Those conversations—like so many with Carol and Greg—were transformative. The ancient genre of the bestiary, a massive compendium of known and unknown animals, continued to flourish in Europe through the medieval period. The modern zoo may have been born in London, Paris, and Vienna, but it was an idea—or an institution—whose time had obviously come. Cities, factories, parklands, and markets—the centers of human culture and industry—are understood here as what urban ecologists call hybrid ecologies, sites where natural and manmade elements blur into one another in a manner that does not respect any absolute divide between material and cultural realms. Military Animals explains how the inhabitants of the Ueno zoo, and animals more generally, were incorporated into wars on the Asian mainland in the 1930s, and subsequently into the broader global war in the Pacific.
The regions that had been the sources of most star zoo pets were no longer so readily exploitable, and it became impossible to ignore the effect of decades of hunting and habitat destruction on animal populations. All flaws and oversights are my own. Nineteenth-century factories burned coal—fossilized sunshine, as one scholar has called it—and cities, as public health officials in Tokyo concerned with cholera bacilli and other opportunistic organisms knew all too well, can be fecund ecologies. In this eye-opening study of Japan's first modern zoo, Tokyo's Ueno Imperial Zoological Gardens, opened in 1882, Ian Jared Miller offers a refreshingly unconventional narrative of Japan's rapid modernization and changing relationship with the natural world. The drivers of this change were diverse. Less commonly recognized is the role played by the distinctly hybrid institution—at once museum, laboratory, and prison—of the zoological garden. Bartholomew Journal of Japanese Studies 41, no.
The proper exhibition of caged animals before curious crowds, Meijiera exhibitionary policy suggests, had weighty implications at a time when notions of biological race and the struggle for survival seizon kyōsō were beginning to politicize, in an explicitly global context, the distinction between people and other animals. They are objects of intense desire on the part of zoo directors anxious to maintain attendance figures. In this eye-opening study of Japan's first modern zoo, Tokyo's Ueno Imperial Zoological Gardens, opened in 1882, Ian Jared Miller offers a refreshingly unconventional narrative of Japan's rapid modernization and changing relationship with the natural world. Less commonly recognized is the role played by the distinctly hybrid institution—at once museum, laboratory, and prison—of the zoological garden. You can change your cookie settings at any time. The Nature of the Beasts is deftly and poignantly written. As the Japanese empire grew, Ueno became one of the primary sites of imperialist spectacle, a microcosm of the empire that could be traveled in the course of a single day.
One thus recognizes not only a conceptual but, equally important, a behavioral division between the two, despite the prominence of Darwinian evolution as an explanatory paradigm for both. I learn something new each time we talk. The Taxonomy of a Massacre V. Less commonly recognized is the role played by the distinctly hybrid institution—at once museum, laboratory, and prison—of the zoological garden. ² The defining irony of this culture was that even as it intensified the human exploitation of the natural world through the mechanics of industrialization and the expansion of the market, it imagined real nature to be elsewhere.
The Taxonomy of a Massacre V. But instead of empire in its classic political sense, it now bespeaks the ambivalent dominion of the human species over the natural environment, harkening back to its imperial roots even as it asks us to question our exploitation of the planet's resources. Thus as Miller unravels the fascinating history of the Ueno Zoo in Tokyo, the flagship zoo of Japan, the implicit comparison to Western practices provides a fresh perspective on living animal collections more generally, and therefore on modern understandings of nature and environment. Even if the term animal is taken in its most restrictive sense—of vertebrate, or even of mammal—its referents engage with humans in numerous ways. Working with Reed Malcolm and Stacy Eisenstark at University of California Press has been a pleasure. It is also especially controversial, and I am grateful to the Tokyo Zoological Park Society for their support. Since at least the late seventeenth century, which is when the Oxford English Dictionary identifies the first occurrence of the word zoology, animals have occupied their own scientific discipline.
Never common, pandas are now confined to a single habitat in central China, and their international travel, along with their germplasm, is tightly controlled by the Chinese government, which deploys them as part of its diplomatic outreach. The institution has been collecting documents since its founding in the 1880s, and its holdings, while small, include everything from diplomatic agreements and conservation statements to the ephemera—tickets, maps, architectural blueprints, and letters to the zoo director—that give archival form to the everyday politics of the past. And they are obsessed with classification but are inherently liminal. Animals continue to occupy the attention of these scientists, of course, even though recent developments have made them increasingly uneasy with that characterization of their research; thus in 1996, after a century as the American Society of Zoologists, their disciplinary organization rechristened itself as the Society for Integrative and Comparative Biology. Wasserstrom, Kären Wigen, and Hue-Tam Ho Tai, Editors Bicycle Citizens: The Political World of the Japanese Housewife, by Robin M. Some of these reasons reflect politics, either of academia or of the wider world. Even if not every expert is inclined to go quite this far, global warming and related phenomena are now widely recognized as a fundamental reality.
Animals have traditionally figured in analyses of literary and religious symbolism. Andrew Gordon is a truly inspiring friend and mentor. Japan's modern history, its rise and fall as an imperial power and its postwar place in a world threatened by climate change, are all encapsulated in dramatic events at the Ueno zoological garden. To what extent do they remain natural, when separated from their native environment and way of life by thousands of miles, tens of thousands of dollars, or multiple generations? This book is a deep reflection on the rise, fall, and transformation of an imperial power and its consequences for the lives of humans and nonhumans alike. We are touched with sorrow by the ritualized sacrifice of majestic animals played out in the culture of total war. ¹ The pursuit of such power in modern Japan took one of its most spectacular forms in the institution of the zoological garden, which redefined the relation between human beings and animals in keeping with the requirements of the dawning global age.
Its advocates struggled to align Japanese public practice with Western—self-consciously modern or civilized—norms. From one point of view, the typical zoo means a virtual chaos, whereby human beings are enabled temporarily to forget the routine of city life; while, from another point of view, it means a real cosmos, possessed of its own consciousness, its own quarrels and even its own social register—which, as we shall soon see, is indirectly our own social register. Less commonly recognized is the role played by the distinctly hybrid institution—at once museum, laboratory, and prison—of the zoological garden. You must be an authenticated member to ask questions Find out more about. The Ueno zoo becomes a stage on which animals, people and nations act out the changing ecological drama of modernity.
A new understanding of the animal—and thus the human—was central to that transformation. In addition, zoos are frequently landscaped to suggest that they preserve or encapsulate bits of nature within an urban or suburban setting, and problematic as this suggestion may be, the questions it implicitly poses are reinscribed on the bodies of captive animals and on the contexts in which they are displayed. Nevertheless, most scholars whose work is subsumed under the animal studies rubric share a novel understanding about how to approach their nonhuman subjects: one way or another, they attempt to take the interests or the perspectives of animals into account, along with those of people. Ken Kawata, formerly of the Staten Island Zoo, also offered helpful comments. That community included Joy Kim, Fabio Lanza, Lee Pennington, and Tak Watanabe, who all read multiple drafts of the project. But the formal and elaborate Memorial Service for Martyred Animals does not have many parallels, even though its impact depended on the widespread human tendency to see other animals as furry or feathered or scaly people. Cohen A Malleable Map: Geographies of Restoration in Central Japan, 1600—1912, by Kären Wigen Coming to Terms with the Nation: Ethnic Classification in Modern China, by Thomas S.