DIGGING UP A BURIED PAST: RECONCILING THE HISTORICAL INJUSTICES OF UNETHICAL MEDICAL AND ANTHROPOLOGICAL RESEARCH WITH CURRENT INDIGENOUS STUDIES OF THE AINU PEOPLES

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Citation Ilyas, Hibah. (2020). DIGGING UP A BURIED PAST: RECONCILING THE HISTORICAL INJUSTICES OF UNETHICAL MEDICAL AND ANTHROPOLOGICAL RESEARCH WITH CURRENT INDIGENOUS STUDIES OF THE AINU PEOPLES (Bachelor's thesis, University of Arizona, Tucson, USA).

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DIGGING UP A BURIED PAST: RECONCILING THE HISTORICAL INJUSTICES

OF UNETHICAL MEDICAL AND ANTHROPOLOGICAL RESEARCH WITH

CURRENT INDIGENOUS STUDIES OF THE AINU PEOPLES

By

HIBAH FAISAL ILYAS

______

A Thesis Submitted to The Honors College

In Partial Fulfillment of the Bachelors Degree With Honors in

East Asian Studies

THE UNIVERSITY OF ARIZONA

M A Y 2 0 2 0

Approved by:

______

Dr. Joshua Schlachet

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Abstract

In light of the upcoming 2020/2021 Tokyo Olympics, Ainu activists are demanding indigenous recognition and political rights, putting pressure on the Japanese government to recognize diversity in their nation. Historically, Japan has perpetuated notions of Japanese uniqueness, or

Nihonjinron, via the facilitation of nationalism-fueled medical and anthropological research. The

Ainu peoples, subjects of such research, have withstood the seizure of basic human rights to land, intellectual property and self-identification as history has written them off as a “vanishing ethnicity.” Today, they fight for repatriation of the physical remnants of such atrocities: the pillaged skeletal remains of their ancestors. This paper will analyze the history of research across

STEM and Humanities disciplines that have contributed to the cultural erasure of the Ainu peoples. After considering interviews of Ainu individuals about the state of their relationship with their own community, researchers and the Japanese government, I will then suggest solutions to synthesize protocols from these contrasting fields of study: the indigenous right to self-representation in academic and social spheres can be restored by clarifying research goals, increasing engagement of indigenous peoples in research and discussing the social effects of publishing data.

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Table of Contents Abstract ...... 1 Introduction ...... 3 Who Are the Ainu? ...... 4 Project Inspiration ...... 5 The Dawn of Ainu Anthropological Research ...... 6 History Written by the “Superior” Race ...... 9 Entering the Land of the Barbarians (Ezochi)...... 10 Shakushain’s War ...... 11 Trade Dependency ...... 12 Naming the North Sea Circuit (Hokkaido) ...... 14 The Prophecy: A Vanishing Ethnicity ...... 15 To Be, or Not to Be Ainu ...... 17 Digging up a Buried Past ...... 19 Calling All Ainu Activists ...... 23 Redefining Ainu Activism ...... 24 Ainu in Politics ...... 26 Repatriating Remains ...... 28 The Urakawa Lawsuit ...... 30 A Symbolic Space for Ethnic Harmony...... 34 Framing Future Research ...... 35 Ainu Voices ...... 36 Reconciling Fields of Study ...... 42 Conclusion ...... 47 Bibliography ...... 49

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Introduction

Hokkaido winters are known for their hostile beauty. In the freezing temperatures of

10°C below zero, nature claims what’s its own. As the harsh weather drives humans to escape into an indoor refuge, the plush snow envelops everything it touches; nature reigns all.

Fleeing from the piercing cold, Hokkaido University students and staff can be seen trudging towards the shelter that was their offices and classrooms when suddenly, they catch sight of an intimidating figure. Had a bear made it on campus? Guarded by his thick fur coat, he wasn’t bothered by the weather as he lazily rested his back against a tree.

A frenzy commences. Wasn’t this the season for hibernation? How did he find his way onto campus? And, why?

Some gather the courage to take a closer look at the being. Expecting flesh-tearing fangs, instead, the spectators find themselves peering into the fervent eyes of a familiar face. It was none other than Yuki Shoji, an Ainu activist fighting the lengthy history of discrimination of his people. This was the first of many days that he passed in protest, stubbornly withstanding the harsh weather for all passersby to see, the snowfall powdering his coat, his face paling into the same shade of white that surrounded him. Many called him crazy, a lunatic, while others silently cheered him on, hailing him as a hero.

Perhaps no other sane human would voluntarily subjugate themselves to such extreme weather or the harsh criticism of strangers, but Yuki had a strength and resolve fueled by the plight of his people. As the founder of the Ainu Liberation League in 1972, Yuki’s activism aimed to restore Ainu dignity be reclaiming his peoples’ language and culture—to reverse a prophecy that cursed them: becoming a “dying ethnicity.” 4

Who Are the Ainu?

The Ainu are a group of peoples originating from the northernmost island of Japan, now known as Hokkaido. Not many recognize the word “Ainu,” nor can they fathom that a contrasting culture exists simultaneously in a nation highly regarded as “homogeneous.” This notion has been historically abetted by the Japanese government.

Originally, the Ainu did not have a written language, which is why the beginnings of their historical record begin with what the Wajin (ethnic Japanese) had documented. Upon first contact, the Wajin referred to the Ainu’s homeland as Ezochi, or “barbarian land,” providing early insight of what the Japanese thought of the native people and supporting the fact that Ainu history has been largely written by another entity intent on affirming its greatness.

As a society that lived in harmony with nature, the Ainu lifestyle included hunting and fishing, living off what the Earth provided for them. Despite their “barbaric” way of life, their knowledge of the land and its resources was valuable, something worth taking—a common trend in colonial and indigenous history. Of course, colonial history would not be complete without the discussion of ethnic rivalry as, the Ainu, despite their geological proximity to the Wajin, have more Caucasian features, such as lack of an epicanthic (Japanese) eye fold and more body hair.1

These phenotypic differences have begged the question, “what are the origins of the Ainu?”

However, research aiming to find answers to this question has been driven by more than simple curiosity. Larger themes like Japanese nationalism and competition of economic power that accompanies colonial periods have contributed to the history of anthropological and medical research that have stripped the Ainu people of their independence and right to self-identification.

1 Ann B. Irish, Hokkaido: A History of Ethnic Transition and Development on Japan’s Northern Island, (North Carolina, McFarland and Company, 2009), 23. 5

Scholars have exploited Ainu existence, raiding their graves in the name of gathering data and reinforcing myths of Nihonjinron, or Japanese uniqueness. Researchers concluded that the

Ainu shared a common ancestor with the Wajin: the Jomon. However, the “barbaric” state of

Ainu civilization was due to their failure to progress at the same rate as the Wajin. Thus, they believed that the Ainu could become completely “Japanese” with the help of assimilation policies, effectively wiping out their cultural integrity and individuality. Such assimilation processes, and the constant promotion of the Japanese as a singular people with unmatched cultural superiority and authenticity, developed the nationalistic myth.

Project Inspiration

I too was part of the ignorant population that blindly believed the Nihonjinron misconception until I attended my first class with Richard Siddle at Hokkaido University two years ago. A leading expert on Ainu scholarship, Siddle lectured about the true multi-ethnic composition of the island-nation, explaining that Nihonjinron has been largely influenced by efforts attempting to define Japanese origins.2 I learned that human remains implicated in such efforts were mere buildings away from the one I was sitting in and were still part of a controversial topic representing the struggles of the Ainu. The injustice they faced stuck with me—the same injustice that Yuki Shoji hoped to resolve in an ardent display of activism.

Despite a decade passing since Japan had voted to support the UN’s declaration of recognizing indigenous rights, it still has not granted the Ainu legal rights to their misappropriated land and identity. The pilfered ancestral remains used for medical and

2 Richard Siddle, “Race, Ethnicity, and Minorities in Modern Japan,” Routledge Handbook of Japanese Culture and Society, (Routledge, 2011), https://search-credoreference- com.ezproxy4.library.arizona.edu/content/title/routjcs?tab=entry_view&entry_id=10709327 6 anthropological research are the physical remnants of the atrocities they endured. In today’s age, who could have imagined that there are people still demanding basic human rights?

Thus, current academic communities are making a greater effort to help the Ainu reclaim their compromised identity due to results of the biological materials that were unethically seized from them. Medical scholarship is considered an “empirical” discipline while the Humanities are more “subjective”—can these two fields of study be bridged to reverse the Ainu’s social and cultural erasure? Can data collected using the scientific method accommodate multiple analyses from various, perhaps biased, perspectives? This paper will examine the history of Ainu research across disciplines in order to offer suggestions on how seemingly incompatible research methods can be synthesized to offer indigenous groups authority over their representation.

After detailing the controversy of the Ainu’s contested remains, I will introduce the relevant historical context that has contributed to the “disappearance” of the Ainu identity. I will then highlight various research that have violated the rights of the people and the subsequent rise of Ainu activism. Then, after analyzing Ainu testimonials, I will discuss current movements investigating research protocols that grant indigenous populations propriety over their representation and how such protocols can be applied to scientific research via indigenous engagement.

The Dawn of Ainu Anthropological Research

When Japan opened its borders to Western power in the Meiji era, Western powers already had significant experience in colonial expansion and ethnic suppression. They were well versed in the application of Social Darwinism and led a global race where rising nations scrambled to organize themselves in a hierarchy that would define intellectual and ethnic 7 superiority. Thus, the field of Ainu anthropology stemmed from the initial quest of the Wajin investigating their unique ancestral origins.

