The Ainu: The Fascinating History of the Indigenous People of Ancient Japan

I'm Peter Lee, a Singaporean scholar of Peranakan descent, Chinese with a dash of Malay. I'm off on a new journey, searching for untold histories... This is so beautiful. It shows all the people that came through here. You could not use fake money, and you had to be nice to your servants. ...to explore how four distinct kingdoms rose... and fell. ...on the Japanese Isles and the Korean Peninsula... ...creating unique cultures and identities... Look at this. ...that still resonate today. Everything is based on really old designs, so the past and present all mix up together. I'm in Japan's northern island of Hokkaido, going up Mount Moiwa... for a view of its capital city, Sapporo. What a spectacular view! It's unbelievable. There's this cluster of skyscrapers, creating a kind of man-made mountain range. And behind that mountain range, it's so green and lush, as far as the eye can see. It's such an incredible contrast. In my travels, I've explored the history behind many kingdoms across the region. But I'm here on a different kind of journey, to learn about a unique people who aren't commonly known. This is a typical busy Japanese train station, and what you don't usually see is indigenous art, like this beautiful cloth inspired by an old design, this wooden carving of salmon, and a panel with descriptions on aspects of art and history and culture in a train station. It's so unusual. The indigenous people of the island are called the Ainu. Their culture was formally established in the 13th century, but their story is said to go back for millennia. Ancestors of the Ainu have lived here for over 10,000 years, surviving the harsh environment through fishing, foraging, and hunting. While groups settled across the Sakhalin and Kuril Islands, and to the northern part of Honshu in modern Japan, at their centre lay Hokkaido. Legend says their homelands were created by a determined wagtail that pounded down in a swamp over and over again until it formed dry ground, the Ainu Moshir, or Land of the People. To the Ainu, the world was full of divine spirits they called Kamui, which took on the form of animals and nature that they respected and coexisted with. The Ainu of Hokkaido were a resourceful people who inhabited villages called Kotan. Neighbouring communities formed a river group, typically the largest unit in Ainu society. But their lifestyles, centring on the natural environment, was common across all clans. I'm heading to a present-day version of the Ainu Kotan, a village at Lake Akan in eastern Hokkaido. It's a lovely jumble of Ainu motifs everywhere. Restaurants, wood-carving shops, a lot of crafts. This settlement is home to about 120 residents, and is one of several Ainu-themed tourist villages that celebrates their culture. In a bit of a kitsch way. You have these really attention-grabbing totem poles right here. You have the bear, the killer whale, the owl, powerful Ainu symbols. You find these carvings of a bear carrying a fish in its mouth all over Hokkaido. Some say the idea was copied from a Swiss mountain village a century ago as something Ainu craftsmen could sell to visitors. It does have a bit of a Disneyland air about it, and that's because the village was only founded in the 1950s. With just four households, it's grown almost tenfold since. Turning their culture into a tourist attraction has helped these Ainu communities survive. I'm speaking to woodcarver Kengo Takiguchi, who took over his father's shop five years ago, about the rich symbolism behind Ainu crafts. So many beautiful owls. I really love it. Ainu people believed that owls are the god of the village. There's an Ainu house, right? In the night time, those owls come fly on the top. I see. Because Ainu people make fire. Yeah. It's warm up there. And when those dangerous animals come close to the village, they make a sound like... I see. Like a warning sound. Yeah. That's why owls became a village of god. I see. The Ainu were legendary carvers. And I'm getting a taste of the art by making a pendant. The swirl mark is called a moreu. Moreu. Which means, turn slowly. It's going to protect you. Yeah. Also, it's a good luck charm. Good luck charm. To keep you safe, yeah. So I've chosen a traditional Ainu design and I just have to use a kind of V-shaped chisel to etch out this pattern after drawing it in pencil. I would say the main art is how not to slice your fingers. But what does the Ainu community here think of living in a village on show? How was it living in the Ainu kotan? It changed around 2011. I went on a trip to Hokkaido and we decided to go see an Ainu ritual. It was really cool and that's when I got interested in