers to “assuage themselves of possible guilt for rape” but also for “the disease they left in their wake”.36 By the mid-1880s, venereal disease was considered to be “rampant” across Australia and was greeted by widespread disgust and accusations of immorality towards those infected.37 The disease primarily referred to was syphilis, which due to its association with ‘carnal’ behaviour was deemed to be “a difficult subject to write about”.38 Despite the alleged ‘difficulty’ of discussing the epidemic, there were a number of accounts which attributed the spread of the disease to Indigenous women, turning them from touchable objects of attraction to women whose bodies were “fairly rotten” and “covered with erosions”.39 Much of the fear surrounding syphilis can be attributed to the perception that it would expose the extent to which male settlers were involved with Indigenous women. Although many were aware of such relations, without the existence of any physical signs, the accounts of interracial sexual exploitation could be denied or downplayed if needed. Now, with increased attention on such sexual encounters, there was a risk that the relative sexual freedom of European men and their exploitation of Indigenous women might be questioned or censured. To solve this issue, male settlers again returned to the construction of Indigenous sexuality, transferring the blame onto the women themselves. By the later 1880s, there were increasing accounts of Indigenous women who were “infected” by this venereal disease, and their sexuality was constructed as something dirty and undesirable..40 Yet these accounts were seemingly ignorant to the fact that most traceable cases of syphilis infection did not originate within Indigenous communities, but were the result of European settlement. 41 In 1883, the Queensland Figaro reported that the Indigenous population were “propagating with terrible rapidity the most dreaded form of the syphilitic virus”.42 Through such accounts, male settlers transferred these undesirable aspects of their own sexuality onto those individuals over whom, as we have seen, they felt justified to control. It was advocated that Indigenous women were “simply prostitutes”, and in every Indigenous camp “prostitution and…venereal disease” were “rampant”.43 Indeed, among the female Indigenous population, the disease was considered to be “all but universal”.44 If we consider Philippa Levine’s argument that venereal disease “conjured not only the disorder of disease but of promiscuity”, then it is clear how diseases like syphilis were transferred onto Indigenous women, whose perceived sexual promiscuity greatly facilitated this. Depicted as both highly desired yet also sexually promiscuous, the sexuality of Indigenous women was constructed by European settlers who acted to justify their sexual exploitation of Indigenous women and mitigate blame for the undesirable aspects of their own sexualities. The use of sexualised language highlights settler obsession with the bodies of Indigenous women, dehumanizing them as objects of desirability who were available to male settlers. Yet, Indigenous women were also deemed as sexually promiscuous, at once justifying their sexual exploitation and allowing their representation as contaminants of syphilis. In every case, such representations were used as a way to control the sexuality of Indigenous women, who could rarely afford a say over their own sexual representations.


Endnotes 1 Libby Connors. “Uncovering the shameful: Sexual violence on an Australian colonial frontier,” in Legacies of Violence: Rendering the Unspeakable Past in Modern Australia, ed. Robert Mason (New York: Berghan Books, 2017), 34. 2 Marcia Langton, “Well, I heard it on the radio and I saw it on the television...”: an essay for the Australian Film Commission on the politics and aesthetics of filmmaking by and about Aboriginal people and things (North Sydney: Australian Film Commission, 1993), 51. 3 Ann McGrath. “Black Velvet’: Aboriginal women and their relations with white men in the Northern Territory, 1910-40,” in So Much Hard Work: Women and Prostitution in Australian History, ed. K. Daniels. (Sydney: Fontana Collins, 1984), 237. 4 Henry Lawson. Verses Popular And Humorous. (Syndey: Angus and Robertson, 1900). 5 Liz Conor, Skin Deep: settler impressions of Aboriginal women. (Perth: University of Western Australia Publishing, 2016), 300. 6 Liz Conor, “‘Black Velvet’ and ‘Purple Indignation’: Print responses to Japanese ‘poaching’ of Aboriginal women,” Aboriginal History 37, (Dec 201): 53. 7 “White and Black,” The Queenslander, May 29, 1880. 8 Conor, “‘Black Velvet’,” 51. 9 “The Seven Stages of Intemperance,” Queensland Figaro, March 17, 1883. 10 Hannah Robert, “Disciplining the Female Aboriginal Body: Inter-racial Sex and the Pretence of Separation,” Australian Feminist Studies 16, no. 34 (Mar 2001): 71-72. 11 Edward Curr. Recollections of squatting in Victoria (Melbourne: George Robertson, 1883), 290. 12 Curr, Recollections, 268. 13 G.H. Gibson, “A ballard of Queensland,” The Bulletin 5, no. 61 (Mar 1881): 8. 14 “Liza, the Half-caste child,” The Western Champion and General Advertiser for the Central-Western Districts, September 29, 1896; “The Quadroon Girl,” The Bird O’ Freedom, January 23, 1892. 15 McGrath, “’Black Velvet’: Aboriginal women,” 236. 16 Archibald Meston, Report on the Aboriginals of Queensland (Brisbane: Govt. Printer, 1896), 2-3. 17 Archibald Meston, First Report on Western Aborigines (Brisbane: Queensland State Archives col/140, 1897), quoted in Raymond Evans, “Harlots and Helots,” in Race relations in colonial Queensland: a history of exclusion, exploitation and extermination, eds. Raymond Evans, Kay Saunders and Kathryn Cronin (Brisbane: University of Queensland Press, 1993), 103. 18 R. Reside to Inspector Brannelly, December 10, 1898 (Brisbane: Queensland State Archives, col/140), quoted in Raymond Evans, “Harlots and Helots,” in Race relations in colonial Queensland: a history of exclusion, exploitation and extermination, eds. Raymond Evans, Kay Saunders and Kathryn Cronin (Brisbane: University of Queensland Press, 1993), 103. 19 “Why we “Disperse” the Blacks,” Queensland Figaro, April 14, 1883. 20 “Why we “Disperse” the Blacks” 21 Regina v. Edward Camm, 1 QLJ 136, (QFC. 1883). 22 Larissa Behrendt, “Consent in a (Neo)Colonial Society: Aboriginal Women as Sexual and Legal ‘Other’,” Australian Feminist Studies 15, no 33 (Dec 2000): 354. 23 G. Highland, “Aborigines, Europeans and the criminal law: two trials at the Northern Supreme Court, Townsville, April 1888,” Aborigi-

nal History 14, no 2 (1990): 188. 24 Corrinne Sullivan, “Indigenous Australian women’s colonial sexual intimacies: positioning indigenous women’s agency,” Culture, Health & Sexuality 20, no 4 (Jul 2017): 406. 25 QLD, Parliamentary Debates, Legislative Council, September 30, 1884, 108. 26 QLD, Parliamentary Debates, Legislative Council, September 30, 1884, 108. 27 Alfred Giles, “Daly River Outrages,” Northern Territory Times and Gazette, March 6, 1886. 28 Victoria, Coranderrk Aboriginal Station: Report of the Board Appointed to Enquire Into and Report Upon the Present Condition and Management of the Coranderrk Aboriginal Station : Together With the Minutes of Evidence (Melbourne: John Ferres, Government Printer, 1882), 47. 29 Victoria, Coranderrk Aboriginal Station, 47. 30 Victoria, Coranderrk Aboriginal Station, 47. 31 Ann McGrath, Illicit Love: Interracial Sex and Marriage in the United States and Australia (London: University of Nebraska Press, 2015), 1. 32 Ann McGrath, “Naked Shame: Nation, Science and Indigenous Knowledge in Walter Roth’s Interventions into Frontier Sexualities,” in The Roth Family, Anthropology, and Colonial Administration, eds. Russell McDougall and Iain Davidson (California: Left Coast Press, 2008), 193. 33 Walter Roth, Ethnological Studies Among North-West Central Queensland Aborigines (Brisbane: E. Gregory, Government Printer, 1897), 174. 34 Roth, Ethnological Studies, 174. 35 Roth, Ethnological Studies, 174. 36 McGrath, “’Black Velvet’: Aboriginal women,” 237. 37 QLD, The Parliamentary debates, Queensland: second session of the ninth parliament (Brisbane: Govt. Printer, 1884), 5; Charles Olden. Immorality: its fascinating temptations, its awful consequences and the way to avoid it: a lecture delivered to men only (Sydney: Wesleyan Book Depot, 1885). 38 Frederick Urquhart to Inspector Carr, May 5, 1887 (Brisbane: Queensland State Archives, P0I/JI9, no. 4I0M), quoted in Raymond Evans, “Half-Savage and Half-Starved,” in Race relations in colonial Queensland: a history of exclusion, exploitation and extermination, eds. Raymond Evans, Kay Saunders and Kathryn Cronin (Brisbane: University of Queensland Press, 1993), 99. 39 “Blacks on the Diamantina,” The Week, April 22, 1892. 40 Frederick Urquhart to Inspector Carr, 98. 41 Peter J. Dowling, ““A great deal of sickness”: Introduced diseases among the Aboriginal people of colonial Southeast Australia,” (PhD thesis, Australian National University, 1997), 104. 42 “Why we “Disperse” the Blacks,” Queensland Figaro, April 14, 1883. 43 F. J. O’Connor to Inspector of Police, December 20, 1898 (Brisbane: Queensland State Archives, col/144, 12886), quoted in Philippa Levine, Prostitution, Race and Politics: Policing Venereal Disease in the British Empire (New York: Routledge, 2003), 208. 44 Frederick Urquhart to Inspector Carr, 99.