Some credit Edward S. Morse as the father of anthropology of Japan with his excavation of the Omori mounds in 1877. The excavated remains that he dated as “pre-Ainu” showed evidence of cannibalism, concluding that the pre-Japanese were a savage people—challenging the divinity of their Emperor and ancestors.3 Such a revelation created a stir amongst the

Japanese and resulted in a movement led by Tsuboi Shōgōro that championed the idea that studying the history of the Japanese should be the responsibility of the Japanese alone. He had to find evidence that the Japanese were without a doubt superior to the Ainu, and that Morse’s findings were unrelated to them—perhaps related to the Ainu. Thus, the quest to study the origins of the Wajin and their relationship to the Ainu—a people who hadn’t “progressed” at the same rate as they had—began.4

In 1884, Tsuboi formed the Anthropological Society of Tokyo (later renamed the

Anthological Society of Nippon), and its growing membership allowed him to establish Tokyo’s

Institute of Anthropology seven years later. Tsuboi contributed to the reinforcement of Japan’s nationalism and myth of homogeneity as his efforts focused on confirming Japanese superiority.

However, many scholars became divided regarding Japan’s ethnic origin’s—the major debate being whether the Ainu were the “living vestiges” of the earliest Japanese.

Tsuboi’s extensive knowledge of anatomy and biology as a medical student led him to

Hokkaido in 1888 in search of Ainu skulls that could help him with his nationalism driven

3 Stephan Tanaka, New Times in Modern Japan, (Princeton, Princeton University Press, 2006), 49. 4 Morris Low, “Physical Anthropology in Japan: The Ainu and the Search for the Origins of the Japanese,” Current Anthropology 53, S5 (2012): S57. 8 mission. There he found evidence supporting his theory of the Ainu being unrelated to the

Japanese divine lineage, however, his colleague Koganei Yoshikiyo collected 166 Ainu skulls and 92 skeletons and published a theory challenging Tsuboi’s.5 Koganei’s theory is the one most scholars support today: that the Ainu ancestors were related to the Jomon people (ancestors of the Wajin). This theory also posed a threat to the superiority of the divine Japanese lineage; however, as more evidence supported Koganei’s work, in order to distinguish Japanese

“superiority,” scholars had to change tactics. Instead, they stressed the Ainu’s “barbaric” attributes. Such ethnic profiling was also supported by the accounts of Western visitors, though not to praise Japanese superiority.

One example includes Reverend John Batchelor who lived in Hokkaido for 64 years and was on good terms with many Ainu. Though a sympathizer of the Ainu’s conditions, he had published a book, The Ainu of Japan: The Religion, Superstitions, and General History of the

Hairy Aborigines of Japan, in which he documented descriptions that perpetuated the image of the Ainu as “savages:”

The chief thing that strikes one on meeting an Ainu for the first time is his fine beard, moppy hair, and sparkling eyes; next, his dirty appearance, poor clothing, and, should he be near at hand, his odour, The Ainu certainly do not, upon first acquaintance, produce a very favourable impression; in fact, to many people, they quickly become repulsive, especially on account of their filth. (Batchelor 1892:18)6

While Batchelor was no anthropologist, he played a vital role in circulating curiosity in the

Western world about the aboriginal people. This led to other Western visitors corroborating the

Ainu identity as “primitive” despite their appreciation for the Ainu physical similarity to

Caucasians. The distribution of such content by the Wajin researchers and Western foreign

5 Ibid., S59. 6 Ibid., S60. 9 visitors has deprived the Ainu of the same right that the Tsuboi had claimed for the Japanese: to be ambassadors of their own history. Perhaps part of the reason why the early Ainu could not defend their representation was due to their lack of a written language; however, the power of oral tradition was able to preserve their rich culture and customs over countless generations.

Thus, the deliberate erasure of Ainu autocracy goes back to a time about 300 years ago when the

Wajin first recorded their encounters with the peoples.

History Written by the “Superior” Race

Before national boundaries were drawn as they are known today, Hokkaido was part of a larger territory referred known as Ainu Mosir, or the Ainu homeland. In addition to Hokkaido,

Ainu Mosir was comprised of northern areas including modern-day Sakhalin (Russia) and the

Kuril Islands (disputed territory).7 Brett Walker, the author of The Conquest of Ainu Lands, explains that the previous, semi-independent, state of Hokkaido underwent a shift when the

Japanese Wajin entered the island to complete their mapping project of the nation (shōhō nihonsōzu).8 What was a “foreign frontier” became an administrative district as more Wajin settled down on the island, catalyzing the exploration of the cultural and ethnic distinctions between the Wajin and the Ainu people. In order to highlight the shift in conflict between the

Ainu and Wajin from “trade competition” to “ethnic hatred,” a distinction must be made between two significant periods: 1) when part of Ainu Mosir was known as Ezochi and 2) once it had been fully incorporated into Japan as Hokkaido.

7 Irish, Hokkaido, 26. 8 Brett L. Walker, The Conquest of Ainu Lands: Ecology and Culture in Japanese Expansion. (Los Angeles, University of California Press, 2006), 5. 10

Entering the Land of the Barbarians (Ezochi)

As the Ainu of Ezo (Ezochi) had established early trade relations with Honshu (mainland

Japan), Russia’s mainland and the Sakhalin island, representation of Ainu culture without any external influence is relatively unknown. Thus, the Ainu lifestyle has been undisputedly affected by the history of their trade relations and it must be acknowledged that several Ainu villages— each one culturally distinct— existed across Ainu Mosir. Differences in dress and rituals are subtle and have been identified via oral traditions and personal records of foreign visitors while differences in everyday life were influenced by the local terrain and fauna. For example, northern

Ainu often hunted seals and whales in the sea while Ainu from more southern regions commonly hunted bears and dears while fishing for salmon in rivers.9 However, the Wajin viewed the various Ainu identities as a singular collective people. Thus, the tension in early Japan-Ainu relations revolved around economic trade and power—not cultural/ethnic divide.

Early in the Tokugawa era (in 1604) the Matsumae family was granted exclusive rights to trade with the Ainu of Ezo. Prior to this time, trade with Ezochi was relatively scant as Ainu merchants would travel once a year to the port of Fukuyama, on the tip of the Oshima Peninsula, to trade their limited supply of goods.10, 11 The Ainu usually provided animal skins, gold dust, fish products, pharmaceutical plants.12, 13 Other goods included those that had been acquired through trade with Sakhalin (which at the time was under Chinese influence) and Russia, such as cotton, coins, pipes and beads.14 With Matsumae’s establishment in Ezo, he strived to diversify

9 Irish, Hokkaido, 26. 10 Walker, The Conquest of Ainu Lands, 88. 11 Irish, Hokkaido, 41. 12 Ibid., 46. 13 Walker, The Conquest, 93. 14 Irish, Hokkaido, 45. 11 and increase the goods that Wajin could extract from the Ainu land. This led Wajin forces to initiate gold mining and salmon fisheries in Ainu territories that disrupted their use of the land, straining Japanese-Ainu relations.15

Walker points out that Matsumae’s establishment in “foreign” affairs bears striking resemblance to the development of European Imperialism via the Massachusetts Bay Company:

Matsumae’s merchants aimed to commercialize the exploitation of the foreign land’s natural resources in order to support the market of their homeland.16 While such practices allowed them to build favorable relations with some Ainu, as they gave rice, sake and iron tools/weapons in exchange for their dealings, their demand for goods was reaping the land of sources to sustain the Ainu themselves. Despite Matsumae’s strong hold over trade relations that endangered Ainu economic independence, neither he nor Tokugawa Japan could extend political power over

Ezochi until after the end of Shakushain’s War.

Shakushain’s War

Developed out of rising conflicts between two different Ainu tribes, the Hae and

Shibuchari, Shakushain’s War (1996) was a major event defining Wajin-Ainu social status from pre-established trade relations. The rivaling Ainu groups were disputing rights to certain fishing areas, and while such inter-Ainu tensions were common, this specific skirmish between the Ainu villages was disrupting trade with the Japanese mainland. As hostility between the two groups heightened, the Hae Ainu eventually sought aid from the Matsumae leaders (because they had formed favorable trade-relations while the Wajin were mining gold on their land) to battle their

Shibuchari enemies.17

15 Walker, The Conquest, 82. 16 Ibid., 39. 17 Ibid., 83. 12

On the other hand, Shakushain, leader of the Shiburachi Ainu, attempted to rally neighboring Ainu tribes to join his forces against the Hae and their Wajin supporters. Many Ainu tribes agreed to join Shakushain for numerous reasons. First, they were unsatisfied with the trade relationship they had with the Matsumae merchants, who imposed high tariffs and dishonest exchange rates, traded low-quality goods and were often violent, forcing many of the Ainu into poverty and starvation.18 Second, Shakushain offered an alluring promise to those who joined him: land and freedom from the Wajin with their victory.19 However, there were still some tribes who decided to side with the Wajin in order to protect their existing trade relations and, perhaps, even acquire better trade deals. What was a conflict originating from economic rivalry became a battle between races as Shakushain employed the tactic of “ethnic hatred” to pit his Ainu supporters directly against the Wajin—to them, any and all Wajin in Ainu-Mosir were their enemies.

As the Ainu were mostly armed with arrows, and the Wajin forces with gunpowder, the result of the war was ultimately in favor of the Matusmae. With this victory, the Wajin were able to encroach further North into Ezochi, establishing a new border (the Wajinchi-Ezochi line) between Japan and Ainu-Mosir, effectively displacing the Ainu in addition to reforming trade policies that further disadvantaged them.

Trade Dependency

Shakushain’s War revealed the unequal trade relations between the Wajin and the Ainu of

Southern Ezo. Despite Matsumae’s dominance in trade, Ezo was not considered his domain—it was foreign land not part of Japan. However, the benefits of trade with the Ainu allowed

18 Ibid., 66. 19 Irish, Hokkaido, 47. 13

Matsumae to bolster his reputation and wealth, as he became known as the “Great King of Ezo” in Edo.20 The gold and other material goods that the Wajin acquired from the Ainu were not integrated into the lives of the ordinary Japanese citizens as the benefits of trade seemed to be concentrated in the elite members of society.

