The aim of this paper is to outline the characteristics of one very important class of Southeast Asian law texts—the “Indian-derived.” In the process, it may be possible to throw light on some basic questions such as the nature of State, and the definition of sovereignty in medieval Southeast Asia. The texts are important examples of the adaptation of Indian legal culture in new environments. I hope to show that the idea of law exhibited in the texts, while dependent upon such basic Indian ideas as “duty” (dharma), is not only differently defined in the various cultures of “Indianized” Southeast Asia but transcends such limited legal definitions as “rules” or “coercion.” Law instead rests upon native concepts, giving rise to rules of conduct that ought, to be observed by reason of social condition. It is among these rules that law is to be found; law is an aspect of dharma, the definition of which varies from one law text to another. It is ultimately concerned with a definition of obligation that is simultaneously suitable in local terms and consonant with absolute principles derived from the Indian texts.

Even under the best of circumstances, “religion” can be a slippery term. In Buddhist Sri Lanka (Ceylon), it is especially so. Anthropologists recognize a religious complex that includes spirit exorcism as well as orthodox Buddhism; yet in Sinhalese usage, the word for religion, agama, applies to the latter but specifically excludes the former. On the other hand, from a Western perspective, orthodox “doctrinal” Buddhism—rationalistic, atheistic, non-supernatural—hardly seems to qualify as religion by any ordinary definition of the English word or its European equivalents. Indeed, that has, historically, been one of the strong appeals of Buddhism to the West. However, the terminological problem is not a vital one. Though it is well to keep in mind the indigenous distinctions, the various beliefs and practices of Sinhalese Buddhists so blend into one another and are so overtly connected, ritually and ideologically, that they present themselves as an identifiable complex that has been conventionally and justifiably called “religious.”

Late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century “caste” organizations and “caste” polemics were, to a greater extent than has been appreciated, responses to foreign definitions of Indian society. The most important stimulus toward caste-cluster consciousness released by the British presence was neither their advanced technology (which revolutionized the means of communication and transportation) nor their military prowess and administrative skill (which obliterated “the territorial limitations inherent in the pre-British political systems” and “brought a new administrative unity to India in the establishment of a centralized bureaucratic government”—both of which are commonly noted. Rather, the growth of caste-cluster consciousness was largely an unintended but direct consequence of the fact that the foreigners engaged in a continuous attempt to describe, define, interpret, and categorize the social complexity that India presented to them—a society so puzzlingly different from their own.

In the entire body of scholarly writing—Japanese and foreign—on modern Japanese history, perhaps no subject has been treated with less care or greater indifference than the imperial universities. Western scholars, when commenting on the subject, are usually content to note their supposed indebtedness to the universities of nineteenth-century Germany and to emphasize their role in training government officials. Thus Robert Scalapino wrote in 1962: “The government … accepted a far-reaching system of education patterned essentially after German concepts….”; he was seconded in this opinion by Ronald P. Dore in 1965. And of the universities' social functions, Herbert Passin wrote in 1965 that Tokyo University had been conceived as a “training school for officials”; this was echoed by Chitoshi Yanaga in 1968.

Contemporary Japan has been consistently portrayed as a highly integrated society. Countless sociological works have argued that its mechanism of value consensus and social solidarity works efficiently and extensively. According to Ezra Vogel, for example, Japan is essentially a society where rapid transition has taken place in an orderly manner without much social disorganization. For Nakane Chie, Japanese society is composed of internally cohesive and vertically structured groups which tend to stabilize its system.

The expansion of political participation is generally recognized as an essential aspect of modernization. China's twentieth-century experience certainly fits this model. Yet we are far from understanding the processes by which participation expanded in China—especially in the early twentieth century, when complex patterns of social change and institutional reform brought new groups to political awareness. Who comprised the newly participant strata in the first decades of this century? How large and powerful were they? How did their members participate? Who were their leaders?