The Nixon Administration Intervention in Chile 1970-1973 Benjamin Cronshaw

In 1970, Salvador Allende gained a plurality of votes in the Chilean Presidential election. Allende’s ascension to the presidency threatened to create another socialist state in the Americas, alongside Cuba, that could attack American economic and political interests in the region. The election of a socialist government also posed a grave ideological threat in the western world’s fight against communism globally. The US Nixon administration thus decided to prevent Allende from coming to power or, failing that, to support a coup that would remove him from power. The US pressured Allende through economic and diplomatic sanctions. They also sponsored opposition political forces within Chile to prevent Allende from consolidating his position. Although the US was not directly involved in the September 1973 coup that brought down the Allende government, they set the stage on which the coup took place. To prevent the threat of a hostile, socialist government in Chile, the US funded covert action to support the Chilean opposition with the aim of removing Allende from power. The Nixon administration coordinated an international effort to apply economic and diplomatic pressure on Chile to undermine Allende’s position. This was part of Nixon’s plan to “generate maximum pressure” on Allende’s government leading to him being “overthrown by a coup.”1 Nixon decreed its economy should be squeezed until it “screamed,” as recorded by the CIA Director Richard Helms.2 This included cutting aid programs, discouraging further US investment and limiting Chile’s access to credit in international financial institutions.3 The US worked particularly closely with other Latin American governments including bordering countries Peru, Bolivia and Argentina to adopt a consistent stance on Chile.4 This left Chile surrounded and politically isolated and enabled the option of blockading Chile from trade.5 These actions contributed to a state of economic crisis that engulfed Chile during Allende’s presidency. For example, there was rampant inflation upwards of 350% by the time of Allende’s death.6 The economic crisis undermined confidence in the Allende government and hence set the stage for a successful coup. Within Chile, the US sponsored a covert program to bolster opposition forces and make Allende vulnerable to a coup. American money was funnelled into Chile to bolster opposition political parties and the free media opposed a “Marxist-Leninist regime” in Chile.7 The CIA placed assets in major media news companies and even supported or established whole newspaper companies who shared their anti-socialist values.8 These contacts could be trusted to promote news that was favourable to the US and the fight against socialism.9 They also funded the distribution of pamphlets criticising socialism, particularly during election campaigns.10 American support sustained the free media that might otherwise have been compelled to shut down from financial or government pressure. Similarly, the CIA spent some $6.5 million dollars funding opposition political parties. The money helped them to run effective campaigns in by-elections to counter socialist candidates.11 The CIA support for anti-socialist media and political parties prevented


Allende from consolidating his power.12 According to the CIA, the strong pressure from opposition forces “encourage[d] the military in its resistance to Allende” and was an “essential element” for the coup.13 The primary role of the CIA within Chile was to support opposition political forces and sympathetic media to “maintain their dynamic resistance” to Allende.14 This enabled opposition forces within the army to launch a coup against Allende. One of the reasons why the Nixon administration decided to remove Allende was the threat to US economic interests. The US feared that Allende’s socialist reforms, including nationalisation of key industries, would harm US investments.15 Allende had campaigned on a platform of “expropriating imperialist capital,” particularly the copper industry, which he saw as exploiting the resources of his country by sending excess profits overseas and refusing to hire native labour.16 While sovereign nations had the right to expropriate capital, Allende would be unlikely to give “fair compensation” to US investors for their losses.17 For the Americans, this was a test of their resolve to protect foreign investment and economic interests.18 Allende’s policy on compensation was to subtract what he considered “excess profits” generated by a company from the compensation given by the government. Where these “excess profits” were greater than the assets seized by the government, the companies would receive nothing, as happened to two American companies involved in the Chilean copper industry.19 The US had learned from their experience of nationalisation in other countries that they would be unlikely to recover adequate compensation from the courts.20 Hence Nixon considered the best way to secure or recover US investment would be to remove Allende from power. The US also feared that Allende would seek to dismantle Chilean democracy and create an authoritarian, socialist state.21 There was a dilemma in the fact that “Allende was elected legally” and thus any action against him would appear to contravene the administration’s respect for “self-determination” and “nonintervention.”22 According to a National Security Council (NSC) aide, interfering in Chilean democracy represented “a violation of our own principles” especially where Allende does not clearly pose “a mortal threat to the US.”23 However, Secretary of State Henry Kissinger wrote that the American intervention was necessary to save Chilean democracy from the threat of Marxism.24 Allende was only elected with 36% of the vote, compared to 64% between the non-socialist candidates combined, but was threatening to install an “irreversible transformation” of Chile’s democracy.25 According to Kissinger, it was a “myth” that Allende was a democrat; rather Allende sought to use democracy to bring about an undemocratic and authoritarian “Marxist-Leninist state.”26 Indeed, Kissinger reported that Allende was importing Cuban weapons to arm his followers for street fighting to establish a Marxist regime by violence, if necessary.27 This underpinned the importance of bolstering opposition political parties and the free media to maintain a strong democratic culture in the country. Kissinger’s writings give the impression of the US being morally bound to act on behalf of the Chilean people and their democracy. Hence, Nixon’s imperative to “save Chile!”28 Thus, the US acted against Allende to prevent the establishment of an authoritarian regime that would threaten Chilean democracy and be hostile to the US. The Allende threat was heightened by the ideological battlefield of the Cold War. The establishment of a socialist government would represent a significant threat in the region. Allende himself said that Cuba and Chile allied together would lead to “revolution in Latin America.”29 Chile could provide a strategic position for the expansion of socialism throughout the Latin American mainland, potentially sparking violent revolutions and bringing more states into the Soviet sphere of influence.30 Closer relations between Chile and the Soviet Union would give the latter greater influence over Latin American affairs and hence the capacity to challenge US interests.31 The US was already under pressure from Soviet nuclear submarines in the Caribbean.32 More broadly, Allende having come to power democratically would give “legitimacy” to the Marxist cause worldwide including Western Europe.33 Hence the intervention in Chile to remove Allende was part of a wider effort to limit the spread of communism and Soviet influence. In taking the path that they did, the Nixon administration considered and rejected various other measures. Military action was “impossible” as noted by National Security Aide Viron Vaky.34 Such action would be reminiscent of the Bay of Pigs incident against Cuba. This not only failed to remove the Castro regime but


pushed Cuba into the Soviet sphere and brought international condemnation on the US.35 The US also decided against directly supporting a military coup.36 The US helped to create the conditions that enabled a coup to take place through economic and diplomatic pressure, but planning and carrying out the coup was left to the Chileans themselves. American intelligence officials maintained contact with people within the Chilean military that were likely to initiate a coup, but only for intelligence gathering purposes.37 The CIA stated they “played no direct role” in the military coup, a statement supported by a Senate hearing’s conclusion that there was “no evidence” of direct CIA involvement.38 There was the risk that having a public role in directly removing Allende, particularly through violent actions, would lead to a “much worse image” for the US throughout the Americas and wider world.39 Any appearance of a foreign power interfering in Chilean politics could also have provoked nationalist outrage in support of the Allende regime, hindering US efforts to remove him.40 Hence, it was considered too risky to be directly involved in any violent actions against Allende. The Nixon administration believed that Allende posed an unacceptable risk to US interests and needed to be removed from power. Allende’s proposed reforms in Chile threatened US political and economic interests. In the context of the Cold War, another socialist state in the Americas would also give the Soviets a base to expand their power and influence in the region. The Nixon administration thus employed a variety of measures to delegitimise to bring down Allende, including economic sanctions and sponsoring opposition political forces. US actions placed considerable pressure on Allende and contributed to an economic and political crisis which, having undermined confidence in the Allende regime, gave the military an opportunity to launch a coup.

Endnotes 1 CIA, Operating Guidance Cable on Coup Plotting, 16 October 1970, Chile Packet, Doc. 7, p.16. 2 CIA, Notes on Meeting with the President on Chile, 15 September 1970, Chile Packet, Doc. 2, p.12. 3 Henry Kissinger, “The Autumn of Crises: Chile,” from White House Years (Boston: Little, Brown, 1979) — [Excerpt] Chile Packet, Doc. 22, p.99. 4 “Can We Do Business with Radical Nationalists? Chile: No,” by James F. Petra and Robert LaPorte, Jr., Foreign Policy, Summer 1972 [Excerpt], Chile Packet, Doc. 13, p.57-58. 5 Ibid, 57-8. 6 Kissinger, Doc. 22, p.99. 7 National Security Study Memorandum 97 [NSSM 97], mid-August 1970 [excerpt] Doc. 1, p.11; National Security Council, [Revised] Options Paper on Chile (attached to National Security Secret Memorandum [NSSM] 97, 3 November 1970, Chile Packet, Doc. 8, p.23. 8 CIA Memorandum from CIA Director William Colby to Kissinger, “CIA’s Covert Action Program in Chile since 1970,” 13 September 1973, Doc. 20, p.77-8. 9 Ibid, p.77. 10 Ibid, p.78. 11 CIA, Memorandum from William Colby, “Proposed Covert Financial Support of Chilean Private Sector,” 25 August 1973, Chile Packet, Doc. 15, p.62; CIA Memorandum from CIA Director William Colby to Kissinger, “CIA’s Covert Action Program in Chile since 1970,” 13 September 1973, Doc. 17, p.64-5, 77-80. 12 Ibid, p.34-35. 13 CIA, Doc. 15, p.62. 14 Ibid, p.65. 15 National Security Council, [Revised] Options Paper on Chile (attached to National Security Secret Memorandum [NSSM] 97, 3 November 1970, Chile Packet, Doc. 8, p.19, 21. 16 “Chile, Cooper and the United States Interest,” by John C. Dreier, SAIS Review, Winter 1972 — Excerpt, Chile Packet, Doc. 12, p.55; CIA, Doc. 17, p.75; Kissinger, Doc. 22, p.99. 17 NSC, Doc. 8, p.21; Memorandum for the President from Henry

Kissinger, “NSC Meeting, November 6—Chile,” 5 November 1970, Chile Packet, Doc. 9a, p.35; Dreier, Doc. 22, p.54. 18 “Can We Do Business with Radical Nationalists? Chile: No,” by James F. Petra and Robert LaPorte, Jr., Foreign Policy, Summer 1972 [Excerpt], Doc. 13, p.56-9. 19 Dreier, Doc. 12, p.54. 20 Petra and LaPorte, Doc. 13, p.57. 21 NSC, Doc. 8, p.23. 22 Kissinger, Doc. 9a, p.33. 23 NSC Action Memorandum, Viron Vaky to Kissinger, “Chile, — 40 Committee Meeting, Monday — September 14,” 14 September 1970 -- [Excerpt], Chile Packet, Doc. 6, p.15. 24 Kissinger, Doc. 22, p.85-6. 25 Ibid, p.86. 26 Ibid, p.87. 27 Ibid, p.100. 28 CIA, Notes on Meeting with the President on Chile, 15 September 1970, Chile Packet, Doc. 2, p.12. 29 Kissinger, Doc. 22, p.86. 30 Hearings Before the Select Committee to Study Governmental Operations with respect to Intelligence Activities of the United States Senate; Volume 7: Covert Action (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1976): “Covert Action in Chile, 1963-1973 – [Excerpt], Doc. 20, p.74. 31 NSC, Doc. 8, p.22. 32 Kissinger, Doc. 22, p.86. 33 Kissinger, Doc. 9a, p.33; Kissinger, Doc. 22, p.87. 34 Viron Vaky, Doc. 6, p.15. 35 Ibid, p.15. 36 CIA, Meeting Minutes, “Meeting on Current Chilean Situation at Department of State, 1630-1830, 17 October 1972,” 18 October 1972, Chile Packet, Doc. 14, p.61. 37 Senate Hearings, Doc. 20, p.72. 38 CIA, Doc. 17, p. 65; Senate Hearings, Doc. 20, p.72. 39 Viron Vaky, Doc. 6, p.15. 40 Kissinger, Doc. 9a, p.35; Dreier, Doc. 12, p.54.