In contrast, the Ainu, who were previously self-sustainable, developed a greater dependency on the trade with the Wajin as Matsumae established trading posts on resource-rich land containing local fauna that was essential to the survival of their lifestyle and social structure.

As described earlier, the Ainu sustenance relied heavily on the natural resources of the land hunted animals were used for food and clothing. As trade became increasingly vital to sustaining

Ainu sustenance, Ainu groups competed for resources in order to attract more trade with the

Japanese, resulting in shortages of deer and salmon for their own uses. This warranted the Ainu to incorporate Wajin goods gained from trade to sustain themselves, namely rice (and other grains) and some vegetables, shifting away from their diet mainly consisting of meat.21

Additionally, much of the ironware, in the form of utensils and pots, had reconfigured their usual cooking methods—cooking directly above a fire. Here, it is apparent that the influence of

Japanese goods affected all the Ainu, not just the village chiefs.

The local fauna was not just a source of sustenance, but it also played a role in the Ainu’s spiritual beliefs. They believed that nature was filled with kamuy (divine beings); thus, after completing any hunting or fishing tasks that necessitated taking the life of another being, they performed ritual ceremonies to appease the divinities.22 Many goods acquired from the Wajin had a higher value than just grain, iron cooking utensils. Items such as Japanese swords, clothes

20 Walker, The Conquest, 41. 21 Ibid., 85. 22 Ibid., 79. 14 and lacquerware decorated their ritual spaces as offerings to the kamuy. Even sake was incorporated into rituals as an offering, in addition to its adoption to pay respect to their ancestors and their gift giving culture.23, 24 Such changes in the Ainu lifestyle highlight the incorporation of Japanese goods into their everyday lives, contributing to the reason they could not cut off ties with the Wajin.

While the Wajin benefitted from the resources gained from Ainu trade and natural resources, they did not suffer from exploitation of their land leading to irreversible changes to their way of life, highlighting the dependency of Ainu livelihood on the Japanese. This initial dependency marks the beginning of the Ainu transformation into a “vanishing ethnicity.”

Naming the North Sea Circuit (Hokkaido)

The Ainu continued to be displaced as the Wajinchi-Ezochi line, the separation between

Japan and southern Ainu Mosir, crept Northward.25 In 1716, Matsumae became a diamyo and had official political jurisdiction in the Wajinchi side of Ezo, enforcing more trade regulations that further disadvantaged the Ainu. As more Wajin settled into the area, they soon outnumbered the neighboring Ainu villages.

Soon, Wajin became concerned about Russian imposition on their trade and land holdings as Russian ships started to take port in Northern areas of Ezo. These concerns resulted in the shogunate displacing Matusmae rule and the first government-sponsored colonization movement in 1800, which sent settlers to act as a military force against Russia in the guise of farmers.26 In an attempt to “appease” the Ainu from the repercussion they faced during the aftermath of

23 Ibid., 110. 24 Ibid., 117. 25 Ibid., 43. 26 Irish, Hokkaido, 52. 15

Shakushain’s War, and to use them as a secondary force to protect Ezo from the Russian invasion, they started to encourage the Ainu to adopt Japanese education. This included adopting

Japanese appearance, such as trimming their hairs, so that the Russians would mistake them as

Wajin.

Compared to Matsumae’s rule, under the Shogunate leadership, the Ainu were well taken care of and often provided medical care—an act characterizing their “paternalistic” relationship.27 However, once the Russian threat had seemed to pass, Matsumae leadership over

Ezo returned in 1821, rekindling hostility between the Wajin and Ainu. The Ainu were considered less than human and were not allowed to speak Japanese, resuming ethnic divide. The final exchange in power to the shogunate occurred in 1853 with Commodore Perry’s arrival which initiated Japanization policies that spawned Nihonjinron ideologies into the Meiji era. In

1869, Ezo was officially renamed “Hokkaido” (the North Sea Circuit), relinquishing any association between the native Ainu peoples and their homeland—it was now part of greater

Japan.

The Prophecy: A Vanishing Ethnicity

As seen through the commodification of Ainu land, transitioning into the Meiji era, Japan was developing its capitalist society. Via Marxist theories comparing the Japanese peasant class and the Ainu, Hirano Katsuya explains how the Wajin induced the disappearance of Ainu communities. The Wajin peasants on the Japanese mainland experienced “primitive accumulation,” defined as the natural process that results in the development of a capitalist society, while the Ainu faced “settler colonialism,” or the taking the free land that supported

27 Ibid., 191. 16 their livelihood28. As such, the Ainu were considered a “dispensable population,” connoting their future extinction with the formation of a capitalist society.

This economic and physical displacement of the Ainu enables the evaluation of the

Ainu’s loss of cultural identity as these economic changes harbored social changes. Following the adoption of Edo’s new name, Japan’s newly established Colonial Office started to develop policies that would help integrate the Ainu in accordance with their initiative to become a

“modern state” that could rival Western countries. The Ainu were then referred to as kyūdojin

(former aborigines) and were granted Japanese citizenship.29 Just like the island name

“Hokkaido,” the government started replacing the names of other Ainu places with Japanese names—one of the first steps erasing their linguistic identity. Soon after, various other policies were enacted such as the banishment of Ainu cultural practices including women’s tattoos, men’s earrings, and the custom of burning a house in which a person expired before moving elsewhere.30

Of the many assimilation policies, the 1899 Hokkaido Former Aborigines Protection Act is most noteworthy as it, heavily influenced by evolutionary theories, reinforced Ainu social marginalization and racist sentiment. When proposing the act, a government spokesman said:

The natives of Hokkaido, that is to say, the Ainu race have been from olden times part of the people of the Japanese Empire, but as a result of the survival of the fittest the race is in decline. They have no means of livelihood, no way to protect property. As for making a living, most are tending to fall into extreme destitution … From the standpoint that it is the duty of the government to protect them we have proposed this bill.31

28 Katsuya Hirano, “Thanatopolitics in the making of Japan’s Hokkaido: Settler Colonialism and Primitive Accumulation,” Critical Historical Studies 2, no. 2 (2015): 191-218. 29 David L. Howell, Capitalism From Within: Economy, Society, and the State in a Japanese Fishery, (Los Angeles, University of California Press, 1995), 44. 30 Hiroshi Maruyama, “Japan’s Policies Towards the Ainu Language and Culture with Special Reference to North Fennoscandian Sami Policies,” Acta Borealia 31, no.2 (2014): 155. 31 Siddle, “Race,” 88-89. 17

In addition to limiting Ainu labor into the agricultural sector, the policy targeted Ainu children’s education as it resulted in the adoption of Ainu-only schools that promoted Japanization dogma—they were not taught in their native language and forced to practice Japanese customs, becoming The Emperor’s subjects. This education system stimulated the segregation of the Ainu and Wajin populations, simultaneously depleting the Ainu’s right to self-identify.

To Be, or Not to Be Ainu

With the Meiji Restoration’s “opening of Japan,” many Western visitors, like Reverend

John Bachelor, also encountered the Ainu and documented their impressions of the peoples. As discussed in “The Dawn of Ainu Anthropological Research” section, Westerners were not interested in developing conceptions of Japanese uniqueness. Instead, their understanding of

Social Darwinism favored the Ainu over the Japanese as they acknowledged their shared

Caucasian features: American Lieutenant Habersham describes the similarities of Ainu and

European features while claiming that they are a superior people over the Japanese and Chinese who have “expression[s] of treacherous cunning.” 32 Another visitor, Raphael Pumpelly, described the Ainu as a “mild, good-natured race,” and Heinrich von Siebold of Austria described them as a “noble savage.” 33 The Westerners, who had used Social Darwinism to justify their own colonial expansion, had attributed superiority to their whiteness. Thus, these accounts attribute faux superiority to the Ainu because they look more like their Caucasian selves over the oriental Wajin. To note, Siebold’s comment of the Ainu as a “noble savage” still portrays them as an “uncivilized” people who require the aid of civilized nations to uplift them out of their savage state. While the Japanese scorned the Ainu, Western powers held the Ainu in

32 Kirsten Refsing, Early European Writings on Ainu Culture, (Great Britain, Curzon Press & Edition Synapse, 2000). 33 Ibid. 18 relatively high regard compared to the Wajin, thus, catalyzing the Wajin movement to prove themselves as the “superior” race. This meant that they had to prove to Westerners, whose colonial history was pre-Hokkaido, that they held a superior rank than the Ainu. Thus started the movement to cast the peoples into the role of the “primitive barbarian,” effectively entertaining

Japanese royalty and contributing to Western theories of Social Darwinism via exhibition.

Exhibitionism seemed to be in the opposing vein of the assimilation policies Japan had adopted to end Ainu cultural practices. However, when inspecting the basis of the Former

Aborigines Act, it complemented the colonial ideologies that the Westerners had of the Ainu: saving the inferior savages as it was their “duty.” Thus, inspired by the 1873 Vienna

International Exposition, Japan started hosting its own National Industrial Exhibitions, and the fifth one (1903) featured an Ainu village, reinforcing the idea that they were a “primitive subject.” 34, 35 This exposition exposed the Ainu to the scrutiny of academics who regularly attended such events and attracted people like American anthropologist, Fredrick Starr.