Ainu culture. There's a saying that goes, Tourist Ainu. There's a saying that goes, Tourist Ainu. I want to do my best to pass on this tradition. So the carving is finally done. And now for the staining. Kengo-san. Here we go. Wow. Now I have my Ainu amulet. I feel very protected. Estimates of Hokkaido's current Ainu population differ widely. But some come in as low as 13,000 on an island of over 5 million people. To understand why they were nearly erased, I'm going back in time. This community facility in Atsuma, southern Hokkaido, commemorates the town's past heritage. Amazing. This is like a treasure trove. My guide is curator and history buff, Tetsuya Inui, who is showing me some of their oldest artefacts. Considering that it was buried, it's actually in really good condition. These canoes were used for everything from fishing to carrying goods for trade. But who did the Ainu trade with? Inside a climate-adjusted chamber are treasures almost 1,000 years old. I can't believe I'm allowed to handle something so old. Some people like to be wine sellers, but this is my kind of storeroom. This is an arrowhead used for hunting. But closer inspection reveals a big surprise. This is a world heritage site. It's only found in Siberia and Amur. It's known that the Ainu people came to Hokkaido from Amur to the Sahara. So this would have been a trade item. It's travelled a long way. These artefacts show that the ancestors of the Ainu were not just hunter-gatherers, but also engaged in lively trade with their near neighbours. And in the 12th century, their network expanded, as the Ainu began to make exchanges with a group of new settlers, the Japanese. Evidence from old Ainu graves show a flood of exciting new goods that came from the south. I see a luxury product made for Kyoto, but found its way all the way up to Hokkaido. And those were not the only fine goods the Ainu obtained from their southern neighbours. While the work is very delicate, the Ainu would have used such beautiful Japanese swords. Why? This is such an unexpected find in Ainu territory. The Ainu's first trades with the Japanese were driven by the desire for exotic treasures, which in time, became part of the Ainu way of life. It was a harmonious relationship, with the Ainu calling the Japanese shisamu, meaning good neighbours. Trade between the two peoples took off in the 13th century, with a bountiful marine crop at the heart of their exchanges. I'm on Hokkaido, home to Japan's indigenous Ainu people. I've seen how the Ainu sought new treasures from their Japanese neighbours. In return, they harnessed valuable resources from the natural world. I'm heading out with a group of fishermen. Our destination is an underwater garden of kombu kelp that's abundant in the cold waters of Hokkaido. Wow, that's really a lot of kombu! Kombu is traditionally used in Ainu cuisine. But we're not here to harvest. Instead, we're doing some weeding. My guide is Misako Tamaya. How big should a good one be? We're picking the eight good ones, and they have a certain weight. They feel heavy and healthy. We're weeding out the smaller leaves to give maximum nutrition for the biggest kombu to grow. Okay. And then we have a very neat, weeded bunch of eight kombu. So that's just one down and thousands more to go. This kelp will need another two months to reach its full size before it can be exported to shops across the Japanese mainland. Today, it's one of the highest earners of Hokkaido's fishing industry, bringing in over US$100 million on average each year. It's also a crucial component in Japanese cuisine. Some say the word kombu comes from the Ainu konbu meaning things that grow on underwater rocks. Traditionally, it's a much-loved source of umami stock flavour for both peoples. But Ainu lands were central to the supply. And even today, as much as 90% of all kelp harvested in Japan comes from Hokkaido. Both the Ainu and the Japanese benefited from direct trade with one another. But exchanges with their new neighbours also opened up some risk to the Ainu. I'm heading up to a mysterious mound facing the seas. I've counted over 100 steps, and there's just a little bit more to go. This clifftop site is called Kamui Chashi. I'm on the ridge leading to the site, and you can barely see anything because of the fog, but you can hear the waves crashing on both sides. The approaches to anything important is always a little theatrical and magical. I'm getting goosebumps. Chashi, indicating a fenced-off area, were thought to have originally been simple gathering places used for ritual ceremonies and meetings. But over time, their function changed. And the first clue about how is this artificial border below. This is very interesting. A man-made