The Fight for Rights: Slaves, Women, and the Poor in the French Revolution Rebecca McGrath

Liberty and the concept of individual ‘rights’ were some of the founding principles of the French Revolution, and their consideration peaked within the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen in 1790, the revolution’s most significant document. This document was integral to the revolution, providing a platform for many marginalised groups to consider their own rights in the time of 1789-1795. Thus, when historians consider whether the rights of slaves, women and the poor were issues in revolutionary times, they are not entirely reading back into the past based off contemporary values: the consideration of the rights of different groups is, by this time, embedded within society. However, what we define as ‘rights’ for these groups is different to how they interpreted them. The rights which were fought for by these marginalised groups were focused on political and civic rights, rather than the human rights that we believe to be inherent to everyone now. There are three aspects through which the rights of these groups can be examined during the revolution: the use of protests, the significance of political clubs, and the legislation passed through the National Assembly or Convention, substantiating the rights in law. Protests were a main form of advocacy for marginalised groups in 1789-1795. Whilst the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen claimed in Article 1 that “men are born free and equal in rights,” the structure and institutions of society did not reflect this.1 The cahiers of the Third Estate in 1789, whilst being written by the wealthiest members of the region, reflect a push for equalisation across the board. The cahier of the Third Estate of Berry outlines desires for many taxes to be cut, including internal customs and duties, as well as loosening laws that prohibit members of the Third Estate to rise in military and civil ranks. Interestingly, the cahier also calls for “ways to destroy the slave trade, and to prepare for the abolition of the slavery of Negroes.”2 This article in the cahier demonstrates that many of the marginalised groups were interconnected and there was a wider concern for individual freedoms. Furthermore, perhaps the defining moment of the French Revolution was performed by the sans-culotte and menu-peuple: the storming of and the victory at the Bastille on July 14, 1789. Further protests occurred, namely the Peasant Revolt of 1789; a period sometimes called the ‘Great Fear’ as the peasants were increasingly struggling. The cost of bread was continuing to rise, and the inability for the poorest of the population to be involved in the EstatesGeneral increased tensions. Rumours were spreading that the aristocracy were plotting against the Third Estate, and the peasants began to arm themselves and engage in occasional attacks on the noble houses of the rural regions. Whilst this was not done in direct action for rights for the poor, their actions were done in the name of a revolution which at that point they believed could only increase their rights. Women also played a large part in protests during the Revolution. They were actively involved in the conception of the National Assembly: it was a group of women who marched to Versailles on October 5, 1789 to force King Louis XVI and the queen to come back to Paris and consent to the August decrees.


These women were of lower economic status, reflecting the frequent intersection between the peasantry and women. However, there were women whose focus was primarily on the rights of women, rather than advocates for the revolution. One of those activists was Olympe de Gouge: in 1791 she drafted a ‘Declaration of the Right of Woman and of the Citizeness’. Within this document she expressed the desire for women to join the National Assembly and for “the power of women, and the power of men being at any moment comparable.”3 Even from the beginning of the revolution in 1789, there is a cahiers des doléances et reclamations des femmes which uses the revolutions logic upon itself: calling that if there is abolition of slavery, there should be increased rights for women. Across the Atlantic, the slave revolt of August 1791 in Saint-Domingue was integral to the abolition of slavery and even in fighting for the rights of already free people of colour. Furthermore, the rebellions after 1791 were met with continued resistance, until the island was invaded by Spanish troops in 1793, an extension of the war France was waging in Europe. The National Convention, as a result, decided to offer freedom and citizenship to the slaves which helped them fight: slavery was then fully abolished in 1794. We can see that the marginalised groups, through their protests of words or actions, were actively fighting for their rights in revolutionary times. Political clubs and affiliations were common during the revolution, where many citizens exercised their political rights and expressed political views; it was no different for the marginalised groups. The sans-culottes of Paris were actively involved in the formation of Jacobin clubs, and were militant in their activism for greater equalisation. Across France there were as many as 6000 Jacobin clubs, reflecting an interest in politics outside of the main city and demonstrating the interest that rural French men and women had in civic rights. This was perhaps expressed most clearly in 1793 when a force of Jacobin sans-culottes stormed the National Convention and expelled many democratically elected Girondins. Women were also actively involved in political clubs during the revolution until the women’s clubs were closed in 1793. Societies like the Society of Revolutionary Republican Citizenesses and the Fraternal Society of Citizens of Both Sexes are examples of the ways in which women were utilising their freedom to think politically before 1793. While many women were more concerned with political objectives than their individual rights, there were undoubtedly key figures who used political clubs to advance the rights of women. Claire Lacombe, the leader of the Society of Revolutionary Republican Women, addressed the National Convention in 1793, demanding that the rights of women be upheld, and their status lifted to an equal citizen. Even the prohibition of the women’s political clubs confirms that the rights of women were a topic of concern: the matter was debated in the National Convention in 1793 (although ultimately passed to prohibit them), demonstrating that there was consideration of the issue at hand. Charlier, a member of the National Convention, promoted the rights of women in the debate, questioning the hypocrisy of debating whether to “take away…this right which is common to every thinking being?”4 Whilst slaves themselves were not engaged in political parties or clubs, they did group together under key leaders such as Toussaint L’Ouverture in fighting for their freedom. Clubs like the Société des Amis des Noirs, founded by Brissot, reflect a pro-abolitionist stance, which was held by many members of the National Assembly and Convention. The freedom of slaves aligned with their enlightened ideals of equality. In this way, marginalised groups (or advocates for their rights) were using political platforms to bring their rights to attention. Whilst the revolution was not focused on the marginalised people of French society, there were legislative changes between 1789-1795 which directly impacted their lives. The legal rights which were gained by slaves during the Revolution are perhaps the most profound. In 1791, the National Assembly decreed the enfranchisement of men of colour who were born of a free mother and father, allowing them citizenship of their colonies if they fulfil the requirements. However, this decree still held property rights above the universal rights of man: the existing slaves were to remain slaves. The slave


trade was also an enormous source of wealth for France and its port cities, constantly halting abolition. Raymond, the delegate which petitioned to the Convention in 1791, explicitly calls out the hypocrisy of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen, referring to the document as “the rights which it has declared belong to every man.”5 Yet, when slavery was abolished in 1794, granting slaves rights as citizens, they became one of the more successful groups in exercising their rights. The August decrees of 1789 were incredibly significant for the peasantry and how they lived. The abolition of tithes and feudalism in the early stages of the revolution made an irrevocable difference: their lifestyle transitioned from needing to produce large quantities of grain for tithe to being able to use this produce to feed their own families. The amount of land owned by peasants also increased by 10%, and the standardised measuring system and abolition of customs duties only improved their quality of life. Although some rights were taken away from women during the revolution (such as the prohibition of political clubs), there were some legislative changes which impacted how women lived undeniably. The transition of marriage from an ecclesiastically ordained matter to a civil contract dramatically changed the institution of marriage, allowing for divorce in 1793. Women were predominantly the instigators of divorce under these new laws, and it became a socially accepted and encouraged phenomenon. Furthermore, the change to inheritance laws was also extraordinary for peasant women. They now had the same, legal right to property as their male siblings, allowing them to increase their independence away from their male relatives or spouses. Some of the legislative changes may have been small, but ultimately reflect an awareness of the issues of rights for women, the poor and slaves. Liberty was a founding ideology which underpinned the French Revolution from 1789-1795. Mostly political and civic rights were considered and articulated by many marginalised groups: slaves, women and the poor each advocated for their own space in the political climate of the French revolution, to varying degrees of success. Thus, historians are not reading back into the past when discussing the rights of the marginalised groups of society, but there is a difference in contemporary focus on what ‘rights’ means, compared to 1789.6

Endnotes 1 The National Assembly, “The Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen, 27 August 1789,” in John Hall Stewart, A Documentary Survey of the French Revolution, (New York: Macmillan Company, 1951), 114. 2 The Third Estate of Berry, “Cahiers des doléances, province of Berry, Spring 1789,” in Philip Dwyer and Peter McPhee, The French Revolution and Napoleon: a sourcebook, (London: Routledge, 2002), 9. 3 Peter McPhee, The French Revolution, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2017), under “3.3: Remaking the Public Life.” 4 Laura Mason and Tracy Rizzo, “The National Convention Outlaws Women’s Clubs and Popular Societies,” in The French Revolution: a document collection, (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1999), 236. 5 Laura Mason and Tracy Rizzo, “The National Assembly Decrees the Enfranchisement of Free Men of Color (May 15, 1791),” in The French Revolution: a document collection, (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1999), 247. 6 For more information on any of these topics, see: Peter McPhee, The French Revolution, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2017).


The Global Significance Of Mao Zedong’s Proclamation Of The People’s Republic Of China Hilary Kwan

during the Chinese Civil War, and in 1945, Franklin D. Roosevelt also gave Nationalist China a permanent seat on the UN Security Council and designated Nationalist China as one of the Four Policemen, alongside the United States, Soviet Union and the United Kingdom.11 This position was the custodial role in seeking to advance peace and progress by maintaining vigilance over international developments in the United Nations.12 Until 1948 the US and USSR predicated their policies for Asia on the assumption that China would be united under the Nationalists.13 This would have created a US-oriented East Asia as Chiang’s Nationalist government would have oriented itself toward the United States in the Cold War. However, the Communist Party were victorious in the civil war, thus leading to Mao’s proclamation of the People’s Republic of China. This result had an immense global significance in the situation of the Cold War in Asia.

Global significance in diplomatic relationships

Mao Zedong’s proclamation of the People’s Republic of China in 1949 was one of the most significant turning points in China’s history, and it had global significance in many aspects. After Japanese surrender in August 1945, which marked the end of World War II, China was rapidly embroiled in a new civil war from 1946 to 1949 between the ruling Nationalists “Guomindang,” led by Chiang Kai-shek, and the Communists led by Mao Zedong.1 The Chinese Civil War took place in the middle of a rapidly changing global situation and became part of the global Cold War story. While the United States provided support to Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalists, Mao’s Chinese Communist Party leaned to the side of the Soviet Union.2 With the communist victory in the civil war, the chairman of the Communist Party of China, Mao Zedong announced the People’s Republic of China as a communist country at the Tiananmen Gate in the center of Beijing on October 1, 1949.3 Not only did this proclamation of the People’s Republic of China establish fundamental changes in the social structure of China from imperialism over the previous 2000 years to socialism, 4 but it also transformed the diplomatic relations, economic situations and cultural influence with other countries including the superpowers the United States and the Soviet Union.