Starr, with the help of Reverent Bachelor, was able to convince a group of nine Ainu villagers to accompany him to America in order to showcase their “primitivity” on a global level at the 1904 Louisiana Purchase Exposition held in St. Louis.36 Of course, he never revealed such intentions to the natives. Starr deliberately chose Ainu whom he deemed looked the part—had piercings, tattoos and facial hair—and fit the exposition’s goal of showcasing human progress from savagery to enlightenment. Starr also took this time to hold an ethnology class where the

34 “First National Industrial Exhibition: For Promotion of Industries,” Expositions, Accessed March 20, 2020, https://www.ndl.go.jp/exposition/e/s1/naikoku1.html. 35 Richard Siddle, “Images of the ‘Dying Race,’” The Construction of Racial Identities in China and Japan, (University of Hawai’i Press, 1997), 152. 36 James W. Vanstone, “The Ainu Group at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition, 1904,” Artic Anthropology 3, no.2 (1993): 79. 19

Ainu, amongst other exhibited peoples, were measured, questioned and observed by his students.37

Starr’s efforts, like the assimilation policies, aimed to rate ethnic supremacy. However, as the Japanese wished to consolidate their nation’s existence as a single people, their strategy was to deprive the Ainu of their cultural identity. The Former Aborigines Protection Act communicated that the Wajin would “care” for the Ainu by “allowing” them to become

Japanese—causing the Ainu to give up their heritage in order to avoid worse persecution.

However, with the rise of exposition activities, the Ainu were suddenly told that they had to sustain the image of “savages” despite national policies that prevented them to practice their original traditions. Subjugated to every back and call their colonizers, the Ainu teeter between portraying two versions of themselves they are not: Wajin and an uncivilized savage. Such conflicting demands of the Japanese nation and the anthropological community have contributed to the complexity of how Ainu identities are depicted today.

Digging up a Buried Past

Thanks to the accounts of travelers and globally recognized expositions, Ainu anthropology became increasingly popular amongst Wajin and foreign anthropologists.

Ultimately, anthropologists were able to amass a considerable collection of Ainu bones and relics by excavating gravesites, forging an arsenal that bolstered the development of physical anthropology.38 The methods in which these biological remains were collected have been scrutinized as they were not solely considered research materials, but also valuable commodities.

37 Ibid., 86. 38 Hyung Il Pai, Heritage Monument in Korea and Japan: the politics of antiquity and identity, (Seattle, University of Washington Press, 2013), 104. 20

Researchers impersonated doctors to collect blood samples and secure Ainu participation in data collection while others, like Koganei, dug up graves in secret.39

As research accumulated, theories that challenged the purity of the “divine” imperial lineage and the homogeneity of the Wajin caused the Imperial Household Agency issue bans of tomb and burial ground excavations. However, these bans were lifted in postwar Japan as the emperor abdicated, necessitating the rewriting of Japan’s history as a “divine land.”40 Prior to this, the nation was intent on proving their diving lineage, but since their own emperor no longer supported such claims, Japanese anthropologists had to rework their mission statement. Physical anthropology continued to thrive despite a shift from initial intentions of validating the purity of the imperial line—instead, they aimed to prove the “quality” of the Japanese race as superior to other ethnicities to support modern Nihonjinron ideologies and to dissuade practices like interracial marriages.

The accumulation of Kodama Sakuzaemon’s excavated Ainu remains, starting in 1929, are perhaps the most contested by Ainu organizations today. Kodama joined Hokkaido

University as a Medical School professor and started his research with the blessings of the Japan

Society for the Promotion of Sciences. He garnered the support of local medical institutions to gather anthropometric data from their Ainu patients. They even had the police on their side, who helped block Ainu protests, in addition to stationmasters who provided information about recent

Ainu funerals. Graves were pillaged and the dead were stripped of any remaining dignity as they were often decapitated for their skulls, leaving the graves in shambles. Ainu elders expressed their concerns that such excavations “desecrated the dead” and were acts of “grave robbery,”

39 Low, “Physical Anthropology,” S64. 40 Margaret MacMillan, Dangerous Games: The Uses and Abuses of History, (Random House Publishing Group, 2009), 70. 21 which resulted in the establishment of an “abandoned burial ground only” excavation guideline in 1934.41 Hokkaido University’s medical department continued excavations until 1977. Under

Kodama, they were able to amass over 1000 skeletal remains in addition to various buried heirlooms.42 Kodama, himself, accumulated a personal collection of over 7000 Ainu heirlooms, including buried remains, via purchase through dealers, other scholars or pilfering (his memoirs do not account for the origin of all his pieces).

The remains collected over this period on behalf of the Hokkaido University’s Anatomy

Department were first stored in private offices of the respective researchers. The university then built a specialized collection room for the remains in 1938 where they were stored in boxes and glass cases to be displayed to the public and distinguished guests. Because the remains were considered “national treasures,” for the most part they were handled with care. 43 However, it was common practice to store the skulls separately from the rest of the body. As such, skulls were considered far more valuable in research and the rest of the skeletal bones were not five the same amount of care, resulting in the negligence of their documentation and preservation.

By the 1980s, many major players in Ainu research at Hokkaido University passed away and the remains were abandoned. As a result, bones from different excavations were mixed and stashed into the same boxes and many records became unaccounted for, undermining the relevance and integrity of the human remains.

The Ainu, who were once a “hot topic” who garnered global attention were suddenly forgotten. The few modern anthropological studies that still explored the Ainu utilizes

41 Naohiro Nakamura, “Redressing the injustices of the past: the repatriation of Ainu human remains,” Japan Forum 31, no. 3 (2018): 362. 42 Ann-Elise Lewallen, “Bones of Contention: Negotiating Anthropological Ethics within Fields of Ainu Refusal,” Critical Asian Studies 39, no.4 (2007): 516-17 43 Nakamura, “Redressing,” 361. 22 medical/scientific data and lab procedures that fail to account for the unethical historical acquisition of their research materials. Such an example can be highlighted by genes studies conducted by University of Arizona professor Michael Hammer and Satoshi Hirai. While they didn’t dig up their own set of Ainu remains, Hammer and Hirai had collected DNA from 154

Japanese and Taiwanese individuals, while Korean and Chinese volunteers had offered buccal cells for the study. None of their participants had identified as Ainu and no samples were collected from Hokkaido. While the study claims that it was “initiated to examine paternal relationships of populations from the main island of Honshu and the southernmost island of

Okinawa,” the researchers end their discussion predicting Ainu relations to the Jomon using their research methods (evaluating Y chromosome haplotypes).44

While the researchers do discuss the previous hypotheses of Koganei and Tsuboi (without mentioning their names), as a whole they failed to attribute why it was important or necessary to consider the “peopling of Japan.” This is the shortcoming of STEM-based research. While they presented “indisputable” data, they did not acknowledge the greater impact of their work on society nor the peoples they implicated. The omission of historical context in scientific literature contributes to its impression as impersonal and insensitive to the human populations they may make conclusions about.

Scientific and medical research nobly aim “to advance knowledge for the good of society,” but the reality of STEM disciplines is that they often do not fully disclose how their research may benefit society. 45 The omission of the historical circumstances that drove Hammer

44 Michael F. Hammer & Satoshi Hirai, “Y Chromosomal DNA Variation and the Peopling of Japan,” American Journal of Human Genetics 56 (1995): 951-62. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1801189/ 45 The Lancet, “What is the purpose of medical research?” Editorial 381, no. 9864 (2013), doi: https://doi.org/10.1016/S0140-6736(13)60149-X 23 and Hirai’s research effectively erases evidence of greater social conditions, like discrimination and marginalization, that the Ainu have faced—and this is just one example of depriving a community their right to represent themselves and their plight. Thus, the Ainu resist.

Calling All Ainu Activists

The Ainu Association of Hokkaido (AAH) was formed after the Second World War in

1946 in order to improve Ainu status and welfare in response to land seizure by various policies

(the Colonial Office, the Agricultural Land Reform Act and the Imperial Stock Farm). However, their movement didn’t gain momentum until the 1960s, when the globally spread student protests also seized Hokkaido, Japan. In a time of social and political unrest, modern Ainu resistance awakened. The main target of activist concerns included representation of their people by academic circles and public institutions like museums.46

In 1970, the fusetsu no gunzo monument was erected in Asahikawa City in order to celebrate the centennial birthday of Hokkaido. It depicted four Wajin towering over a seated

Ainu figure, extending his hand out towards the land. This statue received a lot of backlash from the Ainu community as it reinforced perceptions of Ainu submissiveness to the Japanese.

Sunazawa Bikky, an Ainu artist who became heavily involved in the Ainu movement, protested in Asahikawa handing out flyers with the following:

It is ok to celebrate the centennial, but the Japanese aren’t the only people who struggled. We the Ainu, struggled too, and these past one hundred years were the time of our humiliation. However we try and get rid of the humiliation, and the Ainu are also standing, point at the modern consciousness. Can we, the Ainu, proudly take a memorial picture in from of this statue? No! As long as the Ainu have to sit down and stay in the kotan [village], this monument can’t rid

46 Julie Higashi, “Heritage and the reframing of Japan’s national narrative of Hokkaido,” Museums and Migration: History, Memory and Politics, (London, Routledge, 2014), 251. 24

us of the abominable way the Japanese have treated the Ainu. The artist and the leaders of the city should understand this.47

Sunazawa’s generation of activists, including Yuki Shoji, was the first to call for the redefining of Ainu history, hoping to reverse the injustices that Japanese colonialism had inflicted upon them. However, even amongst Ainu activists, there was a difference in opinion—it cannot be forgotten that in this era, the Ainu people were not limited to a lifestyle in the villages of

Hokkaido. They had become citizens of Japan and many moved further south into the mainland’s urban cities, distancing themselves from the historical image of “the Ainu.”

