Stories Of Survival - Episode 5: Before Japan - The Ancient World of the Ainu

This episode explores the history, culture, and resilience of the Ainu, the Indigenous people of northern Japan. From their deep spiritual connection to nature to their distinct language, clothing, and rituals, the Ainu developed a rich culture long before the formation of the modern Japanese state. The episode traces how colonization and assimilation policies in the 19th and 20th centuries led to land loss, language suppression, and cultural erasure. It also highlights contemporary Ainu voices working to revive traditions, reclaim identity, and gain legal recognition. Through history, storytelling, and modern perspectives, this episode examines what it means to preserve Indigenous culture in a modern nation-state and why the Ainu story matters today.

Transcript

Phillip: 0:00

Imagine stepping into a forest where every tree, every river, and every animal has a soul. Not metaphorically, but literally a world where a salmon or divine gifts where bears are honored as gods, and where language itself isn't just spoken, it's sung into the world. This is the world of the anu, the indigenous people of Northern Japan and parts of Russia, whose story is one of beauty, endurance, loss, and now revival. Today we're traveling into the heart of ho Kaido, the northern most island of Japan, to explore a culture that existed long before modern Japan even did. A culture nearly erased, not by time, but by assimilation, bans on language and laws that treated indigenous identity as a problem to solve. And yet the I knew survived, not silently, but stubbornly through songs, rituals, carvings, and the fierce memory of elders who refused to stop telling their stories. So settle in because today we go deep into the history, language, rituals, struggles, and future of a people. The world is only just beginning to hear again. The history of the ANU stretches back thousands of years long before the Japanese state even existed. Archeologists often trace their origins to the Joman people, a prehistoric culture that flourished across the Japanese archipelago for millennium. But the ANU didn't become the ANU overnight. Their identity grew from centuries of life in the deep North in lands shaped by winter mountains, rivers rich with salmon and dense forests alive with brown bears. Unlike modern Japan's rice farming tradition, the ANU lived the lifestyle rooted in hunting, fishing, and gathering, especially the Solomon that defined their yearly cycle. They built villages across and along rivers, and traded across the North Pacific with Japanese, Russian, and even ACOs people. Their world was connected, mobile and dynamic. And then in the 14 hundreds and 15 hundreds, everything changed. The Japanese futile domains, expanded northward, establishing military and trading posts in Innu areas. At first, the I knew controlled the trade. They provided eagle feathers, dried fish, furs, and highly prized hawk feathers receiving rice sake metal tools and clothing in return. But by the 16 hundreds, the balance flipped Japan and post tighter control, demanding tribute and limiting what I knew communities could trade or harvest. This imbalance completely exploded into several. I knew uprisings. Most famously, the Shae Revolt of 1669 led by a charismatic I knew leader determined to defend his people's autonomy. The revolt was massive, organized and nearly successful until negotiations collapsed. Shaku Shane was assassinated and Japan cemented its control over ANU lands for centuries. From here, the policies only hardened. By the late 18 hundreds when Japan began building its modern nation state, it declared Hokkaido an empty land. Even though I knew communities had lived there for thousands of years. In 1899, the government passed the Hokkaido former AEs Act, one of the harshest assimilation laws in Japanese history. This law force, the ANU two give up hunting salmon and deer and their tattooing traditions. Abandoned traditional clothing and homes, adopt Japanese names and most devastating to them. Stop speaking the I knew language. Imagine your grandmother being told she can't speak to you in her own language anymore. Imagine your ceremonies, your songs, your way of praying to the world suddenly being illegal. That was life for the I knew for decades. Many I knew today. Remember stories from their grandparents, stories of being punished in school, mocked for their traditions, or told to hide their identity entirely. Some families kept their heritage secret for generations out of fear, and yet even in silence, pieces of their culture survived. Elders whispered songs to children at night. Women passed on the patterns of ancient embroideries. Men carved the wood masks with the same swirling designs found on artifacts hundreds of years old. The language, the heartbeat of the culture flickered, but never did it die. The ANU worldview is one of the most beautiful, spiritually rich systems in the world, and it's completely unique. At the center of Anu belief is the concept of ye divine