China’s political and diplomatic situation from 1945-1949 To understand the global significance of the proclamation of the People’s Republic of China and how it emerged as a turning point in the Cold War, is it crucial to comprehend the situation and diplomatic relations in China from 1945 to 1949. Firstly, at the outbreak of war between China and Japan in the summer of 1937 during World War II, both the Nationalists and the Communists fought together against the Japanese.5 When the Japanese occupied most of China’s eastern area, the Nationalist government was forced to retreat to the inland city of Chongqing.6 Although the Nationalist government emerged victorious against the Japanese in 1945, they almost collapsed under the strain of the war. At the same time, the Communists had expanded their areas of control in northern and eastern China during the war.7 Although the American General George C. Marshall attempted to broker a coalition government between the Nationalists and Communists in 1945, Marshall eventually gave up his mediation. Neither the Nationalists nor the Communists were willing to cooperate, despite their United Front alliance against Japanese invasion during World War II..8 When the Chinese Civil War broke out in 1945 it quickly gained global attention.9 During this period, the Nationalists and the Communists had taken significantly different strategies in their relationship with the international community, but their goals were not that different, specifically on the question of territorial integrity and sovereignty.10 The United States provided military and economic support to the Nationalists


The proclamation of the People’s Republic of China had a global significance in the diplomatic relations among China, the Soviet Union, and the United States. In the Cold War confrontation between the Soviet Union and the United States, China played a critical role in the Far East Strategy of both Superpowers.14 When Mao Zedong proclaimed the People’s Republic of China in 1949, Communist China immediately faced a multitude of challenges from Washington DC, including hostility, a trade embargo, and diplomatic isolation.15 The United States refused to recognize the new Communist government in Beijing and maintained that Chiang’s Nationalist government, in exile in Taipei, was China’s legitimate government of China.16 This is shown in the United Nations Security Council, that the “China” position was retained by the Nationalist Republic of China until 1971.17 In response to American aggression, the Soviet Union supported Communist China, and Mao Zedong proclaimed the “lean to one side” policy, which was an alliance with the Soviet Union.18 When Mao Zedong proclaimed the establishment of the People’s Republic of China on October 1, 1949, he mentioned: “The Communist Party of the Soviet Union is our best teacher, and we must learn from it.”19 This indicated that Mao’s China was emulating a model of socialist society from the Soviet Union. During the early years of the People’s Republic of China, “Learn from the Soviet Union” and “let’s be modern and Soviet” were slogans in China.20 The People’s Republic of China allied with the Soviet Union and set in motion a program of socialist modernization based on the Soviet blueprint.21 Communist China had facilitated the Soviet Union in introducing communism to the Asian region. In the post-World War II period, the Soviet Union had pushed a heavy-handed cultural policy in the Eastern Bloc in Europe to ensure its dominance and impose Communist ideology in the region.22 The proclamation of the People’s Republic of China had a significant effect in changing the world’s diplomatic relationships distinctly; dividing countries in Asia into two camps under the superpowers in the Cold War.

Global significance on Economy Regarding the world’s economic situation, Mao’s proclamation of the People’s Republic of China had a global significance in economic relationships within the superpowers and its state countries. Starting from 1949, Mao Zedong not only emulated a model of socialist society from the Soviet Union, but Communist China also learned from the Soviet Union for modern economic development in China. The People’s Republic of China was emerging as a country with the socialist world economy which was promoted by Stalin’s Soviet Union.23 Mao’s China did not participate in the Council for Mutual Economic Assistance (COMECON) which was an economic organization led by the Soviet Union that comprised the communist states and countries from the Eastern Bloc.24 However, the economy of the People’s Republic of China started to integrate with the members from the organization when China launched its first Five Year Plan in 1953.25 The Communist Party of China followed Stalin’s socialist transformation to initiate industrialization and urbanization. This was because industrial development would best be accomplished


in an economically backward land under a centralised direction of a strong socialist state in China.26 In the First Five Year plan, 88.8 percent of state capital investment in the industry went to heavy industry such as steel, machine building, fuel, and electric power; while only 11.2 percent went to the light industry including consumer production.27 Not only did the Soviet Union supply professionals, equipment, blueprint and technology information necessary for the rapid installation of model factories and establishment of a wide variety of industrial projects, but the Soviet Union also gave significant financial assistance to China through access to their experience in centralized economic planning.28 For instance, the Soviet Union sent over 12000 Russian and East European engineers and technicians to China in the 1950s, taught over 6000 Chinese students in modern science and technology in Russian universities, and also trained over 7000 Chinese workers in factories operations in the Soviet Union.29 With the economic facilitation from the Soviet Union, the total Chinese trade with the Soviet Union increased drastically, according to Figure 1, from approximately USD 500 million in 1950 to USD 1000 million in 1953.30 This indicated that the proclamation of the People’s Republic of China had global significance in the world economy, as China and the Soviet Union began a close economic relationship with ever-increasing mutual trades. While China and the Soviet Union started a close economic relationship, a parallel process also took place in Japan, where the United States provided economic support to Japan in order to rehabilitate the country as a vital ally in the global Cold War.31 Under this circumstance, trades between China and Japan remained very low to almost none, as shown in Figure 1, the total Chinese trade with Japan from the 1950s maintained from lower than USD100 million to none.32 Regarding the global significance in the economy, during the period after Mao’s proclamation of the People’s Republic of China, both China and Japan were brought into the subsystem of the two superpowers, the Soviet Union and the United States accordingly, ultimately creating a new set of Cold War politics in Asia.33

Figure 1. Amy King, “China’s trade with Japan and the Soviet Union, 1950-1970 ($US millions),” In China-Japan Relations after World War Two: Empire, Industry and War, 1949–1971, (Cambridge University Press, 2016), 4, Figure. Global significance on Culture With the proclamation of the People’s Republic of China, the Sino-Soviet alliance was built with the Soviet Union, and it had its global influence on culture, particularly in Asia. With the Sino-Soviet alliance, the introduction of Soviet Culture in the People’s Republic of China changed aspects of education, language, literature and so on.34 In terms of influences in education and language, the Chinese government of the People’s Republic of China promoted Russian as the international language in educational institutions.35 From Mao’s speech in 1942, he mentioned that “we shall absorb what we need from foreign languages… the good elements that are applicable for us.”36 This indicated that after Mao’s proclamation of the People’s Republic of China, the Chinese government incorporated the Russian language program into the school curricula as well as assimilated the Russian vocabulary to describe modernization projects under socialism in China.37 This could also be seen in the educational sector, as Renmin University and 18 other


major universities set up Russian language departments in 1950.38 In sum, the proclamation of the People’s Republic of China allowed the Sino-Soviet alliance to take place; and this relationship had its global influence in Chinese culture, in which the Soviet Communism expansion was not only limited in political, diplomatic, or economy but also in cultural effects in the globe.

Conclusion With the proclamation of the People’s Republic of China by Mao Zedong in 1949, the Sino Soviet alliance of the 1950s was interpreted as world communist unity and expansion by the Soviet Union in the setting of Cold War.39 As 1949 was a time when the scene of Cold War began to emerge, the proclamation created global significance in changing the diplomatic relations, economic situations and cultural development.

Endnotes Two: Empire, Industry and War, 1949–1971, (Cambridge University Press, 2016), 4, Figure. 31 King, China-Japan Relations, 3. 32 Amy King, “China’s trade with Japan and the Soviet Union, 1950-1970 ($US millions),” In China-Japan Relations after World War Two: Empire, Industry and War, 1949–1971, (Cambridge University Press, 2016), 4, Figure. 33 King, China-Japan Relations, 3. 34 Li, China’s Soviet Dream, 1. 35 Li, China’s Soviet Dream, 57. 36 Mao Zedong, “Fandui dang bagu” (speech, China Yan’an, April 2, 1942), in Li, Yan. China’s Soviet Dream: Propaganda, Culture, and Popular Imagination. Routledge, 2017. 37 Li, China’s Soviet Dream, 57. 38 Li, China’s Soviet Dream, 60. 39 Carl G Jacobsen, Sino-Soviet relations since Mao: the chairman’s legacy. (Praeger Publishers, 1981), 2.

1 Amy King, China-Japan Relations after World War Two: Empire, Industry and War, 1949–1971. (Cambridge University Press, 2016), 3. 2 King, China-Japan Relations, 3. 3 Rana Mitter, . “China and the Cold War.” The Oxford Handbook of the Cold War. (The Oxford Handbook, 2013), 3. 4 Maurice Meisner, Mao’s China and after: A history of the People’s Republic. (Simon and Schuster, 1999), 103. 5 Mitter, “China and the Cold War”, 2. 6 Mitter, “China and the Cold War”, 2. 7 Mitter, “China and the Cold War”, 2. 8 Mitter, “China and the Cold War”, 2. 9 King, China-Japan Relations, 3. 10 Mitter, “China and the Cold War”, 3. 11 King, China-Japan Relations, 3. 12 David J Whittaker, United Nations in the contemporary world. (Routledge, 2006), 4. 13 Mitter, “China and the Cold War”, 3. 14 Yan Li, China’s Soviet Dream: Propaganda, Culture, and Popular Imagination. (Routledge, 2017), 7. 15 Li, China’s Soviet Dream, 7. 16 Mitter, “China and the Cold War”, 4. 17 Mitter, “China and the Cold War”, 4. 18 Li, China’s Soviet Dream, 7. 19 Mao Zedong “Proclamation of the Central People’s Government of the PRC,” (speech China Beijing 1 October 1949,) in Meisner, Maurice. “Mao’s China and after: A history of the People’s Republic.” (Simon and Schuster, 1999), 110. 20 Meisner, Mao’s China, 110. 21 Li, China’s Soviet Dream, 1. 22 Li, China’s Soviet Dream, 5. 23 Mitter, “China and the Cold War”, 4. 24 Marie Lavigne, “The Soviet Union Inside Comecon.” Soviet Studies 35, no. 2 (1983): 135-153. 25 Mitter, “China and the Cold War”, 4. 26 Meisner, Mao’s China, 111. 27 Meisner, Mao’s China, 112. 28 Meisner, Mao’s China, 113. 29 Meisner, Mao’s China, 113. 30 Amy King, “China’s trade with Japan and the Soviet Union, 1950-1970 ($US millions),” In China-Japan Relations after World War


sight to the nuclear arms race and a lack of communication continuing the tense standoff, the Cold War seemed destined to continue indefinitely under the current leadership dynamics.