V-shaped ditch. It's about 16 metres long, 5 metres wide and about 3 metres deep. We can't say for sure whether this trench was dug to keep people out. But further along are more clues. Rounded stones like these are usually found by the river and the sea. So, this pile would have been brought up here. Some experts suggest they were used as projectiles to defend against intruders. The Chashi's transformation hints at a fundamental shift in the Ainu lifestyle, from hunter-gatherer to the keeping and defending of precious goods. By the 15th century, trade with the Japanese proved so lucrative that some Ainu leaders began to amass status and power within their society. In turn, small settlements of Japanese traders appeared on Hokkaido, drawn here by its natural resources. I'm at Shinoridate, one of 12 forts built by the Japanese on the island's southern tip, with Professor Kazuyuki Nakamura. This fort was a nexus for interaction between Japanese and Ainu. Excavations in the 1980s uncovered the foundations of a number of structures enclosed in defensive walls. And in 1968, a huge discovery was made by road workers, just 100 metres from the fort, the biggest haul of old coins ever unearthed in Japan. This was the first time in the history of Japan What they found were three enormous vats containing coins that totalled 1.6 tonnes in weight. Inside the mysterious haul were 93 types of coins, from as far away as Vietnam, Korea and China, which were all used in Japan as cash. We know that these coins were found in the heart of the economy, but we don't know why they were found in the far north. The trade with Hokkaido was very profitable, and that's why these coins were brought here. While much remains a mystery about Japan's biggest-ever discovery of old coins, it does indicate the sheer scale of the commercial interest commanded by the island's resources. And all the people involved in supporting the trade with the Ainu, from the merchants themselves to the boatmen and guards, meant Japanese presence was only to increase. With a more permanent presence of Japanese on the island, it wasn't long before conflict flared up, not far away in 1457. An Ainu buys a dagger from a Japanese blacksmith, but is dissatisfied with the handiwork. An argument ensues, which escalates until the blacksmith stabs his customer. News of the incident spreads, reaching the ear of an Ainu chieftain called Koshamain, for whom this is the last straw. In an unprecedented move, he rallies together the separate Ainu clans and overruns 10 of the 12 Japanese forts. But a young samurai called Takeda Nobuhiro mounts a formidable defence, driving the Ainu into retreat and putting an end to the uprising. In time, Nobuhiro becomes the leader of Japan's only feudal domain on Hokkaido Island, the Matsumae, a new power that would set the Ainu on a path of no return. In the early 17th century, the Matsumae clan held Japan's only official territory on Hokkaido. It's an establishment on the southern tip of the island, brought with it new settlers, merchants and traders from the Japanese island of Honshu. My guide to this reconstructed trading town is Yukihito Iida. Yeah, Edo-style, it's all shaved. Nice try. It's clear how the Japanese inhabitants brought their own lifestyle with them to Hokkaido. But one key reliance on the mainland remained. We ate rice, miso, soy sauce and sake, which were not rice. So we have rice, we have miso, we have soy sauce and we have sake. These are essential ingredients and everything had to be imported, just like Singapore. And to pay for it, the Matsumae regularly sent goods back from Hokkaido to the mainland with these impressive vessels. Their cargo to Japan included salmon and kombu for consumption, herring for fertiliser and animal pelts. Soon, news of Hokkaido's abundance spread. So it was like a land of golden opportunity. As trade enriched the Japanese, the Ainu grew more dependent on imported rice and ironware. And in 1604, a new law from mainland Japan spelt disaster, giving Matsumae a trade monopoly over Hokkaido. Which led to them expanding operations further north into Ainu heartlands and raising their prices, causing resentment that finally boiled over into the biggest Ainu uprising in history. To regain their freedom from Japanese control once and for all, a chieftain called Shakushain unites different Ainu groups to create a massive army. They carry out wide-ranging attacks in 1669, ambushing trading posts and ships. The enclave of Matsumae receives over 500 soldiers as backup from the mainland. They face an army of over 2,000 Ainu, and their fearsome poison-tipped arrows. But the Japanese have their own lethal weapon, Portuguese muskets, that turn the tide of the battle. By