spirits or God-like beings being present in all things. Mountains, rivers, tools, animals, even fire, are all gum. But these aren't in distant gods. They're companions, protectors, and sometimes even tricksters. The relationship between humans and in KA is one of mutual respect and reciprocity. One of the most sacred animals is the bear believed to be a powerful KA who takes on animal form to visit the human world. The ANU practice, the ceremony called where a bear cub raised with care and affection would be released back to the Conway world. Through ritual. Outsiders misunderstood this ceremony, completely seeing cruelty where the ANU saw profound spiritual exchange. ANU communities are deeply intimate. Prayers made by offering carved sticks called inai. Songs chanted in Sperling rhythms and dances that mimic the movements of birds, animals, or spirits. One of the most iconic traditions is oppo, a communal singing style where voices overlap, like weaving patterns, creating a hypnotic almost in trancing. And their oral literature, especially the Yuk, a long epic poems is stunning. Heroes transform into wolves. Owls see the future, and God's argue, laugh, travel, and make mistakes. These poems weren't just stories. They were textbooks, moral quotes, and historical archives of the ANU world. Perhaps the most urgent part of Anu culture is its language known simply as. It's a language isolate, meaning it's not related to Japanese, Korean, or any other known language. It's grammar is complex, it's sounded distinct, and it's vocabulary deeply tied to nature. For example, EP means fish of the gods. A salmon chia means house, means a person who wears the sky. A poetic expression for someone dignified. For decades, the language was nearly wiped out. Today, only a very small number of native speakers remain, most of them elderly. But what's happening now is powerful. Young IO are learning it again. They're taking language classes, forming clubs, writing music in io, and even producing children's books and animated shows to bring their language back into daily life. Revival isn't easy, but it's happening. Modern INU communities are scattered across Hokkaido, Tokio, and parts of Russia's Sak Healing Islands. Some people grow up deeply connected to their heritage. Others discover it later in life after grandparents finally share hidden stories. It many I knew today work in cultural centers, museums, or language revival programs. Some are artists known for wood carving, traditional embroidery and music. Played on the Koori A five strength instrument with a soft rippling sound. I knew women are especially central in this cultural revival. Historically, women were the keepers of oral stories, songs, and tattoo traditions. Today, young, I knew women are dancers, singers, teachers, and activists leading movements to protect their heritage and fight stereotypes that still exist in Japan. One of the most famous, modern inu voices is Debo Abe, a traditional singer who performs revive the spirit of oppo. Others include musicians like Oki, who blends the KO with modern genres to create what he calls. I knew dub bringing ancient rhythms into contemporary spaces. I knew identity today isn't a museum piece. It's living, evolving, and strengthening. Even today, INU communities face real challenges, though many ANU report discrimination in schools and workplaces, a lack of recognition or misunderstanding from non anu Japanese. Historical trauma that's passed down through generations, and also loss of land and limited access to natural resources that once defined their culture. However, in 2008, Japan finally recognized ANU as an indigenous people, and in 2019, the country passed its first law promoting ANU culture and language. But activists often say these are symbolic steps, important, but not enough land rights, economic support and meaningful representation remain major issues, yet the INU continues to rise, not as victims. But as carriers of a legacy that never truly vanished. So why should someone listening on the other side of the world care about the anu? Because their story teaches us something universal. That cultural extinction is not inevitable. The identity can survive even after laws try to bury it. That language, even a language with only a handful of speakers left, can come back if we fight for it. And that indigenous wisdom has value in the modern world. The, I knew worldview reminds us to move through the world with respect, reciprocity, and gratitude, not dominance. To honor the life around this, to see nature as a partner, not a resource. So as we leave Hokkaido forests today, remember this, cultures don't disappear because they're fragile. They disappear. When the world stops listening, and the ANU through songs, carvings, languages, and courage are asking us to listen again. Thank you for joining me on this journey North. If you want more episodes like this, share, follow, and let me know which indigenous community we should explore next. Because every culture has a story and every story has a heartbeat worth saving.