A Political End to a Political War Matthew Tomlinson

The Cold War took place between 1946 and 1989 and was, in essence, a political battle between the United States of America (US) and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) who fought over an economic and political ideological divide and the perceived need for the greatest nuclear arsenal. By 1984, there had been various changes in the relationships between the two countries and both seemed to be more co-operative in matters of international affairs. However, the Cold War, at its core, remained the same as both nations still fought for their ideologies while continuing to grow their nuclear arsenal. Lack of clear communication was a fundamental cause of tensions throughout the Cold War, especially as much of the information that was communicated came through third-party channels and espionage. As the Cold War was fundamentally a political war, it would require radical political changes on both sides in order to see an end to tensions. These radical political changes would necessitate a profound change in political leadership; a change which seemed unlikely to occur in either country at the beginning of the Cold War. However, in 1985 Mikhail Gorbachev was appointed General-Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and provided the radical change necessary to end the Cold War. Gorbachev’s domestic policies of Perestroika and Glasnost, as well as his foreign policy and his acceptance of the Global Double Zero, directly influenced the end of the Cold War. Furthermore, the cooperation of American Presidents Ronald Reagan and George H.W Bush Snr further contributed to the end of the Cold War, ultimately concluding that Mikhail Gorbachev was the most significant influencing factor in causing the end of the Cold War in 1989. To many, the end of the Cold War in 1989 was unexpected; hence, it is critical to understand the relationship between the two Superpowers prior to Gorbachev’s appointment as General-Secretary in 1985. The first Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty negotiations between these two Nations ran from 19811983 and highlighted the tensions and failures of both Ronald Reagan and Yuri Andropov during this period. General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union Yuri Andropov caused tensions early. Andropov, prior to the INF Treaty, had preached to Vice President Bush that stopping “further spirals in the arms race”1 as well as coming to an “agreement at the current negotiations”2 was the most important matter facing the two powers. At the same time, Andropov was reassuring Soviet Nations that the military forces of the USSR would continue to receive “everything necessary”3 including nuclear weapons. While tensions were high, INF negotiations continued, but neither nation seemed interested in promoting a reasonable solution for the future. The unwillingness to promote fruitful negotiations was highlighted by the actions of Reagan in 1983, when, against the wishes of the USSR, Reagan deployed the new Pershing II missiles into Western Europe, resulting in the USSR immediately walking out of the negotiations.4 Not only were negotiations halted in 1983, but, in 1984 new General-Secretary Konstantin Chernenko’s hostile and robust response to Reagan’s proposal of restarting INF negotiations “presumably ended White House hope for a resumed nuclear weapons dialogue with the Soviets” for the foreseeable future.5 With no end in


Soon after his appointment as General-Secretary in 1985, Mikhail Gorbachev implemented a set of domestic policies known as Perestroika and Glasnost, which aimed to reform the political and economic structures within the USSR. Perestroika, a Russian term that means “reconstructing”,6 aimed at bringing the economic structure of the USSR towards centralism by introducing capitalist features such as the privatisation of businesses and less strict trading policies.7 The introduction of these capitalist features into the Soviet economic structures was well received by the US and even applauded by Reagan, who, in a 1988 interview at the Moscow University praised the policy as providing the USSR with hope for a brighter future with more opportunities.8 While Perestroika was a domestic policy, it also played a crucial role in forming Gorbachev’s foreign policy which had “made some notable headway” in trade between the US and USSR.9 In particular, the US increased exports to Russia from $1479.7 Million USD to $4283.5 Million USD between 1987 and 1989.10 The rise in trade with the US highlighted the growing partnership between the two countries partially caused by America’s acceptance of Gorbachev’s more capitalist economic policy of Perestroika. Essentially, the domestic policy of Perestroika began to close the ideological and economic divide between Soviet communism and American capitalism, which had been affecting any progress in ending the Cold War for decades. While Gorbachev’s policy had reduced the ideological gap in the economic systems between the US and USSR, there remained a clear and tense divide between the ideologies of the two Countries’ governing structures. The fundamental difference in the governing styles of the two Nations was the apparent freedom America gave its people through the right to elect its leaders, while the USSR did not afford this right to its people. Gorbachev’s policy of Glasnost, a Russian term meaning “openness”, was introduced concurrently with his policy of Perestroika and was aimed towards opening up the Soviet government to elections and more transparent operations.11 Gorbachev’s policy of Glasnost was a significant policy shift within the USSR and fundamentally changed the policy known as the Brezhnev Doctrine, which stated “Soviet forces may intervene to preserve the ‘gains of socialism’12 when a communist government finds itself in danger of collapse by reason of domestic unpopularity”.13 Glasnost opened up not only the overarching Soviet Politburo to elections but also the Governments of Soviet Nations, meaning that Nations within the Soviet Union were now afforded new political freedoms including the right to choose their own leadership. In essence, the policy of Glasnost had turned its back on the Brezhnev Doctrine and left communist leadership within these Nations to fend for themselves.14 Gorbachev’s rejection of Brezhnev’s controlling autocratic Politburo gave a sense of self-determination, and elections voted out old communist regimes for modern democratic ones, highlighting the success of Glasnost and “the triumph of liberalism”15 that ultimately dismantled the Soviet Union. The implementation of Glasnost gave Soviet Nations hope that freedom was possible, where for many years prior to this, uprisings and protests had been forcibly shut down, such as the Prague Spring in 1968 that “left people thinking that all protest was ultimately futile”.16 In June of 1989, Poland became the first non-communist-governed Nation within Eastern Europe and caused a wave of similar elections across Eastern Europe. These elections and demonstrations held by Eastern European Nations ultimately caused the downfall of the USSR as without a union of soviet republics, the role of the USSR as the overseeing political body of the Soviet Union became redundant. While, the uprisings played a significant role in causing the acceptance of elections within the USSR, “Gorbachev’s perestroika and glasnost … gave an ‘amber light’ of cautious approval to all Eastern European reformists [and] … enabled the largely peaceful transformations”17 Domestically the policy of Glasnost had opened up the Government to elections which would ultimately cause the dissolution of the USSR in 1991 and “removed the last vestige of the Cold War as an international system”18 two years after Gorbachev and Bush had ended the Cold War at the Malta Summit in 1989.


Perestroika and Glasnost not only had a dramatic effect domestically; they also affected the foreign policy of the USSR. Prior to the implementation of Glasnost and Perestroika, the ideological divide had hindered international negotiations throughout the duration of the Cold War as many American conservatives believed that there could be no proper negotiations until the “Soviet Union [was] pushed into its ideological revolution”19 and had moved away from “being a political regime with an established religion called Marxism-Leninism”.20 The two policies made a dual push at closing the ideological gap between the US and USSR, but it was ultimately Glasnost which significantly influenced open and fruitful international communications. Glasnost directly affected foreign policy by creating an environment that allowed a policy of “open diplomacy, which officially replaced secret diplomacy”.21 Glasnost rapidly minimised the ideological political divide between Soviet communism and American capitalism and opened up effective communication between the two Nations culminating in the successful negotiations of an INF treaty in 1987. Gorbachev’s domestic policies of Perestroika and Glasnost both contributed to the end of the Cold War as they left America with “no clear-cut ideological enemy”22 therefore bringing to an end one of the two major battles in the Cold War. Without ideological tensions forcing ineffective negotiations, the second attempt at an INF treaty between the US and USSR was a surprisingly quick process as Gorbachev, in principle, accepted the Global Double Zero policy proposed by Reagan on the 22nd June 1987.23 Within two months Gorbachev was able to negotiate a treaty with Reagan that was beneficial for both the US and USSR and appeased both Countries and their state officials, as Article One of the Treaty promised that both the US and USSR would “eliminate its intermediate-range and shorter-range missiles, [and] not have such systems thereafter”.24 Essentially, the INF treaty promised the destruction of, instead of the conversion of warheads, the banning of new Intermediate and shorter-range weapons and uniformed reductions from both Nations with the ultimate goal of elimination of all weapons that fell under the treaty’s definition.25 The INF treaty signified the end of the nuclear arms race and reduced fears of nuclear war far sooner than expected. Gorbachev’s acceptance of the Global Double Zero, while a surprise to most, set about a new air of friendship between the two Nations. This friendship came with significantly improved relations, prompted considerably “by the bold initiatives in reducing the prospect of nuclear conflict that [Gorbachev] had taken”.26 Without the fear and tensions caused by the nuclear arms race, Gorbachev and Bush were able to focus on officially ending the Cold War through the Malta Conference in 1989. Gorbachev played a crucial role in causing the end of the Cold War with his implementation of Perestroika and Glasnost, and through his open diplomacy and acceptance of the INF treaty. However, this should not undermine the role played by bothReagan and his successor President Bush. Without the cooperation and communication from both US Presidents, many of Gorbachev’s foreign diplomacy efforts such as the INF treaty and the eventual Malta conference would have been futile. Reagan was President of the United States (POTUS) between 1980 and 1988 and was instrumental in ensuring that the second INF treaty negotiations between 1985 and 1987 were successful. The great friendship and “personal chemistry”27 that Reagan and Gorbachev had built since 1985 created a new precedent in US-USSR relations, which resulted in effective communications until 1989, leading to the end of the Cold War. While Reagan was influential in the second INF treaty negotiations, Gorbachev was still the key figure in the negotiations as his foreign policy meant that “the Reagan Administration no longer had a free ride”28 in the eyes of the American public, who were applying pressure on Reagan not to allow these negotiations to go the same way as the first INF treaty negotiations. President George H. W Bush was elected POTUS in 1988 and given his previous role as Vice-President during the Reagan Administration. He was able to continue the strong relationship between the US and Gorbachev, especially after the Malta Summit in 1989.29 The Malta Summit covered a wide range of topics including the reunification of Germany and the specifics of a post-Cold War state of affairs, but its central message was that there no longer be a Cold War, which “gave hope to all humanity”.30 Bush’s cooperation did not go unnoticed by Gorbachev, who took time during an interview after the Malta Summit to say “I’d like to thank you for your cooperation”.31 After the Malta Summit and the official end of the Cold


War, the relationship between Bush and Gorbachev was called the “world’s most important relationship”. The ease at which Gorbachev and Bush accomplished international breakthroughs did not seem like two world leaders attempting to quell the possibilities of nuclear war. Instead, it brought up images of “two acquaintances who happen to be at the same business meeting sitting down to catch up since they last spoke on the telephone”.32 Ultimately the communication and cooperation provided by both Reagan and Bush during the Gorbachev regime was unlike anything seen in the 40 years of the Cold War and began a new era of close relationships between the USSR and US. With the cooperation from the US Presidents, Gorbachev was instrumental in causing a quick and unexpected end to the Cold War. Prior to Gorbachev, the ideological divide between the autocratic communist USSR and the democratic capitalist US showed no signs of closing, with the nuclear arms race continued to grow. Poor communication and lack of genuine effort caused the INF treaty negotiations to break down, leading all to believe there was no foreseeable end to the Cold War. It was the combination of Gorbachev’s rapid internal economic and political restructuring and international efforts to end the arms race that ultimately lead to the end of the Cold War. His domestic policies of Perestroika and Glasnost minimised the ideological divide and garnered support from the US, while his new open diplomacy style led to the acceptance of the Global Double Zero policy and the signing of the INF treaty. Through these initiatives, Gorbachev was able to take away the three factors which were vital in the continuation of the Cold War; an ideological economic and political divide, and the perceived need for the largest nuclear arsenal. These key factors and the cooperation from the US Presidents allowed for events such as the Malta Summit, the reunification of Germany and the collapse of the USSR, all three of which symbolised the end of the Cold War in 1989, just four years after Gorbachev was appointed General-Secretary. While both Reagan and Bush were central figures in ending the Cold War, due to their open communication in negotiations, it was ultimately Gorbachev and his implementation of domestic and foreign policies that fundamentally changed the dynamic between the US and USSR influenced the quick and unexpected end to the Cold War.