autumn of 1669, Shakushain's forces surrendered, and the great Ainu leader was assassinated. The fall of Shakushain, who is still remembered as a hero, ended the biggest hope the Ainu ever had of ridding their island of Japanese influence. While some called for their people to move inland and live in the traditional way, too many Ainu had grown dependent on Japanese goods to change. The fall of Shakushain marked a turning point. Over the next two centuries, Matsumae expands, building new trading posts that saw ever-greater numbers of Japanese settle, crashing the local deer and fish stock, and spreading new diseases, which reduces the Ainu population by at least half. In 1869, the Japanese government takes direct control. Building a new regional capital on the island's interior, and laying symbolic claim over the whole island. With direct Japanese rule, came colonial policies that not only prohibited the Ainu language, but also classified their traditions of hunting and fishing as theft. The Ainu were dispossessed of their land and faced a sharp decline in their way of life. After 150 years, the tide is finally turning. This community class is practising a much-loved Ainu tradition. This dance depicts a crane, the revered god of the marshes, as they flap their wings and take to the skies. Breathless, I'm breathless. So it's a bit complicated, there's a lot of yodelling. And then you have this sort of... sound which imitates the cranes. Movements are simple, but to sing, keep the complicated rhythms all together, it's a challenge. They say all the Ainu really love this dance, and I can really see why, it's so much fun. But this version of the song is different to what the Ainu know today. It's what 65-year-old researcher Nobuhiko Chiba was once taught by an old Ainu grandmother. The Ainu have a lot of ad-libs, just like the excellent jazz musicians. So there's no fixed melody, there's a lot of drawing, and they do a lot of different things. I don't know if it's the influence of Japan, but the times have changed, and it's become a bit quieter than before. For example, in the old days, they'd go like this. But now, the dance is simpler. I'd like to bring that back to the way it was. It's wonderful to see Ainu arts being revived. But I really want to find out what it's like to be Ainu in Japan today. More than a century ago, the island of Hokkaido came under Japanese rule, nearly erasing the Ainu people and their way of life. But times are changing. In 2019, the Ainu finally gained legal recognition as an indigenous people, and more and more are finding ways to celebrate their identity. 23-year-old Maya Sekine is a YouTuber whose channel covers everything from Ainu language to cuisine and crafts. Hello, Maya. What does that mean? It means, hello, may I touch your heart? I see. I love studying languages, which can tell us so much about a people. It means falling in love. U means... Okay, that's very powerful. That's connecting eye to eye, heart to heart. I think connections are the most important, no? Ainu language has a very beautiful meaning. Estimates say less than 100 people are conversant in the Ainu language today. Just another way their culture was nearly wiped out. I personally love the idea of diversity, and I think what you're doing is really wonderful. It is very inclusive, and that's an important message, how to be humans. Confidence in Ainu identity is being renewed. And to see how it's affecting the traditional way of life, I'm visiting Maya's family in Biratori, a mecca for Ainu crafts. Yukiko Kaizawa is a master craftsman who uses tree bark to make cloth. It begins with soaking it in water until soft enough to handle. And once it's dried, it's time to peel it back to its fine layers. Yes, it's so fine and soft. It feels like paper in a sense, but it's much stronger. You can really feel the strength in this very thin fibre. Then the individual layers are split into thin strips. This is the technique only for masters. There you go. The two-finger technique. The long strips are then twisted with the help of a special ingredient. Good old Singapore saliva. The final step is to tie all the individual strings together and coil them into a ball of yarn. How long has it taken you to make this? Amazing. Ten days to do, and it's still only the beginning of the process to turn it into fabric. This is a family workshop. While Yukiko-san weaves traditional textiles from her yarn, her daughter, Maki Sekine, specialises in embroidery. But official support for their traditional craft was hard won. But their efforts finally bore fruit in 2013, when they gained Japan's first official recognition as an Ainu craft, leading to a boost in demand. We have here a very typical story