Redefining Ainu Activism

In the 1960s, the AAH formally changed its name to the Hokkaido Utari Association

(“utari” means “people”/ “comrade” in Ainu). Reasons include that “utari” connoted a sense of unity and community amongst their people while the term “Ainu” was associated with a long history of Japanese identifying them as lesser beings.48 However, the organization’s history was deeply rooted in the rural communities of Hokkaido and had “succeeded” economically in modern Japan. The members who held the most authority were males of the older generations whose ideas of assimilation into the Japanese society were met with resistance from the rise of anti-assimilation sentiment amongst younger generations of Ainu like Sunazawa and Yuki.49

Hokkaido’s centennial celebration catalyzed the opposition towards commending colonial development and increased grievances towards the Utari Association who tended to shy away from political discourse. The association even expressed disinterest in abolishing the

47 Mark K. Watson, Japan’s Ainu Minority in Tokyo: Diasporic Indigeneity and Urban Politics, (London, Routledge, 2014). 48 Christopher Loy, The Ainu of Northern Japan: Indigeneity, post-national politics, territoriality, (Ann Arbor, UMI Dissertation Publishing, 2010), 117. 49 Kinase Takashi, “Difference, representation, positionality: examination of the politics of contemporary Ainu images,” Senri Ethnological Studies 60, (2002): 175. 25

Former Aborigines Protection Act, hoping that they could use the policy to gain welfare programs. However, as the new generations of activists became more active, and other Ainu association outside of Hokkaido started to form, activism became more popular in women and the youth. However, in 2009, the organization’s name reverted to the AAH.

Yuki Shoji, who was a member of the Hokkaido Utari Association, founded the Ainu

Liberation League in 1972 in order to directly confront discrimination and rebuild Ainu dignity.

He is most known for some of his “radical” actions including storming the 26th annual

Anthropology and Ethnology Conference held at the Medical Department at Hokkaido

University with a group of supporters. He criticized the academics, like Kodama, about the unethical treatment of the Ainu people and accused Wajin scholars of contributing to the Ainu’s depiction as a “dying ethnicity.” 50, 51 In the same year, he was implicated in the defacement of a statue depicting Shakushain (from Shakushain’s War) that was erected in Shizunai in 1970. He had chiseled out the name of the Hokkaido Governor at that time, Machimura Kingo, that included was included on a plaque accompanying the statue. He believed that it was unseemly to have a Wajin colonizer to be associated with the honor of the Ainu leader.52 Then, in 1977, he garnered attention for silently protesting out in the middle of winter on the Hokkaido University campus, a pressure tactic to get an apology from professor Hayashi Yoshishige, who was slandering the Ainu in discriminatory lectures. Yuki garnered infamy as his actions were considered “radical.” Even the AAH did not publicly support Yuki’s actions as they had to maintain their image in political circles as a “non-threatening” organization.

50 Higashi, “Heritage,” 252. 51 Loy, The Ainu of Northern Japan, 119. 52 Lewallen, “Bones of Contention,” 206. 26

At the same time, non-Ainu groups also starting sympathizing with their cause. One example includes the extremist group, the East Asian Anti-Japan Armed Front, who orchestrated the bombing of the fusetsu no gunzo memorial and an ethnological display at Hokkaido

University in 1972. This leftist group saw the discrimination and marginalization of the Ainu people as a remnant of imperial Japan and hoped to complete its eradication.53 They were also involved in the bombing of the Hokkaido’s Meiji-era government building in 1976 in protest of the continued imposition of the Former Aborigines Protection Act (which the AAH were still in favor of). Even some Wajin scholars were perceptive to the lack of Ainu involvement in the interpretation and identification of their own culture. To note, Wajin linguist, Kindaichi

Kyosuke, challenged the idea of the Ainu as an “inferior” race and worked with Ainu, Chiri

Yukie to transcribe and translate the Yukar, an oral epic of Ainu stories.54, 55 While such groups/individuals didn’t act directly in the name of the Ainu, their sympathy was proof that

Ainu injustice was finally being realized.

Ainu in Politics

In 1984, the AAH initiated the drafting of the New Ainu Law which would propose the

Former Aborigines Protection Act. The draft called for the recognition of the Ainu as an indigenous people in addition to honoring the Ainu’s fundamental human rights, introducing

Ainu seats in the Diet, battling inequality in the Ainu education system and providing measures to help the Ainu gain economic independence. These stipulations were formulated after members

53 Richard Rice, “Ainu submergence and emergence: human rights discourse and the expression of ethnicity in Japan,” Southeast Review of Asian Studies 28 (2006). https://link-gale- com.ezproxy4.library.arizona.edu/apps/doc/A165781169/AONE?u=uarizona_main&sid=AONE &xid=54ae7ae4. 54 Lewallen, “Bones of Contention,” 517. 55 Hideo Fujimoto & Eimiko Ohnuki-Tierney, “Mashio Chiri 1909-1961,” American Anthropological Association 75, no. 3 (1973): 870. 27 of the AAH had done its own research of other minority groups in other nations including China and Alaska.56

However, in 1986, Prime Minister Yasuhiro Nakasone, made a comment claiming that

Japan was a mono-ethnic nation, completely disregarding the existence of the Ainu and their activist efforts thus far. His statements implied that Japan’s economic prosperity was due to their ethnic homogenization and that any ethnic minorities had been completely assimilated without facing discrimination.57 As result, in the following year, the AAH appealed to the United Nations hoping to analyze discriminatory government policies, citing history textbooks used in Hokkaido had little to no information about the Ainu and was often incorrect. Since then, the AAH has been participating in the United Nations Working Group on Indigenous Populations. Japan didn’t recognize the Ainu as an “ethnic minority” until 1991 with the publication of the UN’s third periodical report to the Human Rights Commission. That year, AAH chairman Nomura Giichi, addressed the UN General Assembly in Ainu traditional clothing regarding International Human

Rights Day. Working closely with the UN, the Ainu were able to increase the reach of their movement, appealing to other nations and finding support with other indigenous populations.

In 1994, Kayano Shigeru became the first Ainu to hold a seat in the Japanese Diet, upon which he gave a speech in the Ainu language upon his inauguration. Kayano’s presence in the

Diet helped increase pressures to address Ainu issues, including the repeal of the Hokkaido

Former Aborigines Protection Act. In fact, the Promotion of Ainu Culture and Dissemination and

Enlightenment of Knowledge About Ainu Tradition Act, shortened as the Cultural Promotion

Act (CPA), replaced the previous 1899 policy due to the 1977 Nibutani dam lawsuit decision.

56 Maruyama, “Japan’s Policies,”159-60. 57 Irish, Hokkaido, 210. 28

The Nibutani case, led by Kayano and Kaizawa Tadashi (who were both significant landowners of the area), was filed against the Hokkaido Expropriation Committee and the

Japanese government who had built a dam in 1966 on Ainu sacred land.58,59 The courts decided in favor of the Ainu plaintiffs claiming that the land appropriation was unconstitutional according to Article 27 of the UN’s International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (which grants rights to minorities) and Article 13 of the Japanese Constitution that states that “all of the people shall be respected as individuals,” and that they have a “right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” 60 This decision was monumental in that it conveyed that the Ainu were an indigenous population and that the courts had a responsibility to uphold international law.

However, the dam had already been built by the time the decision was reached and failed to impede its construction.61

This case catalyzed the implementation of the CPA. However, the law was quite different from the originally proposed draft that was initiated in 1984. The policy failed to officially grant the Ainu “indigenous” status as an indigenous people and instead of giving the Ainu self- determination rights in regards to land, resources and politics, it was limited to cultural promotion.

Repatriating Remains

While it seemed that the interest in Ainu medical and anthropological research had waned in the late twentieth century, in 1980, a member of the Hokkaido Ethnology Issue Research

58 Loy, The Ainu of Northern Japan, 265. 59 Miki Y. Ishikida, Living Together: Minority People and Disadvantaged Groups in Japan, (New York, iUniverse, Inc., 2005), 17. 60 Toshiaki Sonohara, “Toward a Genuine Redress of an Unjust Past: The Nibutani Dam Case,” Murdoch University Electronic Journal of Law 4, no.2 (1997). 61 Kaori Tahara, “Asian & Pacific: Nibutani Dam Case,” Indigenous Law Bulletin 18, no. 4 (1999). 29

Group began writing letters to Hokkaido University inquiring about the state of the remains and that many of the researchers, namely Kodama, had acquired them illegally. He pushed for the arrangement of memorial services for the deceased and the return of remains to any living descendants. However, the university denied his requests until they came directly from the AAH.

Even then, the university was hesitant to return remains, calling upon their importance in research. Ultimately, the university decided that it would only deal with Ainu communications directly from the AAH, and after consulting with the Ministry of Education, the two institutions came to an agreement in 1984: the skeletal remains would be housed in the hyohon hozonko memorial hall, a charnel house, located on the Hokkaido University campus.

As part of the negotiations between the AAH and the University, it was decided that the

Ainu elders could perform annual memorial services, and as the remains were now considered their property, which required researchers to seek AAH approval before studying any remains housed at the memorial hall. Since then (between 1985-2001), only a total of 35 remains have been returned to the respective 5 branches of the AAH that claimed them. The rest of the remains are still stored in the charnel house on campus.62 While the establishment of the charnel house initially appeased some Ainu, the imperceptibly small percentage of repatriated skeletal remains, considering the vast amount initially collected, and its painfully slow process was subject to heavy criticism.

In the 2002 19th annual icharupa (memorial service), some visitors were allowed inside the charnel house where they saw the disorganized state of the remains. Even Dr. Christopher

Loy, a PhD in anthropology, recounts his visit to the charnel house in his dissertation, claiming

62 Naohiro Nakamura, “Cultural affiliation is not enough: the repatriation of Ainu human remains,” The Polar Record 53, no. 2 (2017): 220-24. 30 his surprise at the museum-esque feel when he saw the remains were stored in white boxes across rows of metal shelves. Furthermore, there were no ceremonial decorations on the walls.63

Additionally, during an eco-tour featuring the charnel house, Ainu guide, Ishii Ponpe, criticized its design, likening it to a public restroom, that even had an abysmally placed “Animal Testing

Facility” sign placed next to it.64 Due to these criticisms, the AAH called for the university to release detailed records about the remains, including excavation sites, so that the organization could actively look for the closest remaining relatives to the deceased Ainu whose remains were still held in the charnel house. However, it took the university until 2009 to publish their inventory.