Endnotes Interviewed by Anatoliy A. Logunov, May 31, 1988. <https://www.> 9 Gorbachev, Perestroika, 210. 10 U.S Department of Commerce, “US Trade in Goods with USSR”, United States Census Bureau, Last Revised May 6, 2019 <> 11 Gorbachev, Perestroika, 45. 12 Soviet Politburo, written correspondence with Central Committee of the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia, July 15, 1968, qtd in “The Defence of Socialism is Our Supreme Internationalist Duty”, Pravda, August 22, 1968, 25, DefenceOfSocialismSupremeInternationalistDuty.pdf. 13 Nicholas Rostow, “Law and the Use of Force by States: The Brezhnev Doctrine”, Yale Journal of International Law, 7, no. 2 (1981), 210, 14 Sheri Berman, Democracy and Dictator Ship in Europe: From the Ancient Régime to the Present Day (New York: Oxford University Press, 2019), 371. 15 John. L Gaddis, United States and the End of the Cold War (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 205. 16 John Besemeres, A Difficult Neighbourhood: Essays on Russia and East-Central Europe since World War II (Canberra: ANU Press, 2016) under “Seven days that shook the world”, 32, https://www.jstor. org/stable/j.ctt1rqc96p.7?seq=1#metadata_info_tab_contents.

1 George P. Shultz, “Our Meeting with Anropov”, fax correspondence with President Ronald Reagan, November 15, 1982. In Jack F. Matlock.: Files Folder Title: Andropov (8) Box 20 Document No. 5. < nsc-europeanandsovietaffairs/matlock/box-020/40-351-7452065020-013-2018.pdf> 2 Shultz, fax correspondence. 3 Richard Pipes, “Analysis of Andropov’s Speech of November 22”, fax correspondence to United States National Security Advisor William P. Clark, November 23, 1982. In Jack F. Matlock.: Files Folder Title: Andropov (7) Box 20 Document No. 7. <> 4 George L. Rueckert, Global Double Zero: The INF treaty from Its Origins to Implementation (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1993), 55. 5 Joseph C. Harsch, “A Series of Setbacks Weaken Reagan on Foreign Policy” The Christian Science Monitor, April 13, 1984. < docview/1399966806?accountid=12372> 6 John Miller, Mikhail Gorbachev and the End of Soviet Power (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1993), 44. 7 Mikhail Gorbachev, Perestroika: New Thinking for Our Country and the World (New York: Harper and Rowe Publishers, 1987), 34. 8 Ronald Reagan, “Remarks and a Question-and-Answer Session With the Students and Faculty at Moscow State University”


17 Jan Pakulski, “The Breakthrough: Polish elections in June 1989”, Humanities Research, 16, no. 3 (2010), 101-102, doi: 10.22459/ HR.XVI.03.2010. 18 Odd Arne Westad, The Cold War. A World History (Great Britain: Allen Lane, 2017), 616. 19 Joseph S. Nye Jr, “Gorbachev’s Russia and U.S. Options” in Gorbachev’s Russia and American Foreign Policy, Eds. Seweryn Bialer and Michael Mandelbaum (Boulder: Westview Press, 1988), 401. 20 Nye Jr, “Gorbachev’s Russia and U.S. Options”, 401. 21 Georgy Arbatov, “Glasnost, Talks and Disarmament.” In The Foundations of Defensive Defence Eds. Anders. Boserup and Robert Neild (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1990), 188. 22 Henry Kissinger, “Conversation with Orville Schell.” Transcript. Asia Society Centre on U.S. China Relations, New York, January 20, 2007. Quoted in J. Robert Moskin. “The Very Model of a Modern Foreign Service: 1970-2011” In American Statescraft. The Story of the U.S. Foreign Service (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2013), 666. 23 Rueckert, Global Double Zero, 75-76. 24 “Treaty Between The United States Of America And The Union Of Soviet Socialist Republics On The Elimination Of Their Intermediate-Range And Shorter-Range Missiles (INF Treaty)”, signed 8 December 1987, U.S Department of State, https://2009-2017.state. gov/t/avc/trty/102360.htm#text. 25 Rueckert, Global Double Zero, 76. 26 Ian Kershaw, Roller-Coaster: Europe 1950-2017 (Great Britain: Allen Lane, 2018),323. 27 Kershaw, Roller-Coaster, 323. 28 Nye Jr, “Gorbachev’s Russia and U.S. Options”, 392. 29 Robert L. Hutchings, American Diplomacy and the End of the Cold War (Washington D.C.: The Woodrow Wilson Centre Press, 1997), 104. 30 Anatoly Chernyaev, Excerpt from his personal diary, January 2, 1990. Quoted In, Svetlana Savranska and Thomas Blanton, “The Malta Summit 1989”, The Last Super Power Summits, eds. Anna Melyakova (Budapest: Central European University Press, 2016), 491. 31 “Transcript of the Bush-Gorbachev News Conference in Malta” New York Times, December 4, 1989. https://www.nytimes. com/1989/12/04/world/the-malta-summit-transcript-of-the-bushgorbachev-news-conference-in-malta.html. 32 John E. Yang, “Bush and Gorbachev: Acquaintances of Singular Importance”, Washington Post, July 17, 1991, https://www.

The Astonishing Rise of Japan and the “Asian Tigers” in the 1980s Lindsay Wong

In the decades following the 1980s, Japan and the “Asian tigers” took certain economic measures that allowed them to prosper and thus redefine the world economy. The four tigers – South Korea, Taiwan, Singapore and Hong Kong – followed Japan’s model for the purpose of economic growth. Even though Japan initially had help from the U.S. after their defeat in World War Two, they were able to economically advance by focusing their growth on certain industries, like steel and automobiles. South Korea and Taiwan followed a Japanese-style model that involved government intervention. On the other hand, Hong Kong and Singapore had laissez-faire economies that engaged largely in trade and liberalisation. This was a time when the West was declining as they suffered an oil crisis and later on stagflation. The rapid economic growth of these five countries called into question Western dominance. Globalisation also comes into play as Japan and the tigers became massive exporters and investors to the rest of the world and hence redefined the world economy after the 1980s. The West started to decline after experiencing the oil crisis of the mid-1970s and stagflation in the economy. Japan was able to survive the oil shocks, and their economy soon became based around the oil industry by the 1980s. As a result, “productive capacity” shifted to the Asian region from the West.1 The rise of multinational corporations (MNCs) during the 1960s contributed to globalisation, which was accompanied by low labour costs in the East.2 There was a rise in specialised work, and unskilled labour became scarcer. In the West, companies preferred to hire workers that could do a range of work instead of specialised workers.3 Because Asian countries had a less-skilled labour force, there was a greater demand for these workers by foreign companies. The U.S. manufactured their products at such low-cost suppliers, thus shifting most of their production to the East.4 Western countries also suffered from stagflation, which occurred from a combination of high inflation but no growth. An increase in wages and higher prices of commodities led to stagflation in North America, Europe and Oceania during the majority of the 1970s and the early 1980s.5 The declining Western economy enabled the Asian economy to grow as production efforts shifted to the East, which contributed to a redefining of the world economy. Japan and the tigers’ economic growth was so spectacular that historians have deemed it a “miracle”.6 Initially, these five countries were poorer than Western countries. However, the economies of Japan and the tigers grew by 8-10% each year in three to four decades.7 Because they were newly industrialised, their mobilisation of resources like labour and capital allowed them to achieve high economic growth in a relatively short amount of time.8 The government played a significant role by supplying public goods such as infrastructure and education.9 Political stability, developed industries, export-led growth and effective control over macroeconomics contributed to East Asia’s economic success.10 Japan and the tigers started to invest in resource and capital-intensive industries with low labour costs.11 According to a policy research



report conducted by the World Bank, “rapidly growing human capital” and a stable macroeconomic management in East Asia led to economic growth.12 However, even though each country achieved economic growth, the specific way in which each country grew differs. Japan was the first of the tigers to achieve high economic growth, and later set the model for the rest. During the occupation of Japan after WWII, the U.S. assisted Japan in its economic reconstruction by formulating markets for Japanese exports. They agreed to supply Japan and the tigers with security protection and means of entry into American markets. The U.S. started exporting goods to Japan, which facilitated economic growth.13 Domestically, there was a mass migration from the countryside to cities. In consequence, the workforce shifted from peasant farming to industrialisation, and labour costs remained low.14 Japan engaged in heavy manufacturing and enterprise groups (keiretsu) emerged. According to David Reynolds, these are conglomerates of firms in industries with interlinked shareholdings. They strengthened market share via superior production and thus achieved economic growth.15 Nevertheless, this was not their only method of economic growth. Japan focused on developing their steel and automobile industries, which proved to be effective because they were able to export to other countries. During the 1950s, the government heavily promoted the steel industry; a decade later, they promoted the car industry.16 The government took measures to prevent foreign competition, like setting tariffs and monitoring new firms. During the 1980s, Japan overtook the U.S. to become the world’s leading manufacturer of cars. Nissan and Toyota spawned two-thirds of total production by engaging in certain procedures that allowed them to excel. For example, they took part in quality control and shifted to small-scale production. Compared to the U.S.’ mass production of only a few models with various defects, these Japanese companies were able to produce a large range of models with minimal defects.17 In 1980, Japan made up 54% of car exports. The majority of these exports were to North America and Western Europe.18 Because of harsh competition from Japan, the U.S. was forced to focus on other industries.19 Japan also invested heavily in the economies of the other tigers, specifically following the appreciation of the yen during the Plaza Agreement in 1985.20 Japan’s emphasis on export-led growth later spread to the other tigers.21 As a result, the tigers could catch up with Japan in terms of their economy. South Korea and Taiwan developed their economy by following a Japanese model. In Korea, the government intervened by maintaining high levels of protection.22 Similar to Japan, they focused on promoting certain industries like shipbuilding, semiconductors, cotton and heavy industries. These industries were competitive by international standards in terms of cost. By the late 1980s, firms like Hyundai Heavy Industries and Pohang Iron and Steel Company were the leading shipbuilding and steel firms.23 Korea soon became the leader in the semiconductor industry, which was vital as an input, especially with the rise of technology.24 Even though this tiger is considered a “late industrialiser”, Korea was able to have high productivity in terms of manufacturing, and cotton textiles became their leading export industry.25 Like the keiretsu in Japan, Korea also possessed large business groups (chaebol) that possessed sizeable market shares. The government promoted the chaebol by encouraging them to export, as well as controlling subsidies. In this manner, these firms were forced to be in intense competition with foreign markets.26 Korea’s effective promotion of heavy industries and exports enabled them to grow their economy. Taiwan’s economy grew in a similar manner to Korea’s. They also tried to follow Japan’s model of growth. Exports were a key factor of economic growth, and it also served as a method of “domestic protection”.27 Direct government involvement in the economy was characteristic of Taiwan as they established stateowned enterprises, most notably during the 1950s.28 Based on their international relations with mainland China during the 1980s, Taiwan experienced “rapid democratisation and market liberalisation”.29 Taiwan then invested in mainland China, thus growing their economy indirectly through a third country, which was Hong Kong.30 Because of their transition into a democracy, labour costs remained low as they engaged in labour repression and the occurrence of political marginalisation of the working class. This attracted investment from foreign MNCs.31 As a result of these economic measures, Taiwan achieved high economic growth.


