Language as a Sacred Ecosystem

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A Living Memory Between Words

For Shigeru Kayano, his people’s language is not merely a tool for exchanging information. It is a space where an entire cosmology unfolds, where each term carries within it the traces of a territory and the bonds woven with the beings that inhabit it. In his account, he describes how this language, learned from his grandparents, conveyed far more than words—it transmitted a way of being in the world, a way of perceiving relationships between humans, non-humans, and spirits. This oral transmission, nourished by songs and family stories, shaped his understanding of what it means to belong to a people whose very existence was denied for centuries by domination.

Kayano observes that his people’s language has been gradually marginalized, to the point that many of his contemporaries no longer speak it. Yet he insists that it is not a relic of the past, but living knowledge, capable of renewing how a community perceives itself and interacts with its environment. For him, preserving it is not merely an act of cultural conservation, but a political and spiritual gesture. By keeping this language alive, another way of thinking the world resists erasure.

The Museum as an Act of Reparation

Shigeru Kayano recounts how, after spending decades gathering his people’s handcrafted objects, he chose to open a museum to display them. But this place is not just a collection of artifacts—it becomes a space where the knowledge of different Indigenous peoples from around the world intersects. By incorporating pieces from elsewhere, Kayano expands the scope of his project. It is no longer just about preserving a local heritage, but about building bridges between cultures that share a history of resistance and dispossession.

This museum, which he first ran alone before founding a second, embodies a form of symbolic reparation. By making these objects visible, Kayano offers recognition to a people whose history has long been obscured. He transforms a site of memory into a space for dialogue, where visitors can discover another way of conceiving relationships between humans and their environment. For him, these objects are not mere testimonies of the past—they carry practical and spiritual knowledge that continues to speak to present generations.

Language as a Territory to Reclaim

In compiling a dictionary, Shigeru Kayano emphasizes a central idea: his people’s language does not need academic validation to exist. It is already there, rooted in the memory of those who spoke and transmitted it. By recording every word he knows without relying on external sources, he asserts a form of sovereignty. It is not for others to define what this language should be or mean—it is for those who carry it to keep it alive and evolving.

Kayano proposes a concrete path to ensure the survival of this language: creating schools where it would be taught from the earliest age. This idea, which he articulates clearly, goes beyond mere linguistic instruction. It is about allowing children to grow up in a world where this language serves as a gateway to another way of thinking, feeling, and acting. By integrating this teaching into the education system, he hopes future generations can reclaim a heritage that was stolen from them.

English

In order to revive the Ainu language and share the benefits of Ainu culture, establish, in regions that want them, nursery schools and elementary, junior high, and high schools that teach the Ainu language.

English

To revive the Ainu language and pass on the gifts of Ainu culture, establish—in regions that desire it—preschools as well as primary, middle, and high schools where this language will be taught.

Resistance Through Words and Deeds

Shigeru Kayano’s journey illustrates how the preservation of a language can become a form of resistance. By refusing to let his people be silenced, he transformed his commitment into a struggle for the recognition of another way of inhabiting the world. His work—whether compiling a dictionary, creating museums, or advocating for bilingual schools—shows that language is not just a means of communication. It is a territory in its own right, where issues of memory, spirituality, and sovereignty unfold.

Kayano reminds us that this language, though threatened, has never ceased to exist. It has survived in the stories of elders, in songs, in everyday gestures. By transmitting it, an entire universe of meaning endures. And perhaps this is where its greatest strength lies—in its ability to offer an alternative to a world that has too often sought to standardize ways of thinking and being.