Due to the extreme state of disarray the remains were stored in and the fact that the university’s unwillingness to relinquish their “ownership” of the remains (by having the remains exclusively stored on campus), a lawsuit was filed in 2012.

The Urakawa Lawsuit

In February of 2012, two Ainu elders from Urakawa, Jonouchi Yuri and Ogawa

Ryukichi, had requested an audience with the president of Hokkaido University, Saeki Hiroshi.

However, upon their visit, not only were they denied a meeting, but they were physically barred to do so by bodyguards who had been hired to intercept their arrival. Despite their initial rejections, they maintained communications via letter, expressing their desire to discuss the repatriation of their ancestral remains. However, the university never sent a reply. The sustained

63 Loy, The Ainu of Northern Japan, 210. 64 Lewallen, “Bones of Contention,” 520. 31 idleness of university officials in this process propagated legal action where the elders demanded a 3 million yen per plaintiff in addition to the contested remains.65

Jonouchi and Ogawa’s (they were joined by a third plaintiff who is unnamed) case consisted of 10 court hearings and then another year of out-of-court proceedings due to the plaintiff’s advanced age. They were represented by Morihiro Ichikawa, a lawyer who also participated in the Nibutani dam case.66 As the plaintiffs were requesting the return of the ancestral remains to be returned to the entire kotan, they were actively challenging Japan’s Civil

Code of Rights which states that human remains can only be returned to an individual who is a direct descendant/blood relative of the deceased.67 The Ainu claimed that the university’s possession of the remains hindered their ability to hold ceremonies for their ancestors. However, the university countered the Ainu claims with Article 897 of the Civil Code which is related to the rights of worship—that it can be succeeded by any individuals that the worship custom accounts and it is not necessarily limited to kinship. Thus, the university argued that they were at risk of being held accountable during another legal case if others outside of the Urakawa kotan wanted to claim worship rights.

The plaintiff’s counter to the university’s claim was that the entire Civil Code was based on the customs and philosophies of the Wajin and are different from the Ainu culture and customs. They particularly highlighted rituals regarding grave maintenance including the fact

65 Yuji Shimizu, “Towards a Respectful Repatriation of Stolen Ainu Ancestral Remains,” Indigenous Efflorescence: Beyond Revitalization in Sapmi and Ainu Mosir, (Canberra, ANU Press, 2018), 115-20. 66 Naayeli E. Ramirez-Espinoza, Indigenous struggles for land rights in Canada, Japan and Mexico: Delgamuukw, Ninutani Dam and Zirahuen, (Vancouver, The University of British Columbia, 2014), 23. 67 Simon Scott, “Ainu fight for return of floundered ancestral remains,” The Japan Times, August 12, 2013, https://www.japantimes.co.jp/community/2013/08/12/issues/ainu-fight-for- return-of-plundered-ancestral-remains/#.XqVf6mhKhPZ. 32 that the Ainu bury their deceased instead of cremating them. They also distinguished the fact that in Japanese culture, descendants visit the gravestones of their ancestors while Ainu graveyards are considered sacred spaces where visits should be avoided. They believe that it is nature that should be left to “maintain” the graveyard instead of a designated individual who is responsible for the maintenance of Japanese graves. Additionally, icharupa ceremonies that honor the ancestors are conducted by the whole kotan community, thus, they claimed that any member of the kotan has the right to worship and isn’t limited to a single individual. They further explained that the difference in Wajin and Ainu culture regarding death and graves was part of the reason why Kodama collected remains from “abandoned” graves. In fact, Kodama assumed these graves were abandoned because the Ainu didn’t visit them regularly, as it wasn’t a norm in their customs.68 After defining their ritual customs, the plaintiffs then argued that even under the Civil

Code, they were able to claim succession rights because the language in Article 897 recognizes

“customs:”

Article 897 (1) Despite the provision of the preceding Article, rights to ownership of a genealogy, equipment used in rituals, and any grave, shall be succeeded by the person who custom dictates shall preside over rituals for ancestors; provided that if the decedent designates a person who shall preside over rituals for ancestors, this person shall succeed rights to ownership.69

The Ainu hoped to gain the remains based on their claim to indigenous customs. On the other hand, the university viewed the Ainu as Japanese nationals and ultimately wanted the court to confirm an individual’s exclusive rights to the remains instead of completing the repatriation on their own, risking legal action from others.

68 Nakamura, “Cultural Affiliation is not enough,” 220-24. 69 “Civil Code (Part IV and Part V (Tentative Translation)),” Japanese Law Translation, accessed on March 20, 2020, http://www.japaneselawtranslation.go.jp/law/detail/?id=2252&vm=2&re=02. 33

After four years, the courts finalized their decision on March 25, 2016, which was a conciliation plan between the two entities. It was decided that 12 of the 16 unidentified remains would be transferred to the Kotan no Kai, a group that was established during the court hearings to act as the official representatives of the Urakawa kotan, who would then rebury there remains in the graveyard from which they were excavated. The remaining 4 remains who had confirmed identities would remain with Hokkaido University until September 2017, granting them time to look for any lineal descendants of the remains. If no descendants had been found by the allotted time, those remains would also be transferred to the Kotan no Kai. The university would be held accountable for all the costs for transfer and were exempt from any legal action considering those 16 remains. They also did not have to compensate the plaintiffs. However, by this time, plaintiff Jonouchi Yuri passed away.

Considered a landmark case, this is the first instance where the Japanese courts were directly handling an Ainu rights case where their community was explicitly calling for their rights to repatriation as an aboriginal people. Shimizu Yuji, the leader of the Kotan no Kai, hailed the repatriation as a success and shared that the reburial process of the remains was a major event for the Ainu as well—in fact, it was the first time such a process was being conducted. Many kotan members were unsure of the “proper” way to perform the reburial without offending their ancestors’ spirits, yet he was optimistic, stating that their “efforts were constantly driven by a progressive, creative, esprit, and the genius of innovation.”70 However, further inspection of the court decisions reveals that it wasn’t as revolutionary as one thought.

The primary reason is because reaching a conciliation agreement did not require the courts to explicitly clarify or refer to the Civil Code to which both the plaintiffs and defendant

70 Shimizu, “Towards a Respectful Repatriation,” 120. 34 had based their claims on. The interpretation of “customs” was not clarified if it indeed included aboriginal customs, nor the matter of to whom legal succession rights could be granted

(individuals vs communities). Because conciliation agreements are determined on a case by case basis, any other disputes regarding the repatriation of remains would again have to be brought to court. Thus, compared to the 1997 Nibutani dam case in which the courts recognized indigeneity, the Urakawa case evaded the opportunity to corroborate the title. Since then, 5 other repatriation cases have been presented to the courts (2014-2018).

A Symbolic Space for Ethnic Harmony

While the Sapporo District Court was deliberating the Urakawa Case, the Japanese national government was also trying to organize an official response that would deal with all

Ainu repatriation cases. In 2011, the national government organized the Council of Ainu Policy

Promotion (CAPP) in order to standardize Ainu repatriation as remains were not under the sole possession of Hokkaido University—11 other national universities also house remains. Members of the CAPP included members of the AAH, lawyers, museum experts, historians and physical anthropologists. In 2014, they published their policies: all the universities would return any identifiable remains to individuals of blood relatives, unidentifiable remains would be placed in a memorial and could be used for research.71

This memorial institution was planned to be established in Shiraoi, Hokkaido by 2020 as part of a larger project to preserve Ainu culture. The plan includes the establishment of a

71 Yuka Shichiza, Becoming Sisamu and Having Charanke: Constructing dialogue between the Ainu and non-Indigenous physical anthropologists to move forward towards inclusive model of community-based indigenous archeology in Japan, (Leiden, Leiden University, 2018), 59. 35 museum and park along the Prototo Lakeside and in the Poroto Woods (a national forest).72 Not only will the space be used to highlight the diversity within the Ainu community, but it will also allow visitors to participate in cultural activities while enjoying nature. Upon completion, this institution will be the first national museum located in Hokkaido and will take on the name,

Upopoy National Museum and Park. Upopoy in the Ainu language means “singing in a large group.”73 However, this initiative has also been met with resistance as it doesn’t encourage increased effort in identifying many of the remains, will not permit repatriation to communities and still allows for research on the remains.

Framing Future Research

The history of Ainu misrepresentation, oppression, suppression and lack of proper legal rights does not only have social repercussions but also hinders further scholarship efforts of indigenous studies researchers. Both Wajin and foreign academics have encountered difficulties working with the Ainu community due to a lack of trust. In 2008, the Japanese government first recognized the Ainu as an indigenous people when it voted to support the UN’s Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, yet no law recognized their status until recently. The New

Promotion Act, effective from May 24, 2019, abolished the CPA, however, it still does not guarantee any collective rights to self-determination and land as stated in the UN declaration.74, 75

72 “Overview of the master Plan for the ‘Symbolic Space for Ethnic Harmony,’” Ainu Policy Promotion Headquarters, July 31,2012, https://www.kantei.go.jp/jp/singi/ainusuishin/pdf/symbolicspace_e.pdf. 73 “Over view of Ainu Policy in Japan,” Ainu Policy Promotion Headquarters, accessed on April 28, 2020, https://www.kantei.go.jp/jp/singi/ainusuishin/index_e.html 74 Sayuri Umeda, “Japan: New Ainu Law Becomes Effective,” Library of Congress, August 3, 2019, https://www.loc.gov/law/foreign-news/article/japan-new-ainu-law-becomes-effective/. 75 Takeshi Higashimura, “No Rights, No Regret: New Ainu Legislation Short on Substance,” Nippon.com, April, 26, 2019, https://www.nippon.com/en/in-depth/d00479/no-rights-no-regret- new-ainu-legislation-short-on-substance.html. 36

Nonetheless, this advancement was welcomed by many and led to Mitsuharu Okada’s initiative to examine how the Ainu perceive their status, agency, identity and culture’s survival.76

Ainu Voices

Okada’s research was inspired by the 2008 Japanese declaration recognizing the Ainu as an indigenous people. Because of discriminatory assimilation practices, Okada recognized that many Ainu have hidden their Ainu identity to avoid the stigmas related to their people, and perhaps their own ignorance regarding their heritage and, as a result, there is a gap in knowledge evaluating Ainu self-identification and life-satisfaction in the current age. Thus, his research aimed to fill in the gaps regarding Ainu sentiment regarding their history and current situation.