Hong Kong and Singapore were both laissez-faire economies that opened up their economies and invited foreign investors to help their economies grow. These two city-states were former British colonies and trading nations.32 The Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation stated in their November 1993 report that they aimed to engage in free trade and liberalisation in the Asia Pacific region, and this applied to Hong Kong and Singapore.33 Hong Kong was handed over to China in 1997, and political tensions influenced economic decisions.34 It served as a gateway to China, which enabled them to secure their position in Asia as a financial hub. They engaged in entrepot trade, in which goods were imported to Hong Kong, and later exported to other countries. Like the rest of the tigers, Hong Kong achieved economic growth by exporting labour-intensive products, but they concentrated on small and medium-sized firms.35 Hong Kong’s ability as a regional finance and investment centre allowed their economy to expand. Singapore also experienced high economic growth as a laissez-faire economy. As the centre of Southeast Asia, many MNCs were set up there.36 Economic growth was facilitated by “increases in measured inputs”, such as investments in education and an increase in the workforce.37 During the 1980s, the economy was largely concerned with finance, trade and manufacturing. Their industrial policy was dependent on domestic politics.38 From the 1950s onwards, Lee Kuan Yew established the People’s Action Party which aimed to promote high economic growth. This single-party state set up different organisations that were each in charge of a specific industry. This enabled Singapore to have continuity in their policy in order to attract foreign investment, and they adopted long-term development strategies. This was done through the optimisation of resources via a concerted effort and elite agencies.39 They developed a new economic development program which had its foundation in export-oriented industrialisation.40 During the 1970s and 1980s, the global economy started to become more open. An open economy would benefit the countries involved, and committees involved in international relations were supportive of open economies, according to the hearing regarding international economic policy and trade in 1998.41 Privatisation and liberalisation of the capital market were characteristics of Singapore’s economic growth.42 The Singapore state established economic policies that ensured economic growth. The success of Japan and the tigers effectively demonstrate how economic growth can be achieved by a variety of policies, like focusing on heavy industries, investments from other nations, exports and liberalisation. They also had low labour costs, which attracted foreign companies to invest there. Japan was able to grow due to their promotion of their steel and automobile industries, which proved to be successful. Similarly, South Korea’s economy grew because of their ventures into heavy industries, specifically shipbuilding, iron, semiconductors and textiles. Taiwan achieved economic growth via democratisation and market liberalisation. Hong Kong’s economy expanded because of their engagement in entrepot trade and liberalisation. Singapore’s government invested in elite organisations that brought upon economic growth. Consequently, as the Western economy was declining, the economic success of these countries redefined the world economy to a great extent from the 1980s onwards.

Endnotes 1 David Reynolds, One World Divisible: A Global History Since 1945 (London: Allen Lane, 2000), 403. 2 Ibid, 404. 3 Ibid, 413. 4 Robert Wade, “East Asia’s Economic Success: Conflicting Perspectives, Partial Insights, Shaky Evidence,” World Politics, 44, no.2 (1992): 311, doi:10.2307/2010449. 5 Reynolds, One World Divisible, 408. 6 Kaoru Sugihara, “The East Asian Path Of Economic Development: A Long-Term Perspective,” in The Resurgence Of East Asia: 500, 150 And 50 Year Perspectives, ed. Giovanni Arrighi, Takeshi

Hamashita and Mark Selden (London: Routledge, 2003), 81. 7 Martin Paldam, “The Economic Freedom Of Asian Tigers: An Essay On Controversy,” European Journal Of Political Economy, 19, no. 2003 (2003): 455, doi:10.1016/S0176-2680(03)00012-0. 8 Paul Krugman, “The Myth Of Asia’s Miracle,” Foreign Affairs, 73, no. 6 (1994): 70, doi:10.2307/20046929. 9 Wade, “East Asia’s Economic Success,” 271. 10 Ibid, 272. 11 Sugihara, “The East Asian Path Of Economic Development,” 81. 12 The World Bank, “The East Asian Miracle: Economic Growth


and Public Policy,” (Washington D.C.: Oxford University Press, 1993), 5. 13 G. John Ikenberry, “American Hegemony and East Asian Order,” Australian Journal Of International Affairs, 58, no. 3 (2004): 355, doi:10.1080/1035771042000260129. 14 Reynolds, One World Divisible, 411. 15 Ibid, 412. 16 Reynolds, One World Divisible, 413. 17 Ibid, 414. 18 Ibid, 419. 19 Sugihara, “The East Asian Path Of Economic Development,” 114. 20 Robert Gilpin and Jean M. Gilpin, The Challenge Of Global Capitalism (New Delhi: New Age International (P) Limited, Publishers, 2006), 270. 21 Ibid, 277. 22 Wade, “East Asia’s Economic Success,” 273. 23 Henry Wai-chung Yeung, “State-Led Development Reconsidered: The Political Economy Of State Transformation In East Asia Since The 1990S,” Cambridge Journal Of Regions, Economy And Society, 10, no.1 (2017): 85, doi:10.1093/cjres/rsw031. 24 Wade, “East Asia’s Economic Success,” 278. 25 Ibid, 287. 26 Ibid, 285. 27 Yeung, “State-Led Development Reconsidered,” 110. 28 Ibid. 29 Ibid, 90. 30 Ibid, 91. 31 Robert H. Wade, “The Developmental State: Dead Or Alive?” Development and Change, 49, no. 2 (2018): 527, doi:10.1111/ dech.12381. 32 Paldam, “The Economic Freedom of Asian Tigers,” 475. 33 APEC Secretariat, “A Vision For APEC: Towards An Asia Pacific Economic Community,” (Seattle: Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation, 1993), 9. 34 Anthony Sweeting and Paul Morris, “The Little Asian Tigers: Identities, Differences And Globalization,” in Education And Change In The Pacific Rim: Meeting The Challenges, ed. Keith Sullivan (Oxfordshire: Triangle Books, 1998), 206. 35 Ibid. 36 Paldam, “The Economic Freedom of Asian Tigers,” 457. 37 Krugman, “The Myth Of Asia’s Miracle,” 71. 38 Yeung, “State-Led Development Reconsidered,” 94. 39 Yeung, “State-Led Development Reconsidered,” 94-95. 40 Mark T. Berger, “Yellow Mythologies: The East Asian Miracle And Post-Cold War Capitalism,” Positions: East Asia Cultures Critique, 4, no. 1 (1996): 105, doi:10.1215/10679847-4-1-90. 41 “Financial Crisis in Asia,” in Hearing Before The Subcommittees On Asia And The Pacific And International Economic Policy And Trade, (Washington D.C.: Committee on International Relations, 1998), 25. 42 Berger, “Yellow Mythologies”, 117.

Embodying Ambiguity: Transgressions of Gender Binaries in Early Modern Europe Ella Syme

Constructions of sexuality in early modern Europe were dominated by discourses in which gender was understood as a binary. Yet such binaries, despite their ubiquity, seemed to be continually challenged by various and often diverse accounts of gender ambiguity. Through detailing the existence of these binaries and ambiguities, we come to understand that notions of gender fluidity in the early modern period were in themselves fluid. Through the examination of legal, social and medical discourses from 1500 to 1800, both embodied and enacted notions of gender fluidity, with a focus on hermaphroditism, can be explored to reveal variations in the representations of and responses to these. The term hermaphrodite in Europe’s early modern period was often incorrectly applied to what modern discourse would more approriately consider to be intersex individuals- those whose sexual anatomy differs from what is considered to be typical male and female sexual characteristics. Regardless, references to intersex individuals, termed hermaphrodites in early modern society, were particularly ubiquitous.1 As we will see, however; the term itself was open to various interpretations. Ideas of the hermaphroditic ‘monster’, referring to the perceived aberration of intersex individuals, were pervasive, and while there seemed to be an avidity regarding hermaphrodites, the reality of such gender fluidity troubled early modern society. Yet on occasion, when faced with a divine, mystical androgyny which saw the combination of masculine and feminine traits, the result was a balanced and unified view of an androgynous ideal which ascended ideas of the hermaphroditic monstrosity. The early modern period, following on from medieval attitudes, saw the perpetuation of a patriarchal society structured around strong gender binaries; males and females, as two disparate sexes, were assigned distinctive roles and characteristics. While the existence of such binaries was not new, the rise of vernacular language allowed for these ideas to spread through print. In particular, there was an increase in conduct literature which typified ideas of femininity and masculinity, reasserting the already existent gender binaries. More often than not, such gender binaries relegated women to submissive, inferior positions within society. Francesco Barbaro, in his 1677 marriage manual, compared the ideal women to “the Ringleader of Bees” who should always remain inside “their Honey-combs”, making clear that women were expected to embody the distinctly feminine ideal of domesticity.2 A conduct book published in 1696 expanded on these feminine ideals, stating that abstinence from extramarital intercourse was both expected and natural, and any unchaste woman was then “a kind of Monster… distorted from its proper form”.3 Thomas Browne