of a small community on the Wain. And how legislation has led to a revival. Material culture is the most tangible expression of a community. It's so imbued with history, memories, and bark fibre, vast fibre, they call it. Not many communities still make this, so this is really special. While Ainu traditions are finding a wider audience, researchers are also making new discoveries about ancient Ainu ways. Archaeologist Hirofumi Kato is piecing together a bear skull from a 15th-century site. I guess that would be the snout. Yes. And here is the eye. This is a really interesting jigsaw puzzle. The mystery he is trying to solve is about the Ainu practice of animal sacrifice, which carries a special mark. It's a rather large hole. Basically, the Ainu people would raise the bear in a loving and respectful way so that the bear can return to the other side and give a good report. Bear ceremonies called iomante were the highlight of the Ainu's spiritual calendar until relatively recently. The opening in the skull was made as part of the ritual to send the bear's spirit back to the realm of the gods. But there's new evidence that this special care was also taken with other animals that were traded with the Japanese. This is a shell of abalone. But you can see this one and this one also have a hole. Maybe from a Japanese merchant's side, they were interested in just marine products. But for the Ainu people, after the trading, these abalone are collected together for the ceremony, and the spirits of the abalone also go back to the world. I see. Is it telling you something interesting and different? Yes, because this abalone ceremony is a lost memory and a lost history of the Ainu people. There was this aspect in Ainu culture where whatever you take, you must also have a sense of giving back. So it's all part of the whole ecology and natural world. That's quite a beautiful way to trade. The Ainu had a deep relationship with their natural world. And to see how that mentality is making an impact today, I'm travelling north to the Shiretoko Peninsula, one of the most untouched corners of Hokkaido. I'm heading into the mountains with veteran guide and Shiretoko native, Mitsuki Matsuda. Wow, look at the mountain view. Beautiful. We're looking for something I've never seen, a bear in the wild. Wow, what's that? So this time of the year, there's a lot of it everywhere? The Ezo deer was almost hunted to extinction for its hide, but has made a comeback, as have populations of some of the 300 other species that live here, including the apex predator and Ainu's top kamui, the bear, revered as an embodiment of the mountain god. Wow, what do they do to leave these marks? Wow, are there many bears around here? That sounds like a lot. Should I be worried? I see. Well, definitely don't climb up trees. Since regular bear culls were abolished in 1990, their populations on Hokkaido are thought to have doubled. And while coexistence between bears and humans remains a challenge, the traditional worldview of the Ainu is a guiding compass. It's good to see both Hokkaido's Ainu and its natural environment making a comeback. I didn't find a bear on the hike, but I'm not giving up. I'm taking a boat trip around the peninsula in hopes of ticking off my bear bucket list. The water is very calm. The air is so crisp. Boatmen are stopping at some places or slowing down, keeping a lookout. Bear-watching cruises are a novel tourist drawn. That's giving Shiretoko's fishermen a new avenue of work. But whether we see one is totally down to luck. And suddenly... There it is, yeah. Right on that top. It's moving up that slope. It's busy foraging for its greens. Far away enough for me to feel safe, but I can see very clearly every movement. It's such a treat to see a bear in its completely natural environment. Cruises like these are perhaps the most harmless way of bear-watching for both humans and bears. While human-bear conflict is still a concern, there's growing awareness of the need to find better ways to coexist with the natural world. And that, I'm sure, is something the Ainu ancestors would approve of. The Ainu's traditional respect for the natural world around them is perhaps more relevant today than ever before. But it's just the tip of the iceberg for what their story has to offer. The Ainu, a resilient people, survived and flourished in their environmentally extreme homeland. While they embraced exchange, their reliance on trade left them susceptible to pressures that eroded their traditional lifestyle. But after centuries of marginalisation, the Ainu are now growing in confidence in their own identity. And their age-old way of living with nature is an increasingly vital lesson for the world today. Thank you.