His findings were divided into 3 sections: 1) the interview participants’ perspectives regarding their cultural, political and individual status since the 2008 government recognition, 2) their views on the opportunities and challenges regarding the promotion of Ainu indigenous rights and

3) their hope for the future of the Ainu peoples and society. He analyzed keywords that were extracted from the 15 interviewees’ answers and evaluated their connotations. His research is valuable for understanding how Ainu living in this generation have developed their identity and their attitudes towards the controversies facing their peoples.

For the first section, Okada summarizes that there was generally a positive perspective regarding their culture and individual state, yet more negative comments directed towards politics. All (100%) participants also expressed that they enjoyed engaging in Ainu cultural activities. 73% of participants spoke highly of their culture and mentioned other non-Ainu people also see them in a more positive light.77 During the interview sessions, some participants

76 Mitsuharu V. Okada, In Search of Ainu Voices for the Future Generations, (Ann Arbor, UMI Publishing, 2013), 31. 77 Ibid., 64. 37 highlighted bullying, discrimination and mistreatment they faced from Wajin and other Ainu in their past, indicating that in comparison, their current situation has vastly improved. To note, two participants detailed their personal experiences facing Wajin researchers:

I remember my mother was crying when I was a kid. I asked her why, and she said she found out her grandparents’ grave might have been dug up and that the university researchers stole some of their belongings. I couldn’t believe my ears hearing what she said. For the purpose of research university people just dug up someone’s grave!? Then, I started realizing that those Wajin researchers didn’t see us (Ainu) as human beings. We were the study subjects. Now, Hokkaido University built a charnel house and I participate in the annual ceremony to offer prayers (icharupa). The university once in a while provides a report session to tell us about the current status of returning remains and belongings, but we don’t really know what happened to my great grandparents’ belongings. It’s just frustrating since nothing has been happening. (Interview #9, 67 year- old male activist in Sakhalin/Sapporo) 78

This interview illuminates three points: 1) Bioethical violations of requesting use of human remains, 2) dehumanization of the community researchers wish to study and 3) the snail pace of legal and bureaucratic processing in granting Ainu autonomy. His frustration goes back to multiple generations as his own mother is distraught over the atrocities her parents face with their plundered graves.

Sometimes Wajin scholars and university students come and ask me to participate in some interviews. But it doesn’t really matter because no matter what they hear and write, it doesn’t matter to us. My everyday life hasn’t changed because of them. They just do that for their own benefits. Sometimes they just come and they think they know everything. They tell us “you should do this and that.” It’s none of their business. (Interview #7, 44 year-old female weaver/event planner in Nibutani) 79

This participant’s experience highlights how scholarship on her people has failed to impact her— which falls short of the purpose of research to better society. The fact that she feels disengaged and unsupported by research further proves the necessity to modify indigenous studies’ protocols in favor of increased involvement of the peoples.

78 Ibid., 67-68. 79 Ibid., 68. 38

Keeping in mind that Okada’s data (2013) was published prior to the decision of the

Urakawa case (2016) and the enactment of the New Ainu law (2019), it is possible that presently

(as of May 2020), attitudes towards research and political policies have changed. Despite the fact that both of these historical events have been hailed as “revolutionary,” it can be also expected that these perspectives have not changed as Okada’s participants’ dissatisfaction with political issues (land rights and the AAH) still remain unresolved. 2 of the 15 participants were Ainu who moved to Tokyo, explaining that they had difficulties connecting with the Ainu there, and that they felt that the government focused the majority of their attention on the Ainu of Hokkaido. 80

These opinions are also highlighted in the second section of his analysis, where Okada highlights the challenges that some Ainu have expressed with the future of Ainu awareness and legislation:

Hokkaido is big. Each Ainu community has a different history, culture, and focus now. I think that’s okay. The problem is the central government sees us as one group to deal with, but we are not just one Ainu group. Shiraoi, Nibutani, Akan, Sapporo, Asahikawa… we are all different. We face different issues, so I think linear connections [author’s note: working collaboratively with other regions including the government] are most important. If the government can be aware of that, things will be different, but it won’t be that way, so we need to advocate for that. The government could also deal with each of us individually, but it probably never will because it takes so much energy. The association needs to be flexible and innovative, and emphasize the linear connections of each region. I think we are still learning. (Interview #7, 44 year-old female weaver/event planner in Nibutani) 81

The same participant who expressed her disinterest in Ainu research, calls attention to the fact that the Ainu peoples are lumped into a single group, overlooking their differences between regional groups that define them. This implies that the Ainu groups demand not only comprehensive recognition as the indigenous communities of modern-day Japan, but also individual acknowledgment as regionally diverse groups with unique needs.

80 Ibid., 76. 81 Ibid. 39

The next interview provides a perspective of an Ainu who lives in Tokyo, far from his

Hokkaido counterparts:

Some Ainu in Hokkaido think of us (Ainu in Tokyo) as betrayers who left the homeland. We are not eligible to receive benefits because the (Japanese) government allocates money to the Ainu Association of Hokkaido and provides benefits to its members only. I moved to Tokyo because I thought I could make more money to support my family, rather than just staying in Hokkaido and depending on the government’s money. I’ve stayed in touch with those Ainu in Hokkaido. I know most of the Ainu in the Tokyo area. It’s a small world here. We have to unite because the things we are fighting for are very big. We have no time to be divided. All Ainu need to unite together and have stronger voices because what we want should be the same. (Interview #14, 74 year-old male activist in Chiba) 82

As discussed in “The Rise of Ainu Activism” section, some Ainu had moved to the Japanese mainland away from Hokkaido, and their urban lifestyles were different from kotan communities who had shown more interest in labor and ecology movements. The national government mainly communicates with the AAH, who solely represents the Ainu of Hokkaido, not Ainu living in other parts of Japan; however, other organized Ainu groups also exist, like the Tokyo Ainu

Association (1972) and the Young Ainu Society (1965), who contributed to political views that diverged from those of the AAH.83 Thus, these participant comments call attention to the diverse needs of Ainu communities across Japan.

If we recall, the mid-twentieth century can be attributed to the rise of modern Ainu activism, and the young activists of that time would now in middle age. This is reflected in

Okada’s data as 12 out of 15 participants are 40+ in age while the remaining three are in their

20s.84 This fact calls into question, “what are the perceptions of the young Ainu of today?” as one participant mentions her daughter:

82 Ibid., 76-77. 83 Takashi, “Difference, representation, positionality,” 175. 84 Okada, In Search of Ainu Voices 48. 40

I often think about how to raise my daughter. My daughter goes to a boarding school in a different town where there are less Ainu. I’m not sure if I should go to the visiting day for parents at school or if I am afraid of saying where we come from because they would know we are Ainu. My daughter always laughs when I bother too much. I guess I shouldn’t, but I just think a lot about how I should show things to my daughter. My husband even says she will have her own way to deal with things, and I shouldn’t worry too much, but I want to give her many options. She wouldn’t have to do any Ainu stuff if she doesn’t want to. Anyhow, I’d like to be supportive. (Interview #7, 44 year-old female weaver/event planner in Nibutani) 85

The middle-aged generation seems to be more preoccupied with the injustices of their past than their immediate descendants. This notion is alarming for Ainu activism as it seems that their efforts are on the decline causing decreased awareness that communicates a fear that as the Ainu youth stray further from their roots, any remnants of their traditions and culture may vanish forever.

The final section of Okada’s findings reveals that 13 out of 15 participants hope for a better society in which the Ainu and Wajin and Ainu of different generations can collaborate and engage with each other on equal terms. There was an especial emphasis on the future of education practices. The participants mentioned how compared to older generations, there are more opportunities and resources to learn about Ainu culture now; however, they also expressed their desire that the education system should make a greater effort to accept change and flexibility in a society that has a strict standard of norms:

Of course, learning basic subjects is important, but creating such a hands-on learning environment with flexibility is ideal. I want the people to think it’s okay not to go to the best school in the nation, it’s okay not to find a job at the best company in the nation, as long as we are happy. In order to do that, the government must establish the infrastructure and, most importantly, there must be a change of awareness in society. That’s something that the government and scholars should research more, I believe. (Interview #8, 51 year- old male business owner in Hakodate) 86

85 Ibid., 81-82. 86 Ibid., 83. 41

Historically, Ainu studies have been initiated by Wajin to make greater conclusions about their superiority. Additionally, few researchers today identify as Ainu and are actively engaged in modern indigenous studies. The following response provides insight on what it feels like to be constantly questioned by foreigners—not just foreign race, but foreign intent and frame of mind:

Many people come and ask for stories from us, but I don’t feel anything has really changed much for us. I’m wondering if those university professors just come and gain information for their own benefit, but not for us. (Interview #7, 44 year-old female weaver/event planner in Nibutani) 87

The following participant draws parallels to the Ainu and the Japanese and what it means to protect one’s cultural traditions:

Some people call us “disappearing people”, but we are not. Japanese are the same. People who wear kimono or follow the traditions are not there anymore. I mean, we are adopting the new culture and customs. We wear jeans and drink beer now, but we are still Ainu, and we can always preserve our culture and customs. It’s about your willingness, about whether you want to keep it or not. We keep our identity, but we also need to keep improving and evolving, otherwise we won’t be able to survive in this globalized society. It’s the same for any other race or ethnic groups too. (Interview #12, 55 year-old male museum director in Shiraoi)88

Change is inevitable as the world continues to advance in technology and develop into a global society. These comments emphasize that the Ainu are not completely appalled by academics and research efforts—however, they are unimpressed with the academia’s disregard of their rights to self-identify and ownership. Interview #7 and 8 suggest a need for more Ainu scholars in academia and research whose efforts can contribute to Ainu awareness and restoration. This means that to date, this field of research is saturated by outsiders’ (Wajin and other foreign) perspectives. As Okada explains in his conclusion, “education” was a keyword during the study

87 Ibdi., 85. 88 Ibid. 42 which offers insight into solutions regarding how to increase Ainu scholarship in Ainu research.89

Reconciling Fields of Study

As the participants in Okada’s research highlight, Wajin and foreign researchers are a majority group who the Ainu have more difficulties establishing trust with and understanding the intent of their work. Ann-Elise Lewallen (PhD), an American anthropologist, has contributed significantly to the topic of developing research protocols when involving indigenous peoples.