continued this masculine-feminine binary by asserting that men and women each had their respective qualities, and going against these qualities would make one “monstrous” or “Hermaphroditically Vitious”.4 These are not only suggestive of strong masculine-feminine binaries but are also an indication that anyone considered intersex, that is having a reproductive system outside these strict binaries, was regarded as ‘monstrous’ or hermaphroditic. As these accounts show, early modern gender comprised of binaries in which one’s innate characteristics were dependent on their biological sex. Notions of gender fluidity, which destabilised these natural gender roles, generated anxiety through their insinuation that gender dualisms were neither fixed nor stable. In 1719, Katherine Jones, charged with bigamy, pleaded innocence on the basis that her first husband, John Nowland, was “a Monster, a Hermaphrodite” and therefore “could not be a Husband”.5 Katherine’s innocence was confirmed when it was discovered that “the Woman was more predominant in her [John] than the Man”.6 The descriptions of John as a “Monster” are demonstrative of the anxieties surrounding anything that digressed from the normative binaries of male and female anatomy. Regardless of this, the fact that John, because of his ambiguous gender, could not be a ‘husband’ suggests that fluid genders not only existed but were considered in legal discourse. Physician Helkiah Crooke, in 1618, added to this idea of gender fluidity and the abnormality of hermaphroditic individuals. When talking about reproduction organs and the difference between men and women, he mentions a number of “monstrous” accounts in which women’s genitalia may “hang as men’s do”.7 Although accepting that some of these accounts were “not credible”, he concludes with the definite possibility that such “hermaphrodites” were women who were uncharacteristically “hot by nature”, and this made their clitoris grow outwards.8 Although these accounts establish that notions of hermaphroditism were existent in this period, the ways in which such fluidity was understood differ significantly. Joshua Poole in The English Parnassus, attempted to give some definitions on ‘hermaphrodite’: “Hermaphrodite: Ambiguous, promiscuous, mixed, sex-confused, mongrell, neuter, effeminate.”9 Even this definition suggests confusion over the term; hermaphrodites were strongly associated with those qualities commonly perceived as feminine, being both promiscuous and effeminate, and at the same time did not have one clearly defined gender. The ‘ambiguous’ nature of hermaphrodite was also reflected in perceptions of what constituted a ‘hermaphrodite’. Ruth Gilbert argues that hermaphroditism in early modern society was both embodied and enacted.10 By this, Gilbert refers to the manner in which hermaphroditism was ‘embodied’ as a physical abnormality, as well as ‘enacted’ through behavioural transgressions. Indeed, notions of hermaphroditism were often interchangeable with notions of androgyny and cross-dressing. Reverend John Ward, sometime in the seventeenth century, observed a “hermaphrodite… his testicles large and his penis out of measure …”.11 The ‘hermaphrodite’ Ward observed was dressed “as a woman” but also had on some items of male clothing.12 What is apparent from Ward’s account, based on his examinations of the size of penis and testicles, is that the ‘hermaphrodite’ did not necessarily have mixed genitalia, but instead was sexually ambiguous through his/her combination of female and male clothing. The Anatomie of Abuses similarly suggests that men and women who cross-dress “may not improperly be called Hermaphroditi… monsters of both kindes, half women, half men.”13 So, we see that hermaphroditism was not only a term used to describe anatomical ‘monstrosities’, but also a broad term which encompassed modern understandings of cross-dressing and androgyny. Even though transgressions from expected gender binaries, whether embodied or enacted, were largely deemed ‘monstrous’ in the early modern period, it was not always the case. When moving away from the more tangible accounts of intersex or androgynous individuals and into accounts of gender fluidity in art, we see a different depiction of hermaphroditism. The 1590 edition of Edmund Spenser’s epic poem The Faerie Queene, describes the union between Amoret and Sir Scudamor: “Had ye seen them, ye would have surely thought/That thy had been that faire Hermaphrodite/Which that Roman, of white Marble wrought.”14 Here Spenser likens the union of Amoret and Scudamor to that of a hermaphrodite statue, a


“faire” figure which seems at odds with the usual, ‘monstrous’ characteristics of hermaphrodites. A reason for this discrepancy may derive from Spenser’s understanding that he is referring to a “beautifully wrought statue” of a hermaphroditic union rather than a real hermaphrodite.15 Hermaphrodites in art were, by and large, fantastical accounts, manipulated for entertainment or allegorical purposes rather than real examples of individuals who transgressed gender binaries. In the 1596 edition of The Faerie Queen, the hermaphroditic union of Amoret and Scudamor was replaced with the image of the hermaphroditic Venus, but, like the earlier edition, this also represented a perfect union between man and woman. Book IV sees Venus as a veiled, androgynous figure who “hath both kinds in one, both male and female…”.16 The male and female sexes are merged in this androgynous ideal, the goddess Venus presents a celestial, “self-contained”, concealed, and therefore unthreatening, fusion of genders.17 The veil, rather than concealing the true duality of Venus because of any abnormality, acted instead to cover the “mystery of her divinity”.18 We see that the image of the hermaphrodite could be one of perfect union between man and woman, so long as this image transcended any tangible representations of physical gender fluidity and was representative of a heterosexual, matrimonial union. In many early 16th century artworks, the gender fluidity of Christ similarly presents him as a transcendent figure.19 Because of his mystical, celestial nature, Christ represented an androgynous ideal, rather than a monstrous reality. In figure 1, it is possible to equate the open wound of Christ in the centre panels with the uncovered breast of the Virgin Mary in the third panel. 20 The actions of both Christ and Mary, the arrangement of their hands, as well as the location of the respective bodily fluids they emit, merge the boundaries between feminine and masculine. Figure 2 similarly depicts a parallel between Mary’s lactation and the blood flowing from the wound of Christ. 21 Again, the placement of Christ’s wound is comparable to the placement of Mary’s lactating breast, suggesting Christ’s embodiment of the female form. In both figures, Christ is shown with long hair, also a distinctively feminine attribute in the early modern period and generally discouraged in men.22 The association with Christ as a mother figure, with elements of the feminine form, challenges gender binaries by suggesting the sacred form of Christ was “sexually mutable”.23 Yet, unlike other examples of gender transgression, these depictions of Christ were not embodiments of monstrosities. In figure 2, the numerous figures kneeling before Christ, in what appears to be a Eucharistic rite, do so with reverence, rather than revulsion. The androgynous nature of Christ, like the hermaphroditic union of husband and wife in The Fairie Queene, is representing the desirable aspects of both sexes and creates a perfect balance between masculine and feminine.

Figure. 1 Provost, Jan. Last Judgement. 1525, oil on oak.


Figure. 2 Weyden, Goswijn van. Triptych of Abbot Antonius Tsgrooten. 1507, oil on panel. html/w/weyden/goossen/triptych.html.

These artistic and poetic representations of gender fluidity present an alternate view of gender fluidity, a state of perfect ambiguity. Yet the question remains whether they truly reconciled early modern Europe to ideas of gender fluidity. As we have seen, understandings of gender in the early modern period were largely contingent on discourses which identified ‘stable’ gender binaries. Based on this binary understanding, men and women were expected to embody the natural characteristics of their respective sex, and any deviation from such masculine and feminine ideals challenged the natural order. Despite the obvious existence of such gender binaries, it is misconceived to assume that notions of gender fluidity do not challenge these binaries. Legal, social and medical discourses have indicated that early modern perceptions of gender fluidity, especially in reference to hermaphroditism, were rarely fixed but instead integrated a range of ambiguous interpretations. ‘Hermaphrodite’ was a label given to anything which seemed to transgress gender binaries.

11 John Ward, Diary (1648–79), quoted in in Ruth Gilbert, Early Modern Hermaphrodites Sex and Other Stories, (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 2. 12 John Ward, Diary (1648–79), quoted in in Ruth Gilbert, Early Modern Hermaphrodites Sex and Other Stories, (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 2. 13 Philip Stubbes, The Anatomie of Abuses, (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Printing Company, 1583), 68, books/about/The_Anatomie_of_Abuses.html?id=aupMAQAAMAAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button&redir_esc=y#v=onepage&q&f=false. 14 Edmund Spenser, The Fairie Queene: Book III, (London: Scott, Webster and Geary, 1842) 426. 15 Jonathan Bate, “Elizabethan Translation: The Art of the Hermaphrodite,” in Translating Life: Studies in Transpositional Aesthetics, ed. by Shirley Chew and Alistair Stead, (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1999), 33. 16 Edmund Spenser, The Fairie Queene: Book IV, (London: Scott, Webster and Geary, 1842) 174-175. 17 Gilbert, Early Modern Hermaphrodites, 53; Graham Atkin, ‘‘Both kinds in one/Both male and female’: Ate, Lust and hermaphroditic Venus in Book IV of Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene,’ (gender studies working papers, Chester College, 1996), 10, http:// 18 Josephine Waters Bennett, “Spenser’s Venus and the Goddess Nature of the “Cantos of Mutabilitie,”Studies in Philology 30, no. 2 (April 1933): 170, stable/4172201. 19 Caroline Walker Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women, (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), 271-275. 20 Jan Provost, Last Judgement, 1525, oil on oak, accessed 15 April, 2019, 21 Goswijn van Weyden, Triptych of Abbot Antonius Tsgrooten, 1507, oil on panel, 22 Desiderius Erasmus, A Handbook on Good Manners for Children: De Civilitate Morum Puerilium Libellus, 1530, trans. Eleanor Merchant, (London: Preface, 2008). 23 Gilbert, Early Modern Hermaphrodites, 14.

Endnotes 1 Lorraine Daston and Katharine Park, “The Hermaphrodite and the Orders of Nature: Sexual Ambiguity in Early Modern France,” GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies 1, no. 4 (Oct 1995): 419, doi: 2 Francesco Barbaro, Directions for love and marriage, (London: John Leigh, 1677), 105, 3 A Lady, The whole duty of a woman: or a guide to the female sex, (London: J. Gwillim, 1696), 15, 4 Thomas Browne, Christian morals, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1716), 44-45, http://find. do?sort=&inps=true&prodid=ecco&usergroupname=unimelb&tabid=t001&bookid=0240500600&resultlisttype=result_list&searchid=&docid=cw3318460967&contentset=eccoarticles&pagefrom=&doclevel=text_graphics&bookid=0240500600&showe-

toc=yes&showloi=&relevancepagebatch=&currentposition=0&totalcount=&dodirectdocnumsearch=false. 5 Trial of Katherine Jones, alias Nowland, t17190903-50, (1719), Old Bailey Proceedings Online, images.jsp?doc=171909030007. 6 Trial of Katherine Jones, alias Nowland, t17190903-50, (1719), Old Bailey Proceedings Online, images.jsp?doc=171909030007. 7 Helkiah Crooke, Mikrocosmographia, A Description of the Body of Man, (London: William Jaggard, 1618), 250, http://www. Mikrocosmographia. 8 Ibid, 250. 9 Joshua Poole, The English Parnassus, or, A helpe to English poesie, (London: Tho. Johnson, 1657), 111, http://gateway. 10 Ruth Gilbert, Early Modern Hermaphrodites Sex and Other Stories, (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 86.





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