Lewallen discusses Maori-identified indigenous scholar, Linda Tuhiwai Smith’s theories about the “decolonization of methodology,” despite her own educational background built on

Western ideologies.90 Smith claims that researchers have “presuppositions about moral authority and objectivity,” when the same disciplines have stripped people of their sense of self without their pronounced consent.91 Thus, there have been many movements where indigenous people have called for a research model that expels all non-indigenous scholars. Although this demand successfully allows indigenous groups to disconnect from the dominant institutions, it is not ideal.

Instead, a more proactive approach is creating a research environment where the indigenous populations can critique research methods and collaborate with researchers, giving them more opportunities to represent themselves in a field where Ainu researchers are relatively non-existent. However, Lewallen also mentions that academic integrity can be compromised if

89 Ibid., 91. 90 Lewallen, “Bones of Contention,” 529. 91 Ibid., 530. 43 all research introduces a pro-Ainu bias.92 After completing her own fieldwork and residing alongside communities she explains that “reciprocal relations, initial consultation in research design, distribution of results, and the question of whether and how research should assess and incorporate hosts’ agendas, are all points on a continuum of research practices.” 93

Lewallen’s findings conclude that researchers must evaluate and contemplate their entire research process from start to finish. The first step with any study is designing it—what is the purpose of the study; who will participate/provide samples; how will the data be collected etc.?

A researcher has to prove that their study is relevant and contributes to their respective fields.

When dealing with human participants, researchers have to gain informed consent. Within anthropological studies, Lewallen acknowledges that institutions like the IRB (Institutional

Review Board) exist to protect “vulnerable populations” participating in research. However, she believes their policies instead act as “risk management” for researchers because consent forms effectively sign away the participants’ rights to take legal action if their information is leaked.94

As Lewallen’s IRB committee did not allow her to continue working with just oral consent, she found that when conversing with the indigenous people, paperwork would halt their communication and prevent cooperation.95 While consent forms are also a key step before acquiring human participation in STEM-based research, it doesn’t involve as much

“conversation” as Humanities-based studies. Rather, it involves the collection of physical samples/data (ie: tissue samples, body measurements) for further analysis. Thus, consent is an all-or-nothing phenomenon that either grants researchers their desired samples or not. It is also

92 Ibid., 512. 93 Ibid., 537. 94 Ibid., 531. 95 Ibid., 533. 44 possible for subjects to rescind consent at any time until after the study is published. If rescinded during the study, researchers are required to omit the participants’ data while recording and publishing the fact that they ended the study with fewer samples than what they started with.

Such consent protocols are commonly required in all fields of study. Likewise, the process of obtaining consent to study Ainu skeletal remains requires the approval of the AAH and the

Educational Committee of Hokkaido as explained in Adachi et al.’s research evaluating mitochondrial DNA.96 However, the criteria on which they base their approvals are arbitrary as they have not established protocols to evaluate research requests, furthering concerns of biased studies emerging out of a limited selection of approvals. Additionally, the AAH seems to have an unfair monopoly on the contested remains as repatriation efforts to individual kotan/families have not been fulfilled, effectively denying specific “owners” of the remains the right to opt out of research efforts. So, how can researchers gain informed consent while allowing indigenous communities to retain ownership of the data they are providing?

The AAH’s approval to use remains is a superficial means of restoring indigenous proprietorship over their representation in research. As mentioned, there are some primary concerns: 1) a lack of study approval protocol and 2) the AAH’s limited representation of a diverse set of Ainu groups. As researchers start planning their research process, they must present a transparent plan of action that also expresses their intent for pursuing such studies.

Despite any presuppositions a researcher has (which are inevitable), framing their research so that it can be interpreted as “neutral” prevents bias and can be evaluated as such. The evaluating committee then must be an entity that has a balanced representation of the entire community that

96 Noboru Adachi et al., “Ethnic derivation of the Ainu inferred from ancient mitochondrial DNA data,” American Journal of Anthropology 165, no.1 (2018): 139-48. 45 it embodies. Thus, I suggest that an organization that has members from all the regionally distinct Ainu communities that also comprises various sub-interests (village elders, youth, females, male, scholars, blue-collar workers, etc.) to evaluate study requests. With greater representation in the approving entity, there is less chance that published studies will favor a single topic/group/perspective. This organization would also have to devise a clear set of protocols in which studies can use to frame their original research proposal. If the research proposal fits the criteria, then the research process may continue.

After gaining approval, the next step is in the research is carrying out the outlined methodology in the protocol. Here, differences in STEM and Humanities are most apparent as

STEM research usually requires quantitative data that can be physically measured while the

Humanities often collect qualitative/intellectual data (interviews, records of experiences, etc.).

While this portion of the study should run smoothly if following the approved methods, research never seems to get completed without a hitch. It is common for research questions to change, for proposed hypothetical models to fail, etc., thus, the researchers should actively update the approving committee with any modifications to their initial proposal. Again, as long as all the criteria are met to sustain approval, research can continue as (re)planned.

The final step that researchers must consider is when analyzing their data before publication. At this stage, conclusions are drawn from the data/experience and must be contextualized. What do the final conclusions mean? This question extends further than analyzing the initially stated goals of the study. In STEM, data will either support or refute a hypothesis/claim and the Humanities will summarize critical observations they have made during their study. However, both disciplines should further consider how the data they publish, the conclusions they have drawn, will affect the indigenous community they are studying. Will it 46 have a greater social/political impact on how the community is viewed/represented to the greater public? While a single researcher/team cannot evaluate all the perspectives and potential implications of their study, having a brief discussion on this topic will allow opportunities for engagement and discourse regarding the research after it has been published. This point is especially salient to STEM-based research, which rarely extends its analysis into historical, socio-political matters. For example, neither Hammer and Hirai nor Adachi et al. explicitly discuss the controversy over studying Ainu remains nor the historical background that derived early versions of their research goals (seeking to identify the origins of the Ainu in relation to the

Wajin).97, 98 Their pure clinical approach dehumanizes their subjects and diminishes the significance of Ainu related studies. It also limits readership within one field instead of allowing cross-disciplinary discourse. As both STEM and Humanities-based research can contribute to the development of Ainu (and other indigenous) studies, a broad discussion of the greater social implications of such research can bridge these disciplines.

Finally, once the research has been completed and is publicly available, indigenous communities, and anyone else interested, should be able to critique the study and contribute to the discussion that the researchers started during the evaluation of their data/conclusions. This concept is also introduced by Lewallen as “participant objectivation.” 99 When other members of society (especially indigenous groups) engage with the research, it can reveal any inconsistencies or biases, provide varying perspectives on the existent discussion/conclusions and propose further modifications to the study that can improve the quality of future research. Perhaps the greatest obstacle that researchers have to overcome is dissolving barriers between scholarly

97 Adachi et al., “Ethnic derivation of the Ainu,” 139-48. 98 Hammer & Hirai, “Y Chromosomal DNA,” 951-62. 99 Lewallen, “Bones of Contention,” 536. 47 communities and the general public. It is difficult to read and understand dense material—even experts in one field have difficulty comprehending material outside of their field of study. Thus, research discussion of broader implications can be framed in an afterward, devoid of jargon, in a relatively easy to understand fashion. This increases accessibility of the information conveyed in the research to more individuals in indigenous communities, offering them opportunities to interact with the study. These interactions should be maintained on a public platform that encourages the circulation of arguments that can challenge and support the initial study.

Evaluating these “outsider” perspectives can provide additional information regarding the quality and propriety of the study.

Overall, by synthesizing STEM and the Humanities research processes, a more comprehensive approach to indigenous studies can be established. These suggestions offer a system of check-and-balances where researchers can still contribute to their field of study while allowing indigenous communities to retain ownership of their representation and intellectual property.

Conclusion

As Okada’s interviewees have expressed, the Ainu are frustrated with the Japanese government’s slow response to their needs and the apparent disregard of researchers doing work that is not relevant to/beneficial for them. The scholarly community can play an influential role in developing future political policies. As seen in Ainu history, medical and anthropological research was significantly involved in characterizing the Ainu peoples as a “lesser” race and a

“vanishing” ethnicity. The same institutions that worked against them can be used to reverse the damage they have caused to their communities. By adopting protocols from both STEM and

Humanities-based fields, researchers can provide opportunities for indigenous communities to 48 reclaim their identity within academia. Clarifying research goals and presenting a research proposal to an indigenous organization representing their diverse community allows researchers to start collaboration early with the indigenous peoples—receiving the necessary approvals to do work that has previously stripped them of their rights to intellectual property and self- identification. Regular communication with this organization and other relevant colleagues/resources can help scholars conduct sound research practices. Finally, increasing access to publications by including a comprehensive discussion of the historical context and the socio-political implications such data can have on the indigenous community permits the augmentation of indigenous engagement in such works. With the widespread circulation and discourse of such material, indigenous people like the Ainu can take steps closer to reestablishing their dynamic identity in an ever-advancing, ever-diversifying global society.

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